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sashaisready · 7 months

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Chapter 3 - Now or Never

Nick Fowler x Reader

Summary: Reader is a brilliant but shy and awkward CIA employee whose work is often overlooked by her colleagues…she’s blended into the background for so long that she doesn’t think there’s any other way - even if she does have secret aspirations for another life. Unbeknownst to her - a certain blue eyed agent is very aware of her talents, even if nobody else is.

Under the Radar Masterlist

<Chapter Two - Beige

Warnings: Angst! Nick being a dick, some sexist/misogynistic language

Wordcount: 3804 (sorry quite a long one but there’s a lot of stuff to set up 😉 I am excited!!)

You could barely sleep after he left. You managed to grab a few hours…somehow…but you laid wide awake just after 5am. Your mind couldn’t settle. You just replayed what he’d said over and over again.

No drive. Beige. Nothing. No drive. Beige. Nothing.

He was embarrassed of you. All this time you had hoped you were wrong. That you were overthinking it. You had clung weakly to the idea that he’d dismiss such a thing if confronted.

But you were right.

He was ashamed to be seen with you. Ashamed if anyone found out that he was sleeping with you.

The worst part was…he wasn’t entirely wrong. You knew that about yourself. You played it safe. You liked it comfortable, you liked a sure thing. You knew if you went for a promotion you’d probably have a good shot at it, but you were afraid to fail. Afraid to be bad at something. You knew your job like the back of your hand. You were good at it because you knew it so well. Your fear was what stopped you from taking a leap. From learning. From being out in the field. It was cowardly.

You were such a coward in fact that you had let this man walk all over you for so long, too afraid to question him and risk bringing down the fragile house of cards you’d built. Of course he didn’t respect you. How could he? You barely respected yourself.

There had been a moment though…When you questioned him about his soft treatment in the bathroom….how he held you…you could’ve sworn you saw a moment of weakness in his eyes. A hint of admission that you’d hit a nerve. That maybe it did all mean something.

But you couldn’t think like that anymore.

You needed to stop obsessing over every detail in an attempt to find the words he wasn’t saying. Stop fruitlessly trying prove to yourself that he cared about you. It was all so clear now. He didn’t. He never did.

As much as your heart ached, the revelation was freeing. You had your answer. It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but now you knew. You could draw a line under all of this and move on. Maybe, in time, find someone who would be proud to have you on their arm.

You smiled, the glimmer of optimism lifting you from your funk. In a strange way, Nick had given you a new lease of life. You would prove him wrong. Prove him wrong about all of it.

It was nearly 6am when you admitted defeat and accepted you weren’t going back to sleep. You normally didn’t get up til gone 7, but you decided to start your day. You had two choices: mope into your laptop and try to keep a low profile to avoid Nick, or walk into work with your head held high and prove he hadn’t broken you.

You chose the latter.

And…it wouldn’t hurt to show him what he was missing, would it?

First order of business - remove temptation. You deleted Nick’s messages from your phone. Deleted your call log with him. Blocked his number and deleted his contact. It wasn’t like he messaged you much anyway, but this way you avoided any urge to text him - and couldn’t be swayed if he tried to get back in touch (unlikely, but good to be sure). It felt a little sad to remove them, especially the easy back and forth of your banter in the early days. The little jokes. His compliments. All sent to the digital graveyard in the sky. You sighed. A good first step.

After showering, eating breakfast and firing off a few explanatory texts to Annie, you opened your closet to find something to wear to work. You flicked through your endless work blouses and pants, all perfectly fine, but you wore them everyday on rotation. Beige. Some were a bit too big, some a bit too bland. Your non-work clothes were too casual…you didn’t really have anything else to wear except…

….oh yes. The pencil dress.

Annie had given it to you some time ago, suggesting you could wear it to the office. She worked in fashion so was always trying to pawn off garments she thought would work for you. You’d laughed it off at first, the dress was nice - a fitted black number, flattering, pretty but still formal. But you wouldn’t wear something like that - certainly not to work! You’d stuck in the back of your closet and planned to stick it on eBay, but never got around to it. You were grateful for your past laziness.

As you pulled the dress from the hanger your phone buzzed. You held your breath for a second wondering if it was him - but of course it wasn’t. He was blocked. And he wouldn’t be messaging anyway.

It was Annie. She was always up at the crack of dawn doing yoga or Pilates, so it was no surprise she’d got back to you so quickly.

What!! Ugh that ASSHOLE. Sweetie, I’m sorry - but you are better off without him. I’ve always known he wasn’t good enough for you. Well done for walking away. You deserve so much more. Drinks this week, first round on me ❤️ A

You smiled as your phone buzzed again. Annie had sent an addendum.

Also - wear that pencil dress to work today. No arguments. Look fabulous. Make him sweat.

❤️ A

You laughed out loud, it was the first time you’d felt a bit of joy since Nick left. She was your best friend for a reason. You pulled on the dress, carefully rolling it down your body and zipping it up.

You looked in the mirror, immediately feeling a little anxious. You looked…good. That you couldn’t deny. But could you really wear this to work? It wasn’t overly revealing, it fit the dress code, but it hugged your figure in a way your other work clothes never did. Was this really you?

No. It wasn’t. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe trying something not-you was a good idea.

Beige.

You inhaled deeply, your mind made up. You slipped on a pair of heels you rarely wore but kept for weddings and formal parties when you needed them. They were surprisingly comfortable, not painful stilettos you needed to hobble around in.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, surprised at how different you looked. But not hating it. Absolutely not.

You took a bit more time doing your hair and make-up than you would normally spend on work days. Once you finished, you surveyed your handiwork in the full length mirror. Not bad. Not bad at all. You felt a pang of confidence and you welcomed it gladly, a bright spot in the sea of your despair.

You snapped a selfie and sent it to Annie, who immediately fired back a series of flame and heart eye emojis. You chuckled.

It was now or never.

You felt sick as you walked to your desk, very aware of the additional attention you were receiving this morning. A few of your male colleagues said good morning, the ones who barely noticed you normally. You smiled weakly back in return, faintly angry that it took a tight dress to get them to show you some basic courtesy. Grant the security guy was polite at least.

A small wave of embarrassment hit as you sat down. Was everyone looking at you? Judging you? Did you look bad? Did they think you were trying too hard? God. This is why you preferred to blend into the background. Far less complicated.

But once you opened your laptop and started work, your nerves melted away. You threw yourself into your documents, tapping away at a report before comparing some photos of a potential target location. Busy was good. Busy meant your mind was occupied.

It was mid-morning when you got up to refill your coffee, the lack of sleep from last night finally catching up as your adrenaline began to wear off. You were just in the break room filling up your mug when you heard a chatter of voices enter the room.

Nick strolled in discussing a shipment of some kind with Director Walsh. You froze, feeling that nauseous feeling return as you noticed him, your heart pounding in your chest. Your body on fire.

He looked over at you for a moment before looking back at Walsh, but his eyes did a double take and he glanced back at you once more, a flash of surprise on his face before nodding in response to Walsh’s question.

You finished making your coffee as quickly as you could, desperate to get away and back to the safety of your desk.

Walsh’s cell rang and he sighed, excusing himself as he darted out of the room to take it. He was a good boss. A good leader. He was greying and slightly out of shape, but his presence still commanded everyone’s attention. You had always been in awe of him for that.

You waited for Nick to leave too, but you could feel his eyes on your back as you stirred your cup and picked it up to head back to your sanctuary.

“Nice dress” he finally said monotonously.

You turned, giving him a friendly nod as you tried not to look too deeply into those eyes of his. Not wanting to fall into them again.

“Thank-you, Agent Fowler”. You said politely.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh…we’re doing that, are we?”

You looked at him quizzically. “Sorry? Doing what?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know exactly what. Formalities. Do you think I’m dumb? You wear the same clothes here day in, day out, and now suddenly after last night you’re wearing that? Don’t insult my intelligence, princess” he spat.

You looked down at the dress, then back at Nick. You hadn’t really expected such a direct response to it. You weren’t sure how you managed to compose yourself but you pushed through, ignoring the thumping in your ears and how dry your mouth had suddenly become.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you mean…” you said plainly.

He chuckled. “Look, how things went down was…” he paused to think “Unfortunate…but we can still be adults about this. We need to be civil, we both need to work together”.

You nodded.

“So don’t play games and wear tight outfits for my benefit” he said sharply.

You sighed mockingly as if he had said the silliest thing you’d ever heard.

“Agent Fowler, I think you’ll find this is a work appropriate item of clothing that fits the dress code guidance. If you have an issue with my attire, please raise it with HR. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to be getting on with”.

With that you left the room without looking back, a small smirk on your lips.

Despite your cool facade you were on the verge on a panic attack once you sat back at your desk. You hadn’t expected Nick to confront you quite so directly. Still…you couldn’t deny it felt good to rattle him a little. Normally you were the one doting on him, begging for any scraps of attention he gave you like a stray dog - and here you were now - giving him the ice queen treatment and leaving him standing by himself.

You hoped it would get easier to be around him. You weren’t cut out for this dicey game of oneupmanship. Even if it was incredibly satisfying when it paid off.

You managed to throw yourself back into your work, ignoring the occasional admiring glance from some of your male colleagues.

You were concentrating hard when Director Walsh walked by your desk, his deep voice surprising you out of your trance as he said your name.

He knew your name?

He knew your name.

Maybe Nick wasn’t right about everything.

“Yes, Sir?” You smiled, looking up and giving him your full attention.

“You finished that Phoenix report yet?” He asked.

You nodded. “All good to go, I just needed to tweak some of the coordinates”.

He smiled approvingly. “Good work. Can you drop a hard copy over to Fowler ASAP? He’s going to be leading that Op now”.

Fuck.

You smiled again. “Of course, I’ll get right on that Sir”.

He gave you a small nod before disappearing across the office floor.

You sighed. You should’ve been delighted to have such a positive interaction with Walsh. Normally he barely acknowledged your existence. But he knew your name! He said good work!! Of course it was all tainted by having to speak to Nick…

You sent the report to the printer and picked it up on the way to Nick’s office. Just get in and out. Ignore any pointed little comments, respond with professionalism like you had earlier.

As you approached you could see his door was ajar. That was a good sign. He always closed it when he was inside working. You checked your watch. Lunchtime. He most likely wasn’t there, probably on some long lunch with another agent like usual, so you could leave the report on his desk and sneak off before he returned. Perfect.

You padded up to the door, not bothering to knock as you strode in because you assumed it was empty - only to hear a woman’s laugh and a snippet of conversation as you came inside.

“So…when are you taking me out again?” The female voice said coyly as you stepped through.

It was too late to retreat. Nick was sitting at his desk and leaning on it in front of him was Mace, the brilliant and beautiful agent. Nick’s colleague. She was so close to him she was practically in his lap. Nick was wearing the smirk you knew all too well.

Mace was, by all accounts, a badass, and just happened to be movie star gorgeous too. Your stomach sank.

Take her out again?

They both turned to look at you, confused by your presence.

“Oh…I’m-I’m sorry” you muttered. “The door was open so I…I didn’t think anyone was…oh…”

Nick stared over at you, his face giving nothing away as always.

Take her out again? When did they go out before?

You blinked, realising you hadn’t finished your explanation. You quickly regained your cool despite the heat burning in your cheeks.

“Apologies, Agent Fowler…I wouldn’t have barged in if I’d known you were here. I have the Phoenix report for you- Director Walsh said you needed it”.

You handed the report to him and he accepted it, nodding.

“Thank-you” he said impassively.

“And apologies again for the intrusion” you added.

He waved a hand dismissively and you moved to leave.

“You look nice today” Mace chirped as you passed her, her red hair glowing in the sunlight from the window.

You turned to face her, conjuring up the most genuine smile you could. “Thanks…”

She smiled back and you stole a quick glance at Nick as you left. He was just staring, his expression impenetrable.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

It had been a few hours since the Mace incident and you’d been quietly spiralling at your desk ever since.

Ugh…you were dumb. Did you really think he was exclusively fucking you? Of course he’s been with other women - other women in the office even. And Mace is beautiful and talented and they travel together out on ops all the time - you were a fool for not figuring it out sooner.

Not only that, Mace was everything he said you weren’t. Established and respected in her career, at the top of her field, known by everyone in the CIA. She certainly wasn’t beige.

Here you were, playing stupid games in your stupid dress trying to provoke him while he was pursuing other women. How embarrassing.

You got your head down and continued to work for a bit longer until you realised you could smell a familiar cologne. You looked up to find Nick strolling to the desk behind you.

“Leigh” he said smugly.

Ugh. Agent Leigh. Hardly your favourite person. A frat boy who never grew up. Loud, brash, as subtle as a foghorn. You did your best to interact with him as little as possible. Fortunately the feeling seemed to be mutual as you were one of the few female staff members he didn’t try to corner at social events. He at least had the good sense to understand that you had no time for him.

“Fowler!” You heard him reply. He laughed his weaselly laugh and you suppressed an eye roll. “How’s life, my man?”

“Not bad, not bad” Nick responded. “Just seeing if you were available for drinks tonight - bit of a guy’s night, yknow”.

Leigh practically hollered. “Hell yeah, man! Where you thinkin’?”

“Ignite, downtown”,

“Sweet! Yes! Ignite has the hottest tail”.

You couldn’t suppress the eye roll this time.

Nick chuckled. “It does certainly attract a class of women who are easy on the eye”.

Pig. Asshole. Pig.

You knew he was doing this on purpose. Baiting you. Trying to get a reaction out of you after you bested him earlier. This was punishment.

“Exactly!” Laughed Leigh. “But you know me…I’m not fussy. If she’s got a pulse, I’m down”.

Grossgrossgross.

“Hey…Palmer, you coming?”

Leigh called over to Agent Palmer, who was sitting nearby and like you was unfortunate enough to bear witness to this scintillating conversation.

Palmer looked up and smiled weakly. “Not really my scene, I’ll pass”.

“It’ll be fun” Nick purred.

“Oh don’t be a pussy, man!” Leigh continued. “You need to get some ass, loosen up a little” he laughed.

You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

“Hey…c’mon man” Palmer said scoldingly. His gaze momentarily flickered over to you. “Don’t talk like that”.

“Oh…you worried about Miss Priss? Forget that hardass” Leigh laughed, referring to you.

You felt your head pound as you did your best to pretend you didn’t hear.

“Dude! Shut it!” Palmer said warningly. You could hear the anger in his voice. “Don’t be an asshole. That’s not cool”.

You looked at him, giving him a small, grateful smile. He smiled back sympathetically.

“He’s right, we’re at work” Nick interjected. “Let’s keep it to shop talk, okay?”

At least he’d shut it down. But you felt a pang of sadness that he hadn’t stood up for you like Palmer had.

Leigh exhaled. “Whatever, party poopers” he got up and headed towards the break room, giving Nick finger guns as he went. “See you at quitting time, Fowler. Hope your liver is ready for me”.

You could hear Palmer calling him a dick and asking if you were okay, but you felt far away - barely present.

You felt Nick lingering behind you but you couldn’t face turning around to look at him. You were flushed with embarrassment after Leigh’s comments. It was like you were back in high school and one of the popular kids was making fun of you. You tightly squeezed your mouse, pretending to be engrossed in your screen.

Beige. Beige. Hardass. Miss Priss.

No drive. No drive. No drive.

You glanced over to the window of Director Walsh’s office. He was sitting inside, squinting at his monitor. You knew he wasn’t busy. He always put in a 30 minute block in his calendar around this time, he claimed it was to catch up on emails and paperwork but you knew he mostly spent it bidding on eBay or reading sports news.

Now or never.

You had stood up before you fully realised what you were doing, striding over to Walsh’s office. The combination of Leigh’s assholery and humiliating truth about Nick and Mace ignited something in you that you couldn’t stop. You were fuelled by anger and disgust. Before you knew it you were knocking on his door.

“Sir? Do you have 5 minutes?” You asked cheerily, hoping he couldn’t see how upset you were.

Walsh looked up, clearly surprised to see you but gestured for you to take a seat.

You sat, then cleared your throat.

“What can I do for you?” He asked gruffly.

You swallowed. “Well, Sir, I’ve been here for five years now. In that time I’ve established myself as an essential team member - my briefing reports are thorough and meticulous, I always meet my deadlines. The agents know that whatever work they give me, it’ll be done quickly and to a high standard. Just ask any of them…”

He peered thoughtfully at you.

You cleared your throat again, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

“…and you see, I think, uh, well I know I’ve got even more to offer. I’ve got a keen eye for detail and a passion to learn. I’m ready for the next step. Not just do everybody’s background work. So…sir…I’d like to be…well, assigned to an op directly. To work alongside an agent on the strategy and planning. I…I just want a chance to prove I can, sir”.

You stammered slightly at the end, but sat up straight and clasped your shaking hands together in an attempt to appear calm and collected.

Walsh studied you, moving a finger to his lip as he considered your proposal. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

“Okay”.

Your face brightened. “Okay? Really?”

He nodded. “You’re right. You’ve proven you’re competent. You deserve a shot”.

You grinned in return, trying to appear professional but unable to mask your glee.

“Thank you! Thank-you sir…I won’t let you down. I promise”.

He nodded again before walking to the door and calling out to the office floor.

“Palmer? A minute please”.

Palmer appeared seconds later, the curiosity evident on his face as he saw you sitting there.

Walsh sat down behind his desk and pointed between the both of you.

“The two of you are going to be working on Project Cotton together. Effective immediately. Palmer - She’ll be your number two - working with you on the strategy and logistics to prepare for you going out in the field. We’ll be taking her off her normal duties for a few weeks so please see to it that her other work is re-assigned amongst the other assistants”.

Palmer nodded. “Yes, sir”.

“Fowler will be out on Project Phoenix for a few weeks from tomorrow so I need you to lead on this” Walsh added. “It’s priority number one”.

“Absolutely, Sir. Understood”.

A new work opportunity. A chance to prove yourself and defy everyone’s impressions of you. Nick. Leigh. Walsh. Yourself. And no Nick hanging around to distract you. Distance and time to get over him.

It was almost too good to be true.

You beamed at Palmer. He smiled back.

“Looking forward to working with you” he said.

“Thank-you, Agent Palmer. The feeling is mutual”.

Chapter Four - The Ghost

#nick fowler x you #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler #the 355 #sebastian stan #under the radar fic

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everythingpresley · 1 year

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My Secret Ken-Doll (part two)

summary: Elvis has a little secret named Kennedy Jackson. Part 2!

word count: 4.1k

Author's Note: More angst! This was supposed to be a one shot and now it's possibly going to be 3 parts, just couldn't stop writing Elvis and Kennedy!

Part 1 , Part 3, Epilogue

My Secret Ken-Doll (part two)

Elvis tossed and turned the entire night, he tried calling her but it was busy which meant she had probably removed the cord to the landline. Elvis couldn’t deal with the fact that he might never be with her, he chose to push that thought to the back of his mind. It’s going to be okay, he’ll make her understand how much he loves her and that the whole thing with Ann-Margret was a big mistake.

He wasn’t planning on ever telling Kennedy about what had transpired between him and Ann because in his mind it didn’t matter to him and it was a big mistake. The only future he saw was with Kennedy so he chose to sweep that incident under the rug.

It all blew up in his face when Kennedy asked him, he couldn’t lie to her face. He tried but his eyes betrayed him, his voice betrayed him, his damn heart betrayed him when it nervously sped up at her question.

At 6AM sharp he took his Cadillac out and drove directly to her apartment. He needed to see her. He needed to fix things and he needed to do it fast because he still had to fly back to Las Vegas tomorrow to wrap up filming.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently. She had to be up, she had work.

Kennedy on the other side of the door heard the knock but chose to ignore it. She didn’t sleep a wink, she spent the entire night bawling her eyes out. Her instincts told her earlier on to not trust him, she knew he loved being surrounded by women. She was naive and stupid to think he would change for little old her. Like many others, she believed she could change him, she could make him into an honest man. Now she ended up with a broken heart and serves her right for falling deeply and madly in love with essentially an unavailable man but how could she not.

Elvis is the most handsome man to have graced planet earth, she looked into his beautiful ocean eyes and fell deep into the water. He’s charming, sweet and kind. She can’t even think of his flaws because of how much she loves him, his flaws make him who he is and being unfaithful is one she just couldn’t handle.

Elvis knocked on the door again as Kennedy finished getting dressed for the day, she wanted so desperately to call off work and climb back into bed but what good would that do. At least at work she can pretend she has her life together and wipe the memory of yesterday out of her mind for a few hours. She hoped.

It was a full hour later, Elvis only knocked twice. She doubted for a split second that it was Elvis who was knocking seeing as he wasn’t persistent and she didn’t hear him call out to her. Whoever it is definitely left. Her heart pinched slightly at the thought of Elvis not showing up and not trying to get her back even if she didn’t want to see him.

Kennedy sighed and poured the freshly brewed black coffee into her travel mug before slinging her work bag over her shoulder. She opened the door and walked out of her apartment. Her eyes widened when Elvis jumped up from where he was sitting on the floor next to the door with his cowboy hat low on his face.

Kennedy gasped and jumped back, thank god her travel mug lid was shut tight or else it would've splashed all over her beige button down.

“Elvis!”

“Kennedy. Good morning.” He smiled timidly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“How long have you been sitting out here?” Kennedy asked with a frown on her face, annoyed with how her heart surged.

“An hour or so.” Elvis shrugged “I wanted to talk to you before you headed to work.”

“I-I can’t Elvis. We already talked and I have to go to work or I’ll be late.” Kennedy tried side stepping him but he followed, blocking her.

“We didn’t really.” Elvis frowned, shaking his head.

“Yes we did. You said you slept with someone else, we already discussed this. I told you being unfaithful is a deal breaker. I-I’m done, Elvis.” Kennedy replied, biting down on her lower lip to stop them from trembling. She was utterly heartbroken and saying that they’re over out loud just made her want to sob.

“We-we c-can’t be.” Elvis replied, his voice barely above whisper as he spoke.

“I need to go, Elvis. I’m gonna be late for work.” Kennedy whispered, not daring to look Elvis in the eye. She hated seeing him sad or hurting but he chose this, he made the decision that she wasn’t important when he slept with Ann-Margret.

She side stepped him and walked but as she passed him, he gripped her hand “Please.” she whispered “Just let me go.”

“I’m so sorry.” Elvis replied and let go of Kennedy, letting her walk past him and down the stairs. He hung his head in defeat, hearing her foot steps slowly fade away with a heavy heart.

He made the biggest mistake and only when he did it did he realize the gravity of his choice.

A few months ago

Elvis had just hung up after talking with Kennedy during his short break in between filming. The moment he stopped talking to her, he realized how much he missed her. He never felt this with any of his previous girlfriends, he didn’t start to miss them horribly the moment he hung up. He’d only been dating Kennedy for a few weeks.

After filming, the entire production team went for a private dinner as he looked at the menu he thought about how Kennedy would love to try everything they had, him not so much but she would’ve loved it. He thought about bringing her here to this restaurant on her day day-off. His heart rate picked up at the thought of Kennedy, he was starting to feel like his heart would burst at the thought. He was starting to fall for her and in a matter of weeks. He couldn't comprehend how he could fall in love with someone this quickly.

He frowned down at the menu not believing that he had already fallen for her. He gulped, trying to focus on the words written on the menu when he felt a hand slide up and squeeze his thigh. He looked at the small, feminine hand and let his eyes trail up the arm to Ann-Margret’s face.

“Are you okay?” Ann whispered, inching closer to him.

“Uh, yes.” Elvis cleared his throat, gripped her hand and slowly pulled it away from his thigh. He gave her a reassuring smile before placing his order.

They had a night shoot that day after dinner. Elvis kept pacing in his dressing room. It freaked him out that he was already in love with her. It scared him that she might break his heart because obviously she wasn’t in love with him yet, she hadn’t told him she loves him or so he thought.

A knock shook his dressing room door lightly. He sighed and walked over, pulling the door open. On the other side of the door stood Ann with a small smile on her face.

Elvis raised a brow, confused as to why she was knocking on his door.

“You looked upset during dinner.” She said “I wanted to come check up on you.”

“I-I’m fine.” He replied, ready to shut the door but Ann quickly moved towards him.

“Are you sure?” She asked, batting her eyelashes while placing a hand on his chest.

Elvis frowned, looking down at her hand that was currently on his chest. He wasn’t in love with Kennedy, no he couldn’t be.

“There isn’t anything I can do?” Ann batted her lashes once again, stepping even closer to Elvis while trailing her hand down his chest.

He needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t in love with Kennedy. She was just some girl he enjoyed being around. What was he thinking agreeing to being with her exclusively, he doesn't do that and he wasn’t about to change for some girl.

He looked at Ann and smiled down at her, nodding “There is.”

Ann grinned up at him and walked into his dressing room.

Ann tried to cuddle with him after they were done but he was already filled with dread.

“We need to be on set.” Elvis said, trying to kick her out without actually saying the words.

“See you on set.” She grinned, pecking his lips before leaving.

Elvis got up and hastily got in the shower. He hung his head as the water beat against his head feeling like the worst human being. How dare he hurt such an amazing girl? His heart was hurting at the thought of losing her.

He regretfully realized how much he actually loves Kennedy after he slept with Ann. He felt disgusting and scrubbed his body harder at the thought. There definitely was some chemistry between him and Ann but he did not see her as more than his co-star.

He punched the wall, his fist shaking as the pain shot up his arm.

Going back to set was hard, he couldn’t look at Ann but he mustered up the courage and did what he had to do. Play pretend. Right after they had wrapped up, it was almost 7 in the morning but he had to get out of here. He rushed back to his dressing room, not realizing Ann was hot on his trail.

“Hey.” she said as Elvis opened his dressing room door.

“Hi.” He replied, not looking back at her.

She gripped his arm and turned him to face her “Can I come in?” she said breathlessly.

“Uh. No.” He gulped.

Ann’s smile dropped in disappointment “Why not. We had a good time.”

Elvis shook his head and pulled his arm from her grip “Look Ann, what we did. Can’t happen again.”

“Why?” she furrowed her brows.

“I-I uh.” He gulped “I have a girlfriend.”

Ann’s eyebrows jumped to her hairline at his confession but she shrugged “So?”

“So?” Elvis asked, clenching his jaw “What we did was a mistake.”

“We have a connection. We could be great together. Break up with her.”

“We have nothing.” Elvis snarled getting in Ann’s face “I love her. I made a mistake. A huge one.”

He quickly walked into his dressing room, slamming the door shut in her face.

He called Jerry from the landline in his dressing room “I need to get back to Memphis.”

“A-are you sure? We’re flying out later today anyway.” They wanted to get some sleep before flying all the way from Las Vegas to Memphis.

“No. I need to go now.” Elvis replied, hanging up. It was the weekend anyway and he didn't need to be on set for the next 3 days. He had to get to Kennedy. He just wanted to see her.

5 hours later he was running up the stairs to Kennedy’s apartment. He knocked and anxiously bounced on his feet.

“Elvis?” she asked, pulling the door open “I thought you weren’t coming until late at night!” she grinned.

“I uh I needed to see you.” Elvis smiled softly, his heart beating against his chest rapidly from running up the stairs and from seeing her. She was still in her little pjs and her hair was up in a ponytail, bare faced and still swollen from sleep but perfect to him. He loves her. He really does. And he’s the biggest idiot.

He stepped in and hugged her tightly.

“I missed you too.” Kennedy giggled, hugging him back.

He couldn’t tell her what happened. He decided he won’t because what good would it do. He won’t repeat that mistake ever again that’s for sure. And it did make him realize he loves her so she doesn’t really need to know.

Present Day

Elvis had just wrapped filming the entire movie for Viva Las Vegas and he was more than ready to be back in Memphis. He felt slightly anxious at spending time in Graceland on his own when recently he was so accustomed to spending time in Kennedy’s apartment. Her apartment had become a safe space for him. He got in his car and headed home. At the thought of home he pictured Kennedy in his mind. That was his actual home. Her. Not Graceland. Not her apartment. Her. Her arms that hold him. Her soft lips that kissed him. Her scent. Her wonderful heart and kindness.

He was day dreaming in the back of his car while Jerry drove them from the tarmac.

“We’re here.” Jerry said, pulling up to the curb.

Elvis frowned and looked out of the window. His heart rate picked up, his lungs felt constricted. They were parked right in front of Kennedy’s apartment. He couldn’t breathe. He gulped letting his eyes trail up the building to Kennedy’s window. It was lit, she was there. She was home.

“Um.” Elvis found it hard to speak “No. Go to Graceland.”

“Huh?” Jerry asked in confusion. They had gotten used to dropping him off here the past few months the moment they landed in Memphis.

“Are you sure E.P?” Joe asked from the seat next to him.

“Yes.” Elvis replied, tearing his eyes away from her apartment.

She didn’t want to see him and she had the right. She told him that she was expecting him to be completely loyal, she told him that prior to them getting together. He needed to stay away from her.

Kennedy knew Elvis was back in Memphis, she knew his schedule. She knew he would’ve been in her apartment by now but he wasn’t and she needed to face the reality that they weren’t together anymore and he had probably already moved on. She on the other hand couldn’t even think of being with another man. She started to pick up around her apartment to push reminders of him away from her mind but she couldn’t do that when her apartment was littered with his things. His t-shirts were in her drawers, underwear, pants etc. If you were to see his things you would think he was permanently living here. Her bathroom had his favorite shampoo and body wash, his tooth brush was leaning against her own on her sink. His deodorant was in her cupboard, right next to hers. Even some of his pills were there. Some of his jewelry were on the bedside table. She didn’t hate seeing his things as much as it just hurt her deeply when she did so she decided to pick his things up and put them in boxes. Even while picking his things up, she did them with tears in her eyes. She felt like she was officially saying goodbye to him, officially closing the book on their relationship.

But even just looking around her apartment she could see when they would lie and cuddle on the couch watching whatever TV show was on. Or baking together and making a mess in the kitchen. Even slow dancing in the middle of the kitchen, they would dance for hours on end, just holding on to one another and feeling so at peace and being so in love with each other.

Elvis smiled gently and twirled her away before pulling her back into his arms.

“I love you.” He whispered before dipping his head down for a kiss.

“I love you too.” Kennedy replied, smiling with content as she kissed him back.

Elvis wrapped his arms around her, she placed her head against his chest swaying back and forth with him.

The next day after packing his things, she was determined to go and drop them off. She also used this as an excuse to see him for the last time.

She got into her car and drove over.

“Yes?” The security guard asked, bending down to see her through the rolled down window.

“I’m here to see Elvis.” Kennedy replied.

“And who are you?” He asked, looking at her with a raised brow and a smirk. He probably thought she was a fan trying to sneak in to get a glimpse of Elvis Presley.

“Tell him it’s Kennedy.” She replied.

“One second.” He replied and walked off. Kennedy could see him talk on the phone.

“Go ahead.” He nodded, opening the gate for her. There were lots of fans standing around, yelling and screaming to see Elvis.

Kennedy drove on and parked in front of the house. She’d only ever been here when he had the party when they had first met. It was such a beautiful property and the house was even more beautiful in the day time.

She stepped out of her car, grabbing the two box and placing them over each other before she walked up the steps that led to the front door. She bent down and placed the boxes next to her feet when the door was thrown open and there stood Elvis in his pajamas and his personal robe that had E.P stitched on.

“Kennedy?” He asked breathlessly, his heart pounding with excitement at seeing her here.

“Hi.” Kennedy replied, giving him a small smile.

“W-what are you doing here?” He asked, stepping out to join her on the foyer.

“Um I came to drop some of your things that you left in my apartment.” Kennedy replied, pointing down at the boxes.

“Oh.” He frowned in disappointment. Elvis crouched down and opened one of the boxes “I-I don’t want these here, those are for your apartment.”

“Yeah but we’re not together anymore.” Kennedy whispered.

“You love sleeping in this shirt.” Elvis looked up at her, his eyes shinning with fresh tears.

“It’s your shirt.” Kennedy gulped, looking away from his beautiful blue eyes. She hated seeing him cry, it hurt even more to see him hurting.

Elvis stood up and inched closer to her “Kennedy. Please.”

Kennedy shook her head, feeling a limp forming in her throat.

“Just take me back.” He whispered “I made a mistake but I promise you. It will never happen again.” He said taking her hand in his.

“Elvis, you promised me.” She replied, squeezing his hand and finally turned her face to see him.

“I know, baby. I know.” He replied, his lips trembling. He raised his free hand that wasn’t holding hers up to her cheek and caressed her cheek with his knuckles “I’m so sorry.”

He leaned his forehead against hers, clenching his eyes shut. She couldn’t help but get on her tippy toes and kiss him softly.

Elvis gripped her cheek and deepened the kiss swiftly, not wasting anytime to grip her waist and hoist her up. Kennedy wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing him back while matching his passionate kiss. He walked inside, not breaking their kiss and walked up the stairs, making sure not to drop her or trip on his feet.

After sleeping together, they cuddled for a while, not saying anything. Elvis was the big spoon, his arms wrapped tightly around Kennedy who was the smaller spoon. Her back was stuck to Elvis’ chest, her hand holding onto his arm.

“I love you.” Elvis whispered. Kennedy clenched her eyes shut and didn’t say anything. She didn’t forgive him, she was still so upset but she loved him so much.

After a while she felt his arms loosen slightly. He fell asleep but she didn’t. She had to leave. She slowly pulled his arm off of her and got out of bed, making sure he was still asleep. She quickly threw on her clothes that were scattered all over his bedroom and walked over to his side. She looked down at him with tears in her eyes. He really is the most beautiful man on the planet and she couldn’t believe she was able to love him even if it was only for a few months and that she got to be loved by him. She hoped he would find happiness and be able to actually be faithful when the right girl comes along. It killed her to know she wasn’t the right one but that also meant that there was someone out there for her.

She bent down and kissed his cheek, a tear escaped from her eye and landed on his cheek as she did.

Elvis woke up a few hours later, the sun was glowing bright orange into his bedroom. He blinked and reached over next to him, his hand feeling for Kennedy, looking for her. His heart dropped when he couldn’t feel her next to him. His eyes flew open and he turned to see the bed empty.

“Kennedy?” He asked, his heart racing in panic. Did she leave? He quickly got out of bed and his heart dropped even further when he only saw his clothes littered around his room.

“Kennedy?” He asked again and peeked into his bedroom.

He quickly pulled his clothes on, opting to wear pants and a shirt as opposed to his pjs that were still thrown haphazardly around his room.

He rushed down the stairs and just as he did, Mary his cook walked in “Mary! Did you see a short girl with dark brown hair.”

“Oh she left a while back.” Mary replied “She’s very pretty. What’s her name?”

“Yeah she-she is very pretty. Her name is Kennedy.” He sighed and sat down on the steps.

Mary gave him a look with a raised eyebrow “Is she the girl you’ve been spending a lot of time with?”

“How do you know that?” Elvis asked.

“You barely come home, all of the boys have been saying that you’re probably with a girl.” Mary replied.

“She is the girl I’ve been seeing.” Elvis confirmed.

“You have been very happy and glowing, is there trouble in paradise?” Mary asked.

“She broke up with me actually.” Elvis sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“Oh honey. I’m sorry. Did something happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Elvis looked up at the ceiling in thought “I cheated on her and it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“People make mistakes all the time.” Mary shrugged “I know its a big one but if you can reassure her and work to win back her trust and you two really love each other, then you’ll find yourselves back to each other.”

“I hope.” He sighed “I’m praying that God has a plan for us to get back together.”

“God does work in mysterious ways and his plan is always the best for you. Maybe there’s someone better suited for you or you two will find a way to move past this.” Mary replied.

“Thank you Mary.” Elvis gave her a small smile.

A week later Kennedy was pacing her apartment filled with fear and anxiety. She needed to talk to someone and the only person who she could think of was Elvis. She had to, she felt like a burden but it was only him that she could talk to.

She picked up the phone and rang Graceland’s landline.

“Hello?” a feminine voice answered.

“Hi, um is Elvis there?” Kennedy asked.

“Who’s this?”

“Kennedy.”

“Oh! Hi, Kennedy! I’ve heard so much about you! This is Mary, I’m the cook that you ran into when you were leaving.” Mary said.

“Oh. Hi Mary.” Kennedy smiled slightly, her worry that it might have been a girl he was currently sleeping with drifted away.

“Let me get him for you sweetheart.” Mary replied.

“Kennedy?” Elvis asked, his voice drifting through the speakers of the headset.

“Hi.” Kennedy whispered.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Elvis asked, worry evident in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Can you please come over? I need to talk to you.” Kennedy asked.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Hey.” Kennedy said opening the door for Elvis.

“You left without even saying goodbye.” Elvis frowned not even bothering to say hello.

“I know.” Kennedy sighed “You looked too peaceful and I just can’t say goodbye to you without crying.”

Elvis sighed and stepped inside when Kennedy moved to the side.

“What’s going on?” Elvis asked as Kennedy shut the door “Do you want to get back together with me?”

“No.”

“Then why the hell did you make me come here?” Elvis asked.

“I’m pregnant.” Kennedy replied.

Taglist: @iuv0ana @girlblogger2002 @butlersluvbot @iheqrtaustin @dramaticpandabear @godlypresley @amiets2 @felis-haxb16 @marie73ep @scarlettlight06 @whatstruthgottodowithit @sassanoe @thatbanditqueen @18lkpeters @rjmartin11 @elvispresleyisfit12 @n0vaj3an @richardslady121 @elvispresleyxoxo @xstrengthxinxtragedyx @amydarcimarie @minaxcarter

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

#elvis presley #elvis 2022 #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #elvis songs #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #austin elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin butler #elvis presley x oc #elvis x oc #elvis presley angst #elvis one shot

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rreskk · 11 months

Note

Hi, Trevor fingerfuck the reader until she squirts, a little overstimulation maybe... can you?

A/N: Absolutely! Thank you for the request <3

Summary: He hates being awake when you're asleep, so he does something about it.

TW: -Smut

Word count: 1680

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

He was lied on his bed, boredom completely frying his brain as well as the profanity of drugs he had taken the hours beforehand. You were crashed out beside him – legs tangled, clothes off; stripped naked from the nightly activities. It was early morning (6am) and he was woken up by his insufferable insomnia. Trevor just wanted to sleep peacefully. He’d glance at your exposed chest with eager eyes, but you were fast asleep. He doesn’t blame you, not at all. You experienced it rough and raw, with pleasure, and with love (from Trevor himself).

“When the fuck you gonna wake up, huh?” He’d huff at your sleepy frame, his fingers tingling for some action. His high sex drive had led you into becoming his ultimate obsession, his complete favourite person, favourite girl – His girl.

“I’m getting’ so… Horny, baby.”

Yet you remained breathing heavily asleep. A sigh left his lips and he slumped back against the pillows. Waking up to the sight of your breasts and frame had led him no justice. He was yearning and struggling to cope with it. Too much of him is throbbing; hands, boner, lips, tongue.

God… Trevor needed to taste you. He wonders if you taste or react differently when asleep… He wonders if you’d love it as much as you were awake.

Struggling to settle back down, he clicked his tongue and stared up to the ceiling. Every time he stares at the tile patterns, there’s always something new to see. For years he’s been making shapes out of the ceilings material. He hoped to find something worth his curiosity, going through the efforts of rotating and tilting his head.

“I swear I saw an outline of tits last week…” Trevor murmured and squinted at the ceiling.

But there was too many shapes to count. His drug-fuelled brain couldn’t handle the pressure and he immediately sulked back against the mattress, in a bitter mood with himself for feeling bored and alone. You were right there, within arm reach, within hand reach… He’d shake you awake with a rough, passionate kiss – Why doesn’t he?

He observed your sleepy face and found it incredibly endearing and divine. The urge to cradle and toy with your sensitive areas was quite frankly huge. Trevor stared at your sleepiness and shuffled closer so his bare crotch was subtly buried between your ass and curves. He grunted. The warmth wasn’t enough.

“C’mon… I’m starvin’ for you, baby. Wake up, for me? Yeah?” He’d whisper against your absent ears, slowly entrancing his arms around your waist. Trevor possessively clenched your stomach – his hands greeting each other and captivating you into his embrace.

Resting his chin upon your shoulder, his eyes remained fixated on your unconscious face as his fingers slowly trickled down your stomach, thumbling under the covers and reintroducing himself with your sex. His thumb gracefully caresses your folds and aching for some more coverage. There was no response from your sleepy figure yet; a sign to carry on experimenting.

“Wakey wakey…”

Trevor added pressure to his thumb that migrated from your outer area, routing through your privacy and groaning at how warm, but also wet you were, already… He cackled, that horrific breath penetrating your earlobes as he had a natural response from your body. With the wetness seeping quickly, his thumb was able to access your sex deeper until it was fully applied – earning a breathy gasp from your departed lips.

His eyes met your closed ones. You were still asleep, cutely.

“You’re killin’ me, sugar… I miss you. Wake up, c’mon… I’ll treat you real nice,” There was desperation behind his pleads. He cradled your body, his thumb still exploring through your throbbing pussy. The Adams apple based in his neck quivered in torment – “I love you, I love your cunt, I love your fuckin’ tits, babe. Lemme love you, I want you awake.”

He acutely leaned down, biting your shoulder with this hand continuing the hard-labour under the stained sheets. Trevor’s tongue tasted the salty sweat from your skin as his teeth grazed the surface.

“Wake up…”

Your body arched into Trevor’s hips. Whether this was self-projected, he whined and panted like a loose dog. He couldn’t hold himself back. You were practically pulsing around his thumb, something told him you were crying for more. He knew you wouldn’t mind… This wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence, but it has happened before; more than once. Trevor had found himself drooling over your exhaustion (some evenings ago) and “helped” wake you up, spiritually.

This occurrence though? He was eager, almost dying for you to wake up and whisper pleads.

“I wanna make you squirt so hard…” His hands carried on smoothing your sex as he gasped for some dignity, chin dug into the nuzzle of your neck.

Adding a second finger to support his thumb, Trevor cruelly molested your clit. His wrist was circulating at great pace. He kept his sights on you, noticing slight disturbance in your peace and grinning. He loved you faster until his arm was using all it’s muscles to contract some pleasure and aggression.

“C’mon…”

Your lips would twitch and your nostrils flared.

“Wake up, [y/n].”

Your tongue slithered through your cracked lips in anticipation.

“That’s right…” Trevor watched your eyes flutter open lazily, “There’s my girl.”

The welcome invitation of his fingers groping your cunt had roused your consciousness and comprehension. You rotated your head and exhaled as he stared back at you, breathing heavily and his saliva painfully falling from the side of his monstrous mouth.

“Trevor…” You gravely moaned and opened your legs wider.

He nodded frantically; “I know, I know. Lemme love you, c’mon. Squirt for me, girl.”

You gaped your maw and your gob was silenced by the offering of his gnarly fingers that crookedly overstimulated your pussy. The beating and bashing rapidly made you gamble out his name.

“Trevor! Fuck!”

His boredom had been replaced momentarily with determination and thrill of your soft voice. He pressed soft kisses behind your ear, one hand grasping your stomach while the other perverted your cunt into proceeding blissful donations of your seeping attraction, the wetness submerging into a wider mess. It had you pivoting around your own world.

“You’re so hot,” Trevor giggled, indirectly talking, “Keep moaning, babe, keep doing it… You like this? C’mon, say it… You love this, don’t cha?”

“Yes, yes… Oh! Oh, please! I can’t…”

“You can.”

“Trevor – “

He found ultimate joy in your pretty little struggles, “You make me so fuckin’ happy, [y/n]. Keep taking in my finger with your sexy cunt, yeah? I’ll fuck your tits next, isn’t that right babe?”

Words had failed to apprehend his playful Baptism of your sex. You were left whispering inaudible cries; something along the lines of – “Please” and “Oh fuck.” But it barely made it out of your throat without the affects of his mannerism. Trevor had found his morning enjoyments with this, giddy as life, and he is never giddy about waking up.

“I love you so fuckin’ bad, you know that? You saint, you Goddess, my God…” His fingers sped up, squelching and substituting your inner warmth, “I want you… Shit, I-I need you. I can’t live without your pussy, babe. Shittt, I need to fuck you after this, hm? C’mon, you want the good old Trevor lovin’?”

“Please, p-please!”

Your back had fully arched into Trevor’s chest, grinding for some friction and warmth between the skin-to-skin contact. You were still barely awake, but it didn’t matter since he was working for it, the hard-labour and mobility behind his criminal hand making you feel so unlawfully lucky. Trevor may have killed with his hands – it only makes it more exciting and “naughty.”

He loves a bit of naughtiness;

Touching without your word.

Whining for your attention.

Tormenting your peace.

Then using his raging sex-addicted body to defuse any deprived tension.

He loved it all. And you did.

“You’re so wet.”

He fingered and fingered as you whinged and wailed his name. The continuous art of his fingers had probably caused internal bruising in your cunt for the next few days, especially after his repeated visit with his cock and tongue. The days straight of intimacy never outgrew as boring. Instead, it grew boring without having each other’s spit and semen buried within each other. It was his affection and it was your love confession.

“I’m gonna – “ You were instantly shut up when he nibbled your earlobe again. Trevor grunted and creepily traced his name with his fingertip upon your stomach. You could tell considering he was heaving out the letters. He imagined tattooing and permanently marking you with his name all over your used body, so immensely beautiful to his fantasies.

“Trevor, please…” You croaked.

“Trevor, please…” He mocked heavily before kissing your cheek and relentlessly loving your pussy.

“Mhm, no. M’no, stop. I need to cu – Baby! Please, don’t stop.”

“Almost there…”

“Trevor! TREVOR!”

He fingered through your climax. Trevor gasped in delight when you outspread your legs and a raging rampage of your fluids squirting out, wetting the mattress and duvets.

“FUCK!” Cried your tainted and shattered voice. It felt like an intense wave of relief washing over your stomach and chest. Butterflies had lilted from your heart to your throat, moaning sweet lullabies to his ears while you continued squirting out the remainder of your cum.

“That’s right, baby. That’s so fuckin’ hot.”

Trevor felt you dumbly sink into the pillows after you had managed to climax every ounce of your sexual depravity. He smothered your neck with sloppy kisses and praises.

“[y/n], fuck me, girl! That was so sexy, you fuckin’ tiger, ay?” His tone uplifted childishly.

“Trevor, fuck…”

“I know, baby, I know,” A hand caressed your collarbone and shoulder, “Still needy? Still horny for more? How ‘bout my cock, huh? You want me to fuck the life outta your tits and cunt, [y/n]?”

You nodded pathetically.

“Please, yes, yes.”

He giggled and massaged your jaw.

“Alright. Wake up, baby. Uncle T is now fuckin’ coming.”

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gloryride · 6 months

Text

OC INTERVIEW

tagged by @chevvy-yates ♥♥ thanks! I know who you want, so here baby driver <3

-- Name --

Enzo Angelo Sarto. No, don't call me Lorenzo, i don't like this name, and i don't care was my nonno name. My parents call me like that when i screw up. So it's Enzo, capisce ?

-- Nickname --

Lot of people call me Enzolino because some race commentators called me that when I won my first race at 16. I was the youngest racer for years. Because "-ino" in Italian means "little". And i still have this name, even i'm a tall ragazzo and i'm 24. And so many of my family calls me Lino, some close friends too. But i prefer people call me Enzo. Except Jay who calls me Babe, adn that's really cute in his pretty mouth.

-- Gender --

Cis Male

-- Star Sign --

Born in October 30, i'm a proud Scorpio !

-- Height--

1m89, or 6"2 if you want

-- Orientation --

Bisexual

-- Nationality/Ethnicity --

Italian. I don't care i never saw Italia in my life, but all my famiglia is italian so am i ! Yeah yeah, i know i was born in Arizona, but it's from Free States not NUSA, right ? I can't be American, so i'm Italian.

-- Fave Fruit --

I love prickly pears, because you find many in deserts around New Mexico, when they're not toxic. Mia mamma does pretty neat marmelades with. I like oranges too, when they're ripe and sweet

-- Fave Season --

Spring, when it starts to be a bit hot but not too much. And sometimes it rains, feels so good after a day in a desert !

-- Fave Flower --

Don't see many flowers in desert, except cactus flowers. I had a bouquet of lilies and peonies when I won my last Vegas Race - they smelt really good!

-- Fave Scent --

Maybe i have weird taste, but i love motor oil smell, as like hot asphalt, then refreshed by rain. In more classic, when lasagna just came out still hot, or just citrus smell.

-- Coffee, tea or hot chocolate --

Coffee, that's a basic.

-- Average hours of sleep --

Chaotic and my dark circles speak for me. I go to bed late but wake up early, sometimes i don't sleep, because i start working with my dad at 6am to avoid heat in desert. I take nap afternoon and when i can, but i rarely sleep a long night.

-- Dog or Cat person --

I love dogs, but if i can choose another animals i prefer geckos. You can see a lot in desert, they're adorable.

-- Dream trip --

I travel all the time so i dunno ... maybe going to Italy and see where my famiglia come from ? Or maybe just on the East Coast of NUSA, just to see how it is, and seeing if there are some races.

-- Favorite fictional character --

This guy in Bushido 6 : Street Score plays by Drew Garcia, always forget his name. He's a dick but so cool with his car. Saw the scene too many times ... And i saw many western movies with my brother Virgile, i really love the ones with Terrence Hill. So Nobody in My Name is Nobody and ... what's the name in English ? Vabbè. Lo chiamavano Trinità, where he plays Trinita, awesome too !

-- Number of blankets they sleep with --

Between none and one. If i sleep alone, one. If i'm with Jay, he spreads the blanket away so i have nothing ... except him.

-- Random fact --

It's something I never talk about because I don't have any information. But I have… I had… an older sister. My mother was married and he left to join the Wraiths with their baby. We know that he was killed a year later, but there's no trace of the baby. Mamma searched and never found her, and she still wonders where she is, if she's still alive. It seems that's why she only had me with Dad, the fear of losing me too would have been a kind of psychological block and she was never able to have other children.

#about : enzo sarto #cyberpunk 2077 #thanks for the tag #love his smile in this pic <3

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theunstuffedpepper · 10 months

Text

I realized that I’ve never really documented my L&D experience with any of my boys. Memory fades, but anyone who has gone through it knows that there are some moments and aspects of labor and delivery that you know will stay fresh in your mind for a long, long time.

This will probably get lengthy - fair warning.

For a bit of background, my first and second experiences with labor and delivery were complete opposites in everything except arrival time; both boys arrived in week 38 (38+3 and 38+4, to be specific).

My first involved an induction due to preeclampsia concerns. I was working remotely and got a call from my doctor on Wednesday - I was 38+0 and they told me that due to the protein levels in my urine from my 37-week appointment, they wanted to induce me. That same day. After a bit of freaking out and calling B, we packed up and headed to the hospital. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were spent passing the time, letting things... ripen. My body was NOT ready. By Saturday, though, I was ready for pitocin. I labored for about 6 hours and was still only at 2cm, so I requested an epidural. An hour after the epidural, my doctor came in to tell me that if things hadn't progressed any further, I'd be getting a C-section. She checked me and I was fully dilated +2. Thank god for that epidural. One more hour of pushing and he arrived. The whole experience was off, though. It wasn't a great labor and delivery experience for me, though I was very grateful because it could have been much worse and much harder, but it was only the start of a very, very difficult year of my life. PPD is no joke.

My second was quite the opposite. Again, I was working remotely at home, and I wrote an email to my boss the morning I started going into labor to tell him I thought I'd best hang up my hat. We called my parents to come watch Holden. They arrived to our house by 1pm, we got to the hospital at 2pm, and the baby was born at 4pm. It was wickedly painful - my water broke on the way to the hospital - and to this day, I've never experienced physical pain like that in my life. It progressed FAST and furious and my body told me when it was time to push, even before the doctors did. Two pushes and he was here.

I guess that brings me to my third and final labor/delivery experience. You may already know that we had a false alarm and spent the day at the hospital two days before the baby was actually born, frustratingly being sent home at the end of that day because I was still only 3cm dilated. That was Wednesday. Friday morning, my contractions woke me up at 4am and I knew in my gut that it was Actually Time. I woke B up, we woke up my parents who were already staying at our place that night, and we left. The hour-long drive to the hospital was stressful but we made it. We were admitted at 6am. After vomiting once and laboring for much longer than I wanted without any pain management, I was finally given the epidural around - what was it, 7cm? I think so. It was only about 75% effective, but it was certainly enough to take the edge off and it was a welcome relief. My labors move fast, apparently. The L&D nurse was so incredibly kind and encouraging - telling me I was doing amazing, that my pain tolerance is incredibly high, and that I was cranking out those contractions. When I was fully dilated, the midwife (who also saw me for my false alarm and who I had become very fond of by that point) told me we were ready to go. Let's push this baby out. Four pushes and there he was. He had arrived at 39+2. He looks just like Holden did as a newborn. He's healthy and happy and it's been absolute smooth sailing as far as his health goes, thank goodness. That's all I wanted.

So, with that, the family is feeling very complete. It was a scary thought, but now it's mostly just a welcome one. I won't have to go through the pain, anxiety, and trauma of another pregnancy, labor, and delivery again. That part of the journey is thankfully in the rear view. There was a time when I thought I wouldn't have kids - at that time, I never would have believed you if you told me I'd end up having three. Now, though, I can't imagine not having done it. Life has a way of doing that, I suppose.

#labor and delivery #momblr #pregblr #labor #delivery #08192023

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globetrotter28 · 2 years

Text

Another Cover Up (Part 4)

Fandom: The Boys

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Herogasm, Butcher, Hughie and Soldier Boy realise they might need more reinforcements. After doing more research, they discover the woman who was also injected with Compound V alongside Soldier Boy back in the 40’s. Everyone also thought she was KIA that day at Nicaragua. But if Soldier Boy was still alive… maybe she was too?

If you DO wish to be tagged for future updates, please let me know.

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Tags: @msbadgirl @queenofspades20 @mimzy1994 @erinnkenobi @goldngguk @ateliefloresdaprimavera @roseblue373 @acarboni21 @sexyvixen7 @buckybarnes-1917 @valkyrie418 @multishipper @bxwitched @capswife @bluedragonflylady @leigh70

Chapter Warnings: language, discussion of previous character’s sexual assault

Yes, Butcher will come off OOC this chapter.

Series Masterlist - Part 3

You and Butcher left at 6am sharp the next morning.

You had barely slept since arriving Stateside, so although Butcher was walking out to his shit box of a car, attempting to sneak off quietly, you were already sitting in the front seat.

He didn't see you until he opened the driver's side door and huffed a heavy breath as he sat in the seat and you made your presence known.

"Nice try." You said.

"Bollocks!" He shouted as he jumped in his seat, turning his widened brown eyes to you. He saw a wicked grin on your face, one that matched his own when he was up to something.

"Is that any way to talk in front of a lady?" You sass.

"Jesus Christ...," he took a deep breath to steady his beating heart.

"Are we going or not?" You say, pulling the temperamental seat belt down from over your shoulder and clicking it into place.

"You're a bloody Supe and you still put the belt on?" Butcher asks, confused eyes staring at you.

"I may be a Supe, but I still feel pain. And let's be honest, William... you know I don't have reason to trust that you won't try and throw me through that windshield." You say as you point to said windshield, eyebrow raised.

He only grunts as a response before turning the engine over and pulling away from the house.

You both drive in silence for almost three quarters of an hour before you reach to turn the radio on. Although you didn't care too much, Butcher's mind was quite a fucking mess and you didn't really want to listen to it much more.

"You ever heard of asking?" Butchers gravelly voice breaks through the tune of an old song crackling through the speaker.

"Control your thoughts better and maybe I would." You quip, side eyeing him. "Besides... didn't think you'd care too much if it took my focus of your fucked up brain." You look out the window seeing shades of green pass you by.

"Hughie said you were having some troubles." He mentions.

"Hmm... it's not easy when they fuck with your brain... sometimes feels like they were trying to scramble some eggs."

The song on the radio changes to one you were very familiar with. The high pitched piano notes send chills through your body taking you a second to recognise the song. The melodic male voice singing 'turn around' before Bonnie Tyler's distinctive husky voice joins in, and you're quickly reaching for the tuner to adjust the station.

"As lovely as she is," Butcher says, gently tapping the dashboard of the vehicle, "the radio is on the blink." Butcher says with a severely sarcastic tone.

You reach for the volume to at least turn it down as low as possible, but it only gets louder.

"You're joking?" Your voice is thick with frustration as you look at Butcher, turning it the other way to turn it back down, but it only goes to the same volume it was when you first started.

"Nah, not too much of a joker, love." He smirks at you. "Her audio settings are simple; one station, on, off, loud or louder." He chuckles as he looks at your face that you can only imagine is one that looks like you would readily kill him. He only laughs heartier.

You go to turn it off then, but he smacks your hand away.

"Un-uh! You wanted it on, princess, it's on."

You look at him, flabbergasted that he just smacked your hand. The chorus is playing now and to your utter shock, Butcher starts belting it out in his cockney voice.

"Oh my god, fuck me..." you mutter in frustration as you sink into your seat.

You knew Butcher was doing this to annoy you, but he starts doing air drums and is very clearly getting into the song. You know you could easily turn it off, but you can't help but feel your frustration slowly morph into enjoyment at his terrible singing and just start to giggle, soon joining him in the love ballad.

By the third verse you're singing by yourself. What you didn't realise was that Butcher was listening to the lyrics. He was picking up that they clearly meant something to you as your voice was becoming extremely emotional, even cracking on the odd occasion.

As the song was fading out, Butcher reached forward and clicked the radio off.

"Gotta love me some Bonnie." Butcher says somewhat jokingly before switching his tone quickly. "A'right. What was that?" He presses you.

"What was what?"

"Why didn't you want to listen to that song." He gestures to the radio, his left hand still on the steering wheel.

You release a large sigh, trying to find the words. You soon settle on, "I helped write it."

It's quiet for a moment, you sensing Butcher's complete and utter confusion. He really didn't see that one coming.

"You helped write that?" He clarifies.

"Yep." You confirm, glancing at him.

"No you didn't." He looks at you, eyes furrowed in disbelief.

"Get your little device out and look it up." You suggest.

"Yeah... yeah a'right, I'll do just that."

Butcher reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out his phone, keeping one hand on the wheel and looking at his phone as he attempts to type on it.

"You've got to be fucking joking...!" He bellows, glancing at you briefly in disbelief.

"Told ya." Your smirk.

"'Total Eclipse of the Heart' was written by Jim Steinman [and Y/N Y/L/N] and released by Bonnie Tyler in 1983."** Butcher reads. "This has gotta be one of the most famous love ballads..."

"Glad it did well." You say.

"Supe's don't have talent like that." Butcher states.

"Ha! You're not wrong... have you seen any of Ben's movies? Or heard his songs? Fuck, they're terrible!" You laugh.

"You didn't have any- well..."

"No, I refused to be a dancing monkey. This was the only one I co-wrote and produced." You tried not to, but you could hear Butcher questioning why you were even a Supe. So you decided to answer him. "I saw these... powers... as a way of me actually trying to make a difference. I never wanted to be in front of the camera. I never wanted the notoriety." You pause for a moment. "This was meant to be a gift. I was turned into this... thing... what I was sold is not what it was... they wanted a weapon that would easily be turned into a profit for their convenience."

"You sound like bloody Starlight." Butcher grumbled.

"Starlight?" You questioned. "Oh... Annie..." you can't helps but see this Starlight in his mind, recognising her from Hughie's visions. "At the risk of you getting pissed, what is your issue with Supes? At least the good ones. This Starlight seems pretty alright."

"You lot can't be trusted." Butcher's tone quickly turns sour.

"Fair statement." He looks at you confused once again. "Hey, from what Hughie has told me about him getting into the game, they haven't really changed much in forty years. Vought's still blowing that smoke up their asses, covering for their idiocy. But you know... before they were injected with that poison, Compound V... they were human. Just like normal humans... not all of them are winners. But there are some... like Hughie, who aren't so bad." He only grunts. "Maybe Starlight isn't so bad."

The silence is deafening. Well... at least if you couldn't hear Butcher's thoughts. But again, they were a fucking mess...

Butcher soon breaks the silence with, "Are you..." he coughs. "Are you in me head? Right now?" He glances over at you then back at the road.

"Not really. I'm trying not to be. I wasn't fucking around when I said your brain is pretty fucked." He scoffs, what you believe to be in agreement with you. "But it's hard hearing everyone's thoughts. All the time. Before Russia, I could turn it off in a way. It's taking me some time to get that skill back." You explain, not only for him but also for yourself. "So I'm trying. I wouldn't appreciate someone plying around inside my fucked up brain either." You say, truthfully but also trying to make it not so serious. Butcher seems to appreciate that, if only a little.

It's silent for about a minute before he breaks it again.

"I never really understood Supes." He says, bringing your focus back to him. "Never got why they were always put up on this bloody pedestal." He scoffs scornfully. You don't say it, but he knew you already agreed with him, which he only confirms. "Always thought they'd be better off actually being heroes, out there really saving people. Not profiting from it. But my wife-" he clears his throat. "My wife actually worked at Vought Tower. She was in the Media and Communications team. PR, did their social media."

You were about to ask what 'social media' was, but decided it'd be better to ask Hughie. You didn't want to interrupt Butcher sharing his story.

"She was fucking good at it too." He smiles gently, a flash of pride colouring his harsh features. "Was the best bloody woman I ever knew." His voice tightens.

"Knew?" You ask gently, having a pretty good idea where this was going.

"A Supe hurt her. Raped her." You swallow thickly and look down at your lap. "She disappeared for years. I never believed she was dead, but... a part of me always thought..." he stops for a moment before continuing. "But she wasn't. Turned up just over a year ago. Vought had her as a prisoner in a fake town with her son."

"Son?" You question, thinking only for a moment how that was a nightmare of yours. Getting pregnant from such an act of violence.

"Ryan. Actually a sweet kid. I see so much of my Becca in him." His voice is slightly watery from his sadness. "He accidentally killed her. Trying to protect her from Stormfront."

"Fucking Nazi bitch..." you sneer under your breath. "It was Homelander." You state, already figuring out the monster that did that to Butcher's wife. "That's why you want Ben to kill him."

Butcher's eyes stay glued to the road, but he swallows thickly before nodding once. Although it was clear from the beginning in exchange for helping Soldier Boy kill the old members of Payback, he would kill Homelander, Butcher was still worried the original Supe would feel used.

"Then I'll do whatever I can to help put him down." Butcher's eyes turn to meet yours, seeing the anger and sincerity in your face. "He deserves what's coming to him for all the pain he's caused."

Butcher nods once again in a silent thanks.

~~~~~~~~~~

Turns out three of the safe houses were a complete bust. You still had eight to go, but both you and Butcher were fed up with the day. So you made the long drive back to Legend's house.

Butcher's phone starts to ring, so he puts it up to his hear and you can hear Hughie's voice make it's way through the speaker. Your enhanced hearing makes it easier for you to hear, but you try to tune it out.

You focus on the passing trees again, a field soon breaking through. You see a large property with a beautiful country style home sitting in the middle. There's a few cattle off to the side in one of the paddocks and you see two adults, the woman holding a young child on her hip as both her and the man point at the animals.

You can't help the small smile that breaks out in your face as you imagine what your life might have been like if you had never been injected with V. Maybe you would have got married, had a family of your own. You always imagined it would have been with Ben, but... you decided it was too late for you now.

"Have to make a small supply run, love." Butcher's voice breaks you from your thoughts and you realise you're looking at a forest of trees once again.

"Yeah. Okay."

"Won't take long, only a few things for your- ah for Soldier Boy." Butcher cuts himself off, realising that what Hughie asked him to pick up was not being used between you and Ben.

No one ever really described Butcher as an 'awkward' man. But he certainly felt awkward in that moment. He didn't have to be a genius to know that you had a hard on for the original superhero. He could read between the lines that you wrote those lyrics to that Bonnie Tyler song about your relationship with said hero.

To be honest, Butcher was pretty surprised you and Soldier Boy weren't actually an item with the way he coddled and nursed you since finding you in Russia. Which is why he felt pretty shocked that Soldier Boy was wanting to screw the women on Legend's staff with you right there. And having Hughie ask him to pick up more Astroglide only added to his bewilderment.

Part 5

** https://genius.com/Bonnie-tyler-total-eclipse-of-the-heart-lyrics

#fanfic #read on ao3 #fanfiction #original female character #the boys tv #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy #read on wattpad #william butcher #billy butcher #female reader #soldier boy x female reader

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aminocamino · 28 days

Text

Day 23 - 2 May Calzadilla de la Cueza to Sahagun 23km

Calzadilla didn’t have any redeeming features. The food was passable as is the place.

We woke quite early as those in rooms opposite were up and about before 6am. The room was unbearably hot (after all our moans about being cold) so I didn’t sleep. Hot house Carrie slept like a log! Carrie had lost a pair of her favourite socks - and thats all I heard about yesterday….they turned up in her rucksack 😂 It was like Christmas day…

We didn’t breakfast - just a quick coffee for me. I have a very sore blistered toe on my left foot so took a while to sort that out.

We have managed to get rid of all the food we bought two days ago in a panic over yesterday being a bank holiday. Result as our rucksacks were way too heavy with the extra weight of fruit/cheese/baguette etc.

Todays walk was tedious. The best thing about it was our stop in Ledigos where we had a freshly made omelette each. And I had tea in a pot! I remember reading a blog about how easy it was to get decaf tea out here. Forget it - I think I have found one place in 3 weeks that did it and I almost fell down in shock when they told me!

We saw a marker saying we were 373km from Santiago then a few kilometres further down a marker saying we were 391km! What we can say is we are now over the half way mark! Yippee….

We were surprised to see such a large group and thought it might be a tour group. Actually it turned out to be a school party. I did notice in Ledigos a pile of rucksacks with laminated labels - obviously a guided group having their bags moved. I think the big groups are creating shortage of accommodation on the Camino. Glad we have come on the cusp of this as we both think it will get worse.

Although only 22km the walk into Sahagun was again hard because it was frankly boring. It was cold and flat but without the beauty of the Meseta. Think the run up to Leon will be like this. I did like this metal sculpture though.

Our hotel is ok. I didn’t spend too much time looking for something better and it is abit soulless.

We showered and rested then headed out. Carrie and I have decided that Sahagun is over rated. I was very disappointed. I had chosen this historic town on the back of reviews etc. but frankly as Carrie put it ‘its like St Austell on a Monday night’! (Sorry Jane). Carrie had been looking forward to Sahagun due to a podcast she was listening to. And now we have a very gutted Carrie..

The highlight is we went to Santuario de la Peregrino to get our half way certificates. Not sure either of us fully realise the significance of it - its massive!

The Sanctuary was beautiful with Moorish influence in some of the artwork.

Photos of the amazing historical buildings around Sahagun but trust me - the photos make it look good! We did walk into one building and Carrie must have had her sympathetic face on because a very enthusiastic chap decided to tell her about all the historic buildings in Spanish. Ofcourse she understood every word!

We went into a number of restaurants to try and find a good one - but they were all pizza and game machine places. We bumped into Jenny and Mel and they took us to a hidden restaurant where we had had a glass of wine literally an hour earlier. It was Michelin noted 2018 and fabulous. The wall art was amazing - Casa Luis.

Now tucked in bed. We got back - I had to get them to put the heating on (its only 3 degrees outside) and then we had a nightcap…. 😄

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violet0203 · 2 years

Text

your husband oikawa being away in a tournament

this is kind of a pt2 so here it is pt1.

here it is pt3

It was June and late at night in Argentina. Your week has been really awful, staying up until 4am working and then waking up at 6am to go back to work. It has been pretty exhausting and for it’a worst, it has been almost three weeks since the last time you saw your husband.

The national team is participating in the volleyball’s nation league, a tournament that they play in different countries and lasts around six weeks. Oikawa Tooru plays for the Argentinian team as the setter and you were so proud of him. But you also miss him so much.

At 1 am when you were still trying to finish some stuff that your boss asked you to send them, your phone buzzed with a notification.

“are u awake?” instantly you felt a warm inside of you and forgot all your shitty week just with that text. You needed to see him and it seemed like he did too because you got a facetime call.

“You could have woken me up”

He laughed and that only made you miss him more. Despite you have been dating him for years and is normal for him to be some weeks away you would never really get use to it.

“I knew I wouldn’t, I saw that you saw the text. Besides you never go to bed without saying goodnight”

For what you could notice he was in the lobby of the hotel where they were staying. Behind him there were some of his team members and you could hear shouts and noise around him. He went a little a far from them to talk to you privately.

“Are you already heading to the stadium?” he nodded and did a little sideways look. You know that when he does that is because he is a bit nervous “You are amazing, do you know that? An amazing husband, friend and volleyball player. The best setter in the world”.

He looked at your eyes and was thankful for having you, because even miles away you knew when he was feeling a bit off and having self doubts, you always knew the right thing to say.

“And you look so good in that jacket that I can’t wait for you to come home”

He chuckled, loving the way you tease him.

“Actually you look way better on it than I do, especially when you are only wearing it and nothing else” your cheeks went a little red. You were the one to set the conversation in that tone, you could not complain, all your fault.

One of his teammates appeared behind him and tapped his shoulders. You blushed a bit more thinking that he may have heard you talking, but after nicely waving at you and told him it was time to go. Oikawa sighed, he didn’t want to finish the call, but told his teammate that will be there in a minute.

“Is it goodbye then?” he nodded “Good luck in your game. I’ll try to watch it”

“No, you won’t. The game is at 4am in Argentina” said emphatically. You looked at him puzzled asking him what he meant with that “I know that this last week you have been sleeping few hours, I can noticed it by your eyes, I much prefer you having a good night sleep that staying up watching my game”

You tried to opposed him but he just cut you off.

“Please do it for me”

He was being unfair, he obviously knew that you can’t say no when he has puppy eyes. So you agreed to him.

“I love you”

“Love you too, Tooru and now hurry up or the buss will leave you at the hotel”

“’kay, go to sleep and text me when you wake up tomorrow”

“I’ll do, bye…” he waved you and throw you a kiss before ending the call.

How is it possible that now you were missing him a little more than before??

You turned from your desk to the bed, the king size bed that he bought the moment you accepted to move in with him. Still had some things left to do for your work, but your boss will have to wait for them, anyways he doesn’t work on weekends.

The bed always feels so empty when Oikawa is away, but the message he sent you was what you needed. Just a simple “Goodnight <3”. You answered to it and fell back asleep.

You thought that by some sort of luck you instinctively would wake at 4am to watch the game, but Tooru was right when he said that you were tired. You fell like if you had been sleeping for hours while trying to find you phone lost between the sheets of the bed.

09:00 was bright in your phone once you found it. The game ended at least three hours ago. Before texting the setter that you were awake, you type the game in the browser to find the outcome.

They lost. 3-2 against France. You kept checking the stats of the game and read some news. They didn’t do a bad game, but they didn’t had a great start, so despite winning the third and fourth set, France could overcame them and win the fifth 19-17.

“are u okay?” you texted him instead of just saying you are awake. It didn’t took him more than two minutes to called you.

It should be 10 pm in Philippines where they were playing. When Oikawa appeared in your screen he was with one arm in his head laying on the bed. Probably already changed his clothes, because when he is out in a tournament he tries to sleep before 11pm.

“Did you sleep well?” A few years ago, you would have thought that he was evading the question you did to him not wanting to express his real feeling, but now you knew that he was being sincere, he really is more concerned about you.

“Yes I did. Had you already have dinner?”

“Yes, I just had come back to the room when i got your text… and yes… i’m fine” You tried to see if he was hiding something, but he really did look fine “We made some mistakes at the beginning, we corrected them and then it was just about their athleticism was better than ours”.

Both he and you noticed how much he have changed since coming to play in Argentina. You didn’t meet him in high school, but he told you everything about it. He used to had such an awesome team, but they never managed to get to the nationals. Oikawa used to blame himself and used to think that he was the problem all along, he was really self deprecating back then, therefore he didn’t have self esteem.

After graduating he decided to come to Argentina and try something new. Got hired by an Argentinian volleyball time. His first season wasn’t bad, they actually won the championship, but in his second one something changed and they started to loose. As he was used to he blame it all on himself. You tried to make him see that it wasn’t like that and some days he believed you, but others he would wake half as early and work twice as much. It was really hurting his body.

Halfway into the season they went to Brazil for a tournament. There he was reunited with an old friend. You didn’t knew if it was that, the sun or the beach, but something changed on him. He still puts the hard work and still is very disciplined, but if either way the things don’t go as planned, he doesn’t beat himself.

Despite the bad start, they won that season. You both got married and not long after that the Argentinian team offered him a spot in the roster. You thought that he would take some time to think about the proposal, at the end he would have to forget about playing for the country where he grew up, but he didn’t hesitate, in Argentina was his new life and was so happy to prove himself worth of it.

You got out of your thoughts when Tooru did a big yawn. Understandably he would be tired after a five set game.

“It’s okay if you want to sleep… tomorrow is a big game” he chuckled, he knew it was an important game and was so excited for it because he hadn’t play against them since the olympics “Have you had any chance to talk with them?”

“Yeah, today I saw Iwa-chan. He says hi and told me that he will visit us after the tournament”

“That’s cool! It has been a long time since the last time he was around”

“Yeah…” he said trying to stop a yawn, but it was inevitable.

“Tooru, let’s end the call, you should sleep… do it for me” you said the same thing he did and he noticed it.

“Can you keep this call going until I fall asleep?” he asked while lowering the light and accommodating his pillow.

“Do you want me to hear you snore?” he frowned and looked at you with his lower lip curled.

“I love you, despite you being sarcastic sometimes”

“I love you too Tooru, call me when you wake up”

“Will do. Goodnight”

He closed his eyes and didn’t take him long enough to fall asleep and start snoring (just as you said), but you kept the call going much more time that you would like to admit. He was sleeping so peacefully and you wonder what the Japanese boy did to you to be so in love with him.

———————————————————————

This imagine was longer than i thought and if you got to this part thank you and let me know if you want a pt 2 of the game against japan.

#haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #oikawa toru fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa tōru #hq oikawa #oikawa fluff #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa headcanons #oikawa imagine #oikawa x y/n

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remembertheplunge · 5 months

Text

Black Pears Journal

Monday 10/25/2004 Just past 6am. still dark.Black Pearls Journal

Quotes from the National Best Seller “Black Pearls."

ANGER; “ When you clench your fist, no one can put anything in your hand, nor can your hand pick up anything.' Alex Haley from “Roots”

On this day, I…..ponder existence,

Monday’s true spelling is anger. The heart stops at 9am. Denny and Margie here. Intense, Burt fun. They sleep.

Think I’ll take the afternoon off. Call in sick. Vacation.Day Off. Lu day. Day to detail. Note. Notice. Collect. Appreciate. feel. To be. Huge effort. To get. To here. Take the day off. Off. Off what? Off the hook? Off means “In”. In. Joy. Meant. I like goofing off more than Money. From Alan Watts book.

End of entry

Note:

I’d seen a little squib on CNN the day before I wrote the above entry. I believe that it said most heart attacks in the USA are at 9am Monday or on Saturday. It also said that 20% of US workers call in sick because they just don’t feel like working. I think it was 20%.

As you can see from above and from the photo of this page I will post after I post this entry, at 9:30am 10/25/2004, fellow attorney Gene Trimble called to tell me that Superior Court Judge Wray Ladine died of a heart attack in the court house earlier that morning!

When I interviewed for a DA job in Modesto in The Spring of 1984, Wray Ladine, then a Deputy District Attorney, was one of two Da’s to interview me. I had also applied to work at the Stanislaus County Public Defender’s office. The Da’s office didn’t hire me. But, thg Public Defender’s office did.

Wray Ladine died in the courtt house 10/25/2004. What I heard was, the weekend before his death, an ambulance had been called to judge Ladine’s house, but, he sent it away. He only had one case on in his Department, Department 8 that morning. He wasn’t supposed to be in that day,

At around 8:20am, before the case was called at 8:30am, he was sitting in a chair outside of his chamber’s by the bailiff’s desk. A Deputy District Attorney, and a Female probation officer were in the area.

They heard the judge’s pencil drop. They turned to watch him collapse to the floor, dead. The court house community was horrified. For me, Department 8 has never been the same.

So, kind of uncanny that I wrote about Monday morning heart attacks at 6am that morning.

At 5:03pm, I noted that the #2 story on KCRA 3 TV News out of Sacramento was about Judge Ladine “Died in his chambers” A judge from 2000-2004.

Margie and Denny were my partner Jim’s mother and older brother.

They lived in San Luis Obispo County, a 4 or 5 hour drive from our house in Modesto.

They left for home that day, October 25, 2004..

It was the last time that we saw Margie in person before her death in April 2005.

Black Pearls Journal was a journal book I bought at a yard sale. It had not been written in. Each page contained a quote from the book Black Pearls and the prompt “On this day, I…” followed by a blank space for you to write your thoughts.

#journaling #writing #Black Pearls #Black Pearls Journal #Judge Wray ladine #Judge's death in the court house #Journal premonition of a heart attack #goofing off #day off #Alan watts #Gay relationship #Last time seeing Mother #death and endings #10/25/2004

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goodbye-paycheck-hello-yarn · 1 year

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Fibre crafts and Art History time

So for those of you who don't know, I'm majoring in Art History at the moment and came across some paintings I'd like to share with you fibre friends.

First let's take a minute to set the scene of the Industrial Revolution (I'll keep this brief). The Ind. R is mainly associated with Britain, but was occurring across Britain during the late 18th century until early 19th century. This time saw a complete overhaul of hand-made goods in favour of machine made ones with new technology of the time. As machines grew and got more complex, more people were needed to work them. People all over Britain flocked to the cities for work, overcrowding them and creating awful conditions.

The use of these machines to make previously had crafted items such as the powerloom and the Crompton Mule was revolutionary, but had some awful affects on the working class.

^here's a basic timeline that shows some of the other significant creations of the time.

The invention of these machines saw a lot of crafters and seamstresses losing work. These people were already living primarily on poverty, seamstresses often worked for 3 days straight with no breaks to make ends meet. Now the population were not oblivious to the plight of these overworked, exhausted and hungry (primarily) women. There were people who were anti Industrial Revolution for a myriad of reasons (destruction of 'the home', pollution, overpopulation of cities, long working hours, child labour and loss of localised industry to name a few).

The figure of the lone seamstress was a popular subject in art of the 18th century, but at this time took on a heavier feel to them. Still here? Lets look at 2 in particular.

The first is 'Song of the Shirt' by George Frederic Watts. However I've seen it called 'The Seamstress' as well. Painted in 1847, In this picture we see a tired seamstress with her head in her left hand clearly exhausted. Her sewing project lies in her lap with her right hand resting on top. She looks incredibly frail, almost like a withered porcelain.

G.F Watts was at times quite anti Ind.R and wanted to show the reality of the situation and the massive poverty it was bringing about.

Painting No.2 is quite similar but a little clearer.

This one is really striking. It's also called 'The Song of the Shirt' painted by Albert Daniel Rutherson in 1903. This lady, like the other looks a little like death warmed up to be honest. She sits on a rocking chair, a little hunched over with fabric in her hands and a sewing kit in front of her. Her attention is elsewhere. She looks a little like me when I have to knit sleeves. Even without being up close you can see bags under her eyes and sallow skin. She looks unwell. The composition is quite cool actually, the pale background kind of forces you to look at her. This may be one of my favourite paintings ever made.

So why have I brought this up. Why did I wake up at 6am with an urge to share these paintings. Well, I think as fibre artists we can sometimes forget our roots. Crafting these days can be so overpowered by 'buy this tool!' 'buy this yarn you will never use hurry its on sale!' (in my opinion at least). Personally, I knit and crochet to avoid fast fashion and to create garments I know I will wear and use. Fast fashion is everywhere nowadays. People are still working 16hr shifts for very little pay, at the same time, taking work away from artisanal crafters in favour of a cheap garment.

Not much has changed in the fibre community since the 18th century. Let's bring back the idea of criticising the industry. Let's show the world that these women did not over work themselves to death for nothing.

Thanks for reading I love you <3 (idk how to add emoji on laptop :,( .)

#fiber art #art history #industrial revolution #knitting #knit #sewing #seamstress #history #history posting #please feel free to add to this! i'd love to hear opinions!#knitblr #crochetblr #yarn #crochet #fibre arts

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the1975attheirverybest · 7 months

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Can I share my camping experience because it has been…traumatic.

I got in line this morning for Charlotte around 3:45am while everyone else was sleeping, napped in my lawn chair for about 2 hours, and then was woken up around 5:50 by an older man standing over me. He had bags with him and knew this was a camping line for a concert so at first I thought he was also a camper, then he started hitting on me. Asking for my number repeatedly, asking where I was from, my age. He got up, told me he’d be back to “take care of me”, and left. 10 minutes later he was back except now he had weed and was offering to me. He also asked for my height and weight, if I was a lesbian, and if I planned on having kids?? He sat on the ground next to me and our knees were touching, he kept making weird sexual comments. I was almost in tears until three other girls showed up and he decided it was time to leave.

Anyways, He told me he’d be back again and guess what!! I had an issue at my hotel and had to leave for about an hour and when I got back my stuff was moved and a group of girls were surrounding it. They said a creepy man was smoking in the space I was in. They also said he was peeping in tents and asking all these young girls how old they were. Not 100% sure it was the same guy but sounds like it. The line leader ended up moving us all a little closer and I’m pretty sure someone told the cops but this has been awful.

Worst part is I literally just saw him again, on the opposite side of the street, just staring at us. He told me he’d be back in the evening/overnight so I’m absolutely terrified to sleep. I’ve been up since 6am Wednesday morning but I just can’t.

Oh! And when I refused to give him my phone number 4 times he asked me if it was because I was a racist.

I love being a woman ❤️ Barricade secured at #38 though

OH MY GOODNESS BABEE ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!!!!!!

Sending you hugs. Seriously though how’re you doing?

Please, please, please find a buddy. Don’t walk around alone. Especially not at night. I know tons of folks who are going to Charlotte. Would you like me to message them to hang out with you? That way you’ll at least be in a group?

Fuckin hell man. Men are disgusting and awful. Stay safe out there.

CONGRATS ON BARRICADE THOUGHHH 💖

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life-with-my-three · 1 year

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A few weeks back we went to change Harriet’s feeding tube button. It’s a six monthly task, and simple enough. You deflate the balloon holding it in, take it out, put the new one in, and inflate the balloon.

In true Harriet style she threw in some big curveballs for the “simple” task. We got the old one out, but could not get the new one to go in through her abdomen. With the stoma (artificial opening) it starts closing really quickly if you can’t get it in. Quick dash to local emergency who put a temporary stent in to allow us to drive to Melbourne. Kids hospital were able to get a new tube in but it was a different type and not really ideal for an active 3yo. It took laughing gas and 4 adults holding her down screaming though.

Emails sent come the working week, as of course this happened on a weekend. Her gastro department, made an appointment for last Wednesday to change back to her normal tube. We weren’t told if they wanted her fasted, so we played it safe and fasted her. Left home at 6am to get to her 9am appt on time. When we were 45 minutes over her appointment time we asked at reception if she was able to eat as she kept saying she was hungry. They went and “checked” said she was fine to eat. She had literally 3 bites before we were taken through. Doctor saw her with food and said they would have to cancel the change as she had to have fasted. Glad we drove 2.5hours for that. They managed to fit her in for the afternoon, but it meant being fasted and she had, had 3 bites of food since the night before.

The procedure was 5 adults restraining Hatt. Her screaming and hyperventilating and trying to get the laughing gas off. I feel like the worst mum having to do this. I’m traumatised buy watching her experience this. She’s 3. It must be so much worse for her.

They got the tube in though. She could eat. We drove home. All was good.

Thursday was our “rest day”. We had more appts at the kids hospital scheduled for Friday. I went to the bathroom at 8am Thursday and heard Aaron yell out. The balloon that held the tube in had burst and tube came out. Lucy had immunisation and health nurse at home. So Aaron stayed home with her, I put Hatt in the car and we drove straight to the kids hospital.

They put laughing gas on her and another procedure of multiple adults holding her down whilst she screamed. This time they could not get the tube in. They tried for 30minutes. They maxed out on all the sedation they could give her in a ward environment for the procedure. She therefore had to go into theatre.

What was supposed to be a 5-10 minute procedure in theatre wasn’t. Half an hour in I got a call from the surgeon telling me it was much, much more complicated than thought. They were wanting my consent to do scopes and a few other things. What was said to be a short procedure and then home, made the surgeons book a ward bed. Harriet was in theatre for 2 hours. They managed to get a much smaller sized tube in, but it’s still in. She is also going to need another surgery in the coming months to resite her whole PEG site.

Hatt won’t let anywhere near her stomach. Which is fair. It was traumatising. So very traumatising. It’s making self care tasks like dressing, toileting, PEG needs so fucking hard though.

I feel like the worst mum ever. The first words she said to me after this whole saga though were “I love you so much mummy” as she threw her arms around me. She has said that same sentence so, so many times spontaneously over the weekend also. Trying to remember them.

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natteryaktoad · 2 years

Photo

Newson Beech, Day 81, Part 3

I checked Rainbow and Garrett’s work schedules and saw he’d be home at two and her at three, which was perfect to be home for the boys. Then Garrett left for work at 6am and Rainbow got the one hour popup - I hadn’t noticed she starts at 7am! So a quick call to the nanny was needed.

After work and school, everyone had naps and were just waking up when I saved at 6pm.

#Widespot #Day 81 #Rainbow Newson Beech #Garrett Newson Beech #Nicholas Newson Beech #James Newson Beech

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Tuesday 19 June 1838

2 20

packing travelling bag and portmanteau and lastly dressing till breakfast at 10 – then paid bills and wrote out (A- copied for me on one sheet my letter to Mrs. B- and SW. of yesterday and my letters sent off this morning) and sent by George to the p.o. Place de la Madeleine at 12 25 pm my letter to ‘William gray Esquire Junior, Minster yard, York Angleterre affranchie’ and my letter to ‘Messrs. Parker and Adam, solicitors Halifax, Yorkshire, Angleterre’ and my letter to ‘Mr. Mackean Yorkshire district Bank, Halifax, Yorkshire, Angleterre’ – from 12 25 to 2 settled with Lefevre – had the mistress of the house and paid her – nice person – lets her house for the winter – occupied with 1 thing or other – luckily tried on my Figarol-made merinos – little alterations required – dressed – talked to A- must still go again to r. St. V- and to the bank and to F- about my merinos – could not get off today, but might be off at 6am tomorrow – had spoken to the mistress of the house who said it would make no difference whether we were this afternoon or tomorrow morning – she had said if we wanted an apartment in her house for the winter should write in August or September – the 2nde 1000 per month – the 3me (that we now occupied) 600/. per month with batterie de cuisine and remise and all complete – settled to be off tomorrow – A- and I took Lefevre and walked to the bank – there at 3 40 – Exchanged circular no.4929 = £25 exchange at 25/40 = 635 fr. – I had paid above 1000 fr. this morning and got frightened at being left with only about a thousand for our journey to Bordeaux – I dare not calculate too nearly with poor A- without watching and nursing and resting pro renata it would be impossible to get her well on – yet she likes travelling, and she is certainly the better for it – Staying too long at a time at home or anywhere else does not do for her – I never saw a constitution si veritablement ‘grêle, sèche, et irritable’ – from the bank to Madame Figarol there at 4 ¼ - on accidentally mentioning Rosalie, it seems she has got a place with an English Lady r. de Neuilly who rarely leaves Paris – F- asked if I had got her the place – no! perhaps Mademoiselle Gassie had – F- thought (evidently) that I knew all about it – made no observation to the contrary – the girl had probably this place in view, not her medicin or his opinion of her health, when she wrote me her get-off note! – a few drops of rain as A- and I walked back – took shelter – sent Lefevre to the r. Royal for fiacre à l’heure – and returned in it to the arcades – changed my dress – sent Lefevre with my merinos to Madame F- put all the things for R. St. V- into the fiacre and took George and A- and I off about 5 ¼ or after and arrived at 6 – sent George home as soon as he had got the things upstairs, and then A- and I went to the restaurant en face du Jardin and from 6 55 to 7 ¼ had a very good dinner which we both enjoyed – everything ordered pour un and quite enough for us two

Pot au riz. 0.30

Fricandeau de veau au [?] 0.75

Marinade de volaille 1.50

choux fleur 0.75

omelette soufflée 1.00

½ bouteille vin ordinaire 0.40

Donné a la fille 0.20

4.90

– then back to r. St. V- and putting all away tidily till 9 40 – Left here in one large carton

1 satin gown

1 crape pelerine

2 pair new Calés stays

2 pair A- knitted woollen sleeves

and in another carton my Mrs. Cook-made York black bonnet and old grey silk Paris capotte of 1834 and A-‘s ditto ditto ditto ditto of ditto

some old money bags in buffet

Obzendorf gold watch in bureau drawer with papers and bills paid this time

Plate 1 pair sugar tongs in buffet drawer

2 salt spoons

1 mustard ditto

2 silver fruit knives

keys of hair trunk and bureau

2 packets of books bought at Brussels etc. this time and Boyles’ Belgian guide and left on one of the bookshelves 15 vols. + A-‘s books

Paid the portière ./60 for my letter from Calais received yesterday – and ./40 for calling fiacre for which we had to wait ½ hour – she said my meuble would be done up (mis à neuf) with stuff of cotton and woollen that would not be soon moth-eaten and would look very nice – for 120/. to 130fr. Canapé and 6 fauteuils (I think I have no bergères) Madame Cusinbache would find us beds – and ditto and little rooms upstairs au 5me for the 2 servants if on our return we chose to stay at r. St. V- said I would think about it – as also about the meuble and would write if I wished it to be done – if I took the little room adjoining my study and the little kitchen opposite to it, these 2 pièces would be 200/. per annum – but I might if my apartment was furnished let it advantageously – J’y penserai – home in ½ hour at 10 ¾ - Paid Lefevre his 5/. a day for the 13 days including today and gave him 5/. over with which he seemed pleased and said he would be here at 5am tomorrow to see us off – then sat with A- at her bedside eating strawberries and talking till very near 12 – then ½ hour+ packing our provision and bottle baskets etc. doubted for a moment whether to go to bed at all – or whether to lie down with my clothes on – but hot and uncomfortable and thought 2 or 3 hours would be better than nothing so undressed and went regularly to bed – fine day – no rain except the little shower about after 4 pm

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