#MEET ROONEY EVERYONE!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moviecritc · 4 months

Text

like the movies ⋆ max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x actress!reader

summary: even though you've been all your life acting, you never experienced a love like the movies, until max appeared in your life

word count: 1.7K

warnings: none, just pure fluff

a/n: I'm going through a max verstappen phase, so if you have any requests for a blurb or something cute, send them <3

english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

"Are you breaking up with me over the phone? While I'm on my way to your parents' house? Are you stupid or what?" With each sentence, Y/N's voice grew louder.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry. But…"

"But my ass! Don’t you have any common sense?"

She could hear her boyfriend sigh, and she sighed four times louder than him.

"You are too… cold-hearted for me," he finally said from the other end of the line.

Y/N stifled an exclamation. Cold-hearted? How could she be if she was an actress? She was the warmest person he had known.

"You're always focused on your job and yourself, I need someone…"

"Idiot!" Y/N interrupted him. "Just say you don’t have enough self-love to date an independent woman. You worthless piece of shit."

She hung up after her sentence, not wanting to hear her ex-boyfriend's response. She parked the car and ran her hands over her face. She looked at herself in the little mirror of her car, touching up her lipstick and reassuring herself that she was a good person worthy of love.

She got out of her car and went directly to the bookstore in front of her. She still had quite a few books in her apartment to read, but she didn’t mind. It was her third breakup in four months, and she was starting to wonder if she really was the problem, and the only thing that could distract her from that was spending money she didn't have.

She began to pile books on her arms, and by the fifth manuscript, she started to wobble.

"Do you need help?"

Y/N blinked and peeked her head out from the stack of books, meeting a blonde with a very un-London-like accent and skinny jeans who looked like anything but someone who worked in a bookstore. She didn't know that strangers were now offering help out there.

"No, thanks," She took a step and added a sixth book, enough for all of them to fall. "Shit!"

Y/N felt so embarrassed she even blushed. She knew everyone in the bookstore would be watching her, and that terrified her.

"May I help you now?"

Y/N looked up, having completely forgotten about the presence of the stranger, who was looking at her with a kind smile.

"If you insist…" She smiled a little while rolling her eyes, which made him smile too.

They picked up the books together, which were a bunch of rom-coms. For a moment she thought he would judge her choices, but he didn’t make any gesture.

"I'm Max, by the way"

Y/N blinked. She had no idea what was happening, it seemed totally unreal that a stranger would help her pick up her books and suddenly introduce himself.

"Do you like Sally Rooney?" he asked, holding the last book she'd picked.

Y/N realized that this guy wanted to keep a trivial conversation with her, like those you have in nightclub bathrooms with girls. But this time was a bookstore, not a library. And not a girl, but a Max.

"I’ve never read her, but I saw Normal People, the series, and I was left wanting more," she explained, with a shy smile. "Y/N, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," he showed her a gorgeous smile. "I read the book, I haven’t had time to watch the series yet."

"Oh, it's really good,"

The conversation flowed too easily. She wasn’t used to talking so normally with someone she had just met a few minutes ago and moreover without it being awkward, but that was how it was. Y/N told him about the books she planned to buy and the one she was reading now.

"Excuse me, we're going to close," an employee informed them. In London, shops always closed in the mid-afternoon, for lunch, and although Y/N had arrived around eleven-thirty, the clock was almost striking one. "Are you taking the books?"

"Sure, yes," said Y/N at once and turned to Max. "Hold on a sec."

Max waved his hand, telling her not to worry, that he would wait. She paid for the books and quickly returned to Max.

"Do you have plans for this afternoon?" Max asked directly. Y/N loved the confidence in his voice.

"No, I don’t,"

"Can I invite you to lunch?"

"I'd love that,"

Y/N went to leave the bag of books in her car and she and Max walked to a nearby restaurant, continuing their conversation. It still seemed extremely surreal to her, in what universe does she break up with her boyfriend and moments later meet the nicest guy she had ever known?

"What do you do?" Max asked, once they were seated in the restaurant.

"I'm an actress," she pursed her lips. She was still in the phase where it was hard for her to admit she worked in that field.

"I'm not much into movies," Max commented, scrunching his nose.

"Great because I do theater,"

"Really?" he leaned back in his chair, impressed. "I don’t frequent the theater either, to be honest."

They both laughed softly and Y/N sipped her drink. "And you?"

"I work with cars,"

Y/N furrowed her brow, waiting for him to specify a bit more. "In a repair shop or how?"

That caused a small laugh from Max, leaving Y/N even more confused.

"Yes, exactly. In a repair shop," he continued with a wide smile.

"Well, if you like cars, there's some Prix thing here this weekend. There are tourists everywhere, it's terrible," she complained, rolling her eyes a bit.

Max gave her a goofy smile. That was perfect. Simply perfect.

"Really?" he arched his eyebrows slightly. "I had no idea."

"They do it every year. A silly thing," Y/N shrugged, letting the topic pass.

They continued talking for a long time about how Y/N once almost knocked down the shelves in a bookstore.

"Just like in the movies!" Max said, laughing.

She nodded, also laughing. "I swear things like a character in a tragicomedy happen to me."

They continued laughing for a while, then Max squinted a bit, resting his head on the palms of his hands. "And don’t you think it’s very movie-like that someone picks up your books for you?"

Y/N looked around, with sudden terror. "Where are the cameras, Max?"

He threw his head back laughing with a soft scrunch in his nose. The sound of his laugh felt really warm for Y/N.

"I hope nowhere," Max was right. Too good to be true. Too good to happen to her. Her look darkened a bit, and Max noticed it quickly. "Something wrong?"

She looked up and shook her head a little. "It's just… Is this weird?"

"I don’t think so, unless you want to make it weird. I’m pretty good at that,"

Max got a small smile from her.

"It's just that I’m used to…” Y/N thought about that sentence. “To things like this not happening to me. I haven’t been doing too well in love this past year,"

"Oh, me neither," Max didn’t mention the part about being a famous person and everyone wanting to be with him out of pure interest and not because they really liked him. "It's complicated."

"Quite," she pursed her lips. "Anyway… I have a performance at a theater in Soho on Thursday, you could come by. If you want, of course."

Max bit his lip; he had his first free practice that day and likely several meetings and driver duties.

"Oh, I'd love to. What time?"

They exchanged phones after the meal, which dragged on quite a bit, so that Y/N could send Max the location of the theater. And to exchange several messages throughout the day. They didn't see each other again until the day of the performance, but in that time, they had written dozens of messages. Y/N would tell Max about the series or movie she had watched that afternoon and recommended that he watch it, even though it was more than likely that Max hadn't turned on a TV in months.

Thursday arrived, and Max managed to sneak away from a meeting, arriving just in time for the play.

Y/N was nervous, and her co-star wasn't helping.

"Y/N!" Her co-star approached practically running. "I just heard that a famous driver is watching the play."

"Really?" She didn't care too much. She had been without news from Max for hours.

Luckily, he appeared at the door with a kind smile and a bouquet of roses. "Hi,"

Y/N flashed a smile and went up to him, instinctively wanting to hug him. Max, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, left a short kiss on her lips. She instantly blushed.

"Hello," Y/N greeted, with a silly smile. "Gorgeous flowers."

Max looked at her co-star, who was completely astonished.

"Lily, are you okay?" questioned Y/N, still hugging Max.

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating a famous driver?"

Y/N turned to Max instantly.

"What do you mean, 'famous driver'?"

Max pursed his lips slightly. "Aren't you going to call her out on the 'dating' thing?"

Y/N paused for a moment, trying not to laugh at what Max had said.

"Y/N, this is Max Verstappen. The Formula 1 driver!"

She lifted her chin and looked at Max again. "Formula 1 driver?"

Max scratched his neck.

"I think so…"

Y/N paused again for a moment. "And you let me mock your career just like that?"

"It's because you're strangely nice, what can I do," Max shrugged, causing Y/N to laugh.

"Well, I'm not one to deny it," she smiled a bit, then kissed Max's lips a second time. She placed a finger on his chest. "Though we're not dating, huh. We need to have a second date before we throw it all in for each other,"

Max burst out laughing. "Like they do in the movies?"

"Absolutely."

taglist; @theseerbetweenus

428 notes · View notes

hotvintagepoll · 5 months

Text

Propaganda

Judy Garland (Meet Me In St. Louis, A Star is Born, Summer Stock)— Judy is the GOAT when it comes to classic movie musicals. The voice of an angel who deserved so much better than she got. She can sing she can dance she can act she's a triple threat. Though she had a turbulent personal life (her treatment as a child star by the studio system makes me mad as hell like Louis b Mayer fight me ((she was made to believe that she was physically unattractive by the constant criticism of film executives who made her feel ugly and who manipulated her onscreen appearance by capping her teeth and using discs in her nose to change its shape and Mayer called her "my little hunchback" like imagine hearing that as a child and not having damage)) she always goddamn delivered on screen and in any performance she gave. She began in vaudeville performing with her sisters and was signed to MGM at 13. Starting out in supporting parts especially paired with mickey Rooney in a bunch of films (she's the best part tbh) she eventually transferred to the lead role. She is best known for her starring role in movie musicals like the iconic Wizard of Oz (somewhere over the rainbow still hits hard and is ranked the top film song of all time), meet me in St. Louis (Judy singing have your self a merry little Christmas brings tears to the eyes she is that powerful), the Harvey girls (she looks like a technicolor dream and sings a catchy af song about trains), Easter parade ( dancing and singing with Fred Astaire), for me and my gal, the pirate, and summer stock ( with pal Gene Kelly who she helped when he was starting out and he helped her when she was struggling). But she also does non- singing just as well like the clock ( her first movie where she sings no songs and is an underrated ww2 era romance), her Oscar nominated a star is born ( like the man that got away she put her whole soul in that and I have beef with the fact she lost to grace kelly ((whom I love but like still not even her best work)), and judgement at Nuremberg (a courtroom drama about the nazi war criminal trials). Outside of film she made concert appearances to record-breaking audiences, released 8 studio albums, and had her own Emmy-nominated tv series. She was the youngest (39) and first female recipient of the Cecil B DeMille award for lifetime achievement in the film industry. Girl was a lifelong democrat and was a financial and moral supporter of many causes including the civil rights movement (she was at the March on Washington and held a press conference to protest the 16th street Baptist church bombings). She was a friend of the Kennedy family and would call jfk weekly often ending the calls by singing the first few lines of somewhere over the rainbow (she thought of them as Gemini twins).She was a member of the committee for the first amendment which was formed in response to the HUAC investigations. Though she died far too young and tragically she remains an icon for her work and her life. As a girl who didn't feel like i was as pretty as everyone else I have always felt a connection to Judy and I just really love her.

Natalie Wood (West Side Story, The Great Race)—She went through so much shit which I know can be said for all these women but Natalie really was a star and her death often overshadows her career and life. She could make you cry, but she also had the capacity to be incredibly funny which I think is lost on people.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Natalie Wood:

Judy Garland:

Judy's voice alone qualifies her for at least top ten hottest HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMEN. She was a truly incredible swing singer, with a stunning voice on top of her technique. Her short dark hair looked incredible in just about any style. Have I mentioned her swagger? I can’t do it justice with words. She had swagger. She was funny as hell, and clever too. Incredibly charming and cool. I adore her.

Her eyes, her voice have bewitched me

I mean how can you beat the one and only Judy? She's beautiful, her smile is contagious, the way she sings with her whole body. You can't help but love her.

youtube

Beautiful woman, love her singing voice. And she can do everything between happy or silly and angry or heartbroken

#natalie wood #judy garland #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4 #Youtube

501 notes · View notes

babooshkart · 1 year

Text

Dandelion for @nelweensfic 💛 everyone go read the microfic!

doodle gift as a thank you for donating to Rooney’s Top Surgery Fund! Let’s help Rooney meet his goal! (donations totalling £25 and up may request a doodle from me from any fandom/pairing!)

#pure delight on that child’s face #it’s such a sweet fic!!!#thank you Nelween!! for the donation and the request!!#drarry #drarry fanart #hp fanart #harry potter fanart #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco malfoy fanart #drarry fic rec #drarry squad #teddy lupin #dad!drarry #my art #doodle requests #gofundme boost

675 notes · View notes

bara-izu · 4 months

Text

So incredibly humbled and overwhelmed by everyone who I got to meet at MCM this weekend! Thank you to everyone who popped by my table, bought anything or just came by to say hi! 🥹 I genuinely cant believe I sold out of the Halion Zines, it’s unreal!!

I got to meet some of my moots (and get hugs 🥺) and chat with some of you lovely lot too!!!

I also got to chat with some of the Larian devs, as well as Astarion’s writer, Stephen Rooney who all took part in the stamp rally 😭 they were all very sweet and even gifted me some larian goodies and set of stickers 😭

See below items that were gifted to me 😭😭😭 bottles by @archmagebarbie

I also managed to trade and purchase some lovely work from fellow artists! So sorry for talking all your ears off 😅 I’m a bit of a yapper….

#izu rambles #bg3 #mcm London

88 notes · View notes

the-bi-library · 1 year

Text

Here is the part 2 of my bi4bi books posts!

Books listed

Truly Madly Deeply by Alexandria Bellefleur The Stand-Up Groomsman by Jackie Lau Something Like Love by Christina C. Jones Bidding for the Bachelor by Jackie Lau Mistakes Were Made by Meryl Wilsner You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi Have Me Forever by Ally Blythe Everyone's Thinking It by Aleema Omotoni Heat Wave by Elyse Springer An Act of Devotion by A.M. Leibowitz Passion Over Power by Karmen Lee Party Favors by Erin McLellan Winning Move by Skye Kilaen False Notes & Broken Frets by Elle Bennett Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli Off the Record by Camryn Garrett The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian The Hellion's Waltz by Olivia Waiter The Electrical Affairs of Dr. Victor Franklin by Catherine Stein Trouble by Lex Croucher Guarding the Countess by Jess Michaels I Wish You All the Best by Mason Deaver Things We Couldn't Say by Jay Coles The Lost Girls by Sonia Hartl Silver Under Nightfall by Rin Chupeco Cutting Your Teeth by Caylan MacRae A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson Death Warmed Over by M.L. Eaden The Blood-Born Dragon by J.C. Rycroft The Dragon’s Devotion by Antonia Aquilante The Envoy’s Honor by Antonia Aquilante Til Death Do Us Bard by Rose Black Baptism of Fire by Jessie Thomas The Brilliant Death by Amy Rose Capetta The Fire's Stone by Tanya Huff Water Horse by Melissa Scott Silverglass, No. 1 by J.F. Rivkin Cool for the Summer by Dahlia Adler Wild by Hannah Moskowitz In The Event of Love by Courtney Kae A Lot Like Adiós by Alexis Daria Fandom by Eden Finley Dare to Live, Dare to Love by Nicole C. Moon Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney This Is Why They Hate Us by Aaron H. Aceves Meeting Her Match by Liz Lincoln Wild Pitch by Cat Giraldo Don't You Dare by C.E. Ricci Road Rules by Brigham Vaughn Fire Season by K.D. Casey Home Plate by Christina Lee Blindsided by Eden Finley

169 notes · View notes

gotham--fc · 8 months

Text

Baby on Ice - A Nicole Hensley Imagine

You finally find out what the goalie poll was for

@grapefruit-personified requested a fic based off this tiktok, hope you enjoy!

The title is a play on baby on board and Bambi on ice

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take her?” Y/N asks. Nic shakes her head.

“I can take her.”

“You’re trying to practice, you won’t be able to if she’s there, I can take her with me, it’s fine.”

“A bunch of the girls will be there, and they’ve been begging me to bring her to the ice,” Nic says, “We’ll all get a chance to hit the ice and still have enough people to watch her. Coyne’s gonna be there too, so you know she’ll be in good hands.”

“If you’re sure,” Y/N acquiesces.

Y/N gave birth to Ava five months ago. She decided before she gave birth that she would take a full year off from hockey regardless. She doesn’t want to rush her body back and set herself back even further, and she wants the chance to adjust to motherhood before she tries to get back on the ice. She’s training, still, but lightly and mostly just trying to keep herself healthy and fit. She got a scouting job with the Minnesota Wilds, so that’s what she’s doing now, staying with hockey even if she’s not playing. It means a lot of meetings and watching clips and going to local high schools and colleges to watch kids play and write reports on the stand outs.

Today, she has a few meetings and a lot of film to watch and while it’s hard to stay focused with a baby, she can make it work, and has been when Nic has practices or games. Nic insists on taking Ava today, and Y/N is a little grateful. She was sent a film of who is apparently “the next Sidney Crosby” and needs to finish a report on him by lunch, so not having a baby demanding her attention every five minutes would be beneficial to her work. And Nic is right, all the girls there will take turns watching Ava and hopefully the fun will tire her out so she sleeps through the night.

Y/N gathers her work bag and her travel mug, gives Nic a quick kiss and then gives Ava a kiss.

“You be good today, okay?” Y/N says. Ava slaps a hand in her cereal bowl in response. Y/N barely manages to escape the spray of milk.

“We’ll be fine, now go before you’re late,” Nic says.

Y/N gives them both another kiss and then heads to her car.

***

The girls are, naturally, incredibly excited when Nic gets to the rink.

It’s not an official practice today, so it’s not the whole team, but a good chunk. They have clearly been waiting for Nic since they’re all right by the front doors. Before she can even process, Ava is pulled from her arms and Grace Zumwinkle is cooing at her. Everyone now heads to the locker rooms, leaving Nic standing in the doorway.

“Oh I see how it is,” Nic calls out, “You only like me for my baby!”

“Yep,” Coyne pats Nic on the shoulder, “That’s the curse of being a hockey mom.”

All things considered, Nic isn’t too upset that her kid gets stolen away from her right away. Her and Y/N have been exhausted. Even though Ava is old enough not to wake up every hour, she still doesn’t sleep through the whole night and during the day, between training and Y/N’s work and everything else they have to do, Ava still demands most of their attention. Nic loves her, and loves her family and she wouldn’t trade it for anything, but it’s nice to get a break sometime.

Nic suits up for practice while the girls take turns holding Ava and getting ready themselves. Nic leaves them in the locker room while she goes out for a chance to skate around and do some warmups on her own. Maddie Rooney joins her after a few minutes.

“What? You don’t want to hang out with the baby?” Nic asks.

“I can see her any time I want and you know it,” Maddie says, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Maddie and Nic talk hockey while they warmup. They chat about different strategies they have on the ice and ways they could each improve and Nic is grateful that her and Maddie have been teammates and friends for so many years and that they can turn to each other if they have questions or if they notice something they can improve on.

The rest of the girls join them after they finish their warmup. Taylor Heise is carrying Ava. The impromptu practice goes the way Nic thought it would, everyone gets on the ice and runs drills while one person sits on the bench with Ava. That lasts for over an hour, before Ava starts getting fussy. They’re playing shooting drills and Nic and Maddie are taking turns in net, and when they go to switch, Maddie pushes Nic towards the bench.

“Your kid is about to rip Pannek’s ear off.”

Nic skates over to the bench and Kelly Pannek hands off Ava. Ava calms down once Nic has her.

“Your kid’s fucking Hulk or something,” Pannek mutters as she skates onto the ice.

“What’s your problem?” Nic asks, “Why are you fussing?”

Nic sits with Ava and entertains her. Ava’s an easy baby, all things considered. She’s happiest when she’s with Nic or Y/N, so whatever bad mood she was in ends when Nic holds her. She goes back to being the happy baby she normally is.

“How are we gonna practice with Nic if she has the baby?” Maddie asks.

“Well…” Heise and Zumwinkle look at each other and Nic knows whatever they’re thinking is either really good or really bad.

It’s not exactly a good idea, but it’s not exactly bad either. It involves a little bit of planning, a little bit of acting. Heise and Zumwinkle take Nic to the locker room to get the carrier and strap it to Nic’s chest over her pads and jersey. Pannek is in charge of distracting Coyne and Nic doesn’t know how she convinced Coyne to leave the ice, but somehow she manages.

Nic, Heise, and Zumwinkle head back out to the ice, now with Ava strapped to Nic’s chest. Ava, clueless to what’s going on, is just happy to have so many people looking at her. Nic steps onto the ice and skates around for a bit, making everyone laugh.

“I think’s that counts as too many men!” Heise yells out. Nic gets in front of the net and calls Heise out onto the ice.

“Take your best shot!” Nic says.

Heise grabs her stick and a puck and skates over. Nic gets into position, mindful of the baby on her chest, and she knows Heise isn’t going to really shoot it, that this is just for fun and it’s making everyone laugh and Ava loves it. Besides, Nic’s convinced Ava’s going to be a goalie like her, so might as well get her started early.

“What the hell is going on?”

Heise fumbles the puck as Coyne’s voice rings out. She comes to a stop sheepishly in front of the net, Nic beside her. Everyone’s gone quiet, the laughing stopped, and everyone shies away from Coyne’s disapproving glare.

“Nicole Hensley give me that baby right now.”

Nic gulps and skates over without a fight. There’s no chance Nic would win in a fight with Coyne and she hands over Ava.

“We were just joking around,” Nic says, “She wasn’t going to shoot it.” Coyne’s glare doesn’t lessen. “She likes being in front of the net. She’s got goalie genes in her.”

“You’re lucky I don’t call your wife right now,” Coyne says. She looks down at Ava in her arms and her face breaks out in a smile. “Besides, you’re going to be a forward, aren’t you?” Coyne tickles Ava’s belly and she giggles. “Yes you are!”

Coyne won’t let anyone hold Ava for the rest of practice, even Nic, which is fair. Nic is slightly convinced that Coyne won’t give her Ava when they all go to leave, but Coyne just gives Nic a stern look before handing Ava back. Nic straps Ava into her car seat.

“That was exciting,” Nic says, “Wasn’t it? But we’re not going to tell your mom about it or she’ll kill me and never let me take you to practice ever again.”

Nic drives home and Y/N isn’t home yet, so Nic gets Y/N something to eat then puts her down for a nap while she takes a quick shower. Nic entertains herself until Ava wakes up then she lays on the floor of Ava’s nursery with her and plays with her toys. That’s where Y/N finds her when she gets back.

“How was she?” Y/N asks, “I hope she didn’t distract you too much.”

“She was perfect,” Nic says, “Everyone loved having her there.”

Later that night, Y/N puts Ava to bed while Nic cleans up their dinner. Nic is elbow deep in soapy water as she washes dishes when Y/N’s voice yells out.

“Nicole Hensley what did you do?!”

Nic barely has time to dry her hands before Y/N’s in front of her and shoving her phone into face. It’s Maddie’s Instagram story, a video of Nic with Ava strapped to her chest skating on the ice. Nic stammers.

“She is never going to practice with you again!”

Oh, Nic was going to kill Maddie Rooney.

#nicole hensley #nicole hensley imagine #uswnt imagines #hockey imagine #womens hockey imagine #hockey rpf #uswnt hockey #woho #woho imagine

85 notes · View notes

aceghosts · 6 months

Text

15 Lines of Dialogue

I was tagged by @voidika and @nightbloodbix to do this challenge! Thank you!

Tagging (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @sergeiravenov, @carlosoliveiraa, @strangefable, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @amalkavian, @confidentandgood, @clicheantagonist, @theelderhazelnut, @cassietrn, @direwombat, @captastra, @cloudofbutterflies92, @katsigian, @inafieldofdaisies, @simplegenius042, and anyone else who wants to do this!

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Rooney Shepard (Cyberpunk 2077)

“Even at the cost of my own life,” Rooney picks up their whiskey glass again, “If you’re going to ask me if I regret it, I don’t. I would do the same again if given the choice.”

“You are a client,” Their tone is firm as they continue to dig their grave, ever obstinate, “You are hiring me to find someone. Unless you would prefer someone else to take this case.”

“Hmm…,” They start, tilting their head for a second as they pretend to think before answering with a smirk, “No.”

“People depend on me, Yorinobu. I cannot let them down. If I stop, I fail them. And if I fail them, then what use am I to anyone?”

“Fine,” They say, pulling out their monowire, “Remember, I gave you a chance to turn back.”

“I can do all of these things, but I know when others need me first,”

“No, I made a promise that I intend to keep. I’ll find a way out for us both.”

“It’s more than that. He’s my teammate; I’m responsible for him.”

“I can blame myself,” They look at him, meeting his eyes, “It was my job to protect Jack. He was my younger brother. He needed me, and I failed him. Danny, too.”

“No.” Rooney’s tone is deadly quiet, a grim look on their face.

“Work. You know how I am.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” They joke back, wiping at their eyes.

“I do. I let everyone down who didn’t make it off Space Force One. I refuse to let anyone else get hurt. Not as long as I breathe.”

“I know what is at stake. I’ve made a decision and decided that I’m okay with that risk.”

‘Glad to see you too, Silverhand’, Rooney thinks. A moment later and perhaps a touch more fondly, they add, ‘I mean it. I really thought I might have lost you, and it terrified me’.

#kate writes #I won't let fear compromise who I am #commander rooney shepard #the rooney fic tag #some of these are from stuff on AO3 #and some are from unpublished stuff #but I think these lines all represent Rooney #also sorry Rooney isn't a very fun character #they are very serious

41 notes · View notes

dayslynthesix · 1 year

Text

Charles Leclerc x Button!Reader

(this one is just a little content just because i love summer break and i think i failed a little bit to show just how much lis and charlie are in love in the social!au)

Sicily, Italy.

The warming heat of the sun was everywhere. The towels were warming, the floor of the Azzura (the boat) was warming, and the breeze of the Mediterranean sea was also warming. The summer break started less the 48 hours ago and Lis and Charlie were already on board.

Lis has bought that boat last summer, it was the most terrifying thing she could ever do, at least, thats what her dad has told her, but every weekend she was driving around at 320kmh, so driving a boat was supposed to be easy. But Lis wasn't driving the boat, Charles was. Not at that moment, because tuesday middle morning he was laying down side by side with his girlfriend while she was reading one of her books - Normal People, by Sally Rooney was the chosen one for the trip.

They were together for almost two years, they keep it private and low, only his closest friends and her closest friends (Gia, Catherine and Lauren*) knew about it, and they were fine with that. Until, one day, a rumor was spread around the paddock, and everyone started to pay attention on them.

"Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc is allegedly dating RedBull driver and Jenson Button's daughter, Elise Button."

But for him, Elise Button was just Lis, or Fleur de Lis, his girl, his partner, his other half, the only person who fully understand him.

Last summer they spent hidden in some Italy village, Moscazzano was the one, Lis' mom had a summer house there, and once she was a kid she was always there with her family. That summer Charles felt so much love by her family that his heart was overwhelmed with it. He never had the chance or the opportunity to meet Jenson properly, but those 3 weeks he spent there he learned from where most part of Lis personality came from; she was charming, had that amazing sense of humor, smile pretty easily once she feels comfortable, she likes to swim, to lay on the sun, to play volleybal with her friends, to watch Grey's Anatomy and House with her mom and to go take a walk with her dad every sunset.

This summer they spent most of it swimming in the blue sea, while Lis was making them friendship bracelets for the concert they were supposed to go, or writing some poem Charles would never be allowed to read or just laying side by side, holding hands and talking about everything and anything all at once.

Charles and Lis relationship was easy, they could talk or stay at silence, they could talk for hours or just check how each other was, they could just exist into each other space, Lis was as much part to Charles life as he was to her. They knew each other so deep that no one knew how they didn't ended up together sooner.

"Every time i read that Connell wasn't religious but he thought that God made Marianne for him something clicks inside of me." Lis started to say as she closed the now finished book, Charles just hummed to let her know that he was awake, and listening to her "Because I'm not very religious too, but God, life, the universe put you in my life and I think that was genuinely made for me. I love how our life is simple, and how easy it is to be with you, even though we're weren't supposed to be together."

"I think the fact that we drive for rival teams makes things even better, what do you say? We're enemies to lovers?"

"More like rivals to lovers, but just between us, I would let you win just to see you happy." Lis had that, she was just pure empathy, it didn't look like because she was a woman into a mans sport, but she cared, and she would do anything to make Charles happy, including letting him win in Monza, including let him drive her around, including telling him how much she loves him.

"That's not very RedBull of you, honey." he joked

"It's because deep down I'm sort of a Mercedes driver because of my dad." she was laughing freely.

And summer just freeze. In that moment summer felt eternal. Just Elise and Charles, laying on the sun, listening to each other, talking nonsense around the Mediterranean, joking about how Charles wasn't familiar with the sunscreen technology. They just disappeared on those 4 weeks. They went for morning swims, early breakfast, stopping in those small Italian villages, eating pasta and holding each other. They weren't thinking about the championship, fast cars, Ferrari or RedBull. It was just them.

Charles and Elise, enjoying the sweet company of each other.

And going to Taylor Swift concerts.

elisebutton

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, cbishop11*, scuderiaferrari and 765.154 others

elisebutton there are pieces of us booth under of every city light, thank you italy, you were amazing with us, grazie 🇮🇹

charles_leclerc you are my favorite place

jensonbutton look how adorable you are, already missing you ❤

laurencaspari i picture you (my best friend) with other girls (charles leclerc) and throw up on the street (actually i went drinking)

priyacaspari looking forward to see you guys racing in monza in 2 weeks 🤗

scuderiaferrari hey @redbullracing are you seeing this?

redbullracing hey, charles, could you please bring back our driver? thank you

maxverstappen1 hey, charles, could you please give back my emotional support friend? thanks

elisebutton

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, mickschumacher, redbullracing, maxverstappen1 and 976.642 others

elisebutton capture it, remember it. thank you so much @taylorswift, i had the time of my life last night, traded soooo many friendship bracelets and it felt amazing to be surrounded by these amazing people - to the girls who were next to us, thank you for making my night insanely beautiful, we're happy and not lonely. and thank you to my lover, my karma, the one that there's some invisible string tying you to me @charles_leclerc for singing all the songs with me, I'll save you a seat at every table

jesonbutton i just know that daniel and mick were with you, i just know

danielricciardo heidi is suffering from post taylor's concert sadness i think we should do it again, same time in a couple of months back in mexico?

schecoperez if you're going to mexico im coming too

charles_leclerc im karma and im your boyfriend

charlisewdc ELISE OMG IT WAS ME AND MY FRIENDS YOU WERE SO NICE WE LOVE YOU

ccaspari make the friendship bracelets take a moment and taste it you got no reason to be afraid I LOVE YOU LIS MISSED YOU SO MUCH THESE MONTHS

georgerussell63 carmen and i are officially tswift fans from now one, thank you for the invitation

maxverstappen1 wait, am i the only one who wasn't there?

landonorris LMAO i think you don't like solo racing after all

elisebutton i invited you, i invited everyone

authors note: after this small serie ends i fully intend to do another social media au with another driver, probably daniel ricciardo x volleyball!player

#Spotify #charles leclerc #formula one imagine #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x reader #jenson button #formula one social media au #f1 social media au #f1 #the eras tour #ferrari

147 notes · View notes

mushiimune · 8 months

Text

MUSHI OC HOUR OC HOUR! YIPPEE YAHOO OC HOURRrrr‼️

Meet Mitsy! She's come a long way since the first time I drew her in 2022 (YIKES). She has a home now amongst the animatronic band that I have finally dubbed: Ace's Carnival & Co., located in the aptly dubbed Carnival & Co. Playhouse. I love the cheesy names of kid's entertainment. Titling it too fancy wouldn't capture the right vibe.

Mitsy is the lead female singer and a dancer; she also sits on a swing above the stage for certain shows. She loves to interact with the little ones, and her plush body gives them the benefit of comfort for plenty of hugs.

Before Rooney and Ace were separated, she played Ace's assistant. Ace is like a brother to her; they were part of the main gang of characters in the Playhouse's very first location.

Mitsy is chipper and gentle, children feel the most comfortable around her. She's an optimist, and clings tightly to routine. She's invested a lot in the illusion that the band is untouchable, and people are good. People are kind. They would never...

They...

anyways! bonus:

gay little robots everyone likes those right

35 notes · View notes

player1064 · 6 months

Note

If you're still doing prompts: I just saw the rooney pic set and the beckham with carra and just either of Carraville being a hot commodity? Other people having crushes or being into them? And maybe them being obvious because they only have eyes for each other or so? Or being possessive

alright lads I am BACK (the essay uh. dont even worry about it.) I've been distracted from drabbles with a) my beville wip which is getting. long. and b) making a gary character thesis statement video which is also getting. LONG.

Anyway I was gonna do a Gary half to this (w/ Stevie and Michael Owen) but it's already at like 1.2k words with just the Jamie ones so if anyone wants me to write the Gary half u will simply have to send more asks adksjfkjdasfsvdsa...

---

Wayne is young, and excited, and he’s scoring a lot of goals.

England is fantastic, it’s a break in the routine, a chance to play with new people. A chance to prove to the whole world that he’s the best there is, that there’s more to the buzz around him than just talk. And there’s so many United players in the squad, there’s no fear of feeling lost or out of his depth.

Except, the United players are all senior United players, that little gang of Phil, Butty, Scholesy, and of course their ringleader Gaz.

Gaz is great, but Wayne has to put up with him every day of his life and he’s not sure he can stomach spending his free time at England camp listening to his ranting when he could be doing literally anything else.

The first time he’d been called up he’d still been with Everton, and being the only player at the club to get in the squad he’d not known anyone when he got to training camp. The Liverpool lot – or rather, Jamie Carragher and his less enthusiastic mates – had adopted him, but now just a few months later everything is different, because now he plays for Manchester United.

It’s stupid, really. The club rivalry stuff. The ‘stick with your own teammates’ stuff. David Beckham doesn’t play for United anymore, but he’s still sat at their table every day, saying stuff that’s not even that funny but that makes Gaz do this stupid over the top laugh that Wayne never hears at any other time.

Gaz’ll have a go at him for it, but he’d rather go sit with Stevie and Carra.

They’re sat at a small table in the canteen, just the two of them and Mo. Except Carra’s not sitting next to Mo like he did last season, there’s no easy banter flowing between any of them. Wayne ignores the tension, or maybe he just doesn’t notice it, and he takes the long awaited opportunity to sit right next to Carra.

Gaz likes to complain about the Scousers, and about Carra in particular. He can’t stand him, thinks he’s after his position in the squad or something, like anyone would want to be a right-back. Last time they’d played Liverpool, Gaz had sat in the dressing room moaning about how Carra was a ‘pathetic little whiny bitch’ and how ‘he’s the most miserable looking footballer I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting’.

Wayne’s not sure where Gaz is getting that from, he’s always thought Carra was quite nice. Friendly, even. And he smells nice, which is unrelated but feels like it’s worth mentioning.

Even now that Wayne’s at one of his club’s biggest rivals, he still gives him a little smile and an “alright, Wazza?”

There’s a little flutter in his chest, and he grins back. “hiya, Carra. How’s things in Liverpool?”

Carra squints at him. “Did Neville send you over to spy on us?”

David is under a lot of pressure.

This was meant to be his last tournament, one last chance for him to finally do it, and now he’s sat in the dugout and every newspaper in the world is asking what his job is meant to be, exactly. He’s not a coach, his latest injury ruled him out of the squad months ago, but he’s still here, and everyone is still watching.

It’s weird, to be away with England and not have Gary by his side. He’s in a hotel in South Africa and he should be going out, enjoying the fact that for once he doesn’t have to be fit to play, but instead he’s staring at the door wishing Gary would walk through and complain about something.

It’s probably not fair to say that he misses Gary (you’re the one who left, you prick), but well – he does miss Gary. He always misses Gary. It’s a world cup, he should be here.

If he’d known, four years ago – if he’d known. He’d’ve done better, tried harder. But what thirty year old thinks they’re at the end of their international career?

So he’s here, now. He’s not a player, not a coach, he’s just David Beckham. Apparently that’s enough. The squad is changing, shifting into something unrecognisable. The senior players don’t bother with the club rivalry thing so much anymore, there’s not enough of them from each club to really justify it. So at lunch he sits with Frank and JT and Gerrard. And Carragher, who’s not got enough caps to really be a senior player at England, but who’s too old now to count as anything else. He’s always around, anyway – sticks to Gerrard like his shadow.

And sometimes – sometimes, David finds himself looking.

He’s all alone out here. He’s under a lot of pressure.

It’s been years, since he’s done anything like that. Four years, in fact. And it’s not that he’s just substituting one defender for another, but he sees a lot of Gary in Jamie. Always cross about something, always moaning. Always pushing himself in training as hard as he possibly can, always pushing the others to do the same.

And he’s not bad to look at, either. Though David’s not sure if that’s a point in his favour or not, he’s always had a bit of a soft spot for the awkward, ugly ones. Or maybe just for that one specific awkward ugly one.

He’s not quite sure how to broach the subject, spends a few days agonising over it before deciding to just get on with it and go knock on the man’s door.

Carragher squints at him when he opens the door. “Does the manager need me for somethin’?” he asks cautiously, like maybe he’s not sure what David’s job is meant to be either.

“Nothing like that, just wondered if we could talk.”

Carragher doesn’t respond, just crosses his arms and waits for David to talk.

“Um, I was thinking more like – in your room?” he says, trying to load as much meaning as he can into the words since Carragher seems a bit slow on the uptake.

Carragher waves him in and he walks ahead to sit on the end of the bed.

“If this is about that fight I had with your mate a few weeks ago, he’s the one who fuckin’ started it.”

“I – what?”

David’s not quite sure when Jamie would have had opportunity to fight any of his mates, or even which mate he might mean – they don’t exactly run in the same circles.

“I swear, he’s always in the referee’s ear, mouthy cunt.”

Ah. Gary.

He wonders when the last time United played Liverpool was. He wonders when the last time was that he asked Gary how a game went.

“We have nothing to do with the referees,” he says automatically, before remembering that he’s not really part of the we anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

“Yeah, yeah. Well tell your little boyfriend that if he still ‘as a problem he can say it to my face, but it was his man who dived, not mine.”

“That wasn’t why I – you know what, never mind.”

#do i even tag this as carraville. does this count as carraville.#people showing interest in jamie and him immediately being like. this seems like it has to do with gary neville (it never does)#carraville #drabbles

21 notes · View notes

thatbanditqueen · 1 year

Text

Basic Training Ch 3

A response to the prompt: "You're staring." Thanks to my harem cohort @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally @powerofelvis and @whositmcwhatsit

Summary: Bess heads to the dance the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Committee for the 37th armored tank division is throwing, and manages to avoid dancing with the most notorious soldier on post, who cannot seem to take his eyes off her.

Warnings: None! Wait, kissing. Swear words. This may be the slowest burn yet. Probably typos, I wrote about 1K words over the last three days and then the rest in a fever dream. So.... may not make sense. Also I am pretty sure the first phase of basic training would not have them in tanks yet, but....I am playing fast and loose with Army life in this one.

Word Count: 5. 3 K

This is my newest WIP, please like, comment, reblog and tag and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.

You can catch up on the previous chapters here

Basic Training Chapter 3: Just Kiss Me

Saturday, April 5, 1958

7:30 p.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Just as her shoe hit the bottom stair, Bess realized she had left her lipstick in her room and was turning back around to grab it when she saw Kay sitting in the living room, dressed in a pink cocktail dress. Her puffy crinoline skirt was gathered in a heap around her as she shifted in place, adjusting her pearl necklace.

“Um, where do you think you are going?”

Kay looked up, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she eyed the tight, fitted sheath dress Bess was wearing. She smiled at how the white sequins and embroidered red flowers glowed iridescent in the dim light and whistled low.

“Who are you dressing up for? The guy who you snuck in last weekend?”

“What makes you think there’s a guy, Katherine, honestly. I don’t sneak men into our house.”

“Uh huh, so you’re all gussied up in your favorite dress just for a bunch of enlisted soldiers?”

Kay grabbed her purse and followed her sister to the door.

“Why are you being weird Bess, I always come with you? You’ve been going to army dances since you were sixteen. I’m about to graduate, plus, I told Dickey I’d meet him there.”

Bess sighed, thinking of Kay’s latest boyfriend. She supposed that she should be happy because he seemed like a harmless nerd, and, according to the files she had pulled on him, was not married, inbred or bankrupt.

“I just - we - I didn’t invite you to this dance because it’s an enlisted platoon. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Wow, you must really like who ever it is, if you don’t want me to see you with him. Too bad. Dori called earlier and told me to come. She’s been trying to reach you all day, by the way.”

Bess locked the door, and they got into her car.

“Can you believe her date?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Of course, then it all made sense why you guys would be messing around with an enlisted tank unit. How did Dori even get involved with their MWR Committee.”

Bess rolled up her skirt so she could comfortably drive, and shifted into reverse, arching her eye bow at her younger sister as she did.

“How do you think? She asked to be reassigned to it two weeks ago.”

“Man oh man, she really is lucky. I wonder if we’ll all get to dance with Elvis?”

“Look, Kay, they sent out a memo to everyone, do NOT make a spectacle over Private Presley. Just act like he’s any other solider”

“Of course Bessie bushka. I’m on my best behavior.”

Bess looked Kay in the eyes as they pulled through the base gate.

“I am just going because I told Dori I would, I don’t wanna stay too late. So maybe Dickey Rooney can drive you home if you wanna swing all night?”

“Yeah, sure, ja volt. You don’t have to be ein klafte, Elisabet.”

**************************************************************

The tight cloth of her dress didn’t have much give, and Bess regretted her choice as she tried to keep up and hold on as she danced

“Look, this is tactical move that requires delicate maneuvers—”

“I’m not spiking the punch, Jim.”

Bess huffed and got into her rhythm as they kept up with the band’s rendition of “Tutti Fruity.” If she let her self relax and swing into each step, it was almost like old times when she, Jim and Ben used to go out dancing in Austin or Killeen and she’d take turns dancing with her fiancee and his best friend all night. They had been the three musketeers. But that was last year, when she had a fiancee. And a different future peering back at her from her crystal ball.

The music brought her out of her silent reverie, and Bess looked to her where the band was performing on stage. The lead singer’s voice reverberated through the building, echoing up into the tin ceiling and back down again, making the room buzz with energy. There were six people in the all-Black Flapjacks: drums, guitar, bass, trumpet and then a male and female vocalist. The men wore matching silver dinner jackets and black bow ties, and the beautiful, Black woman had on a gorgeous silver dress with tulle flowers at the bust.

Bess took a deep breath, her attention shifted back to Jim, whose hands were always steady, but never needy. She was grateful he had agreed to come when she called last night and asked. A year ago they had spent almost all their free time together. Stalwart, an honorable prankster, Jim wasn’t shipping out to the Army Intelligence station in Heidelberg for another two months and Bess wondered if their friendship would end. If Ben’s new German wife would win him over and, like his friend before him, Jim would forget all about the last three years of shared adventures and promises of a lifelong friendship. Men mean it in the moment, Bess thought, I suppose women do to. Forever. What a meaningless word. How can we plan forever when we cannot know the future? The song ended and Jim escorted her off to the side. She looked for her sister, and found her swaying with her beau towards the back, hands clasped together between the lock-eyed look of first love.

“I forgot how good a dancer you are, Schwartz. And in that dress, whoowee! You’re a knock out tonight.”

“You can cut the flattery, Jameson, still not spiking the punch.”

“S’not flattery, how dare you insinuate that I would be disingenuous? You look good all dolled up, s'nice to see you this way. It’s almost like fun Bess is back, though a year ago she wudda helped me spike the punch.”

He took out his large, dark leather flask and handed it to her after taking a nip. Bess’ face scrunched up in distaste as the vodka burned down her throat, but she greedily held on and took another long drink.

“A year ago I didn’t work here, I was just hanging out with some of the reprobates from the German language division. Now it would be bad form for a Front Office secretary to spike the punch.”

“Look around, Bessie, this crowd needs to relax. They’re alllllll keyed up waiting for that Hound Dog.”

Jim was right, a heightened sense of anticipation pervaded the warehouse, even the strings of colorful paper lanterns seemed to sway with anxious excitement above them. Bess looked over at the big bowl of punch, next to the trays of deviled eggs, brisket sliders, the lime jello mold filled with seafood salad, pineapple upside down cake and more. She was sizing up the punch and checking her breath as they waited for the next song when she heard a wave of hushed murmurs ripple through the large room and turned to see Elvis, Dori and a few other soldiers in dress uniform enter the dance together. Bess’ eyes narrowed as Elvis’ looked at her.

Jim followed her gaze, then met Bess’ eyes.

“There he is, as handsome as he looks in the movies.”

Bess’ grimace could have cut through glass as she turned to her friend and elbowed him.

“Not you too?”

“What, art thou so high above us mere mortals that you don’t find Elvis Presley attractive, Schwartz? To gouache for a scholar like you?”

“It’s Private Presley now. And I’m not made of marble, Captain. Of course I recognize his attractive features. He just isn’t my type.”

She sniffed, and grabbed the flask from inside Jim’s uniform, the breath coming out of her nose forcefully as she drank a long draught.

“I’ve met him, actually, already. I was there.” Bess took another drink, tipping the flask back again and noticing that the liquid didn’t burn so much this time. “When he asked Dori out. I’m happy for her.”

Elvis and Dori began walking toward them, and Jim noticed how Bess’ stance changed as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, suggesting that she what felt was the opposite of 'happy for Dori.'

“Well, I was at the press conference his first day here, at least four reporters asked if he has a girlfriend. Said he was playing the field so many times, sounded like a broken record.”

Bess straightened as she watched Elvis’ hand tighten around Dori’s waist and push under her bust while the blonde leaned into it and introduced Elvis to some of the eager MWR committee members who had stopped them.

“Yeah, that would be the alternate version of Hound Dog, it’s on the B side.”

Jim chuckled at Bess’ joke, but she didn’t notice, she was busy watching the Hound Dog himself, and caught Elvis glance over at her and give a little nod before his lips bent into a smirk. She realized she was frowning and plastered a big smile on her face. Jim watched this exchange with interest as Bess turned back when he spoke.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Definitely not your type.”

Bess scowled and whispered for him to stop as Elvis, Dori and another soldier approached them.

“Why Captain Daniels, how nice to see ya over at this little ol’ dance for the 37th, are you Bess’ date ta night? Or sneaking in to try and meet you-know-who?”

Dori giggled and playfully tapped Elvis’ chest. In case, you know, they didn’t get whom she was referencing.

Jim nodded and shook his hand to stop Elvis and the other soldier from saluting him.

“Oh, neither, actually, I’m just here to make sure Schwartz doesn’t spike the punch.”

“Don’t believe a word the Captain here says. This is a great introduction, by the way. Captain Daniels, meet Private Presley, you know Doreen of course, and then, well, I cannot say we’re acquainted.”

The liquor had loosened Bess up and she giddily put out her hand to the other soldier, as Elvis fiddled with the blue dress uniform cap under his right arm and took charge of the conversation.

“This is Rexadus, I mean, uh, Private Mansfield, he’s in the 37th wit me, another Mephisss boy, we were inducted ta gather, actually." Now Elvis was turning his hat over and examining it, speaking with confidence, almost as if from a script he had rehearsed in his head. "He’s a solid, solid, guy. He really is. Guess I’m lucky, since he’s spending all his time stuck in a metal box with my ass - I mean stuck with my behind.”

Rex her shook their hands with tight, swift grip and a warm smile. Jim raised his eyebrows at Bess.

“And how do you find the Army, so far, Privates?”

“Well, it was easy ta find, just follow all the tanks.” Elvis smiled and looked down. “Nah, well, speaking’ jus for me, I mean, I was real honored when President Eisenhower sent me an invitation to this here costume party, and all the boys are real nice."

There was that scripted voice again, Bess mused. She had seen under the hood and Elvis' attitude toward being drafted had not struck her as honored and grateful.

"It’s not easy, golly, I tell you, it’s really whooping my - uh - caboose. But I never felt I earned my supper so well, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Dori giggled like Elvis was the wittiest man in the world, but he barely noticed, his eyes were focused on Bess and she coughed, uncomfortably. It was hard not stare back. She almost forgot to breathe, and exhaled deeply as she forced herself to look over at the band.

Her eyes trailed over to the food, and she looked back at Elvis with concern, knowing he rarely actually went to the mess hall. He had been meeting her at her back stairwell every evening at 5:15, opening her car door and getting in without even asking. As if it were his own car and sliding across her seat was the most normal thing in the world. It actually did seem normal now, and had become part of her daily routine these last three days. They sat there in their own private enclave, and every time, as he laid his head between her thighs and rubbed her waist, she told him that they were just friends hanging out. Yesterday they’d talked past dinner hours and she’d ask him if he didn’t want to go to get food, prompting Elvis to share how someone had yelled out in line at him Monday, asking if he missed his teddy bears, and he hadn’t gone back since. Sergeant Norwood’s wife, apparently, was providing him with a loaf’s worth of peanut butter sandwiches every night. But that wouldn’t have happened this evening and Bess thoughtfully looked over at the food table.

“You must be hungry. All of you, I mean.” Bess stuttered, trying not to stare at Elvis, which, for some reason, backfired, because consciously trying not to made her think about him even more and she failed horribly at being able to stray from his blue eyes for very long. “Because you just got here. Of course.”

Dori smiled and took this as her cue to play hostess and lead Elvis away to the refreshments.

“Yes, of course, of course, y’all must be hungry, doing those tank exercises all day. I made the seafood dip over there in the jello mold, it’s a recipe from Ladies’ Home Journal, you simply must try it and tell me what you think.”

“Aw, darlin’, I don’t, don’t eat seafood.”

“The brisket is pretty good.” Bess chimed in.

Dori smiled even deeper.

“Hmm, well, I suppose it’s probably ok for a Yankee like ya self, Bess honey.”

She pulled her arm tighter around Elvis, leading him to to the brisket as Bess heard her say, “Personally, I find Millie’s brisket a little bland and dried out, but come on, you’re a growin’ boy, need to refresh ya energy.”

Dori’s giggle trilled back as she walked him away and Bess frowned again when Elvis turned back over his shoulder, clearly grinning deeper as he took in Bess’ eyes following him.

She made small talk with Rex, mentioning how the last time she had heard this band, The Flapjack’s, they had played all of Elvis’ big hits and there had been none tonight.

“He bribed them.”

Rex whispered, looking over at where Elvis and Dori stood, as she fed him a deviled egg and then a brisket slider, sticking her finger in his mouth to lick the barbecue sauce off. Her high laugh echoed all throughout he warehouse, prompting Bess to roll her eyes.

“Bribed them?”

“Yeah,” Rex continued. “Not to play ‘Hound Dog,’ not to play any of ‘em. And he bought cases of cigarettes for all the guys in our unit. He wants to make sure tonight is nice, smooth, and normal. As it can be for him, I suppose.”

Before she had the opportunity to inquire further Bess was distracted by the band as they started up a new song, a rendition of Johnny Mathis’ “Chances Are,” and she watched Dori squeal that she loved this song.

Bess smiled at Rex.

“Well Private, want to cut a rug?”

He hesitated. “Uh, I think -" he looked over at Elvis, who was making his way to the corner of the dance floor. “Probably better if I don’t, gonna go check out the chow.”

“C’mon, you little Yankee, I’ll dance with you, even if you have no taste in brisket.” Jim took her hand and raised his eyebrow. “By the way, Elvis Presley is in love with you Bess.”

“Stop it, Jameson.”

“Did you see how his buddy hardly touched you?”

“How would he know? These boys don’t talk about their crushes in their bunks at night. ‘Sides,he is here with a date.”

“Oh fooey! Elvis doesn’t have to tell him anything, all Rexadus, or anyone need do, is clock how that boy looks at you and, man, that’s all she wrote. You don’t dance with another soldier’s girl, it’s the code. Dori doesn’t stand a chance, honey, he’s just too polite to turn her down. I bet his mama is just like her. Which is probably why he likes you.”

Bess gave him a stare.

“Ok, maybe not exactly like Dori. I cannot see the good Mrs. Presley making you go all the way to Dallas so she can dress shop at the boutiques. They were share croppers, right?”

Bess nodded at Jim as she swayed with him, attempting very hard not to look over at where Elvis and Dori slowly danced.

“Something like that. Very very poor. But Jim, you dance with me, and I was your friend’s girl for two years.”

“That’s different Bess, I hate most women.” Jim looked back over at Rex and his voice trailed off. "Most people, actually. You are saving me from all the eager beavers here looking to snag an officer as a husband.”

“Well, looking around, some of them would probably settle for snagging just a night with an officer.”

They laughed and Jim led her around the dance floor in perhaps the most chaste slow grip of any of any officer or gentleman that danced a slow dance that evening.

The song ended, and the band kept going with their version of Sam Cooke’s hit “You Send Me.”

Bess could not help herself, and found her eyes move to watch Dori press her cheek to Elvis’ and it made Bess’ stomach clench inadvertently. Elvis’ eyes locked on hers while he pulled Dori tighter to him, tilting his head with a smirk. Something in his eyes told Bess he could tell how much she envied her girlfriend, a fact she refused to even concede to herself as she looked away, scanning the room for her sister. To her dismay, Kay was now kissing her dweeby young lieutenant toward the back of the warehouse, not so much dancing as staggering back and forth in place.

Hitting someone’s shoulder, Bess turned to apologize until she saw Elvis had moved Dori right behind them. She stepped hard on Elvis’ foot, then apologized loudly and profusely. That didn’t get him to scout off and they remained dancing next to each other as Jim ignored Bess’s pinches at his wrists clearly signaling for him to lead her away.

“Why hello there, Moo Moo, fancy bumping into you here?”

Dori smiled big and pushed her hands further up around Elvis neck as she swayed to the rhythm.

“Moo Moo? Y’all are gonna havta tell me bout that” Dori giggled. “And look at you Bessie, honey, I just LOVE your dress.” Her eyes moved to Jim. “Y’all having fun?”

Bess stepped closer to Jim, nodding and avoiding the coy irreverence in Elvis’ dark blue eyes as she slyly tried to navigate her partner away from them. She kicked Jim’s shin to let him know that if he did not politely guide her away this very instant she would begin to kick harder.

*******************************************************

Leaning against the wall during a ballad, Bess found herself making a mental note that Elvis’ seemed to avoid dancing to the faster songs. During this one, he had gone off to get some punch and then started walking in her direction only to be assaulted by a troop of MWR committee members, offering him samples of the desserts they had baked as a pretext to come and talk to him. Bess smiled as one asked him to dance, then turned at Mabel’s voice, observing the rosy glow of the other secretary’s cheeks.

“Mhmmm, the punch is good tonight.”

Bess smiled, then leaned in to smell Mabel’s glass.

“How many of these have you had, Mabel?”

The older woman replied without missing a beat. “Five.”

“I’m cutting you off, I think it’s been spiked.”

“Of course it has. By me.” Mabel took her glass back, gulping the rest down with a wink. “Someone needed to liven up this funeral. Hold this for me, won’t you?” She asked, and Bess’ jaw dropped a bit as she watched Mabel cut in on Dori.

Bess wondered if Mabel still preferred Burt Lancaster to the movie star she currently leaned her head against, happily watching her colleague cozily nuzzle into Elvis tall frame. He was a good sport, joking and swaying with Mabel for a second dance, then stepping to the side and chatting with another swarm of woman who tried to contain their eagerness as they brought him another tribute of dessert platters.

Bess danced to The Flapjacks performance of “Jambalaya,” but quit as the music turned toward more and more ballads while the night went on. It was late, the people on the dance floor seemed to have coupled up and the decorum had slowly fallen to the wayside as the senior personnel disappeared. The air fell thick with a heady, hazy lust provoked by the swell of sweet, slow rhythm and blues and the release dancing provided from the stress of barracks life. Jim had ducked out, and Bess wished she had given Kay her keys and gone with him. She managed to stay as far away from Elvis as she could through he evening, which wasn’t hard. If Dori was not monopolizing him, he only made it a few feet before another woman tapped on his shoulder. During this time, Dori had cornered her and begun drilling Bess for information, asking why she didn’t pick up her phone anymore, and what the deal was with Elvis.

“Moo Moo? Is that a nick name? Are you sure y’all are just friends? Honey, say the word, and I will be on my way. I do not throw myself at men.”

Thinking of their double date last week, Bess restrained herself from explaining that this seemed to be Dori’s primary hobby.

“I promise, it’s a silly nick name, Moo Moo is what he called his childhood cow named, get this, Bess. I’m telling you, Doreen, we’ve just accidentally stumbled into a very casual friendship.” She rubbed her friend’s shoulder, and looked out at Elvis laughing with his dance partner.

“He's lonely, and just jives more with women. You saw him with Mabel in the office. I’m not saying I see wedding bells in your future either. But then again, Dori, you don’t want to get romantically involved with Elvis Presley, do you? I can only imagine the havoc he is going to wreak on the girls in this town once he gets his bearing and into phase two. That boy is a fast operator, so fast you don’t even know what happened and boom, you’re asking him out.”

Dori narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm. Well, honestly I don’t want to marry him, Bessie Boo. I just want to experience him. He is so soft, Bess. That jaw! And those eyes. Ufffff. And when he kisses you, oh, it’s like having lightening strike your cheek. I’m fixin’ to get more before the night is over, hopefully with my mouth.”

She winked as the song ended, and strode off to get him back. Bess had to giggle at the glare Dori shot a younger girl from the switchboard office who looked like she was about to ask Elvis to dance.

Lonely, awkward, and ready to be done, Bess rolled off the wall and told Kay she was ready to leave. Her sister politely told her to get bent, promising Dickey would drive her home. So Bess subtlety slipped out of the side door next to the stage and made her way towards her car, ambling slowly in the cool evening air. Bess found it a sweet respite from the crowded, stuffy ware house stuffy. Out here, it was peaceful, and she savored the darkness as she looked up into the black sky. The stars and moon were hidden by some clouds, and Bess tried to get lost in the murky shadows as she wandered away from the sounds of the dance. She begged the wind to tamp down the anxious buzzing in her head. It was then, when she paused in the passage way between two tall buildings, that she heard the sound of footsteps following her, and turned to see a tall, dark figure striding toward her with purposeful, swift steps. His shoulders were back and his hands were out and he slowed when he heard Bess speak.

“All dressed up and marching in a hurry, huh? Loose your parade, Tupelo?”

Elvis’ gait turned into a wide swagger and Bess stumbled into the building backing away from the force of Elvis’ magnetism. It was not a smart escape strategy because he followed in step, his hands on his waist as he looked her over.

“Al - al - always, the smart ass, huh?”

“I’ve been a smart ass my whole life, Tupelo. Try to keep up.”

Elvis shook his head, chuckling low.

“You’re staring. Stop it.”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to stare at you, shoulda worn a different dress.”

She gasped, and Elvis stepped closer, his right arm up against the wall while his left moved over her waist and he whispered into her forehead, his voice was low, teasing, almost babyish.

“Be honest, Moo Moo, did you come out here cuz you wanted me to chase you?”

Bess looked at the eaves of the building above her, she could hear the faint sound of the band back at the dance playing “The Girl Can’t Help It” and Elvis hips swayed very slowly at half time with the beat.

“Nope, I, I was leaving, actually.”

“How could you leave without dancing with me, baby. Not even once. An ya hardly even talked to me all night. Every other girl in there is ready and rearin' ta pounce on me, but you make me come chase after you?”

“I’m - I’m not like very other girl, Elvis. I’m not trying - trying to ….”

The way his thumb trailed up her arm made Bess shudder and she lost her train of thought.

“Hmmm. Not tryin’ to what, Moo, huh?”

He leaned into her ear as he spoke, and the skin on her bare shoulder prickled as his thumb rubbed over it while he whispered softly.

His voice was warm on her neck, and it reminded her of the first summer Mama drove her and Kay down to Galveston spontaneously for a week. They had stayed in a cheap motel across from the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf water while eating fried shrimp and hush puppies and getting sunburnt. There, in the golden sun of the Texas Gulf, Bess had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to move through the world. No, standing where the sun met the surf had set her free, and she had become a wild animal dancing in the water and screaming into the waves while the sand crabs tickled her feet.

Elvis’ breath on her neck had the same effect. She felt wild, relaxed, totally at the whim of her body as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at his half-lidded eyes. She wanted to pull him close and scream into his mouth, howl at the untamed force of nature that rippled beneath his cheeks. He tightened his hand at her waist and kissed her neck, but then stepped back at her shudder.

“Ya scared not scared of me, Moo Moo, are you?”

She shook her head, but trembled as Elvis fingers feathered lightly down her arm.

“You don’t never have to be scared of me, baby, I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Elvis, I -”

He kissed her neck again, murmuring into her skin. The top of his cap rubbed into her hair. “Wanna get out of here? Go somewhere we can jus… Talk?””

Just as Bess began to answer, she felt a light sprinkle of water on her nose and looked up as it started to drizzle down on them. The rain brought her wits back to her and she gently pushed Elvis away, feeling the water increase and her hair slip down over her face. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are here on a date with someone else, and I have to go home.” Squeezing him in a tight hug, she kissed his cheek one last time as he nodded, before removing her heels and sprinting off through the puddles to find her car.

**************************************************

Bess had managed to wash her face and get her dress off before she succumbed to the extreme need for a pot of hot tea. Now she stood in her kitchen, towel drying her hair and shivering as she waited for the kettle to boil. Hearing a knock at the door, she yelled out hurrying to the front of the house.

“Kay, the door is open! Or is numbnuts a catching disorder - shit.”

There was Elvis, hat in hand, on her front doorstep.

“Numbnuts?”

She swayed to the side, watching the back of a white Studebaker whirl around the corner. A white Studebaker very much like the one Mabel owned.

“My sister’s boyfriend is not the sharpest shooter in his platoon.” She held her robe closed as she looked down at her thin, white silk night gown. The thin matching robe didn’t do much, but she felt more decorous pulling it over herself.

“Did Mabel sneak you off post?”

Elvis grinned mischievously and strode past her into the house

“Hello to you too, Bessie, whatcha cookin, good lookin'?”

Closing the door, she shoved him as he walked backwards down the hallway.

“Don’t you hello me, what are you doing here?”

Elvis unbuttoned his jacket, and draped it around her shivering body.

“Still cold honey?” He drew her in, rubbing her shoulders. “Let me see if I can warm ya up.”

His jacket was still cozy with the heat of his body as he drew Bess into him. Breathless, she let him enclose her in his embrace, folding her arms into his chest as she lifted her chin up to gaze into his eyes.

“There she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.”

Elvis leaned down to bundle her further into him, his hands moving inside her open robe to caress the sides of her body, his nose stroking hers as she closed her eyes and whispered into his jaw.

“Elvis, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know honey.” He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek at the fold of her earlobe as Bess crushed into his.

Her mind was racing, racing the with knowledge that at any moment her 17 year old sister would come home and probably know how to work the door knob. Racing with the knowledge that her father and mother were flying back to Waco tomorrow and she needed to be rested and alert when she drove to pick them up. Racing with the knowledge that Elvis Presley was the absolutely worst choice for a romantic entanglement or fling, not just because he was famous, handsome, rich and probably already dating any number of women in Los Angeles, Memphis and God knows where else. And therefore, an unimaginable person to be seen with publicly or explain to her family.

But it was worse than that, she could already tell, from the way her mind bent towards him all through the day when he wasn’t around, and directed itself to him with an intense, buzzing focus when he was. For these reasons, she knew he would be the worst kind of all-consuming distraction that she could possible let herself get involved with right now.

Her mouth had other plans. Namely, how could it find his mouth?

“Elvis.” She mumbled as her lips brushed the nape of his neck and her hands wrapped around his body.

“Yes Bess?”

He looked down at her as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

“I - I - I”

“I know honey, you don’t date soldiers.”

She smiled a lazy, goofy half smile.

“Mmmhmmm.”

He gripped her tighter, pinching the flesh at her sides.

“Honey, dating is not the word on my mind right now. I am not interested in asking you on a date.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I do not have no intention of driving up to your house in my pink Cadillac.”

He kissed her nose.

“I don’ wanna have to come meet ya mama and shake your daddy’s hand.”

He kissed her cupid’s bow.

“And I definitely ain’t about to take you out to fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.”

He kissed her lightly on the top of her mouth, his teeth grating over her lip.

“I do not want to date you, Bess.”

“Good, because I don’t want to date you either.”

“So don’t date me, baby. Jus kiss me.”

**********************************************************

Click here to read Chapter Four: Dance

@eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @tacozebra051 @ab4eva @kingdomforapony @everythingelvispresley @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @peskybedtime @freudianslumber @amydarcimarie @toreigh @notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @yynneessmons @lookingforrainbows @prompted-wordsmith @ashtag2887 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @returntopresley @girlblogger2002 @rjmartin11 @bigromansgirl-blog @literally-just-elvis-fics

Let me know if you want to be tagged. Feedback, suggestions, thoughts and questions always appreciated.

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis eventual smut but right now its sweet fluffy fluff #army elvis #basic training #elvis 1958 #fort hood #banditqueenwrites

88 notes · View notes

hotvintagepoll · 6 months

Text

Propaganda

Machiko Kyō (Rashomon, Floating Weeds, Older Brother Younger Sister)— Considered an early sex symbol in Japanese cinema. Also just an ethereal beauty who can also go feral/unhinged in a glorious way.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Machiko Kyō:

Judy:

Her eyes, her voice have bewitched me

I mean how can you beat the one and only Judy? She's beautiful, her smile is contagious, the way she sings with her whole body. You can't help but love her.

youtube

Beautiful woman, love her singing voice. And she can do everything between happy or silly and angry or heartbroken

#judy garland #machiko kyō #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

482 notes · View notes

1americanconservative · 9 months

Text

To get back to my youth I would do anything in the world, except exercise, get up early, or be respectable."

Oscar Wilde "The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for." Will Rogers "We must recognize that, as we grow older, we become like old cars –more and more repairs and replacements are necessary." C.S. Lewis "Old age is like a plane flying through a storm. Once you are aboard there is nothing you can do about it." Golda Meir "I’m so old that my blood type is discontinued." Bill Dane "The older I get, the more clearly I remember things that never happened. Mark Twain "Wisdom doesn’t necessarily come with age. Sometimes, age just shows up all by itself." Tom Wilson "Always be nice to your children because they are the ones who will choose your retirement home." Phyllis Diller "I don’t plan to grow old gracefully. I plan to have face-lifts until my ears meet." Rita Rudner

"I’m at that age where my back goes out more than I do."

Phyllis Diller

“Nice to be here? At my age, it’s nice to be anywhere."

George Burns

"Don't let aging get you down. It's too hard to get backup"

John Wagner

"First you forget names, then you forget faces, then you forget to pull your zipper up, then you forget to pull your zipper down."

Leo Rosenberg

“Aging seems to be the only available way to live a long life.”

Kitty O’Neill Collins

“Old people shouldn’t eat health foods. They need all the preservatives they can get.”

Robert Orben

"It’s important to have a twinkle in your wrinkle."

Unknown

"At my age, flowers scare me."

George Burns

“I have successfully completed the thirty-year transition from wanting to stay up late to just wanting to go to bed."

Unknown

"At age 20, we worry about what others think of us… at age 40, we don’t care what they think of us… at age 60, we discover they haven’t been thinking of us at all."

Ann Landers

"When I was young, I was called a rugged individualist.

When I was in my fifties, I was considered eccentric.

Here I am doing and saying the same things I did then, and I’m labeled senile."

George Burns

"I complain that the years fly past, but then I look in a mirror and see that very few of them actually got past."

Robert Brault

"The important thing to remember is that I’m probably going to forget."

Unknown

"As you get older three things happen. The first is your memory goes, and I can't remember the other two."

Sir Norman Wisdom

“It’s paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn’t appeal to anyone.”

Andy Rooney

“Birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that the people who have the most live the longest.”

Larry Lorenzon

“The older I get, the better I used to be.”

Lee Trevino

"You know you’re getting old when you can pinch an inch on your forehead."

John Mendoza

"I was thinking about how people seem to read the bible a lot more as they get older, and then it dawned on me—they’re cramming for their final exam."

George Carlin

"I don’t feel old. I don’t feel anything until noon. Then it’s time for my nap."

Bob Hope

"I’m 59 and people call me middle-aged. How many 118-year-old men do you know?"

Barry Cryer

"I don't do alcohol anymore—I get the same effect just standing up fast."

Anonymous

“By the time you’re 80 years old you’ve learned everything. Then, you only have to remember it.”

George Burns

“Old age isn’t so bad when you consider the alternative.”

Maurice Chevalier

"Getting older. I used to be able to run a 4-minute mile, bench press 380pounds, and tell the truth."

Conan O’Brien

"I have reached an age when, if someone tells me to wear socks, I don’t have to."

Albert Einstein

"Grand children don’t make a man feel old, it’s the knowledge that he’s married to a grandmother that does."

J. Norman Collie

"You know you are getting old when everything hurts, and what doesn’t hurt doesn’t work."

Hy Gardner

"When your friends begin to flatter you on how young you look, it’s a sure sign you’re getting old."

Mark Twain

"You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks."

Joel Plaskett

"There’s one advantage to being 102, there’s no peer pressure."

Dennis Wolfberg

"I've never known a person who lives to be 110 who is remarkable for anything else."

Josh Billings

"At my age ‘getting lucky’ means walking into a room and remembering what I came in for."

Unknown

"Old age is when you resent the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated because there are fewer articles to read."

George Burns

"The idea is to die young as late as possible."

Ashley Montagu

“You know you’re getting old when you stoop to tie your shoelaces and wonder what else you could do while you’re down there.”

George Burns

"People ask me what I’d most appreciate getting for my eighty-seventh birthday. I tell them, a paternity suit."

George Burns

"Time may be a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician."

Anonymous

13 notes · View notes

eternal--returned · 2 months

Text

Connell doesn't know anyone at the party. The person who invited him isn't the same person who answered the door and, with an indifferent shrug, let him, a person called Gareth, who's in his Critical Theory seminar. Connell knew going to a party on his own would be a bad idea, but on the phone Lorraine said it would be a good idea. I won't know anyone, he told her. And she said patiently: You won't get to know anyone if you don't go out and meet people. Now he's here, standing on his own in a crowded room not knowing whether to take his jacket off. It feels practically scandalous to be lingering here in solitude. He feels as if everyone around him is disturbed by his presence, and trying not to stare.

Sally Rooney ֍ Normal People (2018)

#sally rooney #normal people #bookshelf #quotes

6 notes · View notes

andydrysdalerogers · 2 years

Text

Sideline Love ~ Chapter 22 ~ ... Wonderful

Pairings - NFL! Chris Evans and OFC Rebecca Rooney

Series Summary: All football player Chris wants is to play football with his best friends in the NFL. But the night before he meets someone who could change his life... if she wasn't the bosses daughter. Can Chris change her mind with a little sideline love?

Word Count: 2.6K

General Warnings: smut! angst, cheating, parental interference, fluff, football Chris has beard ( 😏 ), injuries during the game, special appearance (don't @ me lol); labor and delivery

A/N: Penultimate Chapter but baby Evans arriving...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Becca Rooney and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

And just like that, Becca was nervous. It was a month later, now into her sixth month, Becca was nervously getting ready. She pulled her blonde curls to the side, pulling a hair tie as her engagement ring blinked at her. She took a steadying breath as she looked in the mirror. Her brown eyes sparkled even with worry etched in her face.

“Angel? Are you ready?”

Becca looked up at Chris and took him in. The man lived in sweats and t-shirts, so it was truly shocking to see him in a blue button down and slacks. Her libido shot up and Chris could see it in her eyes. “Angel, we have to…”

“We have time,” she pouted. She placed her hands on his chest, sliding them around.

“No, we don’t. I promise, after.”

“We have lunch after,” she whined.

Chris chuckled. He wrapped his arms around his fiancé, his baby momma. “Promise, if you are a good girl, I’ll do the thing.” He kissed her sweetly.

“Promise?”

“Promise Angel. Now, c’mon. We’re gonna be late.” Chris helped Becca down the stairs where Charlie was watching cartoons, Dodger’s head in her lap. “Let’s go munchkin.”

“But daddy…”

“No buts. Everyone is waiting for us.”

Charlie huffed as she got off the sofa and put on her sweater with an assist from Chris. “Why do I hafta wear a dress, Daddy?”

“It’s a special day peanut,” Becca explained. “I’m wearing a dress.”

Charlie pondered that for a moment before nodding and heading for the door. “Can Dodger come?”

“Not today”, Chris said as he grabbed the keys and the family made it out the door. Twenty minutes later, they made it to their destination and walked up the steps where Robert was waiting for them.

“Hey guys! I’ve got all the paperwork. You ready?”

Chris smiled. “We’re ready.”

Shoes clicked against the marble of the lobby as Robert directed everyone to the right room. When they entered, Becca stopped. It was full. The courtroom was full of their friends, family and teammates. Chris squeezed her hand and pulled her forward. They sat at the table in front, Charlie in Chris’s lap.

All rise.” The bailiff called out to the court. Everyone stood up as the judge entered.

“Please be seated.” The judge organized his papers and when he looked up, Becca recognized him as the same judge from the custody hearing. Her grip on Chris’s hand tightens slightly and he looked down at her with concern. She shook her head slightly and she stared at the man. The judge smiled when he saw Becca. “Miss Rooney, I’m glad to see you here under much more pleasurable circumstances.”

She didn’t make a sound, but the judge chuckled. “Don’t worry, I am happy for this outcome. Now, let’s get to business. Is the child, Charlotte Julia Rooney, present?”

Robert whispered into Charlie’s ear, and she nodded. “Present!” She raised her hand, to the chuckle of the entire court.

“Excellent. And the adopting parent, Christopher Robert Evans?”

“Present, sir,” Chris said.

“All documents are in order?”

“They are, sir,” Robert said. “The home study, financial review and consent to termination of rights from the natural father, Thomas Brady.”

“Just confirming that the natural father understands that he no longer will have any rights to the child in question as of today?” The judge turned his head to look at the crowd, causing Becca to frown. Until she heard…

“I understand, your honor.” Tom stood up in the court. Becca held her breath. “I just want what’s best for Charlotte and that’s Mr. Evans.”

“That’s very noble of you Mr. Brady. Ok, well, that part is settled. Mr. Evans, do you accept responsibility for the upbringing of Charlotte?”

“Yes, I do.” Chris beamed at the judge.

“And Miss Rooney, you are ok with Mr. Evans taking on a permanent, parental role for your child?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She cleared her throat, “yes, sir,” she said louder. It was overwhelming, Tom’s admission on top of this day finally happening.

“Excellent. Very well. In the case of adoption for Charlotte Julia Rooney, I hereby grant full parental custody to Rebecca Ann Rooney and Christopher Robert Evans, effective immediately. I have also included an order to have her last name amended so she will be known hereafter as Charlotte Julia Evans.”

He paused and he looked at the couple. “It’s rare to have a family custody dispute end with consent from the natural parent and with enthusiasm but it’s clear that you three, well, four are a family. Congratulations on your new arrival and your impending marriage. This court is adjourned.” He hit his gavel and the court erupted in cheers.

Chris wrapped his arms around his girls and Becca cursed her hormones as she began to cry. The nightmare of Tom’s custody battle, the fight for Chris’s position on the team, the possibility of leaving home, their surprise baby and now having Chris actually be Charlie’s father had gotten to her. She sobbed as Chris rubbed her back. “Its ok, Angel. We made it, don’t cry.”

“Don’t cry Mama. I love you.” Charlie petted her head, being up higher than normal to Becca.

Becca calmed and Scarlet pulled her away to give her a hug and to wipe her face a little before releasing her to her family. Lisa had Chris and Charlie wrapped in a hug, while her parents were hugging each other. But Becca could see the one face that was still in the room, smiling but a look of pain in the eyes. She walked over careful. “Hi Tom.”

“Hi Becca. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. Umm, you didn’t have to come down here.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. I wanted to say sorry again. For putting you through all of this. It wasn’t fair on anybody.” Tom bowed his head.

“I forgive you.” His head snapped up and saw her smile. She extended her hand and Tom shook it.

“If you need anything, for yourself or Charlie, just let me know. I may not be her father anymore, but I still want to make sure you both are taken care of.”

“I appreciate it.” She turned to see Chris looking at her curiously. “I better get back.”

“Right. Well congratulations on everything. He’s a lucky man.” Tom nodded to Chris and walked out of the courtroom.

“What did he want?” Chris asked, wrapping an arm around Becca’s waist.

“To say sorry and congratulations.” Becca leaned into her fiancé. “Said if Charlie ever needed anything to let him know.” She shrugged. “If it helps his conscience…”

Chris frowned. “You know I’ll take care of my family, right?”

“Of course, Chris. I’m not worried about that.” She looked up at him and could see something in his eyes. “Baby, you have taken better care of us than anyone else bar my parents. I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t think you would be the best parent or husband. I love you.”

“I love you too Angel.” He sighed and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

“You’re forgiven.” She looked around the room. “I guess we need to get to celebrating with this lot.”

“Yeah, your dad organized a luncheon at the team facility and Ma is going to take Charlie with her tonight.”

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love your mother?”

Spring turned to Summer and the end of summer brought in a new season of football. Chris and Becca spent the summer planning their wedding, selecting a Saturday in April, two years to the date of when their first met.

Now she found herself in her last days of pregnancy, walking with her daughter and fiancé to the stadium. It was the home opener once again and Chris was nervous. He always was until right before when Becca would call and remind him that she was in his corner, always. As he walked his heavily pregnant fiancé in, he asked her question after question. “Are you sure you’re ok? Do you need anything? Its going to be ok that you’re here, right? Because I don’t want you to go into labor and…”

“Christopher!”

He stopped. “Again with the full name,” he sighed.

“Baby, you’re driving me crazy. Listen, please do no worry about me ok? Your mom, my mom, my dad, Scarlett, Lizzy and Ashley are all going to be in the box with me. My maternity bag is with me just in case. I promise, they will call to the field if, and only if, that happens, so don’t call after every series. Your head,” she tapped his forehead, “is in the game until otherwise, you hear me?”

“But…”

“Ok, I’m going home where no one will be.”

“NO! No, ok, I’m sorry. Just worried about you and our peanut, ok?”

“I know. And baby, there is an ambulance here, just in case, so it will be fine. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “You and Charlie and Peanut are the most important things to me. I’m sorry.”

“Its ok baby. Throw a touchdown for me, ok?”

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “You got it Angel.” He looked up to see her father waiting. “Thanks for getting here early.”

“Not a problem Chris. Less mob is less stress. Have a good game.”

The family made sure Becca was comfortable, well as comfortable as being nine months allowed her to be before kick-off. The Steelers had won the opening season game against the Ravens on the road but now hosted the Dallas Cowboys. Chris was brilliant for the first half, throwing one touchdown and running in another. He called up during half time.

“Are you…”

“You finish that sentence Evans and we’re getting a divorce.”

Chris chuckled. “Can’t divorce me if we ain’t married yet Angel.”

“Try me. I’m fine. You are doing great. How’s the shoulder?”

“Feels good. Thanks Angel. I’ll see you after. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As she hung up, Becca felt a twinge in her abdomen. It stopped her for a second but then went away. She shook it off and continued to watch the game. About half way into the third quarter, Becca stood up to get a water but doubled over in pain, crying out. In a flash, Avery and Lisa were at her side. “Becca?”

“I’m ok, but… owww! Ok,” she panted, “I think this boy wants out.” She looked at her family with tears in her eyes.

“Alright, lets get to the cars,” Avery said as Ashley scooped up the maternity bag.

“Charlie?” Becca called.

“I have her Bex,” Scarlett replied.

“Let me call down to the field.” Rick turned to the field phone and called down for Chris.

She tries to listen as Rick talked to Ben, but the pain drowns everything out. “Daddy?”

“Ok baby, Ben is getting Chris.” Rick took her hand. “You squeeze if you need to.”

“It hurts, daddy,” she sobbed as she tried to walk down to the exit. The pain gripped her again, weakening her knees.

“Avery, get the paramedics up here!” Rick yelled as security cleared the people around them and laid Becca down. “Its ok baby, its gonna be fine. Just breathe.”

It took the paramedics two minutes to arrive and put Becca on a stretcher. “She’s going to Mercy. Anyone riding with her?”

“I am,” Avery said as they rushed to the ambulance. Just as they pulled away, Chris came running up, still in his uniform. “What the hell happened?”

“She went into labor, and she was in a lot of pain,” Rick explained. “Go get changed and I’ll drive you.”

Becca could swear that she was being torn in half. As soon as she arrived at the hospital, her water broke, and she was 8 centimeters dilated with no sign of Chris. “Momma,” she pleaded with her mother. “Make it stop. He’s supposed to be here.”

“He’s coming Becca.”

“I need him, I… oh god, I think… I think I need to push.”

The nurse overheard her. “Ok, let me grab the doctor.” She ran out of the room as Becca began to cry.

“Why is this so fast? I was in labor for 26 hours with Charlie,” she cried.

“I don’t know, honey, just stay calm. It’s gonna be ok.” The door opened and the doctor came in.

“Becca, I’m gonna check, ok?” Becca nodded and the doctor did his exam. “You are at 10 centimeters and fully effaced so its time to push.”

Becca shook her head. “No, I can’t. My fiancé, the father, he’s not here yet.”

“Becca, I’m sorry but your body’s gonna do this regardless.” He turned to the nurses. “Let’s get prepped for delivery.”

She looked up at her mom. “He can’t miss this.”

“He won’t. He’ll…” the doors opened, and Chris ran in, still breathing hard from running.

“Did I miss it?”

“Chris!” Becca cried, tears of pain, joy, frustration, relief at the sign of her love finally with her.

Chris ran to her side and took her hand, kissing her sweaty forehead. “I’m sorry Angel. Traffic was a nightmare. Where are we?”

Avery smiled. “We are getting ready to push. Just in time.”

“Alright. You must be dad?” The doctor smiled. “Alright Becca, next contraction, give me a big push.”

Becca took a breath and bear down, pushing as hard as she could. She breathed hard, looking at Chris. “You are never touching me again.”

“Whatever you say Angel. C’mon, one more time,” he held her hand and body up to push, smiling to himself.

After 20 minutes, Becca stopped. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can Angel. You are the strongest woman I know.” Chris leaned down to her. “You are my Angel, and you can do anything. One more, baby, give me one more.”

Becca gritted her teeth and pushed. “The head is out,” the doctor announced. “One more push!” And suddenly a wail filled the room as Becca laid down.

“Congratulations, a perfect baby boy!”

“He’s here?” Becca looked at Chris and then her chest as her new baby was placed on her. “Hi! Hi baby! Hi!” As tears streamed down her face.

“Oh my god, Becca, he’s beautiful.” Chris stared at his son as his own tears fell. “Thank you, Angel. Thank you.” He kissed her forehead as his son began to settle with the warmth of his mother.

“Ok, mom, we need to take some measurements and get you cleaned up so we need to take him.”

“Take him?” Becca panicked. “Chris?”

“I’m going with him. Relax Angel. You did amazing.” He kissed her softly and then followed his son to the other side where he was measured and weighed. As they cleaned up the goo on him, Chris couldn’t explain the feeling of warmth spreading in his chest. It was just like with Charlie, a pure love that was just there now.

“Ready dad?” The nurse smiled as she picked up his son.

“Yeah, I…”

“Open your shirt so he can feel you. Skin to skin is the best bonding right now.” Chris did as she said, and she laid this tiny human onto his chest.

“Hi son. Hi.” He cradled him as he settled against him.

“Does he have a name?”

Becca smiled. “Benjamin Richard Evans. Ben.”

“Well happy birthday Ben.” The nurse produced the Steelers signature towel, the Terrible Towel and placed it over the baby, a tradition at Mercy. “Welcome to Steelers Country.”

Taglist

@patzammit @slutforchrisjamalevans @texmexdarling @jennmurawski13-writes @firephotogrl74

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #sideline love #sideline love series #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans au #nfl au #pittsburgh steelers #ben is the voice of reason #baby evans has arrived

37 notes · View notes