#University of California Press
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archivist-dragonfly · 2 months ago
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Book 559
Historical Atlas of the United States
Derek Hayes
University of California Press 2007
You’d think a person with this many cartography books wouldn’t get lost as often as I do. (Is there a correlation between my predilection for cartography and the fact that I have absolutely no sense of direction?) Really, I think this is the last one, but I can’t swear to it. I don’t see any more, but that doesn’t mean much. By my count, this is my third book by Hayes. So, I don’t know what else to say. They’re all pretty, well laid out, informative, interesting, and thoughtful. And they all have great maps, so what else is there?
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bookdivareads · 2 years ago
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Book Spotlight: BECOMING THE EX-WIFE by Marsha Gordon
Today's book spotlight shines on the recently released nonfiction biography, BECOMING THE EX-WIFE: THE UNCONVENTIONAL LIFE & FORGOTTEN WRITINGS OF URSULA PARROTT by @MarshaGGordon, published by @UCPress. #newrelease #nonfiction #biography @CoriolisCo
Becoming the Ex-Wife by Marsha GordonISBN: 9780520391543 (Hardcover)ISBN: 9780520391550 (eBook)ASIN: B0BNBMG619 (Kindle edition)Publisher: University of California PressPage Count: 312Release Date: April 25, 2023Genre: Nonfiction | Biography The riveting biography of Ursula Parrott—best-selling author, Hollywood screenwriter, and voice for the modern woman. Becoming the Ex-Wife establishes…
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justinspoliticalcorner · 9 months ago
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Jason Wilson at The Guardian:
A Guardian investigation has identified former University of California, Irvine (UCI) lecturer Jonathan Keeperman as the man behind the prominent “new right” publishing house Passage Press and the influential Twitter persona Lomez. The identification is based on company and property records, source interviews and open-source online materials. The reporting has revealed that Keeperman’s current status as a key player and influential tastemaker in a burgeoning proto-fascist movement came after years of involvement in far-right internet forums.
Much of that journey coincided with his time at one of the country’s most well-regarded writing programs: Keeperman first came to UCI as a master of fine arts (MFA) student, and was also a lecturer in the English department from 2013 to 2022, according to public records. The emergence of Passage Press and other such publishers has been a key part of the development of a swathe of the current American far right, which is seeking to capture US institutions – or develop far-right equivalents – as part of a political and cultural war against what it sees as the dominance of a liberal “regime” in America. In a June 2023 podcast interview, Keeperman characterized Passage Press and its literary prize as part of this effort to “build out alternative infrastructure, alternative institutions”.
It is a fight wholeheartedly embraced by Donald Trump and his supporters in the Republican party, especially in their railing against “the deep state” and promises of retribution should Trump win the 2024 presidential election. The Guardian repeatedly contacted Keeperman requesting comment on this reporting, at a personal Gmail address and a Passage Press address, and left a voicemail message at a telephone number that data brokers listed as belonging to Keeperman, but which carried a message identifying it as belonging to a member of his household.
[...]
Scary ideas – and wanting to be recognized
Passage Press books include a Tucker Carlson-blurbed anthology of writings by “human biodiversity” influencer Steve Sailer; a similar retrospective from “neo-reactionary” guru Curtis Yarvin; and a print version of the biannual Man’s World. Like many other far-right publishers, Passage’s list is bolstered by reprints of out-of-print or public-domain books by historical fascist and reactionary writers. These include books by radical German nationalist and militarist Ernst Jünger; Peter Kemp, who fought as a volunteer in Franco’s army during the Spanish civil war; and two counter-revolutionary Russian aristocrats, White Russian general Pyotr Wrangel and Prince Serge Obolensky.
[...] Passage Press differs from many others in its niche in offering new work by the contemporary far-right’s intellectual celebrities, and in curating in-person events and a far-right literary award. The publisher also produces high-end limited editions of selected titles. The “patrician edition” of Noticing, a book by Sailer, for example, is “bound in genuine leather, gold-foil stamping” and “Smyth-sewn book block”, according to the website. Though lavishly produced, the “patrician” offerings appear to have generated significant income for Passage. At the time of reporting, Passage had sold out its limited run of 500 patrician editions of Noticing at $395 apiece, according to the website. This equates to some $195,000 in revenue. An earlier patrician edition of winning entries in the 2021 Passage prize sold 250 editions at $400 apiece, according to the website, representing another $100,000 in revenue. The publication of Noticing – also available as a $29.95 paperback – was spun out into a series of in-person events in Austin, Los Angeles, Miami and New York City, held in March, April and May.
The Guardian reveals that the identity of far-right X account Lomez belongs to UCLA lecturer Jonathan Keeperman.
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nwbeerguide · 1 year ago
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USC Athletics partners with Stone Brewing Co. for official craft beer.
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Press Release
ESCONDIDO, CA ... The University of Southern California (USC) Athletics, announces the debut of its first-ever official craft beer, Stone Fight On! Pale Ale. The beer is brewed by Stone Brewing, the Southern California-based brewery that has been trailblazing the craft beer category with a fierce commitment to quality and freshness for 27 years. The official USC Athletics beer will be available for purchase the week of August 14, 2023.
Stone Fight On! Pale Ale will be distributed throughout Southern California at stores, bars, and restaurants and onsite at the Los Angeles Colosseum and the Galen Center, home of the USC Trojans. Its 16oz cans feature classic USC iconography and colors. Inside, the beer is a quintessential SoCal Pale Ale – a balanced blend of tropical and citrusy hop flavors, light-body and endlessly drinkable at 5.5% ABV. Stone’s brewers developed the beer to offer that hoppiness Southern Californians crave in a style that suits tailgates, beach days, and cheering from the stands or at home.
“USC Athletics has been seeking the perfect beer partner – a regional brand that would be meaningful to our fans and add to the gameday experience, " explained Drew DeHart, Vice President/General Manager, USC Sports Properties and Playfly Sports. “Stone really nailed a Pale Ale that’s representative of the SoCal craft beer scene, and easy drinking too. We’re honored to see our USC colors, marks and Trojan alongside the Stone Gargoyle.”
“Stone beers are popular nationwide and across the globe, but SoCal is where we started and is home to our biggest population of fans,” explained Erin Smith, Stone Brewing SVP of Marketing. “We’re thrilled at the opportunity to create a beer that instills local pride in that cross-section of craft beer drinkers and USC fans and alumni. It’s our hope that this beer is enjoyed year-round for its incredible flavor, and that it truly adds to the gameday experience across all USC sports.”
Find the beer online via Stone’s Beer Finder, Find.StoneBrewing.com or order it online for delivery in California and select states via Shop.StoneBrewing.com.
FIGHT ON!
...
ABOUT STONE BREWING
Founded in 1996, Stone pioneered the West Coast Style IPA, helping to fuel the modern craft beer revolution and inspire generations of hop fanatics. Today Stone operates breweries in Escondido, CA and Richmond, VA plus seven tap room and bistro locations. Stone offers a wide range of craft beers including its most popular Stone IPA, Stone Delicious IPA and Stone Buenaveza Salt & Lime Lager. The company’s long list of environmental efforts includes a LEED Silver Certification, world-class water reclamation and creative uses of spent grain. Stone has been called the “All-time Top Brewery on Planet Earth” by BeerAdvocate magazine twice. To find Stone beers, visit find.stonebrewing.com. For more information on Stone Brewing visit stonebrewing.com, Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. 
ABOUT USC SPORTS PROPERTIES
USC Sports Properties is the locally-based, exclusive multimedia rightsholder for USC Athletics. As a part of the Playfly Sports Properties portfolio of nearly 40 collegiate and high school state association properties, the USC Sports Properties team connects brands to USC’s passionate and deeply-rooted fanbase. Through broadcast, in-arena, experiential, and technology-based marketing and media solutions, Playfly Sports Properties’ fully scalable platform provides marketers unparalleled access to the most highly engaged audiences on a local and national level. Playfly Sports Properties is a division of Playfly Sports.
Connect with the USC Sports Properties team by visiting www.playfly.com/properties.
ABOUT PLAYFLY SPORTS
Playfly Sports is a sports media, marketing and technology business centered around the team, league, brand, and network.  Believing in ‘Fandom as a Service’​ and focusing on a consultative, data driven approach to REACH, ENGAGE, MONETIZE AND MEASURE FANDOM gives the company’s partners and brands a competitive advantage.​ Playfly connects more than 2,000 brand partners with approximately 83% of all U.S. sports fans. Through the proprietary platform the business delivers scalable, data-oriented marketing, technology, and media solutions with capabilities including exclusive MMR management, sponsorship sales and activation, streaming, consulting, ticket/premium sales, all along with new revenue-driving platforms and technologies.  Founded in September of 2020, Playfly Sports is now home to approximately 1,000 team members located across 43 U.S. states dedicated to maximizing the impact of highly passionate local sports fans. Follow Playfly Sports on social media @PlayflySports or visit www.playfly.com.
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a-book-of-creatures · 10 months ago
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I think I stumbled upon some kind of ichthyological forbidden knowledge. Opened up a book of names that were never meant to be read.
You've probably heard of "can-opener smoothdream", right? It's practically a meme by now.
But the thing is, it's a deep-sea fish. And deep-sea fish have historically not had English names because nobody drops them into the conversation over a hot cuppa. Sure, there's generic stuff like hatchetfish and barreleye, but when you want to refer to the actual fish you're probably saying such euphonious phrases as Diretmus argenteus, Sternoptyx diaphana, or maybe even Opisthoproctus soleatus.
So whence "can-opener smoothdream"? Certainly no non-ichthyologist has ever used that name. It's not even a direct translation of the scientific name Chaenophryne longiceps - that would be "long-headed gape-toad". Which to me is even cooler than "can-opener smoothdream".
But I digress. The "dream" bit comes from the anglerfish family Oneirodidae, from oneiros, "dream", because those marvelous fishes look like they came out of a dream (Pietsch, 2009).
Note that Pietsch (2009), more or less the anglerfish bible, uses English names at the genus level only. So Chaenophryne is the smoothhead dreamers genus but no mention is made of "can-opener smoothdreams". So no luck there.
Wikipedia, root cause of a lot of misinformation, has this to say.
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"Longhead dreamer" is a far more accurate name. And in fact, despite Wikipedia prioritizing "can-opener smoothdream" (because it's funny?), the links listed use "longhead dreamer" and "smoothhead dreamer" as the name and "can-opener smoothdream" as an alternative.
So. Again. Where did "can-opener smoothdream" come from?
The answer, as it turns out, lies with McAllister (1990).
In the book A List of the Fishes of Canada, ichthyologist D. E. McAllister sought out to list every single fish known to Canadian waters, providing both an English and a French name.
And when there wasn't an English name, like for most deep-sea fishes, he arbitrarily gave them a name. And his names "differ in many instances from the widely accepted names" (Holm, 1998)
This had varying results. This is his name for one of the netdevil anglerfishes.
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The humpback anglerfish or blackdevil anglerfish becomes a werewolf (????).
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This one is just confusing.
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The white-spotted lanternfish or Rafinesque's lanternfish instead becomes...
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And most embarrassingly, the Mediterranean spiderfish gets saddled with something that "violates the tenet of good taste" (Holm, 1998).
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This then is the original source of "can-opener smoothdream". It was invented by an ichthyologist in 1990, and has seen little to no use outside of how bizarre the name is.
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Maybe McAllister's goofier names will catch on. Who knows? They certainly aren't very popular in the scientific community though.
References
Holm, E. (1998) Encyclopedia of Canadian Fishes (review). The Canadian Field-Naturalist, 112, p. 174-175.
McAllister, D. E. (1990) A List of the Fishes of Canada. National Museum of Natural Sciences, Ottawa.
Pietsch, T. W. (2009) Oceanic Anglerfishes: Extraordinary Diversity in the Deep Sea. University of California Press, Berkeley.
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missz3lda · 20 days ago
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Almond milk was first noted in middle Eastern recipes as earliest as the 8th century. It became a huge hit in medieval Europe as it became a dairy free replacement during times of fasting and lent. It was an expensive but popular substitute for the strict religious aristocrats.
Carolyn Walker Bynum (1988), Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women, University of California Press, p. 41, ISBN 978-0-520-06329-7
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sacramentohistorymuseum · 14 days ago
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January 20th this year is MLK Day! Today we remember and honor the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. as a Civil Rights leader and activist. On October 16, 1967, less than 6 months before his assassination, King spoke at the campus stadium at Sacramento State College (now known today as California State University, Sacramento) on the subject of inequalities in education and economic justice for the lower class in the United States in a campaign later called the “Poor People’s Campaign of 1968.” About 6,000 people attended this speech.
For today, Jared discussed MLK’s speech in Sacramento and letterpress printed a quote from MLK in 1963. The quote is, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere... Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” This was typeset in 30 point Caslon font. This was printed with black rubber base ink using our Washington hand press, which was made in 1852.
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fatehbaz · 2 years ago
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Good question:
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In the United States, many jails and prisons can and will charge you money for every single night that you spend imprisoned, for the entire duration of your incarceration, as if you were being billed for staying at a hotel. Even if you are incarcerated for years. Adding up to tens of thousands of dollars. What happens when you’re released?
In response to this:
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So.
You’re getting charged, like, ten dollars every time you even submit a request form to possibly be seen by a doctor or dentist.
You’re getting charged maybe five dollars for ten minutes on the phone.
Any time a friend or family tries to send you like five dollars so that you can buy some toothpaste or lotion, or maybe a snack from the commissary since you’re diabetic and the “meals” have left you malnourished, maybe half of that money gets taken as a “service fee” by the corporate contractor that the prison uses to manage your pre-paid debit card. So you’re already losing money every day just by being there.
What happens if you can’t pay?
In some places, after serving just a couple of years for drugs charges, almost 20 years after being released, the state can still hunt you down for over $80,000 that you “owe” as if it were a per-night room-and-board accommodations charge, like this recent highly-publicized case in Connecticut:
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Two decades after her release from prison, [TB] feels she is still being punished. When her mother died two years ago, the state of Connecticut put a lien on the Stamford home she and her siblings inherited. It said she owed $83,762 to cover the cost of her 2 1/2 year imprisonment for drug crimes. [...] “I’m about to be homeless,” said [TB], 58, who in March [2022] became the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit challenging the state law that charges prisoners $249 a day for the cost of their incarceration. [...] All but two states have so-called “pay-to-stay” laws that make prisoners pay for their time behind bars [...]. Critics say it’s an unfair second penalty that hinders rehabilitation by putting former inmates in debt for life. Efforts have been underway in some places to scale back or eliminate such policies. Two states — Illinois and New Hampshire — have repealed their laws since 2019. [...] Pay-to-stay laws were put into place in many areas during the tough-on-crime era of the 1980s and ’90s, said Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology at University of Southern California who is leading a study of the practice. [...] Connecticut used to collect prison debt by attaching an automatic lien to every inmate, claiming half of any financial windfall they might receive for up to 20 years after they are released from prison [...].
Text by: Pat Eaton-Robb. “At $249 per day, prison stays leave ex-inmates deep in debt.” AP News / The Associated Press. 27 August 2022.
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Look at this:
To help her son, Cindy started depositing between $50 to $100 a week into Matthew’s account, money he could use to buy food from the prison commissary, such as packaged ramen noodles, cookies, or peanut butter and jelly to make sandwiches. Cindy said sending that money wasn’t necessarily an expense she could afford. “No one can,” she said. So far in the past month, she estimates she sent Matthew close to $300. But in reality, he only received half of that amount. The balance goes straight to the prison to pay off the $1,000 in “rent” that the prison charged Matthew for his prior incarceration. [...] A PA Post examination of six county budgets (Crawford, Dauphin, Lebanon, Lehigh, Venango and Indiana) showed that those counties’ prisons have collected more than $15 million from inmates — almost half is for daily room and board fees that are meant to cover at least a portion of the costs with housing and food. Prisoners who don’t work are still expected to pay. If they don’t, their bills are sent to collections agencies, which can report the debts to credit bureaus. [...] Between 2014 and 2017, the Indiana County Prison — which has an average inmate population of 87 people — collected nearly $3 million from its prisoners. In the past five years, Lebanon’s jail collected just over $2 million in housing and processing fees.
Text by: Joseph Darius Jaafari. “Paying rent to your jailers: Inmates are billed millions of dollars for their stays in Pa. prisons.” WHYY (PBS). 10 December 2019. Originally published at PA Post.
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Pay-to-stay, the practice of charging people to pay for their own jail or prison confinement, is being enforced unfairly by using criminal, civil and administrative law, according to a new Rutgers University-New Brunswick led study. The study [...] finds that charging pay-to-stay fees is triggered by criminal justice contact but possible due to the co-opting of civil and administrative institutions, like social service agencies and state treasuries that oversee benefits, which are outside the realm of criminal justice. “A person can be charged $20 to $80 a day for their incarceration,” said author Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology and a faculty affiliate of Rutgers' criminal justice program. “That per diem rate can lead to hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees when a person gets out of prison. To recoup fees, states use civil means such as lawsuits and wage garnishment against currently and formerly incarcerated people, and regularly use administrative means such as seizing employment pensions, tax refunds and public benefits to satisfy the debt.” [...] Civil penalties are enacted on family members if the defendant cannot pay and in states such as Florida, Nevada and Idaho can occur even after the original defendant is deceased. [...]
Text by: Megan Schumann. “States Unfairly Burdening Incarcerated People With “Pay-to-Stay” Fees.” Rutgers press release. 20 November 2020.
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So, to pay for your own imprisonment, states can:
-- hunt you down for decades (track you down 20 years later, charge you tens of thousands of dollars, and take your house away)
-- put a lien on your vehicle, house
-- garnish your paycheck/wages
-- seize your tax refund
-- send collections agencies after you
-- take your public assistance benefits
-- sue you in civil court
-- take money from your family even after you’re dead
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clarionglass · 8 months ago
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here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!
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sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)
Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 
He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?
He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.
He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.
“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”
“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”
He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.
---
Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.
With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.
It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.
“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.
“Sure!”
“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”
Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 
And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 
“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”
“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”
The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”
Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”
“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”
“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”
“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.
Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 
“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”
The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.
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The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.
“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.
The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.
“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”
The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”
Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.
“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.
“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”
Grant didn’t look convinced, but—
“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.
Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.
“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”
Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”
“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.
“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”
He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.
“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”
He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”
“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”
Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 
“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 
“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”
Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”
“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”
“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 
The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 
“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”
Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”
“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 
“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”
Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”
“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 
“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”
“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”
“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”
Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 
“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”
His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 
“Good luck.”
---
Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.
Showtime.
“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”
Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.
“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”
The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?
“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”
Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.
“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”
“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 
As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.
“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”
“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”
“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 
“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 
“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”
The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.
“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.
“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”
He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”
When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”
Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.
Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”
“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”
Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”
“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.
“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”
“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”
The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 
It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 
Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 
“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”
For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 
And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.
The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”
“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.
The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 
It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.
“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”
A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.
“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”
“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”
“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.
“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.
In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.
Nobody moved.
“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”
Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.
Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.
The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.
“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”
Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”
The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”
Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”
“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”
“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”
He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”
It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.
“You can’t be,” he breathed. 
Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.
“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”
The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”
The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 
“Master.”
---
missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?
original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x
art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x
writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!
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astrcmoni · 27 days ago
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ᯓ☆ star’s midnight caller ☆ᯓ
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MASTERLIST
☆ series masterpost: I II III
pairing: billie eilish x sex-hotline-operator!fem!reader
genre: fluff, smut(kinda)
synopsis: in the quiet of the night, you answer a call that pulls you into a world of mystery and intrigue. what starts as a simple conversation with a stranger turns into a connection you never expected, leaving you craving more with each ring.
wc: 2.4k
warnings: light cussing here and there
authors note: let me know what you guys think, i really liked writing this and i want to make a part two. also there’s no smut in this part but the concept of the hotline is sexual (idk if that made sense) anyways imma stop rambling byeee ☆
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phone call style story — reader is in bold italics, billie is in blue italics.
————
wednesday 12:43 am — incoming call from +1 (980) 598-7201 (charlotte, NC)
“thanks so much, babygirl,” richard says from the other side of the phone, his voice soft, tinged with something like gratitude. “you always know what i need.”
richard is one of your regulars, calling at least twice a week. he likes to imagine that you’re his long-lost girlfriend, reaching out from some parallel universe. you let him ramble, your voice smooth and coaxing, playing into his fantasy like a script you know by heart. a light laugh here, a soft hum there, the occasional breathy moan when it fits the moment.
“anytime, boo,” you reply, fingers already grazing the disconnect button. “take care of yourself, okay?”
the line clicks off, leaving a brief silence that feels heavier than it should. you exhale, stretching your arms above your head as you try to shake off the remnants of his voice. just another call. just another night.
soft light spills through the corners of your room, golden and warm against the pale lavender of your walls. the curtains billow lazily, carried by a breeze that whispers through the cracked window. outside, the city hums—a distant siren wailing, cars rolling down the street below, someone leaning on their horn too long, too loud.
at your desk, you lean forward, catching your reflection in the mirror perched precariously against a stack of books. sticky lip gloss catches the lamplight, glinting like glass. your lashes look decent—lifted enough to remind you of your own femininity. normally, you wouldn’t bother. no one can see you, after all. but it helps, this small ritual. it’s armor in a way, a mask you slip behind before stepping into this role.
“alright,” you mutter, rolling your neck to release the tension settling in your shoulders. “one more call and i’m done.”
the surface beneath your elbows is cluttered—textbooks splayed open, scribbled lab reports fighting for space with overdue bills. it’s not glamorous, but it pays. and it’s enough, for now.
you adjust your headset, letting the padded cups press comfortably against your ears, and clear your throat. the practiced warmth creeps back into your voice as the phone chimes again, flashing another number across the screen.
wednesday 12:49 am — incoming call from +1 (310) 807-3956 (los angeles, california)
“hello, and thank you for calling the pulse network. this is star speaking.” your voice drops an octave, soft and inviting, the words sliding out like honey. “who do i have the pleasure of speaking with tonight?”
there’s a pause on the other end—static filling the silence like a breath held too long. then, a voice cuts through, low, smooth, and distinctly feminine.
“uh…hi?” she sounds hesitant, her voice fraying at the edges like she’s second-guessing herself. “is this…is this a-uh…hotline for…you know?”
your brows knit for a moment before relaxing. most callers know exactly what they want, their voices heavy with intent. but her hesitation feels different. delicate, almost.
“that depends,” you say, leaning forward slightly, your tone light and playful. “what are you looking for, my love?”
she exhales sharply, and you can hear the faint sound of movement—like she’s pacing, the rhythm of her footsteps soft and uneven.
“honestly?” she says after a beat, her voice quieter now. “i don’t even know why i called. jus’ bored, i guess. curious. didn’t think this would even work.”
a smile tugs at your lips, though you bite it back. calls like these are rare, but you don’t mind them. there’s something refreshing about the uncertainty, the lack of pretense.
“well,” you murmur, letting your voice wrap around the words like a velvet ribbon, “we’re here now. go ahead, tell me whatever’s on your mind. no pressure.”
there’s a pause, long enough that you glance at the timer on the screen, wondering if she’s about to hang up. but then she sighs again, the sound softer this time, like she’s giving in.
“is it weird that i’m calling?” she asks, her voice dipping into the quiet like it’s unsure of its place.
“no judgment here, love. everyone has their reasons.” your response is soft, easy, laced with practiced charm. but something about her feels different.
“i don’t even know mine.”
the line falls into silence again, thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of her breathing—steady, almost meditative. it’s the kind of silence that feels like it’s waiting for you to fill it, but instead, you let it linger, listening.
“what’s your name?”
you blink, caught off guard. most callers don’t ask that unless it’s part of the fantasy they’re crafting. most don’t care to know.
“well, what do you want it to be?” you counter, your voice tipping into something playful.
she laughs softly, the sound low and throaty, curling through the line like smoke. “no, that’s not what i asked. i wanna know your name.”
there’s a pause as you weigh her words, the sincerity behind them.
“star,” you say finally, keeping it professional, your tone steady. “you can call me star.”
“what’s your real name?”
her question lands heavier than it should. it’s not forceful, not even intrusive. just curious. like she’s asking for a story rather than a fact.
you hesitate, fingers tracing the edge of your desk absentmindedly. something about her voice makes you want to give in, but you push the temptation aside, slipping easily into deflection.
“you know, most people don’t ask me that,” you murmur. “they usually want to know what i look like, what i’m wearing. things like that.”
“guess i’m not most people, then.”
“come on, you’re telling me you’re not even a little curious?”
she chuckles, warm and low, the kind of laugh that sticks in your chest. “okay, i’ll bite. what are you wearing, star?”
you smirk, leaning back in your chair as the city hums faintly through the open window.
“blue and black pajamas” you reply, your tone light. “lace trim. very cute, if i do say so myself.”
“where’d you get it?”
“some victoria’s secret around my city. they were having a sale.”
“cute.” her voice dips, carrying a hint of a smile. “now, back to my question.”
you roll your eyes, though there’s no edge to it. she’s persistent, you’ll give her that.
“you’re just gonna have to call me star. can’t give you my name. not tonight, sorry sweetheart.”
“no, it’s okay.” she pauses, then repeats it, like she’s trying it on. “well, star.” there’s something deliberate about the way she says it, slow and careful, testing its weight. “i’m billie.”
her name sits soft and sure in the air, settling between you like it belongs.
“you seem like a billie.”
“do i?”
“mhm,” you hum, leaning forward against the desk. “so, billie. what do you want to talk about?”
“hmm.” she draws the sound out thoughtfully, the silence stretching just long enough to make you wonder if she’ll answer. “why do you do this?”
the question hits you in a way you don’t expect, cutting through the usual rhythm of calls. most people don’t ask—don’t even think to ask.
you consider lying, giving her something easy, but the weight of her question lingers, tugging at the edges of your honesty.
“it pays the bills,” you admit finally, your voice soft. “and it’s not as bad as people think. i meet some…very…interesting people.”
“like me?”
the corner of your mouth quirks up, her words pulling at something playful in you.
“you tell me. are you interesting?”
“guess that depends.” she pauses, her voice curling with quiet amusement. “you think i’m interesting so far?”
“so far? i’ll give you a solid maybe.”
her laughter spills through the line, warm and unexpected, and it lingers in your room long after it fades.
“oh really? how long have you been doing this?”
“for about…” you pause, eyes flicking up to the ceiling like the answer might be scrawled there. “for about a little over a year now.”
“damn. that’s a long ass time.”
you chuckle, the sound warm and easy. “it is, isn’t it? i don’t know, i don’t mind it though. all i do is answer the phone. sometimes i do schoolwork, cook—small things like that. not like i necessarily have to be fully present for it, as long as i’m paying attention, you know?”
“you’re in school? just exactly how old are you?”
“wait—before we continue, you’re aware it’s a dollar seventy-five per minute, right?”
“uhh, i wasn’t, but i don’t mind it.”
“ooh, so you’re rich then?”
she laughs, a low, honeyed sound that settles in your chest. “i wouldn’t say that. i’d say i’m… comfortable.”
“only rich people say they’re comfortable. but to answer your question, i’m twenty, in my junior year. babe, you?”
“okay, not bad. i’m twenty-three. though i did think you were much older.”
you snort, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it. “not bad? we’re practically the same age.”
“mm, i got about three years on you, so… no,” she laughs, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “what are you majoring in?”
“criminology. mainly forensics and things like that.”
“that’s so fucking cool. so you’re like those people on tv who examine bodies and shit?”
“yeah, but doing it in real life is way different than it looks on tv.” you close your eyes, the memory of your first dissection flashing briefly. “especially lab work. but you get used to it after a while.”
“still, that’s badass. you must be super smart.”
the compliment catches you off guard, heat crawling up your neck. “i guess you could say that,” you mutter, a quiet smile tugging at your lips.
the conversation flows easier after that, like water finding its way downhill. you don’t even realize when you’ve moved to your bed, your headset cast aside as her voice fills your room through the speaker.
she asks you everything—your favorite movies, the hobbies that keep you up at night, the kind of music that makes your soul hum. the questions are simple but intimate, slipping past your usual defenses like she’s known you for years.
and you answer her. honestly, without hesitation. there’s something about her voice, warm and unhurried, that pulls the truth out of you.
you find yourself smiling, more than you have in days, fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair as you lean into the sound of her. it feels oddly intimate—like a late-night call with someone who’s already carved out a space in your life.
“so,” she asks after a lull, her voice soft but curious, “what’s your favorite movie?”
you grin, closing your eyes as you let the answer roll off your tongue. “pulp fiction. it’s a classic, don’t judge me.”
“no judgment. i respect it. but you gotta admit, it’s a little basic.”
“oh, and you’re not basic? let me guess—you’re gonna say something artsy like ‘a clockwork orange’ or whatever.”
“wrong. mine’s ‘the shining.’”
“oh, so you’re a horror girl. noted.”
she laughs, the sound warm and easy, and you realize you don’t want the conversation to end. not yet. not with her voice lingering in your room like this.
“what about you?” you murmur, breaking the soft rhythm of silence that had settled between you.
“hm? what about me?” her voice lilts, curious but guarded.
“what do you do? like for work?”
there’s a pause, long enough that you wonder if she’s going to sidestep the question entirely. but then she exhales, the sound quiet, like she’s carefully letting something go.
“i’m a musician,” she says finally, her words tentative, like they might break if handled too roughly. “or i guess i was… i teach music now.”
her admission catches you off guard, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through the connection. but you don’t press her, sensing that whatever she’s offering is enough for now. instead, you let the conversation drift, carried by the quiet ebb and flow of her voice.
the hours blur like watercolors, the world outside fading until there’s only her.
eventually, her tone softens, the edges of her words rounding with sleep. “it’s getting late. i should let you go,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
you glance at the alarm clock on the wall, the soft red digits blinking 3:35 a.m. back at you. exhaustion tugs at you, but the thought of ending the call feels heavier than it should.
“but…” her hesitation pulls you back to her. “can i call you again? i had a really good time.”
your heart stumbles over itself, a small hitch in your chest. “yeah, of course you can.” your voice dips into something softer, something closer to truth. “i had a good time too.”
“great. goodnight, star.” there’s a smile in her voice, light and unguarded, and it lingers in the air even after she’s gone.
“goodnight, billie.”
the line goes quiet, and for a moment, you sit there, the warmth of her voice still brushing against you like an afterglow.
you slip off your bed, padding into the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. the cool water shocks your skin, but it doesn’t chase away the heat curling low in your stomach.
when you return to your room, the lamp clicks off with a soft snap, plunging the space into shadows broken only by the shifting colors of your tv. you slide under the covers, the faint hum of a late-night rerun filling the silence. the images blur on the screen, but all you can think about is her voice, the way it clung to the edges of the night, soft and sure.
a ding pulls you from your thoughts. your phone glows faintly on the nightstand, and you reach for it, the sudden brightness making you blink.
new transactions — 4:03 a.m.
+1 (254) 783-0184 (dallas, TX) - $26.25
+1 (980) 598-7201 (charlotte, NC) - $43.75
+1 (310) 807-3956 (los angeles, CA) - $315.62
you smile, the corners of your lips twitching up involuntarily. it’s nothing unusual, but tonight it feels different, lighter somehow. you turn the screen off and set the phone back down, a quiet sense of contentment settling over you.
for the first time in a long time, you find yourself looking forward to your next call.
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inspired by @whore-era
astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand @watercolorskyy @bilssturns ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!
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archivist-dragonfly · 1 month ago
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Book 561
Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There
Lewis Carroll / illustrated by Barry Moser
University of California Press 1983
It must be also said that the California Alice books are beautifully well-done. One-quarter cloth bound with three-color printing throughout (red for accents and annotations and blue for chapter heads and other notes), and with a mirrored title page at the end, they are both exceptional. With a beautifully annotated chess problem, the California edition also includes as one of its appendices the challenged “Wasp in a Wig” chapter (also illustrated), and several introductions written by Dodgson for various editions. After Gardner’s Annotated Alice, they might be my favorites.
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ashonheavenscloud · 3 months ago
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honey || s. eric
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⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆ contents: sohn eric x fem!reader, established relationship, smut (minors dni!), starts very very soft and gets very very flithy LOL, yes this is self-indulgent and i will not apologize
⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆ word count: 2.7k
⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆ warnings: explicit 18+ content, switch!eric, swearing, unprotected sex, oral (m. rec), shower sex, praise, eric sohn (he deserves his own warning)
⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆ a/n: this has been in the drafts for WAY too long and i just decided to finish it in the back of my class (yes i'm insane)
now playing - over and over - jimmy brown, rovv; sip sip - jimmy brown, rovv, sweet the kid; everyday - jimmy brown ft sweet the kid
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
From the moment you wake up in the morning, sun peeking through the blinds, the world outside made brighter by almost a foot of snow piled on the ground, Eric is suffocating you.
His arms are wrapped tightly around you from behind, head pressed to your back, legs tangled with yours beneath several thick blankets. It’s not unlike Eric to be clingy, but it isn’t just affection keeping him extra close—you can tell when you shift and he tightens his hold on you, shivering at the cold air your movement lets into the blankets. In response to your body moving around, Eric pulls you back to his chest, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.
“Don’t go.” He whispers, voice hoarse. He must have just woken up, too.
“I’m not.” You softly promise, and Eric hugs your body somehow closer to himself, arms crossing your stomach to hold your waist, legs tangling with yours, pressing a light, almost unnoticeable kiss to your shoulder.
You lay with him there in silence for a few moments, senses sharpening as you wake up fully. Every minute or so, Eric presses a kiss or two along your back, making you sigh in content. There really isn’t a better way to spend lazy mornings than with him.
You shift again, and Eric whines when the movement lifts the blankets and lets in frigid air. But he loosens his hold enough for you to turn and face him, getting a good look at his sleepy eyes and disheveled state. You note, heart melting a bit, that he wore his favourite faded grey University of California sweater to sleep in an attempt to keep himself warmer, hood pulled over his messy brown hair. He’s so cute it makes your brain short circuit when he opens his eyes, meeting your gaze and letting his head slump onto your shoulder. “It’s so cold.”
“It’s January.” You whisper back, and he whines. 
“It’s -10 F, I don’t care what month it is.”
You laugh softly, and Eric’s mouth twists into a half smile at the sound. Slowly, his cold hands find yours and intertwine your fingers together. You watch affectionately as he lifts your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles tenderly in a way that has your heart skipping a beat. And when he pauses to look at you with a small, teasing smile, you know he’s doing it on purpose to make you flustered. Which only makes your stomach do several more backflips when he holds your gaze and presses a lingering kiss to your palm. 
“Your hands are so cold.” He comments, kissing the tips of your fingers, successfully making your heart melt for the nth time this morning.
“So are yours.” You whisper back and he groans.
“I know, it’s fucking freezing.” 
You laugh gently, holding up your joined hands and following his lead, pressing a couple kisses to his icy fingers. When you look back at him, his mouth is spread in a smile, eyes absolutely full of adoration. Eric is always very attentive to you, preferring to show his love for you through thoughtful actions rather than words, so when you make the effort to return one of his loving gestures, he falls for you all over again. 
“My nose is really cold, too.” He says automatically, hoping you’ll get the hint. You smile, dropping his hands to cup his face with your palms, planting a kiss, then another on the tip of his nose, tinged pink- and he’ll refuse to say whether the colour is actually from the cold or from your lips on his skin, your soft giggle in his ear, your warm breath on his cheeks.
His next sentence comes out breathless. “My lips, too.” 
Laughing, you meet his lips with yours, and Eric all but melts against your mouth, hands bracing on your stomach, then bunching your sweater in his fists. Your brain turns to static as he curls into you, kissing you slowly for what feels like a minute and an hour at the same time, before you pull away. 
“Better?” You ask, teasingly.
Eric’s eyes take a second to focus on you, dazed and sparkling. He breathes out a short laugh, mumbling, “getting there,” before tilting his head to reconnect your lips with his. One hand reaches to hold your face close to his, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling his own mouth lift in a grin. 
You let the seconds blur into streaks of muted colours, Eric’s thumb applying light pressure on your jaw to tilt your face closer to his as he kisses you slowly, pulling on your bottom lip in a way that has your stomach twisting into knots. His other hand has slipped around to the small of your back, pressing your body to his- and you’re certain this time, it isn’t for warmth. Your hands slide up his torso, finding warmth under his sweatshirt and over his stomach and making Eric gasp at your frigid fingers on his skin.
“Don’t see how that helps keep me warm.” He whines against your lips, to which you loop your fingers under his waistband and tug his hips close to yours.
“What if I had a better idea?”
Eric’s eyes flicker open to look into yours. His smile is crooked as he nudges your nose with his. “What’s that?”
As a response, you kiss him, teasing his lips with the tip of your tongue, and leaving him chasing for more when you pull back with a smile. “Meet me in the shower in ten?”
Eric doesn’t need a sales pitch; he’s already halfway out of bed. “How about five?”
It actually only takes two minutes for Eric to have the shower running, steam instantly fogging up the room from how warm he’s cranked the water to battle the way you both shiver after undressing. However, you refuse to be charbroiled and adjust the water to a reasonable temperature before joining him under the stream. The shower offers plenty of space, easily taking up half of the room with dark tiles, a rainfall showerhead and several ledges with bottles, soap and other items - but that space is basically useless when Eric immediately pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You feel his smile against your skin as he murmurs into your ear, “This feels familiar.” 
You laugh softly when he kisses your shoulder, before you turn in his grasp. “So does this,” you take his hands, gently kissing the tips of his fingers before tilting your head to kiss his nose, “and this.”
It’s ridiculously endearing that no matter how many times you kiss him, he still blushes bright pink. It spreads from his cheeks to his neck to his chest, and you follow the same trail with your lips, pressing kisses to his shoulder, honey skin covered in beads of water from the steam. His hands have a light hold on your hips and he sighs, head falling sideways onto your shoulder. 
Your hands slide down his shoulders to press against his chest, allowing you to carefully push him backwards until his back hits the cold tile, making him gasp. His hands tighten on your hips as yours wind through his damp hair, your parted lips finding his. The softest moan falls from Eric’s lips as you kiss him slowly, hands flat on his chest, body pressed against his. His skin is burning under your touch as you trail your fingers down his abdomen, nails gently scratching and making Eric tense with a whine as your hands move to his hips, caging them to the wall. When your lips part from his to look at him, his eyes are heavy lidded and his cheeks are painted pink. His gaze flickers as he leans in, as if he can’t help it, like a magnet pulls his mouth to yours. He pauses to look at you through wet lashes, lips hovering a breath away from yours. “Don’t stop.” He murmurs desperately, fingers digging into your skin, keeping you close.
“Not planning on it.” You whisper in return, giving him a smile that he mirrors when you press your lips back to his momentarily. Then you pull away and do something he doesn’t expect, sliding your hands down his thighs as you get to your knees.
You keep your gaze on Eric’s face, watching his eyes grow wide and his skin flush a more violent pink hue. His hands are frozen in place where your hips had been seconds ago. You smile; if such a simple action as you kneeling can cause him to malfunction, you’re not sure how long he’ll be able to handle you actually giving him head, especially this early in the morning. You carefully reach to hold his hardening dick in one hand and gently run your nails over the length; instantly, Eric’s body tenses and he draws a sharp inhale through his teeth, a small sound that balances delicately between a whimper and a moan echoing from his chest. His arms cross his chest, hands holding opposite shoulders in an attempt to distract himself from your teasing, fingers digging into the skin as you repeat the action, lifting his dick and dragging your fingers down to the tip. This time, he definitely moans, and loudly.
“Ah—shit—” 
The stream of short, breathy whines that follows is a direct result of your mouth pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to his erection. You drag your tongue along his length and Eric is unsuccessful in his attempt to mask a loud, drawn out moan as his head falls back. Bracing your hands on his thighs, you part your lips and wrap them around the tip of his cock, eyes never leaving Eric’s face. He can’t seem to look back at you, pupils blown out and unfocused, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. When you take his length deeper into your mouth, seated heavily on your tongue, Eric sucks in a breath, hands flying from their place on his shoulders to the wall behind him, palms pressed flat against the tile.
“O-oh my god, baby—” his following whine is breathy and strained, only encouraging you to take him in further, teeth slightly dragging along his length. His mouth drops open as pleasure pulses in waves through his body, eyes rolling as he shallowly bucks his hips with a muffled whimper. “Sorry, sorry—” 
You look up at him through your lashes, and his voice breaks off with a whine as you suck in your cheeks. His knees nearly buckle, hands curling into fists as he fights to urge to move again. 
“God-” he drags out the word, head tilting back to expose his flushed neck and chest, glistening with perspiration. “F-feel so good, fuck, you’re so good—”
Eric’s rambling is proof of just how good you’re making him feel, and you take pride in the desperation that clings to each word he manages to get out between whiny breaths and choked moans. You pull back slowly, dragging your tongue along the underside of his dick before moving back, taking more, grazing your teeth over the sensitive surface. Eric’s hips lift again, thighs trembling as he speaks, “Like that, like that— oh—”
You repeat the movement several times, sucking slowly with every bob of your head. Eric only gets louder, moaning and whining as you apply greater pressure with your mouth to bring him closer to climax. His dick pulses, heavy on your tongue, and he ruts his hips with a low groan, eyes flickering and head bowing. “G-God, baby, I’m close…”
You hum in encouragement, swirling your tongue purposefully over his tip, but immediately Eric’s hand flies to your chin, holding you still before you can continue.
“Ah- wait, wait,” he pants out, dazed eyes finding yours with desire so palpable you could touch it on his skin. His thumb slides across your jawline, coated in condensation. “I wanna come inside you, honey…” he murmurs, and heat swims through your body at his request. “Please? Can I?”
Nodding quickly, you stumble to your feet with the help of Eric’s hands on your elbows, standing before him with rolling anticipation in your gut. He takes a second to pause and tuck loose, wet strands of your hair behind your ear, eyes never leaving yours, lust swimming through them so clearly you can feel yourself pulled closer to him, a gravitational tug that forces you forward until your lips hover next to his. 
You can see in his dark irises the moment he breaks.
“Come here,” Eric pleads, grabbing your waist and pulling you directly to him. Your body curves into his and your mouth latches back to his, hands winding behind his neck and threading through his hair. He groans in relief at your touch, and guides your hips to press against his. Stumbling slightly, he spins you, holding your body up against the cold tile. You grab at his shoulders as his kisses move to your neck, mouth latching to your skin, teeth nipping to leave dark bruises along his path. One hand of yours slips down his abdomen, tracing his toned, tensed muscles before clutching at his leaking dick. Eric’s head drops into your shoulder with a moan against your skin as his body shudders, hips canting. Before you know it, he’s lining himself up with your pussy, rubbing through your soaked folds, murmuring, “ready?” And with a nod of assent from you, he’s sliding carefully into you. 
The stretch makes your eyes roll back as you clutch onto Eric’s shoulders, head falling back onto the tile wall as he hisses and curses under his breath, rutting his hips to bury himself inside you. You can feel him pulsing, and it feels so fucking good. Your mind is spinning, skin slick with condensation and sweat from the steam of the hot shower and the arousal in your veins. You can barely even form his name, repeated like a prayer on your tongue as he eventually bottoms out, leaving you feeling dizzy and seeing stars. Eric’s faring even worse, head falling into your neck, heavy breaths and whimpers hot on your skin, body shivering over yours, skin flushed and hot to the touch.
“You’re fucking perfect—” his grip on your hips only tightens as he begins to thrust. Hardly a minute passes before he’s moving faster, desperate for friction. “Shit… feel s’warm, s’good,” he chokes out between moans, and you respond with your own sounds of pleasure, reaching to grab his face and forcefully pull his mouth to yours in a passionate, open-mouthed kiss. The assertive action nearly makes Eric lose it then and there, but if there’s one thing Eric’s ego can’t take, it’s coming before you do. He frees one hand enough to move it to your clit and rub, immediately turning your legs to jelly and causing your pussy to squeeze around him.
Eric mouth falls open against yours in a beautiful moan, “Fuck, baby.”
“There, there-”
Tension only builds in your gut, and eventually you’re both trembling against each other’s bodies, spent and seconds from your highs. 
“C-close-” you moan, hands slipping down his arms to grip his biceps, feeling the firm muscles under your touch, tensing with each thrust that’s growing shakier with each moment. Your head is spinning, and all you can feel is heat, and Eric’s slick skin and his hot, trembling breath on your face.
Voice laced with desperation, Eric whispers on your lips, “Come for me, baby.”
And you do, letting the knot in your gut come undone with a moan, head falling back as white floods your vision and your high washes through you in a rushing current of pleasure. With a strained, high pitched groan, Eric follows suit, tensing and releasing, filling you up with several deep thrusts before collapsing into your chest. 
You both take a minute to catch your breath; the only sounds are your heaving pants and the ever steady stream of the shower. Eric’s hands still hold your waist, slowly loosening as he pulls out and leans back into you, thumbs sliding against your skin in an absentminded motion.
You, in return, let your hands slide up his arms and gently rub his shoulders. With a smile, your lips press softly to his temple before you whisper, “Still cold?”
Eric huffs out a laugh, arms winding around you, pulling you backwards with him under the stream of water, “Definitely not.” He murmurs back with a smirk, kissing your neck gently in return.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
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reasonsforhope · 3 months ago
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"In a historic move Friday [November 8, 2024], Sacramento State announced its new Native American College, a first of its kind in the California State university system. 
The college, a co-curricular institution housed at Sacramento State, will support Native-based education with a focus on leadership and career building. It will offer a diverse range of programs that integrate "tribal values, traditions and community engagement," according to a press release. 
This marks Sacramento State's second ethnic-based institution. The university launched the the nation's first Black Honors college earlier this year. 
The announcement was made at the California State Capitol by President Luke Wood and Dr. Annette Reed, an enrolled member and citizen of the Tolowa Dee-ni' Nation, who will be the first dean of the Native American College. 
Reed said students will have access to faculty mentors, advisors, outreach coordinators and more who have the expertise to work closely with Native American students and can support them holistically. 
She hopes this historic initiative will address low enrollment of Native students pursuing higher education across the state and in the country. Native American students face significant barriers to enrolling in higher education, such as financial constraints, feelings of isolation, historical trauma and lack of culturally relevant curriculum. 
"And so I'm hoping this impacts the students where they go through as a cohort. They can create networks, they can be able to have more of a support system going through and beginning together and hopefully graduating at the end together," Reed said.
Reed recalled taking her first class on Native American studies in 1980. She would later on serve as the director of Native American studies at Sacramento State and chair of the Department of Ethnic Studies. For her, advocating for Native American education was a natural top priority. 
"People always ask me, 'What is Native American studies?' It is history. It is looking at culture. It's looking at teaching sovereignty, federal Indian law. It's teaching social work, art. It's teaching about Native cultural expression, it can be literature," Reed said. 
The Native American College will introduce two new courses, according to Reed, which will be focused on Native American leadership. 
"It means that maybe some of the ones that start in Fall 2025 will end up here at the Capitol. Maybe they'll end up being the future senators or assembly people or the future of people in business. They might be leading our nation as tribal chairs, they might be going into the medical field," Reed said. "But whatever field they go into, leadership is really key." 
Students who want to be in the Native American College can apply after being accepted into the university's general application process. All students will be required to minor in Native American Studies, with an emphasis on Native American leadership."
-via ABC 10, November 8, 2024
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totheblood · 1 year ago
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i still hear you. (prologue)
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PAIRING: post tlou2!ellie williams x reader
SUMMARY: ellie stumbles upon your self-run town after her life is destroyed, except there's more to this town then what meets the eye. and it seems like there is more to you too.
WARNINGS: 18+ mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x
A/N: i've been working on this one for a while... i hope you enjoy! please send asks, reblog, and reply to this post <;3
WORD COUNT: 3k
"i still hear you laughing, but only for a minute"
Spring couldn’t come fast enough for Ellie. 
The cold still nipped at the exposed skin on her hands, ghosting the phantom limbs of the two fingers she was now missing. Everything was cold. The tip of her nose, her ears, and most importantly her heart. As she wandered aimlessly, unsure of where to go, she knew there was one place she couldn’t go: home. 
Jackson was no longer a place for her. Joel was gone, Tommy thought she was weak, and Dina…Well, Dina wanted nothing to do with her. Dina had a lot she could blame Ellie for before Ellie left, but she never did. She stayed. And now, on top of all of that, Ellie had left one of the few people in her life who cared enough about her to stay. Spring could come tomorrow but it would forever be winter inside her. 
She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she was going west. She couldn’t handle the harsh winters of the East Coast, and Wyoming stopped feeling like home before she left for Seattle. She thought about staying on the farm and living out whatever short life she was going to have there, but staying in that home painted with memories of “what ifs” would drive her crazy. 
So she packed enough supplies to last her a few months if she hunted her food and headed to the West Coast. The first few days were silent, she only encountered a few infected and found shelter in abandoned buildings. She lived off of expired food she found in vending machines in old universities and occasionally sang herself to sleep. 
On her tenth day, she found a car that lasted her about 2 days. Once it broke down, she just kept walking. Over abandoned highways and thick forests, she just kept walking. On day 17, she reached California and stumbled upon an eerily similar set of walls. It looked just like the gates at Jackson, except these were concrete and better built. They were much higher, and the gates almost looked… automatic. 
Ellie was hesitant. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she definitely wasn’t looking for another hometown to destroy. She approached the large walls cautiously, with her hands up and slowly. As she walked closer she was screaming, “I come in peace,” over and over again. She was almost 50 feet near the gate when she heard a girl's voice shout, “Don’t come any closer.”
She stopped in her tracks as the automatic gates began to open. Ellie expected an army of people with guns blazing, just how it was when she first arrived at Jackson, but when the gates opened there just stood you, grounded in all your glory, and a gun aimed right at her face. She wanted to laugh, but that just seemed sexist. 
Instead, you pressed forward, unwavering, with your gun aimed right at her. She didn’t step backward, or even breathe, she just stood there until you were close enough to her to make out all the freckles on her face and the slit in her eyebrow. 
“Who are you?” you spat at her.
“Ellie,” she breathed out, her hands faltering a bit. 
With your hand firmly wrapped around the cold metal of the gun, you inched forward again, pulling back the slide, a metallic click echoing in the silence. The gun was loaded, and you were letting Ellie know that you weren’t afraid to shoot. Her hands stiffened again. 
“What are you doing here?” Your tone was tough and the look on your face was enough to send Ellie running for the hills, but it also made her want to crack a smile. Your nose scrunched up as you spoke, and your lips were somehow not chapped in this weather. But Ellie didn’t smile, she was sure if she did you would put one right between her eyes. That much she was sure of.
“I-” Ellie hadn’t thought this far. What was she doing here? “I’m just looking for a place to stay.” 
Your eyebrows creased as you gave her a once over, looking for any sign she was trouble. It was in your nature to search for danger, but she wasn’t raising any red flags. Except the fact that she made it here alone and unscathed, and was missing two fingers. 
“What happened to your hand?” you asked, tipping the gun slightly to her hand. A pained expression crossed her face, it was almost like she forgot that two of her fingers were quite literally bitten off, but that fight was somewhere shoved deep inside her mind. It wasn’t something she wanted to remember.
“Lost them in a fight,” she replied simply, there was no point in telling the full story. It’s not like you had the time. 
“You can’t stay here if you’re going to be trouble,” finally you put the gun down, resting your hands on your hips, giving her a firm look. Ellie would hand it to you, you were absolutely scary. In her mind, she knew she could take you, but she also wasn’t so sure of that.  
“I’m,” she sighed, lowering her hands slowly, “I’m done with that. I won’t be trouble,” and for the first time in Ellie’s life, she meant that. She was ready to start over. She knew the fighter in her would always be there, itching to come out but she had been fighting her whole life. It was time to give up. She had already lost everything. Or so she thought. 
Your face softened slightly before firming up again, your empathy peeking through like it always did. You looked her over again, sighing, as you signaled for someone at the gate to come. A man with short blonde hair trotted over, a leash in his hand. He looked kind as he offered a smile to Ellie.
“Old girl here is just gonna check to make sure you’re not infected,” he smiled, dropping the leash. Ellie’s heart rate picked up again as she watched the German Shepherd approach her slowly, sniffing around her as it circled her. You stood behind the blonde guy with your arms crossed across your chest. The dog found nothing and returned to the man, sitting down next to him, “Looks like you’re all clear!”
“Welcome to Mono City,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes as you turned back towards the gate, walking in that direction. You were halfway there when you realized Ellie wasn’t moving. Turning on your heel again you stared at her, hand on your hip again. You had an attitude, Ellie thought, cute. “You coming or what?”
The small town sat on a large lake, glistening as the sun's rays bounced off the surface. Buildings were built close together, trees without leaves scattered on the walkway, and about a hundred people out on the street as she trailed behind you, earning dirty looks from half of them. Ellie scowled back. Ellie smiled when you introduced yourself to her, telling her your name and a few key details about yourself. She learned you served as some sort of mayor here, keeping everything in order, and that you were the person that people came to. She would be lying if she said that didn’t intimidate her. But all Ellie did was give you her name again and tell you that she was from Jackson, anything else she said would fall short. 
“How are you with your hands?” you asked, voice flat and simple. Ellie choked on her words, stuttering a response. 
“I’m, well,” she coughed, “I’m just okay with them now, since,” she shrugged gesturing to what she now called her ‘bad hand’, “you know.”
A wave of guilt crossed your face as you composed yourself, somehow already forgetting your previous interaction. You shook your head solemnly, cursing quietly under your breath as you stopped. 
“Shit,” you turned to her, eyes squeezed shut, “sorry, I’m so used to asking the same questions, I didn’t even think.”
“It’s fine don’t worry about it,” she gave a tight-lipped smile. Now, with the illumination of the buildings, she could see your whole face. You were pretty, that she was sure of, but it was a more down-to-earth pretty. A type of pretty that you had to take in. You had scars around your face, and a pretty big scar down the side of your neck. It almost looked like the one Ellie had on her arm. But still, scars and all, you were just nice to look at. 
“Well, just for that reason we probably won’t have you be on guard duty,” you stated, eyes flicking around her face, “do you have any other strengths?”
“Uhm,” Ellie had to think for a minute. She had never really been asked anything like this before. What were her strengths? Did she have any at all? She used to be good at guitar, but now she couldn’t play, and that probably wouldn’t be useful at all to anyone here. She was good at art still, something she couldn’t take for granted anymore. It was all she had. The scratched-out drawings of Dina, JJ, Jesse, and Joel were stuffed deep into her bag.
“I’m good at art,” she shrugged, “and writing, maybe.”
“Okay,” you smiled, showing off your teeth, making her warm a bit, “that we can work with. Maybe you can teach at the school.”
“You have a school here?” Ellie gawked. Jackson had a school but it was small and had maybe two or three teachers. 
“Yeah,” you turned to keep walking, making Ellie stumble behind you to keep up, “we have three. An elementary, middle, and high school.”
“Wow,” Ellie was in awe, “It’s not like a military school or anything?” 
“No,” you answered quickly, your voice tight, “It’s not like any of that shit. We don’t fuck with FEDRA here.”
Ellie would be lying if she said that wasn’t music to her ears.
“It’s just like a normal school except we teach a lot more practical things. Things we can use like, cooking, science, and English. Like reading or writing. Since you’re new you will probably start with the elementary school. We also have little extracurriculars and we’ve wanted to introduce art but haven’t been able to find anyone yet.”
“Oh, cool,” was all Ellie said as you both stumbled on what looked like a residential street. There were rows of houses, all that looked the same. There was a road, with cars parked on them and driveways with gates. Most of the houses looked about two stories tall, some had toys lying in the front yards and a few animals were roaming about, small cats and dogs. The porches had furniture on them, little couches and chairs, and as she walked she noticed some people outside with mugs in their hands as if they were drinking their morning coffee. The town looked like something she saw out of a movie, only something she could dream about. Her eyes were wide in awe as you rambled on about something but Ellie was honestly too entranced in everything. Here, in the middle of nowhere was a whole town of people living their lives, as if nothing had ever happened to them. 
“Ellie?” you stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms over your chest. There was your attitude again, “are you even listening?”
“Y-yeah, I am. It’s just-”
“A lot, I know,” you sighed, “but you gotta listen, there are a lot of rules here. Rules that make this place function and if you don’t follow them, you could easily be kicked out.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, genuinely meaning it, “I’m listening, promise.”
“It’s fine,” you gave her a fake smile, turning to push open a gate to a nice house, “This will be your place.”
“Uhm,” Ellie stopped, not entering the front yard, “what do you mean ‘my place’? This is far too big for me.”
“This is the only size our houses come in,” you replied matter-of-factly, “you can just say thank you.”
Ellie blinked as she looked up at the blue house, that looked like it was built yesterday. It had a wrap-around porch and two white columns right by the entrance. The door was a giant white door with a gold handle. This was nicer than any house she’s ever been in, and way too big for one girl.  
“Thank you,” Ellie replied, still awe-struck, “this is just so nice.”
“You’re welcome,” you smiled, fishing around in your bag for something. You pulled out a pair of keys, and handed them to her, “Here’s your house keys. You don’t get a car quite yet, that’s something you have to work your way up to, but there is a bike in the garage. Spring is around the corner so it will get warmer and you should have your car by next winter so don’t worry too much. My house is right across the block, but I’m usually in the City Center if you need me.”
She wrapped her right hand around the keys, tightening them in her palm. She watched as you searched through your bag again and pulled out a little device. 
“This is your walkie,” you took a deep breath, “Try to find me before using it. It’s usually only used for emergencies so just be mindful of that. I’ll be by tomorrow to take you to work, so you have time to get settled in today. Okay?”
“Okay,” Ellie smiled, her voice sounding a little bit breathless.
That night Ellie settled into her new home. Well, she tried to settle into her new home but kept shifting around in every seat and couch, like she couldn’t find something to get comfortable on. She examined every part of the house, picking the smallest room for herself and shoving her backpack in the closet. She took a bath for the first time in months, washing all the dirt and grime off of her. Left in the shower was a bar of soap that looked like it had been handmade and unused. It smelled so good she almost took a bite, but instead chose to use it how it was meant to be used.
As the sun began to set she stepped outside, watching the activity on the block and smiling to herself. Everything just seemed so normal, but with the state of this world this town was certainly abnormal. From her window she could see you in your front yard, feeding a pack of cats that slipped through your white picket fence. She smiled to herself as she watched one rub against your leg, and your gentle hand coming down to pet it. She continued to watch as kids passed your house, waving to you and running back to their homes. 
The next few days were uneventful. Ellie found herself getting used to teaching young kids, always laughing when they asked about her missing fingers. It was out of her comfort zone, but she was around JJ enough to know what kids liked. Her voice always got so high-pitched when she spoke to them, and they liked being chased around the room. On her fifth day of working, a kid ran in screaming, “Miss Ellie! Miss Ellie!” with a chicken scratch drawing of his family. He was so proud that all Ellie could say was “Good job, bud!” and ruffle his hair. He left with the biggest smile on his face.
But now, Ellie found herself at the city’s most popular bar, with the other teachers who wanted to congratulate her on her first week. Della, who invited Ellie out in the first place, made a toast to her, clinking her glass with Ellie’s and taking a long swig of her drink. Ellie took a sip of hers too and fuck, this shit was strong. 
She felt human again, laughing with people her age in a bar and old music playing. She was almost having a good time until a song came on that reminded her of Joel. It was like her whole demeanor changed and everyone could tell. She excused herself from the group finding a small corner to sit on and finish the rest of her drink, hoping maybe it would make her forget everything. But then, the bell at the front door rang making Ellie look up to see who had entered. 
There you were in all your glory, tight shirt on and hair completely loose. It almost looked as if you were wearing makeup. Ellie must’ve been staring too long because she blinked and you were standing in front of her. 
“See you got yourself a drink,” you laughed, voice making Ellie’s cheeks turn pink. She was… really drunk.
“Yeah, I could get you one too,” she slurred a bit, goofy smile spread across her face. She watched as something odd crossed your face and now she was worried she said something wrong, “I just mean, like.. you know��� I mean like as a thank you.”
“Right,” you sighed.
“For my mansion, you know,” she shrugged and you giggled. You giggled and it went straight to her head. What was she doing?
“You haven’t been paid yet,” you smiled back at her, now moving to sit down, “and it’s okay, I don’t drink unless it’s a special occasion.”
“What? Meeting me is not special enough,” she teased, knocking her shoulder with yours. Her eyes scanned your face, your smile reaching your eyes as you giggled again. Her stomach sank again. She wasn’t so sure if this was just the alcohol anymore, she felt like she was 12 and crushing on Riley again. 
“No, it’s special,” you reassured, “Maybe, I’ll drink when you decide to stay.”
“Who said I’m not staying?” she questioned sitting up.
“Some people don’t,” you shrugged, smile fading. Ellie’s brain wanted to make it better, make you laugh again, or shit do anything to put the smile back on your face. 
“Well, I’m gonna,” she said gently, so only you could hear her, “I need to get my paycheck.”
You laughed and Ellie breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with you. 
“I’ll get that to you,” you smiled, “and we don’t use paychecks.”
“What’re you gonna pay me with?” she smirked, “I know some other ways you can pay me.” Then the same look from earlier crossed your face and she cursed quietly to herself, muttering an apology. 
“No, no,” you said, like you were about to let her down gently, “I just try not to get… involved with anyone since…” your voice trailed off.
“Since?” Ellie questioned, but as you opened your mouth to speak the group from earlier made their way over, noticing your arrival and screaming your name. She watched as you got up, hugged everyone and started chatting with them, leaving her with her drink and too many questions. 
There was one thing that scared her though. She knew you needed someone who could stay, and the only thing she was good at was leaving.
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chilling-seavey · 6 months ago
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Dreamland (ln4) - Part Six
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↳ A/N Here is the promised second part to part 5 since I get so carried away all the time and write too much for Tumblr to handle!!! Excited to hear your thoughts on this one hehe.
↳ Inspired By: 'Grapejuice' by Harry Styles
↳ Summary: George and Alex visit Lando in Monaco for a week that summer. Their visit seems to align perfectly well with the week where yours and Lando's situationship is tested the most
↳ Pairings: Fanboy Lando Norris x Famous!Author!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n), University Student Lando x Internet Friend George x Internet Friend Alex
↳ Word Count: 11.9k
↳ Warnings: 18+, drinking, brief mentions of sex and similar and related adult endeavors.
PART FIVE || PART SEVEN
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Lando was fast asleep the next morning, out like a light, as if he hadn’t slept in days. In the familiar warmth of your California king bed, he was at home in your presence and had been cuddling you close all night from the very moment you returned from the office and got into bed. He felt closer to you than ever and safe by your side. 
The movement of you turning around in his embrace had him rousing slightly and you slid your arms around his middle to nuzzle into his neck with a sleepy sigh. He gently rubbed your back and let his fingers tangle in the ends of your hair, touching you delicately and lovingly as you melted into him. Under the covers, your leg gently nudged its way between his just to feel him wrapped up with you as close as possible. He kissed your head. 
“Morning, sunshine.” you mumbled sleepily against his warm skin. 
“Morning, beautiful.” Lando rubbed your back. 
You leaned your head back to get a look at his face but the amount of brightness in the room had you startling, throwing yourself away from him just as he went to lean in for a kiss. Shocked, Lando watched as you threw the blankets off and you snatched your phone from the bedside table. 
“Shit!” you gasped. “I’m so late!” 
Lando sat up as you jumped out of bed and hurried around the corner to your closet to grab a random outfit in your rush. Still trying to wake up from his incredible sleep, he rubbed his eyes, “What time is it?”
“10:45!” you answered, coming back into the room pulling up your pants with a blouse tossed over your shoulder. “I must have forgotten to set an alarm!”
“I thought you were the boss and can decide when you go in.” Lando countered. 
“Not when I have a meeting.” you sighed, clipping your bra and pulling on your shirt over top. “A meeting that started fifteen minutes ago.”
“I don’t want you to go.” Lando pouted. He was slouched back against the pillows and headboard, arms stretching themselves awake above his head and he broke into a small yawn in the process. 
“Me neither.” you disappeared into the ensuite to apply the fastest face of makeup and brush your teeth. 
Although you were clearly in a rush, Lando felt no need to get up and he pulled your blankets higher around him cozily. He waited for your return, unbothered. You came back into the bedroom not long later, clearly stressed, and Lando sat up a bit more to lean towards you and grabbed your hand. 
“Take a breath, sweetheart.”
You didn’t tell him how much that simple sentence made your heart skip a beat. 
You merely leaned in and kissed his lips, “I gotta go, baby. Come on, I still have to drive you.”
Lando got out of bed finally and started to dress back in his clothes from the day before, “I can bus back to the hotel.”
“Are you sure?” 
“Yeah. I know the way. Don’t worry about me.” 
“Okay. Thank you.” you said almost guiltily. 
Dressed and ready to go in seconds, Lando followed after you out of your bedroom and into the main area of your single-storey penthouse and you grabbed your work bags and slipped into your heels that had been left by the door the previous night. When you were both all ready to go, Lando slid his hand around your waist and pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 
You let go of the door handle and reached your hand to the back of his neck to kiss him a little more. You were already late. What was a few seconds more? 
With you in your heels and Lando in his sneakers, you were an inch taller than him but he adored that about you and his hands around your waist pulled you closer to his body even with the ever so slight tilt to his head to reach your lips. It was the faintest difference but he loved it. He loved you. 
“I really gotta go, Lan.” you mumbled against his lips. 
“Mhm.” he pulled away. “Just needed that before we have to go out and face society.”
You smiled sweetly and kissed him once more. Then you opened your front door and with the blessing of the late morning air, your façades were put up. 
Lando was back at the hotel by 12:00 after a bus ride into downtown. He was walking on air the whole way back to the room and with a proud smile at just the idea of how his friends would react, Lando swiped the key card and the door unlocked. 
Inside their shared hotel room, George was lounging back on his bed watching a football game on TV and Alex was standing by the adjacent desk shuffling through his bag. The sound of the door opening had them both looking over to where Lando stepped inside. 
“That’s a smug walk of shame if I’ve ever seen one.” George smirked. 
Lando just smiled wider and set his key on the dresser beside the tv, making his friends linger on the secrecy just a little longer. 
“Okay, spill it.” Alex pressed impatiently. 
“We talked…” Lando started slowly, dragging out his explanation syllable by innocent syllable, “I met her at the office after hours to confront her…we ordered dinner and just calmly talked it out.”
George and Alex blinked at him, waiting. 
Lando couldn’t hold it back any longer - the smile on his face was just growing impossible to smother, “But only after I fucked the shit out of her all over her office!” 
George and Alex burst into teasing laughter infused with proud celebration and Lando took their pride boastfully. He turned to the full length mirror on the hotel room wall and pulled up the bottom of his shirt to glance back at his reflection, showing off the fading red scratches that still lingered from the night before. 
“Holy shit!” Alex gaped and took the step over to turn him around to see better, “Lan, that’s your worst one yet.” 
George was right beside him in a second, giving Lando’s shoulder a shove, “Jesus, mate!” 
“Kid’s growing up.” Alex tisked, slinging an arm around Lando’s shoulders and ruffled his hair. 
Lando just laughed and shoved him away.
“It’s good to see you happy again.” George said. Alex agreed easily. 
“Yeah, well, it was a good night. In multiple ways.” Lando shrugged, “She really heard me when I explained why I was upset. She’s going to tell Pierre about us this weekend.” 
“Oh?” Alex raised his eyebrows, “That’s huge.”
“Stick it to him that you got his girl.” George nodded.
Lando licked away his smile, not wanting to admit that George’s words were exactly what he had been thinking since the moment you had assured him you would tell Pierre about your little situationship. After so much hurt from seeing the two of you together over the prior year or more, Lando finally felt like he was more himself and was going to have a secret little cup of payback where the boyfriend figure that had caused him so much heartbreak and stress was going to get a taste of it right back. 
Alex picked up his phone again and smiled down at the screen before typing away, his strange behaviour peaking Lando’s interest.
“What’s with you?” Lando asked. “Why are you so dressed up?”
“Dressed up? Alex looked down at his outfit, “I’m in a t-shirt.”
“And slacks.”
George took his seat back against the headboard again as he sang teasingly, “Alex’s got a date.”
“It’s not a date.” Alex corrected him for the nth time. He didn’t mention to Lando that he had told them where he was going the day before when they were around the pool. Lando had his mind elsewhere then and it was clear he forgot…it was understandable. Instead, he told him again, “Lily and I are going golfing today.”
“Right!” Lando snapped his fingers, “I knew that.” 
Alex smiled widely over at him and then looked back to his phone. He was obviously messaging her and George and Lando exchanged glances with their friend’s back turned. 
“Anyway,” Alex slid his phone into his pocket and clapped his hands together, “before she gets here, I wanna know all the filthy details from last night.”
“Oh and get your mind all gross before you go out on your first date with this girl? No way.” Lando tisked.
Alex gaped, “What? That doesn’t matter!”
Lando punched his arm, “Hey, I’m doing her a favour by not telling you. Otherwise you will have horrible thoughts in your brain and might try to lunge at her in the front seat of the golf cart.”
George dramatically ‘oooo’ed from a few paces away.
“Oh fuck off.” Alex tried to hide his blush as he turned away from him and pulled out his phone again. 
“Are you gonna try and kiss her at least after?” George asked. 
“I dunno!” Alex’s defences were up and it was clear by the tone in his voice, “It’s, like, our first time hanging out…that’s really soon. I don’t even know if she likes me like that.”
George pitched his eldest advice, “Well I don’t think her asking you out for lunch and a round of golf gives ‘I like you like a little brother’ vibes.” 
“Ew, mate.” Alex scrunched up his face. 
“I vote kiss her.” Lando said. 
“Same.” George without taking his eyes off the football game that was still playing on the tv.
“Stop, you’re making me nervous.” Alex grumbled, walking past Lando as he pulled his phone out of his pocket again, nervously checking for any notifications from her. With a gasp, he shut them up, “She’s here! How do I look?”
“Sexy.” George answered.
“Hot.” Lando answered at the same time. 
“‘Nice’ would have sufficed but thanks.” Alex shook his head. He was too nervous to be dramatic with them. He shared quick daps with his two best friends and then had to hurry out the door without a look back. 
Lando had just joined George to watch the football game when his own phone buzzed with a notification and he smiled at your name across his screen. 
-I miss you so much. I wish we could have just stayed in bed all day. Meeting is done and I just want to leave and see you. I’m just sitting in my office with vivid memories of how you fucked me last night…I swear this desk smells like you…I’m going crazy.  -Lily texted me saying she’s super nervous for this date with Alex…although she made sure to correct me that it wasn’t a date -It’s totally a date -Anyway, that just makes me miss you more. Would be bored out my mind at the golf course but with you I’m sure we’d make it fun -What are your plans tomorrow night? I’m thinking a huge group dinner with all of our friends before the guys have to leave? -Oh and I’m telling Pierre about us tomorrow morning. We have a PR meeting and I plan on telling him before it. The team can’t know but he can -Sorry I’m spamming I miss you -Miss you soooo much -💕💕💕
Lando was absolutely beaming as he read your messages, each one popping up at the bottom of your text thread as he held his phone in his hand. He was grinning so widely that he was almost shining and George shook his head from his spot nearby.
“Great, I’m totally fifth wheeling now.” 
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Lando was so impatient to see you that he and his two best friends were already waiting at the curb when you pulled up the following evening to drive them to dinner. As usual, Lando claimed shotgun and it took everything in him to stop himself from leaning over and kissing you hello the moment he got in your car. He just shamelessly checked you out from the distance he was at, skimming your tight red dress that rested halfway up your thighs, simply asking him to touch you. He refrained. He was sure he deserved an award for best self control.
For Alex and George’s last night in the city, you were treating them to a classy restaurant known for its social media popularity among artists and influencers alike - but also known for its steak, dessert, and elaborate plate presentation. Lando felt slightly underdressed in his black slacks and t-shirt, made only slightly dressier with a black jacket overtop and finished with a silver chain he borrowed from Alex. With you at his side in a cocktail dress and strappy heels, Lando felt like he should have at least pulled out a button up. 
The location wasn’t too far away from the hotel and soon you were pulling into the parking lot beside the glass and wood trimmed restaurant. As usual, you were the first ones to arrive and you lingered in the parking lot in the light of the setting sun as you waited for your friends to join. Alex and George were talking amongst themselves with you and Lando close by although Lando was hardly focused on his friends. 
Standing right up at your side, he kept his hands in his pockets but whispered to you honestly, “You look so gorgeous.” 
You smiled at him, “Thank you. So do you.”
“Is this outfit okay?” he asked, glancing down at himself. 
“Yeah. The jacket is a nice touch.” you tugged gently at the open zipper. 
He couldn’t even offer a reply before Alex was calling out to your little group, “Lily is here!”
Oscar’s car pulled into the parking lot only a few short moments after you had and Lily, who was claiming the passenger seat, reached over to honk the horn a few times at the sight of you. Oscar swatted her hand away before focusing on carefully pulling into the empty parking spot next to your Mercedes. You and the guys moved forward to greet your newly arrived friends as they stepped out of the convertible in their own classy outfits that expertly matched the vibes of yours - almost as if it was their job to half the time. 
Alex - trying not to make much of a deal - slid casually between you and George to get to Lily first and he almost completely froze up for a second before they met for a quick hug. George snorted. You elbowed him. 
After Alex and Lily had gone on their not-date the previous day, you were surprised with a phone call from her once she had returned home by evening. She had told you everything - of course - from how they got along so well that there was hardly even a second of silence between them the entire afternoon as their conversations just flowed so easily. Honestly, she was completely gushing about him to you which only had you smiling proudly through the phone as she told you the details of their trip for ice cream after sharing a game of golf. You could almost hear the blush in her voice as she confessed how he had asked to kiss her at the end of the afternoon and how she let him; both of them sharing their first kisses with each other in the front seat of her car. 
Lando and George got similar recaps from Alex around the same time. They were always ones to confide in their best friends. 
But now, seeing each other for the first time since their not-date, there was a hint of awkwardness in the air as they were still figuring out where they stood. You and Lando shared knowing little smiles from the back of your small group. 
Your little group made your way to the front of the restaurant and Lily and Alex lingered at the back as they talked together. The host led you through the dimly lit restaurant to your reserved table for eight, leaving you with menus and a confirmation with you that anything you need, just let us know…the manager has already alerted staff of your party. It was a bit over the top you thought but you just smiled politely and took to your seat. Lando sat on your right with Alex beside him and Lily on the other end, leaving George and Oscar to sit across from them. There were two seats empty directly across from you and Lando but they were to be filled shortly. 
“I’m thinking a bottle of red for the table.” you announced, “Anyone want white or something else too?”
“Whatever you think is best.” Oscar answered. 
When your drinks were ordered and the waiter brought over the bottle, pouring you a taste, Lando’s gaze lingered on your red painted lips as you brought your glass to your mouth. He licked his lips slowly as you sipped and then licked your own, giving the waiter a nod with a smile so he could pour everyone a glass and leave the table with the bottle. 
You took your time to read over the menus and decide what you all wanted to order, letting the ambiance of the classy restaurant swirl around your warmly lit table. Lando could hardly process the words on his menu because he was trying so hard not to look at you. It was nice to be out with you in public but the constant need to be completely secretive nearly drove him crazy. 
Soon, your remaining two friends arrived to complete your reservation. Walking smoothly across the marble floor, two pairs of dress shoes clicked faintly behind the restaurant chatter and, with a handsome blonde on his arm, Charles greeted your group excitedly. 
Everyone looked over at them as they approached in their similar neutral toned outfits, perfectly classy and respectable for your chosen dinner venue, and as you and your friends broke into smiles at their arrival, the guys simply stared, mouths slightly open. 
It must have slipped your mind to mention to Lando that Charles’s boyfriend was finally going to be returning to town just in time for your dinner. Of course, he had heard about Max from Charles over the duration of the summer and seen the framed pictures on her desk in the office, but nothing compared to the real life essence of the real thing right in front of him. Lando was completely straight - and wholeheartedly dedicated to you, might he add - but he had to admit to himself that he had never seen a more stunning man in all twenty-one years of his life. 
“Max!” you almost cheered, hopping out of your seat to rush over to greet them.
Max smiled warmly at you and offered out his one arm that wasn’t claimed by his boyfriend to welcome your friendly hug. It only lasted for a second or two before you were all returning to the table and as Max took his spot across from Lando, Charles was gladly placing himself in the seat beside. 
You briefly introduced Max to the guys, finishing with a passé touch to Lando’s arm when you introduced him third. Best for last, subconsciously. From the spot across from him, Max let a little smile play at his lips as he eyed up Lando. 
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Lando’s eyes widened, “I- What?”
Max, with his arm around the back of Charles’ chair, said, “This one has kept me updated on everything that has been going on since I’ve been gone.”
Lando was suddenly going pink in the cheeks at the concept that Charles could have told him everything. It was lucky for him that the restaurant lighting was so dim. 
As if playing it off, Max followed up, “How’s the job?”
Lando cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “It’s…really great.”
“I bet.” Max picked up his wine glass and took a sip, peaking one of his brows over the edge in Lando’s direction. 
He totally knew more than he let on. 
Changing the subject, you asked eagerly, “How was Paris, Max?”
“Beautiful.” Max answered, his voice rich and full, “I was lucky I could see some sights between work.”
Alex piped up, “What do you do for work?”
Max only smiled modestly but Charles answered proudly for him, patting his hand against his chest, “He’s a model.” 
“Shit.” George gaped. 
“Believable, right?” Oscar said with a smirk. 
“Yep, front page of Cartier’s spring collection will be this handsome face.” Charles bragged. 
Max kissed his cheek.
Lando watched their obvious shows of affection with wide eyes, unfamiliar with such displays, and he looked over at you as if to check to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. You glanced back at him and shared a brief smile. He could see the way your eyes dropped briefly to his lips as if wanting to kiss him too. You couldn’t. You turned back to your friends, picking up your glass of wine. 
The waiter returned to take orders and as you all waited for appetizers to arrive, conversation returned to Max’s travels and all that he accomplished in Paris between studio shoots and on-location shoots…interviews, promo, and ceremonies. He promised that next time he would go, he would go for leisure; to which he added a casual drape of his arm around the back of Charles’ chair and a sweet compliment that he would take him with him. He spoke of creating art at the base of the Eiffel Tower, tea in the picturesque cafés…Lando was envious, his heart aching for that too. He looked back at you, staring at the way you rested your chin in your hand and watched with admiration how the lovebirds spoke together. 
“But for now I’m just happy to have you home.” Charles said adoringly.
Max leaned into his touch, “First person I looked for when I got off the plane.”
Oscar’s little teasing gag from the other end of the table had you all chuckling and Max only scooted his chair closer to his boyfriend and draped his arm around him. 
Charles smiled over at Lando’s obvious staring, “Yeah, you’re going to be seeing a lot of him around the office now.”
Max nodded, his expression scarily serious, “Going to make sure you stay on task.”
Lando offered a slightly nervous laugh. 
The appetisers arrived shortly after and you all took a moment to begin eating, the clatter of cutlery filling your table rather than conversation. Lando couldn’t help but keep looking at you, watching the way you rested your napkin on your lap or the gentle way you poured your dressing over the salad in front of you. He looked down to his own bowl and nudged a piece of lettuce with his fork. 
With a smile, you directed to your friends across from you, “Well I’m glad that you allowed your first date back together to be with all of us.” 
“Of course. All my favourite people.” Charles said easily. 
“And we have lots of time for our own dates.” Max added, his hand on his thigh gently caressing him, “We are visiting the art museum tomorrow, right, darling?” 
Lily spoke up, “I haven’t been in so long. I hear they have a new photography exhibit.” 
“Yes! That is what encouraged me to buy tickets.” Max agreed with a smile. 
“Speaking of dates though…” Charles faded out, offering a smirk in Lily’s direction, “Anything you want to share with the table?”
Everyone looked over. Alex cleared his throat.
“I hear it went well.” you added, sending Charles a little smile from across the table. 
“Shut up.” Lily snapped, although her tone was more embarrassed than upset. 
You leaned forward to look down to her end of the group, “Oh come on, everyone at this table knows.” 
“Little golfing…little ice cream…little kissing…” George sang teasingly. 
“Okay.” Alex laughed nervously.
“I guess the date was,” you giggled, “a hole in one.”
The table groaned at your horrible pun but Lando just licked away his smile and glanced over at you. You peaked a brow at him as if to say ‘impressive, right?’ and he just laughed softly and shook his head. Your hand on his thigh startled him slightly, unprepared for any sort of touch from you, and he dropped his hand on top of yours for a moment as the table continued harassing poor Alex and Lily about their date. Lando gave your hand a squeeze for a second before you were pulling away to be just as inconspicuous as you were expected to be. 
Appetizers came and went and soon you were awaiting the entrees. The bottle of red wine was emptied and replaced by the waiter and you were well onto your second glass by then, poured by Lando’s own hand for you while he topped up his own. 
Despite the conversation that lingered among your group, Lando was more focused on the private moments between Charles and Max across from him. He tried not to stare but it was hard when they were everything he wanted to be with you. Whether it was their hand holding or sharing fleeting kisses or even the way one would wipe the corner of the other’s mouth free of sauce with the edge of his napkin, Lando just wanted that to be him and you. You seemed oblivious though as your focus was on George who was deep in explanation about something Lando had already heard probably twice over. Lando sipped his wine. 
Lando was hooked on the way Charles and Max interacted. Their sweetness nearly made him equal parts smiley and jealous. He only imagined it to be you and how maybe one day he would be able to kiss you at dinner or feed you dessert from his fork like the perfect pair. He was so in his head that he didn’t realize he had already cut through his steak until the knife screeched against the plate, earning displeased words from the group. He stuffed the bite in his mouth without saying anything else. 
“Can I steal a fry, mon cœur?” Charles gestured to his boyfriend’s plate. 
He nodded, “Of course, darling.”
Lando set his fork down and tried to distract himself with his food. He skimmed the table for the salt and then nudged your arm gently, “Can you pass the salt, sweetheart?”
The whole table literally stopped what they were doing and looked at him in shock, silence falling quickly over your group.
Lando’s cheeks burned as he stared at your wide, warning eyes. 
“I-I mean-” Lando cleared his throat, “Not sweet- because it’s salt…I’m…”
Alex snorted from his other side, “Nice save.”
You grabbed the salt and passed it to him. Lando lowered his voice quickly, “I’m sorry- it just slipped out.” 
“We can’t afford slip ups, Lan, come on.” you whispered back, glancing around at the nearby tables just to make sure no strangers had heard. You might have been a little paranoid. 
“I know. I’m sorry.” 
You set your hand on his knee under the table, “It’s okay.”
Lando salted his steak a little before grabbing his wine glass and finishing the last bit in one long sip, trying not to focus on the way your touch burned across his skin. George smothered his smile at him from across the table, hiding it behind a bite of his own dinner. 
Max had inquired about how your work was going and you spoke to it happily, explaining how your writing was progressing and the few meetings you had booked for the next week. Lando could have listened to you talk about your passion for writing for hours. The way you lit up just made his eyes turn to hearts. Your writing was how he fell in love with you after all, and nothing was more special to him than that. 
You set a hand on his arm, “But of course, my wonderful intern here has been an incredible help this summer.”
All knowing about your little situationship, your friends all shared little ‘ooo’s and smiles. 
You looked over at Lando who was already staring at you and you spoke to the table as you looked right at him, “Even willing to stay late some nights…get some extra work done.” 
“Anything for you.” Lando whispered. 
You sent him a little wink.
“Hopefully it’s enjoyable work.” Charles pressed. 
“Never done anything better.” Lando answered smoothly. 
“Yeah, because you’ve never done anything before.” George dissed. 
The table filled with laughter and Lando only rolled his eyes, suppressing the desire to throw George’s virginity back in his face like always. He wanted to be good for you. 
Alex held out a fake microphone to Lando at his side, “No rebuttal?”
Lando leaned towards nothing in his hand, “Nope. I’m being the bigger man.”
“Yeah, you are.” you said in a little sing-song voice, earning teasing laughter from your friends and a furious blush from Lando who still managed to smile at you despite your words. Only you knew the boundaries enough to push them. 
A clatter from across the table tore your attention away from Lando’s longing stare to Charles and Max’s slight worry as he tended to his shirt with his napkin. 
“Oh no…I’m so sorry, schatje.” Max cooed, “Come on, I’ll sort you out.”
With nothing less than a grin, Charles took his hand as he stood up and Max helped him to his feet. Charles’ barely visible spill on the front of his shirt peaked your brow as you sipped your wine and watched them walk off hand in hand towards the bathroom. 
Lily tutted with a light laugh, “Typical.”
Lando looked between her and you, his expression stagnant. 
You only rolled your eyes with a knowing smile and set your glass back on the table so you could lean towards him to whisper, “They’re going to get each other off in the bathroom.”
His eyes widened and he stared off in the direction that they had disappeared in and then he looked back at you as you finished your meal. Your short tight dress and gentle smile had him craving to touch you all night and your friends’ obvious displays of affection were doing nothing to help calm his feelings. Their sneak-off only felt to be the weight on his chest moreso. 
Lando poured you both another glass of wine. 
He didn’t mean to time them, but Lando checked his phone once he saw Charles and Max heading back towards the table through the tightly seated restaurant, his heart only aching at the fifteen minutes that had passed and how much he knew he could do to you in that time. He couldn’t help himself but slide his hand under the table to rest over your lap and you scooted your chair closer to the edge so he was hidden by the tablecloth. 
Lando took that as your permission and he inched up the hem of your dress ever so slowly as your group was completed again and you greeted your once missing friends casually. Oscar and Lily exchanged little knowing smirks from across the table and the waiter began to clear the empty dishes. Lando tried to look casual but he couldn’t not look at you and he slipped his hand up your short dress and slid them between your snug thighs to feel your lacey panties nestled warmly there. He wanted to take you to the bathroom next. 
But instead, you discreetly nudged his hand away and he was forced to return to his solitude at a table full of partners. He was forced to watch as Charles and Max fed each other spoonfuls of dessert and as Alex and Lily spoke excitedly about their shared interests and as George and Oscar were in lighthearted friendly discussion about the last Formula 1 race weekend. Lando was so damn antsy. 
Once everyone had finished their dessert, you paid the bill in full and everyone got up to head out to their cars. Lily and Alex led the group in their own little world of two, with you and Charles and Oscar and George pulling second in some deep conversation Lando wasn’t listening to. He took his time gathering his things and followed after you, trying not to stare at the way your dress hugged your ass with each step in your heels. 
The presence of someone at his side startled him slightly and he looked over to see Max standing beside him. Only an inch or so taller than him, Max smiled at him and walked alongside him at the back of your group towards the Monte Carlo evening. 
“So, how are you really doing?” Max asked.
“Oh…I’m fine.” Lando answered politely, unable to even really meet his eye with how unbelievably intimidating this man was. 
“Really? You seemed kind of on edge all night.” Max mentioned, sliding his hands in the pocket of his fitted dress slacks.
Lando just shrugged, “Nah, it’s nothing. Just hard that we can’t be as mushy as you and Charles when we’re out.”
Max smiled as if he already knew that was going to be the answer, “I get that. Having a job in the public eye isn’t easy. She must really like you if she’s risking so much to stick with you…even when it’s hard to keep it under wraps.” 
“I guess.” 
They stepped out onto the sidewalk with the rest of your group and you all kept in your little sections to finish up your individual conversations before you would all have to go your separate ways. Max stuck with Lando to the side, offering him insight from his own experience that his best friends couldn’t offer him. 
“Charles and I started a similar way.” Max explained quietly, “I was so paranoid of how my followers would see me and how the press would react…it took a while to feel comfortable with myself to be able to take it public. It’s nothing personal so don’t think she’s ashamed of you. Believe me, I know her well, she talks about you more often than she doesn’t.”
As he listened to the advice, Lando let his gaze drift the few paces away to where you stood and you glanced back at him to share a little warm smile before turning back to your friends and your loud, boisterous conversation. You sparkled in the street light under the city-polluted starry sky. Lando looked back to Max.
“Thanks, mate.” he mumbled, “I just really, really like her. I might even love her, y’know?”
Max smirked knowingly, tilting his head slightly to stare down his nose at Lando, waiting for him to go on. 
“And I just wanna be able to show her.”
“It’s not all about public displays.” Max explained, “You can show her that you love her in so many other ways. And when the time is right, it will happen. But you don’t need it. You two still looked like the cutest couple in the whole damn restaurant without even trying.”
Lando nodded and there was a pause between them. Then, he added, just to cover his bases, “And please don’t tell her that I told you that I love her. I haven’t exactly told her yet.” 
“She knows.” Max said. “The way you look at her? She’s got to know.”
From a few paces away, right on time, you called out, “Lando!” 
He turned over his shoulder to you, spotting you bathed in the light of the restaurant entrance and the smile you wore was just as beautiful as your dress. You waved him over, ready to go.
He grinned right back, “Coming!”
Lando turned to Max once more who gave him a pat on the shoulder and one last knowing smile before saying, “Now go get her.”
“Thanks.” Lando exhaled giddily, refueled with energy after the little motivational speech from his newly acquainted. He called his goodnights to the rest of your group of friends as Charles returned to Max’s side, and then he was hurrying after you towards your car. 
You were climbing into the driver's seat of your Mercedes when Lando joined you and he helped himself to the passenger side. The doors were shut behind you and the world fell to silence as the outdoors was muffled slightly and you breathed a sigh of relief of being back to just the two of you and away from the prying public in the restaurant. 
“Did you have a good evening?” you asked him as you turned your key in the ignition. 
“Yeah. Dinner was amazing. Thank you.” he answered easily. 
You turned on the air conditioning faintly to cut the heat from the Monaco summer that raged around you but you left your car in park. You looked over at him, “You seemed quiet tonight, is everything okay?”
Lando just smiled at you and your concern and he nodded, “Yes. I’m fine.”
You hesitated a moment as if not believing him but you passed it off, knowing he would come to you if he needed, “Okay.” 
“How was your talk with Pierre?” Lando asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and overpowering the craving he felt for you. 
You smiled over at him, “It went so well.”
“Yeah?” Lando’s heart raced with hopefulness. 
“Yeah. He said he’s happy for us…said he’s glad I found someone who can keep up with me.”
Lando held his hand out to you under the line of the dashboard, “Always.” 
You rested your hand in his and your fingers intertwined. 
“I feel lighter now that I told him.” you confessed. “I think it was really eating at me. I don’t know why. Maybe now it just proves that he is past…and you are my present.” 
“And your future hopefully.” Lando breathed. 
You gave his hand a squeeze, “Yes.” 
“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night since the second I saw you…now only moreso.” 
“Yeah?” you let a small smile come to your face and he watched how you licked your red painted lips through the hazy warm light that dusted your silhouettes in the night air. 
“Hated watching Charles and his boyfriend like that all evening when I couldn’t do the same with you.” he whispered. 
“I know.” you agreed quietly, “And not even just the little things…I kinda wanted to sneak off with you too. Is that weird?”
“Not weird at all.” Lando shook his head easily, “I did too.”
You giggled softly, keeping your gazes locked and your hands in each other’s on your lap, and you lifted your head from where it had been resting against the driver's seat and you shifted slightly so your body was turned more towards his. There were a few seconds of silence between you where you just stared at each other with calm and content smiles on your lips and his thumb rubbed over your knuckles. 
“You called me ‘sweetheart’.” you said softly. 
“You are my sweetheart.” he replied just as gently. 
“I like when you call me that.” you admitted, keeping the hushed voice between you even if it were only the two of you around in the security of your car. “It’s cute…makes me all blushy.” 
“Mhm?” he raised his free hand up to stroke the back of his finger over your warm cheek and he tucked your hair behind your ear. 
You smiled at him and shuffled slightly to lean towards him a bit more, letting him trace the features of your face with a gentle touch. He knew you like the back of his hand - he was infatuated with you after all - but he lingered on every inch of you like he had to memorize you all over again. Your skin was warm from the alcohol and your strong feelings, and your eyes fluttered shut peacefully, wholeheartedly trusting of him. 
“I want to kiss you.” you breathed, a common sentence between you since the moment he landed in Monaco at the beginning of the summer. It acted as a placeholder for dozens upon dozens of kisses that could not be completed due to your public standing. 
“I always want to kiss you.” Lando answered, dropping his hand from your face as he leaned against his seat, the both of you facing towards each other in the front seat. 
You pondered a moment before speaking quietly, “Kiss me.”
Lando chuckled, “Take me home then.”
“Kiss me now.” you ordered. 
Lando’s eyebrows furrowed for a second and he glanced out the dashboard to the half full restaurant parking lot that you were in the middle of, the only sign of life being Oscar, Lily, Alex, and George in the distance, still lingering by the front doors of the restaurant together. He looked back at you. Your eyes were open and you were staring at him. 
“Kiss me, Lando.” you repeated. 
“Are you sure?” he asked, his heart hammering in his chest. 
“Yes. Come on. Please?” you reached out a hand to rest against his chest, fingers grasping onto the front of his black t-shirt. “Kiss me.” 
He raised his hand back to your face, cradling your jaw in his hand as he moved in smoothly and pressed his lips to yours before you could change your mind. You hummed happily against his mouth as you shared a few single lingering kisses before you were parting his lips with your own and tugging at his shirt to get him closer. He leaned half over the centre console and you did the same, pushing your tongue against his between deep sensual kisses that filled his cravings so perfectly. 
He could taste the rich red wine on your tongue and your lips and he held your head close to linger on the flavour, sucking gently on your bottom lip until you moaned into his mouth and tangled your hand in the back of his hair. Tilting his head to the opposite side, he guided you to follow him and your fingers that were laced with his still on your lap only gave his hand a little squeeze to share your appreciation with how he took control. So much had changed in a few short months. 
“Lando…” you breathed between kisses, your words swallowed up by his lips once more. 
“Sweetheart.” he replied back, knowing exactly what he was doing with a smile to his tone of sweet buttery voice. 
The way you inhaled shakily into his kiss had him chuckling lowly between wet kisses, his thumb drifting around your throat to choke you slightly - just how you liked it - as he took the breath from your lungs. Maybe it was the faint alcohol in your system or maybe it was the wholehearted hold he had on your heart but you were dizzy. With your fingers pressing into the back of his neck, you shoved your tongue into his mouth desperately, your heart racing on the riskiness of your steamy late night makeout and Lando’s hand tightened around your throat. 
“Oh my God, I missed you.” you whimpered against his mouth, even though it had only been a day since you had seen each other. 
“I missed you so much.” Lando replied breathily. 
You moaned happily against his kiss and let him lick his way into your mouth until your kisses were growing faster, more desperate, and you were absolutely burning for him. You could have ripped his clothes off right then and there in the front seat of your car. 
A snap of blinding light startled you out of your lust-filled trance and a quick second one had you pulling away from his lips in slightly confusion, only to be bombarded with a wave of camera flashes and shutters through the glare of your windshield. Lando didn’t know what was happening at first - for a second he swore he was seeing the gates of heaven - but your sudden panic solved any of his confusion. 
Your hand tore from his and you ducked yourself behind your steering wheel, “Fuck! Oh my God!” 
Lando stared out the windshield, squinting in the floods of lights and shouts, until you grabbed the chain around his neck and yanked him down with you to hide behind the dashboard the best you could. The panic in your face was terrifying and he simply stared dumbly at you, not knowing what to do or say. 
You fumbled with your purse as there were knocks at your window and cameras pressed against the glass and you struggled to pull out your phone. But Oscar - who was thankfully still on site across the parking lot - had already seen what was going on. It was hard to miss. 
He wasn’t an overly confrontational person but he took his job seriously and when part of his job called for protecting you and your image? You best bet he was on it. 
George, Lily, and Alex had to nearly run to keep up with his quick pace across the parking lot to the crowd of paparazzi that had seemed to come out of nowhere and swarm your car. Shouting questions at you as the flashes of their cameras blinded you, the group wasn’t overly large but enough to overwhelm you and you kept Lando ducked down until the cameras slowed and Oscar was at your window. The moment you rolled it down, questions were shouted at you again (“Whos that?” “Where’s Pierre?” “Are you cheating on your boyfriend?”) but you were only focused on Oscar who leaned into your car with Lily right at his side - and Alex and George acting like their personal shields the best they could. Lando met his friends’ gaze and they didn’t know what to do. 
“Back out of here.” Oscar told you firmly. “Just drive, okay? Text me when you get home. Go.” 
You nodded and rolled up your window, keeping yourself ducked down the best you could as you shifted your car into reverse and backed out of the parking spot as smoothly as you could, your engine roaring loudly as you nearly floored it out of the lot and onto the street. Lando peered out the window at the disappearing parking lot and Alex and George standing helpless with furious Oscar and Lily who were cursing off the paparazzi. 
He turned forward in his seat again, staring wide-eyed out the front window. Did that really happen? Neither of you spoke a word the whole way back to your house. Lando certainly didn’t want to make the first move since the pale colouration of your grief stricken face was enough to stun him into complete silence. 
In fact, no words were spoken until you were safely in your apartment. Lando had to nearly run after you as you stalked out of the car and into the elevator and then through your front door, tossing the keys on the kitchen island on your way in. Lando shut the front door behind you both. 
“I-” he started.
“I’m fucked.” you cut him off, turning back to him as you pushed an emotional hand through your hair. You were trembling. “I’m so fucked!” 
“Baby-”
Pacing the floor, you could hardly breathe and your shaking hands were tugging at the roots of your hair, rambling anxiously to him as your voice quivered with emotion, “I could I be so stupid? I’ve been so careful for years to protect my image…my career…I shouldn’t have had so much wine tonight. I shouldn’t have been so stupid. They had a clear fucking view. That’s going to be everywhere tomorrow morning. There’s going to be a picture of your tongue in my mouth on the international fucking news tomorrow morning…I’m so dead.” 
Lando didn’t even know what to say to comfort you so he offered the only thing he could think of to say, “I’m sorry.”
You stood in front of him and took a shaky breath before letting it out with a flat, “It’s not your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“I asked you to.”
“So? I still shouldn’t have done it.”
You held your face in your hands, crying out a weak, “Oh, God, Lando.” 
“It’s okay.” Lando moved closer and wrapped you up in his arms, “It’s going to be okay.”
He didn’t dare tell you the slight selfish excitement that thudded in his chest that maybe this was the chance that he would be able to go public with you. Maybe it wasn’t ideal if you were forced out but it might have been the push you needed. You sniffed back your forming tears and let your arms snake around his waist, tucking your face in his neck as he rubbed your back to try and ease your stresses. 
“I’m gonna be in so much trouble.” you mumbled. 
“From who?”
“My management team…PR…all of them. I’m going to have to make a statement and somehow cover this up.” you pulled away from him as the anxieties rose again in your chest. “Oh God.” 
“Just breathe for a second, sweetheart.” Lando whispered, taking your hand, “What good is it going to do to just stress out before anything-”
Your phone rang from your purse and you hurried to pull it out, answering it right away as you saw Oscar’s name on the screen and you put it on speaker, “Hello?”
“Hey. Did you get home?” he asked. 
“Yeah, sorry. Just a few seconds ago. I’m kinda flipping my shit.” you answered, rubbing your temples tiredly. 
“Don’t. I got them to delete it.”
Your entire expression changed and you and Lando shared wide glances. You looked back to your phone, “What?”
“Yeah. Lily and I made them delete the pictures in front of us. They’re gone. You’re good.”
“Oh, Osc.” you whimpered, slumping onto one of the kitchen island stools, “Fuck, mate, I could kiss you.”
“I think enough kissing has been done tonight.” he laughed softly, trying to lighten the situation. 
Lando smiled slightly. 
“I owe you one.” you said.
Osacr tisked, “No way. It’s just my job. And you’re my best friend.”
“I wonder how they knew we were there.” you wondered aloud. 
Lando scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor, mumbling quietly, “Maybe Pierre tipped them off for a revenge plot.” 
You nudged him playfully, “Pierre would not tip them off.”
“No way.” Oscar added through the phone. “This was probably just a fluke. It’s a popular place.”
“True.” you sighed. 
“You okay?” Oscar asked. 
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Get some rest, okay?”
“You too. You did good work, Osc.” 
“Thanks.” 
There was a muffled voice in the background through the phone. 
Oscar spoke again, “Oh and Alex and George want to know if Lando’s coming back to the hotel tonight.”
You and Lando looked at each other but he waited to let you answer since it was your house after all. You answered them without taking your eyes off him, “No. I’m keeping him tonight. I’m gonna need serious de-stress cuddles after this little event.”
Oscar passed on the message and as he did so, Lando stepped closer to you and brushed his fingers through your hair, letting you lean forward to rest your cheek against his chest. You said your good nights to your friends and then your phone was turned off, leaving you and Lando alone. 
Wrapping your arms around his middle, you let out a deep breath to let your tension melt away and you shut your eyes tightly to just hold onto him a little longer. Lando scratched his fingers gently through your hair and his other hand rubbed over your back and shoulders, letting you take as long as you needed right there. 
“Feeling better?” Lando asked you quietly. 
You nodded against his body. 
“Want me to help you get into bed?”
You sniffled and held him a little tighter around the waist, “I don’t want you to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” he chuckled, “You have me all night, remember?”
“No, I mean I don’t want you to go home. To England.”
Lando had been trying not to think about it as the summer was approaching its end and that meant he was soon to return to his rainy home country and leave sunny Monaco behind. Leave you behind. He had only three weeks left. 
“I have a whole three weeks left.” he said, trying his best to comfort you. Your sadness over the idea of him leaving was slightly comforting, feeling validated that you cared about him just as much as he cared about you. 
“Too short.” you mumbled. 
“Let’s not think about that right now.” 
“Okay.”
He brushed your hair over your shoulders and down your back, petting your head gently. You held him tightly and buried your face in his chest. 
The ‘I love you’ was frozen on his tongue. 
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As you had anticipated, the three weeks nearly flew by. Alex and George went home only one day after your group dinner, leaving Lando to face the remainder of his stay alone again. But he wasn’t totally alone since he spent almost every day with you. The last week was a little touch and go as you kept putting off your after-work plans without much of an explanation and Lando was starting to feel a little worried that he was going to have to face his last week mostly alone. The girls didn’t seem to offer him much comfort, only shrugging and assuring him that you had deadlines to meet and those waited for no one. 
But his last day he spent with you, ordering food together on Friday night and eating in your bed while watching a movie before cuddling the night away. You didn’t eat much that night and it was apparent that his impending departure was weighing on you, he was sure. Even still, you didn’t leave his side and you slept cuddled up in his arms well into Saturday morning. Well, to him you slept soundly. In reality, you were awake most of the night, just listening to his heartbeat and his breaths and the thoughts swirling in your mind. 
His flight was in mid-afternoon so it gave you some time to wake up in the morning and stop at a café for breakfast before returning to his hotel to gather the last of his things. You were quiet on the drive across the city and Lando held your hand as you drove. Your teeth were stuck in your bottom lip as if they were permanently meant to be there. He gave your hand a squeeze. 
In his hotel room, you sat on the end of the second bed that had been George and Alex’s for only a week while you watched Lando pack up his things. Time was ticking and Lando’s dread was only rising with the minutes that passed. He didn’t want to leave you but part of him was also stressed about missing his flight. He was lingering in this weird emotional purgatory. In all honesty, he didn’t want to face an emotional goodbye with you that would inevitably make him cry. So he tried not to think about it - he didn’t even want to look at you as you sat there quietly and let him pack - and he busied himself. 
“Lan?” you called softly, your voice faint. 
He didn’t answer, tucking his socks and underwear in his suitcase.
“Lando?” you tried again, a little louder. 
“I know, I should put the bigger things in first.” he said, turning back to the dresser to open the next drawer down and take out his stack of jeans and pants. “I’m just going drawer by drawer…I don’t totally care.”
“Lando, can I-”
“I don’t think I should have bought so many clothes here…I don’t know how they’re all going to fit in this suitcase under fifty pounds.” he rambled, starting to empty out all the drawers onto the bed first to see what he was dealing with. 
You stayed sitting on the opposite bed. He didn’t look at you because he could already feel himself getting a little choked up.
He moved to the closet and opened the doors to take his few things off the hangers, “Maybe I should wear layers? Or leave my underwear and socks behind…those are cheap. Mom can buy me new ones. I guess that’s the good thing of still living at home, right?”
He didn’t wait for an answer as he returned to his bed and started to messily shove things inside. You didn’t have an answer to give him. You stayed quiet for a few seconds, just watching him pack ungracefully. 
Lando tried to fold things as small as he could get them but he was emotional and his mind was muddled and he ended up just jamming stuff wherever it fit. He huffed. 
You stood from the end of the opposite bed, “Lando, please, can I just-”
He walked away quickly and into the bathroom, “I need my wash stuff.” 
You lingered where you stood in the centre of the room and that’s where you were when he returned, glancing at you for a brief second before he was shoving his zipped up toiletry kit into his suitcase too. He didn’t look at you long enough to see how you were wringing your hands together. 
“Razor…toothbrush…hairbrush…” Lando muttered to himself, “Maybe I should snag some of the hotel’s free sample things.”
He hurried back into the bathroom. On his way back out, you tried again. 
“Please, can I just say one thing?”
“Is it silly to bring the hotel soaps home?” he asked, shoving them in his suitcase anyway, “They’re kinda cute…shaped like little leaves.” 
“Lando.” you said strongly. 
“Oh, I need my chargers.” 
He passed by you again. 
“Lando.” you strained. 
“I think my passport is in the safe with my laptop. Can’t forget those.” 
“Lando.” your voice broke slightly. 
He stuffed his laptop and his chargers into his backpack, struggling with how his hands were shaking, “I didn’t know I had so much stuff. Monte Carlo makes a guy materialistic, huh?”
Emotionally, you crumpled to the ground in frustration, knees to your chest, crying out in defeat, “Lando, please.” 
Your sudden drop had him turning right to you, startled by the way you just burst into tears on the floor, your face in your palms as you completely sobbed. He dropped whatever he was holding and knelt in front of you quickly and pulled your hands from your face to guide you into a hug, making you hold onto him as you cried. 
“Baby.” he cooed, rubbing your back, struggling to hold back his own tears, “Don’t cry.”
“Just stop packing for a second.” you said softly, your voice quivering. 
“Okay. I’m here.” Lando promised. “I’m here.” 
“I need to talk to you.” you mumbled against his shoulder. 
“You had all night to talk to me.” he chuckled, leaning back slightly so you could move out of your embrace and he could look at your face properly. 
“I was going to tell you something last night but I got scared…I was going to tell you five days ago but I put it off and now it’s last minute and…God, I’m such a pussy.” you tisked, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. 
Lando gently took your wrists and guided your hands away so he could hold them in his own, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles, “No, you’re not. What is it?”
Your bottom lip trembled as you looked at him, your vision blurred with tears, and he tried so desperately to read your expression, trying not to psych himself out that you were ending things with him or any other worst case scenario that could have been playing on your mind. Your mouth tried to form words but no sound came out minus a little squeak of anxiety that had Lando chuckling nervously. 
“What is it, you muppet?” he encouraged you sweetly, “You can tell me anything.”
You sniffled and silent tears trailed down your cheeks, unable to compose yourself enough to say what you needed to say. 
Trying to keep it light for your sake, he bounced your joined hands against your thighs gently, “What? Are you pregnant or something?”
The way your breath caught in your throat and your entire body tensed up had his lighthearted smile faltering for a second. You tore your gaze from his and looked to your lap almost shamefully. Neither of you moved for a moment.
“You’re…not…are you?” Lando asked hesitantly. 
A fresh wave of tears came over you and you slumped against the front of the dresser on the floor, tearing your hands from his to hold your face in your palms as you cried. 
Lando breathed our name, his eyes as wide as saucers and his face as white as paper, “Don’t play with me right now. Are you serious?”
You nodded into your hands. 
“You’re pregnant?” he repeated, “For real? Like…confirmed?” 
You sniffled and pulled your phone from your pocket and he waited impatiently as you opened your photos app and then passed it over to him to see. The picture on the screen was of your bathroom counter with three positive pregnancy tests in a row in the centre. Lando blinked. He zoomed in. The three pairs of pink lines were clear as day. He blinked again. Was this real?
“Is this real?”
You nodded into your hands, almost scared to look at him. 
“I-” Lando stared at the picture for a second longer and then looked at you, “Are you…What are you going to do?”
You sniffled and dropped your hands to your lap between your bent knees, “I cannot have a kid right now.”
Lando's heart stopped at that statement. It was ultimately your decision but he did not want to lose his chance at having a little family with you. He waited for you to continue. 
“But I can’t get rid of it.” you mumbled. “I don’t want…I can’t do that.”
“That’s okay.” Lando breathed. 
He honestly felt dizzy - like the entire situation was a dream. Your voice sounded a little echoey and he pinched his thigh to bring himself back to his true reality, trying to focus on your obviously distraught expression. 
“I’m scared.” you admitted softly, your trembling voice barely audible. 
“Hey,” Lando scooted closer to you to sit at your side against the dresser and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders to pull you in towards him, pressing a kiss to your temple, “No reason to be scared. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
You nodded and leaned your head against his and his hand found yours, lacing your fingers together lovingly. His other hand still held your phone with the picture on the screen and he couldn’t stop staring at it in complete disbelief. 
“You are going somewhere. You’re going home.” you mumbled. 
Lando’s heart sank, “Yeah…” 
“I don’t even know what we are.” you whispered. “This whole time…I don’t know what we are. Are we just fuck buddies or…are we, like, something more…?”
Lando stared down at your intertwined hands, having so much information thrown at him in the span of a few moments that his mind was whirling. His momentary silence had you slightly panicked.
You spoke again as if to pitch your case, “Because I really have been feeling like both of us have wanted more but I didn’t want to step out of line or scare you or anything by asking…in case you didn’t feel the same…but part of me always thought that maybe you did and I was just being silly and-”
Lando raised his hand to press his finger against your jaw and turned your face towards his, capturing your lips with his to shut you up with a kiss. You instantly melted into him and your soft sigh as he finally pulled away from your few chasté kisses was almost enough to ease his own consciousness. 
“I’ve wanted all of you since the moment I knew your name.” he promised. “I want as much as you’re willing to give me…whatever you want to be. You hold the cards.” 
“I just want you.” you confessed, holding his hand in both of yours as you leaned into him adoringly, “I want to really be yours. For real.” 
Lando licked his lips as he stared at you, feeling as though he were treading in dangerous waters and pressing his luck, “So…do you want to be my girlfriend?”
You bit back your grin at his shy question, “Well you already got me pregnant so it would be a bit dumb of me to say no.” 
“Oh my God.” Lando breathed. His words were punctuated by your lips pressing against his again and you shared a few quick kisses. Reality seemed to settle around him and he tilted his head back to break your kiss, huffing out almost panicky to the ceiling, “You’re pregnant.”
“Yeah.” you mumbled. 
Lando pressed his finger against his chest, “You’re having my baby? Mine?”
“Yeah. I told you…there was no one else.” 
Lando’s eyes were as wide as saucers and he stared at you dumbly, unblinking, his index finger still pressed against his chest. 
You sighed, “I know this isn’t ideal…I’m so busy and you’re still in school getting your degree and we don’t even live in the same country. I get it if you just kinda wanna do your own thing. I don’t need money from you or anything.”
“Hey, no.” Lando grabbed your hands again, “Don’t even say that. I want to be a part of this with you. More than anything, okay? More than anything.” 
“You sure?” you pouted, “Because I really don’t want you to think that I’m trapping you in a life that you don’t want.”
“Life that I don’t want?” Lando gaped, “Holy shit, baby, I’ve dreamt about having a family with you since the second I hit that ‘follow’ button on Instagram, are you kidding?”
“Oh my God, really?” you laughed wetly at his confession, sniffling back your tears. 
“I promise. I’m not going anywhere.” he swore and shifted onto his knees to pull you into a hug again, “Not even if you forced me.”
Your arms wrapped easily around his shoulders and you dipped your face into his neck, letting him feel the warmth of your body with his on the hotel room floor. He could feel your heavy heartbeat through your chest and against his own and he gently caressed your hair and breathed you in, the smell of you that grew so familiar over the summer. The news was dream-like and he was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around it but holding you in his arms just made it feel so easy and so right. 
He had to say it. 
“I love you.” 
Your arms tightened around him and your fingers clutched the back of his shirt as you let out a small sob into his neck, “Oh God…I love you.” 
Lando shut his eyes tightly and choked back his own wave of tears, your voice saying that simple sentence to him meaning more to him than you would ever know. 
“That’s so scary.” you sniffed quietly after a moment.
He sat back slightly so he could look at you and he brushed your hair from your face, “What is?”
You shrugged, looking down at your lap where you were picking at your nails, “Love? I dunno…it sounds silly.” 
“It’s not silly.” Lando assured you easily, “It’s a lot to trust someone with. But I love you for trusting me.” 
You cracked a small smile and he tilted your chin up again so he could press a damp kiss to your lips through your shared emotions. 
“And even more because you’re having my baby.” he whispered, almost disbelieving, but he bit back his excited grin as he spoke the words he once only dreamt of. 
“Yeah.” you smiled sweetly and slid your hands into his. 
Sitting in front of each other on the hotel room floor, you shared a few single kisses through your slowing tears, perfectly innocent and soft that it flooded your hearts with warmth. Lando was over the moon and his hands stayed in yours so tenderly like he never wanted to let you go. 
Finally, you pulled away with a soft gasp and then a quiet groan of, “Fuck, I can’t drink wine anymore.”
Lando laughed lightly and he lifted his hands from yours to wipe your tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, “No, you can’t.”
You dramatically rested your forehead against his shoulder. 
He rubbed your back, “Only normal grape juice for the next little while now.”
Proper goodbyes were shared before leaving the hotel room together to linger on that last moment of privacy before the public eye would be on you again. Lando partially wished that you had told him sooner because having to leave within the same hour that you told him you were pregnant was almost unbearable. He had always loved you but now it only felt overwhelmingly more and he was having a hard time letting go. Lando promised to call you every night and text often and you promised to FaceTime him during the first doctor's visit which had him crying into your shoulder with how much he just didn't want to leave.
But he had to, and soon he had said an all too quiet goodbye at the airport to you and was sitting at his gate waiting for boarding. Life felt surreal as he sat there among strangers who didn’t know him, didn’t know his story, and didn’t know that you were going to make him a father. He was overwhelmed but he was bursting with glee. 
Before he was told to turn off his phone for the flight, he opened one last app to do one final thing. His group chat was quiet that afternoon but Lando was about to change that. 
landonorris: Hey guys georgerussell63: Lando!!! Hey! alex_albon: Hiii alex_albon: You back in Bristol yet?? landonorris: Waiting at my gate landonorris: Listen… alex_albon: Listening  georgerussell63: Oh no landonorris: I got some news today georgerussell63: Is everything okay?? landonorris: Yeah. It’s great landonorris: I have a girlfriend alex_albon: WHAT georgerussell63: AHHH Like for real??? alex_albon: ITS OFFICIAL???? georgerussell63: OMFGGGKTKJTNGJKT landonorris: Yeah!! As of today landonorris: I still can’t believe it landonorris: But that’s not all georgerussell63: The way I went from celebrating to scared again gave me whiplash alex_albon: Same wtf Lan what is it alex_albon: Just send us one of your classic long paragraphs with everything in it what with the suspense  georgerussell63: Lando TELL US landonorris: Well you know how she has been my dream girl for so long right? alex_albon: Duh georgerussell63: Yeesss landonorris: I’ve been basically living the dream because of that this whole summer landonorris: But I guess there was one thing missing that would really complete the ideal universe concept for me landonorris: And I didn’t really think about it too much because it didn’t feel attainable really landonorris: But I guess it wasn’t impossible… landonorris: Because it happened and she told me today... landonorris: We’re having a baby
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sometimesanalice · 9 months ago
Text
California Dreaming
Summary: At sometime past 4am, the last thing you would have ever expected was to receive a call from Bradley Bradshaw. But time is a funny thing it feels like it might be running out.
Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 5.6K
Warnings: angst and a bit In-N-Out slander
(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on its own!)
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You’re pulled from the light sleep you’d just barely managed to slip into by the sound of your phone ringing.
Although you weren’t too sure if your mind was playing tricks on you again. And in that liminal space between awake and asleep, you didn’t trust yourself to know the different anymore. Sleep and you haven’t been on the best of terms over the couple of months, and you had the dark circles under your eyes to prove it.
Your boss had told you about the chatter he’d heard about a position opening up soon at the West Coast office. It was an opportunity that would be perfect for you, minus the fact it would involve uprooting your entire life and moving across the country. You still hadn’t given him an answer yet whether he should put you forward for it or not. But you’d taken to sleeping with your ringer on just in case you were needed for anything, not wanting to close the door completely. And you’d woken up in a panic more than once thinking you’d slept through an emergency call, only to see absolutely zero new notifications.
Just when think it might have been another stress induced fluke, it goes off again.
Bleary eyed, you scramble to reach it. Wanting to silence it to not wake up your boyfriend from his more-peaceful-than-yours slumber. Only half-consciously noting it’s sometime past 4 AM.
However, it’s the name splashed across the screen that makes your heart stop.
𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗘𝗬 𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗪
You sit straight up, the crisp white sheets your boyfriend preferred pooling around your waist.
“Bradley?” You don’t even remember hitting the green button before the phone was up to your ear. “Bradley? Are you ok?” The words come out a sleepy slur all jumbled together by your sluggish tongue.
He’d texted you when he landed back on US soil; a silly selfie with crinkled bag of McDonalds in his hand and the American flag in the background. It had made you grin like an idiot when your phone had lit up with it.
You knew that he had been called back to Top Gun, but that was as much as he’d been able to tell you.
With the time difference, it makes it the hour too early for you, but also too late for him. He should be asleep right now. But you know Bradley, he wouldn’t be calling right now unless it was about something important.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I know it’s late there,” Bradley apologizes. “Or early, I guess.”
Tired. He sounds so tired.
You didn’t doubt he was still probably fighting the jetlag that came with being in San Diego after living in Japan for the last year and a half. But it was the weariness in his tone that had you concerned.
“But you’re ok?” you press. You needed to hear it.
“I…” he pauses, then sighs. “Yeah, kid. Everything’s fine.”
You blow out a relieved breath, rubbing at your heavy eyes.
“Good. That’s good,” you nod, reassuringly. Not that he can see you.
He is safe. He is ok. That’s all that matters to you.
Jack groans your name. “Seriously?” The word drips of exasperation and annoyance.
You wince. Less at its sharpness, but more at the feeling like you can’t seem do anything right lately.
You and your boyfriend have been together a little over two years now. You have a comfortable life together in Boston, nice even. But you shook the snowglobe of your relationship when you’d first mentioned the possibility of a promotion and moving, and it still felt like you were waiting for the remainders of all those stirred up flakes to settle back down.
“Give me a minute, Bradley,” you whisper into the phone, “Don’t hang up.” Your voice is so quiet you’re not even sure he heard you.
You turn towards your boyfriend, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but he’s already rolled over away from you.
A literal cold shoulder.
Your eyes trace over the exposed skin of his back. It’s dark, but you could point out where every freckle is on him with bullseye precision. Sometimes you weren’t sure if he knew you as well.
Like when he’d bring you red roses, a flower you’ve never felt one way or another about. You’d tell yourself it’s the thought that counts, that it’s the gesture that matters. But for as many times as you’ve bought your favorite flowers yourself and displayed them on the coffee table in your shared living room, Jack has never once brought them home for you.
It made you wonder sometimes if he even truly wanted you, if he cared enough to pay attention. Or if he was just content in the fact that you’d be there.
And then you’d feel guilty for even thinking that in the first place.
But you didn’t just break up with someone over flowers.
Or the way he always seemed to make plans for you with his friends without ever asking you first. Or the way he was never more attentive to you until the two of you were in front of a group.
There’s a sliver of moonlight peeking through the edges of the blinds of your bedroom. A set of curtains would have solved the issue, but you’d never been able to get Jack on board. It was something you there thankful for now as you tiptoed out of the room with just enough light to make sure you wouldn’t trip over anything.
You ease the door gently closed behind you, feeling some of the tension melt from your body.
“Ok, I’m back,” you tell your best friend.
“I take it we woke up Jack?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, padding towards the black leather couch in the living room. You fight back the hiss that wants to be released when your bare thighs touch the ice-cold material. The October chill had a way of sneaking in everywhere. “He’s got a big pitch presentation on Friday,” you say, feeling like you need to explain, “So he’s just a bit on edge right now.”
Bradley makes a noncommittal sound, something close but not quite like a disapproving rumble. You distract yourself from reading into it too much by turning on the lamp on the side table to its lowest setting. A dim glow illuminating the living room.
“Tell me, how’s California?” It’s a pivot. You know you’re trying to smooth things over; you’ve been doing a lot of that lately.
“Sunny.”
You snort and roll your eyes.
“It seems you left good jokes back in Japan,” you tease. You pull your knees up to your chest and reach for your favorite soft knit blanket, tucking it around you. “Be honest, how many things did you forget to pack this time?”
Bradley groans your name. This time you smile.
“I had to take scissors to my favorite pair of Levi’s, because I didn’t bring any shorts for the beach.”
Picturing the pained look on his face as he desecrated his favorite jeans nearly sends you into a fit a giggles. But out of respect for the fallen and your best friend’s feelings you press your lips together, the corners pulling up on their own.
You can’t resist lightly teasing him though, “Beach jeans? That sounds like a choice.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Bradley says, solemnly. The drama queen.
“Is there someone who saw you in them that I could bribe for some new blackmail material?” you ask. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten my hands on anything truly juicy.”
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, kid, but I looked damn good in them.”
This time you don’t hold back the laugh, only muffling it with a hand over your mouth when you realize that your boyfriend could probably hear you through the closed door.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Give me some time and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll make some space in my Bradshaw Blackmail folder in the meantime.” Bradley’s warm chuckle in your ear makes the room feel less cold. “So what else have you been up to?”
“We haven’t had a ton of down time, but I did hit up an In-N-Out with Natasha the other night.” That was a name you were familiar with. You’ve never met Bradley’s fellow aviator and friend, but you were happy he had someone with him there that he was close to. “It was the same one I took you to when you came to visit after I finished Top Gun the first time.”
It was a fluke of fate that you’d been sent to the West Coast office for some training around the time that Bradley was on leave before being sent back to his squadron. The overlap was only for a few days, but the two of you had made the most of it.
“Who knew you were such a sentimentalist?” You lean your head back against the couch.
“It’s the closest one to base,” he justifies, “Although, you’ll be happy to know their milkshakes are still trash.”
You grin. “Hey, I never said they were trash. That was all you, Bradshaw.”
You’ve only been there the once, but it had been fun getting to experience it with him for your first time. He’d ordered more than enough food for two people, making sure to get some of the more classic not-so-secret menu items for you to try. And the Neapolitan shake had been fine, but the ones from the ice cream shop in your hometown where Bradley had had his first job were much better.
“Your face said otherwise,” he bats back.
You hum noncommittally, not wanting to concede. It was more fun for you this way, even if he was right. Not to mention no one knows how to read your face better than Bradley does.
When you don’t argue, he continues, “There’s even a rumor going around that they might want to keep some of us around longer. Like they’d form a new squadron that would be stationed here.”
You perk up, “In San Diego? You could be there permanently?” Between his deployments and moving around from base to base, you don’t think he’s been in one place for more than two years since he went to UVA. “That would be amazing.”
“Yeah, it really would,” Bradley agrees, he sounds hopeful, “But I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”
‘Hope for the best, but expect the worst’ was the motto he seemed to live by. He’d had the rug pulled out from underneath him more times than anyone else you knew.
The two of you are quiet for a moment.
You don’t want to push him into talking about whatever the reason is that he’s called so early in the morning. But no matter how many jokes you trade with him, it’s still in the forefront of your mind. And try as you might, you can’t shake that feeling of unsettledness that was resting heavily on your chest.  
Outside your living room window, the streetlights are bright against the dark sky.
You’ve told him more times than you could count that he could call you any time, but Bradley being Bradley has always made it a point to call during hours that were convenient for you, even if that meant he was still up at some ungodly hour.
But that was so him, always putting everyone else ahead of himself.
With the confidentiality that goes hand in hand with his job, you know he can’t talk about the specifics. It was something you were used to after nearly a decade of Naval service behind him.
You nibble on your lower lip, weighing your words.
“How’s it been with…” You trail off, but you know he knows who you’re referring to. You run a hand up and down your calf, trying to warm up quicker.
Mav? Pete? He’d been Captain Mitchell the last time you’d seen him back when you were in high school, you weren’t sure what his rank was now.
Mav has always been the number one topic on Bradley Bradshaw’s No Fly List. The few times you’ve dared to bring it up in the past had been shut down quicker than you think he could probably fly his jet.
Bradley told you last week in a text that had simply read He’s here. You didn’t even have to ask who he was. It had been just as much of a shock to you as you imagined it probably was for him seeing the man who had derailed his dreams when everything else in his world had already fallen apart.
It was a story you’d always thought there had been more to, but between the two of them you’d always be Team Bradley. That’s how it was supposed to be for best friends.
You can feel Bradley mulling over his answer. “It’s been… motivating.”
The way he says it you can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. And maybe he doesn’t even know himself.
You sit up straighter on the couch. “Oh?” you say, casually. Neutrally. Not wanting to let your inflection to color Bradley’s response.
Their reunion has been a long time coming, you just wished you could be there for him with this the way he’s always been there for you. Not just on the phone, but there by his side.
Bradley sighs again, it’s heavier this time. Like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s probably roughly running his hand down his face, the way he always does when he’s really, truly frustrated. Like he’s trying to free those too big feelings from trapped beneath his skin.
“I’m flying with him for the first time in my career. I want him to see why I’m here. I want to show him.” The anger, the hurt rings though loud and clear. But so does the determination. “These patches I’ve been called back are the best of the best that there is. And I’m one of them, kid. And I got here on my own, without him.”
You wait to see if he is going to continue or not, wanting to give him the space to talk through his feelings, but he’s gone quiet again.
“You’ve worked so hard for this, Bradley.”
“It was all I ever wanted,” he says, his voice rough, “To be like them.”
Like Mav. Like Ice. Like his dad.
You’d been there for the fallout. He’d been crushed when he didn’t get to go to the Academy, the self-destruction that followed had been hard to watch. You’d seen the way he had to pick up the pieces of his life. The way the boy had quickly had to become a man. Every choice Bradley has made since then has been with one purpose in mind.
He’d set out to be a Naval aviator and he’d achieved it.
“You should be so proud of yourself,” you say, softly.  “I know I am.”
You imagine Mav is proud too, but you don’t say that part out loud.
After all, he practically helped raise Bradley- in his own way.  Always calling whenever he could. Sending presents. Spending his leave time with the Bradshaws. They’d been a family.
“Sometimes-” Bradley cuts himself off, trying to collect his thoughts. You can almost feel the tormented whirlwind of them through the phone. “Sometimes,” he starts again, “There are moments, when I see him fly- it’s crazy shit that no one but him can do- and I forget. Just for a second. But then I remember and it’s like I’m eighteen and feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut all over again.”
Your stomach twists in the same way it always does when you’re reminded of that rough period in time when the two of you were just teens. And now that you’re older, your ache even more for the boy whose whole world was so turned upside down by the one person he thought would never let him down.
“When we’re flying together, I’m reminded how it could have been. How it should have been,” he corrects himself, roughly. “I thought I was fucking over it. It’s been fifteen years, kid. And I’m pissed at myself because he should be nothing to me, I shouldn’t care what he thinks.” His voice is a hoarse rasp. “Why can’t I get over it?”
It’s times like this where you can feel every mile between the two of you. Every inch of space in your long-distance friendship. And it chafes at you that all you can be is an ear for him to vent to rather than a shoulder for him to lean on.
“There’s no version of this where it wasn’t going to be tough. And I don’t think you trying to brush off who he was to you, like none of that mattered, is going to make this any easier for you,” you tell him. “Not with the history the two of you have. And you can’t punish yourself for having feelings about it.”
“I told him no one would mourn him if he burned in.” He all but blurts it out.
Your suck in sharp breath and you shake your head in disbelief, “Bradley, you didn’t.” There’s no hiding the shock in your voice.
You know there’s an unspoken code of conduct between aviators from the things you’ve picked up from the way he’s talked about his career and fellow Naval officers over the years. That when everyone’s lives are so dependent on each other to look out for one another, there were certain things you didn’t joke about. Things you didn’t throw around, not even in the heat of a moment.
“Shit, shit,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. 
You don’t know what to say to him. It’s silent in your darkened living room. The only sound is of his affected breathing over the phone.
You can’t keep dancing around things with him anymore tonight. He cracked open the door, but now you’re the one pushing through it.
“Bradley, what happened?”
His voice is strained when he speaks again, “We had a couple accidents during training a few days ago- no one was hurt.” He is quick to clarify, and you know it’s for your benefit. “It was a bird strike and they had to eject, but they were cleared to fly the next morning.” It hits too close to home all the same. You don’t worry about anyone the way you worry about Bradley. “Mav found me in the Ready Room later that night, and it was just the two of us alone for the first time since everything happened. He was talking to me like I was the kid he’d helped raise, instead of the one he’d fucked over. And then all that anger came rushing back. So I did what I always seem to do, I went for all the things that I knew would hurt him the most.”
You squeeze your eyes tight in sympathy. You’ve been on the receiving end of Bradley’s sharp tongue before. You’ve never held it against him, but you’ve also never forgotten the way his words sliced straight through you.
“I knew it was fucked up as I said it, but in that moment it felt good to hurt him the way he hurt me,” Bradley says, quietly. Every word feels chewed on, like they’d be covered in indents of his teeth. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look in his eyes, kid. I really fucked up. It’s been eating at me ever since.” He pauses and clears his throat. “I hate that part of myself. I hate that I said that to him, regardless of the shit we’ve been through.” His voice is pinched, tight. “My mom would be so disappointed in me.”
The guilt in his voice is unmistakable and it's a confession you can tell that takes a lot out of him. No one holds on to regrets- or grudges- like he does. Even if the one he’s holding it against is himself. You know this is going to be something he’ll carry around with him for a long time to come.
But it is the way he stumbles over the mention of Carole that cracks your heart open.
You had grown up adoring her. She’d been lightning in a bottle. Her smile was always the brightest in the room, and her laughter always made people stop to look wanting to be in on the joke too. There was no one quite like her.
And after she died, you’d mourned that loss too. You still carried the evidence of that love with the scar issue on your heart. But for Bradley, that was a wound that no amount of time would ever fully heal for him. Forever a reminder of who wasn’t there.
He’d already lost so much. First, his dad. Then his mom. And now with his uncle.
Bradley had told you about Ice and his passing. You knew they had come to an understanding in the after of everything. It was a relationship held together by a monthly phone call or two, and a dinner invite whenever Bradley was in town. He’d called you during one of his breaks on the morning he found out, troubled because he didn’t know he’d even been sick.
Just more time missed with someone who had meant something to him.
You didn’t want him to regret saying those harsh words without the chance to make amends. You didn’t want him to miss out on any more time with people who wanted to be there for him. You didn’t want him to shoulder around that pain and resentment anymore. A decade and a half of it was more than enough to carry that around. You didn’t want him to forever push away the one person who probably cared for him just as much as you did.
“So apologize,” you gently urge him. “Talk to Mav and apologize. For him and for you.”
He sighs, heavily, “It’s not that simple.”
Gone is the quiet girl in her dark living room. You want him to hear you. “It really is though, Bradley. Tell him. Pull him aside after class or get there early. Or take him to that bar on the beach you told me about and buy him a beer. Don’t let this be a thing you can’t take back. You can still apologize.”
“I-I don’t think I can. There’s not enough time for that now.” His words are stilted.
You feel your eyebrows pinch in confusion, “Aren’t you guys there for a couple more weeks?” He doesn’t answer you right away and you feel a chill drift across you, even under your blanket. “Does that mean you’re shipping out soon?”
“It’s why I called.” There’s something more serious in his tone, you’re talking to the Naval officer now. “We got the orders, we ship out tomorrow. Or later today, technically.”
There’s a swooping sensation in your stomach and it feels like the floor has fallen out beneath your feet.
“Goddamn it, Bradshaw. Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Your voice wavers.
“I know, I probably should have.” At least he has the good sense to admit it. “I just wanted to talk to you, like normal. Although we didn’t get very far before I derailed the conversation,” he says, self-deprecatingly. “Do you think you can give me a few more minutes of normal, kid?”
You know there’s not much you can ask, and even less than he can tell you. You’re surprised you even allowed to know this much.
But you don’t need a dossier of confidential government information to tell you that whatever he’s being sent to do is dangerous, because you’d be able to read even the most redacted version of Bradley Bradshaw. You’d known something was off from the very moment you’d seen his name lighting up your phone.
You don’t want him to feel your anxiousness, you don’t want to add to whatever else he’s currently going through. Bradley called you because he wants to let his mind relax. So if he wants normal, you can give him normal. You can give him as much as he wants, as much as he needs.
“I’m sorry for making fun of your beach shorts.”
Bradley huffs a soft laugh, “No, you’re not.”
“You know,” you muse, fighting to keep your tone light and airy, “I haven't played hooky in a while and I have some miles to use before the end of the year.”
“You want to come out here?” The suggestion works just like you hoped it would, he sounds less troubled than before.
“I could use some Vitamin D and a milkshake. Do you know a good place to make it worth my while?”
“I might. It depends on your opinion is about Neapolitan shakes though.” Your nose scrunches up on its own. “Are you making that face, kid?”
“No,” you reply too quickly.
“Liar.”
You smile to yourself. “I’ll even let you pick me up from the airport and you can finally show me that Bronco of yours in person. It only seems fair that I get to see what all the hubbub is about after I’ve spent hours letting you talk my ear off about it: V8 engine this and four-speed manual transmission that.” You do your best Bradley impersonation and earn an amused scoff from him.
He’d bought it right before he’d been sent to Japan. Ice and his wife had been looking after it for him while he was away. Bradley had even documented his reunion with it after landing back on US soil by sending you a video of it with him humming the Peaches & Herb song in the background.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Bradley says. You think he might be smiling too.
It’s all to easy for you to slip into a normal conversation with him. He asks about your mom and stepdad. You don’t mention the possible promotion, but instead tell him about the passive aggressive microwave fish debacle that plagued the entire floor for days.
The two of you talk about nothing in a way that feels like everything. And every chuckle you pull out of him feels like a victory. Your tired eyes flutter shut on their own, with them closed you can almost pretend he’s sitting right next to you, until a yawn slips out of you without your permission.
“It’s getting late, I should let you go.”
You want to keep talking to him, but you can imagine the circles that have already formed under his eyes over the last few days. “You should get your sleep. Rest up, because we have big milkshake plans…and you’re not allowed to stand me up. Got it, Bradshaw?”
“I hear you,” he promises. “Try to stay out of trouble until I get back, kid.”
“No promises.” You feel your lower lip wobble.
“Atta girl.”
You laugh. It sounds a little watery to your own ears, but you hope he doesn’t hear it. You’re grateful he didn’t choose to FaceTime you. It’s probably for the best he can’t see your face, you’ve never been a very good poker player.
“Be safe, Bradley.”
You’ve already decided that you’ll let him be the one to hang up first. You didn’t have it in you to hit the red button before he did.
He blurts out your name. “Wait.”
“I’m still here,” you answer, quickly.
You hear him sigh in relief. “I-You know you’re my favorite, right?”
“I know.” Your throat gets thick and your eyes prickle. “And you’re mine.”
“Yeah?”
Your friendship with him as always mattered the most to you. It wasn’t even a question.
“Of course. I didn’t make very intricate embroidery floss friendship bracelets at summer camp when I was thirteen for just anyone, you know.” You’d spent hours making him one in his favorite colors. He’d worn it until it fell off and then asked for another. “You’re my favorite too,” you repeat, wanting him to hear it again.
“Ok. Ok, good,” Bradley says. He lets out a slow breath. “See you soon for milkshakes, kid.”
“See you soon.” It comes out a reedy whisper.
You stay on the line until he hangs up.
And only when the screen goes black do you allow yourself to give into the emotions that had been surging up inside of you.
With the corner of your blanket, you wipe at the tears that are making hot tracks down your cheeks. There’s a hollowness that has settled in your chest that you don’t think will go away until he tells you when to book your ticket to come and see him.
It doesn’t matter that you remind yourself that he is one of the best at he does. Or that you know he’ll be with other people who are just as good as he is. In all the years he’s been in the Navy, you’ve never once heard him sound that unsure before, and it’s rattled you.
It’s not that you didn’t know there was risk every time he sat in the cockpit of his fighter jet, even if it was just to train. But this was the first time it’s ever felt like he was preparing you for the possibility that you might never see or hear from him again.
You didn’t want to imagine a world with Bradley Bradshaw in it.
He’s never once broken a promise with you, and he wasn’t allowed to start now.
You don’t know how long you sit there in the dark with only your feelings and the sound of the clock on the wall for company.
Your eyes drift towards the closed bedroom door, where you’re sure Jack is sleeping unbothered on a soft mattress between stark white sheets.
It hits you then that he hadn’t come to check on you.
It’s still just as dark outside. Only the little lamp next to the couch offers any light, as you look around your living room.
You’d liked all the exposed brick when you’d first moved in, had imagined all the ways you could soften the apartment with things to make it more cozy for you and your boyfriend. More like the two of you.
But the books on the bookcase had been carefully chosen to fit a neutral color palette, while all your favorites had been moved to the smaller one in the office. Their colorful covers hidden away. The spot where you thought some kind of landscape painting could have gone, had a photograph of a sepia-toned city hanging there instead. It was still art, but it was the kind of thing that had been made to disappear into the background.
You keep waiting to see a piece of yourself reflected in the room, some mark of you that had been left behind in the home you live in, but other than the black and white striped rug that had been too good of a deal to pass up on at a store with a no return policy, none could be found. You didn’t see any of yourself there at all.
You thought that you’d been making compromises, but it’s dawning on you that all along really what you’ve been doing is making concessions. A one-sided partnership. When all you ever wanted was to share a life with someone.
Earlier you found yourself making excuses to Bradley, but now it felt like something you weren’t sure you wanted to look past.
You are tired.
And not because it’s sometime around 5 AM now. You’re already well past the start of a new day.
You’re tired of being the one to trying to make something work.
You’re tired of being the one who always makes a genuine effort.
You’re tired of red roses.
Maybe people did end relationships over flowers. Or the art on the walls.
Grabbing your phone, you open your email ignoring all the messages that are already waiting for you, and start typing out a message. When you’re done, you read it over a couple of time before sending it off to your boss. The whoosh that follows as it bounces off the exposed brick in the quiet living room feels like progress.
You didn’t want to miss out on any more time either.
Not with the people who mattered the most to you. The people you mattered the most to.
Leaning over the arm of the couch you turn off the lamp and stretch out to get comfortable on the cushions underneath you. You tuck a throw pillow under your head and drape the blanket over you.
From this angle, you can almost pretend the city lights look like stars.
Your alarm is already set, and if you’re lucky you can doze a bit longer before it will go off all too soon.
But it’ll ok if sleep doesn’t find you.
You’re already California dreaming.
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Who gave me permission to do this to myself?! Oh my heart. Don't mind me, I'm just in my angsty era. Thank you for reading!
If you enjoyed these two, you can read their story from the start here!
You can read my other stories here!
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