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sometimesanalice · 1 year ago

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That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on its own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass. A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission. “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #rooster top gun

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callsigns-haze · 6 months ago

Text

What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies. 2

Part 1 here

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments SMUT

Word count: 10.6k

At 6 a.m., the household stirred to life, much earlier than Bradley had hoped. The first sound was Theo’s sharp cry from the baby mattress nestled beside the bed. The sudden noise startled him out of a restless sleep, his eyes snapping open. Before he could fully sit up, another sound followed—Anna’s small voice calling out from her bed in their shared room.

“Daddy! Theo’s crying!” she called, her voice groggy but insistent.

Bradley groaned softly, rubbing his hands over his face as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He glanced at Theo, whose little fists flailed in the air, his cries growing louder by the second.

“Alright, buddy, I’m coming,” Bradley muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

Anna was already out of her bed, her messy hair falling into her eyes as she clutched her blankie and stood near Theo’s mattress. She looked up at Bradley with wide eyes. “Is Theo okay?”

“He’s fine, Annabelle,” Bradley assured her as he scooped Theo up, gently rocking him. “He’s just hungry.”

Anna trailed behind him as he headed to the kitchen, still clutching her blanket and dragging it along the floor. “Can I help?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“Why don’t you sit at the table, and I’ll get him a bottle?” Bradley suggested, nodding toward the dining area.

Anna complied, climbing up onto one of the chairs and resting her chin on her arms as she watched him move around the kitchen. Bradley quickly prepared a bottle, testing the temperature before settling into the chair beside Anna to feed Theo.

“Did you sleep okay, Banana?” he asked, glancing at her.

She nodded slowly, but then scrunched her nose. “Not really. I woke up a lot because Judy was coughing.”

Bradley frowned, his gaze flicking toward the hallway. He’d check on Judy as soon as Theo was settled. “She’s still not feeling good, huh?”

Anna shook her head solemnly. “No. She said her throat hurt last night.”

Bradley sighed, the worry from the night before creeping back in. Between Theo’s early wake-ups, Anna’s boundless energy, and Judy being sick, it was shaping up to be a long day. And you were still at work, likely swamped with tasks after your overnight shift.

“After this, we’ll check on Judy, okay?” he told her.

“Okay,” Anna agreed, stifling a yawn.

Bradley gently lifted the now-empty bottle from Theo’s little hands and brought him up to his shoulder, patting his back softly. Theo squirmed a little before letting out a small, satisfying burp.

“Good job, buddy,” Bradley murmured, his voice low and soothing.

He looked over at Anna, who was still sitting at the table, her head resting on her arms. “Hey, Banana, why don’t you go watch some TV for a bit? I’ll put on your cartoons.”

Anna perked up at the suggestion, nodding eagerly. “Can I watch the animal show?”

“Sure thing,” Bradley said with a tired smile as he stood up, balancing Theo in one arm. He guided Anna into the living room, turning on her favorite wildlife documentary. She climbed onto the couch, pulling her blanket up around her shoulders as she settled in.

With Anna occupied, Bradley carried Theo back into the kitchen and placed him in the bassinet by the window. “Alright, buddy, time for a little rest,” he whispered, gently tucking the baby blanket around him. Theo blinked up at him sleepily, his earlier cries now a distant memory.

Satisfied that Theo was settled, Bradley headed down the hall to Judy’s room. He pushed the door open quietly, peeking inside. Judy was still curled up in her bed, her face pale against the pillows. Her breathing was slow and a little raspy, and her hair was a messy halo around her head.

“Judy?” Bradley whispered, stepping closer.

She stirred at the sound of his voice, her eyes fluttering open. “Hi, Rooster,” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bradley said softly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He reached out, brushing her hair back from her face. “How are you feeling?”

Judy shrugged weakly, her small shoulders barely moving. “Tired,” she murmured.

Bradley frowned, resting the back of his hand against her forehead. It was warm—warmer than it had been the night before. He grabbed the thermometer from her bedside table, turning it on before gently placing it in her ear.

When the thermometer beeped, he checked the reading: 101.5°F. A low-grade fever.

“Still warm, kiddo,” he said softly, setting the thermometer aside. “Your throat still hurting?”

Judy nodded, her face scrunching up slightly.

Bradley sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Alright. I’ll get you some medicine and a glass of water. Maybe some honey for your throat.”

“Okay,” Judy mumbled, her eyes already starting to close again.

Bradley stood and pulled the blankets up around her, tucking her in snugly. “I’ll be right back, Jude,” he promised, smoothing the covers over her.

Bradley descended the stairs quietly, the creak of the old wooden steps under his weight barely audible over the sound of the TV in the living room. He peeked over to check on Anna, who was completely engrossed in her wildlife show, her small form bundled under her blanket on the couch.

Satisfied she was occupied, he made his way into the kitchen. He opened the cabinet where you kept the kids’ medications, pulling out the liquid acetaminophen for Judy. He set the bottle on the counter, then grabbed a clean spoon from the drawer and filled a small glass with water.

Bradley thought for a moment, remembering your go-to remedy for sore throats. He reached for the honey jar, scooping out just a little to stir into the water. The warm mixture would be easier for her to sip without irritating her throat further.

Balancing the items in his hands, he glanced at the baby bassinet near the window. Theo was still sound asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Bradley took a moment to adjust the blanket over him before heading back toward the stairs.

As he passed through the living room, Anna looked up from the screen.

“Is Judy still sick?” she asked, her voice soft with concern.

“Yeah, Anna, she’s still not feeling great,” Bradley replied, pausing to ruffle her hair. “But I’m giving her some medicine and water. She’ll be okay.”

Anna nodded, her attention returning to the TV. Bradley continued upstairs, carefully balancing the glass and medicine bottle as he made his way back to Judy’s room.

Bradley stepped quietly into Judy’s room, the glass of honey water and the medicine bottle still in his hands. She was half-sitting up now, propped against her pillows, her pale face peeking out from under her blanket. Her tired eyes opened a little wider when she saw him.

“Hey, Jude,” he said softly, sitting down on the edge of her bed. He placed the glass on her bedside table, then unscrewed the cap from the medicine bottle, carefully pouring the correct dose into the small plastic cup.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said gently, holding the cup out to her. “This will help with the fever and make you feel a little better.”

Judy wrinkled her nose but obediently reached for the cup. She hesitated for a moment, looking up at Bradley with a wary expression.

“It’s not going to taste good, is it?”

Bradley chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Probably not, but it’s quick. Just take it all at once, like a champ.”

Judy sighed and tipped the cup to her lips, swallowing the medicine. Almost immediately, her face scrunched up in discomfort. She started coughing and gagging, her small body jerking forward.

Bradley reacted instantly, grabbing the bucket you had placed beside her bed the night before. He held it in front of her as she coughed and retched, her face turning red.

“It’s okay, Judy,” he said quickly, rubbing her back as she spat into the bucket. “You’re alright. Just breathe.”

She sat back after a moment, her eyes watery and her breaths shaky. “It’s so gross,” she whined, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I know, kiddo,” Bradley said, setting the bucket down on the floor within easy reach. “But you did it, and I’m proud of you. The worst part’s over now.”

Judy gave him a small nod, leaning back against her pillows. Bradley picked up the glass of honey water and handed it to her.

“Here, sip this,” he said. “It’ll help get rid of that taste.”

She took the glass and drank a little, her face relaxing slightly as the sweetness replaced the bitterness of the medicine.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded again, her voice still a little hoarse. “Yeah, a little.”

Bradley smiled, tucking the blankets back around her. “Good. Now, just rest, okay? I’ll check on you in a bit.”

Judy yawned and settled deeper into the bed, her eyelids already drooping. Bradley picked up the medicine cup and the spoon, giving her one last look before quietly leaving the room, making a mental note to wash out the bucket later.

Bradley made his way downstairs, pausing briefly to check on Theo, who was still sound asleep in the bassinet. Anna was sprawled on the couch, her blanket twisted around her legs as she watched her wildlife show.

“Hey, Banana,” he called gently, stepping into the kitchen. “You hungry?”

Anna turned her head, her messy hair falling into her eyes. “Yes! Can I have pancakes?”

Bradley chuckled, opening the fridge to grab the milk and eggs. “Pancakes, huh? Alright, but you have to help me eat them. No leftovers today.”

“Deal!” Anna called, hopping off the couch and running to the kitchen table to watch him.

As he set the ingredients on the counter, Bradley pulled his phone from his pocket. He tapped out a quick text to you, knowing you’d probably already been up for hours.

Good morning. Everyone’s up—Theo cried at six and woke Anna. Judy’s still running a fever, but I gave her some medicine. Making pancakes for Anna now. Hope you’re doing okay at work.

He hit send, set the phone down on the counter, and grabbed a mixing bowl. Anna swung her legs back and forth from her chair, humming a little tune to herself as she watched him crack eggs into the bowl and whisk them together.

“Can I help stir?” she asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Bradley replied, sliding the bowl closer to her. He handed her the whisk, steadying her small hands as she giggled and stirred with all her might.

As Anna concentrated on her “stirring duties,” Bradley glanced at his phone, wondering if you’d have time to respond. Even though things were tense, he hoped the text would at least remind you he was trying to keep everything under control at home.

As Bradley finished helping Anna stir the pancake batter, a faint rustling sound came from the baby monitor on the counter. He glanced at the screen and saw Theo standing up in his crib, gripping the rails for balance with a wide, toothless grin. His messy curls flopped as he bounced slightly, his usual morning energy already on full display.

Bradley sighed, amused, and looked over at Anna. “Okay, kiddo, keep stirring, but don’t go near the pan, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Anna nodded seriously, though she wrinkled her nose. “I know, Daddy. I’m not a baby.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t let me smell burnt pancakes, okay?” he teased.

When he walked into the room room, the little boy’s face lit up. “Dada!” Theo chirped, gripping the crib rails tighter and bouncing again.

Bradley couldn’t help but smile. “Good morning to you too, buddy.” He reached into the crib and scooped Theo up, holding him close. Theo leaned into his chest, his little hand grabbing at Bradley’s shirt as he mumbled another “Dada,” the only word he could say so far.

“Let’s go get you some breakfast,” Bradley said, carrying him downstairs.

Back in the kitchen, Anna was standing on a chair near the stove, pointing at the pan dramatically. “Daddy! They’re burning!”

“Anna, what did I just say about getting near the pan?” Bradley said, his voice sharper than he intended as he hurried to the stove. He turned down the heat and flipped the pancakes, a couple of them slightly darker than intended.

“Sorry!” Anna said, shrinking back into her chair.

Bradley sighed, adjusting Theo in his arms and softening his tone. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Just let me handle the stove, alright?”

Anna nodded, and Bradley leaned over to kiss her head before moving Theo to his high chair. He strapped the toddler in and placed a few of his favourite baby biscuits on the tray. Theo immediately grabbed one and started gnawing on it, babbling happily between bites.

“Dada, dada,” Theo mumbled again, his eyes sparkling as he held up a soggy biscuit like it was a prize.

Bradley chuckled, wiping a bit of drool from Theo’s chin. “Yeah, that’s me, buddy.”

Bradley finished the last batch of pancakes, carefully flipping each one before stacking them on a plate. He grabbed the syrup, a small bowl of fruit, and a glass of milk for Anna, carrying everything over to the table.

“Alright, kiddo, dig in,” he said, setting the plate down in front of her.

Anna’s face lit up as she grabbed her fork. “Thanks, Daddy!”

“Just don’t eat too fast,” Bradley warned with a chuckle, ruffling her hair.

He turned his attention back to Theo, who was happily munching on his biscuits, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. Bradley grabbed a small bowl and filled it with some mashed banana, sitting down in front of Theo to spoon-feed him between bites of his own breakfast.

“You’ve got it easy, little man,” Bradley joked as Theo eagerly opened his mouth for another bite. “No flipping pancakes for you, huh?”

Theo responded with a delighted, “Dada!”

Bradley smiled, but his mind wandered briefly to you. He wondered how your morning was going—whether you’d had a chance to breathe or if work had been as hectic as always. He checked his phone on the counter, but there wasn’t a reply yet to his earlier text.

Turning back to the kids, he saw Anna stabbing her pancakes with a fork, her mouth sticky with syrup. Theo babbled happily in his high chair, smearing mashed banana on his tray.

“Alright, Banana,” Bradley said, slipping back into her nickname without thinking. “After breakfast, it’s straight to the bath for you and your brother. Deal?”

Anna nodded with a grin. “Okay, but only if I can have bubbles!”

“Deal,” Bradley agreed, wiping a bit of banana from Theo’s face as he started planning out the rest of the morning. Breakfast, baths, checking on Judy again—it was all manageable.

---

You stood at the whiteboard, marker in hand, as you stared at the equations you’d been working on for the past hour. The formulas were complicated—strings of variables, constants, and brackets that seemed to taunt you with their complexity. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tapped the end of the marker against your chin, trying to pinpoint where the calculations felt off.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Still trying to crack the code, Einstein?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you turned to see Matt leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. His shirt was untucked, and he had a coffee cup in hand, looking every bit the definition of laid-back.

“Don’t you have your own equations to mess up?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Matt laughed, stepping into the room and taking a sip of his coffee. “Probably, but it’s more fun watching you battle it out with the whiteboard.” He tilted his head, squinting at your work. “Let me guess—still on the orbital trajectory adjustments for the new satellites?”

You turned back to the board with a huff. “It’s not the trajectory that’s the problem. It’s the stupid velocity constraints. They don’t balance with the fuel consumption models.” You gestured at the rows of calculations, frustration creeping into your voice. “If I adjust for the constraints, it throws off everything else.”

Matt took another sip of his coffee, stepping closer to inspect the equations. “You know, this whole perfectionist thing you’ve got going on—it’s a little exhausting to watch.”

“Then don’t watch,” you quipped, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Come on, you’re killing me here,” Matt teased, gesturing at the board. “You’re like one of those geniuses in movies who refuses help until the last second when someone like me swoops in with a fresh perspective.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Fresh perspective, huh? Let me guess, you’re about to tell me to carry the two or something equally ground-breaking?”

Matt grinned. “No, but I’m just saying, you could take a break. Sometimes the answer shows up when you’re not trying so hard.”

You sighed, stepping back from the board and glancing at him. “You’re probably right. But if this doesn’t get done by tomorrow—”

“Yeah, yeah, the world ends,” Matt said with mock seriousness. “Look, I’ll even buy you a coffee if it’ll get you to step away for five minutes. You’re scary when you’re this focused.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes again, but his teasing did make you feel a little lighter. “Fine, but only because I need caffeine.”

“Caffeine and maybe some company,” Matt added with a wink as he headed toward the door.

You chuckled, grabbing your notebook and following him out, already feeling the weight of the equations lifting just a little.

As you walked out of the office with Matt, your notebook tucked under your arm, he glanced sideways at you, his teasing grin fading into a more serious expression.

“Alright,” he said, stopping abruptly and turning to face you. “What the hell is going on with you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“You.” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “You’ve been wound tighter than usual all week. And before you try to brush me off with some ‘I’m fine,’ let me remind you that I’ve worked with you long enough to know when you’re not fine.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping slightly. “Matt, it’s nothing. Just… normal life stuff. Kids, work, schedules—”

“And yet, you look like you haven’t slept in days, you’re laser-focused on this project like it’s your lifeline, and you’re snapping at everyone who so much as breathes wrong around you,” he said, crossing his arms. “So, no, it’s not nothing. Spill.”

You hesitated, the weight of everything that had been piling up threatening to spill over. Finally, you leaned against the wall and ran a hand through your hair. “Bradley’s leaving again.”

Matt frowned. “Leaving? Like, for work?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “He got orders to go back to Top Gun after New Year’s, and we just—” You stopped, shaking your head. “We just moved into a new house. The kids are finally settling in, and now we’re talking about uprooting everything again. And on top of that, I’ve been missing work because the kids keep getting sick. It’s just… a lot.”

Matt nodded, his expression softening. “Damn, that’s rough. So, what—you’re trying to juggle all this and act like it’s no big deal?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug. “What else am I supposed to do? Someone has to keep things running.”

He sighed, taking a step closer. “Look, I know you’re Superwoman and all, but even you can’t do everything on your own. It’s okay to admit you’re struggling.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, admitting it doesn’t exactly fix anything, does it?”

“No, but it might help you breathe for a second,” Matt said, his tone softer. “You don’t have to carry all this by yourself, you know.”

You looked down at the floor, his words hitting a little too close to home. After a moment, you pushed off the wall and straightened up. “Thanks, Matt. But right now, I just need to focus on getting through this project.”

He nodded, though his expression was still sceptical. “Alright. But if you need a break—or, you know, someone to vent to—I’m around. And I mean it. Don’t implode on me, okay?”

You managed a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you sat back down at your desk, your phone buzzed faintly against the table. You picked it up, your finger hovering over the screen as you noticed a text from Bradley—sent two hours ago.

Bradley: Good morning. Everyone’s up—Theo cried at six and woke Anna. Judy’s still running a fever, but I gave her some medicine. Making pancakes for Anna now. Hope you’re doing okay at work.

You exhaled, a mix of relief and guilt washing over you. Relief that he was managing things at home, and guilt that you hadn’t seen the message sooner. You could picture it all: Theo’s loud cries breaking the early morning quiet, Anna’s groggy but cheerful energy, Judy still curled up in bed trying to fight off her fever.

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment as you thought about how to respond. Finally, you typed back:

You: Hey, just saw this. Thanks for handling everything this morning. Hope Judy’s feeling better and Anna didn’t burn anything in the kitchen. I’m okay—just busy. Miss you.

You hit send and stared at the screen for a second, hoping he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed with the kids. Part of you wanted to check in more, to ask if he needed anything, but the other part knew he’d already tell you if things were falling apart.

---

Upstairs, Bradley stood in the bathroom, already drenched from the mini war happening in the tub. Anna sat in the bath surrounded by bubbles, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks as she held her rubber duck like a shield.

“Anna,” Bradley said, trying to keep his voice calm, “you have to let me rinse the shampoo out. It’s not an option.”

“No!” she squealed, clutching the duck tighter and leaning back against the tub. “It’ll get in my eyes!”

“It’s tear-free shampoo,” Bradley explained, holding the showerhead above her head. “I promise it won’t sting. Just tilt your head back for me.”

She squinted at him suspiciously, her lower lip sticking out. “You said that last time, and it still got in my eyes.”

“Because you moved, Banana,” Bradley countered, sighing. “If you stay still this time, it won’t happen. I’ll be super careful.”

Anna crossed her arms, her duck now floating aimlessly in the water. “Can I hold the sprayer instead?”

“No way,” Bradley replied quickly, knowing where that would lead. “Nice try, but you’re not soaking the walls again.”

She huffed dramatically but leaned her head back just enough for him to start rinsing her hair. Bradley kept one hand cupped above her forehead to shield her eyes, moving as quickly as he could.

“See? Almost done,” he said, his tone softening as he worked.

“Are you gonna make me wear my itchy shirt today?” she asked, her voice small but filled with suspicion.

“No itchy shirts,” Bradley promised. “You can wear your unicorn one. Deal?”

“Deal,” she muttered, relaxing slightly as he finished rinsing the last of the suds.

“Alright, all done!” Bradley announced, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her. He helped her out of the tub, lifting her onto the bath mat and crouching to dry her hair.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have pancakes for dinner too?” she asked, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Bradley chuckled, rubbing the towel over her damp hair. “We’ll see. But only if you help clean up your toys this afternoon.”

Anna nodded solemnly, as if agreeing to a very serious contract. Bradley kissed the top of her wet head and sent her off to her room to get dressed.

“Need some help, Banana?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

Anna turned, holding up two options—a bright pink shirt with a sequined unicorn and a plain blue one. “This one, right?” she asked, waving the unicorn shirt.

“That’s the one,” Bradley said, stepping inside to help her. “Let’s get your arms through.”

He crouched down, guiding her small arms into the sleeves before tugging the shirt over her head. Anna giggled as the sequins caught the light, and she twirled around dramatically once it was on.

“Perfect,” he said, grabbing a pair of leggings from the drawer. “How about these to match?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Anna agreed, hopping on one foot as he helped her pull the leggings up. Once she was dressed, she grabbed her teddy bear from the bed and gave Bradley a quick hug.

“Thanks, Banana,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Now, go downstairs and grab your blanket if you want to watch TV while I get Theo ready, okay?”

“Okay!” she chirped, dashing out of the room with her bear in tow.

Bradley smiled to himself before heading down the hall to Theo’s room. He peeked in to find the little boy standing in his crib, clutching the bars and bouncing slightly. As soon as Theo spotted Bradley, his face lit up.

“Dada!” Theo babbled, his chubby hands reaching out.

“Morning, buddy,” Bradley said, scooping him up. Theo nuzzled into his shoulder, still warm and soft from sleep. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?”

Bradley carried Theo into the bathroom, where he had already set up the baby tub. Placing Theo on the changing table, he stripped him out of his pyjamas, chuckling as the baby wiggled and babbled nonsensically.

“You’ve got a lot to say this morning, huh?” Bradley said, tickling Theo’s belly and earning a squeal of laughter.

Once the baby was undressed, Bradley lowered him into the warm water, using a small cup to pour water over his head. Theo splashed happily, his tiny hands slapping the surface of the water as Bradley worked quickly to clean him.

“Alright, let’s get the wiggles out so we can finish this bath,” Bradley said, laughing as Theo kicked his feet, sending water everywhere.

By the time he had Theo clean, dried, and in a fresh onesie, Bradley’s shirt was damp again, but he didn’t mind. He kissed Theo’s forehead, earning another delighted babble, before carrying him downstairs to join Anna in the living room.

When Bradley reached the bottom of the stairs, carrying a freshly cleaned Theo on his hip, he stopped short. There, on the couch, was not only Anna wrapped in her favourite blanket, but also Judy, who was sitting upright with a smug little grin on her face.

“Judy,” Bradley said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing out of bed?”

She looked up at him innocently, the picture of health despite the pale flush still faintly dusting her cheeks. “I don’t even feel sick anymore,” she declared confidently.

Bradley narrowed his eyes playfully and set Theo down in his high chair before crossing his arms. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you had a fever, were coughing, and didn’t even want to eat.”

Judy shrugged, pulling Anna’s blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I feel better now. Maybe it was just a short fever. Can I stay down here with Anna?”

Bradley sighed, walking over to her and kneeling down. He placed a hand gently on her forehead and frowned. “You still feel a little warm, Jude. And you were coughing your head off last night.”

“Not anymore!” she said quickly, her tone slightly defensive. “See? No coughing.”

As if to test her theory, she cleared her throat a little too theatrically, prompting Anna to giggle.

“Nice try, kiddo,” Bradley said, shaking his head. “You might feel better, but you’re not completely out of the woods yet. You still need to rest.”

“I was resting,” Judy protested, crossing her arms. “I was just resting down here instead of in bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Bradley said, unconvinced. He glanced at Anna, who was grinning and trying to hide behind her teddy bear. “Did you drag her down here, Banana?”

“No,” Anna said with a giggle. “She came by herself!”

Bradley chuckled despite himself, ruffling Judy’s hair. “Alright, you can stay for a little bit. But if you start feeling worse, back to bed you go. Deal?”

“Deal,” Judy said, her grin widening.

“Good,” Bradley said, standing up. “But no running around, and no bugging your sister. I’m serious.”

Judy nodded obediently, but the mischievous glint in her eye made Bradley sigh. He could already tell the two of them were going to keep him on his toes for the rest of the day.

Bradley sat at the kitchen table, Theo contentedly babbling in his high chair beside him while Anna and Judy were watching cartoons in the living room. His laptop was open in front of him, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in his furrowed expression as he scrolled through flights to San Diego. He knew he shouldn’t have been doing it now—not while you were still at work, not after last night’s argument—but the guilt weighed heavy on his chest as he clicked through dates and options.

The sound of his phone buzzing on the table jolted him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen: You calling.

His stomach sank. Swiping to answer, he quickly cleared his throat before pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, trying to keep his voice casual. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, the faint hum of noise in the background suggesting you were still at the lab. “I just wanted to check in. How are things going there?”

Bradley glanced at the laptop screen guiltily before closing it with one hand, his voice even. “Everything’s good. Anna’s watching TV, Judy’s feeling a little better and came downstairs for a while. Theo’s eating some biscuits—he’s got crumbs everywhere.”

You let out a small laugh, but there was a tiredness behind it that didn’t go unnoticed. “Sounds like a regular circus.”

“Always is,” Bradley replied lightly, forcing a small chuckle of his own. He could still feel the guilt gnawing at him, threatening to push its way through. Tell her, his mind urged. Tell her the truth. But the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

“How’s work?” he asked quickly, steering the conversation away from his internal struggle.

“Busy,” you admitted with a sigh. “I’m still stuck on these formulas, but Matt’s been helpful—well, as helpful as he can be while teasing me.”

Bradley smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“I hope so,” you replied. There was a brief pause before you asked, “How’s Judy? Is her fever still hanging on?”

“Yeah, a little,” he admitted. “But she says she feels better, so I’m keeping an eye on her. If it spikes again, I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” you murmured softly. “Thanks for handling everything today, Brad. I really appreciate it.”

Bradley’s throat tightened, the guilt pressing heavier now. He swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair, his free hand running through his hair. “Of course. You don’t even need to thank me.”

“I’ll be home in a few hours,” you said gently. “Hang in there.”

“You too,” he replied, his voice quieter now. “Drive safe.”

As the call ended, Bradley stared at his phone for a long moment before setting it face down on the table. He glanced at the closed laptop, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. He hated lying to you—hated himself for making this choice. But now the lie was already out there, and he wasn’t sure how to take it back.

“Dada?”

Theo’s little voice broke through his thoughts, the boy’s crumb-covered hands reaching toward him. Bradley managed a smile and leaned over to wipe Theo’s fingers clean. “Don’t worry, buddy,” he muttered softly, mostly to himself. “We’ll figure it out.”

Bradley sighed and pushed the laptop aside, rubbing his hands over his face as the weight of the morning settled over him. The guilt still gnawed at him, making his chest tight. He grabbed his phone off the table and unlocked it, navigating over to the Dagger Squad group chat. He hadn’t checked it since last night, when he’d texted them—“I’ll be there after New Year’s.”

The group chat was buzzing with unread messages.

Payback: Man, I can’t wait to get everyone back together. San Diego’s been too quiet without us.

Coyote: You say “quiet,” but I think you just miss the Hard Deck.

Fanboy: Don’t act like you don’t miss Penny’s drinks too, Coyote.

Phoenix: I miss Penny’s drinks. And her scolding Hangman when he gets out of line.

Bradley snorted quietly as he scrolled down. It was the usual banter, familiar and light-hearted—something that usually made him smile. But today, it just made his chest feel heavier.

Hangman: Rooster, you better not back out on us, man. You already promised.

Bradley stared at the screen, feeling his throat tighten again. I’ll be there after New Year’s. That’s what he’d told them last night. He hadn’t even mentioned it to you yet, at least not fully—not the truth.

Phoenix, always the perceptive one, had sent a single message underneath Hangman’s teasing.

Phoenix: Everything okay, Rooster?

Bradley hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen. She was the only one who knew—who knew he had you, the kids, the life he’d built in Virginia. She hadn’t pried, but she always seemed to sense when something was off.

He started to type: Yeah, all good. Just a lot going on here.

But before he could hit send, Theo babbled again, snapping Bradley out of his daze. The little boy was playing with a biscuit, smacking it on the tray of his high chair. In the background, he heard Anna giggling at the TV, and Judy shifting on the couch.

Bradley exhaled sharply and backspaced the message. He tossed his phone onto the table, face down, just like before. He couldn’t deal with the Daggers right now—not when the truth was eating him alive. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep all the pieces of this lie together.

---

A couple of hours later, Bradley stood by the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, holding Theo securely on his hip. Judy and Anna were bundled up against the crisp air—Judy in her puffy jacket and a knit beanie, and Anna in a bright pink coat that made her look like a tiny marshmallow.

Despite still having a slight fever, Judy had begged to go outside, insisting she felt fine. Bradley had relented, on the condition that they both stayed dressed warmly and didn’t overdo it. So now, the two girls were darting around the small garden, giggling as they kicked a bright red ball back and forth.

“Careful, Jude,” Bradley called out, keeping his tone light but watchful. “Don’t overdo it, okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad!” Judy shouted back, grinning as she kicked the ball toward Anna, who squealed and chased after it with her arms flailing.

Theo babbled something incomprehensible and pointed toward his sisters, his little hand grasping the air. Bradley smiled and bounced him slightly on his hip. “You want to join them, huh, bud? Not yet—you’d get run over.”

Theo pouted dramatically, resting his head against Bradley’s shoulder, but his gaze never left the backyard.

Bradley shifted his weight, leaning against the doorframe as he watched the girls play. The sound of their laughter filled the air, and for a moment, the tension from earlier eased just a little. Anna tripped over her own feet and fell into the grass, bursting into a fit of giggles as Judy helped her up.

“You two good?” Bradley called out again, unable to stop himself from checking.

“Yes, Daddy!” Anna replied with a wide grin, waving at him before immediately turning her attention back to the ball.

“Alright, just remember the deal—if you start feeling tired, it’s back inside,” Bradley reminded Judy.

She didn’t answer, too focused on kicking the ball again, but Bradley could see the flush on her cheeks wasn’t just from the cold. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on her, just in case her fever crept back up.

Theo wiggled in his arms, and Bradley kissed the top of his head. “You’re a handful already, you know that?” he murmured, though the fondness in his tone made it clear he didn’t mean it.

The baby cooed in response, his small fingers grabbing at Bradley’s shirt, as if to say he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

As Bradley adjusted Theo on his hip, keeping a close watch on the girls playing in the backyard, the faint sound of keys jingling at the front door caught his attention. His head turned toward the noise, and a second later, the door creaked open.

“Hey,” your voice called out, tired but warm. The sound of your bag dropping near the entryway followed, and Bradley could practically hear the relief in your movements—finally home after a long day.

“In here,” he called, his tone lifting as he shifted Theo slightly to free one hand.

A moment later, you stepped into the kitchen, your coat still on and your scarf loose around your neck. Your gaze softened the instant you saw Bradley standing by the door, Theo snuggled against his chest.

“Hi, Mama,” Bradley greeted with a small grin, nodding toward the baby in his arms. “Theo’s been waiting to see you all day. Isn’t that right, bud?”

Theo immediately perked up at the sound of your voice, his little arms reaching toward you with an excited babble.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you cooed, stepping closer to take him from Bradley’s arms. Theo practically launched himself into your embrace, resting his head on your shoulder as you kissed the top of his fluffy hair.

“How was your day?” Bradley asked, stepping back slightly to give you space.

You let out a long sigh, still holding Theo close. “Exhausting. But it’s good to be home.” Your eyes drifted toward the sliding door, where Anna and Judy were still playing outside. “Why’s Judy out there? Isn’t she supposed to be resting?”

Bradley scratched the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish look. “She said she felt better, and her fever’s just barely hanging on. I figured a little fresh air wouldn’t hurt, as long as she’s bundled up and not running around too much.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully but didn’t push it. “Alright. I’ll trust your judgment for now.”

Bradley smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Good, because I already promised her.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as Theo nuzzled closer to you, clearly happy to have you home. “Let me get changed, and then I’ll help with dinner.”

“I’ve got it covered,” Bradley assured you, motioning toward the counter where pancake batter was still visible. “Anna demanded pancakes this morning, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to want them again for dinner. I’ll handle it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he said with a wink. “You’ve had a long day. Let me take care of the chaos for a little while longer.”

You smiled softly, leaning into him for a moment before heading upstairs, Theo still cradled against you. Bradley watched you go, his heart feeling a little lighter now that you were home.

Upstairs, you quickly peeled off your work clothes and slipped into something more comfortable—a soft hoodie and sweatpants, nothing underneath, craving the warmth and ease after a long day. The scent of home—faintly of pancakes and something floral from the detergent—wrapped around you as you brushed your fingers through your hair and headed back downstairs.

The moment your foot hit the bottom step, you were ambushed.

“Mama!” Anna’s voice rang out, high-pitched and gleeful as she launched herself at your legs, nearly knocking you off balance. Judy followed right behind, slightly more reserved but with an unmistakable brightness in her eyes.

“Mom’s home!” Judy called, her arms wrapping around your waist while Anna clung to your legs.

“Hey, girls,” you greeted, plastering on a smile and crouching down to hug them both. Anna nuzzled into your neck while Judy leaned her head against your shoulder.

“Dad let us play outside,” Judy said, glancing toward the kitchen, where Bradley was wiping down the counters. “Roo said I still needed a jacket, though.”

You managed a chuckle, kissing the top of Judy’s head. “Well, he was right about that.”

Judy looked up at you, a question in her eyes. “You’re okay, right?”

The question caught you off guard, and you forced another smile, nodding. “Of course, baby. I’m just a little tired from work.”

“Okay,” she said simply, her worry fading as Anna wriggled free from your arms and ran back toward the living room. Judy followed close behind, but not before giving you another quick hug.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Bradley came up behind you, his voice low. “You’re tense.”

You glanced at him, trying to play it off. “I’m fine. Just tired, like I told Judy.”

He gave you a look—one of those knowing looks that made it clear he wasn’t buying a word of it. “You’re faking it for them. I get it. But don’t do that with me.”

You sighed, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I just... it’s been a long day, Roo. Can we not do this right now?”

Bradley’s gaze softened at the use of his nickname. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Okay,” he said gently. “But we’re talking later. You know that, right?”

You nodded reluctantly, stepping away to join the girls in the living room. Your heart ached a little as you watched them laugh and play, their innocence filling the space while the weight of everything else lingered just beneath the surface.

Later in the evening, when the girls were distracted with a cartoon and Theo was dozing in his playpen, you found a moment with Bradley in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, sipping from a glass of water.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to avoid the kids overhearing. “So… about those orders,” you began, keeping your tone casual but feeling your chest tighten.

Bradley set his glass down, his expression shifting slightly. “What about them?”

“Are they finalized? I mean, do you have to leave right after New Year’s, or is there some wiggle room?” You tried to sound neutral, but your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie betrayed your nerves.

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “They’re pretty firm,” he said after a beat. “It’s just a short thing. Five days, tops. Test some equipment, then I’m back here.”

You searched his face for reassurance, but something in his tone made your stomach twist. “And this just came in last night? You told me you got the email while I was at work, but… does it really have to be that soon?”

Bradley’s jaw tightened, and he pushed off the counter to stand closer to you. “Yeah, it does. They want it handled right away. I wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter behind you. “It’s just… after everything we talked about last night, this feels sudden. Like we’re jumping into something before we’ve even had time to catch our breath.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his voice low. “I hate the timing, too. But it’s not like I have a choice.”

You nodded slowly, the tension in your chest still there but tempered by the sincerity in his voice. “Alright,” you said, though the word felt heavy. “If you say it’s necessary, I’ll trust you.”

He reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I know it’s a lot, but I promise, it’ll be fine. We’ll get through it, just like we always do.”

You squeezed his hand back, offering a small smile even as doubt lingered at the edges of your mind. “I hope so, Roo. I really do.”

Bradley rubbed the back of his neck and let out a breath. “I think I’m gonna go for a run,” he said abruptly, setting his water glass down on the counter.

You blinked at him, surprised. “A run? Right now?”

“Yeah,” he said, avoiding your eyes as he stretched his arms. “Just need to clear my head a bit.”

It wasn’t like him to go for a late-night run, and the excuse seemed thin, but you didn’t push. “Okay,” you said cautiously, tilting your head. “You sure everything’s alright?”

“Yeah,” he said too quickly. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Don’t wait up.”

Before you could say anything else, he was out the door, leaving you standing in the kitchen, unease gnawing at your stomach.

The cold night air hit Bradley’s face as he jogged down the quiet street. His legs moved automatically, the familiar rhythm doing little to ease the weight in his chest. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out mid-stride, scrolling through his contacts before dialling Phoenix.

She picked up after a couple of rings. “Bradshaw, what’s up?”

He slowed to a brisk walk, his breath visible in the cool air. “I need to talk to someone.”

Her tone immediately shifted. “What’s going on? You sound off.”

Bradley hesitated, glancing up at the stars above him. “I lied to her, Phoenix. About the orders. I told her it’s official and I have to leave right after New Year’s, but it’s not. Not really.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment before she let out a sigh. “Bradley… why would you do that?”

“I don’t know!” he said, his frustration slipping into his voice. “I panicked. I know she doesn’t want to move again, not so soon. And she’s been exhausted with work and the kids. I just… I couldn’t tell her the truth, not after everything we talked about last night.”

Phoenix was quiet for a moment. “So what’s the plan? You can’t keep this up forever. She’s gonna find out.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell her eventually, but right now… I just needed to get out of the house. I couldn’t sit there and keep lying to her face.”

“Bradley,” she said, her voice firm but kind, “you’re making this harder on yourself. You need to come clean before this blows up in your face.”

He let out a heavy sigh, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “Yeah, I know. I just… I hate disappointing her, Nat. She’s been through so much with me, and I keep dragging her into this Navy life, uprooting everything every few months. She deserves better.”

“You’re not giving her the chance to handle it,” Phoenix said gently. “She’s stronger than you think, Bradshaw. But you have to be honest with her, or this is gonna end badly.”

Bradley nodded to himself, even though she couldn’t see him. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Good,” she said. “And call me if you need backup. You know I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Nat,” he said, a hint of gratitude in his voice. “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Bradshaw. Now go finish your run and think about how you’re gonna fix this.”

He ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, his feet picking up their pace again. The truth weighed heavily on him, but he knew Phoenix was right. He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

Bradley kept running for another hour, pounding the pavement beneath his feet as the chill in the air seeped through his clothes. Each stride felt like an attempt to outrun his guilt, but no matter how far he went, it lingered in his chest. His thoughts spiralled back to you, the look in your eyes earlier, and the way his lies felt heavier with every word he spoke.

The quiet streets of your neighbourhood were illuminated by scattered streetlights. Occasionally, the sound of his rhythmic breathing and footsteps was interrupted by a barking dog or the rustle of leaves. He picked up his pace, pushing himself harder, as if the physical exertion could bring clarity.

Finally, after an hour of circling the area, his body began to ache, and he slowed to a jog, then a walk. Bradley tugged his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the time. 10:47 PM. The house would be quiet by now.

When he stepped through the front door, the warmth of the home enveloped him, contrasting sharply with the night’s chill. He kicked off his sneakers quietly, leaving them by the door before padding into the dimly lit living room. Everything was still, and he immediately felt the familiar peace of home settle over him, though it was tinged with unease.

He made his way upstairs, his movements deliberate to avoid creaking the wooden steps. First, he peeked into Theo’s room. The baby was sound asleep in his crib, one tiny fist curled next to his cheek, his chest rising and falling softly. Bradley adjusted the blanket draped over him, a small smile tugging at his lips despite everything.

Next, he checked Anna’s room. She was sprawled across her bed, her blankie tangled around her legs, and her teddy bear clutched tightly against her chest. Bradley carefully tucked the blanket back over her, brushing a stray curl from her face. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.

Finally, he opened Judy’s door just enough to see her. She was curled up under her comforter, her head resting on the pillow, her hair fanned out around her. The bucket from earlier sat untouched beside her bed, something he forgot to do. Her soft breathing reassured him that her fever seemed to have finally broken.

Satisfied that all the kids were okay, Bradley quietly shut her door and made his way to your shared room. The faint glow of your laptop illuminated the space as you sat cross-legged on the bed, engrossed in whatever you were working on. You were dressed in nothing but an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, your hair pulled into a loose bun.

You looked up when you heard him enter, your eyes meeting his. “Hey,” you said softly, glancing at the clock. “You were gone for a while.”

“Needed to clear my head,” he replied, his voice just as quiet. He moved toward the dresser, grabbing a clean shirt. “How’s work?”

“Fine,” you answered, your tone neutral as you looked back at your laptop. “Just finishing up some calculations for tomorrow.”

Bradley sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He glanced at you as you tapped away on your laptop, your focus seemingly elsewhere, though he could sense the undercurrent of tension between you. Running a hand through his damp hair, he let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“When did we get so complicated?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You paused, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow, clearly taken off guard by his question. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I just feel like… like I keep screwing up. Like I don’t know how to make things easier for you—for us.”

Your gaze softened for a moment before you looked away, sighing softly. “Bradley, we’ve had a lot on our plate lately. Between the kids, your job, my job… it’s not exactly easy.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it feels like every time I try to do the right thing, I end up making it worse. I hate feeling like I’m letting you down.”

You leaned back against the headboard, closing your laptop. “You’re not letting me down,” you said gently, though your voice carried an edge of exhaustion. “I just wish we could have a little stability for once. For the kids, for us. Moving again so soon… it’s a lot, Bradley. It’s not just about the logistics—it’s everything.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out the truth about his orders. The guilt was suffocating, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. Not yet.

“I’m trying,” he said finally, his voice thick.

“I know,” you replied, your tone softening again. “But sometimes it feels like we’re trying to solve different problems, and we’re not even on the same page.”

That cut deeper than he expected, and he could only nod, his throat tightening. He wanted to tell you everything, to come clean about the lies and the guilt eating away at him, but the words refused to come. Instead, he reached out, placing a hand lightly on your knee.

“I love you,” he said, his voice earnest. “Even when I screw up, even when things are complicated—I love you.”

You placed your hand over his, giving it a small squeeze. “I know you do, Bradley. I love you too.”

You reached for Bradley's hand, tugging him gently until he slid down onto the bed beside you. Without a word, you shifted, pulling him down flat on his back as you hovered above him. His eyes searched yours, the weight of his emotions evident in their warm brown depths.

Before he could say anything, you leaned down and kissed him, deeply and passionately, pouring every bit of love and frustration into the moment. His hands came up to cradle your face, holding you close as he kissed you back with equal intensity.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing heavily. You gave him a small, teasing smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead.

“You chose me, Bradley,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady. “You chose to stop and help a complete stranger on the side of the road when her car broke down, even though she had a screaming four-month-old in the back seat.”

His lips curved into a small smile as he listened, his hands sliding down to rest on your waist.

“And then,” you continued, your tone turning playful, “you saw me again at the bar, and you still decided to ask me out, even though I had spit-up on my shirt and probably looked like I hadn’t slept in a week.”

Bradley chuckled at that, his fingers tightening gently on your sides.

“You chose me,” you said again, your voice softening as you looked down at him. “Even though I’ve screwed up plenty of times. Even though I came with a whole lot of baggage. And somehow, you still make me feel like I’m worth it.”

His smile faltered, and his gaze softened, guilt flickering in his expression. “You are worth it,” he said firmly. “Every bit of it. You and the kids are my whole world, Y/N.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his once more before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “So stop acting like you’re the only one who screws up. We’re in this together, okay? Even when it’s messy. Even when it’s complicated.”

Bradley nodded, his hands sliding up to your back, holding you close. “Okay,” he whispered.

Bradley grinned up at you, his hands sliding to rest on your hips as you straddled him. “You know,” he said, his voice light and teasing, “I don’t think either of us has been this eager in… ages.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you smirked down at him. “Oh? And whose fault is that, Roo?”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against your waist. “Probably mine. Between deployments, kids, and life, I guess I’ve been slacking in the ‘sweep-you-off-your-feet’ department.”

You leaned down, your lips brushing his in a teasing kiss. “Hmm, maybe just a little,” you teased, pulling back with a playful glint in your eye. “But let’s be honest—when was the last time we had some proper alone time… you know, when I was ovulating?”

Bradley’s brows shot up, and a sly grin spread across his face. “Oh, you’re keeping track now? I didn’t know this was a strategic operation.”

You laughed, poking his chest lightly. “Strategic? Please. You know exactly what I mean. The stars aligning, the timing being right, the kids actually staying asleep…”

He groaned dramatically, dropping his head back against the pillow. “So, what you’re saying is, it’s been forever since we’ve had a shot at this under ideal conditions.”

“Exactly,” you replied with mock seriousness, folding your arms as if to make your point. “And guess what? I am ovulating right now, and we’re here, alone… at least for the moment.”

Bradley’s hands tightened on your hips, his grin softening into something more tender. “Well, then,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “I guess it’d be a shame to waste this rare alignment of the universe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “Smooth, Bradshaw. Very smooth.”

He leaned up, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands pulling you closer. “I might be smooth,” he murmured against your lips, “but you love me anyway.”

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, your voice softer now, the playful mood shifting into something more intimate.

Bradley’s eyes met yours, filled with warmth and love. “And you’re lucky I’m head over heels for you. Even when you’re giving me hell,” he said with a grin.

“Even when I’m giving you hell?” you repeated with mock offense, though your smile gave you away.

“Especially then,” he replied, pulling you down into another kiss.

Bradley smirked, his hands sliding up your sides as he tilted his head back against the pillow. “So, let me get this straight,” he began, his voice dripping with playful mockery. “You’re saying you’ve been walking around here, tracking your ovulation like it’s some top-secret NASA mission, and I’m just now finding out?”

You laughed, leaning closer, your hands braced on either side of his chest. “I didn’t think it was relevant to bring up until now,” you quipped. “You’ve been a little… distracted, Roo.”

“Oh, I’m distracted?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who has apparently been plotting a perfectly-timed rendezvous and didn’t clue me in.”

“Plotting?” You gasped in faux outrage, sitting up and folding your arms. “It’s not plotting—it’s practicality! You’re lucky I’m even trying to be efficient here, considering how often you’re either deployed or running off to fix the next crisis.”

Bradley chuckled, his hands finding your hips and pulling you back down toward him. “Efficient, huh? God, I love when you talk sexy like that,” he teased, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile. “I’m being serious, Bradley!”

“Oh, I know you are,” he replied, his voice turning low and mock-serious to match yours. “You’re dead serious. I mean, what’s more romantic than hearing, ‘Hey, Roo, I’m ovulating—let’s get to it.’”

You smacked his chest lightly, unable to suppress your laughter. “You’re such a jerk!”

“But you love me,” he countered smugly, leaning up to nip playfully at your jawline.

“Do I?” you teased, feigning doubt.

“You do,” he said confidently, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “Because no one else could handle your spreadsheets and star charts for… whatever science-y ovulation data you’ve got going on over there.”

You laughed harder, shoving at his shoulder. “Oh, shut up, Bradshaw. It’s not that complicated!”

He grinned, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck, his laughter muffled against your skin. “Sure it’s not,” he teased. “But hey, since the universe apparently aligned for this moment, I’m not about to waste it.”

Bradley's teasing grin softened as his hands slid beneath the hem of your hoodie, his touch warm against your skin. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “I’m starting to think you’re overdressed for this conversation.”

You let out a soft laugh, arching a brow at him. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his fingers brushing over your sides as he eased the hoodie up. “And since I’m already doing all the hard work, the least you can do is cooperate.”

“Oh, the hard work, huh?” you teased, lifting your arms so he could pull the hoodie over your head.

He tossed it aside with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes trailing over you with a mix of warmth and hunger. “See? Now this is much better.”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips as your hands moved to the hem of his shirt. “Your turn, Bradshaw. Fair’s fair.”

He raised his arms obligingly, letting you tug his shirt off and revealing his toned chest. “There. Happy?”

“Getting there,” you teased, your hands sliding over his shoulders and down his chest, fingers tracing familiar lines and scars.

Bradley’s grin widened as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re being awfully slow tonight,” he murmured. “Not that I’m complaining… but I thought you were all about efficiency.”

“Efficient and thorough,” you countered, sliding your hands to the waistband of his sweatpants and tugging them down just enough to tease him.

He groaned, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his voice low and husky.

“Not before I’m done with you,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him, slow and deep, as the rest of your clothes slowly joined the growing pile on the floor.

Bradley’s breaths grew heavier as his hands roamed over your body, his lips following wherever his fingers traced. His kisses were deliberate, slow yet urgent, as though he was savouring every inch of you while unable to get enough.

“God, you’re impossible,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough with need. “I swear, you make me feel like I’m drunk every time I touch you.”

Your laughter was soft, teasing, as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Drunk on what?” you asked playfully, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and hazy, filled with nothing but you. “Drunk on you,” he admitted, his tone utterly serious. His lips trailed down your neck, grazing your collarbone before he found his way lower. “On everything—your body, your mind, the way you feel, the way you sound…”

You gasped as his hands gripped your thighs, his touch firm yet reverent as he settled between them. “Bradley…”

He looked up at you, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. “Drunk on your pussy,” he murmured, his words sending shivers through you. His hands slid up your sides, grounding you and electrifying you all at once. “You do something to me, Y/N. Something I can’t ever get enough of.”

You could only whimper in response, the tension in the room palpable as his lips began to explore, his movements languid and worshipful, as though he wanted to memorize every reaction, every sound you made.

And as the night deepened, it was clear—Bradley was entirely lost in you, intoxicated in the best way possible. Hopefully tomorrow he'll get the urge to tell you.

Part 3

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

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fratttymatty · 7 months ago

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Roots Changed

(All characters are 18+)

Ryan Thornton had always been the quiet, bookish kid. At 18, he was still the same shy, nerdy teenager who spent most of his time buried in science fiction novels, comic books, and the occasional video game. Ryan had come to terms with his place in life: an outsider in high school, an openly gay teen with few friends and even fewer social opportunities. His world was small but comfortable, a safe little bubble in the predominantly white suburb of San Diego where he’d lived his whole life.

But when his mom got a new job and the family moved across the city to a much more diverse, predominantly Latino neighborhood, Ryan didn’t know what to expect. The change was jarring. The new school was like nothing he’d known — crowded, full of energy, and with a culture that felt loud and foreign. The kids here were different, the language they spoke, the way they dressed, the confidence they carried — it was all so much more alive than what Ryan was used to.

In the first few days, Ryan stayed under the radar. He was determined to finish high school without any drama, just getting through the final year before heading to college. But that plan quickly unraveled when a group of the popular kids — the jocks and cheerleaders — took notice of him.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He tried to keep his head down, but he couldn’t ignore the whispers in the halls, the way people looked at him — the way they sized him up. His pale skin, messy blond hair, awkward stance — all of it screamed “outsider.” It didn’t help that Ryan was the only openly gay kid in the school, and he often felt like an alien in the sea of confident, straight students.

One afternoon, during lunch, the inevitable happened. He was sitting alone at a table when Luis, the captain of the football team, and Sofia, the head cheerleader, approached him with their usual entourage. They towered over him, their presence intimidating, but Ryan couldn’t find the words to excuse himself.

Luis looked down at him, a smug grin on his face. “Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

Ryan swallowed hard. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You don’t really fit in here, huh?” Sofia’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it was sharp. She appraised him like a project. “You’re a little too... quiet for this place. Too nerdy.”

Ryan felt his face flush. He had been used to this kind of thing before, but not quite like this. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wanting to disappear.

Luis smirked. “Well, we can help with that. Make you more... like us.” He exchanged a quick glance with Sofia, who gave a small nod.

“I don’t really—” Ryan began to protest, but before he could finish his sentence, they grabbed him by the arms. He struggled, but the group was too strong. Their laughter was loud and mocking, echoing in his ears as they pulled him away from the lunch table, past the curious eyes of the other students, and out to the school parking lot.

“What the hell is going on?” Ryan managed to say, panic setting in as they shoved him into the back of a van.

“We’re gonna make you one of us, gringo,” Luis said, the edge to his voice unmistakable.

Ryan’s heart pounded as the van started moving. “What are you doing? Let me out of here!” But the more he shouted, the less anyone seemed to care. They ignored him, speaking in rapid Spanish, laughing, joking, as if they’d done this before.

The van came to a stop in a neighborhood unfamiliar to Ryan, and they led him into a house that felt more like a base of operations than a home. An older man with tattoos covering his arms stood waiting for them, his expression serious, as though this was just another job.

“Sit,” the man said, gesturing toward a chair in the middle of the room. “We’ve got work to do.”

Ryan’s heart raced in his chest, but he was powerless to fight back. They tied him down, but it wasn’t painful; it was more like they were preparing him for something. The man — who spoke little — went to work, using strange tools and substances on him, altering his appearance in ways that made Ryan’s head spin. His skin, once pale and freckled, slowly darkened, turning a rich olive tone. His features shifted subtly — his jawline more defined, his nose more pronounced. But it wasn’t just his skin that changed.

The most dramatic transformation happened to his hair. Ryan’s once-messy, light brown curls were smoothed out, darkening into a deep, glossy brown. They styled it into a perfectly straight, sharp middle part. It was perfect, almost too perfect. His hair, which had always been unruly, now lay in neat, controlled waves on either side of his head, framing his face in a way that made him look... different.

When the process was finished, they released him from the chair, and Ryan was led to a mirror. He barely recognized the person staring back at him. The face was familiar, but the features were sharper, darker. His hair — sleek and controlled — was no longer his own. The new, confident posture, the athletic build, the deep brown eyes looking back at him — it was like he was staring at someone else.

Luis stood behind him, clapping him on the back with a grin. “Welcome to the team, hermano,” he said, his voice low and proud.

Ryan — or whatever was left of him — looked at himself in the mirror. The old Ryan Thornton was gone, replaced by someone else. Someone new. Someone who looked like he could be a football player. Someone who looked like he belonged here, in this world.

Luis wasn’t finished. “You’re Mateo Hernandez now. We’re not calling you Ryan anymore. You’re one of us, hermano.”

Mateo Hernandez. The name felt strange at first, foreign even, but when he said it aloud, it felt right, like it had always been his. Mateo felt stronger, more confident. He felt like someone who had a place in the world — a world where people like him didn’t get pushed around, a world where his old self didn’t matter.

Over the next few days, Mateo settled into his new life with surprising ease. His old identity, his old life as Ryan Thornton, began to fade. The change was too thorough. The way he spoke was different now. His accent was smoother, more natural, the slang coming to him effortlessly. His new friends, the jocks, the cheerleaders, they accepted him without hesitation. He was one of them now, and they treated him like family.

It didn’t take long before Mateo found himself walking the halls of his new high school with the same confident swagger as Luis or any of the other jocks. He laughed, joked, and participated in everything — the football games, the parties, the casual flirting with the girls in his classes. It all felt so easy, so right. The old Mateo, the quiet, awkward kid who once spent his days hiding in the library, was gone.

Mateo Hernandez was a high school jock. He was strong, he was popular, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he was pretending. He was who he was supposed to be.

And as for Ryan Thornton?

Well, Mateo didn’t even remember who that was anymore.

Mateo Hernandez had found his place. And he wouldn’t change it for anything.

#male tf #male tf story #gay to straight #nerd to jock #smart to dumb #gym bro tf #latino tf #race change

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months ago

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The Green Card: Jesse Van Horn x Reader

Tagging: @caffeinatedwoman @cosmic-psychickitty @kmc1989 @happyfox43 @julius-ceasar

Companion piece to:

Geordie - Jesse makes one hell of a statement when your ex-boyfriend comes around.

Prequel to:

Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll - Jesse tries to convince you not to disrupt your trip during the aftermath of Pittfest.

Song 2 (NSFW) - Jesse tries to chase away his demons the only way he knows how.

Atomic - Jesse reflects on his HIV status.

Blood Orange - Jesse comes to the rescue of your neighbour during an autoerotic asphyxation accident.

Jesse asks you to marry him because of a green card.

He’s been living in the UK for almost two years on a Long Term Visitor Visa and his time in the country is coming to an end. His band are returning to the US to record their new album and there’s already a tour in the works set for the summer. He wants you to come with him, to build a life in his homeland but you need sponsor. As a spouse, he can do that but that’s the problem, you don’t want to become his spouse.

“I know you don’t believe in it.” He whispers one night when you’re tangled up in bed together, the date edging closer. “But right now it’s the only way-”

“Jesse, it’s not that I don’t love you.” You tell him, your fingertips chasing over his grizzled cheek. “But you don’t understand that the idea of it suffocates me. It feels like you’re putting a pillow over my face and pressing down slowly, stealing my breath. I’m sorry Jesse, I just cant.”

“Then I don’t know what we do from here.” He tells you, shifting into a sitting position against the headboard, his fingers raking through his dark curls in frustration. “Because in a month’s time we’re going to be in separate continents and I… I don’t know how we survive that.”

You can’t, you both realise.

Two different time zones. Your work at the university, his recording schedule.

This relationship you have, it doesn’t exist if you’re not occupying the same space, no matter how much you may want it to.

“These past two years.” He whispers, his hands running through your hair as he kisses you for the last time at the airport. “They have been the best of my life.”

“So far.” You remind him, with a smile that breaks his heart. “Trust me there are many more ahead for you, you’ll forget all about me when you go on tour. I’ll just be another story to tell in your biography.”

But he doesn’t about forget you.

Not when he’s high as a kite playing a show in LA, not when he’s balls deep during a threesome in San Diego, not when he’s at a recording studio in Pittsburgh, singing his heart out about the woman he’s loved and lost.

It goes on for a six months until he’s sitting at a signing table, doing a fan meet and greet in Chicago and there you are standing in front of him. You’re wearing his white London Calling t-shirt, tucked into a denim skirt and black fishnets he wants to tear off with his teeth.

“Is that really you?” He asks raising to his feet, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest as he dodges around the table. His hands come to rest on your shoulders, squeezing lightly as if trying to reassure himself of your presence. “Or has Ferris been slipping shit into my beer again?”

“It’s me.” You tell him, his palms slipping up to your neck, cradling your face between his palms. “I managed to get a position as adjunct professor over at Pittsburgh University. They’re sponsoring my visa for the next year, maybe beyond that if they like me for the tenure track.”

“Oh Sugar.” He grins, his mouth capturing yours as he sweeps you off your feet. “That is the best news I’ve heard in my goddamn life.”

Love Jesse? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#jesse van horn #jesse van horn x reader #nurse jesse #nurse jesse x reader #the pitt #the pitt hbo #ned brower

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sandiegoeats · 4 months ago

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If you're in San Diego craving an authentic, flavor-packed taco experience, there's only one name that should come to mind: Tacos El Gordo. This iconic restaurant has become a must-visit for locals and tourists, serving up some of the best tacos north of the border. While they have multiple locations, their hot San Diego spots, such as my favorite one in the heart of downtown San Diego, are known for their long lines, but trust me, the wait is more than worth it.

If there's one taco that defines Taco El Gordo, it's the adobada taco, which is my 10/10 favorite. Imagine thinly sliced pork marinated in a rich blend of spices and chilies, slowly roasted on a vertical spit. The result? Juicy, flavorful meat with crispy, caramelized edges that melt in your mouth. Served on a warm corn tortilla and topped with fresh cilantro, onions, and a dollop of their special sauce. The best part is that it's made right in front of you in just seconds! One bite, and you'll understand why people, including me, wait in line to get a taste.

Walking into Tacos El Gordo feels like stepping into a busy Mexican restaurant. The air is filled with the aroma of sizzling meats, and you'll see skilled workers slicing meat straight off the spit. The lines can be a bit chaotic, as each type of taco has its own line and station, but that's part of the charm. Whether you're eating at one of the standing tables or grabbing your tacos to go, the experience is always lively and authentic.

Tacos El Gordo originated just across the border in Tijuana, Mexico, in 1972, and was founded by a family with a deep passion for authentic Mexican street food. Their commitment to tradition and quality quickly earned them a loyal following. As their demand grew, they expanded to the U.S., bringing their famous tacos to San Diego. Without any surprise, they are still thriving today as they are serving the same mouthwatering flavors that made them famous, staying true to their roots and keeping taco lovers coming back for more.

If you're a fan of bold flavors, authentic recipes, and an unforgettable taco experience, my favorite place belongs on your foodie bucket list!

Check out their website!

#food #san diego #San diego food #San Diego restaurants #San Diego tacos #mexican food #authentic

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oopsallgoalies · 11 months ago

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You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 9

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, dead parents, drunkenness, alcohol consumption, violence, sports violence, blood probably, angst, fluff, eventual smut, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, You Catch More Bees With Honey. It was originally posted in November-March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You wake the next morning in the extra bed in Javy’s room. Your lower body aches and you let out a groan. Sun filters in through the gap in the drawn curtains, illuminating the empty bed next to you. Javy must already be awake. You roll yourself to the edge of the bed, fumbling with the nightstand to find your phone. You’ve got your usual slew of notifications as well as a text from Javy letting you know that he’s gone to breakfast with some of the other guys and the bathroom is all yours. He also lets you know that there’s a room key on the table if you need to go anywhere. You pull yourself out of bed, wincing at the ache between your legs that refuses to let you forget that you slept with Bradley last night.

You don’t regret it. After all, you’ve never felt that much pleasure before, and now you know that your feelings for Bradley might be reciprocated. What you do regret is how you handled the aftermath. You’re used to administering your own aftercare, of course, but something about up and running while Bradley was in the bathroom has guilt clawing up your throat. If he did have any feelings for you, were they gone after the way you acted last night?

While Javy had brought you pajamas and a change of underwear last night, you still need your clothes for the day so you steel yourself to face Bradley and slip Javy’s room key and your phone into the pocket of your pajama bottoms. You force yourself down the hallway back to your room, hand hovering over the wood before you force yourself to knock. You hear the scuffle of feet on the other side and then the door swings open. Bradley’s dressed for the day already in a t-shirt and joggers that he’ll trade for his practice uniform once you get to the arena. You dig into the carpet with your bare toes, averting your eyes to watch as shame warms your cheeks. Bradley doesn’t let you get away with it for long, a single finger under your chin raising your eyes to his. You’re terrified of what you’ll find there but where you expected the white-hot anger that you’ve seen burn in the whisky depths before, you just see a tentative nervousness, like he’s afraid of how you’ll react, or how you feel. You feel your tears from last night threatening to resurface and you long to bury yourself in his arms while he promises you that everything’s going to be okay.

“You okay, Honey?” He asks softly, his voice a gravelly rumble and you feel your lips quiver as his thumb moves to stroke over your cheek and you lean into the touch as you consider your answer. Bradley seems to understand that you need some time to think so he nods to himself, not slowing the brush of his fingers before he speaks again. “I’m going to go grab some breakfast, so why don’t you shower, and then we can talk?” He’s putting the ball in your court, letting you make the next move and you nod against his finger on your chin.

“Bradley Bradshaw, are you calling me stinky?” Your voice is rough from fighting back tears.

He chuckles softly, and there’s pure affection in his eyes that almost sends you to your knees. He pinches your cheek gently. “The stinkiest.” Your laugh is watery and hesitant but it’s there and Bradley smiles, his shoulders relaxing like he’s just let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “There she is.” He whispers gently and your heart aches in answer. Then he’s letting you go and stepping past you to head out, you duck into the room and you’re alone with your feelings again.

Your bed is still rumpled from your nap yesterday and it’s clear that Bradley stayed in his own bed last night. You collect your clothes, pick a soft lilac pantsuit today, and disappear into the bathroom to shower. As you undress, you catch sight of your reflection in the mirror and you remember Bradley holding your hand and gaze in it yesterday and that ache is back in your chest. In a quest for the normal, you bump one of your favorite playlists and let yourself enjoy a leisurely shower, singing along to your favorites.

When you exit the bathroom, you feel significantly better. Bradley’s in his chair by the window, sipping coffee and scrolling on his phone. The smell of it and whatever he got for breakfast is tantalizing and you bemoan the fact that you probably won’t have time to find breakfast before you have to head back to the arena. Bradley looks up as you enter the room, giving you a soft smile. “Hey Honey, breakfast is on the table.” You blink, surprised as your eyes follow his pointing finger to the desk by the television that’s holding a brown paper bag and another coffee cup. Propelled forward by the promise of food and coffee, you dart over, examining the cup before you look at Bradley, surprised.

“How’d you know my coffee order?” You ask as you take a deep sip and groan appreciatively as the sweet and bitter mix drifts over your tongue, warming you from the inside out.

Bradley smirks at you, “I have my sources.” You arch a curious eyebrow at him over the top of the cup.

“You’ve been going through my trash, haven’t you?” You tease, a smile tugging at your lips as you take another sip. He laughs at that.

“Actually, I texted Mickey and asked. I had to guess on the sandwich though.” You smile at that and dig into the bag. You pull out a package wrapped in paper and when you unwrap it, you grin at the bagel sandwich that’s stuffed full of egg, cheese, and a truly sinful amount of bacon.

“Bacon, you remembered…” you murmur mostly to yourself. You seat yourself on the edge of Bradley’s bed so you can be next to him for that conversation he mentioned earlier. You chew quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the food and Bradley drinks his coffee silently, turning back to whatever he was looking at on his phone.

Finally, you finish your sandwich, crumpling the empty wrapper and setting it on the small side table next to Bradley’s coffee cup, fiddling with your own. “Bradley, can we talk?” You hate how weak and desperate your voice sounds but you try to ignore it. He sets his phone face down on the table and turns to give you his full attention.

“As long as you’re ready, I am, Honey.” You twist your cup between your hands as you search for the words you want to say to him.

“I’m really sorry, Bradley.” You hate the way your voice shakes as you get the apology out. “I got overwhelmed and it scared me and I was alone with my thoughts and they got too loud and I just up and disappeared and to another guy’s room at that, after you were so sweet to me and you did a lot of stuff you didn’t have to do,” his eyebrows raise at that but he remains quiet as you continue rambling. “I didn’t mean to make you worry because it was good, really really good actually. It wasn’t anything you did, I mean. The reason I left.” You’re running out of steam and your hands are trembling.

Bradley reaches out wordlessly, taking the cup from your hands before you can accidentally drop it, placing it on the side table before he takes your hands in his huge ones. His thumb rubs your skin in those steady strokes that always seem to calm you. “Can I ask you some questions, Honey?” His voice is gentle, tentative like he’s trying not to spook a horse and you nod. It’ll be easier for you to answer specific questions than talk freely and you think he’s realized that. “What do you mean, I did a lot of stuff I didn’t have to do?” Your cheeks heat as you remember Bradley’s tongue and hands on you, in you, drawing out your pleasure like it was his only goal.

“I… uh, you uh, you wanted to pleasure me?” You wince at the awkwardness in your words. Bradley’s body goes rigid at your words and you see gears turning in his mind that you can’t seem to grasp until he looks at you with so much fear and dread in his eyes that his words catch you completely off guard.

“Honey,… were you a virgin…?” You choke at the question that comes seemingly from left field as you shake your head fiercely.

“No, no! I’ve had sex before, a couple of times, well maybe more than a couple, I just, I’ve never had a guy who wanted to do that kind of stuff…” you trail off and you watch Bradley relax considerably.

“What kind of stuff, Honey? Eating you out? Fingering you?” You’re almost jealous at how easily he’s able to talk about this like it’s something as simple as the weather.

“All of it.” You mumble and his eyebrows raise again.

“Then what was sex like for you?” He asks it like it’s nothing and you can’t help but feel shame and anxiety wash over you at the idea of telling him about your sexual experience. His hands that are holding yours squeeze encouragingly. “I’m not doing this to make you uncomfortable, Honey, and I don’t want you to feel like it’s something you have to be ashamed about, I’m just trying to understand where your head’s at.” Your shoulders relax a little at his words. Bradley’s not going to judge you, he doesn’t want to. Just like last night, he just wants you to feel good and it’s hard for you to wrap your mind around.

“Sex was mostly about the guy,” you explain. “He’d get off and if I was lucky I would too but not by anything he did. I had to take care of myself.” Your cheeks heat as fury blazes in his eyes. “I haven't been in a relationship or had a boyfriend since before… everything…” you explain. “And back then we were so inexperienced that it wasn’t the focus. And after that, it was all hookups and well yeah, it wasn’t about me.” Your voice trails off to a whisper. Bradley nods, turning your words over in his mind.

“So that’s why you just went right for it?” He asks and you nod your cheeks heating at the memory of Bradley nearly splitting you in half without any foreplay. “Jesus, you scared me half to death last night, I thought I’d really hurt you.” The worry in his eyes makes your heart ache.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him. “A little sore but fine other than that.” He grimaces slightly at that.

“I’m sorry, I was going to check on it again when I cleaned you up but you left before I could get the chance.”

“When you cleaned me up…?” You blink at him, surprised and he groans, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling before coming back to look at you.

“Aftercare, Honey, it’s a really important part of sex, don’t tell me you’ve never had a guy take care of you after?” You shake your head. “Jesus Christ, what kind of guys have you been fucking, Honey?” You know it’s a rhetorical question but you answer to try and lighten the mood.

“Bad ones, apparently.” He snorts a laugh at that before his eyes get serious again.

“So where do we stand, Honey? I don’t want to pressure you into anything because you said you were overwhelmed and that’s not something I want you to feel again, at least not because of me.” He looks so earnest and makes your heart ache because all you want is to climb into his lap and have him hold you. You’ve never yearned to be in someone’s arms more.

“I… I like you… a lot, Bradley.” You swallow hard as the words pass your lips. “But this is all happening really really fast, too fast. Like I said, I haven’t been in a relationship in a really long time and I was a different person then… I-I don’t know if I know how to be in one as the person I am now. I think… I think I need us to slow down. That is if you even want an us. But if you do, we’re going to have to pump the brakes, by a lot. It’s all a little overwhelming right now, and I need to slow down. I need to be able to breathe.” His face softens and he squeezes your hands gently.

“After last night, you really think I don’t want an us, Honey?” You look away, embarrassed when he phrases it so simply.

“I thought maybe your feelings might have gone away once we had sex…” You mutter and then his finger is under your chin again, guiding your eyes back to his.

“They haven’t, they're very much still there. And if you need to take things slow, we’ll take it slow. You set the pace, Honey. Like I said, the last thing I want is to overwhelm you.”

“W-would it be okay if we didn’t kiss…” you sputter the words out before you lose your nerve. “I-I just I’m not used to it and uh, I just-“ you pause since you’d expected Bradley to cut you off by now but he just nods.

“You set the pace, Honey. Tell me what you’re comfortable with and what you’re not and then we can move forward.”

“Uh… no kissing, on the lips at least, um, forehead and cheek and stuff are okay I think?” Your cheeks heat at the fact that Bradley’s giving you this kind of power, to tell him what you’re comfortable with and he’ll just respect that without arguing. “Definitely no sex… but hugging yes, cuddling would be nice.” You feel your cheeks heat more as Bradley’s mouth twists into a soft smile. Then he’s tugging your hand and pulling you into his arms. You relax instantly, melting against him. He presses his lips to your temple gently before whispering into your ear.

“This all good for you, Honey?”

“Perfect.” You whisper and nuzzle against his chest softly.

“Honey, can I ask you one last question?” You nod. “I know we’re slowing things down but we’re still an us, yes? There’s… there’s nothing going on between you and Javy… right? He told me there wasn’t.” You can hear it then, the hesitation in his words like he’s afraid that you’ll break his heart. You sit up at that, face-to-face with him, meeting his beautiful chocolate eyes with your own. You reach to stroke his cheek gently.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Javy. I’m not trying to catch a venereal disease. Honestly, I’m surprised we’re even friends.” Bradley barks out a laugh and his chest vibrates against you, making you smile. “And yeah, we’re an us. You’re the first person I’ve wanted to be anything with in a long time.” You tuck your head under his chin and he pulls you closer. “Thank you, Bradley.”

“For what, Honey?” You can feel the rumble of his throat as he answers you.

“For being okay with all of it, with me.” You murmur against his chest. His arms tighten around you.

“Always, Honey, always.”

***

The game is mostly uneventful. The boys put up a good effort but ultimately lost, 4-3. The mood on the bus back to the hotel was grim, the tension palpable, but the boys seemed to have slept it off as spirits were mixed this morning as the team boarded the jet to your next destination, Washington D.C. The match against the Capitals isn’t until Thursday, so the boys will be afforded some well-deserved downtime. You’re once again rooming with Bradley per Cyclone’s orders which you’re more comfortable with now that the two of you have set defined boundaries.

You can’t help the nerves that claw at your stomach when you think about them. Sure, Bradley had said he was fine respecting them but you’d given him almost nothing aside from the commitment that you were working towards giving him everything, but since you had no idea how long that would take, you feel like you’re denying him things he deserved to have in a relationship. He doesn’t seem to be concerned for now, at least. You just hope you don’t let him down.

Bradley’s once again carrying your garment bag over his shoulder as you approach your shared room. He unlocks the door and you head in as he holds the door. Your shoulders relax until you reach the main area and your face falls as you take in the bed. Singular. The king bed takes up most of the room and you can’t breathe. Bradley’s voice comes from right behind you as he reassures you.

“I can go sleep in Javy’s room tonight.” His hand rubs comforting circles in your tense shoulder. You turn to face him, hands twisting nervously.

“No, it’s okay. As long as you’re okay with it and we follow the rules, I’m okay with it.” A part of you longs to make up for the night the two of you should have shared two days ago after the more physical activities were finished. You want to know what it’s like to spend the night in his arms, to fall asleep feeling totally and completely safe.

“If you want me, Honey, you have me.” Your heart flutters at his sweet words.

***

Since there isn’t much for you yet, you come back to the hotel before the boys do. You’re anxious to get into your pajamas, eager to enjoy an early night after the excitement of the past few days. Maybe you’ll order room service and have your dinner in bed. Your daydreams are burst by the sight of a familiar face at the hotel bar when you walk by on your way to the elevator. What’s Cyclone doing here? Managers don’t typically travel to games let alone attend home ones but Cyclone claims that it’s good for publicity if it looks like he’s involved. Still, he’s never come on a road trip before and you’re awkwardly standing and staring when he catches sight of you and calls you over.

You feel like you’re being dragged by an invisible leash as you sidle up to the stool that he’s currently occupying. He’s sipping a martini that you try not to think too hard about given that it’s a little past 2 pm.

“Cyclone, sir.” You acknowledge him and he waves you off.

“No Cyclone, just Beau is fine.” You blink, stunned by his sudden change in attitude towards you. “Have you had lunch yet?” You’re too stunned to answer so you just shake your head. “Perfect, neither have I, come join me.” He waves down the bartender and lets him know that he’d like to move to a table at the hotel restaurant and you follow him, still in a daze at the whiplash you’re suffering. You sit down in a booth across from him and numbly take the menu the waiter hands you.

“So… Beau,” you force yourself not to grimace when you use his first name. “What can I do for you?” He gives you a dazzling smile that you’ve never seen before and you’re even more uncomfortable.

“I wanted to sit down and get a chance to get to know you. Your mother was one of my dearest friends.” You want to ask why if that’s the case, he didn’t know she was dead.

“Sure, of course.” This is the opposite of how you expected to be spending your afternoon but you decide to accept your fate and carefully slide your professional persona into place. “So, how did you know my mother?” You’re more than willing to play dumb to your advantage. Cyclone has no idea that he used to basically be a bedtime fairytale for you growing up, and you’re content to keep it that way.

“We met in college at Yale.” You nod along as he continues. “We were quite close until we graduated. I feel like I owe it to her to take care of you. It’s what she would want.” While you don’t doubt that he’s right because your mom had always seemed to carry a torch for her mystery lover, you’re not so sure she’d approve if she could see him now.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you.” You parrot obediently, turning to the menu to pretend to be making your selection.

“Order whatever you want, my treat.” He says, still wearing that dazzling smile. Well, now you officially HAVE to order something. At least eating will save you from having to talk. You have plenty of experience sitting quietly while self-important men talk at you so this should be a piece of cake. You wonder if it’s worth the risk to order the burger you’d been dreaming of all day instead of going with a more traditionally ladylike lunch option like a salad or soup. You decide on just going for the burger. You can’t afford to be hangry around this man.

Once the two of you have placed your orders you realize that Cyclone’s been staring at you for longer than you feel particularly comfortable with. You clear your throat politely. “Is there something on my face?” You ask, hesitantly, even though you’re pretty sure you know why he’s staring.

“It’s just, you look so much like her.” You stifle a grimace.

“Well, you know how genetics work…” you paste a warm smile on your face as you try to trifle a scream. “Does Dragon take more after your wife?” You know it’s a low blow but you’re hoping your charming smile makes the faux pas look ditzy rather than aggressive. Dragon looks nothing like her father. Anyone with eyes can tell. Her mannerisms, however, echo her father in more ways than you can count.

His brow furrows slightly and for a moment he’s the Cyclone that you’re used to seeing before he dismisses it with a shake of his head and a mutter of “Yes, yes she does.” He switches right back to this unfamiliarly eager man that you can’t help but wonder is the one that your mother once fell in love with.

Your mother had told you plenty about Beau Simpson without mentioning him by name. You knew he came from money, a long line of it, rooted in some financial corporation. He was a legacy admission to Yale since all the men and a few women in his family had gone there. In comparison, your mother had chosen Yale because they’d offered her the most generous figure skating scholarship. By all accounts, they should have never crossed paths in the first place but one day he was running late for hockey practice, shoving his way through a crowded hallway when he knocked her in the head with his hockey stick.

You do your best to imagine the man in front of you as the clumsy boy that your mother had told you about. He still had those green eyes but now they were cold and closed off rather than dancing with light and life that she’d always described as spring incarnate. Cyclone clears his throat as he asks.

“So, what year did you graduate from Yale?” You arch a surprised eyebrow at the question. He’d been the person to interview you, he of all people should know that you didn’t graduate from Yale let alone attend.

“I didn’t. I went to the University of Wisconsin.” You answer primly, doing your best to keep the awkwardness out of your voice. His eyebrows rise.

“Oh, I just assumed since your mother went to Yale…” He trails off.

“Yes, and my father went to Brown.” You add. “The Ivys weren’t really for me, though.”

“Your father went to Brown.” He repeats, brows furrowed.

“Yes, but Mom never really cared about that kind of stuff. They met at a coffee shop in Hartford.” You shrug. “They didn’t really care where I went to college, just that I was doing what I loved.”

“And what was that?” Your breath catches in your throat. You swallow, hard before replying.

“Figure skating.”

“Like your mom.” You nod. You don’t want to talk about it, not really. You never do, but you know you have to power through this lunch. You take a deep breath and pretend it’s Bradley sitting across from you instead. Talking about your mom always seems easier when it’s with him, even more so than with Mickey and everything’s easier with Mickey. You try not to think too hard about what that means as you field Cyclone’s questions about your life.

***

You’re already lounging in bed when Bradley gets back and you don’t miss the way his eyes soften with fondness at the sight of you under the covers. Your cheeks heat as he gives you a smile, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed after toeing off his shoes. “Hey Honey, how was your day? Bugs said you left early so I hope you got some well-earned rest.” You sigh, slumping against the pillows.

“Well I mean I did, but not as much as if I didn’t have lunch with Cyclone.” Bradley’s brows furrow and he frowns.

“Cyclone?” You nod.

“Apparently he flew in for this game because he and the Capitals’s head coach are fellow Yale alumni.” You roll your eyes as hard you can and it elicits a chuckle from Bradley. “Anyway I walked by him at the hotel bar when I got back from the arena and he invited me to have lunch with him.”

“What did he want?” Bradley asks warily.

“To talk about my mom. He claims to want a relationship with me, says it’s what my mom would have wanted.”

“Is it?” He asks, his hand finding your ankle over the sheets and rubbing rhythmic circles into the joint. You shrug.

“I think if my mom wanted a relationship with him, or for him to have one with me, she would have contacted him. He was an NHL player for God’s sake, she could have found him if she really wanted to.” Bradley nods silently, keeping up the soothing pattern on your covered ankle.

“Is that something you want?” He finally asks. “A relationship with him?” You frown slightly. You honestly hadn’t given it much thought. You turn Bradley’s words over in your mind as you once again fall into that comfortable silence that you’ve come to enjoy sharing with him.

“I don’t know. I know there’s a chance I get to see another piece of her, you know? A piece that no one else can tell me about. But I don’t know if I’m ready for that, and I don’t know what Cyclone would even want out of a relationship with me. I’m not about to dig out my mom’s old college clothes and play dress up for him, you know?” Bradley’s brows furrow and his grip on your ankle tightens, his fingers stopping their soothing motion as his jaw tightens and his expression hardens.

“If he even so much as SUGGESTS that,” Bradley growls and you suppress a shudder at the pure venom in his voice. You wave him off.

“I’ll kick his ass before you even get the chance.” You reassure him and he relaxes slightly. You give him a soft smile in response to his fierce protectiveness and you’re reminded of the way he’d gone for the defenseman that attacked Mickey the other night. This is another side of Bradley that you’re seeing and it makes you feel even more safe in his presence.

Your eyes fall on the Target bag in his hand and arch an eyebrow nodding in its direction. “What’s in the bag?” you ask and watch pink splotches climb up his neck as he rubs the back of his neck ruefully.

“A couple of the guys wanted to stop at Target to get some stuff so I went with and Mickey helped me pick some stuff out.” He passes the bag across the bed to you, the pink reaching his cheeks as you peer inside, eyebrows going straight up. “You said you didn’t bring anything except your work clothes so I thought you’d like some other options. Mickey picked everything. I figured he knew what you liked and your sizes.”

“Thanks,” you stammer, surprised by Bradley’s thoughtfulness. “How much do I owe you?” He shakes his head gently.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s my treat.” You open your mouth to protest but he gives you a firm look and you roll your eyes, turning back to the bag. Inside are a pair of jeans and a chunky sweater that you know you’ve been eyeing for a while now and have definitely mentioned to Mickey in the past. Under those are a couple of tasteful graphic tees that scream Mickey and make you giggle as well as a denim jacket that goes with all of them. There’s also a simple black peacoat at the bottom of the bag. That you know deep down has to be Bradley’s choice despite his earlier comments. As you pull it out a pair of simple black gloves also tumble out.

“Gloves seem a little excessive, don’t you think?” You ask as you turn them over in your hands.

“Hardly,” Bradley replies. “I won’t always be around to keep those pretty hands warm.” You feel your cheeks heat as he takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to them. “You wanna go out tonight?” You shake your head, leaning back against the pillows and snuggling into the covers.

“Room service it is then.” He decides and gets up to grab the menu.

***

Later you’re curled up in bed, eyelids heavy as you wait for Bradley to get out of the shower. Your eyes fall on the remnants of your dinner strewn on the table and you smile at the memory of throwing french fries at Bradley while he took it all in good fun before smearing ketchup on your cheek in retaliation. The click of the bathroom door alerts you to his return and Bradley pads over to the other side of the bed. “You ready for bed, Honey?” He asks, and you nod sleepily. “You sure you don’t want me to sleep in Javy’s room? I already cleared it with him in case you changed your mind.” You shake your head and he chuckles softly. “Words, Honey.”

“Don’t go, Bradley, want you to stay with me.” Your voice is addled with sleep but you manage a groggy smile at him as his eyes eyes soften as he climbs in.

The bed is big enough that you could easily pretend that he’s not there but you’re not sure that’s what you want. You want to feel what it’s like to fall asleep in the comfort of his arms. But what if that’s not what he wants? What if it’s too much temptation for him? You don’t want to hurt him by making his life a living hell. Your thoughts are still racing for a few minutes after Bradley turns off the light and plunges the room into darkness. They get louder as you’re left alone in the blackness with them until Bradley breaks the silence that’s anything but comfortable for you right now. “Honey, get over here.” You turn in the dark to try and make him out as your eyes adjust. The rustle of the sheets helps you piece together that he’s holding his arms open for you and you scoot across the bed without a second thought, letting out a breath of relief as you curl against him and he chuckles in your ear at your eagerness.

“Goodnight, Bradley.” You murmur, sleep already eagerly leading you down into the comfort of his arms.

“Goodnight, Honey, sleep tight.” You drift off to sleep to the feeling of his lips pressing against your temple gently.

#san diego dogfighters au #San Diego dogfighters #San Diego dogfighters hockey au #you catch more bees with honey // goldenseresinretriever #ycmbwh // goldenseresinretriever #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster x you #rooster x reader #top gun maverick hockey au #top gun maverick #top gun #TGM #no use of y/n

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islanavarro · 10 days ago

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“SHE WALKS THE LINE BETWEEN LIGHT AND DARK”

INTRODUCING…

NAME: Isla Viviana Navarro

GENDER & PREFERRED PRONOUNS: Cis Woman {She/Her}

AGE: 28

BIRTHDAY: January 10, 1997

SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Pansexual - Panromantic

COUNTERPART: Buffy Summers - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

FACE CLAIM: Sofia Carson

OCCUPATION: Forensic Behavioral Specialist

HOMETOWN: San Diego, CA

CURRENT RESIDENCY: Coral Cove, Palmview (Since December 2024)

CHARACTER PLAYLIST: HERE. (WIP)

UP NEXT: “CONTROL” BY HALSEY

BIOGRAPHY: TW MENTAL ILLNESS, DEATH, DV, DRUG/ALCOHOL USE

Isla Navarro grew up in San Diego, California - a bustling border city shaped by a unique blend of cultures, stories, and struggles. Raised by a single mother who worked tirelessly to support her family, Isla learned early the importance of strength, resilience, and loyalty. The city’s vibrancy and its shadows fueled her curiosity about people’s motives and the complexities of human nature, ultimately leading her to pursue forensic behaviorism. Poverty clawed at the edges of her childhood, violence was never far from the doorstep, and hope often felt like a distant luxury. Raised by a single mother who worked herself to exhaustion just to keep food on the table, Isla’s earliest lessons were about sacrifice, endurance, and hiding your pain so no one else had to carry it. Her younger brother was her anchor - and her burden - because protecting him meant taking on roles no child should ever have to fill: caretaker, mediator, and shield against a world that seemed bent on breaking them both. Childhood for Isla was a fragile illusion, a tightrope walk between the fleeting moments of normalcy and the crushing weight of responsibility. At school, she became a master of compartmentalization - excelling academically, masking the bruises left unseen beneath long sleeves and forced smiles. She developed an almost painful obsession with the motives and fears of the people around her, fascinated by the secrets everyone seemed desperate to bury. It wasn’t just curiosity; it was a means of self-preservation - if she could understand darkness, maybe she could keep it at bay. After graduating at the top of her class, Isla threw herself into psychology, specializing in forensic behaviorism. It was her way to claw back some control - to decode the minds of those who inflicted pain and give a voice to those silenced by violence. Her work on high-profile cases in major cities earned her respect, but at great personal cost. The closer she got to uncovering corruption and twisted power within the systems meant to protect, the more isolated she became. The breaking point came during a particularly harrowing case involving police misconduct and systemic injustice. Betrayed by colleagues she had once trusted implicitly, Isla was framed, discredited, and left to pick up the pieces of her shattered career. Threats followed - some whispered, some overt - targeting not just her, but those she loved. The institution she had dedicated herself to was revealed as a cage, one she could no longer bear to live inside. Haunted by betrayal and betrayal’s aftermath, Isla fled to Palmview 6 months ago - a quieter town where shadows still lurk beneath the surface, but where she hoped to rebuild what was lost. Here, she works as a forensic behaviorist, often liaising with local law enforcement, yet always maintaining an impenetrable emotional barrier. Few glimpse the storm beneath her calm, composed exterior - the rage, the heartbreak, the relentless guilt for not being able to save everyone. Isla carries scars no one can see, memories that haunt her dreams, and a constant battle between her fierce desire to protect and the crushing weight of loneliness. Every day is a reminder that strength can be a lonely prison, and sometimes the most dangerous demons are the ones you fight within yourself.

EXTRA-EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT HER!

MBTI: ENFJ - The Protagonist

Enneagram: 3w4 - The Expert with a creative streak

Temperament: Sanguine-Choleric

Astrological Vibe: Capricorn Sun, Aquarius Rising, Scorpio Moon

Personality:

Isla Navarro is a fiercely intelligent and deeply observant woman, combining sharp analytical skills with emotional depth. Her training as a forensic behaviorist has sharpened her ability to read people and situations with remarkable accuracy, allowing her to anticipate actions and decode hidden intentions. Isla carries a commanding presence - quiet yet intense - that often disarms those around her. Though naturally empathetic, she maintains tight emotional boundaries, carefully choosing when and to whom she reveals her true feelings, protecting herself from vulnerability.

Her greatest strengths lie in her resilience and loyalty. Despite a turbulent past marked by betrayal and loss, Isla endures with remarkable strength, compartmentalizing pain to keep moving forward. She is fiercely protective of those she loves and will go to great lengths to shield family and friends from harm. In moments of crisis, her calm and collected demeanor serves as a steadying force for others, demonstrating her remarkable composure under pressure.

However, Isla’s guarded nature is also a significant vulnerability. Her fear of betrayal and abandonment often makes it difficult for her to fully trust others, creating emotional distance and loneliness even in company. She carries heavy guilt and self-blame for past events where she felt powerless to prevent harm, which sometimes leads her to take on excessive responsibility or silently punish herself. Accustomed to being the protector, she struggles to ask for help, fearing that vulnerability might expose her weaknesses or lead to disappointment. Additionally, the trauma of past betrayals and threats lingers in moments of anxiety and hypervigilance, though she masks these feelings behind a composed exterior.

Socially, Isla is selective and cautious. She prefers meaningful, smaller circles to large gatherings, finding comfort in intimate conversations over superficial chit-chat. She can come across as reserved or even intimidating at first, but those who persist discover a sharp wit, dry humor, and fierce loyalty beneath the surface. Isla has a keen sense for emotional undercurrents in social settings and navigates them with skill, adapting to keep control of the atmosphere without losing herself. She values authenticity and depth, often feeling drained by performative or shallow interactions.

In friendships, Isla is deeply loyal but measured. She invests her trust slowly and cautiously, expecting the same level of honesty and respect she offers. Once someone crosses her carefully drawn boundaries and earns her trust, Isla becomes an unwavering ally - steadfast, protective, and willing to go to great lengths for those she calls friends. However, her tendency to shoulder burdens alone can sometimes create distance, as she rarely asks for support or shares her vulnerabilities openly. Her friends often appreciate her reliability, insight, and the quiet strength she provides, even if they sometimes wish she’d let her guard down more.

Romantically, Isla is both guarded and intense. Past betrayals have left her wary of opening up, so she approaches relationships with caution and deliberation, testing the waters before fully letting someone in. Emotional vulnerability doesn’t come easily, and she often hides her insecurities beneath a composed exterior. However, when Isla commits, she is fiercely devoted and expects honesty, trust, and respect in return. She values partners who can hold space for her complex emotions without pushing too hard. For Isla, true intimacy grows from mutual understanding and emotional safety rather than grand gestures or drama. Beneath her tough exterior, she longs for connection but is afraid of losing herself or being abandoned again. Those who earn her love find a passionate, protective partner with profound loyalty and a steady, grounding presence.

At her core, Isla believes life is a constant battle between light and darkness - not only in the world but within every individual. She is driven by a desire to uncover hidden truths, protect the vulnerable, and confront injustice, even when it means facing painful realities herself. Isla is a warrior shaped by hardship, carrying both scars and wisdom. Her protective instincts, sharp intellect, and unyielding resolve make her a formidable ally, though her guarded heart reminds us that even the strongest warriors need safe spaces to heal.

Headcanons:

Drinks black coffee like it’s fuel, often found fiddling with the ring on her finger when deep in thought

Has a habit of quietly humming old noir jazz tunes when working late on cases

Has an unexpected sweet tooth — dark chocolate is her weakness

She has a “lucky” pen that’s almost out of ink but refuses to replace it because it’s been with her through some of her toughest cases.

She once tried to learn salsa dancing as a stress reliever, but her “two left feet” made her give up after one embarrassing attempt.

Isla has a surprisingly soft spot for stray cats and sometimes leaves food out for neighborhood strays, despite not being a “pet person.”

She has a habit of organizing her desk with oddly specific categories—pens by color, files by case type, and snacks by flavor.

Isla is low-key competitive about crossword puzzles and will challenge friends or coworkers to timed solving contests.

#palmviewintro

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pocket-lad · 9 months ago

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CH 14- Trust in the Plan (or Lack Thereof)

Prev ● Masterpost ● Next

It was InGen. Of course it was InGen. Who else had the money and the resources? Who else had records on them? Who else knew of Adelaide’s existence?

“Who’s…what’s InGen?” Ollie asked, hating to be in the dark.

Ian sighed. “Ahh, not sure you’d…it’s far too complicated to-”

“Try me.”

Ian looked to Sarah for guidance, but found none. “Uhh, um…” He was usually good at finding the correct words, but the task of explaining, well, everything to this borrower was daunting, and his mind was preoccupied with something much more important.

“Is it about the dinosaurs?”

Ian blinked. “Uh, yes. Kind of. The company who made them-”

“I thought it was a guy.”

“The company - the company the guy owned. They deal in, um, in genetics, and for whatever reason, they wanted Adelaide.”

Sarah chimed in. “Do you think Ludlow-”

Ian’s eyes grew wide. “That bastard.” He shot to his feet and started pacing again. Ollie backed away a couple inches.

Sarah continued. “The way he looked at her, like he recognized her. But what does InGen want with a borrower? What could they possibly get from her and what purpose would it even serve? Unless they’re wildly pivoting…”

“‘Why’…we can worry about ‘why’ later. Hell, we can worry about ‘why’ for the rest of our lives. ‘Where’ is, uh, infinitely more important.”

“Do they have a lab in San Diego?”

“It’s as good a place to start as any.”

Ian ran to grab the keys.

“Woah, where are you going?” Sarah asked.

“The Park. Or, the would-be Park. I’d imagine it would - well it would have to be around there.”

“You don’t have a plan-”

“I don’t need a plan.”

“Hold on!” Ollie yelled, overwhelmed by the rapid back and forth of the giants. She faltered when all eyes fell on her, and she backed away further when Ian marched toward her. He stared down at her from so high up, his eyes intense and frantic. Ollie held her breath.

“Ollie, you should come with me.”

What?!

Seeing her shock, Ian bent down to put himself at eye level.

Ollie’s eyes jumped around, taking in all of Ian’s face. She could see each hair in his eyebrow, each pore in his skin. His eyes were the size of her head. His teeth were too close.

“Adelaide is going to need someone her size on her side. I could really use your help.”

Ollie couldn’t answer. Her voice was stuck in her throat. The Bean sounded completely earnest, and she wanted to help Adelaide more than anything, but the thought of placing her life in his hands, of leaving the house with nothing but a giant Bean for support, was terrifying, especially when it was an environment hostile specifically to borrowers. An environment designed to trap her full of people who intended to trap her. Ian would be her only means of navigating the world - her eyes, her ears - and it was a dangerous world.

But then she thought of Adelaide…alone, scared, helpless. Her only escape would be through a Bean. It was one that she loved and trusted, sure, but after being trapped by Beans for days on end…

Ollie studied Ian’s face. She studied his giant fingertips pressing into the edge of the table to keep his balance. Just that minimal pressure alone could kill her.

“I…I can’t,” she whispered, averting her eyes.

Ian looked her up and down. She shook at just the mere thought of going anywhere. He respected her decision. “Okay.”

“I’ll stay. Make sure nothing…happens.” Sarah kept her words vague so as not to offend Ollie. She was growing to learn that these borrowers didn’t take kindly to the implication that they needed to be protected. They didn’t like to acknowledge their size, especially the disadvantages that came with it.

Ian nodded, then left.

Silence permeated the air and a nervous energy buzzed between them. They both felt like they needed to do something, but there was simply nothing to do except wait. And waiting was agony.

Sarah wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and defaulted to what she knew best. “You want something to eat?”

***

Ian sped through the streets, disregarding most traffic rules and regulations. His mind spaced out, and suddenly he was at Jurassic Park San Diego. The brakes screeched as the car came to an abrupt halt. He flung the door open, slammed it shut, and raced into the world beyond.

Ian didn’t believe in luck or hope, but he did believe in efficiency and critical thought. Hope wouldn’t get him any closer to Adelaide, and luck didn’t exist, but he could absolutely think his way through the situation. He just needed to calm down.

The amphitheater was in the same state as last time, only now the shoddy construction and abandoned atmosphere were amplified by the daylight.

“Adelaide?” he called out. Nothing.

Ian checked each and every crevice in the area, but nothing gave him any clues. She wasn’t here, but she had to be close, yes?

He hauled himself up some artificial rocks, climbing high enough to get a birds eye view of the surrounding area. It wasn’t as high as he anticipated, but it was enough to show him that there was nothing else around for miles. Defeated, he climbed back down and kicked a stack of crates.

They scattered to the ground as pain radiated in his big toe. Each crate, he noticed, had a shipping label. A location: Palo Alto. Perfect.

And so, Ian raced off in the car again, holding the address in his head. Every second he wasted here was a second taken away from Adelaide. He pushed the pedal harder.

Seven long hours later, the building Ian pulled up to was massive and modern. It was clean and slick and lined with windows and it sat upon an open plain of grass. There would be no sneaking around here. He’d have to change his approach.

Leaving the car a safe distance away, he sauntered up to the front doors and yanked them open. He was calm, cool, and confident. He was Ian Malcolm. And he was supposed to be here.

The young, pretty lady at the front desk looked at him expectantly. Her name tag said Hailey.

“Hello, Hailey,” he said in a low voice. “I’m Dr. Ian Malcolm. I was sent by Peter Ludlow. Would you be so kind as to uh, point me to the labs?” He casually leaned on the desk and smiled his best smile.

Hailey looked confused - a sign that she almost definitely knew Ludlow was dead. Perhaps Ian picked the wrong person to name drop. She reached for the phone, but was interrupted by a soft, severe voice.

“Ah, Dr. Malcolm. Right this way.”

Henry Wu.

Ian instantly knew he was on the right track and was instantly suspicious of Wu. His senses went on high alert as he slowly stalked toward the man.

An elevator opened, and they both stepped in. Wu scanned his badge and took them to the bottom floor. Ian would need to take that badge at some point to get into places he shouldn’t be, but also probably to get out. They descended for an eternity.

“I gather you are here for Adelaide,” Wu said.

“Yes…My employer is willing to pay - to pay handsomely for her…as well as the research you’ve collected from her.”

If Wu was taken aback by this, he didn’t show it. “You do not work for Biosyn,” he said matter-of-factly.

Ian had no idea what Biosyn was, but he figured it was his best shot. “I didn’t say that I do.”

The elevator door opened silently and they emptied into a sterile-looking, white hallway.

“Forgive me, but I was under the impression that you were quite…attached to this borrower,” Wu ventured.

“Yeah, I tend to get attached to assets of that much, uh, value.”

Wu hummed, but didn’t say anything. He seemed doubtful.

They traveled through a series of doors, all requiring badge access. There were no labels, but each one had a small glass window that they could see through. Some rooms held equipment, some had people working in them, some were empty. Ian tried his best to memorize the route they took, but he knew it would be a lot of running and a lot of guessing on a very short timeline, and that was if they ever found the chance to escape. They eventually stopped before one last door, which looked identical to all the others.

“Whatever Biosyn is paying you, we can double it. Triple it, even. We just need your knowledge and your assistance.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then there is little you can do to get her out of here.”

“Ah, an irresistible offer,” Ian muttered.

With that, Wu scanned into the room. He held the door open for Ian, who confidently strolled through. A female scientist greeted them as she backed away from a center table, inviting them to take a look.

Ian’s clenched jaw was the only sign of his distress when he saw what was on the table. Adelaide, strapped down to the counter with metal cuffs. Her body was bruised and bloody, her hair a tangled mess, her face gaunt.

“Yeah, that’s - that’s her,” he breathed.

Adelaide’s wet eyes opened, and Ian could see her fighting with herself, unable to decide if he was really real.

“She won’t eat, she refuses to participate in any tests we put forth. She destroys every enclosure we place her in, and she usually ends up hurting herself in the process,” Wu explained.

“I can see that.”

“Reports from others indicate that you two were close. I mean, my own eyes told me you were close. I find it hard to believe that there was no care present at all. No affection?”

So Wu clearly didn’t believe Ian’s feigned indifference to the situation. Hoping Adelaide would understand, he stepped closer and examined her as he spoke, amping it up. “I was…fascinated, at first. Hell, weren’t you? It was fun, it was, um, it was cute. But that wore off fast, as I’m sure it did with you. She’s quite…difficult…you could say.”

Wu chuckled.

Ian gently tilted Adelaide’s head left and right. He pinched her tiny hand sticking out of the restraint and felt each of her fingers on the pad of his. All the while, he ignored Adelaide’s flinches and whimpers. If he didn’t, he’d lose it right then and there. “So no, no affection, really. At least not now. Probably for the best, given, well…”

“Given?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say,” Ian smirked.

Wu didn’t push. “Get her to eat, Dr. Malcolm. If you can do that, we can talk payment and next steps.”

“I’m going to need you to leave, then. Her too.” Ian pointed to the female scientist that had yet to say a word.

Wu seemed extremely hesitant, but honored Ian’s request. He ushered Dr. Marshall out of the room, then followed. The door clicked behind him.

***

Adelaide felt helpless. She couldn’t believe Ian was there. He was right there, but his eyes were so distant, looking straight through her. And Wu stood next to him, and neither was moving, and she had no idea what was going on. Why else would Ian be here, if not to get her out? She wanted to hoot and holler and jump for joy because he could only be here to get her out, but she was still stuck, and they still didn’t move.

Wu explained the situation, and all Adelaide could do was listen. Ian responded in short sentences, his voice hollow.

And then he told Wu how fascinated he was by her, and how that fascination wore off, and how she was ‘difficult’, and how he had plans for her. This was an explicit lie. Adelaide knew this was a lie. And she could accept that it was a lie, until Ian reached in.

She flinched away from his fast-approaching fingers. They roughly pushed her head left to right, just like Clara did, and she let out a soft cry from the strain. He then pinched her hand, rubbing it in between his thumb and forefinger. She watched with shallow breaths as he scanned her, as if he’d never seen her, or anything like her, before.

Adelaide tugged her arm away as much as she could, but the grip of just two of his fingers was too strong. Apparently satisfied, he let it go. All the while, his eyes devoured her like she was some unknown specimen. This wasn’t Ian. This couldn’t be Ian.

Because if it was, that meant everything they’d been building toward, all five years they’d known each other, was a lie. Everything he said, everything he did was under false pretenses to gain her trust. But why?

Adelaide had nowhere else to turn. He was her last hope. And now, she was truly, truly alone.

Ian had everyone leave the room. As soon as it was empty, she said, “What are you doing? Why-”

“You know better than to speak unless spoken to,” Ian interrupted. His voice was calm and condescending. Adelaide’s eyebrows knit and her eyes flicked back and forth, trying to read his face, but it was blank. He looked down his nose at her, standing upright and tall.

“I appreciate your loyalty to us, but you should consider Dr. Wu an…extension of Biosyn. He just might be able to find us a solution.”

“What-”

“So if Dr. Wu asks you to eat, you eat. If he asks you to sleep, you sleep. And you don’t destroy the enclosures they set up for you. Yes?”

“Ian, whatever they did to you, we can-”

“Yes?” he repeated, louder.

“Fuck you,” Adelaide spat, her voice shaky with rage.

“Do what you want,” Ian shrugged. He laid his full hand over her body, putting pressure into his palm against the table but making sure not to actually press down on Adelaide. “But you know what happens when we disobey.”

Adelaide didn’t dare move. She could feel her chest touch his hand every time she inhaled, which made her flinch, but she couldn’t slow her breathing down to get it to stop. The heat radiating off his hand was stifling and she could hardly see through the tears.

The hand lifted, Ian left, and the room was empty. Adelaide’s body deflated.

Wu and Clara watched from another room the whole time through a set of cameras. Malcolm wasn’t lying. He truly seemed to have lost all affection for the girl, which Wu did not expect in the slightest. He wouldn’t say he trusted Malcolm yet, but he was proving to be a bigger asset than anticipated.

“No luck?” Wu teased when Ian returned.

“Give it a couple days. She’s in a new environment with new people. She’s scared. She’ll uh, she’ll open up soon.”

“It’s been a couple days.”

“Yeah, well you haven’t had me,” Ian smiled.

As the hours passed, Ian grew restless, and it became harder and harder to suppress it. He fidgeted with his rings, he bounced his leg, he looked around the various rooms for something to hold his attention. The female scientist disappeared but didn’t say where she was going. He could only hope that it wasn’t back to Adelaide.

Pointless conversations about money and genetics were hardly engaging, until Wu mentioned something about cloning.

“Cloning - cloning…humans?”

“Yes.”

Ian paused to think about his response. A number of negative thoughts and hostile remarks passed through his head, none of which were useful. “And who’s to say I don’t, um, I don’t take this back to Biosyn?”

“I think you’re smarter than that.”

“Thank you.”

Suddenly, another scientist rounded the corner. Her clothes were disheveled and her glasses sat crooked at the edge of her nose. “Dr. Wu, you need to come see this.”

Wu let out a sharp sigh. Whatever metaphorical fire this was, it could likely wait. These InGen people were intelligent, but their fear of failure frequently overrode their ability to problem-solve, which dragged him into a number of situations that wasted his time.

He looked at Ian, who just shrugged.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Wu decided. He didn’t want to leave Malcolm alone, but he should theoretically only be gone for a moment. And he trusted that the building was secure enough to prevent him from trying anything or getting away with it.

The second Wu left the room, Ian was on the move. He had easily snatched the badge that hung from the doctor’s belt by only a clip, and he found the correct room quickly. It was empty. Well, except for one person.

Ian rushed up to the table and Adelaide flinched away violently.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Ian whispered, looking around.

“Get away from me!” she screamed desperately. He could hear the terror in her voice, but he also winced at the volume. If anyone was paying attention, they’d hear her.

Ian reached in to open the restraints, but Adelaide only struggled harder. Her wrists started to bleed as the skin tore from the repeated motion.

Adelaide didn’t know what those hands would do, but she knew what they could do. They hovered above her menacingly, casting her in their very large shadow. Anyone but him. They could torture her, experiment on her, do whatever they wanted to her, but not Ian. She couldn’t handle this treatment at his hands. She would rather die.

Ian knew they wouldn’t get anywhere with her chained up like that, so he ignored her trembling and unlatched the metal from around her limbs.

Adelaide immediately scrambled back, somewhere between a run and a scooch, her legs too weak to fully support her. Once she cleared a couple inches, she turned her head and threw her arm up to shield herself.

Ian knelt down, hoping to appear less intimidating. “Della, I don’t know how long we have. We need to leave, and I need you to trust me.”

Adelaide stared at him incredulously. Was this some kind of game? Was this not the same Ian that threatened her mere hours ago? What did he expect her to think? She pushed herself back further until her back hit something solid.

“You know I didn’t mean any of that. You had to have known. I have never and uh, will never hurt you. You must - you must know that.” Ian didn’t plead. He didn’t beg. He kept his face as calm as possible and his voice as earnest as possible. He needed her to trust him, or they’d both be in big trouble.

Adelaide didn’t know what to think. He was correct. He didn’t hurt her. His movements were careless and his demeanor indifferent, but no matter how intense the situation got, he never hurt her. Still, she couldn’t forget his words.

But you know what happens when we disobey .

She couldn’t forget the way his hand pinned her to the counter as he said them.

“I want to get you out of here, but, uh, you have to let me. Wu doesn’t - he doesn’t know, but he will soon.” Ian laid his hand on the counter, palm up. Adelaide jumped and curled into herself, trembling. It was so big. What was to stop him from pinning her down again and pushing just a little harder? Pushing until she couldn’t breathe, until she was crushed? What was to stop him from tossing her back in her cage?

Adelaide wanted so badly to trust him. She wanted him to break them out of here and never turn back and to take her home. Home , home. Her face contorted as she started to cry. She shook her head rapidly as she drew in shallow, uneven breaths. “I - I can’t.”

At the sound of Adelaide’s voice, Ian perked up. She was talking, which meant they were headed in the right direction. But they were running out of time. “Della. You are uh, brave and - and you are strong and you are smart. I know you can trust me.”

What other choice did she have? It was Wu and Clara and a million other scientists who had poked and prodded her senseless for the last couple days, or it was Ian. Ian, who she trusted to the moon and back. Ian, who did everything he could to find her. Ian, who nearly squashed her like a bug…

Adelaide shook her head again, trying to clear away those thoughts. Through the confusion and chaos, she understood that Ian only did what he did to trick Wu. Looking back, it was obvious. But those threats, the danger, it all felt so tangible.

You know better than to speak unless spoken to .

Slowly, Adelaide pushed herself to a stand. Once both feet were underneath her, she stumbled sideways.

Ian wanted to catch her, but he knew that if he made a move toward her, they would be back to square one.

Adelaide tried a second time. This time, she was able to hobble toward his hand. It was so big, and it pulsed with nervous energy. It was hands like these that made her life a living hell. She looked into Ian’s eyes, so far above her own. “Ian, I-”

Her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed into his palm. Even if she wanted to get away, she didn’t have the strength. Air rushed up at her and she shivered, still without any clothes but a scratchy hospital gown.

Ian held her up to his eyes, scanning her over. This was different than before. Just a few hours ago, his scan was studious and apathetic. Now, it was full of concern. Still, Adelaide couldn’t help recoiling.

“We’re almost out. Remember - remember what I said. What did I say? I said I have never and will never…hurt you.”

Adelaide nodded quickly, unable to say anything or else she’d just cry harder, and she knew she already looked so fragile.

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head no.

“Can you make it to the car?”

She shook her head yes.

Ian didn’t say anything as he lowered her to his chest. He couldn’t stash her away in the pocket now, not when she was so beaten up and afraid. Though, he couldn’t rule it out completely. He was about to become public enemy number one, and he couldn’t let her get caught in the crossfire.

Ian cupped his hand close to his heart and took off in the direction he assumed was the exit. It was time to go.

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#jurassic park #ian malcolm #g/t #giant/tiny #jurassic park g/t #gt #size difference

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nessa-mayfield · 2 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄;

𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑉𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒

❝ 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 ❞

𝗡𝗮𝗺𝗲; Vanessa Elizabeth Mayfield

𝗡𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲; Nessa, Ness, Nessie, Lochness, Nes, Nessy, Auntie Ness, Aunt Nessy, Van (hmph), Ness-Ness, Gingersnap,

➥ born in California

➥ 4 years older than Max

⤷ 𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺

➥ When she’s 10, the whole family move from California to this town in Indiana called Hawkins.

➥ Their mom, Susan fell in love with a guy named Neil when she’s 8 and get married soon after, and that’s when they’re introduced to their new stepfamily

➥ Max was 6 when they move

➥ Only reason they moved from San Diego California was because William — Billy, their new stepbrother started causing trouble, enough so that they want to move for a “fresh start”

➥ She, like her sister miss their dad in California

⤷ 𝘈𝘯𝘥 ��𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘥

➥ They stay in Hawkins Indiana for 4 years

➥ Long enough that both girls hope they won’t move again, long enough that they do make long lasting friends

➥ Vanessa even finds out one of her newfound friends is a dealer, and they live nearby, so she’s got a pretty decent supply of weed to help with anxiety

➥ But then again, nothing lasts forever, and despite their protests, they move to this little trailer park on the edge of kings county, in Atlanta Georgia. When she’s 14, and max is 10

⤷ 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵

➥ Both Neil and Billy are abusive

➥ She takes the brunt of it willingly if it means it’s keeping her sister safe, and thankfully it seems to work.

➥ Not that long after moving, she decides to go exploring the forest near their new home

➥In doing so, she almost gets shot by this wiry looking guy, crossbow aimed at her as she emerges from the trees into a little clearing with an old picnic table

➥She’s immediately raising her hands with a “𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵!”

⤷ 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳

➥ Soon she learns this kid’s named Daryl, and he’s got an asshole of a dad too

➥ And they eventually become close friends, and that picnic table in the clearing becomes “𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵”

➥ Since she’s working like a billion jobs to help out her mom, she saves up enough money, wanting to buy daryl a phone for his 21st birthday so they can keep in contact if anything happens

➥But it’s after one day when he doesn’t come to their spot that she starts to worry

➥The next day he shows up looking seriously beat up and right then and there she decides that it can’t wait until his birthday (which she’s sad about)

➥So next time they meet, she’s got a little wrapped box, telling him to open it and “it’s a surprise 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 early birthday gift. I was gonna wait till your 21st, but you definitely need one cause…y’know… and my number’s already in it.”

➥They also develop a code word if they need to meet up urgently, or for anything urgent really.

⤷ 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘊𝘩𝘶𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢

➥ She also took the liberty of having a first aid kit underneath the table for if either of them need it.

➥ With the Dixons living up in the mountains, and her and her family in the trailer park on the edge of kings county, with the woods separating them... finding other friends nearby became a bit...challenging...

➥ But thankfully (for both her and Max), they were able to keep in touch with their friend group from back in Hawkins, which definitely helped.

⤷ 𝘉𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘕𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘪. ( FLAYED MIND )

➥ Otherwise, Vanessa was mostly bullied by other kids So outside of her sister, she only had two other friends in town.

⤷ 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰, 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴.

➥ But it didn't matter to her, because if she wasn't hanging out with Daryl, Max, or Babi, she was more than likely working one of her 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 jobs, because she took any job opportunity possible to help out her mom.

➥Throughout the years as they grew up, she lets him drag her along anywhere. (𝘍��𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵)

➥ So most of the shit he gets up to with Merle, she’s there too, keeping an eye out for Daryl's safety

⤷ 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 2 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

➥ And you know how it is when you’ve got your first serious crush when you’re young, you’ll gladly do anything to stay near them

➥ But also because she really does care about him and wants to make sure he’s safe, that someone’s 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 looking out for him, and so Merle doesn’t drag him down too far

⤷ 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴.

➥ Max had already decided that teaching Vanessa to skateboard was a lost cause. But that's okay, she likes rollerskating more.

➥ Has anxiety

➥ Definitely overprotective

➥Even living in a trailer park on the edge of kings county, she 𝗱𝗲𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 has come across Shane & Rick before

➥Probably bailing out Merle on occasion, they didn’t necessarily get along, and it’s Merle...

⤷ 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

⤷ 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥...𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱.

➥ She also takes Daryl to his first fair when there’s one in town, and always tries to take him along to anything good that comes through town. To more fun things in general like museums, skating rinks, etc.

Because in her words:

⤷“𝘞𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥.”

➥ Then the apocalypse started...

➥ Vanessa had come home a bit late from one of her many jobs

⤷ 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺

➥ Only to find everything going absolutely crazy, the car wasn't even fully parked before she's running to their trailer shouting for Max, panic starting to set in. Only one thing going through her mind:

⤷ 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺...𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦!

➥ And what she sees makes her stop dead in her tracks. It takes her a moment to even process what she was seeing!

➥ It was their family... their mom... Billy.... even Neil... and they were 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

➥ Thankfully not Max, but now Nessa had only one choice, something she never thought she'd be capable of. But when it comes to her sister's safety, and with the way they were coming at her... 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦...

➥ Swallowing any remaining nerves, and a little bile, she’s grabbing one of the kitchen knives, and moving fast, using some of what she learned from the Dixons, quickly putting down her f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶y̶... the zombies.

➥ Having no choice but to get over her own nerves, her own shock at what happened (𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳)

➥ She's quick to shout to Max that they needed to go “𝘕𝘖𝘞!”

➥ From there on out, it was only her and Max. Surviving.

➥ Not to say they didn't run into some groups in the months after it all started.

➥ But those never seemed to last. Not for long.

⤷ 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴... 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴... 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴... 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺... 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘯.

➥ It's probably about 2 months later, that both girls emerge from the trees, dirty, and covered in foliage, Nessa keeping Max behind her. Always protective.

⤷ 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘹. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦.

⤷ 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘕𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴.

➥ Only to be accidentally shot with… you guessed it, a crossbow bolt, right as they're coming out of the trees.

➥ It won't be until much later that she learns this new group, 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭'𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱, had just been attacked the day before, losing some of their own.

⤷ 𝘚𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨.

⤷ Only going with one teasing comment instead.

➥ Soon as she sees him, she’s grinning

➥ “We gotta stop meeting like this”

➥ And then she's passing out, knowing that Max will be safe with Daryl there

➥ She makes friends with the kids easily, specifically Sophia

➥ She remembers being that age, being terrified of her stepdad, of her stepbrother, trying to shield max

➥ While bonding with the rest of the group, neither Max or her put up with any of Shane's bullshit

➥ They’re both there when the herd hits after the CDC

➥ Max runs after Sophia and someone (Glenn? Shane?) has to hold her back from physically running after her, putting a hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming her sisters name

➥ At the farm it’s not 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 Sophia they’re looking for, it’s also Max.

➥ She’s out there just as much as Daryl looking for her sister, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴.

⤷ Always antsy to get back out there, to do 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨!

⤷ Distracting herself when she can't be out there by baking with the girls. Thankful that they're even letting her.

➥ She does bond with Andrea when she learns that she also had a sister named Amy who died in the attack

➥ But then she goes and accidentally has to shoot Daryl, and I’m not saying Nessa is overprotective at times, but…

⤷ 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵... 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘢...𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭.

➥So, yes... it’s possible the blonde is sporting a black eye and or busted lip not long after Daryl’s brought up

➥ And no, she will not be apologizing anytime soon

➥ And at the barn she sees how much the Greenes don't want them to do this, and even if she doesn't want to, Shane already opened this can of worms so it's not like she can do anything to stop it

➥ So when he hands her a gun, asking if she can do this, she nods, taking it, avoiding looking anywhere but at the barn, bracing herself.

➥ Then those doors open

⤷ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦

➥ Taking a breath, she starts to shoot as soon as the walkers start pouring out

➥ When they seem to stop, she lowers her gun, breathing out trying to steady her racing heart

➥ Something tells her this isn't done yet...and sure enough...

➥ A few seconds later, there's the tell tale signs of another walker - actually walkers, slowly making their way out

➥ Like they were waiting to make their entrance

➥ She raises her gun again

➥ Braces herself

⤷ 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴… 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴… 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯… 𝘕𝘰…!

➥ She's vaguely aware that Carol screamed, that someone, Daryl maybe, is holding her back

➥ And a second later, her gun slips from her hands, her knees buckle and she's falling, not even realizing she'd screamed out the last part herself

➥ Because it wasn't just Sophia that came out

➥ Shuffling along right beside her was Max

⤷ 𝘔𝘢𝘹… 𝘎𝘰𝘥… 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘹… 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘦…

➥ Tears blur her vision, and someone's holding her back now

➥ Dale.

➥ He's whispering comforting words

➥ His Grip tightening as someone — 𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘬 — steps forward, and does what no one else seems capable of doing

➥Two gunshots ring in the air

➥ And then silence.

➥ She's not sure how long she sat there crying

➥ But it's Andreas hand on her shoulder that brings her back to reality

⤷ 𝘈 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘹

➥ As her brain so readily provides

➥ She shrugs off the hand on her shoulder, standing, taking a step towards her sister's body, before changing course and going back to her tent

⤷ 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.

⤷ 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳...

➥ She's quick to zip her tent up behind her, not in the mood to deal with the outside world.

➥ she also smokes a lot, it helps her anxiety

⤷ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦

➥ She's devastated when Beth dies, having thought of her as a sister figure, reminding her of Max

➥ It’s also around then that she and Maggie really bond, knowing what it’s like to lose your sister, and your only family really.

➥ Sees Rick as a father figure

➥ And she absolutely adores Carol

⤷ 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 “𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵”

⤷ 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

➥ if she was able to find any notebooks on a run, she grabs it as well as any writing utensil handy and keeps up her tradition of writing, of Journaling.

➥ 5”7

➥ still an anxious nerd

➥ In the aftermath of the prison falling, she escaped on her own. Still winding up in that same damn train car as the rest, with some stories of her own.

➥ Both pre & post apocalypse Vanessa always tried to be the “𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦” for everyone else, always trying to get her friends happy, to get Max smiling, and 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 trying to get Daryl smiling.

➥ After Beth dies, Ness takes it upon herself to make it her personal mission in life to be everyone's “𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦.” the same way Beth had been able to seem to lift everyone's mood, light up a room, etc.

➥ Beth really had an impact on her, and reminded her of Max, and that's why she takes it so seriously.

➥ Trying to be the optimistic one for the whole group if need be, even if it makes her act foolish sometimes because: “𝘈𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦!”

➥ Even if she knows it's not healthy, she'll internalize any other negative emotions, (𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵) journaling if she can, baking if possible, or taking it out on any walkers they come across.

➥ Vanessa's in France with Daryl throughout all of those adventures.

⤷ 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘓𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 & 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

➥ And Carol joining them in France was simply amazing!

⤷ 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢; 𝙏𝙒𝘿 & 𝘾𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙮

𝙁𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢; 𝘼𝙗𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝘾𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙣 / 𝙅𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝘽𝙧𝙮𝙘𝙚 𝘿𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙨 𝙃𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙

⤷ 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦

⤷ 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘺

#nessaverse #rp #twd #twd oc #bios #the walking dead #the walking dead rp #vanessamayfield #nessamayfield #multiverse oc #the walking dead bio #rpc

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