#four hours round trip for like six hours in person

[brown-little-robin]

.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Twenty-Five

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : R - smut

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut and extreme cuteness. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~5.2k

A/N : The final chapter. I really hope that this lives up to people's expectations.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | CHAPTER NINETEEN | CHAPTER TWENTY | CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Chapter Twenty-Five

The trip from the hospital to the penthouse left you feeling exhausted and, by the time Billy was helping you change into your pyjamas you were struggling to keep your eyes open. His touches were slow and delicate, treating you like you were the most fragile and precious thing in the world. And, you could tell from the little looks he shot you that he was still blaming himself for everything.

A soft sigh slipped from your lips as he helped you into bed and covered you with the duvet.

“You okay?” He asked in a quiet, subdued tone.

“Still a bit sore,” you admitted, “but I’m glad to be home.”

“Home,” Billy repeated, smiling. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted you moving in to go, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” you sank back in the pillows a little more, “I’m glad we can just be together now.”

“Me too,” he fell silent for a few moments, watching as you struggled to stay awake. “Do you want to get some rest? I could -”

“Can you stay with me?” You asked, eyes suddenly wide open. “Can you hold me? I’ve missed you holding me.”

“Of course I can.”

You watched as he quickly slipped out of his red sweater and jeans, stripping right down to his boxers before rounding the bed and climbing in beside you. There was noticeable hesitation as he edged towards you, his arm carefully slipping over your chest so he could hold you.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” He muttered softly, smiling as your eyes finally closed.

“Love you Billy.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

After a few hours of sleep, you felt a little bit better. Billy was still beside you, scrolling through his emails on his phone. When he noticed you were awake, he smiled.

“How are you feeling? Need me to get you anything?”

“A glass of water would be great,” you answered, “and something to eat?

Billy gave a nod and quickly got out of bed. You watched as he left the room, phone in hand. He was only gone for a couple of minutes, you heard him making a call, obviously ordering dinner before he came back with your drink and handed it to you. Then, after a slight hesitation, he got back into bed with you.

“Can we talk about it?” You asked cautiously, after taking a drink. “Scott, I mean...”

“Why?” He tensed.

“I don’t know, I just -” you weren’t even sure what you wanted to say to him, what you wanted to ask, “- we didn’t get to talk about it at the hospital. Are you okay?”

“He’s not the first person I’ve killed.”

“It’s not the same; you were a Marine in a warzone. This is -”

“Murder,” he filled in the blank without hesitation, without remorse.

And, maybe that should have bothered you more than it did; Billy had killed a man for you. Admittedly, not a great man, and certainly not one that you were going to miss in any way, shape or form. But a life was still a life and you were certain that neither of you should feel happy about it.

Billy took a slow breath.”Look, you don’t need to feel guilty about any of it. I would have killed him even if you told me not to.”

“It’s not guilt, it’s just - I dunno, Billy. A man is dead because of me...”

“You could have died because of him,” Billy answered back without hesitation. “He tried to kill you twice. He called you a whore, said you weren’t worth it.” There was no missing the bite in his tone, or the way his hand curled into a fist. “You are worth it. You mean everything to me -”

“Billy -”

“No, I’d kill a hundred men like him if it meant keeping you safe. I’d burn down the whole fucking world just to protect you.”

And you knew he would. With anyone else you’d think it was hyperbolic, you’d think he was just saying what he thought you wanted to hear, but not Billy. That was the wonderful and tragic thing about him, about the way he loved you; it was a lot, it was everything he had, every ounce of himself. You’d never change that about him, and you’d never want to. That  was Billy. That was the man you loved, and loving him meant accepting him.

So, you nodded and reached for his hand, gently prising his tight fist open so your fingers could slip between his. 

“Okay,” you told him, and that was that.

It wasn’t long before your food was delivered and you couldn’t help but laugh that he’d chosen to order pizza, just like he had the first night he’d brought you back to the penthouse. You sat together in bed, eating pizza and watching TV until you finally fell asleep again.

Hours later, voices outside the bedroom woke you; Billy and Sam.

“Look, I appreciate what you did for her, but I think it’d be better for everyone if she came back to Connecticut with me,” you heard Sam say. “She needs people around her to look after her.”

“She has people here,” Billy answered. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“You can’t expect me to leave my sister here with a killer.”

“And you can’t expect me to let her go with the man who allowed that piece of shit to keep breathing after the first time he tried to kill her,” Billy replied. Your breath caught, torn between listening to more and calling out to stop them from fighting. “Anyway, I’ve seen your service record, you’ve got blood on your hands too.”

“You think I didn’t want to kill that fucker -”

“I think you had every opportunity and you didn’t. I won’t let her go with anyone who’s not willing to do everything to protect her.”

“I know you think you love her, but -”

“I do love her, and there is nothing I won’t do for her,” you could hear the edge in Billy’s voice, the anger that he was barely managing to hold back. “Look around, look at the life I can give her; she’ll always be safe, she’ll never want for anything. You want to take that away from her? You want to take her away from everything that she’s achieved here? Her friends, her new job?”

A silence followed and you didn’t dare breathe in case you missed something.

“You don’t know her like I do,” Sam stated and your heart sank a little but you didn’t get time to dwell on it.

“I know her better than you do,” Billy was quick to answer. “You see her as some weak little thing just because she’s your sister. But I don’t. I see a woman who’s not scared to put me in my place when I fuck up, someone who’s been through so much and has kept going. She’s carried the guilt for your sister’s death for years, even though it was an accident, a stupid mistake. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met and if you can’t see that, then you don’t know your sister at all.”

Before that moment you hadn’t thought it was possible to love him more, but you soon felt tears welling in the corners of your eyes.

There was another silence before you finally heard Sam relent.

“Fine, but if you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you myself.”

“If I ever hurt her, I’ll let you.” Billy quickly countered and you could hear just how serious he was.

There were some more muttered grumblings between the pair, but the tone had changed and both men seemed to have resolved their differences. Sam muttered something about coming back tomorrow to say goodbye before leaving town again and, then, when everything had fallen silent, you assumed that he had left.

You didn’t mention any of it to Billy when he came to bed later that night, and didn’t in the days that followed; it didn’t matter, there was no way you were going to go to Connecticut with Sam, not when everything in your life was finally perfect.

Sam insisted on staying in the city a little while longer, wanting to make sure you were going to be alright before he travelled home. He came by to see you most days and, slowly but surely, the tension seemed to ease between him and Billy, and they were able to stand each other enough to make small talk without either getting snippy.

Your heart was racing when the police arrived at the penthouse unexpectedly a week after you came home from hospital. Billy and Sam insisted that you weren’t ready to see them, that you were sleeping, but you managed to get yourself out of bed and made your way out of the bedroom.

The second you did, Billy was at your side, taking your arm.

“You don’t need to -”

“It’s okay, Billy. I’ll be fine,” you told him, letting him help you towards the sofa. “I need to tell the police that I’ve remembered what happened.”

Everyone, the police included, seemed a little taken aback by the comment, but no one tried to object. You sat, grimacing but trying not to let it show how sore you felt - the last thing you wanted was for Billy and Sam to worry about you. Before you started, Billy insisted on getting you something to drink, which in turn led to getting drinks for both of the officers, Sam, and himself.

The two officers sat opposite you, offering up their names and a few pleasantries before finally getting down to business.

“You said you’ve remembered what happened,” the younger of the two officers asked, a boyish looking man who had a friendlier face than his older partner, “would you be able to walk us through it, everything you remember from leaving Mexico right up to the incident?”

You nodded, discreetly trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Billy sat beside you and you soon had his hand in your own, held on your lap.

“We had an argument,” you glanced at Billy briefly, “Billy surprised me in Mexico and I thought - well, I thought he was there to propose to me,” at that Sam almost choked on his coffee, “but he wasn’t. It wasn’t a big argument, it was silly really, and I was embarrassed.”

Billy’s hand gave yours a gentle squeeze.

“I decided to come back to New York early because of it. I wanted to finish packing up my old apartment so we could move in here when Billy got back, and I wanted us to have a day or two apart so I could get over my embarrassment,” you shrugged uncomfortably but managed to force something of a smile to your face.

“I took a taxi home from the airport, had something to eat, then I was about to try to get a couple of hours sleep when someone knocked on the door,” your voice cracked. You tried to lean forward to grab your mug from the coffee table, but winced as pain lanced through your abdomen. 

“Here, sweetheart, let me,” Billy reached for your mug as you sat back and, when he handed it to you, you caught something almost helpless in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this now if you don’t feel up to it.”

“It’s fine. I want to tell them what happened,” you told him, taking a quick sip of your coffee before continuing. 

“You heard the knock...” the older officer prompted.

“I thought it was just a delivery or something for Tammy - Tammy was my roommate - but it wasn’t,” again your voice threatened to break. “It was my ex-boyfriend Scott Hendrix.”

“And did you talk to Mr Hendrix at all? Did he say anything to you before he shot you?” The younger officer asked, furiously scrawling in his notepad.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, feeling Billy’s hand twitch in yours. “He told me he wanted money, he said he owed someone money and he thought I owed him.”

“And why did he think that?” The older one asked.

“He blamed me for his life falling apart,” you gave another awkward shrug, trying to ignore the pain in your side. “He went to prison for a DUI after crashing his car with both of us in it, the judge gave him a harsher sentence because I was badly hurt but -”

“She wasn’t just hurt, he was trying to kill her,” interrupted Sam. “She wouldn’t testify because she was scared of him and his family.”

The officers looked at you and all you could do was nod to confirm the story. 

“He tried to kill me because I wanted to leave him; I’d had enough of the drinking and the drugs. So, when he showed up and demanded money, I knew that was what it was for. He got angry when I said no and pulled a gun,” you looked down for a moment at Billy’s hand in yours. “He told me they were gonna kill him if he didn’t get their money -”

“Did he say who they were?” The younger one interrupted.

“No, he just said he owed a lot of money and, he figured, because I was with Billy I could get it for him. I told him no and tried to close the door, that’s when he -” when your voice broke again, Billy decided to intervene.

“Is there anything else you need? She needs to rest,” he stated, his grip tightening but this time not loosening even a fraction.

“How did you get that bruise on your cheek, Mr Russo?” The older cop asked, eyeing Billy for a second.

“I gave him it,” Sam answered, reminding everyone that he was still in the room.

“And why was that?” Asked the older officer.

“Because my sister had just been shot and I was looking for someone to take my frustrations out on,” Sam shrugged.

There was a moment of silence as both officers glanced at each other, as if deciding what to say next.

“You should know that we found where Mr Hendrix was staying in the city, as well as recovering a gun - it’s being tested at the lab to see if it matches the weapon that was used to shoot you,” the older cop explained. “Mr Hendrix was nowhere to be found.”

“What do you mean nowhere to be found?” Asked Sam.

“You mean that prick is still out there?” Billy added. The pair of them deserved an Oscar nomination.

“There was evidence found at the scene to suggest that Mr Hendrix had been badly injured, though we won’t know for sure until we hear back from the lab but, I can give you my assurances that the NYPD are looking for him.” The younger cop told you, offering a soft smile, as if he wanted to try and make you feel better about the thought that Scott could still be in the city.

“We’d offer to put a uniform on your door, but it seems like Mr Russo already has that covered,” added the older guy with a glance in Billy’s direction which, in turn, led to you looking at him.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Billy offered.

“Anyway,” started the older cop, draining his mug of coffee and placing it down before reaching into his jacket for his card, “I think we’ve got everything we need. If you remember anything else, my number is on the card. And if Mr Hendrix tries to contact you -”

“He’ll wish he didn’t,” Billy stated, letting go of your hand and getting to his feet. “We appreciate you stopping by, officers, but she really needs to rest now.”

The officers stood, muttering their goodbyes and telling you that you didn’t need to see them out, but that didn’t stop Billy from following them and making sure they got on the elevator.

“What the fuck that?” Sam asked around twenty seconds after the elevator doors had slid shut.

“What was what?” You asked, feigning ignorance.

“That - lying to the cops,” he sounded annoyed. “Have you got any idea how much trouble you’ll be in if they figure out you lied?”

“What was I supposed to do? Wait until they find something that might lead them back to Billy?”

“Sweetheart -” Billy tried to interrupt.

“No, you protected me, now I’m protecting you. Scott took enough from me, he’s not going to take you too, Billy. I won’t lose you,” you told him.

“You won’t, sweetheart, I promise you won’t,” he told you, sitting beside you and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

“We protect each other,” and that was how it was going to be from now on.

You felt a little better with each passing day but Billy continued to dote on you, barely leaving you alone for a moment, even after Sam had decided you were well enough for him to return to Connecticut. He did his work from home, hadn’t been to the office in over two weeks, but as much as you loved having him around, something was missing. 

Him.

All of him.

He was treating you like some fragile thing with delicate touches and the sort of softness that felt like he was barely there at all. Of course, you understood he was being careful because he loved you, because he didn’t want to risk hurting you or causing you any sort of pain, but you knew it wasn’t doing either of you any good. He sated some of your longings with his fingers, and you’d given him more handjobs in the last few weeks than you had in almost eight months of being together, but you needed more.

You both had needs, but you were coming to realise that Billy wasn’t going to be the first to act, so you decided to take the initiative. You slipped out of the bedroom in nothing but a silk robe, finding him on the sofa. His eyes followed you as you approached and grew wider as you dropped the robe to the floor and climbed onto his lap.

Before he could even think to question you, you were kissing him desperately, pressing yourself against him and slowly starting to rock your hips. Billy easily lost himself to you for a few wonderful minutes and you felt him start to grow hard in his pants, but it didn’t last.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered against your lips, sighing but not pulling back. 

“Then be gentle,” you retorted before capturing his lips again.

For a few moments he was content to kiss you, his hands running up your bare thighs to your hips, then your waist, but the feel of the dressing over your injury caused him to pull back again.

“I - I don’t know if I can be gentle.”

“You can,” you told him softly. “I don’t want you to fuck me, Billy, I want to make love.”

His breath caught and, for a few seconds, all he could do was stare at you awkwardly, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what you were asking him for, like something about your suggestion worried him. Your hand found his cheek, and you held his gaze.

“I don’t -”

“You do,” you told him softly, reassuringly, before taking his hand and slowly getting to your feet.

Billy rose slowly and let you lead him to the bedroom, where you slowly undressed him, running your hands over every inch of skin that you exposed. Once he was naked, his fingers lifted your chin and he just stared at you for a moment before, finally, kissing you. He held you close and carefully moved you onto the bed, placing himself on top of you, keeping his weight on his arms at your side.

Hesitation was etched on his features as he broke the kiss and stared down at you.

“You won’t hurt me,” you told him. “I trust you, Billy.”

His hips lowered and you felt the tip of his cock graze your clit and, after weeks of nothing but his hand between your legs, it made you shiver. He hesitated for a few seconds, but the moment he was pressed against you, the moment he could feel how wet you already were, he knew he couldn’t stop.

A long, relieved exhale escaped you as he finally started to move. The feeling of his cock pressing into you after so many weeks without it felt heavenly, and Billy’s soft groan told you he felt the exact same way. He moved so slowly that you could feel every inch as he filled you, and once you’d taken him all, he lingered long enough that you could feel him throbbing inside you.

Any discomfort you felt was forgotten the moment his hips started to draw back, your body already trembling beneath him.

“Billy -” you moaned, your fingertips pressing into his back.

Once he was certain that you weren’t in any sort of pain, he started to move with a little more purpose, not in his usual fast or rough way, but in a way that let you experience every single sensation.

“I love you,” he muttered breathlessly against your ear, lingering there and letting you feel every shallow breath against your skin, hearing every time his breath caught and every little groan.

“I love you too, Billy,” you moaned, angling your head so you could capture his lips in a kiss.

Your moans got louder, swallowed by Billy’s lips. Everything about it was perfect, everything was Billy. Fingers slipped into his hair and you heard him groan his approval, his lips pulling into a smile against yours.

“Mine,” you told him when your lips finally parted.

“Yours. Always,” he told you. “You feel so good...”

“So do you,” you moaned as he filled you again, your walls trembling and squeezing around him the closer you got to climaxing. 

It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, a level of connection with him that made you feel like nothing existed outside of you and him and the moment you were sharing. His movements got a little faster the closer you got and, from his barely restrained groans, you could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer either.

You moaned his name as you came, your whole body shivering with a pleasure you didn’t even know how to completely process. A few seconds later, he was following, twitching inside you as he emptied himself.

“Fuck -” he grunted, the movements of his hips turning awkward before finally stilling.

He leaned, his forehead against your and his eyes shut tight. You ran your fingers through sweat-damp hair, smiling and waiting for him to open his eyes. When he did, you could tell he was at a loss for words.

“That was amazing,” you decided to break the silence.

“I love you,” was how he chose to respond, pressing his lips to yours in a brief but wonderful kiss.

The room was slowly turning dark around you and, as much as you’d wanted everything that had happened, you felt exhausted. Billy slowly pulled out and moved to lay beside you, gathering you in his arms so you could rest your head on his chest while his hand gently stroked your hair.

Your eyes closed and you let out a slow breath as everything turned still and silent around you. Minutes ticked by, the steady drumming of his heartbeat almost lulling you to sleep. His hand in your hair had fallen still and you assumed that he’d fallen asleep. Everything about the moment was perfect, it was how you wanted to spend the rest of your life.

Then you heard it.

“Marry me,” he whispered softly. 

It sounded like he was testing the words, like he was trying them out to see how they sounded. You wanted to answer him, but the words wouldn’t come; he wasn’t asking, not really, he thought you were sleeping. So, you kept your eyes closed and, eventually, drifted off to sleep.

The next morning you woke to find Billy in an infectiously happy mood - obviously he’d needed last night just as much as you had. He made you breakfast in bed before surprising you and telling you that he was finally going to go back to the office. It felt like everything was going back to how it should be; you were feeling much better, he was going back to work, and in a week you’d be starting your job with The Bulletin. It was perfect. 

Billy left for work and you spent the day relaxing with a book, before throwing together a casserole in the kitchen for the pair of you to have for dinner - as much as you’d been enjoying Billy taking care of dinner since you’d gotten home, you were starting to get bored of take out. Once everything was ready, you returned to the armchair in the bedroom, alternating between reading your book and watching the sun set over the city.

He was later than expected getting home and, when you heard the elevator, you expected him to call out. Instead there was silence. It was enough to have you anxiously getting up from your chair and heading out to see why he was being so quiet.

You found him standing awkwardly, looking at the floor, a serious expression on his face. Your heart skipped a beat and dread started to coil in your stomach.

“Billy, what’s wrong?” You dared to ask, making your way towards him.

The suddenness of your voice startled him, and he looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

“Nothing,” he managed in the most unconvincing tone, making you panic even more.

“Is it Scott? Did the police find something?” You stopped in front of him, worry written across your face.

“No, it’s not -” he looked at you for a moment before forcing a breath. “It’s not that. It’s - I need to ask you something.”

Your heart stuttered, remembering his whispered question the night before, and all you could do was nod, not knowing what you could possibly say. Billy took a moment and, for a second, you thought you could see fear in his eyes, like he was scared about what was about to happen.

“I know we haven’t known each other very long,” he started, his eyes fixed on yours, “but this last few weeks has shown me that I can’t go back to living without you. I don’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Despite his obvious nervousness, you felt your lips pulling into a smile as tears started to well in the corners of your eyes.

“I love you,” he continued, “more than I thought I’d ever be able to love anyone, and that’s never gonna change.” 

Your heart almost stopped when he slowly got down on one knee and pulled a ring box from his pocket. His trembling hands opened the lid to reveal the ring inside; simple, delicate and elegant. Perfect.

“I know I fuck up sometimes and I piss you off, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy,” he looked up at you expectantly, even though he hadn’t actually asked.

Wiping your eyes, you smiled down at him. “Ask me the question, Billy.”

“Sweetheart, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” the word was instant, not even needing to think about it or consider any of it. Maybe it was crazy, but you’d been through more with Billy in the last eight months than most couples went through in a lifetime.

“Really?” His question, the confusion and relief in his voice, was enough to have you dropping to your knees in front of him, taking his face between your hands.

“Yes, Billy.” You told him again. “I will marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

His hand took yours, sliding the ring onto your finger. A perfect fit. You leaned forward to kiss him, tears of joy streaming down your face.

“I love you,” he told you softly. “We don’t have to marry straight away, we can have a long engagement, we can do whatever -”

You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Take me to bed, Billy.”

A blink of an eye later and you were on your back in bed, Billy’s greedy lips and tongue on your pussy, driving you insane. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you could see the diamond ring every time you looked down at him. Crying out as sank his fingers inside you, and trembling as he sucked your clit. Even though Billy tried to take things slow, with teasing and measured movements, it had been so long since he’d gone down on you that you came after only a few minutes.

He lifted his head and smiled up at you, his lips and chin glistening, though he seemed hesitant and you could guess why.

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m okay,” you warned playfully. “Just get up here and fuck me.”

Billy didn’t need to be told twice. He moved up your body like a predator and, when you reached for him, you could feel his taut muscles beneath your hands. God, you wanted him. You’d never stop wanting him. And just one look from him told you that he felt the same. 

He kissed you as he slid inside you, and you held him tight, moaning against his lips. When hips started to move, you could tell that he was still holding back. You moved beneath him, meeting his thrusts, silently begging him for more with every shift of your hips.

“Billy -” you moaned against his lips, you fingers curling in his hair again, “- I said fuck me.”

He started to move a little faster, sinking himself deeper with every stroke, his cock filling you in a way it hadn’t for weeks.

“Such a needy little pussy,” he muttered against your lips. “It’s all mine now.” 

His lips moved to your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin, driving you wild. And still - still you wanted more. Everything. You could hear him muttering and grunting against your neck, the word ‘mine’ leaving his lips, over and over. 

“I’m yours, Billy,” you moaned breathlessly, “forever.”

You pulled at his hair, causing him to lift his head from your neck so you could kiss him as you came for him, moaning into his mouth as your wall clenched around him. It was enough to drive Billy over the edge and soon you felt the steady pulse of his cock as he filled you.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned as he came, holding him tight as he stilled deep inside of you.

“I love you,” he told you between panted breaths, lingering inside you long after he’d finished, not wanting to sever your connection. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Epilogue

END NOTES :  I don't know what to say. Honestly. When I started this I expected maybe three of four people might take an interest but I've honestly been overwhelmed by all the likes, the reblogs, and the comments; it's really made this a joy to write. While this is the lat main chapter of the story, I will be posting an epilogue next week and, in future, I might do some one shots with with reader and Billy. But, ultimately, after everything I wanted them to have a nice, happy ending and I hope you all enjoy that.

Thank you so so much for for those who have been following for the last five months! ... I know, it really has been five months and my mind is blown. This is the longest, consistent writing project I've ever undertaken - for context, altogether, this fic is about 110000 words and 220 doc pages, which just sounds insane.

ANYWAY. I'm rambling. Tune in next week for the epilogue. And thank you again, whether you like/comment/reblog or just read along every week. You all made this such a wonderful and fun experience for me!! I will have a little update next week after the epilogue when I decide what I'm going to do next on this blog. Have a great weekend!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it’s not working for everyone - if it’s not working and you don’t want to miss a chapter, I post every Friday around 7:30pm gmt)

TAG LIST

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[adore-laur]

HIM

— a flashback of the moment sawyer realized she was in love with harry 🩶

——

Sawyer, a devoted hopeless romantic and lover of stories intertwined with strings of fate, knew Harry was her lifelong companion in May of 1989.

In a way, she felt guilty about it. She was already in a relationship with Jordan, a man she settled for and could be comfortably mundane around. There weren't fireworks shooting off in her heart every time she was with her boyfriend, but she was enticed by his mellow demeanor and how he bragged about her beauty to his friends. At the end of the day, she was loyal to him over everyone else until a puppeteer called Fate played with the strings of Sawyer's life path and made things a bit complicated.

Enter: Harry. There was no need to retell the tale of how fate had brought the two of them together in the form of a volleyball. That day had just been the beginning of Sawyer's world tipping on its axis because with someone like Harry—charming, chivalrous, and exuberant—the more time she spent with him, the harder it became to vanquish certain feelings.

After almost two years of friendship, Sawyer began to experience funny little pulses of attraction toward him. They started in her heart—if he had simply walked into a room, hugged her hello, or smiled in her direction, it was as if someone was rapidly poking her heart while chanting, him, him, him. Then her gut joined the party. Giddy flutters and delicious swirls of temptation danced around whenever Harry touched her. Ever the gentleman, the touches were always innocent—a heavy palm on her shoulder, a teasing noogie on the top of her head, and sometimes a comforting kiss on her cheek when their otherwise lighthearted conversations turned serious.

It became dangerous when those sensations traveled even lower. When Sawyer started to feel pulses in places that should never be elicited by a friend, she knew she had to draw a boundary line and slap herself upside the head.

Yet in those vulnerable moments, a problematic thought circled her brain. Could she possibly be in love with two people at the same time? Was what she felt with Jordan even considered love? He never called her on the landline and talked to her for hours like Harry did. He never surprised her with trips to the mall or a movie night. He rarely asked her questions about herself. Had her idea of true love been skewed all along? Or was she a terrible person for liking Harry more than anyone else?

A single day in May had given her clarity. It all started with a sprained ankle and an almost-kiss in a hospital bed.

——

Sawyer was beginning to believe playing volleyball on Cocoa Beach was a cursed activity. Something always went awry when she stepped foot on the silky sand and ducked under the net to get in her designated setter position.

Maybe it was because the usual participants forwent the standard girls versus boys system and opted for teams based on nothing other than the order of arrival. It was two p.m. when Sawyer was dropped off at the beach by Harry before he headed to baseball practice. She was immediately placed on a team with four boys and one other girl around the same age. They were large men with linebacker shoulders and bulging biceps. Probably jocks, considering how they grunted and slapped each other's butts and heads whenever they scored.

Sometime during the second round, Sawyer prepared to set the volleyball for the man beside her to spike over the net. She bent her knees and elbows while watching the ball soar on a perfect path toward her. The man, without warning or team communication, flung his body into her to reach the ball first, just like any egotistical male playing a competitive game often did.

Suddenly off balance, Sawyer felt her left ankle twist in the wrong direction as the man finished his fall against her, knocking her to the ground. Their collective tumble was cushioned by soft grains of sand, but it still stunned her as the weight of a sweaty, six-foot body rolled off her.

"Sorry about that," he said, dusting his hands off and casually walking away like he hadn't body-slammed her into another dimension.

"Jerk," Sawyer mumbled. She inhaled shallow breaths and winced when she moved her ankle, the pain registering fully. The twinge was sharp, and she instantly knew she had done something to it. Or, rather, the man did. Was volleyball really that serious to him? Had he even noticed her standing there, ready to assist him like the good teammate she was? Ugh, boys and their lack of spatial awareness.

The girl on her team raced over, with a lifeguard following closely behind. "Are you hurt?" she asked in a Southern drawl.

Tears brimmed Sawyer's waterline. "I twisted my ankle," she said uneasily, reaching out to touch it. The skin was tender and swelling already.

The lifeguard kneeled and examined her with cerulean irises. He looked like a teenager, with lanky arms and a bright red whistle lying against his freckled chest. "Can you move it at all?"

"No," she whimpered, her voice thick with fear.

"Yikes. I'll call an ambulance."

She shook her head vehemently. "That's very kind of you, but I think I'd feel more comfortable being driven by someone else." It was not a total lie, but the actual reasoning behind her answer had to do with the fact that an ambulance ride was a cost she could not afford. The dent it would create in her unimpressive savings account made her nauseated.

"Sure," said the lifeguard. "Is there someone in particular we can call for you?"

Sawyer closed her eyes against the blinding sun. Harry. A rush of relief accompanied his name. She needed him. When she called, he always came. The pain would fade within a single second of basking in his sunshine.

But when Sawyer's eyes opened, logic pounded her brain and took charge. "Jordan. Um, he's my boyfriend. I'd like to speak with him myself if that's possible."

The lifeguard shrugged. "I guess we can allow that. We'll have to carry you to the community center, though."

"That's fine."

The girl and the lifeguard lifted her carefully and walked toward the little brick building by the beach's parking lot. It was quite humiliating. In a private office area, they set her down on a metal chair. There was a bureaucratic desk with paperwork, nondescript folders, one too many succulent plants, and other miscellaneous office supplies scattered on the sleek mahogany surface. Unfortunately, the room smelled like mildew and rotten banana peels. The noisy air conditioning unit rattling in the corner made it waft around rather unpleasantly.

After offering her an ice pack and pointing at an outdated telephone system, the lifeguard lingered by the door. "You can hang in here until you get picked up." He smiled awkwardly. "Hope you feel better."

"Thanks."

The girl beside him cleared her throat and said, "The guy who knocked you down is my brother. I'll make sure to kick his ass later."

Sawyer only managed to laugh weakly before they both left, the creaky door shutting behind them.

With an exaggerated groan, Sawyer picked up the phone and dialed Jordan's number. Hopefully, he had his Motorola on him, but an awful part of her secretly wished he wouldn't answer. She hoped she would have no choice but to try her second option. God, she hoped Harry would barge into the room, demand who caused her such pain, and then kiss her ankle better. And then he would kiss—

"Sawyerrrrr. Why're you bugging me?" The slurred greeting obnoxiously sounded against her ear. Lively chatter was heard in the background, and a phantom smell of beer made her crinkle her nose. She had encouraged him to hang out with his friends from college. Apparently, day drinking was their idea of fun. Jordan had asked her if she wanted to come with her, but she said she would rather be outside soaking up the May sun than inside a dark, stuffy bar. He didn't seem to care.

"Hey, Jordan. Are you able to pick me up from Cocoa Beach?"

"What, right now? I'm not even in Orlando, babe."

Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she asked, "Where are you?"

"Uh, I think we're in..." he trailed off before yelling, "Yo, Tanner! Where are we?" A few seconds of deep, unintelligible voices boomed before he said, "We're in Zellwood."

Great. He was over thirty minutes away. There was absolutely no way he would drive back to Orlando through early summer traffic. Plus, he sounded hammered. Double whammy.

"Okay," Sawyer whispered, knowing her voice would crack if she spoke any louder. "Never mind. Have fun."

Jordan tutted. "You miss me, dollface? Is that why you're calling?"

"You caught me," she lied, trying her best to sound lovesick. "But I'll see you tonight, right?"

"Maybe," he said distractedly. "We might go to Daniel's party later and crash at his place."

She racked her brain for any recollection of Daniel. Nope, nothing. "Sure, that's cool with me."

"Good," he replied, like her answer was the only one he would accept. "We're starting another round of beer pong, so I gotta bounce."

If Sawyer mentioned her ankle, there would be a pointless argument about the situation. She could predict it: You have to pay attention to your surroundings, Sawyer. Don't let men push you around, Sawyer.

So, she didn't. Slouching in the rigid chair, she released a long, anxious breath and said, "Bye, J."

"Adios!"

She rammed the phone into the cradle and pressed the heels of her palms against her forehead. She glared at the square buttons, her eyes darting around the numbers in the order of a phone number she knew by heart. There was no way she would bother him. There had to be another option, but regrettably, her parents worked an hour outside the city, and she honestly couldn't remember any of her friend's numbers off the top of her head.

Her ankle throbbed with agonizing heat, and the increased blood flow was circulating there with heavy pressure. Whimpering, she quickly picked up the phone again and pressed the ten digits. She had false hope that Harry would answer, considering he was occupied with practice and most likely didn't have his bag phone near him.

As Sawyer twisted the spiral cord around her pointer finger, the line rang monotonously. Three times, four times, five... When an automated voice directed her to leave a voicemail, she felt tears fall to her chin. She just wanted to go home, shower, crawl under cold sheets, and curl up next to Harry while he iced her ankle and played with her hair until she fell asleep in his embrace.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself. The last resort was calling for an ambulance, but she really didn't want to sit in the back of a scary vehicle surrounded by strangers.

In a sudden moment of desperation, Sawyer searched the room for a phone book, all while hopping on one foot. After opening and shutting several filing cabinet drawers, she finally found one and flipped through the thin yellow pages until she landed on the "T" section. Her gaze slid down the directory before stopping at Tinker Field.

She dialed the venue's number and patiently waited while sitting down again, the cool metal of the chair washing over the back of her thighs. She was still in her bikini, and she was getting sand all over the floor. She was a hot mess.

"Hello, this is Kathy at the Tinker Field Ticket Office," said a cheerful voice on the other line. "How may I help you today?"

"Hi, my name is Sawyer Clemente. I was wondering if you could get Harry Styles on the phone, please. He pitches for the SunRays, and he's at practice right now on the field. He's my friend, and... I'm having a little emergency. I need his help."

"Oh, dear," Kathy replied with genuine concern. "Well, the team is quite busy practicing, but I can try my best to reach him. I can give you a call back and let you know. You said your name is Sawyer?"

"Yes. But if he's too busy, don't bother." She looked down at her ankle, grateful it still had all its bones intact. "Tell him it's not a matter of life or death."

"No problem, sweetheart. I'm going to put you on hold and then get back to you shortly."

"Thank you so much." Insufferable hold music played, adding more misery to the pain in her ankle. The skin was even more swollen, and a purple bruise stained her protruded ankle bone. The ice pack was barely numbing it.

Sawyer thought back to when her volleyball serve had knocked Harry to the ground two years ago. She had been so worried, but he took it like a champ and dazzled her with the brightest smile she had ever seen. He had made her blush within five minutes of meeting him—it was an effect he had on every woman, but he always brushed their attention off like an insignificant piece of lint. No one could quite capture his attention for long enough, and she was unsure why he had chosen to stick with her in particular.

While Harry was easily distracted by the world around him, Sawyer never had to beg for his attention. Whenever they were together, he devoted his time and energy to their plans—relaxing beach days, goofing around at an arcade, cracking up over episodes of Whose Line Is It Anyway?, and relishing whatever other random activities Harry hatched in that spontaneous brain of his.

Jordan, on the other end of the personality spectrum, was too busy with work or partying to spend much one-on-one time with her. When they did, she was usually dragged along to some unfamiliar bar or frat house filled with strangers who reeked of alcohol. Despite being jaded by all the tagalongs, she dealt with it because it made Jordan happy. And, in a twisted way, it meant she could see Harry the following day while Jordan recovered from a hangover that left him bedridden and chronically cranky.

Debilitating guilt consumed her whenever she compared the two men. There was a clear difference between the two—boyfriend and boy friend. If the line began to blur, she would have to...

Her cerebral spiral was thwarted when the hold music abruptly stopped mid-saxophone solo. Kathy's kind voice returned. "All right, I have your friend here on the—" Muffled static interfered, causing Sawyer to perk up in concern.

"Sawyer?" Harry interrupted, out of breath and panicked. She could picture him sweaty, tanned, and tired from practicing in the humid Florida air. "What's going on, angel? Tell me what's the matter."

Her face crumpled with sweet relief. Hearing her favorite voice made more pathetic tears trail down her cheeks as she said, "When I was playing volleyball, some guy bumped into me and knocked me over. I'm pretty sure I sprained my ankle." She combed her fingers through her frizzy, sun-warmed hair, finally able to breathe a little easier. "I need someone to drive me to the hospital." And the universe wants it to be you.

"Fuck, okay," he said frantically. "Where are you? I'll come get you right now."

She sniffled. "Aren't you tied up with practice?"

"Sawyer, where are you?" he repeated more firmly. Her attempt at being reasonable died a quick death.

"Um, you know that dingy community center right on Cocoa Beach? I'm in an office room there."

"Isn't that place haunted?" he asked. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. I'll be there in ten. Hang tight."

"Harry—" The line went dead, and Sawyer blankly stared at the wall covered with flyers and corkboards. As much as she felt culpable for stealing him from a cardinal moment in his new career, a small, grateful smile tugged at her lips.

Deep in her soul, she had known he would drop everything for her. He always did.

——

The door opened, revealing a curly head of hair and gentle, curious eyes that were the shade of sage in bloom. Harry slowly walked into the room and assessed her predicament. He wore a baseball uniform she hadn't seen him in yet—he had been recently drafted to the rebranded Orlando minor league team. Blue and white striped pants with a jersey of similar colors tucked into the waistband caught Sawyer's attention first. The garments hugged his frame well. The body he maintained when he was nineteen had changed slightly. Thicker biceps strained against the sleeves of any shirt he wore due to strength training. Same with his thighs...

Get a grip! She mentally scolded herself before her imagination dove into treacherous waters.

"Sawyer," Harry whispered, solace rasping his voice. "Where's your towel? Aren't you freezing in here?"

She had been so stressed that the constant goosebumps rising across her skin went completely unnoticed by her. "I don't know," she whined. "Just get me out of here, please."

Harry reached his hand around the back of his neck and tugged his shirt off. Sawyer almost gasped but was relieved when she saw he had a white tank top underneath. She went to grab it, realizing her nipples were noticeably pebbled, but Harry insisted on pulling it over her head.

"Sorry it smells grody," he said, "but I'm not letting you enter the hospital in just a bikini."

"It's okay. It smells better than whatever died in this room."

Harry grinned at her, his eyes sparkling like those of a cartoon character. He laughed quietly before giving her a noogie and crouching to look at her ankle. "Looks like someone took volleyball a little too seriously."

"It wasn't me," she said defensively. "You should've seen the dude—he was massive."

"Well, then you're lucky he didn't break twenty of your bones." His expression turned serious. "Kathy had me worried when she said you were having an emergency."

"What did you think happened?"

"Well, my first instinct was that you left your curling iron plugged in and your house went up in flames."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But you getting hurt is somehow worse."

Sawyer pouted her lips, and Harry's rapt gaze briefly locked on them. Before she could figure out why her heart fluttered at the subtle motion, he lifted her in his arms, bridal style, and carried her out the door. The hem of his shirt draped down to her knees as she rested her cheek against the beautiful column of his neck, breathing in his natural masculine scent. Summer. Pines. Home. Instantly, a sense of safety covered her like a treasured childhood blanket.

Before long, she was gently set in the passenger seat of Harry's Audi. He got behind the wheel and patted his lap. "You need to elevate your ankle," he said while starting the engine.

She awkwardly shifted and laid her ankle on his sturdy thigh. He repositioned the ice pack, which was stolen property now, and steadily looked over at her. "You okay?" he asked, his smooth palm curving around her shin.

She blinked back tears and murmured, "Yes. Thank you for getting me. I'm sorry for cutting your practice short, but I tried calling..." She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head dismissively.

"Who did you try calling?"

Sighing, Sawyer peered out the open window and watched the glimmering teal ocean become more distant. "Jordan, but he was busy."

A stretch of silence hung thickly in the car. Sawyer distracted herself by grabbing the small bag of chips on the console and ripping it open. Harry always kept food stored in his car for both him and her. She munched on a few, waiting for a snide response. Jordan was always a sore subject, which was why she often refrained from bringing up his wrongdoings. Too late now.

"Yeah? Busy doing what?" Harry flipped the sunvisor down, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. "Being too much of an asshole to care that his girlfriend is injured?" He muttered the last part bitterly, probably hoping the wind would carry his words away and sock Jordan right in the jaw.

"No, he... I told him he could hang out with his college friends today, so he's been bar-hopping since noon." Sawyer groaned, realizing defending him wasn't helping her case. "He's drunk, okay?"

And Harry left in the middle of his first minor league practice for you, she thought to herself. He was the one you thought of first when the lifeguard asked who to call.

Harry looked about two seconds away from blowing a gasket as his hand squeezed the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. "Interesting," he said in a flat tone that pushed her over the edge.

"Don't even start. Jordan had a valid excuse."

"Sure, but he didn't want to go to the beach with you? Why would he pass that up?"

"Stop." A burst of anger flared in her chest. 

"No, please tell me why your boyfriend chose to spend another one of his days off at a bar instead of with you. Entertain me, Sawyer. Is there something I'm missing? Because—"

"Knock it off!" Overwhelming emotions tightened her throat, and she took a moment to regain control of them. "You're better off pretending he doesn't exist when we're together."

Harry pressed on the brakes roughly, and Sawyer thought he was going to pull over. He eventually accelerated to the speed limit again with nothing but a clenched jaw and a cold demeanor. She hadn't meant to dim his sunshine.

After a minute passed, he said, "Don't put that thought in my head" before turning on the radio.

The rest of the drive to the hospital was as tense as her sprained ligaments.

——

In the hospital bed, Sawyer drifted in and out of consciousness. The nurse had taken X-rays and wrapped her ankle with an elasticized bandage. The good news was that it was only a minor sprain with no tearing. A couple of weeks of resting and icing the area would help her fully recover.

Her ankle was propped on a stack of three pillows with a cold compress lying dormant on it. She was allowed to be discharged after fifteen more minutes of ice treatment. In the corner of the room, a NBA game was playing on the TV. The early evening sky was gloomy past the large windows—they were designed not to be opened, leaving her to inhale stuffy and sterile air.

Harry was sitting in a chair butted up right beside the bed with a metaphorical storm cloud looming above his head. The brief argument in the car had escalated far beyond normal. The discomfort she was in had caused her to get defensive. Harry, though, got accusatory for whatever reason. There was just something about Jordan that rubbed him the wrong way.

Sawyer would have felt weird gossiping about boyfriend problems with Harry—that was more reserved for girl talk. But time and time again, Jordan's name managed to slip into their conversations with no precedent. She was a failing mediator, and she hated feeling like the referee of an endless tug-of-war match, each boy vying for her heart. Platonic versus romantic, of course. No winner would be crowned.

"Harry," Sawyer said, "are you mad at me?"

His eyes tracked the fast-paced basketball game on the small, fuzzy TV screen. "No," he said mildly.

"Okay." She twiddled her thumbs and sighed loudly. "Can we go home now?"

"No." The restless bounce of his leg contradicted his supposed nonchalance. "Ten more minutes."

"Can I try to change your mind?"

"No."

Sawyer huffed and squirmed on the rock-hard mattress, dearly missing her comfy twin bed with its puffy pink duvet. "Can I have a hug?" she asked, softening her voice.

Harry finally glanced over at her, albeit suspiciously. "Do you really need one? Are you going to use your brown-eye sorcery to persuade me?"

She stretched his shirt over her bare knees and rested her chin between them. Purposefully widening her eyes, she said, "Yes to both."

He hummed, stood, and invaded her space with a warmth that temporarily soothed her pain. His arms wrapped around her as he snuggled close on the one-person bed. "Better?"

"Much." Sawyer placed her head on his shoulder and asked, "How was practice?"

"The whole hour I was there?" he replied teasingly. Sawyer grumbled in good nature, and he laughed fondly. "I'm kidding—it was great. I felt right at home."

"I'm proud of you, sunray."

With his brows furrowed, Harry smiled down at her. Those lovely dimples begged to be kissed. "Sunray? That's a first."

A bashful blush heated her cheeks. Sometimes she said things around him without thinking about their implications. "Well, you play for the SunRays now," she said quietly, her nose mere centimeters from his. "And... you make the dreary days a lot brighter."

Harry's lips parted, but no sound poured past them. Riveted eyes danced over her face, and his pupils dilated like a drop of black ink in water. "You're my best friend," he said, absentmindedly rubbing a golden strand of her hair between his fingers. "I would do anything for you."

But would you kiss me if I asked you to?

Sawyer slid her palm up his chest and cupped his stubbled jaw. Their calm breaths mingled, and she let the sweet scent of bubblegum swirl around her hazy mind. She was sleepy, and her desire to capture and caress his pillowy bottom lip wasn't making any sense. Strange feelings blossomed in her stomach when she looked at him—a wild garden of serenity, obsession, and... love. But not the love she usually felt for him. This was a revelation made known by her rapid heartbeat and his strong, familiar body pressed against her.

The pad of her thumb pressed against the corner of his pretty mouth. One inch forward, and she could change the course of her life. What sensual sounds would he make? Would he sigh into the kiss, knowing it was wrong, or would he inhale her soul and ruin everyone else for her? Even entertaining her fantasies felt like cheating. They were just silly thoughts elicited by exhaustion and pain medication. She would never gamble with someone's heart while betraying another.

"Sawyer, I—"

"Miss Clemente? You're all set to go home now." A nurse appeared in the room, unknowingly interrupting their private moment.

Inhaling a tiny gasp, Sawyer decided to kiss Harry's cheek to eliminate any awkwardness, making it seem like that had been her plan all along. Just a chaste, friendly kiss on the cheek with no romantic intentions behind it at all. There was only a rousing physical response when she pulled away that she would suppress, like every other time she touched him.

When Harry carried her to his car again, she stared at his hand, which held her thighs up with a tight, protective grip. He took care of her without needing a reason to. He made her forget about the pain just by gracing her with his lucent presence. He was doing every tender thing her boyfriend should have done.

Sawyer yearned for Harry, and while exhilaration ignited in her veins at the fact, she knew she was in deep trouble.

It was him she was in love with.

——

[delirious-donna]

Turning The Tables [Gojo Satoru]

Oct. 22 - Gojo Satoru x female reader

A kinky present bought as a joke shift into a weapon when you turn the tables and tie the most powerful sorcerer in the world to your headboard. Gojo Satoru at your mercy? Better make the most of it!

warnings: use of handcuffs, being restrained, subby Gojo, handjobs, blowjobs, spit, teasing, assertive reader, implied orgasm denial

Masterlist

What a lucky girl you were, a downright blessed girl if you were truly honest.

Who else could claim such a sight that was afforded to your gaze? A view that many would kill for, and you couldn’t blame them.

Snowy hair, the purest of white against black silk pillows, fell effortlessly into celestial blue eyes. Eyes that watched you warily, widened more than was the norm and the faintest pink hue to dust his highly sculpted cheekbones. Lips, slick from the fervent swipe of a wet tongue and swollen from kisses.

His god-like upper torso was bare except for the sleeves of his charcoal grey shirt, the buttons of which were scattered across the bed. Strong arms strained against the expensive fabric, the bulge of his biceps and triceps a delectable sight, but not as much as the silver cuffs that secured him to the headboard.

Gojo Satoru, the most powerful sorcerer in the world. The first person to inherit both the Limitless and the Six Eyes in four centuries, and he was shackled to the bed and was at your mercy - count your blessings - but how had it come to this?

~

It had started as a joke, a present bought by your partner of many years to make you blush and giggle.

Gojo had admitted that he couldn’t resist the purchase, eyeing you with salacious intent as he met your shocked stare. The silver handcuffs dangled from your finger as you confronted him in the living room.

Rather than turn around and face you, his neck hung over the edge of the expansive couch. Satoru had fixed you with an impish grin, his snowy eyebrows writhing like two little white caterpillars as you stared at him slack-jawed.

“Thought you’d look so pretty with these on… all soft moans and fluttering lashes while you’re restrained and under my control.”

His smile widened into a smirk, a dimple appearing on his cheek and you had narrowed your gaze on him with thoughts hurtling through your mind at a hundred miles an hour.

Thought it would be pretty, huh?

Me begging? How about him begging for once…

Tie him up and see how he likes it.

The trap was set; you hollered for him from the bedroom doorway and watched in utter glee as he tripped over his own feet when he caught sight of you.

Dressed in one of the many shirts he had for work, the buttons only half done up, and with enough cleavage to turn the poor man into a sticky puddle of saliva, you beckoned him closer with a crooked finger.

You were on him quicker than flies round honey, twisting yourself into his open arms and letting him bear your weight. Sliding your hands into his lush winter’s forest of hair, you spread wet kisses against his jaw and felt the tic beat beneath the surface.

It was working so far, he hadn’t questioned where this passion came from, although it wasn’t unknown for you to initiate from time to time. Satoru was far too focused on admiring your breasts, a tit man through and through, he strummed your pebbled nipples through the stiff fabric of his shirt.

“Bed… now.”

His feet were carrying you towards the opulent bed that dominated your bedroom, clinging to Satoru as his knee found the mattress and he was crawling atop it. He tasted like smoky whisky, the flavour of his evening drink provoking your boldness further.

Satoru growled, a quiet rumble in his throat as you tugged aggressively at his hair and forced him to lie on the bed. You were everywhere, all at once, and lost to an erratic demand to claw at his clothes.

The pop of buttons forced his grip on your waist to shift, fingers sinking into your soft flesh and you pulled them away with a huff. Flinging them above his head, he stared at you with shocked eyes. The endless stars within his celestial irises twinkled in anticipation and curiosity.

He felt so perfect beneath your touch, the ripple of abdominals as a finger traced the definition, followed by your tongue that lashed at him mercilessly. All that power coiled and ready to strike, yet he was letting you take the reins and it was intoxicating.

Whether he truly knew what you planned, you’d never know, but there was no complaint to be heard whilst you bit at his nipples and drew slutty whimpers from him. When you reached his strong arms, his shirt thrown wide on the bed, you were like lightning—a hand slipping beneath the pillows and hooking the cuff around his right wrist and then the left.

“Oh, very funny babe. Is this your way at getting back at me? Gonna rile me up and leave me here to sulk?” he teased, testing the restraints that rounded a single sliver of the ornate headboard with a tug.

“Not at all, darling. I decided that your idea of begging and looking all pretty in these handcuffs was something I did want. But I wanted to see you wear them, and beg me for mercy,” you purred, leaning down to capture his earlobe with your teeth and pulling.

The hissed gasp forced your hips to grind down, your bare pussy seeking out the stiff ridges of Satoru’s strained erection to soothe the fire in your belly.

You feathered kisses against his cheeks and jaw, nipping at the slight hint of stubble and let your tongue explore the rough texture. The citrusy scent that permeated Gojo wrapped you in a cloud of desire. His lips were the softest pillows, velvet rubbed and so eager to return the messy affection you heaped upon him. Head lifting from the pillow to chase your retreating face.

The pout that sat on his ruby red and swollen lips was beyond adorable, eyes glazed and a soft hum escaped your mouth.

“My pretty boy, look at how handsome you are,” your finger walked down his throat, past the bob of his Adam’s apple, the hollow of his clavicle and danced over his sternum.

“I wanna see you,” he enthused, rattling the connecting chain keeping him prisoner, “please baby… look at me, I’m already begging like a dog!”

You pinched his cheeks, spread his lips apart and licked into the cavern of his mouth. Satoru’s knees arched up and provided you with back support as you rutted ruthlessly down on his hard cock.

Sitting back you palmed your breasts, the mounds heavy in your hands and thumbs grazing your stiff nipples. You unbuttoned the remaining buttons and let the shirt fall down your arms.

He jostled you upon his lap, and you tsked him with a frown coating your expression.

“Behave pretty boy or I won’t allow you to wrap your lips around these, like you’re clearly dying to.”

That was enough to silence him, sinking his gaze to your navel and a bead of sweat rolled from his temple. You were quick to rip at his pants and underwear, shoving them down his thighs enough to free his heavy cock. It smacked against his lithe stomach, thick pearls of precum slicking his skin and you licked your lips excitedly.

You let him watch, shifting to the side of his bound body to tug on his shaft, palm twisting atop his cockhead and collecting more silvery trails of lust that wept from his slit.

Bending your head, you licked slowly and moaned at the taste of him. The flavour was salty but not enough to make you wince, Satoru was your favoured sucker and your lips moulded to him perfectly.

Your rhythm was steady, the up and down of your head keeping a calm pace and it was nice not to have his hand forcing you to take him deeper for once. Satoru whined, his hips rolling up and your arm anchored over his waist to push him back down.

“More,” he asked.

Even chained up as he was, he dared to try to dictate your actions and you released his cock with a loud, wet ‘pop’. You fisted his length and gave a few especially harsh tugs until he was hissing and cursing under his breath.

“You wanna cum down my throat, pretty boy, hmm? I suggest you keep that mouth for your slutty moans only.”

It was such a beautiful sight, the frantic nodding of his head and the tight grip that his teeth had on his lip. You let a string of your saliva drop from your mouth to his twitching tip, fluttering your lashes whilst you worked the sticky fluid down his cock.

“Want me to gag on it, baby?”

He nodded, all lust-blown eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Then beg me. See if I have any mercy for you…”

[beardedmrbean]

Democratic Mayor Tiffany Henyard of the small Village of Dolton, Illinois, has made national headlines in recent weeks for being accused of weaponizing police in retaliatory business raids and spending taxpayer money on luxurious trips. Now she is facing investigation by the Dolton Trustees as well as the FBI.

In a special meeting Thursday night, a four-trustee majority "voted unanimously to call for an investigation into Henyard and what they say is the misuse of funds," FOX 32 reported. Dolton Trustees slammed the mayor for having "disgraced this entire village" and being a "stain on our community."

Earlier this week it was reported that the FBI is investigating the mayor, as six individuals have reportedly spoken to the agency about her alleged misconduct, including "business owners, a former village employee and one or more public officials." 

The self-proclaimed "Super Mayor," who insists "God chose me" and met with President Biden in January, has been said to engage in such wild antics it is like a "real life Parks and Rec situation." But her multitudes of alleged misdeeds could finally be catching up to her.

From first-class flights to Las Vegas to beauty vendors, Henyard is frequently called out by her colleagues for questionable spending of taxpayers' money, possibly for her own benefit. She makes $285,000 from her positions both as Dolton mayor and Thornton township supervisor.

READ ON THE FOX NEWS APP

Henyard reportedly has a $224,000 a year salary as township supervisor alone, but has put forth an ordinance to cut the salary of any non-incumbent supervisor to $25,000.

Municipal attorney Burt Odelson, said to represent Henyard's political opposition, condemned this as "so illegal in so many ways," telling FOX 32 such conduct "violates so many tenets of the law." 

Aside from her personal income, the way she allegedly uses the town’s money has been a consistent source of controversy. While Henyard has denied using village credit cards, WGN Investigates said it obtained copies of the township’s credit card statements indicating village officials spent more than $24,000 at restaurants during a 12-month span, as well as $3,741 just on Henyard taking a round trip flight to Las Vegas. 

Henyard is also well-known for using a makeup artist, hairdresser and stylist before public appearances and photoshoots. Residents complain she puts up town billboards to promote herself personally, and she has produced music videos that feature city workers, such as police dancing or boosting her image by being in the background as she lip-syncs songs. 

On Tuesday, a Dolton-based U-Haul rental and trucking business owner named Lawrence Gardner told FOX 32 he went to the FBI out of frustration that the Village of Dolton would not renew his business license. He claims he has suffered from harassment, a raid on his business and was shut down by Dolton police. Gardner believes it is retaliation after he refused to donate to a civic event sponsored by Henyard.

FOX 32 reported Wednesday that multiple bars in the town were raided by police the day after the news team visited the businesses amid allegations their licenses were being held up for political reasons. The raids reportedly occurred mere hours after FOX 32’s report about the alleged FBI investigation into Henyard’s conduct was released.  

Employees and owners of the bars reportedly claimed "it's part of an ongoing campaign of harassment by Dolton Mayor Tiffany Henyard" and that "Their business licenses have been stripped by Dolton, but they've continued to operate with a state license."

Tammie Brown, a Dolton Trustee, was quoted in the same report as saying the raids were a warning to other businesses, "I'm sure that they were asked to donate [to Henyard], make a donation, and most likely they didn't make a donation. So you don't get a chance to stay open if you don't pay the queen's ransom."

The Village of Dolton defended the legitimacy of the raids in a statement to FOX 32, arguing both businesses had their liquor licenses previously revoked, and had "a history of violent incidents."

In addition to the raids and music videos, Henyard's use of the police as her personal security has been a source of controversy as well. 

Henyard spends hundreds of thousands of taxpayer dollars on security, which effectively takes police officers off the streets who should be protecting the town, Dolton Trustee Brittney Norwood said.

"I think that she spends the money on security because she just loves it. She likes the thought of being surrounded by police officers. I think it makes her feel more important," Norwood said. "The police are simply working under her instructions, but it's also sad. It's sad because we need the police patrolling the streets, and they're with her instead."

Former Dolton Police Chief Robert Collins, who was fired by Henyard, also slammed the mayor for maintaining a security detail of "several officers" whom he argues could be out fighting crime, but are instead "sent out to run errands, do pick-ups, do drop-offs."

Illinois Attorney General Kwame Raoul is reportedly cracking down on "The Tiffany Henyard CARES Foundation" which, per the acronym, stands for Cancer And Remission Empowering Survivors.

The Chicago Tribune on Thursday reported that Henyard’s charity "has been told by the Illinois attorney general’s office to stop soliciting or accepting contributions, and that it must register with the state." The same outlet summarized that the mayor was told her charity "is not in good standing and states the attorney general has sent multiple letters advising, among other things, that it is not registered with the state."

The letter reportedly warned that "to avoid further action by this office," the charity must file a registration statement, copies of financial reports and a list of the organization’s officers and/or directors by March 13.

Henyard is also infamous for her fiery rhetoric toward the town's trustees in public meetings.

Fox News Digital reported that Henyard slammed her fellow officials at a meeting in early February about her spending when she declared, "You all forget I’m the leader. They want to hear from the mayor. You all ain’t learned that yet. The mayor, not the trustees that don’t do nothing. They only run their mouth. You all don’t do no work, no work!"

Later during the meeting, Henyard proclaimed, "Y’all got false narratives out there, and y’all should be ashamed of y’all selves. Y’all Black. Y’all are Black! And y’all sitting up here beating and attacking on a Black woman that’s in power. Y’all should be ashamed of y’all selves."

Norwood told Fox News Digital in an interview, "I feel as if I'm in a dictatorship." 

She added, "The way she talks [to the trustees] I sometimes feel as if I'm in a mentally abusive relationship… I've learned to expect her to be disrespectful. She's like a bully." 

Norwood is party to a lawsuit that accused the mayor of actions that amounted to "fraud," according to a complaint reviewed by Fox News Digital. 

Henyard was sued for alleged financial wrongdoing by Dolton Trustees on Dec. 23.

"The Defendant’s actions as alleged constitute a fraud upon the residents and taxpayers of the Village," the lawsuit states. It added, the extent of the financial wrongdoing could be more extensive than is currently alleged as Henyard was allegedly concealing the information from the trustees. 

Henyard, the Village of Dolton, and police department did not respond to requests for comment.

[glorytv]

▌  oh, cabi cabi!

caribbean bay is generously sponsoring an exclusive all-inclusive getaway for jincheon's athletes, coaches, and selected staff! located in yongin, just an hour and a half drive from jincheon, caribbean bay is a luxurious indoor and outdoor water park and resort. the park will be closed to the public on march 26-29 as it hosts athletes, coaches and selected staff from jincheon national training center. everyone will leave for yongin together on the national team's private buses at 8 am on march 26. attendance is mandatory for athletes and coaches, while there are limited spots available for staff. treat yourself to some well-deserved rest and relaxation! (and try not to think about the first round of evaluations for the olympic qualifiers scheduled for the second week of april...)

aquatic center: the aquatic center is an indoor waterpark zone. it operates a spa & sauna, an indoor wave pool, and the 'quick rider' (indoor tube & water slide).

sea wave: the sea wave is a large outdoor wave pool, generating artificial waves up to 2.5 m. in the wave pool, everyone has to wear life jackets inside the yellow line, and the wave comes regularly every 90 seconds. sea wave includes the wave pool, a diving pool, and the sandy rest zone.

bay slide: the bay slide features six tube slides and three water bobsleighs. the 'mega storm' is the largest slide, with a height requirement of 120 cm. the mega storm can be used in a round tube and the tube spins down the slide from 37 m in the air to the ground. in the last portion of the slide, the tube plummets into a funnel-looking tornado that is 18 diameters. a trip through the mega storm lasts around a minute.

fortress: this area includes a flowing water pool, a surfing ride, and an adventure pool. the flowing water pool is the world's longest streaming pool, also called a 'lazy pool.' for more less relaxed and more exhilirating water play, the adventure pool splashes 2.4 tons of water at once.

wild river: this area is an extreme water play zone. the main facilities include tower boomerango, tower raft, wild blaster, and san juan bar and restaurant. tower boomerango has five tube slides and one boomerango. tower raft is an extreme water slide featuring a large tube slide track that four people can ride at once. the tube slides down a 90-degree slope. the wild blaster is a log ride-like tube slide. san juan bar and restaurant is the only restaurant in the water park, offering a large menu of caribbean and korean food.

the bay: a recently constructed hotel attached to the resort. each room accommodates two persons, and features its own private bath along with two double beds. attendees may select their own roommate. coaches and staff share rooms, while athletes are paired off for their stay.

this event is open to participation until april 30th. after, you'll have a two-week window to finish all interactions related to the event. by may 15th, no interactions related to this event can be posted as we prepare for our next event (first round of evaluations for the olympic qualifiers). tag related posts using #gtvcabi. your character can do anything during their stay. an optional sidestory is available, check it out below if you're interested in joining. reply with the role you want to claim. happy roleplaying!

▌  sidestory: caribbean bay ad shooting

four public figures from jincheon have been chosen to shoot an ad for caribbean bay. this ad will be aired during commercial spots on national tv and displayed on caribbean bay's website. the ad involves two main characters and two side characters, and will be shot alongside a handful of extras. the ad features a lifeguard training camp taking place in caribbean bay, focusing on MC1 and MC2 as they navigate the rough waters of a mutual crush, and eventually find love during their stay at the water park. everyone wears white tops and red shorts provided by production for the water training scenes. everyone is expected to bring their own clubbing attire for the party scene. the san juan bar and restaurant will be closed on march 28 for shooting.

main character 1 (male, hall of fame subplot): through the course of their training in different parts of the water park, MC1 and MC2 constantly steal glances at each other. they refuse to talk, which builds up frustration, and ends with an altercation in the locker room, where MC2 rolls her eyes at MC1 before leaving the room. later, at night, they have a heart-to-heart by the pool. at the end of the commercial, they're seen dancing together at the san juan bar and restaurant during a party, having finally reconciled. MC1 is required to attend shooting on march 27 and 28 2, starting at 6 am and ending at 11 pm.

main character 2 (female, hall of fame subplot): through the course of their training in different parts of the water park, MC1 and MC2 constantly steal glances at each other. they refuse to talk, which builds up frustration, and ends with an altercation in the locker room, where MC2 rolls her eyes at MC1 before leaving the room. later, at night, they have a heart-to-heart by the pool. at the end of the commercial, they're seen dancing together at the san juan bar and restaurant during a party, having finally reconciled. MC2 is required to attend shooting on march 27 and 28, starting at 6 am and ending at 11 pm.

side character 1 (male, hall of fame subplot): SC1 is MC1's friend, who is seen training alongside the other lifeguards. he's seen talking to MC1 in the locker room before MC2 leaves. he's also seen flirting with SC2, applying sunscreen on SC'2 back. SC1 is required to attend shooting on march 27 and 28, starting at 12 pm and ending at 11 pm.

side character 2 (female, hall of fame subplot): SC2 is MC2's friend, who is seen training alongside the other lifeguards. she's seen talking to MC2 in the locker room before MC2 leaves. she's also seen flirting with SC1, laying on a pool bed while SC1 applies sunscreen on her back. SC2 is required to attend shooting on march 27 and 28, starting at 12 pm and ending at 11 pm.

extras (open to everyone): lifeguards seen in the background during training, and party-goers seen in the background during MC1 and MC2's reconciliation. extras are required to attend shooting on march 27 (6 am - 12 pm), and march 28 (6 pm - 11 pm).

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 23

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 23: Bitter coffee.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Don't think about Lindsey.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Don't check your phone; you already know what's in those texts and you have to get through the rest of the day.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Is it four yet? Can't start closing up til four. (Maybe we'll get some of those mid-afternoon business types, then. Stay open til six, rake in a few more sales.)

"Give me death," a joker tells Rhiannon for the fifteenth time today, and you want to pour this espresso over his head. No, waste of good coffee; you want to pour the pot of decaf over his head.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Running through oat milk faster than you did last month, seems like. Gonna have to pick some up from the shops to get through to the next delivery. Is it worth a trip to the restaurant supply on Shaftesbury?

Set. Pull. Pour.

No, god, if you have to go all the way over to Saftesbury you'll be a full half-hour. Lindsey'll go mental.

Lindsey's already going mental though, if the buzzing in your pocket is anything to go by. Might as well.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Certainly isn't four yet but it must be getting on to eleven, and haven't seen hide nor hair of Stevie yet have you? If they're late again you'll have to be big mean boss lady, and it's not like that's not what you are anyway, but you really do need someone 'round in the afternoons who shows up when they're supposed to. Rhi needs to go eat while it's slow and you need a second pair of hands at the bar during the lunch rush.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Skinny latte—oh! From across the road. She always seems to be having a hard time of it lately, poor lamb. Nobody really buys records anymore, do they, not since CDs were invented anyway. Wonder how she's managed to stay in business so long....

Set. Pull. Pour.

There's Stevie, thank god, maybe Rhi can get a bite before the lunch crowd starts in earnest.

"Just set your bag behind the bar and get on the register, we'll figure out your clock later. Rhiannon, food, insulin, go." Rhi looks relieved. It must be even later than you thought.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Just check the time. All you have to look at is the time. Don't worry about the notifications. You don't have to look at those. Just the time. You can check the time without thinking about—fuck, Lindsey's pissed.

And it's 11:13. Stevie's almost an hour late. You should've called them forty minutes ago.

Set. Pull. Pour.

And you didn't have to check the time, because in comes Mr Fell, 11:15 for his tea and biscuits. You could set your watch by Mr Fell's tea and biscuits, though not by anything else about him. Weirdest opening hours you've ever seen. You grabbed the new white peony tea, just came in from that bloke in Chiswick, and set it by the register for Stevie to show Fell.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Lindsey should know better than to think you've got any interest in that Chiswick guy. Right? You don't even like tea. Chiswick isn't your type. There's no way that conversation on the phone was flirtatious. It was all business. It was about tea vending for Christ's sake. Lindsey's got to be reading into things.

Set. Pull. Pour.

....Right?

Author's note: It was so hard not using any pronouns for Lindsey! I had to keep reworking sentences to make sure it didn't read too awkwardly. This is also my first time writing in 2nd person in a very long time. I think I'm happy with that decision; it helps the stream-of-consciousness feeling.

[ky-tumbles]

The Arrival - Bradley Bradshaw

After

You have no idea how Bradley was staying so calm. The man was practically nonchalant and it was driving you NUTS.

Your water had broken not even an hour ago and he was going about getting you ready for the hospital like it was a normal pre-trip plane check.

He’d even clicked the car seat into the base in the car without a single trouble. When you’d shown him how to do it not even a month ago, it had taken you six tries.

“You’ve called dad?” You question, handing him the hospital bag as you heave yourself into the passenger seat of the Bronco.

“Yep, he’s going to meet us there. He’s bringing Penny,” Bradley shuts your door after reassuring that you’ve buckled yourself in properly.

There’s a shooting pain in your stomach and you cry out verbally as he makes his way to the drivers side. You can see the heartbreak in his eyes at the fact that he can’t help your pain.

“That’s four minutes apart,” he comments as he gets in the car. He’s quick to buckle himself in and start the car. Rooster has a giddy look on his face, he’s been anticipating this day since the moment you told him you were pregnant.

“Thanks for the update,” you huff beck sarcastically, moving around in the seat trying to get comfortable. He laughs at your tone. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying this.”

Bradley’s smirk just grows as one of his hands leaves the steering wheel and hold yours. With your fingers crossed in his, you can focus on the road ahead of you.

It was midday, little traffic and the sun was shining warmly. What a beautiful day to bring a life into this world. Or it would be if it wasn’t so damn painful.

The car ride to the hospital felt like forever, with the intermittent pain making its presence ever none. Bradley, still calm as a cucumber, parked quickly and helped you out of the car. He pulls the hospital bag over his shoulder, adjusts his ray bans and then leads you towards the entrance.

The receptionist smiles widely when she sees you enter. “Mr and Mrs Bradshaw! Big day!” She greets enthusiastically. Her name escapes you as another contraction rocks your body, causing your grip on Bradley’s shirt to tighten as he holds you up.

Upon seeing your pain, the lovely young lady behind the desk motions for a nurse. There’s a wheel in front of you in an instant and you smile grateful at the person behind it. The reception gives you a perky “good luck” as your husband starts to push you in the direction of your delivery room.

The hospital is pretty much the same as it was three days ago when you came and did your tour. Admiral Simpson had insisted you use naval hospital facilities instead of a civilian hospital. You’re thankful for that recommendation as the hospital is nearly empty.

Your room is massive and you smile as your husband helps you into the bed. He busies himself with preparing the hospital bag and getting you comfy.

His phone chimes and he pulls it out of his shorts pocket. You raise an eyebrow as he chuckles at the message.

“Your dad is in the waiting room.” He says, eyes not leaving his phone.

“What’s so funny about that?” You reply, still confused as your husband laughs harder.

“He forgot his shoes,” Bradley chuckles, holding the phone up for you to see. Penny had sent a photo of your dad, seated in the waiting room, very shoeless while an annoyed Amelia glares him down.

You laugh, it’s unusual for your dad to be a scatterbrain. But at least someone is freaking out before this baby comes.

There’s a knock at the door, both your heads shoot up to see whose there. The doctor smiles as he enters.

////

“How long could this possibly take?” Maverick groans, his head is in his hands. Penny is just thankful he’s finally sat down. He’d spent the last two hours pacing.

Amelia rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically. “Why am I even here?”

Both adults just ignore her, Penny grabs a magazine off the table beside her chair and begins to flip through the pages. Maverick looks like he might go right back into another round of pacing.

“She’s going to be fine, Mav,” Penny reassures, placing a hand on his thigh without even looking up at him. The gesture grounds him back into his seat.

His thoughts are racing a mile a minute. He wishes he was in there with you. Or even better, he wishes he was in his jet right now and there would just magically be a baby when he landed. But that’s not how things work and here he is, sitting in a waiting room stressed.

Rooster struts into the waiting room, he’s got scrubs over top of his usual Hawaiian shirt, and a smile that could cure the worst sadness.

All three people waiting for him stand up abruptly, rushing to meet him.

“We have a son!” He exclaims, loudly enough that several other waiting room attendees shush him angrily. Bradley doesn’t even notice their annoyance, he’s too busy on cloud nine.

“Can we meet him?” Rushes out of Penny’s mouth before she can stop it.

Amelia nudges her, trying to subtly call out her rudeness but Rooster just chuckles. He motions for the group to follow him down the hall.

Maverick’s heart starts to pick up as he follows his son-in-law/pseudo-nephew down the clean hallways.

They stop in front of a door, Maverick notices that Amelia has put away her cell phone and for a brief second he’s proud of her, until the door opens and his beautiful daughter takes his attention.

“Hi guys,” you smile softly, it’s clear you’re exhausted but your dad swears you’re glowing. You’ve got a white bundle cradled against your chest, you coo softly as a little hand reaches out to graze your collarbone.

Bradley returns to his chair beside you like a dutiful dog. His eyes are soft as he takes you in. Maverick has seen a version of that look in Bradley’s eyes since the very moment the two of you met.

Your dad appears at your side, his eyes wide as he takes in the small boy you hold. He sits in the chair on the other side of your bed.

“Hi dad, this is your grandson.” You smile, holding the small bundle towards him.

Your dad takes the little boy gently, cradling him close. You can tell the moment he falls in love with his grandson. You smile as it happens.

Penny and Amelia crowd over his shoulder. Penny’s hand reaches forward, tracing the little boy’s cheek. Bradley is watching you gaze at your dad and son. Your husband takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss against your palm.

“What’s his name?” Amelia asks, arms crossed over her chest as she feigns boredom. Bradley chuckles under his breath at how annoyed she’s trying to act but it’s clear she wants a turn holding the boy.

“Nicholas Mitchell Bradshaw,” you reply, trying to gauge your father’s reaction.

Maverick tears up a little hearing this. The baby in his arms is a perfect mix of you and Bradley. He can even see traces of Goose in the sweet boy’s face. Nick yawns in his grandpas hold, eyes fluttering shut as he wiggles a bit.

“He’s perfect,” your dad coughs, it’s clear he’s crying. Penny rubs his shoulder and your eyes widen at the gorgeous diamond that catches the light.

“Oh my god, no way!” You squeal, startling Nick who whines out a little. You wince and apologize to him as you take him back from your dad. The small boy settles as he’s placed against your chest. Your heartbeat soothes him back into his soft slumber.

Bradley clues in to your squealing as he spots the ring, eyes widening. He’s out of his chair in an instant and tackling your dad into a hug. Everybody laughs as the room descends into excited chatter.

Things were falling perfectly into place for your family.

Tagging:

@rattiefattie69 @lunamoonbby @itscheybaby @rosewritesitout @paulina1998 @laurashadowsblog @talktomeice @nobody7102 @ohhh-boo-tiful @craziblondi @mads-weasley @jonginvlog @buxkybarnez @kana-austin @pepelachanel @nekrasinclair @cassbntp @lovemesomevesey @fogle97 @westcoasttcollective @1-800-simpingcowbaby @mrsroosterbradshaw02 @ashann7 @luckyladycreator2 @blessupblessup @ezgirl1108 @carolinecakes @labellapeaky @itsmadamehydra @n3ssm0nique @jostyriggslover96 @the-key-to-me-myself-and-i

[fuckyeah-jessicabiel]

Jessica Biel for Vogue, February 2010

The Real Biel

You can learn all sorts of interesting things about a person on a road trip together. For example: Jessica Biel is a very good driver. She is behind the wheel of a Subaru heading north from Vancouver toward Whistler, one of the ski resorts hosting the Olympics this month. Because of record-breaking snow, Biel has decided to ditch the more traditional plans she’d made for our interview and hit the slopes instead. So here we are, side by side, snacking on trail mix and listening to the sound track to Where the Wild Things Are. In the car in front of us is Biel’s assistant and best friend, Lindsay Ratowsky, who is being driven with all of our bags and equipment. Our mini caravan left Vancouver in the late afternoon in a downpour, and now we are driving in the dark in a snowstorm. Wearing jeans and hiking boots, Biel, who grew up in Boulder, Colorado, and has been snowboarding since she was a kid, is utterly in her element. “This is very much a me moment: in the snow, in the Subaru, listening to music,” she says. “I feel really at peace in this environment.”

It’s a far cry from where we were two hours ago, when Biel had 40 pounds of ammo strapped around her waist and an M4 semiautomatic assault rifle hoisted above her right shoulder. We were on the outskirts of Vancouver in an empty warehouse the size of a Walmart, part of the soundstage where she has been filming The A-Team. Paul, a dashing fellow with a British accent whom Biel describes as the “resident badass,” was teaching her the finer points of racking and reloading. After Biel squeezed off several deafening rounds, Paul calculated the number of mistakes she made and then said, “Twenty-four!” She dropped to the floor and gave him two dozen push-ups. It was only then that I noticed that she is as thin as a teenage boy and all muscle. Her usual Jessica Rabbit curves have all but disappeared, the red-carpet Sex Bomb nowhere to be found.

Who is Jessica Biel? Let’s admit it: She is a bit of a cipher. The girls who read the tabloids think of her as Justin Timberlake’s on-again, off-again girlfriend; my aunt Nancy thinks of her as little Mary Camden from the mid-nineties WB series 7th Heaven; and most men under 40 think of her as the smokin’ hottie who let Adam Sandler massage her breasts in I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry. I think it is fair to say that Jessica Biel has not yet experienced a unifying cultural moment. In other words: She can still ride the subway, which, in fact, she tells me she just did the other day. “I talked to a girl who liked my shoes,” she says. “ ‘Oh, those are cute. Where’d you get those?’ ‘I got them at Barneys.’ ‘Are you from New York?’ ‘No, I’m from out of town.’ ‘Oh, cool. Nice to talk to you.’ ‘Nice to talk to you!’ ”

My own expectations were equally off-base; I imagined her as a sort of modern-day Raquel Welch. I thought she would purr. But that notion was shattered the instant I met her. It does not take long to figure out that Jessica Biel is a mellow creature, a young woman who appears to be completely at ease with herself and who meets the world on her own terms. I spent nearly two full days with her, and not once did I see her tense up. This is at least partly due to how she was raised. She describes her parents as hippies. “They are major outdoor people,” she says. “They rafted the Grand Canyon when they were in their 20s. They are an incredible couple.”

Her father, Jon, worked for GE for many years and ran his own business consultancy in Boulder. “He is extremely motivated and ambitious,” she says. “I get those qualities from him.” Her mother, Kim, grew up one of six kids in a small town a few hours southwest of Denver where Jessica and her parents both own cabins on adjoining properties. Her mother’s side of the family is part Native American: Those crazy-high cheekbones are shared by her younger brother, mother, and grandmother. When she tells me that her parents dehydrate their own food, culture their own vegetables, and make their own coconut kefir, I can’t help laughing. “I actually do, too!” she says.

One of the benefits of having hippie parents is that they tend to indulge whimsy. Handbell choir! Jazz and tap class! By the time Biel was in her early teens, she was training as a level-six gymnast and starring in local musicals. One summer she took a commercial-acting class. It led to a talent convention in Los Angeles, which landed her an agent and a scholarship to a kids’ acting school. “I was hooked,” she says. It was around this time that her parents started making sacrifices so she could be in L.A. for pilot season. “It was stressful, for sure: my mom leaving my brother when he was so little for months at a time; my dad having to deal on his own. Sometimes I look back and think, God, you guys were crazy for letting some twelve-year-old do what she wanted. I mean, they did everything for me.”

It paid off. In 1996, when she was fourteen, Biel was cast as the levelheaded eldest daughter, Mary Camden, on the weirdly successful Aaron Spelling series 7th Heaven, a treacly morality lesson dressed up as a weekly family drama about a progressive reverend and his family. It ran for eleven seasons and is—get this—the longest-running family drama in television history. But as the show became a staple in Middle America’s living rooms, Biel blossomed into a knockout and began to chafe at the limitations of playing the same Goody Two-shoes year after year. She wanted out. It is now part of showbiz legend—and one of Biel’s enduring regrets—that just a few weeks shy of her eighteenth birthday, she posed nearly naked for the cover of Gear, a magazine owned by Bob Guccione, Jr., and got her wish. If in the end it turned out to be a savvy move, freeing her from a stultifying character, at the time it infuriated her colleagues. Stephen Collins, her TV dad, called it “child pornography,” and Spelling released her from her contract after the fourth season.

Now, as she is focused, laser-like, on getting us through the storm, she seems thoughtful about the whole episode. “I really wanted to go to college, and it all kind of happened at the same time. I did this photo shoot; the photo shoot came out; it was terribly embarrassing. I had to apologize to everybody, including my parents. It was a big learning experience: learning how to have boundaries and how to say no.”

Not surprisingly, Biel has a lot of empathy for young girls dealing with adolescence in front of an audience. “I have this overwhelming motherly feeling toward them. Just do what you gotta do, girls! Hold it together! I wish everyone would just leave them alone.” Biel has clearly figured out the importance of maintaining some semblance of autonomy in a highly scrutinized life. She likes to drive by herself the eighteen hours from L.A. to Boulder with her dogs—even though everyone tells her it’s dangerous. When I mention that Gwen Stefani wrote the song “Just a Girl” about this very phenomenon—pretty girls being cautioned not to go anywhere alone—Biel says, “Rock on, girl. I feel her pain.”

Suddenly we hit a backup on the highway. There has been an accident. If we have a minor accident, it will add drama to the story, I say. “I was thinking that, too!” she says. “Actually, I was just thinking, Where are my gloves? Because if we crash we’ll have to get out, and we’ll have to be warm.” She laughs. “And then I took it to another level: What if I kill him? My other thought was, At least they would test me for drugs and alcohol and I would be clean. I would not go to jail. But you would be dead, and it would be horrible! There’s no good outcome!” We are laughing when we finally pass the scene of the crime. “What is she doing in a skirt?” says Biel, looking at the woman who has obviously caused this mess. “And high-heeled boots?” She looks over at me and smiles. “We are going to get there alive. I just know it. I have good karma.”

If Jessica Biel seems to live a charmed personal life (rumors of breakups notwithstanding), she hasn’t had such great luck in her career. Not long after we arrive at our hotel, we meet for dinner at the restaurant downstairs. Biel shows up wearing black Frye motorcycle boots, dark-blue jeans that look like leggings, a loose black scoop-neck T-shirt, a droopy red Steven Alan cardigan, and a chunky white Chanel watch. Once again, she winds up in the driver’s seat, engaging our waitress on the wine list and then talking me into ordering a Gewürztraminer. At one point she asks the waitress about the halibut. “Is it still in season? Is it nice?” It’s really nice, says the waitress perfunctorily. “I don’t know if I believe you,” Biel says to her in the most startling, matter-of-fact way. “Talk to me more about it.” The waitress admirably rises to the challenge. Finally convinced, Biel orders the dish (and cleans her plate).

The conversation quickly settles on her vexed post-TV career, which goes like this: ill-conceived remake of famous horror film; tragic Bret Easton Ellis adaptation; even more tragic Kim Basinger vehicle; meaningless third installment of Blade franchise; terrible movie; terrible movie . . . The Illusionist! Starring Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti, it is easily the best film Biel has been in. Though it was not a commercial hit, it is a pleasure to watch, and Biel is believable as a Viennese woman from the turn of the last century. “A lot of times people I work with have said, ‘Oh, this movie is going to be the one,’ and then nothing happens. But with The Illusionist I felt it more than ever, that people really started to see me differently.”

And then there is Biel’s run of bad luck with great directors. Cameron Crowe cast her in Elizabethtown, a film that flopped on a grand scale, and David O. Russell gave her the lead in Nailed, based on Kristin Gore’s novel Sammy’s Hill, about a woman with no health insurance who gets a nail lodged in her head and goes to Washington to fight for justice. “Jess was tired of being cast as merely sultry and was more than ready to throw down for all the weird behavior a nail in the head gives her character,” says Russell. “She auditioned and went for it—she is fearless.” Gore (Al’s daughter), who co-wrote the screenplay with Russell, spent three months with Biel on the set in South Carolina. “I think her range is something that has yet to be discovered by the larger world,” she says. “She also has this preternatural self-assurance.” The production shut down because of money problems with just one thing left to shoot: the scene where Biel gets the nail shot into her head. That was in 2008, and with each passing month it grows ever less likely that her most challenging film work to date will make it to the screen.

Meanwhile, the film industry has gone through a major upheaval since the recession. “The last year in this business has been harsh,” says Biel. “There’s no material. Nobody wants to make dramas. And that’s what we all want to do.” What is getting produced, she says, are “commercial movies—horror movies, big romantic comedies, and action movies. Those can be great, but you don’t want to do only those kinds of films. You can’t live on éclairs alone. You have to have a spinach salad every now and again.”

For now, however, she gorges on éclairs. This month she stars in Valentine’s Day, an ensemble romantic comedy, directed by Garry Marshall, that features a galaxy of A-list stars: Julia Roberts, Jamie Foxx, Anne Hathaway, Jennifer Garner, Patrick Dempsey, and so on. Biel plays a neurotic sports publicist and toxic bachelorette. “I really get to play crazy,” she says gleefully. “A girl who has hit the wall with wanting to find a man. And I get to do some broad comedy; it’s a little Lucille Ball-esque.” And who better than Garry Marshall to direct her? “She was so eager to do physical comedy, in particular, because she knew I worked with Lucy and with my sister on Laverne & Shirley,” Marshall says. “She sings a wild song in the movie; it’s kind of down-and-dirty singing, and it’s really great.”

Biel and Garner became friends on the shoot. “She’s incredibly girly and warm and open—all of the things she seems to buck against when she’s looking at roles,” says Garner. “The first scene that I did with her, she was drunk in the scene. It’s hard to play drunk, not to overdo it. But she did it in such a subtle, real, kind of pathetic but very, very deeply funny way. I was, take one, totally impressed.”

The dearth of good material has pushed Biel to diversify her portfolio, so to speak. Last August, she was cast alongside Brian Stokes Mitchell when the Los Angeles Philharmonic did a three-night concert version of Guys and Dolls at the Hollywood Bowl. Biel took everyone by surprise with what director Richard Jay-Alexander described as her beautiful, “silvery” singing voice. On the last night, she received a rousing standing ovation from 17,000 people. More recently, she landed a part in Lincoln Center Theater’s two-week-long workshop of the musical version of the Pedro Almodóvar classic Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, along with Salma Hayek, who plays the lead. “I think they are going to put it up in the fall,” she says hopefully. “And I think they will approach me again.” A girl can dream, can’t she? As far as Garner is concerned, Biel should: “There’s nothing between her and bigger things except for one job.”

The next morning we wake up to discover that the snow has turned to rain. By the time we arrive at the base of the mountain, there is only one gondola running, and the line stretches all the way through the village. Deflated, we decide to eat breakfast in a honky-tonk saloon that reeks of last night’s beer. Amid the German techno music, the Madonna/Justin Timberlake song “4 Minutes” suddenly blasts over the sound system, and we stare down at our plates awkwardly. Biel looks up at me with a big smile on her face and punctures the silence: “Dance break!” (We had another awkward moment in the car during our drive when Biel was talking about her style. “I like really überfeminine, classic-looking things mixed with something rougher around the edges. I’ve been looking at Rihanna a lot, checking her out. She’s got something going on that I am sort of craving a little bit.” I nearly choked on my trail mix. I could not tell whether this was a Freudian slip, some worrisome Single White Female voodoo, or a calculated little piece of spin designed to show me that she is unthreatened by the rumors that her man has eyes for the diva from Barbados.)

Biel and Timberlake have been an item since 2007 and for a long time looked like a happy couple. Recently, however, they have had to endure all manner of tabloid speculation about their private lives. Biel recently laughed off the rumors to a reporter, saying, “It’s definitely been weird and sort of bizarre to deal with. But you have to have a sense of humor about the whole thing. Honestly, I look at a magazine and they know more than I do.” Last night at dinner I brought it up and was met with steely resolve. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “I don’t feel the need to clear anything up. It’s the most precious thing that I have in my life, and I care about it so much that I don’t care about what anyone says or thinks. I have just not addressed it in any real way, and I’m not going to. It’s mine. And I really like that about it.”

There is something refreshing about a girl with boundaries, someone who has her priorities in order despite the relentlessness of the tabloids and the strangeness of doing drills in some warehouse far away from her own life. And if there is a sense that potentially great things await Jessica Biel—that she has not yet shown us who she is and what she is capable of—it’s hard not to wonder what exactly is holding her back.

One possible answer came up during our dinner, when we were talking about her va-va-voom image—so at odds with how she really is. “When I see myself in pictures with makeup on, even to this day, I think it looks weird. My eyes get squintier and smaller. On the red carpet, I’m playing a character. As soon as I get off that thing I think, Oof, wipe that gloss off. I’m wiping and wiping and pulling my hair out and trying to change my outfit. I’m immediately trying to get comfortable. It’s really a part I play.”

One wonders why she can’t just play herself. In person she projects such a winning and natural beauty. As Jennifer Garner puts it, “She’s not just beautiful, she’s kind of on another level, but there’s an earthiness and a strength to it.” Too much makeup and the wrong dress seem to smother all that, and it’s a disconnect that clearly extends to the roles she chooses.

We eventually make our way up the mountain, and above 1,200 feet, it is snowing: The skiing is sublime. Not surprisingly, Biel is both goofy and confident on her snowboard. Afterward, we head back to the hotel lounge; her assistant, Lindsay, joins us, and Biel orders an old-fashioned. At one point someone took a picture of her on the slopes and she said to me, “Smile for Biel.” Now she explains: “My grandmother, whom we call Biel, thinks it’s very unbecoming of me not to smile for the paparazzi. So every time I see them I think, Smile for Biel!”

This is a reminder of why Jessica Biel is so grounded: Her family keeps her that way. When I point this out, she says, “I might just be way too boring to ever be a really great actress.” Great actresses can live boring lives, I say. It’s great stars who kick dust up everywhere they go.

“I don’t do that,” says Biel. “Maybe I should do a little bit more of that.” She laughs at the thought. “A dust kicker-upper might be kind of fun. . . .”

Lindsay pipes up: “Think of your life if you were like that, though. I would probably hate you. Your boyfriend probably wouldn’t be that into you. You’d be a big bitch.” But it’s clear that Lindsay thinks the world of her boss. “If you met her at a barbecue, you would never know that she was a movie star,” she says. “To her friends, Jess is the most compassionate, caring, kind, loving, wonderful human being that they know.”

“See?” says Biel. “Nothing that interesting!”

[girderednerve]

apologies dear friends i continue to be: a grouchy old man, obsessed with libraries

my new job is fine objectively like there is nothing wrong with it but my boss is very "do storytime, do more storytime, we must schedule storytime," and does not really listen to anything i say, such as 'i would like to do less early literacy programming so that i have some time to do programs for elementary & early middle schoolers,' or 'please schedule me on the youth desk instead of giving me nothing but unstructured office time, leaving me isolated & uninvolved in the day-to-day operations of the library, with which i need to rapidly develop familiarity,' or 'our desk schedule actually should not be rigidly set a month in advance, because we need to be flexible & can work out desk coverage on a department level,' or 'you actually do need to have a clear & specific plan for emergencies, including severe patron issues, & this plan should be communicated to all staff instead of vaguely stashed four folders deep in the shared drive'. (actually when i repeatedly pressed for clarity on who is in charge at any given time she posted an updated chain-of-command document which listed, for some reason, me? as third in line in case of emergency? which is just bugfuck)

it feels very frustrating & i know that many of these problems will resolve themselves as i begin to actually do programs—i haven't been able to because all programming at this library must have at least 2 weeks' advance notice, and i came onboard right after thanksgiving/needed time to get my bearings at least a little—so we can get some cute kid pictures to placate the board & build more of a sense of what is needed. but i still don't really know how to pull reports so i can't weed, i only just got ordering credentials this week & have had to find $2k of books to add to a library collection with which i am largely unfamiliar & for which i have absolutely zero circulation numbers, & nobody has actually given me an up-to-date budget (i am meant to guess, i suppose?). it feels kind of like a slow ongoing disaster; i know this feeling is partially because i have 2 hours' round-trip commute to worry & stew & so on, but i also am just like. girl you are a bad manager. you have persistent staff issues because you are not good at managing people. every meeting you are in is worse because you are in it. you cannot handle interpersonal tensions by having your assistant make friendly 'reminders' to all staff which are obviously about a single person, that never works. i have really strong feelings about management for a person who does not want to be in management! should probably try to walk that one off!

i cornered the adult services/sysadmin librarian today to talk to him about some stub ideas i have for kid programs about 'learning to code,' because we have (apparently) gotten lots of requests for this kind of thing, & basically everything on offer is just buzzwordy bullshit like 'make a bracelet that spells your kid's name in binary using different color beads!' or 'buy this expensive piece of edtech which will be unsupported in six months & anyway only introduces kids to our very closed environment!' or 'just let them spend some time on the computer, so their elastic little brains can pick up digital literacy skills by exposure :)'. so i had some ideas which seemed less like, um, nonsense, but i don't actually know how to code (am stupid) so i wanted to run them past him to get a sense of whether there was any real content there. i want to build a little model transistor & talk about why computers use binary. i want to use a makey makey to have the kids construct a sort of human circuit by holding hands, so we can model a logic gate. i want to write an if-then chart together & roll dice to determine which dance moves we do (cf. a ucla comp sci prof's exercises with her four-year-old). i want to use a makey makey to make a simple morse code transmitter so we can talk about encryption & transmission. i want to make an escape room so we can practice some very basic math & simple decryption (& also persistence!). i want to have tweens play scaled-down capture the flag to think about security. my boss just wants me to do three storytimes a week into infinity

anyway i am still marinating on my computer skills for kids concepts (it's mostly buzzwordy bullshit! even the stuff i want to do is kind of bullshit, lol) & plotting my wind tunnel/paper airplane prototyping program & figuring out when i can schedule my middle grade graphic novel book club. i am trying to figure out how this job might be doable. maybe someday i will want to go to work. america autem delenda est

[eddyxftz]

ꕀ ᐝ 𖠳 theo james, cis man, he&him 𖠳 ᐝ ꕀ ‷ heads up ; if you hear MY LIFE by BILLY JOEL blaring, it’s most likely EDWARD FITZGERALD making their way down the shore ! they’re 36 years old and celebrate their birthday on 01/01 - i knew they were a CAPRICORN ! especially since they’re very CHARMING and IMPULSIVE. they are from PORT ST. LUCIE, FL, staying in DOWNTOWN and are currently working as a TOUR GUIDE, here at the cape. they always did remind me of long boozy boat rides, late night beach trips, and buying a round for the entire bar |||| tw: death

Stats

Full Name: Edward Alexander Thomas Fitzgerald

Nickname(s): Eddy, Fitz.

Age/Date Of Birth: Thirty Six/1st January

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Man, He/him

Height: 6''

Sexuality: Bisexul

Occupation: Tour Guide

Parents: Alexander & Maria Fitzgerald

Siblings: Alex(39), Margot(26), Phillip(21)

Personality:

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn

Positive Traits: Confident, Modest, Generous.

Negative Traits: Impulsive, Impatient, Argumentative.

Hobbies: Sailing, Drinking & Jogging.

Likes: Boats, Classic Movies, Breakfast Food, 70s Music.

Dislikes: Flying, Rude Customers, Show Offs, Loud People.

Biography:

Edward was born into a wealthy family. His father was the owner of one of the biggest publishing empires in America, a role that had been handed down in the Fitzgerald family for generations.

His family was rich but Edward had always had a very different relationship with money than them. He never made any insanely large purchases, and never told people about his wealth.

Edward always had a very strained relationship with the other members of his immediate family, especially his father. His dad was extremely boastful about his wealth and careless with money. Something that never sat right with Eddy.

Edward always had a much closer bond with his Grandfather, who seemed to have a similar mindset to Eddy, and often told him about how much he regretted spoiling Edward's father as a child.

He spent many summers with his grandparents, choosing to visit them rather than go on lavish holidays with his family.

Edward and his grandfather bonded over their shared love of sailing, and the two would spend hours on his grandad's yacht.

In high school he was popular, well liked by everybody around him, but he was constantly at war with himself about whether people liked him for him, or for how much money his family had.

Eddy went to college to study History, mostly to keep his parents off his back since he still had no clue what he wanted to do in life.

As soon as he graduated he moved to Florida to try and distance himself from his family name and his father's watchful eyes.

When he was around twenty four his grandfather gifted him with his old yacht as an early birthday present and to spite Edward's father who had always wanted it to sell.

Edward loved it and spent months fixing it up and repairing it until it was truly sea worthy again. After he had had some fun sailing around the coast and partying with a few close friends on it, he decided he'd put it to some use and began giving boat tours to local tourists.

A few months into his tour guide gid he met Chayce. Eddy had never been much of a relationship guy since he always struggle to trust people so easily, but Chayce was different. It started off as hook ups and developed into a relationship quite quickly. They dated for a few a year or two and everything was going great, until Eddy had to leave.

His grandfather had gotten sick so Eddy decided to go and take care of him, considering all that man had done for him. Him and Chayce tried to make it work long distance, but eventually Edward decided it was best to break things off.

It wasn't an easy decision for Edward and it did take it's toll, but he knew deep down it was the right choice to make.

After almost four years of caring for his grandfather he unfortunately passed away. Leaving almost his entire fortune exclusively to Edward.

Edward's family was not happy about this at all, especially his father but it was what Eddy's grandfather wanted and there was no way he'd disrespect his grandfather's wishes.

Eddy was practically shunned by his father not long after all of this, and though he had never had much of a relationship or a liking for the man, it did hurt a little how quickly his siblings and even his mother followed suit.

He decided to not dwell on it for too long though and sailed his grandfathers boat around the east coast until he ended up in Cape May.

He now gives guided boat tours to tourists based on a few quick facts he got from google, but it's really Eddy's charm and charisma that keep customers coming back for more.

Other Stuff/Random Shit:

Edward lives in an apartment in Downtown that he shares with Leon Amos. He could easily afford one of the pricier houses in Cape May but likes to keep his living arrangements more simple and modest, and he loves having a room mate.

He hasn't spoken to any of his family members since his grandfathers funeral, but often debates reaching out to his siblings though he's unsure he'd even get a response.

He's extremely generous and giving, especially when he's drunk and has been known to pay an entire bar's tab when he's in a good enough mood.

His music tastes is very 60's & 70's orientated. He loves anything Billy Joel, Presley or Fleetwood Mac related and is known for blasting music off of his boat late at night.

He doesn't just use his boat for tours, he sometimes rents it out to locals who just want a trip around the Cape and anybody who wants to party and doesn't mind paying the damage.

He isn't the greatest driver and has crashed the boat several times in the last couple of months, but will never let anybody else drive it, ever, no matter what.

tbc

Wanted Connections

Regular Customers

Ex(Hook Ups, Dates, FWB)

Best Friend

ANYTHING.

[gfablogs]

Wells in Africa: Giving Life Through Clean Water

Turning on the tap is easy for many who live in the West. We’re thirsty or we need to cook―out comes clean water. And very few of us need to be worried about the quality of what comes out of the faucet. We know it will not make us sick. In Africa, clean water is not a given. This is why it’s incredibly important to provide more clean water solutions, like installing wells in Africa, for the safety and health of everyone.

Every hour in Africa, 115 people die from diseases connected with contaminated water. At least 1 in every 3 people in Sub-Saharan Africa live in a water-scarce environment. And a quarter of that population spends 30 minutes or more traveling round trip to get their daily water needs.[1]

“Africa is the fastest urbanizing continent on the planet, and the demand for water and sanitation is outstripping supply in cities” says Joan Clos, Executive Director of UN-HABITAT.[2]

The lack of water in an arid environment, increased demand for water and limited access are some of the driving factors for the water crisis that many in Africa face. More clean water solutions, like more water wells in Africa, can address many of these concerns. The water is there, it’s just not on the surface.

According to the World Health Organization, “When water comes from improved and more accessible sources, people spend less time and effort in physically collecting it, meaning they can be productive in other ways. It can also result in greater personal safety by reducing the need to make long or risky journeys to collect water. Better water sources also mean less expenditure on health, as people are less likely to fall ill and incur medical costs, and are better able to remain economically productive. With children particularly at risk from water-related diseases, access to improved sources of water can result in better health and therefore better school attendance, with longer-term consequences for their lives.”[3]

The lack of water in an arid environment, increased demand for water and limited access are some of the driving factors for the water crisis that many in Africa face. More clean water solutions, like more water wells in Africa, can address many of these concerns. The water is there, it’s just not on the surface.

Clean water wells in Africa can help people like Ragnar. He and his family lived in an area where access to clean water was difficult like in Africa. His family of six struggled to keep up with their water needs, and it was a half a mile to the nearest water source. Even after they trekked there, it was often the site of conflict, with people jostling in line or shoving people out of the way. But the water they were fighting for? It wasn’t even clean.[4]

Ragnar’s four children suffered the most and were often sick. Because of this, they struggled at school. He wanted to take them to the doctor, but they could not afford that luxury. The treks to the contaminated water continued.

One day, Ragnar met GFA World missionary Dabid on the road through the village. It was obvious to Dabid that Ragnar was distressed. They stopped and talked, and Ragnar poured his heart out about his family’s trouble. Dabid was sympathetic to their plight and said he would try to do something to help with the water situation. Ragnar was filled with hope.

Dabid went back to his congregation, and they began to pray together that a Jesus Well from GFA would be installed in Ragnar’s village. Their prayers were answered. GFA was able to install a Jesus Well in the village, serving about 300 people a day. Ragnar’s family regained their health through drinking the clean water and never again had to walk so far for this lifesaving necessity.

Click here, to read more about this article.

Click here, to read more blogs in Gospel for Asia.Net

[jordanprice]

June 12 - Kiyomizudera and Gion

Today we went to see the Kiyomizu Temple in Kiyomizudera and to see the Gion area entertainment district. It was like an hour or so to get there by train, which as far as things for this trip is manageable. I didn’t realize the two would be so close to each other though.

When we got to Kiyomizudera, we walked through a street that had a bunch of shops that looked interesting. Lauren saw a few things she wanted to go back for, but we weren’t sure that we would be able to, at least not until after the stuff for the day. When we got to the temple, there were these metal sandals and two metal poles. I wish I got a picture of them, but unfortunately I did not (so I stole a video I took of Lauren doing it to take a pic from). You were supposed to try and lift them for some reason, so everyone did it. The sandals were easy, and the one pole was not too difficult at all. But the one I’m pretty sure was meant to be either impossible or nearly so. I think I put more effort into it than anyone and I really gave it my all, but it still wouldn’t budge. The person who put the next most effort in was probably Nico. I ended up staining my nice shirt with rust, which kinda sucked though, but it came out fairly easily luckily.

We then went to the fountains that the temple is famous for, and why it is called the Pure Water Temple. I explained how it works in the academic reflection. Bianca, Lauren, and I each picked a different one of the fountains. Bianca chose the first one, Lauren chose the middle one, and I chose the last one. So, between the three of us, we got all the things.

Okay then I don’t have any pictures of this, but get ready for this next part. Let me paint you a picture. So, next we go to this one thing that is called Canon’s womb. Yeah, I know… (also, this version of Canon is a dude, so why he got a womb?) So, you walk up to the entrance and they “strongly encourage” a ¥100 “donation” before entering. You have to take off your shoes before descending down a cold, dark staircase. When you get to the bottom and round the corner, it is pitch black. I’m talking you cannot see the person in front of you or your hand in front of your face type of dark. You have to follow the walls with your hands to be able to navigate this cavern which was void of light. Every step feels unsure and the walls are inconsistent. Eventually you arrive in this room with extremely dim lighting, just enough so you can make out this large stone disk. Which you are supposed to spin and make a wish. However, there is just one issue… they were absolutely pumping strongly scented smoke into the room. Not only do I think that that is in general an awful idea and extremely dangerous, but on top of that I have asthma. I felt awful for rushing people out so I could leave, but I think they understood. That place caused me a literal asthma attack and I’m glad I had my inhaler on me. I could barely breathe, but in a way I found that funny. That experience was supposed to be like being reborn, and when I was born the first time around I initially couldn’t breathe, so it’s on brand for me not to be able to breathe the second time around either. The irony was so delectable.

We were supposed to meet up again at six for some performance. I had gotten permission from professor Smith for Lauren and I to leave to go to the Pokémon cafe, since we already had reservations and could not change them, but also since I had asked him the day before when we would be done and he said by four and I would’ve needed to make the cancellation then. It worked out though and Lauren and I headed there. It was like 45 mins away from Gion, and our reservation was at 5:30. Lauren still wanted to look around for a while and to go back and get the things she saw on the way up as aforementioned. She seemed kinda confused at me rushing her to leave, as she thought we still had plenty of time. However, she was immediately understanding once I said that our reservation was at 5:30. This whole time she had been thinking it was at 6:15, which is our reservation time for this one vegan ramen place, so I understand the mix up. We then rush to get to the Pokémon cafe in Osaka and we make it there at like 5:28, so just in time.

The cafe itself was very cute, but I felt so bad for Lauren, as the only thing she thought she could maybe eat out of the food items on the menu ended up having shrimp in it and she couldn’t get it. There are two issues with this, one is she is vegetarian, and the second is that she is literally allergic to shrimp. She said that it was okay though and that she was just looking forward to the desserts. I got the pikachu ramen bowl and it was like literally just decorated instant ramen. It was cute, but not very tasty.

The desserts on the other hand were pretty good. Lauren and I got all three desserts and split them so we could try them all. (Unfortunately I do not have photos, my apologies)

Also, there was this whole performance with pikachu dancing, which was cute as well. One thing that pissed me off what I had reserved special merch items that you can only get if you reserve them, but they claimed I did not reserve any, even when I showed them the reservation number. Actually so annoying.

We then went to our third Pokémon center for the trip, then explored a bit more of the mall and headed back to the hotel. This was the point at which I found a basket of crème puffs in a 7-eleven, and they were genuinely incredible. Mashle has made me crave crème puffs, and I see me eating more of them in the future.

Academic reflection

Today I learned about the Kiyomizu Temple, which is also known as the Pure Water Temple. I learned about how the three fountains of pure water are said to each help with an aspect of your life. One is for help with business and academic stuff, one is for relationships and love, and one is for longevity. However, the twist is that nobody knows which fountain is which. It is said that if you drink the water from a fountain, it will help you with its corresponding aspect of life. The catch with this is that you may only drink from one, as the gods will deem you greedy if you drink from multiple. So, you only get to drink from one, and you have no idea which aspect you are supposedly getting help from the gods in.

I also learned about the Geisha entertainers in the Gion area, which used to be well known for being an entertainment district. They were not just courtesans, the Geisha were skilled, literate entertainers that would dance, play music, present poems, and more. Rich men would pay for them to perform at parties and such. There are still Geisha in the Gion area to this day, but they are less common.

[mightbelola]

Joe

The only time I've been truly happy is when I'm with Joe. The first day I saw him, I remember thinking, my goodness, he's so tall. He brought me out to dinner. He told me "Eat like a man," so I quickly got comfortable enough I ate like a pig. I gained 20 kilos after two years being with him. That is normal if you eat everyday with a guy who eats a lot, three times bigger than you. Anyways, the best thing about him is that, he's funny, hardworking and kind. He's naturally an impatient person but he's been patient with me.

I think I'll just write about what he does everyday.

So, every morning, he wakes up at four o'clock, an hour earlier than me because he's in fact a morning person which I am not. It always annoys me how he's so loud and happy when he wakes me up I get so grumpy. He says I fight like a hamster he doesn't feel any punches I swing. After he wakes up, he makes his coffee. He drinks coffee everyday. He then fills my water bottle for me to bring to work, plays with the cats a little and he gets straight into his office which is next to our bedroom. He works for an Australian company so he starts work really early. I don't know how he does it, talking to people that early.

When I come back from work at around 3PM, he would still be in the office. He finishes work at four but he stays in the office longer until six because he studies about a lot of things. He's interested in technology so anything tech related he would study them. He knows a lot about programming and coding, too. He's into Linux and ChatGpt lately and he would explain to me about it over dinner but I don't really understand them.

He's a multitasker. Let me tell you about his office. He has three screen monitors, one for his work, one for YouTube which he plays NBA highlights, some PNG music if he misses home, or Podcasts like most of the time. Last screen would be for the things he's studying on, like coding, maybe. I'm not sure. Then he also has a MacBook, his loud keyboard, all placed on a standing desk. That desk is pretty expensive since you can set it to be sitting or standing. He figured it's not good for his health to be sitting in front of the computer for long hours so we bought the standing desk. After a few hours sitting he can just push a button and the desk would lift up and he stands. He doesn't let me go into his room. I mean, I am his wife and I would want to clean and wipe his desk for him but he doesn't let me because he's afraid I might accidentally trip a wire or something. Oh yes, there are wires, THEY'RE EVERYWHERE. Picture a hacker. That's him, with boxes and boxes of CPUs and wires all around them.

I try to make him dinner everyday. I wouldn't if I'm tired and he's always so understanding if I don't cook. He doesn't cook much because he's not good at it. I'm better but I did make him some undercooked chicken before. One time I made some weird European beef stew recipe and I put way too much vinegar in it. Poor thing couldn't finish it, he didn't get angry. He still thanked me..

Everyday, we would sit and have dinner together. He would tell me about different things depending on the day. Last night for example, we were discussing NBA leagues. I know nothing about it, so he made me memorize all the team names. My challenge today is to remember them, and he will test me at dinner later.

Let's see, I remember; his favourite team, Dallas Mavericks. New York Knicks, Atlanta Hawks, Milwaukee Bucks, which Antetokounmpo plays for, the Nigerian blood guy who was born poor in Greece, which surname means The Greek Freak. Miami Heat, which is the best leading team for now. Boston Celtics, San Antonio Spurs, LA Lakers which LeBron James, the best player of all time plays for, um what else.. Brooklyn Nets, Orlando Magic, Philly 76ers, Houston Rockets, oh Denver Nuggets which lost to Miami Heat in the final round today. Then also, Golden State Warriors, Sacramento Kings, Detroit Pistons, Chicago Bulls.. there are twenty four teams and I think I got less than that. Nevermind.

There's a lot I can say about him, but sadly I have to get back to work. So, that's my Joe for now.

[irishgolfadventure]

A Day to Remember

We had a great day today at Ballybunion Golf Club! We had a good weather day. We were paired with a couple from Montreal Canada, Stephanie and Jean Francois. I called him John. They were wonderful to play with and we had a great time together. Our games were similar which made it nice also!

Our caddie, Dot, was outstanding and we were told at the beginning of the round that we got if not the best, one of the best caddie’s at Ballybunion. He told us of some of the people he has caddied for at Bally. To mention a few, Will Farrell, Dan Marino, Payne Stewart, Bill Murray and the owner of Bandon Dunes. He made the round thoroughly enjoyable. And he was spot on on all his reads on the green and a thoroughly enjoyable personality. Thanks Dot!!

The.course itself was amazing. I can certainly understand why it has the reputation and ranking as one of the top courses in the world. Of all the courses we have played on this trip, I would tell any serious golfer, if you could only play one course in Ireland, play Ballybunion. The first six holes were challenging but lacked the views that many links courses have. But after the first 6 the next 12 are can’t miss beautiful and designed to challenge and the best of golfers.

I shot an 89 with four pars and putted my best yet on the trip and that’s what saved me from shooting in the high 90′s.  I have to be honest on my score today there were a couple of mulligan’s taken! The greens were elevated, narrow, undulating with false fronts and rounded edges that gathered many of your shots and and sent them into sand/grass bunkers or nasty heather. One interesting feature was how difficult the par threes were. On the back nine par three’s I used driver off the tee two times. Long, into the wind and disaster everywhere if you didn’t hit the green. I understand why great golfers love this course and why 18 handicap golfers like myself love it too!

After the round, we headed for Killarney. Ballybunion was about an hour away from our hotel. Our tee time was at 1:30p and the round finished at about 6:15. We had dinner and drinks at the hotel when we got back. And landed at our room at 9:00p. Tomorrow we head to Waterville which is located on the famous Ring of Kerry. We have eight more days and five more courses to play.  Can’t believe time has gone sooo fast. We are so blessed! gb 

[365elephantsoap]

WE ALL HAVE TO GROW UP SOMETIME

Traci contacted me last week to ask if I’d take Quinn’s senior pictures. My immediate response was a mixed bag of being unqualified to take these pictures and internal weeping because how is it possible that this kid is graduating high school?!? I swallowed those feelings and struck a deal with Traci. I would take the pictures for free, edit them and then give them a folder of images to choose and have prints made. She countered the deal with an okay, but we’re going to this fancy ten course dinner place afterwards. We are good at negotiations.

They met me in Tulsa where I had traveled to visit with Mom and we roamed around the Gathering Place while I snapped pictures of Quinn. I took well over three hundred pictures and his eyes were closed in probably two hundred and fifty of them. There was a lot to catch up on since we hadn’t spent time together in almost a year. We swapped life stories while Quinn mugged for the camera. Occasionally, Traci and I would give each other a side eye before making fun of his duck face pose. Yes…duck face is not just for the females and a more experienced portrait photographer would have been able to give this lanky man child better things to do with his face and hands. Even if I was an experienced portrait photographer, I would have been distracted by how it was possible that this human was mostly all grown up.

I have so many stories of this person as a small human. Chris and I were right on the other side of the door to his delivery room and were some of the first people to meet him on his first day on this planet. I have such a clear memory of Traci’s Chris holding this bundled newborn up for us all to witness. Quinn’s head was perfectly rounded and made for those little knitted baby caps. He looked back at us with one squinty eye, like Popeye. Chris was Quinn’s manny from the time he was a tiny baby until we moved to Kansas City. On the Saturday mornings when Chris was working, I’d run errands and then grab breakfast or lunch to take over to Traci’s house. Then Chris and I would watch Quinn poke food into his mouth for over an hour or we’d take him to the Bass Pro Shop to see ‘catfish’. We watched countless hours of Cars and Finding Nemo. We spent every Halloween at their place handing out candy to what felt like thousands of kids or walking the neighborhood trick-or-treating. Tantrums, laughs, snotty noses, I’ve experienced them all.

Traci had made reservations at FarmBar, a place that does a ten course tasting menu, the kind of place I wouldn’t ever think to take a teenager. But Quinn is pretty culinarily adventurous and willing tried each dish that was placed in front of us. There was no need to prod or beg him to just try a bite. The dinner was good, some dishes better than others, but the thing that made this dinner the best was Quinn’s commentary on all of the dishes. If Chris left any kind of imprint on this kid, it was his dry wit and sense of humor. The Kanpachi crudo of shiso ganita and charred onion was described as a “vegetable snow cone” which was not far from the truth. We were five or six courses in before Quinn declared that he hadn’t even used his napkin yet and while waiting on course six, he said “they’re probably back there whipping up one mushroom for the four of us.” And we laughed so dang much.

Quinn has a job and a girlfriend. He’s taking college courses and plans on going to nursing school, like his parents. He’s debating between Japan and Mexico for his senior trip. I told him to pick Japan. He still has that squinty brown eye, though his other eye is hazel. He is taller than all of us. He has Chris’s sense of humor and skill for delivering the perfectly timed, sarcastically dry line.

I bet that skill gets him farther than he can even imagine.