#tim bradford x exwife!reader

[daydreamabout]

Old Flames, New Patrols (Tim Bradford Imagine x exwife!reader)

Summary: When the precinct runs short on officers, you're transferred to fill the gap. Now, you're back on patrol with your ex-husband, Tim—as you realize how much of your confidence was tied to him, even after all this time. [mentions of domestic disturbance]

It’s your first day back at the precinct after the transfer. The air feels thick as you walk into the building, the smell of stale coffee and the sharp scent of bleach from the cleaning supplies hitting your senses. You’ve been away for two years, but it still looks the same—gray walls, buzzing lights, officers milling around, deep in conversation or focused on their desks.

You make your way toward the briefing room, your footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. Each step feels heavier, the tension in the air creeping up your spine. You haven't seen Tim since the divorce, and the thought of being in the same space with him again, working side by side for three months, is... unsettling.

You push the door open and step inside. The room goes quiet for a moment, eyes flicking toward you. Most of the officers don’t know who you are—just that you're the one here to help out. Your eyes immediately search for the familiar face you used to wake up to every day. There’s Tim, standing by the windows, arms crossed over his chest. He looks exactly the same. Maybe a little more worn down, but it’s him. His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second, but he quickly looks away. You can’t tell if it’s relief or discomfort on his face.

Sargeant Grey is at the front, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. He clears his throat, and the chatter dies down. You take your seat at the back of the room, feeling all the eyes on you now. Tim doesn’t acknowledge you further, though you can sense him there, just within reach. It's almost suffocating.

"Alright, listen up," Grey’s gravelly voice cuts through the tension in the room. "We’re short-handed today, so we need to make it count. Y/N, welcome back. You’re only here for three months, so let’s make this time worth it. We need all hands on deck. Get familiar with the new assignments, hit the ground running. You’re in with Tim for your shift today. I trust you two can handle it."

You don’t miss the way Tim’s jaw tightens at the mention of your name. He doesn’t look at you, but his body posture shifts, a barely noticeable tension seeping through his rigid stance. Sargeant Grey gives a brief rundown of the cases that need immediate attention, but your mind keeps drifting back to your ex.

It’s strange. Working together again feels... weird. Your whole relationship feels like a lifetime ago, but the remnants of it are still there, sitting between you both. You’ve built your life, your career, apart, but here you are—back together in the same room. The silence between you both says everything that words can’t. He’s still the same —strong, sharp, focused. But there's a distance there now, a wall between you that wasn’t there before.

Grey finishes up with the details. "Any questions? No? Good. Get out there and stay safe."

The briefing wraps up, and officers start filing out, but you linger, just for a second. You grab your bag and head out to the garage where the cars are parked. Tim's footsteps follow behind you, the sound too familiar. You can feel him closing the space between you but neither of you says anything. He grabs his keys, but you don’t meet his gaze. Instead, you focus on the cruiser parked in front of you, doing your best to ignore the sharp pang in your chest.

“Ready?” Tim’s voice is low, controlled. He doesn’t wait for a response, just opens the door and slides in.

You hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight of the passenger seat you once called your own. The silence stretches out, thick and suffocating. Finally, you slip into the seat next to him, and the moment your seatbelt clicks, you feel the tension in the car increase. Neither of you says a word as the engine roars to life.

The drive to your first assignment feels longer than it should. Neither of you speak, both of you caught in that strange limbo of once being partners—both on and off the job—and now, just colleagues, with an unspoken history lingering in every shared glance and every breath you take in the confined space of the cruiser. You’re here to do a job, but underneath it all, it’s so much more than that.

The silence is almost suffocating as the cruiser rolls through the city, its headlights cutting through the darkened streets. You try to focus on the task ahead—on the job—but your thoughts keep drifting. His presence in the car, right next to you, brings back a rush of memories. The good, the bad, and everything in between. You can still picture him in your mind—the way he would always drive with his hand resting on the wheel, his jaw clenched in concentration, his brow furrowed when things got tense. It’s all still there, etched into your memory. But now, it feels like looking at a stranger.

The first call comes through over the radio.

“Domestic disturbance,” Tim says, breaking the silence. His voice is neutral, businesslike. No trace of the warmth that once was between you two. His hands grip the wheel tighter, his knuckles white.

“Right,” you reply, your voice a little more clipped than you intend. You don’t want to sound cold, but you’re finding it hard to slip into the routine of working together like nothing has changed.

You’ve been through hundreds of calls like this, but tonight, the familiar rush of adrenaline feels different. You can’t help but notice how Tim moves through the motions with ease, just like he always did. He’s in his element, despite the tension. He’s a cop, through and through.

He pulls up in front of a small house, the flashing lights of the squad car casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk. A woman stands on the porch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes wide and scared.

You both get out, and Tim’s already moving forward, his pace measured, controlled. You follow, but everything feels slow, like you’re wading through water. The distance between you both is tangible, and it’s hard to ignore.

“Ma’am,” he starts, his voice calm, authoritative, but soft enough to not add to the fear in the woman’s eyes. “What’s going on here?”

You stand off to the side, arms crossed over your chest, watching the interaction with practiced eyes. Tim does this so effortlessly—he’s always been the one to take charge in situations like this, his presence reassuring. It makes you realize, once again, how much of your own confidence came from being able to work alongside him.

Flashback

Tim sat next to you in the passenger seat, his presence a force in the small car. You’d learned to appreciate the quiet moments with him, the way he seemed to ground everything in an otherwise chaotic world. The air smelled faintly of stale coffee and something more like... pizza, maybe? But you didn’t ask.

“Do you ever just—” Tim started, his voice cutting through the quiet. “—stop thinking?”

You glanced at him as you maneuvered through the empty streets. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he continued, looking out the window. “You’re always so... together. Even when things are crazy, you handle it like you’ve got everything under control.”

You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped you. “It’s called faking it, Tim. You should try it sometime.”

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, but the corner of his lips tugged into that small, familiar smirk. “Right. But that doesn’t explain how you make it look so easy.”

Your heart skipped, but you pushed the fluttering feeling aside. Tim wasn’t one for compliments, so when he said things like this, it threw you off a little. You didn’t even know how to respond.

You had learned to keep a cool head, to act calm and confident on the outside, especially with him around. Working alongside wasn’t just about being a good partner. It was about survival. He had a way of making you feel like you could take on anything. And maybe, somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d begun to believe it.

But his question made you realize something. That confidence you projected? It wasn’t just something you’d built from your own experience. No, it was more than that. It came from the way Tim had made you feel when you worked together, the way he trusted you without hesitation, the way he always made sure you knew you were capable, even when you doubted yourself.

You turned your attention back to the road. “It’s... it’s easier when you know you’ve got someone watching your back.”

“Sounds nice,” Tim repeated softly, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he shifted in his seat. “You always seem like you’ve got it handled. Like you don’t need anyone.”

You didn’t look at him this time. “Well, I don’t need anyone to tell me how to do my job.”

There was a pause, and then he asked, almost like he was still testing the waters, “But you’re okay with me being here, right? With me helping out?”

You were taken aback, your fingers tightening on the wheel. It wasn’t a question you expected, not from him. There had always been a kind of unspoken understanding between you two, a connection that didn’t need words. But something in his tone made you realize maybe he was starting to see you differently, maybe even see through the walls you’d put up.

You had never thought about it like that before, but the truth was, you did rely on him. Not just in a professional sense, but in a way that ran deeper than that. It was something you hadn’t admitted to yourself. You didn’t need him to carry the weight of your confidence, but somehow, working alongside him made everything feel a little bit lighter.

“I never said I didn’t need you,” you finally said, the words coming out more vulnerable than you intended. “But I like to keep it... controlled. Keeps things simple.”

Tim didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his gaze on you, searching, like he was seeing something you weren’t saying. His lips parted, but then he just nodded. “I get it.”

The conversation lingered between you for the rest of the drive, quiet and unspoken. But as you pulled up to the precinct and parked, something about the way Tim looked at you felt different. It wasn’t pity or judgment—nothing like that. It was just... understanding.

That understanding continued through the day as you went through your shifts. You weren’t sure when it happened, but you could feel Tim’s eyes on you in a way that wasn’t just professional. It was like he was seeing you for the first time—really seeing you—not just as his partner, but as someone who had built this unshakable front because of everything you had been through. Because of how much you depended on him, and how much you feared depending on anyone at all.

Later that day, when you were taking a break, Tim leaned against the edge of the car, his usual calm demeanor still present, but with something else in his eyes. “Hey,” he said, his tone lighter than before. “If you ever need to talk, you know... I’m here.”

You looked up, surprised by the softness in his voice. It wasn’t the standard "don’t hesitate" cop speak. It was... genuine. Maybe that’s what hit you hardest—how much he had always been there, even in the background. Always steady. Always reliable.

And maybe, just maybe, you realized that the confidence you carried wasn’t just because you were good at your job. It was because you had someone who believed in you, who was there in the trenches with you, whether you showed it or not. Tim had always been your anchor in the chaos and you allowed yourself to see it.

You smiled, a little more honestly than you expected. “I know, Tim. I know.”

You realized how much of your confidence had come from being able to work alongside him—because with Tim Bradford by your side, you didn’t have to fake anything. You could just be you, and that was enough.

Flashback end

You almost catch yourself looking at him, but you quickly look away, focusing back on the woman’s trembling form. She explains in a shaky voice, detailing a fight with her partner, a mix of shouting and pushing, nothing too serious but enough to scare her. It’s routine. No weapons involved, just tempers flaring.

He nods, taking in the information, his expression unreadable. You both move through the process of taking statements, confirming details, and ensuring the situation doesn’t escalate. Tim handles it like he always does—efficient, calm, with just enough authority to keep things from spinning out of control.

After everything is wrapped up and the woman is safely back inside, his head turns to you, his expression guarded but not unkind.

“You good?” he asks, his voice still holding that professional distance.

“Yeah,” you reply, though you’re not sure you are. The tension between you both is like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. But for now, you push that feeling aside. “Just... like old times.”

“Yeah.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he turns away, heading back to the car.

You both fall back into the cruiser without another word, the quiet between you hanging heavy in the air. The drive to the next call feels just as tense, if not more so. It’s hard to focus on the work when everything else feels like it’s shifting beneath your feet. You’re no longer the partners you once were, but here you are, side by side, forced to navigate the job together again.

Another call comes through, and this one’s more serious. A robbery in progress, shots fired. The words slice through the air, and Tim’s reaction is instant. His body tenses, his focus sharpening. He slams the gas, and you feel the jolt of speed as the city blurs around you. The momentary distraction of adrenaline sweeps the tension between you both aside. There’s no time for personal issues, not with this on the line.

“Stay sharp,” Tim says, his voice a low growl, a tone that makes it clear he’s in full cop mode now.

You nod, your body moving on autopilot as the car skids around corners, sirens blaring. Everything else falls away as the job takes over. The past is shoved to the back of your mind, at least for now. It’s just you and him again—partners in the field.

When you arrive at the scene, chaos unfolds before your eyes. Officers are already moving in, securing the area. The suspect is barricaded inside, and you can hear the distant crackle of gunfire. The tension is palpable, but Tim’s instincts take over. He’s the one you always relied on in these situations.

Without hesitation, he starts directing officers, calling the shots. You move with him, side by side, working in sync, though the connection feels distant now.

You both position yourselves at the entrance, ready for whatever happens next. But this time, there’s a stark difference between you and him. A line you both can’t cross, no matter how much you wish you could. The job demands all of you, and right now, that’s all that matters.

“Cover me,” Tim says, his voice steady but with that sharp edge you know all too well. He doesn’t need to say more—you know what he means. You always did.

As he moves toward the building, you stay behind, your hand resting on your holster, eyes scanning the surroundings. The air is thick with danger, and your heart races, not from the nerves of the situation, but because you’re working with him again.

As the situation continues to unfold, you can’t shake the feeling that something is missing—the warmth, the camaraderie, the bond. It’s all there in the motions, in the way you both know what the other is thinking without words. But it's not enough anymore. It never will be. Not after everything that’s happened.

When the dust settles and the situation is handled, you both stand in the aftermath, silently assessing the damage.

“Good work,” Tim says, his voice colder than before. But there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place.

You nod. “You too.”

As you head back to the cruiser, the weight of the day presses down on you, and you realize just how much you’ve missed this—being out here, in the field, with Tim.

But you also realize that the things you miss aren’t coming back. Not the way you want the-, wait what?