#Broken blue | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

newobsessionweekly · 5 months

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Broken Blue

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: Tim's anger and harsh words drives you apart. Despite his attempts to make things better, your stubbornness wins until an accident forces you to realize you need Tim and love him more than you want to admit.

Angst

Warnings: descriptions of injuries, blood, bruises, bandages, strong language and harsh dialogue, past traumas, insecurities, briefly mention of death, Not Proofread Yet

Requested: No Words: 4k

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

Tim rested on a bed in the emergency room, his normally composed face now contorted in pain. Blood, sweat, and scratches from the day's chaotic events adorned his rugged features, evidence of the intense encounter with one of the suspects. A momentary lapse in judgment, cost him a trip to the hospital, to nurse a superficial wound and his pride.

He didn't want you to worry, knowing very well hearing the news would distract you from your duties and as a first responder, focus is crucial in your job. He just watched as his phone lights up with two texts from you. Despite the pain throbbing through his body, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a flicker of guilt flashing at his conscience for not responding. But he couldn't bring himself to burden you with his troubles, not when he knew you were busy saving lives of your own.

Y/N❤️ Takeout or homemade dinner? Y/N❤️ You ok?

He shuffled the phone back into his pocket after the doctor finished bandaging his wound. All stitched up and blood free, he sighed heavily, waiting for the nurse to finish her paperwork and release him back on the streets.

"You need anything?" Lucy asked from Tim's side, carefully testing the waters.

"If you can't help the nurse with that damn paperwork, then no."

Tim was beyond angry and his grumpiness reached a level neither of them had ever witnessed. The fact that he had let a suspect slip through his fingers while he grappled with another man ate away at him. Failure was not an option, especially not for Tim.

Lucy hesitated for a moment before tentatively broaching the subject, "Should I call Y/N? I mean, if you don't want to tell her yourself, I can do that. She should know."

Tim's jaw tightened at the mention of your name, " Absolutely not." he replied firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I don't want her to worry."

The clock on the wall ticks away the seconds, each one feeling like an eternity as you anxiously check your phone for any sign of a response from Tim. But as the minutes stretch into hours, your worry only grows, gnawing at the edges of your mind like a persistent itch.

You try to push aside your concerns, telling yourself that Tim is probably just caught up with work. After all, Lucy or Sergeant Grey would've called you immediately if something serious had happened, right? But despite your attempts to rationalize his silence, you can't shake the feeling that something isn't right.

Kojo senses your unease and nuzzles closer, his warm fur a comforting presence against your skin. You bury your face in his soft fur, seeking solace in his silent companionship as you absently watch your favorite TV show.

You glanced at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, but the screen remained stubbornly blank. A pang of concern tightened in your chest as you checked the time, noting that it wouldn't be long until Tim returned from his shift.

You replayed your texts and the morning conversation with Tim in your mind, wondering if you had said something wrong or if he was upset with you for some reason. But deep down, you knew that wasn't the case.

The sound of keys clicking in the lock jolted you from your thoughts, and both you and Kojo jumped up from the couch, eager to greet Tim as he returned home. But as you caught sight of his face, your excitement turned to shock and concern.

His handsome face was now stained with angry red, purple, and blue bruises, the evidence of a day gone wrong. Kojo bounded over to him, tail wagging enthusiastically, but you remained rooted to the spot, unable to tear your eyes away from Tim's battered face.

"Babe, what happened? Are you okay?" you asked, trembling with worry as you took in his appearance.

"I'm fine. Just a little scratch," Tim replied dismissively, his tone harsh as he attempted to downplay the severity of the situation.

But when he knelt down to pet Kojo, you couldn't help but notice the slight wince of pain that crossed his face, and your heart clenched with concern. You caught a glimpse of the bandage peeking out from under his shirt, and horror washed over you as you realized the extent of his injuries.

"You're not fine. You're hurt," you insisted, concerned as you took a step closer to him.

But before you could reach out to examine his wounds, Tim's attitude shifted, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

"I said I'm fine. Please, Y/N. I've had a long day," he snapped, his words sharp and cutting.

You recoiled slightly at his coldness, hurt flashing in your eyes as you tried to reach out to him again.

"Let me take a look," you pleaded, softer this time.

But Tim pushed you away, rejecting your attempts to help. "I don't need to be babied. I can take care of myself. I went to the hospital, everything is okay," he insisted, his tone final as he shut you out.

Tim's anger simmered beneath the surface, tension radiating from his rigid posture and the sharp edge to his words. Each syllable was punctuated by a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, his frustration palpable in the way he paced back and forth across the room.

"I just want to help you, be there for you," you pleaded, desperate as you tried to bridge the growing void between you and Tim.

But he backfired at your words, his expression hardening as he turned to face you, his movements sharp and jerky.

"You know what, Y/N? Maybe you're right. Maybe I do need help. But not from you. You're just like everyone else, trying to fix me, trying to change me into something I'm not."

The venom in his voice cut through the air like a knife, leaving you shaken by the force of his words.

"Tim, that's not fair," you protested, your voice trembling with hurt. "I'm not trying to change you. I just want to help you."

But Tim's anger only seemed to swell with each passing moment, his frustration boiling over as he lashed out at you once more. "Help me? You think you can help me?" he spat, his words dripping with disdain. "You don't know the first thing about me, Y/N. You don't know what I've been through, what I've seen."

Your heart ached at the bitterness in his tone, the pain in his eyes mirroring your own. "I may not know everything about your past, Tim, but I know you," you insisted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know the man you are, the man I fell in love with."

But Tim's laughter rang hollow in the room, his expression twisted with self-loathing as he dismissed your words with a bitter scoff. "Fell in love with?" he sneered, his movements sharp and erratic. "You don't love me, Y/N. You love the idea of me, the idea of some perfect boyfriend who's always there for you, always has the right thing to say."

As he turned away from you, his shoulders hunched with the weight of his own insecurities, you felt the distance between you widen with each passing moment.

"You're just like everyone else, expecting me to be someone I'm not," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "Well, newsflash, Y/N. I'm not perfect. I'm broken, and I always will be."

With a final, agonized glance in your direction, Tim retreated to the sanctuary of his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking himself away from the world.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks, you felt the weight of Tim's harsh words bearing down on you like a crushing weight. You tried to push aside the pain, but you couldn't stop the them from spilling over. With trembling hands, you wiped the tears away, your body trembling as you struggled to make sense of it all.

It felt like a dagger to your heart, shattering the illusion of the love you thought you shared. You knew that it was time to leave, to give Tim the space he so desperately seemed to need.

Gathering your belongings, the weight of Tim's rejection pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket, you couldn't help but question everything you thought you knew about your relationship. Did he ever truly love you, or was it all just a facade?

As you made your way to the door, the weight of your decision pressed down on you like a ton of bricks. But you knew it was the right thing to do. Tim needed space, time to process his emotions and come to terms with the trauma that haunted him. And as much as it pained you to leave him behind, you knew that staying would only make things worse.

Behind the closed door, Tim laid on his bed, consumed by the weight of his own traumas and the burden of today's shift. Regret gnawed at him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he replayed his words to you over and over again in his mind. He knew he had crossed a line, said things he didn't mean, but it was too late to take them back now.

But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at his soul, the knowledge that he had pushed you away with his rage and irritation when he needed you the most.

Closing his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh. He wished he could go back, erase the hurtful words that had spilled from his lips in a moment of weakness. But he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was wait, wait until he was sure that his anger and frustration had subsided enough to face you again.

And so, he lay in bed, the minutes ticking by like hours as he wrestled with his demons. But deep down, he knew that no amount of time would erase the pain he had caused you.

Tim's excitement was palpable as he approached your doorstep, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Tonight has to be special, a chance for the two of you to spend some quality time together away from the chaos of everyday life.

He knocked lightly on the door, eager to see your face light up with delight as you welcomed him inside. But as the moments ticked by without a response, a sense of unease began to gnaw at him.

Pushing open the door, he stepped into your apartment, the familiar surroundings bathed in a soft glow that seemed to washout his excitement. The sight that greeted him sent a chill down his spine, freezing him in his tracks.

There you were, lying on the floor, your body still and unmoving, a pool of blood spreading out beneath you like a macabre halo. Panic surged through him as he rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he tried to stop the flow of blood.

But it was too late. Your eyes stared blankly into the void, empty, and Tim felt his heart shatter into a million irreparable pieces. "No," he whispered, his voice cracking as he held you close.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pressed kisses to your forehead, his mind stumbling with the weight of his loss. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked with regret. "I should have been here sooner."

But there was no response, only the cold silence of death that surrounded him like a heavy cloak. And as he held you close, his tears mingling with the crimson pool that stained the floor.

Tim's heart pounded in his chest as he jolted awake from the nightmare, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to shake off the lingering clasps of the dream. Frantically, he reached out for you, his hand searching desperately for the warmth of your body beside him, but all he found was empty space, cold and drained of the warmth he craved.

Panic surged through him, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts and fears. "Y/N?" he called out as he scanned the room for any sign of you. But the only response was the terrifying silence that filled the air, mocking him with its emptiness.

He stumbled out of bed, his movements clumsy as he made his way to the living room. "Please, Y/N, come back to bed," he pleaded, his voice echoing in the empty space.

But you were nowhere to be found, and as he searched every nook and cranny of his house, his anxiety only grew. "Kojo, where's Y/N?" he asked, the dog whimpering in response, adding to Tim's sense of unease.

Days dragged on with agonizing slowness for both you and Tim as he waited for any sign of a response. His phone remained stubbornly silent, your absence a constant ache in his chest that refused to fade. He sent text after text, each one filled with apologies and pleas, but you remained radio silent, a painful reminder of the rift that had grown between you.

Desperate to bridge the gap, Tim even mustered the courage to go to your place, but his hopes were crushed when you refused to answer the door. The rejection hurt like a slap in the face, leaving him feeling more lost and alone than ever before.

You found yourself seeking solace in the company of a familiar face and fellow firefighter: Bailey. As you poured out your heart to her, she listened with sympathetic understanding, offering gentle words of wisdom and advice.

"Maybe it's time to give Tim a chance to explain himself, to apologize," Bailey suggested gently.

But you remained stubborn, unwilling to entertain the thought of reconciliation until you had had time to process your own hurt and anger.

"I can't," you insisted, your voice thick with emotion. "Not after what he said to me."

But Bailey wasn't ready to give up on you just yet. "What if you met him at our place, with John and me there to... mediate?" she suggested, her tone hopeful. "It could be a chance for both of you to talk things out, to find some common ground."

But you weren't ready to entertain the idea, your heart still raw with pain and betrayal. "I appreciate the offer, Bailey, I really do," you said softly, "but I'm not ready to face him yet."

Tim sought solace in the familiar surroundings of the station, his footsteps heavy as he made his way to John. "Hey, Nolan," he said, his voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about Y/N, would you? Did Bailey mention something...?"

But John shook his head, his expression guarded. "It's not my place to say," he replied, his gaze fixed on Tim with a mix of sympathy and concern. "But I can tell you this much: she's hurting, Tim. More than you know."

Tim's heart clenched at the thought of your pain, his guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders. "Okay... what should I do?"

John offered him a sympathetic smile. "Give her some time, Tim," he advised. "And when she's ready, be there for her. I have a feeling she'll come around eventually."

Tim's phone rang unexpectedly, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the air. His heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the caller ID, his fingers fumbling to answer the call. "Y/N?" he breathed, relief flooding through him at the sound of your voice.

"Tim, uh. Sorry to bother you so late, but…" your voice came through the line, strained and weak, and Tim's heart clenched at the sound. "Can you… pick me up from John's? Please."

The urgency in your tone sent a shiver down Tim's spine, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities. "Of course, baby. On my way," he replied without hesitation, his heart pounding in his chest as he scrambled to grab his keys and jacket.

You’ve been crashing on John’s couch for the past few days after one call turned unexpectedly bad. Gladly, no one else was hurt, but Bailey couldn’t just let you go back into your empty place. She insisted keeping you close to them, checking on you, after you stubbornly refused to call Tim. But you’ve had enough. Not seeing the man you loved from the bottom of your heart, not feeling his touch, not having him close when you need him the most. So, you mustered all your courage and broke the silent vow to pay Tim back in his own coin.

When John answered, Tim barely spared him a glance, his focus entirely on you. Relief flooded through him at the sight of the woman he loved, barely in one piece, but alive, and it was quickly overshadowed by the magnitude of your injuries. You looked so small and fragile, curled up on John's couch, your body covered in bruises and bandages, but still beautiful in his eyes.

Rushing to your side, he gently gathered you into his arms, careful not to worsen your pain. "What happened?" he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

As he gathered you into his arms, his touch gentle yet firm, you felt a wave of emotions wash over you. Relief, gratitude, and love mingled with the pain and exhaustion that weighed heavily on your body. The warmth of his touch was a balm to your battered body, easing the ache that seemed to permeate every fiber of your being.

You recounted the events of the past few days, your voice trembling as you described the accident. Each word hurt, the pain of seeing you in such a state almost too much to bear. Tim's heart clenched at the thought of you suffering alone, and he cursed himself for not being there when you needed him most.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he scolded gently, a a surge of protectiveness washing over him.

But your eyes flashed with defiance, and you bristled at his words. "You're not exactly in a position to scold me for that, Tim," you shot back, your tone tinged with frustration. "You did the same thing."

"Is this some kind of revenge?" Tim asked.

You scoffed at the suggestion. "No, Tim, it's not revenge," you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

But as Tim furrowed his brows at you — something he often does when he’s not buying your words — your resolve began to waver. "Okay, fine, maybe at first it was about revenge," you admitted. "But I can't do this anymore, Tim. I need you even though I'm still upset."

Tim pulled you closer as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm here now, babe," he whispered lovingly. "I've got you."

As you buried your face in his chest, the weight of his words washing over you like a soothing balm. "How did you that“ you asked, “How did you manage to get through being shot all by yourself?"

Tim's embrace tightened around you, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. "I needed you so much, Y/N," he admitted, "I tried to reach you, to explain everything. Tell you I didn't mean a single word I said."

But before he could say more, you stopped him with a gentle shake of your head. "But I left you..." you whispered.

Tim's expression softened, his gaze locking with yours. "I don't blame you for that," he said softly, his voice filled with love and understanding. "I would've done the same thing if I were you."

You couldn't help but let out a small giggle at his words, a sense of relief washing over you like a wave. "I guess we're even?" you teased, batting your eyelashes playfully at him.

Tim chuckled at your words, his heart swelling with love for you. "You're such a kid," he joked, "But I love that about you. And I love you."

As John and Bailey watched the exchange with amused smiles, John cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "Alright, lovebirds," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "As much as I've enjoyed your presence, Y/N, it's time to get off my couch."

Tim grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Let's go home."

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