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#that’s why I hang my head in Tennessee

gretagerwigsmuse · 1 year

Text

and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay [part 2.2.1]

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw is getting honored with an award in front of all his colleagues. when he remembers the particulars behind the mission in question, he considers how lucky he is to have his best girl by his side, especially considering how she almost wasn't

OR you take on the pacific fleet’s awards gala

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 15.7k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, bradley has a little bit of a spiral...

[part 1], [part 1.5], [part 2.1], part [2.2.1], [part 2.2.2] and the official companion playlist

Thanks to an early check-in at the hotel, you and Bradley had gotten settled in your room around noon. This gave you just enough time to have lunch together and hang out at the beach for a couple hours before you and Natasha met up to get blow-outs. You and Bradley had spent the previous night apart, citing a nail appointment with Nat - amongst other things - that you had to attend to after work, so you were both excited for your little weekend getaway. Even if it was just a night away in Coronado.

Bradley had just gotten out of the shower when he heard the hotel room door close and a moment later saw you in the hallway.

“Hey.” He glanced over at you and smiled. “Your hair looks nice.”

“Thanks.” You preened and leaned against the bathroom doorway. “Bubs, why are you just now getting out of the shower?”

You’d been gone for a while - or at least for the entire pregame coverage and first two quarters of the Alabama/Tennessee game that Bradley had been watching. He had timed his shower to fit in during halftime, not knowing exactly how long it took someone to get their hair blown out.

He cleared his throat. “I uhh - I took a really long shower?”

“You just got in didn’t you?”

“Yup.” You scrunched up your nose and shook your head. Bradley mimicked you and pulled you into the bathroom by the belt loops on your baggy jean shorts. “And you,” he gave you a quick peck on the lips, “look gorgeous.”

You ducked your head. “I don’t even have my dress on or makeup done yet…”

Bradley clicked his tongue. “The infamous dress…”

All you’d offered to him in terms of a hint was that it would match his formal dress blues - which admittedly didn’t give him much to go off.

He had seen your shoes, though - nude heels with a dainty little ankle strap that he knew he’d fumble with later. But now you looked so soft and sweet in your oversized oxford and frayed denim shorts. God, you were so pretty. Didn’t matter if you’d just woken up, had been working all day, or had just gotten your hair done - Bradley always thought you were gorgeous.

Unable to keep his hands off you for a second longer, he pulled you into his arms, with your back to his front so that you were both facing the mirror. He put his chin on your shoulder and lightly swayed the two of you back and forth.

“You smell pretty,” you whispered, but refused to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“Pretty sure that’s my line, kid.” He pressed a couple featherlight kisses on your neck and you giggled.

“That tickles!” He kept at it, eliciting more giggles from you, until you wiggled out of his grasp so you were facing each other again. Bradley settled his hands on your hips, while you cupped his cheek. “My scruffy boy.”

“Was just about to shave - do you wanna…” He jutted his chin towards the razor and shaving cream canister on the counter.

You glanced back at them and cocked your head. “Wait, really? I don’t wanna mess it up or cut you - especially tonight…”

I just want you to touch me didn’t seem like a valid enough excuse, but that’s all he wanted. After everything the last week and a half, the two of you were still a little cautious around each other, so much so that it had left Bradley feeling a little needy - almost like he was always wanting you to touch him or needing the reassurance that everything was okay between the two of you.

“I trust you,” he said, but the words came out heavier than he had anticipated.

You tucked a strand of freshly blown out hair behind your ear. “Okay, yeah, sure. So, how exactly does this work?”

“First -” he took the shaving cream canister off the counter, “- squirt a little of this in your hand -”

“- I know how to use shaving cream,” you teased, “I mean do I go up or down? Should I be at a different angle? Stuff like that?”

“Stuff like that, huh?” You shoved his shoulder and he exaggerated a grunt. “Alright, Million Dollar Baby, you can sit on the counter, the light’s probably better, too.”

With Bradley’s help, you hiked yourself up onto the bathroom counter and he placed himself between your legs. Even through the plush, white towel he was wearing around his waist, he felt himself brush against your soft legs and couldn’t resist running his hands up them and your thighs for a moment.

“You’re gonna make me mess up if you keep doing that…” He held his hands up in surrender. “Good boy. Alright, let’s see.”

You contorted your body to quickly wash your hands in the sink and then popped the cap off the shaving cream and squirted some into your hands. The shaving cream changed from gel to frothy white cream in an instant and you lathered it across Bradley’s cheeks and neck.

“Is it cold on your face?” He hummed in the negative. “Is it bad that I’m nervous? It feels like that scene in the Parent Trap.”

Bradley chuckled. “You’re fine, start at the top and work your way down.”

The first time the blade made contact with his skin, your eyes widened and he had to hold back a chuckle, lest it mess you up. But eventually, you got into a good rhythm and looked absolutely adorable with your tongue poking out of your mouth in concentration. And while it seemed like you hadn’t even realized it, it was very much apparent to Bradley that you had wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you so your heels were digging into his ass. His hands ultimately found their way back to your thighs - if pressed, he would say it was so you didn’t fall.

By now, you had finished shaving the majority of his face, leaving just around his mustache and neck. It was relaxing, having someone else do something he typically considered a chore. Plus, having someone so pretty and soft and warm wrapped around his body while doing it? It felt like a reward.

“If you keep looking at me like that I’m gonna mess up,” you said, not looking away from his neck.

He smiled, causing you to stop. “But you’re so cute.”

You rolled your eyes, but were clearly fighting a smile. “You’re just saying that because I’m wielding all the power here…”

In response, you brought the razor closer to Bradley’s mustache than he was comfortable with. “Woah, woah, woah. Careful with the ‘stache, sweets.”

You made a face. “Sweets?”

“It slipped out, sorry.” The blade hovered over his mustache, getting closer and closer to the edge and Bradley didn’t like the look on your face. “Sweets is not happening again, scouts honor.” He held up three fingers for good measure.

“Good, but only because I need you looking your best for Nat’s Halloween party, Coach Lasso.”

Somehow, you had strong-armed Bradley into being Ted Lasso for the aforementioned Halloween party in two weeks. The two of you had been watching the show some weeks ago and you’d mentioned how handsome you thought Ted was - for the record Bradley never got handsome from you as a compliment, it was always pretty - and before Bradley knew it, he was mentioning how he had the same pair of Nike Air Pegasus as Ted and you were ordering him an AFC Richmond jumper and visor.

He’d get you back next year - hopefully.

“You like the mustache, don’t lie…” Bradley leaned back, looking at you with unbridled amusement.

“Hmmm. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to it, old -”

“- Don’t say old man -”

“- man.”

Before he knew what he was doing, he placed a dollop of excess shaving cream on your nose. “None of that now.”

You giggled and wiped your nose and put the hand not holding the razor on your hip. “Still wielding all the power here, bubs. You gonna let me finish or not?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, shush.”

“Fine, fine. You can finish.”

True to his word, Bradley let you finish shaving the rest of his neck and around his mustache. He tried not to be too self conscious as you shaved near the ever-so prominent scars on his neck and cheeks, but let out a sigh as you dragged your fingers across them tenderly once you finished.

“All set.” He smiled at you and gave you a quick kiss. You giggled. “God, you silly boy, you always make such a mess - here.” You started brushing the excess hair off the vanity and also wiped the remaining shaving cream off his face so he could put on his aftershave, himself. “You know, this won’t fly if we ever properly share a bathroom.”

He chuckled. He always liked your fussing. In fact, before Bradley had started seeing you, he had always thought he was impeccably neat. But you? Nah, you could lick whipped cream off your kitchen floor with how neat and clean you kept everything.

“I’ve never lived with anyone else before - I mean, I had roommates in college and there were the guys on base I’ve lived with, but never with someone like that...”

You tucked your hair behind your ear. “Me neither.”

“I think I’d have to be really serious about them? Like I’d have to be ready to take that next step with them, you know?”

He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious. You hadn’t been seeing each other for too long, just six months. Your lease wasn’t even close to being up yet. But it was nice to talk about it - about a future for the two of you.

When you finally spoke again, your voice was shy. “Yeah, definitely the next step.”

Take the next step with me, he wanted to say. But it was too early. Way too early. Maybe you guys could talk about it in a couple months? Once you got through the holidays and everything. You were already spending Thanksgiving together - a trip up to Berkeley to stay with your dad and stepmom and Bradley’s first time meeting them in person - but Christmas was still up in the air.

You cleared your throat. “Once you’re done here, I’ll start getting ready? Just have to do my makeup and put on my dress.”

Hoping to inject some levity into the situation, Bradley joked: “You know, you helped me with shaving, ‘least I could do is offer to help you with your makeup.”

You pretended to consider this. “Think I’ll have to pass on that one, but I’ll take it into consideration in the future.”

“Fine, fine,” he held his hands up in surrender, “but don’t say I didn’t offer.”

With one final kiss on the cheek, you let Bradley finish getting ready and eventually switched positions a few minutes later, leaving Bradley to change into his formal dress blues in the bedroom, while you took over the bathroom.

Eventually, some twenty minutes later, Bradley knocked back the rest of his whiskey as he watched the College GameDay coverage. The clock on the bottom of the screen told him it was already six - you were going to be late.

“Bradley?” your voice came out muffled from behind the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the TV in the living area, as he made his way towards the bathroom. He wanted to see the highlights from the UVA game earlier in the day, too.

“Could you help me -” He slid open the pocket-door. “- with my - oh!”

You let out a gasp, making eye contact with him in the mirror. All you were wearing was a pair of heels and some white lace panties, which looked more like a scrap of fabric than anything practical. He swallowed thickly.

For a moment - a long moment - Bradley didn’t speak. He just stared at you, practically naked, your gorgeous breasts only covered by one of your arms, while your naked ass cheeks taunted him with a perfect little triangle of white lace peeking out from just below the curve of your back.

“Good, I need you!” you said to his reflection in the mirror, “Can you tie this for me?”

Tie what? You weren’t wearing anything but - oh god. Bradley nodded, knowing he looked way too eager, and took a step forward. Two thin white ribbons taunted him from where they were resting on your ass cheeks.

You put your other hand on the counter and Bradley stood behind you. Were the ribbons the only thing keeping this up? He slid his finger under the one in his right hand, slowly making his way to the front of your body where a triangle of lace was covering you. Fuck.

“Now where’s a good girl like you get something as naughty as these panties?” You wiggled your ass and he pulled tighter on the ribbons, forcing a gasp from your lips. “Careful, sweetheart.”

“It’s a present - for you, for your award.” You looked over your shoulder at him. “Can you tie it?”

He tsked. “I mean I can tie it, doesn’t mean I wa -”

“- I’m not going without underwear, Bradley.” He looked up in the mirror to see you glaring at him. At least, he thought you were glaring at him, the amused almost-smile on your face made it hard to tell.

Ever the dutiful boyfriend, he started tying the ribbons together in a pretty little bow - bunny ears and all. “How’re you going to go to the bathroom with this on?” Bradley asked when he was done.

You leaned back and brushed your ass against his groin. “You wanna know a secret?” He hummed in your ear. “I can tie it by myself, just wanted you to see what you’re coming back to tonight.”

Fucking brat.

“All set.” He smacked your ass for good measure and you whined. “Atta girl.” He rubbed your now red cheeks, inching towards that pretty little bow. “God, you’re so soft.”

“Mmhmm, I got a wax yesterday…” You turned around and slid your hands up his lapels. Your breasts brushed against his chest as you straightened his bow tie. “But I kept your favorite part”

As tantalizing as that thought was, Bradley had to say: “You know I don’t care -”

“- how else am I going to feel that mustache rub against me as I ride your face?”

Fuck. He moaned your name. “I know you don’t mean the same mustache you literally just tried to shave off?”

You made a face. “That doesn’t sound like me -”

“- No, not you. Not my smart girl.”

Without another word, you wrapped your arms around Bradley’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It was slow and soft and he couldn’t help but pull you closer. Mindful of not ruining the makeup you’d already put on, Bradley ran his hands up and down your sides. God you were so fucking soft and warm and pretty - so goddamn pretty.

Eventually, you dragged his lip between your teeth as you pulled away. “Don’t want us to be late…”

Bradley exaggerated a sigh. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you don’t have any clothes on - don’t think they’ll let you in like that...” You giggled and kissed him again. “Alright, finish getting dressed and I’ll be waiting for you to make your grand entrance.”

“I have to tape my boobs…” You scrunched up your nose, clearly not looking forward to doing - well, whatever that meant. “You’re lucky Caroline talked me out of wearing Spanx…”

“That doesn’t sound particularly fun.”

You rummaged through your toiletry bag, eventually brandishing what looked like a mix between pre-wrap and an ace-bandage. “Oh, it’s not. Don’t worry, I won’t make you take the tape off later, now go! I have to finish changing.”

Bradley held his hands up in surrender and left the bathroom with a final parting kiss.

-----------

You looked stunning. There was no other word for it - though Bradley had tried about nine other ones on the way over to the reception. Beautiful, gorgeous, ethereal, pretty, lovely, show-stopping, ravishing, exquisite, picturesque.

Each made you more flustered the longer he continued. For someone so outwardly confident at times, you didn’t take genuine compliments very well. Sure, you loved to ham it up sometimes - for the bit, Bradley! - but more often than not, you tended to brush him off when he got too earnest. So, that night, Bradley made sure you knew how gorgeous you looked.

You kept your hair simple - not fussing with it after your blow out - and did your makeup to your tastes. And then there was the dress. The dress that had taunted Bradley all week from its spot in your closet - the special black garment bag not even allowing him to catch a glimpse at the color or fabric until earlier that evening.

It was white. Ivory silk crepe de chine if you wanted to be specific - which apparently you did. And as had clearly been your intent, the ivory looked perfect in contrast to his blue uniform. The two of you looked classic, polished, handsome. You looked like a pair. That even though there was nothing to overtly signify it, it was obvious that you two were together.

Back in the room, you’d done a full spin for Bradley, showing off the back of your dress, which made him realize exactly why you had needed to tape your boobs - the dress was practically backless. The thin straps crossed just below your shoulder blades and the fabric started again at the small of your back - about where Bradley would place his hands later as you danced on the black and white checkered dance floor spread out in the middle of the lawn.

And only after being assured numerous times all week that people in the military did not make enough money to freely spend it on whatever exorbitant amount your dress cost, were you secure in the knowledge that no one, not even anyone in a Rent the Runway dress, would be wearing the same thing. It was a little snobby, but Bradley kinda liked that about you - fucking shoot him.

Instead, this enabled you to focus that energy onto other things - namely, making sure you knew how to properly address every single person you came across and were well versed in nearly every major political, economic, and social event in the past four weeks. Bradley had even seen you reading Politico Playbook on your phone on the beach earlier. He almost wanted to tease you about preparing some flashcards, but knew that this was your way of coping and getting over your nerves. If only Bradley could find something similar to handle his.

So, now, you were making your way from your room on the east side of the resort to the Windsor Lawn where the two of you would join 350 of Bradley’s colleagues and their dates for dinner, drinks, dancing, and awards.

“- Wait.” Your words stopped him in his tracks. “Quick check.” Your hands slid up his lapels, needlessly smoothing them out. “You look so pretty, bubs.” He blushed. “What about me?”

You tilted your chin up so Bradley could check if your makeup was properly blended and then smiled, allowing him to check your teeth for any lipstick stains.

“Wouldn’t change a thing. God, you look so beautiful.”

Bradley loved that he could still get you to shake your head in amusement or roll your eyes and duck your head whenever he called you beautiful. But it was true. Of course it was true. You were so beautiful.

After placing a quick kiss on the back of your hand, he took it in his own and you both started walking again. There were a couple other groups making their way to the lawn, but he didn’t recognize anyone yet. He took a deep breath.

It was going to be fine. It was going to be fine. Fine - it would be fine. Despite the minor bumps in the road on the way to that evening celebrating his award, (okay, so he eventually got you to admit that he had made you cry in the shower so maybe not minor), it was going to be fine.

No one would ask too many questions about the mission, no one needed to know Bradley still could feel the rope of the ejection handles not working and hear the undercurrent of panic in Mav’s voice when they ran out of flares. No one needed to know that the moment he stepped off the flight deck he ran to the bathroom dry heaving and throwing up until Mav practically carried him to medical. No one needed to - fuck. He had to shake this.

Because he had you. And he had you to sit with him and hold his hand and call him Bradley and make sure he was okay. Because he was always okay with you.

He was always okay when he was your Bradley.

“Hey.” He pulled you to a standstill once again. “Thanks for coming with me, really. I know I didn’t exactly go about this the right way, but, seriously, thanks for giving me another chance. It really does mean a lot that you’re here and I can’t - I don’t want to imagine what I would do without you tonight. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You smiled and squeezed his hand. It was like you could tell with just one look what was going through his head. “Bradley, you don’t need to make anything up to me, this isn’t transactional. We just have to try and be more honest with each other about stuff like this - and, plus, I want to be here for you, bubs, alright? Whether you want to be the belle of the ball or sit in the corner, we’ll do whatever you want tonight, okay?”

“I know that,” he paused to kiss your cheek, “but you have to let yourself just enjoy tonight, too, alright? Because as much as I love hearing you talk about the DART spacecraft test earlier this week and student protests in Iran, you don’t have to worry about passing a test or saying the right thing. Just - just be you and everyone will love you as much as I do.”

You bit your lip and then exaggerated a sigh. “Fine, I guess I’ll just talk about unethical labor practices in Qatar ahead of the World Cup or last week’s US airstrikes in Syria - Bradley!” you cut off with a giggle once he pinched your side.

This was one of the things he loved about you - that you could get him out of his head and that you brought this certain lightness to him. Because a minute ago he had been spiraling over last year’s mission and now it was on the tip of his tongue to remind you that that Syrian airstrike was an Air Force operation and that the Air Force was strictly persona non-grata that evening. Except your giggles were contagious and he was only cut off by someone clearing their throat.

Like you two had been caught necking in the hallway, you and Bradley sheepishly turned around to face Admiral Simpson and his wife, Emily.

“Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw,” the older man offered.

“Admiral Simpson, sir.” Bradley nodded his head in greeting. “Emily - err, Mrs. Simpson, ma’am. You’re both looking lovely this evening.” He then turned towards you and introduced you to the Simpsons.

You shook Cyclone’s hand and politely nodded towards his wife. “Nice to see you both. Hopefully, we’ll get to chat more inside?”

Emily nodded, clearly excited about the prospect of making a new friend. She was rather notorious on base for recruiting the other milspo’s to volunteer their time - and for the Porsche Cayenne she always double parked next to her husband’s F-150 in the parking lot when she came to visit. “I’ll come find you both later.”

“Looking forward to it.” And if Bradley hadn’t known you any better, he’d be convinced you actually were.

With a clap on the back from Cyclone and a nod from Emily, the older couple continued on their way towards the lawn, leaving you both behind.

“Two down, three hundred and forty-eight to go…” Bradley muttered.

You looped your arm through his and ambled down the path to the right. “Actually, three hundred and forty-six to go - remember, we don’t count.” Bradley exaggerated a groan and let you pull him along.

Though he had heard the chatter and dull thrum of Ain’t That a Kick in the Head the second you had stepped outside your room, turning that final corner Bradley was briefly taken aback by the general splendor and opulence of the event.

Under a canopy of string lights, a black and white checkerboard dance floor sat in the middle of the lawn, surrounded by dozens of circular tables with gold chiavari chairs and draped in navy tablecloths. The flowers in the centerpieces - ranunculus - were easily recognizable thanks to his various trips to the florist over the last six months. And a litany of tuxedo clad waitstaff were bustling between the high top tables and bars on the edge of the event space, offering canapes, crudites, and other passed appetizers.

And then there were the guests. Everyone from Ensigns to Admirals were decked out in their finest formal dress uniforms. Bradley didn’t have nearly as many medals or pins on his uniform as some of the upper brass, but he still managed to put on a good show. He was excited to see Mav later and tease him, knowing he hated dressing up for these things. Ironically enough, the large size of the crowd helped rather than hurt his nerves - it was easier to get lost in and was more intimate in a way.

You made your way over to the check-in desk to find your seating assignment and just as Bradley had feared, he was at one of the head tables, thankfully along with Mav and Penny, but also with Jake - and whoever he had coerced into being his date - and the Simpsons. Bradley put his place card next to Cyclone’s, sticking you in between him and Maverick, who was next Penny.

“Seat of honor, rocketman,” you teased.

Bradley blushed, but tried to play it off. “That’s what I’ve been telling you, kid - I’m kind of a big deal.” You shot him a wink and put your tiny pearl beaded purse on the table, staking out your spot.

Glancing around the room, Bradley could see a couple members of the squad some tables over. Bob and Halo were huddled together, laughing with Phoenix and your colleague that you’d set her up with, Rory. It didn’t look like Payback and his wife or Fanboy and his girlfriend had arrived yet, but Coyote and his girlfriend were messing around with the placecards. Bradley definitely wanted to introduce you to her - she was a private chef in LA and ran a wildly successful food Instagram account that you were obsessed with despite the fact that you weren’t the best cook. Yet, at least.

A server came up to you both with some crab rangoons - a perennial favorite. Bradley eagerly grabbed two - he hadn’t eaten since the three steak asado tacos he had at the beach around noon - while you politely declined.

“When’s dinner?” He held his hand over his mouth as he chewed. Damn that crab rangoon was good. He vaguely recalled that he had requested the slow braised short ribs for dinner, while you had gone with the pan roasted scottish salmon. It went without saying that he would be sneaking some of yours.

You glanced down at the menu card on the table. “Uhhh it says not till seven - awards are at eight and then dancing and dessert until ten-thirty. The hotel must have a quiet hour or something.”

Bradley nodded. “So, game plan?”

“Game plan.”

“We get drinks -”

“- We hang out with your friends -”

“- We mingle -

“- Oh, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is such a wonderful boyfriend, he’s the most amazing pilot I’ve ever seen, the way he just thrusts that plane, all those evasive maneuvers -”

He chuckled. “- Okay, hotshot - we mingle, we come back for dinner -”

“- We charm the Simpsons -”

“- We charm the shit out of them -”

“- You get your award because Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw is such a wonderful boyfriend, the most amazing pilot I’ve ever seen - oww, fucking weirdo.” You rubbed your arm where Bradley had shoved you. He hadn’t done it that hard - just enough to get a reaction out of you. “And when we dance.”

“And then we dance,” he concluded, trying to be serious, but that failed when you held your palm up for a high-five. The resulting slap garnered the attention of a couple people around you, including a Top Gun lieutenant Bradley frequently saw around base.

Granted, Bradley liked Hawkeye and genuinely enjoyed talking to him on base. He was definitely the best WSO in his class and a great guy in general, but he was ruining the game plan you both had literally just concocted by coming over - and Bradley hadn’t even had a drink yet.

“Lieutenant Commander,” Hawkeye said with a cheesy grin, which turned into a slap on the back from Bradley. He introduced you to Hawkeye - with his real name, of course - and the three of you started chatting.

“Now how the hell did you swing an invite to this thing?”

Hawkeye puffed his chest out. “I’ll have you know, I happen to be a very important person’s plus one.”

“Oh, do tell,” you egged him on, even leaning in closer to get the scoop.

Admittedly, at this point, Bradley was also curious. Both of your favorite kinds of gossip was that which was important to some people, but meant absolutely nothing to others. Case in point, Lieutenant Kopinski’s date.

“Well, technically,” he started, glancing around the room, “she asked me a bit last minute and since her original date bailed…”

“Oh, Hawkeye…” Bradley chuckled and you swatted his stomach.

“But I’m optimistic, you know? She’s always nice to me whenever I stop by and sometimes we get coffee between my classes -”

“- The girl, lieutenant, who’s the girl?” you interrupted, practically giddy. It lit your whole face up and made Bradley smile.

Hawkeye’s cheeks were flushed and he glanced around one final time before saying: “Kennedy Ayers.”

To you, this meant absolutely nothing. But to Bradley?

“You came with Admiral Simpson’s EA?” Hawkeye nodded once. “Does he know?” He shook his head. “You know he’s at our table?”

Hawkeye was right - Kennedy Ayers was very important. She had been Cyclone’s EA since just before Bradley had come back to North Island last fall and she quite literally made Top Gun the well oiled machine that it was. And Cyclone was very fond of her. Or at least as fond of anyone as Cyclone could be.

You spoke up. “So, you came as friends?” He nodded. “Do you want to be more than friends?” Again, he nodded. “Well, I can’t really do anything on Kennedy’s end, but Bradley and I could put in a good word for you with Admiral Simpson at dinner? I mean, if Bradley thinks you’re good people then that’s good enough for me.”

“Well,” Hawkeye looked between you and Bradley, “I don’t know if Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw would go as far to say good people -”

“- I wouldn’t - owww.” Bradley let go of your hip and rubbed his stomach with his now free hand. “Fine. Hawkeye, we can mention something to Cyclone at dinner,” he grumbled.

Hawkeye expressed his thanks and continued fawning over you as the three of you chatted for a couple more minutes, getting into how Bradley knew the younger pilot and how much longer he was in the area. After a while, you glanced over your shoulder towards the south end of the lawn.

“Hey, bubs? I think I’m gonna head over to the bar, it looks like there’s a pretty big line forming and I want us to get drinks before dinner?”

Bradley tried not to look too disappointed that you would be leaving him - for however brief the time - but realized it gave you both the perfect excuse to continue on with your game plan. “Okay, I’ll meet up with you in a few.” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned towards the bar, but then doubled back.

“Can you hold my phone for me?” Bradley held his hand out and you placed your phone in it with much aplomb. “Thank you - and again, nice to meet you, Lieutenant - good luck with Kennedy!”

With a smile and wave of your hand, you were gone and Bradley was stuck with Hawkeye, who was staring after you in bewildered awe.

“She’s lovely.” Bradley rolled his eyes. Yeah, he knew you were fucking lovely, but he didn’t need every LTJG thinking that. “How’d you guys meet?”

“Hinge.” It was always a bit of a shit answer, but it was the truth.

“Hmmmm.” He shoved a crab rangoon into his mouth, no doubt trying to hide the shit eating grin on his face. “Aren’t you a little too old for dating apps, Lieutenant Commander?”

Kopinski was lucky Bradley liked him so much - no one else would’ve let the kid get away with that. “And isn’t your behavior verging on impertinent towards your superior officer - an award winning superior officer, mind you - by calling him old?”

“Pfft, I would never.” The grin on his face didn’t go away. Bradley rolled his eyes.

“Kopinski, I can have that my girl ruin any chance you have with Kennedy in a couple words, don’t fucking try me.” Hawkeye held his hands up in surrender. “You gonna chirp at me anymore or can I finally get a drink?”

Hawkeye waved a hand towards the bar. “Fine, fine. Enjoy your evening Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.”

With a chuckle, Bradley gave him a handshake and the two men said goodbye. As Bradley started walking towards the bar, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and checked the notification, quickly realizing it was actually your phone and the text was from a group chat with your dad and Mary.

Have fun tonight sweetie! Send us pictures of you and Bradley 💕

He shuffled off to the side and smiled down at the screen. Even though he hadn’t met her in person, Bradley really liked Mary. You had said numerous times how you didn’t feel like Mary was your stepmom - she felt like your actual mom. The mom who had raised you. The one who had brought you to tennis matches and field hockey games, held you as you cried after your accident junior year, took you prom dress shopping, helped you unpack your dorm, and drove down with you to San Diego when you first moved all those years ago.

She was your mom. And Bradley was so excited to meet her. And because of that, he knew he could get away with what he was about to do.

thanks! we’ll send pictures later

bradley looks sooo handsome in his uniform

A moment later your phone buzzed with a message from your dad:

He made you type that, didn’t he?

no comment

As Bradley continued making his way over towards you at the bar, so was another aviator getting honored that evening - Hangman.

It didn’t look like you saw him approach, you were chatting with the bartender and Bradley saw you hold up two fingers for both your drinks. He tried to get over to you faster, except a rear admiral stepped in front of him and tried to strike up a conversation. And while it may not have been particularly polite, Bradley brushed him off with a quick talk to you later in his haste to get over to you.

He didn’t want you to have to face Hangman alone.

Because you didn’t forget things easily. And you’d told Bradley that all those months ago on your first date when you’d overheard Jake making fun of you, all you’d wanted to do was run back to the bathroom and cry. Because you hadn’t originally heard Bradley’s comments coming to your defense and telling Hangman to fuck off.

All you’d heard was she could be kinda hot, if she cut out that whole type a, stick up her ass shit. It was similar to something the last guy you’d been with had said about you - too uptight, too focused on work, too prissy - too much - and you’d panicked.

Bradley didn’t think you were too much.

His uptight, focused on work, prissy girlfriend was just right for him. And he made sure to tell you in a thousand different ways ever since. Because you deserved to be told how much you meant to him and how much he loved you. And in turn, you did the same for him.

And one way for him to show his love and support for you when you were already doing so much for him that evening was to not have to deal with Jake fucking Seresin any more than you needed to that evening. It was bad enough you already had to sit at the same table as him and whomever he had coerced into being his date.

By now, you’d gotten two glasses of champagne from the bartender and Bradley was just a couple long strides away, but Jake had beat him to you.

“Well, now who do you belong to, darlin’?” Even above the tin of chatter and the murmur of the band, Bradley could hear Hangman lay on the southern charm.

You turned to face him and the smile on your face from chatting with the bartender temporarily slipped as you took in the blond in front of you. Bradley closed the remaining distance to the bar, but you stopped him in his tracks with a look. He’d let you run with this - for now, at least.

“We’ve actually met before…” You leaned against the bar and cocked your hip out slightly.

He clicked his tongue and Bradley would’ve killed to see the expression on Hangman’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, darlin’-”

“- Actually, you told my boyfriend to ditch me on our first date.”

“Your boyfr - what? I don’t -”

You smiled prettily and peered over Hangman’s shoulder, looking straight at Bradley. He closed the final gap between you and slapped Jake on the back in greeting before lightly pushing him out of the way to press a kiss to the side of your head.

“Hey, kid,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist and then grabbing the glass of champagne you’d gotten him with his other hand. The look on Jake’s face was priceless. It normally took a lot to rattle Hangman and Bradley was rarely the one to do it.

“Bagman.” He nodded towards him. “Heard the rumor you’re finally stateside again, I’m sure Coyote’s been keeping you up on things around -”

“- Wait, this is your girl?” Recognition finally seemed to dawn on Jake and he gestured between the two of you. “You’re with - you guys are still together?”

“Who do you think everyone’s been talking about for the last six months? She’s got a name, too.”

You held out your hand and offered your name. “I know you didn’t exactly catch it the first time we met.”

Jake cleared his throat. “Well, nice to officially meet you then.”

“You too,” you conceded, “and congratulations on your award.”

“Thanks, uhhh - so, you guys have been together for six months? That’s pretty…serious?”

Bradley frowned. Though the question had been oddly worded, to say the least, he didn’t think there was anything necessarily malicious about it? Hangman just seemed slightly uncomfortable with the idea of it.

“I’d say so,” Bradley answered for you both, “you bring anyone to round out our table this evening? Pick anybody up in Misawa?”

If at all possible, Jake looked even more uncomfortable than he did a moment ago. Briefly, Bradley thought he had embarrassed him since he didn’t have a date, but he had seen the extra place card at the table.

Hangman cleared his throat. “Err kind of? She should be around here somewhere - uhhh Whiskey, I mean Sarah, went to put her purse down at the table.”

Whiskey. Sarah. Sarah Costigan.

As in Sarah Costigan Bradley’s ex-girlfriend Sarah Costigan.

Shit.

You knew plenty about Bradley’s ex’s. Or at least the big ones. The ones that he thought he had been in love with before he had met you and finally realized what it meant to be in love with someone.

First there had been Elodie - a brief relationship when Bradley was in Pensacola for flight school. The two had hit it off after she spilt a drink on him while she was working at his favorite bar. They had broken up when he had been assigned to Norfolk, but she had been nice and kind when Bradley had gotten too far into his own head.

Next came Sarah - Bradley’s girlfriend during and right after his first time at Top Gun. Whiskey was loud and brash and everything Bradley had wanted in a girlfriend at twenty-seven. They had been together for eight months - of which they had spent three in the same place - and Bradley’s orders back to Virginia had been the perfect excuse for things to end.

And then there had been Ezra - Bradley’s first, real boyfriend beyond ‘drunkenly’ hooking up with one of his Sigma Chi brothers at UVA or some random guy at a bar. With Ezra it was different. They had met when Bradley had been volunteering at some off-base event for Habitat for Humanity and immediately clicked. Ezra and Bradley had been together for a little over a year and had been thinking of moving in together until Ezra recanted and said he didn’t actually want to have a family. And that was all it took for Bradley to realize that was really all he wanted.

So, at thirty-two years old, Bradley realized that his one true purpose, beyond being a pilot, was to be a dad and to be around for his kids in the way that his own father wasn’t.

And so, Bradley and Ezra broke up and Bradley went on just about any overseas deployment he could possibly sign up for. It helped for a little while. Made him forget about his broken heart and realize what he really wanted. This was only further solidified when he came back to the States and reconnected with Maverick years later.

And then Bradley had met you and - explosive first date and all - he knew you were it for him. He didn’t want anybody else.

“Here she is,” Jake said and Sarah suddenly appeared beside him.

Seemingly taking no notice of anyone else in their little quartet, Sarah wrapped her arms around Bradley’s neck and pulled him in for a hug - a long hug. The medals on her sash uncomfortably dug into his stomach. And sure, Bradley could admit that she looked good - he couldn’t deny that Sarah was and had always been attractive - but her red dress stood out terribly in a sea of muted whites, navys, blacks, and ivorys.

“Hey, Roo!” She eventually let go of him.

“Oh - hey, Sarah.” Bradley then introduced the two of you and you smiled and held out your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.”

“I’d say you can call me Whiskey, but that’s only reserved for us pilots. You know, I always had a feeling Rooster wanted a civvy.” She winked, but the joke didn’t quite land. Though you maintained a neutral expression, both Bradley and Jake grimaced. “What do you do instead?”

“Oh, I work in consulting.”

“Consulting? Like - shit, what’s it called? Deloitte? Or what’s the other one?”

This time you couldn’t school your expression and made a face. Bradley realized it was tantamount to how he reacted whenever someone wrongly assumed he was in the Air Force. At least Sarah hadn’t said KPMG.

“No, PwC. I’m a strategy and consumer markets consultant -” you still managed to respond cordially.

“- Soon to be manager,” Bradley couldn’t help but brag. Though you ducked your head, he could tell it pleased you.

Sarah huffed out a laugh. “Sorry, what does that mean exactly? Like I tell people I’m a naval aviator and that’s pretty self explanatory, but…”

“Oh! Right, well we help clients optimize and automate their supply chains and improve deal and product innovation, as well as their general program revenue management? So, uhh lots of watching the markets, looking at other companies, following trends - stuff like that.”

There was a brief lull once you finished your explanation and Bradley could feel the doubt creeping up on you. He squeezed your hip and cleared his throat.

“Trust me, I listen in on her calls sometimes and we definitely have the easier job.” You and Jake laughed politely. “Well, uhh - we can all catch up during dinner, but this one and I have to make the rounds.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, yeah. No big, we’ve got a couple people to chat with, too. Promised I’d introduce Whiskey to Rear Admiral Cain, she’s a big fan.”

Fucking ass kisser. Bradley knew the people the two of you were going to chat with were actually his friends - not Captains and Admirals to pander to all evening.

“It was nice meeting you, Sarah,” you nodded towards the other girl, who smiled, and then you turned towards Jake, “and always nice talking with you.”

With a final wave and promise to chat later, the terrible twosome made their way towards the bandstand where the upper brass were all hanging out. You relaxed your shoulders and looked up at Bradley.

“Now why do I remember him being taller?”

He just laughed and the two of you headed over to chat with Nat and the rest of the gang to take some pictures together and have some fun before dinner.

-----------

“I’m impressed, no quips on how much all this is costing the government?”

You squeezed Bradley’s arm a little harder as you two made your way back to your table. The five minute warning for dinner had just been given and meandering from the squad’s table back to your own was taking some work to get through the crush.

“Hey, I would rather my tax dollars be spent on a party than a bombing campaign in Yemen - shit, sorry.” For good measure, you both glanced around you to see if anyone had overheard. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to keep the commentary to a minimum. I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”

Bradley stopped you just shy of your table. “Hey, no, you’re fine, kid - perfect actually. And you haven’t even had to break out your talking points yet…” You chuckled.

“Hard part hasn’t happened yet…” Oh in more ways than one.

“It’ll be fine, promise.” He didn’t know if he was reassuring you or himself. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and the two of you continued on your way towards your table.

You were the last couple seated and Bradley was pleased to note that no one had moved your place cards. You gave Maverick and Penny hearty hugs, being sure to tell them both how nice they looked. (If you looked a little flustered under Mav’s gaze, Bradley was willing to forget it. For now, at least.)

Everyone greeted each other cordially again and the table fell into perfunctory chit chat while waiting for the salad course to be delivered. Thankfully, Mav - though it was probably actually Penny - had the foresight to order the two of you dinner cocktails, which came soon after your salads. Once everyone got their barings, the chatter picked up again.

“So,” Emily started, looking between you and Bradley, “what’s been your longest deployment so far? Beau and I once lasted seven months - the poor kids were insufferable, I was a mess.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow, uhh seven months? I think the longest we’ve had was ten days?” You looked to Bradley to confirm, but he shook his head.

“Pretty sure it was fifteen…” You cocked your head, while Bradley turned to Emily, “this one here was off in Europe on a work trip a couple weeks back - where’d they send you again? England, Ireland, Germany?”

“Oh - yeah. I didn’t even think about that one.” You looked touched that he had brought it up and equated it to a deployment.

It happened around four months into your relationship, actually right before Bradley had been sent off to Taiwan for the Speaker’s visit. The fifteen days had been agony. Bradley had walked around his house listlessly after work, so used to having you over at his place to make dinner or watch TV together that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself - didn’t know how he had done this before you.

So, it was during those fifteen days that Bradley had realized he was in love with you. He had almost blurted it out after the two of you had finished your second go round at phone sex. Admittedly, the first time had not been successful after you had kept telling him that his dirty talk wasn’t quite dirty enough - I need a story, Bradley! But he hadn’t wanted to scare you off.

It was too soon, just about four months. Could you really fall in love in four months?

Well, yes, you could. And yes, you had felt the same way, too.

“…Our global headquarters is in London, but they also sent me to Dublin, Munich, and Berlin. I’m on this new account at work, hoping to get this -”

Emily practically groaned. “- Oh, I don’t know how girls your age do it nowadays! I can barely find time to do all my errands everyday before Beau comes home -” at this Admiral Simpson grunted in acknowledgment “- and don’t even get me started on if the kids are back from college!”

You both smiled politely and then Emily spoke again. “But you know, a little work trip’s not quite a deployment now, is it?”

A little work trip.

“It sure felt like it to me,” Bradley said seriously, daring Emily fucking Simpson to say something else about his girl. You squeezed his hand under the table.

“Of course, of course - oh, wait!” Emily stretched her hand across the table, somehow reaching across Cyclone to do so. “I’ll have to set something up with you, get you involved on the base more. We do a lot of give back opportunities - me and all the other girls, you see - especially around the holidays for the community. Sherri Callaghan and I are taking up the charge this year!”

You set your salad fork down. “Oh? Uhh - when do you normally meet?”

He couldn’t tell if you were just being polite. Your company was really big on giving back - you’d mentioned their donation match program every time you donated to Emily’s List or Feeding America - but Emily Simpson wasn’t someone Bradley could envision you spending prolonged periods of time with - at least if you wanted to keep your sanity intact.

Emily smiled, seeming to think she’d gotten her claws into you. “We meet every other Thursday at the Coronado Golf Course, right near the base. We have a set room and everything in the clubhouse - twelve-thirty sharp!”

“I’m sorry, Emily.” You actually sounded apologetic. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away from the office at that time, but definitely keep me in the loop with the emails and whatnot? I can give you my card later? I think I have some in my purse.”

You didn’t. Bradley knew you had your license, Amex, room key, a tube of lipgloss, and a condom in there.

Emily looked slightly put out for a moment, before pasting a smile on her face again. “Of course, I forget not everyone is as privileged in that regard! You working girls!”

She sounded slightly patronizing, but neither you nor Bradley called her out on it. At least not directly.

“What can I say, they barely let us up for air,” you joked.

And with that, the conversation moved on to include the other parties at the table. Whiskey, Cyclone, and Hangman were talking about Misawa, while Mav and Penny politely asked questions when appropriate, giving the two of you a slight reprieve to finish your salad and bread. Bradley took two rolls and packets of butter out of the basket and wordlessly handed you a roll, a packet of butter following a moment later once he had sufficiently warmed it up in his hands. You gave him a quick smile and he responded with a wink - just a little moment between the two of you.

The food was pretty good so far, but Bradley had also been starving. While chatting with the rest of the squad, he had had three more crab rangoons, which had been washed down with two rounds of tequila shots for the entire team. It would have been fun to sit with all of them, probably would’ve put your mind at ease, too, but you both understood that since Bradley was getting honored with an award, it made sense to sit with his fellow award winners and the commanding officer on the mission.

He just wished Whiskey hadn’t been there. It was awkward and had definitely been a subtle dig at Bradley from Jake. At least you had known about Sarah in the most basic sense - Bradley had definitely won that breakup - but it was always awkward seeing your partner’s ex. He didn’t know how he’d react to seeing Jack in person. Apparently, Jack hadn’t been the best boyfriend, but he hadn’t been the worst either.

“So,” Jake said your name, “you got family around here?”

You tilted your head back and forth, trying to finish chewing faster, before you answered. “My mo - my step-mom and dad are up in Berkeley. We moved down there from Santa Rosa when I was little.”

“NorCal gal...”

Sarah exaggerated a shudder and stabbed at her salad. “God, I could never live above SLO, it’s frigid - and I don’t just mean the weather.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bradley noticed your champagne glass briefly still before it got to your mouth. He cleared his throat. “I’m looking forward to heading up there, actually. Haven’t been upstate in ages. We’re going for Thanksgiving.”

It wasn’t a lie. He was looking forward to spending time with your family. Was he also nervous as hell to meet your dad and Mary? Without question. But he was looking forward to getting to know them and seeing where you had grown up.

“Well, how long have you lived here?” Sarah asked.

“Since I graduated - I got a job at my firm right after college.”

“And that’s how many…”

“Oh - uhh let’s see, six years ago - what?” you asked at the mischievous smile on Whiskey’s face.

“Nothing, nothing. I just didn’t realize there was that much of a gap between the two of you. Looks like you got your civvy and a spring chicken, Roo.”

Though you didn’t outwardly show it - or at least not in a way Sarah and Jake would notice - the comment had bothered you. Eight years was not a huge gap in a relationship - at least not twenty-right to thirty-six. Sure, you made the occasional comment about Bradley’s creaky joints or bad back, but the two of you never really brought it up.

It just wasn’t a big thing for either of you. Sure, sometimes Bradley thought about how old he’d be when you had kids - not that he thought about it a lot or anything - but it never really gave him pause or brought about any malicious comments like what Sarah was implying.

“I don’t think I’d put it like that -”

And then because she clearly didn’t understand that she’d said something wrong, Sarah kept talking. “How’d you two meet then?”

“We met on Hinge,” you said. That normally elicited two reactions from people: lighthearted jealousy that things actually worked out between you two on a dating app or not-so-passive judgment.

“Oh,” she hummed, “I’ve never really had to use one of those before. You always hear such horror stories…”

Bradley threw his arm over the back of your chair, pulling you even closer to him. “I’m convinced we would’ve met anyway.” He only had eyes for you as he said it.

A couple seats down, Mav and Penny looked a little skeptical. “Oh, really? Then how come we haven’t heard about this before?” Penny teased.

You chuckled and looked to Bradley to continue. “Alright, alright,�� he started, “we have this friend, Max - great guy, really - that we both knew separately. But he’s convinced that he was going to set the two of us up anyway.”

You nodded. “We didn’t find out that I was the girl he was trying to set Bradley up with until a couple months ago, actually. But it’s kinda crazy to think about. Things just happen for a reason, I guess.”

“And this way I got to meet you earlier and find out how amazing you are on my own.”

Penny cooed, knowing it would embarrass him, while Mav reached over the back of your chair to ruffle Bradley’s hair.

It went without saying, though it really should be something he actually said more often, but for the last year or so Mav and Penny had been Bradley’s biggest supporters - with everything.

From when he had asked them to look at houses with him and eventually buying one, to going over their house for the holidays, having them over for dinner, playing golf and going sailing together as a family with Amelia, to finally meeting you: they were there for Bradley. And loathe as he may have been to admit it a year ago, getting Mav’s approval of the girl he was dating meant a lot.

A lot.

It was almost like if his mom and dad - no, it was like if his mom and dad had approved of you. Because that was who Mav was to Bradley. And this past year had just confirmed that to him. Bradley had gone back for Maverick - had saved his life - at a time when he didn’t even like him.

But he still loved him. He was his family and he loved him. Always had.

He wondered how Maverick would get along with your dad and Mary? They were of a similar generation, that had to count for something? He could totally see them hanging out and laughing together at the holidays, mainly Mary and Mav teasing your dad. (On the other hand, Bradley had a feeling Maverick and your mother wouldn’t get along terribly well, but he didn’t necessarily see that being a character flaw on Mav’s part.)

Like parents, they gave him advice and made sure he knew he was always welcome at their house and that they loved him. And it was so nice because it was something Bradley had been missing for so long. Missing having someone older, someone who loved him, looking out for him.

And sure, he had friends and colleagues that looked out for him, but they didn’t really know him. They didn’t really know Bradley. And he really liked just being Bradley sometimes. It was like that with you, too. And he had told you so last week, but he realized he needed to tell you that more often.

Sometimes he felt spoiled. Like the other shoe was going to drop - and he’d lose you or get into another disagreement with Mav and he’d be all alone again. And Bradley had gotten used to not being alone anymore.

He felt himself getting flustered, unsettled. Like his bow tie was too tight. Like the medals and ribbons on his chest were too heavy. He heard your soft laugh and then his name echo through his ears.

Slowly, he fell back into himself, realizing that he was very much not alone at the moment. That he was seated about a table with three of the people that meant the most to him in the entire world and that he was getting honored for saving one of them. That your hand was on his knee under the table grounding him to you. That you loved him. That you were there with him - for him.

You squeezed his knee and he snapped his eyes up from his old fashioned, humming his acknowledgment. “Yeah?”

“Jake asked if we’re going to Natasha’s Halloween party?”

“Yeah, looking forward to it.” He left it at that, still a little shaken, but almost back to his normal self.

Luckily, you chimed in with some additional details. “He’s going as Ted Lasso - blame the mustache,” you joked, getting chuckles from around the table - except from Admiral Simpson, who just grunted.

Emily’s eyes lit up. “Oh, we love Ted Lasso! Such a cute little show! Do you have the Nikes and the sweater?”

You chuckled. “Yea, we even got him a visor.”

“Awww, that’ll be perfect - oh! And who are you going to be, one of the players?”

There was a pause before you replied. “Uhh, no. Either Rebecca or Sassy, I’m still undecided. Neither are too much of a stretch costume-wise, but it’ll be fun!”

“Fun for you…” Bradley grumbled, but without malice, trying to lighten the mood. You nudged his shoulder.

“Oh, come on. You can pick next time, promise.”

After another sip of your champagne, you turned back to Emily to continue the conversation, but Whiskey interrupted you. “So, Ted Lasso, are you big football fans then?”

Bradley looked at you and you both shrugged. “I’ll watch a Premier League match if I’m bored on a Saturday and we went to a San Diego Wave game when they played the Thorns, but not really?”

“Well,” Sarah preened, “I’m a huge Arsenal and Juventus fan. I was just gutted when Italy didn’t qualify.” Sure she was. “I’m rooting for Portugal in the World Cup.”

Conversation soon shifted onto next month’s event, with Jake supporting Argentina and Mav saying he had money on England going to the semis, then the question was turned on you.

“Oh, I typically root for England, too, but I don’t know, I feel a bit conflicted about it this time around - not that I didn’t last time in Russia, but -”

“- What?” Sarah interrupted, “you don’t like that it’s in Qatar?” She said it wrong.

You nodded. “Actually, yeah. I think FIFA knows it can only get away with hosting the tournament in countries that can meet their outrageous expectations of stadiums and hotels and athletes villages if they award it to countries who give little thought as to how the job actually gets done? Lack of oversight on building practices, labor laws, and government corruption may be unethical, but they can get you a marquee sporting event like a World Cup or Olympic bid.

“And the country becomes so dependent on preparing for the event and ‘employing’ the laborers and ‘providing’ all these jobs that they don’t take into consideration what happens when the cranes come down and the tourists leave? Don’t even get me started on the fact that the matches have to be played at night and in the late fall since it’s so hot -”

“- Then where should they have these marquee sporting events, oh-wise-one?” Jake quipped.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, someone paid more than me can figure it out, but until then,” you toasted your champagne flute, “I’m entitled to my opinion.”

“Well said,” Mav chimed in and toasted his glass to you.

“I agree,” Cyclone chimed in for the first time. “FIFA on the whole is inherently corrupt - it needs a complete overhaul. More’s the pity for me, I always look forward to the matches, but am feeling similarly this year.”

No one quite knew what to say next, but Admiral Simpson was saved by the delivery of the main course and everyone quickly dug in once the whole table had been served.

“These short ribs are excellent,” Cyclone said after a lengthy pause, accompanied only by the band doing a fairly decent rendition of Beyond the Sea. Bradley stifled his snort with a bite of his short ribs - which were in fact excellent - and out of the corner of his eye saw you doing something similar.

Of all the people to try and keep the conversation going at the table, Bradley hadn’t thought it would be Cyclone.

Ultimately, it was Penny who truly saved the day by asking how the Simpsons kids were doing at college. Her and Amelia were planning a couple visits in the spring and she wanted to know if Emily had any tips. Mary had already promised Amelia, Penny, and Maverick a behind the scenes tour of Berkeley over winter break, but one of the Simpsons went to USC, which Amelia was also interested in touring.

The six of you talked about college and upcoming holiday plans and whatnot for the remainder of the entree portion of the evening, while Jake and Sarah mainly chatted amongst themselves. You even remembered to bring up meeting a wonderful lieutenant who’s actually part of your Top Gun class, Admiral Simpson. Oh, Bradley what was his name again? Lieutenant Kopinski, right?

It was really nice, the ease with which the six of you chatted - well, maybe the five of you since Cyclone didn’t say much - but Bradley felt like you both really belonged. Like you had both passed some sort of test. He was proud of you, obviously, but he was also proud of himself. And he didn’t let himself be proud of himself very often.

Just then, the emcee for the evening came up to the microphone, saying the awards presentation would begin in five minutes. Bradley felt his stomach sink. Of all things he had to think about leading up to that evening, he’d given little thought to the actual awards presentation itself until earlier that evening.

Would he have to stand up there in front of everyone? It was a small consideration that he knew Maverick didn’t like stuff like this either and he seemed relaxed? Or maybe he was just good at hiding it. It would be fine, it would be fine - you grabbed his hand underneath the table and gave it a little squeeze.

“It’ll be fine, I’m proud of you, bubs. No matter what,” you said for his ears only.

Bradley squeezed your hand back, ready to say something further, except he was interrupted by Admiral Simpson calling for the table’s attention.

“Now, before I go up there and give the official, fully sanctioned version of this speech, I just want to say that I know some time has passed and some of you have gone onto different detachments and have different commanding officers, but I want you all to know that despite some aspects of the mission not going exactly to plan, I am very proud of the three of you. The success of that mission was one of the highlights of my career thanks in large part to your heroics that day and I am eternally grateful that you’re all sitting in front of me with your partners and colleagues cheering you on - that is all.”

“Well said, sir.” You nodded towards the admiral before smiling at Bradley. It made him feel about ten feet tall.

Everyone raised their glasses. “Cheers” echoed throughout the table and everyone took a hearty sip of their drink, Bradley’s a little more hearty than the others.

He discreetly reached behind your chair and poked Maverick’s shoulders. Mav gave Bradley a probing look and he flushed, embarrassed. “Do you think we uhh - we have to go up there? For the presentation and everything?”

A look of understanding crossed the older man’s face. “Hope we don’t, but if we do, you can stand behind me.”

“I don’t think that’ll help…” you quipped from between them and they both chuckled, tuning back into the others’ conversation.

“- Meanwhile, Rooster was concussed out of his mind, pretty sure the NFL is using him as a CTE case study,” Hangman quipped.

At your shocked expression, Bradley tried to backpedal. It was stuff like this that reminded him why he wanted to keep his Navy life separate. You were really touchy about head injuries after your accident in high school.

“That’s just a working theory, my test results were inconclusive -”

Jake cut him off. “ - Mav, back me up here.”

Everyone turned towards the older pilot, who clearly hated being put on the spot. He tried to hide behind his drink, but eventually muttered out: “No comment.”

You leaned in to whisper in Bradley’s ear. “I’ve got a couple questions for you later, rocketman…” He knew that was coming.

The band brought Fly Me to the Moon to a close before the final chorus as the emcee, Commander Davis, got back on stage to start the awards presentation. Luckily, you two were on the correct side of the table and didn’t have to turn around to face the stage like Hangman, Whiskey, and Emily did.

“Evening everyone! And what a lovely evening it is out here in Coronado. I’m sorry to drag you away from your delicious desserts and conversations, but it is time for us to celebrate the men and women we are honoring tonight throughout the Pacific Fleet.” There was polite applause. “Tonight’s award winners are being honored for their heroic efforts both in and out of the line of duty and will first be introduced by their commanding officer and then presented with their medal of distinction.”

Well that cleared up the question of whether Bradley had to go on stage or not. Shit.

Commander Davis waited until the applause died down again. “Now, please let me call Captain Alexandra Caldwell to the stage to introduce our first award winner for this evening, Lieutenant Emma Vance!”

Both Lieutenant Vance and Captain Caldwell received a standing ovation as they took their place on the stage, with Lieutenant Vance standing just off to the side as her commanding officer took the mic. Once everyone settled down, Captain Caldwell started her speech.

“Thank you, everyone, for such a warm welcome. I am thrilled to be here tonight to honor the kind, thoughtful, caring, and damn hard worker Lieutenant Emma Vance for her efforts in spearheading our local Covenant House chapter and sleepout…”

You leaned over to whisper in his ear. “My office works with them, too. I had no idea you guys had something on base with them.”

Bradley shrugged. He hadn’t either. Seeming to understand you weren’t going to get a response out of him, you just squeezed his hand.

He knew you could tell he was nervous and he appreciated your efforts to put him at ease. Throughout the rest of the speech, you kept glancing over at him and smiling softly, holding his hand and rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

It felt nice. It grounded him. Distracted him. And right now, he needed to distract himself. Focus on something else. Something like you.

Admittedly, Bradley had been pretty proud of himself for having relatively chaste thoughts about you all evening - less carnal, more prideful. You had handled everything with such aplomb and grace, even the totally unexpected addition of Sarah to your table, and had made a surprising ally in Cyclone. But as Captain Caldwell droned on and on about Lieutenant Vance’s philanthropic efforts in the community, Bradley knew he was fighting a losing battle. (That wasn’t exactly fair to Lieutenant Vance, who Bradley was sure did an amazing job organizing the Pacific Fleet’s largest ever sleepout to raise money for homeless youth in San Diego. He was just stressed.)

It was that damn slit. And the fact that he knew what he would find if it inched up just a hair higher. If he could just brush his hand against your thigh…

Because dammit he wanted your attention. Luckily, the slit was on the leg next to Bradley - not Maverick, which if there ever was a buzzkill to exist, it was Bradley’s pseudo-father figure.

That’s not to say that the two of you were into gratuitous PDA to begin with - he wasn’t about to finger fuck you at the table. You were a lady and Bradley wasn’t an animal. He was thirty-six, he could control himself.

Instead, it was typically a kiss on the cheek or the forehead, an arm around each other’s shoulders or waist. It took a lot for both of you to really go at it in public. And Bradley wasn’t exactly going to start at an event with all his colleagues and superior officers.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it or say anything to you. Kinda made it a little more fun that way anyway. It drew out the anticipation.

And Bradley really wanted to draw out the anticipation that night.

How would he start? You had been adamant that he was not going to have to take off your boob tape, which he couldn’t say he was really broken up over, but that probably meant he wouldn’t be the one to take your dress off. No, he’d wait for you to freshen up, get comfortable, get situated, see if that underwear was a matching set you were going to break out later.

Maybe you would have a drink together on the patio in your room, snuggle up against each, debrief the evening, or even fawn a bit over Bradley in his uniform (he was only human, alright)? Eventually, you would crawl onto his lap, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him close. He would become acquainted with whichever frothy piece of negligee was covering your breasts, all while you sighed and sighed, saying:

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. Please, please, please. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

He wondered how many he could get out of you? How many times could he make you cum? Until you were a whiny, desperate, cock dumb mess, squirming underneath him? He felt his pants tightening at the thought. He wanted to be in charge tonight - he needed to be in charge tonight, especially since it was the one thing about that evening that he could actually control. He would still give you a choice - or at least the allusion of one - though. It gave him an idea.

“Hey,” Bradley whispered in your ear. You hummed, but didn’t look away from the stage. “Pick a number, one to five?”

At this, you did turn your head to look at him. “What? What does -”

“- One to five…”

You looked like you were doing some sort of mental math in your head. “Five?”

Fuck him - five. He was going to have to accept this award with one hell of a semi if he didn’t calm himself down. Because he could do five. He got at least two or three out of you normally - five shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. He could do it - you on the other hand…

Bradley just smirked. “Five it is then.”

“Okay…” you muttered and went back to paying attention. But before he knew it, he found his mind drifting again - and this time the results weren’t as pleasant and were definitely a mood killer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Cyclone get up from his spot and sneak off to the side of the stage. Shit, it was coming. Bradley could see the row of three medals, made even more bright and shiny and special, reflecting off the string lights overhead. He was going to have to wear that all night. He was going to have to wear that on his uniform forever. He was going to have to wear that and be reminded of the time he almost died - of the time Maverick almost died - forever. It would always be on his dress uniform, glaring up at him. Faker, faker, faker, fak -

You squeezed his hand, angling his body towards yours.

“It’ll be over before you know it and then you can come back and dance with me, step on my toes all night if you need to, bubs.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The words had barely left your lips when Bradley heard the call for him, Maverick, and Hangman to get onstage.

He didn’t remember any of it.

Someone, he assumed Cyclone, put the medal on his uniform. There were probably some words of congratulations or encouragement. Maybe even some clapping.

He didn’t remember any of it.

Except…

When he walked back to his seat, the only person he could focus on was you and your smile that was just for him. That was just for Bradley. Because to you, he was just Bradley. Your Bradley.

He walked a little faster to get back to his seat, blindly nodding to all his well wishers amidst the applause, but all he wanted to do was be in your arms, give you a hug, spin you around, and have you five ways till Sunday.

Once he bridged the final gap between you, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a fierce hug. He squeezed you just as tightly in return, even picking you up off your feet a bit, and the two of you just stood there for a moment. Bradley didn’t care if anyone was staring - let ‘em. Let them see how much he was loved and how much he loved you in return.

“You did it, bubs,” you whispered in his ear as he finally set you down. The pride and joy and love in your face set all his nerves to rest.

He chuckled dryly and glanced around as the crowd settled back into their seats, keen for the rest of the evening’s festivities to start. All the tension in his shoulders was gone, he felt ten pounds lighter.

“Hope you took some pictures because I don’t remember any of that.”

“You looked very…dashing,” you eventually decided upon.

He scoffed. “Dashing?”

“Hey, you’re the one ready to whip out the thesaurus at any given opportunity, not me.” Bradley exaggerated an eye-roll, acting very much like a six year old than a thirty-six year old. “Fine, let’s go with debonair - no? Dapper? Sharp? Handsome? Suave? No, no - I got one.”

He gave you a probing look and you cupped his cheek before replying. “Beautiful. You looked beautiful, Bradley.”

He broke eye contact, so taken aback and flustered by the sincerity in your words. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. God, he loved you so much.

So, he said it.

“I love you, too, bubs.” You kissed him on the lips this time. It didn’t last for too long, but it was just what he had needed.

Through the fog of Bradley’s brain, the opening guitar riff from My Girl seemed louder than any of the songs playing earlier in the evening as the first droves of couples made their way onto the dance floor.

Not one to let a perfect opportunity pass by, let alone one that would keep you in his arms, Bradley held his hand out to you, palm side up, wordlessly asking you to dance. There was just the slightest hesitation on your part, barely a moment for you to teasingly bite your lip in thought, before you clasped his hand with your own.

And then you were off.

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

Later that evening, on his way back from having a celebratory cigar with Maverick, Fanboy, and Bob, Bradley easily spotted you on the dancefloor with Phoenix, Rory, and Halo, dancing to Wouldn’t It Be Nice. You looked so happy and carefree dancing with the three of them. Normally, Bradley wouldn’t have deserted you, but Phoenix and Halo promised to take care of you and it gave you and Rory a chance to catch up.

After dinner, the two of you had danced for the better part of an hour, your dance moves getting sillier and sillier the more champagne you both had. It was fun, dancing to a live band under the cloudless October sky and knowing the hard part of the evening was over. You had originally worried that you would get chilly in your dress later in the evening, but you had to beg Bradley to take a breather after he broke out into an impassioned and impromptu dance routine to Rich Girl. Hopefully, there would be some slower music as the night wore on and you two could just sway back and forth -

“Rooster!” He heard Hangman calling his name. “Bradshaw?”

The blond finally caught up to him. “What’s up?”

If Bradley didn’t know any better, he would say Hangman looked contrite. “Listen, I wanted to say something earlier, but we were always around other people, so I just - I didn’t know you’d be here with your girl - I mean, I didn’t know that your date would be her. Shit, that didn’t come out right.” Jake took a deep breath. “I didn’t know the girl you were bringing tonight was your long term girlfriend and I sure as hell didn’t know it was the same one from that night before Japan.”

“Okay?”

“I mainly brought Whiskey to fuck with you - not your girl. So, if that made things awkward between you guys or anything then I’m sorry. You guys seem good together.”

It might’ve been the champagne, the general atmosphere, or the fact that while accepting their award Bradley was brutally reminded of the fact that Jake saved both his and Maverick’s lives, but Bradley believed him. He believed that Jake hadn’t been that casually cruel.

Granted, he was still Hangman and wanted to fuck with him. But he hadn’t done it as a slight to you. He hadn’t purposely tried to make you feel less than.

“And Whiskey and I have been seeing each other for the past couple weeks, but I probably wouldn’t have actually brought her with me tonight were it not for the fact that it would needle you, but yeah - that’s just shitty? So, we square?”

Bradley held his hand out. “Yeah, we’re good, Hangman.” He looked so relieved that Bradley felt compelled to keep the conversation going as long as Whiskey didn’t pop up anytime soon. “So, uhh you guys staying over?”

“Yeah,” Jake paused to take a sip of his drink, “we got one of those cabanas rooms, think Maverick did, too.”

Interesting. He was going to file away that piece of information for later. “You guys check in late or…”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, Whiskey - Sarah had a thing this morning -”

A blurred figure in ivory cut Jake off as you practically ran into Bradley, looking a little giddy. “It’s your song, Bradley!”

Sure enough, the starting notes to You Make Me Feel So Young echoed across the dance floor and he bit back a smile. “Then I guess we gotta dance, kid.”

“Sorry,” you explained to Jake, “I gotta steal him away.”

Jake took it all in stride. “You kids have your fun, I think I’m gonna head out soon anyway. Still on Japan time. Goodnight.”

You and Bradley returned the sentiments and made your way back onto the dancefloor, passing by Penny and Maverick, who shot him a wink. “What was that about?”

“I’ll tell you later.” You raised an eyebrow in question, but took his proffered hand and got into a hold. “I promise, I just want to dance and talk to you - how was hanging out with the squad?”

“It was nice, I haven’t talked to Rory in a couple weeks - ever since I introduced them and Nat - so it was good to catch up. And then Callie walked me through her shoe debacle and - I guess it’s just been nice finally putting faces to all the names I’ve heard over the past couple months.” Bradley hummed. “Admiral Simpson, Mr. Coleman -”

“- Oh, Hondo is going to get a kick out that - Mr. Coleman -”

You ignore him. “- Mickey’s girlfriend Cielo, Commander Davis, Sarah…”

Instinctively, Bradley pulled you closer towards him. “Lots of interesting characters around these parts.”

“She’s pretty…” You didn’t need to clarify who you were talking about - as much as Bradley thought Cielo was pretty, he knew you meant Sarah.

“She’s also annoying - you really didn’t know what she looked like?”

“I’ve never looked up any of your exes,” you admitted, “Didn’t want to compare myself or anything. Plus, I’d probably cyberbully the fuck out of Ezra, piece of shit…”

Bradley felt his cheeks warm up at your protectiveness and pulled back to look you in the eye. “You wanna know a secret? I looked up yours.”

“What? Really?”

“Mmhhmm.” He brought you back into the proper hold, except this time he laid his hand a little lower on your back. “And as much as it pains me to say this, kid, Jack has a receding hairline and is selling condos up in Torrey Pines.”

You let out something between a chuckle and a gasp. “You’re kidding?” Bradley shook his head, knowing he looked entirely too pleased about this. “He’s only - what, thirty? And he already has a receding hairline?”

“I can show you the picture when we get back to the table if you really want?” You giggled and it lit up your whole face. Bradley didn’t think he’d ever been more in love with you.

He’d do anything to see you keep smiling like that, anything to let you know how thankful he was for all you’d done that night: for forgiving him for being an ass and not initially inviting you, for letting everyone else fall in love with how capable, smart, witty, and beautiful you were, for offering Bradley a reassuring word or squeeze of his hand when he got too inside his head, and for dancing with him when his colleagues became too much.

Plus, the five orgasms he was going to try and pull out of you later would also put a smile on your face - hopefully a dumb one. Should he tell you now and let the anticipation build? Or wait until later when you were back in the room and he could go into explicit detail of how he would drag each one out of you?

He smiled, feeling just a little cocky. Was it too early to leave? Drag you back to the room, fuck you out, order room service, and watch the end of Saturday Night Live? Couldn’t hurt to ask -

“Have you -”

“Do you think we could - sorry, you go first,” he said.

You leaned back a little bit in your hold to look him in the eye. “You ever give any thought to what rank you want to retire at?” So much for his plan. Bradley furrowed his brow. “You retire as one more than what you are, right?”

“Yeah…I guess I haven’t thought about it too much? I don’t really know what I’d do instead? I mean, the Navy’s all I’ve ever really known?” You considered this. “But - I don’t know - I’m not really sure I could see myself as - did you know with Mav’s rank he’s technically the commanding officer of an aircraft carrier?”

Your jaw dropped, just a little. “No way? Is that something you’d want to do?”

“Maybe? I don’t know? I can be a Commander in about two years - if all goes well. And then I’d officially have my own squadron.”

“Might be nice to be a Captain like Mav?” It would be cool to be a Captain. Growing up, all Bradley had wanted to be was like Maverick - everyone always got it twisted thinking he wanted to be like his dad, but his dad had been an RIO, not a pilot - it just made sense that he would want to follow in his footsteps now, too. “Everyone could call you Captain? Like Captain Von Trapp in the Sound of Music?”

He laughed. “We gonna have seven kids, too?”

“Hmmm good point, maybe six then?”

“Funny.”

The gave him a long look, like you were trying to figure something. "Who are you tonight, the Numbers King? First all that pick a number stuff and now we're the Von Trapps with our seven kids?"

Bradley smirked. Fuck he couldn't wait for you to find out. "Wouldn't you like to know...."

“I’ll figure it out.”

You both danced in silence for the final part of the song, until it transitioned out into something slower and more sultry. The amount of couples on the dance floor had thinned slightly, with some of the older crowd heading home or to their hotel rooms.

“Hey, bubs?” Bradley hummed. “I know that having all of this come up again is resurfacing a lot of mixed feelings for you tonight, but I just want you to know that I’m proud of you every night and I love you every night. Not just when everyone else sees how amazing you are.”

He knew he was blushing like crazy. From the tips of his ears down to his neck, he was pink. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. No one had ever bestowed that amount of love and kindness towards Bradley since before his mom had passed away. God, he loved you. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you. His beautiful, kind, and clever girl. With eyes just for you.

“Thank you for making the night easier for me. I really don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Just having you by my side helped more than you’ll probably ever know.”

You dunked your head and tried to hide how flustered he had made you by glancing around the dance floor, watching all the couples around you with mixed interest. This, of course, meant your attention was not on Bradley and that would just not do. But the soft smile on your face quickly fell and you tensed.

He followed your gaze and found it on Rear Admiral Porter, the asshole from after the Speaker’s visit. That one’s got quite a mouth on her. You retreated into yourself a little and Bradley had half a mind to go over and demand an apology, but he knew you would loathe making a scene. Plus, Porter probably didn’t even remember the incident even though you and Bradley did.

“Hey, none of that.” He slipped his right hand lower on your bare back and pulled you even closer. You gasped at the sudden movement - and probably at the fact that Bradley’s hand was cupping the top of your ass in a way that was verging on indecent. “Weren't you just saying how proud of me you are? Eyes on me, kid” he teased.

Your eyes met and you seemed to center yourself. A teasing smile crept across your face. “Why? Do you only have eyes for me?” you asked, referencing the song playing.

In response, he pulled you closer and you dug your fingers into his shoulder. “‘S my gala, want you lookin’ at me…”

“Aww, bubs,” you giggled. “Sorry, it’s just fun watching everyone - well, almost everyone. Maybe I’ll even let Pete take me for a spin again…”

Bradley huffed out a laugh and spun you out and back into him. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“Oh come on,” you whispered, “you don’t need to pull out all the stops tonight. You already saw your present for later…”

The piano melody from I Only Have Eyes for You faded out and transitioned into It’s Not for Me to Say. You both swayed in time.

“True - hey, you know,” he said lightly, “I’ve behaved all night - barely touched you in a way that wasn’t befitting my station, but that hasn't stopped my thoughts from being decidedly less chaste…”

“Oh? What do you mean, Lieutenant Commander?”

It was almost too easy. For someone so clever, you always somehow managed to fall right into his trap. Or maybe Bradley had fallen right into yours? You had never called him that before. Lieutenant Commander. He didn’t think it would have as much of an effect on him as it did. You both continued dancing, not missing a step or bringing your voices above a whisper.

“Wanted to slip my hand up the slit of that dress at dinner, skirt the edge of those panties I saw earlier. Can’t wait to unwrap my present.” He could feel you suck in a breath. “Fuck, I still can’t believe you wore a white dress -”

“- It’s ivory -” you corrected needlessly, but Bradley ignored you.

“- trying to be all innocent when you and I both know how fucking desperate you are for me to fuck you. Bet I could take you right now - right off the dance floor - and you’d squirt all over my cock. Because you’ve been wet all night, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

You let out a pathetic whimper and rested your head against Bradley’s chest, skirting around all the ribbons and medals. To the outside observer, it would have just looked like you were tired or had gotten caught up in the music. But Bradley knew better.

“I asked you a question, kid,” he whispered in your ear, “you’ve been wet all night, haven’t you?”

“Yes - I’m sorry, Bradley. I couldn’t help myself.”

He clicked his tongue. God, you were fucking putty in his hands. He loved whenever you got like this. It didn’t happen often, but he knew you liked it as much as he did. How fucking needy and desperate and submissive he could get you with some words - and on a dance floor surrounded by his colleagues, too. You would both be the epitome of grace and class out on the dancefloor, but after the band wrapped up and the bar gave its last call?

Fuck.

He was going to have so much fun with you back in the room.

Five times. Five times. Five times.

And you had no idea.

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

[next part]

a/n: thanks to everyone for sticking with me and being so supportive while i wrote and revised and wrote and revised - again. i'm definitely my own biggest critic, so special thanks to tiernan, kylie, cass, loren, and alexa for talking me off the ledge a couple times - hope you all enjoyed this part and look forward to the next 😉 (five times!!!)

#bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley fic #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine

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nikethestatue · 1 year

Text

There Was Only One Bed

Happy birthday @tswaney17

My bestie, my mate, my girl. I love you oddles and I hope that your birthday is amazing! Enjoy this provocatively titled little story.

“When will you ever man up, grow a pair of actual balls, swallow your pride and your insecurities and do what you fucking want to do? For once!”

Cassian’s rough words jolted Azriel out of his reverie and she gave his brother-best friend-bro-business partner a look of contempt and disdain. The best one he could come up with. Problem was that Cass could give it back just as well, and then some.

“Fine,” Cass shrugged, feigning indifference.

“Yeah, fine. Mind your own business,” Azriel suggested, his annoyance tripling, simply because he knew that Cass was correct.

“You know, Cass is correct,” Rhys called out–unhelpfully–from the sofa.

Azriel couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling. It was as if his brothers were in cahoots and agreed to drive him crazy.

Cass tipped his tumbler back, swallowing the last of his whiskey, and pointed his finger at him, “You know, literally everyone knows.”

Rhys was nodding, drinking his vodka and lime, brow cocked meaningfully.

Azriel, usually the picture of self-control and unreadable emotions, growled at both of them,

“Nobody knows anything. Why? Because it’s not true. You and her sisters convinced yourselves that there is something going on,”

Cassian shook his head vigorously, his long black hair whipping about as if he was advertising for Pantene,

“No, no, we know that nothing is going on,” he kept pointing at Azriel with his finger, and Azriel wondered if it would be inappropriate to just break it. Cass was a tough guy, he could handle it. “Because if there was something going, you’d be with Elain freakin’ Archeron, in bumfuck Tennessee, drinking bourbon, eating barbecue, just before going home and getting your birthday dick sucked like a proper 30 year old, instead of hanging out with us–two dudes, who will definitely not suck your birthday dick,”

To that, Rhys nodded his head in acquiescence and piped in,

“Yeah, love you bro, but you can keep your anaconda in your jeans,”

“Jesus fuck,” Azriel gritted through his teeth.

“No, Jesus wept!” Cassian roared, like he was personally offended by Azriel and Jesus.

“Jesus has taken his hands off the wheel,” Rhys agreed. “He is no longer helping,”

Defensively, Azriel snapped at them, “Vanderbilt is not ‘bumfuck Tennessee’ Cassian.”

Cassian got up and went to the bar, pouring himself another drink, while saying,

“You know, don’t come crying to me a year from now, when Elain is getting a proposal from some corn-fed good ol’ boy who’s got a lifetime membership at an exclusive golf club, wears Sperrys, played football in college and is now a VP in daddy’s successful company.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure not to run to you,” Azriel assured him, his brother’s words stinging sharply and filling him with dread.

And that’s how he found himself on the plane from NYC to Tennessee.

What was he even trying to accomplish? He had no idea.

All he knew was that last night, Elain texted him.

Elain: Hi Az! Happy birthday! It’s weird to not be there with you today.

Azriel: Thank you, El.

(Thank you, El? What the hell?! That’s all he could manage? Maybe he was hopeless.) At that moment, for better or for worse, Cassian ripped the phone out of his hands and began tapping on it furiously. Azriel began wrestling with him, trying to get the phone back, before horrible damage was done, but Rhys and Nesta wrangled him back, while Cassian finished whatever he was typing, waited for the response, smirked widely once he read it, and then typed something more.

“Stop,” Azriel half-begged and half-ordered.

Cassian didn’t listen.

With a smug smile, he handed the phone back to Azriel. Azriel’s heart was beating in his chest like a bird in a cage, when he looked at the screen.

Azriel: I wish you were here as well. With me. For my 30th birthday.

Elain: I am sorry. I didn’t think you’d miss me.

Azriel: Don’t be ridiculous. I miss you all the time. More than you think. But guess what!

Elain: What?

Azriel: I’ll be there tomorrow. In Nash. Business trip.

Elain: You have business in Nashville?

Azriel: Sure do. Can I stay with you?

Elain: You want to stay with me?

Azriel: If I may. If it’s alright with you.

Elain: I suppose that’s fine. I will see you tomorrow? I am excited!

Azriel: Me too! See you.

“What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?” Azriel screamed at Cassian, slapping the back of his brother’s head, and hearing Nesta’s defensive, “hey, chill out, Az!”

“He asked her if I could stay with her!” Azriel raged. “I’d never ask something like that! I’d never write something like that!”

“She don’t know that,” Cassian puffed indifferently. “She is fine. She wants you to stay with her.”

“No she doesn’t!” Azriel pulled at the ends of his thick, black hair. “No! No she doesn’t,”

“She said ‘yes’,”

“It’s because you forced her!!!”

Cassian slapped his shoulder and announced,

“No, you forced her, Az.”

Scowling, Azriel groaned ‘fucker’, while Rhysand handed him his own phone.

“Ticket booked and bought,” he grinned the most annoying fake-innocent smile.

Collapsing on the bar stool, Azriel buried his face in his hands, muttering, “fuckers. You are both fuckers.”

Azriel Knight loved Elain Archeron since the first time he saw her.

Pathetic. Cliche.

Whatever.

He’d fallen for her during a very uncomfortable dinner, when her youngest sister Feyre introduced her new boyfriend Rhys to her sisters Nesta and Elain. Rhys had both Azriel and Cassian accompany him, and the dinner was kind of a disaster. Neither Cassian nor Nesta could keep their mouths shut, and there was plenty of bickering and sniping between the two. Feyre player referee. Rhys tried to remain diplomatic, and kept the conversation going. But Azriel…well, Azriel was enchanted by the beautiful middle sister, Elain. He didn’t hear Nesta and Cassian going at it. He didn’t notice Rhys’s hands balling into fists. He didn’t notice Feyre’s squirming. All he saw was an ethereal 24 year old, who glowed like the sun at dawn. Polite, lovely, welcoming Elain. Elain, who was clutching a fork in her small soft hand, ready to attack Cassian, if he continued to fight with Nesta.

How could Azriel not love her?

How was it possible not to love a sweet, lovely girl who was willing to throw it down with his 6”5 ex-Navy Seal brother?

Elain. The love of his life.

Elain. Who had no idea that he was attracted to her. Elain. Who wasn’t interested in him. Elain. Who only saw him as a ‘friend’.

Fuck his life. He didn’t want to be a friend.

Now, he was turning 30 and he felt like his life, his last chance with her, was slipping through his fingers. However, somehow, the longer he waited the more paralysed he became. Conversations between the two of them became stilted, uncomfortable, and he was frustrated with himself and his inability to approach her and just have it out with her. Explain. Confess his feelings. But the prospect of her rejecting him filled him with such unbearable dread that he couldn’t bring himself to take that fateful step. He couldn't grow the balls that Cassian was recommending for him to grow.

Azriel’s heart was broken even further when Elain notified everyone that she received a full scholarship to go to Vanderbilt University for her graduate program.

Two years.

She’d left three months ago and he was already climbing the walls.

He texted her frequently and awkwardly, needing the connection, yearning for the thread of affection and yes, fucking friendship, because it was better than nothing. There was a glimmer of hope however–the communication wasn't one-sided. Elain texted him frequently as well. She sent him jokes and memes, and his favourite days were those when she greeted him in the morning with a fun emoji. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but the morning ‘hello’ was what he lived for. And luckily, she’d been sending those to him consistently. Sometimes, she sent him links to ridiculous Reddit posts and they laughed together at questions such as ‘I Ate a Year Old Packet of Ketchup. When will I die?’ and they laughed and laughed, talking on the phone for hours, often when they were cooking dinner or watching a show together.

Her not being at his 30th birthday sort of broke his heart. That’s all he actually really wanted. The only person who mattered. And she wasn’t there.

Nashville was hot as balls.

By the time he got into his Uber, he was already sweating. So that was great. He was going to show up at Elain’s doorstep dripping sweat like a freak.

The drive from the airport took about 25 minutes and with every minute, Azriel was getting more and more nervous. He and Elain were never really…together before. They hung out, they went out together in group settings, they celebrated Christmas and Thanksgiving and birthdays together, and Rhys hosted his annual huge 4th of July celebration barbeque, where they had to be in charge of dessert last year. Elain went into a full general mode, telling Azriel what to do, how to do it, what to get, and he was happy to follow her directions. Especially when those directions led him to her little apartment, where they spent 6 hours together, baking pies, making fudge, Elain directing him at every turn, and him following dutifully.

The car stopped at a modern four-story apartment building and he got out, standing at the door for a good five minutes, sweating again, unable to press the button.

“Az!” he heard the familiar voice and looked up. She was on the balcony, waving at him, and just like that, the nervousness abated.

This was his Elain.

And whatever was going to happen, at least, he would spend his 30th with her.

Elain’s apartment was small, modern and very her. Piles of flowers everywhere. Smelled of jasmine and vanilla, and a touch of honey. Cute furniture. A neat sofa nestled between two bookshelves.

He noticed all of these details while holding Elain in his arms, in which she threw herself the moment he stepped over the threshold.

“I can’t believe you are here!” she exclaimed, her arms wrapped around his waist, while he gingerly held her to himself. And it felt so, so good. For a moment, he forgot about everything–his bogus story about his ‘business trip’, his insecurity, the past, and the future. His girl was in his arms and that was enough. That was his best birthday gift.

“Okay, I made you dinner!” she announced, taking his ugly scarred hand in hers, her thumb tracing the bumpy, rough skin.

“You didn't have to,” he began, but she interrupted him breezily.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday! I wanted to make something special and I am so excited that you are here,”

He looked down at her and asked,

“Really?”

She nodded and smiled at him.

“Of course really! I was beside myself for not being able to go back to NYC for your big 3-0, but money is tight,”

“I understand,” he assured her quickly. “I wasn’t expecting,”

“You should expect,” she told him firmly. “You should expect your friends to be there for you.”

Ugh.

Friends.

There it was. His most hated word.

“If you want to shower, it’s through there,” she showed him, “and I’ll finish up dinner.”

It was strange.

This domesticity between the two of them.

Azriel didn't know what to do with his bag, so he left it by the door. What worried him now was the little couch. He was 6”4. He could probably make it work, but he really wasn’t convinced. It was not made for someone of his bulk and his height. He hoped that Elain had an air mattress or something. Maybe he could sleep in the bathtub?

However, once he stepped into the bathroom, he only found a shower.

Great…

As he stepped inside the glass enclosure, he became acutely aware of his own nakedness in Elain’s space. There was just a door between him and his nude body and Elain. Using her body wash was also nice. Intimate and he was happy that it didn’t smell too girly. Whatever ‘Snowflake Sparkle’ smelled like, it smelled good.

Elain went all out.

The small round table was set up properly with nice dishes, wine glasses, even cloth napkins and a few candles.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he looked around, still hoping to see another sofa or something, but then Elain caught his attention. She had rebraided her hair, put on some softly-shimmering lip balm, which made her already soft, luscious lips look even plumper, more kissable.

He really needed to stop thinking like that.

They were friends.

But did friends wear cute flower dresses like these? And did friends nervously invited him to sit down at the table and handed him a bottle of Prosecco, murmuring shyly,

“I thought it would be appropriate to have some bubbly for your birthday.”

“Thank you, Elain. You didn’t…” he stopped himself, knowing that she’d just argue with him. “This is perfect.”

She blushed and when he poured a glass for each of them, she lifted and said,

“To you, Az! I hope you have a good birthday,”

“It’s proving to be pretty great already,” he said.

“And I hope that you get what you wish for,” she clinked the glass with his and then gulped down nervously.

He was pretty much already getting many of his wishes come true.

“I made risotto and scallops,” she announced, as she skipped to the stove and he gasped and chided her,

“Elain! Scallops are so expensive!”

“But it’s your birthday. And for your birthday, you deserve to get the best.”

Without thinking he said, “I already have the best.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced at him in a way that maybe wasn’t exactly friendly. Like maybe it was something different…

“So.”

Azriel was full. And happy. And pleased. And it was the best birthday of his life.

He ate so much lemon risotto and six very large, succulent scallops, and drank Prosecco and then they split another bottle of wine between the two of them, only to end the feast with a strawberry mascarpone cake, which was out of this world, and was homemade by Elain. She lit birthday candles and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, while doing an adorable dance, which also looked unbelievably sexy.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” he marvelled.

She bit her lower lip, and said, “It was my pleasure.”

No, it was definitely his pleasure. All of it. If only he could pull that fleshy lower lip of hers into his mouth and kiss her senseless, then his birthday would be complete.

“So?” he wondered what this was about.

Her hands on her small round hips, she looked both fierce and anxious somehow.

“I only have one bed,” she said at last.

His face dropped.

“Oh…Well, that’s okay. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She frowned at the idea and shook her head,

“I don’t think that’s going to work. You won’t fit.”

“It’s okay. I’ll shimmy.”

She picked at her skirt and then said,

“If you promise to be honourable, you can sleep in my bed.”

He was so taken aback by the offer, that he just stood there and stared at her dumbly.

“Elain, that’s not necessary,” he protested weakly.

Fuck. He wanted to be in her bed. Very much so. Like he never wanted anything more than that.

“Well, I know it’s not, but…it’s okay with me,” she admitted.

“Of course I will be honourable,” he promised immediately.

It will be tough, but he wasn’t going to betray her trust no matter how much he wanted to touch her, and if his mind was currently in the gutter.

“Okay then,” she decided.

…He agonised over what to wear to bed–usually, he just wore his boxers, and sometimes, slept entirely naked, though he didn’t think that this was the time or the place. Should he wear a t-shirt? But that felt weird and dorky, with too much bare leg. Shorts only? Too forward?

He had no idea what the rules were, and finally, while Elain was in the bathroom, he just settled on shorts and that’s it. Most men slept like that? Right?

He was in bed, under the covers, when Elain emerged from the bathroom, and his breaths stalled in his chest when he saw her. Her long hair was loose, and she wore a pink cami and long pyjama pants.

“Are you still okay with this?” he inquired, just to make sure.

She nodded once and then slid under the blanket next to him.

“Is this strange?” she asked softly.

“Not for me,” he said simply.

“Oh good. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” she exhaled a relieved sigh. “When you texted me yesterday,”

Cassian. Cassian texted you.

“I was worried about where you’d sleep,”

“But you said yes?” he pondered.

When he snuck a look at her, he saw that her cheeks were pink and she whispered,

“Well, yes.”

“So then why would I be uncomfortable?”

…Sometime in the night, Azriel found himself cradling Elain in his arms.

He spooned her, without meaning to, but somehow, in his sleep, he naturally drifted towards her. She was curled in her side, arms tucked into her chest, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. Her bare feet tangled with his legs, and once he settled in behind her, he didn’t move, burying his face atop of her head, and holding her tightly next to him.

He lay there for a few peaceful, calm moments, inhaling her scent and enjoying her softness before whispering “I will be gentle with your soul, if you let me in. I promise.”

The next time Azriel woke up was when he sensed light behind his eyelids and a light, tentative scraping of a little finger over his chest, his shoulders. He noticed the silky skin of her leg, which was slotted between his own legs, the toes sort of scratching and playing with his calf. Her finger kept tracing erratic patterns on his skin, and it finally dawned on him that she was following the design of his tattoos.

“Always wanted to do this,” he heard her whisper.

“What, exactly?” he asked. Feeling bold today, because clearly things have changed since last night, actually, ever since he came here, he added, “Wake up next to me in bed? Have me hold you in my arms through the night? Touch my tats?”

She didn't answer immediately and when he managed to open one eye and peer at her, he saw her gorgeous face and a vexed expression which wrinkled her forehead.

“What?” he pressed, reaching up and cupping her cheek in his palm.

“All of the above?” she said at last, looking up at him.

“Good. I’ve always wanted to do this,” he murmured then, and fuck all doubt and questions swirling in his head, because he was swooping down and pressing his mouth over hers. There was a tiny gasp of surprise and satisfaction when he licked over the puffy lips, learning their texture, before she parted them for him, without him even asking for permission. Offering him entry, she lightly licked on his tongue, as she wrapped her arm around his back and pressed him closer to her chest, the wonderfully ample tits smashing against him, the little nipples poking through her cami.

Azriel kissed her. And kissed her. Slow and sensual. Forceful and dominant. Gentle and exploring. Filthy and sexual. Every kiss in one kiss. And she happily, eagerly responded to every variation, often taking control and kissing him in her own manner.

The need for oxygen finally forced them apart, but only barely. He still placed slow, sensual kisses over her lips, her face, her ears, her hair.

“May I take you on a proper date?” he asked at last.

She giggled joyfully and tucked her face into his neck, vibrating with excitement next to him.

“I thought you’d never ask!”

“Better late than never,” he said sheepishly and kissed her again.

Azriel’s phone dinged with an incoming message.

The flight attendant announced on the intercom that they should be turning things off right about now, but he glanced at the message.

Elain: When you come visit in two weeks, I’ll have a place for you to sleep.

There was an image attached.

Her neat sofa in the living room, extended into a perfectly nice, large sofa bed.

He stared at the photo and then grinned.

Azriel: You are a bad, bad girl.

Elain: Some men need a little push in the right direction.

Azriel: Some men do. But too late

Elain: For what?

Azriel: From now on, I’ll be sleeping in your bed.

Elain: Please do.

#there was only one bed #my writing #elriel fanfiction #elriel #pro Elriel #elain x azriel #azriel and elain #Elain Archeron #Azriel #fluff

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wrestlersownmyheart · 2 months

Text

"Her Outlaw Hero" (Sons Of Anarchy-Chibs Chapter fic) Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters in this story. I am only using Kurt Sutter's characters from Sons of Anarchy. He created the characters and the show—I am in no way taking any credit for his creations. This story is for entertainment only. Content/Warnings: Violence against both men and women including rape. Summary:

Adelaide Watson is fleeing Tennessee—on the run from her violent past.

When she has a car accident on a lonely road in Charming, California, she has no choice but to walk to town for help. But help comes to her instead. In a very unexpected way.

Chapter 5

Tara was scribbling out a prescription for some pain medication while Chibs got Adelaide Watson settled into a bed. He quickly placed a pack of ice in each of her armpits, underneath her back and neck. Then hesitating for a second, but knowing what he had to do to help the woman, he hurriedly placed another one at the juncture of her thighs. Then he covered the woman lightly with a dampened sheet to aid in keeping her cool. He finished by aiming a fan at her and turning it on the high setting.

Adelaide whimpered lightly, and her head shifted on the pillow. "Mmm…Cold…" she murmured incoherently in her sleep.

"I know," Chibs told her softly. "Just hang in there. We're gonna get you well." He touched her forehead lightly, and looked over at Tara across the room. "She seems to be staying cool so far."

Tara nodded. "Be sure and keep a check on her actual temperature though. Every twenty minutes. If it approaches 104, get her back in an ice bath."

"I will," Chibs replied slowly, watching intently as she wrote on her prescription pad.

"What is it," she asked, seeing the concern on his face.

"Maybe you shouldn't write her a prescription after all," Chibs stated, obviously thinking it over. "If someone truly is looking for her—someone she's obviously afraid of, a scrip would leave a paper trail."

"Well what else can I do," Tara asked, a frown crossing her face. "When she wakes up she'll be in pain. She's going to need something."

"Write it out for me," Chibs suggested. "That way, she'll have access to the pills, but they'll be in my name so it won't help anyone find her."

Her hazel gaze stared him down for a moment, deep in thought. "Why are you doing this," she asked. "I mean, you're asking me to break the law in writing a false prescription, all for a woman you don't even know."

Chibs shrugged, at a loss for words. "I don't know, really. I just…"

"Does this have anything to do with Fiona's death?"

Chibs' dark eyes shot to hers in an instant. "No. Why would it?"

"Well, Chibs, it doesn't take a shrink to see the possible connection. You feel guilt because you couldn't save her from Jimmy O' Phelan before you were able to kill him. Maybe you're trying to make up for that somehow..."

He shook his head. "No. I cared about Fi, and it kills me that I couldn't save her. But it's got nothin' to do with this woman," he indicated Adelaide with a slight nod of his head in her direction. "I just want to help her get well. She's a scared, defenseless woman who's running for her life. She needs our help."

Tara stared at him skeptically for a moment but finally nodded. "Okay." She ripped up the slip of paper she'd been writing on and started a new one. She wrote on a another one and then handed them both to him. "I wrote one for hydrocodone, and I also wrote one for some 800 milligram Ibuprofen. If her pain begins to subside, try to wean her off the hydrocodone and give her the Ibuprofen instead."

Chibs nodded and pocketed the prescriptions. "Thanks, Doc."

"You're welcome. Now, I've got to get back and finish my shift, but I'll drop by afterward to see how she's doing. Call me in an emergency. Oh, and I left a syringe with another dose of Phenobarbital should she start convulsing again."

Tig and Quinn entered the dorm as Tara left and spoke softly, so as not to disturb Adelaide's sleep. "We got her car towed back here," Quinn reported. He handed over a suitcase. "This was inside. I figured she'd need it."

"Yeah, thanks," Chibs said, setting the suitcase in the floor at the foot of the bed.

"How's she doing," Tig asked, his vivid blue eyes reflecting his concern.

"I guess she's okay, for right now," Chibs answered, sitting down in a chair beside Adelaide's bed. "She only came out of the ice bath a few minutes ago but, so far, her temperature seems to be staying cooled down."

"That's great," Tig replied. "Maybe she'll be good as new soon."

"How's your hand," Chibs asked, fighting off the urge to chuckle.

"It's okay," Tig said, lifting his bitten hand to show off the gauze bandaging. "It wasn't as bad as it looked. Why I'm the one to always get bitten, I'll never know," he laughed. "But, at least this time it wasn't on my-"

"Please…"

They all turned to Adelaide, whose head shifted restlessly back and forth against her pillow.

"Please… don't…"

"I wonder who she's so scared of," Tig asked.

"I don't know," Chibs answered. "But judging from all those bruises, she has reason to be scared. I'll find out who it is, as soon as I can."

"Well, Tig, let's go finish these repos," Quinn said. "Then we need to figure out what her car is gonna need toward repairing."

"Yeah, yeah," Tig grumbled as they exited the dorm. "Just a regular busy day."

Chibs chuckled and shook his head at the two men's grumblings when Adelaide caught his attention again.

"Please… Someone… H-help me…"

She became more restless and her hand twitched and formed a fist.

"Shhh," Chibs shushed her gently and brushed his finger down her cheek in a soothing gesture. "Nobody's gonna hurt ya now," he whispered. "You're safe."

"No…" she whimpered. "Never… Safe again…"

The corner of Chibs' mouth twitched as if to fight off a smile. The woman obviously has no idea who she's stumbled upon, he thought. Between him and the rest of the club members, the woman was as safe as she could get. She may not realize it, but she lucked out when Chibs and Tig found her.

Instinctively, he took her small hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I promise you, lass," he drawled. "We won't let anyone hurt ya."

He started to pull his hand out of hers so he could call his daughter, Karianne and inform her that he'd be staying in a dorm for the night. To his surprise, Adelaide's fingers curled around his and held his hand in place. She whimpered softly in protest to his leaving.

Surprised, Chibs settled back in his seat a few minutes more, and took a moment to look his fill of her.

In spite of the bruises marring her pale skin, the woman was stunning. Her long, dark wavy hair was currently in a loose braid that draped over her shoulder. Though her eyes were closed in sleep, he recalled the icy shade of blue that stood out drastically against the long black lashes that fringed them. Chibs' gaze moved to her mouth and he couldn't help but visually feast on the full lips. They were devoid of any artificial color and at the moment were unusually pale. But he had no doubt that in good health, they would be pink and soft and begging to be kissed.

He instantly shook his head and tried to clear his mind of the thought. What the-, he asked himself. Only an hour ago the woman was at death's door and here I am drooling over her like some pre-teen lad.

Frustrated with himself, he pulled out his cell phone to call Karianne.

00000000

Furious, Liam Walker paced back and forth in what used to be Adelaide's bedroom, looking for clues as to where she might have gone.

"How could Laidey do this to me," he growled to himself. "I took good care of her and all I asked in return was that she do what I say. I loved her. I'd even been willing to abide by her silly no-sex rule." He sat down on the edge of her bed and stewed some more.

Till she decided to taunt me with it, he justified in his twisted mind. And then to assault me and leave me for dead, like the little coward she is, he raged. She'll pay. I'll find her. And then I'm going to finish what I started, he vowed, feeling the searing frustration of his unmet needs. He'd fallen unconscious before his pleasure had even plateaued. And then she really will die.

Feeling fueled to start his search, he grabbed her cell phone off her night table and began going through her contacts to get in touch with. He dialed the first one on the list and made his voice sound shaky with emotion.

A second later, an elderly woman's voice answered with a soft, "Hello?"

"Hello, Abbie—Abbie Simpson? This is Liam Walker, Adelaide Watson's boyfriend. I was going through Laidey's contact list on her phone and came across your number. I was wondering… If you've," he paused for effect, and then bit back a fake sob for sympathy. "I was wondering if you have seen her. She's missing and I can't find her anywhere." He listened as the woman spoke kindly to him.

"Why no, I've not seen her in ages, dear. She quit coming to my church a couple years ago."

Quickly, Liam's politeness dwindled. "You have no idea where she is then?"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't-"

Liam hung up without saying goodbye before the woman could finish her sentence. Then he was on to his next contact.

Angela McSands. Laidey's best friend, he thought. And idea struck him then on how to trick some information out of her. Or at the very least, find out how much she knew about his and Laidey's relationship. If she knew too much, she'd have to be disposed of.

Moments later, he dialed her from his burner so she wouldn't recognize the phone number and waited till she answered.

"Hello?"

"Am I speaking with Angela McSands," Liam asked, disguising his voice slightly.

"Yes, this is she," came the cautious reply. "Who's calling?"

"This is Detective Jacobs with Nashville P.D. I received a missing persons report on a…" He paused as if reading from the faux report. "An Adelaide Watson. It says she's been missing for about two days. Do you know anything about that?"

"No," came the immediate, surprised reply. "But… I don't understand. How did you get my number?"

"We took a number of items as evidence—one being Ms. Watson's cell phone. She left it behind, and we went through the contacts to see if anyone knows of her whereabouts. Her boyfriend stated you were her best friend, so that's why I've called you. You don't have any idea where Ms. Watson would be?"

"N-no," Angela said again. "I-I I mean, I saw her on Sunday evening. But after our visit, I have no idea where she went. I assumed back to her house."

She's good, Liam thought, impressed with the woman's ability to lie on the spur of the moment. There's no way Laidey didn't tell her about what happened between us. Angela's almost as good a liar as me, he grinned. To test his theory he took the questioning in another direction.

"Sunday…So you saw her the day she disappeared. You're probably the last person to have seen her. Did she seem okay when you saw her," he asked. "Did she seem worried or scared or anything like that? Or had she mentioned an altercation of any kind?"

"No, not at all," Angela answered. "We just had dinner together and chatted for a while. She was in a really good mood and didn't seem troubled in any way."

Bingo, Liam thought. She didn't have dinner with Laidey on Sunday, I did. And Laidey most certainly wasn't in a good mood either. "Okay," he tried to sound as if he was taking notes. "And how did she appear? Did she look nervous or scared? Was she disheveled or anything?"

"No," replied Angela, beginning to sound slightly irritated. "I've told you, she seemed absolutely fine."

Wrong again, Liam thought triumphantly. "That's alright, Ms. McSands. I'm just trying to decipher if she disappeared of her own free will, or if she met with some possible foul play."

"Well, seeing as she is like my sister, she would've told me if something was wrong. Now, if you don't have any more questions, I really need to get back to my work. I have a ton of papers to finish grading."

With that, Liam heard the line click and then there was only silence.

"And I have all the answers I need," he thought out loud, with a devious grin. His green eyes glinted maliciously. "I think I'll pay you a visit very soon, Ms. McSands."

If you want on my tag list, just ask! 🙂

Tagging:

@mrsfilipchibstelford @ravennaortiz

#sons of anarchy #chibs telford #sons of anarchy fic #chibs x oc #chibs imagine

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aliypop · 3 months

Text

The Queen and I

Word Count: 1,463

Writers Note: A request made by @your-nanas-house

Warning: None

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Summary: It's 1957 and Elvis has been invited to Valmos Mansion to meet Cecelia's mother personally for dinner, but what he doesn't know is he's about to meet the Queen of the castle, Calpurnia Cecelia's grandmother.

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

Valmos Mansion Nashville Tennessee 1957

"So, you and this Elvis friend of yours..." Denise said as she was chopping up vegetables for dinner. Cecelia was seasoning the steaks, "Hmm? Oh yes, he's a great guy." Cecelia smiled. Her mind was wandering to the moment that he would arrive at the front door of this prominent mansion that she called home, "I see. Clearly, he's not ashamed to be around you." Denise commented as Cecelia playfully rolled her eyes. Cecelia had shaken her head, sure her mother meant well, but then again. Her mother was having a rumored fling with her childhood crush, Frank Sinatra, "Of course not. He's always hanging around Beale Street," Cecelia giggled. She was too, but her mother couldn't know that "I promise you, you're gonna love him. He gets shy sometimes and stutters, but he means well." Cecelia blushed hard as she then heard the steps creak. Coming downstairs was her grandmother Calpurnia, born in 1892, a cabaret star and still an entertainment knockout,

"Talkin about that pelvis boy again?" Calpurnia asked as Cecelia nodded,

"When isn't she. It's Elvis did this and Elvis that and-"

DING DONG

"ELVIS IS AT THE DOOR. I'M NOT READY!" Cecelia shouted, running upstairs, as her grandmother laughed, "If I didn't know any, better. I'd think they were dating." She mumbled as she walked towards the door. Elvis had a nice suit jacket and black slacks. His loafers and a bouquet of red roses in his hand. After all, he wanted to make a strong impression on her mother. It wasn't because she was a big name in the industry. She was the mother of his girlfriend, who was slowly secretly moving into Graceland. When the door opened, he was expecting Denise. Instead, it was,

"Well, aren'tcha you cuter in person. Come on in." Her northern accent was strong.

"Thank you, Ma'am." Elvis smiled as Calpurnia looked at him. She could see why her granddaughter was obsessed with him. Those pretty long eyelashes, his eyes, and his dimples, she was smitten,

"Please call me Mrs. Valmos," Calpurnia winked,

"Wait, this is..."

"My mansion." She winked, "Long ago, I was Betty Va Va." Walking by a portrait of herself from the 1920s, Elvis admired it as he saw the similarities between her and Cecelia, "Of course, when your mothers a devoted preacher wife, you get rid of the vava and keep Betty," on the wall were platinum records and gold ones, he'd have thought that Cecelia's grandmother was the queen of the big bands Betty Valmos, but he nodded and reveled in her greatness,

"Going on about your glory days, Mother," Denise asked as she then saw Elvis. He was still holding tight to the roses, and he nearly froze. He was standing in front of his mother's favorite jazz artist, Denise Valmos,

"Hello, young man..."

"S-S-Sorry, I'm uh Elvis Presley, Ma'am." God, where was Cecelia. He was trembling in his loafers right now,

"Ma'am makes me feel old, call me Ms. Valmos." Denise glanced at him. He was cute, tall, dark, and handsome. And he reminded her of Sinatra when she and him were both young. She could see why Cecelia was a fanatic,

"I-I got these for you. Cecelia said red was your favorite color."

"They're lovely, I'll put them in a vase and send for Cecelia." Her Philadelphian accent was strong, but it was classy,

"Of course, Ms. Valmos," He nodded, sitting in the living room, looking at the chandelier. There were pictures on the fireplace mantel of Cecelia, her mother, and her father, then of just her mother and her. He felt sorrowful for her. But he knew life was different for everyone.

"Cecelia, what'stakin' you long!" Denise knocked at the door. As Calpurnia chuckled. "She's getting pretty for that boy."

"Or kissing that damn poster..." Denise sighed. Cecelia was on her tippytoes as she left a deep red print on her Elvis poster. When she finished, she flattened out her red gingham dress, wiggled her petticoat, and walked downstairs.

"Don't you look like a cute picnic tablecloth?" Calpurnia chuckled,

"Glammy..." Cecelia glanced at her,

"What push comes to shove. It's one way to get him on top of you. I mean, hey, men like food," She shrugged as Denise was red in the face.

"Must you be vulgar!"

"Must you keep tryin to shelter your 22-year-old child?" Calpurnia walked past her. Cecelia walked down the steps, she saw Elvis leaning on the couch, comfortable with his legs open,

"Careful, you'll pinch a nerve," Calpurnia mumbled,

"Mr. Presley..." Denise said as he stood up, helping her down the stairs, then Calpurnia and then his precious Cecelia, who he couldn't help but stare at, sneaking a kiss on her wrist as she giggled,

"You look beautiful..."

"Thank your ho- Mr. Presley," She blushed, the pair walking to the kitchen. There was an array of food on the table, honey biscuits, steak, macaroni and cheese, mixed vegetables, greens, and more, Elvis felt like he was in heaven,

"So blue eyes..." Calpurnia said,

"ma'am?"

"How's a boy like you not married. I mean, if I were your age, I'd-"

"Mother!" Denise nudged her as Calpurnia laughed. Elvis laughed at the flattery, "I'm just saying, Denise, have you seen his hips move." Calpurnia said between eating, "There's a lot more they can do..." Cecelia mumbled as Elvis was a beating bright red,

"I-I'm glad someone enjoys my dancin." He was flustered, but he loved it,

"Forgive her, she's 65." Denise laughed,

"Not a problem at all," He laughed as Cecelia drank her lemonade. Elvis held her hand as Calpurnia noticed. She knew something was up.

"So, I heard you bought a mansion in Memphis?" Denise said, cutting her steak as Cecelia sighed, "I assume you plan to have parties and whatnot in it."

"Oh no, Ms. Valmos, Nothin like that. My family mostly lives with me,includin my parents." He smiled as she nodded, "There's a special girl in mind I've got movin in me with me, but parties, not too many." Elvis flinched when he felt Cecelia kick his thigh under the table,

"So you're traditional?" Calpurnia asked,

"Yes, Ma'am." He smiled,

"God-fearing too, I suppose?"

"He's always reading his bible, and if he's not, then he's quoting scripture," Cecelia added, their eyes meeting as Denise and Calpurnia looked at each other, some friends they must've been.

"Good, Good, pastors run in our family, and singers," Denise said

"Really?" Elvis was happy to hear that.

"Yes, which makes me wonder. You probably are a firm believer in no sex before marriage." Calpurnia said, grabbing another biscuit, Elvis got quiet, and Cecelia laughed,

"I mean, my granddaughter has been raised to be untouched until then, and she will remain untouched, correct,"

Cecelia was sweating bullets as Elvis was laughing at her now.

"This dinner is amazing, don't you think so Elvis."

"Y-Yeah, love the plates, delicious." He smiled,

"You two are still virgins, aren't you..." Calpurnia asked as even Denise was intrigued, "Glammy, this is dinner... it's rude and unjust to ask such a thing." Her voice went up an octave,

"You know these greens and this here steak is amazin." Elvis smiled, "Y'all should try the uh-uh honey rolls, so good you could make love to 'em- WHich I've never done!" Elvis was so embarrassed he didn't know what he was saying. All Cecelia wanted to do was pass away at the very moment. Denise couldn't help but laugh at his response as Cecelia was still sweating,

"You know Elvis and I are workin in a movie together soon!" she blurted out as the room fell silent. For once, it felt great,

As the night progressed from its awkward start, Elvis learned that Cecelia was surrounded by love, a slightly strict mother and manager, but love,

"I'm so sorry about tonight. I-I didn't think she'd ask something like that or the many weird questions or-" Elvis pulled her close as he gave her a tender, passionate kiss. Cecelia kissed back with the same passion, her fingers in his hair, and her eyes closed. She didn't want to watch him leave out the driveway, but she knew she'd see him later on tonight in her room, next to his.

"Honey, your family is lovely, and one day I'll marry into it." He kissed her again, not noticing the door opening,

"Uh-huh... I knew it.."

"Glammy!? How much did you hear?"

"Everything," Calpurnia said, dressed in her night gown, "So, I assume I'll be covering for you tonight." Elvis and Cecelia blushed,

"Glammy, you mean you-"

"Mhmm, you two gone on home, I'll handle the rest." She winked, watching her granddaughter leave out with Elvis.

"Mother where's Cece?"

"She went to rehearse with Elvis..."

#oc #fanfiction #new stuff #new #romance #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis x poc oc #50s elvis #cecelia valmos #elvis presley fanfiction

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peaceloveelvis · 1 year

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Superfan Sandi Pichon wrote in Elvis Unlimited magazine in 2011 about how she started her Elvis journey, back in 1956.

ON A WARM May afternoon in 1956, the course of my life changed. I was an 11-year-old girl living in Memphis, Tennessee As most pre-teen girls, I was bored. I had heard the kids at school talk about going over to Elvis Presley's new home at 1034 Audubon Driver and not wanting to be left out, I wanted to go to! They said he was really nice, but I wanted to see for myself. I had heard his music on the radio and it really was cool! So my friend, Billie Frances Hall and I asked my mother if we could go over to Elvis' house.

"Why?' my mother asked. "I just want to see him", was my reply, My wonderful mother said, "Get in the car, I hope you know where he lives." And with that, off we went. It wasn't really that far — less than two miles As we approached the house, I asked my mother to pull over a couple of houses down.. .after all, I didn't want Elvis to see MY MOTHER driving me over — that would look like I was a child... (as if he would be looking out the window!) But humoring me, my mother let us out before we got to his house and I boldly walked up to the back door and knocked. (In the South, the front door is for company and I wanted to appear to be right at home!) There was no fence, no gate, no security.

The maid, Alberta, answered the door and I asked, "Is Elvis home?" She replied that he was sleeping — I couldn't understand why he would be sleeping at that time of the afternoon! I told her we would wait. I straddled the red Harley under the carport and Billie Frances perched on the fender of the yellow Cadillac convertible. In a few minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Presley drove up in the pink Cadillac, having been to the grocery store.

They didn't appear to be surprised by two strange girls sitting on their carport and were very nice. Mrs. Presley offered us some lemonade, and Mr. Presley brought it back out when he came to get the rest of the groceries.

We were watching the activity in the back yard — a swimming pool was being dug and a pool house built (although later Elvis would use it to keep motorcycles in). I asked Billie Frances if she thought he would come out, but she didn't say anything. I heard the back door open, but I thought it was Mr. Presley coming to get more groceries. Then I felt the back of the bike go down and these two arms come around me. Leaning into my left ear,

Elvis Presley said, "Wanna go for a ride?" I promptly spilled what was left of my lemonade and started to shake. Elvis laughed, knowing he had me "All Shook Up". He kind of dipped his head, with his tongue between his teeth, such a little boy gesture, and said, "What can I do for you girls today?" I could barely look at him, and when I did those blue eyes reached right in to my heart. I was smitten... for life. Billie Frances told him we wanted an autograph and I finally set my glass on the carport and got off

the bike and dug out my autograph book. "What's your name, honey?" Elvis asked me. I suddenly became tongue-tied and couldn't speak. He kind of chuckled and repeated the question. "San-n-d-d-r-a" I stammered. He wrote, "To Sandra, Love, Elvis Presley" I beamed at him. Finally I was able to look at him — he had on that long sleeved green shirt that laced up, with the laces hanging loose. He wore that a lot in 1956. He also had on a motorcycle cap with a white bill — which now has its home at the Graceland Randers museum!

His hair was brown and had a lot of grease in it, and he had acne, but he was still the cutest thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't stop staring at him! He got tickled because he knew what I was feeling — confusion at my emotions. After all I was only 11! Then he said, "Girls, I have to go somewhere today, but you are welcome to come back any time."

Then he got on the Harley I had been sitting on and roared off. Wow! Later, at home, I couldn't stop thinking about Elvis and how sweet he had been to us, even though we had just dropped in unannounced. I played Heartbreak Hotel, and I was the One over and over, remembering that smile and those blue eyes.

On June 1, Billie Frances and I attended a Rockabilly event at the Overton Park Shell. The entertainers were Warren Smith (Rock & Roll Ruby), Eddie Bond (Rockin' Daddy) Johnny Cash and Carl Perkins. Elvis was not scheduled to appear, but if there was music in Memphis, Elvis was there. Suddenly we all went Crazy as Elvis walked out onto the stage, introduced as a local boy with some new records out. I yelled out his name, just as a photographer from the Commercial Appeal shot a photo of the crowd. The next morning there was my picture on the front page the second section, mouth wide Open, screaming for Elvis!

I continued to visit Elvis’ home whether he was there or not, getting to know his parents a little better. His mother was a true Southerner — hospitable, loving and gracious. She baked chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies and I was often lucky enough to sample a hot One. Her worry for her son was evident. She didn’t understand why the girls wanted to tear his clothes off or grab a piece of his hair… and honestly I didn't either. I just was so happy to be in his presence and drink in his extraordinary good looks. He was funny with corny jokes and he was comfortable with us — most of us were 8-10 years younger than he was. As trite as it sounds, he was the "boy next door" and we adored him.

The more I saw him, the more I wanted to see him... he was all I could think of. I rushed through homework when school was in session just so I could go to Audubon Dr. I just felt good when I was there and I was made to feel welcome. Many times when his buddies were around, we didn't get a lot Of attention, but we weren't asked to leave either. Often Elvis wasn't at home because he was on the road building his career, He was constantly making changes to their home. He closed in the carport, added a fence and gates. If the gates were open and the garage door was open, it was a sure sign Elvis was out of town. If the gates were closed we had to wait to see if we would be admitted. We were called "Gate Girls" but I was there before there were gates!

Story found on Facebook page "Elvis: The Man Known as the Legend"

#elvis presley #elvis #i love you elvis #50s elvis #baby elvis #such a sweet story #but how he grabs her from behind and whispers in her ear?!#id just about die #id be a puddle #love of my life #i literally squealed reading this

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people-are-strange-87 · 1 year

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The False Emerson

Part 1

Ella just wanted to celebrate Halloween; how did it go so wrong so quickly?

Ella blinked rapidly as she stepped into the sun. The house of horrors had been extremely dark compared to the Californian sun, even in late autumn. Crowds of people in costumes covered the boardwalk and there were rumours of a Halloween party on Strawberry Beach after dark. She planned to have a walk down once the trick-or-treaters started to go home. Heading towards the end of the Wharf to get some food, Ella was shocked to see that the Bay Company was no more. Instead it had been replaced by a shop called Max’s Video Store. Intrigued, she decided to check it out. The name sounded familiar but she could not place it until she saw the cashier. It was 44-year-old Edward Herrmann, the recently released videos included Crocodile Dundee and From Beyond. She remembered her uncle telling her about watching both films when he was fourteen, renting them almost as soon as they came out. That’s when Ella realised, it was October 1986 and she was in the Lost Boys’ universe. She had the power to reverse the death of the vampire gang, they didn’t have to die for Max’s actions after all.

“Can I help you, young lady?” Max asked, his sweet tone made her feel nauseous knowing how he neglected the boys. Thorn barely glanced at her which was a relief. She nodded with a smile, “How much will it be to rent?” “Five dollars for the week” He answered, “Having a quiet night in?” “I’m not sure yet. My niece is out of town so no free candy for me”

Settling into her hotel room, Ella pulled the three tapes out of the bag. She ended up renting her three favourite 80s films: Children of the Corn, Labyrinth, and The Neverending Story. A choice between the three different emotions the movies created was freeing. It made a change from her usual Halloween Horror Marathons. The tradition had been her uncle’s but she carried it with her when she moved away. California felt so far from Tennessee, especially when she began to miss her family. When she opened her window to air out the room, she heard the buzz of the crowds. Sure the celebrations wouldn’t be like what she experienced at home or when she visited her uncle in Louisiana but they would be fun. It was Halloween after all. Why not go out?

Within the hour, Ella was ready. The night life awaited her but her first stop was the carousel to see if the rumours were true. She had the word of the receptionist that this was the best spot in Santa Carla to meet people. Especially when it was night during the Halloween season. Between the hours of ten and four, the boardwalk was adult only. That was only during the spookiest time of year but it was still effective. You had to be at least twenty-one to access the area but it was not heavily regulated which was good for Ella. She didn’t have her id. She hadn’t even picked up her phone when she left the house that morning. It was only meant to be a short trip out. Thankfully, she had taken some cash with her. That made things a lot easier.

“Hey, babe,” A voice greeted from behind her. Ella recognised him from the film, he was one of the guys that hung around Greg. In other words, he was trouble. “Want to hang with me?” Ella scoffed, rolling her eyes at his suggestion. “No, thank you” She declined, wishing he would go away so she could enjoy the ride in peace. Apparently, that wasn’t an option. He grabbed her thigh so hard that she was sure it would bruise, “Come on, don’t be a prude” Just as she went to retaliate, he was pulled away. “She said no, dude!” Ella would recognise that New York accent anywhere; it was Billy Wirth. That meant it was Dwayne who had come to her rescue. Hopefully it meant the surfer was dinner, not her. “Back off, man!” The Californian demanded, shoving the vampire. Dwayne pushed him back. He was facing away from her but she could tell he was angry as he spoke, “Don’t push your luck, Tommy. The boardwalk is our’s” The threat was clear but the surfer was idiotic. “Oh, yeah?” He challenged, not backing down, “According to who?” As the ride halted to a stop, Ella stepped down from the fake horse. She could still hear the pair arguing but paid them no attention. She fully intended to leave and return to her hotel but clearly the coven had other ideas.

She had almost made it to the car park when Dwayne reappeared. He stood in front of her, about to speak when she cut him off. “I hope he learnt his lesson, Dwayne. Anyone with a brain cell knows this is your territory. Even I know and I’m not from round here” She rambled, Ella was nervous. He was attractive but still dangerous, he was a vampire. He could easily hurt her, even if he didn’t want to kill her. She was also hyper aware that she had used his name, something she shouldn’t know yet. It was her first day in Santa Carla, a vastly different world from the Santa Cruz she knew. He didn’t speak, instead he loosely grabbed her upper arm and dragged her to the bikes - to the rest of his coven. He presented her to David, “She knew my name” The statement shocked the group and Ella couldn’t quite place the tone he had used. He was completely unreadable. “Gotta know your names if I’m gonna stop you from dying come the summer” She was dismissive of her knowledge, only creating more questions. None of them spoke, instead they seemed to take in her appearance. Her hair was shoulder-length, a light brown that had tints of blonde from the coastal sun. The jumper she had been left in her grandfather’s will almost covered her black skirt and her converse were clean but scuffed. Her style was so different from their own. The vampires had no idea of how to react. The silence became awkward so she continued speaking, “I only have until July to create a plan. Everything starts on the 31st, once Lucy arrives everything changes. I’d rather not see you all die again. You don’t deserve that… It wasn’t your fault” Her voice grew quiet with her last statement, tears threatening to pour down her face. They had lived for decades yet one family would end it all. It was just unfair. They only did what they needed to in order to survive. They couldn’t help their nature.

Not once did they speak to her. Yet somehow, she ended up at the cave, travelling on the back of Dwayne’s bike. They all sat in the same positions they had when they brought Michael to the cave. Clearly, they were creatures of habit. Ella hovered around the fountain, noticing the initials carved into its basin. She wondered when they had done it, her fingers tracing each letter nervously. “How do you know?” David’s question cut through the tense atmosphere, echoing slightly. She didn’t look up from the stone, “In my world, you’re a movie. Simply characters” “Your world?” The leader scoffed, “Stop lying” “Not lying” She retorted, still not looking away from the carving. Her finger resting on M. The metal creaked as David shifted slightly, “I don’t believe you” Ella’s head snapped toward him, “I doubt me being from a different universe is hard to believe considering you’re vampires” Her tone was sharp, she was trying not to get angry but David had a natural talent at being infuriating. He didn’t do well at hiding his shock.

Ella had wandered off into the cave, leaving the boys to discuss what she had told them. It was surely a surprise but it doesn't seem that impossible. The time alone gave her a chance to regulate her emotions. She had found an empty cavern and just sat down. This wasn’t how she imagined spending her night yet here she was. The silence was comforting as she began formulating a plan. Clearly the group hadn’t met Star yet and she hadn’t seen Laddie. That wasn’t to say that he wasn’t already here. It was unclear when the young halfling was meant to sleep but she was certain that he didn’t stay with Star. That had been made obvious when Michael had slept with Star. He hadn’t been with the boys and wasn’t in the main cave nor Star’s area. That implied that he had his own space in the cave. She imagined all the boys did, even if they roosted together. That must just be a safety measure even if it didn’t work. Ella wondered if they let her stay if she could use this hollow. It was secluded enough. They’d find her when they were ready, her heartbeat would be an indicator of her location. Hopefully they believed her and were willing to let her help. She would hate to hopelessly stand by as they were murdered all over again. Each individual death was ingrained into her memory. Their pain had stuck with her throughout the years.

It was Dwayne that found her in the end. She heard his necklaces before she saw him. They were a give away to his approach though she was sure he could be quiet if he wanted to. A glow was produced by the flame he was carrying, the torch similar to the one used to light the barrels. She stared at him, the drying tears on her face the only indicator of her crying. He sat down beside her, torch discarded. “Why do you want to help us?” “You didn’t deserve to die” Ella’s voice was shaky from her emotions, “You only did what you had to do to survive” “How do we die?” He asks quietly, she was glad he talked more than in the film. Grimacing, she told him, “Marko is staked, Paul gets holy water, you get electrocuted, and David gets stabbed. None of you die quickly. It’s horrific” The tears began again, she tried to keep herself from crying but she couldn’t help it. They were all brutally slaughtered for no reason. The only person who had to die was Max, the boys were all victims. Dwayne grabbed her hand, “What happens to Laddie?” He demanded, they must have taken him in already. Clearly he cared for the boy. It made her wonder why he was always with Star during the film. She imagined it was another order from Max. “He sees Paul die. The only reason Paul was by the holy water is because he was protecting Laddie. He doesn’t get hurt but I can only imagine what that feels like” She couldn’t lie to him, not about this. The poor kid had to live with that image forever. Ella knew she had to prevent it. If not for the boys’ sakes, then for Laddie. He was only eleven.

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madisonfilmss · 2 years

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Superstar - AustinElvis x reader

A/N - this is going to be a two part story. The other part will be from AustinElvis! POV!

Hope you enjoy!

“Come on down to the Shreveport Municipal Memorial Auditorium this Saturday night to see all the latest musical acts that everyone can’t stop talking about!” the radio announcer said as you were heading into school for the day.

“Y/N! We have to go! Elvis is supposed to perform in the newcomer spot!”

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“Come on! You haven’t even given him a chance.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

You were currently in the center of a group of girls waiting for the show to begin.

The announcer’s voice comes through the speakers.

“He’s a young kid from Memphis Tennessee. Please give a warm Louisiana Hayride welcome to a Mr. Elvis Presley!”

Cheers erupt around you.

Time to see what all the fuss is about.

Elvis comes out on stage in a pink suit and his hair is slicked back.

Okay, he’s more attractive then I thought.

As you see him get ready to sing, you began to feel butterflies.

“This is wrong” you thought, seeing as you were just another face in a sea of teenage girls and the fact that you didn’t see the hype in Elvis’ music.

“But there is not anything more right than this moment.”

You were excited to see what he was all about.

Your eyes couldn’t leave him. He just felt the music and it was mesmerizing to watch. You were a fan. Typically when it came to anyone of the opposite sex, you tended to have rules because of how you had been hurt in the past.

Why am I thinking about him as if he’s going to magically fall in love with me of all people?

All you knew in that moment was that this was not the last time you were gonna see Elvis Presley.

I knew from the first note played, I’d be breakin all my rules to see you.

When he smiled, it took up his entire face. You, as well as all the other girls around you melted. The girls in the front row especially were loving all the close contact they were able to get with him.

You smiled that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name.

You locked eyes with him for a split second and that smile comes creeping back onto his face

He can’t be smiling at me, can he?

It felt like it was just the two of you in the whole room. The only light shining was from one singular spotlight. He was telling you everything you needed to know but yet everything you wish you could say. After that moment of locking eyes, his eyes never left you for the rest of the show.

So dim that spotlight, tell me things like “I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

Before you could realize what was happening, you were being dragged away from the stage. The show was over.

“What’s going on?” you say

“It’s time to go.” your friend tells you. “Little miss ‘I’m in love with Elvis Presley.”

“I am not.” you say in protest.”

I might be in love with Elvis Presley

You knew all it was was a crush that would go away in a few months when the next big thing comes along. You were no one special to Elvis Presley, just another girl in the crowd.

I’m no one special, just another wide-eyed girl who’s desperately in love with you

All you wanted was to have one last look as a way to remember this night. A mental photogtaph if you will.

Give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar.

You wake up the next morning, still buzzing from the night before.

Did last night even happen?

You missed the feeling of the performance. The lights, the booming bass, all the screaming girls. You missed Elvis.

Morning loneliness comes around when I’m not dreaming about you.

Reality set in. Elvis was in another town, onto the next show. You wouldn’t see him for a while.

When my world wakes up today, you’ll be in another town.

The next time you would see Elvis is through a TV screen. You were just another girl glued to the TV. You saw all the girls in the front row grabbing onto him, as a way to feel close to him.

I’m invisible and everyone knows who you are.

That night after watching his newest performance, you got ready for bed.

“I’m headin’ to bed. Goodnight.” you announce to your mama and daddy.

As you were gettin your clothes ready for the next day at school, you turned on your radio very quietly. Of course Elvis was singing. You go about your nightly routine and before you know it, you were asleep with the radio still playing Elvis Presley.

And you’ll never see, you sing me to sleep every night from the radio.

You were just another wide-eyed girl that was desperately in love with a superstar. You were in love with Elvis Presley.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis imagine

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spacefinch · 1 month

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Carlos: Rating the birds in my backyard by tendency toward violence. Carlos: Northern cardinal, 4/10. I'm sometimes worried the male is sexually harassing the female but I'm pretty sure they're just doing some elaborate public pickup roleplay. The rest of us didn't agree to participate in your kink, guys. Carlos: American robin, 1/10. Literally just some dude hanging out. Never bothered anyone but worms. Big fan of the way you just stand there in the middle of the grass like you forgot what you were supposed to be doing. Carlos: House sparrow, 10/10. You're a gang. You're participating in gang violence. There's ten billion of you living in a single wood pile and it's been civil war for three years now. When will the bloodshed end? Carlos: Tufted titmouse, 1/10. A shy baby. A pretty little guy. I saw you on the neighbor's garage roof and time stopped. There were anime sparkles around you. Come back. Carlos: European Starling, 9/10. Why is it always you? Listen, I know, I KNOW the sparrows are the problem, and YET. When the fighting starts, it's always you in the middle of it, provoking them and then screaming like you're an innocent bystander defending yourself. I'm onto you. Carlos: Carolina Wren, 3/10. This rating is not for physical violence, which you don't engage in, but for your role as an incurable narc. A tattle tale. I know they're fighting again, okay? I see it. Our yard has been a warzone for years, you don't have to make a big announcement every time someone misbehaves. Carlos: Eastern wood-pewee, 0/10. If this were "birds who think they're better than everyone else," you'd get 10/10. Carlos: Red-bellied woodpecker, 6/10.It's a utility pole. It's not a tree. You're surrounded by trees that are full of bugs. But there you are, on the utility pole. Committing vandalism. Carlos: American crow, unrated. For who am I to cast judgment on the actions of La Famiglia? I assume you are doing what is best for the neighborhood. If I could, though, without criticism, make a single observation. That when large numbers of you gather in the ominous dead cottonwood - no? No, you're right. None of my business. Carlos: Great crested flycatcher, 5/10. Frankly, I think you could be doing more. I think your name implies a great potential. I think you should massacre the insects. I think your beak should drip with viscera. Carlos: Common grackle, 7/10. La Famiglia does not suffer you to stop in our neighborhood long, and I trust their judgement in this manner. You have the look of a guilty bird. Carlos: Tennessee Warbler, 2/10. You keep to yourselves, and I respect that. I get the sense that you could defend yourselves if it came to it, though. Carlos: Brown-headed cowbird, 3/10. You're not a crow, and eventually they ARE going to figure it out, kiddo. Carlos: Gray catbird, 5/10. Would you. Respectfully. Would you shut the FUCK UP. Carlos: Eurasian collared-dove, 0/10. You're doing great, sweetie, everyone loves you. Carlos: Red-breasted nuthatch, 4/10. A comedian. A little jester of a bird. You're so silly. Sure sometimes you incite violence in others but, really, is that your fault? If it is, we forgive you. Carlos: Blue jay, 12/10. If you could learn any human behavior you wanted, it would be how to build a bomb. Carlos: Honorable mention: Turkey vulture, 5/10. You weren't in my backyard, but you WERE eating roadkill in the street in my neighborhood. I know the animal was already dead when you got there, but you get violence points for frightening the small children that walked past you. Incredible work.

(original post)

#magic school bus #incorrect quotes #birdposting #Carlos ramon

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elpickett · 6 months

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Sense Her is out on AO3!

The first (and last) times Joel sees, hears, smells, touches, and tastes Tess.

This is the prequel of sorts to my new Tess Lives series, I wanted to explore Tess and Joel a bit more before I let them be happy and back together. It focuses on how they met and the very early part of the outbreak.

Rating: M

Words: 3k

Warnings: Major character death (does it count if she's not actually dead?), standard violence levels for TLOU.

Full fic below the cut if you'd rather read it here!

Joel Miller's first sight of Theresa Servopoulos was through a rifle scope, watching her dig a knife behind a man's knee cap until he began to speak. He and Tommy had been tailing her group of eight for a few days now, trying to work out where they were headed. In their experience, a group of that size moving purposefully meant some sort of settlement, and they desperately needed to trade for ammo that would actually fit their guns.

This, though, was a surprise. Tommy had clocked pretty fast that the group was divided into two or possibly three smaller groups, the tension rising steadily as time went on. They'd been expecting some shouting and the group splitting, not the only woman of the group, long auburn hair tied back with a bandanna, to stab someone in a way designed to maximise pain and avoid killing them. Joel should probably have found it less attractive than he did.

He turned to Tommy, who was still watching the scene through his rifle scope.

‘Any idea what's happening?’ he asked his brother, lifting the binoculars back up to his face.

‘Think one of the men made the mistake of coming onto her,’ Tommy answered, ‘definitely put hands on her at least, she didn't start it.’

‘As long as they still head towards the settlement,’ Joel responded, dropping the binoculars and picking up his rifle and heading back to the edge of the woods, ‘you keep watch, I'll sort dinner.’

~~~~~~~

The first time Joel heard Tess speak was three days later, when he was sitting on watch beside his and Tommy's stuff, rifle loose in his hands as his brother slept next to him. She slipped through the trees, silent as a ghost, gun loose at her side, and sat opposite him on the other side of the fire, ignoring the gun pointed at her chest entirely.

‘I’ll tell you where the nearest settlement is if you take me with you. I know you've been tailing the people I'm with, and the amount of firearms you have on you suggests you probably need ammo, as food doesn't seem to be an issue,’ she said, nodding towards the deer carcass hanging across the clearing. Her accent wasn’t local, Joel may have lost track of exactly where they were - Tennessee he thought, but he couldn’t be sure - but she was from significantly further north than whenever they were, most likely Midwestern.

‘How’d you know we were here?’ Joel responded brusquely, gun not wavering at all.

‘The rifle scope is reflective. First couple times I wrote it off, but by the third day it was clear someone was tailing us,’ she said, pulling a water bottle out of her pack.

‘Why wouldn't ya’ just go with your group?’

‘They aren't my group. I've been temporarily travelling with them, and that temporary period is now over, given I stabbed one of them. I'd really rather not travel alone, and since you and your brother haven't tried to kill us, rape me, or steal all our shit yet, you're my best option.’

‘We’re a shitty option.’

‘And that would be why I said best, not good. Try anything, I'll stab you too,’ she said, before picking a pinecone from beside her foot and lightly throwing it at Tommy, who sat up, gun loaded and pointed at her before he was fully awake. ‘Impressive,’ she mused, not reacting to the now pair of guns pointed at her.

‘Oh, it's you,’ Tommy said, blinking sleep from his eyes. ‘Wait, why are you here?’

‘We’re travelling to the next settlement together. I know where it is, you don't, and I would like not to go alone. I'm meeting the rest of my group there,’ Tess said coolly.

‘’Kay. D’ya have to wake me up early for that, though? I was hopin’ for more sleep,’ Tommy said, putting the gun down and going to roll over.

‘Tommy!’ Joel hissed, still holding the gun.

‘What? She knew we were followin’ her and she found us here so she's clearly competent, and besides if she wanted us dead she would have shot ya’ before I woke up. She's goin’ where we want to go and is willin’ to take us there. Plus this way we can split watches three ways, this is a win for all of us. Now pipe the fuck down, I'm sleepin’. We can leave at dawn,’ Tommy said, gesturing vaguely with the hand not holding a gun. Tess may not have had much experience with firearms (she hadn't learnt to use one before the outbreak, and hadn't found someone to teach her properly since. The one she carried was more for show than anything else, her words normally enough to keep her safe and a pair of daggers filling in when words weren't enough), but she knew just enough to be impressed by the younger man's trigger discipline even when half asleep.

‘Works for me,’ Tess said, shrugging and pulling a sleeping bag out her rucksack - a warm one, Joel noted, much thicker than his and Tommy's. She crawled inside (clothes and shoes still on, pack neatly fastened and ready to grab to leave at a moments notice, gun loaded and tucked next to her, same as Tommy's), rolled her eyes at the sight of Joel still staring at her, and rolled away from him.

~~~~~~~

The following morning, Joel learnt what she smelled like. He’d kept his gun on her the rest of the night, splitting his attention between her and the woods in case it was a trap. She’d woken with dawn by herself, slipping out of her sleeping bag and going to relieve herself (taking the gun, but leaving her gear, Joel noted), and had arrived back as Joel began prodding Tommy to wake up. Tommy hadn’t been good with mornings and getting up on time since he was teenager, and despite Joel's hopes time in the army had made that habit worse rather than better. She had pulled a granola bar out of her bag, and set up a pan of water over a small camping stove before heating water up, and pulling out a sachet of instant coffee. As Joel moved past her to get to the rest of their water supply to put out the remainder of the fire, he realised her gear apparently stretched to perfume, the scent of woodsmoke and coffee mixing with lavender and jasmine.

‘Ya’ got a good setup there,’ Tommy said, looking on jealously as she made up a large mug of coffee, adding several packets of sugar to it, as well as what looked rather a lot like long life milk.

‘Lots of stuff around if you know where to look,’ she shrugged, going to sip her drink before realising her coffee was definitely still too hot to not burn her mouth, putting it back down as she rolled up the sleeping bag and tucked it away. By the time her coffee was almost cool enough to drink and poured into a thermos to take with her, she had not only packed up but messed with the leaves and branches so you couldn’t tell anyone had been sleeping there.

They set off soon after, Tess pulling out a compass and a paper map (the same one Joel and Tommy had, not that it seemed to be doing them much good) and striding off past Joel to begin a long day of hiking, leaving nothing but the scent of jasmine in the air.

~~~~~~~

The first time Joel touched Tess beyond shoulders brushing as they walked or made dinner together (they had shared rations in Tess’ group so the food tasted better, plus it was much easier to justify having a decent selection of spices if everyone only had to carry the equivalent to one spice jar) was three weeks into knowing each other, when he ended up holding the skin of her stomach together as someone else stitched up a stab wound. This was certainly not how he wanted to first touch her skin and find out if it was as soft as it looked.

He was careful not to touch anything more than necessary or even look too closely at her mostly naked upper torso, to the point Tess would have thought the blood was making his queasy if she didn't know how little blood bothered him, or her, or Tommy, or the rest of their group. She thought it was funny, in a way, how respectful he was being while she was bleeding out. The group medic, an EMT before cordyceps, had cut her shirt down the front to get to her abdomen as fast as possible, then barked at Joel (the nearest person) to hold her still while he stitched her up, so Joel ended up with one hand on her hip bone, fingers brushing what he recognised as a C section scar, and the other spanning her entire rib cage, covering the pair of tattoos there and holding her still as she tried not to scream, the medic suturing as fast as could before tipping rubbing alcohol on the wound to try to sterilise it.

Tommy, still attempting to cover the four of them from the hunters firing at the them while the rest of their group picked them off one by one, glanced back in panic as Tess’ blood made its way across the floor in a river of blood towards him, soaking his trouser leg as he knelt. Joel, still trying to hold Tess still as she got stitched up, didn't move as her hand clung on to his arm hard enough to bruise, her eyes screwed shut with the pain. Even after the medic sat back on his heels, after Tommy and the others had dealt with the other group, Tess and Joel stayed as they were, his hands on her torso, her fingers digging into his elbow as her forehead moved to rest on his bicep as she breathed through the pain.

~~~~~~~

The first time he tasted Tess came a few weeks after she got stabbed, when the group found a liquor store. After drawing straws on who got to stay sober and on guard, everyone else had started drinking, enjoying spirits that most of them would never have been able to afford before cordyceps. Tommy was gleefully partaking in the drinking games (truth or dare, never have I ever, spin the bottle, and a bunch of other juvenile shit Joel was pretty sure people only did in college), whilst Joel and Tess passed a bottle of fancy gin between them, sitting next to each other a little further back from the bonfire.

‘God, I remember being young enough to think that was a good idea,’ Tess said, looking at the others playing games and swigging deeply before passing the bottle back to Joel.

‘Ya’ say that like it was a long time ago,’ Joel said, looking at her. She looked younger than him and Tommy, but he couldn't tell anything beyond late twenties.

‘Certainly feels like it, honestly felt like it before cordyceps too. Think I was done after I ended up getting a tattoo on a dare, then just started skipping straight to the drinking or drugs,’ she shrugged. ‘And besides, it's rude to ask a lady's age, Texas, didn't your Ma ever teach you manners?’

‘She did, hence why I didn't ask. Any information ya’ offer up in response to my statement is on you,’ he said, blushing slightly at being caught, his accent thickening.

Tess laughed, deep and full bodied, limbs heavy and loose from the alcohol.

‘I’m 27. Was born in ‘77. You?’

‘Thirty four,’ Joel responded, ‘Tommy turned 30 last month.’

‘Oh, so he's old now!’ Tess grinned.

‘The fuck does that make me?’

‘Distinguished. A silver fox. Han-’

‘I’m ain't going grey!’ Joel protested, cutting Tess off.

‘Oh?’ she said, rolling her eyes and carefully placing the gin bottle down, then twisting to straddle his lap, all her weight on top of him. He froze, before his arms quickly came up to hold her waist as she listed to one side, steadying her as best he could.

‘Then what, pray tell, is this?’ she said, hands finding a lock of hair and gently tugging, ‘because I hate to break it to you, Texas, but this ain't brown any more.’

Joel's breath caught in his throat as her hands gently combed through his her, their bodies pressed together, his mouth at the same height as her collarbone. He had a sudden impulse to lean forward and press his lips to it, and was halfway there before Tess tugged on his hair again, tilting his head up to look at her.

‘And what do you think you're doing?’ she asked, a twinkle in her eye that Joel was coming to realise meant she was fucking with someone (usually him).

‘I - nothing,’ he said, swallowing as one of her hands came down to his neck, her thumb pressing lightly on the side of his neck.

‘Well that won't do at all,’ Tess murmured, looking down at him, ‘if you aren’t doing anything you might have to think for once, and we can't have that.’ She bowed her head so their foreheads were touching, lips almost brushing his as she spoke.

‘Can I kiss ya’ now, darlin’?’ Joel asked, hands tightening slightly on her waist, carefully avoiding any pressure on the still healing knife wound. Tess smiled at him, a different smile to her usual fake one, and pressed their lips together softly for a few moments.

She tasted of the gin they'd been drinking for the last few hours, the stew they'd had for dinner, the spearmint gum she chewed while they walked. Her hand tangled in his hair as she pulled him back towards her, licking into his mouth as her other hand settled along his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. And while their lips were pressed together, bodies tangling, laughing as they tried and failed to make it to where Tess was sleeping without falling over, Joel felt his world narrow until it contained only the woman in front of him, freckles barely visible and hair redder than normal in the firelight, Tess turned into flames set to burn him up in her wake. He welcomed it.

~~~~~~~

He realised, after he got Ellie to Lincoln, that he could barely remember all the last good times, not wanting those memories to belong to the ending they'd been dealt.

The last time her saw her remained in his head, the image on repeat of her begging him to take Ellie (as though he wouldn't, as though either of them would ever abandon a child, no matter how much it might hurt them to care for someone who wasn't the one child they wanted with them), arm shaking, the bite on her neck angry and fungus tendrils already snaking out from the wound. The scent of blood and dirt covering her jasmine lotion (the one luxury she afforded herself, always keeping it for herself if they found it or traded it), the shake in her voice as she spoke. She'd always had a way with words, a way of telling people what they wanted to hear and making them think her ideas were their own, so it killed him to hear her weakness, hear her losing what made him love her. The salt from the sweat on her forehead as he kissed her there, not wanting to risk pressing a kiss to her lips in goodbye. The feeling of her hand squeezing his as she told him to run.

Instead, he tried to focus on the good memories.

The last time he'd tasted her, a few days before they'd met Ellie, falling into bed together after a successful run, his head between her thighs as her hands tangled in his hair, holding him there until she was sated, kissing the taste of her off his lips.

The smell of her after she'd showered, making use of a rare period of hot water, the scent of her shampoo (rose scented, this time, a gift from Frank from last time they were in Lincoln) and lotion drifting into his nose as she curled around him in bed, her hair falling onto his chest.

The sight of her the morning before Robert’s men had beaten her up, perched on the kitchen counter and laughing at a joke, hair falling loose in waves around her shoulders in a way she never let it when they were working, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of long socks to combat the cold. He was attempting to cook eggs for breakfast, out of practice after so many years.

The sound of her talking to Ellie as they worked their way through Boston, trying to settle the girl (and him, Joel knew) and distract from the corpses littered around. Her voice as she spoke to Marlene, getting exactly what she wanted while Marlene thought she was getting a good deal. Her quiet words as they went to sleep the first night outside the walls, promises that they’d be okay, that the fireflies would take Ellie, that they’d go and find Tommy wherever he’d ended up.

The feel of her head on his thigh, using him as a pillow as he kept watch over her and Ellie, one of her hands curled around his leg as though to keep him close as one of his hands carded through her hair, gently working out the tangles as she slept, the skin on the back of her neck soft and smooth.

~~~~~~~

He clung to those memories later, sitting by the river, recounting them with each stone he added to her cairn - one for each sense, first and last, until ten stones sat neatly, one atop each other, the best grave he could give the woman he'd loved for so long. He briefly wished he would’ve been able to bury her properly, before remembering a long rant she’d gone on at one point about funerals being dumb and pointless. It made him feel better, at least, to know that she wouldn’t have wanted him to make a big deal of it. The way he mourned her was the same way he’d loved her: quiet, understanded, but always present, and always there.

#joel x tess #tessjoel #tess servopoulos #hbo tlou #tlou fic #joel miller #the last of us

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angelic-purpose · 2 years

Text

Fic Title: Photos Pairing: Tennessee x Michigan (Welcome to the Table)

Requst: Yes. @artisticmiles

Word Count: 1k A/N: Is it obvious I only have look headcanons planned for Ten? Sorry about that Lmao. This is also cross posted to my ao3

Pictures of forests were taking over the table in the kitchen, they were sprawled out across it, pictures of mountains and wildlife were thrown in there. There was some Dolly Parton song playing in the background from a radio on the kitchen counter. The house wasn’t empty, it never was when it came to the state house. About 50 people in one house, its never truly empty but you could get moments of peace.

That’s what these two states were getting as Tennesse looked over his shoulder from the fridge, eyes landing on Michigan.

“You want a Bud Light?” He asked with a small hum, grabbing himself one.

“Its only like 1pm?” Michigan said the confusion was in his voice as Tennesse shut the fridge.

“I’m taking that as a no,” He said as he walked to his chair to sit beside the other with a small hum about it.

Michigan nodded when the other said that. “Yeah, no, why are you drinking so early?” He asked as he looked at the man who was not getting comfortable next to him, the freckles that took over the expanse of his face were like stars in the night sky. Michigan thought it was amazing.

“There’s a football game later and I’m going to watch it with the South, and you know how they get,” Ten said with a small shrug giving the other one of his gap-toothed grins as he set his can on the table.

“I wouldn’t know how they get, I don’t normally hang around your group,” Michi said with a small laugh as he moved to pick up a picture of a bee balm, eyes running over the flower.

Ten slightly leaned over so he could see what the other was holding. “Bee balm, it brings in honey bees, I just think it’s a beautiful plant though,” He said with a grin as he moved to pick up another picture. “And yeah, maybe it’s good you don’t hang out with my group, they’d eat you alive.”

His hands delicately picked up a picture of a tall bellflower, eyes taking in the soft purple with a small smile on his face, he really thought it was beautiful.

“Hey, Mic-,” He started, about to ask about the plant but was cut off by Michigan.

“What was that meant to mean?” The other asked, eyes on the other for a moment before he turned to pick up another photograph, this one of some kind of wildlife.

“Oh, I just mean you midwesterners aren’t the best with the South, too nice, well, more just backhanded,” Ten explained with a chuckle. “My group is a lot more forward and violent, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” The Midwestern state said as if he was thinking about what the other had said to him.

He slowly handed Michigan the photo he was holding, not wanting to dwell on his friend groups dislike of the Midwest for too long since that was an awkward conversation to have, the dislike of the South with almost everyone made sense though. They were a very specific way, that didn’t matter to Ten though, he was with Michigan and that’s just how it was.

“This one is really pretty,” The words left Ten’s words slowly. “Like you.” The add on was accompanied with a grin that could light up a dark room in Michigan’s eyes.

“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you, Tennessee?” The other said with a small laugh about it, moving to lean his head onto the other slightly.

The Southern’s arm wrapped around him gently, the other one grabbing his can so he could take a sip of it, offering it towards Michigan, who rolled his eyes but took the can and took a sip.

Ten’s eyes moved to land on the photo the other had in his hand, a large grin coming across his face as he looked at it.

“That’s a Coypu,” He said in an excited tone, opening his mouth to explain more.

Michigan leaned forwards to set the can on the table. “It looks like a Capybara mixed with a rat,” He pointed out, making Tennessee give him an offended look. “I’m just saying,” He said, a small laugh in his voice about it.

“Well, it’s not,” Ten said with an eye roll about it.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Nashville,” Michi said with a small giggle about it.

“I don’t get why you think that nickname is so clever,” He said as he leaned forwards to grab a picture of one of Michigan’s native wildlife. “Is this a ferret?”

“Because it’s correct, you’re where Nashville is,” Michigan said before shaking his head. “That’s a fisher,” He said as he leaned over to look at the photo.

This went on for a bit, swapping pictures of plants and animals and talking about them, stupid nicknames being tossed around to one another, just the calmness of it all, country music slowly playing in the background, them splitting a beer.

“This one makes me think of you,” Ten said as he handed the other a picture, something native to his own state.

“Why?” Michigan asked, looking at the image before he looked at the other, a slight tilt to his head as he did it.

“One of the prettiest things I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” He said, a grin at the other. He seemed to be really sure of himself.

“You’re a sap,” Michigan said as he pulled Tennessee into a kiss.

“Tennessee,” Kentucky’s voice came through as he entered the kitchen. “Stop kissing Soda Boy for a moment, Lou wants to know if you’re putting in bets for the game or not.”

Ten pulled back with a laugh as he moved to get up. “Yeah, I’m coming, I’m coming. Michigan?”

“Yeah, I’ll come,” The other said, moving to get up so he could walk to the Southern wing so they can go watch the game and place their bets, maybe Michigan won’t be eaten alive.

#📹 seth writes #the table #welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #the statehouse #ben brainard #fanfic #ben brainard fanfic #wttt #wttsh

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a-guy-named-e · 1 year

Text

I posted 444 times in 2022

That's 444 more posts than 2021!

56 posts created (13%)

388 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@greatinternetllama

@s-e-v-e-n-24

@a-welcome-to-the-table-sideblog

@hibiscuslynx

@coderfortourette

I tagged 419 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#wttt - 338 posts

#wttsh - 338 posts

#deja queue - 326 posts

#e rambles - 16 posts

#ask game - 12 posts

#welcome to the table - 7 posts

#welcome to the statehouse - 7 posts

#screaming - 3 posts

#i love them - 3 posts

#sobbing - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 125 characters

#gov is the communal younger sibling and all of the other states are the big brother saying ''no one makes fun of him but me''

My Top Posts in 2022:

See the full post

27 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandoms: Welcome To The Table - Ben Brainard (Web Series), Welcome To The Statehouse (Web Series) Characters: DC | Gov (Welcome To The Table), Michigan (Welcome To The Table), Ohio (Welcome To The Table), Pennsylvania (Welcome To The Table), West Virginia (Welcome To The Table), Tennessee (Welcome To The Table), California (Welcome To The Table), Texas (Welcome To The Table), Massachusetts (Welcome To The Table), Minnesota (Welcome To The Table), Florida (Welcome To The Table), Utah (Welcome To The Table)South Carolina (Welcome To The Table) Additional Tags: Non-Chronological, Flashbacks, Slice of Life, Domestic Fluff, Brief Discussions of Humanity, Vignettes

Summary:

Gov is sure that he is human. All of them are, in some way or another. But not everyone can see eye-to-eye about that.

29 notes - Posted August 7, 2022

my hand slipped

62 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

the states as weird things my directors have said

alabama: you have so much school spirit i almost forgot you don't know how football works

alaska: why can't you all shut the hell up every once in a while

arizona: you're the only person i'll let complain at this point. i don't think you're right, but i do think it's funny.

arkansas: you're still here? i thought you graduated. leave already, dammit.

california: i thought i was ready for the pronoun question but clearly i was not.

colorado: i don't know why he hangs out with you, all you do is smoke weed! [turns to me] you haven't started smoking weed have you?

connecticut: i will pay you seven dollars if you can get the tenors to stop giving me stupid nicknames.

delaware: yes. i know you were the first to reset. that's because you don't move.

georgia: do you know where the disembodied cougar head is? no? well then i don't know what to tell you.

florida: i never thought i'd have to say this but please do not pick up any more squirrels.

hawai'i: your disregard for authority is only funny when it's [band director], not when it's me.

idaho: i don't care what you call it, i want to know why you were arranging a marriage on the back of the bus.

illinois: i need you to do me a favor and make sure [friend] never wears that packers jersey again because next time i might strangle him.

indiana: why is it so hard for you to march slides? just turn and look at the damn cornfield!

iowa: alumni, i appreciate you coming out to watch, but please do not turn our rehearsal into a field of dreams moment.

kansas: if you make one more comment about the scenery i'm kicking you off the bus.

kentucky: you were a horse girl in a past life, weren't you?

louisiana: i know you can't dance worth shit but i need you to play like you're trying to convince someone that you can.

maine: i can't tell if you're agreeing with me or just acknowledging me but i like being agreed with so i'm going with that.

maryland: i don't trust anyone whose only experience with crab is imitation crab meat

massachusetts: i'm not technically allowed to swear around you but that was fucking terrible.

michigan: so are you just emotionally invested in awful sports teams or what?

minnesota: i know this is the midwest but can someone please bring anything other than a casserole to the pitch-in?

mississippi: i don't care who was talking, i'm telling all of you to shut up so i know i get the right one.

missouri: i know dark humor is in and all but i feel obligated to tell you that i'm a mandated reporter, so can you please make your jokes about jumping off the arch where i can't hear them?

montana: no, you may not run laps in the enchanted forest.

nebraska: it's almost the 4th, right? okay, if you can play three notes better this rep i'll run to the cornfield and check if it's knee-high for you guys.

nevada: oh my god you did not just start a poker game.

new hampshire: i don't care that it's 101°, i'm not allowed to let you be shirtless.

See the full post

76 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

idk if anyone else has gif-ed it but i think this clip is criminally underrated. why do his little finger guns make me lose it every time.

103 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #so glad that texas doing fingerguns is still my top post 😌

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britswriting · 2 years

Text

Desire (5)

*Sequel to Unbroken*

Desire Masterlist

Read on Wattpad

This chapter contains sexual themes, read with caution.

*Leighton's POV*

"Awe you came! What happened?" Aaliyah asked, handing me a glass, reassuring me it was sparkling cider. "Didn't want you to feel left out" She gave me a smile and I nodded, taking a sip from the glass.

"Thank you, and what do you mean what happened? Can't I hang out with my best friend on New Year's Eve?" I asked and she eyed me.

"Leigh"

"What?"

"Spill it"

"Fine. Colby and I got in a fight"

"Oh no! Why?"

"I don't want to worry about that now. I just want to be twenty one for a few hours. Now, is there anyone here who is too drunk to look at my body?" I asked and she laughed.

"What, are you planning on getting laid tonight?" She asked and I blushed, pursing my lips.

"I stopped bleeding, and the way Colby was kissing my neck I need to let off some sexual tension before I see him again and as many toys as there is, being fucked isn't the same"

"You losers kissed again huh?" She asked with a raised eyebrow and I nodded, drinking from the transparent party glass.

"Yeah and then we bitched at each other because ya know, I want to protect my child and he wants to fuck me" I shrugged and she laughed.

"He said that?" She asked and I groaned.

"No. He said he fell for me, and then he was all like "Well I don't know if it's love, maybe it's respect" I spoke in a mockery tone which made her chuckle, "And it all fell apart. It went from, what should I wear to Leigh, date me. Love me, let me love your daughter. Move in with me"

"Ah, feeling trapped huh? Reminding you of someone?" She asked and I sighed, glancing around the party.

"Where's River?" I asked, not having seen him yet.

"Tennessee"

"What?! Why?"

"House hunting" She mumbled and my eyes widened.

"What?!"

"Yeah, with his family stuff, he's moving back home in February... he needs to be there for them"

"So you're doing long distance then?" I asked and she stayed quiet. "Aaliyah? You're doing long distance right?"

"Leigh-"

"No. No no no no no! You can't leave me! What the fuck Aaliyah!?!"

"Leigh I.. I love him. I want to marry him. I need to be there for him"

"So you're both just going to leave me in February? I'm losing my baby daddy and my best friend?! Well isn't this New Years a fucking happily ever after huh?" I grumbled, downing the end of the sparkling cider, wishing it was something more.

"Hey hey hey, none of that!" She lectured, snatching the glass. "You're not going to simulate being an alcoholic because you're mad. Get your shit together"

"Might as well be an alcoholic. Add to my shit new year" I grumbled and she glared at me.

"You don't mean that"

"You know Aaliyah, I don't know what I mean anymore. Maybe I do mean that. Maybe I don't. But hey, you'll be in Tennessee so who cares" I shrugged and walked past her, ignoring her yelling after me.

"Leigh for fuck sake stop walking away. After all, I have an outfit for you" She grumbled, tugging me back to her.

"These jeans will hide the baby belly you're insecure of" She tossed me jeans and I tugged them up my legs, feeling them cling to my thighs, but hey, they buttoned.

"This goes above the belly button, shows a little bit of stomach, but also your boobs" She handed me the sparkly top. "Don't be insecure. You look hot. Fake it till you make it"

I slipped the top over my head, feeling it cling to my skin.

A/N: jacket not included, this is also some random girl. Not how I picture Leighton lol

"Gross" I grumbled, grabbing the fat that was sticking out.

"Leigh, no one here cares, and if it makes you feel better, it's dark down there. You look hot, own it, now let's go" She tugged me out of the room before I could argue about the outfit

"Hi" A girl said, causing me to turn around.

"Uh.. hi?"

"I'm Alex, Alexandra" She said and I nodded.

"Leighton"

"So... you know anyone here?" She asked and I nodded.

"My best friend is hosting"

"Ah, well that's fun" She said and I laughed, nodding.

"Yeah"

"So, are you seeing anyone?" She asked and I chuckled, shaking my head.

"I'm not exactly date ready" I shrugged, motioning towards my body.

"Why do you say that?"

"I just had a baby"

"Ah, so no baby daddy then?"

"Oh, there's a baby daddy.... just.. we're not together" I shrugged and she nodded, taking a sip of some sort of drink in her glass.

"Hm.. you don't seem that old? That's not offensive right?" She asked and I laughed, shaking my head.

"I'm twenty one. She was an accident"

"It's a girl? That's cute. I hope she looks like her momma" She winked and I blushed, thanking her.

"I hope she doesn't have either of our personalities" I chuckled and she joined me, our shoulders bumping into each other as I rocked on my feet.

"Why? You seem nice"

"Ah, yes. First impressions can be deceiving. I just turned down probably a perfect guy due to my own problems, so let's hope she maybe gets my mom's personality or something. Maybe it'll skip a generation" I joked and she had a small smile on her face.

"Tell me about this guy"

"Nah, I don't wanna bore you. I'm alright, it's alright. Anyway, what about you? Any boyfriends? Girlfriends? I don't judge" I shrugged and she laughed, shaking her head.

"Just moved here, no boyfriends, or girlfriends. Do I look like the type to like girls?" She asked and I shrugged.

"You never know. I didn't know my brother was gay until he was in High School so"

"You guys close or?" She asked and I grinned, "Love him to death. He's amazing"

"That's nice.. I.. I'm not that close to my family" She shrugged and I frowned.

"I'm sorry"

"It's okay. I'm hoping for a fresh start" She gave me a small smile and I nodded.

"Fresh starts are always good, I've had my fair share of them. Definitely recommend" I giggled and she grinned.

"You're definitely drunk" I laughed, watching Alex sloppily dance to the DJ's remix song.

"Hey Leigh!" I heard Aaliyah's voice, her arm wrapping around my shoulders.

"Hey, you seem giggly. How much tequila have you consumed?"

"I don't even know" She giggled and I rolled my eyes, smiling at my best friend.

"You're both going to regret this in the morning" I eyed both of the girls, both looking very similar.

"I like to regret my choices... tells me I've lived" Alex said out loud.

"I'm a good choice to regret" I chuckled and she shook her head.

"No.. I don't think I'll regret you"

"Why?"

"Something tells me you'll mean more than I know, but hey, maybe that's the alcohol speaking"

"Wish I had alcohol" I grumbled and Aaliyah smacked my arm.

"No you don't Leighton"

"Seems fun"

"Do you need to go to a meeting? What's up with you? What did he say to you?" Aaliyah asked, her eyes staring into my soul.

"He didn't say anything"

"Yeah like I believe that" She scoffed and I rolled my eyes.

"What's going on?" Alex asked and I groaned, shooting Aaliyah daggers.

"Nothing"

"Leighton-"

"You know what, you're moving to fucking Tennessee, you don't get to speak"

"Leighton Rae! I may not be your momma but I will smack you like one!" She threatened and I rolled my eyes.

"You're going to scare away the girl Aaliyah"

"So what? Stop being dumb and call him!"

"I don't want to call him! I don't need him! I don't want to.. I.. I don't-"

"Okay then don't fucking call him but if I see you drink a OUNCE of alcohol I'm calling your dad!"

"Bitch" I grumbled and she slapped my arm.

"I'm not afraid to deck you Leighton"

"Whatever. You got girly hands anyway"

"God what is up with you?" She groaned and I glared at her.

"Stop trying to fix my life!"

"I'm not trying to fix your life, I'm trying to fix your god damn attitude" She hissed and I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You're leaving me for fucking Tennessee" I groused and Aaliyah narrowed her eyes at me.

"I'm following the love of my life to go be with his family Leighton. How do you think I would feel if you left me to move to Minnesota? We're growing up Leighton, or at least I am"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"A perfectly good man wants to be with you! And you ran away!"

"He's my friend! I don't want to ruin that. Cliché as it is, I don't want Gemma to lose him all because we messed up. He's off limits"

"If he was off limits, why have you kissed him four times?!"

"Because.. What if it is just hormones? What if I get this sexual tension out of my system... and it's gone. I just see him as a friend again? I.. I couldn't live with myself. I fucked Aryia, and I'm just fine never seeing him again. What if that happens again? He means too much to do that to"

"So what, you're just looking for someone to fuck?" Aaliyah asked and I felt my face get warm as I glanced towards the ground.

"I mean.. is that bad?... but.. what if it feels like cheating?"

"Why would it feel like cheating?" Aaliyah questioned and I sighed, rubbing my eye which smudged my makeup.

"Because you know that when I like someone... I'm loyal"

"So.. what does that tell you?" She asked and I rolled my eyes at her.

"I'm not a fucking five year old. I get it, I fucking like him.. and don't yell at me for saying What if.. but what if?"

"What if what? What if you fall in love? What if you fuck up? What if Gemma gains another dad? Leighton, she won't lose Colby. If he's this invested in her already.. if he's this in love with your little girl already.. you're not going to lose him"

"You don't know that"

"What do you want from him?" Aaliyah asked and I sighed, my head rolling back as my eyes squeezed shut.

"I want commitment, and he's not a commitment type of guy and don't you dare tell me that he can change. I.. I lived with him Aaliyah"

"So your problem is that you don't trust him, right?" She asked and I glanced over at Alex who was downing more alcohol.

"I trust him with my life" I argued, and she smiled at me, shaking her head.

"Your dumb little brain loves him but your stupid little heart is broke and bruised. Don't let Gabriel fuck you up Leigh. What happened, happened. We've moved on.. right? You've moved on?" She asked and I nodded slowly.

"He told me to do it. To go up to that room.. to talk to Colby. That it meant more than each of us knew and he's right, but... I... Aaliyah, the last thing I want to do is lose more people. I lost all of my friends when I went to jail and rehab and cleaned up.. I haven't seen them in over a year.. I don't want that to happen again. I don't want Gemma to lose the people who fought for her. Who fought for her life. Who told me to keep her.. so.. how do I go up to him and tell him yes? How do I walk up to that gorgeous man and say yes when I could fuck it up all over again, and my daughter loses extremely important people in her life? He... he looked in her eyes.. and talked about her innocents. How pure and fresh she was. How.. beautiful she was. My stunning baby girl doesn't know hurt other than needles.. so who am I.. her mother.. to show her that? To hurt her? To ruin her? Destroy a relationship she hasn't even gotten to know yet? I've been struggling so much with accepting that she's mine. I carried her, I birthed her, I care for her.. she's mine. But if I ruin her.. if I take away all of those beautiful words he said about her.. who am I? I'm neither her mother, nor her caregiver.. I'm.. a monster. I'm the monster under her bed. The monster in her nightmares.. and you know who protects little girls from their monsters? Their daddy's..-"

"But Leigh, you're not a monster. You're her mother. What if this only makes her life better? What better than to grow up and have all of these people who love you? Who fight for you? Leighton, I love her just as much as the next person.. but I've known you. I've seen your worst, and Leighton.. if it feels right. Do it. Just tell me something, and be honest.. where are you mentally?" Aaliyah asked and I was so glad everyone around us was drunk, and that more than likely, I was the only one who would remember this conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Is he feeding your addiction? Or is it something you can let go? Can you walk away from him?"

"Of course I can walk away from him!" I replied defensively. "You're starting to sound like Gabe when they gave me a drug test" I grumbled and Aaliyah just stared at me. "Wait.. you.. wait.. no. No you wouldn't. You don't think that low of me. Right? You.. I'm clean. I am. I haven't used in over a year! I.. you both think I'm using again?" I asked, tears stinging my eyes.

"Leigh-"

"No! Fuck you both!" I yelled, scanning to find the quickest exit.

I found my way out to the backyard, letting the fresh air consume my lungs.

The tears fell down my cheeks as I quickly came to terms with the fact that no one trusted me.

No one believed me when I said I was clean, or I was okay.

No one believed me when I said I would date Colby if it wasn't for all these logistic road blockers.

My daughter deserved the best, I deserved the best.. and if he is the best, than great.. and if not.. I refuse to ruin her.

I.. I can't ruin my own daughter.

"Hey, the parties in there" Alex said and I nodded, wiping at my cheeks.

"What's wrong?" She asked and I rolled my shoulders back, taking a deep breath.

"What's in that?" I asked, glancing down at the clear liquid in her glass.

"Uh.. vodka.. I think?" She said and I nodded.

"Is it good?"

"What, the alcohol?"

"Mhm"

"Uh.. I guess. It burns, but it makes me more confident. Who doesn't like liquid courage?" She giggled and I nodded slowly.

"You're not a confident person?" I questioned, eyeing her as her body swayed.

"Um.. depends. Liquid courage always helps no matter what. If I didn't have this.. I probably wouldn't be talking to you right now" She shrugged and I smirked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"You're a pretty girl who seems out of my league. My friends are nothing like you"

"Pretty huh?" I chuckled and she grinned, nodding.

"Well, I think you're pretty too, and hey, I'm a mess. I'm no better than your friends. Is vodka the best liquid courage?" I asked, eyeing her almost empty cup.

"Um.. a lot of my friends like tequila? I think it's personal preference" She shrugged and I nodded, my eyes glancing between her face and her cup.

I walked a little closer to her, my eyes locked on her brown ones.

"Can I taste it?" I asked and she nodded, offering me her glass.

"No" I spoke softly, my eyes dropping to her lips "Can I taste it?" I asked again in a husky whisper, our bodies close as I looked for any clues of how she felt.

"W-what?" She tilted her head and I chuckled, my hand coming up to graze her jawline.

"Alex, can I kiss you?" I asked, my eyes scanning her face, looking for discomfort.

She nodded slowly and I smiled, leaning into her ear "Finish the glass" I whispered against the shell of her ear, placing a small kiss behind her ear after I moved her hair.

I watched her down the end of the glass and I checked one more time for a look of unsureness, but she seemed fine, so I kissed her.

My lips brushed over hers, inhaling the taste of the alcohol, smelling it as she breathed.

Our lips moved together, my hands moving to her waist, still checking for a change of mind, but it never came.

Instead, her hands wrapped around my shoulders, my hands dropping down to her butt as our kiss got deeper.

Before I knew it, we were groping each other and kissing each other like it was some sort of reunion.

"Come with me" I whispered, grabbing her wrist and she giggled, nodding.

I moved her towards a secluded part of the house, the area was pitch black as my hands found her waist again.

"Is this okay?" I asked and she nodded, her hands in my hair.

"Mhm, more than okay" She hummed and I smirked.

"Do you um.. mind if I pleasure you?" I asked and she shook her head, her own hands unbuttoning her pants.

"God, please do" She moaned and I laughed, crouching down in front of her.

I dragged her tight jeans down her thighs, my hands feeling the lace thong.

"What color are they?" I asked as she placed her hands on my shoulders.

She let out as a soft moan as I placed a light kiss against the fabric, "Mm, black"

"Sexy" I murmured, her nails pressing into the skin of my shoulders.

"Fuck" She cried, her hands grasping the strings of her underwear, tugging them down.

I immediately got to work on pleasuring her, listening to her cries and moans.

I let her ride out her orgasm, my fingers drenched in it.

"Jesus christ" She breathed out and I chuckled.

"Do you want to taste it?" I asked and I heard her gasp.

"My-"

"Mhm, tastes good. Promise" I murmured, feeling her shake against me.

"C'mon Alex. If you taste it I'll let you fuck me" I bargained and she cried, opening her mouth.

"Good girl"

"Holy fuck" I cried, Alex kissing her way up to my lips. "You've seriously never been with a girl?" I asked and she shook her head, kissing me again.

"Was it okay?" She asked and I laughed, nodding.

"Mhm. Then again, I haven't had sex in almost a year unless you count my hand, so" I laughed, her hands still on my waist.

"No one's fucked this sweet little pussy?" She asked and I laughed, shaking my head.

"Not since I slept with my best friends, friend. You're not the only one who likes to make mistakes" I giggled and she bit my lip, pulling a little before kissing me again.

"This isn't more than a one night stand, right?" She asked and I nodded.

"I.. I'm sorry if that's hurtful, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now" I told her honestly and she nodded.

"It's fine. Friends?" She asked and I smiled, pecking her lips one last time.

"Friends"

* * * *

Happy Pride <3

I won't give actual smut unless it's with Colby. Won't put you guys through that lmao

Love me some lesbian Leigh moments Xx

Shortest chapter I've written in a while, sorry

Written on: June 29th, 30th 2022

Word Count: 3211

Part Six

#colbybrock #samgolbach #samandcolby #lbgtq #pride #lesbian #colbybrockfanfiction #colbybrockimagine #wattpad

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tintinntabuli · 7 months

Text

Garden Surfing: You Should Try It!

Remember the talking dog named Dug from the movie Up—the onethat flips out when he sees a SQUIRREL? That’s me when I see plants. Plant obsession disorder, particularly a severe case like mine, never takes a vacation. It goes everywhere I go, hand in hand with my ADD.

During a recent road trip, my husband Bill was at the wheel. He seemed content to cruise through Arkansas and listen to Matthew McConaughey chat with the College Gameday hosts while I looked out the window. I sat silent, bewitched by the ever-moving tapestry of native grasses and Asteraceae, tempted by seductive road signs and their untoward promises of botanical attractions. My imagination ran wild. These horticultural thrills could be ours if I could just convince Bill to take the next exit.

The inner gardener screamed, “Pull over! Pull over NOW!” But I said nothing of this to my dearest love. Such a request would be denied unless it involved an emergency bathroom break or suspected car trouble. When Bill is driving, we aren’t stopping.Bill does not share my mad obsession with unexplored landscapes. After 31 blissful years, I know this all too well. My man is a no-nonsense traveler, the kind who makes the plan and executes.“No, we aren’t stopping at the diamond park. No, we don’t have time to go another 200 miles and back to see some trees.” No. No. No.” Because Bill’s “No” is the voice of well-meaning practicality, I rarely press these matters. We have people to see and places to be. I respect his logic but regret the opportunities lost. I keep my own counsel, shift my gaze, and look with longing toward the unkempt stands of capricious goldenrod that wave to me as we pass them by.

I’m not a kook, just plant-focused, and perhaps a tad bit obsessed. Left to my own devices, my internal GPS inevitably guides me toward uncharted greenery. When traveling on my own, there is little doubt that I will eventually get from point A to point B, albeit with many stops in between.

An unexpected stop at Cheekwood Estate and Botanical Garden, Tennessee

Bill knows how I roll. There is no fooling him about what I’m up to or where I’m going Thanks to the rat fink app known as Find My Phone he monitors nearly all of my long-distance plant-related detours. He calls and asks, “Are you lost?

I’m not lost. I’m garden surfing. I get high on zipping in and out of green spaces, pouncing on unplanned opportunities to see plants. What could be better than hanging loose, searching the vast horizon for waves of garden joy to catch? Why not seek out good garden trouble, the kind of horticultural experiences that rely on serendipity instead of Apple Maps?

Dockside garden detour before dinner at the Hogfish Bar & Grill. Cow Key, Florida

A quick wave wins in Louisville.

Garden surfing is for thrill-seekers.

You can do it. Anyone can.

Going it alone may help you cover more ground. In June of this year, after an amazing week at Great Dixter, I returned to London ready to surf. I caught my first wave at 1:43 p.m. For the next 8 hours, I hopped on and off the rail lines to see as many garden spaces as possible. By the time my head hit the pillow, I’d covered more than 10 miles on my feet. I can’t imagine any of my friends still being my friends today had they come along, so don’t be afraid to go solo.

Garden surf for fun not followers. The art of catching waves should build memories, not your social media numbers. There’s nothing wrong with keeping score of the waves you’ve caught by taking pictures and sharing them with your friends but try to live in the moment.

Don’t surf if you can’t relax and let the experience come to you. Pure waves, the kind of experiences you’ll remember until your last breath, roll in when you least expect them.

Don’t count pre-planned excursions as waves caught. Garden surfing should be one part whim and two parts “because I jolly well want to go there, right this very minute.”

Get the timing right, so you arrive at your destination on time. This seems simple, but when you are distracted by ephemeral trilliums, it can be almost impossible. Keep track of your time and be on time, so your loved ones don’t decide to send the sheriff out looking for you, when you are three hours late.

Follow your heart and you’ll surf in all the best places.

Walk in the wildflowers, whenever you want. Kentucky

Walk through neighborhoods to see what people are planting and how the gardens are. Key West

Try to learn something new in school gardens. Prior Weston Primary School and Children’s Centre, London

Don’t get lost. Keep your phone charged for safety and navigation. I bring a charging cord in my pocket. If my phone is dead, I’m lost.

If tempted to stay too long, take lots of pictures. You can always come back.

When the wave you catch turns out to be a dud, bail quickly and move on.

Surf in garden-rich areas. If garden surfing were a competition, then Pennsylvanians would have a decided advantage. There are more than 200 public gardens in the “Keystone State.” And, considering all the gardens in Buffalo, Garden Ranter Elizabeth Licata could be a champion surfer. I imagine the Netherlands would be fabulous for competitive surfers, as would Portugal, Italy, France, Africa, and Southeast Asia. Surveying plants in the cracks of random sidewalks could also be swell.

I’ve found no better place to surf than the United Kingdom. Half-skip a rock down a country lane and you’ll hit five gardens. I’ve been across the pond three times. I’m already plotting my way back. According to Bill, I may have to swim.

Anywhere you go in the U.K., you’ll find awesome waves.

The finest wave I’ve ever caught was in the heart of London’s West End at about 9 p.m. I heard sirens blaring. A police helicopter swayed back and forth above the buildings, apparently seeking someone who did not want to be found. Any adult with good sense would have turned and run for the safety of the rail station, but this gardener didn’t. Wrapped in my naive joie de vivre, I wandered down a thin side street and discovered the Phoenix Garden, a delightful oasis that rose from the ashes of a WW2 bombsite. My photos do not do it justice. Wander over there if you get a chance.

The sign promising a garden haven for wildlife & people sounded fine to me.

Brits really do keep calm and garden on.

Plants have nice things to say when you stop and listen.

Whenever you go garden surfing, recall these lines by Robert Herrick. “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying.Now, get out and catch a wave!

Garden Surfing: You Should Try It! originally appeared on GardenRant on October 11, 2023.

The post Garden Surfing: You Should Try It! appeared first on GardenRant.

#landscaping landscaper

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osteocupcake · 1 year

Text

You know why you and Sidney don’t have my back?

Cos you’re weak and inferior to me. And mine.

You guys are fucking baby killers. Where is the joke

Sidney are you going to go to Sydney Australia and you’re going to be the new aboriginal ha, ha ha you stupid American Cunt. No, you’re not.

Linda Hamilton, if any of those fucking black ass low class trash balls mess with you call the neighbourhood dog or whatever I’ll bring a knife to the party.

Sidney better get a sand which because that ingrate is going to hell.

Jokes, you get fresh bread and joke with me.

You’re going to hell with aboot 35% of the low class black populous.

You’ll be my spur dog then, Sidney jokes jones.

You and Mr. Gregg you’re going to get some heavy heavy screws he already has you know that you don’t understand how serious these crimes are because you’re on low class nothing

Mr. Gregg, he already knows he’s in the shit and he already knows that I know everything but he’s gonna lie and I’m not gonna give a shit he is going to always be stuck right here

Meanwhile, some asshole I’ve never met officially wants me to be stuck right here so I called Linda Hamilton and I called Fiona apples auntie and I went ahead and called Fiona and you know I just need to hum

Fiona yes yes I agree that everybody needs to come sometimes that’s not the problem but I do encourage healthy sexuality and healthy expression of sexuality

Jokes against innocence and class.

Claws. Awe.

Severe anxiety.

Whose claw?

Jammu and Kashmir.

Man say, “I’ll always have you.”

You know… I believe that.

The Laura’s ask about mars bars and Tennessee Williams.

Lemonade. Taffy.

And claws. The moon, she hangs out with those twinkly foreigners from places like Austria and France. Bulgaria, some. Lol

Rosewater and delayed grins.

Sendhil and Sidney are envious and jealous.

Wanting to see young girls suffer from severe anxiety. All the people they will never be.

A bear claw, a free fall.

Almost 130 degrees outdoors and

I’m connected to black child African spurs.

Deliver those babies.

But Sidney and ramamurthy didn’t understand.

Lower intellect, low EQ

You’ll take nothing from the Indian tribes in the end, Sidney.

Hitting, they do. Low class. Get out and never return. But so help me god, if we need detectives because of those low class blacks,

African Americans HAVE asked for a war which they will undoubtedly lose.

And African men wink at me. Royalty, you know?

Do you?

Those two are sporty and the dumb drone wife literally dressed in a head dress out of spite, like the other greasers.

No, Olga. You dumb cunt.

And what is your husband compensating for? Lol.

0 notes

crazybigredlove · 1 year

Text

14th October 2014

Dear Pete,

Your brother wasn't going to talk to me this morning, so I made him. 6am may not have been the best time in hindsight, but how do we know unless we try?!

"Why, hey there, sleepyhead. How are you on this magical spring morning?" Fake enthusiasm oozes out of my every pore but I am pumped and ready to go hang out with Dylan, I mean go to CrossFit.

"Stop it. It's too early." I wave my coffee under his nose. "This magical elixir makes it never too early." "Go away," he growls. "Where's the new girlfriend? I've really been looking forward to spending some more time with her. Especially after yesterday when she asked me if you could get a ferry to New Zealand and how long I thought it might take." He groaned. "She didn't." "She did. So, here's the thing," Temporarily forgetting that coffee is a hot liquid, I take a big dramatic sip and then nearly spit it out all over him. I clear my throat and aim to carry on as if nothing has happened. "Now that you've called her your girlfriend, and now that it's been established that basic geography escapes her, it doesn't matter how good in bed she is, you're going to have to break-up with her eventually. Gee, you really taught me a lesson here." "What's that supposed to mean?" "A day and a half ago we have a massive fight in which I tell you that you're incapable of being in a relationship, and then that night you find yourself a girlfriend? I'm an idiot about lots of things, Chris, but this game you've got going on with her? That's not one of them. This makes you a jerk anyway because she's going to end up hurt." "Keep your voice down or she'll hear you." I lower the voice but not the attitude. "Pfft! It's not like she'll understand enough of the words for her feelings to get hurt." "Stop being a jealous cow."

"Stop being a jerk." "Admit it, you're jealous." "I'm not admitting anything unless you admit you're a jerk."

We're glaring at each other across the kitchen and the silence is unbearable, partly because I hate confrontation and partly because I really need to pee. Luckily he doesn't wait too much longer before he shakes his head and walks off, allowing me to both relieve myself and rush off to training. Our heated discussions have never been particularly mature...

Not even 6:15am and my kitchen resembled the Wild West. Which reminds me, my new anthem is that 90s country music song by LeeAnn Rimes, I think it's called Commitment. It's all about holding out for the right guy and not settling. It is a fantastic theme song. What I mean by that is there are about 7 people in Tennessee who really enjoyed it and can probably also relate to the song and what I am currently experiencing.

Think I'll find me a cowboy.

Liv x

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