#Texas food recalls

[freshfocusnews]

I found this on NewsBreak: ALERT: Food Sold At H-E-B In Texas Recalled Due To “Foreign Material”

I found this on NewsBreak: ALERT: Food Sold At H-E-B In Texas Recalled Due To “Foreign Material”

[callsign-cacti]

Bet on it

Finn x F.Reader 5.3k words

Summary: A missed meeting, a drugstore bag with a fake pregnancy test, a forgetful Kenny Roper, and intimate knowledge about a bet made by the STU baseball team. What could go wrong?

Rating: Mature: drug use, drinking, future chapters will be 18+.

Warnings: Mentions of faking a pregnancy for a prank/ revenge. If this triggers you, please don't read!

Part Two

You had made it a point to never step foot in either of the South Texas University Baseball houses. For any reason, be it for work or, other recreational purposes. However, here you stand, hand seconds away from banging on the front door of the house.

The neighbors probably thought that you were yet another scorned lover, come to beg for yet another piece of the baseball boys. Yet that couldn't be any farther from the truth.

Taking a moment, you recall all the anger from early as you had sat in the library, waiting for Kenny Roper to show up. And he never did.

As the minutes turned into an hour, and your anger continued to grow with the passage of time, you became more and more sure that today was the day. You had been holding onto this little nugget of information for when one of them truly pissed you off, and you knew that the bunch of idiots, would in fact, do something dumb enough to warrant this.

Kenny Roper was just the poor soul that pushed you over the edge.

So you felt no remorse as you banged on the door, not hesitating to throw it open, as you knew the dumbasses never locked it. You bit your lip as some of the boys yelped, all turning to see who was storming in. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you were assaulted with the stench of stale beer, weed, burnt food and B.O.

Wrinkling your nose, you scanned the room, taking in about half the team lounged about the living room. And then you found Roper, tucked behind McReynolds. Looks like he wasn't so dumb after all, if he immediately knew that you were here for him.

Finn recovered first, "Well look who it is, I thought you had taken a solem vow to never step foot in this cursed house!"

"Shut the fuck up Finn!" You snapped, eyes never leaving Roper. "Roper, where the hell have you been?"

As Roper pales, the rest of them start snickering.

"Actually, I don't give a shit where you have been, 'cause I don't want to hear your dumbass excuse! Upstairs, now!" You barked, knowing it would be easier to compose yourself in front of Roper then it would be with half the team watching you. And lord knows you would need some composure for what you were about to pull off.

As Roper silently led you to his bedroom, passing a door with a sign that read, Fornication. Under. Consent. of King, you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Behind you, the boys began to whoop, Plumber was even dumb enough to shout, "Get it Rope!"

At that, you whirled, ripping the sign off the door and chucking it at Plums head, promptly shutting him up.

As Roper closed the door behind him, you heard shuffling coming from downstairs, the boys being as subtle as a pack of elephants in their snooping.

"I cannot believe that you didn't fucking show up Roper!" You yelled at him, beginning to pace back and forth. "I literally rearranged my whole schedule for you, and you don't even have the gall to show up! This class is quite literally the only thing that is keeping your ass off the bench!" You're screeching now, knowing that you need to be loud enough for the entire house to hear.

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't show, but practice ran late, and then coach wanted to talk to me after. By the time I finished at the field, I figured that..."

"You figured what?" You bit out. No need to fake your anger for this part. You knew that the baseball boys felt entitled due to the treatment they recieved from students and professors alike, but this was on another level.

"You just figured that since you were a little late it would be okay to make me sit for an hour waiting on you? That since your on the goddamned team I would do the entire thing for you? That I would bend over backwards for you, yet again!"

"Just calm down!" He tries to placate, rising up off of his bed, hands outstreched in front of him as if you're a wounded animal that he's trying not to scare. You can practically hear the collective intake of breath from his teammates.

You're not sure if even Brumley is dumb enough to tell a woman to calm down when she's this mad.

"Calm down, you want me to fucking calm down?" You hiss at him, tone dangerously low. The realization that he is well and truly fucked washes over him, his face going pale, limbs tensing. Now he's the one taking a step back as you advance on him. Eventually, his legs hit the bed, leaving him to fall back onto it.

"How in the ever loving fuck am I supposed to calm down when I am stuck with your dumbass for the considerable future. When you can't even show up for a meeting for a class that would keep you on the team. Now that I know for sure that I can't trust you as far as I can throw you!"

Throughout your little speech, you had been gripping the bag tightly, using it as an extension of your hand as you waved it around. Now, you brought it up to your chest as you lowered your voice, Ropers eyes squinting as he tried to figure out it's contents.

"How am I supposed to calm down, when I just took this!" And with that, you fling the bag towards him. He just barely manages to catch it, holding it slightly away from his body as if it was going to bite him.

Cautiously, he opened it, squinting as he reaches down to pull it out. It's barely out of the bag before it's being dropped on the floor as if it's poisionous.

"What the hell is that" Fear has edged into his voice as he finally looks at you.

"You know exactly what it is!" Crossing your arms, you glare at him, not giving him an inch.

"But it's not mine right?"

"Well do you see anyone else in here with us dipshit?" You spat, pinching the inside of your elbow, desperatly trying to keep the laughter that was clawing it's way up your throat down.

"But, we've never... we didn't... did we?" He's reached back down to tenatively pick up the pregnancy test. He looks at you, then back at the test, then back at you, then shakes his head, as if trying to wake himself from a dream.

"You're shitting me Roper. You mean, you don't even fucking remember sleeping with me?" Your voice is dangerously high at this point, and your hoping that it will pass as you trying not to cry instead of you trying not to laugh. In the other room, something crashed, and you heard the whisper yelling at whoever had knocked it over, but your eyes never left Roper.

“I can’t believe this!” You screeched, throwing your hands up into the air.

“How the hell am I supposed to trust you with a baby if you can’t even remember the simplest fucking thing like a meeting, or the night that you fucking impregnated me!”

And with that, you threw the door open, not at all surprised to see the guys strewn about the hallway, desperately trying to look as if they hadn't been eavesdropping, and failing miserably.

You rushed down the stairs and flew through the back door, barely holding yourself together. It was only once you were outside that you allowed the laughter to escape.

This was the part of the plan that had taken you the longest to decide on. You knew that the money would come out very quickly, but did you want to let Roper stew in what was surely a full on crisis?

As tempting as it was, you also didn't want the rumor that you were pregnant getting around, let alone with Kenny fucking Ropers baby.

So, as soon as you composed yourself, which took a couple minutes, as the look on Kenny Ropers face was not something that you would be forgetting any time soon, you let yourself back into the house, went to the fridge, pulled out a beer and popped the top of.

Unfortunalty, you wouldn't get the full amount today, as only half the team was here, but you had the time to collect, and a pocket full of blackmail material.

Reaching into your bag, you pulled your camera out, and began to head for the stairs.

Once you got within eye sight, you began taking pictures. Finn was collecting the money, McRenyolds was sitting next to Roper on the bed, who was still clutching the pregnancy test in his hand. Plum and Dale were both on the ground laughing, and Coma was pulling out his wallet and counting bills.

As Coma put the bills in Finns hand, Plum collected himself enough to pull himself up off the floor.

"I mean, really dude, how the fuck did you forget sleeping with her?"

"Yeah, especially with that much money on the line." Coma chimed in, reluctantly placing his bills in Finns hand.

"I mean,first of all, she's hot as fuck..."

You raise your camera again as you speak and began to snap away.

"Well thanks Plum!" You say, a grin spread wide across your face. Most of the heads in the room, except for Roper and Plum snap towards you, and you beam as you capture the pure fear and confusion as it flits across their faces.

Plum, bless his heart, just continues on. "I mean, you guys literally told me about this bet on the first day of practice!" And just as the guys begin to violently shush him, he connects the dots on his own, his head whipping towards you.

Once you get a picture of his face, you lower the camera, tucking it into your bag as you take another sip of your beer. They all watch as you walk across the room towards Finn, taking the money from his hand and putting the beer in it's place.

Once you make sure it's all there, you shove it into your bag, and take your beer back from Finn.

Brumley, the dumbass, is the first one to break the silence.

"I don't think your supposed to drink if your pregnant. It's bad for the baby!" He exclaimes, nodding at the beer in your hand.

Rolling your eyes, you look around the room. You can see it in there faces who has figured it out, Finn, Dale and McRenyolds being the only ones who have figured it out. The rest are still looking between you and Roper in confusion.

"I'm not pregnant dickheads!" You hiss. "I mean, you think I'd touch him with a ten foot pole? Not fucking likely!"

When you don't get a response from anyone, you take one last drink from your can before shoving it back into Finns hand.

"Well, this has been fun, Roper, I'll see you Friday for our presentation!" And with that, you head for the stairs, pausing to look back over your shoulder. "And I expect to see you with the rest of my money. I know the whole team was in on it!"

And you left as pandemonium broke out upstairs.

-

They found you the next day in the dining hall at lunch. Heather, your roommate, had literally just walked out for her class, and you remained behind, having a few more minutes before you needed to leave for class.

Opening your book, you pulled out your pens as you lifted a fry off your plate, only to have your fry snatched from your hand as you watched someone else slide your book out from in front of you.

You looked up to see Finn munching on your fry as Dale closes your book. You smirk as Roper and McRenyolds pull out chairs in front of you, and flinch as the chair Nesbit is dragging over squeals on the tile floor.

They have you completely surrounded.

"Hello boys," You smirk, picking up another fry. "Come to give me the rest of my money?" Popping the rest of the fry into your mouth, you summon a smug smirk as you lord your win over the boys.

Finn chuckles as he throws his arm around the back of your chair.

"We'll give you the money."

'Perfect," You interrupt him, holding out your hand.

"If, you tell us who squealed to you about the bet." McRenyolds finishes for him as Finn high fiving you before reaching to steal yet another one of your fries.

"Nice try, a reporter never squeals on her sources!" Batting Dales hand away as he reaches for your plate.

"Come on, you owe me!" Roper states, leaning across the table to take your drink. You scrunch your nose as he puts it back down in front of you, and reach over the table push it back towards him.

"You can have it, I have no interest in catching whatever diseases you may carry!" Beside you, both Finn and Dale chuckle, and you lean back to cross your arms so that you can effectively death glare at Roper.

"And I owe you, owe you for what exactly?" You let all traces of humor drain from your tone.

"Umm, for yesterday?" Roper offers up weakly, well aware that he just fucked up.

"Oh, I owe you for completely rearranging my schedule to fit around yours, only for you to stand me up and leave me to do all the work on a project worth thirty percent of our grade. Oh, and lets not forget about the little bet that you started with the entire baseball team about who could sleep with me first. I owe you for that?"

"Well, I didn't fucking start it... W..." McRenyolds kicked him under the table, promptly shutting him up.

"What he means to say, is that he is truly and deeply sorry, that he regrets all of his actions. And that we would all truly appreciate it if you could, just this one time, fudge your morals a little bit, and tell us who ratted on us!" Finn proclaimed, as Roper nodded along with him.

"In fact, I think we all owe her an apology!" Finn stated, a grin stretching across his face.

"Y/n, I am very, very sorry about the bet! It was very wrong of us, and we will never do it again!"

"Your damn right you won't!" You mutter rolling your eyes at Finn. Dale and McRenyolds scoff at him, as Nesbit smothers "Asskisser" in a very fake cough.

“C’mon guys, you gotta be better then that, y’all gotta butter her up. Right now, she’s fifty bucks richer and still riding the high of Ropers embarrassment!” Finn chastises.

“She already took our money!” Dale whines. “C’mon, don’t you wanna be a good friend and tell us who squealed?”

You snort at this, throwing a fry from your plate at him. He catches it and winks as he throws it into his mouth.

"It's cute that you think we're friends!"

Now, Nes chimes in. “It was obviously someone who was least likely to win that squealed!”

“So, you!” Finn says, popping another fry into his mouth.

“Guys,  it was probably someone who already graduated. Figured they would sabotage the bet because they didn’t win.” Roper adds, looking at you with suspicion.

“I mean, statistically speaking, I’m the one who would win.” Finn says, tightening his arm around you. “Right honeybunch!”

This sends the guys into an uproar so loud they don't notice your low hum.

“Why the fuck do you think you would win!”

“Bullshit”

“Shut the hell up Finn!”

“Tell him he’s wrong!”

You scoff. “As if I’d touch any of you with a 10 foot pole. I’m very content not having any STDs thank you very much!”

“I mean, look at the rest of the guys she slept with…” Finn starts, before your turning to look at him.

“Keeping tabs on me Finnegan?”

And he doesn’t even hesitate. “Course I am. Gotta see who floats your boat, so I can imitate them, and subsequently win the bet.”

Rolling your eyes, you shove him off you. “You’re all disgusting!”

And as the rest of the guys begin to protest, you snatch your book off of Dales lap, shoving it into your bag, and ignoring Finns eyes on you as you walk away.

-

Your not even the least bit surprised when Finn finds you the next day, even though your tucked away in your little corner of the library.

“Ok, I know you’re the type of person who appreciates the whole, no bullshit thing,” which Finn and the team had learned the hard way when they had all attempted to flirt with you on your first team interview after a game last year.

Your response, listing off all of the simple mistakes they had made, and insinuating that they were all very, very small because of those dumbass mistakes.

That was the night the bet was born.

“So I’m just gonna come right out and say it. You’re a liar. A hypocrite, if the shoe fits.” You narrow your eyes as he finishes his statement with a flourish, bringing that stupid pipe to his lips. Leaning forward, you snatch it from his hands, throwing it down onto the table.

“You can’t smoke in the fucking library dipshit. And also, how dare you call me a liar. You don't know jack shit."

“But you don’t deny being one?” Finn was smart, you would give him that. It was a damn shame that he wasted it all on beer, baseball and pussy.

“And why would I lie Finn? Isn’t being with one of the baseball boys the goal? From what I’ve heard, I’m supposed to shout it from the rooftops, maybe even get it tattooed on my forehead. I slept with one of the baseball boys!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s way too long to fit on your forehead. It would probably be better on your lower back, you know, like a tramp stamp!”He grins as he says it, leaning back into his chair, propping his feet up on the table, and crossing his arms behind his head. You try to ignore the way it makes his biceps look, and you definitely don’t notice the way it makes the veins on his forearms stand out.

“Did you come here for a reason Finn, or do you just find enjoyment in bugging me?" You snap at him, looking back down at your paper.

“Well, I clearly came for the pleasure of your company! And also, to… sate my curiosity, if you will.”

“Well, you asked your question, and I gave you an answer, now you can leave me alone so I can work on my paper!” It was a clear dismissal, but he didn’t move a fucking inch, continuing to stare. You kept your eyes on the paper, your hand moving to write down shitty sentences out of pure spite. You were definitely going to have to rewrite part of this paper.

“You know, I can go away real easy for the low price of just two words, a name is all it takes sweetheart!”

“I told you Finn, I have never slept with anyone on the baseball team, ever. Now leave me alone!”

“See sweetheart, the thing is I don’t believe you when you say that. You hesitated for too long yesterday, and quite frankly, we are all good looking guys. Well… most of us. And you cannot tell me that watching us play doesn’t get you all hot and bothered!”

“I have literally never been less turned on then I am when I am watching y’alls games.” You deadpanned. Which was a lie of course. He wasn’t wrong. The team had some very good looking guys, and those pants did wonders for their asses.

“Sweetheart, please, you can’t bullshit the bullshitter!” Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to your work, hoping that maybe if you stopped giving him your attention, then he would go away. He was silent for a few seconds, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stand, only for him to pull out the chair your bag was in, drop it to the floor, and seat himself.

“Look, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way…”

“Shut the fuck up Finn, we aren’t in one of your stupid spy thrillers!”

“Please!” He begs, so loud that a few other students turn to look your way. The attention doesn’t seem to phase Finn, although you should have known that it wouldn’t. If anything the new eyes just egg him on.

“Why do you even want to know so bad huh? The bets over, no one won, it doesn’t matter!” You spat.

 A part of you debated on just telling him. He was as hard headed as you were, and the likelihood of him giving up was slim to none. There was always the option of just giving him the name of one of the seniors that had graduated, no harm no foul, but this was also Finn. If he found out that you had lied, then it was just going to make things worse.

You could revisit the idea of telling their coach. The probability of any of the players getting benched was slim to none, but you did have a little bit of pull, as you were the one writing half the articles the scouts were reading. You would never actually write untrue things about the guys and their game, for several reasons, but they didn’t need to know that.

You were jolted out of your thoughts by Finns snapping by your ears, flinching at the loud sound.

“How am I supposed to make my argument if you’re not even listening to me?” He pouted, leaning back in his seat once he was sure he had your attention.

“I don’t know Finn, maybe you could take the goddamned hint and leave me alone so I could get some work done?”

“I’m just saying, you had to find out from someone, and the team has been sworn to secrecy to never tell! The only thing I can think of was if someone was pussy..." He trailed off, remembering who he was talking too as he snapped his mouth shut.

“So you just wanna know who blabbed. This has nothing to do with me?” You innocently ask, batting your eyelids at him.

“Mm, exactly. See, you’re a smart girl, I knew you would…”

You lean forward, gesturing for him to come closer. Trailing your hand up his arm before cupping it around his ear as you leaned in to whisper a name.

"Walt Finnegan."

And that shuts him right up, allowing you to quickly shuffle your papers together and gather your bag, leaving a shocked Walt Finnegan left behind.

-

After Finn found you that morning in the library, Dale cornered you as you were coming out of class, demanding to know who told you. Then it was McRenyolds, who had shoved a girl off of him, before marching up to you, spouting some bullshit about the sancitity of secret keeping on the team, and how, as captain, he needed to know and some other crap.

The next day, you saw Nez coming out of the cafeteria, and you had to put up with his badgering the entire fifteen minute walk to class. The class that you shared with Coma. And you might as well have skipped it, seeing as you spent the entirety of the fifty five minutes shoving the notes from him off of your desk.

After class, you met up with Heather on the green, practically collapsing onto the blanket she had laid out.

"Rough day?" She asked, a smirk fully gracing her face as she took in her misery.

"Their tenacity is surprising. They have been bugging me all day!" You whine. "It almost makes it not worth it. Almost!"

After you explain your day to her, the two of you lay on the green in silence for a few minutes, before she begins packing up. She still has one more class to attend before she's released for the weekend. Once you confirm your plans for later, she is off.

Flopping back down onto the blanket, you pull out your book, letting out a content sigh.

It’s the first time in days that you aren’t doing homework, or writing articles, or being assaulted by the entire baseball team, or stressing about all three. Your laid out in one of your favorite corners of the green, sun shining down on you as you open your book.

You get five minutes of peace and quiet before Finn sits down next to you, effectively ruining your alone time.

“No!” You shout, the frustration in your tone clear. “No, not right now Finn. This is the first time in days where I haven’t been busy. I've been alone for like, five freaking minutes and…”

"Well, I could give you some peace and quiet if you just tell me the truth!" He says, that signature shit eating smile of his firmly in place. When you stay quiet, he nods. "That's what I thought!"

And then he surprises you, shifting so his back is against the tree next to your blanket, and lifts your legs, pulling them onto his lap. Without another glance at you, he pulls out his own book before opening it to the dog eared page.

Quickly, you snatch your legs back, moving to nail him in the leg, but he's faster then you, wrapping your ankle in a steel grip.

"Ah ah ah, you want peace and quiet don't you?" Then he's gently placing your legs back in his lap.

You gape at him, not quite comprehending what was happening, or what angle he was trying to play. But his focus never strayed from the page.

Now you were torn, if you said something, he would probably start in on you, and you were too tired to really fight him on this today.

Maybe you should just leave it alone, and not look a gift horse in the mouth. You really didn’t want to get up and go inside, and if he was being quiet, then who were you to protest. It also didn’t hurt that he looked really, really good with his dumb fluffy hair and stupid tight shirt that strained across his biceps.

Your decision was made for you as his hand begins sliding up your calf, kneading at the muscles there. You're barely able to catch the moan that threatens to escape.

Suddenly, your assaulted with visions of running your hands through that hair, finding out if it was really as soft as it had always looked invaded your mind, nails raking down that toned back…

“I can feel your staring!” He teased, breaking you out of your trance, and made you snap your attention back down to your book in an attempt to hide the blush that heated your face.

And you tried to focus on your book, you really did. Finn didn’t seem to have any problems paying attention to his. At least, that’s what you told yourself in an attempt to explain why his hand was crawling up your leg. His fingers moving higher as the patterns he was tracing got larger.

Yes, that was it. He was just distracted, and he didn’t realize what he was doing. And he also didn’t realize that you were making absolutely no effort to stop him.

But when you looked up from your book, you found his eyes on yours, a smug smile plastered on his face as he trailed his fingers dangerously high on your inner thigh.

“So, we’ve slept together huh?”

You hum, refusing to break eye contact with him. “Shame you don’t remember, although, with your performance, I’m not surprised you blocked it out.” You had fully intended for the comment to be biting enough to get him to back off. However, your voice came out unexpectedly breathy, undercutting the snark of your words.

A smirk grows on his face as he shifts his weight, bringing his face closer to yours so that he’s whispering right in your ear, his fingers dangerously high close to where your thighs meet.

“I know that’s a lie sweets. You wanna know how I know it’s a lie?”

You know you should push him off you. Finn was a fuck boy, and more then that, right now he was motivated, not to sleep with you, but to get some answers. But instead, you found yourself nodding, the sensible part of your brain having left the second his fingers made contact with you.

“There’s a few reasons. One, you could quite literally cut the tension between us with a knife, but somehow, your managing to keep your hands off me, which means I’ve yet to work my magic on you!”

Your moving to swat Finn away, the moment ruined by the return of Walt FInnegan to his natural state, a cocky asshole. But one again, he's moving too fast for you to comprehend, swinging your legs off of his lap and leaning over so that he's hovering above you, faces inches away from the other.

“Besides sweets, if we fucked, there’s no way in hell I would forget that.”

And then he’s standing, brushing off his jeans and winking before walking away.

You sit in shock for a second, watching as he fades into the throngs of people milling about campus.

Finn won that round, you can admit to that. But there’s no way he’s winning the war. Gathering your things, you plot the entire way back to your room, practically throwing the door open, grinning manically when you see Heather beat you back.

“Get up! Change of plans, we’re going out tonight!”

-

I still don't get why you won't just sleep with him!" Heather whines are she puts the finishing touches on your hair. With a flourish, she spins your around to the mirror, and you smile at what you see there.

"Thanks babe, your a godsend!" She just winks at you before moving to start on her own makeup.

Your original plan had been to stay in and do a movie night, but after Finns stunt earlier, you weren't content to let him have the upper hand for long.

So now, the two of you were getting ready for the Sound Machine, knowing that was the baseball boys party of choice when they weren't throwing their own or out of town.

And, to top it all off, James, a smarmy asshole from your English class had told you he would be there tonight. Which made him the perfect unknowing accomplice in your little game with Finn.

In the back of your head, you knew that you were walking a fine line, especially with Finn. When you had chosen to play that little prank with Roper, you severely underestimated the boys need to know who had told you.

And you never thought that Finn would take this much interest in getting to the bottom of it.

Although now, you were beginning to question if you would have done anything differently.

Your snapped out of your thoughts when Heather emerges from the bathroom, still ranting about the baseball boys.

"At this point Heath, it's a principle thing. I can't go sleeping with the athletes! I would lose all my credibility. Also, I have spent the last three years of my life insulting their very manhood. It would be hypocritical of me to fold now."

"And Walt Finnegan has spent the last three years panting after your ass babes!"

"Oh has he now, is this before or after he's stuck his tongue down three quarters of this school's female population?" You spit back at her.

Walt Finnegan didn't want you. He wanted to win the bet to rub it in his friends faces. He wanted you because he felt like you were unattainable.

And most importantly, he couldn't have wanted you that bad, because he had already had you, and he had forgotten about it.

[official-wonho]

K-pop star Wonho talks about kicking off fan meetups in Houston and new single 'What Would You Do'

Wonho has a sweet message for fans who have been waiting for his return.

"I love music. I love Wenee," he says, referencing the name of his fandom. "I always try my best."

K-pop star Wonho's What Would You Do' music video already has 3.5 million views.Highline Entertainment

A new English-language single, silky pop jam "What Would You Do," dropped last month. The music video has tallied 3.5 million views in less than two weeks. During an early morning (U.S. time) Zoom call, Wonho recalled his memories of Texas, getting through military service and what he listens to on the treadmill.

K-pop star Wonho talks Houston memories and singing in EnglishK-pop star Wonho kicks off his fan meetups in Houston and has a new English-language single called 'What Would You Do'.Joey Guerra

How does it feel to be returning to the U.S. for the first time in five years?

I'm very excited because it's my first time visiting U.S. fans as a solo artist.

What are some of your favorite things about coming here?

I like everything. When I first came to the U.S. fans made me feel great.

You finished your military service in September. What has the transition been like back to everyday life and music?

International fans don't know that much about military service, so they must have been very worried. But it was a special experience for me to learn a lot from. It felt so easy because I was always talking to my fans about what was next while I was in army service. It felt good to think that I would be meeting them soon.

Do you have any memories of being in Houston? What comes to mind when you hear Texas or Houston?

Texas has very delicious food. And it's very hot, I remember. Is it hot there now?

It's been up in the 80s until recently.

Wow. That's amazing. It's very cold in Korea.

Do you like hot or cold weather?

Hot weather. So I like Texas.

What can fans expect at these meetup events?

I'll be singing and dancing. I will also do some challenges and games with fans. I miss you so much, Wenee. I'm coming to you soon. So please look forward to it. And let's have fun.

What was the process like of recording your new song "What Would You Do?"

English is my second language. It's not easy for me to say the words. It's hard every time. But when I try singing, I always think of Wenee and imagine them listening. I'm preparing an album that will probably come out next year. I'm working hard on it.

Is it easier talking or singing in English?

Singing is easier. When I'm talking, I don't always remember (the words). I'm so nervous, and I forget everything.

You're known for staying in shape. How do you do it on the road?

My routine doesn't change. I try to go to the gym after the show and try to eat healthy food. I'm always going on a diet. I don't want to diet but I do it for my fans, of course. I like the leg press. Do you like it?

I should work out a lot more. But I do like the treadmill.

I hate treadmill. But I have to do it.

Who do you listen to when you're on the treadmill?

Charlie Puth, Billie Eilish and Conan Gray.

You're not afraid to change up your look. Where does your sense of style come from?

I like fashion, so sometimes I search for new styles on my phone. I usually look for Japanese brands and designers. I like oversized things, like a big hoodie and wide pants, because they're comfortable.

Source: houstonchronicle.com

[peachetteprice]

Mister Commander | Phillip Graves

Chapter 2 - Tiger Rag

Chapter Summary:

The Collins sit down for a family meal with their new-found guest. Only, he hasn't arrived at the table as of late.

Word count: 3.3K (ish)

CW: Crass language, written by a Brit with no knowledge of Texas...

Sunday was hot. Hotter than hell's boots.

Phillip had been with the Collins - somewhat distanced - for the past week.

Every day, he would go into the woods with Winnie's father with a pocketful of cigarettes and a flask of tequila, and they'd come back in the evening with game, wild hog, deer, rabbit, fish, or any other wild animal they could get their hands on - though, much to their chagrin, Mrs. Collins refused to cook any and all of them. And every evening, as the sun continued its descent behind the hills to the East, Winnie brought an aluminum-tin full of food to Graves' doorstep.

On Sunday, however, there was none of that. Mr. Collins said it was too hot for Phillip to be staying in that 'sauna' and suggested it would be a ripe enough day to have dinner as a collective, Graves included.

Mrs. Collins didn't think herself brave enough to break the news to Winnie, however, so at six - as they took up their seats at the table - Winnie found herself staring at a bare plate and a set of cutlery that had never been there before.

"Momma... are we havin' another guest?"

"Nope. Phillip's eatin' with us tonight." Mr. Collins cleared his throat. "He'll sit there."

Winnie glanced at her father, who was too busy scratching at a rust stain on his fork to notice her ample grievance. Mrs. Collins, however, caught her eye during her round of napkin-passing and surely spotted it.

"Stop with those eyes, Winnie. Phillip Graves is a guest."

She huffed. "Sure. Phillip Graves hasn't once tried to be a guest. Every evening, I walk over to his cabin, and every evening, he slams open his door and grabs his dinner like it was a damn burden for him to even bend down--"

"--You keep those comments in your own head, little miss Collins." Mr. Collins grumbled. It was a terrible grumble, the sort of grumble only a father with waning patience could muster. "Pro'lly is a burden for him to bend down with that shoulder. That's why he's out with me most of the time... gets his mind off the wound, alright. Can't blame him for bein' anti-social."

"Can, and absolutely will for as long as he's--"

"Phillip!" Mrs. Collins exclaimed joyously, wafting a ladle as if it were an Olympic baton. "How nice of ya to join us! Gosh, I didn't even hear ya come in! Take a seat, please, get comfy. It's grilled steak and potatoes on the menu tonight."

Winnie didn't dare look him in the eye. He didn't deserve it. Not after his treatment of her own mother, refusing her cooking until it was too late in the evening to eat it comfortably.

It was too easy to recall her mother's flustered state, scrounging like a rat in a pantry for cutlery and crockery - not forgetting the can of Cola - only for Winnie to bring it to his doorstep as if she was his servant.

As if it wasn't thirty-two steps from his door to their front porch and another twelve to the kitchen.

Even after he sat, she paid him no mind. No attention. Only once did her eyes cross his path, in passing, and as soon as they did, they promised never to meet it again.

"Hot outside, ain't it? Inside, too..." Mr. Collins licked sheepishly at a glass of Scotch.

Winnie, wine.

Graves, beer.

"Sure is." Graves leant against the table.

Winnie felt the wood tilt beneath her elbows - she wrenched both arms into her lap instead.

"Wonderin' where Bonnie is with the food..." Mr. Collins hummed. "Gonna have to move the sheep to the East field at some point... got a Chevy needin' repairs in the barn, too." His lips smacked after every sentence. "You gon' help me with that, Phillip?"

"Bastard, makin' me do all that shit that I don't wanna do..." He scoffed.

Mr. Collins raked with laughter.

Winnie didn't watch it happen, of course, but she heard it - a button popped. Another sliver of Graves' sternum appeared into view, beneath his blue cotton shirt. A sparse number of hairs tickled his chest, though he was mostly bare.

If she didn't have such a kink in her eyebrows, she might have noticed the better half of his looks. The way the evening sun caught his tan. The way it grabbed him by the hollow of his cheeks. The way it caught the strands of blonde in his hair and turned them golden.

"Where's Momma with the food? I'm starvin..." Winnie swallowed half of her wine glass in just two gulps. "Y'know, I can help ya with the sheep, Daddy--"

"--When d'ya need 'em movin' then? Next week?"

Winnie clawed at her table mat. She clobbered a mean silence.

"No rush. Few weeks." Mr. Collins shrugged. He then delved a pinky into his ear canal and gave it a twist. "You say somethin', Winnie? You know I can't hear well out of my right. Those IEDs pack a punch, don't they, Phil?"

"Sure do." He approved.

Winnie watched Graves' chest inflate with a breath - though nothing much above - then, after a few seconds, deflate.

"Doesn't matter, Daddy. I was just... I can help ya with the sheep if you need it."

"Why don't you and Graves do it together? Now, there's a million-dollar idea. Y'ever wrangled sheep before, Phil?"

His groan suggested he had never.

Then, and only then, did Winnie decide to gaze at his face. And, much to her bafflement, he was already watching her right back. Hazel blues, pierced and primed for her stern attitude to dissolve. Even still, he didn't much acknowledge her, for what it was worth. His eyes moved across, up, then somewhat down, before they cast off entirely to the right, where they narrowed with lust.

And, with a tight jaw, he whistled. "Ouch-- Bonnie - those steaks are lookin' fine. God, I've missed your cookin'."

"Who would'a guessed..." Winnie chided, much too suddenly and quietly for anyone to hear, except Graves. Whether he understood what she was referring to at all was beyond her level of care.

The table sparked with conversation once everyone had had their fill.

All four beef steaks had since disappeared, leaving a bloodied puddle of juice on the plate from whence they came. The remaining potatoes had been set aside for potato salad for the next day's lunch, and a mound of grits collected a crust in the bottom of the pan. To set delight along Mrs. Collins' lips (she was never much of a grits connoisseur, having grown up in Georgia), Mr. Collins went about churning spoonful of it into his stomach.

And when he'd finally exhausted the room in his pouch, to the extent of unbuttoning his jeans and making his shirt slack, he stood to help his wife swap the dishes out for dessert.

Chestnut pie - picked straight from the woods. Mrs. Collins hadn't ceased about how perfectly they'd behaved when grinding them down for butter. It was a stunning pie. Caramel brown; it steamed as she segmented it carefully, slice after slice, into equal triangles so as to not spoil anyone's temperament.

It was such a lavish dinner that, as they silently indulged in the woody scent of baked chestnuts and the sharpness of fresh dollopped cream on top, Winnie had forgotten what she'd sworn to herself earlier that evening.

As the spoon hit her tongue, her gaze meandered. Up, up, up, and right to rest on a vein along Graves' forearm. She hadn't known how firm they were - not that it should have been a very common thing to notice - until then, when the sun had dipped beyond its reach and simmered the dining room in all manners of orange.

It made the valleys, the rivers, and the streams of his arms appear taught, free-flowing with blood. The veins coasted about his skin as if they had been eroding him for millenia. When they dipped past his wrist and over the mound of his knuckles, they split into brooks and disappeared along his fingertips.

How a man of his calibre - his age, no doubt - could boast such raw beauty - of such a vexing degree - similar to that of the crests, peaks, troughs, basins, and gorges of her life in Texas, was simply astounding.

So astounding, in fact, that for all of three minutes, Winnie hadn't mouthed a word. Not a peep from her lips until the ambling drone of her father cut through the static, muffled laughter ensued, and her mother asked, as clear as the glass in the greenhouse;

"Phillip. When are you going to get a wife, already? You're eating us outta house and home every time you come 'round."

Winnie was back before she knew it, before she'd even taken her eyes off that one pesky vein on Graves' arm and before she'd even gained control over her eyes and the aching kink in her neck from staring him down for the better half of Al Green's Love and Happiness.

He raised his glass. "It's cause you're a damn fine cook, Bonnie. Can't get away from ya. I love a woman who can fix together steak and grits like it's the last meal she'll ever make."

Winnie smiled. She'd finally clued in, eyes lighting with recognition that wasn't present earlier - and it was best to be genial. "That's momma, for ya. She loves her food."

"Yeah, and it doesn't like my waistline..."

Mr. Collins, naturally, began his tirade that his wife was just as, if not more, beautiful as the day they'd met. Mrs. Collins, on the other hand, perked with laughter and gave him a coy clap across the chest.

Then, for at least forty seconds, maybe longer, the pair of them were cutthroat for the matter of humility. Mr. Collins chided that Mrs. Collins was as dainty as a daisy in a field, which she denied, and Mrs. Collins insisted that Mr. Collins was as dependable as the statue of Adam, which he also denied, and neither seemed to want to relent any time soon.

It was a plain argument, the stuff nobody would tip a pot over.

So they jousted for a while, as Graves and Winnie scraped the last of their pies. In good time, when Mr. and Mrs. Collins had at last come to the conclusion that neither was more or less stunning than the other, did Graves, beneath the commotion, ask;

"You cook much, Winnie?"

For the second time only that evening, Winnie met his gaze. Something inside it felt inviting - if only he had that glint in his eye on the porch last week. Perhaps it was the first time he'd extended an olive branch - it was certainly the first time he'd addressed her solely - but nothing about the depth of his eyes felt insincere, nor disinterested, nor anything malicious of the sort.

It was the kind of gaze that might have liked to be explored.

"No... no, not much, sir." She murmured.

"Sir?" He retorted, light as a feather. And then, with much raucousness, laughed to her father and asked, "You got her to call me sir, Steve? You're that much of a little shit to your own daughter, huh?"

"You're a veteran in my books, Graves," Mr. Collins took a healthy glug of Scotch to wet his throat, even if he had to give it a minute for the burn to settle, "a good woman has to know her manners."

"Manners?" Phillip scoffed.

Winnie slid out a smile, if only for the fact that her father had a smear of cream along his chin. "I know my manners just fine, don't I, Daddy?"

"Do ya?" Graves uttered. He didn't bother to meet her emphatic stare. Instead, he pawed and scraped at the mushed remains of his chesnut pie, wolfing it down like a starved man - as if he hadn't gorged himself on steak and potatoes prior to dessert.

Seconds trickled by as the ever-so-ignorant Mr. Collins turned to Mrs. Collins for a napkin - so that he might wipe the whipped cream from his face - at which point, Graves snuck once more into conversation, with a voice so hushed it could have only been meant for one person, "Might wanna teach a woman to knock a lil' quieter..."

It was the sort of comment her Daddy couldn't have heard.

So, Winnie's gaze flickered up. Not so far up that she met his face - she didn't want to make it the third - but not so far down that her eyes chased that one vein beneath his sleeve. Safe enough between the two extremes that, from the tilt of his chin, she could tell: his eyes were on her.

It seemed, after a while, that service was not over. Pie had been gorged on, sure, but conversation trickled as it had done for hours, with no end in sight. It had been so long at the dinner table that, much to Mrs. Collins' future disagreement, the remaining chesnut pie had lost its warmth, the whipped cream had since deflated and ran liquid, and, even still, nobody had realised the faucet was running from before dinner had initially been brought out.

"You never said, Winnie. What did y'do before comin' back here?" Graves sipped at his Scotch. There was a pool of condensation beside him, that he wouldn't touch with a napkin. If his glass wasn't sliding across the table, he wouldn't drink from it.

"Worked up in Dallas. Lived there, too. Used to be a financial accountant, you know, dealin' with numbers."

Graves stuck a thumb into Steve's face. "Like your Daddy after he retired from the field? You take after him pretty good. Heard ya... heard y'had a boyfriend or somethin' back there, too? Things turn' sour?"

"Not... not sour. Things... just happened." She corrected, stabbing a few asparagus onto her fork. "He tried me, once. Y'know how it is... never turned back after the second time."

"An' he let a pretty lil' thing like you get away?" An eyebrow twitched; he reached for another swig of scotch. Winnie would have said something, perhaps, if his tone wasn't so dismissive, and if he hadn't rushed right along the connotations. "You'll have suitors around the block for you in no time. Ain't that right, Bonnie? You were a bit-of-a catch in your day."

"Still is." Mr. Collins elbowed Graves.

"I am not." Bonnie caught a hand at her hip. "But, I admit, you should'a seen me ten years ago. You would'a had a go at me, too, Graves--"

He scoffed, holding his hands in mock defeat. "--You know what, I just might have done."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't've." He clapped a hand on Graves shoulder. The good one - he knew better than to kick a man when he was down. "I'm glad our Winnie took after Bonnie, here. Wouldn't wanna be chasin' a man down with this face."

Graves chuckled. "Yeah, cause they'd be runnin' the other way--"

"--You shut your mouth." Mr. Collins slapped the back of Graves' head.

The table was quiet for some time as the raucousness died. Only after a few minutes did someone say something, and like most times before it, that person was Phillip Graves.

"So, you take after your mother, Winnie?" Though he was still reeling from his laughter, shoulders sagging with every beat of amusement.

"No, I--"

Bonnie, mid-scoop of pie, wildly thrust the ladle toward Winnie. "--She does. Won't let her deny it. Wants to, 'cause she thinks she ain't pretty, but she takes after me!"

"Alright." She chuckled. "Momma says I look like her when she was young." Winnie shrugged. "Though she says my hair ain't as curly and my nose ain't the right shape--"

"--And she doesn't have my gums. She has her father's gums."

Winnie snorted. "Yeah. Daddy's gums, momma's... teeth, supposedly."

Graves shrugged. "Whatever gets y'there..."

Mr. Collins asked for another round of pie, next, even if she explained that it had long gone cold and the cream was flat - but there was too much left and he didn't want it causing Bonnie any upset - and they went circling the table for another few rounds of red wine, beer, and scotch (whatever matched their penchant), until they'd all but exhausted the modicum of vacancy in their stomachs, collectively slumping back into their chairs as the delirium of late-evening settled in.

That was, until, after some time - wishing to crack open a window and get to washing up - Mrs. Collins clamboured from her seat. "Well, I better start gettin' some of these dishes in before the sauce crusts down."

"I'll help ya with that, Bonnie," Graves stood.

Winnie stood after him, catching his curiosity. He was busy hoisting the belt of his trousers after being sat for so long, and stretched out his shoulders like her father did when it was time to dust the house.

"Sit." Winnie chimed. "Guests are guests. I'll help ya, Momma."

Mrs. Collins glanced between the two of them - it was a feast for her eyes. "Goodness. Well, one a' you help me!"

"Y'want me to sit around while you ladies clean the table? Can't do that. My Momma raised me better." Graves held his hands on his hips, half-intent on sliding plates along plates, and cutlery over those same plates - the sort of passive-aggressiveness Winnie despised from a man.

"Yes." She swatted his hand away, catching a twinge of provocation. "Now, sit."

Mr. Collins whistled. "You better just si'down, Phillip. She's got a temper on her like nothin' you've ever seen. Worse than her mother."

To which, Mrs. Collins shouted back from the kitchen, a muffled but audible, 'I heard that!'

By nine, Winnie regretted even opening her mouth. The exponential pile of dishes that stretched from one end of the kitchen to the other could have rivalled that of a hoarder's. For one meal for four people, out of the three that she'd cooked that day, she managed to use a mandolin and each of its attachments, of which there were six. Crinkle cut, straight cut, slivers, chunks, thin slices, and thick slices.

And all were a bitch to clean.

Winnie was on the 'slivers' attachment when she heard footsteps at the door. "Momma, how'd ya manage to use this many appliances? I'm half expecting the coffee machine to appear outta nowhere..."

A gruff voice replied - one she'd learned the sound of, though didn't like to hear. "Sorry, sweetheart. I ain't y'Momma."

"Well, can ya get her, please? I wanna ask how she managed to use both of our Dutch ovens." She gestured wildly at them on the drying rack; soapy water dribbled down the ankle of her gloves. "Seriously. How does one woman use both of 'em for beef steaks, potatoes, grits, and chestnut pie..."

Graves chuckled, and soon, he was beside the drying rack, back against the cupboards, towel in hand, swiping away the remnants of water.

"Thought my Daddy told you to si'down."

"Your Daddy's out back, choppin' wood for Bonnie's kiln, although I ain't seen her use it in years." He arranged the dinner plates into a neat stack. "And I'm sick of smellin' the remnants of dinner when I could be helpin'."

"Well - thank you, but I don't need your help."

"I know that." He dried another plate, and added it to the pile.

Was this some sort of a challenge?

A moment's silence, then; "Y'got a hair in your eyes."

"I know that." She spat his words right back, huffing the piece of hair away, just for it to fall back against her nose. "Damned... thing."

Graves dried his hands and hooked the rag over his belt. "C'mere. I got it." He reached for the strand, and Winnie paused with bated breath, waiting until he'd hooked it over her ear before she inhaled, lest she catch a whif of his cologne. "There ya go."

"Thanks." She mumbled, though it came out more like a disgruntled slur - because she couldn't quite get over the softness of his fingertips against her temple.

| Chapter Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[lightofraye]

All About Glen

I'm in the mood for something... easy.

Or, rather, I thought this would be easy. Then I went deep diving and have yet to surface. This post will likely edited a few more times in the next few days (maybe? I'll let you know either way), so keep an eye out!

So... who is Glen Powell? Besides a possible new rising star in Hollywood. (Certainly his upcoming projects say he's in high demand!)

Come with me, and I shall tell you!

Also, I had so much fun diving into his background! Learned more about this guy than I realized!

(And I also turned my daughter into a Glen Powell fan! I'll explain why/how in a bit!)

Raised in Austin, Texas, born on October 21, 1988, to Glen Powell Sr and Cyndy Powell, he's the middle child of three. And the only boy. He has an older sister named Lauren and a younger sister, Leslie. Named after his father, the Original Glen (no, seriously, that's his Instagram!), Glen was a child actor. He started performing with the Austin Musical Theater program when he was in the fifth grade, learning to tap dance--according to Leslie, there is video evidence--and appearing in The Music Man and 42nd Street.

Oh, he explored all sorts of extracurriculars' growing up. Football, lacrosse, all sorts. However, his passion and fascination were movies.

The actor recalled that he would be “picking dandelions” in the outfield while playing baseball as a kid, and his parents, Cyndy and Glen Sr., were ready to let him try something else.

“I played violin for a bit, and all of a sudden, I was like, ‘No, not into this anymore.’ They let me give it up,” he continued, noting they were supportive until Powell found something he “really loved.” That’s where his acting career comes in.

At the precious age of 5, his father took him to see Steven Spielberg's megahit, Jurassic Park, in the summer of 1993. Glen ended up watching the movie multiple times in theaters, and again on home video, trying to figure out the secrets of the film's special effects.

In an interview with Austin Monthly, Glen said he began making his own science fiction films growing up. He'd use a home video camera, computer, recruited his friends to be actors, and searched for props in his family's basement. Seeing this, his parents encouraged him to enroll in acting classes.

His second grade project was on Steven Spielberg's use of practical effects in Jurassic Park. In 2003, when he was 14, he got his first movie role as "long-fingered boy" in Spy Kids 3: Game Over. His location in Austin helped him land the role. Director Robert Rodriguez discovered Powell, then 14, while looking for "local hires" to accompany the primarily Los Angeles-based cast.

"You're just trying to find someone locally that won't get nervous, that'll give a performance that kind of measures up to the other actors. He walks in with a stature and confidence and just nails it," Rodriguez told IndieWire. "So now, it's no surprise to see [he made it as an actor], but he already had that quality at 14 and clarity of vision that that's what he was supposed to be."

Two years later, he played a paperboy in The Wendell Baker Story, a part that required him to get hit by a car, which he practiced with his mother in a church parking lot.

In 2006, everything changed. His mother, Cyndy, drove him five hours to Shreveport, La., to audition for Denzel Washington, who was directing and starring in The Great Debaters. Powell got the part--and a powerful agent: Ed Limato, who represented Washington.

Powell also starred in Fast Food Nation (2006), and The Hottest State (2006) over the next few years.

Still in high school at Westwood, Powell even considered deprioritizing his acting career until receiving a pep talk from Denzel Washington during the filming of The Great Debaters. In the movie, Powell played Harvard University student Preston Whittington and impressed the two-time Oscar winner. "Denzel Washington really pushed me out of the nest a bit and said, 'You should double-down on yourself. You should give [acting] a shot'," Powell said.

A year later, Limato called Powell in his dorm room at the University of Texas at Austin.

"Ed said, 'If you're going to spin the wheel on an acting career, now is the time to do it'," Powell said.

Taking a chance, Powell dropped out of college and moved to Los Angeles in 2008. “Ed always told me, over and over, that the definition of a movie star is somebody who guys want to grab a beer with — fun, not threatening — and who women want to date and bring home to meet their parents,” Powell said.

Limato had a history of helping turn actors into big stars--among his clients? Mel Gibson, Richard Gere, and Kevin Costner. Limato also gave Powell a crucial career tip: Don’t take on a role in a big franchise too soon, however tempting the paycheck; stars are built in smaller movies of varied genres.

Unfortunately for Powell, Limato died two years later, leaving him without an advocate.

It was a rough and learning time for Glen. He supported himself through coaching community sports and small acting jobs (a Dockers commercial, an episode of The Lying Game, a cable series).

Not long after Powell moved to Los Angeles, Limato introduced him to Lynda Obst, a fellow Texan and a producer of hits like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Contact, and Sleepless in Seattle. She hired Powell as an intern, a job that involved reading scripts and giving feedback.

It helped him learn how Hollywood ran.

Obst recalled, "He was adorable--charm off the charts. But that is not what impressed me, and it's not why he's succeeding." She went on: "Actors can turn on charm, but they can't turn on intelligence. Glen is smart and learned about developing scripts and the structure in movies. It made him independent and wily."

He eventually got dropped by the William Morris Endeavor talent agency. He began to question whether superstardom was even achievable anymore. He took to writing scripts and sold several to help keep himself afloat during his shaky start.

Glen took Washington's advice and gradually began appearing in more prominent titles, including the Christopher Nolan-directed Batman movie, The Dark Knight Rises, in 2012 as an unnamed Gotham Stock Exchange Trader. He also appeared in the ensemble movie, The Expendables 3, in 2014, appearing alongside action stars such as Sylvester Stallone, Harrison Ford, and Arnold Schwarzenegger.

In 2016, he played astronaut John Glenn in Hidden Figures. Glen was cited as saying that upon viewing a rough cut of the film with unfinished special effects, he was critical of his performance. "I just remember being like 'I ruined this beautiful movie, the legacy of these amazing women'," he explained in an interview with Variety.

Fortunately, critics and the audience disagreed--the movie made more than $230 million at the box office and received an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture.

He took a detour into comedy for his next roles, including the teen movie Everybody Wants Some!! (2016), and the Netflix rom-com Set It Up (2018).

In between all that, he went onto a recurring role on Scream Queens (Ryan Murphy's show on Fox), and appear in The Guernsey Literary and Potato Pie Society. He's even done voice roles, such as the Netflix cartoon, Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous, and an episode of Rick and Morty.

How he got the huge leap to everyone's attention was something he nearly turned down. He lost out on blockbuster roles including Captain America, Han Solo in Solo, in addition to pieces in films ranging from Friday Night LIghts to Cowboys & Aliens and The Longest Ride.

His break was something he nearly missed out on.

When Miles Teller beat him out of the part of Rooster in Top Gun: Maverick, and Tom Cruise and director Joe Kosinski offered him the role of Hangman instead.

The problem?

"If I were editing this movie, I would cut him out immediately," Powell said to British GQ. The original version of the character was a lousy pilot who made it to Top Gun through nepotism, a storyline Powell thought did the film a disservice.

Luck was with him. Cruise and Kosinski decided to hear him out and ended up convinced, rewriting the character based on Powell's notes.

“What we were talking about is, how can Hangman service the story and give the flavour of the original Top Gun that you need?” Powell said.

“I said my piece to Tom about what I do and what I do well, and he listened. Tom’s a listener. He listens to the crew members, he listens to his collaborators, and he hears people.”

And good thing he did — Top Gun: Maverick went on to become a box office phenomenon, and Powell’s career got the kickstart he had waited so long for.

2022 was his year. He appeared in the war drama Devotion, the Netflix animated comedy Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Childhood, and Top Gun: Maverick. The latter, the sequel to the 1986 vehicle--became the biggest movie of the year, grossing nearly $1.5 billion at the global box office.

Powell underwent extensive training for the film, including underwater escape simulations and flights in F-18 aircraft to prepare for the G-forces he would experience on camera. Cruise even paid for the actor to complete flight school as a Christmas present, allowing Powell to earn his pilot's license.

We all know what happened after this. His role with Sydney Sweeney on Anyone But You brought him even more attention. His future projects will keep him busy for at least a couple of years. (He did tease he has a start date for Top Gun 3, but has refused to say more than that.)

He's been romantically linked to Nina Dobrev in 2017, Australian TV host Renee Bargh from 2018 to 2019. He began dating model Gigi Paris, starting in 2020. We know in April of 2023, they broke up for good.

Glen Powell Sr, his father, was an executive coach. His mother? A stay at home mom. Leslie is working on her career as a singer, and was fortunate enough to have had a song be used for the Olympics!

Both parents have trolled the hell out of Glen during the premiere of Hit Man. In a way, his family is what keeps Glen grounded.

Amusingly, Us Weekly described his parents as the first ever nepo parents.

“The greatest gift that my parents gave me is never making me sit in things I didn’t want to sit in and letting me chase the passions I wanted to chase, no matter what,” Powell, 35, told Us Weekly exclusively while promoting his new movie Twisters. “I am really grateful for my parents for not trying to deter me from a job that has such a low success rate.”

As his fame continued to rise, his parents have made various cameos in his movies over the years.

His Instagram is full of photos of behind the scenes, with family, and of course, Brisket.

There was a rumor that Glen was opening a restaurant in Austin. This has been researched and debunked. I did go into detail about his future projects here.

--

So how did I convert my daughter into a fan?

Because I was talking to her about the gossip regarding him and Sydney Sweeney. I showed her the photos, then I showed her how he was with his other female costars.

With Adria Arjona from Hit Man.

With Daisy Edgar-Jones from Twisters.

And her first thought: "He makes them comfortable. He's safe. That's why they're so relaxed."

In that instant, she became a fan. That's all it took.

So yeah. Got fans here.

We're looking forward to more about this green-eyed Texan!

--

BONUS: Glen also is rather hilarious on Twitter! Check this out!

Hilariously, he decided to run with it!

We love a star who can make a joke like this!

Sources (with blatant lifts when possible): New York Times (using web archive due to paywall) Entertainment Weekly Us Weekly Biography Los Angeles Time Variety *I freely admit/acknowledge I relied on existing writing to put all this together. I added, rearranged, edited, as necessary. I am grateful to the access of this information that allowed me to compile this biography!

[accessible-tumbling]

Video description: The Quora site is displayed and the narrator, who has a British accent and is speaking quickly and excitedly, opens by reading from it: "My MacBook Air weighs 2.3 pounds. If I download more files on it, will it make it heavier?

"This is Quora," he continues. "A place where once grand intellectual questions would be mused over. But if you recall, 2 years ago we sadly bid farewell to our friend, Yahoo Answers, a place where those sorts of questions didn't happen, and in that time it seems many Yahoo users have made Quora their new home.

"Do chimpanzees get pregnant? Does anyone live on the sun? How high do planes fly when landing? What percentage of people are going to die? Do lesbians get periods?"

(A response to that question is read in a gruff tone:) "Oh, come on! Where the hell are you getting that question?"

"You are sleeping with your partner and suddenly realize that he/she is a ghost. What would you do? Are there werewolves in Texas? Why does the sausage have two ends? What happens to the time it takes to actually time travel into the past/future? Which hole does an actress push out a baby in a birth sense?"

(Another answer is read:) "She doesn't. She acts."

"I heard that in the Middle Ages, nobles used to wipe their butts with ducklings. Is that right?"

(Response, gruffly:) "No!"

"Is it true that pregnant women should not sleep during a lunar or solar eclipse as it may cause harm to the unborn?"

(Response:) "No. That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

"Can I sue Germany for putting my grandfather in prison for 7 years in the second world war?"

(Response:) "No, no, no, no, no!"

"Can you think of a sentence that contains the words 'book' and 'crabs'?"

(Response:) "Well, yes, I can."

"Why does the 'bros' abbreviation for 'brothers' end in 's' instead of 'th'?"

(Response:) "Because that would spell 'broth'."

"Do rich people get embarrassed that their servants know what their stuff in the toilet looks like?"

(Response:) "This is a very weird question."

"What happens when we wash vessel and use it with water in which a lizard was dead? Is it poisonous? What can we do?"

(Response:) "Uhh..."

"Why does the United States promote homosexuality and not consider what happened in the petrified village of Pompeii?"

(Response:) "Wha…?"

"How can I have sex with Asia?"

(Response:) "Pretty sure you mean an Asian girl."

"Is Israel on the world map? Are the Irish really from Ireland? My son speaks Arabic. (in a panicked, shouting tone:) What do I do? Does India have airports?"

(Response:) "Putin came to India in 2014 swimming in the ocean. I have a photo to prove." (A flash of a picture of Putin swimming can be seen briefly at this point in the video.)

"Where do animals live? Why are things? What is my date of birth? Do you know a microscope? Real mathematicians (in all caps): I have 5 live cows and then I multiply them by 0. How then do you come and tell me that I end up with 0? Where did the 5 go? Which is larger: 0 or 2+7? Math math what is angle?

(Narrator comment: "I do believe this Quora user was intending to ask 'what are the names of the most powerful angels?' but…) What are the names of moist powerful angles? I'm an atheist who believes in God. What should I do? Why do atheists watch fiction movies? During airplane turbulence, how do atheists keep calm?"

(Narrator comment: "This question I could only find an old link for, even Quora went nowhere, not even, that is way too stupid:) How do atheists know what foods are 'sweet' versus 'sour' or 'bitter'?

"I am 11 and stand at 5 foot 2. Am I obese? Do celebrities fart? What's the meaning of a single white egg left at my door? (narrator's comment: that is weird.)

"My mom slapped her own bum in front of me what does that mean? Is this correct, 'similarvgbhujkljhgtyhujk'? Why is Zelda so 'thicc' in Breath of the Wild? Do demons always say 'I am a demon' when they are introduced? Is it possible to balance your entire body on your penis?"

(Response:) " Yes, but I'm scared of heights."

"I saw the cop the gay eating a raw bird in my backyard. What should I do?" (Narrator comment: "I became a bit obsessed with this question, it's so indecipherable and googled it for clues to find apparently there was much debate on the site about whether this was a weird autocorrect from 'cat'. Which word was supposed to be cat?")

"Can deaf people laugh out loud? Can deaf people do surfing? How do def people know what facial expressions look like and how they're used outside of American Sign Language (ASL)? If so, how do they learn about them if there's no way to see someone else make that face?" (Narrator comment: "I mean, I don't think there's any intelligent questions actually left on this site, is there? Who's asking 'Can music cause candle to light?' Obviously, no!")

"Do people still eat mashed potatoes? (Yes!) Can semen travel up your foot? (No,, it cannot.) Is the word 'stay asleep' alwasy spelled 'J'? (I don't even know what that means.) Do lobsters pee from their faces? (Uh, ugh, are you mad? Obviously no!)"

(Response:) "Yes, as others have pointed out, many crustaceans have two different types of excretory organs, both near the head. Usually only one is used, depending on the age of the animal. Lobsters and crabs, etc, use their urine smell like cats, to mark territory, warn rivals, etc." (Uh..oh.)"

The screen goes white and the scene transitions to footage of the narrator walking up to a door. He places an egg on the mat, then runs away.

End video description.

[copperbadge]

(for when you're less stabby but still productively salty)

Statements of (assumed) fact: - You enjoy mustard - You know a lot about mustard varieties - You enjoy BBQ - You have ties to Texas Violence: Rank the various types of regional BBQ

It took me so long to be less stabby!

We talked about this a bit but for the benefit of the readers, I recall saying that while I do enjoy barbecue I'm not any kind of expert about it. Although I did the other day have a conversation with someone from Texas who asked, "So did you find any good barbecue in Chicago yet?" and I said "Uhhhhhhhh not really?" and he was like I KNOW RIGHT

There's ok barbecue here, but nothing especially great. I know that there's great barbecue somewhere on the South Side but I'm never down there so I don't get much chance to sample. And as he pointed out, Texas-style and Chicago-style are very different.

IDK, my love of being a snob about things is warring with my love of sampling true regional cuisine, so it's hard to rank regional barbecue when I want to eat all of it. I do love a sweet sauce, I'd rather have sweet than hot, so I think my tastes generally run towards midwestern, KC-style. For the same reason I like Carolina, because it's that mix of mustard and sweet. I'm big on burnt tips and smoked turkey and I do think you get a lot more of that outside of Texas, where it seems like it's always about ribs and brisket.

But also, because I ate a pretty limited diet as a kid especially when dining out, one of the foods I love most in the world is a grilled hamburger, even though a lot of people don't consider burgers to be barbecue (and of course purists don't consider "grilling" to be barbecue). But if there's a grill going I want to slap some burgers on it. Or some teriyaki chicken skewers. This is probably my California showing.

So I think probably like...KC-style, then Carolina, then Texas, then like, northern-midwest where I am now, and then whatever's happening anywhere west of Texas. But also: hamburgers.

Come to think of it, I don't know if the northeast has a barbecue tradition. Y'all got good cue out there? Don't get me wrong, I love a lobster roll or some steamed crab or slow-cooked baked beans, but I don't think I've ever seen a recipe for like, Maine Smoked Pork Belly.

Anyway I do love A Meat cooked over A Fire in A Sauce, which I feel is what counts. :D

[annaphoenix1994]

Veruca Salt

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

The following morning, Simon spent the few minutes after he awoke to stare at Kiera's face as she was in a deep sleep. Her mouth agape, strands of hair from her bun poking out like strands of alfalfa and her eyebrows furrowed. He knew she'd immediately hide her face from him if she knew she looked the way she did while she slept, but he admired it. The way he saw it, she was relaxed and truly needed it. 

When he checked his phone, he mentally sighed when he noticed that Johnny had texted him:

Easing out of the bed after placing a delicate kiss to Kiera's forehead, he closed the curtains to keep any sunlight from beaming into their room to wake her up before he walked into the kitchen, smirking at the can of Dr. Pepper she snuck into the fridge for her to enjoy during lunch, knowing she wasn't supposed to have it. Like a little ferret, that girl, he chuckled to himself. 

She stirred at the sound of Simon rummaging through the kitchen as he took it upon himself to mix one of the prenatal drinks together she had been drinking throughout their trip, remembering how she would recall that the extra vitamins seemed to help her with any fatigue and discomfort she would experience throughout the day. After mixing it into the glass, he reached for the water bottle she had been drinking out of that was in the strainer before putting it back into the fridge, taking a bottle of water for himself before sneaking into the bathroom to freshen up, sending Soap a quick text to meet him at the gym as he assumed Teeter was still sleeping too, the men desperate to blow off steam before a day of festivities with their women. 

And by festivities, he knew he and Soap shared the dread of getting brunch and watching Kiera and Teeter talk about the many dresses they knew they wouldn't buy. 

»»-------¤-------««

"And that's when I told that fucker to stick it where the sun don't shine," Teeter complained to Kiera from across the table at the nearby cafe. "I hope the people are nicer here." 

"Well, they're certainly more polite when they tell you to fuck off." Simon poked. 

"I ain't so polite." Teeter replied. 

"That much is obvious." Kiera giggled. 

"Here, are you goin' to try this or not?" Soap asked her, a scone in his hand as it had been offered to her for a few moments already. 

She looked down at his hand, furrowed her brows before she replied, "I don't want that hard biscuit." 

"It's not a biscuit." 

"I know it ain't," She scoffed. "That's a damn rock, baby." 

"They're actually really good." Kiera added, sipping from her water bottle of the prenatal mixture. 

She hesitated before she took the scone from Soap's hand and peeled a piece from it before putting it in her mouth, Soap laughing at her disgusted expression. "Be better with some chocolate gravy-"

"Steamin' Jesus. You don't have to put gravy on everything! You're supposed to at least try the food here, but instead you ordered a sweet tea and chips."

"Listen here, I'm from Texas - I drink a glass of Coke for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with nine glasses of sweet tea in between. I ain't finishin' that hard biscuit unless I got gravy to smother it and a couple o' eggs to go with it." 

"If you say so." Soap shook his head.  

"What part of Texas are you from again?" Kiera asked, still curious as to where exactly she was from. 

"Texarkana." 

"What side of the river?" 

"North side." 

"That is fucking Arkansas," Kiera poked. "Don't tell people you're from Texas. It all makes sense now." 

"What I say goes, baby," She hummed. "K, you wanna come with me to get some jewelry for the ball tomorrow?" 

"In a minute, I'll catch up. I'm going to finish my scone." She giggled. 

"Aight then," She sighed, standing to her feet after kissing Soap's cheek. "Call me when ye on yer way." 

"I will."

»»-------¤-------««

Teeter snuck a well-craved ounce of tobacco between her bottom lip and teeth as she walked into the boutique. She was dressed in her casual clothes, except she refrained from wearing her favorite Cactus Ropes hat. She nodded at the shopkeeper, saying "howdy" instead of "good day." 

The woman seemed disgusted with Teeter's appearance. Not that Teeter cared.

Until the woman decided to make her uncomfortable within her shop. 

"Is there anything I can help you with today?" 

"Jus lookin', ma'am. Thank ye though." Teeter babbled. 

"I-I'm sorry?" 

"I said I'm just lookin'," She repeated, nearly in a scoff. "I ain't picked out nothin' yet. I just got here." 

She continued to browse along the jewelry as well as some of the flattering tops that she decided against, taking a few pieces of jewelry into her hand to examine it closer, finding a pair of earrings that suited her taste. "How much'r these?" 

"Fifteen pound sterling." 

"Who the hell is sterling?" 

"Looks like we have an American hick to deal with." The woman mumbled to her coworker in a low tone, thinking Teeter wouldn't hear judging by how idiotic she looked to her. 

"The fuck you just say to me?" She scoffed, taking it upon herself to spit the excess tobacco onto the boutique's floor. "I ain't no hick, lady. If you think I am, I'll beat ye like one if that's what ye want?" 

"I didn't say anything, ma'am-"

"I ain't no queen of England. Don't call me ma'am." 

"I-I'm sorry. Th-Those earrings are fifteen pounds." 

"They feel like an ounce to me!" 

Idiot, the shopkeeper scoffed to herself. "Eighteen dollars in United States dollars, ma- miss." 

"Why ain't you say so then?" 

"I'm sorry, I just assumed you were not from here-"

"I sure ain't," Teeter shook her head. "Ye know what? I ain't buyin' shit here." 

Tossing the earrings back onto the counter, Teeter began to walk towards the door when the other worker blocked the front door. "I'll get you out of my way, lady." She warned. 

"That will be physical harm." 

"That's why I'm sayin' it." 

"Is that a threat?" 

"It's a promise. Now move." 

"I'm afraid I can't." 

"It's alright, Emily. I have the police on dial." 

"What'd I do aside from threatenin' your worker to move out of my way?" 

"For stealing merchandise." 

"Hold yer fuckin' horses. I ain't stole shit!" 

"I hear that all of the time from you people. You're not fooling anybody." 

Teeter scoffed and shook her head, "Well, don't I just need to make a call." 

"You shouldn't do that, ma'am-" Emily said, reaching for her phone before Teeter stepped back. 

"I pay for this here phone. You ain't takin' shit from me."

"You took from us, ma'am." 

"Want me to prove it right now and strip naked before you?" She scoffed, removing her jacket. 

"Please don't." 

"Okay, then. Leave me alone so I can make a call." 

Baby? She thought as her thumb hovered over Soap's contact information. No, he'll kill someone. Ain't definitely callin' Simon. I'll call Kiera because I want to watch this show. 

"Hello?" 

"K, I need you here at this- um, hold on. Aye, lady, what's the name of this shithole again?" 

"Sarah's Treasures." She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Some shitty boutique around the corner from the cafe."

Kiera sensed the distress in her voice, "Do I need to bring the boys with me?" 

"No. They'll kill someone. I figured you'd like to have fun with this'n. Badass momma bear you are." 

She blushed, "I'm on my way." 

"I'll be waitin'. They won't let me leave. A cop just got here too." 

"What was that about?" Simon asked, worry consuming his brows as he looked at her. 

"She said she found something she wanted to surprise Soap with," She lied. "She wants me to meet her at the boutique so she can show me." 

"What is it?" Soap asked. 

"Did you not hear anything I just said?" Kiera poked. "She said she was wanting to surprise you with something and wanted me to see it." 

"Oh..." 

She shook her head playfully before standing to her feet, "I'll be back. I'll let you know when we're going to the store to get our dresses, unless you'd like to stay here with Big Chief?" She giggled, watching Soap's face turn red as it was clear Simon filled her in on what he had barged in on the night before. 

"I'd rather be with you before Big Chief here tries that shit on me." Simon grumbled. 

"I don't roll that way, mate." 

"I begged to differ," He arched his brow. "Do I need to remind you of that apparent woman you slept with in Mexico?" 

"That wasn't a wom- man!" He blurted. 

"You just admitted it, mate." Simon laughed. 

"I think I'm starting to realize how he got his code name, babe." Kiera chuckled, her hand still on his shoulder. 

"How you figure?" Soap asked. 

"Ever heard the phrase don't drop the soap?"

"Yeah?" 

"That's funny, because most men that do roll that way have used it once before." She smirked, Simon raising his brows as if his expression were saying you just got called out. 

"Just go." 

"Why? Embarrassing you?" Simon chuckled. 

"A hole is a hole. If that was really a man, I didn't know." He shrugged, desperate to make it seem like he didn't care. 

"Remind me to not have to pick up something from the floor in front of you," He teased. "I'd hate to have to kill you for trying your shit on me." 

"Kiera, can I go with you?" 

"Nope. It's Simon's turn to babysit you." 

Simon scoffed, "In that case, I'm ordering a drink." 

"I think I might need one too." Soap sighed. 

"Well, you two have at it. I'll be around the corner." 

"Be careful, love."

»»-------¤-------««

Walking into the boutique, Kiera looked around throughout the obvious tension, moving her way past Emily as she tried to stop her from entering while a police officer was beginning to conduct a search on Teeter in one of the dressing rooms. 

"Is-Is there something I can help you find, Miss?" The shopkeeper asked, hastily rushing towards Kiera before she could open the door of the dressing room, knowing Teeter was behind the door. 

"I'm looking for my friend." She replied sternly, her intimidating gaze shaking the shopkeeper's spine to the core. 

Kiera hadn't had that stark gaze in months. Since she had been on her last deployment to be exact. 

With slow steps, she paced around the small boutique, stepping towards one of the dressing rooms and forcing the door open, seeing Teeter standing nearly half-naked with handcuffs on her wrists and her hands in front of her, the male officer searching her unvoluntarily. "You know, I'm no lawyer for this country, but I do believe that it's the fourth American amendment that deals with unlawful searches." 

"We're not in America," The officer scoffed. "This is voluntary."

"She's an American citizen. Doesn't look voluntary to me," She huffed, removing her phone to take a picture of the crime in front of her. "I suggest you remove those cuffs from her and leave her alone before I have your diploma hanging above my toilet." 

The officer huffed, knowing he was in the wrong as he removed the cuffs from Teeter's wrists. "He forced me in here, K." 

"Get dressed," She whispered, closing the door behind her after the officer left. "What was the reason why you decided to accuse her?" She asked the shopkeeper. 

"She-She stole some earrings." 

"She wouldn't do such a thing," Kiera scoffed. "She doesn't even have her funds transferred to pounds. Nice try. You judged how she looked, huh?" 

The woman took a deep breath and huffed through her nose, "Not exactly. We have slums that come in here all the time trying to steal stuff-"

"She's not a slum. Little rough around the edges, but she's far from that, so I suggest you watch your mouth." 

"Or you'll do what?" 

Kiera arched her brow before she stepped closer to the woman. She looked to be about the same age as her, except she sported brown hair and blue eyes as well as an entitled attitude. "I may be a long way from home, but I don't care to show you how I handle things." She warned before turning to the officer who had unlawfully searched Teeter. "And you, what do you have to say for yourself besides taking advantage of your work to look at a woman sexually?" 

He shook his head, "I was just doing my job." 

"Unlawful search and seizure isn't a part of your job." 

"She consented-"

"Yeah? Well let me just ask her that," She arched her brow as Teeter exited the dressing room. "Did you give him consent to search you?" 

"No. He forced me in there and shut the door. Forced me against the wall and cuffed me when I tried to resist." 

"That's not true-"

"So do you have proof that this altercation happened to back yourself up?" 

"No?" 

"Then I doubt that's going to save you. I suggest you go on back to the station and find yourself another apparent crime to waste your time with before I come to your station and file on you." 

"You can't file anything if you don't have the evidence." The shopkeeper added. 

"Is that right?" Kiera scoffed, removing her phone from her pocket to show she had been recording the entire time. "I have all the evidence I need right here. What's your name?" 

"S-Sarah." 

"Well, Sarah, I suggest you should get some business. You know, your own business, because you're in mine." 

She gulped, sneaking her hand into her pocket to retrieve her own phone, knowing that Kiera wasn't going to leave without making it clear that her kind weren't to choose an altercation with. 

The officer sighed, knowing she defeated him before he dismissed himself from the boutique. Teeter clutched her jacket between her arms as she too went for the door, distraught as to what just happened. "I'm going to go find my baby-"

"Wait. Don't go yet. You'll miss the fun." Kiera smirked, making her way to the door before locking it from the inside as well as turning the OPEN sign around to give off the impression that the boutique was closed. "Well, since I'm here, Sarah, I might as well shop, right?"

"O-Of course." 

Kiera made her way behind the counter, looking down through the glass at the bracelets on display. "Oh, this one's nice. I'd rather try it on before I buy it, though." She smirked, reaching for the ceramic vase nearby and using it, with brute force, to bust the glass case to retrieve the bracelet, holding it up in front of her face before tossing it to the floor. "Too cheap-looking." 

Sarah shuttered as Kiera busted out another case of jewelry, taking a necklace into her hands before she realized Sarah had been recording her. She threw the necklace down on the floor before storming towards her, jerking her phone from her hand and slamming it onto the wooden floor before smashing it with her foot. "That was destruction of personal property. Assault is next. Are you ready to see that?" 

She gasped, gulping as she and Kiera locked eyes. "I-I don't want any trouble-"

"You crave trouble. If you didn't, you wouldn't have accused my friend of theft when you knew it wasn't true. You judged her by her appearance. You just don't want resistance. And if you don't want resistance, then I suggest you don't pick fights with foreigners."

"I-I'm sorry. Please stop-"

"It's not me you need to apologize to. It's her." 

Sarah didn't want to apologize, but knew it would be in her best interest to apologize at some point. A moment of silence went by before Kiera decided to continue. "Alright, since you don't want to apologize, I guess I'll keep smashing shit." She said, taking another ceramic vase and throwing it to the mirror, shattering it with a crashing sound as its glass scattered across the floor. Sarah gulped, knowing that financially, she would be struggling to replace the items Kiera had destroyed. I deserve it, Sarah thought. 

"Kiera!" Simon's voice shouted through the boutique, stopping Kiera's rage as she dropped the vase to break against the floor. 

"Simon?" Sarah questioned, furrowing her brows as she looked at him. 

"I-I tried to stop him, K." Teeter frowned, releasing her grasp from Simon's jacket as he and Soap both entered the boutique after Soap had seen Teeter's distressed look caught his attention. 

"I take it you two know each other, huh?" Kiera scoffed, immediate jealousy consuming her as Kiera felt that Sarah was physically more attractive than her. 

"Long time ago," Simon grumbled, recalling the many times he and Sarah had gotten together between deployments years ago - a "situationship" of nothing but no strings attached as well as mutual sex. "Let's go." 

"Oh, I haven't had enough-"

"Kiera." He repeated, his voice sterner as he approached her and reaching for her hand. He knew this side of her hadn't shown itself since they were in Mexico and it was never more arousing, but the fact that she was acting this way while pregnant and in a civilized country made his blood boil. 

She didn't take his hand. Instead, she approached Sarah one last time, "You're lucky he's here. I was going to make you fuck that manikin." Her voice was a low tone of timber that caused a shiver to run down Sarah's spine, knowing that not only was her next chance with Simon thrown out the window, but the fact that she knew if she tried, it wouldn't be pretty. 

"Bloody fucking hell," Simon grumbled, looking to the ground as he didn't want to look at Sarah at all, regretting the fact that he ever let her see his face, also regretting the fact that Sarah had to get on Kiera's bad side, even if she did deserve it. "Let's go."

He put Kiera in front of him as he escorted her out of the boutique, "Nice to see you again, Simon." Sarah said, immediately overstepping a boundary as it was an inner desire to see how much Simon was willing to dive to keep the women from each other. 

"Not anything mutual." 

She frowned, reaching out to poke Kiera more than she had desired knowing he had turned her down. "Hope the sting fades with your lass, Simon. It's clear that you're on the brink of losing yourself." 

"The sting never fades with me." She retorted, arching her brow as if she were challenging her. 

"That much is obvious. Just like it's obvious that he's not in love with you like he was with me-"

"Those words were never said," Simon corrected her. "Those words were never acknowledged." 

"And they are with her?"

"Intently," He said with certainty. "It's none of your business."

[unhingedoveractivemuse]

Title: "-you left the yarn out for sex?"

Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Flufftober Day 19 Yarn

Tags: Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Implied Sexual Content, Eddie Diaz Loves Evan "Buck" Buckley, Christopher Diaz Has Two Dads, Domestic Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz

===========================

Eddie finds himself regretting one of his most recent decisions.

It seemed like a good idea at the time alright? Christopher was in Texas, Buck was with his ex, and Eddie was lonely (not that it didn't take everything in him to admit it).

So, he got a companion.

A cat.

That, in and of itself, wasn't bad. He just had to make sure the litter box was cleaned, get a cat tree, get cat toys, make sure food was out, and have someone drop in to take care of it if he was on a 48.

Easy, right?

No, because there's a lot more that goes into raising a cat than he thought, but it was doable, especially when his son got back and his best friend came around more often after breaking up with Tommy.

What made the whole situation bad was another recent decision being added to the mix.

Agreeing to homemade scarves.

Look, he admits he didn't quite think it through. All he knew at the time was that his newly identified feelings were reciprocated and his son was back, spurring in the best time of his life.

It's not an exaggeration either.

He's never felt so much happiness. Buck has always been like sunshine, but now that he's Eddie's sunshine, that sunshine has permeated through every nook and cranny of his life, lighting up all the shadows and dark, dusty corners that have followed him for so long.

It doesn't even matter what they're doing. They could be on a date at a fancy restaurant or even just eating takeout at home. They could be comforting each other after a hard shift or cuddling on the couch with Eddie listening to the latest information hole Buck fell into.

Anything with Buck reminds him time and time again what love and happiness really is.

(Of course, there's the sex too. He’s always enjoyed sex, but having sex with someone who he trusts with everything and can let go around of?

It's out of this world.)

Needless to say, it's been absolute bliss.

So when his boyfriend/partner/lover (he still hasn't quite settled on one term - nothing is really enough to describe who Buck is to him) brought up attempting to make them matching winter scarves?

Eddie was all for it. He doesn't even wear scarves, but if Buck makes it, he'll wear it.

…He let the bliss get to him.

“At least Ginger had the time of her life?”

He rolls his eyes, feeling a rush of affection flow through him despite the mess he’s looking at. The cat in question is napping in the cat tree in the corner of the living room, paw twitching like it's still playing. “You just had to leave your project in the living room where she could get it.”

They are well aware that cats can get into a lot of things, but Ginger, the…ginger cat, was born with a birth defect that makes it less agile and unable to get to things that normal cats would be able to get to (which is partially why Eddie loved it at first sight). Since that was the case, they just usually make sure that they put things they don’t want her to get into out of her reach.

Until this.

“As I recall, I was distracted by a very handsome man in his good jeans,” Buck says, wrapping his arms around Eddie's middle from behind him and resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Should I be worried about this handsome man?” he asks while preening on the inside, easily falling into the flirting that’s been a new staple of their relationship.

“Well, he is the most attractive, sexiest man alive who is also a very competent firefighter and a great father. He's also-

Eddie can't take it anymore, turning his head to press a kiss on Buck's cheek. “Shut up. I don't think I can go again even if I tried. Besides, you left the yarn out for sex?”

Said yarn is everywhere, strewn around by Ginger either last night after he and Buck locked themselves in the bedroom or before they finished their morning activities. It's on the couch, on the floor, near the door, dragged into the kitchen…

He sees knots too. A lot of knots.

“It was phenomenal sex, and I didn't hear you complaining when I-”

“Christopher will be back any moment now,” he reminds his partner. While they both love the flirting, sex references, and sex not-so-references, they both agreed to keep the brunt of it from Christopher, and they agreed not to start something where Christopher could see them.

The idea of his son catching them in the middle of having sex is horrifying and not something he ever wants to become a reality.

Buck huffs but straightens out at the reminder, ”I guess we should clean this up before he walks in and trips himself on accident.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, moving to see if the yarn is salvageable. “You might have to restart your project, love. I don't think you're getting anything out of this anymore.”

His best friend pouts, picking up a strand of tangled yarn on the sofa. “I was doing so well too. It was only a little lumpy!”

Eddie loves this man so much and would wear a hundred lumpy scarves for him, but a little is an understatement. Buck sometimes can't sit still long enough to finish a row and will end up forgetting what he was doing. He also (according to Buck) somehow added, subtracted, or entirely skipped loops.

He's not going to say that, of course, but, instead of lying because he'd never lie to Buck just to make the blonde feel better, he says, “A second try just means it'll be even better.”

“I guess. Or maybe this is a sign telling me to do something else for us so I can work on my knitting skills for next year.”

Eddie thinks about it. “We could. Did you have something else in mind?”

There really is a lot of yarn, he thinks as he starts gathering up the carcass of the skein (at least that's what Buck called it). He would never have imagined so much from that thing.

Buck hums, “A blanket? There are some DIY ones. We could do it together too. If you want, of course.”

Blanket huh? That reminds him of something Adriana brought up the other day when he called her.

“I wouldn't mind, but we can also order one,” he suggests. “A photo blanket.”

Surprised, blue eyes whip around towards him, “You want to do a photo blanket with me?”

“Why not?” He moves to stand in front of Buck, both of them still holding the yarn they gathered. “I'm sure about us, Buck. A photo blanket is the least of the things I'd do with you.”

The happiness shining in Buck's eyes is worth a thousand photo blankets. “Yeah. Let's do a photo blanket.”

They end up kissing in the middle of the living room, yarn forgotten and so lost in their little bubble that they don't hear Christopher coming home.

“You two are gross,” the teen says, deadpan, interrupting them. Then, unimpressed eyes wander around, taking in the mess still around them. “Buck left the yarn out.”

“Your dad’s distracting,” Buck defends himself, a reply that deserves the light smack Eddie gives him and the nose wrinkle from Christopher.

“I did not need to know that.”

“Yes, you didn't need to know that,” Eddie says, giving Buck a look. “So, guess what? Buck won't be getting to pick the photos for the blanket we're doing.”

Buck gapes at him. “Eds!”

Christopher gives them a judging brow that Buck would say is all Eddie. “A photo blanket? Lame. But I guess it's better than having yarn around for Ginger.”

Like the sound of its name from Christopher's lips is a siren (it might be considering how much Ginger adores the teen), the cat meows as it wakes up, drawing their attention.

“Ginger, let's go pick some photos,” Christopher tells it. “Before these two pick the worse ones.”

He’s not even surprised that their son is excluding him, too, even as Buck sputters, “Chris!”

The teen rolls his eyes, amending, “Or it'll be a blanket of just me and Dad.”

That shuts Buck up even as Ginger saunters over to Christopher as they start heading to his room, carefully navigating through the yarn on the floor.

“Oh,” his partner breathes when the door to the teen's bedroom shuts. “This is so much better than the scarves.”

Eddie grins, pressing a quick kiss to Buck's lips. “And it doesn't come with yarn carnage.”

“Yeah. No yarn carnage. We should get a blanket every year instead.”

They will. They will get one that year. They will get one next year when they get engaged and married, having the only proper wedding the 118 has had despite it being a small affair. They will get it the year Christopher first leads his high school robotics club to a championship. They will get it the year surrogacy succeeds and they have their first baby. They will get it for many many years to come.

For now, though, they really have to clean up this disaster caused by a cat and yarn.

[freshfocusnews]

I found this on NewsBreak: Popular Condiment Recalled In Texas Poses Risk Of 'Fatal Infection'

Popular Condiment Recalled In Texas Poses Risk Of 'Fatal Infection'

By Logan DeLoye, 4 hrs ago

KHKS

KHKS 106.1 KISS FM

Photo credit: https://img.particlenews.com/image.php?url=0wEPdm_0uS2xZ3E00

Photo: iStockphoto

AB World Foods US, Inc. voluntarily recalled their Al’Fez Natural Tahini, distributed across Texas , on Friday (July 12) due to possible bacteria contamination. According to the United States Food & Drug Administration , the tahini, sold in 5.6oz glass jars, has the potential to be contaminated with salmonella: "an organism which can cause serious and sometimes fatal infections in young children, frail or elderly people, and others with weakened immune systems."

Symptoms of salmonella poisoning include "fever, diarrhea, nausea, vomiting and abdominal pain" in addition to more serious conditions, like arterial infections, endocarditis, and arthritis, should the bacteria reach the infected individual's bloodstream.

The recalled product features a UPC code of 711464506778, and Best Before dates of "2024 JL 11 or later." Other affected lot numbers include “3031, 3080, 3270, 3297 with corresponding BEST BEFORE: 2024 JL 31; 2024 SE 09; 2025 MR 27; 2025 AL 04."

Customers who previously purchased a contaminated 5.6oz jar of Al’Fez Natural Tahini can return the product to the place they purchased it for a full refund. If you are unable to return the product, dispose of it and avoid consumption.

AB World Foods US, Inc has since ceased distribution and is urging customers with questions to contact Adifi Burman at info@alfez.us and 647-218-0081 from Monday through Friday 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. ET.

Original link to story here👇👇👇👇👇

[beardedmrbean]

Schreiber Foods Inc. of Green Bay, WI, is recalling 836,721 units of various cream cheese products because of potential Salmonella contamination. The recall includes Dutch Farms, Fareway, Happy Farms, Hy Vee, Kroger, Our Family, Schnuck, Essential Everyday, Dunkin, Piggly Wiggly and Schreiber Foods cream cheeses.

According to the details posted online by the Food and Drugs Administration (FDA), the recall was initiated on May 3, 2024, and is ongoing.

The recalled products were distributed in California, Florida, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Massachusetts, Maryland, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, North Carolina, New Jersey, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Texas, Virginia, Washington and Wisconsin. The recalled products were also shipped to Puerto Rico.

Recalled products Whipped Cream Cheese Spread. Net Wt 8 oz. (226g) Keep Refrigerated, packaged under the following brands: 

1. Dutch Farms, Net, UPC 0 919145-67990, Distributed By: Dutch Farms, Chicago, IL 60628. — EXP 14 AUG 24, EXP 17 AUG 24. 

2. Fareway, UPC 0 21333-83051 5. Packed for Fareway Store, Inc. Boone, Iowa 50036. — USE BY SEP 03 24, USE BY SEP 13 24, USE BY SEP 21 24.

3. Happy Farms, UPC 4099100101881, Dist & Sold Exclusively by Aldi, Batavia, IL 60510. — SELL BY 08/30/2024, SELL BY 08/31/2024, SELL BY 09/01/2024, SELL BY 09/03/2024, SELL BY 09/04/2024.

4. Hy Vee, UPC 0 75450-09613 2. Distributed by Hy-Vee Inc. West Des Moines, IA 50266. — BEST BY 08/07/24, BEST BY 08/14/24.

5. Kroger, UPC 0 11110-58088 7. Distributed By The Kroger Co., Cincinnati, OH 45202. — BEST IF USED BY AUG 08 24.

6. Our Family, UPC 0 70253-50994 0. Distributed by Pique Brands, Inc. Grand Rapids, MI 49518. — BEST BY 08/08/24.

7. Schnuck, UPC 0 41318-58005 1. Distributed By Schnuck Markets, Inc., St. Louis, MO 63146-6928 — BEST BY 08/08/24.

Garden Vegetable Cream Cheese Spread. Net Wt 8 oz. (226g). Keep Refrigerated, packaged under the following brands: 

1. Fareway, UPC 0 21333-83053 9. Packed for Fareway Store, Inc. Boone, Iowa 50036. — USE BY SEP 13 24, USE BY SEP 22 24, USE BY SEP 01 24 

2. Essential Everyday, UPC 0 41303-00625 2. Distributed By Supervalu Inc., Eden Prairie, MN 55344. — BEST BY 09/01/24

3. Schnuck, UPC 0 41318-58005 1. Distributed By Schnuck Markets, Inc., St. Louis, MO 63146-6928. — BEST BY 08/08/24

4. Hy Vee, UPC 0 75450-09606 4. Distributed By Hy-Vee Inc. West Des Moines, IA 50266. — BEST BY 09/13/24, BEST BY 09/22/24

5. Our Family, UPC 0 70253-50100 5. Distributed By Pique Brands, Inc. Grand Rapids, MI 49518 — BEST BY 09/01/24

Strawberry Cream Cheese Spread, Net Wt 8 oz. (226g). Keep Refrigerated, packaged under the following brands: 

1. Fareway, UPC 0 21333-83052 2. Packed for Fareway Store, Inc. Boone, Iowa 50036. — USE BY SEP 08 24

2. Happy Farms, UPC 4099100 101744, Dist & Sold Exclusively by Aldi, Batavia, IL 60510. — SELL BY 09/08/2024, SELL BY 09/15/2024

3. Hy Vee, UPC 0 75450-09616 3. Distributed by Hy-Vee Inc. West Des Moines, IA 50266. — BEST BY 09/08/24

4. Schnuck, UPC 0 41318-58007 5. Distributed By Schnuck Markets, Inc., St. Louis, MO 63146-6928 —  BEST BY 09/08/24

Blueberry Cream Cheese Spread, Net Wt. 8 oz. (226g). Keep Refrigerated, packaged under the brand Essential Everyday. 

UPC 0 41303-04876 4. Distributed By UNFI, Providence, RI 02908. — BEST BY 09/19/24

Variety Tray Chive Onion (UPC 4099100 101751), Strawberry (UPC 4099100 101744), and Plain Cream Cheese Spread (UPC 4099100 101737), each container Net Wt. 8 oz. (226g). Keep Refrigerated.

Packaged under the brand Happy Farms, UPC . Dist & Sold Exclusively by Aldi, Batavia, IL 60510.

Warehouse Level Codes only – Not consumer facing SELL BY 07/19/2024CH SELL BY 08/02/2024CH SELL BY 08/04/2024CH SELL BY 08/09/2024CH SELL BY 08/17/2024CH SELL BY 08/23/2024CH¿ SELL BY 08/25/2024CH 

Consumer Facing Codes: Chive & Onion SELL BY 09/13/2024 SELL BY 09/22/2024 Plain SELL BY 09/01/2024 SELL BY 09/08/2024 SELL BY 09/15/2024 Strawberry SELL BY 09/08/2024 SELL BY 09/15/2024

Ranch Garlic Cream Cheese Spread, Net Wt. 5 lbs. 

Manufactured By Schreiber Foods, Inc., Green Bay, WI 54301. —EXP Aug 15 24

Cream Cheese Spread. Keep Refrigerated, packaged under the following brands: 

1. Dunkin, Net Wt 8 oz. (226g), UPC 0 29244-01497 0. Manufactured Exclusively for Dunkin Brands Inc. 130 Royal St. Canton, MA 02021 — USE BY SEP 01 2024, USE BY SEP 15 2024

2. Happy Farms, Net Wt 8 oz. (226g). UPC 4099100101737, Dist & Sold Exclusively by Aldi, Batavia, IL 60510. — SELL BY 09/01/2024, SELL BY 09/08/2024, SELL BY 09/15/2024

3. Hy Vee, Net Wt 8 oz. (226g), UPC 0 75450-09610 1. Distributed by Hy-Vee Inc. West Des Moines, IA 50266. — BEST BY 10/01/24

4. Hy Vee, Net Wt 12 oz. (340g), UPC 0 75450-09612 5. Distributed by Hy-Vee Inc. West Des Moines, IA 50266. — BEST BY 10/01/24

5. Piggly Wiggly, Net Wt 8 oz. (226g), UPC 0 41290-1066 9. Distributed by Piggly Wiggly LLC, Keene NH 03431. — BEST BY 10/15/24

6. Schnucks, Net Wt 8 oz. (226g). UPC 0 41318-58023 5. Distributed By Schnuck Markets, Inc. St. Louis, MO 63146-6928 — BEST BY 10/08/24

7. Bulk Culinary Cream Cheese Spread, Net Wt. 30 lbs. Manufactured by Schreiber Foods, Inc., Green Bay, Wi 54301 — PKD ON APR 16 24

Consumers should not use this product. Recalled products should be thrown out or returned to their place of purchase.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

June 19, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 20, 2024

Today is the federal holiday honoring Juneteenth, the celebration of the announcement in Texas on June 19th, 1865, that enslaved Americans were free. 

That announcement came as late as it did because, while General Robert E. Lee surrendered his Army of Northern Virginia to General Ulysses S. Grant of the U.S. Army on April 9, 1865, it was not until June 2 that General Edmund Kirby Smith surrendered the Trans-Mississippi Department, the last major army of the Confederacy, to the United States, in Galveston, Texas. Smith then fled to Mexico. 

Seventeen days later, Major General Gordon Granger of the U.S. Army arrived to take charge of the soldiers stationed in Texas. On that day, June 19, he issued General Order Number 3. It read:  

“The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor.” 

Granger’s order was not based on the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution, which abolished enslavement except as punishment for a crime. Although Congress had passed that amendment on January 31, 1865, and Lincoln had signed it on February 1, the states were still in the process of ratifying it. 

Instead, Granger’s order referred to the Emancipation Proclamation of January 1, 1863, which declared that Americans enslaved in states that were in rebellion against the United States “shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free; and the Executive Government of the United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of such persons.” Granger was informing the people of Galveston that, Texas having been in rebellion on January 1, 1863, their world had changed. The federal government would see to it that, going forward, white people and Black people would be equal.

Black people in Galveston met the news Order No. 3 brought with celebrations in the streets, but emancipation was not a gift from white Americans. Black Americans had fought for the United States and worked in the fields to grow cotton the government could sell. Those unable to leave their homes had hidden U.S. soldiers, while those who could leave indicated their support for the Confederacy and enslavement with their feet. They had demonstrated their equality and their importance to the United States. 

The next year, after the Thirteenth Amendment had been added to the Constitution, Texas freedpeople gathered on June 19, 1866, to celebrate the coming of their freedom with prayers, speeches, food, and socializing. By the following year, the federal government encouraged “Juneteenth” celebrations, eager to explain to Black citizens the voting rights that had been put in place by the Military Reconstruction Act in early March 1867, and the tradition of Juneteenth began to spread to Black communities across the nation.

But white former Confederates in Texas were demoralized and angered by the changes in their circumstances. “It looked like everything worth living for was gone,” Texas cattleman Charles Goodnight later recalled. 

In summer 1865, as white legislators in the states of the former Confederacy grudgingly ratified the Thirteenth Amendment, they also passed laws to keep freedpeople subservient to their white neighbors. These laws, known as the Black Codes, varied by state, but they generally bound Black Americans to yearlong contracts working in fields owned by white men; prohibited Black people from meeting in groups, owning guns or property, or testifying in court; outlawed interracial marriage; and permitted white men to buy out the jail terms of Black people convicted of a wide swath of petty crimes, and then to force those former prisoners into labor to pay off their debt.

At the same time, those determined to preserve their power began to rewrite the history of the Civil War. The war had irrevocably undermined the institution of enslavement in the American South, moving it far beyond the ability of white southerners to reinstate it (although some historians argue that without the Thirteenth Amendment enslavement might have moved into the western mines). So white supremacists began to claim that secession had never been about slavery, despite the many declarations of secession saying the opposite. With the Freedmen’s Bureau, created by Congress in March 1865, defending the rights of Black Americans, certain white southerners began to claim that their “cause” had been to protect the rights of the states against a powerful federal government that was forcing on them a way of life they opposed. 

In the 1820s, before he became president, Andrew Jackson argued that true democracy meant honoring the votes of those in the states rather than laws made by Congress. This idea justified minority rule. Under this argument, a state’s voters could choose to take the land of their Indigenous neighbors or enslave their Black neighbors even if the majority of Americans, speaking through Congress, opposed those policies, because what mattered was the local vote. Crucially, states also decided who could participate in voting, and before the Civil War, the body politic was almost exclusively white men.  

The Black Codes were a clear illustration of what that system meant. Congress refused to readmit the southern states with the codes, and in 1866, congressmen wrote and passed the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution. Its first section established that “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” It went on: “No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” 

That was the whole ball game. The federal government had declared that a state legislature—no matter who elected it or what voters called for—could not discriminate against any of its citizens or arbitrarily take away any of a citizen’s rights. Then, like the Thirteenth Amendment before it, the Fourteenth declared that “Congress shall have the power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article,” strengthening the federal government.

The addition of the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution in 1868 remade the United States of America.

But those determined to preserve a world that discriminated between Americans according to race, gender, ability, and so on, continued to find workarounds. Key to those workarounds has always been resurrecting the idea that true democracy means reducing the power of the federal government and centering the power of the state governments, where voters—registered according to state laws—can choose the policies they prefer…even if they are discriminatory. 

In our era, those discriminatory policies are not just racial. They often center religion and include attacks on women’s healthcare and right to abortion, LGBTQ+ Americans, immigrants, and non-Christians. Just today, Louisiana governor Jeff Landry signed into law a measure requiring that every classroom in Louisiana public schools display the Ten Commandments. Those embracing the law hope to push the question of public displays of their faith to the Supreme Court, where they expect a warmer reception from this court than such discriminatory positions have gotten since the 1950s. 

If states get to determine who votes and can pass discriminatory legislation without interference by the federal government, they can construct the kind of world Americans lived in before the Fourteenth Amendment. As several Republican-dominated states have already demonstrated, they can also rewrite history. 

In 1865, Juneteenth was a celebration of freedom and the war’s end. In 1866 it was a celebration of the enshrinement of freedom in the U.S. Constitution after the Thirteenth Amendment had been ratified. In 1867, Juneteenth was a celebration of the freedom of Black men to vote, the very real power of having a say in the government under which they lived.  

In a celebration of Juneteenth on June 10, 2024, Vice President Kamala Harris noted: “Across our nation, we witness a full-on attack on hard-fought, hard-won freedoms and rights, including the freedom of a woman to make decisions about her own body; the freedom to be who you are and love who you love openly and with pride; the freedom from fear of bigotry and hate; the freedom to learn and acknowledge our nation’s true and full history; and the freedom that unlocks all others: the freedom to vote.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[ellie-24]

USS Randall Ramblers Part 2

Writing prompt: Army Elvis

Yay, I actually managed to be on time this week. Thanks to the most amazing, funny and creative people ever: @thatbanditqueen @vintageshanny @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Mary and Elvis reunite in Germany after their first meeting on the ship that brought them there.

Word count: ~4.7 k

Frankfurt am Main, Germany. October 29th 1958

"He still hasn't called, has he Dad?" Mary asked dejectedly, her chin resting on one hand while she and her family sat at the dinner table. The lights briefly flickered above them and her eyes slowly wandered from the failing lightbulb towards the ceiling which was covered with cracks and spots where the paint had flaked off. It was probably a pure white colour at one point, but now it looked yellowed and stained from decades of smoking cigars inside. It was an old apartement building which had miraciously survived World War II that they had rented out. An apartement where the shower was located it the kitchen and the boiler from the heating would thump and rattle loudly and reliably every other minute. But she quickly got used to that and didn't dare to complain. The days grew colder and shorter now, the mild winters in Texas she experienced for the past years were probably no comparison to the german ones. It was already pitch black and outside and she had to make sure to always wear an extra pair of fuzzy socks, even inside the building.

Her father's head shot up at her question and he looked confused for a second, as if he hadn't heard a word she said. "Uh... no, dear I'm afraid not." He eventually muttered and waved his hand before letting his gaze wander downwards again.

Mary's mother had carefully watched the exchange and raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Teddy, I told you, no more music sheets during dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Put them away, you can study them after we finished eating."

Her father looked up again, this time towards her mother, feeling caught. "Alright, Josie." he agreed with a sigh and reluctantly pulled the notes he hid under the table from his lap and placed them onto the kitchen counter. Ever since that one evening aboard the USS Randall his interest in music had sparked once again. Completely. Mary still recalls his goofy expression when he entered their flat one evening, not even a week after they had arrived, with an old tattered guitar he bought somewhere tight in his grasp. "God help us." Her mother had muttered with an affectionate smile. He now spend most of his free time practising and even tried to teach himself how to read sheet music. Mary watched her father with an apologetic smile when suddenly her little brother opened his mouth.

"Mary, I think it's time for you to accept that he probably didn't like you as much as you liked him." He snickered across the table.

"Shut it, Tommy!" She hissed with a frown, tempted to throw a pea into her brother's sneering face.

"Language, Mary!" her mother chided her with a pointed look.

"Sorry, Mama." Mary mumbled and quickly glared at her brother before continuing to push the food around her plate with her fork, deep in thought.

It's been nearly a month.

A month since Mary set her foot in a foreign country. A country which would be her home for a few years now. A month since she met Elvis Presley. Before they both departed the ship at Bremerhaven he had promised her that he would call her father at his base and properly introduce himself to him once more and explain his intentions before inviting her over. He sounded so honest, so determined, as he pressed a small and gentle kiss to her cheek. It nearly made her knees buckle. The half smile he gave her in an effort to hide the still very evident melancholy in his eyes was reassuring for her in a way. He'd certainly call her. He wanted to see her again, wanted her around. She was sure of it. He'd call her once they both had the time to properly settle into their new, very different and yet kind of similar lives.

Her new life in Frankfurt, where her father was stationed at Drake Kaserne, part of the headquarters of the 3rd Armored Division, as First Lieutenant, and Elvis' new life in Friedberg, stationed at Ray Barracks as a more or less regular Private. They didn't even live an hour apart from each other but to Mary it felt like they were oceans apart, he seemed undeniably out of her reach even though they arrived here together. She'd never openly admit it, but she desperately wanted to see him again and Tommy's mindless comment affected her more than it should. Did Elvis already forget about her? Did she read more into the situation than he did? Was it ever his intention to call and arrange it for her to come visit him? Did he not like her as much as she liked him? All these questions made hear heart feel heavy and her appetite promptly disappeared. She curtly excused herself from the table to go to her room and hide under the duvet, mentally preparing herself to give up all hope that she would ever see him again.

The more surprising it was when her father got home the next day to tell her that he had, indeed, called. He'd asked Mary so spend the following weekend in Bad Nauheim and offered to pay for train tickets and a room for her to stay in in the same hotel he was currently living. When her father had expressed concerns about his daughter embarking on such an endeavour all alone Elvis had offered that her mother could of course accompany her as a chaperone. Mary was giddy with exitement and even though it felt very spontaneous and impulsive she got her mother to go along with her. Deep down she knew that her mother was probably looking forward to meeting him again as well, she rather enjoyed his music and whenever he was on tv she'd make sure to comment 'what a handsome, young man' he was.

So, her and her mother left on the following saturday morning to catch the train to Friedberg. It was a bumpy ride and the sky above her was as grey as it could get but that didn't deter Mary from grinning like a maniac as she gazed out of the window to take in the equally dull industrial landscape. Elvis had promised he'd arrange a driver to pick them up at the station and bring them over to Bad Nauheim. It didn't take long until a heavy set man who gruffly introduced himself as Lamar Fike approached them and swiftly snatched their luggage from them, telling them to follow him to the car. It was s rather silent ride, Mary and her mother quickly found that the man behind the wheel didn't really care much for conversation.

When the hotel came into view Mary felt her hands starting to sweat, nervous butterflies now in her stomach. They got out of the car with Lamar excusing himself and pulling out of the driveway again and made their way towards to entrance of the old building, which seemed to be from the last century. They entered Villa Grunewald and Mary looked around in awe when they arrived in the beautiful salon. Wallpapers with golden ornaments, heavy ruffled curtains and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling made it look very classy and old fashioned.

She quickly spotted him lounging on a green velvet sofa, reading a magazine. With himself on the front page. There he was, just like that, and Mary was once again taken aback by his beautiful features. This time he wasn't dressed in his trim uniform but a comfortable yellow cardigan and black dress pants. His sad eyes immediately lit up when he saw her standing only a few feet away from him. He shot up from his seat, the magazine falling to the floor, forgotten.

"Hello Mrs. Davis, Mary." He said with a nod towards her. He greeted both her mother and her with a quick kiss to the cheek. Mary hoped she looked less flustered than her mum, who herself was giggling almost like a school girl.

"Oh, Elvis, our dear Mary's talked so much about you for the past month. Always wondering when you would-"

"Mama!" Mary interjected frantically, eyes wide and pleading. She could see Elvis fighting back a grin when her cheeks turned red.

Her mother tutted. "Oh Mary, don't be like that. It's so sweet! Elvis, it was very kind of you to arrange all that." She said and looked around appreciatively.

He leaned towards her mother. "Oh, it's no big deal ma'am, really. Don't worry about it, it's great to have you here."

Thankfully, a kind looking man approached them in that moment, sparing Mary of any further embarrassement now that everyone's focus was on the stranger greeting them. Although she did catch Elvis looking over to her again and again in the corner of her eye, smiling mischievously. The man in front of them introduced himself, with a heavy German accent, as Otto Schmidt. The hotelier. They briefly exchanged pleasentries and Mary could tell that Elvis grew impatient, shifting from one foot to the other. When Mr. Schmidt started talking about the history and the architecture of the hotel Elvis quickly grasped her hand. "Come on, wanna show you around." He whispered, his body close to hers and his head bent down.

She threw a short glance to her mother, who probably heard the exchange as well. "Oh, off you go, sweetie. I'll get us settled in." She chirped with a knowing smile and turned back to Mr. Schmidt, listening dutifully.

Elvis didn't let go of her hand when he led her over to the old, wooden and creaky looking stairs. "I rented out the entire second floor. I think you'll like it." He practically ran up the stairs and pulled her along with him, making her almost stumble over one particular step which seemed to be higher than the ones before. "Oh yeah, watch out for that one, honey. Almost broke my damn neck when I walked up here the first time." He shook his head at the memory.

"Thanks for the warning beforehand." Mary muttered with a smile.

"Honey, I'd catch ya, don'tcha worry." He countered, throwing a stern look over his shoulder, as if offended that she thought he'd let her fall and injure herself.

They walked along the hallway until they stood in front of room number 10 and he reached out to open the door. Mary stepped inside, his room equally noble looking like the salon downstairs. The wallpapers here were pastel coloured, also adorned with gold ornaments, a golden mirror with stucco decoration, a big red armchair and a dark wooden bed right in the middle of the room. She quickly looked away. This was where he slept. To her it felt very invasive, just standing here and observing everything. But as soon as the door closed behind her, she felt his arms wrapping around her in a nearly suffocating hug, which made her feel silly for thinking she was the one overstepping boundaries.

"Oh, little Mary, I've missed ya so much."

She blushed and awkwardly patted his back, still not used to his familiar, almost intimate touches as if they were old friends. For her it certainly didn't feel like they just met a month ago and only spend a few hours together. She was grateful for his forwardness, the feeling of his strong body against hers and his hand in her hair transported her back to the night they met. When he pulled away from her after a few more seconds, much to her regret, he looked down on her with a frown. His face was still so close to her's that she was afraid she'd get lost in those blue eyes adorned with impossibly long dark lashes. Were they so beautiful aboard the USS Randall as well? Did she just forget their absolutely hypnotic effect? Her voice failed her, words stuck in her throat.

"Aren't you gonna say you missed me?" he asked with a pout.

She quickly snapped back at that and smiled up to him with a shrug. "Mhm, maybe. Actually I'm just here for a few more autographs you know?"

He tightened his grip on her waist and playfully glared at her. "I see, ya trying to play little Miss Difficult again? Cause I remember what ya mama said downstairs." He spoke in a low voice and lightly started to tickle her sides. It was right then that they were interrupted by high-pitched, energetic barking and the sound of little paws quickly hitting the carpeted floor filling the room. Mary turned her head and saw something, what she first thought was a little beige coloured hairball, emerging from the connecting room and approaching them hectically. Upon closer inspection she quickly realised it was indeed a little puppy now dancing and jumping around their legs.

"Oh, come here, oh you sweet thing!" Mary exclaimed happily and leaned down on her knees to scratch the exited poodle behind it's ear. "What's it's name?" she asked, looking up at Elvis again who watched her with a soft smile. He crouched down as well, running his big hand carefully over the wooly hair.

"He's called Cherry, picked the little rascal up just two days ago."

"Oh Cherry, oh hello little one, yes, you're the cutest aren't you? And the smallest! And what a sweet name you have!"

The puppy frantically moved his little legs and awkwardly tried to climb up her lap to lick at her face, barking at her the whole time as if he wanted her help. Mary gently picked him up, he seemed to weigh no more than a loaf of rye bread she'd come to like here, and nuzzled her nose against his cold, wet one.

"Guess I thought of you when I named the lil' guy." He added with a charming look on his face, as if trying to get her attention again.

But Mary didn't take her eyes off the small dog in her arms. "Oh, your daddy is a big charmer today isn't he? Yes, always saying these nice things." She giggled and puckered her lips, as if wanting to kiss the puppy's face.

"Hold on now. So there's a guy you'll kiss just like that, but when I ask for one ya gotta look all annoyed and irritated with poor me as if ya smelled something bad?"

She lowered Cherry back into her lap and turned towards Elvis, her face blank. "Well, this one didn't try to blackmail me into it in exchange for a napkin with a scribbly signature on it."

His eyes widened in alarm and he backed away a little. "Now, h-honey ain't n-nobody forced ya-" He argued frantically, his hands up and a heavy frown on his face.

She put a reassuring hand on his arm and giggled. "I'm just joking... Don't get all worked up, sweetie." She imitated his voice in the latter half, making him look at her with the most unreadable expression, his mouth hanging open for a few seconds, only to then explode into the most contagious, genuine laughter.

He put a hand over his heart. "God, honey, we really gotta work on that attitude of yours." He chuckled. "You're scaring a man outta his wits with that icy glare of yours."

She smiled. "My dad always says that's a good thing."

"Now that I think about it your father might actually be right, sweetheart." He agreed with a good natured smile. They just looked at each other, lost in each other's eyes for a moment.

Little Cherry felt neglected again all of the sudden and tried to climb up her chest again, eager to lick at her face once more and Elvis quickly snatched him away from her with a grunt. "Alright, that's enough buddy. She's here for me. You better get your own girl." He gave Cherry a quick kiss before setting him down on the floor again, making Mary giggle. Then he stood up and grabbed her hand again, helping her stand as well. "Christ, why do I always have to tear you away from other guys to make you want to spend time with me, honey? I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose."

"And if I did?" She challenged, trying to sound extra cheeky. She would regret that.

He bit his lip and stepped closer to her, his hands ghosting over her hips. "Then you'd be a little minx, who ought to be spanked for that. But you're not are ya? I know you, little Mary. You're a good girl." He spoke and briefly cupped her chin with his thumb and index finger.

Any smart answer she might have had for him instantly died in her throat when he uttered those words in that sultry, deep voice of his. Instead, the raging butterflies in her stomach that made her feel nearly nauseous at times wandered... down into her lower belly. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but apparently she ran out of spit when he lead her towards the bed. He laid down, pulled her down with him and she had no choice but to sink into the soft matress. The old wooden bed briefly creaked under their combined weight and she tried to focus on the soft linen below her and avoid his burning gaze at all cost. He threw a casual arm around her and it felt utterly indecent, if her mother could see her like this now she'd probably have a fit. But Mary couldn't but like it. It exited her, especially when his fingers lightly skimmed over her arm. She could practically feel him staring at her profile, but she still didn't dare to turn her head towards him.

Of course Cherry quickly followed them and hopped onto the bed as well, something she wouldn't have thought he could manage at his size. He got comfortable in her lap again, presenting his belly to Mary. The thick tension between her and Elvis was broken just like that and she let out a sigh, both in relief and disappointment. She reached out, her hand still trembling a bit and patted him with another giggle. "Oh you sweet thing you like that don't you? Yes you do!" she cooed.

"Lord." Elvis groaned with an exasperated frown and threw his head back.

She leaned back against the headboard again. "Alright, sorry, I just can't help it, he's so cute!" Mary said with a laugh and turned her attention towards the scowling man next to her again.

"Oh, don't be like that." She mumbled with a gentle smile and leaned over to softly press her lips against his cheek in an effort to appease him. Not at all just to do something she had dreamed about for the last month. And damn his skin was still as soft and warm as she remembered.

He smiled bashfully when her fingers brushed over his cheekbone. "...Okay, baby, I'll forgive you."

Mary bit her lip to supress an absolutely lovesick smile and looked around. "...Are we alone? Didn't uh, some of your friends and family come over as well?" She asked suddenly, just now realising that they were, in fact, alone.

He smirked down at her, pleased that she apparently followed the news about him. She picked up on that and shrugged nonchalantly.

"That's what I heard at least."

"Right, sweetheart." He grinned. "Yeah, my father, my grandmother and two of my... bodyguards live here as well. You've met Lamar."

"Oh, yes, that's right, although, uh he didn't really say much." She grimaced lightly at the memory of the awkward drive here. "Where are they now? Aren't they... I don't know, supposed to guard the door or something?" She gestured around and looked at him quizzically.

He raised his eyebrows. "Lamar and Red? Don't know what these two airheads are up to now. Probably causing some ruckus in town. Sometimes they really ain't good for nothing, I'll tell ya."

She pursed her lips. "And... you father? And grandma? I'd love to meet them."

"You would?"

"Of course!"

"Well, sweetheart, Dodger is out running errands and my father is off meeting some girl who, uh, wanted to... o-offer her c-condolences, uh... I wanted to invite her over for a coffee... but I found I'd much rather spend my time with you. So I-I sent my father instead."

"Oh..." Mary felt horrible all of the sudden. There was this strange girl reaching out to the family after such a devastating event and here she was... just being sassy with him all the time. He was still grieving and managed to hide it way too well for his own good. One could almost forget how much he was still suffering.

When he spoke up again it was as if he'd read her thoughts. "No, Mary, don't feel bad. You just being here is everything I need." With that he quickly put an end to the conversation about his parents, especially his deceased mother and she nodded while clearing her throat, at a loss of words for a second. He scooted closer to her, his fingers still softly caressing her arm.

"You know..." she started tentatively. "I uh, also cancelled plans for you."

He slowly turned towards her, his eyes narrowed. "What kinda plans?"

"A new friend of mine and I wanted to go to the uh.. what's that word... Lichtspielhaus! That's the one!" She said proudly.

He blinked. "The what?"

"The cinema." She offered.

His eyes narrowed even further and his fingers now dug into her skin. "So... you go on movie dates now? I hope it's not another G.I.?"

She felt a smile tugging at her lips. "I'd hardly consider Helga a G.I., she helped me trying to figure out the busses in Frankfurt when I looked lost. Which I admittedly was. We met up a few times since then. I teach her English and she tries to teach me German." Mary explained and watched how his hard expression softened again. He closed his eyes and nodded, satisfied. Then he looked at her again and searched her eyes curiously, his brows furrowed.

"Why do ya want to learn it? Not planning on staying here forever, are ya?" He asked, a bit hesitant.

"Heavens, no."

He nodded again and his gaze drifted down towards their still interlocked hands. "Good, because I need ya back in the States with me when I return."

"You do?"

"O-Of course, honey. You're so important to me, I-I don't think I can let you go now."

She looked down, not sure if he really meant it, or it was just his emotional distress talking. Her eyes wandered around the room and she bit her lip in thought. Cherry had taken residence by her feet and seemed fast asleep. "I... I'm glad to hear that. You know, I really started to wonder if you actually want to see me again."

He cooed and pulled her closer to him, guiding her head to lay on his chest and the soft fabric of his cardigan against her face made her want to sink into him compltely. "Oh, sweet Mary, no don't ever think that. I-I know it took me a long time to reach out to you... It's just, uh-"

"No, I guess I understand. You probably had other things on your mind as well. Sorry."

"No Mary, don't. Life's just... very different now, here. The people a-and the army... e-everybody wants something from me...can't even catch no damn sleep in this damn country..." He trailed off with a huff. "I really... miss home. And I-I got nobody to talk to here, except my family. It's really good to have ya here. O-Otherwise I'd start to get mad here, t-trust me on that, sweetie."

She raised her head again, his frantic heartbeat beneath her ear suddenly too much too bear for her. A deep frown distorted his handsome features, the same look she spotted on him when they crossed the Atlantic Ocean. The melancholy in his eyes was one that went well beyond his 23 years of life and although his days in the army must be strictly regulated and timed and routined, he seemed to be completely lost, without a plan or a prospect of what the future might bring. What it might hold for him.

Mary reached out and carefully ran her hand through his short hair, hoping to provide at least a little comfort, knowing that there's really nothing she can do. He leaned into her touch and his eyes bore into hers, his piercing stare making her feel exposed. He frowned, suddenly remembering something.

"I still have to sing for you, Mary. That was part of our deal." He mumbled.

"You're right." She whispered. "But if you're not feeling like it, that's okay as well."

"N-No, I promised." He insisted, probably needing this more than her right now.

She smiled reassuringly, thankfully at him and traced his bottom with her finger again before pulling back and listening intently.

He quickly cleared his throat and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration before singing a beautiful rendition of the song "Love me". While he sang Mary rested her head against his shoulder again, and contentedly listened to him. When he finished she was almost asleep, his velvety voice soothing and calming and so, so much better than when she heard him on the tv or the radio. It all felt so surreal to Mary, she almost pinched herself so make sure this was really happening. To her. Suddenly the man under her jerked as if waking up from a dream himself.

"...Uh...sweetheart, there's something I gotta tell ya."

"...What is it?" She whispered, a hint of anxiety in her stomach about what was to come.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling under her cheek. "I'll have to leave on monday. Uh, they're sending me Bavaria for six weeks for a maneuver. It's a few hours away from here. That's why I had to see ya this weekend. Don't know when... uh, we can see each other again."

"Oh... alright." She managed to get out, her voice a bit raspy both from nearly falling asleep as well as the disappointment suddenly flowing through her.

"B-But it won't be as bad, sweetheart. I-I'm gonna call ya every day. You'll see."

She shifted. "Yeah, no, I mean I'd love that, but you don't have to. I mean you're probably busy-"

"Sweetheart I will. Because I want to, alright? Wanna hear your sweet voice to get me through the day. And I'll be save from that icy glare over the phone." He added with a smug grin.

"Ha-Ha."

He pulled her closer again. "Aww, sweetheart, I love that look... Promise me you'll see no other boys while I'm gone?"

"And you'll see no other girls?" She countered with a frown, her fingers picking off a lint from his cardigan.

He smiled. "What, are you jealous, honey?" He asked playfully.

Her frown deepened, which he thankfully couldn't see. "Just asking for the same conditions."

He smirked and licked his lips. "Look at me, honey." She did. "I promise. And I'll call ya. Every day."

With that he softly, unexpectedly pecked her lips. It wasn't an open mouthed kiss she'd awkwardly shared with boys from school, which would drag on for eternity. This one was over before she could even react, making her crave more, eager to replicate exhilarating feeling of his mouth against hers. His lips felt way softer than they looked which she didn't think was even possible. She wanted to kiss him again, but he pushed her head back down against his chest, effectively preventing her from getting another taste of him. And just like that he had her hanging by a thread again, leaving her with nothing else but the hope that he'd keep his promise to her once more.

Thanks for reading!! I'm also tagging the amazing people who asked for a part two!! I love you all!❤️ @godlypresley @lookingforrainbows @18lkpeters @c-rosenn

[yourreddancer]

It was the dogs. The dogs are what got me.

A few years ago we visited the 9/11 Memorial Museum, and we saw a lot. Twisted steel girders. Baby-faced portraits of the deceased. Mutilated emergency vehicles.

But it was the dogs that wrecked me.

The dog exhibit is pretty small. Located in the far corner of the museum, with photographs of search and rescue dogs.

You see dogs nosing through rubble, wearing safety harnesses. You see them in their prime. They’re all deceased now. But they were spectacular.

There was Riley. Golden retriever. He was trained to find living people. But, he didn’t find any. Instead, he recovered the remains of firefighters. Riley kept searching for a live survivor, but found none. Riley’s morale tanked.

“I tried my best to tell Riley he was doing his job,” said his handler. “He had no way to know that when firefighters and police officers came over to hug him, and for a split second you can see them crack a smile—that Riley was succeeding at doing an altogether different job. He provided comfort. Or maybe he did know.”

There was Coby and Guiness. Black and yellow Labs. From California. Surfer dogs. They found dozens of human remains.

And Abigail. Golden Lab. Happy. Energetic. Committed. Big fan of bacon.

Sage. A border collie. Cheerful. Endless energy. Her first mission was searching the Pentagon wreckage after the attacks. She recovered the body of the terrorist who piloted American Airlines Flight 77.

Jenner. Black Lab. At age 9, he was one of the oldest dogs on the scene. Jenner’s handler, Ann Wichmann, remembers:

“It was 12 to 15 stories high of rubble and twisted steel. My first thought was, ‘I can't send Jenner into that…’ At one point, [Jenner] disappeared down a hole under the rubble and I was like, ‘Ugggggh!' Such a heart-stopping moment..."

Trakr. German Shepherd. Tireless worker. Worked until he couldn’t stand up anymore. Trakr found Genelle Guzman-McMillan, who was trapped for 27 hours among the debris. Genelle was as good as dead, until the cold nose poked through the mangled steel.

Apollo. German shepherd. An NYPD police dog. Coal-black muzzle. Liquid eyes. The first dog on the scene, only 15 minutes after the attacks. Apollo worked 18-hour days. Once, he was nearly killed in a fire during his search. But Apollo had been drenched in water and he was quick on his feet. No injuries.

Jake. Labrador. As a puppy, Jake was found on the side of the road in Dallas. Abandoned. Left for dead. Like trash. He had a dislocated hip and a broken leg. They made him a rescue dog.

Jake worked until his body threatened to collapse from exhaustion. After his shifts, local New York merchants saw his rescue-dog vest and treated him to free steak dinners in upscale Manhattan restaurants.

And, of course, there was Bretagne. Golden Retriever. Easygoing. Dutiful. Obsessed with food. Her owner and trainer, Denise Corliss, a firefighter from Harris County, Texas, brought Bretagne to Ground Zero while the rubble was still hot.

Bretagne went straight to work. She worked for 10 days solid. Ten agonizing days. Bretagne never quit. She napped onsite.

Denise recalls: “...There are images of Bretagne going to where she was directed to search, into the unknown, the chaotic environment. But even then, she knew who needed the comfort of a dog, and which firefighter needed to hold her close and stroke her fur.”

After 9/11, Bretagne also helped recovery efforts during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, and Ivan. She retired at age 9.

Old age finally overtook her, she had a hard time using stairs, so Denise installed an above-ground pool to keep Bretagne’s joints limber.

In retirement, Bretagne became a reading dog at a local elementary school. First graders, too shy to read aloud, would read to a white-faced, elderly retriever who looked them in the eyes and smiled.

Bretagne visited students with special needs. She visited students with autism. She visited everyone.

She suffered kidney failure at age 16. She was put to sleep on June 7, 2016, and became the last of the 9/11 rescue dogs to end her earthly career.

Bretagne hobbled into the Cypress, Texas, animal hospital, one sunny Monday, only to discover the sidewalks and hallways were lined with firefighters, first responders, and rescue workers who saluted her.

Her remains were later escorted from the hospital, draped in an American flag.

We do not deserve dogs.

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Linkon Spring/临空泉

Details:

A bottled water company in Linkon City

Only read this next paragraph if you weren't a Chinese professor at a Texas university from 2017 to 2018 😅😅😅

...

Okay. As you may recall in this post, I was stuck translating the first Chinese character on the pink soda can. But @ourlittleuluru came in clutch once again!

They felt like it was "临", so put together it'd be "临空泉"/"Linkon springs". And I just about jumped out my chair because I had this brand poster screenshot in my drafts!

Evidence:

In "Nostalgic Sweetness", the protaganist finds a shop that still sells Old Popsicles (Zaynes favorite). And on the door of the shop is a promotional poster for bottled water!

At its clearest, you can make out the text that identifies the brand as Linkon Spring. I'll still write it out below though:

"Purchase Linkon Spring products during the event. Chance to get special rewards: AIrline ticket*2, Free Food, Free Hotel"

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Eleven

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 7043

The room was dark when I woke up. For a moment I thought surely I had awaken from another one of my nightmares, but I couldn’t recall anything other than ecstasy. That was when I turned my head to the right and saw the silhouette lying on the pillow beside mine. He slept on his stomach, one arm wrapped around the pillow as though he was snuggling with it, the other stretched out, his hand nearly underneath my own pillow.

I smiled when I heard him snoring softly. I started to roll over onto my side when I realized my reason for waking up. I had to pee.

After cleaning up in the bathroom, I tiptoed back to bed, careful not to jostle him. I laid on my side facing him, catching a glimpse of his face in the moonlight that streamed through the blinds.

I couldn’t believe he was in my bed - that we’d made love just hours before. He was so beautiful, so unreal. I reached out to touch his arm, lightly grazing it with my fingertips. Though I told myself I didn’t want to wake him, my need and desire to touch him was overwhelming.

I caressed his arm, down to his hand where I covered it with mine. I felt him stir and I froze, watching and waiting for any more movement. I smiled to myself when he lifted his fingers so as to thread them with mine. Then he pulled them towards himself and kissed them, my fingertips warm at contact.

“C’mere,” I heard him say, shifting onto his side.

I shimmied closer to him, my head landing in the crook of his arm. He dropped his other arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest, kissing the top of my head. He tickled my lower back with his fingertips as I looked up to search his face, finding his bedroom eyes barely open, his plump lips parted and inviting.

He kissed me then, a sloppy, sleepy kiss that made me weak all over. He had a hold of me like he didn’t want to let go, and I’d never felt more safe and secure.

I let out a tiny little moan. Harry echoed it, kissing me deeper and harder, his hand cradling my neck. I didn’t push him back this time. I was ready and willing to give him whatever he wanted from me. But in the end, Harry only separated from the kiss to press his forehead to mine as he breathed heavily. Then he ran his hand down my shoulder and arm and grabbed my waist once more with a squeeze.

We fell asleep like that, Harry first, so I listened to the patterns of his breathing which eventually soothed me into my own slumber.

He was gone before the girls got up the next morning. Tod was arriving at ten, and Harry didn’t want there to be any weirdness or confusion, and I didn’t blame him. I kissed him at the door where he told me he’d be back that evening and we’d go to dinner before the concert.

After breakfast, Tod showed up to pick up the girls, and I kissed and hugged them goodbye. Then I made a beeline for my closet, pulling out anything I thought remotely looked like something I’d wear to a concert. Quickly I vetoed several shirts and a pair of skintight jeans that I knew I had worn to concerts years ago with Tod. They probably didn’t even fit me anymore. I had a pretty cool leather jacket, but even though it was November, it wasn’t cold enough in Houston yet for layers. In the end, the only items I deemed wearable were a pair of black boots and a so-so pair of jeans that had seen better days. Time to go shopping.

On a normal occasion such as this, I would have invited Lorelei to go with me, but since she had left for Australia, I was on my own. It was just as well. I loved my friend, but she’d no doubt be trying to get me to purchase some sort of leather bustier. No thanks. Besides, I enjoyed shopping by myself.

The mall was crowded, but I managed to find something I liked - a pretty flowing fabric top (a la Stevie) and a pair of jeans that made my butt look amazing. I knew I could add my black boots and some of my favorite jewelry and make it the perfect concert outfit.

I stopped at the food court to grab some lunch and check my phone. I already had a text from Harry saying he’d be at my place by five. I told him that was fine. I had no idea where we’d be going for dinner, but since I didn’t live all that close to the venue, I knew there would be traffic.

Before leaving the mall, I stopped at the lingerie store. I hadn’t originally planned on it, but somehow my legs took me there. I picked out a lovely matching bra and panty set to wear underneath my new outfit.

When I got home, I showered, making sure I shaved where needed and that my skin was baby soft when I finished. Wrapped in my towel, I chose my Stevie Nicks playlist on my phone to listen to while I got ready. Then I sprayed my favorite perfume and stepped into my new panties. I had to admit, I immediately thought of Harry’s hands removing them later and I got turned on. After completing my ensemble, I applied my makeup, a little heavier than I’d usually wear during the day, but not too much. I tousled my curls with a small amount of gel, letting it fall across my shoulders. Then stepping back to take a final look in the mirror, I smiled at myself. I looked pretty damn good.

My doorbell rang exactly at five. I almost wondered if Harry had sat in the car and waited until just the right moment. But none of it mattered once I opened the door.

“Wow,” Harry mouthed.

I blushed as I smiled at my feet and then back at him.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said.

“Thanks. So do you.”

It was no lie. He wore a solid white shirt that probably cost more than my sofa, open to reveal his tattoos, his cross necklace displayed in the center of his chest, and his usual black jeans. This time, however, I noticed he wore a different pair of brown boots with fringe on the sides. He looked exquisite, and I wondered how I’d gotten so lucky to be going out with such a rockstar.

“You ready?” he held out his hand for me.

“Yep,” I nodded, grabbing my bag and following him out the door. I took his hand as we descended the stairs to the parking lot.

I saw the black car sticking out like a sore thumb, but fortunately my neighbors weren’t all that nosy. The driver opened the door for me, and I got in the back seat, Harry sliding in after me. He immediately took my hand again, and I smiled as he brought it to his lips and then set our joined hands in his lap.

“So where are we going for dinner?” I asked curiously.

“Just some place that came recommended,” he replied. “Near the Toyota Center.”

“Oh.” I didn’t bother to ask him who recommended it or what the name of it was. If it was good enough for Harry Styles, it was certainly good enough for me.

We drove up 45 North towards downtown, and as I watched the familiar scenery go by, I had to laugh to myself. But I hadn’t realized I’d done it out loud until Harry nudged me.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” I stared at him for a second, trying to string my thoughts together. “I’ve either driven or ridden as a passenger up and down this freeway for years. I know it like the back of my hand almost. Even been to the Toyota Center a few times. Saw Fleetwood Mac there, actually; they were the first concert after it opened. But I never would have thought…I’d be sitting here in the back of a car…with you. On our way to a restaurant I’m certain I’ve never been to.”

I was relieved when Harry echoed my laugh and squeezed my hand.

“It’s kinda weird, I guess,” I crinkled my nose.

“Doesn’t have to be,” he said. “Just think of it as a normal date.”

I blinked. “I suppose this is like our second date, huh?”

Harry pondered my question for a moment, then shrugged. “If you wanna think of it that way. But I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I’m not just considering the times I took you out as our only dates. Our first date was the night I came over and we had pizza and that amazing first kiss.”

“Oh,” I grinned slowly as I felt my cheeks grow pink.

“And I definitely consider last night one,” he continued. “Even if it was a surprise.”

I bit my lip as he leaned closer.

“And I slept in your bed, Stacey,” he murmured low. “That has to count for something.”

I nodded. “Definitely does.”

I focused on his mouth as he seemed to be doing the same with mine.

“And if you count all the phone calls,” he added before lifting my chin with his finger, his lips so close to mine they were almost touching, “and FaceTime calls…” he lightly kissed the corner of my mouth, “and texts…” then the other corner, “I’d say we’ve had a lot of dates.”

His eyelids were heavy before he shut them completely, his lips capturing mine. It was a very gentle, tender kiss, almost too quick, but lovely nonetheless.

“Thank you for tonight,” I said softly, our mouths separated but still so close I could feel his breath on my skin.

“No need to thank me yet,” he whispered with a lopsided grin. “The evening’s just begun.”

“Well…thank you anyway, in advance,” I smiled, tugging on the tail of his shirt. “I’m excited to see Stevie with you.”

“Me too, baby.”

The driver pulled up to the curb a few minutes later and opened the door for us. I recognized the downtown streets, but not the restaurant. When we stepped out onto the sidewalk, Harry lightly placed his hand on my back and opened the door for me. I felt a little flip in my stomach at the knowledge that I was about to be seen in public with a celebrity, but I made sure my face and demeanor didn’t show it. I remained cool as a cucumber when the Maitre D took us to a table, and a young waiter quickly appeared to greet us and take our drink orders.

Dinner was pleasant, with easy conversation and delicious food and wine. I did notice that Harry never made any physical contact with me, but I was fine with it. I wasn’t sure how many people were watching, even though our table was dark and somewhat private. I knew that the press and paparazzi would have a field day if they had any inkling that Harry Styles was out on a date. In Houston, Texas no less.

Before dessert, which Harry insisted we order, I excused myself to the ladies room. I smiled at a woman who was washing her hands as I walked past her to the stall. When I returned to wash my own hands, she was still there, slowly applying her lipstick and watching me like a hawk. I gave her a small smile again, feeling a bit uneasy. She didn’t return it. Instead, she dropped her lipstick into her bag and began fluffing her hair. I deliberately took out my own tube of lipstick, applying it in the same fashion she had hers, popping my lips together in a teenage-like kiss. Then I ran my fingers through my hair just like she had, letting the curls cascade down with a bounce. Our eyes met once more in the mirror as I grabbed the strap of my purse and slung it over my shoulder.

“Enjoy your evening,” I said, turning for the door.

Shaking my head as I walked down the alcove, I considered that perhaps I had been a little too smug to the stranger. She didn’t know me from Adam, and she might not have had any clue whom I was there with. It was just probably my own paranoia.

When I returned to the table, Harry beamed up at me, gesturing toward the decadent concoction in the middle of it.

“Oh, Jesus,” I groaned.

Harry handed me a spoon when I sat down, telling me to dig in. The fruit was fresh, the ice cream most definitely Haagen Dazs. The cake underneath was the most moist and delicious I’d probably ever eaten, and by the end, Harry and I were giggling as our spoons clinked together to get the last scoop.

“You take it,” I insisted, sitting back in my chair. “I’m stuffed.”

By the time we made it back to the car, the sky was dark, the streets lit up with excitement as though it anticipated the evening’s plans and surprises. My senses were on alert, the smell of cigarettes and cologne in the air. My skin tingled not just from the slightly cooler temperature, but from the rush I always got from going to a concert. Me entire body was turned on like a lamp, and Harry hadn’t even touched me yet.

Pulling up to the venue, once again the driver opened the door for me and helped me out of the car. I felt Harry’s hand on my back immediately, making me turn to look at him.

“Dunno if there’ll be cameras,” he whispered, “but just in case, stay close. If you see a flash, just keep walking. You don’t have to look at them if you don’t want to. I’ve got you. Alright?”

I stared at him for a second, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

To be honest, it hadn’t even dawned on me that there might be cameras around. I just thought of it as Houston, my turf. Other than the woman in the ladies room, nothing else had seemed suspicious.

We walked together briskly to the entrance, making it inside smoothly. I breathed a sigh of relief as Harry guided me to an area off to the right that was roped off, where a man in a suit stood with his hands folded in front of him. Harry pulled out his phone, holding it up for the man. I watched as he scanned it with a device, making a beeping sound, and then handing it back to Harry without so much as a flinch. Harry pocketed his phone again and grabbed my hand.

“Let’s go,” he wiggled his brows and pulled me through a black curtain that the man now held open.

The electricity surged right through to my toes when I saw the stage. It was closer than I’d imagined - not that I’d really imagined much. I didn’t want to assume that because Harry was, well, Harry, that we would be up close and personal. But this was definitely close. And we weren’t even at our seats yet.

Harry continued to hold my hand as we maneuvered through the crowd, finally stopping at the end of an aisle. It seemed to be some sort of VIP section, a little off to the side. Harry pointed at the seat next to where he stood and I sat down, taking in the view.

“Wow, this is great,” I commented, bouncing in my seat.

“Excited?” Harry nudged my shoulder.

“I always get excited before the show’s about to start. Just the energy in the room. I can feel it all throughout my body. The anticipation is so great.”

“Like Christmas morning?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, looking around at the audience.

“Or...that moment right before a kiss…” Harry continued.

I caught his expression out of the corner of my eye, quickly returning my gaze to the crowd.

“Exactly,” I mouthed.

I smiled when I spotted a girl on the front row in a layered dress, platform boots and a shawl. She twirled in front of her friends, giving her best Stevie and receiving a few claps and cheers.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you didn’t wear that,” I heard Harry whisper in my ear.

“Did that,” I smirked, turning to his face that was barely an inch from mine. “About fifteen years and twenty pounds ago.”

He returned my grin, his eyes traveling down my features and back up. “Bet you looked beautiful.”

I shrugged. “Not too bad. It was a black sparkly dress with spaghetti straps and a handkerchief hem. I had the boots and an old shawl that was my mother’s and-”

Three things happened then simultaneously that interrupted my thoughts. First, I could have sworn I heard someone scream “Haaaarrrryyyy!” really loud off in the distance. Second, the lights went out and the crowd went wild. Third, I was pretty sure Harry had been about to kiss me. Right there. In public.

I didn’t have time to really consider it when Stevie appeared on stage, walking up to her microphone adorned with ribbons and flowers. She opened with “Outside The Rain”, immediately going into “Dreams”, just as she had for many years. Then she did her greeting speech which made the audience erupt into cheers again.

Just like before when I’d seen Stevie, I was mesmerized by her. I’d almost forgotten I was there with Harry until I looked over at him. He was just as captivated. My heart flipped and my breath caught in my throat as I watched him watch her. It was a really beautiful moment, and for a second I wished I had a camera.

Harry didn’t peel his eyes away from Stevie, but somehow he knew I was looking at him. He lifted his hand and reached over to grab mine in my lap. He didn’t bother to bring it to his own lap, or even to let our joint hands dangle between us. He seemed content to let them remain in my lap, on my upper thigh. Taking a quick gander around, I concluded that there was no way anyone could see anyhow, especially since I could barely see them myself. Returning my attention to Stevie, I began dragging my thumb across the back of Harry’s hand and playing with his rings. I felt him squeeze my thigh, but instead of jumping out of my chair, I somehow sank deeper into it, wanting him to do it again. He began to draw circles on my leg with his finger tips, still intertwined with mine. I looked at him again, both of us mouthing the words to “Gypsy” as Stevie sang.

I have no fear...I have only love…

When the song was over, Harry finally released my hand to clap and whistle. I wanted to stand up and cheer, but I also wanted to grab him and kiss him. I couldn’t tell if I was really turned on, or if I had to pee. And the worst thing about concerts is missing something because you have to go to the bathroom. And because I was such a Stevie fan, I couldn’t find a song I was willing to miss.

Finally, halfway through “New Orleans”, I decided to suck it up and go. I nudged Harry to let him know. He smiled and nodded, lightly grazing his knuckles across mine as I rose from my chair. I thought I would have to wait in a line just like any other concert I’d been to, but I was surprised to see there wasn’t one when I turned the corner. In fact, there was a private little alcove right there next to the VIP section and I walked right in.

I almost stopped in my tracks when I saw a woman at the sink, putting on lipstick. For second, I thought it was the same woman from the restaurant, which would have been both spooky and awkward. But when I walked past her, I caught her smile as she dropped her lipstick tube into her bag. She indeed looked familiar, but not from the restaurant. She was some sort of celebrity, but I couldn’t seem to place her. I racked my brain trying to remember, hoping that getting another glimpse of her would jog my memory, but when I returned from the stall, she was gone.

As I made my way back to my seat, Stevie’s band was just starting “Stand Back”. I beamed a huge smile when I saw that Harry had risen from his chair, his arms above his head as he clapped to the beat, his hips swaying back and forth. I quickly joined him, singing along.

One man did not fall… He asked me for my love, that was all…

With childlike glee, Harry turned to me, took my hands and danced with me. There wasn’t much leg room, but we managed to dance the entire song, and I even did my best twirl, much to Harry’s delight. When Stevie began introducing the band, Harry still had a hold of my hands, his dimpled grin spreading from ear to ear, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. He was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted him to kiss me. Badly.

My chest still heaving, I released one of my hands to run it through my hair. That was when I heard the chords of the next song.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe she’s doing this song!” I exclaimed.

Harry wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him, our hips colliding. I sang along to “Crying in the Night” as I felt Harry rest his chin on my shoulder. When the harmony part came, he began to murmur the words in my ear, singing along with me like he had on the phone. Only this wasn’t just any duet. His voice vibrated in my eardrums, and I came so close to turning my head to find his lips. I managed to keep my restraint.

For the next couple of songs, Harry and I took our seats again. I never once looked behind me, though I wondered if anyone was watching us. I supposed I was afraid to find out.

When the “Edge of Seventeen” riff started up, Harry and I stood up once more, and we danced again. This time, he even turned around and danced with other people. I giggled at all of it, having the time of my life. By the time Stevie walked off stage, my cheeks hurt.

The lights went out on the stage then, but of course I knew it wasn’t over. Time for the encore of “Rhiannon” and “Landslide”. I was about to sit down and rest when Harry pulled me to him in a bear hug.

“You’re the best,” he breathed in my ear. “So much fun. Love being with you.”

As always, Harry said the perfect thing at the perfect moment. I had no words. When he released me from the hug, I let my hand slide down his cheek. When it dropped from his chin, he picked it back up, allowing his cheek to lean into it as he closed his eyes.

Stevie walked back out onto the stage then, the crowd all bounding to their feet when the intro to “Rhiannon” started. But Harry didn’t open his eyes. He remained in his spot, my hand cradling his face, his beautiful lips parted as he puffed out slow, even breaths. He looked completely content, like a baby that had been soothed and was ready for a nap.

“Harry…” I leaned in, hoping he could hear me. He shook his head.

“Stay here a minute.”

My chest shook as I chuckled, unsure what he was doing. But he was so darn adorable, I couldn’t resist. Stevie had already sung the first line, so I continued.

All your life you’ve never seen a woman, taken by the wind… Would you stay if she promised you heaven… Will you ever win…

The corners of Harry’s mouth curled up as I continued to sing, his dimple dipping deeper underneath my thumb. It was doubtful that he could even hear me over all the other people screaming off key, but his smile was all I needed to urge me forward. Finally, during the breakdown in the music, when Stevie would normally do her witchy twirl and start her ad libbing, Harry lifted his head and opened his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mouthed. “Had a moment.”

I just stared at him, my brows raised. He took my hand again and faced forward, and we watched the rest of Stevie’s “Rhiannon” exorcism like that, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

Though I knew “Landslide” was the final song, and I had seen Stevie sing it many times over, I still wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t prepared to get choked up from the opening verse. I wasn’t prepared for Harry to notice and move to stand behind me and wrap his arms around me. I wasn’t prepared for him to sing it in my ear, his deep voice permeating throughout my body down to my toes. I wasn’t prepared to feel so weak and vulnerable. And I wasn’t prepared when he whispered in my ear.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. Please don’t cry. I’ve got you.”

With a shaky breath, I leaned into him slightly, silently thanking him. I’d heard that song a million times, and though I felt like it spoke to me, I wasn’t sure it ever truly had until that moment.

I’ve been afraid of changing… Cause I’ve built my life around you… But time makes you bolder… Children get older… And I’m getting older too…

Harry swayed with me, rocking me from side to side. I felt safe. I felt cared for. I felt wanted.

When the song ended and Stevie was giving a farewell speech, Harry whispered in my ear once more.

“We should probably go. Beat the crowds.”

I nodded. I knew he didn’t mean just for traffic reasons.

We made it to the awaiting car in less than five minutes, much to my relief. I realized as I climbed inside that Harry still had a hold of my hand, and he didn’t let go as he climbed in behind me. I smiled at our joined hands between us on the seat, then up at him. He immediately leaned over, his other hand brushing my hair from my face.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied, wiping away a stray tear. “Just got emotional in there.”

Before I could add another syllable or breath, Harry pressed his mouth to mine. I kissed him back, opening my mouth and allowing our tongues to meet. I sighed as he leaned closer and I pulled him back with me, grabbing at his cross that dangled from his neck. We were already on the freeway when he finally separated from the kiss. He still hovered over me, his plump, wet lips and heavy breathing revealing his desire.

“Please tell me I get to make love to you again tonight.”

I raised my brows, slowly dragging my teeth across my bottom lip as I reached my arm around his waist. “Please tell me that was a given.”

He chuckled low, shaking his head slightly.

“Just didn’t wanna be presumptuous again.”

“Sugar,” I said, looking him in the eye, “I think...from now on...it’s safe to say my answer’s always yes.”

“This is very good information,” he declared with a grin, running a hand up my outer thigh.

“Yes,” I nodded. “But don’t get too cheeky with it.”

“Cheeky with it? Is that like gettin’ jiggy with it?”

I burst out laughing. “No. Not even close.”

“Oh.”

He continued to let his hands seduce the seam of my jeans. It was driving me crazy, but I wasn’t about to let him know. Not after his cheekiness.

“So, this yes answer…” he licked his lips. Dammit, Styles. “Does this apply to all questions or…”

“You’re pushing it, cowboy.”

“Cowboy?” he sat back slightly with a giggle. “I’m not a cowboy!”

“You’re not?”

“No. Not unless you’re ride-...wait!”

I laughed so hard I almost snorted. “You’re awful. I didn’t mean that at all.”

“Liar. Yes, you did!”

“I swear, I didn’t.”

My laughter was not convincing him. He narrowed his eyes at me and sat back in his seat with a pout. My leg missed his touch already.

“Stop it, Harry,” I said, giving my own pout.

“Stop what?”

“Being so damn cute. I can’t take it.”

He leaned his head back against the seat and turned it to look at me, his eyes dancing.

“Apparently you can...cowgirl.”

“Alright, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” he chuckled.

I scooted closer to him, rising up on my knees, my face close enough to kiss his.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

“What for?”

“Being obnoxious.”

Harry’s eyes darted between mine and my lips that threatened to kiss his as he gave me his sexy smirk. “You weren’t, baby,” he said. “I was just teasing.”

“Okay. Good.”

I kissed him then, placing my hands on either side of his face. He moaned and wrapped his arms around me when my tongue asked for permission. I boldly swung my leg over his lap and straddled him, making him moan again, a sound I could never get tired of.

“Stacey...God, baby.”

My lips travelled down his neck, nibbling underneath his jawline. I loved tasting his skin and the little sounds he made as I did so.

“Mmm, baby...I like this.”

“Like what?” I asked, sitting up to look at him.

“This. You on top of me. Kissing me. Tasting me. I like it a lot.”

I licked my lips. “This is very good information.”

Harry scoffed with a grin before grabbing my hips and pulling me closer.

We made it through my front door after many attempts of unlocking it, my hands fumbling and Harry on my neck. I tossed my bag on the sofa as he shut the door behind me.

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked him, making my way around the kitchen counter. “I’m dying of thirst.”

“Um...just water.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I opened the refrigerator, grabbing two bottles of water. Spinning around to the sink, I caught a glimpse of Harry walking slowly and deliberately into the kitchen, his fingers grazing the counter.

“These bottles are always hard to open,” I commented with a scowl, holding the first bottle over the sink, “and they fill them to the rim so they sometimes spill out all over the place.”

I heard his breathing before I felt his body pressed up against my back, his hands following, grabbing my hips and gliding them up my sides. I nervously sighed, trying my best to open the first bottle, taking a long swig of water. Then I set it down and reached for the second bottle, opening it easily despite my shaky hands. With Harry’s close proximity, it was difficult to turn around, but I somehow did, nearly knocking noses with him.

“H-here’s yours,” I barely whispered.

Harry eyed the bottle in my hand, then looked back at me. His eyes on me, he took the water and drank almost half the bottle in two large gulps, then set it on the counter behind me. Pushing his hips harder against me, Harry slid his hand underneath my ear, tilted his head and pressed his lips to mine. His other hand slid around to my back as I threw my arms around his neck, falling into the kiss. As our tongues collided, the chill from the water filled my mouth, making me tingle from head to toe. Slipping his hand from my neck down to my chest, Harry cupped my breast, his touch igniting a deeper fire within me. A tiny moan escaped my throat and Harry grabbed my waist, lifting me up to sit on the counter. I eagerly opened my legs, needing to feel him as closely as possible. With his eyelids heavy, he looked so completely delicious. His fingers resumed their touch on my upper thighs, this time with the added pressure of his thumbs. He stroked my legs down to my knees and back up, dangerously close to where I ached. And boy, did I ache. I wanted him, needed him, with every fiber of my being.

I wrapped my legs around him then, capturing his mouth in another deep kiss. I felt the rumble in his chest as he groaned against my lips. Lifting a hand from my thigh, he raked his fingers through my hair and cradled the back of my head, leaning me back as his tongue tangled with mine. I felt his hips move against me, his inevitable erection apparent and aching as much as I was.

With one small shift, Harry hoisted me up off the counter, my arms and legs still tight around him. Stepping back, he turned toward the hallway and carried me to my bedroom. The room was dark, but he didn’t turn on the light. I’d left the blinds open, and the moonlight streamed enough through them to cast a simple shadow. Ever so gently as though I were a china doll, he laid me down on the bed, his body hovering over mine. He kissed me over and over, so much that I began to wonder what his plan was. I considered asking him when he finally rose, kicked off his boots and lifted the hem of my shirt. I sat up to help him remove it, quickly lying back down. With hungry eyes, he slid his body down, his hands travelling the length of my legs. Finding the zippers of my boots, he pulled them off, dropping them at the foot of the bed. Then he made his way back up my legs again to the button on my jeans. Feeling a bit helpless, I just watched him as he tugged them off, adding them to the clothes pile.

“Very pretty,” he murmured, complimenting my new lingerie.

“Thanks.” I bit my lip as he hovered over me again.

“I like…”

His mouth found my chest then, the soft mound of skin above my bra. He pushed the strap down delicately before finding the clasp. He licked and sucked on my bare nipple as I arched my back. My breaths quickened, needing to feel him.

“Harry…” I gasped.

He merely nodded, his eyes on me as he moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, then dropping the bra on the floor.

I reached for him, grasping at his shirt, desperate to get it off. Understanding my request, he simply pulled it over his head, not bothering with the rest of the buttons. I pulled him to me by his necklace, wanting to feel skin on skin. The cross tapped on my chest as I shut my eyes, but then I began to feel it drag down the center of my body. I protested with a whine as I looked down to see Harry situated between my legs, his lips kissing the edge of my panties.

“Harry...please...where…” I swallowed hard, “where’s the condom?”

“In a minute, baby,” he cooed.

“No. Now. Please. You’re driving me crazy.”

Harry chuckled then, a devilish tone that only made me want him more. He continued to nip at my skin, his fingers looping around the sides of my underwear.

“Fuck.”

“Patience, my love. I wanna taste you.”

My mouth made the O shape, but no sound came out. I felt my toes curl as Harry pulled my panties down and off. Then lifting one thigh with his hand, he kissed the inside of it, slowly, ever so achingly slowly, making his way to the center. My eyes rolled back when I felt his tongue meet my clit. Then I just about came when he hummed against me, his mouth devouring me like his favorite dessert.

He lifted my other thigh then, and I held it open with as much strength as I could. It was a wonder I could even breathe. I turned my head to the side, biting the side of my finger as he licked me, slowly with deliberate motions.

“Mmmm,” I began to moan. “Oh God.”

“That feel good, baby?”

“Yes. Fuck.”

I felt him hum against me again, and I about lost it. I grinded myself against his mouth, needing to feel my release. He sped up his tongue, licking in circles and side to side. I cried out then, looking down and seeing his eyes were on me, his hands squeezing my thighs. I came hard, watching him watching me.

“Holy shit…” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. My legs shook on the bed as Harry released them and climbed up over me.

“You taste so good,” he said, his voice low with sex.

“No, I don’t,” I shook my head.

Harry chuckled again. “Yeah, you do.”

Resting his elbows on either side of my head, he let his fingers push the curls off my forehead before kissing me down to my nose and then my mouth. I could taste myself on his tongue, and even though I never had any issues with that sort of thing, it seemed even more of a turn on then than it ever had before.

“See?”

I let out a breath slowly, lightly grazing my fingertips down his back to the waistband of his jeans that he unfortunately was still wearing. I found the button and zipper in the front, and Harry generously lifted his hips so I could slip my hand inside. I palmed his erection, watching his eyelids flutter.

“Sugar…” I whispered, using the term of endearment he seemed to like.

“Yeah, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“You. I need to feel you inside me. Now.”

Harry licked his lips and swallowed, his eyelids closing softly as he nodded. “Yeah. I need it too.”

I watched as he rose again from the bed to remove his jeans and boxers. He produced a condom from his pocket - or wallet, I wasn’t sure - and slid it on with ease. Everything Harry did, it seemed, even making love, he did easily.

He kissed me again before entering me. I grabbed his hips, lifting my own to guide him where I needed him most. He let out a moan as he began to thrust harder and deeper. I lifted my legs, opening myself up to him completely.

“Jesus, Stacey…” he whined in my ear. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

I sucked on my bottom lip as I watched his face in the moonlight. Then I cupped it in my hands, capturing his lips. He cried in my kiss as I began to suck on his tongue. His hips moved slowly, and I could feel him, all of him. He was so hard, so good.

“Oh my God,” I moaned against his mouth.

“I know,” he breathed.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“‘m not. But…’m so close, baby.”

“I need...I need to feel like this...forever…”

I was talking gibberish, I knew. The sensation was just overwhelming, and I couldn’t get enough. I wrapped my legs around him again, wanting to be as close as possible. Harry slid his hands down my hips and back up to my waist, finally winding them around me. We moved as one, rocking back and forth. Harry’s breaths were so loud in my ear, I worried that he was okay until he sat up on his knees, pulling me with him.

I watched his face again as I grabbed his shoulders and began riding him. His eyelids seemed to get too heavy to remain open, his lips parted and swollen. I ran my fingers through his hair, whispering his name.

“Feels so good…” he groaned. “Aaah fuck me, baby.”

I rode him faster, reaching my peak just as he let out another groan and expletive. Our bodies shook, wet with perspiration as we came. Harry didn’t open his eyes until our breaths evened out. Then he softly laid me back down and kissed me passionately.

When he rose again, he headed for the bathroom. I laid in darkness, the moonlight through the blinds reflecting on the mirror as I waited for his return.

I thought about what I’d said. Perhaps it hadn’t truly been gibberish. I wished I could feel the way I felt in that moment for the rest of my life. And not just because of the sex. Yes, it was amazing and felt incredible. But the feeling was much deeper than that.

I finally knew. I was in love with him.

I noticed the glow of light from the bathroom and turned my head to see Harry leaning against the door frame, a toothbrush in his mouth. I giggled at the image which was both sexy and adorable. He wiggled his brows, then quickly turned to spit in the sink.

“My turn,” I said, sitting up.

After I cleaned up, I returned to see that Harry had turned down the bed and was lying on his side. I smiled as I crawled in next to him, reaching over to give him a kiss, my hair falling around his glowing face.

“Hey, what was that?” he pouted when I pulled away.

“What was what?”

“That kiss. That was not an ‘I just had the best night’ kiss. That was an ‘I’ll call you, we should do this again sometime’ kiss.”

I smiled wider and sighed, trying not to reveal what was really on my mind. “Sorry, sugar. Didn’t mean that at all.”

I kissed him, really kissed him then.

“Mmm,” he sounded. “Much better.”

“Good. However...we should do this again.”

He grinned, his hands getting tangled in my curls. “Yes. We definitely should. And we definitely will.”

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