#outdoor wooden storage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sometimesanalice · 2 years

Text

Like I Can (Part 3)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

(All’s well that ends well❣️ Enjoy!)

You’d been on edge all day.

Having slept terribly the night before, you’d woken up early and giving up on the idea of going back to sleep had ended up at a sunrise yoga class, hoping that some movement would help you clear your mind. By the end of the hour you were even more frustrated than you were before you arrived, the poses feeling unnaturally forced instead of flowing seamlessly as they usually did.

So much for some goddamn inner peace.

Work was even worse. You had arrived to find that the espresso machine was broken. And whoever made a pot on the ancient drip machine, that was undoubtedly pulled out of a dingy storage closet somewhere, clearly hated everyone else since it tasted like tar. You could barely focus enough to clear out your inbox, when your work nemesis started breathing down your neck about a proposal that wasn’t due for another two weeks.

Time was dragging on. And every time you looked at the clock thinking it had been at least an hour since you’d last checked, were continually shocked to see that barely fifteen minutes had passed by. Thankfully it was Friday, so your boss didn’t care when you called it a day and left at lunch. It was better for everyone this way.

You had tried painting your nails, but didn’t have the patience to let them dry and smudged them trying to open a package of crackers. Ignoring the crumbs that got everywhere as you ate them while working the cotton pad over the remnants of your pretty pink polish. Your new favorite show didn’t hold your attention like it usually did and you found yourself mindlessly scrolling on your phone, missing most of the plot you’d had to restart it. Twice.

Not even the scenic drive along the coast to the restaurant you were supposed to meet your date at had done anything to alleviate your nerves.

You had been surprised at the choice of location when you had received the text message with the information about this particular date. As much as you enjoyed going to the Hard Deck, you were very much looking forward to drinking something other than a beer. Sure, Penny could make a mean spicy margarita, but sometimes an overpriced aesthetically pleasing cocktail just hit the spot better than anything else.

But most of all, you were thankful for a change of pace and the privacy this offered you. You had never been one for the spotlight, and dating on display had left you feeling drained.

You’re sitting in a surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker dining chair on the outdoor patio of the new trendy fusion restaurant you’ve been dying to come to. From your spot tucked away in the corner you can see the ocean waves rolling in and back out again. The golden rays already promising a stunning sunset later in the evening.

The foliage of the giant potted monsteras and birds of paradise made the terrace feel like a lush oasis, and contrasted stylishly against the large painted terracotta tiles on the ground. The pergola that covered it was dotted wisteria amongst the other climbing greenery, and numerous oversized hanging rattan sconces. The dainty lights woven throughout reflecting off the wine glasses on the table.

This was exactly what you needed. Too bad you couldn’t let yourself enjoy it, the twisted knots in the pit of your stomach had served a constant reminder of your nerves all day.

You had used this date as an excuse to finally buy the deep green floral dress you’d had your eye on for ages. The gentle drape of the neck was subtly sophisticated, while the high slit on the side added some serious sex appeal.

There was nothing wrong with a little retail therapy you had told yourself as you’d swiped your credit card. If you looked good, maybe it would help you to feel good.

In all honesty, it probably had a little too much sex appeal since you couldn’t stop fidgeting in your chair trying to get the silky dress cover up more of your thigh that was currently displayed rather provocatively. It felt like the more you tried to get it to lay right the more of your leg was exposed.

It probably didn’t help that you couldn’t stop the restless bouncing of your leg. You weren’t usually an antsy person, leg bouncing had always been more of Rooster’s anxious habit than yours.

Maybe you’ll feel less exposed once you draped the linen napkin across your lap. You’re tempted to do it now, but you don’t want to disturb the artfully laid out tablescape before your date has arrived.

It had been three weeks of back to back truly terrible dates. You could see the finish line now, but you couldn’t say that it wasn’t wearing on you. It had sounded like fun in theory, but now you weren’t so sure you would said yes again if you were offered a do-over.

You were tired.

Tired of going through the motions with men who could hardly be bothered to do the bare minimum. Tired of trying to sell the best version of yourself. Tired of putting on a show when all you wanted to find was an easy kind of love.

And this particular date had you more on edge and anxious than any of the other ones you’d gone on.

Even if you were pressed, you could not remember a single thing about the guy Payback had set you up with on your most recent blind date.

That evening you hadn’t even bothered trying to put together a cute outfit for the meeting. Instead, the only real effort you’d opted to put in was painting your lips a bright red as an attempt to psych yourself up for it. You didn’t usually wear such a bold color, but when you did it never failed to make you feel more brilliant.

And while you couldn’t remember anything about your date, what you did vividly remember was the fight you got into with Rooster that night.

You had been coming back from the restroom and on your way back to your date when you had bumped into him rounding the corner.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” he’d said as he reached out to steady you with hand going to your waist, dropping it once he realized it was you. “Oh, hey.”

Glancing over to your date who seemed absorbed in some game he was playing on his phone, you figured he wouldn’t miss you if you spent a few extra minutes away to catch up with Rooster.

He had been acting really distant lately, taking a couple days to respond to texts rather than a couple of hours like it usually took him. Natasha had told you about the rigorous training they were being put though, and you had assumed it probably had something to do with that. However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off between you two.

Rooster was already pulling away from you and taking a step towards the bar when you reached out grabbing his wrist to keep him with you. Looking around for a quiet place to talk, you’d heard him sigh behind you, but still held on to him as you made your way to one of the high-top tables in the corner by the empty stage.

You’d stopped and let go as you turned towards him, only to find him already looking at you with an expression that landed somewhere between expectant and exasperated. The cuffs of his shirt straining around his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well?” he grunted out.

Was he mad at you? You couldn’t think of any recent arguments you’d had recently that would explain the harsh tone he was using with you.

“Is everything ok? I feel like you’ve been really off lately. You know I’m always here for you, right?” Your hand was already reaching out to touch him, but you resisted the urge not wanting to further agitate him.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m surprised you even have time to talk to me with all these washouts you’ve been wasting your time on. You’re the one with the busy social calendar, not me.” He was looking over the top of your head avoiding your gaze now, the bitterness in his voice had stunned you.

“Seriously? What is the matter with you?”

He’d never been so intentionally callous with you before and it hurt.

“Listen, if there is an issue me dating the people your friends have been setting me up with, you need to let me know,” you’d said pointing a firm finger at him, your anger rising. “This was supposed to be a fun no pressure situation, but I don’t want to be in the middle of this if things are getting heated between you guys. It’s not worth it to me. But you don’t get to ignore me for days and then claim that I’m the one avoiding you.”

He made a noise of frustration as he dragged both hands through his curls. You could see the flex of his jaw as he’d clenched his teeth together.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he ducked down to that his eyes were level with your, and you could see the remorse in them. “You’re right, that was shitty of me to take it out on you. I’m just… tired.”

You’d simply nodded at him, feeling like you weren’t on the same page as him didn’t sit well with you. “Phoenix told me about your new training program, it seems intense,” your voice sounded small even to your own ears.

“Yeah, the training,” he’d sighed out pausing for a moment as he weighed his words, rubbing at his chest, “It’s taking a toll on me, but that’s my problem. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

“Are we good?” you searched his eyes, your friendship with him was so important to you.

“You and me? We’re good, kid. Always.” He’d reached out and squeezed your shoulder before heading back to where the group was gathered together pretending like they weren’t just watching your argument play out.

Needless to say, your head was somewhere elsewhere entirely as you made your way back to your date. You’d felt bad being so distracted, but your mind just kept playing the argument on repeat. It was like your brain was trying to pull apart every little word to decode something that you didn’t think was there.

After Payback’s friend had left, you rejoined everyone else around the pool table. You couldn’t tell if the mood was off or if it was just you reading into things, since they hadn’t been prodding you with questions like they usually did.

Natasha was in the middle of giving you a glowing review of the man she had been bragging about since she first offered to set you up, when Rooster came to sit with you both.

“He’s just your type. He’s an engineer, so he’s smart. He’s got that whole glasses wearing and floppy hair thing going for him. And he’s funny. Rumor has it that he talked back to his Rear Admiral one time and got away with it because the guy had found him amusing. I fully expect you to name one of your future children with him after me.”

Rooster had surprised the pair of you when he stood up so violently that he almost knocked over the beers on the table.

“What the fuck, Bradshaw?” Nat had exclaimed as you both worked to rescue the teetering bottles from becoming casualties from his sudden movement.

You had no idea what he was going to say as an explanation for why he’d jumped out of his seat the way he did, but what he ended up unexpectedly announcing instead of answering Nat’s question had sent you into a tailspin.

So now here you are in a restaurant you’d be dying to go to, fidgety and anxious in a probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative dress for a first date with the guy who Rooster was willing to break his long-standing rules for to set you up with.

To say you were feeling the pressure was an understatement. No one knew you like Rooster did. He’d seen you at your best and at your worst. He wouldn’t just pick any random guy he knew, he would be picking the one who he thought would be the best for you.

The thought should be comforting, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness.

You pick up your phone again and double check the time in the text that Rooster had sent you with all the details for your date with his friend.

It was either that do that again or moving the ever-so-slightly crooked gold salad fork back into place.

You’re about to open Instagram for the third time since you sat down, turning when you hear a throat clear purposely behind you.

“Hey, sweet girl.”

For Rooster, when you’d first agreed to participate in the bet with his friends those dates started off as annoying inconveniences. Just inconsequential disruptions that got in the way of his time with you.

You were his best friend and at his bar, yet he felt like he’d hardly seen you these past couple of weeks- or at least not as much as he would have liked.

Sure, he got some time with you here and there at the end of the night like when you had late night tacos on the beach. Or when he’d taught you his favorite pool trick, well more like attempted to teach you, he loved how stunningly bad you were at the game. But he felt like he was competing with these idiots his friends had picked out for your time and your attention.

He wasn’t used to sharing you. In the past, if you had a date that conflicted with something spontaneous he wanted to do or something that the group had planned together, more often than not he could get you to move it or cancel completely.

He’d never been above a little bribery to get his way, he knew what you liked.

You going on dates wasn’t a new concept to him, but seeing them paraded in front of him was a different story. And he was getting really tired of watching you from across the bar while feeling like you were out of reach.

The more of them you went on, and the more he heard Natasha crowing about having the perfect man for you the more agitated he felt. The worse that feeling in the pit of his stomach got.

The evening of date for Payback’s pick, they’d all seen you walk in through the doors of the Hard Deck wearing that shade of red lipstick. You’d wore it so well. His friends had immediately started speculating about what it meant. Phoenix had called them all idiots, and while he couldn’t claim to know anything about make-up and those things, he did know you didn’t just wear that color for no reason.

He had vague memories of his mom putting the color on when they’d go greet his dad, at least he like to think those were his memories. Or maybe they were just something he’d created in his head from all the time he had spent looking at old photos of his mom and dad together, her smile always outlined in the color. His favorite was the one where his dad’s cheeks were covered in bright red lipstick kisses as he smiled indulgently down at his mom while a young Bradley was propped on her hip clutching his prized F-14 Tomcat. He had that one framed on the end table next to his couch.

And seeing that color on you for a date with this random guy had rattled him.

He’d felt so terrible later that evening when he took those feelings out on you. Hating himself as he lashed out at you. Hating himself as he saw your face fall and the hurt in your eyes. Hating himself for being the person who made you feel bad.

And the crux of it all was that you weren’t wrong, he had been deliberately distant by being slow to reply and ignoring texts from you. He wasn’t proud of it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d hoped by creating some space that it would help him to try and get his head back on straight.

He’d let you assume that he was tired from the new training program they were being put through. What he didn’t tell you was that he was already outperforming everyone on the team, and that he hadn’t had to do any extra push-ups in a week and a half.

He was tired because he hadn’t been sleeping, and he couldn’t sleep because every time he tried to close his eyes all he could see was you on these dates. Replaying them in his mind’s eye wondering what the outcome would have been had they not gone so terribly wrong each time.

The what-ifs swarming around his brain day and night like agitated hornets.

While he had been quick to apologize for being a dick, the sharp pain that settled behind his sternum wouldn’t subside no matter how much he had tried to rub it away.

He didn’t know what was more unbearable, the idea of losing you to a chance encounter of circumstance. Some meet cute courtesy of the universe that he couldn’t see coming until it was too late, when it’s already too far out of his hands and out of his control. To see you grinning that smile so bright, the one so wide it made your dimples appear, as you introduced that guy to him.

Or sitting here night after night analyzing every little thing as you date the people some of his closest friends had picked out for you. Watching and hoping that these dates would just be funny stories you told on drunken nights out rather than the story told at your wedding about the night that everything changed when you met your person. Of having to be happy for you even as you pull away from him.

His ears were ringing and he’d felt his stomach drop.

He could see it now, a day when your life ran parallel to his rather than entwined as he was used to. Of you with a partner. With children. Of him as ‘Uncle’ Rooster, demoted to the rank of ‘longtime friend of the family’ rather than a core member of it.

The thought of it making him feel sick.

All evening he had been moving around like a ghost completely lost to the thoughts in his head, but now it felt like he’d been shocked by a live wire. He’d pretty much jumped out of the chair he had just settled in, almost knocking the beers in front of him off the table completely.

“I want in, I’ll do it,” he’d blurted out, interrupting the conversations that had continued on around him while he had been spiraling. “This whole thing has been a complete shit show. I can’t watch this anymore. I know a guy, I’ll set it up. I’m in.”

His hands were sweating as he hoped no one would call his bluff. He’d made it a point to actively avoid looking at you. You had such an uncanny way of reading him.

“I don’t know, Bradshaw. You’re a little late to the game, aren’t you? I’ve been saving the best for last, and I’m ready to collect my winnings.” He’d expected some shit from Hangman, but he never would have guessed it’d come from Phoenix.

Feeling his anger flare up, he reached into his back pocket and fished out a $100 bill from his worn leather wallet, double the original entry fee. He slapped it down on the table, leaving no room for any further discussion, “I’m the one setting her up for the next date.”

He’d caught a look between Hangman and Phoenix, but he couldn’t be bothered to read into it as he tried to keep his temper in check.

He wouldn’t lose you. Not to someone who didn’t deserve you, especially when he already knew the person who could make you happy.

“Alrighty,” Jake had drawled out, as he pocked the bill. “Looks like we have another player. I look forward to taking your money.”

He’d extended his hand out and they’d all shook on it, reaching Phoenix last her grip firm and her smile sharp. And that was that.

Now he was here at the new popular restaurant he’d heard you talking about a few weeks ago, his feet cemented to the tiles beneath him just gazing at you.

He could tell from where he was standing behind you that you were nervous by the way you were opening and closing apps without truly looking at anything. He knew it was a habit of yours when you were feeling anxious, something for your hands to do as you tried to distract yourself.

He had sweet talked the hostess over the phone into reserving the best spot on the outdoor terrace, and you looked so beautiful sitting there wearing his new favorite color. Your hair is held back by a delicate golden clip on one side leaving the line of your neck exposed, the sea breeze picking up a few wisps. It makes his teeth ache with want.

He knew you were gorgeous, he’d stared down enough men at the Hard Deck to know that others thought so too. However, he’d never let himself sit with those thoughts for too long, not trusting himself to keep his mind from wandering.

You were his best friend.

And best friends don’t think about how the other would look so perfect in their bed, that pretty green dress forgotten on the floor.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look under his arm.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look with his ring on your finger.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you are for him.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect he is for you.

Him.

It was a good thing he didn’t want to just be your best friend anymore.

He’d already done too much thinking, done too much waiting. He wasn’t going to miss his moment.

Taking one more deep breath, he made his way to you.

“Rooster? What are you doing here?” He was the last person you’d expected to see when you turned your head to see who had been trying to get your attention, “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Did he get emergency orders? Did your date get in an accident?

Your anxiousness was quickly morphing into panic, you’re already half way out of your seat when he puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb stroking the skin there reassuringly.

He is standing there looking completely at ease, as if he belonged there, “Nothing’s wrong, sweet girl.”

And there it was again, you hadn’t been sure if your ears were playing tricks on you the first time he’d said it. That simple term of endearment silencing the alarm bells that were going off in your head, the edges of the lush restaurant softening around everything except him.

“Your mom always called me that,” you say softly.

You cherished all the memories you had with Carole, the woman who had been such a significant figure in your life for so long. You knew your mom still sent Rooster a cake every year to celebrate her birthday from whatever bakery was closest to wherever he was stationed.

“I know, I remember,” his voice so warm and deep, “She loved you.”

He says it so simply, so sincerely. As if his presence here hasn’t just completely untethered you and sent you adrift in a sea of bewilderment.

The writhing snake that had made a home all day in the pit of your stomach finally disappeared, only to be replaced with the fluttering of wings that you were desperately trying to ignore.

You’d been so shocked when Rooster had exclaimed that he was going to set you up with someone, your mind had been whirling so much at the time you could barely focus on anything that had been said in the aftermath of his announcement. Maybe you had missed some caveat he’d come up with for his participation in the bet? That could make sense, considering how adamant he had always been in the past about never getting involved in your love life.

He was standing there looking so good in his best short-sleeved button up shirt, the one that was scattered with vibrant palm leaves that fit snugly against his body. And wearing the white slacks that usually had you looking anywhere else in the room to avoid acknowledging the way they clung to your best friend’s thighs and ass. If only he knew how weak they made you.

There just has to be a logical reason for why he’s here, but the soft smile on his face was rendering your brain uncooperative.

You were getting tired of feeling like you were missing something that should be so obvious, “My date is supposed to be here soon, are you going to hover in the back like you have been at the Hard Deck? Or are you just planning on pulling up a chair and third wheeling up close and personal?”

“Why would I need an extra chair,” he asks as he pulls it out and eases his large frame down onto the wicker seat, “When mine’s already free?”

You move to open your mouth when the waitress arrives, asking if you had your drink orders selected.

“I’ll do the Bourbon Sidecar. You feelin’ like a gin, sweet girl?” You just nodded at him mutely, still desperately trying to catch up. “And the Clover Club for her, please.”

It’s what you were planning on ordering to calm your first date jitters before had Rooster arrived and sent you into a complete tailspin. He hadn’t even looked at the thick textured cardstock of the drink menus that were strategically placed just to the right of the golden soup spoons on the artfully laid out table.

The butterflies were threatening to break free from the tightly locked cage you had attempted to shove them in.

The waitress took down the drinks, and you watched her as she crossed the patio pausing to tap away on the screen of their POS, trying to give yourself a few more moments to collect your thoughts.

“Bradley. I don’t understand, what’s going on?” He’s sitting there looking so secure, so steadfast, so sure.

His cheek ticks up, “I like it when you call me Bradley. Why did you stop calling me that when you moved out here?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Why did you stop calling me Bradley when you moved out here?” he asks again, leaning in. How does he expect you to answer a question, when your mind is going 1,190 miles an hour?

“I don’t know,” you start with a halfhearted shrug. “You’ve made a name for yourself in the Navy, you are ‘Rooster’ to everyone here.” You open your mouth to say more, before closing it quickly.

“There’s more going on in that head,” you feel his foot reach out tapping against yours under the table, before leaving it there a steady presence. “Tell me.”

You know you can tell him anything, but this feels different.

The intensity of his stare has you fighting the flush you feel spreading across your cheeks.

It wasn’t something that you’d ever given much thought to before, but you know if you answer truthfully now that he’s asked you it’s going to leave you feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been with him.

You sit up more fully in your chair deciding to be brave, “I mean, we haven’t really truly been in the same place since we were teens, and things are so different now. It was easier to start calling you ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ like everyone else, because it didn’t make me feel like I was piece from a different puzzle trying to force myself into a new picture. I wanted to fit into the life that you’ve built here, to feel like I still have a place with you as you are now.”

You’re actively fighting to keep your eyes on his. It would be so easy to look away or to laugh off your confession, but for whatever reason, you don’t want to take the easy out.

“I never knew you felt like that, but I wish I had,” the look in his eyes is softer than anything you’ve ever seen from him before. “I like being Bradley to you, I want to be Bradley to you. You aren’t just a piece to me, you’re the whole picture. You’ve always had a place here, exactly as you are you are now.”

It’s never been like this between the two of you. It feels like you both are saying too much and not enough all at the same time. As much as you find yourself wanting to sink into these intoxicating yet unfamiliar feelings, you know you’re still holding yourself back.

God, he is so handsome. You had been right, the sunset that was just starting was stunning, but the way golden beams were hitting the lightened strands of his curls was spectacular.

You’re almost too afraid to ask, but it’s unbearable not knowing, “Why are you here right now, Bradley?”

Of course, the waitress chooses that moment to return with the drinks.

She sets them down in front of you, the skewered raspberries sitting daintily on the side of your glass are suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. You vaguely hear him saying you both need more time and that he’ll flag her down when you’re ready to order.

He waits for her to leave to attend to her other tables before turning his heady gaze on you once again.

“I thought I’ve been making my intentions pretty clear here, sweet girl.”

He takes a sip of his Sidecar before continuing, the slight bounce of his leg the only thing giving him away that he might not be as self-assured as you’d originally thought, “I’m here for our date.”

There’s no hope of containing the butterflies now. You’re a lost cause.

“Bradley.” You can only imagine the emotions he is reading on your face. It would absolutely break your heart if this was some kind of bad joke.

“He’ll never love you like I can.”

“What?” you ask sounding every bit as dazed as you feel.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says shaking his head slightly, huffing out a little laugh at himself, “I got ahead of myself.”

You watch as he resituates himself in the chair, wiping his hands on the front of his slacks before restarting.

“Watching you on those dates has been hell, I don’t want to be jealous of some guy you gave a second glance. I don’t want hold back, not when we can be so much more,” he reaches across the table, taking your hand between his two large ones, “I thought having you as a friend was enough for me, but how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that I could be the one who makes you happy and then do nothing about it? That I’m the only one who can love you the way you deserve to be loved?”

You’ve always known he’s cared for you, that was unquestionable, but to be loved by Bradley Bradshaw? It was something you’d never let yourself imagine, let alone dared to hope to for. It had been kinder to spare yourself from the heartache that came with hope. But now? With him sitting right here in front of you saying you could have him like this?

Was this how he felt flying in his F-18 every day?

He gets up and rounds the table coming to your side, hooking an ankle around the tapered leg of your chair pulling you out a bit. You’re suddenly very thankful for the probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative for a first date dress you purchased when you see the way his rich brown eyes turn molten as he gets a glimpse of your exposed thigh.

He settles into a crouch before you, his warm hands seeking out both of yours, “You don’t need Phoenix or anyone else to set you up, because he’ll never love you like I can. Let me show you how good it can be. Let me be it for you, sweet girl.”

The man in front of you is everything you could have ever possibly wanted for yourself. And to be the one who could get to keep him forever? There’s no doubt in your mind, it’s worth everything.

You’re sure you will have to have a more serious conversation about what this means for the two of you, but that can wait for another time when he’s not in front of you with his eyes so earnest. So hopeful. To another time when he’s not wearing his heart on his sleeve as he patiently waits for any kind of response from you.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him right now.

So easy to learn what that mustache would feel like against your skin.

To learn how his lips and tongue would feel against your own.

To learn how his mouth would move with yours.

But what’s a couple more hours when you��ve had years to build up to it.

“Well then, Lieutenant. I guess you better show me how it’s done,” you bring your hand up to cup his face, your thumb gently stroking along his cheekbone. “But I’m warning you now, I fully intended to give you as good as I get.”

Being on the receiving end of a Rooster smile was something special, but it had nothing on the beaming grin that Bradley Bradshaw is giving you now.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” he says as he lands a lingering kiss on your cheek before standing and pushing your chair back in for you. “You’ve always known how to keep me on my toes.”

He returns back to his surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker chair, stretching his leg to rest it against yours. When the waitress comes back you both end up picking your meals at random, having been too absorbed with each other to actually bother reading the menu.

You’d barely eaten all day because of the knots in your stomach, and now you were starving. Thankfully, Bradley at least had the commonsense to ask the waitress to pick her favorite dish as a third entrée “for the table”.

It feels the same in many ways, he knows what to say to make you laugh and what to bring up to get you fired up. And you know what questions to ask to keep him talking and how to push his buttons just right.

But it’s also different when he doesn’t bother to hide his knowing smirk every time he catches you looking at his lips. And it’s even better when you don’t bother trying to hide yours when you catch him doing the same.

Afterwards, he takes your hand in his as you slowly make your way to the parking lot, his fingers lacing between your own. He surprises you when he leans against the Bronco, murmuring something about not wanting to let your pretty dress get dirty. His long legs extended wide as an invitation for you to come stand between them, his strong hands stroking the silky material of your dress on your hips as you step closer.

You’ve been ignoring the pull low in your stomach all evening, the tension between you two the most luscious feeling you’ve ever experienced. The combination of his heat, his woodsy smell, the headiness of his gaze on you almost too overwhelming.

Almost.

Your hands settle on his broad chest, playing with the button of his shirt now a bit nervous. Your faces closer than you’ve ever allowed them to be before. If what you’re hearing is the sound of the waves or the roaring of the blood in your ears, you couldn’t say.

You know he is waiting for you to make the first move. You see the moment when he’s about to say something, knowing him the words would be wonderfully reassuring and perfectly Bradley.

Why would you want to talk when his mouth was already waiting like a question. Why would you want to talk when you could learn what it’s like kiss him instead?

So you do.

When your lips meet his for the first time it feels like the sweetest kind of devotion.

bradleybradleybradley

His mustache scratching satisfyingly at the skin of your upper lip. His mouth tasting like the Sidecars he sipped on throughout the night and something that was just fundamentally Bradley.

Your hand moves on its own to stroke the side of his neck, your fingers seeking out the line of the longest scar that adorns his skin there from that night all those years ago.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest as he licks his lips before bringing his face down to yours again. Your other hand tightly clutching his shirt in anticipation.

He’s always been so in tune with you, so when he tilts your head just right before leaning into the kiss it feels like a homecoming.

thisthisthis

One of Bradley’s hands makes its way up your back, pressing you closer to him as the other bands more securely around your waist. And when his tongue skims your lower lip, you sigh into his waiting mouth thankful for his strong grasp on you.

Nothing your mind could have imagined would have ever come close to the perfection that is Bradley Bradshaw’s mouth moving against yours. Nothing has ever felt so good, so right.

When he pulls away, you’re both over fighting back the smiles that feel like have been permanently fixed on your faces all evening.

“I’m don’t want to call it a night yet,” he tells you, as he brushes the hair back from your face. His smile turning playful, “What do you say, kid? Wanna go get some milkshakes?”

“Depends,” you reply cheekily, “Can I drink it in the Bronco?”

Wrapping both arms around his neck you draw him back in towards you again.

“Anything you want, sweet girl,” he promises against your lips.

The next night at the Hard Deck, you entered the bar with Bradley’s arm draped your shoulders.

His team whooping loudly when you pull him in for a kiss as he handed you a Blue Moon. They’d declared the drinks were on Bradley that night as they’d swarmed you both in celebration. Maverick pulls you aside to give you a warm hug, whispering “I knew you’d get here” in your ear before releasing you.

Now that you had let yourselves cross that line from friends to more, the pair of you are entirely too aware of the other. Never content to be too far away from the other. Your eyes like magnets, each seeking out the other to find them already looking back.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he has his hands on your waist. Nothing neighborly in the way his hands rub your shoulders. Nothing platonic in the way he rests one hand on the back of your neck, his thumb making teasing circles.

And there’s nothing friendly about the way you run your hands through his curls when he’s at the piano. Nothing neighborly in the way you slide your hand into his back pocket. Nothing platonic in the way you rest your hand on his chest, your finger tracing the line of his collarbone.

It has always been so easy with him, even as you explore in this new area of your relationship.

You’d been orbiting around each other all night, when Jake yelled out to heckle you both about indecent exposure, threatening to call his cop friend if Bradley didn’t “get his ass over to the pool table in the next thirty seconds.”

He’d peppered your face with kisses before you’d shooed him away, laughing when you realized he had swiped your beer and had taken it with him.

“So you and Bradshaw,” Natasha states as she settles down next to you.

That makes you smile.

“Yeah, me and Bradley.”

How could you have possibly thought you’d want anyone else other than him? You were a goner from the moment you’d turned and saw him standing there at the restaurant. Your golden boy.

You turn towards her, putting a hand on her arm, “I’m sorry that you didn’t get a fair shot at the bet. I really do appreciate the effort you all went through. I mean, Bradley would have had it in the bag anyways. But still–”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waves a hand, cutting you off, “We had a team meeting and changed the rules of the bet anyways. I still won, so it’s all good.” Her smile was nothing less than mischievous.

“Wait, what?”

“We could all see from Rooster’s reaction during that disaster of a first date with all the dogs that he was completely hung up on you. We didn’t want to wait for him to figure it out, so we decided to adjust the terms a bit to help him out,” she laughs at your clearly baffled expression. “We reached out to the cringiest people we knew and set you up with them instead. And then took bets on how long it would take Rooster to get his head out of his ass and go get his girl.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” The revelation has you bursting out in laughter.

“Yep, well except for Bob. His date was a genuine accident, bless him. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even bother reaching out to anyone. I was betting on Rooster getting it together before I needed to step in,” she explains while wearing the most self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Of course Natasha Trace had bet on him. On you.

You couldn’t wait to tell Bradley how you had both been so absolutely played by his team.

You loved these people. You loved your life here in San Diego.

“I’d apologize for putting you through all that, but it looks like it worked out well in the end,” she says knowingly nodding her head towards him.

You’re fully watching him now as he bends over the pool table looking amused at something that Hangman says.

Bradley looks up catching your eye and shoots a wink in your direction, a grin taking over his whole face. You already know you’re wearing a matching one.

“I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

Thank you so much for all the love on this one! I’ve loved sharing this journey with you all! Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!

If you want to know what happens next for these two you can check out my masterlist!

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) as always for being the ultimate hype girl!

Taglist:

@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @finelytaylored @phantomxoxo @viridianphtalo @chicomonks @artemissunn @hey-assbutt35 @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader @averyhotchner @caatheeriinee07 @rileyanntoinette @lublycho

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #like i can tgm

2K notes · View notes

hiveworks · 1 year

Text

Convention Guide: Basic Tabling Gear

September 2023

Whether you’re an artist alley newbie or you’ve been doing the convention circuit for years, putting together your table essentials is a crucial part of selling your wares at events and ensuring your weekend goes smoothly. In this guide, we’re covering the basics of setting up your first ever table.

This list is a non comprehensive assessment of things a tabler might need and should be used as a simple starting point. The four main categories we will cover are:

The Display

Behind the Table

Money

Quality of Life Suggestions

—🐝—

1. The Display

a) Tablecloth

Starting from the base layer, we’ve got tablecloths– an easy way to add some color and personality to your table. Your tablecloth doesn’t even have to be an actual tablecloth! You can use a length of fabric cut from a bolt at your local craft store. Convention tables tend to be 6’ long, so when selecting your fabric, look for measurements longer than 72” (183cm).

Play with color and texture to find something that fits the theme of your work on display. Patterns can be fun, but might distract from your inventory or signage if the colors/design are too bold and busy. Tip: your cloth may get messy from food behind the scenes or dust/dirt if you do outdoor events. Get something that’s easy to wash in your machine!

b) Display supports

Most artists these days use cube organizers that break apart into flat panels and connector joints. They are easy to store when not in use, easy to transport in a suitcase or tote, and you can change the shape depending on your table set up and inventory. Tip: constructing your display to include shelves that face you behind the table helps organize your backstock during the show.

These cubes aren’t your only option. Some people use milk crates, picture frames, wooden boxes, custom built shelves, etc. Consider what works best for you, your aesthetic, and your storage/transportation needs. When in doubt, you can always lay your goods flat on the table.

c) Signage

Having clear signage on your items to denote price helps people feel more comfortable purchasing from your table. Your price markers don’t have to be fancy. Prices written neatly on pieces of paper and paperclipped to your books or taped up next to your stickers is a simple and effective strategy. Some people print out a price list or use a sign board. It’s totally up to you!

Include a sign with your name somewhere in your display, including your social media handle if it is different from your artist name. This will help fans of your work more easily recognize you. Tip: use a QR code prominently displayed on your table that links to your portfolio, linktree, etc.

d) Banner/backdrop

Look out behind you! Whether it’s a banner, a backdrop, or something else, the space behind your seat can be put to use. While it is relatively easy to print custom banners at most print shops, many tablers cite this as an unnecessary expense, especially for first time artist alley participants. If you’d like to hang a collage of your work behind you, look for photography backdrop tripods, which can collapse and fold up neatly. The behind-the-table space is shared with other artists, and it can get cramped. Be mindful of your needs when deciding how to do a backdrop. Some artists opt to exclude a backdrop and just use their cubes to arch over them.

Optional: Decorate your table! Flowers, string lights, plushies, etc. can all bring a special one of a kind experience to your set up.

2. Behind The Table

a) Inventory

Now that we’re behind the table, let’s talk about what’s going on back here. Starting with inventory. If you’re absolutely unsure how much to bring, a good starting number is about 10 of each item. If you sell out, congratulations! You’ll know what to bring more of next time, or you’ll know you should raise your prices. For storing inventory during transportation to the con and while at the show, you might consider simple boxes, an accordion folder, or a portfolio case, depending on what kind of items you’re bringing. Reminder: if you’re using display cubes, structuring them to give you shelves on your side of the table will help you keep things organized.

b) Suitcase/storage tote

Under your feet will be your suitcase/tote box, and perhaps a dolly, if you used one to wheel your boxes into the building. It is recommended that your suitcase/tote has a lock on it, as you’ll be leaving inventory overnight. Hopefully no matter what you use, it has wheels of some kind. All this gear gets heavy. If you are not using a wheeled device, make sure to check your pack’s weight as you assemble your supplies. You will have to carry it from the parking garage or bus stop through the convention center, and back out again at the end of the show.

c) Cover cloth

What else is in that box? Your cover cloth. This one is optional, but some artists like having a lightweight cloth to cover their table when the day is done. Something like a vinyl picnic tablecloth works perfectly. The cover cloth helps prevent anyone from accidentally knocking your things over or having things go missing.

d) Business cards

On your side of the table, you ought to have plenty of back up business cards. You’ll have some of these out on the table for passersby to pick up, but this item is the number one thing you’re going to hand out the most of. It’s always better to have too many rather than too few. For a single three day convention, you might need 200+ cards. Make sure your website/online shop is easy to find on your cards. Cute business cards go a long way to making your table memorable long after the con has ended.

Bonus supplies: Here’s a short list of things you might need throughout the weekend to touch up your display. Keep them in a bag and bring them with you every time you table!

Masking and clear tape

Spare paper for impromptu signage

Sharpies and pens

Zip ties

Scissors

3. Money

a) Card reader

The most commonly used card reader is Square, but there are alternatives. Research their fees and prices to determine what fits your needs. You’ll want to get a hold of a card reader and set up your account well in advance of your show. Card readers require wifi/data to work and will only work in your country of business, so take that into consideration when packing for your show. Most convention halls have wifi (sometimes at a cost), but if your show is outdoors you might be relying on data.

b) Cash/change

Cash is king! Make sure to bring enough cash/change for your show. About $25-50 in small bills is usually enough if you’re also accepting card. At the end of the day, consider tucking your big bills away in a secure location in your hotel room. If something were to happen to your bag, you’ll appreciate not having your entire weekend’s earnings in it!

c) Fanny pack

Keeping your cash attached to you at all times is smart. People often use fanny packs or cross body bags to manage their money.

4. Quality of Life

a) Backup battery

Since you may be using your phone to complete transactions, or maybe you’re drawing on your iPad with time to kill, you’ll want to bring a back up battery. Most tables don’t have access to electricity, so having a battery and charging cables is a good idea.

b) Hand sanitizer & masks

One hand sani pump out front and one behind the table. You’ll be handling money, shaking hands with strangers, and touching surfaces that thousands of people have been touching all day. As long as there have been conventions, there have been con plagues. You don’t want to get knocked out with a cold (or worse) so masking is great!

c) Table buddy

If you’re able to, bring a friend to help you table. Cons will often give tablers 2 passes (one for you and one for a friend). They can help you grab coffee or lunch, get change, package a big purchase, cover you for bathroom breaks, etc. Table buddies are truly the unsung heroes of artist alley.

d) No table buddy? No problem.

Check in with con staff and volunteers. Many comic cons will have a green room for artists to take a snack break and decompress, and con staff will help guide you there. Some conventions also enlist volunteers to help sit your table while you’re away. They’ll make sure your table stays in order, direct people to your business cards, and inform curious patrons when to expect you back.

e) Fun stuff!

There will be plenty of downtime. Con hours are long and often slow in the mornings. Bring something to keep you occupied, but not too engrossed, so you can easily pull away to greet customers and fans. Fidget toys, a puzzle book, knitting or crochet project are all great ideas.

f) Get Comfy, Eat Well, Stay Hydrated

Going from your quiet desk to the high octane energy of artist alley can be a shock to the system. Some items to help reduce the fatigue are: noise canceling headphones during downtime and breaks, sunglasses to combat the fluorescent lights and rest your eyes, slippers or comfy shoes for under the table, and layers of clothing. Convention halls can fluctuate temperatures wildly. With lots of AC during the summer, sweaty crowds, and the flow of traffic to your table, you’ll be working up a sweat fulfilling transactions one second then freezing after sitting still for a minute.

Most importantly, have a small cooler with snacks and drinks. You may not get a break, but it’s important to stay hydrated and energized.

—🐝—

The next time you're at a convention, take note of displays that inspire you. #ArtistAlley and #ConTable tags on Instagram or TikTok can connect you with creators sharing their setups. Your table design is an opportunity to be creative and express yourself, while also learning along the way what works for you. Most tables, however, are built up over several convention seasons of trial and error, so while it’s good to take note of others' displays as a source of inspiration, try to keep your first table relatively simple. The more you table, the more you’ll be able to identify your needs for you and your merchandise.

We’ll close out this blog post with one final suggestion. Big, multi-day conventions can be fun, but they can also be expensive. Your tabling supplies and inventory aside, if you’re doing a show away from home, you’ll contend with table fees (often $250-450 USD), hotel, transportation, meals, etc. And not every convention is a good fit for your wares! Small, local events and art festivals are a great, low stakes, relatively cheap (or free) way to start tabling. Check your area for zine fests, queer makers markets, and craft fairs.

Sound off if there’s anything we missed! Good luck on your tabling adventures.

#tabling #convention #comic con #artist alley #hiveworks #blog

167 notes · View notes

teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps · 3 months

Text

0 notes

simstorian-blog · 7 months

Text

Raffia Quinta

(CC List + Links)

World Map: Oasis Springs

Area: Parched Prospect

Lot Size: 20 x 15

(1-bedroom, 1 Bathroom)

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Used

Expansion Packs

City Living

Eco Lifestyle

For Rent

Growing Together

Island Living

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dream Home Decorator

Outdoor Retreat

Spa Day

Stuff Pack

Laundry Day

Moschino Stuff

Toddler Stuff

Stuff Pack

Desert Luxe Kit

Build Mode

Harlix – Bafroom (Double Arch Short, Seamless Window Short Pieces)

Harrie – Coastal Pt. 1 (Interior Double Door)

Harrie – Kwatei Pt. 1 (Interior Single Door - Short)

Lili’s Palace – Jugendstil Floor Tiles

Mutske – Retro Reboot Thindows 2 x 1

Peacemaker – Baton Siding

Peacemaker – Simple Siding

Peacemaker – Vaulted Ranch

Pierisim – Domaine Du Clos Pt. 2 (Account Book, Back Pack, Plein Wallpaper, Suitcases)

Pierisim – MCM Pt. 1 (Books, Wooden Wallpaper)

Buy Mode

Anye

Cleo (Blanket)

Awingedllama

Boho Living (Birds of Paradise, Ficus in Large Vase, Wooden Lamp)

CharlyPancakes

Lighthouse Collection (Books)

Miscellanea (Books)

Munch (Island)

Felixandre – SOHO Pt. 1 (Stool)

Harlix

Harluxe (AC Control, Bedding Blanket, Book with Sunglasses, Light Switch, Mini Bar)

Jardane (Lonuger)

Harrie

Brownstone Pt. 3 (Leaning Canvas)

Brutalist Bathroom (Pill Mirror – Medium)

Coastal Pt. 7 (Bench)

Octave Pt. 2 (Hanging Strip Light – Short)

Octave Pt. 3 (Record Player)

Octave Pt. 4 (Light Switch)

Ice-CreamForBreakfast

Iris Apfel x Ruggable Rugs

JoyceIsFox

Simple Live #5 (Bathrobe)

Simple Live #8 (Wine Glass)

KiwiSims4

Blockhouse Hallway (Bench)

Tui Bedroom (Double Bedframe, Table Lamp)

Kta

Abstract Prints 3 (Mesh Needed)

Abstract Prints 4 (Mesh Needed)

LorySims

2018 Ferrari Portofino

MyCupofCC

ColourTalk Mirror

Woven Bath Mat

MXIMS – Muuto Coffee Table 2

Myshunosun

Dawn (Living Books)

Gale Dining (Cart)

Uma Living (Monstera Plant)

Vasterhamn Sofa

Witching Hour (Picked Flowers and Herbs)

Peacemaker

Oasis Chic (Living Alocasia)

Pierisim

David’s Apartment Pt. 1(Books, Coffee Table, Simbook Pro Tv)

David’s Apartment Pt. 2

Domaine Du Clos Pt. 4 (Zucchini Chopping Board)

MCM Pt. 3

MCM Pt. 4 (mug, pasta)

MCM Pt. 5 (Accent Storage, Walking closet middle left + right )

Office Mini (iSimac 2021)

Tilable (Shelves)

Vera Bathroom (Bathrobe)

Ravasheen – Elgato Set

Severinka – Delta Ceiling Lamp

SixamCC

Fancy Dining (Bar Stool)

Retro Vibes (A Very Soft Rug)

Sooky88 – Justina Blakeney Rugs

Sundays – Sumba Pt. 1 (Pillow Set I)

Tuds – Wave (Candle Holder)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

#simstorian #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 #cc #ts4 simblr #build #sims 4 build #oasis springs #raffia quinta #residential lot #interior design #colorful #mid centruy modern

39 notes · View notes

outbuilders · 4 months

Text

What Are Outdoor Sheds and Why Are They Important?

Outdoor sheds are flexible, self-governing constructions that are generally seen in gardens or backyards to beautify your place. Outbuilders has become a leading construction firm in Central Oregon, focusing on designing and creating these multifunctional wooden outdoor sheds extensions.

But why are outdoor shelters so important?

Understanding Outdoor Sheds

Outdoor sheds exist in a variety of sizes, styles, and materials, ranging from simple timber constructions to more complex designs including many rooms and windows. These sheds may be modified to meet the individual demands of homeowners, whether they are for storage, a workshop, or a comfortable outdoor office.

The Importance of Outdoor Sheds

Storage Solutions: One of the key reasons individuals invest in outdoor sheds is to increase their storage space. Suppose you need to store tools, furniture, bicycles, or decorations. A shed is a safe and systematic storage solution for every season.

Functional workstation: An outdoor shed may be used as a dedicated workstation for hobbyists, crafters, and DIY enthusiasts. Its workbenches, shelves and enough lighting make it a great place for a variety of crafts without disrupting the home.

Home Value: A well-built shed may increase the value of your home. Sheds are frequently viewed as a desirable addition by prospective buyers since they provide additional storage and utility space, which can increase the market appeal of your house.

Aesthetic Appeal: Modern sheds may be customized to match your property’s existing architecture and landscape. They may improve the visual attractiveness of your outdoor space by providing customizable alternatives, making it more appealing and useful.

Organization and Efficiency: Having a designated area for your tools and equipment helps keep things organized, saving you time and effort when looking for anything. It also makes it easier to keep your house and garage clean.

Outbuilders understand the specific demands of Central Oregon homeowners. Our crew is committed to building high-quality outdoor sheds that not only meet but beat your expectations. Whether you want additional storage, a personal asylum, or a functioning workstation, our sheds are intended to provide practical solutions that improve your outdoor living experience.

#wooden sheds #wooden storage sheds #storage sheds #backyard storage #backyard sheds #outdoor sheds #wooden outdoor sheds #outdoor storage sheds #wooden outdoor storage

0 notes

galleryleadingsales1 · 3 months

Text

Best Power Station Solar Generator

Step into the world of innovation at the leading sale gallery,where you can explore cutting-edge products like the latest portable power station solar generators.Delve into the debate of portable power station vs solar generator as you discover their features and advantages for your energy needs.Additionally indulge your sweet toothand explore the future of confectionery with a chance to buy chocolate 3D printer.Witness the magic of turning chocolate into intricate designs and personalized treats right before your eyes.At the leading sales gallery,innovation meets convenience and delight offering a glimpse into the possibilities of tomorrow's technology.

cordless vacuum for pool,home goods garden furniture,pool vacuum cordless,pool vacuum cleaner cordless, better home and garden products,kids & babies products,classic watch for man,classic watch, buy clothes,bath room products,bathroom cleaning products, bath products luxury,online shopping for grocery,women clothing for travel,women's clothing for work,women clothing for summer, chocolate 3d Printer,outdoor gas grill and griddle combo,4k hdr projector,full body chair massage,full body massage chair zero gravity,power station solar generator,portable power station vs solar generator,curved projection screens,online shopping clothes,whole sale scandinavian style tv stand for homes,smart bed with multifunction,luxury bed with massage and storage in usa, buy touch screen chocolate 3D printer,buy scandinavian style retro wooden tv stand,buy pool cleaner robot,buy luxury bed,buy chocolate 3d printer,buy 3D printed food,buy nordic style bedroom chairs,modern decorations lazy sofa lounge chair, recliner relax muebles de la sala home furniture,buy nordic style lazy lounge chair,

#power station solar generator #cordless vacuum for pool #home goods garden furniture #pool vacuum cordless #pool vacuum cleaner cordless #better home and garden products #kids & babies products #classic watch for man #classic watch #bathroom products #buy clothes #bathroom cleaning products #bath products luxury #online shopping for grocery #women's clothing for travel #women's clothing for work #women clothing for summer #chocolate 3d Printer #outdoor gas grill and griddle combo #4k hdr projector #full body chair massage #full body massage chair zero gravity #portable power station vs solar generator #curved projection screens #online shopping clothes #wholesale scandinavian style tv stand for homes #smart bed with multifunction #luxury bed with massage and storage in usa #buy touch screen chocolate 3D printer #buy scandinavian style retro wooden tv stand

1 note · View note

the-californicationist · 8 months

Text

Granted (SanSan AU)

Sansa Stark inherited her family’s ranch after a series of terrible tragedies. Needing help, she hired Sandor Clegane - a washed out rodeo king. The two of them rescue a cow in the back pasture and roll around in the hay. Warnings: Modern setting AU. Pure smut propped up with the skeleton of a story. Anal. Outdoor sex.

He came in wet, the wooden door banging shut behind him, black hair plastered to his head under his beaten up cowboy hat. The rainwater was dripping from the tips of his hair and running into his worried eyes. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily from his exertion, chest heaving and ribs straining against his shirt. His jacket and jeans were soaked through and clinging to his skin, painted on his body in cold heavy fabric.

He stared right into her face, unflinching. It was as if he had a whole conversation with her in his mind, silently telling her the deepest secrets and fears and joys he’s ever known, asking her for more and more, begging her with his fiery gaze. She had never seen him attempt such deliberate and fearsome eye contact with her. He usually turned away, stared out into their open fields or down at his boots.

As if realizing his odd demeanor, when he spoke, none of the kindled flame remained in his voice. His question came out like a smooth, round stone: quiet, cold, unfeeling.

“Where do you keep the spare blankets?”

She didn’t answer him right away, instead raising an eyebrow to question his motives. He continued without her,

“Cow is stuck on the north corner, giving birth to twins. Vet says he’ll be here in the morning but they won’t last the night in the cold.”

She turned off the stove’s burner and grabbed her coat. Packing quickly, she grabbed her keys and headed to the backyard, leading him to the old barn they only used for storage these days. She flung open the side door and he put his flashlight above her head so she could see. He towered over her, eyes searching the dark barn for movement that wouldn’t be there. She flipped open two chests and hauled out the extra blankets, grabbing a canister of grain as she kicked the door shut.

Feet squishing through the mud and tall grass, they all but fell into his truck, tossing the blankets and feed into his covered bed. The engine roared to life just as a bolt of lightning split the sky apart. A threatening peal of thunder followed not long behind.

They rode in silence, and the rattling of the truck did little to fill the void. When her father was killed, and her brothers along with him, she’d been left with the Stark family farm, but she hadn’t had the faintest idea about how to run it, always preferring indoor activities when given the choice between that or shit-kicking. So, she hired Sandor Clegane, the washed up rodeo king of Wyoming turned cowhand. He was too good for the job he did. He fixed the equipment, mended fences, herded cattle, killed coyotes, and dealt with ranch barons who wanted to come in and buy her out for cents on the dollar.

The burns that scared half of his face and neck were objectively grotesque. The sheen of the healed tissue as it pulled against his jaw reminded her of cellophane, crinkled in all the wrong places. He was a master at crowd control - be it livestock or human beings. His imposing size and animalistic musculature made even the most hardened men think twice about even considering raising a challenge to him. All the better, because his attitude was that of a hungry copperhead.

He was her opposite in every way. Tough when she was fearful, strong when she was frail, bold when she was meek. But, he had brought out the wolf inside of her over the years, she had to admit. When he had first come to the farm, she could barely meet his eyes, but now she stood beside him as they stared down each challenge that wandered across their ranch’s path.

They had made more money together in the past two years than the farm had ever turned when her father had been alive, and that was why the other ranchers were trying harder than ever to make her sell. One had even sent his son over, pretending to be wounded, in hopes she’d care for him and eventually be inclined to his marriage proposal - all to find out it was a sham.

Now, looking at his hulking form across from hers in his truck, she couldn’t imagine waking up without Sandor in her life. She wondered, in more detail on lonely nights, what those huge, rough hands must feel like when they become wrapped around a person’s skin. Would they be rough and certain? Or would they be tender, knowing their ability to cause pain?

She hadn’t noticed how she was dressed for this excursion, but she was painfully aware of it now that she was shivering on the bench seat. Her yellow cotton dress, dotted with little embroidered daisies, clung to her belly and legs from the rain. Her dad’s old green sweater hung off one shoulder, the neck too worn out to fit right. A woolen shawl she had knitted years ago was wrapped around her chest. A worn pair of socks stretched over her knees, and her muddy duck boots kept her feet warm and dry.

She looked over at Sandor and caught his eye. He turned the heat up on the console and pointed his vents toward her.

“You cold, little bird?”

His voice was so dark and deep; it rumbled toward her like a landslide. He was always yelling at the hired hands and hollering at his horse, Stranger, so it was no wonder he sounded gravelly.

“It’s really coming down. Thought we were supposed to get a break,” she commented, gazing out the window across the flatlands.

“Gonna be a long night,” he lamented.

Forty minutes later and they made it to the lean-to where the cow was holed up and pleading with them through unhappy lowing. Sandor managed to fit a halter on her and keep her tied to the hitching rings, but she was in pain and they could tell.

“What’s keeping the vet?” Sansa asked him.

He patted the cow’s big neck and checked her for obvious injuries,

“Said something about going to the city for a big race horse with a broken leg. Probably heaps of money in it for him.”

She nodded, understanding but still sorry there was no recourse.

The lean-to was big enough for about ten head of cattle, and there was a small room off to the side for hay storage. She watched as the enormous cowboy pulled bales out of their storage with extreme ease and spread it across the floor for the cow to lay on. With the store room now empty, he put a hand on his hip and gestured to the wooden floor,

“Well. It’s not the Hilton. I’d offer to drive you back up to the big house but I know what you’ll say. You’ll chirp and whine about needing to be out here, so you might as well settle in.”

She turned away from the room and looked back at the tired cow,

“I know. I’m sorry, Sandor. I just don’t wanna leave her here.”

She had always called him Mr. Clegane, but after he snapped at her one night, she had finally agreed to go by first names because he was “nobody’s mister.”

He paused for a moment, thinking about something unseen, and breathed out a hard sigh. The sun was setting fast, so after he organized the cow’s tack, he ran back into the rain to grab their bags. Sandor hung the blankets and put their packs just inside the door. She sat on a hay bale and checked her phone for service.

“No bars out here, princess,” he said, dryly.

She powered it off and zipped it into her bag. The oats she took from the barn were still in the large container. She started up her small, beaten up Biolite and got a fire burning. She poured out some water from her pack and mixed in the oats with a little sugar. After a few minutes, she poured out two small cups and handed one to him. He took it carefully, but his big hands made it seem like a child’s teacup.

“Thanks,” he muttered, mouth full of porridge.

“You bet,” she returned.

“You got extra room on that bale?”

She scooted over and brushed away the top layer of straw, as if it wasn’t going to cling to him anyway.

“I brought you a dry shirt if you want it. I’m gonna change out of this dress.”

He watched as she dug in her emergency bag, admiring her quick thinking.

“I am gonna make the hands all carry those. They get stuck out here all the time with nothing but their jeans and a can of Skoal.”

She laughed brightly,

“Yeah. It was a trick I learned from dad. He always said you should be able to be what you needed to be when you needed to be it.”

She threw her hands up at Ned Stark’s family wisdom, showing her confusion and humor at her father’s unrefined lesson. To her relief, Sandor laughed with her.

“Smart man,” he chuckled.

She handed him the shirt folded. He traded her back the empty cup of oats and started to strip off his wet clothes. His jacket had almost dried but his button down shirt was still sopping wet. He pulled back button after button and she didn’t turn away at first. His undershirt hid most of the tanned, hairy skin that stretched across his huge, heavy structure. She knew he’d be hot to the touch. Sansa knew his skin would feel slick with rain and sweat. She wanted to reach out into the open pocket of his shirt and touch him and all of his scars, but she didn’t. She turned away from him when she realized her extreme rudeness.

He laughed again, crueler this time,

“Ain’t never been modest, little bird.”

She turned back to face him at that comment and shrugged,

“It’s fine. There’s just not a ton of privacy in here and I wanted to try and get you some.”

Sandor pulled the button-down over his shoulders with a quick tug. The shirt fell with a wet thud on the dusty floor and he hung it loosely on the wall. His undershirt followed it.

“Wouldn’t happen to carry my size jeans in that bag of yours, would ya?” He grinned, playing ungrateful.

“No, but I do have these,” She offered him a pair of joggers.

He eyed them in doubt. Still shirtless, he stepped over to where she was knelt down, forcing her to look up the length of him to meet his gaze. He took the pants and raised his eyebrows,

“A size medium? No way. I got too much goin’ on for that.”

“You could try them. They stretch,” she challenged, “I’ve seen you squeezing through those skinny fence slats. You might fit.”

“Oh, yeah? You been watching me crawlin’ through fences?”

She blushed against her will,

“No, you just- well, I mean you’re always-”

“I’m pulling your leg, birdie,” he winked, taking the cotton pants from her, “but this time you might wanna turn around.”

She turned back to her bag and pretended to look long and hard at her clothing choices. She could have sworn she had another set of pants but the only thing left was a big, long sleeve tee and another pair of tall socks.

“Damn,” she cursed under her breath.

“What?” He returned to her side, suddenly worried.

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just gonna change too.”

He didn’t move back as far as she thought he might, and as she began to pull off her sweater and shawl, she still felt his eyes on her.

Lightning and thunder screamed outside their sanctuary again, spooking the cow.

Sandor went over to her and petted her nose,

“Easy, girl.”

Sansa was just in her dress now and quite cold from being damp, but she took a handful of oats over to the cow and let her hand fall open. The cow put a big nostril next to her palm and then quickly took the oats into her mouth.

“She needs a better name,” she lamented, looking at the cow’s tag and then back at Sandor who was staring a little too long at the top of her sun dress, “because number 0557 just doesn’t have a ring to it.”

Her dark cowboy reached out a huge, rough hand and touched the hem of her soaked dress sleeve, feeling the raised threads of one embroidered flower.

“Daisy?” He suggested quietly, as if telling her a secret.

He didn’t let go, and she gave him a soft smile. She felt herself reaching out to touch his face, and before she could stop it from happening, Sansa was brushing back the water from his brow and wiping the drops out of his long hair. He grabbed her hand roughly and stood full height against her, making her step back until she met the wall. He pressed himself against her body, and she could feel her wet clothes soak into his borrowed pants. The rain came down in sheets outside the small barn, pounding into the earth.

“I’m going to get you wet,” she whispered, feeling awkward in the new, minimal space he created with his touch. His breath sped up at her obvious innuendo, the quaintness of it doing nothing to stop his blood from rushing through his legs to his cock.

He dropped her hand and she let it fall onto his neck and down his shoulder, still bare. His skin was heated and sticky from sweat, but before she could get very far with her exploration, behind them the cow loudly belted out a pained moo and shuffled into a prone position.

Sansa gasped from the shock of the noise and laughed. Sandor laughed with her, suddenly sobered up and now feeling entirely too close to her. She saw his doubt creep up into his face and put her hand back on his neck, curling around it, pulling at the charred skin with reassurance. His eyes returned to hers as they were before, searching her face like he was waiting on her to say something.

The pause went on for a breath too long, and Sansa began to doubt herself. Embarrassed, she bent to pull her boots off. Suddenly, like a snake strike, Sandor held her on both shoulders, giving her the same fierce expression he had displayed in her kitchen. Without warning, he grabbed the bottom hem of her dress, pulling it off of her slender body. Sansa trembled from the cold and from something else.

Her panties were wet, and her white cotton bra was soaked through, no longer concealing her pink nipples through the cloth. They ached against the cold, and as Sandor pulled the wet dress over her head, she knew he saw them, too. He bent to kiss her mouth without hesitation, almost forcing her to bend up to meet his lips due to his height.

He devoured her, sucking hard on her lips and finally on the length of her tongue. She moaned into him, and his hand wrapped around her small throat, begging to squeeze her breath tightly and make her cry out again. But he didn’t. He just held her there, kissing her skin and licking at her mouth like she was a melting popsicle on a summer afternoon. Sweet. Innocently delicious.

She found the elastic of the borrowed joggers and started to run her fingers along the length. He shuddered, his mouth pausing, interrupted by the shock of her touch. She knew he was as hard as a stone. She could feel the unimaginable length of him pressing against her belly.

She found his hardness with shaking hands, and just as gently as she could, she rubbed down his shaft with a slow, long pull. It was his turn to moan. Sandor put his head down by her neck and struck the wall with his free fist, slamming it against the wood as if he was in sudden pain. He pushed his cock through her hand again, his hips straining to get some relief. She let go of him, pulling down her panties and snapping her bra away.

“Seven fuckin’ hells,” he growled. His voice reverberated against her neck; he was bent so close to her.

He grabbed her hair at her nape and kissed her hard enough that she couldn’t breathe. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and moved his jaw against hers like he wanted to eat her alive. Then, without much warning, she felt his fingers between her legs, and when he found the wetness there, slicker than the rain, he moaned darkly again. Plunging a long, thick finger into her core, he began to fuck her in his hand, his other hand pumping his cock until it swelled even more than when she held it. His pants pooled around his knees, unwanted.

She hadn’t felt a man’s finger in her core in years. Compared to her soft, lithe ministrations, the ruggedness was so very welcomed. He seemed to know just where to look to find her most vulnerable buttons to press. And gods, did he love to press them. Sandor hunted down each one, digging into her folds and massaging the skin in hungry circles. Sansa cried out as she felt herself coming undone, unspooling like a loose rope.

After she came, Sansa felt a terrible emptiness within her as he gently removed his skillful hand from her body. But, it gave her a moment to drop to her knees and take some control. She reached out, almost as if not to spook him, and held his heavy cock, feeding him into her mouth. She worked hard to take as much in on the first try as she could. She heard Sandor gasp in a deep breath and let it out raggedly. He pulled himself out of her mouth with his hips and ever so gently pushed himself back in, softly and carefully as to not hurt her. She put her hands on his hips in reassurance, pulling him closer, even though her confidence didn’t match her actions.

Sandor’s body reacted without his input, his hips pushing his hardness back into her mouth with more force and more depth than what may have been polite. Sansa moaned and tried to suck him in, letting her tongue roll lazily against his soft head. Shocked by her eagerness, he sucked in cold air through gritted teeth. Hungry for her, he pushed himself into her warm mouth, deeper and deeper, until he heard her gagging for a breath.

He let her breathe and repeated the action. Pulling himself out, sliding himself back in. She felt undone, as if every time she swallowed him, his pleasure was coursing through her veins instead.

Sandor was a mess. He’d begged God, for many moons now, for just a moment of having her on her knees before him, sucking him, licking him, milking him into submission. And now, here she was. It was better than his manifestations had ever hoped to be.

He wanted to come in Sansa Stark’s rosy cunt. He wanted to feel her soft walls flutter and clench against his hardness. He wanted her to scream and scream until her pretty little songbird voice was lost.

Sandor reached down to cup her cheek, pulling his cock from her lips and kneeling down to meet her on the hay-dusted floor. He kissed her again, tasting the precome that she had collected from his body. He pushed a hand up to find her soft breasts and kneaded them desperately, tugging at her nipples and making her writhe beneath his hand. Sansa looked on in awe as he bent down to suck on her skin, leaving tiny bruises behind with his fervor. She was trembling from the need to come again. Unable to voice her desires, completely at his mercy, Sansa cradled his head, fingernails digging into his neck and back, all but begging him to fuck her.

“Please,” she whispered into his temple, “Sandor. Please. Oh, Gods, please.”

“Please what?” He growled into her neck.

“Please fuck me. I can’t -”

Those words, like a magic spell, were all he wanted to hear. As soon as he felt his length sink into her wet pussy, he could die happy.

“Granted,” he promised.

He pushed her down onto the hay bale they had been sitting on and knealt over her, pushing her legs apart and guiding himself into her pink lips. His head dipped into her gently, painting her clit with her own juices, and then he filled her carefully - inch by agonizing inch. With every breath she took, he went that much deeper. She thought he might go on forever when, finally, a fullness stretched her just that much wider. She had met the base of his thick, heavy rod, and she shivered from it, legs threatening to close together from the intensity.

He stopped her from closing herself off, forcing her long legs back down and pushing himself into her over and over, the wetness of her making delicious noises as he began to pound into her body. Her bruised, swollen breasts were exposed to the air, dress abandoned. Sandor grasped them tightly, pushing them together and pinning her down.

She thought she might be coming, but when a true orgasm hit her, she realized she had just been tingling from his girth. Sansa came hard around him, and he pushed into her as if he wanted to feel every pulse of her racing heartbeat in her core. He could feel her fluids coat the base of his cock, the stickiness soaking his skin and matting his hair. When she let out a long moan, he bent down to squeeze and suck on her neck, whispering dark secrets into her skin,

“Sansa. Little bird. My little bird. Fuck! What a good girl you are. Do you know how long I’ve begged the Gods to give you to me? You are the finest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. My soft little dove. This cunt was meant for me.”

He fucked her faster and harder, spurred on by her screaming his name, pleading with him to come inside of her. He listened to her mantra - come in me, come in me - and he started to lose it. Sandor was shocked to feel so powerless to her command. He started to feel thick bands of searing hot come burst into her pussy. He pushed into her body desperately, his seed leaking out of her from the pressure. He held himself fully encased in her, feeling her tremble around him, burying himself in her as deep and as long as he could stand it.

When he slid out, he marveled at the beauty of her come-filled hole and reached out to touch it. He smeared it onto her pussy lips and pulled it onto her clit. Rubbing it into her skin like a salve, pushing it into her asshole with a gentle finger, taking some and massaging it into her nipples and breasts, feeding her with his fingers. As she suckled at his index finger he wondered if he would come again right then.

He sat back on his heels and gazed upon her tired body. She had her eyes closed, hair braided but askew, pussy covered in his slick come, glistening with sweat. He felt like he had been in a fight. His body ached and yet there was a dark voice that told him to fuck her again. Fuck her and do nothing else. Don’t eat. Don’t sleep. Just keep on breeding her in this shitty lean-to until you die.

She stirred. Sitting up, she reached out and grabbed his face. Whispering his name she kissed him chaste on the mouth. He could smell his scent on her lips. That dark voice screamed inside him that he wanted her to reek of his come all the time. To bathe her in it. Make her yours. She belongs to you.

He watched her gather her strength and step into the heavy rain, letting it soak her long red hair, braids dripping rivulets down her back and ass cheeks as she experienced the shower.

Sandor followed behind her and pulled her to him, her ass pushed against his cock. He was nearly hard again. They were both fully naked in the field, rebelliously erotic. He wrapped a hand around Sansa’s pale throat and made her arch her back to him. He took two fingers and stretched her pussy again, pushing at her wet walls. Then he pressed one wet finger into her ass.

After quite a few gentle thrusts, she relaxed and cried out to him in a new pitch. He pushed into her farther, repeating his insertion - then out, then in, warming her up to this new challenge. The rain fell into his open gasping mouth. She screamed at his thrusting. He pushed a second finger into her, her hole now accustomed to his rhythm. Then, he pulled out of her entirely and she felt that terrible emptiness return.

Sandor tossed her on all fours in the mud, frantically kneeling behind her, muddy himself, and he began to stuff his head into her asshole. She felt full in a way she never had, and she noticed her body trying to push back into him and meet his thrusts. It was as if she couldn’t stand being without his hardness.

Finally, after an eternity of stretching out muscles that had almost never been used, he began to fuck her ass with a sure, slow rhythm. He watched the raindrops pool on the small of her pale back, poorly illuminated by the single barn light. She was grunting loudly, yelling with a deep guttural shout at each and every moment his cock slid into her. It made him crazy. He reached down and began to finger fuck her pussy again, filling her, splitting her, and he could feel the intrusion of his own dick through her skin. He watched as her hole stretched open to fit him. She screamed louder, unable to hold back from his assault, enslaved to the onslaught of his pleasure.

“Sandor, I want you to come in me. I want your come. I wanna feel you come again. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long. Sandor.”

He was thrilled to oblige. Sandor grabbed her hips and started to stuff himself into her ass with a new purpose. He was shouting at every thrust along with her. Her tightness and wetness and warmth was too intense for him to bear. When it was almost time, that shadowy voice returned, telling him to breed her again. To fill her womb with his seed and make her carry his come in her until they drove back to the house in the morning. He didn’t make it, as just the idea of it pushed him over the edge. Thinking about her full of his seed, smelling like him, full of him - it was too much. Her ass took his load from him, and as he removed his cock from her, he watched it mix with the rain and trickle from her asshole, falling into the dip of her cunt and into the cold mud below.

Sansa fell back against him, panting, needing him to care for her. He lifted her up and carried her back to the blanket, turning to grab a towel from his bag, originally meant for the cow.

Clean again, she used the towel to dry off and put on the long sleeve tee and new pair of socks from her bag. She did not put on her wet panties. Instead, she sat back on the blanket cross-legged, letting him watch as his come dripped out of her, laying back as she caught her breath.

“Sandor, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. If I had known -”

“I won’t wait any longer. Be with me, little bird.”

She smirked knowingly at him, crawling into his lap and promising into his ear,

“Granted.”

taking a break from our regularly-scheduled COD programing to celebrate these two menaces <3 <3 don't worry, john price will be right back, i swear.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #game of thrones fanfiction #asoif/got #asoif fanfic #asoiaf fanfic #sansan #sansan au #sandor clegane #sansa stark #house stark #ranch life

25 notes · View notes