mayhem

hollie | 23 | creative writing graduate | top gun | requests closed

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* smut

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw heartbreak feels so good universe

heartbreak feels so good | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long. sundress It's been a week since you and Bradley confessed your feelings to each other on the beach. After an impromptu first date, Bradley takes you to a new Italian place on the seafront to wine and dine you like a true gentleman. dancing in the dark* | part 1 | part 2 Fourth of July weekend. No work. A massive lake house. The Dagger Squad have never felt so lucky. As for Bradley, he's wondering if he'll finally get lucky... lake house moodboard

series

the way home | part one | part two Christian!Reader prays for Bradley before every flight.

one shots to the moon & back You are the daughter of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell and the lifelong best friend of Bradley Bradshaw. Nothing has ever been able to get in between the two of you, not even the feelings you’ve been harbouring for him for as long as you can remember. But when you both get called to Top Gun for what seems to be a suicide mission, you realise that life is too short to keep your love for him a secret.

southern state of mind You and Jake are best friends, bonded by your hometown and love for line dancing. You take Bradley and Natasha into the city to a country and western bar and teach them to dance, and hopefully to make your move. 

hold me tight or don't After a horrible week, you are feeling low, bordering on depressed. Not wanting to worry your boyfriend you try to hide it but, as always, he sees right through you.

heaven is a place on earth * A roller rink with the Daggers, a bet with Bradley Bradshaw, and a photo booth that’s about to get way too hot. Lose the game, make the move—neither one of you is backing down, especially when the stakes are so high.

no vacancy The one-bed trope with Bradley Bradshaw at a destination wedding in Cabo.

drabbles

four times you didn't, one time you did The classic trope—four times you almost kissed Bradley Bradshaw, and the one time you did. birthday surprises Bradley and the squad make sure this birthday is one you won't forget...and not for the reasons you'd expect.

off the charts Bradley rates your dresses.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

heaven in hiding* Jake really likes you, so he wants to do things properly. Like a true gentleman. But the night still ends with your legs wrapped around his waist on the kitchen counter.

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

remind me You and Pete were in love and engaged to be married before Goose dies, breaking your little family apart. It's not until you're both called back to Top Gun for the uranium mission that you're forced to address feelings that you thought you'd buried a long time ago.

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Anyone here interested in some Daryl Dixon fics?…

Yes!

No…

Remaining time: 6 days 16 hours

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Hi! I really love your writing and I was wondering if you could please do a fic with rooster where the reader about to go on a super high end mission that’s very dangerous and she’s like really scared but she’s bend bottling up her emotions and feelings about it until like the night before the mission she just breaks down in front of Bradley in their shared home and just tells him she super scared and doesn’t want to die and he comforts her and stuff? You obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to!! Thank youuu!!

Hi! So sorry I didn’t see this sooner. Thank you so much! I love this idea, and I’m hoping to get to it real soon❤️x

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hey so I was thinking. Do you know those videos like “my husband rates my dresses”. I thought about going on vacation with bradley and as soon as you unpack your stuff you decide to give your husband a little “runway timeee” idk like fluff maybe? And he rates your dresses and is like super touchy (but in a sweet way).

So yeah, that’s the main idea but feel free to change whatever you like. Okay thank you bye 💖

off the charts (b.b)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x reader Word count: 900 words CW: Fluff, allusions to smut

It seemed like a good idea to hang things up in the closet so the wrinkles could fall out of them, but now you’ve got clothes spilling out of your suitcase onto the bed, and you’re slightly overwhelmed. Bradley, whose suitcase is still zipped up by the door, leans against the headboard with a smug look on his face.

‘I told you not to try and do this when you’re exhausted,’ he says.

You huff, dropping the skirt you were holding onto the messy pile.

‘Why did you bring so many clothes anyway, sweetheart?’ He asks gently. ‘We’re gonna be in the pool or at the beach for most of this trip.’

‘I absolutely needed all these,’ you insist, gesturing at the destruction around you.

Bradley smiles fondly at you. ‘Really?’

You pick up a stunning evening gown and wave it at him accusingly. ‘This is a dinner dress, Bradley,’ you tell him, ignoring the bemused twinkle in his eye. ‘And this—’ you say, reaching for a cute yellow number. ‘—is a day dress. You see?’

Bradley shakes his head. ‘No baby. Why don’t you try them on for me, then I can get a better idea?’

‘Thought you wanted to go to the beach before dinner?’ You tease, smile tugging at your lips.

He shrugs shamelessly. ‘It can wait.’ 

You grab a handful of dresses and duck into the bathroom, ignoring the pleas from your husband to just change right in front of him. Why would you do that when it would just ruin the mystery?

You start with the midnight blue, floor-length evening dress that does wonderful things for your ass. When you come out of the bathroom, you find that Bradley has moved to the edge of the bed where he’s leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. His eyes travel slowly from the dresses’ hem touching the floor, slowly up your body, and finally coming to rest at your face.

He leans back slightly, letting out a low whistle. ‘Wow.’

‘You like it?’ You ask.

‘It’s a solid nine out of ten,’ he tells you.

You do a little twirl, and when you look at him again, his eyes are half-lidded.

‘Okay, ten out of ten.’

You’ve got the sneaking suspicion that every dress you try on is going to be a ten out of ten, but how can you complain when he’s looking at you like that?

You head back into the bathroom and change into the baby yellow milkmaid dress—it’s Bradley’s favourite colour on you, and you know he’s going to love it. You bought it with him in mind, after all. When you step out of the bathroom this time, his whole face lights up like a kid at Christmas. His big hand encircles your wrist, and he tugs you forward to stand between his legs.

‘Goddamn,’ he breathes, gazing up at you with reverence. ‘I think this one tops them all.’

‘It’s only the second one I’ve shown you,’ you laugh.

‘Well,’ he smirks, pupils blown wide like saucers. ‘It’s a solid ten out of ten, baby.’

You kiss his cheek before ducking out of his grasp to change again. This time, you choose a shorter, white dress with a fitted bodice and a flared skirt. It has delicate, scalloped edges, and to make it even better, it was half off in the sale.

Bradley’s swallows and shifts slightly. ‘I love you in white,’ he says hoarsely.

You do another little twirl, and he stands up to catch you, hands coming to rest at your waist. ‘Ten out of ten,’ he rasps.

He leans in to kiss you, but you put a finger to his lips. ‘You can’t rate every dress ten out of ten, Roo!’

‘Okay, fine,’ he smirks. ‘Eleven out of ten.’

You roll your eyes playfully. ‘You’re terrible.’

He captures your lips in a kiss, and you can feel him smiling still. ‘You love it,’ he murmurs.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

‘I’ve got one more thing I want you to see,’ you tease.

His hands tighten instinctively at your waist. ‘Show me, sweetheart.’

The two of you have a dinner reservation in an hour, and you know you’re testing fate trying a lace teddy on for him. But you just can’t resist.

This time, when you step out, Bradley short-circuits. He’s standing in the middle of the room, mouth parted slightly and a red flush creeping across his chest that you know can only mean one thing.

He quite literally sweeps you off your feet, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he sets you down in the middle of the bed. He’s hovering over you, eyes flicking between your body and your face, like he isn’t sure where he wants to look. 

He goes to work on your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that have you gasping beneath his touch.

‘Y-you didn’t rate it,’ you pant.

He sucks the sweet spot just below your ear, pulling an unholy noise from you.

‘This one is off the charts,’ he rasps. ‘Like, a solid infinity out of ten.’

‘That’s not a real rating!’ You protest.

He pulls back slightly, regarding you with so much love that it’s hard for you to keep eye contact.

‘How about I show you just how much I like it?’ He suggests, already nuzzling his face into your neck again.

Yeah, you think to yourself, just as he unclasps the bra part of the garment. We’re not making that dinner reservation.

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Thank you so much for my Jake request, I loved all of it 😚

I have two another ideas, if you ever have time for them :) please with happy endings :)

- the reader works at the Hard Deck and the whole squad loves her. Jake and her secretly like eachother but one evening where the reader wants to tell him, a few past flings show up. The Squad wants to help them and stop the reader from shutting him out completely, because they see how sincere he is this time.

- Jake and the reader are in a relationship but an creepy ex wants to tear them apart so she tries to make it look like Jake is cheating. The reader believes it and breaks up with him. After a while they are both a mess and the Squad decides to make a plan to get them back together.

Have a sunny day ☀️

I'm so glad you liked it! I'll definitely keep these ideas in mind in the near future; they'll be so fun to write. Thank you, lovely anon🥰Have a blessed day🤍

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Hihihiiiiiii

I was wondering if u cud write a Maverick x pilot! reader ficcc.

The plot basically being like mav Goose and the reader r like best friends since flight school and then in Top Gun they (finally) get together and they're all lovey dovey and stuff.

N they're so filled with like a rush that they speed things up maybe get engaged but then Goose dies so then that kinda tears them apart somewhat.

And they js don't talk together after that until top gun maverick where they reunite yo teach the mission togethahhh (where the reader is like a higher ranking official maybe?) n like there's a creeping family dynamic between mav rooster n the reader. The reader is js like suuuppppeeerrr pissed with Mav at tht point so like they slowllyyyyy fall in love with eachother again??

It wud be a nice slowbrun (?) Kinda thing idk but like I wud LOVE it if u wrote thissss

Tysmmmmm <3

remind me (p.m)

Pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x Pilot!Reader Word count: 8.4k CW: Angst, few swears, allusions to smut, slow burn with a tooth-rottingly sweet ending

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this! I've never written for Mav before, but this was so fun. I hope it's what you had in mind!

NOW

Your callsign is Wildcard.

And maybe it doesn’t make much sense anymore, because your Full Bird Captain status means you aren’t able to fly as much, and you certainly aren’t able to fly like your ass is on fire the way you used to in the good old days. But it still means something—to you, to the other pilots (younger and older) who’ve heard the stories about you, and to Maverick.

You can tell by the way he freezes for a heartbeat, the hard lump he swallows when you walk into the conference room.

‘I’m assuming I don’t need to introduce you to Captain Y/L/N,’ Cyclone drawls, gesturing vaguely at you. ‘She’ll be your mission oversight officer—what she says, goes. You report directly to her, and she reports directly to me.’

You adjust the cuffs of your flight suit, staring Maverick down. Because like hell are you going to be the one to look away first.

‘No,’ Maverick says, clearing his throat. ‘You don’t need to introduce us. We flew together years ago.’

Cyclone nods. ‘The last time you were at Top Gun,’ he recalls. ‘I’ve heard the stories, seen the photographs. Everyone in the Navy has.’

Warlock hums in agreement. ‘But the difference between the two of you is that Wildcard grew up. She learned from her mistakes and has been better off for it.’

You refrain from snorting. “Grew up,” he says, as if growing up means trading fire for caution. You know better that they live side by side within you.

Maverick, you hope, remembers the fire.

You want him to think of you as the carefree, courageous woman he fell in love with thirty-five years ago.

And you want him to feel sick to his stomach that he doesn’t get to call you his. 

THEN

‘Come on, Mav!’ Goose exclaimed, shoving his best friend so hard he almost fell over. ‘She’s lost that lovin’ feeling!’

Maverick rolled his eyes, shoving Goose back twice as hard. ‘There’s no way she’s interested. Have you seen her?’

‘She flies like the plane is an extension of her body,’ Goose said, awestruck. ‘She flies like you.’

You barged through the middle of them, helmet swinging idly from your hand. ‘The two of you natter more than my grandma and her book club,’ you teased. ‘What are you talking about?’

Goose piped up. ‘Well, I was just saying that you’ve lost—’

Maverick practically jumped on his best friend, smacking a hand over his mouth. ‘—lost your focus a bit the last few days. That’s what we were saying. Everything okay, Wildcard?’

You raised a brow, tilting your helmet like a challenge. ‘My focus is on point, as usual, Maverick. Maybe it’s yours that’s slipping.’

You didn’t give him a chance to respond, just sauntered off towards your jet, as if the tarmac belonged to you.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mav groaned. ‘She’s gonna be the death of me.’

NOW

After briefing the two of you on the mission and dropping the bomb that Bradley is flying, Cyclone and Warlock leave the two of you and an elephant in the form of your shared history to strategise.

It’s perhaps the most awkward situation Pete’s ever been in, and that’s saying something.

You flip open a manila file and begin rifling through papers that you’ve probably already read through three times. He knows you, knows you’re stalling to avoid looking at him.

But he’s looking at you.

He can’t stop.

Mostly, he’s looking at the four gold stripes on your sleeve that mean you outrank him. He’s not surprised in the slightest—you might have been a wildcard, but you knew when to rein it in. That duality was one of the things he loved most about you, and he’s not surprised to find that that love is still there.

He never really stopped loving you. Even after Goose’s death, when you grew apart, even when you blamed him for setting Bradley back, he never told you the real reason as to why he did that, for the same reason he didn’t tell Bradley. He would rather both of you hate him if it made it easier for you to go on, to grieve Nick and Carole and remember them in a good light.

‘Tomorrow, we’re briefing the pilots on the mission,’ you say, finally meeting his eye. ‘I want you to really think about what you’re going to say to them, because they’re going to be looking to you for guidance.’

He nods subtly, jaw tight, eyes softening for the briefest second. He knows exactly who you mean. Pete knows that you and Bradley stayed in touch, that you were the only one Bradley had left after he pulled his papers.

He’s glad, in a way, that the boy had you.

Even if it killed him every day to know that he couldn’t be a part of your lives anymore.

‘You don’t have to worry, Wildcard,’ he tells you honestly. ‘I’m not going to teach them my bad habits.’

You snort, the beginnings of a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Lips he’s kissed so many times, he still remembers how it felt. ‘You say that now, but wait till you get going.’

Pete grins, and you avert your eyes, like if you look at him too long, this composure you’re pretending to have will crack. ‘I don’t like that look, Maverick.’ You warn.

He chuckles, a little awestruck—and a little guilty—at how effortlessly he slips back into the old rhythm. ‘It’s the only one I got.’

THEN

‘I don’t like that look, Maverick,’ you warned, wiping the visor of your helmet with your sleeve.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. ‘C’mon, baby, you know it’s the only one I got.’

You laughed, a sound like all his Christmases come at one. He never got tired of hearing that laugh. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then one to the side of your mouth. You caught him before he could pull away, kissing him like you weren’t on the tarmac surrounded by other pilots, like nothing mattered except the two of you. Goose was laughing somewhere, but it was background noise, nothing more.

Suddenly, Goose appeared on your other side, throwing his arm around your shoulder. ‘I feel like a third wheel now that you two are finally together,’ he whined. ‘Can’t you go back to pretending you hate each other?’

You and Maverick shared a knowing look—he loved having conversations with you without even needing to speak.

‘Now you know how I felt with you and Carole,’ Maverick replied easily.

You laughed again, and Maverick’s heart skipped a beat or two. He pushed Goose off you, ignoring his faux-angry pleas, before spinning you around and dipping you like you were dancing, kissing you passionately.

‘MAVERICK! WILDCARD! CUT THAT SHIT OUT RIGHT NOW!’ Your captain yelled.

Maverick righted you again, both of you grinning like fools. He was always pushing his luck, even then, and he stole one last kiss before putting his helmet on. 

NOW

You’re nursing a whiskey on the rocks when you hear the tinkling of piano keys from inside The Hard Deck. You know Bradley arrived earlier in the day, but you haven’t had the chance to catch up with him yet. You also know Maverick is at the bar, hence why you’re sitting outside trying to focus on the sunset like the love of your life isn’t twenty feet away.

You don’t need to wonder if hearing Bradley play the piano is a kick in the teeth for Maverick, because it is for you. You’d stayed close to baby Bradshaw—as you called him—and it was hard enough for you to listen to his nostalgic rendition of Great Balls of Fire. For Maverick, who was estranged from his godson, it must have been like swallowing rusty nails.

You close your eyes, letting the music whisk you away to simpler times—times before tragedy, before loss, when laughter came easy, and nothing hurt. Every note reminds you of Goose. Every chord reminds you of what’s missing.

Later, when the doors open and Maverick is chucked out by two young aviators, you’re close to tears, and you blink them away so he can’t see them.

He doesn’t deserve to see you vulnerable, not anymore.

He stands up slowly, brushing sand off his jeans, looking at you like he wants to say something. Your chest tightens. You know what he wants to say, and you can’t afford it. Not tonight. So before he can, you get up and take your drink inside, even though it’s suffocating and loud and a reminder of everything you’ve lost.

It takes a lot of effort, but you don’t look back.

Bradley has just finished his performance, and everyone is still clapping and cheering for him when he approaches you.

He envelops you in a big bear hug, kind of like the ones you used to get from Goose, and you swallow a lump the size of a golf ball.

‘Hey, Auntie Y/N,’ he says. ‘It’s good to see you.’

You smile, reaching up to ruffle his hair affectionately. ‘Baby Bradshaw,’ you say. ‘You okay?’

‘All good,’ he replies. ‘Curious about this mission, though. Everyone’s talking.’

You glance behind him at all the aviators currently staring at you with curious expressions. Some of them you recognise from your days instructing at Top Gun, but some are new to you. 

‘I bet they are,’ you say. ‘You’ll find out more tomorrow morning. Don’t stay out too late.’

He laughs just like his dad, and it hits you right in the chest. ‘I won’t.’

THEN

‘There he is!’ You grinned, picking Bradley up and squeezing him affectionately. ‘My baby Bradshaw!’

You tickled his side, and he squealed with laughter, squirming to get out of your grip.

‘Uncle Mav!’ He yelled. ‘Save me!’

Nick and Carole watched on, enamoured by the sight of their two best friends loving their baby so much. Pete swept Bradley out of your arms and ran away, making pretend aeroplane noises.

‘Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, top of his class at the academy and hero to the nation, narrowly misses a tickle attack from enemy aircraft!’

You started chasing them across the yard, Bradley squealing and hanging onto Maverick’s shirt. The sun was warm, laughter spilling over as if it could never end. Every second was a reminder that this chaos—this family—was yours.

‘He manages to block Wildcard’s missiles with an impressive manoeuvre that puts his old man to shame!’

‘Okay!’ Carole exclaimed, giggling. ‘That’s enough, Pete! He’s just had an ice cream, you’ll make him puke!’

Mav set him down, and you ruffled his blonde hair, pulling him in for a hug.

‘Love you, little bird.’ You said, face aching from how much you were smiling.

Bradley gazed up at you, wide-eyed with love and admiration. ‘Love you, Auntie Y/N.’

NOW

Pete can’t take it anymore.

He can’t take being so close to you and not talking to you, not at least trying.

After the mission brief, he follows you through the hangar and pulls you aside into a small alcove.

You make a startled noise and yank your arm away from him, like his touch burns. It knocks the wind from him. Because there was a time when touching you was second nature to him—a time when you were in his lap more than you were out of it.

‘Wildcard,’ he says, slightly desperately. ‘Please don’t—’

You suck in a ragged breath, and he knows that you’re on the verge of tears. ‘No!’ You snap. ‘You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to ask me for anything.’

You turn to walk away, and panic rises in his chest, reminding him of how it felt the day he lost everything. He’s relived that day over and over again since it happened, sometimes just to torture himself. But it’s different now that you’re actually here, standing in front of him, looking like a helpless animal caught in a trap.

No injury has ever hurt quite like seeing the woman he’s always loved looking at him like she’s afraid to be near him.

‘Please, Y/N. Just let me explain.’

Something flickers in your face then, like you’re actually starting to consider it. But it’s gone as quick as a flash.

Reluctantly, he lets you go.

He has to lean against the wall for support and take a few deep breaths before stepping back out into the hangar.

The first person he locks eyes with when he does is Bradley, who’s standing talking to Phoenix and Bob. The look his godson gives him is much worse than the one he got from you.

With you, he can see that it’s taking a great deal of effort to go on hating him, but with Bradley? The hard set of his jaw and the hate in his eyes make it easy to forget that there was ever any love between them.

It kind of makes Pete feel like he dreamed the happy days.

THEN

‘I need you to help me with something, Bradley,’ Pete said, crouching down to get on his godson’s eye level. ‘You up for it?’

Bradley pushed his sandy blonde hair out of his eyes and gazed up at Pete expectantly. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m gonna ask your Auntie Y/N to marry me,’ he said, pulling a black, velvet ring box from the inside pocket of his jacket.

Bradley clasped his little hands together. ‘Really?’

‘Yep,’ Pete smiled. ‘And we love you so much, I know it’ll be even more special if you help me.’

‘Tell me the plan, Uncle Mav.’ Bradley said, putting his most serious face on.

‘Well, I’m gonna take her out to her favourite restaurant, you know the one at the beach?’

Bradley nodded enthusiastically. ‘Uh-huh.’

‘You’re gonna be there the whole time with your mommy and daddy, but Y/N won’t know that. You’re gonna hide. Think you can do that?’

‘Yep. I can do that.’

‘Okay, good. When we’ve eaten, I’m gonna give you a super secret signal.’ Pete told him.

‘Like a whistle?’

Pete nodded. ‘Yeah, we can do a whistle.’

Bradley whistled out a tune. ‘Like that?’

Pete copied him, and Bradley’s face lit up. ‘Perfect,’ he praised. ‘Think you can remember it?’

‘I can remember it,’ Bradley promised. ‘I remember all my multiplication tables.’

‘I knew you were the right man for the job,’ Pete ruffled his hair. ‘So once you hear the signal, your dad is gonna get behind the piano and play our song. When he’s about halfway through, you’re gonna bring me this box with the ring inside,’ Pete put the box in Bradley’s hand and closed his fingers around it. ‘Think you can do that for me? And keep it safe till then?’

Bradley’s shoulders were set with the weight of the responsibility. For a second, Pete could see the proud, strong fighter pilot his godson was going to grow into. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent the tears that desperately wanted to fall.

‘I can do it,’ Bradley said resolutely. ‘I won’t mess it up.’

Pete pulled him in for a hug. ‘I know you won’t.’

NOW

Some things haven’t changed, at least.

Mav still flies by the seat of his pants, and he’s giving you a run for your money.

You’ve got Phoenix and Bob up in the air with you—they’re an impressive duo, and you hope Maverick is seriously considering picking them to fly the mission. Of course, if he doesn’t, you can always overrule his decision. It would definitely give you a kick, that’s for sure. Hangman, on the other hand? He’s self-confident, and not in a good way. In a way that gets people killed in real-life situations.

It’s been years since you’ve flown with Maverick, but you’re still highly attuned to his thought processes; you know he’s thinking the same thing as you. In fact, you’re so confident that he’s on the same page as you that once he gets Phoenix and Bob out, the two of you don’t even have to coordinate your next move.

You bank hard to the left, pushing your jet just shy of its limits, trusting that Maverick is doing the exact opposite.

A beat.

Two.

And then…

‘There it is,’ Phoenix mutters over comms, awe creeping into her voice ‘They’re splitting him.’

Hangman doesn’t see it coming, because of course he doesn’t. He’s too focused on the kill, too focused on proving he can do this alone, and that’s exactly where he goes wrong. You’ve seen a lot of pilots fly like him, and it never ends well.

Maverick dives, fast and aggressive, dragging Hangman’s attention with him like bait on a hook.

Instead of following, you climb. Sharp. Clean. Controlled. Your jet cuts through the sky above them, disappearing from Hangman’s line of sight entirely.

‘Where’d she go?’ Bob asks.

‘Exactly where she needs to be,’ Maverick replies, voice steady—certain.

The sound of Pete so certain over the comms makes your stomach flip faster than any sudden dive in your jet.

Hangman commits because he’s got an ego the size of North Island, and for someone like him, there’s no other option. He chases Maverick, pushing harder, faster, trying to close the gap so he can win.

And that’s when you drop.

You come down out of the sun, fast and lethal, slotting in behind him like you’ve been there the whole time.

‘You’re dead, Hangman,’ you say calmly.

There’s a beat of silence over comms, then Hangman’s grating drawl: ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’

‘They didn’t even call that!’ Phoenix exclaims.

Pete chuckles, the sound going right through you. ‘Nice work, Wildcard.’

And oh, it comes so naturally to you. The splitting grin that makes your cheeks press against the inside of your helmet, the dizzy, elated feeling that’s better than any shot of hard liquor…

With every moment that passes, it’s becoming harder and harder to remember why you hate him so much. 

THEN

You let Pete believe that you didn’t have a clue he was planning on proposing.

Really, he should’ve known by then that it was impossible to pull one over on a woman whose callsign was Wildcard—you’d basically written the playbook for surprise manoeuvres.

But you loved him, and you supposed just this once you could pretend. The one part that you hadn’t been expecting was the Bradshaw family, which in reality should’ve been the one part that you’d seen coming. When Goose broke out into song—your's and Mav's song, your favourite—with Carole beside him on the piano bench, your heart had swelled three sizes in your chest.

And when Baby Bradshaw appeared dressed in a little Hawaiian shirt just like his dad with a cheeky grin on his face and a ring box in his chubby fist, you’d almost passed out from happiness. Until that moment, you hadn’t known it was possible to be so overcome with joy that you lost all control of your basic brain functions, but there you were: too stunned to even speak or wipe away the tears that were streaming down your face.

Bradley handed you the box, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Pete high-fived him before kneeling on the ground beside him, in front of you. ‘You did good, kid,’ he smiled.

‘Thanks,’ Bradley beamed. ‘Auntie Y/N, Uncle Mav has something he wants to ask you.’

You laughed disbelievingly. ‘He does?’

Bradley put his arms around your neck, pulling you down so he could whisper in your ear: ‘Will you marry him?’

You sniffled, pressing a kiss to Bradley’s cheek before kneeling in front of the love of your life. Pete’s eyes twinkled with a mix of tears, admiration, and a love so strong it was sometimes hard to acknowledge. The corner of his mouth tugged upward, like he was trying and failing to remain serious. You threw your arms around him, almost knocking him over with the force of your hug.

‘Yes,’ you exclaimed. ‘A thousand times over, yes!’

The entire restaurant had erupted into cheers, but Carole, Goose and Bradley were by far the loudest.

They always were.

You peppered kisses all over Pete’s face, until he put both hands on either side of your face and encaptured your lips in a much steadier, much more passionate kiss. The whole room melted away until it was just the two of you.

At least until Bradley made himself known.

‘Yuck!’ He shrieked, sending everyone into fits of giggles.

Carole and Goose appeared as you and Mav stood. They engulfed you in a big group hug, to which Bradley inserted himself by throwing his arms around your’s and Pete’s legs.

‘The ring!’ Carole shrieked. ‘You haven’t put the ring on her, Pete. For God’s sake—’

Bradley still had the box. Tentatively, he opened it and took out the glistening diamond engagement ring. Truthfully, it was the most beautiful piece of jewellery you’d ever seen in your life, and you couldn’t believe it was yours, that this was actually happening. Yes, you’d seen it coming, but nothing could’ve prepared you for how it was going to feel. Bradley—who seemed to be taking his role in all this very seriously—handed the ring to Pete.

He flew multi-million dollar fighter jets for a living in a way that most other pilots wouldn’t even dare—all except for you. He’d seen real combat, been injured, lost people he cared about. Through it all, he’d been virtually unshakable.

But when he slipped that ring on your finger, his hands were trembling. 

NOW

The Dagger Squad aren’t a team; that much is obvious.

Pete is used to admirals breathing down his neck about this kind of thing, but you?

He needs to do do something, and fast. Hence the impressively complicated game of dogfight football he’s organised for them all. He’s staring at the sheen of sweat atop your sunkissed skin, glistening in the afternoon light. When you begin picking players for your team (he’s heading up one side, you the other) he can’t help but glance at the way your abs tense as you move, and the impressive length of the legs he loves so much. He remembers long nights with you wrapped around him as he—

‘Captain Mitchell!’ You bark, brows raised in a way that makes him think you know where his head was at. ‘You ready?’

Smiling sheepishly, Pete glances at who you’ve left him with: Halo, Omaha, Harvard, Yale, Fritz.

And Hangman.

Thanks to his shameless staring, he’s left with no time to strategise with his team before Hondo blows the whistle, signifying the start of the game.

The ball hits the sand, and all hell breaks loose. Immediately, it’s chaos. Pete barely has time to register who’s on his team before Hangman snatches up the ball and starts running down the beach with it. There’s shouting, laughter, and sand flying everywhere.

And then there’s you.

You move like you used to fly, still fast and impossible to predict. It throws him off more than anything else, and for a second, he forgets this is a game.

He goes for a tackle and knows instantly that it’s the wrong angle and the wrong timing. Someone slams into him from the side, knocking him into the sand with so much force he’s honestly a little winded. For a second, as he lies on his back, all he sees is sky, but then a shadow falls over him. Bradley is standing over him, hand outstretched.

‘You good?’ He asks, easy and casual, like there’s no history between them.

For a second, Pete hesitates, but then he takes Bradley’s hand, who hauls him up without a second thought. Before Pete can say thank you, Bradley’s already turning back towards the game like it’s nothing.

But it’s far from nothing.

It’s the first time in years his kid has reached for him, and it knocks all the wind from Pete as if he’s been knocked on his ass again.

By the time he looks up again, you’ve got the ball.

You dodge past one of the younger pilots, laughing as they miss you completely, and Pete feels something dangerous spark in his chest.

God, he remembers this. The chase. The thrill.

‘Not a chance, Wildcard!’ he calls, already moving.

You glance over your shoulder, grin sharp and familiar.

‘You’re getting slow in your old age, Maverick!’

That does it.

He knows he shouldn’t take the bait, not in front of all these people—not in front of Bradley. But Pete’s never been one for sticking to the rules, anyway. He pushes harder, closing the distance, sand kicking up behind him as he lunges, and instead of going for the ball, he goes for you.

He catches you around the waist, momentum carrying both of you forward towards the line where sand meets ocean. Before he can think better of it, he lifts you clean off your feet and dumps you straight into the water.

There’s a split second of silence before chaos ensues.

Laughter erupts up and down the beach, someone whoops, and Phoenix is yelling something about foul play.

But Pete doesn’t hear any of it, because you’re standing there dripping wet, staring at him, and for a second, you look exactly like you used to. Your eyes are bright, and there’s an air around you like you’re utterly untouchable. Too late, he realises that his hands are still at your waist. You glance down at where his skin is touching yours, and your breath catches.

The whole thing is entirely too familiar and easy.

The squad’s laughter fades into the background, and Pete realises just how fragile the moment really is. He shifts his hand to your back to help you stay upright, because your feet have started sinking into the soft sand. The sudden change seems to jolt you back into reality, and just like that, the moment’s gone.

THEN

It was one of those days that got away from you like a ball of yarn rolling across the floor.

A rare day off for you, Goose and Maverick, Carole had suggested taking Bradley to the beach for a picnic and a swim.

You’d spent the day in and out of the water, playing cricket and catch with Bradley, helping him build sandcastles and collecting different shells. After lunch, Carole and Goose had taken Bradley for a walk to get ice cream, leaving you and your fiancé to your own devices for a little while.

Pete led you down to the water, his hand wrapped protectively around your waist. He’d always been the same: if you were near, he wanted to be touching you in some way, especially if there were other guys around.

Just before you reached the water, Pete swept you off your feet without warning and threw you over his shoulder, his hand coming to rest at the swell of your ass.

‘PETE MITCHELL, PUT ME DOWN!’ You squealed.

But both of you knew that you didn’t really want him to put you down, and it was just for show. He waded out a little way before dumping you rather unceremoniously into the ocean, but not before you could hook your legs around his and drag him down with you. When you came up for air, the two of you were coughing and sputtering through your laughter.

He was so handsome, you still couldn’t believe that you were going to be marrying him in a few months. You looped your arms around his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist beneath the water, capturing his lips in a kiss. As the waves lapped gently around you, he slid his hands beneath your bikini, cupping and squeezing your ass in a way that made you almost feral.

‘Not here,’ you panted against his lips.

In response, he dragged your bottom lip through his teeth and plunged his tongue into your mouth. It was passionate and salty and entirely too much for the beach, but neither of you wanted to stop.

‘Come on, Wildcard,’ he mumbled, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. ‘Remind me how you got that callsign.’

That daring tone was all the encouragement you needed to plunge your hand down the front of his swim shorts. He gasped against the sensitive skin of your neck, and you smirked, pleased to know that you could still surprise him.

‘HEY, LOVEBIRDS!’ Goose yelled from the shore. ‘GET YOUR HANDS OUT OF EACH OTHER’S PANTS AND COME AND GET YOUR ICE CREAM! THERE’S KIDS HERE, YOU KNOW?!’

NOW

You’re on edge from the day, unable to stop thinking about Phoenix and Bob laid up in the infirmary after having to eject. By now, you should know better than to get attached to people in the Navy, but it’s never been your strong suit. You’ve always seen pilots for what they are: people—people with families and friends and lives outside of the cockpit.

It means that days like this hit you harder than other captains, and it’s always been a great comfort to you that Pete is the same. You shouldn’t be listening to his conversation with Bradley from outside the door, but how could you not?

‘Easy for you to say,’ Bradley spat. ‘No kids, no family. No one to mourn you when you burn in.’

You flinch. You’ve never heard Bradley speak to anyone that way before, not even in the thick of his grief with both of his parents. Your heart aches for Pete despite what he’s done, because Bradley’s right.

He doesn’t have any of those things anymore.

But you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t mourn him when he died. The thought of it had bile rising up in your throat.

‘Go home,’ Pete says quietly. ‘Get some sleep.’

You hear footsteps heading towards the door you’re currently hiding behind, and you suck in a sharp breath, expecting him to catch you eavesdropping.

But then: ‘WHY DID YOU PULL MY PAPERS AT THE ACADEMY?’ Bradley shouts, making you jump. ‘WHY DID YOU STAND IN MY WAY?!’

This whole day is reminding your body of past traumas you’ve tried your hardest to forget. You begin to tremble with a mix of adrenaline, anger and the sudden urge to cry and scream.

‘You weren’t ready.’ Pete utters.

‘Ready for what? Ready to fly like you?’ Bradley demands.

‘Ready to forget the book!’ Pete snaps. Trust your instincts. Don’t think. Just do. You think up there, you’re dead. Believe me.’

Bradley’s next words hit you like a string of nasty suckerpunches.

‘My dad believed in you. I’m not gonna make the same mistake.’

Bradley storms out of the room, anger rolling off him in waves. He’s in such a hurry to get away from Pete that he doesn’t see you with your back pressed up against the wall. Before you can stop yourself, you’re walking into the room.

Pete’s head snaps up when he sees you enter, face grief-stricken.

‘Tell me the truth,’ you say, voice strangled. ‘Not the bullshit version.’

Pete’s shoulders sag. ‘I am telling the truth. He wasn’t ready.’

You shake your head. ‘I know you, Mav. I know you’re lying. Why did you really do it?’

He runs his hands through his dark hair, and you’re taken aback by how weary he seems, like he’s been carrying the weight of this for so long he doesn’t even know how to go about setting it down.

‘Carole didn’t want him to fly,’ Pete croaks. ‘She made me promise before she died that I wouldn’t let him.’

Your vision fades almost entirely to black, and you have to sit down on one of the benches so you don’t collapse.

‘What?’ You breathe.

‘After what happened to Goose, she didn’t want him to join the Navy, Y/N. I promised.’

‘Y-you have to tell Bradley,’ you stammer, head in your hands. ‘He has to know, Mav.’

Pete shakes his head, jaw set in a hard line. ‘He’ll always resent me for what I did. Why should he resent her, too?’

Your head is spinning with this new information. Why didn’t you guess that it was something like this? It's sickening, really, to know that all this time you’ve spent hating him has been for nothing. He didn’t betray Bradley or become someone you didn’t recognise. He’s been the man you loved all along—sacrificing himself and the love of his family to protect his godson and his memories of his mother.

The world seems slightly off-kilter now.

Pete crouches in front of you, and you manage to look into his eyes. You’re met with such anguish that you can’t help but reach out and put your hands on either side of his face.

‘He doesn’t need to hate you, Mav. If you tell him, he’ll—’

‘I was trying to be the father he lost,’ he says, resting his head on your hand. ‘I just wish I’d handled it better.’

‘It’s not too late,’ you whisper.

‘For Bradley and me,’ he says quietly. ‘Or for us?’

Before you can stammer out an answer, Pete’s phone starts ringing. He fumbles for it in his pocket, answering it just before it cuts off. Judging by the way his mouth falls open with pure shock and horror, it can’t be good.

‘What’s happened?’ You ask, dread filling your heart.

‘It’s Iceman,’ Pete gasps. ‘He’s gone.’

THEN

When Goose died, the world didn’t end all at once.

It unravelled bit by bit.

Carole stopped laughing. The house got quieter, like even the walls were holding their breath. Bradley kept asking when his dad was coming home, and no one ever had an answer that made sense. Pete stayed anyway, even when staying felt harder than running away and never looking back.

He stayed through the silence, through the grief, through the way everything felt just slightly off.

Like the world had tilted and never quite righted itself again.

He thought you would too, but he was wrong.

‘I just can’t do this anymore,’ you said, voice breaking.

Pete went still. He tasted blood before he even realised he’d bitten the inside of his cheek. ‘Of course it’s not the same,’ he managed. ‘But calling off the wedding-’

‘I’m not just calling off the wedding,’ your breath stuttered, lips trembling. ‘I’m calling off us. The whole fucking thing, Mav. I can’t-’ You shook your head. ‘I can’t do it anymore.’

The words didn’t land all at once. They sank in slow, heavy.

‘Why?’ he asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

You looked at him like it was obvious. Like it was written all over him.

‘Because every time I look at you,’ you said, quieter now. ‘I see everything we lost.’

His stomach clenched painfully, like he’d been stabbed. He took a step forward, reaching for you on instinct, because that’s what he’d always done. After all, you’d always been there.

But you pulled back.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked, like there was still something he could fix.

‘Transfer’s already in,’ you muttered. ‘New squad. New base. Clean slate.’

Clean slate. Like he’s something that needs to be erased.

‘You can’t just leave.’

‘I can’t stay,’ you whispered.

NOW

The next forty-eight hours pass in a blur of tension, arguments, and impossible expectations.

Maverick flies the course despite being grounded.

And naturally, he proves them all wrong.

The mission gets moved up, and it feels almost like an insult to Iceman’s memory. As if the grieving process isn’t already hard enough. One silver lining, you suppose, is that Pete’s now flying the mission. Cyclone has finally seen the fucking light after you spent hours convincing him that there’s only one way this mission can be flown and survived.

Any moment now, they’re going to make Pete choose the pilots who are going to be flying the mission with him. And maybe you’re pushing your luck, trying to talk to him before that in the middle of all the commotion, but you’ve always been good at that. Pushing your luck used to be what you were known for.

You find him at the back of the carrier and grab his hand before you can second-guess yourself, pulling him into a narrow supply closet.

‘What—’

‘Listen to me,’ you cut in, hands braced against his shoulders. ‘You need to choose Bradley.’

He stills.

‘You have to take your own advice for once,’ you press. ‘Don’t think. Just do.’

He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. ‘Wildcard—’

‘Not finished,’ you snap, and his mouth shuts.

‘If you want any chance of fixing this with him, you have to do this. It shows him you trust him. That you believe in him,’ your voice softens, just slightly. ‘That you were wrong. Without having to mention your promise to Carole.’

Pete studies you, something shifting behind his eyes as he pieces it together. You hold his gaze. ‘Just do it, Mav. Please.’

Eventually, he nods. ‘Okay.’

Relief hits you harder than you expect. ‘Okay.’

Just as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist.

‘When I get back, we should talk. About us.’

You swallow, nerves creeping in before you can stop them.

The last few weeks have dragged up things you’d spent years trying to bury. What it felt like to walk away from Pete, even when you still loved him; The anger that came later, sharp and blinding, when you found out what he’d done to Bradley.

For a long time, the guilt had been the hardest part. Leaving him after Goose had felt like betraying him, even if you’d needed it just to survive.

But the anger? The anger had been easier. Easier to hold onto and to hide behind. Easier than admitting that none of your feelings had ever really gone away.

You meet his eye and nod. ‘Yeah. We can talk.’

Something settles over him, then. A grim determination to get back to you, just so you can have that conversation.

‘Good luck, Maverick,’ you tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘Come home safe. And bring our baby bird back with you.’

The flight deck is too quiet.

You’ve been here before countless times, waiting, hoping and praying, only for things to fall apart anyway. It might be part of the job, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Wringing your hands in front of you, you pace the flight deck, ignoring the other pilots' stares. You’re not supposed to show emotion like this. It’s highly unprofessional, and you know it’s revealing a little too much about your personal life, but you can’t help it. You’d have to be an emotionless robot to stand still right now.

You walked out of the comms room just as Hangman took off because you couldn’t take it anymore. Listening to a play-by-play of the most dangerous situation Pete and Bradley had ever been in was a bit too much for your already frayed nerves.

So you’re outside on the flight deck, waiting. Waiting to see that F/16 Tomcat soaring across the horizon like a cut scene from your heyday, except this time it’s Goose’s son in the backseat and not Goose himself.

Payback and Fanboy are the first to come back, then Phoenix and Bob. Everyone on the carrier surges forward to greet them with congratulatory cheers, but you can’t bring yourself to move from the position you’re in. You have the perfect view of the skies from here, and you’re scared that if you look away for even a second, you’ll miss them. It’s an agonisingly long wait. You’re beginning to give up all hope when you hear the trundling of a broken engine approaching the packed carrier. Nobody is around to catch you when your knees buckle, and you fall to the ground, great sobs of relief wracking through your exhausted body. The ground crew throw out a net to catch them because they’ve lost a lot of their landing gear. You’re less surprised than you should be that they made it, because you’ve seen what Pete can do in the sky under pressure. Especially this time, since Bradley was involved. You can imagine that his fatherly instincts took hold and made him even more formidable than usual.

It takes a whole lot of effort to drag yourself to your feet, but when the cockpit lifts, and you see them start to climb out, you break into a run—from zero to a hundred in two seconds flat. You push through the crowd, heart in your throat, but there are too many people, too many bodies, too much noise. It feels like you’re drowning in it.

‘Move!’ Phoenix’s voice cuts through the chaos like a whip.

Hands grab at shoulders, shoving people aside, and then she’s there, fingers wrapping around yours, steady and sure as she pulls you forward.

You don’t miss the fire in her eyes. It mirrors your own. For a second, it almost feels like looking at a younger version of yourself.

She doesn’t let go until you’re at the centre, the aircraft looming just ahead.

‘Thank you, Phoenix,’ you breathe.

‘Anytime, Captain.’

You glance past her and catch sight of Pete and Bradley, something shifting between them that feels too fragile to interrupt.

You look back at her. ‘You flew well out there,’ you say, meaning it ‘Damn well. You’re an asset to the Navy.’

Phoenix straightens a little at that, pride flickering across her face.

‘That means a lot coming from you, ma’am.’

You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. ‘Don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel ancient.’

She hesitates.

You tilt your head, something softer slipping through. ‘Call me Wildcard.’

That throws her. For a second, she just stares, like she’s been handed something she doesn’t quite know how to hold. Then she nods, a little awed.

‘Thank you… Wildcard.’

You shake her hand and duck past her to where Pete and Bradley are locked into an extremely tight embrace. It’s not something you ever expected to see again, and you choke up again at the sight.

Both of them turn to look at you. They’re covered in soot and sweat and blood, and even though you know they’ve just been through hell, they’re smiling like they’ve won the lottery.

You suppose that in the Navy, coming home to the people you care about is the closest you’ll ever get to that feeling.

Bradley launches at you first, sweeping you up into a big hug.

‘You did so well, I’m so proud,’ you tell him, tears sliding down your cheeks. ‘Your dad would be so proud of you too, baby Bradshaw.’

He chuckles, setting you back down on the tarmac. ‘Am I ever gonna lose that nickname?’

You glance at Pete, who somehow looks younger than he did before he left, like getting Bradley back has taken ten years off him. He smiles at you knowingly as you shake your head.

‘Not a chance.’

Bradley huffs a laugh and ruffles your hair, just like Goose used to. ‘I think you two have some things to talk about,’ he says.

‘Yeah,’ you agree, glancing at Mav bashfully. ‘I think we do.’

‘Catch up with you later?’ Bradley asks.

‘Yeah,’ you smile.

He’s pulled into a conversation with Hangman, who has definitely gone up in your estimations. His rivalry with Bradley reminds you of Mav and Iceman, and those familiar pangs of grief strike you yet again.

Pete starts to speak, but you cut him off with an apology.

‘I’m sorry for all of it,’ you say. ‘For leaving you when you needed me, for not trusting your instincts about Bradley. I should’ve known you wouldn’t hold him back for no reason. But I’ve been so lost in my grief for so many years, I didn’t realise there was another option. I didn’t know I could be happy with you and miss him at the same time.’

Pete quickly wipes away the tears that are spilling down his cheeks and puts his hand on the back of your head.

‘It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t need to apologise for doing what you needed to do to survive.’ He tells you sincerely.

‘But we’ve lost so much time, Pete. Years we could’ve spent together, we spent hating each other.’

‘I never hated you, Wildcard.’

This makes you feel even worse, and your face crumples with more tears.

‘Hey,’ Pete softens, wrapping you in his arms. ‘It’s okay. We’ve still got time, Y/N. All the time in the world.’

‘You’d really wanna try again?’ You ask hopefully. ‘After everything?’

He looks at you like you’re dense for not seeing it. ‘I love you. I never stopped, and I never will. I was just waiting for you to quit fooling around and pretending we’re not made for each other.’

You laugh. ‘Is that so?’ You ask, leaning in.

‘Yep,’ he murmurs against your lips.

You don’t care that there are hundreds of people watching. You let him kiss you like there’s nobody else around, the way you used to when you were young. It’s reckless and all-consuming. It’s everything it was back then and more, somehow even sweeter after years of quiet longing and missed chances. His arms snake around your waist as he lifts you clean off your feet, like he’s done a hundred times before, deepening the kiss until you forget where you are entirely. Your heart soars as everyone starts cheering again, the sound swelling around you, this time for you and Pete.

When he sets you back down, you pull away reluctantly, breathless, your hands lingering against his chest like you’re not quite ready to let go.

Bradley appears then, laughing as he throws his arms around both of you, nearly knocking you off balance.

‘Reminds me of when I was a kid,’ he says, a little softer now. ‘When you two were kissing all the time.’

You both laugh, the sound lighter than it’s been in years. ‘Can’t believe you remember,’ you mumble, glancing at him.

‘How could I forget?’

And that’s just it, really.

You’ve been family all along. Even when loss and heartbreak tore you apart and scattered you to opposite ends of the country, it never changed what was there underneath it all.

You just needed reminding.

THEN

‘If anything ever happens to me—’

‘Nick, shut up!’ Carole cried. ‘I hate when you talk like this.’

Goose took both of his wife’s hands and squeezed them reassuringly. ‘I know, baby, but just hear me out, okay?’

Reluctantly, Carole nodded, eyes wide with fear as if the hypothetical worst-case scenario was already happening.

‘If anything ever happens to either of us,’ Goose repeated. ‘Pete and Y/N would take care of Bradley. Don’t you think that makes us luckier than most?’

Though she didn’t like the thought, it was comforting to know that her baby would always be taken care of by people who loved him.

‘Bradley lucked out in the parent department,’ Carole agreed. ‘He’s got two sets.’

Goose smiled. ‘Exactly.’

Further down the beach, you and Pete were tossing a ball back and forth with Bradley, listening to him prattle on about an assembly he’d had earlier in the week where all the kids had to share what they wanted to be when they grew up.

‘And Colson wants to be a rockstar,’ Bradley said, turning his nose up like this was a particularly disgusting profession.

You and Pete shared a look. ‘And what did you say, Bradley?’

His back straightened, a look of pride on his face as he told you: ‘I said I want to be a fighter pilot, just like dad, Uncle Mav and Auntie Y/N.’

‘If your mom lets you,’ Pete said, smiling knowingly.

‘I’ll have you guys protecting me,’ Bradley said matter-of-factly.

‘That’s right, buddy,’ you agreed, catching the ball as he threw it. ‘You’ll always have us. No matter what.’

NOW

Pete and Bradley watch from the patio of The Hard Deck as you and Phoenix toss a netball back and forth. Since The Daggers are now permanently stationed in Miramar, the two of you are trying to get a female team together to play with at the weekends. It takes Pete back to the old days, when you used to put him and Goose to shame.

‘Let me see it again,’ Bradley asks, setting his beer down on the table.

Pete rolls his eyes. ‘I just showed you.’

Bradley says nothing, just gestures impatiently. With a sigh (that his heart isn’t really in) Pete hands the ring box over.

‘It’s perfect,’ Bradley grins. ‘Better than the original.’

‘I was gonna ask—’

‘If I’ll help?’

‘Yeah, actually.’

‘Might be a bit weird if I bring the ring out this time,’ Bradley states, grinning lopsidedly. ‘Maybe I can play your guys’ favourite song, like my dad did all those years ago.’

Pete’s heart constricts, and he finds himself glancing at you again. He’s a lot less nervous about asking you to marry him this time around, but he’s determined to make it even more special than his first attempt.

‘Good idea,’ Pete muses. ‘You know it?’

‘Course,’ Bradley shrugs. ‘She used to make me play it for her all the time. It’s her favourite.’

Pete blinks. ‘Still? After all this time?’

Bradley threw a sidelong glance at him. ‘You’re an idiot, you know that?’

‘Why?’

‘She never stopped loving you. Even when she really wanted to, she couldn’t.’

Pete didn’t know how to hold this information. It seemed too fragile for his careless hands.

‘I never stopped loving her, either.’

Bradley huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I know.’Out on the sand, you catch the ball mid-air and spin, laughing as Phoenix tries and fails to steal it from you. The sound carries on the breeze, easy and bright, and Pete feels something in his chest settle for the first time in a long time.

He closes the ring box carefully, like it’s something precious.

This time, he’s not rushing.

This time, he’s going to get it right.

[callsign-mayhem]

Hey hollie! I know your requests are closed but I just wanted to let you know that I loved your new Bradley fic no vacancy it was so cute and the dynamics were great! Bob and readers friendship really stuck out to me and I wondered if you’d consider writing anything for him in the future. No pressure, not requesting anything but was just wondering for future projects or if you’d ever be inspired. Anyway, love your writing and hope you’re well. Xx

Thank you so much, this has truly made my day! It's funny you should say this because I've been thinking about writing a Bob fic for a while now...he's so fun to write, and I feel most attuned to him out of all the Daggers. I've got a couple of requests I'm working on, and a series in the works, but I definitely will write for Bob in the near future. Thank you again for your lovely words! Have the most blessed day❤️x

[callsign-mayhem]

Hello, I would love one for Jake :)

The reader is Indian and twenty-nine. She is Phoenix' best friend and decides to throw a garden party for the Squad :)

At the party they all notice how Jake tries to impress the reader, but she thinks he would never go for her. The Squad decides to intervene and tell Jake what she likes etc.

He plans a date for her and if you comfortable maybe with spice in the end 😊

Have a nice day ✨️

heaven in hiding (j.s)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman Seresin x Indian!Reader Word count: 5.5k CW: Explicit content, MINORS DNI. Use of Y/N, a few swears.

A/N: Thank you so much for your request. I hope I did a good job writing respectful representation. If I didn't, please let me know kindly how I could do better. Also, I'm not the best at writing smut but I did my best!

The first thing Jake Seresin noticed was that you were barefoot. And not in a careless way. It looked intentional, like you’d kicked your shoes off the second you stepped onto the grass and never looked back. Your dress brushed just above your ankles when you moved, light and airy, catching the warm breeze drifting through the backyard. There were fairy lights strung between the trees, soft music playing somewhere behind him, and you—moving through it all like you belonged at the centre of it.

Because you did.

‘Careful, Hangman,’ Natasha muttered as she stepped up beside him, following his line of sight. ‘You’re staring.’

‘I’m observing,’ he corrected easily, without looking away.

You laughed at something Bob said, head tipping back slightly, and it hit him straight in the chest.

Yeah, he thought to himself. I’m in trouble.

‘Y/N’s not someone you can fuck around with and then forget about the next day,’ Nat warned. ‘She’s not like all your other conquests.’

Jake snorted. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’

Nat gave him a glib look. ‘You know exactly what I mean.’

Jake didn’t know how to tell her it wasn’t like that with you—didn’t know how to actually put his heart on the line for once. He didn’t know how to make your best friend believe that he was serious about getting to know you, and he definitely didn’t know how to make you believe it. He’d mastered the art of detachment and seeming unbothered, and for the most part, he actually wasn’t bothered.

But it was different with you.

Your fingers toyed with the pretty gold chain around your neck as you glanced back at Jake, and his heart skipped a few beats before righting itself again. Naturally, Natasha caught all of this.

‘I’m serious, Hangman,’ she said, jabbing her finger at him. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

But it was already too late, wasn’t it?

You’d spent most of the morning cooking, determined to have at least a few things that reminded you of home set out on the table. Nat had perched on the counter for most of it, stealing bites and butchering the names of half the dishes just to make you laugh. Once everything was ready, you’d facetimed your mum, letting her see the setup and enduring a full critique before she told you she was proud of you.

It had all gone down a treat with your squad.

Feeling light with pride, you carried a stack of empty dishes back to the kitchen with a satisfied smile, packing some of the leftovers into containers. No doubt Nat would want to eat again once everyone else had gone home.

You found your best friend by the rose bushes, sipping her cocktail and watching Jake with a bemused grin. He was hovering by the drinks table, chatting to Javy and looking extremely out of his depth. Almost like being normal was taking a huge amount of effort. He seemed to be standing straighter than normal and flashing his pearly white teeth more than necessary, glancing over at you periodically like he was making sure you were watching him.

You frowned slightly, nudging Phoenix with your elbow. ‘Is he… okay?’

She didn’t even glance at you. ‘No.’

Your brows knitted together. ‘Nat.’

‘He’s been weird for the last twenty minutes.’

You glanced back at him just in time to catch him pick up a bottle, inspect the label, then set it back down again.

‘He looks stressed.’

Phoenix snorted. ‘That’s because he’s trying to impress you and failing miserably.’

You blinked. ‘What?’

Your eyes darted to Jake, who was already looking at you. He froze for a beat, then grabbed two drinks and started walking toward you like that was always the plan.

You smiled, because of course you did. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ he echoed, handing you one of the glasses. ‘Figured the host shouldn’t be empty-handed.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ you took it, a little surprised. ‘You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m okay.’

‘I know you are,’ he said, something softer in his tone than you’d come to expect from him. ‘Doesn’t mean I can’t.’

Nat snorted and shook her head before walking away, leaving you to it.

Part of you wished she hadn’t, because what were you supposed to say to him? You didn’t know how to act around him at the best of times—because who did?—but now, with him acting like this? You felt like a fish out of water.

But luckily, Rooster called your name from across the yard, asking for help with something, and the moment slipped through your fingers.

‘Sorry,’ you said quickly, already stepping back. ‘Duty calls.’

Jake nodded, easy smile back in place. ‘Go save the day.’

You could’ve sworn his eyes dropped to your lips just before you turned away.

‘Okay,’ Nat said, appearing at Jake’s side like a storm rolling in. ‘That was painful.’

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose. ‘I had it handled.’

‘You absolutely did not.’

Mickey popped up on his other side. ‘You looked like you were about to ask her if she enjoys beverages.’

Jake shot him a look. ‘I was not that bad.’

Reuben walked past, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Worse.’

Jake dragged a hand down his face. ‘Jesus.’

Nat crossed her arms, studying him for a long moment. ‘Do you actually want a shot with her?’

‘Yeah,’ he admitted quietly.

Something in Phoenix’s expression softened just a fraction.

‘Okay,’ she relented. ‘Then stop trying to impress her.’

He frowned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. ‘That’s usually how this works.’

‘Not with Y/N,’ she replied simply. ‘She doesn’t care about any of that.’

Mickey nodded. ‘Like, at all.’

‘What does she care about then?’ Jake asked, a little more serious now.

Nat smirked slightly. ‘You really want to know?’

He nodded.

And just like that, nearly the entire squad leaned in. Jake had to double-check that you were preoccupied with Rooster, in case you overheard. He would never be able to live that down, because since when did Jake Seresin need advice about a woman?

‘Oh, we’ve got notes,’ Reuben grinned, rubbing his hands together. 

Later, when you finally got a second to breathe, you found Jake again.

Only this time, he was different.

His confidence was quieter than before. Less performative. He wasn’t hovering, wasn’t trying to insert himself into every conversation. Instead, he was sitting on the low garden wall, talking to Bob, actually listening.

It caught your attention.

You wandered over, tilting your head slightly. ‘You look a lot more relaxed.’

He glanced up at you, something warm flickering in his eyes. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you nodded, stepping closer. ‘Less like you’re about to fight the drinks table.’

He huffed out an embarrassed laugh, shaking his head. ‘Not my best moment.’

‘No,’  you teased lightly, ‘but definitely entertaining.’

Sensing the need to give you privacy, Bob ducked away and lost himself in conversation with Bradley instead.

‘Glad I could provide,’ he said. ‘You did good tonight, you know.’

You blinked. ‘With the party?’

‘With all of it.’ His gaze flicked around the yard before landing back on you. ‘Feels like you.’

That hit you right in the chest. Because he wasn’t talking about the lights, or the music, or the effort you’d put in.

He was talking about you.

Your lips curved slightly, softer this time. ‘Thanks, Jake.’

He nodded, just watching you for a moment like he was trying to memorise you.

And for the first time all evening, you didn’t look away first.

Jake cleared his throat, like he was about to say something but wasn’t entirely sure how it was going to come out.

‘So,’ he started, leaning back slightly against the wall, forcing himself to be casual. ‘You always go this all out, or is this just for us?’

You huffed out a quiet laugh, glancing around the garden. ‘This isn’t even all out.’

‘Oh?’ His brows lifted. ‘I’m almost scared to see what that looks like.’

‘You should be,’ you teased, shrugging lightly. ‘I just like hosting, I guess. Feels nice having everyone in one place.’

Jake nodded slowly, like he was filing that away instead of brushing past it. ‘Yeah. It does.’

There was a beat of silence, then: ‘What was that one thing?’ he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the now half-empty table. ‘The one Payback practically inhaled before anyone else got a chance.’

You blinked, a little thrown by the question. ‘Uh—probably the samosas?’

‘That’s the one,’ he said. ‘You made those?’

‘Yeah,’ you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. ‘They’re my mum’s recipe.’

He softened. ‘They were good,’ he said simply. ‘Like, really good.’

You didn’t know where to look or what to do with your hands, because he wasn’t saying it like a throwaway compliment. It was so out of the ordinary for him that it took your brain a little while to catch up.

‘Thank you,’ you murmured.

Jake studied you for a second, tilting his head. ‘You still got any left, or did Payback wipe them out completely?’

You laughed. ‘I hid a few in the kitchen before he could.’

‘Smart,’ he hummed. ‘Any chance I could try one?’

You narrowed your eyes at him, half suspicious, half amused. ‘You’re really committing to this, aren’t you?’

‘To what?’

‘This whole…’ you gestured vaguely at him, ‘…whatever this is.’

His mouth twitched. ‘I can commit.’

Your stomach flipped. ‘Come on, then,’ you said, biting back a grin. ‘Before the others realise I’ve been gatekeeping.’

Jake pushed off the wall immediately, falling into step beside you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Inside, the noise of the party sounded muffled behind closed doors. The kitchen still smelled faintly of spices and something warm you couldn’t quite place anymore. You moved straight to the counter, reaching for the container you’d tucked away earlier.

‘Told you I was prepared,’ you said, popping the lid off and glancing over your shoulder at him.

Jake was leaning against the doorway, watching you.

‘Yeah,’ he murmured. ‘You are.’

Your fingers faltered slightly at the tone as you grabbed a plate for him.

‘Here,’ you said, sliding it across. ‘Don’t say I never do anything for you.’

He huffed out a laugh, stepping closer. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

For a second, neither of you moved. Then, he picked it up and took a bite, brows lifting. 

‘Okay, yeah. Those are worth hiding.’

You grinned, unable to help it. Jake glanced at you again, something a little more certain settling into his expression.

‘You know,’ he said, setting the plate down. ‘I think I owe you one.’

‘Oh?’ You raised a brow. ‘For what?’

‘For this,’ he gestured between you and the food, the night, everything ‘Let me return the favour.’

You hesitated. This was so far out of the realm of what you’d considered possible with him.

‘How?’ You asked carefully.

Jake held your gaze. ‘Let me take you out,’ he said. ‘Properly.’

Your heart stuttered.

‘A date, Seresin?' You tried to joke, but it came out softer than you intended.

‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘A date.’

He didn’t smirk, didn’t add a teasing edge. And that was what made it difficult to breathe.

‘You’re serious.’

He grinned. ‘Deadly.’

Silence stretched between you. You searched his face for a second, trying to find the hidden catch you were sure existed, but there was nothing there.

‘Okay,’ you said finally. ‘Yeah. Okay.’

Jake exhaled, relief flashing across his face so fast you almost missed it.

‘Yeah?’ He echoed.

You nodded, a small smile pulling at your lips. ‘Yeah.’

‘What am I supposed to wear?’ You huffed, throwing three dresses still on their hangers out of your closet.

You poked your head out to see Nat drowning on your bed in colourful fabrics, a disgruntled expression on her face.

‘Just wear what you’re comfortable in,’ she said. She’d been trying to organise the clothes into piles, one pile for yes, one for maybe, one for ‘this is too good for a date with Hangman.’ But you just kept adding to the mess. ‘You don’t need to impress him, Y/N. He’s already impressed.’

A week had passed since your garden party, the night Jake had asked you out. The novelty had yet to wear off, and all week you’d been looking at him differently at work, like he might drop the act without warning and remind you exactly who he used to be. Because Jake Seresin wasn’t the kind of guy to get nervous over asking somebody out. Hell, he didn’t ask anyone out. He picked up women at The Hard Deck for meaningless one-night stands and then came up with sub-par excuses as to why he couldn’t see them again.

But he hadn’t backed down. He’d spent most of the week chatting to you more than usual, bringing you coffee in the mornings and even cleaning your helmet for you, which Nat had had a field day with. And if this wasn’t disarming enough, he was even being nicer to the rest of the squad, including Bradley.

Honestly, it was like he’d had a full personality transplant.

‘I think this is the one,’ Nat told you with a small smirk.

You poked your head out of the closet again to find her holding up one of your favourite dresses: a flowy, burnt-orange silk midi dress with a slight embroidered detail down one side. You didn’t know why you hadn’t thought of it before—it was perfect.

You ducked back into the closet and found the strappy heels you usually paired it with.

‘With these?’ You asked, holding the shoes out.

Nat’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes!’ She squealed. ‘And you should let me wave your hair or something.’

You nodded, thankful that she was so enthusiastic because you were almost nauseous with nerves.

‘Okay.’

You dressed, put on a little bit of makeup and then moved over to your jewellery box. You fastened a delicate gold chain around your neck, fingers lingering on it for a second longer than necessary. It had always felt grounding and familiar in a way nothing else quite managed.

Then, you sat down in front of your vanity mirror where Nat was waiting with the hair waver.

‘How are you feeling?’ She asked as she sectioned your hair off.

You shrugged. ‘Okay, I guess.’

She gave you a disbelieving look in the mirror. ‘Come on, Y/N. We don’t lie to each other.’

‘Fine,’ you huffed. ‘I feel like I’m gonna puke any second.’

‘I knew it. Honestly, if anyone should be nervous, it’s Bagman. If he so much as steps one foot out of place, he’ll have the whole squad lining up to kick his ass.’

You chuckled, and some of your nerves were relieved. ‘Shut up.’

‘It’s true! At your party, all of us were giving him a rundown on what you like, what you don’t like, all that stuff. It feels weird to say it, but he seemed genuinely determined not to fuck it up.’

This knocked the wind out of you.

Because that didn’t sound like Jake Seresin at all.

‘He did?’

‘Yeah,’ Nat snorted. ‘I mean, as he should. You’re amazing. But I told him you’re not just another conquest. If he wants you, he has to be serious about the whole thing.’

You chewed your bottom lip absentmindedly. ‘Now I’m even more nervous than I was before.’

‘Well, if you need to get out of there, just text me “SOS”, and I’ll come running.’

You smiled at your best friend in the mirror, but by the look on her face, she was being completely serious. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’ You said.

Nat wanted to answer the door for you and give Jake one more piece of her mind, but you wouldn’t let her.

‘I’ll be fine, Nix,’ you said, patting her arm affectionately. ‘I’ll text you if I need you.’

She nodded. ‘Okay. I would tell you to have a good time, but it feels weird to say that knowing who you’re going on a date with.’

You rolled your eyes playfully. ‘Not helping.’

‘Sorry,’ she grabbed your shoulders. ‘You look amazing. Bagman, eat your heart out.’

‘Thank you,’ you laughed. ‘And thank you for helping me get ready.’

‘Anytime.’

Nat started gathering up her things, claiming she didn’t want to be at your house in case the date went really well. The thought of that was enough to have your stomach lurching and your mouth drying out. Not that you hadn’t thought about Jake in that way before, because you had. Who hadn’t? He was a living, breathing Texan God.

With your heart beating somewhere in the base of your throat, you opened the front door. Jake was standing there with a bouquet of your favourite flowers (Nat must have told him that, too) and a lopsided grin that made you slightly weak at the knees. He was wearing dress pants and a black shirt, the top two buttons undone, revealing the start of his chest. You couldn’t help but glance at his feet—black cowboy boots.

Of course.

He looked like he’d been on the verge of saying something, but when he saw you, the words had gotten lodged in his throat. His mouth hung open slightly, and his eyes twinkled brightly.

‘Y/N,’ he eventually said after clearing his throat. ‘You look amazing.’

‘Thanks,’ you smiled shyly. ‘So do you.’

Jake blushed, like actually blushed, and you realised that he really was serious. As far as you were aware, he’d never been this affected by someone before.

He handed you the flowers, and you took them. ‘For you,’ he said. ‘I hear they’re your favourites.’

‘They are,’ you told him. ‘Thank you. Let me put them in some water, and we can go.’

Half an hour later, the car was slowing to a stop outside a softly lit restaurant just off the main street. Warm light spilt through the windows, the low hum of conversation drifting out each time the door opened.

You glanced at the sign, then back at him. ‘This is… nice.’

Jake shrugged, but there was something a little too careful in the way he cut the engine. ‘Figured it wasn’t too loud. Or crowded.’

You stepped out, smoothing your dress absentmindedly as you took it in properly.

It felt thought-through.

You stepped in, and the waitress took you to a candlelit table in the far corner. It was incredibly romantic, and the feel of Jake’s knees brushing against yours beneath the table had your pulse fluttering.

As you surveyed the menu, you noticed there was a mix of everything. It didn’t seem to be one of those places where the menu felt like a gamble, where you’d be stuck trying to piece together what you could and couldn’t eat. There were real options.

Your brows knitted together slightly as you glanced up at him. ‘How did you find this?’

Jake shifted slightly, like he was trying not to make a big deal out of it ‘Asked around.’

‘Jake-’

‘I just wanted to get it right,’ he cut in, quieter now.

For the second time that evening, you were knocked for six. You knew Nat wouldn’t lie to you, but you still found it hard to believe that he was putting so much effort in for you.

Now, though, it was hard to deny it.

‘Thank you.’ You uttered.

The two of you ordered your drinks and some starters for the table. When the waitress headed off towards the bar area, you glanced at Jake and found that he was already staring intently at you. It was hard not to shift under his gaze, which had you feeling all kinds of hot and bothered.

He caught himself staring and smiled bashfully at you.

‘So at my place last week,’ you started, tone light and teasing. ‘All that preening you were doing? All that was leading up to you asking me out?’

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Yeah.’

‘You nervous, Seresin?’

‘About you?’ His eyes locked onto yours, and you saw a small glimmer of his usual, cocksure self. ‘Always.’

Warmth pooled in your stomach, and you were grateful for the waitress reappearing with your drinks. You took a sip of yours, more for something to do with your hands than anything.

‘So,’ he asked, setting his glass back down on the table. ‘What do you do when you’re not in the skies or dealing with us idiots?’

You found it surprisingly easy to talk about yourself with him; your hobbies, your music taste, your family and your childhood. Jake would counter something you said now and then with ways he was different and the same, but it never felt like you were fighting to be known with him. Not like other dates you’d been on in the past.

By the time the food came out, you were almost entirely relaxed. You hadn’t expected your nerves to go away, and you were pleasantly surprised that things seemed to be going so smoothly. Jake appeared to have relaxed slightly, too, although he wasn’t being smug or overly forward.

It was refreshing.

‘Shall we get dessert?’ He asked, reaching across the table for your hand.

His skin was warm and calloused—pilot hands, just like yours.

‘Sure,’ you replied, voice slightly strangled from the contact. ‘Wanna share something?’

His eyes had darkened significantly, and he was gazing at you with a kind of reverence you’d never experienced before. ‘Anything you like, sweetheart.’

This man. Was going to be the death of you.

You ended up getting two different types of cake to try, both of which were delicious.

When it was time to pay the bill, you reached into your purse, but Jake grabbed your hand again.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said lowly, stirring something deep within you. ‘I’m not one of those guys who wants to split the bill.’

You let go of your purse, slightly flustered. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it.’

You chatted the whole way back to your house, country music turned down low in the background.

When Jake’s truck pulled up outside the front of your house, you were actually disappointed that the date was over. When Jake cut the engine, he didn’t move, almost like he was disappointed too.

‘I suppose this is the part where I take you to your door and kiss you goodnight,’ he said huskily. ‘Like a gentleman.’

Emboldened by how totally wrecked he sounded, you reached out and put a hand on the top of his thigh. He tensed beneath you, and you tightened your grip.

‘Or you could come inside,’ you suggested. ‘You know, for a nightcap.’

Jake’s head snapped up. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you smiled. ‘It’s still early.’

He took the keys out of the ignition and opened his door. You let him walk around to your side of the truck and open the door for you, since he seemed hellbent on being a gentleman. You couldn’t help but wonder how long that was going to last once you got inside. Were you ready for this? Would he even want to sleep with you on the first date? With this new Jake, it was hard to tell, but you hoped that part of his old self remained; the part that went after what he wanted without thinking about consequences, or if it was ‘gentlemanly.’

You unlocked your front door and led him through to the kitchen, where you set about pouring some drinks. Your home suddenly felt tiny, like the walls were closing in around the two of you. You could hear him breathing, short and shallow, as if he were trying to stay composed.

You turned slightly to hand him his glass and find that he hasn’t taken his eyes off you once.

He set the drink down without taking it and took a step closer to you, your stomach doing wild somersaults.

You thought he was going to kiss you, but he seemed to stop himself right before making his move.

‘You’re being very well-behaved,’ you murmured.

‘Tryin’ to be,’ he replied.

This confirmed your suspicions that he was holding back, trying to be proper. But he’d been proper all night, and you didn’t think you’d ever wanted to kiss somebody so bad in your entire life.

He leaned closer, and you could smell the woodsy scent of his cologne. This close, you learned that his eyes weren’t totally blue—they were a mix of blue and green, like the ocean. They dropped to your lips as he took another step closer to you until he had you pressed up against the kitchen counter.

‘Stop trying,’ you told him hoarsely.

This seemed to bring him to his breaking point, because you’d barely gotten the words out before he had one hand on your waist and one on the back of your head, pulling you towards his lips. It was somehow rough and controlled at the same time, and you silently wished he’d let go of the final bit of control he was holding onto.

You dragged his bottom lip between your teeth, and a low growl rumbled through his chest as his hands tightened on your waist. It seemed to do the trick, because in no time, he was lifting you onto the counter and pressing open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. Your hands flew into his hair as he sucked hard on the spot just below your earlobe. His hands began to wander up the inside of your legs beneath your dress, edging dangerously close to where you needed him most.

You dragged your nails along his scalp, and he shuddered beneath your touch. His hand had reached the apex of your thighs, his thumb resting on top of your clothed core.

‘Tell me to stop,’ he breathed against your neck.

You couldn’t even speak, wouldn’t have been able to find the words even if you’d wanted to, so you just shook your head. He stood between your legs, fingers tracing lazy circles over the top of your underwear, and if you were seeing stars already, you couldn’t imagine what it was going to feel like when—

Your eyes slammed shut as he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of your underwear, teasing gently at first as he tried to get a read on your reaction. You could feel his gaze on you as he dragged his fingers through your slickness, breaths heavy and shallow.

‘Tell me to stop.’ He said again.

‘No,’ you said through gritted teeth.

‘I didn’t wanna do this on the first date,’ he murmured. ‘Didn’t want you to think it was all I wanted.’

You shook your head again. It was incredibly hard to focus on anything. ‘I don’t think that,’ you stammered. ‘Just stop worrying— I want this.’

And that seemed to be what he needed to hear, because he plunged two fingers into you, pumping agonisingly slowly. It didn’t seem fair that you were the most flustered one, so you undid his belt and dipped your hand into his pants, palming his (very) impressive length through his boxers. The strangled groan that ripped out of him had you clenching around his fingers with anticipation.

Something in him seemed to snap because he pulled you to the edge of the counter and yanked your underwear down your legs.

‘Are you sure?’ He panted.

‘Yeah. I’m sure.’

He reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a condom, and you bit back a laugh. Apparently, old habits died hard, and he couldn’t totally rid himself of the playboy allegations.

His dick sprang free as he pushed his boxers down, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes widened at the sight. You were glad he was preoccupied sliding the condom on, because you didn’t think his ego needed another hit.

Jake shifted you slightly so he could line his cock up with your entrance, and you rested your hands on his shoulders, trying to stay focused on his face. You didn’t want to miss a thing, but the second he started pushing into you, your head tipped back against your will, both of you moaning in unison.

‘You feel so good,’ he praised, finding his rhythm.

His hands gripped the bottom of your thighs, pushing your legs up just that little bit higher and giving him an even better angle to get even deeper. You knew you wouldn’t last long if he carried on.

A light sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, and he was biting his bottom lip to keep from crying out too much.

He glanced down to watch where you connected, and his hips seemed to stutter at the sight as he released a wrecked: ‘Fuck.’

Your vision faded almost to black. ‘Jake, I’m—’

‘Yeah,’ he gasped. ‘Me too—don’t hold back.’

Your legs tightened around his waist, drawing him even deeper still as you clenched around him, reaching your climax with a moan so loud it might as well have been a scream. His head dropped forward between your shoulder and neck, and he nipped at the skin there as he came, pumping into you one final time.

He didn’t pull out straight away, just let himself soften inside of you as you tried and failed to catch your breath.

‘Had this whole plan,’ he admitted, voice rough. ‘Take you out, be a gentleman, do it right.’ His hand tightened on your hip, like he was grounding himself. ‘Then you looked at me like that and invited me inside and—’

You cut him off with a kiss, much more tender than the previous one you’d shared. He smiled against your lips.

‘You don’t need to try so hard,’ you told him. ‘I like you just the way you are. And tonight? It was perfect.’

He grinned. ‘Then I hope you’ll say yes to me taking you out again next week.’

‘I would love nothing more.’

The next morning, Nat showed up at your door at just gone 7, even though it was a Saturday. Jake hadn’t slept over, claiming that he needed to at least try and be slightly gentlemanly, as if he hadn’t just fucked you on your kitchen counter.

‘So?’ Nat said, pushing past you to get inside, bag of croissants in hand ‘What happened? Spill. Everything. Now.’

You laughed, closing the door behind her and following her into the living room. ‘It was nice,’ you said. ‘He picked the best restaurant, we shared dessert, and then he took me home.’

She flopped down onto your couch and took a croissant out of the bag, pointing at you accusingly.

‘You’re holding out on me, Y/CS.’ She replied, tone warning.

Your cheeks heated up, and you knew there was no way you were getting out of telling her the full story.

‘Well, he was trying so hard to do it right,’ you explained. ‘Like, really hard. But I invited him inside, and we kissed and…’ You cut yourself off, heart hammering as memories of the previous night came back to you.

Nat leaned forward expectantly. ‘And?’

‘We slept together.’

‘I’m gonna kill him.’ Nat said simply.

You laughed. ‘I’m the one who encouraged it!’

‘Encouraged it how?’ She asked, eyes narrowing.

‘Well, we were kissing, and he told me to tell him to stop, but I didn’t want to, so he lifted me on the counter and—’

‘No!’ She exclaimed. ‘Don’t say it! I EAT OFF THOSE SURFACES!’

‘We cleaned up after!’

‘NO!’ She stood up, pacing the length of your living room. ‘That’s enough! I’ve heard enough.’

‘You wanted to know!’ You chuckled.

‘Yeah, well, remind me not to eat anything from your kitchen ever again.’

‘You say that now, but wait until I cook again next weekend,' you reasoned.

Nat sat back down with a disgruntled huff. For a second, you thought she was going to drop it. But then she looked at you again, quizical expression on her face.

‘How big was his dick?’ She asked.

You gasped in mock horror. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Come on. Ball park?’

‘Nope,’ you grinned, shaking your head. ‘If you don’t wanna hear all the gory details, then I’m not gonna tell you that.’

She threw the bag of croissants at you, and you took one out with a giggle. The two of you ate in companionable silence for a while, but in the end, you just couldn’t help yourself.

‘It was big enough to explain his attitude,’ you told her. ‘Let’s put it that way.’

Nat’s eyes lit up with mischief. ‘Maybe he did have an attitude,’ she said. ‘But I think you’re changing him.’

‘I’m going out with him again next weekend, so I guess we’ll see.’

You smiled at the thought of getting to do it all again.

Maybe minus the kitchen counter this time.

Or maybe not.

[callsign-mayhem]

One bed trope with Bradley Bradshaw is a need!! The reader is a little shy (very little) and Bradley is always loudly flirting with her too. It just makes sense. Maybe some misarrangements during a destination wedding for a dagger squad member makes this event happen.

no vacancy (b.b)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Shy!Reader Word count: 10.5k CW: Slightly explicit content towards the end, MINORS DNI. Use of Y/N, a few swears.

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! This one got away from me a bit, so I hope it's not too far off what you had in mind. I had the best time writing this one! The one-bed trope never gets old.

Javy Machado’s wedding was supposed to be a relaxing getaway for you.

He and his wife-to-be, Paisley, had chosen Cabo for their destination wedding, and you were more excited at the prospect of a getaway with your squad than the actual ceremony.

If that made you a bad friend, then so be it.

It was a miracle that you’d all been granted leave for the three-night extravaganza, and you intended to make the most of every second. Your suitcase was full of brand new bikinis with matching sunglasses for each, paperbacks you’d been meaning to read for months, and two cute outfits for each day in case you wanted to change in the evenings. Your wedding outfit was in a separate garment bag, slung over your forearm.

The resort Javy and Paisley had picked was, quite frankly, magical—funny since it was situated in a “Pueblo Mágico,” which translated to “magical town.” Located in Todos Santos on the Pacific coast of Baja California Sur, it had its own private beach with clear blue water and white sand. Plenty of art galleries and surf spots surrounded the area if you fancied any excursions, although you had every intention of spending most of your free time lounging by the pool or swimming in the ocean.

Penny and Maverick checked in first, then the rest of your squad. Everyone was paired off and given their room keys, leaving just you and Bradley. Jake shot you a cheeky wink as he followed Nat across the foyer, and your skin prickled as realisation dawned on you.

‘You two are booked into one of our ocean-view rooms on the third floor,’ the receptionist said with a warm smile. ‘I’m going to give you two key cards, but if you lose them, let me know, and I can make you another.’

Your eyes flicked to Bradley, who had a shit-eating grin on his pretty face.

‘We’re sharing a room?’ He asked.

The receptionist frowned and glanced between the two of you with a confused expression on her face.

‘You’re Mr Bradshaw? And Miss Y/LN?’ She queried. ‘I’ve got you two down to share, as the rest of the rooms are filled with other guests from the Machado wedding party.’

You groaned internally as Bradley’s smile widened. ‘No worries,’ he said, taking the keys.

No worries? Of course he’d say that. And of course you’d be the one stuck sharing with him. Javy probably thought he was hilarious, orchestrating this. You made a mental note to tell him exactly what you thought of that when you saw him at dinner tonight.

It was an ongoing thing: Bradley’s overbearing and loud attempts at flirting with you and your hurriedness in shutting him down. Objectively, you knew he was attractive. And despite his loudness, he was funny, kind, and reliable. Bradley Bradshaw was the kind of guy most women tripped over themselves to be with, and rightly so.

But you?

You’d always believed that you were too quiet for someone like him.

He didn’t seem to share this belief, and he flirted with you every chance he got. Sometimes you wondered if he was just doing it for the bit, but he hadn’t been with anyone else for as long as you’d known him. As far as you were aware, he’d never even taken anyone home after a night at The Hard Deck, and you knew with absolute certainty that he could’ve if he wanted to.

On the walk up to the room, Bradley hummed to himself, irritatingly joyful about this turn of events. You still hadn’t said a word, because what were you supposed to say? “I snore when I’m really tired, and I like to have the windows open instead of the AC. Also, please don’t touch my expensive shampoo?” Anything you thought of in your head sounded ridiculous and obsolete. While Bradley fiddled with the key card, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to text Phoenix if she knew about this. 

Truthfully, you suspected that the whole squad knew. You wouldn’t have been surprised if Bradley had been the one to suggest it. Bradley opened the door and stepped aside so you could go in first, ever the gentleman. The room was stunning. Huge, bifold windows that opened out onto a balcony with a table and chairs for morning coffees, a flat screen TV that you doubted you’d even turn on, ornate decorations and crisp white bed sheets…

On the double bed.

The one large, double bed.

Bradley appeared behind you, smelling of clean cotton and whatever aftershave he always wore that you found yourself searching for in the shops. But that was besides the point.

‘Shit.’

You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you just managed to refrain from smacking him around the head.

‘What are we going to do?’ You fretted, scanning the room for a couch or a pullout bed, of which there was neither.

Of course.

Bradley wheeled his suitcase further into the room and pushed his aviators up into his hair. He turned to look at you, trying to gauge your reaction to the situation.

‘I can sleep on the floor,’ he offered with a shrug. ‘Or I can see if Mav’s room is any bigger. Maybe he has a couch.’

You ran your fingers through your hair. ‘You can’t share with Mav and Penny. That’s ridiculous.’

Bradley set his backpack down on the bed with a sigh. ‘Then I’ll sleep on the floor.’

‘I find it hard to believe that there’s not a single other room left in this whole place,’ you grumbled, dumping your purse on the bed next to Bradley’s bag.

‘Paisley has five sisters,’ Bradley reasoned, ducking his head into the bathroom to investigate. ‘Coyote has four brothers. They’ve invited most of their friends and family, and our whole squad and all their partners are here. That doesn’t even account for the rest of the people Coyote’s invited from the navy.’

You kicked your suitcase over with a little more force than you’d intended and unzipped it in search of a bikini. Just because you were stuck sharing a room with Bradshaw didn’t mean you had to change the rest of your plans.

‘I can’t imagine wanting a big wedding like this,’ you ruminated. 

‘You wanna get married someday?’ Bradley asked, sliding the balcony doors open.

‘If I find the right guy.’

‘Maybe you already have.’ He teased.

You gave him a flat look. ‘I think I’d know.’

‘See, you say that,’ he drawled. ‘But you seem to be painfully unaware of a lot of things.’

You gaped. ‘I am not.’ You flushed, indignant.

Bradley smirked. ‘Whatever you say, sweetheart.’

You set about unpacking some of your things while Bradley helped himself to drinks and snacks from the minibar.

It was strange to be alone with him in a setting like this. You couldn’t help but wonder if things might be easier between the two of you if he weren’t so damn forward all the time. Even after knowing him for the better part of a year, he always managed to catch you off guard with a flirtatious comment or a sultry stare. It wasn’t so bad at work or The Hard Deck, where you had common ground and the rest of your squad to act as a buffer, but you hadn’t spent a great deal of one-on-one time together.

Mostly because you avoided it.

If you weren’t alone with him, he couldn’t make you flustered. And if you weren’t flustered, you couldn’t make a fool of yourself.

Now, you kind of felt like you’d been thrown to the wolves, and you dreaded to think what was going to be left of you by the end of the weekend.

‘I’m going to the beach,’ you announced, grabbing your bag and a pair of sunglasses.

Bradley looked at you, chocolatey eyes wide and expecting in a way that made you want to run and jump into his strong arms. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but you didn’t give him the chance.

The sight of him was honestly just too much, and you didn’t trust yourself to be normal when he looked at you like that. 

You should’ve known you’d find Bob at the beach with a tattered paperback in hand, glasses sliding down his nose. He was a lot like you in the sense that he wasn’t one for commotion—perhaps that’s why you connected so easily.

When he saw you approaching, his cheeks dimpled with a smile so wide, you couldn’t help but smile back.

‘Hey,’ he said, closing his book. ‘You okay?’

You dumped your beach bag in the sand and pulled another sun lounger over so you could sit beside him. ‘I was,’ you replied as you sat down. ‘Until I got stuck sharing a room with Rooster. Apparently, there are no other rooms left.’

Bob gave you a glib look. ‘You know Javy and Jake planned the whole thing,’ he told you. ‘They made sure there were no more rooms left.’

Indignation sparked in your chest. ‘I knew it! I fucking knew it!’

Bob chuckled. ‘I’m sorry, Y/N.’

You waved him off. ‘I should’ve expected it from those two,’ you said. ‘Who are you sharing with?’

Bob handed you a bottle of water, and you thanked him. ‘Fanboy,’ he sighed. ‘We’re the only two singles left in the group.’

You took a sip of your water—it was nice and cold and just what you needed in the heat of the Mexican sun.

‘You forgot Rooster and me,’ you corrected, pointing your bottle at him accusingly.

Bob gave you a sly grin, which was a rarity for him. ‘Come on, Y/N. You don’t have to pretend with me.’

‘I’m not pretending!’ You sputtered. ‘Nothing is going on between me and Rooster!’

Bob scoffed. ‘Yeah, right. And I suppose the sky isn’t blue, either.’

You lay back against your sun lounger and covered your face with your hands. Sure, Bradley flirted with you incessantly, and yes, maybe you did have a teeny tiny crush on him. But you’d always found it hard to believe that there was any real weight behind Bradley’s words. You told Bob all of this, and when you peeked between your fingers, he was looking at you like you were the biggest moron in existence.

‘Rooster is a lot of things, but he’s not the kind of guy who’d play around with someone’s heart like that. He probably just doesn’t wanna go in too heavy and scare you off.’

Deep down, you probably knew this, but you weren’t ready to face the music.

‘I’m not the right type of person for him, Bob,’ you said quietly. ‘He’s literally the human embodiment of sunshine.’

The pages of Bob’s book rustled as he leaned forward and patted your hand affectionately. ‘Don’t sell yourself short, Y/CS. You’re pretty special, too.’

You looked away, blushing. ‘Thanks, Bobby.’

‘Any time you need a reality check, I’m your guy,’ he joked. ‘But seriously, you should think about what I’ve said. Maybe this weekend is the perfect opportunity to find out if he means what he says.’

Your stomach quite literally clenched at the thought.

Bradley was good at talking, but what would it be like if he actually put his money where his mouth was? You could only imagine what being truly loved by him would feel like, how changed you’d be after basking in his impossibly bright rays.

Water lapped the shore gently as you and Bob fell into an easy beat of silence. You liked spending time with Bob; being in his company was as easy as breathing, and he never asked anything of you. Because of this, you were rarely shy. What you wouldn’t have given for it to be like that with Bradley.

‘What are you reading, anyway?’ You asked, desperate for a change of subject. It was hot enough outside as it was without thinking about Bradley.

‘East of Eden,’ Bob replied, flashing the cover of his book to you. ‘I’ve read it before, but not since high school.’

‘The classic debate of good vs evil,’ you remarked. ‘Just a bit of light reading on vacation, huh?’

Bob laughed. ‘I like to keep my brain fed.’

‘I know you do,’ you smiled. ‘That’s why I love talking to you so much.’

It was Bob’s turn to flush. He looked away and swallowed nervously.

‘What about you?’ He stammered. ‘What are you reading?’

You handed him the battered, well-read copy of one of your favourite books. It was part of a series, and you’d been rereading them for nostalgia purposes. He read the blurb and nodded approvingly.

‘Sounds pretty good, actually.’

A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, making you jump. Thoughts veering totally off track, your body’s reaction told you who it was without you needing to turn around.

‘What does?’ Bradley asked, stepping over the end of your sun lounger and perching on the edge.

‘Y/N’s book,’ Bob replied, shooting you a knowing smirk.

‘What is it?’ He asked, reaching for the book which Bob handed him.

‘Just an old favourite from when I was a teenager,’ you explained, keeping your eyes planted firmly on your lap so you wouldn’t oggle too much. ‘I’m rereading the whole series.’

‘Oh, cool,’ he replied, hand coming to rest on your shin. ‘I forgot my book.’

Your eyes flicked to his calloused hand on your leg. It was such a simple, casual act, but it drove you nuts nonetheless; it was an effort to stay focused on the conversation. ‘I didn’t know you could read.’ You said sweetly, hoping you didn’t sound too affected.

Bob choked on his water, and Bradley tipped his head back and laughed, a full-on belly laugh that made your chest tighten.

‘I’ll have you know, I like reading,’ he said, locking eyes with you. ‘Just have to be in the mood.’ His grip on your leg tightened, and warmth pooled in the bottom of your stomach.

‘That so?’

‘Uh-huh,’ he grinned, winking at you over his aviators. ‘I’m going for a swim.’

And with that, he was off like a shot towards the water, muscles expanding deliciously as he ran.

Bob was trying and failing to contain his laughter.

You read a few chapters of your book, stopping now and then to share lines you liked with Bob, who was doing the same. When Bradley came back dripping wet and somehow even more God-like than he’d been thirty minutes ago, you decided it might be a good idea to go for a swim as well, just to cool down. Being around him on base or at The Hard Deck was bad enough, but on a beach in Cabo in the blistering summer heat when he looked like that? It was impossible to think straight, especially when he pulled a sun lounger so close to yours that the arms touched and took a long drink from your water bottle. The worst part of it was that he did all this as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Almost like you were already a couple, which everyone else in your squad seemed to think you were.

Nat and Jake appeared with more drinks and a large platter of fresh fruit to share, which she promptly deposited in Bradley’s lap so she could lay her beach towel out. Jake took one look at Bradley, who was so close to you you might as well have been sharing a sun lounger, and smirked to himself like the cat who got the cream.

‘This looks cosy,’ he drawled, moving his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to another.

Bradley squinted up at him, unable to move without jostling the impressive tray of fruit. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something smart in response to Jake’s comment—something that would probably make you even more flustered—so you jumped up and grabbed hold of Nat’s arm.

‘Shall we go for a swim?’

Nat straightened, eyes flicking from you to Bradley as a knowing look spread across her face. You could feel Bradley’s gaze burning holes into your back, and you adjusted the straps of your white bikini self-consciously, suddenly hyperaware of the miles of skin you had on display.

‘Sure,’ she replied, brows raised. Then, once you were out of earshot of the rest of the group: ‘You’re acting weird.’

You threw your hands up. ‘I can’t help it! I feel like a caged animal!’ She laughed and you shot her a glare. ‘Glad to see my pain is funny to you, Trace.’

‘Oh come on,’ she nudged your ribs playfully. ‘You need to relax, stop taking it so seriously.’

You’d reached the shore. The cool, clear water lapping at your ankles was just the kind of grounding you needed.

‘I can’t help it,’ you whined. ‘There’s too much pressure on the situation. Bob told me that Jake and Javy were behind us sharing a room.’

Nat rolled her eyes. ‘You weren’t supposed to know that.’

‘You knew too?’ You exclaimed, shoving her lightly. ‘I can’t believe you! Dating Hangman is really rubbing off on you in the worst possible way.’

The two of you waded deeper until the swell reached your waists; then, you leaned back and let the tide claim you, your hair fanning out beneath the waves.

‘If it makes you feel any better,’ Nat said, pushing her dark hair out of her face. ‘Bradley didn’t know.’

You regarded your friend. Being the only two females in your squad meant that you were quite close, and you always knew when she was lying. You could tell by the set of her shoulders and the look in her eye that she was telling the truth about this.

‘I just don’t like being backed into a corner,’ you admitted, scrunching your toes in the sand. ‘He makes me nervous enough as it is.’

‘Y/N,’ Nat sighed. ‘Can I give you a piece of advice?’

‘I have a feeling you’re going to anyway, no matter what I say.’

She gave you a glib look. ‘Get out of your own head and just lean into it,’ she told you. ‘So what if Jake and Javy orchestrated the whole thing? At some point, something had to give. He looks at you like you hung the fucking moon in the sky.’

You couldn’t help but glance back at the beach. With the distance, you couldn’t be certain, but you were pretty sure that Bradley was still watching you over the top of his sunglasses.

‘Bob said pretty much the same thing,’ you relented.

‘Well, Bob’s a smart guy,’ Nat said, standing up. ‘If you’re not gonna listen to me, you should listen to him.’

You followed her back to shore, mulling over what she’d said. Did Bradley really look at you like you’d hung the moon? Most of the time, you were too flustered to properly read into it, but maybe your friends were right, and there really was more to his flirting than simply getting under your skin.

As you approached the guys, Bradley tracked you without shame, leaning back on his forearms like he didn’t have a care in the world. You almost lost your nerve when he sat up higher and pulled his sunglasses down further so he could see you better. For once, instead of shying away, you decided to be bold and add a little sway to your hips. His eyes immediately darkened as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

When you reached your sun lounger, you took your time drying off with your towel and brushing the sand from your legs before sitting down. Bradley’s attention never once left you.

‘You’re always looking at me like that,’ you said lowly, so only he could hear you.

‘Like what?’ He asked, smirking.

‘You know what.’

He reached up and ran his fingers through his curls and released a long breath. ‘Sorry. Can’t help it.’

His voice had dropped lower, and he seemed to be struggling to sit still. In the spirit of leaning into it like Nat had said, you allowed yourself a small moment of satisfaction in knowing you had an effect on him.

‘Don’t apologise,’ you told him.

His eyes darted to you, questioning, like he wasn’t sure whether he’d heard you correctly. The air seemed to shift around the two of you, and you were distantly aware that there was no turning back now.

‘I’m gonna go get some ice cream,’ you announced. ‘Want one?’

‘Sure,’ he sputtered, tracking you once again as you stood up. ‘Thanks.’

You flashed him your widest, prettiest smile and relished in the way his lips tugged upward beneath his moustache.

‘No problem, roomie.’

Bradley let you take the first shower when you got back to your room. You took your time washing your hair twice, and then took extra care scrubbing the sand from every inch of your body.

You were stalling.

The Daggers had a reservation at a fancy restaurant a little way from the resort, but it wasn’t for another hour. That meant sixty whole minutes alone in a room with Bradley Bradshaw with nobody to act as a buffer and no ocean to disappear into.

Hence the twenty-minute-long shower.

The bathroom was just as beautiful as the rest of the suite, complete with a waterfall shower, his and hers sinks and light-up mirrors. You stepped out onto the fluffy mat in search of a towel, but all you could find was a couple of small hand towels.

An icy chill ran down your spine as you remembered the towels folded up at the foot of the bed.

Fuck.

Gingerly, you opened the bathroom door and poked your head out. Bradley was stretched out on the bed, flipping through your current read.

‘Can you pass me a towel?’ You squeaked. ‘There are none in here.’

Bradley’s head snapped up.

You watched the realisation that you were naked behind the door wash over him, and his eyes darkened just like they had on the beach. A sly grin tugged at his lips as he set your book down and swiped a towel from where they were folded into swans.

‘What’s the magic word, sweetheart?’ He teased, voice an octave lower than usual.

Your toes curled instinctively, grip tightening on the edge of the door

‘...Please.’

He came right up to the bathroom door, but didn’t hand the towel over right away—just stood there, a little too close, like he’d forgotten what he was supposed to be doing.

His eyes flicked over your face and settled on the water pooling in your collarbones. You thought you saw his breath hitch, though surely smug, confident Bradley Bradshaw wouldn’t be so affected by the sight of your naked shoulders.

You reached around the door and waved your hands impatiently, and he blinked as though startled.

‘Sorry,’ he murmured, biting back a grin as he handed you the towel. When his fingers brushed yours, your breath hitched, and you slammed the bathroom door shut suddenly and leaned against it.

He didn’t even have to try to get you worked up. Honestly, it was a little embarrassing.

After wrapping yourself in the fluffy towel, you bit the bullet and walked out into the bedroom. All your clothes were in your suitcase because—of course—you hadn’t thought to take them in the bathroom with you. You didn’t feel like asking Bradley to root through all your underwear to find you an outfit, thank you very much.

He didn’t move an inch as you sashayed across the room, just kept his eyes planted firmly on the wall in front of him, jaw set like it took effort to keep them there. After the way he’d stared at you at the beach earlier, you weren’t sure why he was bothering to be chaste now. He swiped another towel from the foot of the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, all without fully turning around, like he was afraid to look at you.

Or maybe he was afraid that you’d look at him.

After taking a deep, steadying breath, you moisturised and put on your evening dress. It was a cute, baby yellow number that you’d picked out especially for this trip. Admittedly, you’d had Bradley in mind when you’d bought it, though you’d die before ever telling anyone this.

It was hot enough outside that you could leave your hair to air dry, so you grabbed a mini bottle of prosecco from the fridge and a glass and headed out onto the balcony. The view of the private beach was breathtaking and made you wish you could take vacations more often.

By the time you heard the bathroom door open, the sun had started to set, and you’d nearly finished your drink.

Bradley had taken longer than you in the shower, and that was saying something.

You blamed the bubbly for your inability to keep your eyes on the beautiful ocean view, and turned subtly in your seat.

Bradley had his back to you, a white towel hanging low on his waist. Up until now, you hadn’t given men’s backs much thought, but now you were reconsidering. The expanse of tanned skin pulled taught over impressive muscles had you wondering about other areas of his body.

Now who was shamelessly staring?

Practically drooling, you watched him dig through his suitcase for some clothes, mesmerised by his fluid movements—so mesmerised, in fact, you only just managed to turn back around before he dropped his towel to the floor.

‘Hey, Y/CS?’ He called.

Your stomach somersaulted. ‘Yeah?’ You squeaked.

‘This mirror on the wall by the door’s nice, huh?’ He replied, smirk audible in his voice.

Your brows furrowed as you tried to work out what he was talking about. What did a mirror have to do with anything?

Silence stretched out for a second.

Then it dawned on you.

He must have seen you ogling him in the reflection.

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you rubbed your temples, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

After a few minutes of quietly simmering with embarrassment, Bradley appeared on the balcony, dressed in black dress pants and a loose-fitting, white linen shirt. He’d combed his wet hair back, and his aviators were perched precariously on the tip of his nose. To top it all off, he smelled delicious.

‘Ready to go?’ He asked innocently.

You knocked the rest of your drink back and stood up. ‘Yep.’

He followed you across the room, and just as you opened the door, he placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you. Gently, he untucked your wet hair from beneath the back of your dress and tucked it over one shoulder so your back wouldn’t get wet. It wasn’t the feel of his fingers against the nape of your neck that startled you; it was the softness of the gesture. It affected you more than his loud, outward attempts at flirting.

You were frozen to the spot as he let his hand linger for a little longer than he should’ve before pulling away.

‘Thanks.’ You squeaked.

He was so close to you that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he said: ‘No problem, roomie.’

The restaurant was called Jazzamango, and it sold the most expensive pizza you’d ever had in your entire life. It had been Mav and Penny’s idea to come here, and they were paying for the whole thing. The Daggers were family, and you were grateful for the way Penny had taken you all under her wing—just because Mav had to, didn’t mean she did.

Naturally, you ended up sandwiched between Natasha and Bradley, because there had been no other seats left when you arrived. It was incredibly hard to focus on your $400 pizza when Bradley’s leg kept knocking into yours beneath the ornately decorated table. Every time it happened, you inched a little closer to Nat.

‘Wanna sit in my lap or something?’ she whisper-shouted after the fourth time it happened.

‘Sorry,’ you hissed. ‘Bradshaw’s all up in my personal space.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, you’re sharing a room with him for the next three nights, so you might wanna get used to it.’

You flashed your teeth at her. ‘Thank you for captioning my nightmare.’

‘You know, this whole playing hard to get thing is getting really boring to watch,’ she told you with a smirk. ‘I thought I told you to lean into it.’

His knee touched yours again, and this time you didn’t move away—you told yourself it was because you had nowhere else to go, but was it?

‘Relax,’ Bradley murmured, low enough that only you could hear. ‘You look like you’re about to bolt.’

‘Maybe I am.’ You shot back.

‘Don’t,’ he said simply, before going back to his conversation with Reuben and his girlfriend.

By the time desert came out, you were jumpy, exhausted and ready for bed. Which would’ve sounded inviting after a day of socialising, if not for the fact that you had to share with Bradley.

‘So,’ Nat said suddenly, cutting into her piece of cheesecake. ‘How’s the room?’

You almost choked on your drink, but Bradley didn’t even look up from his plate. ‘Great, actually.’ He said.

‘Is it?’ She asked.

‘Yeah,’ he said, finally glancing your way. ‘We’re getting along really well.’

You kicked him under the table. Hard. His leg didn’t move. In fact, it pressed closer.

You went completely still.

By now, you were sure this man was going to be the death of you, and you were sick of him always getting one up. Resolutely, you put your hand on the top of his thigh and squeezed, hoping nobody would notice. His fork clattered onto his half-empty plate as he glared at you, pupils blown completely black.

‘Yeah,’ you smiled at Nat. ‘We are.’

She couldn’t see your hand from this angle, but she could see the pained expression on Bradley’s face. Honestly, you were taken aback by your own boldness. You had no idea whether to move away or double down, and your pulse was going ohshitohshitohshit.

‘Weirdos.’ Nat huffed.

For the first time since you’d met him, Bradley Bradshaw didn’t have a comeback.

He ate the rest of his dessert in a stunned sort of silence, glancing at you now and then like he was making sure you were really there. 

When you got back to the room, the energy between you and Bradley was loaded in a way it hadn’t been before.

You didn’t know if Bob and Nat’s words had gotten to you, if you’d had too much champagne or if the forced proximity to Bradley had finally broken down the last of your resolve—either way, you were seeing the situation from an entirely new angle.

It was hard to believe that all these months of teasing had purely been for fun when he’d looked at you like that when you’d grabbed his thigh. And this stunned silence he’d been trapped in since the restaurant? It was so unlike him that you could only assume you’d had a real effect on him.

Bradley went over to the minibar and grabbed two miniature bottles of Patròn.

‘Do we have to pay for these?’ He asked, waving the bottles at you.

‘I guess so,’ you replied, following him out to the balcony. ‘Unless the happy couple are footing the bill at the end.’

He handed you one of the bottles and uncapped his. ‘Guess we’ll find out,’ he smirked. ‘You ready?’

You scrunched your nose up. ‘We’re just gonna drink it straight?’

‘That’s the whole point of tequila,’ he reasoned.

Shooting straight tequila in a hotel room with Bradley Bradshaw? You said a silent prayer for your sanity before following Bradley’s lead and downing it, wincing at the harsh taste.

‘I don’t usually drink tequila,’ you sputtered.

‘Neither do I,’ he admitted, smiling sheepishly. ‘Doesn’t normally end well.’

‘That’s exactly what I was thinking,’ you laughed.

And that’s how you and Bradley ended up swapping stories about your worst drunken nights. By the end of it, you were clutching your sides, which ached from laughing so hard, and your jaw hurt from smiling so wide. He made you feel careless and present in the moment, as though nothing and nobody outside of it was more important. It was easier to laugh than to acknowledge what had changed.

Eventually, you cast a glance at the very inviting bed. Bradley watched you intently, like he was waiting to see what you’d say first.

The tequila had gone straight to your head. You leaned back in your seat and took a deep, steadying breath of ocean air.

‘You can’t sleep on the floor, Rooster. I wouldn’t be able to sleep.’

Bradley gave you a bemused grin. ‘You wouldn’t be able to sleep?’

‘No,’ you pouted. ‘Because I’d just be thinking about how uncomfortable you were all night.’

Fiddling with his empty bottle, Bradley smiled dazzlingly. ‘You would?’

Before you could stop the words flying out of your mouth, you asked: ‘Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?’

Bradley’s smile dropped, suddenly serious. ‘Kinda.’

His admission was like a sharp stab in your chest. ‘Well, I do.’

He didn’t drop his gaze from you as he said: ‘That’s good to know.’

Suddenly, the quiet between you was too loud. You couldn’t sit still anymore, and you could feel your clothes sticking to your body.

‘I’m going to put my pyjamas on,’ you announced, getting up from your seat.

‘Need a hand?’ Bradley teased.

Your mouth dried out at the thought. ‘Nope,’ you squeaked, hurrying into the bathroom with your night things.

As you dressed, you wished you’d brought something a bit nicer than an old Harley Davidson t-shirt and skimpy sleep shorts, but you hadn’t been expecting anyone to see you after 10pm. What kind of psycho could sleep in lace, anyway?

After brushing your teeth and combing through your hair, you headed back into the bedroom where Bradley was perched on the edge of the bed scrolling on his phone. He was shirtless in a pair of grey sleep shorts, and your brain short-circuited at the thought of sharing a bed with him.

When you flopped down on top of the duvet, he turned to face you, propping his head up on his hands. God, he was handsome. Nobody had the right to be so perfect.

‘I sleep with the windows open,’ you told him, lips tugging upward. ‘No AC. And sometimes I snore if I’m really tired.’

Bradley laughed delightedly. ‘I sleep with the windows open too,’ he told you. ‘And I snore all the time.’

‘Now you’ve got me second-guessing letting you sleep in the bed with me,’ you joked.

Bradley laughed again, and something in your chest shifted. You found yourself trying to come up with ways to hear that laugh again.

He sat up and moved further up the bed, close enough to you that you could feel heat rolling off him.

‘You’re on my side, though,’ he said huskily.

‘That so?’ You asked, raising a brow.

‘Yup.’

Emboldened by the wicked glint in his eye, you straddled him so you could get to the other side of the bed. Instinctively, his hands flew to your hips, and even though the contact and proximity were short-lived, it still set an electric current buzzing beneath your skin. His little ‘oof’ had your pulse jumping into your throat.

Without giving him any time to respond, you reached over and snapped the bedside lamp on, plunging you into near total darkness. The only light came from the moon, which was almost full up in the sky, and a spattering of twinkling stars.

Bradley pulled the duvet back and nestled beneath it, and you followed suit. You could barely hear the ocean outside over the pounding of your own heart as you grabbed a few of the extra pillows (what bed needed this many?) and made a barrier between the two of you. You knew full well that it was childish, and you felt a bit like an idiot, but really, what other choice did you have?

‘You’re not serious,’ Bradley laughed, voice more unsteady than usual. You couldn’t tell him that you didn’t trust yourself, or that you knew you’d never drift off to sleep if you could feel him lying beside you.

‘Night roomie.’ You said sweetly.

He scoffed, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he said: ‘Yeah. Goodnight.’

You woke up a few hours later completely disoriented.

It took you a moment to remember that you were away in Cabo, and not in your own bed in San Diego.

Slowly, you came to terms with your surroundings: the lovely, light breeze in through the balcony doors, the sound of the ocean gently lapping the shore, and someone snoring.

Your brain hadn’t quite caught up yet—it was still somewhere between sleep and waking.

And then it did, all at once.

The pillow barrier you’d built hastily before falling asleep had been kicked to the foot of the bed. In your sleep, you and Bradley seemed to have found your way into each other’s arms. Your face was pretty much buried in his chest, and both of his strong arms were wrapped around you. He smelled of sandalwood and sunscreen, and he was so incredibly warm.

You’d never been this close to him before. Not like this. Not where you could feel every single breath he took.

The heat you were becoming all too familiar with unfurled deep in your belly. It was desire mixed with nerves and anticipation, and it was slightly intoxicating; better than any expensive champagne.

You debated rolling away, probably should have rolled away. But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Bradley was so warm and inviting, and he wasn’t awake to make a sly remark and totally ruin the bliss. Tentatively, you draped your arm across his middle, hand hovering for a second before you let it settle against his back, fingertips tracing slow, absent lines like you were testing whether the moment was real. He shuddered in his sleep, and your breath caught, and not because he’d moved—because he’d felt it.

You bit back a pleased grin.

Just as you’d started to drift off again, his arms tightened around you, somehow pulling you even closer.

‘Y/N?’ He murmured.

You inhaled sharply. ‘Yeah?’

‘Are we cuddling?’

And damn if his raspy, sleepy voice wasn’t the sexiest thing you’d ever heard in your entire life.

‘I think so.’ You whispered.

Silence for a second, then a quiet, ‘Okay.’

His grip didn’t loosen; it just settled, like he’d decided something. And not two minutes later, he was snoring again.

Just like that.

You didn’t move, not even after he’d fallen asleep.

And that meant something you weren’t quite ready to face just yet. 

Bradley didn’t think he’d ever been this close to losing his mind before.

Every little thing you did drove him insane—the way you got embarrassed and couldn’t hold eye contact when he flirted with you, the smell of your expensive shampoo, the sight of you in that fucking white bikini, water sliding down your stomach and legs.

And now, he could add your little snores and the way you clung to him like a koala in your sleep to the list.

He woke up to you still nestled against his chest, arms wrapped around his torso like you two did this sort of thing every night. It didn’t surprise him that you two fit together like puzzle pieces—he’d always known that you were meant for each other. What surprised him was that you hadn’t moved all night, even after waking up and finding yourself pressed against him. Most of the time, he had a hard time even having a serious conversation with you without you disappearing on him or retreating inward, so he was counting this as a step in the right direction.

Being careful not to wake you, he peeled your arm off him and crept to the bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. No matter what, he started every single day with an ice-cold shower, but today it was more necessary than usual. His skin smelled of your perfume, he finally knew what it felt like to hold you close, and after spending the better part of six hours pressed up against your gorgeous body, he was more than flustered.

He gripped the edge of the bathroom sink, suddenly all too aware of his own body, which had totally betrayed him.

He felt more than a little guilty for sorting out his morning problem with you sleeping ten feet away, but what other choice did he have? You cut and run from in The Hard Deck when he winked at you, so he couldn’t imagine what would happen if you woke up to his dick pressing against your stomach. Hell, you’d probably never be able to be in the same room as him again.

Bradley tried not to take it personally; he really did. He understood that you were shy and more reserved than the rest of your rowdy squad. But that was one of the things he loved most about you. He also knew that you didn’t believe that he genuinely liked you, that he wanted more with you than the sex he hinted at too often.

Maybe that was his own fault, but he just loved teasing you so damn much.

As he went through the motions of his morning routine, he thought about how incredible it had felt to wake up cuddling you. By the time he was done in the bathroom, he’d replayed the memory so many times he no longer fully believed that it had really happened. Had he dreamt your arms tightening around him, or the lazy circles you’d traced into his back?

The sight of you tucked up in the middle of the bed, hair splayed out across his pillow, was the only proof he had that any of it was real. Bradley dressed quickly and grabbed his phone and key card. Breakfast would be starting any minute, and he thought you might like some time to yourself to get ready for the busy day ahead. Cocktails had been scheduled for the afternoon, followed by the rehearsal dinner, and he knew you well enough to know that you’d want some time to charge your social battery before all that.

Down in the restaurant, Natasha, Jake, Mickey and Bob were already seated at a table close to the window. Bradley grabbed himself a cup of black coffee and a plate of fresh fruit before joining them.

‘There he is!’ Jake said, smirking smarmily.

‘Fucking finally!’ Nat exclaimed. ‘I need details, now. Did it happen?’

Bradley stabbed a strawberry with his fork. ‘No.’

All four of his squad mates visibly deflated with disappointment. ‘What do you mean “no?”’ Nat demanded. ‘You shared a bed with her! She had like, four glasses of champagne!’

‘So?’ Bradley rolled his eyes. ‘What was I supposed to do, take advantage of her because she was drunk?’

Bob leaned forward in his seat. ‘Did anything happen? Anything at all?’

Bob Floyd wasn’t one for gossip, so if he was interested, then the situation must have been getting dire.

Bradley shrugged. ‘We had some tequila, chatted for a while, then we went to bed.’

‘Did you share the bed?’ Mickey asked, waggling his eyebrows.

‘Yeah,’ Bradley snorted. ‘With a fucking pillow shield between us.’

Jake’s eyes lit up, and Bradley immediately regretted saying anything. If you found out that he’d told anyone about what had gone on behind closed doors, you’d never talk to him again.

‘Come on, Rooster,’ Nat pleaded. ‘Just make a move already!’

‘I don’t know if she wants that! She’s so hot and cold, I never know whether I’m coming or going.’

‘But I bet you wish you were co—’

Natasha punched Jake’s arm, cutting him off abruptly. Bradley busied himself with his fruit, although it was difficult to focus with four pairs of eyes boring holes into the top of his head.

He huffed. ‘We cuddled.’

Chaos erupted. He only meant to give them something to shut them up, but now he was being bombarded with a whole slew of other questions, like “who initiated it?” and “did you get to second base?” Bradley banged his fork down onto the table.

‘Can you guys cut it the fuck out!’ He snapped. ‘It’s none of your business—and if you tell her I told you that, I’ll never speak to any of you again.’

Mickey snorted. ‘Yeah, cos it took you a whole fucking year to even get her in a room alone.’

Bradley picked up a grape and threw it at Mickey’s head.

‘Low blow, Fanboy,’ Nat growled.

Mickey threw his hands up. ‘But it’s true!’

‘Y/N’s different,’ Bob said quietly. ‘If you really wanna be with her, you have to show her that it’s not all just for show.’

Bradley blinked. He knew you and Bob talked a lot, probably because you were both quiet and relatively reserved. Judging by the look in the WSOs eyes, he knew more than he was letting on.

Nat nodded in agreement. ‘Bob’s right,’ she said. ‘Maybe slow down on the flirting and let her get comfortable.’

Bradley chewed on this. Out of everyone in your squad, Phoenix and Bob definitely knew you best. If he was going to take anyone’s advice, it would be theirs. Maybe all his shameless flirting was only harming his cause.

He could tone it back, let you come to him for a change. He just had to hope that you actually did, because he didn’t think he could survive another night in bed with you without kissing you.

Bradley couldn’t stop admiring the way your pretty, blue evening dress clung to your body in all the right places. You looked so stunning he couldn’t think straight, just kept going back to the previous night in his mind.

You sipped your cocktail, smiling slightly at something Penny was telling you.

It was the first time he’d seen you since this morning in the room. When you hadn’t come down for breakfast, he’d taken you up a croissant and some coffee, but you weren’t in the room. He’d checked the beach, the pool and the bar, but he hadn’t been able to find you anywhere. He didn’t even see you when he went back to the room to get ready for cocktails and the rehearsal dinner, which was disconcerting.

It wasn’t until he’d arrived at the garden that he saw you, leaning against the wall with an impressive-looking drink in hand, chatting with Penny. Either you hadn’t seen him come in, or you were ignoring him, because you hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction.

Javy clapped a hand on his back, startling Bradley from his reverie.

‘How’s it going?’ He asked, face split in a wide grin.

‘Good,’ Bradley replied. ‘What about you? Feeling the pre-wedding jitters yet?’

Javy shook his head. ‘Not in the slightest. When you know, you know. I’ve never been more sure of anything my whole life.’

Bradley’s eyes darted to you. ‘I get that, man.’

Javy followed Bradley’s line of sight and smiled sheepishly. ‘I hear mine and Jake’s plan isn’t exactly working.’

Bradley shrugged, hoping he didn’t look as dejected as he felt. ‘Bob and Phoenix think I’ve been coming on too strong, but I’m not sure if it’s that anymore. Maybe she just doesn’t like me back.’

‘Bullshit,’ Javy said. ‘You just need to take a different approach.’

‘Yeah, so I’ve heard.’

‘It’ll happen. Like I just said—when you know, you know.’

Bradley nodded, because he did know. He just wasn’t sure that you did.

You were halfway through your drink when you felt him beside you. You kept your eyes trained on the couples dancing beneath the pergola, which was strung with twinkling, golden fairy lights. Bradley inched closer to you, resting his arm on the back of the stool you were sitting on. You wore a backless dress, and the feeling of his arm against your bare skin reminded you of last night.

‘You disappeared on me today,’ he said quietly.

You leaned back slightly until you were almost in the crook of his arm ‘Sorry.’

‘Everything okay?’

You didn’t even know where to start. ‘Yeah,’ you said. ‘Just wanted some peace and quiet.’

‘Charming,’ he said, voice teasing.

‘I didn’t mean—’ you sputtered, covering your face with your hands. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

His chuckle reverberated through your body. When you removed your hands from your face, he leaned even closer to you. ‘It’s okay,’ he murmured, eyes darting to your lips. ‘I get it. You don’t have to hide from me, Y/N. I can go as slow as you want.’

You lost yourself in the depths of him, totally enamoured. It was as if the rest of the garden had faded away, and it was just you and Bradley left. A few more inches, and you could’ve kissed him. It would’ve been so easy if you could just forget about your insecurities and stop overthinking everything.

‘Why do you keep trying with me?’ You asked a little breathlessly.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, thumb lightly brushing your jaw, and your whole body trembled with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ He answered.

Your eyes fluttered closed. His breath fanned across your face as he exhaled, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. Your stomach flipped just as the tip of his nose bumped yours, and

‘Everyone, if you could please make your way to the dining area,’ somebody announced over the microphone. ‘Dinner will be served shortly.’

The spell was broken.

Around you, everyone scraped their stools back or set their empty glasses down on tables. Your body was a live wire, veins coursing with adrenaline that now had no place to go. Bradley pulled back, and your heart sank, and that was when you realised just how much you wanted him to kiss you.

He gazed at you longingly and held out his hand for you to hold, which you took. ‘Later,’ he breathed. 

This time, when Bradley’s leg touched yours beneath the dinner table, you didn’t pull away.

That alone told you everything had changed.

Like last night, you’d spent most of dinner thinking about sharing a room with Bradley, but it was different tonight. You’d given yourself time to breathe instead of immediately talking yourself out of anything. You hadn’t let yourself go round in circles about the cuddling or what it meant, just let yourself accept that it had been nice. And that almost kiss? The way your body and heart had reacted told you everything you needed to know about how you truly felt about Bradley—something you’d always known, deep down, but had been too afraid to let yourself accept.

Part of you still found it hard to believe that Bradley truly liked you, but Bob and Nat’s words were starting to make a lot more sense to you now you’d seen he could give you more than obnoxiously flirty comments that set your skin on fire.

I can go as slow as you want.

Bradley was midway through a conversation with Mav when he filled your wine glass up for you, like taking care of you was something he didn’t even have to think about.

You tipped your head to the side, resting it on his shoulder for two seconds while you thanked him.

Nat, who was opposite you tonight, caught the whole thing and raised a brow.

You flushed scarlet, but didn’t pull away from Bradley, and she smirked knowingly. The two of you were good at having conversations with just facial expressions, and hers right now told you that you would be talking about this later, even if she had to tie you down to force information out of you.

When you finally looked away from her, your eyes caught on Bradley’s. He wasn’t listening to Maverick anymore; he was already looking at you. Not in that easy, teasing way you were used to—not like he was about to say something that would make your cheeks burn and your heart race for all the wrong reasons. This was quiet and steadier, like he was waiting.

Your breath hitched as something warm and certain settled low in your chest.

You didn’t look away this time, and neither did he.

After dinner, Javy and Paisley’s parents gave lovely speeches, and then, as he was basically an extra father for all intents and purposes, Mav gave one too. It made you a little emotional to see Mav standing so proudly as he recounted stories about Javy and his many achievements in the Dagger squad.

By the time all the plates were cleared and the speeches were finished, you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Bradley put a steadying hand on your shoulder. ‘Shall we go up to bed?’

You’d never experienced butterflies like the swarm that fluttered in your stomach at those words. Like going up to bed was something the two of you did—like it was normal. A world existed where those words actually meant something, and the two of you were right on the precipice of it.

‘Yeah,’ you said, taking his hand once again. ‘Let’s.’

He was grinning from ear to ear as you stood up and wrapped your hand around his bicep.

You threw a glance behind you at your squad, who were losing their collective shit. Maverick and Penny shared a knowing look that made you wonder just how many people were rooting for you and Bradley, and whether you were supposed to be flattered or embarrassed by it. 

The room felt different.

When Bradley closed the door behind you, it felt smaller than it had before. You kicked your shoes off and sashayed over to the bed, all too aware of Bradley trailing behind you.

‘Want a drink?’ He asked, voice thick with tension.

You nodded, and he set about pouring two glasses of wine.

He crouched down by the fridge, and you stared at the muscles in his arms as he uncorked a bottle of white wine and poured two big glasses.

It was a stark contrast to how you were used to seeing him: climbing into a multi-million dollar fighter jet, body tense but relaxed at the same time in a way that came only from being in the military. He was a totally different guy in this setting, and you couldn’t decide which version you liked best.

Your brain was ticking again now, starting to spiral. What if this didn’t work out? What if it all went to hell in a handbasket and you couldn’t work together anymore? What if all your worst fears came true, and Bradley decided you weren’t right for him after all?

You snatched your pyjamas from beneath your pillow and clambered off the bed towards the bathroom.

‘Going to change.’ You muttered.

You pushed the door open and stepped in, but before you could close it, Bradley was there, hand around your wrist and a steady look on his face.

‘Don’t,’ he said, gently tugging you towards him. ‘Don’t do that.’

‘Do what?’ You asked hoarsely, laying your hands on his chest to steady yourself.

‘Run. You don’t get to look at me like that and then run.’

He was almost pleading, and you were struggling to catch a breath.

‘This whole time, I thought this was just you being…you,’ you admitted. ‘I never thought you actually—’

‘Liked you?’ He released a shaky laugh. ‘I honestly don’t know what else I can do to get you to believe me.’

He let go of your arm and ran his hands through his curls.

‘At the start, I thought you were just flirting with me as a joke,’ you admitted, cheeks flaming. ‘And then when you didn’t stop, I started to wonder why you’d even go for someone like me. I’m quiet and boring, and you’re like sunshine, Bradley,’ you took a breath, and he reached out like he was going to touch you before thinking better of it. ‘Then this weekend, Nat and Bob have been trying to convince me that you really do like me and to just relax, but I can’t because you’re you and I’m me and you just make me so fucking nervous and—’

Bradley’s lips crashed into yours as he pressed you up against the wall, caging you in with his arms. You’d been kissed before, but not like this—not like you were the very air somebody needed to survive. It was natural then, the way you put your hands on the back of Bradley’s neck—still warm from the heat of the day—and pulled him in closer, licking his bottom lip and deepening the kiss. He whimpered, like actually whimpered, when you began exploring his mouth, and your stomach clenched so hard it was almost painful.

When he eventually pulled away, he was panting hard, eyes blown so wide you lost yourself in them for a moment.

‘I can’t believe you’d think that,’ he breathed. ‘You—you’re everything,’ he swallowed thickly, cupping your face in his hands. ‘I’ve liked you since the day I met you, but every day that’s passed since then it’s only gotten stronger. And maybe I should’ve given you more than stupid comments, but I didn’t wanna risk fucking things up with you.’

You closed your eyes and rubbed your nose against his. ‘I’m sorry for pushing you away.’

He kissed you slow and gentle, like he had all the time in the world. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.’ You laid your hands flat on his chest and pushed him towards the bed, collapsing on top of him in fits of giggles. He gazed up at you, well, like you’d hung the moon. Nat had been right about that, at least. With his eyes wide, curls a mess and his lips slightly parted he looked totally disarmed, like you’d rocked the very foundations he existed upon. His hands came to rest on your hips as you leaned down and kissed him again, his moustache tickling the tip of your lip.

If you were to be honest with yourself, it was a feeling you’d been imagining for a very long time, but a feeling you never felt like you were allowed to want.

You could feel the way your weight was affecting him by his short breaths, wandering hands and the impressive length pressing against the inside of your thigh. The idea of sleeping with him both terrified and excited you at the same time. What if you didn’t live up to his standards? What if it made him change his mind?

It would’ve been easy to go into a downward spiral, but every passionate kiss and hungry grab pushed the negative thoughts further and further away until there was only him.

Just Bradley.

If you’d known it was going to be this easy, you’d have leaned into it a long time ago.

You pulled back slightly, and he leaned forward, chasing your lips for another kiss.

‘If we do this,’ you panted. ‘I don’t want it to be because of tequila and a wedding.’

He softened, adjusting you so you lay beside him, facing him. He twirled a strand of your hair around his finger absentmindedly. ‘We’ll go at whatever pace you want,’ he rasped. ‘I’ve waited a year for you, and I would’ve waited five more if I had to.’

Your heart soared. ‘You’re lying.’

He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t lie about something like that, Y/N.’

And you believed him. ‘Thank you for being patient.’

He kissed you again and smiled against your lips. ‘Thanks for believing me.’

Bradley opened his arms so you could snuggle closer, tucking you beneath his chin and tangling his legs with yours. In a way, it was even better than the kiss. He made you feel safe and secure, and what more could you really ask for than that?

‘Big day tomorrow,’ he murmured, and you could hear how sleepy he was.

You ‘hmmed’ in agreement, and Bradley reached up and started combing through your hair with his fingers. Your eyes drifted closed, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you fell asleep.

You didn’t miss the hopefulness in his tone when he asked: ‘That thing you said yesterday, about finding the right guy?’

‘Too soon to say,’ you replied, smiling against his chest. ‘But I’m pretty certain.’

The next morning, the two of you meandered down to the beach hand in hand. Javy and Paisley had chosen to have their ceremony on the sand, and you made Bradley stop so you could kick your heels off and walk barefoot. He had a massive, lottery-winning grin on his face that hadn’t disappeared all morning, and matched your own.

It had taken you longer than necessary to get ready because he’d kept interrupting you with kisses and hugs and compliments, and as a result, the two of you were the last to take your seats. The Dagger squad had a whole row to themselves, and Nat had saved you and Bradley the seats on the end.

All of them—including Penny and Maverick—had twisted around in their seats to get a look at the two of you walking down the aisle. All of them had variations of ecstatic and shit-eating grins on their faces. Nat and Jake were the worst of them all, and you knew that you were never going to hear the end of this. Jake would probably have “The Reason Bradley and Y/N Finally Got Together” carved into his tombstone.

‘Are those wedding bells I hear?’ Jake teased when the two of you sat down.

Bradley glanced around. ‘No, I think we’ve still got ten minutes till the ceremony starts.’

‘Not what I meant.’ Jake smirked.

Javy, who was standing at the altar looking very dapper in his tux, waved enthusiastically.

‘DID IT WORK?’ He yelled.

Everyone in the audience turned to look at you and Bradley. You’d never felt embarrassment like it, but Bradley squeezed your hand encouragingly, and it faded away.

He was good at that.

Jake stood up. ‘YEAH, IT WORKED! FINALLY!’

Javy cheered, and the rest of the Daggers followed suit. Nat and Bob were giving you smug, ‘I told you so’ looks that made you feel a bit like an idiot. You didn’t let yourself dwell on all the time you’d spent overthinking it.

Maybe it had taken a while, but you’d gotten here in the end. But you supposed everything happened exactly when it was supposed to—not a second before nor after.

And the two of you were right on time.

[callsign-mayhem]

Hi everyone! Just letting you know requests are closed while I catch up. Went on a bit of a tangent on an awesome one bed trope idea I got in my inbox, which I’ll be posting later today. Thank you all for submitting, can’t wait to get to all your amazing ideas❤️

[callsign-mayhem]

Hii!

I would like to put in a request for Bradley and a fluffy one if that's okay?

It's the reader's birthday but he's away from home and she celebrates it alone by herself. However, she gets a message from Maverick saying he's injured where they're all planning a surprise birthday party 😁 🎉🥳

Thank you 😊

birthday surprises (b.b)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 2.5k CW: Little bit of angst at the beginning, use of Y/N

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! Is it your birthday? If so, happy birthday! Even if it isn't, I still hope you enjoy 🤍. Love this idea!

You’d never been one for birthdays.

Or so you told yourself and your boyfriend, Bradley, over and over again.

You’d thought that maybe if you told yourself this enough times, you’d start to believe it. He’d missed many special occasions while being deployed across the world, but it always hurt more on your birthday, feeling almost personal. Of course, deep down you knew that it wasn’t and that it upset Bradley to miss things more than it hurt you, but knowing this didn’t change anything. And the worst part? You couldn’t tell him or show that you were upset in any way, because you’d known what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date.

There wasn’t a single, tiny part of you that regretted choosing Bradley to be your person. In fact, you believed that choice hadn’t even factored into it. He was the sun, and you were a planet orbiting him, held by his gravity and his warmth. Right now, everything felt a little colder without him.

You stood in the kitchen with your arms crossed, trying to remember why you’d gone in there. You’d treated yourself to a long cry in the shower earlier that morning, you know, since it was your birthday and you thought you deserved a little treat. Why not change it up a bit instead of bottling it up or crying in bed? But now your brain was shrouded in thick fog, and you struggled to find the motivation to do anything.

The doorbell rang, startling you out of your stupor. You almost tripped over your own feet in your haste to answer it, which wasn’t new. When your partner was in the military, your heart tended to drop every time the phone or doorbell rang, especially when he was deployed thousands of miles away.

Thankfully, when you opened the door, there was nobody in military dress waiting to greet you with a forlorn expression. It was a flower delivery guy with the hugest bouquet of sunflowers you’d ever seen in your life.

‘Y/N Y/LN?’ He asked, face obscured by the impressive arrangement.

‘That’s me,’ you replied, taking the flowers from him.

‘Just need you to sign right here,’ he told you.

A smile started to creep across your face as you balanced the bouquet on your hip and hastily signed the delivery guy’s tablet. He wished you a good day and hurried back down the driveway to his truck, leaving you to check the card attached to the box.

Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I love you, and I’ll see you soon x

Your stomach did that weird jelly thing it always did whenever Bradley Bradshaw was involved. You’d expected the mushy, schoolgirl-type feelings to go away once you’d been together a while, but so far they showed no signs of letting up. If anything, it was getting worse the more time passed.

You hurried back inside in search of your phone so you could text him and say thank you, and also to ask what he’d meant by ‘see you soon.’ Probably just that he’d see you when he got back, though he hadn’t known exactly when that was supposed to be before he’d left. Your phone calls had been few and far between this time around, too, and the effects of not talking to him had started to take their toll on you.

You found your phone by the toaster and realised that was why you’d been in the kitchen earlier. You’d wanted to call your family and also see if you could get hold of Bradley. When you clicked the device on, your favourite photo of Bradley greeted you like a warm hug—him grinning on the beach, pink-cheeked and dopey for you. God, you loved him. More than words could explain.

You noticed a message from Maverick and tapped it straight away, assuming it was your father-in-law, for all intents and purposes, wishing you a happy birthday.

But you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

The bottom seemed to fall out of the world, and you found yourself grabbing hold of the workbench so you didn’t collapse onto the floor. What did he mean? How injured was “injured?” How far did they have to fly? Was he going to be okay? Were the injuries life-threatening? Would you even recognise him when you saw him?

Your breath shortened and black spots clouded your vision as you dialled Mav’s number, hoping for some more information. How could he just drop a bomb like that over text?

You ran upstairs and changed into something more befitting for a military base before dashing out the front door. Time seemed to crawl slowly as you waited for Maverick. At one point, you thought you were going to puke in the rosebushes, but the roar of Mav’s truck engine seemed to shock your body into cooperation. Before the truck had even slowed to a complete stop, you were yanking on the door handle and climbing in.

‘What—’

Mav held up a hand. ‘He’s fine. It’s not serious, just a few scrapes from what I heard. They just touched down.’

Some of the tension you’d been holding in your body dissipated, but not all of it. The rest, you knew, wouldn’t go anywhere until you’d seen Bradley with your own eyes.

‘How did it happen?’ You demanded.

Mav didn’t seem to be moving quickly enough for you, and your leg bounced in the footwell.

‘Didn’t hear the full conversation,’ he explained. ‘But I know it’s nothing too serious.’

‘And you couldn’t have put that in your text message?’

He flinched. ‘Sorry, I was already in the truck. Didn’t wanna text and drive.’

Honestly, none of what Mav was saying even made sense. It wasn’t like him to be so flippant where Bradley was concerned, and when had he ever been bothered about rules?

Your brain was working overtime trying not to imagine Bradley in a hospital bed, injured and bloody. It was your worst nightmare come to life, on your birthday, no less.

It wasn’t until you saw a signpost for Mav and Penny’s side of town that you realised you’d passed the exit for the base miles ago. Your stomach flip-flopped, and not in the enjoyable way it did when you usually thought of Bradley.

‘Where are we going?’ You snapped.

You glared at Mav, watched his jaw tick and his grip on the wheel tighten. The notion that you had anything to be worried about in a car with Maverick was utterly ridiculous, but you found yourself wringing your hands in your lap nonetheless. Your gut instinct was screaming at you that something wasn’t right about this, aside from the obvious, of course.

‘Pete.’ You ground out.

‘I’m taking you to him. Just try to calm down.’

You thought you heard him mutter something under his breath about knowing this was a bad idea, but you weren’t sure. And if he had said that, what could he possibly have meant by it?

After what felt like a painstakingly long journey, you pulled up in front of Mav and Penny’s little craftsman. You squinted, sure that you could see Nat’s car parked further up the street. But why would she be here?

‘What the hell are we doing at your house, Pete?’ You snapped ‘Seriously. Tell me what the fuck is going on!’

‘Sorry, Y/N,’ he said, opening his door. ‘You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.’

Furious, you clambered out of the truck and slammed your door so hard the whole vehicle rocked. Mav flinched, but didn’t back down.

‘Come on.’ He ushered you towards the front door, and you somehow managed to refrain from biting his head off. Nobody told you to come on, not even Pete. Especially not when your boyfriend was injured, and you were wound tighter than a coiled spring, ready to fucking snap. He led you through the front door and down the hall. You were sure you could smell something baking in the oven. A cake, maybe?

‘If you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on, I’m gonna—’

‘SURPRISE!’

For a second, you thought you’d finally lost it, that this was some cruel, stress-induced hallucination. It took your brain a moment to catch up with what your eyes were seeing: all the Daggers standing in Mav’s living room wearing wonky party hats and letting off party poppers. Bradley in the middle, his hat the wonkiest of them all, a huge, dazzling grin spread across his handsome face. He was wearing your favourite of all his Hawaiian shirts, the one you’d been hunting for to wear ever since he’d left for deployment. Now it made sense why you couldn’t find it.

You’d never been so overwhelmed in all your life.

Your knees buckled for the second time that day, and if it weren’t for Mav catching you under your arms, you definitely would have ended up on the floor beside Penny’s dog, who was looking up at you, wagging his tail happily. 

‘Easy does it.’ Mav muttered, helping you to stand upright.

Bradley was there in an instant, sweeping you off your feet and into the biggest bear hug he’d ever given you. It was only the scent of his sun-kissed skin and your laundry detergent on his shirt that convinced you this was really happening. You buried your face into the side of his neck just as the tears started to flow.

The rest of the daggers swarmed around you, singing happy birthday, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of your boyfriend, whose grip on you was like a vice.

‘Happy birthday, sweetheart,’ he rasped, sending a shiver down your spine. ‘Told you I’d see you soon.’

You thought of the notecard on your flowers—it felt like a million years ago already, but it couldn’t have been any longer than an hour. When Bradley eventually set you down, it finally hit you.

You turned around and thumped Mav on the shoulder before promptly doing the same to Bradley.

‘You assholes,’ you growled. ‘I THOUGHT YOU’D DIED!’

The rest of the Daggers began backing up.

Coyote whistled lowly and murmured “oh shit” under his breath.

Maverick smiled sheepishly. ‘For the record, I told them this was a bad idea. But I wasn’t given any choice in the matter.’

You scoffed. ‘You’re telling me that big, bad Captain Mitchell was powerless to tell the bunch of idiots under his command that half-scaring me to death on my birthday was a bad idea?’

Bradley flinched. ‘I’m sorry, baby. We couldn’t think of any other ideas.’

You spun on your boyfriend. ‘And you. You’re supposed to be smart!’ You pointed to all of his squadmates. ‘All of you! You’re fucking naval aviators, and between you, you couldn’t come up with a better idea?’

Bradley reached for you but let his hand drop, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him touch you.

Bob raised his hand tentatively. ‘I actually had a list of better ideas, but Hangman said this was the only way we could be sure you’d come.’

You jabbed an angry finger in Hangman’s direction. ‘I’ll deal with you later.’

Bradley wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest. Maverick and the rest of the squad took their leave and left you to have a quiet moment with your boyfriend.

‘I’m sorry we did it this way,’ he told you. ‘I just really wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted to make it special.’

You melted almost instantly. ‘I know, baby. Thank you. I won’t be forgetting it any time soon, that’s for sure.’

You felt his chuckle vibrate through his chest and pulled back. Now that you’d calmed down, you could finally appreciate that Bradley was actually here, live in the flesh. You hadn’t known when you’d see him again, and now here he was.

He didn’t rush it. Just leaned in slowly, like he needed to be sure you were really there before he kissed you.

And when he did, it wasn’t desperate. It was grounding. Like he was steadying himself with you. One of his hands came to rest on your hip, the other cradling your jaw gently. He smiled against your lips, and when you pulled away, he lingered, as though he wasn’t quite ready for the kiss to be over yet.

‘I missed you,’ you said.

‘I missed you too,’ he replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. ‘So much.’

He kissed you again, more feverish this time. It was like he was saying something he couldn’t say out loud, something there were no words for. Like he was trying to make up for all the time he hadn’t been there. He couldn’t have been any closer to you if he’d tried, warm and sturdy and safe.

Music started out of nowhere, startling you both. The Daggers were making some kind of commotion in the kitchen, which was nothing new. For a moment, neither of you moved. The noise from the other room seemed far away, like the universe had given you a second to catch up to each other.

‘You ready to join the others?’ Bradley eventually asked, brows cocked.

You nodded, and he took your hand, leading you through to Mav’s open-plan living space. The back patio doors had been thrown open, letting in the warm afternoon air. Somebody had hung birthday banners in the doorway, and balloons littered the floor in front of the couch. You spied a rather large stack of presents on the workbench, and a beautifully decorated cake adorned with candles just waiting to be lit.

Perhaps it was the stress of the morning you’d just had, or your love for your boyfriend and his squad, or perhaps it was a mix of both—but you felt almost lightheaded with joy, as if you’d downed a few shots of something strong.

Speaking of something strong…

‘Homemade cocktail for the birthday girl,’ Payback grinned, handing you an impressive-looking drink. ‘Sorry for almost giving you a heart attack.’

You grinned. ‘This more than makes up for it. Did you make it?’

‘Sure did.’

‘Good. You make the best cocktails.’

He beamed and pulled you in for a quick hug. ‘Happy birthday, Y/N.’

You barely left Bradley’s side all afternoon. Having him back home was the best birthday present you could’ve asked for, but the Daggers outdid themselves with the gifts anyway. You were perched in Bradley’s lap, listening to him and Bob recount a few of their favourite memories from their academy days. Bradley’s hand skated up and down your back, stopping now and then in your hair. He had a thing about touching you—if you were nearby, he’d be touching you in some way. Especially after being deployed for so long.

Not that you minded, of course.

‘HAAAPPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUU…’

Fanboy and Phoenix appeared with your cake, baked especially for you by Penny.

The rest of the squad followed Fanboy’s lead.

‘HAAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR Y/N…’ Bradley pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head as Fanboy stopped in front of you. ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!’

Everyone cheered as you blew out the candles.

‘Did you make a wish?’ Bradley murmured in your ear, making you shiver.

You shook your head. ‘Already got everything I’d wish for.’

His grip on you tightened at that, like he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

You hoped he never would.

My requests are still open, if anyone else would like to submit!

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REQUESTS ARE OPEN❤️

Hi lovelies! After finally getting back into writing, I thought I’d open up requests.

I'll write for any character from Top Gun: Maverick! Feel free to send in prompts, ideas for scenarios you'd love to see played out, your favourite tropes or anything else that comes to mind!

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four times you didn't, one time you did (b.b)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 1.5k CW: Use of Y/N

The classic trope—four times you almost kissed Bradley Bradshaw, and the one time you did.

The first time you almost kissed Bradley Bradshaw, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. It had been loud in the Hard Deck, music spilling out onto the deck, bodies pressed too close together to move without brushing against someone else.

He’d leaned in to hear you—or maybe you’d leaned in first. His eyes had dropped to your mouth for a second, just long enough for your breath to catch. Your stomach had been in knots, certain that if he kissed you, you might actually implode. You’d been crushing on him for months, trying to decide if it was worth risking your career for someone you weren’t entirely sure felt the same. Subtle glances, not-so-subtle ones, whispered jokes, lingering touches that were far from friendly…truly, it had all been very confusing.

But the moment had dissipated almost as quickly as it had arrived, the noise of The Hard Deck rushing back in as the world snapped into focus. Reuben had grabbed Bradley’s arm to tell him it was his turn at pool, and after one last, sultry glance your way, he’d disappeared.

The second time you almost kissed Bradley Bradshaw, you started to wonder if things weren’t as one-sided as you’d thought.

Jake’s birthday party at a Honky Tonk in the city. Upbeat country music that had made you want to dance, whiskey sours that had burned on the way down, your old cowboy hat that you’d never imagined wearing again.

You and Jake had taught the rest of the squad to line dance, and you’d been right next to Bradley doing the Footloose number. It had been hard to concentrate, what with his eyes glued to you as you moved, and when the song had ended, you’d found yourself right in front of him—so close, you’d almost been toe to toe. With a devilish grin, he’d swiped your old Stetson right off your head and put it on, winking.

You’d lost count of your drinks and were feeling a little bold. He’d looked so delicious in that damned hat, you’d found yourself taking a step forward and resting your hands on his broad chest. Beneath your palms, you’d felt his heart racing erratically, and realising you had this effect on him only emboldened you further.

But before you could make a move—

‘Careful, Rooster,’ Jake had drawled, slow and smug. ‘Round where she’s from, that means somethin’.’

Bradley had glanced over, confused. ‘Yeah? What’s it mean?’

Jake’s grin had turned downright wicked.

‘Steal the hat…’

His eyes had flicked to you—fully aware he was about to ruin your life.

‘…ride the cowgirl.’

Chaos had erupted in the rest of the group, and you had to close your eyes and collect yourself for a beat before daring to take a glance at Bradley.

He’d flushed scarlet, more embarrassed than you’d ever seen him, and promptly plopped the hat back on your head. Something in your chest had twisted at the sight. 

The third time you almost kissed Bradley Bradshaw, you were relieved it didn’t happen.

Not because you hadn’t wanted to—because God, you had. More than anything.

But you hadn’t wanted it to happen in front of your entire squadron.

Having just come back from a three-week mission, everyone had been dying to see you—minus Payback and Fanboy, who’d been with you the whole time. The second the three of you stepped into the briefing room, you’d been engulfed. First by Nat, then Bob, then Javy and Jake. Bradley had hung back, which had hurt a little. But one look in his eyes told you it wasn’t from lack of wanting. His eyes had been wide and glossy, surprising when you considered that all of you were used to being separated and knew not to get too attached.

He’d reached for you, like he’d been planning on wrapping you in his arms and kissing you senseless, but then he’d glanced around at the rest of your squad and thought better of it. Instead, he’d opted for a too quick hug that only left you aching for more.

That night, you’d cried into your pillow, partly from exhaustion, partly from overwhelm, but mostly because yet again, you and Bradley weren’t on the same page. 

The fourth time you almost kissed Bradley Bradshaw, it was because he was jealous.

Another night at The Hard Deck, just like any other. A Bruce Springsteen song had been playing from the jukebox, and you and Nat had taken to the floor to sing and dance. Bradley had been watching from the sidelines, a sly, sultry smirk on his handsome face.

You’d been almost entirely sure that it was going to happen that night. After months of tension and almosts, this had to be it. The thought of it finally happening made your hands sweat and your breath hitch.

You took a step back on the dancefloor and collided with a guy who looked familiar to you, though you couldn’t place a name.

‘Sorry!’ You’d exclaimed, grabbing his arm for support.

He’d smiled lazily, shamelessly letting his gaze roam over you. ‘S’okay. I’ll never complain about a pretty lady bumpin’ into me.’

Before you could say another word, Bradley was there. His hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you close, firm but smooth, his eyes locked on the other guy. Something in his gaze had darkened—an intensity that made your stomach flip.

‘Hangman and Coyote are fixing to play doubles,’ he’d said, gruff, low. ‘You up for it?’

You’d leaned closer to him almost instinctively, drawn forward by the invisible force that had kept pulling you together all these months. You could feel the warmth of his chest, the subtle scrape of his jawline near yours, the faint brush of his cologne mingling with that indefinable him scent that made your knees go weak.

Just as your lips were an inch from each other, the other guy had huffed loudly and shoved past Bradley, breaking your perfect little bubble. Your heart had stuttered, and Bradley’s jaw tightened.

‘Move it!’ Hangman had yelled, and suddenly you were being yanked back into the noise.

The fifth time, you had to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

The end of a perfect beach day with your squad, filled with picnic food, dogfight football and cheap prosecco. You and Bradley had decided to take a dip in the ocean while the rest of your friends settled in to play cards. Your heart had been pounding so hard you could feel it in your ribcage, and the sight of the water sliding over his tanned skin had only made things worse.

The sun had just started setting, and you’d forced yourself to drag your eyes away from him and look at the sky instead. Water lapped around you as he closed the distance and put a tentative hand on your waist, turning you to face him. For a brief moment, everything else—the world, the squad, the sun, the sea—fell away. It was just the two of you.

His cheeks were flushed from spending all day in the sun and being so close to you, and it dawned on you rather suddenly that this was it. The moment you’d been waiting for since that first tantalising night at The Hard Deck. His pupils were blown out, and his lips parted as you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugged his face down to yours.

But before your lips could touch, he paused, taking a moment to really look at you.

‘Oh no, you don’t,’ you’d said, shaking your head. ‘Don’t do that.’

He cocked his head. ‘Do what?’

‘Almost kiss me, and then chicken out.’

Head tipped back with laughter, he’d said: ‘I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, Y/CS.’

Your chests touched, but it wasn’t close enough for your liking, so you wrapped your legs around his waist. Bradley’s hands came to rest on the backs of your thighs, keeping you flush against him beneath the cool water. The faint brush of his jaw against yours made your pulse spike, every nerve alive with anticipation.

You leaned in again, stopping just as your lips brushed.

‘I think you know exactly what I mean.’ You whispered.

Bradley swallowed. ‘Just been waiting for the right moment.’

‘And?’

He didn’t respond, not with words at least.

When your lips finally touched, you almost didn’t want to close your eyes in case he disappeared. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip, silently begging for entry. You granted him—as if you could deny him anything.

Cheap champagne had never tasted so good.

Time seemed to come to a standstill as his grip on you tightened and the kiss got more and more intense. You didn’t think you’d ever felt so breathless or dizzy, and you’d known instantly that you’d never be able to get enough of him.

Reluctantly, you’d pulled away, mostly so you could get some air.

‘I never wanna go another day without kissing you.’ He breathed.

‘Neither do I,’ you replied, already leaning in again. ‘It was definitely worth the wait.’

A/N: It's been a while since I uploaded to this blog...I've been working on a novel, so I kind of fell off. I want to get back into this universe, and this is just a little something while I decide what to do next. Not my best work by far—I'm travelling Australia, and I'm totally exhausted, but writing about the Daggers always brings me comfort, so I'm persevering. Hope you like it!

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Friend- I loved your Christian x Bradley fic- I just don’t have words. If you ever have the time, a sequel would be amazing to find out about the handing off of the engagement ring. Thank you for sharing your talents with us all!

the way home part 2 (b.b)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Christian!Reader Word count: 1.8k CW: None, really. But if you're uncomfortable reading about Christianity, this one probably isn't for you.

A/N: I know this request has been sitting in my inbox for close to a year, and I can only apologise. Life got busy, and this blog got put on the back burner. But it didn't feel right to make a comeback without writing this piece. I'm a little rusty, and I know it's late, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

After nearly a month and a half apart, excited wasn’t the word to describe how you felt about seeing your Bradley again. As you dressed in his favourite white sundress and did your hair and makeup, you started to come to terms with the fact that he was really home, that you’d really be in his arms again in a few hours.

While he’d been away, you’d tried not to dwell too much on how much you missed him. Instead, you’d used the time to build even more on your relationship with Jesus, throwing yourself into your work and helping out more at your church. Some days, not worrying about him had been a mission in itself. There’d been moments where longing for Bradley had brought you to your knees in your bedroom, tears streaking down your face as great sobs wracked your body.

In those moments, you’d cried out to the Lord, handing him your anxieties so He could deal with them for you. It was difficult not to take them back again, but you knew that once they were with Him, they were dealt with. You were like a child giving their Father a broken toy to fix—the more you tried to take it back from Him, the longer it would take to fix.

But today, all your prayers had come to fruition. Bradley had landed back on base earlier that morning, and it was finally time for you to go and pick him up. Once you’d finished getting ready, you grabbed your car keys with trembling hands and practically tripped over yourself rushing out of the front door. It was a clear day, the sky hand painted a beautiful blue especially for you and Bradley. As you got behind the wheel, you muttered a grateful thank you to God for the beautiful weather, and hoped that Bradley wouldn’t be too tired to go for food at your favourite restaurant on the water.

Thankfully, you didn’t hit any traffic on the way to the naval base. A tight knot of anticipation had coiled in your stomach, and you felt like a teenager on the way to homecoming again. By the time you pulled up to the visitor/pickup area, you were close to puking from nerves.

‘God, please don’t let me throw up all over Bradley.’ You mumbled as you hopped out of the car.

Your phone pinged just as your feet hit the tarmac. Just getting processed out, Bradley wrote, won’t be long, baby. Your heart skittered, and you nearly dropped your phone as you typed back some heart emojis.

A little while later, uniformed men and women began pouring through the barbed gates. You spotted Phoenix and Bob first. They waved enthusiastically at you from across the lot, and you waved back, silently thanking the Lord for keeping everybody safe, just as you knew He would.

If Phoenix and Bob were out, that meant Bradley couldn’t have been far behind. You craned your neck to search every face for the one you most wanted to see, the one you’d memorised during long, lonely nights.

Your heart rate increased more and more by the second until you almost couldn’t breathe, and you found yourself wringing your hands in front of you nervously.

And then you saw him.

The second you set your eyes on him, your knees buckled, and you had to hold onto the side of your car for support. He spotted you at the same time, face scrunching up as he broke down into tears. You’d never seen him cry before, and it set you off crying as well.

Thankfully, he was in one piece. He’d gotten slightly skinnier, but that was okay. As long as he was home safe. A few weeks of your cooking and homemade desserts, and he’d be back to normal.

The time seemed to be passing too slowly. You pushed off the side of your car and started running towards him. He seemed to have the same thought at the same time, and he started running too, closing the distance between you quickly. He barely had time to drop his navy-issued duffel bag on the floor before you threw yourself into his open arms and wrapped your legs around his waist.

‘Oh, thank you, Jesus,’ you sobbed, peppering wet kisses all over his face. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’

Bradley wrapped his arms tighter around you and nuzzled his face into the side of your neck. His body heaved as he cried, muttering sweet nothings into your ear.

‘Baby,’ he breathed. ‘I missed you so much. So much.’

‘I missed you too,’ you replied, pulling away so you could see his handsome face. ‘I love you.’

He smiled, eyes alight with joy. ‘I love you too.’

He set you back on the ground gently but didn’t let go of you. Instead, he bent down and kissed you passionately, only stopping when both of you were completely out of breath.

‘Are you ready to go home?’ You asked.

‘Have been since I left, sweetheart.’

Hand in hand, the two of you headed to your car. On the journey back, you let Bradley fill you in on his time away—as much as he was allowed to disclose, at least. You’d spoken over the phone a few times, but not as much as you’d have liked and not long enough for him to properly fill you in.

When you got home, Bradley wasted no time sweeping you off your feet and carrying you upstairs, bridal style. The two of you hadn’t slept together yet; he was respecting your decision to wait until marriage, which some people considered to be old-fashioned. It was a choice you’d made at a young age, and it only made more sense the older you got. Aside from the religious implications, why give yourself to somebody so wholly until you knew for certain you were going to be together forever.

Today, though, was going to be one of those days when it felt hard to stick to it.

Upstairs in your bedroom, Bradley set you down gently on the bed and climbed on top of you, peppering your cheeks and jaw with soft, warm kisses.

‘You look so beautiful in that dress, baby,’ he panted. ‘I’ve been dreaming about you since I left.’

‘Me too,’ you breathed. ‘Every single night.’

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, licking your bottom lip in a silent plea for entry. Of course, you granted it. The feeling of his moustache against your top lip was something you hadn’t expected to miss so much. In fact, it wasn’t until this moment that you realised just how much you had.

Just as suddenly as you’d started, Bradley stopped. He pulled away and stood up, cheeks flushed and chest heaving.

‘Let me take a shower,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’

Your brows shot into your hairline. ‘A surprise?’

‘Yeah,’ he rasped. ‘Give me five minutes.’

He ducked into the bathroom, unzipping his flight suit as he went. Your mind began whirling with possibilities. Had he somehow made a reservation for the two of you since landing? Had he set something up before he’d left? But how would he have known when to set it up for when he hadn’t known exactly when he was coming home?

You puzzled over it as you brushed through your hair and touched up your makeup, which Bradley had mostly kissed off your face. Turns out, he didn’t even need five minutes to shower. With a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, he came back into the bedroom and knocked you for six. He was more than just a body to you—in fact, his body was one of the last things you thought about. But now and then, you were promptly reminded that your boyfriend was a total smokeshow.

‘I’m gonna start the car,’ you squeaked, ducking out of the room.

A difficult day to be waiting for marriage indeed.

An hour later, Bradley was laying out a picnic blanket for the two of you at your favourite spot on the beach. He’d thrown a picnic together in record time, claiming that you needed to make it to the beach to see the sunset.

Both of you kicked your shoes off and spread yourselves out on the blanket, tangling your legs together as you got comfortable.

‘Not that I’m complaining,’ you said. ‘But why did you want to come to the beach so badly?’

Bradley looked at you then. Like, really looked. There was an expression of wonder on his face, like he couldn’t quite believe that you were really sitting in front of him.

‘Do you remember the first time we met?’ He asked, taking your hand in his and rubbing circles over the top with the pad of his thumb.

‘Of course I do,’ you laughed a little breathlessly. ‘How could I forget?’

‘You were wearing that blue dress, and your hair was tied back with white ribbon, and I thought you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid eyes on.’

You felt yourself flush. ‘Bradley. Come on.’

‘It’s true! I’ve never been so grateful for Hangman, and I probably never will be again,’ he chuckled. ‘Every moment I’ve spent getting to know you and falling in love with you has been the best of my life. I must be the luckiest guy in the world to have someone as caring and genuine as you.’

You swallowed a lump the size of a golf ball. ‘Me too.’

With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he reached into the pocket of his jean shorts and pulled out a black velvet box. Your brain short-circuited as you tried to come to terms with what was happening.

‘Bradley.’ You said again.

He smiled knowingly and kissed you once, slow and soft. The knot in your stomach from earlier had turned into a swarm of butterflies fluttering wildly.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from yours so he could open the box. Inside was the prettiest silver ring with the most beautiful oval diamond in the middle. It was impossible not to gasp.

‘I know I shouldn’t have rushed this, and I’m sorry,’ he smiled sheepishly. ‘But all I’ve thought about since I left was this moment. I don’t want to be deployed without being your husband ever again,’ he sniffled, smiling widely. ‘So, Y/N Y/LN, will you do me the honour of being my wife?’

You choked out a sob and nodded. ‘Yes, Bradley. Yes.’

He slipped the engagement ring onto your finger, and you tackled him to the sand, hugging him tight enough that all of his broken pieces started to go back together again.

You’d known all along that Bradley was a gift from God, that your relationship was a big part of the plan He had for you. But now you realised that it wasn’t just a part of it—it was the plan. The rest of your life would be about loving Bradley, and him loving you.

Every day from this day forth, till death did you part.

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I haven't abandoned this story. I just put it on the back burner for now. The story is just on a small vacation. It is currently out of office. It can't come to the phone right now. It just fell under my bed to sleep with the monsters. It never left my head. It is everywhere - except on paper.

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All my WIPs 🙈

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I made a little moodboard for the lakehouse in Dancing In The Dark. This is how I pictured it in my head while writing it. :)

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dancing in the dark (2/2)

This is the second half of part three of the Heartbreak Feels So Good sequel series! Find the first half here. FIND THE ORIGINAL SERIES HERE

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 10.2k CW: Smutty smut smut, swearing, some horror themes.

Fourth of July weekend. No work. A massive lake house. The dagger squad have never felt so lucky. As for Bradley, he's wondering if he'll finally GET lucky...

LAKE HOUSE MOODBOARD Later that night, once the fire had burned out and everyone was truly and utterly exhausted from the day’s excitement, it was time for bed. At last. The room you’d be sharing with Bradley was at the back of the second floor. It was the largest of the bedrooms, with a balcony overlooking the garden and lake beyond, and its own en suite bathroom. The bed was a comically large Alaskan king, big enough for you, Bradley and half of your squad. You stood by the door, awestruck by the beautiful room you were lucky enough to call your own, at least for the weekend.

‘Want me to run you a bath?’ Bradley asked, breaking the blissful silence.

You released a quiet breath. ‘That sounds heavenly.’

He disappeared into the bathroom, and the sound of running water filled the space. You closed the bedroom door, locked it for good measure (Phoenix’s words from earlier still ringing in your head) and unzipped your weekend bag. Buried underneath various-sized packing cubes was the selection of lingerie you’d purchased especially for this occasion. The sight of the delicate fabric caused unwanted memories to surface, and you were powerless to stop the torturous supercut that played in your head—buying underwear just like this for Elijah at the start of your relationship, agonising over which colour to get, putting it on under your clothes one night, him not even noticing. The embarrassment you felt when you tried making it more obvious, and the rejection of him glancing your way and ignoring you. The sickening shame that had washed over you when you’d gone to the bathroom and taken it all off, changing into comfy pyjamas and stuffing the garment right into the bottom of your laundry basket.

This had happened more than once. After a few times, you’d given up.

With Elijah, sex wasn’t beautiful. He never made you feel like a Goddess, never spiced things up or tried to make you come. When you initiated, he called you a pest. It was always on his terms and almost always from behind, like he couldn’t bear to look at your face. And afterwards, he’d lay back and go on his phone without a word, leaving you to clean up. No cuddles, affection, nothing—it was like a business transaction.

These memories almost made you give up on your whole plan. You had to sit on the floor in front of your bag and make a mental list of reasons why it wouldn’t be like that with Bradley. For starters, he wasn’t a total asshole. He was caring, kind, attentive and loving. Plus, he was completely besotted with you.

As you wrapped your chosen underwear set in your towel and headed to the bathroom, you repeated, it’s gonna be fine in your head like some kind of mantra. The bathroom was full of aromatic steam. Was it vanilla? You couldn’t tell. A selection of bath products—oils, salts, bath bombs and bubble bars—was displayed on a laddered shelf next to the radiator. The large, free-standing tub was in the middle of the room, and taking up the whole left side was a spacious waterfall shower, all adorned in white marble. The bathroom had probably cost more to build than your entire apartment.

‘Woah.’ You breathed.

Bradley, who was perched on the edge of the tub, nodded. ‘I know. It’s insane.’

‘I could live in this bathroom!’ You exclaimed.

‘It’s like something out of a home design magazine. I was scared to even touch anything, in case I ruined it.’ He smiled sheepishly.

You set your towel and wash bag down on the edge of the his-and-hers sinks and went over to Bradley. He leaned forward and rested his head against your stomach; you began tracing small circles on the back of his neck. He sighed contentedly. His skin was still warm from a day in the sun, and you noticed that his freckles were more pronounced. You wanted to kiss every single one, and you knew he’d let you if you asked. You could ask him to do almost anything, and he would say yes—a fact that scared you. You weren’t used to having so much power in a relationship. If you were any other sort of person, things could get very toxic very fast.

Luckily, you were you.

When your bath was full, Bradley turned off the water and went to take his leave. Feeling suddenly confident and overcome with the desire to be near him, you grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes widened with sudden understanding as you pulled him close, lifting the hem of his loose-fitting tank top. Wordlessly, he let you take it off him, exposing all those glorious, tanned muscles.

You only had a pair of shorts over your bikini, no shirt for him to lift dramatically. His fingers went to the button of said shorts, and he undid it swiftly, along with the zipper. Even the simple act of him pulling your shorts down your legs was enough to make you feel undeniably sexy. You took turns removing pieces of clothing from the other person in slow, tantalising motions. This was another thing you hadn’t experienced with Elijah—foreplay. Foreplay was arguably the best part of sex, and the word wasn’t in your ex’s vocabulary. You pulled Bradley’s swim shorts down without breaking eye contact. He did the same with your bikini bottoms; there was only your bra left. With one hand, he reached around the back of your neck and undid the knot, letting the garment fall away.

You were bare in front of each other at last.

Neither of you looked. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, inching closer until you were chest-to-chest. Nothing could have prepared you for the sensation of skin-on-skin contact with Bradley Bradshaw. You released a shaky breath as he broke the kiss.

‘Bath’s getting cold.’ He said hoarsely.

‘Mhm.’

There was no more avoiding it. You would have to look at one another to get into the bath. You turned around—assuming that Bradley would take the chance to drink you in—and climbed into the bathtub as gracefully as you could manage. Then, you turned to look at him as he made to follow.

To put it frankly, he was hung. What other word was there?

You swallowed a delicious groan at the thought of him slipping inside you.

All in good time.

From the start, Bradley set out to make your relationship everything you’d never had: safe, full of love, respectful, and deliciously sexy. You deserved to be treated like the goddess you were, and this was part of that. Your head lolled forward as he massaged bath oil into your shoulders; he could feel your muscles loosen with every circle he rubbed.

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected to join you when he offered to run you a bubble bath, but he couldn’t be happier with the outcome. He’d been following your lead in the spirit of not rushing you and letting things unfold at a natural pace. Sure, it had started to feel impossible, but he would never let his impatience get in the way and make you uncomfortable, not when the two of you had come so far. You were a baby deer, and he had to be careful not to scare you off.

The water was getting cold, and as lovely as the bath was, the two of you were—in a way—stalling. You’d been building up to this moment for so long that even looking upon your naked body had been hard. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to or because you weren’t beautiful. You were ethereal. It was more that he’d wanted this for so long, imagined it so vividly, that now, with you finally laid bare for him, he almost didn’t want to touch you. Like he might shatter the moment, or worse, wake up from it. ‘Shall I get your towel, sweetheart?’ He asked softly.

You sighed dreamily. ‘Please.’

Bradley climbed out of the bath, dripping water all over the floor. First, he wrapped his own towel around his waist. Yours was neatly folded by the sink, your untouched toiletry bag on top. Why bother using what you’d brought when the place was better stocked than a Bath and Body Works? He set the bag to the side and unfolded your towel. Something fell to the floor, and he bent over to pick it up.

Lavender. Silk. Lace.

For a split second, his mind didn’t quite catch up with his eyes. He only stared, watching the delicate lingerie pool against the tiles like it had been made of water instead of fabric. Sheer panels traced with swirling embroidery, satin ribbons tied into neat little bows, and garter straps meant for hands far less reverent than his.

His throat tightened. You’d hidden it from him. You’d planned to surprise him, probably after your bath. He could picture you stepping out of the steam, skin still damp, slipping into the lavender set with that shy, wicked little look you got when you were up to something. You would’ve come back into the bedroom, all soft smiles and coy glances, watching him fall apart with one sweep of his eyes.

And now? Now it was in his hands.

His fingers ran over the lace at the waist, where the fabric dipped into a teasing cut-out, tied with a tiny satin bow. He couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel beneath his palms—how you would feel beneath his palms. He dragged his thumb over the sheer mesh, feeling its delicate resistance and knowing he was already holding it far too tightly.

He glanced toward the bath. You were still half-hidden beneath the water, eyes closed, oblivious to the way he was staring at the slip of fabric like it might unravel in his grip. He considered tossing it back into the towel and pretending he hadn’t seen it—letting you have your surprise.

But God, he couldn’t. He didn’t even realise he was moving until he was already beside you, towel and lace and all. When you cracked one eye open, your lips parting with a question he didn’t let you finish, he let the lavender lingerie slip from his fingers and onto the rim of the tub.

‘Forget the towel,’ he rasped, voice rough with want. ‘Put this on for me.’

You stared at him, blinking once, twice—barely processing the words he’d just spoken. The delicate lilac lace sat in a crumpled heap on the edge of the tub, the satin ribbons still clinging to the curve of his fingers like they didn’t want to let go. Neither did he.

Your breath caught.

You should’ve said something, made a teasing remark or at least pretended to be unaffected, but you couldn’t. Not when his eyes were pinned to you with that dark, unwavering focus. Like you were something precious. Like he’d been waiting his whole life for you to climb out of that water and give yourself to him.

He was still crouched beside the tub, his forearm braced against the edge, shoulders broad and tense, his knuckles ghosting the lace. He was so close you could smell the faint trace of body wash still clinging to his skin—a soft, creamy sweetness that made your stomach tighten. ‘Bradley…’ Your voice came out thinner than you intended, almost uncertain. But he didn’t let you finish. His hand was already trailing down, slipping into the water, wrapping around your slick calf. Slowly, he dragged his palm upward, the roughness of it a contrast against your skin, making the heat in your chest drop lower. His fingers pressed just hard enough for you to feel the calluses along his fingertips; a reminder of how much he worked with his hands. You exhaled sharply when his touch slid higher, brushing along the bend of your knee. That’s when he leaned in—slowly, almost reverently—until his lips grazed your bare shoulder. Soft. Deliberate. He stayed there for a moment, breath fanning over your skin, before his mouth opened against you. Teeth scraping just faintly, almost like he was testing the waters. Almost like he was asking for permission. ‘You don’t have to put it on,’ he murmured against your shoulder, voice low and wrecked with want. ‘Since I’m just gonna be taking it off you.’ You didn’t realise you’d grabbed his wrist until you felt your own knuckles tightening over the damp skin. Your heart was practically in your throat, fluttering wildly against your ribs, but your fingers were already curling around his, tugging him closer. ‘Help me out of the bath first.’ You breathed, words barely a whisper. He was on his feet before you finished the sentence.

The water sloshed gently as you shifted, reaching for the towel with one hand, but Bradley was already there. He caught your wrists, stilling you. His eyes—honey-brown and heavy-lidded—locked onto yours as he took the towel from you, but he didn’t wrap it around you. No, he draped it over his shoulder instead. Out of the way. Then he leaned down, one arm sliding beneath your thighs, the other steadying your back. And just like that, he lifted you from the water—effortlessly—like you weighed nothing. Water slicked down your skin, dripping from your legs, but he didn’t care. He just held you against his chest, damp and dripping, eyes dark with pure, unbridled lust. He carried you the three short steps to the counter and sat you down on the edge, your thighs parting slightly, instinctively, making him exhale a sharp breath through his nose. For a moment, he just looked at you. Really looked at you. Like he still couldn’t believe you were real. Then, with one hand still braced against the counter, he reached for the lilac lingerie and slowly dragged it down your thigh. His knuckles brushed along the wet skin he’d just bathed, and you could feel the faint tremor in his fingers. ‘Maybe I should put it on you after all,’ he murmured, voice low and hoarse. ‘Let me admire you a little first.’ You whimpered audibly. This was not how you’d planned this moment, but you weren’t exactly mad about the way things were unfolding. The lingerie was supposed to be a surprise, and at first, you were disappointed that he’d found it. But this? This was better than your original plan.

Bradley kept one hand firm against your thigh, keeping you steady where you sat on the edge of the counter, while his other hand snagged the towel from his shoulder. He pressed it to your skin without a word, starting at your knee and dragging it upward in slow, steady strokes. He was thorough and deliberate, like he wasn’t just drying you off but memorising you. His palm followed the path of the towel, heat chasing after the soft fabric, spreading warmth along the goosebumps on your skin. You didn’t mean to shiver when he swept the towel over the delicate bend of your knee, but you did. His eyes flicked up, catching yours, and his lips twitched slightly—barely there—before he smoothed the towel down the length of your calf, wrapping his hand around the back of it. ‘Cold?’ He murmured, voice lower than a second ago. You shook your head slightly, pulse fluttering somewhere between your throat and the base of your spine. He smirked faintly, like he knew. Slowly, he lifted your foot off the counter, cradling your ankle in one hand, while the other dragged the towel between your toes—slow, gentle passes that were probably unnecessary but lingered anyway. And God, it was almost too much. The way he touched you—casual but devout, like he had no intention of rushing. Like he could do this all night. Once your legs were dry, he shifted his focus, leaning in slightly. The towel dragged along your inner thighs—firm but careful—his knuckles brushing higher with every pass, slow and unrushed. You sucked in a breath when the fabric skimmed a little too close, but he only stilled, eyes darkening slightly, before continuing upward.

His warm, broad hands slid to your waist. He spread the towel over your stomach, his fingers pressing through the fabric, gliding across your skin in a lingering, absentminded caress that made your breath hitch. But then he was leaning closer, mouth brushing just beneath your ear. ‘Arms up for me, honey.’ He murmured, voice rough and low. You obeyed before you even realised it, lifting your arms above your head. He took his time dragging the towel upward, catching the droplets of water still clinging to your skin. The movement was too slow, like he was deliberately avoiding the task at hand just to keep his fingers on you a little longer. And then finally, the towel was discarded, tossed carelessly over the edge of the counter. His eyes raked over you—skin still dewy and flushed, hair damp and clinging to your shoulders—and something flickered across his face. Hunger. Awe. Possession. All tangled up in one ragged breath. Without looking away, he grabbed the lilac lingerie from where he’d left it, letting the fabric spill over his fingers like it belonged there. ‘Let me.’ He rasped softly. You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. You just sat perfectly still as he eased the delicate panties up your legs, one at a time. His fingers were warm against your ankles, then your calves, then higher. And when he reached your thighs, he didn’t stop—he kept going, dragging the lace into place with both hands, knuckles skimming the sensitive skin where the fabric hugged you close. Once they were settled, he let out a slow breath, eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite name. Something that made you feel like your skin was too tight. Then he reached for the top. He held it open, waiting for you to slip your arms through the delicate straps. His fingers grazed your shoulders as he guided the lace into place, trailing the garters along the curve of your waist. Once the fabric was snug against you, he carefully—so carefully—smoothed the straps, adjusting them just right. And God, he was still looking at you. Brows furrowed slightly, lips parted, eyes drinking you in. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered softly, voice almost a whisper. His thumb brushed over one of the lilac bows, right at the centre of your sternum. ‘You’re so goddamn pretty.’ You could’ve died right there and then, and you wouldn’t have been mad about it. At least you’d have died happy. Bradley’s towel was still around his waist. Your eyes flitted towards it, and before you could lose your nerve, you pulled it away teasingly, letting it drop to the floor. You didn’t think his pupils could dilate any more, but they did. That move seemed to be his final straw, because he lifted you effortlessly from the counter. You wrapped your legs around him and he carried you through to the bedroom, where he set you down gently at the end of the bed. ‘You sure you’re ready for this, sweetheart?’

You laughed. ‘Jesus, Bradley, if we stopped now, I think I’d scream.’ He smirked knowingly as he lay you down and climbed on top of you. His face was mere inches from yours when he said: ‘You’re gonna be screaming either way.’ He didn’t give you time to respond. He pressed one, delicate kiss to your lips before trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck, chest, and the tops of your breasts. His hands were everywhere; you could’ve come from this feeling alone. Slowly, he moved lower, pushing you further up the bed with his hands on the backs of your thighs. The realisation that he was about to eat you out was enough to make you groan with anticipation. He hadn’t even touched you where you needed him most yet, and you were already a fucking mess. With anyone else (Elijah), you would have been embarrassed by your desires, the way you were overcome with pleasure, but you didn’t have to feel like that with Bradley. You couldn’t have, even if you’d tried. With him, succumbing to your pleasure and your emotions was automatic, which was exactly how it was supposed to be. Real love didn’t have you second-guessing every word you said, every move you made or every luscious, pleasurable moan. 

Real love forced you to surrender, and surrender you would. You reached behind you for a pillow to prop yourself up on, because you’d be damned if you weren’t gonna watch him at work. He pressed hot kisses up your thighs, and when he reached your clothed core, he pressed one there, too. Aching didn’t begin to describe the feeling in the bottom of your stomach. He looped his fingers around the crotch of your panties and pulled them to the side, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of you, soaking and ready for him. Then, he licked one long stripe up your centre, from bottom to top, and your eyes disappeared into the back of your head. So much for watching, was your final thought before being plunged into the depths of heaven. He licked and sucked and eventually, he slid two fingers inside of you. You couldn’t even compare it to an out-of-body experience. In fact, it was the exact opposite. You’d never been more present inside your skin; it almost felt too good to bear. Your whole body quivered as you got closer and closer to the edge. ‘S-stop.’ You stammered. ‘I wanna come at the same time.’ Bradley pulled his head back, but didn’t remove his fingers. You managed to open your eyes, and the sight you saw was enough to wreck you. Flushed cheeks, wide eyes and your juices slicked around his mouth and in his moustache—there were not enough words in the English language to describe what this did to you. ‘You say that like this is gonna be the only time you come tonight.’ He said huskily. And with that, he went back to work, and your head tipped back onto the pillow as you cried out in ecstasy. 

Bradley was taking his sweet time with you. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long, and he wanted to savour every second of it. And he wanted you to do the same. When you came on his tongue—hips bucking and walls tightening around his fingers—the dull throbbing in his cock intensified in such a way he had never experienced before. The last thing he wanted to do during this moment was think about his past sexual encounters, but he couldn’t help but briefly think that nobody had ever made him feel the way you did. He hadn’t even been inside of you yet, and he was pussy-whipped. If that made him cringe, then so be it. You were still trembling when he moved back up your body, kissing every inch of skin he passed because he couldn’t bear to leave any part of you untouched. Your breath caught when his lips grazed the curve of your stomach, then your ribs, then the centre of your chest—each kiss slower than the last, as he tried to calm the storm he’d just created in you. When he finally reached your face, he paused. Hovered. Your lips were parted, your cheeks flushed, and your pupils were so blown it was hard to tell where the colour ended and the black began. You cupped his jaw, your thumb brushing over the damp curve of his bottom lip. His eyes fluttered closed for a second—just one—and when they opened again, he leaned down to kiss you.

It was soft. Warm. Slow. He was letting you taste what he’d just done to you. He wanted to share it with you. And when he pulled back—just far enough to look into your eyes again—his voice was barely more than a whisper as he asked: ‘Are you ready, baby?’ ‘Yes.’ You breathed. He braced himself above you, one hand pressed into the mattress by your hip, the other trailing down the length of your thigh. His fingers flexed slightly as they moved—featherlight, almost uncertain—like he couldn’t quite convince himself that he was allowed to touch you like this. Like he was afraid he might wake up if he did. His biceps quivered faintly from holding himself up—and holding himself together. His eyes traced every inch of you—the swell of your thighs where they parted just slightly beneath him, the curve of your waist wrapped in lilac lace, the soft rise and fall of your chest. But it was your face that unravelled him completely. The way you stared up at him—soft, expectant, open—like you were giving yourself to him without hesitation. Without fear. He swallowed hard. ‘You sure?’ He murmured, voice low and rough at the edges, nearly breaking on the words. His forehead dipped just enough for his lips to brush over yours, barely a kiss—just a breath of contact. ‘You can still change your mind.’ You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you slid your hands up his arms, fingers mapping over the taut muscles that were trembling slightly beneath your touch. You reached his shoulders, then his neck, then finally cupped his jaw, tilting his face until he was looking at you again. And then you whispered, soft but certain: ‘Take me.’ Bradley’s eyes slammed shut. He exhaled sharply—almost a curse, almost a plea—and suddenly, he was kissing you. Properly. Deeply. Desperately. His mouth slanted over yours with a low, broken sound at the back of his throat. He’d been starving for you. He kept one hand firm on your thigh, squeezing just enough for you to feel the tension in his palm, while the other slid beneath your lower back, tugging you closer—needing you closer. You let out a quiet whimper against his mouth, making him groan softly in response. Suddenly, his restraint snapped. He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He dragged his lips from your mouth, trailing them along your jaw, down your throat, open and hot, teeth scraping faintly when he reached your collarbone. He pulled a sharp breath through his nose, like he was trying to steady himself, but failing miserably. ‘God, you’re so fucking soft,’ he rasped against your skin, voice barely above a whisper. His teeth caught the strap of your lingerie and dragged it slightly off your shoulder. ‘So goddamn perfect.’ His hand skimmed along your ribs, brushing the delicate boning of the corset, pausing just over your heart. His thumb swept idly over the lace there, right where he could feel the frantic pulse beneath your skin. ‘Jesus.’ His breath hitched faintly. ‘You’re shaking, baby.’ You were. You hadn’t even noticed. Your thighs were trembling faintly around his waist, your fingers tightening in his hair like you were holding on for dear life. But so was he. You slid your hands down his back—nails grazing lightly over muscle—and he was sure you could feel it all. The slight tremor in his arms. The tension in his thighs where he kept himself braced above you, not daring to let his weight sink into you just yet. He still wanted to be careful with you. ‘Bradley,’ you murmured softly, fingers tugging at his hair, guiding his face back to yours. Your lips grazed his, soft and slow, your voice barely a whisper against his mouth. ‘You don’t have to hold back.’

He stilled for a beat, like he needed to let the words settle into his chest, then he exhaled sharply and kissed you so deeply—so hungrily—that it made your head spin. Neither of you registered the sound of lace tearing as his hands slid down your thighs, yanking the garters away. You gasped softly into his mouth, but Bradley didn’t stop. He kissed the sound right from your lips, breathing against you like he was trying to pull the air from your lungs. ‘I need you.’ He rasped, voice weak with want. You barely had time to respond before he shifted, one strong hand sliding beneath your thigh, guiding it around his waist. His forehead pressed to yours, breaths shallow and uneven, and then— He sank into you. Your eyes fluttered shut on a sharp gasp, and Bradley’s mouth was right there to catch it, pressing into yours. ‘Fuck.’ He breathed against your lips, voice low and shaky, brow pressing to yours as he stilled, giving you a moment. His jaw went tight, the muscle feathering as he exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to stay still, to be patient, even as his hands were trembling slightly where they gripped your thighs.

He kissed your temple softly, soothingly, voice breaking slightly as he rasped: ‘Okay?’ You nodded. ‘Okay.’ And then he moved.

Slow. Deliberate. Measured. He kissed you through it—every sigh, every whimper, every sharp inhale that left your lips. His mouth brushed your cheek, your jaw, your throat—soft, scattered murmurs of your name slipping through his teeth like a prayer. ‘You feel so good.’ He whispered roughly into your skin, voice breathless and uneven, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to commit the sensation of you to memory. You had been right to assume that your expectations of sex with Bradley Bradshaw would never live up to the real thing. It was far from the transactional experiences you’d had in the past; it was so sensual and full of love—you hadn’t even known that sex could feel this good. The romance movies that made such a huge deal out of the act now made sense to you, as you felt much like an actress starring in one. And the best part? You knew Bradley felt it, too. There was something about knowing how much he was enjoying it that made it all the more special for you. Bradley was still on top, and you were already close to coming undone again. He had one of your legs thrown over the crook of his elbow as a way of getting in deeper, and you saw stardust with every thrust. He’d already eaten you out, and now this? You wanted to do something for him before the night was out. ‘B-bradley.’ You stammered. ‘Stop a sec.’ His brow furrowed, panic setting in as he did as you asked. ‘What’s wrong, baby?’ ‘Nothing’s wrong.’ You quickly assured him. ‘I wanna swap.’ You panted. He raised a brow. ‘Oh, really?’ ‘Yes.’ Reluctantly, he pulled out of you. The sound, which ordinarily would have embarrassed you, was a testament to how much he aroused you. He lay down, pulling you on top of him rather unceremoniously, causing both of you to giggle. If there was one thing you knew to be true, it was that being able to laugh during sex was the pinnacle of a healthy relationship. If you thought he looked good above you, seeing him underneath you was something else entirely. The way he looked up at you, like he was worshipping you, was an image you doubted you’d ever be able to get out of your head. Which was fine by you, because why would you want to forget? ‘You’re so handsome.’ You told him, awestruck. He smiled, pussy-drunk and relaxed. ‘And you’re gorgeous.’

Before you could get too pulled out of the moment, you grabbed his dick and lined it up with your entrance, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to feel. Turns out, nothing could have prepared you, which seemed to be a running theme tonight and served as a lesson not to make assumptions about Bradley Bradshaw. You sank down on his impressive length, letting out a resounding groan that definitely echoed through the walls. That was a problem for the morning. Right now, you were focusing on how different he felt from this angle, how much fuller it made you feel. You leaned forward ever so slightly, and if you weren’t mistaken, you could feel the tip of him pressing against the inside of you. Bradley’s hands flew to your hips, keeping you still. ‘I need to move.’ You told him. He nodded frantically. He was just as floored by the feeling as you were. It didn’t take you long to find a rhythm. Pretty soon, you were bouncing like your life depended on it. Bradley didn’t let go of your hips, but occasionally his hands moved to your ass, presumably to feel it shaking as you rode him. Until now, you hadn’t thought it possible for a man to make such delicious sounds. Neither of you was going to last much longer; that much was true. Your orgasm built up in the base of your stomach. When Bradley grabbed your hips harder and started thrusting up into you, you were a goner. And with the most unholy, filthy string of curse words you’d ever heard come out of his mouth, Bradley came too. You leaned forward to kiss him, lying flat on his heaving chest to catch your breath. After a beat or two, you felt his come begin to trickle down your legs. ‘Fucking hell.’ You breathed. ‘Yeah. Fucking hell.’ He echoed. ‘Looks like we’re gonna need another bath.’ You laughed. ‘How about we test that shower?’ After taking longer than you probably should in the shower, the two of you changed into pyjamas and climbed into the humongous bed. Bradley opened his arms so you could cuddle into him, and you did so more than willingly. It was nearing 2 am, but your mind was running wild with thoughts of the evening. Memories flashed through your mind as you willed yourself to sleep. Bradley must have assumed you were asleep because there was no way he was expecting a response. Not with the softness of his whispered words. But you would’ve had to have been dead to have missed it… ‘I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.’ After a beat, you decided to let him know you had heard. ‘I love you too, Bradley Bradshaw.’

The next morning, you awoke to sunlight and fresh air streaming in through the open balcony doors. When you rolled over, you were shocked and disappointed to find Bradley’s side of the bed cold. Of course, he could’ve been out of reach, what with the bed being as big as the Bronco, but upon opening your eyes, you discovered you were alone in the bedroom. After adjusting to the light, you clambered out of bed and grabbed Bradley’s sweatshirt from the top of his weekend bag. You also grabbed a pair of fluffy socks from your own bag. After a quick check in the mirror, you realised you needed to freshen up before heading downstairs, as—to put it frankly—your hair looked like a rat’s nest. By the time you made it downstairs, a whole breakfast spread had been laid out on the kitchen island. Your stomach grumbled audibly, suddenly alerting you to how hungry you were after the previous night’s activities. ‘There she is!’ Mickey exclaimed happily. He skipped over to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. When you noticed his Garfield pyjamas, you felt a massive smile spread across your face. ‘Guess I escaped the cooking duties this morning, huh?’ Nat and Jake were plating up warm cinnamon rolls, while Bradley danced around them trying to get a pot of coffee going. Reuben and Bob were finishing up the main course—eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, all the fixings—while Javy sliced up a loaf of sourdough bread. ‘We guessed you needed to catch up on beauty sleep.’ Mickey murmured. ‘You know, since you were up pretty late last night.’ You must have flushed every shade of scarlet in that moment. Luckily, nobody else had heard Mickey, and if they’d heard anything else, ie moaning and groaning the night before, they didn’t let on. Not that you weren’t expecting to get the third degree from Nat later, but at least for now, things seemed normal and peaceful. Well, as normal and peaceful as things could be in a house full of Daggers. ‘Well, grab a plate.’ Bob announced. ‘We can eat outside.’ You let everyone else go first, since you’d risen so late. Bradley hung back, too, presenting you with a huge iced coffee, topped with whipped cream. ‘Thank you.’ You beamed. ‘Sweet nectar, save me.’ You told the drink. Bradley chuckled, kissing the top of your head. ‘How’re you feeling this morning?’ After a quick glance around to make sure nobody was within earshot, you said: ‘Legs are a little sore, but other than I’m positively glowing.’ ‘You look it, too.’ He smirked. ‘Guess it’s all that vitamin D.’ You burst out laughing, and Bradley snaked an arm around your waist to pull you closer. ‘Why don’t you go sit outside? I’ll bring you a plate.’ ‘You sure?’ ‘Yeah.’ You kissed his cheek. ‘You’re an angel.’

After a delicious breakfast in the sunshine, everybody headed back upstairs to get ready for the day ahead. Jake had mentioned an overlook the night before, and he had challenged the squad to hike it. Last one to reach the top had to cook dinner. You and Bradley walked together, hands brushing occasionally as you made your way out of the house. As you stepped out into the bright light of the day, the cool morning air greeted you, and you felt your heart settle with a quiet contentment. Amid all the teasing, the laughter, and the endless back-and-forth with your squad, you realised how lucky you were to have these people by your side, especially Bradley. It was moments like this, walking through the woods with the squad behind you and Bradley beside you, that made everything feel right. As the group set off on the trail, laughing and pushing each other forward, you stayed close to Bradley, sharing quiet moments only the two of you understood. You couldn’t wait for the rest of the day, knowing that whatever came next, you’d be facing it together. The hike was everything you’d hoped it would be—refreshing, a little challenging, and filled with laughter as the squad made their way up the trail. The sun was high in the sky now, casting a warm glow over the forest, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and birds chirping creating a peaceful background to the banter that filled the air. Bradley kept close to you, his hand brushing yours occasionally, sharing quiet smiles when no one else was looking. It felt like the world outside the woods had faded away, and there was only the squad, the trees, and the feeling of being together. Every so often, you’d hear Reuben’s loud voice or Nat’s teasing remarks, but they only seemed to heighten the comfort of the day. When you finally reached the top, the view was worth every step. The city below looked small, nestled between the mountains, with the ocean in the distance sparkling in the sunlight. Everyone stopped to catch their breath, standing at the edge of the overlook, taking in the beauty of it all. Reuben let out a low whistle. ‘Man, this is incredible. I don’t know how you managed to find this spot, Bagman, but I’m impressed.’ Bradley leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke softly. ‘You okay?’ He asked, his voice a mix of concern and affection. You nodded, your hand slipping into his as you squeezed it gently. ‘Yeah, just taking it all in,’ you said, giving him a soft smile. ‘It’s perfect.’ He smiled back, pulling you in closer, wrapping his arm around your waist. ‘I’m glad you’re happy.’ He murmured. ‘Who came last?’ Javy asked. ‘We didn’t keep track.’ Mickey shrugged. ‘No idea.’ ‘I’ll make dinner.’ You said. ‘Consider it my apology for not helping with breakfast this morning.’ Bradley smirked, and you had to look anywhere else to avoid flushing a deep shade of red again.

Back at the lake house, everybody settled into different activities for the afternoon. Jake and Reuben headed out to the other side of the lake for some fishing—Mickey ended up going with them, as he’d never tried it before. Nat seemed tempted to go too, at first, but when she realised it wouldn’t just be her and Jake, she came up with a clever excuse not to go. Nobody else noticed except for you, and you knew you had to talk to her about this at some point. Bob grabbed his book and a bottle of water and set himself up on one of the comfier seats on the back porch. He probably wouldn’t be moving for the foreseeable future, and he seemed happy at the prospect of reading for hours with no other obligations. After Nat had her “very important phone call with her parents that she couldn’t miss”, she and Javy found a cupboard full of board games. Javy was overjoyed when he found ‘The Game of Life,’ and he and Nat set it up on a blanket on the lawn.  That left you and Bradley. You’d prepped dinner for that evening, so when everyone was ready, you’d only have to get it out of the oven: slow-roasted chicken and vegetables, potatoes and homemade gravy, which would have to wait until the meat was cooked so you could add the juices. Bradley had watched you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. ‘What do you say we go for a swim?’ He asked. After a long hike in the summer heat, that sounded like a perfect idea. ‘I say hell yeah.’ Bradley changed into swim trunks and then helped you change into a pretty yellow bikini. It involved strings that needed to be tied into bows to keep the bra from falling down, and he was all too happy to help. For the second time in the last 24 hours, he threw a towel over his shoulder, and even though it was a small thing, it was starting to have certain connotations. Unexpectedly, he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, one hand conveniently coming to rest on your ass.  ‘Roo, what are you doing!’ You squealed. You felt his laugh rumble through his body as you clung to him for dear life. He carried you past Bob, Javy and Nat, all of whom didn’t even bat an eye. They were used to your shennanigans by now, and they weren’t fazed. In hindsight, you should’ve known that he was going to throw you in the lake. The water was cool, but not cold. The sun had been gradually heating it all day, and it was just right. You surfaced and pushed your hair out of your face just as Bradley cannonballed in, splashing you and soaking you even more. He paddled over to you and pulled you close. Beneath the glistening water, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and his hands came to rest on the backs of your thighs. A slow, gentle kiss was shared, and even though both of you tasted like lake water, it felt like a dream.

Popcorn popped in the incredibly fancy microwave that only Bob could figure out how to use. Cocoa simmered in a pot on the stove despite the warm evening, because no movie night was complete without it. With the help of Bradley, you’d laid out a spread of junk food on the low coffee table in front of the fireplace and set up what could only be described as a nest. He’d dragged the large mattress and bedding from your shared room and had laid it out between the C-shaped sofa. It seemed criminal to be spending the night inside when the weather was so lovely, but the squad had decided that after a long day outdoors, a movie night was a must. You’d chosen the movie. When you’d suggested ‘The Ritual,’ you’d received mixed reactions from the Daggers. Jake and Javy were very much in the camp of ‘horror movies don’t affect me,’ while Mickey and Bradley seemed to have their reservations. Nat was indifferent, although you assumed this was a front, Reuben outright protested the idea (but backed down when Jake called him chicken), and Bob had launched into a speech about the statistics surrounding people who find horror movies relaxing.  ‘Women aged 18–35 make up one of the largest demographics of horror movie watchers. Final girls supporting final girls, you know?’ You were excited. You’d heard of the film but hadn’t gotten around to watching it yet; the book was also sitting on your shelf, unread. As most normal people would agree, it would’ve been better to read the book first, but as a fighter pilot, there wasn’t always time for leisurely reading. When Bob came down from changing into comfy clothes, he grabbed the popcorn from the microwave and helped Bradley serve the cocoa. You found the movie on Netflix and put it on pause while everyone got settled. Mickey came down in Rick and Morty pyjamas, which for some reason seemed very on brand for him. His face lit up when he saw the nest situation.  ‘No way you guys made a fort!’ He exclaimed. ‘It has no roof, Fanboy.’ You said, smiling. ‘It’s half a fort.’ ‘Half a fort is better than no fort, in my opinion. I call dibs.’ ‘You’ll be sharing with me and Bradley, then.’ He threw himself rather unceremoniously onto the mattress and nestled up underneath the duvet. ‘Fine by me. As long as there’s no funny business.’ You and Bradley locked eyes from across the room, both of you smirking like idiots. Mickey was too absorbed in the act of getting comfortable to notice, but Bob, as usual, clocked it. He made a show of slamming the microwave really hard, startling you and Bradley from your shared stupor. He covered a laugh with a fake cough, and you felt your cheeks heat up.  Luckily, you were spared from any further embarrassment when Nat came crashing down the staircase, Jake close behind with his cupped hands out in front of him. ‘Rooster!’ She squealed, literally throwing herself behind him and using him as a shield. ‘He’s got a fucking spider!’ Bradley stumbled, nearly falling over from the sheer force of Nat pulling him in front of her. Jake had been running so fast to keep up with her that he smashed right into Bradley, who let out a surprised ‘oof.’ You and Mickey watched the whole thing with anticipation, while Bob had removed himself from the situation entirely, opting to bring the popcorn over to the coffee table. In the commotion, the spider had fallen on the floor. When Nat eventually realised this, she paled and jumped onto Bradley’s back. He just about managed to catch her before both of them toppled over. Jake was laughing manically in the corner, doubled over with his hands on the tops of his thighs. 

At some point during this debacle, Reuben and Javy had appeared in the kitchen/living area. After a short survey of the situation, Reuben did the sensible thing and scooped the spider up, gently releasing it outside and closing the patio door. Now that it was safe for her to do so, Nat climbed off Bradley’s back and smoothed her hair down. ‘Fucking hell.’ She breathed. Bradley smacked Jake around the back of the head. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you, Hangman?’ ‘Sorry,’ he wheezed. ‘I just couldn’t miss an opportunity like that. Who knew the big, bad Phoenix was scared of spiders?’ She huffed, storming over to the couch. ‘Well, now you all know. Congratulations.’ From your spot on the mattress, you turned around and laid your hand on her leg. ‘Don’t worry, Nix. We’ll get him back.’ She smiled. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah, he’s started something now.’ ‘Sorry for using Bradley as my personal shield turned jungle gym.’ You laughed. ‘It’s okay. If you can’t do that, what’s the point in having a tall friend?’ It was finally time to settle in for the movie. 

To set the mood, Javy pulled all the blinds and turned off all the lights, so except for the TV screen, you were in total darkness. He took his place between Reuben and Jake. Bob was sitting in one of the sofa’s corners, and Nat was perched right on the end, as far away from Jake as physically possible. Despite this, she kept throwing glances his way, as though she hated it but wanted to prove a point. Very interesting indeed. You were in the middle of Bradley and Mickey, sharing a bag of Reeses. As the plot began to thicken, Bradley was doing that thing where he pretended to be casual, but his posture was already a bit too straight, like he was bracing himself. ‘This is nothing.’ Jake scoffed as the four main characters decided to take a shortcut through the looming Swedish woodland. ‘I’ve seen scarier stuff on late-night infomercials.’ ‘And in the mirror, too, I’d imagine.’ Nat grumbled, not looking away from the screen. It started slow—just eerie woods and grief-fueled tension—but the vibe in the room shifted fast. Javy stopped heckling entirely around the time the weird markings on the trees showed up. ‘I don’t like that.’ He muttered under his breath. ‘Bro, it’s just trees.’ Reuben said, but his voice cracked ever so slightly. You glanced down—he had the blanket pulled up halfway over his face already, eyes peeking through a narrow gap. Mickey squealed—squealed—when the creature first made a sound offscreen, and that was it. The pillow went straight over his head like it could protect him from the Nordic horror lurking in the trees. ‘Jesus!’ Jake hissed when something flashed across the screen. ‘What the hell was that? That was—nope. Nah. Mid. This movie’s mid.’ You didn’t miss how he edged slightly closer to Bob, though. And you definitely didn’t miss how Bob didn’t move an inch, expression eerily calm, sipping his soda like he was watching a nature documentary.

You, on the other hand? You were tense, too. Not terrified, but uncomfortable in that delicious, itchy way a good horror movie gets under your skin. You weren’t about to admit it, of course. But you also weren’t moving from your spot against Bradley’s side. And he was wound tighter than a coiled spring. Arms crossed. Jaw locked. You could see the muscle in his cheek twitching every time something creaked onscreen. Then came the jump scare. You flinched. It was instinct. Your whole body jolted, and in response, Bradley jumped so hard that when his arm flew out to steady himself, he accidentally smacked the popcorn bowl right out of Reuben’s lap. ‘Shit!’ Reuben shouted, popcorn flying everywhere. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart.’ Bradley said automatically, voice an octave too low. ‘I got you.’ You turned your head. Raised an eyebrow.

‘Coming from the man who just jumped out of his skin.’ As the movie progressed, things only got more unsettling. Phoenix, entirely unaffected, leaned over and whispered ‘Did you hear that?’ right into your ear. You shuddered, and Bradley squeezed your arm reassuringly. She smiled like the devil herself. ‘Y’all are the worst.’ Reuben grumbled, tugging the blanket up over his head like a kid. ‘This is why I don’t do horror.’ Bob finally spoke for the first time since the movie started. He leaned forward, glanced around at everyone’s slightly panicked faces, and said: 'Statistically, this kind of disappearance happens more often than you think. Especially in Northern Europe.’ There was a beat of silence. ‘…What the hell, Bob?’ Jake said.

When the movie was over and everyone had gone to bed, positively terrified, you texted Nat to meet you in the living room. Bradley was sound asleep, and the rest of the house was silent, so it was now or never. It was late, and you were exhausted. The two of you worked quickly, phone torches on, scouring the garden for branches which you quickly tied together with a ball of wool from a basket by the fireplace. Then, you hung them from the trees closest to the house. Not too many, just enough to be off-putting. With the final little symbol you’d made, you headed back upstairs, creeping quietly into Jake’s room. Nat wanted to do the honours after the spider fiasco. She tucked it underneath his pillow, leaving the end sticking out slightly so he’d definitely find it. And then the two of you headed to bed, excited to see everyone’s reactions the next morning. You were not disappointed. 

The sound of Jake’s panicked voice floated up the staircase and roused you from sleep. You blinked, the previous night's events slowly coming back to you. When you went to climb out of bed, Bradley tried to stop you, grumbling incoherently. As much as you wanted to stay in bed and cuddle, you wanted to see Jake’s reaction more. Nat was already downstairs when you arrived, wrapped up in one of Bradley’s hoodies. She was sitting on top of the kitchen island, feet up on one of the stools. Bob leaned against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee with a sly grin on his face. Jake, Mickey, and Reuben were outside, glaring at the twigs you and Nat had hung from the trees, worry etched into all of their features. The symbol Nat had put under Jake’s pillow hung loosely from his hand, and he was paler than you’d ever seen him. When they saw you and Nat, they came back inside. ‘What the fuck?’ Jake hissed, waving the creepy offering in Nat’s face. ‘You think this is funny?’ She shrugged, doing a very good job of appearing unbothered. ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘This. I know you put this in my room while I was sleeping.’ ‘And how do you know that?’ Jake narrowed his eyes. ‘Come on, darlin’. I know you’re looking to get me back after last night.’ Mickey had his arms folded and kept glancing out at the trees. The rising panic in Jake’s voice led you to believe that they weren’t entirely convinced that this was a prank. Clearly, some part of them believed that this was really happening.  ‘Okay, I swear one of them just moved.’ Mickey said. Reuben rolled his eyes. ‘It’s probably the wind, Fanboy.’ Although it sounded like he was saying it to convince himself, not his friend. ‘I was inside all night.’ Nat explained. ‘I think you’ll find I was asleep before all of you.’ She gestured at the adorned trees. ‘Why would I play around with something like this?’ Jake looked at you, eyes narrowed. ‘What about you?’ He asked. ‘What about me?’ You replied innocently, plucking a grape from the bowl on the table. ‘Don’t play dumb.’ ‘I’m not playing.’ You smiled sweetly. ‘I’m naturally gifted.’ Jake mimicked your smile snarkily. Nat jumped in, tilting her head like she was genuinely confused. ‘So, you’re saying you woke up with a pagan twig doll under your pillow, and you think Y/N and I put it there to scare you?’ Jake held the thing out like it had personally threatened his life. ‘It was poking into my neck!’ ‘Okay, but I’m serious. That one out there.’ He pointed frantically. ‘It was facing the other way before. Maybe we opened some kind of portal by watching that movie.’ Nat squinted at it. ‘Maybe it turned to look at you.’ She gave him a slow, creepy blink. ‘Or maybe we angered the spirits in the woods.’ You offered. By this point, Bradley and Javy had shuffled into the kitchen, still groggy from sleep. Mickey had started to pace. ‘What’s going on?’ Bradley grumbled, grabbing you and pulling you close. ‘We summoned a demon.’ Mickey said regretfully.  Bradley rolled his eyes and reached for a coffee mug. You immediately missed the contact and had to resist the urge to attach yourself to him like a baby koala bear. You doubted Jake would ever let you live that down, demon or no. Javy had been halfway through a banana when Reuben grabbed his upper arm and led him out into the garden to show him the ‘creepy little twig people.’ This seemed to intrigue Bradley, who obviously hadn’t expected there to be actual evidence to support Mickey’s claim. He looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded, doing your best to look scared. Everyone but you and Nat headed back outside. ‘This is going much better than I expected!’ You whispered excitedly. Nat smirked. ‘That’s because we have the most gullible squad in history.’

About an hour later, the group had mostly dispersed—some out to the lake for a swim, some hovering on the porch, trying to convince themselves that creepy twig art wasn’t a reason to pack up and drive back early. You were curled up in a blanket on the couch, nursing a second cup of coffee, when you heard a faint, ‘Uh… guys?’ Bob’s voice. From the hallway. Everyone groaned. ‘What now?’ Jake muttered, clearly on edge. Bob didn’t answer. He just called again, quieter this time: ‘No, seriously… guys…’ You and Nat exchanged a look and got up. Bob stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, eyes fixed on the windowsill in the front room. At first, you couldn’t figure out what he was staring at. Then you saw it. A small, weathered animal skull was perched neatly on the sill. Clean. White. Facing into the house. No one spoke for a second. ‘That wasn’t there this morning,’ Mickey said finally, voice a full octave higher than usual. ‘Right? Right?’ Nat moved closer, squinting. ‘What the fuck,’ she muttered. ‘That is… not funny.’ ‘Okay,’ Jake said, hands in the air like he was diffusing a bomb. ‘I swear to God if this is part of the prank—’ ‘I didn’t do that.’ Nat sounded genuinely spooked now. Her voice had dropped, no teasing lilt, no playful denial. Reuben walked in behind you, took one look, and immediately backed up two steps. ‘Nope. Nope nope nope.’ You leaned in a little closer to inspect it. There was something tied around one of the horn stubs—thread. Almost the exact shade of the wool you’d used for the twig symbols. Nat noticed it at the same moment you did. ‘That’s not ours.’ She whispered. You turned to her, eyes wide. ‘We didn’t do that.’ From across the room, Bob finally spoke. ‘…Weird.’ And that was it. Just ‘weird.’ You turned to him slowly. He took a sip of coffee. Completely unreadable. ‘Bob.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Do you know something?’ He shrugged. ‘Do any of us really know anything?’ Reuben groaned. ‘I’m going to hide under my duvet.’

After one last dinner (an amalgamation of leftovers from the weekend), you changed into a pretty, blue bikini. Bradley pulled the lid off the hot tub, which was the biggest one you’d ever seen, and uncorked a bottle of cheap (ish) champagne. Nat, Jake, Reuben and Javy also wanted a dip. Mickey and Bob were in the middle of a rather intense game of ‘The Game of Life.’ A song you didn’t know played on the overhead speakers, something Javy had chosen. You tipped your head back and marvelled at the night sky. Out here, the sky felt close enough to touch and large enough to be slightly terrifying, but you could see yourself getting used to it. You imagined living somewhere like this permanently. It made your soul ache for simpler things, things you’d never expected to ache for until now: love in its purest, most unadulterated form, family, joy, laughter. It made all your dreams of being the best female fighter pilot in history feel almost small by comparison.  This—these people, this family—was what really mattered. It mattered more than legacy or glory. ‘This has been the best weekend ever.’ You said, smiling warmly. Bradley, who had his arm around you, squeezed your arm. ‘It really has.’ ‘It’s gonna be hard going back to reality.’ Reuben said with a sigh. Javy asked if anyone had heard anything about a possible new training programme, and the squad melted into conversation. You were half listening, mostly paying attention to the way Jake was gazing at Nat as she spoke. He was sitting next to her, not even trying to hide the fact that he was obviously craning his neck just to look at her. Curioser and curioser, you thought. At some point, you’d have to bring it up with Nat. She was your best friend, after all, and you got the sense that she wasn’t going to come to you with it. It was Hangman.  For the rest of the evening, you just chilled. You were all in and out of the hot tub, playing games like Cards Against Humanity, and polishing off the three bottles of champagne. Really, it was a perfect end to the perfect weekend, and you hoped it wouldn’t be too long before you got to experience it again.

Your final memory of the trip took place the next morning. Aside from your first time with Bradley, it was perhaps the highlight of the whole weekend. You, Nat and Bob were drinking coffee in the kitchen, waiting for everyone to finish packing their things, when Jake’s shrill scream echoed throughout the entire house. Truly, you’d never heard anything like it. You could hear panicked footsteps across the floorboards above you as Javy and Reuben bounded into Jake’s room. You and Nat blinked in shock. ‘WHO THE FUCK PUT THE SKULL IN MY SUITCASE?!’ Jake yelled. You shared a look with Nat before turning to Bob. He was smirking into his coffee, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

A/N: Finally, the second half of Dancing In The Dark! I'm sorry it took so long! I have to write when I'm in the mood, and life has been busy. I hope you guys enjoy this nonetheless, I'm sorry about the word count... Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @alwayshave-faith @rosedurin @impossibleblizzardstudentposts @crowdedimagines @sadgirlgiselle @sleepy-writersblock @honey-and-bi @lovelyygirl18 @my-therapist-hates-me @primroseluna @eloquentdreamer @sgt-barnesveins @daybleedsintonightfa11