thing I am proud of: when the doctor started going on a weird rant about long covid not being real I paused and listened to his nonsense for a bit and then very calmly said, in a polite and curious tone, "you don't believe in post-viral illness?" and he like. stammered a bunch and was like OH WELL I'M NOT SAYING -- I DON'T...I just think ..! and backpedaled awkwardly while I just sat there like :3c interesting :3c thank you so much for clarifying your stance on this :3c
an important skill for chronically ill people to develop is the ability to treat the doctor as though they are simply a person you are interviewing to find out how much they know about your condition.
"After they overheard that ICE was at the courthouse to arrest someone, they improperly accessed court databases to determine who was not born in the United States," a DOJ detention filing says. "They then snuck every suspected illegal alien who was at the courthouse out a back door, where ICE, who was waiting in the parking lot for their target to leave the building, could not see them."
Think about what you can do at your job or in your daily life to resist fascism when the opportunity presents itself!
inspired wholly by this hard of hearing!simon by @ynstark — i’ve been plagued by the thought ever since
cw: suggestive
he hears the kettle just fine when it whistles, and he hears the front door when it slams with the wind. what he doesn’t hear, almost ever, is you.
“john,” you call.
you get nothing in return. he’s got his feet up on the coffee table, his reading glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, some dense paperback open in his hands.
“john,” you try again, huffing.
still nothing. the corner of the room he’s not facing may as well be another county.
you cross to the sofa and stop right in front of him until the shape of you finally registers and he looks up over the rim of his glasses, eyebrows lifting like you’ve appeared out of nowhere.
“what?”
“i called for you twice.”
“did you?” he asks, lips pursing slightly.
you’ve been dealing with this for a long while. over dinner, leaning across the table, repeating yourself, watching him nod at the wrong moments and answer questions you never asked. in the kitchen, talking to his back, getting no reply. in bed, breathing his name against his neck, not getting the same response from him you would’ve got a few years ago.
decades of gunfire and breaching charges and the thumping punch of helo rotors, year over year. by the time anyone thought to check, preserving it was out of the question because the damage was already there. the audiologist had been matter-of-fact about it. showed him the chart, the slope of it dropping off. he nodded along like it was someone else’s ear.
the hearing aids have been sitting in the dish by the bathroom sink for weeks, untouched. they’re good ones too. tiny things. they sit down in the canal, you’d have to be nose-to-nose with him to spot the little nub of them, and even then you’d have to know to look. nothing hooks over the ear or catches in the light.
he just wont wear them.
“i’m not seventy,” he’d said the once you really pushed it. “m’not puttin’ in hearing aids.”
“you’re wearing them, john. you already had them fitted.”
“i don’t need them,” he’d protested. “not day to day.”
which is how you ended up here, two weeks later, watching the back of his head while he reads and ignores the sound of you existing.
so you change tactics.
you take the book out of his hands gently, dog-ear his page with your thumb, set it on the table next to his feet. and before he can do more than open his mouth you climb into his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, settling yourself down onto him.
his hands land on your hips instinctually, his whole expression changing. the annoyance smooths out and something warm comes up slowly in its place, you can read his thoughts as clearly as if he’d said it out loud — ‘well, this is alright’.
“well, hello,” he says low, hands sliding up your sides.
he thinks he’s won something. he’s already tilting his chin up for you, lips looking for yours.
you reach into the pocket of your cardigan and pull them out, cupped in your palm where he can see, and his face drops.
“oh, you’re joking,” his shoulders sink with disappointment.
“hold still,” you grumble, leaning forward.
“i was comfortable,” he complains.
“john.” you get the first one in before he can turn his head, fingers careful at his ear, and he huffs through his nose like a dog that’s been told no. “other side.”
“this is entrapment.”
“mm-hm.” you fit the second one in, tucking his hair back where it’s gone astray. you sit back against him to look with your hands resting on his chest. “there,” you grin, satisfied.
“i was reading.”
“and you weren’t hearing a single word i said all night.”
“i can hear!”
“so you’re choosing to ignore me then?”
“i wasn’t— i just—,”
“you answered ‘fine’ when i asked if you wanted chicken or fish for dinner.”
his jaw works. he doesn’t have anything to say to that. “they itch,” he tries instead, pressing a finger against the front of his ear, rubbing the cartilage there.
“they don’t itch. you’re being dramatic.” you shift your weight, just slightly, settling in more solidly against him, and watch his breath catch. “tell me they itch now.”
he’s still scowling, but his hands have tightened on your hips. “i don’t see what hearing’s got to do with this…” he looks down at where you’re pressed to him.
you roll your hips down against him, folding forward, letting your mouth go to the side of his face, right up close to his ear, and you breathe out — soft, the smallest sound, half a moan and half a laugh because you can’t help yourself.
you feel him go still beneath you.
you do it again. rocking down against the shape of him through his trousers and let the noise come up out of you naturally, quiet and close and meant only for him, the kind of sound you make without thinking when his hands are on you. his fingers flex and splay and grip harder, his head turns toward you like it’s being pulled.
“there you are,” you murmur.
“…christ.”
“you hear that?”
he doesn’t answer. his eyes have gone heavy lidded and his hand’s come up into your hair and he’s turned fully into you now, chasing it, the small wet sounds of your breath against his ear, the catch in your throat when you press down and he pushes up to meet you.
these little intimate things he stopped hearing a long time ago and never noticed he’d lost because of how gradual it happened. this way you sound when you want him, the quiet things. the things you only ever say just for him, the things you’ve been saying into the dark for a year now with no return.
“say my name,” you breathe.
“…what?”
“in bed. i always say your name and you never—,” you rock against him and his breath stutters, “you never answer anymore.”
his hand comes up to the side of your face. he pulls back just far enough to look at you, and there’s something that’s gone serious under the want, something that’s caught up with what you’re telling him.
“m’so sorry, love,” he nudges his nose under your jaw, kissing the soft of your neck. “say it now. again,” he says, rough. “go on.” he’s gone hard under you, rolling his hips up, hands keeping your hips down. the seam of his zipper pushing through the thin cotton of your joggers
“john,” you breathe.
he hears you and you watch him — watch his eyes close for a second like it’s gone straight through him.
“yeah,” he says, his thumb moving slow against your cheek. “heard that.” then your name unfurls from his tongue and you kiss him before he can pretend he wasn’t affected, and his arms come all the way around you, and he doesn’t say a single word about the hearing aids again.
john wears them after that without making a fuss over it. just puts them in every morning before you’re up. you never mention that you notice. don’t wanna spook him.
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?’
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.
