He Hopes So! Nick Was Having To Hold Her Back To Avoid Some Kind Of Divine Intervention.

he hopes so! nick was having to hold her back to avoid some kind of divine intervention.

in a world of boys (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.5k

synposis: dating was hard. tiptoeing the line between casual and official always had you stumbling. and bradley, in spite of how good he made you feel, was no exception.

warnings: insecurity, allusions to anxiety (spiraling thoughts, disassociating, just a LOT of self-doubt and questioning)

a/n: i have cute fluff ideas i swear! but writing from experience always just gets the words flowing. here's to hoping we all find someone as emotionally mature and empathetic as bradley bradshaw.

bonus note: i looped slut by taylor swift writing a majority of this oops

The words had always come easy to you. Every conversation was effortless, no matter what the context. Quips and jokes flowed through you as the blood flowed through your veins. It never took careful thought or pondering. But pondering was consuming you as your fingers hovered over the letters at the bottom of your screen.

Bradley and you had been seeing each other for nearly two months. Late-night rides in his Bronco and one overnight at your apartment had filled the weeks since you had first bumped into him at the Hard Deck. His charm and humor lit up your days. His heart and warmth soothed you in moments of weakness. And for once, you had opened yourself to all of it; to all of him.

There was no limit to the dishonesty and complacency you'd been shown in your prior dating history. Bradley was neither of these things, as far as you were aware. Yet, the lack of clarity for what he felt was beginning to plant a sick feeling in your gut.

Things were going so well. Never had you felt more assured in someone's affection and interest in you. Never had you felt more cared for and adored. You loathed yourself to think of gambling that for the sake of your security.

Me: Hey.. not to ruin the mood, but I was just wo

Pathetic. Delete.

Me: Is this just a sex thing?

Abrasive. Delete.

You groaned to yourself in frustration. Judging by your history, this would only end one way. Still, you weren't sure how much longer you could bear the fluttering in your chest under the guise of nonchalance.

Me: I really like what's between us right now. But can I ask where you think this is going?

Here we go.

You hit the 'send' arrow before you could think through it for another second. God, why did this have to be so complicated? Were you the source of all the complications, with your need for control to figure out how everything had to go? Was this the reason no one would commit to you in the past? Or was the dating world simply reduced to nothing but souls too fearful to stick it out, for what could be lying ahead of them? Were you settling? Were you making him settle?

Two buzzes of your phone jolted you in your seat.

Flyboy: I think it'd be better to talk about this in person. You up for a drive?

Oh god.

You sent back an answer and ran your hands through your hair. Tears started to prick at your eyes already as a familiar sinking feeling settled in. Quickly, you were trying to soothe yourself with the small comforts of the situation.

His car always felt musty anyway.

You won't have to worry about accidental pregnancy!

It's face-to-face, at least. Maybe you'll get proper closure for once.

A dozen other weightless sentiments were stacked in your head by the time you heard the purr of a familiar engine outside. You drew in a deep breath, collected yourself as much as possible, and swiped up your keys.

Flyboy: Here!

You didn't even open the text thread, opting to keep your head bowed as you locked your front door. Goosebumps rose along your skin as it met the night air. With much effort, you inhaled deeply. Your feet were leaden as you trudged toward the Bronco.

All the darkness swirling in your head gave way to that bright smile Bradley held just for you. Something in your chest twisted sharply at the show of affection. Every moment of this adoration passing was the last, you reminded yourself. This drive would loop you right back to the somber state you were in before the greatest man you'd ever known walked into your life.

"Hey there, angel," he greeted. The rasp in his voice warmed you the same way a glass of whiskey would. Steadily, slowly, and then all at once.

"Hi," you called back as you hopped in the passenger side. You kept your gaze ahead, hands beginning a nervous pattern of threading fingers. Bradley raised a brow at the action but didn't call further attention to it. His eyes hooked to the road as he pulled the pair of you off into the night.

There was almost an ache in the absence of his hand on your thigh. Both of the worthy appendages anchored themselves to the wheel, no yield in their grip.

Safe driving; he's just practicing safe driving. It's a late night, dark even with the street lamps, and the Bronco's headlights didn't match the brightness of modern LEDs.

But perhaps it's the first thing to go. Bradley needed to take the first baby step away from this.. whatever it was. And he was having you take it with him.

Was there something you did? Maybe the night you spent together had been too soon. Or maybe you had been too forthcoming in your own intent, without clarity on his own. You never let things simmer. You always had to know, that eternal impatience winning out against the chance of a simple slow burn. But maybe this wasn't meant to take that direction; maybe that's not what Bradley wanted.

Would anyone ever want that? Was it just that they didn't want it with you? What was so wrong with you? Were you so horribly broken to everyone else that no relationship could ever be fulfilled? What were you not seeing?

"Hey, earth to angel." An empty parking lot surrounded you. The sounds of crashing waves and the warm autumn breeze replaced the storm of neverending thoughts ringing in your ears. Bradley had his hand on your arm, the first touch he'd granted you the whole evening, the touch that broke your trance. His brows were furrowed again in concern as he scanned your sorrow-filled face. Not wanting to startle you further, he kept his voice soft. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"

You took a moment to compose yourself. Your eyes shut as you drew in another deep breath, letting it out with a drop of your shoulders. And then, you told him.

Each one of your fears and anxieties, a summation of how your heart and body were carelessly juggled in the past, how you found yourself at fault in every instance. How even in that moment, when everything seemed to be right with him, something had clearly gone wrong out of your view and it was all about to crash. But it wasn't on him, you insisted. It was on you.

The waves and breeze continued to sound long after your voice faded from the air. Tears pricked at your eyes slowly in sullen acceptance. You had nailed your own coffin shut with this whole conversation. You should have stayed silent. Being lost on your path was better than taking an exit, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Look at me." Bradley was an emotional man, you had come to learn. He wore his heart out on his sleeve the moment he felt safe enough. So, the absence of emotion from his voice churned your stomach worse than anything else. You met his eyes sheepishly, preparing for a more brutal "break-up" than you originally anticipated.

He sighed, the hand on your arm shifting up to cup your cheek. The touch warmed you and drew the tears from your eyes at once. Droplets rolled down your cheeks in single strands, yet you could not bother yourself with embarrassment. This would be the last he would see of you.

Bradley chuckled. "I did this all wrong, didn't I?"

What was there to laugh about? Had he meant to be more direct in his lack of intent, or in ending things-

"My mom's yelling at me from up there, I know it."

What?

Bewildered was the perfect word for your changed expression. And Bradley now knew better than to let you sit on coded messages.

He took your hands into his, rubbing soft circles along your knuckles as he told you, "I'm serious about this, angel. About us, you. I have been from the get-go."

A flurry of feelings coursed through you. Shock and relief mixed with the confusion still lingering behind in the wake of this confession. It was as if you didn't believe what you were hearing, because part of you really didn't. The part of you that had doubted there was any silver lining to your history of heartbreak was incapable of believing in a final chapter.

You didn't know how to accept it or respond. Excitement was chomping at the bit to break your otherwise unsettled demeanor, but fear held a tight grip on the reins. "Are.. are you sure?"

Bradley could've laughed again, the question ridiculous in his mind. Being with you was as clear as day to him. The ways in which you soothed his soul, sparked life back up amidst his dreary routines, and made him picture a future ahead was something he knew he could not be without. But he now realized his failure in communicating as such to the person who needed to hear it most.

So he held back the laugh and held your hands instead. "I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you."

tags: @avengersfan25

sigh. i saw it coming and still i feel like my heart's been ripped out clean from my chest </3 written so beautifully as always in every detail!

How You Play the Game Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley are both determined to enjoy your last day together, but that doesn't mean neither of you are hurting. More than anything, he wants you to stay with him past the World Series. You wish you could reassure him that's what you want to do, too.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, angst, smut (18+)

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley's words were echoing in your ears. "What do you have in New York that you couldn't have in San Diego? Here. With me."

You couldn't answer him. There was nothing you could say, really. Instead you sat on his lap until your tears stopped and you felt like you could breathe again. Breathing was always easier around Bradley, because he seemed to be the only one who wasn't rushing you or shoving you along through deadlines and connecting flights and time zones. 

You couldn't exactly tell him you had stronger feelings for him after knowing him for nine whole days than you did for the last guy you dated for a year. And you couldn't tell him you felt lonely in your own skin sometimes, like nobody else could understand how hard it was to love your job but hate the constant demands. You couldn't tell him that feeling lessened with each passing day he was near you. 

When you finally eased away from him and kissed his lips, you tried to smile as you said, "Let's just enjoy our last day together." That was all you could offer him. That was all you could have from him in return.

Bradley closed his eyes, and said, "Sure, Ace." And you couldn't fight the urge to smooth out the crease along his forehead with your lips. You kissed him there, and he didn't stop you. There were so many things you didn't know about him, hadn't bothered to ask. And there was no reason for him to ask you either, because this was all a fling with an expiration date. But you were curious, especially after spending so much time in his home. 

You were still smoothing your fingers along the scars and lines on his face when he opened his pretty brown eyes and tried to smile at you. By the time you were on your flight to Boston on Monday morning, you'd be craving the feel of his skin and the scratch of his mustache.

"It's late," he said softly, his voice raspier than ever. Your lips were on his before you could even reason with yourself that you needed to start pulling back in self preservation. And of course he kissed you back just right with his big hands on your back. When you pulled away, there were more tears in your eyes, and you wanted so badly to hide them. But he kissed your cheeks and said, "We should try to get some sleep. I want you to have energy when you're in Boston."

You nodded and stood, and you watched him gracefully pull his big body off the cold floor. Wordlessly, he picked up your computer and took your hand, leading you back to his bedroom. He carefully plugged your computer in so it would be charged up for game seven, and he kissed your forehead. "I already brushed my teeth. I'll warm up the bed."

When you slipped into the bathroom, you had to scrub at the tear streaks on your face as more threatened to fall. You brushed your teeth and used the toilet, and then you realized you still hadn't actually booked your flight. You were swiping at your tears when you walked back into his bedroom and saw him in bed with his head on his pillow and his hands over his eyes. 

He must have heard you, because he sat up a little bit and pulled the covers back as he said, "Come on, Ace." Then he paused. "You're crying again."

You located your phone and whispered, "I still have to book my flight." You were clutching your phone to your chest as Bradley took a deep breath and patted the spot in bed next to him. You slid in, and he wrapped his arms around you, making it somehow easier and harder for you to open up the airline app and search.

Direct flight. 6:35 on Monday morning. One seat left. It seemed too fateful for you to look any further. You could be in Boston late in the afternoon and go right to TD Garden and start your research and maybe get a jump on the exclusive. You bought the ticket and then tossed your phone aside as you buried your face in Bradley's chest.

He must have seen your phone screen, because he whispered, "I can drop you off at the airport." You just nodded as he rubbed his hand up and down your arm, soothing you. "Hey, I thought we were going to enjoy our last day together."

You took a deep breath, indulging in the smell of his skin before you looked up at him. "That's what I want." Bradley looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face before he turned off the lamp next to the bed.

---------------------------

You were curled up sweetly with your head on his chest, but to Bradley, it felt like there was an unmovable weight that was crushing him. Your upcoming schedule would have you flying all over the place, and he wanted to know he did everything he could to let you get some rest now. He wanted you to think back to the World Series with him and smile, not feel stress from it. 

Maybe you'd text or call him occasionally, when you could. The idea of it took some of the pain in his chest away. Just seeing a message from Ace on his phone would probably destroy and excite him equally. 

"Bradley?" you asked softly. Your voice surprised him since your breathing had finally evened out to a slow and steady rhythm. 

"Yeah, Baby?"

Your arm draped across his abs tightened around him as you said, "There are so many things I don't know about you. It's like we did this all backwards in a way, and I'm missing some little pieces of it all. I don't even know how old you are."

"I'm thirty five," he replied instantly. Then he told you when his birthday was in June. 

"I should have known you were born during baseball season," you replied with a smile in your voice. "Where are you from?"

"Virginia. And I gotta say, I like the east coast girls, Ace."

He wanted to make you laugh, wanted to try to ease your mind, but you just said, "They like you, too."

Then you asked him more about his family, but there wasn't a lot to say. And you asked him about the Navy, but there was too much for your last twenty four hours together. And he wanted to know everything about you, too. So he repeated a lot of the questions you already asked, and eventually you yawned and rolled onto your side, pulling him with you. 

Bradley knew it was time to let you get some sleep as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. This time he was almost certain your even breathing meant you were out, and he let himself relax with the back of your body nestled against the front of his. He was nearly asleep now, too, but he indulged in one last question. "Would you stay, Ace? Would you stay if you could?"

Once again he slept so soundly with you cradled in his arms, warmer and more comfortable than he could ever remember being. When he woke up, he'd barely moved, because you were facing him in his arms, still sound asleep. It was Sunday. Game seven. You'd be well and truly gone by this time tomorrow. Bradley wanted to wake you up and talk to you, hear your voice. He wanted to spend the whole day in your presence. But this was kind of perfect, too. You trusted him next to you after just a few nights together. 

He pressed his lips softly to your forehead and let you sleep as long as you needed to, and his reward when you woke up was the look of pure happiness on your face when you realized you were with him. His heart ached as he watched your expression falter just enough that he knew you realized what today meant.

"Bradley," you whispered, voice laced with sadness as you let your palm rest on his cheek before pushing your fingers back through his hair. "Bradley, I-"

But you didn't finish your sentence. You kissed him instead. You were wearing his Padres jersey and a pair of his socks, and Bradley never wanted you to stop. He wanted you to have his clothing at your disposal whenever you wanted to wear it. 

"Ace," he grunted, rolling you onto your back. You didn't let him break the kiss as you kept your hands on his cheeks and in his hair. Your thighs were spread wide for him, and you moaned softly into his mouth when he settled against your core. 

Bradley's cock was heavy and throbbing as he carefully pulled his underwear down around his thighs. Your little moans were so pretty as he devoured your mouth and caressed your opening with his tip until you were bucking up against him with a gasp. 

"I want you."

Well that was fine with Bradley, because he wanted you. And he wanted to give you everything. He wanted you to be his. So he guided himself slowly until he was deep inside you, and he let himself pretend it was already Monday and you decided to stay.

-----------------------------

Bradley's arms were wrapped around you from behind, and his chin came to rest on your shoulder. "Let me make you breakfast. To say thank you for letting me eat all your food," you whispered. It was hard not to smile when you were wearing his clothing and he had you in his arms like this. 

"I'd rather make it together," he murmured softly next to your ear. "Rather spend the whole day touching you."

You closed your eyes and swallowed past the lump in your throat. This would never work, no matter how badly you wished it could. Bradley wanted to touch you all day when you were here with him, but you'd always be away. You'd be chasing exclusives and jumping through all the hoops Greg set out for you. And Bradley would grow tired of your lifestyle, crave someone easier to be with. You were already too much for him.

"Can we make breakfast together?" he asked, and you realized you and he had snuggled in bed for such a long time, you only had a few hours until you had to be at Petco Park. 

"Yeah," you replied softly. You did most of the work, and he did most of the touching, but a little while later, you and he were on the couch again with plates of eggs and bacon. 

Bradley's pretty brown eyes were on your face as you took a bite and smiled softly. "It's yummy. I like cooking with you."

He closed his eyes and balanced his plate on his knee. "We could keep doing this, Ace. We could definitely do this again." When he opened his eyes, he asked, "Maybe I could meet you in New York whenever you finally make your way back there? Or maybe you could come back here if you have a day off? I know it wouldn't be easy. I wouldn't expect it to be. When I get deployed, it's kind of the same thing. We'd understand each other that way."

"Bradley," you whispered. "That would only make things worse. We'd never see each other, and-"

"Just think about it." His voice was low and harsh, and his eyes were pleading. You didn't respond except to pick at the rest of your breakfast silently while he did the same. But as soon as his hand came to rest on your leg, he took your plate and set it aside next to the box of baseball cards you'd been looking through on his coffee table. 

"You have some rare cards," you murmured, daring to meet his eyes again. "They were your dad's?" 

You'd taken the time to ask him more about himself last night, and you kind of wished you hadn't. Bradley had answered every question you tossed at him, and you learned all about Nick and Carole Bradshaw as a result. 

"Yeah, they were my dad's. My mom gave them to me when I was ten or eleven. I've been hauling them around with me everywhere since she died."

"Hey, that's dedication," you whispered.

You ran your fingers along the edge of the box before reaching inside. As soon as your body was no longer touching his, you felt Bradley scoot a little closer and slip his hand around your waist. He found you desirable, maybe even lovely, and when he kissed your shoulder through the jersey fabric, you turned your head to kiss his lips. 

Before things could get too heated on the couch, you murmured, "I need to get a shower and start working on my article. You coming with me?"

You led him into his own bathroom where he turned on the shower and then took his time unbuttoning the jersey. Inch by inch he guided the shirt open, his fingers skimming your skin, making you whimper. "You're beautiful," he whispered, cheeks flushed and eyes on yours as he rubbed his hands along your sides and down to your butt. You shrugged out of his Padres jersey and let it fall to the floor as he kissed you. 

He backed you up against the wall, and his lips were relentless on yours as you moaned his name. When he broke the kiss, he cupped your face in his big palm. "So beautiful." Then you stepped under the spray of the shower, and you were treated to his hands and mouth on your slick body. 

This must have all been part of the long goodbye, because you let him whisper the sweetest words against your skin as you rode his fingers. And it broke your heart a little bit more when you felt his mustache on your ear. Your name was a broken cry on his lips as you used your hands on him as well. 

Your legs felt like jello as he kept you pinned against the shower wall with his body. Your hands were covered in his cum, and he was looking at you with wide eyes and gently parted lips. "Ace." He shook his head. "Baby. Please."

More than anything, you wanted to tell him that you thought you could love him. But you pushed him away from you instead. "I can't be late again today."

-------------------------

Bradley found himself right back where he had been during game one. You and he sat side by side at the narrow counter in the press box at Petco Park. As good as it felt to acknowledge that this was all familiar to him by now, he knew this was the last time for it. You were keeping your stats and typing up your article, but your gaze landed on his face frequently. Your eyes were soft yet guarded, and every time you let your hand rest on his thigh, you kissed his lips. 

He couldn't give a shit about the game. Ten days ago he was as excited as everyone else in San Diego about the Padres, but now it didn't matter. "You want something to eat? Some water?" he asked you softly, glaring at Quincy and the others every time they so much as looked at you. 

"Please," you replied, marking down another Padres home run that Bradley wasn't allowed to cheer for but didn't really want to anyway. 

"Be right back." He stood and made his way to the tables of food. He picked up a plate, but he just stared at everything before glancing back at you. Would anyone be there to make sure you ate and took breaks in Boston? Would anyone else even care? He knew your boss didn't. And he knew you would keep pushing yourself to be better no matter what. 

"Fuck," he muttered, closing his eyes against more tears. He wanted to take care of you in the stupidest ways. Check on you a few times during the day. Make sure you weren't hungry. Keep chocolate chips in his kitchen. "Fuck."

He filled a plate with food as Petco Park erupted in more loud cheers, but only you really mattered. Bradley kissed your cheek as he sat down with your food and water. 

"Padres are going to win," you murmured as you opened the bottle. "By five runs." Bradley just nodded, because even though there were still two innings left, he knew you were probably right. "Are you excited?" 

"About the game?" he asked softly as your hand came to rest on his leg. 

"Mmhmm," you hummed, taking a sip and then setting the water aside. But you looked more apprehensive than happy, and Bradley certainly didn't feel happy that the World Series was nearly over. 

"The only thing I'm excited about is spending tonight with you." 

You laced your fingers with his and occasionally scribbled down the bare minimum on your stat sheet as your head came to rest on his shoulder. Bradley drew shapes on your back through your blouse just like he had during every other game. And he kissed the top of your head just like he'd done in bed. When the Padres won seven runs to two, you set your pencil down and ran your soft hand up along his neck. And the kisses were sweet, so sweet as everyone around you started to pack up to leave. 

Bradley knew there was a race now to be the first journalist to submit a clear, concise article chronicling game seven. He could hear the others talking about it. But you just kept kissing him, kept your hands on his face and in his hair. Nobody said a word to either of you as the press box cleared out, and you were in Bradley's lap with you finally broke the kiss. 

There were tears in your eyes when he whispered, "I have some champagne in the fridge. Let me take you back home so you can submit your article, and then we can celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

Bradley shrugged and kissed your damp cheek. "Celebrate how fucking cool you are. And how much I like you."

He was happy when you laughed, and he stood with you in his arms. It was a long walk through the crowds of people celebrating. He held your hand, and you stuck by his side the whole way back to the Bronco where he opened the door for you. The desire to make tonight a sweet goodbye instead of something painful had Bradley giving you just the softest touches and kisses. He didn't want this to end. 

You sat on his lap in his kitchen and finished your article, but you weren't rushing it. Bradley kissed your neck and offered up some thoughts as he read what you wrote, and you added some of them to your piece. He held onto you like he had all of those nights in the hotel rooms, and he swallowed against his sadness. He was going to miss doing this with you, too. Just simply sitting with you while you worked your magic on your computer. 

"I think it's done," you whispered, your fingers hovering as the cursor blinked over the Submit icon. "Game seven. That's it."

Bradley nuzzled against your neck. "Send it in, Baby. It's incredible, and people can't wait to read what you wrote." As soon as you sent it, you checked your email inbox for the receipt, and Bradley's eyes caught on the fresh batch of people trying desperately to recruit you. He tightened his arms around you as he skimmed the names, and he had to force himself to say, "Let's open that champagne." 

He didn't even have flutes, but you didn't seem to mind that he poured you some in a pint glass. You tapped it against his and then took a few sips, but when you met his eyes, you set your glass on the counter. "I'll never forget you, Bradley."

"Fuck," he gasped, setting his glass aside as well. Now your mouth tasted like the champagne as you and he slowly made your way back to his bedroom. He wanted to make it last for the rest of the night. Every button on your blouse was a privilege for him to undo. Your warm skin was soft against his rough hands. Your voice telling him you'd miss him sent the ache in his heart up into his throat. 

He was choked up by the time you were in his bed, completely naked and whispering his name. The room was mostly dark, but you were beautiful, and your voice was everything he wanted to hear. You pulled his body down on top of you, and his mouth found yours like it was a magnet.

He made love to you, fingers laced with yours, hands on the pillow above your head. Every roll of your hips soothed him and broke his heart. Every whisper of, "Bradley," left him wanting to beg you for more after this. Tomorrow and next week and next year. He wanted to stay buried inside you so your soft moans would never stop. Soft kisses to your face became more as he could taste the salt from your tears. 

"Don't cry, Ace," he whispered, dragging his lips to yours. You hiccupped softly, and he knew you were broken like he was. And he thought you felt like a better version of yourself when you were with him. He knew he was better around you. "Baby, don't cry."

"Can't help it," you replied as you nibbled on his lips. "You're just so... you're good. You make me feel good in so many ways."

When he rubbed his big hand down the length of your arm and neck to your chest, he felt your fingers in his hair. The words were right there along with the desire to say them. Would he feel better or worse if he did? Your soft hiccups turned to gentle moans as his fingers reached your clit. He knew exactly what you liked now, and he knew how to give it to you. Your hands held his body tight to yours, and his shallow thrusts grew erratic as he got close. And when you came for him, your body shivering before loosening into languid limbs and softer kisses, he pushed himself deep. For the last time. 

"Baby," he gasped, lips cascading down your neck as he came to rest on you. You held him close for so long without saying a word, he was a little afraid you weren't going to. But when you did, he kind of wished you hadn't. 

"I'll never forget you."

You slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom, and Bradley took a minute to get himself cleaned up. He had to wipe his eyes as he leaned on his dresser, the ticket stub from game one hanging right in front of him. When he looked in the mirror, he looked truly miserable. When you returned from the bathroom, your face looked pinched in the darkness as you tossed your loose items into your luggage and set your tote bag next to his bedroom door. Then you slipped into his Padres jersey without a word and climbed in bed. 

When he eased himself next to you, he felt your hands on him immediately. You rolled onto your side and tugged on him until he was snuggled up behind you. When he wrapped his arms around your waist, you squeezed his hands until he wrapped them a little tighter. His lips were right at your ear as he whispered, "I'll take you to the airport. I'll drop you off. I already set an alarm."

Your response was so soft, he barely heard you say, "Okay."

But even your breathing was a little rough. Shallow, shaky breaths seemed to be the only thing either of you could handle, and Bradley tried to kiss your chin and jaw, tried to offer you comfort, but he was hurting too much. He just wanted to know what came next, and if you told him nothing, then he'd be devastated. But not knowing was worse at this point, so he forced one deep breath in and back out of his lungs. 

"Will you call me? From Boston?"

Your shallow breaths turned to a sob. "Bradley. That's not a good idea."

He held you a little tighter. Pressed his lips to your ear a little harder. Trying to live without you in his bed or at least your notifications on his phone screen just didn't seem possible at this point. "But you're everything I've been looking for, Ace."

"Bradley."

He could be good for you. He knew he could. But he didn't know what else to say as he clung to you, memorizing the way you felt and how you smelled. So he said the only thing he could. "You know how to reach me. You know where to find me."

You nodded your head against his pillow and whispered, "I know." And that was just the thing. You knew, but he didn't. He wouldn't know where you went after Boston unless you told him. He had no idea where in New York City you lived. He'd only have your phone number and your articles to read unless you wanted him to have more of you. He just wanted more of you. He wanted you to stay with him in any way you were willing to. And that's why he said it. Because it was true, and he was sure he wouldn't regret saying so.

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

You didn't say another word to him. He must have fallen asleep eventually to the warmth of your body. He must have dozed soundly, calmed by your presence even though subconsciously he knew it was going to hurt again soon. But when he woke up to his alarm going off, you weren't next to him. The spot was still warm as he killed the alarm and ran his hand along the sheets where you should have been. 

"Ace," he rasped, panicking as he jumped out of bed and reached for his underwear. "Baby?" he called out as he pulled them on. He flipped the lightswitch next to his door and squinted against the intense brightness, but he noticed immediately that your bags were gone. The bathroom was empty. "Ace," he whispered as he darted into the kitchen. All he found was the mostly full bottle of champagne and the two half empty pint glasses.

He ran both hands through his hair as he paced around his kitchen and living room, tugging at the roots in frustration. His heart was beating so fast, he was sick and dizzy. He couldn't even look at the baseball card collection still out on his coffee table. Then he ran back to his bedroom and picked up his discarded phone. 

He called you, and it rang for a long time. When he got your voicemail message, he hung up and tried again. Once again it rang through. When he tried a third time, you ignored his call. Or maybe you'd turned your phone off. It went right to your voicemail. With tears in his eyes, he listened to your voice tell him that you weren't currently available to take his call, but you could leave a message for later. 

He walked back toward the door with tears in his eyes and turned the light off. As darkness surrounded him, he stumbled back to his bed. When it was time for him to leave a message, he swallowed hard, waited a few seconds and then said, "See ya, Ace."

Then he ended the call through his blurry tears and tossed his phone onto the floor as he climbed back in bed. 

-------------------------

I hurt my own feeling so much. Thanks for crying with me @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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because i'm trying to clear my wip's before i start on the bob idea..

another self-indulgent angsty bradley fic coming tomorrow?

going into full fledged panic mode WHY IS BRADLEY GOING AROUND WHERE CASEY IS?????? PLEASE tell me it’s only a coincidence, i can’t handle any more miscommunication between these two 😭

The Younger Kind Part 39 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's not hard for Bradley to convince you to buy a formal dress. He also easily gets you to stop referring to the house as only his. But his behavior after the three of you return from the lake house might not be something you're willing to deal with.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut, spanking, pregnancy talk, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley had to laugh, because while the Christmas in July fake birthday party all weekend long had been great, he and Maverick were the ones stuck cleaning up the decorations. 

"They really left us here, huh?"

"Yeah, Mav," Bradley replied. "They really left us here to clean up while they took Noah out for breakfast." But he didn't mind. You told him it would give him a chance to talk to his dad's best friend for a few minutes. 

When Bradley started to disassemble the Christmas tree, Mav asked him, "Are you planning on going to Warlock's retirement thing?"

"Retirement thing?" Bradley asked.

"Yeah. The surprise party. I keep forgetting about it." When Bradley's brow scrunched in confusion, the other man waved his hand. "You'll get an invitation this week. Most of Top Gun is invited."

Bradley felt for a second like he'd finally reached the upper echelon of work related events, because if he did in fact manage to get an invitation to an Admiral's retirement party, it was going to be swanky. "Black tie?"

"Oh yeah," Mav replied as he packed up strand after strand of lights. "Just wear your dress whites."

But that wasn't what Bradley was concerned about. If you needed to wear a formal gown, then you'd need to use your princess credit card. And he didn't want you balking at the price of a dress. He wanted you to go out and find something you wanted to wear for the night, and he didn't want to argue with you about the money. He had plenty of it; that was the downside to losing your parents when you were young and inheriting both of their life insurance policies. 

"Yeah, I can just wear my dress whites," Bradley replied as he decided perhaps you'd respond better to picking out a dress if he promised to spank you afterwards.

Once Bradley shoved the Christmas tree back into the closet, he could hear you pull the Bronco back into the driveway. Maverick handed him a beer, and he was sipping it when you walked in and headed right for him. "Daddy," you whispered, kissing his cheek. Amelia walked in holding hands with Noah, and Penny brought up the rear.

"We brought you some muffins," Penny said, shaking a white bag at Bradley. 

"Thanks," he replied before leaning down closer to you. He could practically still feel the tug of your fingers in his hair as he made love to you last night, once again with his hand over your mouth. "I actually like it better when you make breakfast for us at home," he said softly, just for you. "Did you have a nice time?"

You just shrugged. "The food was good, but the coffee sucked. I miss the French vanilla coffee you bring home for me sometimes."

"In the special Princess cups?"

You practically moaned for him. "I love it when you stop and get me coffee. Do you have any idea how hard I was crushing on you when you would bring that home with you on days when I was babysitting Noah? Or when you started buying French vanilla creamer for your house for me?"

Bradley eyed everyone else out on the back deck while he took a sip of the beer he was still holding and wrapped his arm a little tighter around you. "Tell me, Princess. Remind me. How hard were you crushing on me?"

Your lips met his neck, and sure enough, your fingers went to his hair. He stood there feeling kind of smug as you kissed him and murmured, "Couldn't stop thinking about you. I was so jealous of every girl you went out with. I wanted you to touch me so badly."

Bradley backed you up against the wall and pressed his body to yours. "I knew from the beginning I was wasting my time with them when you were at home."

You let your head tip back against the wall, and he leaned down to kiss you. "Well I'm always at your house now." You hooked your fingers through his belt loops and grinned. "I can't wait to make myself a latte from your fancy coffee maker tomorrow before work. The coffee is better from your kitchen."

Bradley froze with his palm pressed to the wall next to your head and your pretty eyes on him. "Baby, it's our house now."

Your eyes fluttered closed as you whispered, "Our house," like it was your fairy tale castle instead of a Coronado bungalow. Like he really was your knight. 

"Hey," he rasped, waiting until your eyes were open again. He ran his fingers along your cheek. "I love you. So fucking much. But I won't spank you ever again if you call it my house. You understand?"

"Daddy," you gasped as he pulled himself away from you and finished his beer with a smirk. Your eyes narrowed, and he should have been alarmed by your smirk that matched his. "If you don't promise to spank me when we get home tonight, I'll paint your entire house beige. And I'll stop buying salad dressing. And I'll go down to the lake right now and catch a pet fish for Noah."

"Fuck," he gasped, actually feeling a little panicky before you and he burst into laughter together. "Damn, you're good. And you know I'll give you whatever you want. But you've got to give me what I want, too. Call it our house."

You pecked his cheek and said, "Let me start packing so we can leave for our house in a few hours."

"That's more like it," he replied as he went to join everyone else on the deck.

-----------------------

You offered to drive, but Bradley told you to relax instead. You and Noah both ended up yawning fifteen minutes into the ride back to San Diego, and then you were both falling asleep. While Noah actually needed the afternoon nap so he wasn't cranky later, you just wanted to enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your face and Bradley's hand in yours. 

You were using his address as your own for work, and all of your mail was being sent there. Your stuff was in virtually every room, but there were still times that it felt like his and Noah's space. The new bed helped you feel more comfortable, and obviously Bradley let you do whatever you wanted throughout the house. But he was right; it was time you started to take ownership. That was your bungalow now with the snag in the living room rug and the crack along the driveway just as much as it was his. You dozed off thinking about the internet tabs open on his phone as he rubbed your left ring finger. 

Once again, Bradley had to wake you up when you arrived. He kissed you softly until your eyes opened to the afternoon sun. "We're home," he whispered. 

"Our house," you mumbled as you sat up straight and stretched. 

"Our house," he echoed. And then your heart melted as he asked, "Do you want to take our son inside while I carry in all of our shit?"

You smiled and turned to see that Noah was just waking up as well. "Yeah, I'll take our son inside." It was the most natural thing you could have said as you pecked Bradley's lips and climbed out onto the driveway.

"Mommy," Noah whined as you unbuckled him. "I have to pee." 

"Keys!" you shouted to Bradley where he was already unloading the back of the Bronco, and he tossed them to you. As quickly as you could, you hauled Noah up to the front porch and got him into the bathroom without incident. "You feel better?" you asked, and he nodded at you.

"Yeah. Mostly because there were no bears at the lake."

You had to stifle your laughter. This child was the sweetest thing you'd ever encountered in your life. "Told you that Daddy wasn't lying about the bears. What was your favorite part of the weekend?" you asked as you helped him wash his hands. 

"The worms."

Once again, you wanted to laugh, because you didn't even need to leave the backyard to find worms, let alone drive hours away to an enormous lake. "Don't tell Daddy that," you mumbled as you walked out of the bathroom to see Bradley dumping bags and boxes in the hallway.

"I think we overpacked," he said as he headed outside for more. "If we go on another family vacation, I'm supervising the packing, because now I know you can't be trusted with it."

"When we go on another family vacation," you called after him. You rolled your eyes and headed to the kitchen to start making spaghetti for dinner. Then you grinned as you set Noah up with a coloring book at the table. You kissed his soft hair and said, "Don't forget to remind your dad that you still want a dog, okay?"

-----------------------------

When Bradley took a minute to actually sort through the mail from Friday, he found the invitation to Admiral Bates' retirement party. A black tie formal at the San Diego Botanic Gardens. It was in less than two weeks, and his wife wanted it to be a surprise for him. Bradley would have to get his dress whites dry cleaned before then, but it would be harder to convince you to buy a gown. If you even wanted to go with him. 

At the moment, you were reading a bedtime story on Noah's floor and teaching him how to sound out the words. God, Bradley was fucking obsessed with how patient and sweet you were. Noah was snuggled up in your lap, looking at the book and saying the word castle when Bradley walked in. Wordlessly, he sat on the edge of Noah's bed and watched his son work through all the words on the page with your help. 

Maybe you'd get pregnant right away. Bradley didn't know if he'd be able to handle the excitement. He could spend a weekend getting the other bedroom set up as a nursery when it was time. When Meredith was pregnant, she only took him to one ultrasound appointment, but this time, if it happened, he'd beg you to let him go to all of them. Or as many as he could if he wasn't deployed. 

"Daddy?" you asked, handing Noah up to him. 

Bradley was shaken from his very pleasant thoughts by his son in his arms. He smiled and kissed Noah while he yawned before turning and getting him tucked in. "I still want a dog," Noah mumbled as he rolled onto his side, and Bradley shot you a dirty look. 

"What?" you asked innocently as you abruptly stood and headed for the door. You were off down the hallway, running to yours and his bedroom, but Bradley was right on your tail. 

He caught you in his arms as you laughed. "You know, all you've done since you got here is completely wreck our routine," he growled next to your ear as he held you tight. "You've literally destroyed our former way of life."

"What?" you gasped, trying to look up at him.

"You heard me," he whispered, kissing your hair. "You've got Noah reading books and eating homemade meals. You've turned me into a complete fucking mess with your glossy lips and your smile and your little dresses. And you have absolutely no regard for the fact that I get an erection whenever I smell wildflowers." 

You were all giggles now as he carried you to the bed. "It's your fault for being such a Daddy," you whispered with a grin. 

He set you down, and you lounged back against the pillows, your dress resting high on your thighs. Then he pulled the folded up invitation out of his back pocket and handed it to you as he climbed in bed too. "You wanna go with me?" he asked as you read it.

When your eyes darted up to meet his, you whispered, "I've never been to a black tie event before."

"Then you'll need a dress. Where's your phone?"

You bit your lip. "In the kitchen."

"Use mine," he replied, unlocking it and handing it to you with a new internet tab all ready for you to start shopping. "Order some dresses. And go to the mall after work one day this week if you want."

You took his phone but hesitantly said, "If I'm only going to wear it one time, I don't even know what to buy."

"Get whatever you want, Princess," he coaxed. "Maybe something purple?"

"Maybe..." you muttered as Bradley rolled you onto your belly in the middle of the bed. He watched over your shoulder as you started scrolling through some dresses, and he was practically salivating, because they would all look incredible on you. "Purple would be pretty."

"Mmhmm," he hummed, running his hands up the backs of your thighs and pushing your dress up around your waist. You glanced back at him as he carefully started to pull your underwear down. 

"What are you doing?" you asked with a little smirk as he inched your underwear down your legs and set them on the bed. 

He ran his big hands back up to your ass and bent to kiss you there. He could just see a glimpse of your pretty pussy as he kissed along the top of your thigh. "Exactly what you want me to do. But only if you order a dress." 

When you turned back to his phone, he ran his mustache along your perfect, soft skin. You were flawless, partly because of your age, but also because of how attractive you were. He was never going to tire of listening to your breath hitch when he touched you like his. He kneaded and palmed the globes of your ass, teasing down to your pussy with his thumbs until you whimpered. 

He tasted your skin everywhere, his tongue delving into your wetness as he pushed your legs further apart. You lifted yourself up onto your knees slightly, and he let you get away with it so he could taste more of you. But when you started to grind back against his face, he stilled you with his hands. 

"Did you pick out a dress yet?" he asked, licking the taste of your pussy from his mustache.

Your voice was quivering slightly. "I like this one, but it's expensive," you told him, holding up his phone. It was purple and two pieces with a fluffy Princess skirt. The top was covered in beads and would show off the tiniest bit of your waist all the way around. He was practically drooling just thinking about how much fun he'd have pushing all that fabric up to get to you. 

"Order it," he groaned before literally sinking his teeth into your ass and gently biting you so you squealed for him. "Order it right now, and I'll spank you and then fuck you."

"Okay," you moaned, and a minute later, you tossed his phone next to your underwear. "I ordered it." Bradley kissed you all over your ass before collecting you in his arms and draping you over his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

And just like last time, you loved it. He could tell. Every time his palm met your perfect body, you moaned his name and rubbed yourself against his thigh. Your skin felt warm as he soothed you and then spanked you again and again. "You're a good girl when you use the credit card," he crooned before dipping two fingers inside your pussy without warning. 

"Daddy!" you nearly shrieked, grinding back on his hand. He finger fucked you hard before withdrawing and then spanking you with his wet hand. The slapping noise and your reaction to him had him on the verge as he pulled you upright.

There were tears in your eyes and a soft smile on your face as you let him kiss your lips. He stroked his thumb along your cheek and whispered, "Get on your hands and knees."

You nodded and scrambled onto the bed, and he stood there and admired the sight before him. You were all round ass and soaking wet pussy as you pressed your cheek to the bedding and whined, "Bradley." He carefully unzipped his jeans, yanked them down, and thrust all the way inside you. The gentle hiss and soft groan as he filled you let him know you felt good. 

He let you have a few slow strokes before he grabbed you by the hips. Then he fucked you harder as you turned your head to bury your cries. A formal dress. A baby. A wife. He could think about little else besides you at the moment as he fucked you until he unloaded inside you with your name on his lips. 

Bradley knew he was a little rough as his hips continued to jerk, fucking his cum deeper. You lifted your face away from the bedding and started to crawl away from him, giving him a beautiful view of your pussy leaking his cum. 

"I'm sorry, Baby," he mumbled, shaking his head and climbing into the bed next to you. "I'm sorry I was a little rough." He was about to ask you if you wanted him to get you off with his mouth or his hands when you very gently reached for his face.

"I like it when you're rough," you whispered, voice full of emotion. "I like it when you're gentle with me, too. I love everything. I love living here with you in our house." You snuggled in closer to him and let your chin rest on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too, Princess."

----------------------------

Getting back into your work routine was hard after taking a few days off and sleeping in with Bradley each morning. Dr. Kelly even joked that you looked too well rested. "How was the lake?" she asked, and you immediately thought about Bradley untying your bathing suit on the boat. 

"Great," you replied as casually as you could. "Noah had the best weekend. Once we convinced him there were no bears at Big Bear Lake."

Her eyes went wide as she reached for some latex gloves and followed you toward an exam room. "Could you imagine if he actually saw one?"

You shook your head immediately. "Don't even want to think about it."

As the afternoon wore on, you realized your butt was still sore, and you were hungry for ants on logs. And this was all because you were in love with being in love with the Bradshaw boys. When you took a short break and checked your phone, there was a text from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: Hey, I'll be late today. Need to take care of some things at work. Can you pick Noah up?

You let him know you'd be happy to get Noah, and then you realized that maybe you'd get to see Casey, too. You were still giddy at the prospect of annoying her when you arrived at the daycare only to find Geena, the older teacher at the front desk. 

She greeted you warmly and then asked you for your ID. "I know that Casey probably knows you by now, and she's usually out here in the afternoons. But since she left a little early today, I'll just need to check your drivers license."

"No problem," you told her with a smile as you pulled it out of your wallet for her to inspect. She had you sign the sheet on the clipboard and then she vanished to get Noah. You wondered how late Bradley would be, but he never responded to your text when you asked him. Then Noah came running out, and you bent to scoop him up in your arms. 

"Mommy, we painted seashells today!" he gushed, holding up a ziplock bag with his name on it filled with colorful shells. 

"Noah! They're beautiful!" you told him as you waved goodbye to Geena and took him out to your car. "Do you want to turn them into a craft for Daddy when we get home?"

"Yeah!"

An hour later, you were still in your scrubs from work, making dinner while Noah glued some of the smaller shells onto a sheet of construction paper. You stopped what you were doing occasionally to help him arrange the shells to spell DADDY. "Looking good," you told him as he sounded out the letters. He loved reading, and you loved how excited he got. 

You kissed his forehead and then checked your phone as it vibrated on the counter. But when you saw it was your coworker trying to plan a happy hour, you set it down and sighed. You weren't sure if you should make a plate of food for Bradley or not. He'd probably be starving when he got home, so you decided to leave a serving out on the counter for him while you and Noah ate together. But you ended up just picking at your food. You hadn't heard from Bradley in hours. 

"Wanna get changed for bed?" you asked Noah after dinner. He went racing off to his bedroom and dug around in his drawer for his dinosaur pajamas. When he put the shirt on backwards, you helped him switch it around. 

"I want a snack," he told you just as you heard the front door open. Your heart leapt as you and he raced into the living room. Bradley looked exhausted in his rumpled uniform, and he was carrying a light blue box in one hand. 

"Hey, Bub," he said, kneeling so Noah could hug him. "You have a good day?"

"I made you a craft!"

Bradley looked up at you and smiled a little hesitantly. "Sorry I'm late," he mumbled as Noah yanked on his arm until he stood. He kissed your cheek as he was led into the kitchen, and Noah showed him the construction paper that was absolutely saturated with drying glue and seashells. "Wow! I love this! I think we need to let it dry overnight though."

"That's what Mommy said," Noah replied as Bradley set him down in one of the chairs. 

"What's in the box?" you asked. He opened it up to reveal a whole variety of pastries. Cookies, cupcakes, brownies and even a donut shaped like a crown. Now you felt bad for being a little annoyed with his lack of communication all afternoon and evening. 

Noah reached into the box, and Bradley snatched up the donut before he could get to it. "This one's yours."

"Thanks," you whispered before biting into it. The outside melted in your mouth, and the inside was filled with rich cream. It was delicious. Bradley leaned down to lick the corner of your mouth, and you felt your cheeks grow warm.

But once Noah was asleep, Bradley took a quick shower alone and collapsed into bed. "I'm fucking beat today," he said with an enormous yawn. "You ready for bed?" 

"Yeah," you agreed as he pulled the blanket over himself, and after you took a long shower he was already asleep. So you just snuggled in next to him, and eventually you fell asleep, too. 

The following morning, Bradley was still sound asleep when your alarm went off, something that never happened. "Daddy," you whispered, shaking him and kissing his cheek. "Wake up." He just grunted at you and rolled over. "Seriously?" you muttered, rolling out of bed since you could hear Noah in the bathroom. You changed into clean scrubs and skipped makeup since Noah was bugging for breakfast as soon as he saw you.

"Eggs or cereal?" you asked him once you had him dressed for the day. 

"Cereal," he replied. "And can I have another cookie? From the blue box?"

"We'll see," you said, setting him up with breakfast and then going back to find Bradley half dressed in his flight suit and messing with his phone. "You're up."

His eyes met yours, and he tucked his phone in his pocket. "Yeah. Sorry, I don't know why I was so tired. Can you drop Noah off so I'm not late?"

You nodded, and he cupped your cheek in his big hand. "Thanks, Princess." Then he grabbed the travel mug of coffee you made for him and took a protein bar and a cookie. With a quick kiss to Noah's head, he was out the front door. 

"Daddy had a cookie," Noah whined. "I want one, too."

You realized there was no point in arguing with him if Bradley was the one setting a bad example, so you carried the pastry box over to the table. You noticed it was from Sweet Dreams Bakery which was all the way across the city. Noah managed to snag two cookies as you stood there with the box open in a daze. Why was Bradley on the other side of San Diego yesterday? It was mostly residential over there.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath. You'd be late if you didn't get Noah in the car in the next few minutes. You quickly made yourself lunch and grabbed everything he would need before hauling him out to the car. You gently swiped cookie crumbs from his face and clothes as you buckled him in. "I'll drop you off quickly, and then Daddy will pick you up later, okay?"

Noah just nodded as he smiled. He would probably be on a sugar high within the hour, but at least he would be someone else's problem to deal with then. And you quickly learned that he would be Casey's problem to deal with when you took him inside and realized that you looked like a nightmare compared to her today. She was wearing an outfit so cute, you kind of wished you had one just like it. And she smiled maliciously at you.

"Good morning, Noah," she said sweetly as she practically tossed the clipboard in your direction. She walked him into the classroom as you signed your name and put the date and time. 

"Thanks," you mumbled, handing the clipboard back to her when she reappeared. 

"You know, I'm a little surprised it's you dropping him off today instead of Bradley. I mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw." She looked so smug you wanted to scream and smear her perfect makeup. 

But you stood there and calmly said, "We've already been over this. I'll be dropping Noah off and picking him up as well now. Indefinitely."

"Okay," she replied, barely paying any attention to you as she opened up a light blue pastry box identical to the one in your kitchen. "You keep telling yourself that."

You swallowed hard and looked between her face and the box one more time before you turned on your heel and rushed back out to your car.

--------------------------

What's up, Daddy? And why? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

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@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

incredibly bradley coded! this was written very much from my own experience, reworked to end favorably, but the racing thoughts were something i always wanted to include. it’s really easy to get lost on that train when you aren’t getting the proper reassurance to stop you in your tracks. but bradley recognized he had faltered in it and immediately corrected himself 🥺

in a world of boys (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.5k

synposis: dating was hard. tiptoeing the line between casual and official always had you stumbling. and bradley, in spite of how good he made you feel, was no exception.

warnings: insecurity, allusions to anxiety (spiraling thoughts, disassociating, just a LOT of self-doubt and questioning)

a/n: i have cute fluff ideas i swear! but writing from experience always just gets the words flowing. here's to hoping we all find someone as emotionally mature and empathetic as bradley bradshaw.

bonus note: i looped slut by taylor swift writing a majority of this oops

The words had always come easy to you. Every conversation was effortless, no matter what the context. Quips and jokes flowed through you as the blood flowed through your veins. It never took careful thought or pondering. But pondering was consuming you as your fingers hovered over the letters at the bottom of your screen.

Bradley and you had been seeing each other for nearly two months. Late-night rides in his Bronco and one overnight at your apartment had filled the weeks since you had first bumped into him at the Hard Deck. His charm and humor lit up your days. His heart and warmth soothed you in moments of weakness. And for once, you had opened yourself to all of it; to all of him.

There was no limit to the dishonesty and complacency you'd been shown in your prior dating history. Bradley was neither of these things, as far as you were aware. Yet, the lack of clarity for what he felt was beginning to plant a sick feeling in your gut.

Things were going so well. Never had you felt more assured in someone's affection and interest in you. Never had you felt more cared for and adored. You loathed yourself to think of gambling that for the sake of your security.

Me: Hey.. not to ruin the mood, but I was just wo

Pathetic. Delete.

Me: Is this just a sex thing?

Abrasive. Delete.

You groaned to yourself in frustration. Judging by your history, this would only end one way. Still, you weren't sure how much longer you could bear the fluttering in your chest under the guise of nonchalance.

Me: I really like what's between us right now. But can I ask where you think this is going?

Here we go.

You hit the 'send' arrow before you could think through it for another second. God, why did this have to be so complicated? Were you the source of all the complications, with your need for control to figure out how everything had to go? Was this the reason no one would commit to you in the past? Or was the dating world simply reduced to nothing but souls too fearful to stick it out, for what could be lying ahead of them? Were you settling? Were you making him settle?

Two buzzes of your phone jolted you in your seat.

Flyboy: I think it'd be better to talk about this in person. You up for a drive?

Oh god.

You sent back an answer and ran your hands through your hair. Tears started to prick at your eyes already as a familiar sinking feeling settled in. Quickly, you were trying to soothe yourself with the small comforts of the situation.

His car always felt musty anyway.

You won't have to worry about accidental pregnancy!

It's face-to-face, at least. Maybe you'll get proper closure for once.

A dozen other weightless sentiments were stacked in your head by the time you heard the purr of a familiar engine outside. You drew in a deep breath, collected yourself as much as possible, and swiped up your keys.

Flyboy: Here!

You didn't even open the text thread, opting to keep your head bowed as you locked your front door. Goosebumps rose along your skin as it met the night air. With much effort, you inhaled deeply. Your feet were leaden as you trudged toward the Bronco.

All the darkness swirling in your head gave way to that bright smile Bradley held just for you. Something in your chest twisted sharply at the show of affection. Every moment of this adoration passing was the last, you reminded yourself. This drive would loop you right back to the somber state you were in before the greatest man you'd ever known walked into your life.

"Hey there, angel," he greeted. The rasp in his voice warmed you the same way a glass of whiskey would. Steadily, slowly, and then all at once.

"Hi," you called back as you hopped in the passenger side. You kept your gaze ahead, hands beginning a nervous pattern of threading fingers. Bradley raised a brow at the action but didn't call further attention to it. His eyes hooked to the road as he pulled the pair of you off into the night.

There was almost an ache in the absence of his hand on your thigh. Both of the worthy appendages anchored themselves to the wheel, no yield in their grip.

Safe driving; he's just practicing safe driving. It's a late night, dark even with the street lamps, and the Bronco's headlights didn't match the brightness of modern LEDs.

But perhaps it's the first thing to go. Bradley needed to take the first baby step away from this.. whatever it was. And he was having you take it with him.

Was there something you did? Maybe the night you spent together had been too soon. Or maybe you had been too forthcoming in your own intent, without clarity on his own. You never let things simmer. You always had to know, that eternal impatience winning out against the chance of a simple slow burn. But maybe this wasn't meant to take that direction; maybe that's not what Bradley wanted.

Would anyone ever want that? Was it just that they didn't want it with you? What was so wrong with you? Were you so horribly broken to everyone else that no relationship could ever be fulfilled? What were you not seeing?

"Hey, earth to angel." An empty parking lot surrounded you. The sounds of crashing waves and the warm autumn breeze replaced the storm of neverending thoughts ringing in your ears. Bradley had his hand on your arm, the first touch he'd granted you the whole evening, the touch that broke your trance. His brows were furrowed again in concern as he scanned your sorrow-filled face. Not wanting to startle you further, he kept his voice soft. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"

You took a moment to compose yourself. Your eyes shut as you drew in another deep breath, letting it out with a drop of your shoulders. And then, you told him.

Each one of your fears and anxieties, a summation of how your heart and body were carelessly juggled in the past, how you found yourself at fault in every instance. How even in that moment, when everything seemed to be right with him, something had clearly gone wrong out of your view and it was all about to crash. But it wasn't on him, you insisted. It was on you.

The waves and breeze continued to sound long after your voice faded from the air. Tears pricked at your eyes slowly in sullen acceptance. You had nailed your own coffin shut with this whole conversation. You should have stayed silent. Being lost on your path was better than taking an exit, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Look at me." Bradley was an emotional man, you had come to learn. He wore his heart out on his sleeve the moment he felt safe enough. So, the absence of emotion from his voice churned your stomach worse than anything else. You met his eyes sheepishly, preparing for a more brutal "break-up" than you originally anticipated.

He sighed, the hand on your arm shifting up to cup your cheek. The touch warmed you and drew the tears from your eyes at once. Droplets rolled down your cheeks in single strands, yet you could not bother yourself with embarrassment. This would be the last he would see of you.

Bradley chuckled. "I did this all wrong, didn't I?"

What was there to laugh about? Had he meant to be more direct in his lack of intent, or in ending things-

"My mom's yelling at me from up there, I know it."

What?

Bewildered was the perfect word for your changed expression. And Bradley now knew better than to let you sit on coded messages.

He took your hands into his, rubbing soft circles along your knuckles as he told you, "I'm serious about this, angel. About us, you. I have been from the get-go."

A flurry of feelings coursed through you. Shock and relief mixed with the confusion still lingering behind in the wake of this confession. It was as if you didn't believe what you were hearing, because part of you really didn't. The part of you that had doubted there was any silver lining to your history of heartbreak was incapable of believing in a final chapter.

You didn't know how to accept it or respond. Excitement was chomping at the bit to break your otherwise unsettled demeanor, but fear held a tight grip on the reins. "Are.. are you sure?"

Bradley could've laughed again, the question ridiculous in his mind. Being with you was as clear as day to him. The ways in which you soothed his soul, sparked life back up amidst his dreary routines, and made him picture a future ahead was something he knew he could not be without. But he now realized his failure in communicating as such to the person who needed to hear it most.

So he held back the laugh and held your hands instead. "I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you."

tags: @avengersfan25

@rbhvleo // roberto ferri // mothering by ainslie hogarth // rainer maria rilke // ? // planet of love by richard siken // a self portrait in letters by anne sexton // indian summer by ron hicks