#houses in Virginia Water
Text
Thinking About Putting Down Roots in Virginia Water?
A recent BBC article highlighted a dip in UK house prices, with a 0.4% drop in April compared to the previous month. This might sound like music to the ears of potential buyers, but there's more to the story.
While house prices might be showing signs of cooling, affordability is still a major hurdle. Rising mortgage rates continue to squeeze buyers, potentially negating any gains from a slight price decline.
So, what's the outlook for houses for sale in Virginia Water?
Predicting the future of the property market is tricky, but it's possible we could see a similar trend of stable or slightly declining house prices in Virginia Water. However, it's important to remember that Virginia Water is a unique market with its own dynamics. Here are some key factors to consider:
Supply and demand: The number of houses in Virginia Water on the market will significantly impact prices. If there's a healthy supply of properties to buy in Virginia Water, prices may be more likely to decrease. Conversely, a limited inventory could push prices upwards.
Interest rates: As the BBC article mentioned, rising interest rates can significantly impact affordability. If interest rates keep climbing, it could dampen buyer demand in Virginia Water, even if house prices dip slightly.
Is Virginia Water a Buyer's Market Yet?
Despite the recent decrease in UK house prices, it's too early to say definitively whether Virginia Water has tipped into a buyer's market. Local factors, including the number of houses for sale in Virginia Water and interest rates, will play a major role.
Here are some tips for navigating the Virginia Water property market:
Do your homework: Get a good understanding of the current trends and pricing in Virginia Water.
Get pre-approved for a mortgage: Knowing your budget strengthens your negotiating position when you find your dream house in Virginia Water.
Team up with a local realtor: A knowledgeable realtor with expertise in the Virginia Water market can be an invaluable asset. They can guide you through the process and help you find the perfect houses for sale in Virginia Water.
The attraction of Virginia Water endures. While affordability is a concern, there are still opportunities to find a great house at a fair price. By carefully considering the market conditions and doing your research, you can increase your chances of finding your dream home in Virginia Water.
Bonus Tips:
Focus on the long term: Don't get caught up in short-term market fluctuations. It's important to focus on your long-term housing needs when searching for houses in Virginia Water.
Budgeting is key: Don't get carried away by falling prices. Stick to your budget and avoid overspending on properties to buy in Virginia Water.
By following these tips, you can increase your chances of finding your dream home in Virginia Water, even in the current market conditions. After all, buying a house is a significant life decision, and taking the time to plan and research will pay off in the long run.
0 notes
Text
Virginia Water: Where Property Dreams Become Reality with Barton Wyatt
Have you ever dreamt of escaping the hectic city life for a place steeped in serenity and charm? A place where unique properties meet vibrant village life, and where every twist in the road unveils a picture-perfect scene? Well, look no further than Virginia Water, a hidden gem amongst the lush greenery of Surrey, England.
Virginia Water isn't your average village. It's a place where history whispers from ancient woodlands, and Virginia Water Lake, a man-made masterpiece, glistens like a sapphire in the heart of it all. Imagine weekends spent strolling along the lake's edge, breathing in the crisp air, or indulging in a spot of boating – pure bliss, wouldn't you say?
Now, you might be thinking, "This sounds idyllic, but is Virginia Water the place for me?" Here's the beauty of Virginia Water – it caters to a delightful smorgasbord of lifestyles. Young families will find excellent schools and a thriving community spirit. Professionals seeking a tranquil escape from the city yet needing to maintain the London link will find themselves perfectly positioned, with excellent transport connections just a stone's throw away. And for those seeking a touch of luxury, well, let's just say Virginia Water houses for sale won't disappoint.
The village boasts an impressive array of properties, from charming apartments to grand estates that wouldn't look out of place in a period drama. But with so much choice, finding the perfect property in Virginia Water can feel like navigating a maze. That's where Barton Wyatt comes in – your trusted guide through the exciting world of Virginia Water real estate.
Think of Barton Wyatt as your own personal real estate concierge in Virginia Water. They've been residents here for generations, meaning their knowledge of the area is second to none. They understand the intricacies of each neighbourhood, the hidden gems, and the properties that would tick all your boxes – even the ones you didn't know you had!
Here's what sets Barton Wyatt apart:
Local Legends: Their team has been selling houses in Virginia Water for decades. They've seen the market shift and evolve, and they know exactly where to find that hidden gem you've been yearning for. They also have one of the widest selection of properties to buy in Virginia Water.
Tailor-Made Service: Forget a one-size-fits-all approach. Barton Wyatt takes the time to understand your unique needs and desires. Whether you're a growing family or a downsizing couple, they'll find the property that perfectly complements your lifestyle.
Going the Extra Mile: Barton Wyatt isn't just about selling houses; it's about helping you find your dream home. They'll be there every step of the way, from the initial search to those all-important negotiations, ensuring a smooth and stress-free experience.
Let's face it, buying a house can be daunting. But with Barton Wyatt by your side, you can navigate the process with confidence. They'll help you decipher market trends, understand the legalities involved, and answer any questions you might have – no matter how big or small.
So, if you're ready to unlock the secrets of Virginia Water and turn your dream of owning property there into a reality, then look no further than Barton Wyatt. Get in touch with them today, and let them show you why Virginia Water could be the perfect place to call.
#properties to buy in Virginia Water#Virginia Water houses for sale#property in Virginia Water#houses in Virginia Water
0 notes
Text
Virginia Water: Unveiling the Essence of Luxury Living
Nestled in the picturesque landscapes of Surrey, Virginia Water stands as a beacon of luxury living, offering an exquisite blend of cultural richness, philanthropic opportunities, and tailor-made experiences. As one explores the allure of houses in Virginia Water, it becomes evident that this affluent enclave not only boasts remarkable properties but also a lifestyle curated to cater to the most discerning residents.
For those seeking the epitome of luxury living, estate agents in Surrey play a pivotal role in guiding prospective homeowners through the myriad of prestigious properties available in Virginia Water. From elegant manor houses to contemporary villas, these agents possess unparalleled expertise in matching clients with their dream homes in this sought-after locale.
Cultural enthusiasts are drawn to Virginia Water for its array of cultural attractions and events. Renowned art galleries, such as the Farnham House Gallery, showcase masterpieces that evoke awe and inspiration. Historical landmarks like Windsor Castle offer glimpses into the area's rich heritage, while exclusive cultural events like the Royal Ascot provide residents with unique opportunities for enrichment and entertainment.
Moreover, Virginia Water presents a plethora of philanthropic opportunities, with local initiatives like the Runnymede Society supported by high-net-worth individuals shaping the community's social landscape. Whether it's contributing to charitable causes or volunteering time and resources, residents have ample avenues to make a meaningful impact in the lives of others.
Tailor-made experiences further elevate the lifestyle offered by houses in Virginia Water. With concierge services providing bespoke experiences ranging from private tours of iconic landmarks like Hampton Court Palace to exhilarating helicopter rides over the Surrey countryside, residents are afforded unparalleled access to luxury and exclusivity.
Families are also well-catered to in Virginia Water, with an array of family-oriented luxury activities available. From polo lessons at the Guards Polo Club to private boat charters on Virginia Water Lake, there's no shortage of memorable experiences to be shared with loved ones. Bespoke children's parties hosted at The Elms add a touch of sophistication and magic to any celebration.
In line with the growing emphasis on sustainability and wellness, Virginia Water offers eco-friendly living options and luxury wellness retreats. The Organic Farm Shop Weybridge provides residents with access to fresh, locally sourced produce, while The Spa at Pennyhill Park offers a sanctuary for rejuvenation and relaxation amidst the hustle and bustle of modern life.
For those considering properties to let in Sunningdale, the neighbouring area to Virginia Water, the allure of this vibrant community is equally compelling. With its close proximity to Virginia Water's amenities and attractions, Sunningdale offers a convenient and luxurious lifestyle for discerning renters.
In conclusion, the allure of houses for sale in Virginia Water extends far beyond the mere acquisition of property; it encompasses a lifestyle defined by cultural enrichment, philanthropic engagement, tailor-made experiences, family-oriented luxury, and a commitment to sustainability and wellness. With estate agents in Surrey as trusted guides, prospective homeowners can embark on a journey to discover the unparalleled charm and sophistication of Virginia Water, while those seeking properties to let in Sunningdale can indulge in the vibrant lifestyle offered by this prestigious locale.circle
#properties to let in Sunningdale#houses in Virginia Water#houses for sale in Virginia Water#estate agents in Surrey
0 notes
Text
Unveiling Virginia Water's Enchanting Homes: From Tranquil Estates to Modern Marvels
Virginia Water, a charming village nestled in the heart of Surrey, offers a unique blend of rural tranquillity and convenient proximity to London. Whether you're seeking a grand period estate, a characterful cottage, or a sleek modern dwelling, houses in Virginia Water cater to diverse tastes and lifestyles.
For those yearning for a slice of history, the village boasts an array of period properties. Elegant Victorian terraces grace tree-lined avenues, while grand Edwardian houses exude stately charm. Many retain their original architectural features, like stained glass windows, ornate fireplaces, and spacious rooms, transporting residents back in time. Some even hold stories of renowned past residents, adding a touch of intrigue to their allure.
If your dream home exudes contemporary flair, Virginia Water doesn't disappoint. Architects have embraced the leafy landscape, crafting stunning modern houses that seamlessly blend with their surroundings. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views of the sprawling Wentworth Estate, while open-plan living spaces foster a sense of light and airiness. Sustainable features like energy-efficient heating and eco-friendly materials are increasingly common, attracting environmentally conscious buyers.
Beyond houses for sale in Virginia Water's, its neighbour, Englefield Green, beckons with an equally captivating selection of houses to buy. Family-friendly neighbourhoods offer an abundance of detached and semi-detached homes, ideal for raising a brood. Many boast private gardens, perfect for summer barbecues and children's playtime. For those seeking something truly special, exclusive gated communities provide an extra layer of security and privacy, often featuring impressive shared amenities like tennis courts and swimming pools.
Whether you're drawn to the timeless elegance of period houses in Virginia Water, the cutting-edge design of modern dwellings, or the family-oriented charm of houses to buy in Englefield Green, the area offers something for everyone. Here's a deeper dive into the factors influencing your choice:
Lifestyle: Virginia Water caters to diverse lifestyles. If you crave an active life, the proximity to Wentworth Golf Club and Virginia Water Lake provides ample opportunities for recreation. Families appreciate the excellent schools and community events, while commuters benefit from easy access to London via the M25 and train stations. Englefield Green, with its slower pace and strong sense of community, is ideal for those seeking a quieter haven.
Budget: Houses in Virginia Water range in price depending on size, location, and style. Period properties command a premium, while modern houses and those in Englefield Green offer a wider spectrum of affordability. Remember to factor in additional costs like renovation work, stamp duty, and ongoing maintenance when making your decision.
Accessibility: Both Virginia Water and Englefield Green enjoy excellent transport links. Trains from Egham and Virginia Water stations whisk you to London Waterloo in less than an hour, making them ideal for city commuters. The M25 motorway is easily accessible, offering convenient connections to other parts of the UK.
Choosing your dream home in Virginia Water or Englefield Green requires careful consideration. By understanding your needs, exploring the diverse housing options, and weighing the advantages of each location, you'll be well on your way to finding a haven that reflects your unique personality and lifestyle.
Remember, engaging with local estate agents and exploring online listings is invaluable for discovering the perfect house. With its captivating blend of history, modern convenience, and idyllic setting, Virginia Water and Englefield Green are sure to cast their spell on any discerning house hunter. So, embark on your property journey and unlock the door to your dream home in this captivating corner of Surrey.
0 notes
Text
Houses for Sale in Virginia Water: Where Excellent Transportation Fuels Desirable Living
Imagine a charming village nestled amidst lush greenery, with vibrant city life just a train ride away. This is the reality of Virginia Water, where houses in Virginia Water connect seamlessly to a world of possibilities, thanks to an exceptional transportation network.
Introduction:
Virginia Water is more than just a picturesque village; it's a prime location for property investment. Surrounded by natural beauty, boasting a family-friendly atmosphere, and positioned in proximity to London, it offers the perfect blend of tranquility and urban accessibility.
The significance of excellent transportation links cannot be overstated, enhancing the appeal of residential properties. Convenience, time savings, and access to diverse opportunities are the hallmarks of living in properties for sale in Virginia Water.
Overview of Virginia Water's Location:
Nestled within the Thames Valley, Virginia Water strategically positions itself near key urban centres like London, Reading, and Windsor. A mere 30 minutes by train to London Waterloo, the village provides a haven from the city buzz while remaining effortlessly connected.
Geographical advantages abound, with easy access to motorways like M25 and M4, as well as the A30. Additionally, Heathrow Airport is within reach, further boosting its commuter appeal.
Transportation Infrastructure:
Virginia Water's transportation infrastructure is robust. Major roads such as the M25, M4, and A30 connect the village to nearby cities. Prominent public transportation options include train stations like Virginia Water and Egham, along with well-established bus routes, ensuring frequent and convenient travel for houses in Virginia Water.
Consider a map or infographic to visualize Virginia Water's prime location within the broader transportation network, showcasing its accessibility to properties for sale in Virginia Water.
Accessibility to Employment Hubs:
The excellent transportation links facilitate easy access to major employment hubs like the Thames Valley Tech Corridor and Slough Trading Estate. Residents can reach London's financial district in under an hour or Heathrow Airport in just 15 minutes, highlighting the village's strategic location for houses in Virginia Water and other properties for sale in Englefield Green.
Personal stories of residents enjoying convenient commutes to specific companies or industries add a human touch, demonstrating the practical benefits of living in Virginia Water.
Quality of Life and Convenience:
Efficient transportation contributes significantly to an enhanced quality of life. Residents can effortlessly access amenities, shopping centers, and recreational areas like Windsor Castle or Runnymede, all thanks to the village's excellent transportation connectivity, benefiting both houses in Virginia Water and properties for sale in Englefield Green.
For those seeking leisure, Virginia Water Lake and Thorpe Park are easily accessible, providing scenic escapes from the hustle and bustle for properties for sale in Virginia Water.
Impact on Property Values:
The robust transportation network positively influences property values in Virginia Water. Real estate experts and statistics attest to the correlation between strong transportation infrastructure and real estate appreciation in similar locations for houses in Virginia Water and properties for sale in Englefield Green.
Investing in houses in Virginia Water is not just about the present; it's a commitment to long-term value and guaranteed connectivity advantages for properties for sale in Virginia Water.
Future Developments and Expansion:
Planned or ongoing transportation projects in the region, such as Crossrail 3 and M25 upgrades, promise even better connectivity in the future. This foreseen improvement is poised to positively impact property values in Virginia Water, painting a picture of a more connected and convenient future for residents of houses in Virginia Water and properties for sale in Englefield Green.
Conclusion:
In summary, Virginia Water stands as an attractive destination for homebuyers due to its exceptional transportation links. Investing in houses in Virginia Water is an investment in both convenience and future value. Don't miss out on the possibilities powered by Virginia Water's outstanding transportation network. Take action now—explore houses for sale in Virginia Water and unlock a lifestyle where excellent transportation fuels desirable living. Contact us or visit our website to embark on this exciting journey and discover more about properties for sale in Virginia Water and Englefield Green.
#houses in Virginia Water#properties for sale in Virginia Water#properties for sale in Englefield Green
0 notes
Text
submitted by @dipperthedestructor
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
Did any of the gangs bay main cast grow up in gangs bay? If so who? (And where are the others from?)
screwball and juicebox for sure. i've been over it before but they were born and raised in anchor bay. i havent fully settled on the specific locations the rest of the cast came from, but ding definitely grew up in a beach town and he and hot-rod met in high school, so i think one of their families moved for that to happen. havent thought a lot about bubbles, milkshake likely comes from some city. ive honestly thought more about their upbringings and when they met than where they lived lol
#gangs bay#i dont believe i need to talk about sharky and shipwreck's. would likely just be in-universe equivalent virginia and vermont respectively#though shipwreck moves to anchor bay a few years before the remaining gang does. which could be around this time#and real boat bought a House right. im assuming. so if he's not far from a large body of water...#<- might be unironically delusional
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
ranting abt my roommate in the tags dont look at me
#bro i really like them a lot but they have been getting on my NERVES since moving in omg. they're my partner's best friend and there's#a lot of good reasons for that but also as im getting to know them more closely im realizing they can be soooo pretentious#its both my partner's birthday and their birthday today so i went to the store at 7am to get breakfast stuff#2 diff types of biscuits. cinnamon rolls. hash browns. sausage plus plant-based sausage for them. fruit. juice. red bull.#that one brand of sparkling water i know they like. ingredients for a birthday cake. plus 2 bottles of champagne and OJ for mimosas#i spent like $130 on this and then when we finished making breakfast they wanted to take a photo of our plates & mimosa glasses & stuff#and they turned the champagne bottle around so you couldn't see the brand name and were like 'uhh nobody needs to know this is andré lol'#(andré is an inexpensive but common brand of champagne if you're unaware)#like dude. i went out of my way to do this and already spent a significant amount of money#and you're gonna comment about the quality of the champagne i got? wack#this happened like 6 hours ago and im still feeling very wtf about it lol#they're weirdly hella pretentious about southern culture too and reference all sorts of tiny things as being innately southern...#which my partner (who is literally also southern? we're talking virginia vs north carolina) doesn't understand#and im just tired of it. they make mildly fatphobic comments and kinda uphold traditional beauty/body standards for women and they dont#seem to have much self-reflection for this. which is fuckin weird coming from a queer trans person who is incredibly interested in the#very granular aspects of queer history and 'theory'#there's literally so many other things about them that either mildly bother me or otherwise fully piss me off and im refraining from#listing them because i would 100% sound like an asshole but. i really just wish i lived only with my partner still.#god ok one more: the other day they asked me if i needed to use the bathroom before they showered (its a 1 bathroom house)#and i said nah. then they proceeded to not shower for 2+ hours#at that point i asked them if they minded if i took a quick shower cause i'd also been meaning to and like. it'd been over 2 hours#and they got kinda short and were like 'oh well i guess not. i was kinda making my way in there though. i can wait though.#no thats ok i still need to shower i was slowly gettin there but i can wait'#like thanks and sorry and i'll be quick but also IT HAS BEEN 2+ HOURS
1 note
·
View note
Text
ok. Narrative obfuscation in House Of Leaves. It’s a relatively simple story about a man who moves into a house with his wife and kids, and the house is haunted. That’s it. The core themes are very transparent.
Except, that story is documented by a famous war documentarian, then published as a series of rare tapes, which are discoursed by film buffs, then interpreted from viewings and reading film critique by a blind old man, then his thoughts are transcribed into a manuscript by a series of young women, which is then compiled from scattered notes by the most mysoginistic, damaged, toxic pothead drop-out who won’t stop talking about his life, which is THEN edited and published by some vaguely nefarious agency who soberly refuse to provide any clarification or context.
It’s not simple, but there are so many different hands on the wheel with wildly differing opinions that you can’t discern the truth.
Johnny Truant is such a miserable hopeless fuck up. He has no sense of academic rigor or archival professionalism. Any interference he provides only muddies the waters and taints what would otherwise be a gripping piece of metaphysical film criticism. His neurotic rambling and personal anecdotes cloud an otherwise reasonable story.
If he wasn’t in it, if we could read Zampano’s manuscript directly, WE would be able to understand the truth. We would get it completely, and we wouldn’t have to encounter so much violence, so much miserable graphic detail. It would be a better story.
And fuck it, if we didn’t have to read all of Zampano’s tangents and analyses and interpretations, if we could just find a copy of the famous “five-and-a-half minute hallway” vhs, if we could SEE it, we’d understand. We wouldn’t need endless pontification of what Navidson and Karen’s marriage might entail, or recitations of what a director once said in a Rolling Stones article. We’d see the hallway itself, stretching out into what should be the backyard, and we’d get it. Hell, Zampano is blind in his old age. He can’t even watch the damn movie! But we could. We’d know instantly, the second we saw it. The impossibility of it, the gravity of it, the weight of that dark abyss.
And well, the VHS recording is a little dark, and the quality is poor, and maybe the white balance isn’t so perfect. And actually, VHs tapes could be manipulated. We can’t be sure that Navidson isn’t just using clever videography tricks to invent a hallway. If we were there, if we found the house (it’s in virginia, isn’t it? we even have the address). If we GO there, we could look down that hallway. And it’s dark, so if we just brought a flashlight, maybe took a few steps inside-
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Let’s talk more about accents in the Riordanverse!
• Percy with rounded New York vowels and that quick run-together way of saying his sentences. Percy with an accent you can’t quite place until he orders some coffee or water.
• Annabeth with a Virginia drawl and long vowels that don’t quite go away, even after years on Long Island Sound. Annabeth, who will randomly spit out phrases like “nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”, whose cup always fills with sweet tea in the mess hall/
• Carter with a fairly standard American accent until he pronounces a word so bizarrely it’s clear he must have learned it halfway across the globe. Carter, who gets slightly antsy in the same place for too long and goes to language classes at night just for an excuse to practice.
• Sadie with a London accent that’s begun to fade after years in Brooklyn House, who accidentally says “cheers” when people hold the door for her. Sadie, who skips over her t’s and who drops consonants and, like Carter, isn’t exactly sure where her home is.
• Magnus and Alex with strong Boston accents and nasally a’s that Hearth is glad he can’t hear. Magnus, whose accent gets stronger in battle, who intentionally leans into it when he’s on the West Coast. Alex, who makes people guess where she’s from and tells them something different every time, who argues with Magnus over whose accent is stronger.
• Jason Grace with languid California vowels, who drops the end of every word when he’s relaxed and over-enunciates when he’s in charge. Jason, whose accent is only present when he’s comfortable.
• Leo Valdez with a Texan accent to boot and quick clipping consonants, whose accent sounds nearly the same as Annabeth’s to the untrained ear, but insists that they’re completely different every time someone brings it up.
• Hazel Levesque with a thick New Orleans accent, whose vocabulary is peppered with French and old-fashioned phrases and the occasional Southern saying. Hazel, who sticks to Deep South manners (and passive-aggression, when necessary), who orders in French when she goes to a bakery and watched old black-and-white movies when she feels homesick.
• Frank, who sounds American except for when he says “sorry”, who speaks a bit of Canadian French (which Hazel hates, because she can’t understand it), and gets teased every time he says “about”.
• Piper with a slight valley-girl sound that she’s worked hard to get rid of, but tends to slip into when she’s tired or angry. Piper, whose voice becomes sweet and soothing in charmspeak, who understands every fluctuation and intonation and how to use them to her advantage.
• Nico di Angelo with a seemingly standard American accent, until you pick up on the odd transatlantic pronunciation or Italian rolled “r”. Nico with an arsenal of phrases so jumbled and eclectic that people do a double take when he talks.
Just. Yeah. Riordanverse accents.
#percy jackson#pjo#rick riordan#heroes of olympus#riordanverse#Annabeth chase#Carter Kane#Sadie Kane#Magnus chase#Alex fierro#jason grace#leo Valdez#hazel levesque#Frank zhang#piper mclean#nico di angelo
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.6K]
THE TIMELINE
"Oh, won't you stay, just a little bit longer.
Please let me hear, you say that you will,
Say you will."
- Stay By Maurice Williams and The Zodiacs
IV. MOUNTAIN LAKE, VIRGINA: 1963
The man in front of you was not part of your vacation plans. He was half naked, sweaty, annoyed and scowling. The man in front of you was a stranger.
Except he wasn’t.
Was he?
You knew his name by now, something you’d only learnt on Monday, or perhaps the day before. Steve, Steve Herringbone or Barrington or something. He didn’t like it when you called him Steven and he certainly didn’t like it when you argued back.
But this was supposed to be a getaway, a small summer break where you could maybe sneak a smoke by the lake when everyone had returned to their cabins and the geriatric morning yoga was done. Except your dad knew the owner of the summer retreat, a huge house settled in the Virginia countryside, the forest greener than it was back home. Bauman’s Mountain House was host to many golf courses, a fencing team, seventeen rowboats, an archery club, the best water aerobics in the state and an award winning dance show.
The very latter included the man in front of you.
Tall, broad shouldered and tanned from the summer, Steve Harrington was handsome and painstakingly so. Brown hair that he always tried to tame by pushing his hand through it, brown eyes and too many freckles to count. He wore a gold chain around his throat, black slacks and a leather jacket on his days off, driving around the resort in a BMW that made too much noise, but he didn’t seem to care.
He cared even less about his bad reputation and loud ways when his partner broke her foot weeks before the final show, a tiny girl called Nancy that you were unreasonably jealous of at first sight. You watched them both on your first night, sat between your mother and father as they took to the stage, dancing flawlessly, fluidly, like they were one whole person. You watched the way she touched him, an easy familiarity that had your stomach feeling unsettled and something inside of you burned when her hand brushed the man’s neck, holding onto him as he dipped her low, her fingers trapping two little moles and hiding them from sight.
You’d blamed the cheap cocktails and called it a night.
But then your father found him arguing with Mr Bauman about the show and suddenly you were volunteered against your own volition, your parents talking loudly and proudly about talent shows and dance lessons when you were much younger, boldly exaggerating about how must’ve been a dancer in another life as you shook your head and tried to escape back to the gazebo by the shoreline.
Now you were left spending your evenings with Steve Harrington and his tight trousers in a cabin that was much smaller than your own. There was a leak in the corner, a consistent drip from a missing nail in the roof and rainwater splashed against the wooden floor as if it were counting down the seconds.
As if it were counting down to— something.
It had rained every night since you had started seeing Steve, the stifling afternoons giving way to humid evenings that always started to smell like rain by six o’clock, sweet tea and lemonade taken over by the scent of a new downpour. There had been threats of storms, chattering of it during breakfast in the main dining hall, grumbles of it from groundskeepers during bowling on the green.
But nothing wild, not yet.
Steve had scowled the entire time he was with you, minutes and hours spent with a frown on his face as he did his best to avoid touching you, mumbling something about getting the timings right, about learning the steps and the footwork before putting it all together. It was tedious now, repetitive and too warm in his small room and even with the bed pushed to the wall, there was barely space to avoid brushing up against him when you moved.
You were flushed, skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and the same sheen made Steve’s lips look glossy, his hair sticking to his forehead in curls and flicks. You rolled your eyes when he hit rewind on the tape deck, a silent order for you to take it from the top. But you didn’t move as he made quick work on his buttons, undoing them one by one until his short sleeved shirt hung open, showing off far too much skin. Lean muscle and a smattering of hair across his pecs, more skating down the line of his navel and you sucked in a breath, pretending you hadn’t stood on your own foot.
“It’s too fuckin’ warm,” he complained, circling you as he spoke, watching you for more errors, inspecting your footwork, your posture, the way your held your head up and squared off your shoulders.
“No shit,” you couldn’t help but bite back. “How’d you think I feel?”
You wore denim shorts to his black slacks, but your cotton T-shirt was sticking to your torso now, the baby pink material too heavy and restricting for the heat inside the cabin. You pressed your lips together and moved, eyes on the wall ahead of you, your right foot moving in front of your left before you twisted your hips half a turn and—
“Take it off, then.”
You blinked, your framework going slack as you dropped both your arms and your jaw. You were hardly prudish, but something about this man had set you on edge since you’d first seen him. An electrical buzz every time you looked at him, fizzing through your bones, an invisible string tied to your insides pulling and pulling and pulling you closer. You’d ignored it until these dance practices, always turning in the other direction, putting the entire resort between you both.
But now… now?
He was standing all of three feet away, cheeks flushed from the heat and his chest on show, his hands behind his head and his fingers buried in his hair in frustration as he stared at you. Like he was challenging you. The muscles in his arms were flexed, taut cords and lines that showed off how hard he work at his job and you couldn’t help but stare.
“What?” You demanded it, a bite of an answer.
“Your shirt,” Steve nodded to the pink material, brows raised like it were obvious. He almost rolled his eyes. “Take it off.”
Above you, the rain outside fell a little harder, a consistent din against the thin roof.
You didn’t say anything. You just hoped you didn’t lose your cool as you reached for the hem of your t-shirt, untucking it from your shorts. The cotton stuck to you uncomfortably, dragging against your skin as you raised it up and over your head, the brief second where your eyesight was blinded a terrifying prospect.
Was he looking? At you? Was he watching? Did he care?
By the time you’d balled up the offending fabric and tossed it in the corner, Steve had turned his back to you, pressing some buttons on the tape deck until the song - some kind of mambo - played for the beginning again. You couldn’t see his face but you wondered if he’d caught sight of your bra, as plain as it may have been. White cotton, thin with scalloped edges and a tiny pink bow between the cups. Hardly sexy, nothing near scandalous, but there was certainly a lot more skin showing now.
Slick, damp skin that you wondered if he’d touch. It was like he wasn’t allowed to, the way he skirted around you all of the time, his hands shoved into his pockets when he wasn’t demonstrating the next step, a fist pressed to his chin as he watched you repeat his instructions, a wide palm always hovering just out of reach of your lower back when he scolded you for slouching, like he’d went to put his hands on you - only to pull catch himself at the last second.
“You gotta loosen your hips,” Steve’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he turned back around. His eyes were on the floor before he finally dragged them up your legs and over your bare stomach. He sucked in a breath. “You’re too rigid.”
“You told me to hold my shoulders,” you retorted, knowing fine well that he’d bitched about your ‘noodle arms’ for days.
“Yeah, your upper body needs to be squared off. Hold yourself tight from here up,” Steve gestured to your waist with the side of his hand. He didn’t touch you, but you could feel the heat radiate from him. “But from here?” He tapped at the button on your shorts.
You froze.
“From here down, you need to put a bit of swing in the hips, alright?” He spun, putting himself behind you but you could see him in the mirror that leant against the cabin wall, an old looking thing that was too ornate to be here. Once gold, it had carvings of cherubs on the frame, tiny wreaths and rosettes intertwined with ancient style busts. “It’s a mambo, sweetheart, put a little heat into it.”
The tape begun again and Steve leant against a dresser, arms folded across his bare chest, his open shirt plastered to his skin. He watched you, waiting. The intro played and you counted the beats, nodding your head to each note and before you could hit the mark. Thunder rumbled somewhere outside and you were suddenly reminded of a man that looked like Steve, standing and watching you like that in a room much smaller than this, lit by firelight, dressed like a fighter.
“You missed the count,” Steve sighed, exasperated.
His hair had been longer, his face bruised and bleeding, but it looked just like him. A familiar scene, like you’d maybe seen it in a movie, but it felt more like a dream you didn’t recall having. You looked down at your feet, chest heaving, lips parted in confusion and you were only more dazed when you saw your bare legs and not the long skirts you expected. Your body didn’t feel like yours, not really.
Like it was borrowed, or broken.
You turned, facing Steve as if you expected him to be dressed differently, in leathers and studs and pleats, but he was still the same, just looking at you as if you’d suddenly fallen ill. Maybe you had.
“Drink some water,” he ordered, and yes, that sounded like a really good idea. “Then we’ll go again.”
You chugged the bottle, the water tepid and hard to swallow but you gulped it down greedily, praying against heat stroke or whatever else it could be that could be plaguing you with such hallucinations. You swiped at your lips and closed your eyes before you turned back to the boy and when you did, he looked the same as he always did.
Annoyed, tired, pretty.
“C’mere,” Steve said briskly, crooking a finger at you. You stepped towards him, unsure of what he was asking you, lingering awkwardly with a few feet of space between you. Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, I mean— here.”
He touched you then, his hand reaching out to grasp your own as he pulled you forward, closer than you’d ever been. There was barely space for a prayer between you both.
You thought that his hand in yours would’ve made you feel something, a spark, a fizz, that buzz that you felt in your bones around him. But something else settled over you instead, a strange familiarity, a longing for a home you didn’t know or didn’t remember, like Steve touching you was hardly anything new. His touch made you think of the sea, of vast gardens, of islands and storms and great wars, ruby wine and promises that seemed impossible to keep.
From the unsettled look in Steve’s eye as he stared down at you, you thought that maybe he felt the same thing.
But then he was fussing, moving his feet into the right position and mumbling about your stance. His hand took you with him as he moved, less than an inch separating your bare stomach from his and you let him direct you as he pleased, waiting for the song to reply from the top. The drums began, a cacophony of instruments you’d never be able to name joining in.
And then Steve was counting, his eyes suddenly fixed on yours as he nodded to the beat. “And five, six, seven—”
Steve’s other hand was on your waist.
His palm felt huge, big enough to envelop your side and his thumb was pressed into the soft of your belly, just below your ribcage. His fingers were splayed out over your bare back, his skin warm against your own and you’d never felt so completely consumed by just one touch. You were reminded of white sheets and hazy mornings, the taste of fresh bread and an open window that looked out to blue skies and you could hear a fountain spraying water.
But you were moving before you could consider it, what it meant, what it was, if it was possible to have someone else’s memories trapped in your head. Steve moved and you followed, your feet chasing his step by step as he walked you back and forth, his hips turning into yours on each beat, his shoulders set and his chin held high, ever the professional.
“Don’t look at your feet,” he murmured, barely heard over the music. “Chin up. Look at me.”
You didn’t know how to tell him it hurt to do so, how looking into his eyes this close felt like giving in, it felt like being stitched back together without any medication. You had never been aware of any wounds in your body, but this man you barely knew seemed to fill the space very well.
So you did, holding your breath until your chest burned, your eyes meeting Steve’s as you clasped his hand in your own and gripped his shoulder, letting him lead you around the cabin floor. The storm raged on, louder than before, more threatening now, like it was arguing, fighting, scolding.
The rain poured harder and what little evening light there had been was now dampened, the setting sun hidden behind navy and violet coloured clouds - but the heat was just as oppressive. Steve turned you, a twist of his body that led into yours as you spun on your toes, and when he caught you— when he caught you, his hand moved lower, slipping down your overheated skin until his fingers grazed the denim waistband of your shorts.
Maybe he saw you falter, maybe he saw your lips part, but Steve sucked in a breath and kept moving, his chest brushing your own as you stepped into his space as he danced into yours, torso meeting, separating, meeting, separating, meeting—
“Keep count,” he reminded you. “Keep counting the beats.”
You nodded, Steve’s face startlingly closer than before, as if he’d forgotten his boundaries, the box he created with strong arms, the one that kept him professional as a dancer, standing tall and strong. Now his elbows were bent, his hand falling from yours so both of his palms could bracket your hips and it was too much, it was everything you’d ever wanted, it was something you felt like you’d once had.
You just couldn’t remember who had taken it away from you.
Lightning lit the cabin, the storm over the resort, the sky black.
“Remember your hips,” he whispered, and god, god, his forehead was almost touching yours, his nose drawing a line against your own as his eyelids dropped and his lashes fanned his pink cheeks. His hands guided your waist, moving you from side to side, following the rhythm. “Listen to the beat.”
You were sure he meant the music, but it was impossible to ignore the thud of his heart against your own chest. You could feel yours even more so, a constant drumming that seemed to seep into your bones, making them crack at the edges, something blooming between them, something new and old and familiar and exciting.
Like driving into your street after a long vacation, like falling into your own bed after too many weeks away, smelling the laundry detergent that clung to everyone else that you loved. It felt hopeful, like the beginning of the morning when the only thing that had entered your thoughts was the way the sun looked in the sky, how pink it was, how the clouds seemed softer than the day before.
Steve pushed at your hips, holding them as you swayed from side to side, your hands leaving the safety of his shoulders to slip up, holding the sides of his neck, the heat of his skin scalding your palms and he nodded, pupils blown wide and lips parted as he stared down at you in amazement, like he was seeing you for the very first time.
Like he was seeing you for the first time after a very long time apart.
“Good,” he told you softly, like he was still teaching you, like this was still professional. Like he hadn’t put his hand on your lower back and obliterated whatever wall someone else had built between you. Something that had once seemed so strong was knocked down so easily, like not even a god could keep it between you. “Good. Like that, just like that—”
He swore when you moved closer, emboldened by his pretty eyes and the way his gaze tracked down your chest, down your bare stomach. His fingers flexed on your hips, blunt nails tattooing your skin and you hoped the marks would stay there, you hoped they’d be there tomorrow so you could remember that this wasn’t a dream.
His leg found its way between yours, the song finally slowing to the last few drumbeats and you knew this was the time where you were supposed to spin in Steve’s arms and raise your hand in a grand finish. But Steve tucked your hips close to his instead and let his thigh push into the seam of your denim shorts.
The song that came on next was slower, lazier, languid.
The singer had a deeper voice, the drums rolling with a dirtier beat and this wasn’t the mambo, this wasn’t a salsa and it certainly wasn’t anything you’d do in a ballroom never mind on stage in front of others. You’d seen this kind of dancing once before, the night after you first arrived at Bauman’s. You hadn’t meant it, but a walk along the lake after the sun had set had led you to a larger cabin at the back of the resort, where the lights were on and the music was loud.
Music like this.
A guy at the door with long curls and an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips had appraised you, one eyebrow lifted at your little white summer dress and tennis shoes.
“You work here?” He’d asked and you had shaken your head, ready to walk back the way you came. “You a snitch?” He asked after a pause.
Again, you shook your head ‘no’ and listened as the music inside got louder. The man, who you were sure you’d seen on stage during dinner, playing the guitar for the dining guests, just shrugged. He’d nodded to a stack of beer crates at the side of the building.
“Grab a case and keep your mouth shut, alright?” He’d opened the door for you, the music louder than ever, the smell of smoke and weed and sweat pouring out. You remember how’d he grinned at you as you took in the sight. “Have fun, princess.”
It’s where you’d seen Steve for the second time, in the middle of a makeshift dance floor with the bow tie and dinner jacket he’d worn during his evening performance long gone. Moving with a girl with his shirt buttons open, his hair a mess, grinding and manhandling her in a way you weren’t sure you would even call dancing. Everyone was doing the same, hips gyrating, skirts too short, men’s chests bare, the smiles meeting in an almost kiss.
It was nothing short of scandalous.
You’d left, dumping the beer on a table beside a watermelon that almost rolled to the ground in your panic, turning from the crowd and walking out the way you’d came. The curly haired man had snorted at the sight of your wide eyes, calling out a goodbye between laughs.
And here you were, not even two weeks later, doing the same, if not worse. Why worse? You and Steve were alone.
Thunder cracked again, louder than before.
It didn’t feel wrong to be doing this. In fact, for as much trouble as you’d be in if your father had had to catch you, everything about it felt right, like you’d done it before, like this man was yours to touch. But something that felt like danger lingered in the air, a threat far more serious than your dad or Mr Bauman.
But still, you let your body move with Steve’s, a slow grind of your hips into his and when your hand found the nape of his neck and your fingers twisted into his hair, Steve’s palm cupped your ass, pulling you into him, making you feel how affected he was.
It should’ve scared you. How this man was touching you, this person you barely knew, alone in a cabin and who you were so sure had hated you only a mere ten minutes before. But Steve looked as gone as you felt, eyes filled with longing, a passion that was visible, his brows knitted together as he stared down at you hungrily, lovingly, adoringly.
It was almost too much to bear. So you let your head fall back, body slack as you kept dancing, trusting the man to keep you upright and against his own chest and you heard Steve let out a breath at the sight of your exposed neck, the long line of it offered to him like a sacrifice.
“That’s it,” you heard him murmur. “You feel the beat now?” His words fell on your throat, your bare skin, the top of his nose drawing a line from the base of it to your jaw, his mouth following and you were so sure he wasn’t talking about the music anymore.
But you nodded, clinging to him when he dipped you backwards, his hands holding you like you were precious, like you were made of marble and gold and suddenly you felt like Steve could’ve been. Like someone had taken a piece of the earth and grown this man from it, just for you. Like he had something ancient in his bones, like whatever he was made of you, you were created from the same thing too.
When he pulled you back up, effortless and graceful, you were closer than before, impossibly so. Chests meeting in the middle as you both panted into each other's parted lips, noses meeting and foreheads touching. Steve’s hands were curled around your waist, fingers splayed across your naked back as if he couldn’t bear not to touch every part of you. Your hand was on his neck, your fingers brushing over two moles on his tanned skin, the ones you’d watched Nancy touch before you.
But as you pressed your fingertips to them, your lips buzzed and Steve let out a sigh, like you’d unravelled a knot in his spine, like you’d found a magic button that fixed him. Like you’d touched a place that you’d once touched before.
“You’ve never touched me before,” you whispered, voice cracking on each syllable because it suddenly was too much.
Steve looked pained, lashes fluttering as his gaze dropped to your lips and he struggled to find the right words to give you. “I— I shouldn’t be doing it now,” he murmured. “I’m not allowed.”
“Why? Because of your boss? My dad?”
He grinned, a smirk that faltered too quickly and he shook his head, still not moving from you, his nose nudging yours as he struggled to keep himself from shifting closer still. “You’d think that should’ve been enough to keep me away.” Steve licked his lips and you tracked the movement, so sure that he’d taste like summer and salt and the peach tea from the diner. “Not even the threat of losing my damn job and house can keep me away from you.”
His words had an effect on you, breath hitching, chest aching. “Then who said you’re not allowed?”
The song was still going, a lazy beat that was easy to sway to, Steve’s leg still wedged between your thighs and his hands were wandering, sensual and slow, a whole other kind of dance over your skin. Fingers gripped at your waist before one hand trailed down your hip, over your bare thigh, ghosting over the line of your torn off shorts. He brought your thigh to his hip, hitching your leg high, pressing you both together until you could feel him all, until he could feel all of you.
Laid bare enough for you to feel like he could take the very soul of you from your body.
You found that you didn’t mind the idea of it at all.
“You’ll laugh at me,” Steve murmured but he didn’t sound embarrassed at all, like he didn’t actually believe that you would.
You shook your head, nose brushing against the tip of his and if you moved another inch, just one, you could’ve been kissing him, mouth slotting against his. “I won’t,” you promised.
“I started having dreams when you came,” Steve told you. “Dreams where it always rained and the sky was always dark. And there was a man there, a thing, maybe. But he felt ancient, older than the fucking world and he told me to stay away, to keep away from you.”
You didn’t laugh. No. No, in fact, you didn’t say a damn thing.
Steve laughed, breathless and without any humour, and his hand trailed back up your thigh as your leg dropped slowly to the floor. He spun you both, lazy and languid, but the world around you both still blurred. The cabin faded away, a mix of the low lights and the colours of his quilt on the bed.
You could barely hear the storm, but god, it was the loudest it had been.
“I want to do ungodly things with you,” Steve confessed and he sounded pained, his throat tight with the same kind of emotion you felt, like you were both sharing the same heart. “I want to do ungodly things to you.”
“Steve--”
“I know it sounds crazy, but there’s somethin’-- somethin’ in the sky or in the goddamn cracks of the earth that’s telling me I shouldn’t.” His bottom lip grazed your top one, an almost kiss, a whisper of one, a mere idea of it. Hardly a touch. “That something real bad will happen if we do.”
You couldn’t explain it, just like you couldn’t explain your sudden proximity to the man, the achingly familiar closeness you felt. But you knew, somehow, some way, Steve was right.
Tears stung your eyes, a fiery nip that you tried to blink away and when the music slowed to a stop and the next song began, Steve kept moving, your body melted to his, no space between either of you to be able to determine where you ended and he began.
Your voice cracked when you spoke. “What should we do?”
Steve took a breath before he answered, one hand coming up to push against your hairline, his palm coasting down your cheek, holding you, cherishing you. His touch was hot with adoration.
“We can keep dancing.”
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington oneshot
509 notes
·
View notes
Text
All-American Girl - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
summary: Bradley's every part the doting dad to your daughter Tatum, but after talking to some of the other wives on base in your mom's group, you're worried he may be hiding his true feelings about fatherhood.
A/N: not me procrastinating and adding to my country music series instead of literally anything else on my list. here's sickeningly sweet bradley as a girl dad fluff based off All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood.
pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x wife!reader
content/warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff, Bradley as a girl dad, mentions of sexism.
word count: 1.4k
Now he's wrapped around her finger, she's the center of his whole world
And his heart belongs to that sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-American girl
Bradley groaned as he jogged up the front steps, his boots heavy against the brick as he walked up the veranda to the front door. An American flag flapped in the breeze, the pole nestled in the stand attached to the pillar on the front of the house, the mid-afternoon sun striking the front yard, basking over the dozens of plants and greenery that were planted there. Bradley kicked his boots off the moment he crossed the entryway, stacking them neatly by the door. He started unzipping his flight suit, his tanned skin slicked with sweat from the training exercises he’d completed earlier that day. He thought about the list of things he wanted to do before he settled in for the night with you - a shower was the first priority at this point.
Peeling the olive green suit off his skin, he discarded it in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. His white t-shirt and boxers followed suit, along with the thick, military issued socks. He’d plan on washing those tonight after dinner. He padded along the hallway to the bathroom, his balls of his feet sticking to the cherry wood flooring. The cool water flowing from the shower head was a refreshing comfort compared to how warm he was earlier, he contemplated asking for a transfer to somewhere colder after today - the hot Pacific coast sun was brutal, and despite having lived in California for a few years now, Bradley hadn’t adjusted. Not that Virginia Beach had been much cooler - at least, not in the summer, but it wasn’t as consistently warm as it was on the west coast.
As Bradley stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a plush, lavender coloured towel around his waist. Shaking his caramel coloured curls dry, he approached the vanity, reaching for the pomade - the same brand he’d been using to tame his hair since he was 14. His mom had taught him that trick - using a styling pomade to keep his curls intact, but less wild than they would be left to their own devices. Part of him wondered if he just never changed brands because it was the one she’d suggested for him, one of the last happy memories of his mother that he had clung to for the last 26 years.
“Bradley? I’m home!” you called out from the bottom of the stairs, having seen Bradley’s vintage Ford Bronco parked in the driveway.
“Upstairs, honey!” He yelled back, his deep voice echoing throughout the empty house.
He quickly pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a fresh, white t-shirt, grabbing his favourite floral print button-down on his way down the stairs. He beamed at you, leaning in to give you a loving peck on the cheek. He knelt down in front of the car seat you’d placed on the floor, smiling softly at his infant daughter as she stretched and yawned, waking up from the nap she’d taken on the car ride home.
“Good mornin’ sunshine! How’s my girl?”
Bradley held his index finger out to baby Tatum, smiling as she gripped it tightly in her hand. He began unbuckling her harness with his free hand as he spoke to her.
“Did you have a fun day with Mama? What did you do, princess? You and your mama go shopping for some new clothes, baby girl?”
Tatum let out a happy sigh as Bradley scooped her up in his arms, holding her close to his chest. He leaned his head down to kiss her forehead, his hand moving up and down her back in soft, slow, gentle strokes as he cuddled his baby. He took a seat on the couch, leaning back slightly so Tatum could recline on his chest. He smiled up at you, waiting patiently for you to start showing off the different outfits you’d purchased for Tatum. He’d always sworn that he’d never be the type of father who’d dismiss things he wasn’t interested in - whether it was baby clothes, or ballet, baby and me classes or going for walks around the neighborhood with her - he’d always try his best to be into it. It’s how his mom described his father - always interested in anything to do with Bradley when he was little.
You delicately sifted through the array of dresses and outfits, each garment infused with your hopes and dreams for little Tatum. With tender affection, you recounted where and when you had acquired each piece, your voice tinged with a blend of excitement and maternal pride. Tatum slumbered peacefully, her soft breaths creating a gentle rhythm against Bradley's shoulder, while you poured your heart into sharing your plans for her future attire.
As the last dress found its place, you sank onto the couch beside Bradley, seeking solace in his comforting presence. Nestling into his side, you felt the warmth of his embrace envelop you, his arm offering both physical and emotional support.
“Are you happy?” you murmured softly, a trace of uncertainty lacing your words as you chewed anxiously at your bottom lip.
A flicker of confusion danced across Bradley's features before he met your gaze with unwavering reassurance.
“Of course I’m happy, why would you ask that?”
“It’s silly,” you sighed, a moment of vulnerability surfacing before you continued, meeting Bradley’s brown-eyed gaze as you spoke, “It’s just that…you know how I took Tatum to that mommy and me group?”
"Mhmm, every Wednesday," Bradley affirmed, his attention fully focused on you.
“Right! That one. Well…one of the moms was saying how she was so thankful her baby was a boy, because her husband wanted a boy really badly and she didn’t want him to be upset if he didn’t get what he wanted…”
Bradley's brow furrowed with concern as he gently kissed Tatum's forehead, a protective gesture that spoke volumes.
“Babe, he sounds like a dick,” Bradley interjected, shaking his head as he gently kissed Tatum’s forehead again.
“I’m not finished yet!” You said as you held your hand up. “So anyways, she said that, and a lot of the other moms started talking and saying how their husbands were disappointed when they had girls or relieved when they had sons, and then they said how lucky I was that you were happy with a girl. The one of them said her husband pretended to be, but then he was totally different and genuinely happy when they had a boy next.”
“And you think I’m doing that?” Bradley queried as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you.
“Well, no, but…would you tell me if you’d wanted a son instead?”
The corner of Bradley's mouth lifted in a soft smile, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "No," he replied emphatically, shaking his head. “Because I’ve never wanted a son instead of Tatum. Not once.”
“You haven’t?” You said as relief washed over you, Bradley's words washing away any lingering doubts.
“Not for a second. I’ve wanted Tatum from the minute you told me you were pregnant - I never really gave a shit whether she was a boy or a girl. She’s mine and that’s all I care about. It just happened to turn out that she’s the second Bradshaw girl around here to steal my heart, after her mama.”
“Really?”
“Mhmm, you know that song, the one where she says about how her daddy was praying for a boy, but got a girl instead and she was wrapped around his finger? Then she grows up and asks her husband one day what he wants, and he says he just wants a sweet, beautiful All-American girl like his wife?”
“Yeah, I know it,” You laugh softly as Bradley begins to hum the tune of the song, singing it softly as he looks down at Tatum.
“That’s exactly how I felt when you told me you were having a girl. I just wanted a beautiful little baby who looked just like you, and that’s exactly what I got. Now I have two beautiful girls who love me more than anything, and I would move mountains for the pair of you. We could have twelve girls for all I care - I’d love every single one of them just as much as I love you.”
#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x you#rooster bradshaw fic#rooster bradshaw#top gun maverick imagine#top gun maverick fanfiction
607 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Resilient Property Market in Surrey: A Comprehensive Overview
The property market in Surrey, including sought-after areas like Virginia Water, has proven itself to be both strong and stable, with compelling statistics showcasing its resilience and growth. According to data from Rightmove, the average house price in Surrey reached £625,357 in November 2023, marking a notable increase of 9.1% from the previous year's £573,927.
Several factors contribute to the robustness of Surrey's property market, making it an enticing prospect for those seeking houses for sale in Virginia Water and the broader Surrey region. A flourishing UK economy, characterised by low unemployment rates and rising wages, has instilled confidence in potential homebuyers. Moreover, a shortage of housing in Surrey, including desirable locations like Virginia Water, has exerted upward pressure on prices, further driving the market's strength. The region's high demand for housing, particularly from families and professionals, adds to the overall vitality, making it an attractive destination for those searching for houses in Virginia Water.
Here are some key insights into Surrey's property landscape with a focus on Virginia Water:
Economic Strength: The UK's strong economy is playing a pivotal role in influencing the property market in Surrey, including areas like Virginia Water. As economic indicators remain positive, individuals are more inclined to invest in real estate, contributing to the market's stability.
Housing Shortage: Virginia Water, nestled within Surrey, grapples with a shortage of housing, intensifying competition among buyers and resulting in an appreciable uptick in property prices. This scarcity highlights the premium nature of real estate in sought-after areas like Virginia Water.
High Demand: The demand for housing in Surrey, including Virginia Water, is notably high, particularly from families and professionals seeking to make the most of the region's offerings. This demand further cements Surrey's status as a desirable location for property investment, particularly for those eyeing houses for sale in Virginia Water.
Despite these positive trends, it's crucial to be mindful of some associated challenges. The continuous strength of the property market may pose pressures on household budgets and contribute to an elevated cost of living, factors that potential buyers should consider when exploring houses for sale in Virginia Water.
Additional Statistics:
Over the past five years, the average house price in Surrey has witnessed a substantial 23.6% increase, including the desirable market of Virginia Water.
Surrey's average house price is now 47% higher than the national average, emphasizing its premium property market status, especially in areas like Virginia Water.
St George's Hill, Chobham, and Wentworth Estate stand out as the most expensive areas to buy a house in Surrey, while Guildford, Godalming, and Woking offer more affordable options, providing diverse choices for those searching for houses for sale in Virginia Water.
In conclusion, Surrey's property market stands as a testament to its economic strength, housing dynamics, and desirability, with a specific focus on appealing locations like Virginia Water. While homeowners and businesses stand to benefit, it's essential for individuals to navigate the market thoughtfully, considering both the opportunities and challenges it presents when looking for houses for sale in Virginia Water.
For those looking to invest in Surrey's property market, understanding the specific dynamics of different areas, including Virginia Water, is key. Whether you're eyeing the luxurious landscapes of St George's Hill or the more budget-friendly options in Guildford, Surrey offers a diverse range of opportunities for prospective homeowners searching for houses for sale in Virginia Water.
If you have any specific areas or topics you'd like to delve into further or if you have additional keywords to include, feel free to let me know for a more tailored approach.
0 notes
Text
If you are looking for a house for sale Virginia Water, here is a handy guide for you.
Nestled within the lush landscapes of Surrey, England, Virginia Water beckons with its timeless charm and captivating elegance. This picturesque town, renowned for its serene lakes and stately properties, has established itself as a coveted residential haven, attracting discerning buyers from both near and far. In this article, we embark on a journey to uncover the captivating allure of Virginia Water houses while exploring the factors that contribute to its prestigious reputation in the ever-evolving real estate market.
A Captivating Dwelling Amidst Natural Splendour
At the heart of Virginia Water's allure lies an enchanting collection of houses that effortlessly blend sophistication with the wonders of nature. From opulent Georgian-style mansions that exude grandeur to charming cottages nestled amidst the verdant woods, the architecture pays homage to the town's rich heritage while seamlessly offering contemporary luxury and comfort. These remarkable residences cater to the diverse tastes and preferences of potential buyers, ensuring a perfect fit for every individual in this mesmerising locale.
The Iconic Virginia Water Lake: A Majestic Backdrop
Any discussion of Virginia Water would be incomplete without acknowledging its crowning jewel - the Virginia Water Lake. Spanning across 150 acres, this shimmering lake serves as a majestic backdrop to many properties in the vicinity. The picturesque beauty of the lake, accentuated by ornamental cascades and embraced by lush woodlands, creates an idyllic setting for homeowners to immerse themselves in the embrace of nature. Numerous houses for sale in Virginia Water offer stunning views of the lake, granting an unparalleled sense of tranquility.
Prestige Meets Convenience: A Commuter's Paradise
One of the key factors that contribute to the desirability of Virginia Water houses is the harmonious fusion of prestige and convenience. While the town exudes an aura of exclusivity, it remains remarkably accessible to major urban centres. London, a global financial hub, is within easy reach, making Virginia Water an irresistible choice for professionals seeking an oasis of calm away from the city's hustle and bustle. Excellent transport links ensure a seamless commute to the capital, allowing residents to relish both suburban serenity and urban opportunities.
A Flourishing Community and Lifestyle
Beyond its natural splendour and proximity to London, Virginia Water boasts a thriving community with a plethora of amenities and activities tailored to residents of all ages. The area boasts several prestigious schools, offering exceptional educational opportunities for families. For leisure and recreation, residents can explore the sprawling landscapes of Windsor Great Park, engage in a round of golf at the renowned Wentworth Club, or indulge in shopping and dining experiences in neighbouring towns.
Navigating the Virginia Water Real Estate Market
As the demand for Virginia Water houses continues to soar, successfully navigating the real estate market demands expert guidance. Experienced estate agents well-versed in the local area can offer invaluable insights into the array of property options available, ensuring buyers discover their dream abode that resonates with their lifestyle and budget. By collaborating with professionals familiar with the nuances of the Virginia Water market, home seekers can streamline their property search and secure their envisioned residence with confidence.
In Conclusion: Embrace the Enchantment of Virginia Water Houses
Virginia Water stands as a testament to enduring elegance and natural allure, establishing itself as a sought-after destination for those in search of a prestigious residential sanctuary. With its captivating residences, enchanting lakeside vistas, and convenient access to London, Virginia Water offers a lifestyle that seamlessly merges luxury with tranquility. As you embark on your quest to find the perfect home, allow the enchantment of Virginia Water to guide you towards a residence that promises a life of serenity and splendour.
#Virginia Water neighbourhoods#royal park#housing options#luxury mansions#affordable homes#detached houses#semi-detached houses#terraced houses#gardens#parking#views of the lake#Windsor Great Park#Virginia Water Village#Stiles Green#Cobham#Sunningdale
0 notes
Text
100 Fiction Books to Read Before You Die
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
The Book of Margery Kempe by Margery Kempe
The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Sparks
The Girl by Meridel Le Sueur
The Kitchen God's Wife by Amy Tan
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
The Color Purple by Alice Walker
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
Veronica by Mary Gaitskill
Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
Kindred by Octavia Butler
Middlemarch by George Eliot
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
Passing by Nella Larson
The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin
Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
Play it as it Lays by Joan Didion
The House of Spirits by Isabel Allende
Wuthering Heights Emily Bronte
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
White Teeth by Zadie Smith
The Power by Naomi Alderman
The Street by Ann Petry
The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskill
An American Marriage by Tayari Jones
Small Island by Andrea Levy
The Idiot by Elif Batuman
The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton
The Price of Salt/Carol by Patricia Highsmith
Room by Emma Donoghue
The Sea, The Sea by Iris Murdoch
Garden of Earthly Delights by Joyce Carol Oates
Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
Wise Blood by Flannery O Conner
Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsey
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys
Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
The Awakening by Kate Chopin
Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg
The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros
The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall
House of Incest by Anaïs Nin
The Mandarins by Simone de Beauvoir
The Lottery by Shirley Jackson
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara
Corregidora by Gayl Jones
Whose Names are Unknown by Sanora Babb
Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
See Now Then by Jamaica Kincaid
The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri
Beloved by Toni Morrison
The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver
The Ministry of Utmost Happiness by Arundhati Roy
To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf
My Antonia by Willa Cather
Democracy by Joan Didion
Black Water by Joyce Carol Oates
The Violent Bear it Away by Flannery O Connor
Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn
My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier
The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
I Must Betray You be Ruta Sepetys
The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson
The Mare by Mary Gaitskill
City of Beasts by Isabel Allende
Fledgling by Octavia Butler
A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin
The First Bad Man by Miranda July
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
Moses, Man of the Mountain by Zora Neale Hurston
Disobedience by Naomi Alderman
Quicksand by Nella Larsen
The Narrows by Ann Petry
The Blood of Others by Simone de Beauvoir
Under the Sea by Rachel Carson
Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee
Under the Net by Iris Murdoch
The Birdcatcher by Gayl Jones
Desert of the Heart by Jane Rule
In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez
The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa
@gaydalf @kishipurrun @unsentimentaltranslator @algolagniaa @stariduks @hippodamoi
295 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mother says the doctor let her hemorrhage all through the night I was born. The pool of blood that splashed around her hips on the rubber sheet until morning is symbolic to me of the life she, and her mothers before her, have bled away for others—making vampires of their husbands and children and leaving their own inner selves anemic and ravaged.
Dad first saw her in the summer of 1923, galloping bareback over the Idaho plains in men's overalls, her hair whipping behind her. Because there were so few sons and so many daughters in the Howell family, Mom helped with the outdoor farm work. The labor was often so heavy and so almost impossibly hard that it made the small, slender girl weep as she did it. Despite that, Mom still preferred it to the work of the women in the house: the endless cooking and scrubbing, sewing, soapmaking, preserving. Just washing clothes was a superhuman feat, boiling water over an outdoor fire and stirring and wringing and hanging and ironing—a two-day chore that had to be done every week by all the women of the house.
Her mother, short and plump and silent, was the first one up in the morning to build the fire, put the bread in to bake, and prepare the huge breakfast, and the last one to bed at night. Mom says her mother was always tired and didn't talk much, but confided to her once that she only wanted to live to get her children grown and then to die. She got her wish. Mom's father, whom Mom idolized, lived through two more wives after her mother died.
Mom filed all this away in her unconscious.
Late one summer night, three years ago, in the kitchen of my house in Virginia where womanhood finally found and claimed me, for the first time my mother looked squarely at what it had meant in her life to be female. On the farm in Woodruff, she confided, the men came in from their work at dark, ate supper, sat around and talked a little, perhaps, and then went off to bed, while the women, who had been up in the morning before the men, wearily washed the dishes (without soap, so the water could be fed to the pigs) and got to bed an hour or two later. I asked her what she thought of her near-perfect father for behaving this way. Her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, "It wasn't fair."
Since that night she has regained some of her defenses against recognizing the blatant injustices of such a system, so when I've reminded her of what she told me that night, she's insisted that she hadn't remembered correctly, and that her father often had helped with the dishes and had not gone to bed leaving the womenfolk still hard at work. But I remember that night in my kitchen and the terrible things that were dawning upon both of us, and I know she remembers what was required of her as a girl. After a bonebreaking day in the fields, she was to drag her exhausted body and her screaming muscles about the kitchen to help the women with the supper and the washing up while the men were allowed—even expected and encouraged—to rest. And despite going to bed two hours later than the men, she had to arise earlier than they did the next morning to begin it all over again. There was no rest for the women—only endless drudgery until the children were reared, and then death.
-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic
#sonia johnson#female oppression#patriarchy#male entitlement#males are incompatible with health#womens history
708 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
real-rat-bastard
Good Luck, You're Gonna Need It.
surgaon
Untitled
the-shy-ler
Just a Flustered Ler
an-actual-floof
where no one has gone before!
hermit-kinhelp
Hermits' Help Blog!