#i saw the specials at an outdoor show when i was in high school and it was incredible

[thecordelialetters]

˚✧₊⁎ My Brothers Fiancé ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Rin recounts how he fell in love with Sae's Fiancé.

★ pairing: Sae x reader x Rin

★ wc: 2.53k

Rin remembers the moment Sae brought you home. Sae was in middle school and Rin was in elementary. He recalls his mom greeting you at the door before calling him over.

“Rin! Sae’s home! And his friend is here. Come down to say hi.”

Rin didn't care Sae brought home a friend, he just wanted to hang out with his brother alone, and now this friend would be interrupting them. However, Rin's thoughts quickly changed when he saw how pretty Sae's new friend was. You were so cute that Rin got nervous, choosing to stand behind his mom instead of saying hi. You laughed at young Rin's antics before pulling out a sweet from your bag to offer him.

You bowed slightly "Here Rin! Thank you for having me here!"

Rin approached you cautiously snatching the loli out of your hand, muttering a quick " thank you " and running away.

It would be like this for the next few years. You coming over to hang out with Sae and coddling Rin. To you, he was like a little brother, so cute with a chubby baby face.

It wasn't until high school that both Itoshi siblings hit puberty and shot up in height leaving you at a mere 5'2. Head pats to Rin became hugs and that cute little boy who would beg for treats and call you big sis, became a young man who was stubborn and rude. Unlike the growing issues between the brothers, you and Sae grew close. You were the only one Sae got along with and eventually, he began to see you as more than a friend. You've been with him for the last four years, comforting him, making him laugh, and encouraging his dreams. Despite the brother's disdain for each other, you managed to be a friend to both. You showed up to their football games, cheered them on, hugged them when they won.

You and Sae eventually started dating and Rin would see more and more of you, but this time in the arm of the person he was jealous of the most. Since then, Rin started to distance himself from you, no longer responding to your good morning <3 texts, and no longer inviting you to his games. You could understand where he was coming from though, he and Sae didn't get along so you could see why he no longer wanted to associate with you, That doesn't mean it still didn't hurt your feelings though. You valued your friendship with Rin, he was there for you when your cat died when you failed your math test, and when you had trouble with Sae. Sometimes he knew you better than Sae did.

Nevertheless, Sae was a good boyfriend, he never forgot an anniversary and always surprised you with gifts and flowers. The social media posts of you two really got to Rin. You and your "perfect relationship" flaunted all over your page.

Eventually, Sae had to go to Spain for football, but before left he planned a special event for the two of you and invited his family after. Sae told your best friends to take you shopping and get your nails done with his credit card then took you to a high-end restaurant. He brought you to the outdoor garden of the restaurant and got down on one knee.

" (y/n) You have been the love of my life for the past 5 years, we were childhood sweethearts to lovers and I cannot imagine my life without you and I can't imagine going to Spain without knowing your mine. When I look at the future I only see you. You've encouraged my dream and I hope to support you in yours. I will think about you all the time when I am away. And when I come back, I would like to make you my wife."

Your eyes swelled with tears, Sae was a romantic but this was perfect. While sobbing your eyes out you held out your hand for Sae to slip the ring on whispering one word " Yes."

You two went back to the Itoshi house to celebrate your engagement. Everyone was congratulating you, everyone but Rin. He was sulking in the corner thinking about the what if's. What if he didn't push you away. What if the moments you were hanging out with him while Sae was busy he kissed you. What if he wasn't a coward to confess his feelings. Would you and him be engaged now instead of his loathsome brother?

You were devastated when Sae left for Spain. Although you continued to pursue your dream as an artist and Sae as the best midfielder in the world, you two still made time for each other. As for you and Rin, your relationship got better. Your job was near his school so you would often walk home together or get food. You two even started having Friday night movie nights. It started when you started complaining to Rin about how boring life was without friends and Sae was always too busy for you. You also told him that you wanted to see the new Barbie movie but had no one to go with. And this is how you roped Rin into dressing up with you to see it.

You two got your drinks and snacks and made your way to the theater. Sitting in your seats Rin spotted a rowdy group of guys a few seats down from you. Realizing who they were he quickly ducked his head towards you, hoping to not catch their attention. However, a certain multi-color-haired person immediately recognized him.

"Rin? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE! I THOUGHT YOU SAID THIS MOVIE WAS LAME"

You look up above Rins head to see Bachira, Isagi, Chigiri, Nagi, and Reo. "Rin I think your friends are calling you." You said with a laugh. Rin didn't know his cheeks could turn any more pink when he turned around and saw his friends also all dressed up making their way toward him.

"No way you're here! ON A DATE TOO?"

You quickly shot that down saying you were Sae's fiancé and here to hang out with Rin. Ouch. Rin's mood immediately soured upon hearing that. You two had been spending so much time together and you still saw him as Sae's brother. The two of you and the Blue Lock squad all watched the movie together with Rin's mood slowly improving by listening to your beautiful laugh.

"Hey guys let's get something to eat, we haven't seen you in so long Rin! Hanging out with (y/n) too much." Reo just wanted some juicy gossip.

You pulled Rin along ignoring his protests to go back home as you all headed for the dinner. Seeing his friends was fun, he forgot how much he actually missed Isagi and Bachira's antics as well as Reo's confidence, Nagi's laziness, and Chigiri's coolness. But mostly he was focused on the way you lit up the room with your boisterous laughter and a radiant glow that had all the males' attention on you. You had the ability to engage in conversation, make people laugh, and make people smile, something that Rin had envied but with you he admired. You looked gorgeous all dressed up in your pink baby doll dress, white stockings, and pink high-heeled boots.

Then the question came. " So how did you meet Rin and Sae? What was Rin like when he was younger."

"Oh, I met Sae through school. He was my classmate and would always annoy me to ask me what we were going in class. He was always so zoned out so he would constantly poke me with a pencil to ask. Eventually, we became friends and I met Rin, who was a cute little snotty kid." You snickered at the last bit glancing at Rin who was glaring at you right back. And then you said it. The part that would shatter Rin's heart.

"He's like a brother to me. I can wait to be in-laws when I marry Sae."

You and the guys continued talking about your relationship and your past with the Itoshi brothers while Rin wallowed in his own emotions.

Like a brother

Those words echoed through his mind. Was he not enough for you. What did Sae have that he didn't. You guys had hung out every day since Sae left, heck SAE LEFT. He LEFT YOU. But not Rin, Rin was here every day for you. He ate lunch with you, listened to your problems, comforted you when you were sad, and cooked for you when you were sick. He saw you as a beacon of his heart, a light in his dimmest days, but here you were saying you saw him as a brother? Sae had everything, a promising career, skill, fans, but most of all he had you.

But no not this time Sae would not get away with everything again.

After dinner, Rin walked you home ignoring how your hands would occasionally touch.

"Thank you for tonight Rin. It's been really fun. And thanks for always hanging out with me. You know sometimes, you remind me of Sae."

Rin was fuming at that last part, but he chose to ignore it, he had to play his cards right if he was going to win your heart.

"I'm like Sae right? But better, I think I'm honestly funnier and more handsome than Sae... but listen, do you think I could stay the night? It's pretty late and I'm a bit too tired to walk home and I have a game tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh of course you can Rin! Come come, it'll be fun like a post-movie sleepover!" You dragged him into your apartment and set down your bet running off to your room to change. You had both decided to blow up the air mattress and let Rin sleep in your room with you like you and Sae did when you were younger. Ring Ring

"Oh Sae's calling ! He must have checked into his hotel." You quickly picked up the phone to see Sae's handsome face. " Hi baby, did you just get back to your Hotel?"

"Yep I just showed and now Im resting, how was your night?"

"It was good! Me and Rin hung out to see Barbie and then we met up with his friends at the dinner and It was sooo fun who knew Rinnie had funny friends."

"You've been hanging out with Rin a lot haven't you?"

"Yeah Rin lives so close we hang out all the time and-"

"Wait who's that behind you?"

Unbeknownst to you Rin's hair and shoulder were peaking into the frame. Sae knows you and Rin hung out but he didn't know Rin was sleeping over. Sae was no fool, he knew about Rin's little crush on his darling fiancé. He couldn't miss the longing glances of the younger Itoshi and the slight blushes every time you complimented him.

Rin jumped onto the bed right behind you. You could feel his chest against your back, the heat of his breath right in your ear and his hand resting on your thigh.

"Hey Sae. Me and (y/n) are having a sleepover." You could feel your ears getting hotter with the closeness of Rin.

You loved Sae but you couldn't ignore how the teal-haired boy made your heart race sometimes. As Rin got older you began to notice him more than just "Sae's brother" he was getting taller more fit and overall handsome.

"Yeah I didn't want him to go home so late so he's sleeping over !"

"In...your bed?" "No silly, over on the air mattress."

Sae couldn't deny the anger he felt towards his brother for trying to get closer to you but also towards you for being so naive to his brother's advances. Unfortunately for Sae his next actions would drive you straight into Rin's arms.

"Well, I'm pretty tired now. Im going to go to sleep."

"What already? We haven't talked in two weeks I miss-"

"Stop annoying me and being so clingy, bye."

And with a click, Sae hung up the phone, without even saying I love you.

You stared at the phone in your hand, heart feeling heavy and eyes welling with tears. You dipped your head down to let your hair cover your face in an attempt to hide your crying from RIn. "He didn't even say I love you. He hasn't called me in weeks, he called me annoying and clingy. It feels like he doesn't even love me anymore."

Rin couldn't help but feel a little guilty at this, maybe he pushed you and Sae too far. He wanted you but not like this, he didn't want to make you cry.

Your silence turned to tears and tears turned to sobs. Rin grabbed you in his arms holding you tight in hopes to soothe you. He let you cry in his arms whispering soft nothings about how everything would be okay.

You pulled away from Rin's neck seeing the wet marks of your tears all over his shoulder. "I don't even think Sae wants to marry me anymore, he probably has someone else in Spain."

"Good."

Rin's short answer shocked you out of your emotions. You stared up at him with betrayal before he continued.

"Good because he didn't deserve you. (y/n) you deserve the world. Sae should be kissing the ground you walk on. He should never make you cry and never make you feel hurt. (y/n) I'm so sorry about Sae. He's a jerk and he's been like that since we were kids. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever met with a smile that could warm even the coldest parts of the world. You are driven, passionate and someone I wouldn't hesitate to marry. If I was the one that put that ring on your finger we would be married the next day. I wouldn't care what the wedding is like as long as I'd know your mine forever."

Rin felt his heart pounding. He had basically outed himself to you and laid his feelings on the line.

You looked up at Rin with a newfound admiration and leaned up to him. "Do you mean that? Do you mean every word?" Your eyes glistened with what Rin could only see as hope and desperation. Desperation for a love you had been missing for a while.

Rin leaned down wrapping his arm further around your waist. Your lips met as you both melted into a sweet kiss. A kiss filled with a craving for love. After a few moments, you broke apart and stared deep into each other's eyes.

"How about you take this off and we can continue," Rin said motioning to your engagement ring. You looked down at the sparkling diamond.

This was the ring Sae proposed to you with, but he was in Spain now and here you were with this last reminder of him that kept you tied down. You took off the ring and placed it in your bedside drawer. Sliding yourself back into Rin's arms and closing your eyes.

Rin smiled looking down at your sleeping form. You were finally his .

[bedknees]

You always leave your cool headcanons in the tags! If you're up to it, do you have some for Simon and Betty your up for sharing? I'd love to hear them 🥺

lol sorry ha ha! I like whispering in the tags a lot lmao. And sure! I don't think I ever really gave headcanons on these two disasters but I have a ton so buckle up, and thanks for the ask. ^^

Betty

She was born to Russian Jewish first-gen immigrants somewhere in New England. They were medical doctors by trade, running a practice together and everything. She is an only child. Her parents worked a lot so she was often alone at home when she got old enough.

Due to relative solitude at home, Betty became an avid reader and allowed it to occupy her time when she was lonely. She has a particular penchant for mystery novels that persisted into adulthood. Her general love of the unknown led her into being interested in real world mysteries.

Her birthday is April 11, 1966 - making her an elder Gen X and an Aries.

Has always been very smart, especially in regards to mathematics and has a minor in it. It's definitely her forte, if not made obvious by Temple of Mars.

She is bipolar II and has learned to manage it well over years, as long as no major stressors enter her life she is pretty good to go [crying cat giving thumbs up image]

Loves plants and mushrooms! She's especially fond of succulents. Very adept at fungi identification and foraging properly.

When she's not deep into her work, she likes taking nature hikes either on foot or on her bike. She's always loved the outdoors.

Betty loves all genres of music, but is particularly partial to Depeche Mode and Journey.

She also loves all animals, but really enjoys alligators and crocodilians. The first time she went down South and saw an American Alligator just casually hanging out near a river, she nearly burst into tears.

Simon

His birthday is August 25th, 1965. He is a Virgo because of course he is. Just misses Boomer status, as Gen X began in '65 lmao.

His father was a first-generation Russian/Yakut immigrant, while his mother was a second generation Filipina American. They were borderline hippies that met at a music festival, but break the (objectively flawed) stereotype by being very well educated with successful careers in teaching.

Simon had a younger sister and developed Older Sibling Syndrome that defines part of his personality to this day.

Stemming from his parents, Simon has always had a thirst for adventure. In addition to being exposed to camping at young age due to his family taking him to festivals in his youth, he also has always had a general inclination to explore the unknown.

Loves 60s-70s rock and roll a la Mountain and Jimi Hendrix, but just prefers the genre in general. This manifests later a bit in Ice King's love for Marceline's music, which is of course rock-centric.

He is autistic; his first special interest was cryptids, something that never really left him. He eventually developed one for playing the drums (also seen in IK later) and Cheers obv. His main interest is by far ancient artifacts. He was the kid that checked out books on Ancient Egypt every week.

Got his PHD in Archaeology by 27 due to being wicked smart and starting intro college classes all the way back in his Junior/Senior years of high school.

Unironically tuned into Art Bell's radio show because of his cryptid and conspiracy fascination. He never actually bought into any of it (mostly), but it was fun for him!

Is a cat person full stop. He will sometimes take walks in his neighborhood and be greeted by all the outside cats that he has made a point to get to know!

Simon and Betty

Met at a University-held science and sci-fi convention right before Betty was to leave for Australia. Simon held a small panel on the Enchiridion, talking about its history and his search for it. Betty fell fast and hard. They both did. After the panel they talked for hours about it.

Their shared love for mysteries and adventure made them a perfect match. They shared a ton in common and became inseparable almost instantly.

Were the couple that rarely ever fought, but they also possessed a level of obvious codependency. Betty was the first person to ever make Simon feel so seen and he loved her wit and eccentricity, and Simon proved so smart and sweet and genuinely interesting that their pull was magnetic.

[beomgewz]

WASTED SUMMERS ୨୧ S.JY

prologue [✎] wc: 3820. not proofread.

IT WAS THE summer before you left for college. 

it was sunny outside, the harsh rays of sun beaming down on the ground, occasionally casting shade behind taller trees. the air felt hot and suffocating.

you hated the summer.

you were sprawled out on the grass, relishing in the shade that the tree cast. the slight breeze you would feel against your skin felt refreshing.

“you’re not even watching me play,” your best friend whined. he had jogged up to you with his soccer ball held against his hip, pouting down at you.

you pried open your eyes, huffing. “it’s too hot, jake,” you sat up, leaning against the tree. “i want to go back inside.” 

the indoors were so much better. there was air conditioning and you could sleep comfortably in your bed. jake, however, preferred the outdoors. he claimed that the sun was healthy for you and it was good to get some exercise. he wasn’t wrong, of course. you simply hated everything about the summer. 

“just another half hour? then we can go back inside?” you weren't sure if you could handle another half hour in the scorching hot weather, but seeing his slight pout, you gave in. sim jaeyun, you witch.

“whatever,” you mumbled. you plucked the grass, avoiding his eyes. but you knew him, he was your best friend. you knew he was grinning at you.

“but actually watch me this time!” he huffed, his smile never disappearing. “i learned a new trick and i want you to see it.” before you could respond, he went running back to the soccer field, dropping his ball along with him. he dribbled his ball to where he wanted it and that was when you realized that you rarely ever watched him play or practice soccer before. despite being close friends for years, you barely saw him playing on the field. 

sitting back against the tree, your eyes observed his movements. he had the ball on the tip of his foot, somehow balancing it just fine. you watched him quickly lift his foot, launching the ball into the air. when you blinked, the ball was already accelerating towards the net. he was fucking fast. 

he would have so much potential in college.

he turned to look at you, a proud smile plastered on his face. he wanted to show off to you, to show you how much he had improved since the beginning of your last year in high school. 

you returned his smile, showing off your teeth; a toothy smile. you were impressed, jake was simply amazing. you always knew he was amazing. you heard whispers and murmurs about him in the girl’s bathroom all the time, talking about how hot he was, how many points he scored at a game, and the list goes on. 

no matter how popular jake was, he was still your best friend. he was still your number one supporter, your ride or die, your home. you got special treatment he didn’t give to anyone else.

that was probably why you grew to be so selfish.

“that was cool,” you slightly clapped as he jogged up to you again. instead of standing over you, he sat down next to you, leaning against the tree.

he hummed in response. “really? just ‘cool’?” he turned his head to look at you with that stupid smile of his. it was stupid how he was able to make your stomach flip and turn. it was stupid how he was able to make your breath hitch. “i thought it was more than cool. i practiced a lot just to show you.”

this was all stupid. he was your best friend, you shouldn’t be feeling this way.

“you practiced… just to show me?”

he eagerly nodded. “i wanted to impress you.”

was he not aware that you were already so impressed by him? he managed to get a full ride to his dream college because he was smart and the fact he played soccer. how could you possibly not be proud of him?

“you impressed me long ago, jake,” you chuckled. you yawned shortly after and proceeded to rest your head against his shoulder. this was common — physical touch — but you relished in it. it never failed to make your heart beat faster.

he laughed. he picked up your hand, tracing shapes on the back of your hand. “are you tired?” 

you hummed. “a little. i want to go inside.” you could feel jake hold your hand before standing up to his feet. he pulled you up with him, holding onto your arm for support.

“let's go inside early, then,” he murmured. he began walking to the door of your house, hands still interlocked.

it was times like this when you wondered if jake knew what he was doing to you. surely he should have seen how rosy your cheeks get when he holds your hand like this, or when he treats you as if it was only you that mattered to him. 

you knew everything didn't mean anything more. after all, he was your best friend and he would never see you as anything more.

the last few remaining days of the summer finally dawned on the two of you. you were both getting ready to move into your dorms, which meant your meetings would happen less often. 

he was going to college an hour away from yours.

an hour wasn’t too bad, you told yourself. the distance between you and jake would be bearable. you two would still be the same best friends from when you were both 6 years old. everything was going to be okay.

but it wasn’t. it wasn’t okay.

you had never been far apart from jake ever. you had grown and gotten used to him being a part of your daily life. you were used to him randomly coming to your house and vice versa. you couldn’t handle being so far away from him.

when it finally dawned on you that you would see him less now that college was starting, you knew you had to take the risk. 

now that you both were leaving, you would feel regretful if you didn’t at least tell jake your feelings, even if it would ruin things between you. your feelings clouded your judgment and actions whenever they came to him. you decided you were going to confess to your best friend.

nestled up in jake’s bed, you eyed the suitcases lying in the corner of his room. his room looked emptier, yet still quite lively. he still had his lego sets, some gifted by you, on his shelves. he kept all of the posters in his room, the corners beginning to peel off on some of them from being so old.

he did, however, take the dog plushie you had gifted him on his 16th birthday. he claimed that he wanted to bring a piece of you with him since you would be farther away from him. he was so sweet to you. he treated you so well.

that was why you fell for him. 

“jake,” you murmured, “you’re leaving tomorrow, right?” he turned to face you from his gaming computer, pausing his game. he slowly nodded. 

“mmm? yeah, i am,” he took his headset off his head and placed them on his desk. “we should do something since i’m leaving.” he got up from his chair and plopped down on his bed, looking at you fondly.

please, don’t look at me like that.

you thickly swallowed, rolling over to get a better look at him. “we could…” you shyly began, “we could take a trip to busan for a day… if that’s too much trouble, then—“

“you talk too much,” jake teased. he playfully rolled his eyes at you, ruffling your hair. you felt your skin tingle at his touch. “going to busan with you sounds like so much fun. it's perfect.” going to busan with you was perfect? god, you were going to die. you momentarily froze up, silently staring at him with slightly parted lips. he always knew the right words to say to you.

the sun had long set and you and jake were back in his room, this time sitting in front of his computer. he sat on his chair and you were sat on his lap. completely normal. not intimate. nothing more… so you told yourself.

unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, that was quite common between you two. it was clear that it didn’t mean anything other than friendship and you learned to live with that. 

with his arms wrapped around you to hold you steady and his chin propped on your shoulder, how could it possibly not mean anything? how could two best friends do this for one not to get the wrong idea?

you couldn’t pay attention to the movie you chose on his computer screen, simply because your mind was occupied with another matter.

you two planned that you were going to sleep over and send him off to college the next morning, so pulling an all-nighter was agreed upon by the both of you. jake chose to have a little movie marathon first and let you choose the movie.

“i’ll never see you ever again after this,” you mumbled, tears prickling your eyes. you didn’t expect to get this emotional sending him off, but you couldn’t help it. you had run over this scenario so many times last night, hoping to at least not cry in front of him. however, that turned out to be in vain. 

“we’ll see each other again, idiot,” he smiled. he set his bag down on the ground and embraced you in a bone-crushing hug. “but i’ll miss you so much.” he rubbed your back in a comforting manner, holding you tightly against him. 

“jake,” you murmured, your voice wavering slightly. “we have to meet up every weekend. we have to.” with your face nuzzled against him, you couldn’t see his face. maybe it was better off that way. he didn’t reply but still rubbed your back.

once you two pulled away, that was then you thought was a good time to tell him your feelings. your feelings for him that seemed to never stop growing. it was becoming intoxicating.

you sadly smiled at him. “jake, i actually have something important to tell you before you leave.”

his smile vanished, his heartbeat quickening. he knew what was happening. he was afraid and unprepared for the next events to unfold, and so he choked up. “yeah, what’s up?”

you quickly wiped your tears away. “i like you, jake. its becoming suffocating for me because i just— i just like you so much and i don’t know what to do about it,” before he could even think of a response, you continued. “i’m always happier when i’m with you.”

that was what he was dreading to hear.

his silence followed along by his slight frown told you all you needed to know. your sad smile quickly turns into an apologetic one. “i’m sorry, maybe that’s… that’s not what you wanted to hear before you leave.”

he slowly nodded. “yeah, i’m sorry, yn. i’m going away today.”

your heart felt like it was going to burst. you wanted to cry.

“we can still work things out, right? you’re only an hour away and—“

“i’m sorry, yn. i can’t do the distance. besides,” he looked away, gripping the handle of his suitcase tighter. “i’ll be busy with my studies and soccer. i can’t just drive up an hour to see you every week.”

your world felt like it was crashing down. you tried your best to grasp onto the straws, to at least salvage something. “i can! i can drive up, jake!” you knew you sounded desperate, but god, you didn’t know what to do.

he shook his head, his frown deepening. “no, yn, i just can’t,” your heart felt like it was breaking. tears prickled your eyes once more and you looked down at the ground in embarrassment. you needed it to swallow you whole. “i don’t want to do the distance and i don’t see myself committing to it if we did.”

a tear rolled down your face. was that how he always felt? did he feel like he wouldn’t be able to commit to your friendship, too?

jake could see your heart breaking with every word he was telling you. it was breaking him too, but this was for the best. it was better for the two of you.

you were biting back more tears, swallowing a lump down your throat. “i… i understand,” you choked out. “have fun in college. keep in touch.” you spared him one more glance before walking away from him, tears silently rolling down your face. 

he told you the things you wanted to hear, but you told him the things he dreaded to hear.

it had been seven months since you confessed and you could confidently declare that jake did not care about keeping in touch. 

mindlessly scrolling through your messages with him, you could tell he didn’t want to be speaking to you. he would send you only a few messages a day, each of them were answering questions you asked. 

in short, he was texting you to just text you. he didn’t care about losing contact with you.

it felt like a slap in the face. did everything you two did mean nothing to him? did 12 years of friendship mean nothing to him? how could he throw it all away just because of a mere confession? why didn’t he bother talking things out with you?

you sat on your dorm bed, blankly staring at your phone screen. you wanted to cry, but you felt like you had already cried enough over him.

“yn? you good?”

you slightly jump. you let out a sigh once you realized it was karina, your roommate. “mmm? yeah, i’m fine. why?” you shut your phone off, tossing it further away from you.

“you look like you just got broken up with,” she shrugged, walking over to you to sit on your bed. “everything okay?”

whatever was going on between you and jake wasn’t so far off from a breakup, you’d say.

“i’m fine, just some… some things going on back home.”

she nodded understandingly. her hand reached for your knee to rub it, comforting you. “i’m sorry,” she frowned, “there’s actually something i want to invite you to, and maybe it can take your mind off of things for a bit.”

you slightly tilted your head at her, waiting for her to continue. “jeno has a soccer game with our rival school next week and he wanted me to invite my other friends.”

jeno and karina. two best friends. if you said you weren’t jealous of them, you would be lying. their friendship was just like yours and jake’s, though you were sure none of them had feelings for the other. you envied that.

not giving it much thought, you agreed. “i can probably go, yeah.”

on the game day, you were able to meet jeno and his friends that were playing on the team. there were two other guys: jaemin and jisung. they were roughly the same age, with jeno and jaemin being a year older. jisung was around your age, making you two in the same year. 

you were able to bond with jisung quite quickly, with both of your odd obsessions (what karina calls it) with legos being the reason. you were quickly enamored by his shy personality, seeing how it was cute and endearing.

being seated on the benches, you and karina eagerly watched all the players lining up. “by the way, rina,” you turned to look at her. “what’s the rival university?”

she nearly gasped at you. “you mean you don’t know?” her hands were covering her mouth and she dramatically blinked at you. “it’s hybe university!”

hybe university. 

“oh, really?” awkwardly chuckling, you glanced back down at the field. “i didn’t know.” you looked at each player on your university’s team, quickly noticing jeno, jaemin, and jisung. 

your eyes darted over to your university’s rival’s team. as much as you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, you were looking through the players to find jake— if he was even on the team at all. you were sure he was, considering you saw he posted his team on his instagram a while back. 

you didn't know why you still had him on all social media, especially since he unfollowed you. what a joke.

suddenly, the rival university’s crowd erupts into screams and cheers. the noise was almost deafening. you cringed, glancing towards karina to see she was huffing. “what’s that for? is the game starting?”

she shook her head. she pointed down at the field. “no, it’s that guy over there,” your eyes followed her finger. you squinted your eyes. finding specific players from where you were was a little difficult. and yet, you were still able to see him. there he was, the man you’d been dreading to see after all those months; sim jaeyun. in a field full of players, you were still able to see him. “he’s like — super popular in his school.”

you froze up. all you could muster was a slight nod. you tore your eyes away from him, afraid that if you were to stare any longer, you would burst into tears. digging your nails into your palms, you let out a shaky exhale.

“oh, the game is starting!” she grinned. “look! jeno is on the starting lineup!” her voice was full of excitement and it was obvious to everyone just how supportive she was of her best friend, just like how you once were, too.

you mustered up a small smile, nodding at her. “mhm, that’s nice.”

you were jealous of karina.

the crowd supporting your university erupted into cheers as the buzzer went off. the score read 4-3, in favor of your university’s team. you laughed along with karina, who was giggling and clapping in joy. you understood the hype about watching sports, the adrenaline and suspense felt so good. you were gripping onto the edge of your seat when your team came close to the net, only to cheer when they did end up making the goal.

“their number 12 is good,” karina was practically yelling over the loud cheers. “he scored all of the points. it's called a hat trick, by the way.”

you knew that already. jake told you before.

nodding along with your words, you leaned closer to her ear, also yelling. “do you know him?” she shook her head, somehow not suspicious of your question.

“no, but i know of him. his name is sim jaeyun, but he goes by jake.” she slightly tilted her head. “i don’t think jeno, jaemin, or jisung like him.” now this made you perk up. as far as you knew, jake wasn’t an unlikable person. he was always so sweet to people, so hearing that piqued your interest.

“really? why?” 

she shrugged. “I don’t know, jeno never told me, though i’d love to know why,” she suddenly stood up, watching you repeat her movement. “let’s go down to the locker room to meet them,” when she was met with your awkward stare, she cleared her throat. “i meant outside the room.”

“you guys played so well!” karina cheered. she grinned at the three sweaty men who were still in their soccer jerseys. the room outside the locker rooms was fairly empty, considering how most of the players were taking a shower or had left to shower in the dorms instead. you nodded along with her, quietly agreeing.

“i didn’t get to score any points, though,” jeno huffed. he pushed his hair, wet from sweat, away from his face. “i only dished out assists.”

jaemin laughed, “it’s okay to admit that you're getting worse, you know?” jeno rolled his eyes, slightly pushing him.

you glanced at the other door leading to the rival team’s locker room. you shuddered, the realization that jake was just a door away from you dawning on you. jisung watched you, his eyes following your gaze. “oh, are you worried about the other team?” you awkwardly laughed, shaking your head. you were worried about jake, not his team. “if you are, we can leave now if you like.”

you shook your head again. “it’s all good, no worries.”

It seemed like luck wasn’t on your side as the door opened, revealing an exhausted jake. he was wearing a simple hoodie and sweats, water from his hair slightly dripping onto his hoodie. your breath hitched. you felt your heartbeat pick up, your words getting stuck in your throat. you uncomfortably shifted when he awkwardly paused, looking at your group. his eyes landed on jeno, jaemin, and jisung first before they landed on you.

it had only been seven months, but god did it feel like it had been forever since you last saw him. you swallowed a lump down your throat and exhaled a shaky breath of air. your hands were shaking slightly as you dug your nails into the palms of your hands.

“you played well today,” jaemin mumbled. “nice hat trick.” now you understood what karina meant when she told you that they did not like each other because the tension was incredibly thick in the air. jaemin’s compliment felt insincere — as if he said that just to fill the awkward silence that crept up in the room.

jake slowly nodded, his eyes still trained on you. “thanks.”

you remembered going through different things in your head to say to jake once you saw him again, but now seeing him, you felt your words getting stuck in your throat. you had so much to say to him, but now that he was right there, your mind blanked. he seemed to always have that effect on you.

“you — um,” you began, your nails more painfully digging into your skin. you felt eyes on you, and gosh, that made you regret speaking up. “you did the thing.” the trick he showed you months ago. the trick he made you watch. you noticed he did that during the game, albeit way better now.

he slowly nodded, processing the deeper meaning of your words. he seemed to understand what you meant right away. “you noticed?” 

“i guess,” you mumbled. “it looks better now.” you were sure your friends were confused. jisung and jaemin looked between you and jake, trying to discern what was going on. karina was probably the most confused, remembering how you asked her who that number 12 was.

“thanks, yn,” he tightly smiled at you. he dug his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, turning away from your group. he sent you a slight wave before walking off. “see you later.”

“so you wanted to act dumb during the game, huh?”

previous — masterlist — next

author's note: i got lazy... (when am I never)

maybe confessing to your best friend, sim jaeyun, the day before he left for college wasn’t the best idea. but when your roommate invites you to see the university’s soccer game against its rival school, you’re suddenly hit with nostalgia when your eyes land on your ex-best friend.

taglist (3/50): @roryirl @strayy-kidz @yourmomni

[assexpansion]

AI art by @shygals-slophouse

Caption contains step-sibling relationship, no intimate touching.

After 8 years of education, 2 diplomas, and a successfully defended thesis, a well-deserved summer break awaited Ariana at her parents' new home. They welcomed their short but high-achieving daughter with welcome arms and began the tour of the small mansion. She was enchanted by the luxury abode, especially its pool...

Ariana was feeling burnt-out by the last push of studying, so the family's mansion, where she'd be fed and could relax, was like a dream oasis. Then, she noticed the back of her older step-brother Benji's head under the backyard gazebo. Her dream shattered.

Her parents encouraged her to chat and catch up with him, noting that he was in charge of preparing the new pool, before returning inside to cook a 'Welcome Home' dinner for their favorite child. She approached Benji, who was faced away and on his phone with earbuds in. Typical. He never made any effort to be nice to her. So why should she?

While Ariana was off making their family proud, Benji had taken the low road of slacking and wasting away his life. The last thing she wanted to do was make small talk with him. It was bad enough that they were related.

"Hey, guess what? I'm back! They really went all out with this place, huh?" Ariana said as friendly as possible.

Her eyes flicked to the small screen her brother was looking at. The distinct figure of a huge-tittied, fat-assed blonde woman struggling to sit up from her seat was there, plain as day. Ariana paused in surprise and disgust as she saw the ridiculously proprotioned pornstar from behind Benji's shoulder. The side of his face was expressionless and slightly slackjawed as he watched. Ariana could hear faint, feminine groans from his earbuds with each lurch of her huge body.

"Umm, what the fuck are you watching?" Ariana finally snapped out. "Dude! I'm right behind you!" She cried, stomping her foot down to get his attention.

But Benji made no sign that he had heard her, immersed in the video. He was totally enamored with the triple-extra-large woman on the screen. She was perfect, he thought. Who needed school or money when his purpose in life was clear; to serve a goddess. His own daydream was shattered as Ariana ripped the cords out of his head and began yelling in his ear.

"What the hell do you think you're doing watching that?!"

Her step-brother's face flushed in embarrassment. He raised his hand in admittance, still holding his cellphone with the video playing out loud as he spoke. "Okay, okay. It's off!"

"God, I'm just so heavy!" It played.

"I didn't think anyone was around!" He whined.

"My stupid fat ass can't even get up!"

"I guess.. welcome back, Ariana." He mumbled.

"I'm such a big, brainless butterball!"

Ariana snatched the device and paused the video. She held the phone to her brother's throat like a knife.

"I've only been here for five minutes and you've already found a way to ruin it." She growled. "Don't let me catch you watching this again."

Benji nodded and gingerly took the device out of her hands.

"Now, how about you get the pool ready so I can start my vacation?" She asked, more of a demand than a question.

The siblings split apart with Ariana resting in a different outdoor seat under the gazebo while Benji gathered the pool conditioners. He followed the stone wall to a small shack where he set a plan in motion that, unbeknownst to him, would lead in his death. His earlier cowardice festered into a black anger as he thought about how she had treated him. Ariana was perfect, and he was next to worthless. It was all he had heard throughout his life. The nerve of that stuck-up little brat. I'll show her, he thought.

Ariana watched as her lumpy step-brother pour a half gallon of pool-aid into the calm water. Unbeknownst to her it was mixed with a large scoop of a secret powder that had been stored away for a special occasion. The pink grains had already dissolved in the solution before he mixed it into the aquamarine water. He tested the water with a strip and deemed it safe. Benji hid his knowing smirk, putting on a solemn face as he approached Ariana.

"Hey, so... I'm sorry about that. You're right. That was gross and not cool of me." He said with a sincere tone, pausing for effect before going on.

"I know we fight, but Mom and Dad just want us to be on good terms with each other. I think they want a little bit of you to rub off on me." He said calmly. It was easy to lie when you know you've already won, Benji thought. "Anyways, I was going to have the first dip in the new pool, but... would you like to have the honor?"

Ariana was slightly shocked by this more compassionate side of her step-brother. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf. Huh? And all it took was catching him watching fetish videos. Who knew? She sighed, her eyes to weary to bash her step-brother's morals further.

"What I saw is going to burned into my mind, but... sure. Thanks, Benji." Only gritting her teeth a little as she said it.

He nodded and they awkwardly parted ways. Ariana swiftly changed into the stretchy, blue swimsuit that she often wore while blowing off stress, swimming countless laps in her college's Olympic-sized pool with her trim body. Now, she was stepping down the pool's ladder where her body would forever be changed. Benji sat on the seat nearby, fiddling on his phone as she turned around and dove headfirst into the spiked mixture.

"How's the water?" He asked as Ariana surfaced.

"Not bad. Nicer than I thought." She answered, glancing towards him and landing on his device.

"Are you looking at more of those videos?" Benji rolled his eyes. "No."

"I mean, I guess it's okay that you do. It's weird, but everyone's got different... tastes. Just keep it to your bedroom, okay?"

"Got it, loud and clear." He said in monotone, trying to go along with whatever she said to act casual.

Again, it was easy to take the high road when he knew that she'd have her just deserts. He looked at his phone out of focus, keeping an eye on Ariana treaded water in the shallow end in his peripheral eyesight. He noted that she was not quite tall enough to touch the bottom.

The dissolved powder had begun absorbing into her skin the moment she had entered the pool. As it did, the tiny clumping grains collected throughout her small body, stimulating and reforming Ariana from the inside.

Unprompted, she called out across the quiet backyard. "I don't mean to re-open that can of worms, but can I ask why? Like, why do you like those... types of women?."

The flushed Benji had to consider that. However, it was difficult to when his step-sisters' breasts were beginning to fill her swimsuit. The shiny print was clearly warping, even through the water's ripples. His focus was shot as he stared at the B-cup breasts that she had never had before. Mouth slightly agape, he shook to his senses and tried to remember the question.

"Well, umm... I guess it's a, uh... primal thing. You know, like if a woman is voluptuous and happy, then that means she's cared for... and can care for a family."

Ariana held the edge of the pool to breathe and considered his answer. Below her elegant nose and dark lips, the tops of two bulges began to rise out of the water. Ariana herself seemed to be rising out of the water! She was rising up, up, up growing proportionately larger all around as her enlarging arms showed no stress of pressing herself upwards. Her breasts were now silently pushing into D-cup territory in a matter of seconds as the osmotic powder filled the growing woman up. Benji watched her bust inflated and settled, dropping into massive tits that began to poke out from the sides of her swimsuit as she pushed off and resumed treading more of the water.

With each rotation of her limbs, she was looking taller, larger, bustier, and thicker. Benji needed to talk or do something to stop himself from ogling her.

"Um... yeah! So, going back. Maybe a primacy is where it stems from, but there's more to it. Like, individual preferences." He continued, trying to keep her attention from drifting.

"Fair, but...." She began, stopping to stand now that she could, seemingly too wrapped in the conversation to notice the odd change. Instead, she was still slightly shaking her head in disproval. "But, it's, like, so extreme. That woman measured what? Seven feet high and six-hundred pounds?"

"That's umm... weirdly accurate that you'd say that..." Benji said, watching as Ariana's eyeline rose to met his.

"Well, uh... one second. Let me, um... think. Oh, okay. Well, I bet that woman in the video makes more than you and me both ever will."

"At the cost of her body, though." Ariana cut back in a second, but paused, looking upwards and away from her hype-sized body. "But, after six years in school, the thought of cashing out and going brain-dead isn't half bad now that I think about it."

Benji watched her yearning for the sky as she had yet realized she was growing into it. A nagging righteous voice told him that enough was enough. His step-sister had already changed more than it would need to totally affect her life. The damage is done then, another voice countered. Benji knew their parents had bought this mansion and it's pool on a whim while she was completing her second degree, sure that even if their finances fell apart, the brilliant Ariana would find a high-paying job to support them. Benji rolled his eyes back and saved the thought of her extreme proportions in a business suit. Her chances of being taken seriously when she was taller than a house were slim, Benji selfishly thought. Maybe she'd be better at something else.

"Would you ever consider it?" Benji asked, wincing as she stared up. "No," Ariana said flatly. "Well, only if I was desperate" She continued promisingly.

She kicked fattening tree-trunk thighs that wouldn't look out of place on a statue of a Grecian goddess, he thought. In just a minute or less, the powder had turned Ariana into a stacked, plump sex fertility symbol that would rake in fame and money.

"Well, this might be easier than I imagined then." Benji said with a grin as he stood up, walking towards the edge of the pool as Ariana finally looked across, then down at her tiny step-brother.

She was frozen as she took in how her body had quintupled in size, running her huge hands over her giant, rolling curves, realizing just how big she'd become. Following her step-brother were their parents carrying the 'Welcome Home' dinner. Ariana's huge face passed through shock and embarrassment before she finally glared down with a raging inferno in her eyes at Benji.

"Oh, you are so dead." She breathed, her voice abnormally vibrating the air. "Benji, you are literally dead. I mean it. Run."

Any chance you could create an image of a woman with fertility goddess proportions stepping out of a pool with an angry expression?

[kaiyves-backup]

Everybody Goes to KC’s

Now this is something I’ve never published online before, the unfinished sequel to 6-6 that I started back in my Senior Year of High School. The scenes here were meant to be the lead-in to a story revealing that every book we’d read for class that year were connected by one grand, overarching conspiracy plot, but I never got around to finishing it and at this late date I can’t even remember all of the details I had planned. I dropped the Bad Hemingway style and wrote this in more of my own voice, and kept up the thread of subtle space references. Tell me which ones you can spot! Like I said before, I’m thinking of returning to this setting, so maybe someday we’ll hear Zee tell the rest of what happened that evening at KC’s…

The western sky was still streaked orange with the glow of sunset as I sped down the causeway. The reflection of the sky in the water turned the world around me the same lovely shade. If I hadn’t been driving, I’d have stopped to take a photo. A cooling breeze off the “river” blew into my face as I guided the old sky-blue Vespa over the bridge and down the other side, picking up speed as it went. It was a beautiful little machine, one I kept as well-tended as I could with my limited funds- after all, I felt I owed it to the Professor.  Someday he’d be back, and I didn’t want to say I’d failed to maintain his special scooter. 

It had been a good day out at sea, mapping and photographing the remnants of a sunken galleon from the 1715 fleet. The new diving gear I’d bought about a month before thanks to Ken Arnold’s lemonade-drunken wager was working like a charm, and the piece I’d written about the experience had won high praise when I’d submitted it to a magazine. Now, after drying off and throwing on my denim jacket, I was looking forward to a cold cranberry lemonade and some sushi at my usual seat near the dock at KC’s.

Some places in town had their lights on as I drove in. The road to KC’s hugged the shore of the tidal estuary that a misguided cartographer in the olden days had mistakenly believed to be a river. There were already a few vehicles in the parking lot-- KC’s was where everybody went in those days. It was popular with the locals, of course, and divers like myself, as well as pilots from the nearby aerospaceports, but between the proximity of so many tourist attractions and the high-stakes air hockey Bob offered, you never knew who was going to show up.

It was a fairly unremarkable restaurant, a one-story building with an enclosed outdoor area behind it that stretched to the water. A somewhat-rickety dock stretched from the outdoor area out into the estuary, where Bob hung a few strings of old Christmas lights that tended to sway in the frequent winds off the sea. As I pulled up, I could make out four figures near the bank of the estuary. 

At first, I thought there was nothing unusual about the group, but as I got closer, I saw one of the four punch another. The man who had been punched managed to land an uppercut on the one who had punched him, causing him to fall backwards. But the other two men soon moved in to attack him. I could see that the first man I’d seen get punched was bent over and moving slowly.

I jumped off the Vespa and ran over to help, the gravel crunching under my thick boots. The two attackers seemed too focused on the man they were beating up to hear me approach- at least until I kicked one of them rather hard in the back. He wasn’t expecting it, especially not from someone wearing motorcycling boots. 

“This is none of your flamin’ business, buster!” The remaining man shouted, leaping at me.

“Three against one is hardly fair.” I dodged, moving closer to the edge of the water. He recovered and tried to grab me again. Again, I twisted out of reach and moved closer to the water. 

Now I had to wait for the right moment… he lunged at me again and I stuck out my leg, tripping him, and sending him into the waters of the estuary, head-first. 

Full of adrenaline, I turned back to see what had happened to the man who the three thugs had been attacking. He was leaning on the hood of an older-model Corvette with both hands, and panting heavily. I ran over to him. 

“Are you okay, sir?” I asked. 

“Thank… god… Blue?” He whispered, turning to look at me. Unsure of what he meant by the last word, I turned towards the building, where the noise of the fight had drawn several people to the door and windows of the restaurant’s outdoor area. I recognized Karol, the tall, muscular man who served as the establishment’s bouncer, and Bob, the restaurant’s owner, among them.

“Karol! Bob! He’s hurt! Three guys were mugging him out here! Help me bring him inside!” I shouted. They both hurried out to help. 

Bob and I helped the man stagger into the enclosed outdoor area, letting him put his arms around our shoulders for support. Behind us, Karol shut the door and stood outside of it. While I knew Karol to be in reality very kindhearted, his permanent smirk had intimidated many a would-be-troublemaker at KC’s into good behavior. 

Bob was a short man, with a round face, eternally wet-looking brown hair and an extreme dislike of violence and danger. Nervous, his voice took on a higher-than-usual pitch as he issued commands to Roger, the waiter who stood nearby. Roger was fresh-faced, a newly-minted pilot with heavily-gelled dark hair. He owned the gold Corvette the wounded man had been leaning on.

“Help us get him to my office, Roger, and then call the police!” Bob ordered. 

Bob had a cot in the office, in which he sometime took catnaps when business was quiet. We helped the man sit down on it. It was only then, in the bright light of the office, that I took the time to examine his appearance. 

He was middle-aged, with light brown hair that was white at the temples. There were several bruises on his face, as well as older scars that didn’t seem to be from tonight’s encounter. I wondered how he’d gotten those.   

“You’re safe here, Mr-?” Bob asked in a soft voice, before turning to Roger and ordering him to get the poor man some water in a louder one.

“Lindsay.”

“That’s your last name?”

The man nodded. 

“Just making sure. I’d never heard of it as a man’s first name before…” He trailed off.

“Zee here saved you from those men. Normally, Karol would have been out there as well, but he came in late tonight because he was giving a ride to some guys he found by the side of the road. Vladimir and something with an E, I think they were called…” Roger said, “Anyway, I’m going to call the police about those thugs-- right now.” He added, leaving the room quickly as he felt Bob’s why-aren’t-you-doing-what-I-asked-yet stare. 

“Zee…” Mr. Lindsay said, turning to look at me again. “…thank you.” 

“Do you know why they were attacking you?” I asked. 

“Because… of… this…” He reached inside his coat to pull something out.

“Don’t try to move yet, sir. You’re badly hurt.” Bob said, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. Mr. Lindsay ignored him and withdrew a small silver medallion shaped like an eye. He placed it in my hand. 

  I looked it over, turning it this way and that. It was heavy, pure silver, similar to some artifacts I’d seen at the Louvre during my travels with the Professor.

“What is it?” Bob asked. “Looks Egyptian.”

“It looks like an Eye of Horus. Ancient Egyptians wore amulets like this to protect against evil.” I said. “But I don’t know if this is a real one. Silver was incredibly rare for the Egyptians, much rarer than gold. You’ve seen all the gold in King Tut’s tomb? They got tons of gold from the Nubians, but they had so little silver that we don’t even know where they mined it.”

“It’s… real…” Mr. Lindsay whispered.

“Where did you get it?” I asked “From a museum? Or… a tomb?”

“I didn’t… steal it.”

[angryschnauzer]

Easter Surprise

Part 7 of my Rugby Teacher Henry series Summary: A leisurely walk home after visiting the village church for Easter Mass, your husband Henry enjoys some alfresco fun to help alleviate your horny pregnancy hormones.

Fandom: Henry Cavill Actor RPF Pairing: Rugby Teacher Henry Cavill x Female Teacher Wife Reader Word count: 1950 Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fluffy Smut, Marriage, Pregnancy, Unprotected Sex, Outdoor Sex, Henry being a horny beast.

Rugby Teacher Henry Series (AU Henry Cavill x Reader): Part 1 Thigh Riding, Part 2 Jingle My Bells Part 3 An Epic Quickie Part 4 The Boy Next Door, Part 5  Three Fingers Part 6 The Darkest Night

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications.

Henry Cavill Masterlist

Easter Surprise

Easter was about new life and birth, and as you sat in the church you rested your hand on your stomach, smoothing over the 4 month bump of your long awaited little one growing inside you. A larger warm hand smoothed over yours, and you lovingly glanced at your husband Henry as he sat beside you, covering his hand with your other one.

When you and Henry had discovered you were pregnant it had been around valentines day, the stresses of Christmas long behind you, and finally a reason that suddenly seemed so obvious as to why you had been feeling absolutely rubbish. As soon as you’d seen those two little pink lines on the test you’d screamed, Henry literally crashing through the locked bathroom door, wood splinters flying in all directions only to find you jumping for joy before you calmed enough to show him the test. 

The next couple of months had been tough. Morning sickness had knocked you sideways, and although you hadn’t wanted to tell anyone until you hit the end of the first trimester, you’d had to inform your boss at the school you teached at due to needing to take so much time off from lessons. Thankfully she’d been very understanding, and with another teacher coming back off of maternity leave, you’d been able to job share much to the excitement of your class as they now had two amazing teachers rather than just the one. Henry had also scaled back his extra classes and lessons at the high school, now just concentrating on the students that would be taking their exams in the summer. As a side gig however he had started a youtube channel of all things, explaining rugby training tips and pointers, which you thoroughly enjoyed watching him film in your back garden. He was just about getting the hang of social media too, and had just secured a sponsorship deal with a protein powder brand he’d been using for years. That alone would be saving you the better part of £150 a month on just the powders, plus a small paycheck each time he did a sponsored video on youtube or post on instagram. You didn’t mind in the slightest. Although you knew Henry adored teaching, he had always wanted to get further in his coaching career, and if that meant moving to a digital route first, you were fully supportive of his plan.

Back in the church the vicar called for everyone to stand to sing a hymn, Henry reluctantly removing his hand from your stomach, but instead moving it behind your back. You were thankful you were in the back row, as seconds later he slid his palm down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. The rows ahead of you were filled with the students from Henry’s school and their families, the prestigious school having close ties with all local institutions, and staff’s attendance at any special event definitely helped those in charge look favourably upon those staff looking for favours or exceptions. At that very moment you felt Henry’s fingers start to slowly pull your short floral dress up, the tips of them soon touching the back of your thigh. Quickly catching his wrist with your hand, you attempted to glare at him, instead a small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth when you saw the dark twinkle of mischief in his eyes;

“Not here” you whispered.

As of two weeks ago and your first trimester giving away to your second, your morning sickness had waned to almost nothing, but instead had been replaced with such a high libido you were surprised that you weren’t walking with bowed legs. Every morning you woke up with two urges, the first to pee, and the second to straddle your husband as he lay snoozing in bed. You were so thankful he had a tendency to sleep naked, you having opted for the same since the pregnancy night flushes had kicked in, so as he felt your touch he was always happy to oblige with letting you ride him as he slowly came to each morning, clearing the sleep from his eyes as your bouncing breasts came into view, his enormous hands cupping them as they grew rounder with each passing day. 

Back in the church Henry pouted and you had to suppress a giggle, thankful the hymn was at the chorus;

“Later”

“Promise?”

“Of course” you grinned and finally Henry behaved, moving his hand back to rest just above your ass.

-

The church service was over, and as the crowds left to head home for their own easter celebrations Henry slid your hand into his;

“Lets walk back” he nodded to the meadow footpath that led the two miles back to where you lived. Nodding you were happy to spend time in the unseasonably warm April sunshine, and having caught the public bus to the church due to parking chaos, you were relieved not to have to do that journey again.

The walk was beautiful, a rarely used path so it was just the sounds of nature around you. Henry pulled of his light sweater after a few minutes, tying it around his waist as the day warmed. The meadow grass was already long, reaching over your knees, with bright sprays of colourful flowers among the vivid green of new grasses. You reached the crest of the hill and the view of the town came into sight, Henry tugging on your hand to step away from the path;

“C’mon, lets take a break”

Moving through the meadow he found a spot out of view of the path and set his sweater down on the ground, you doing the same with your cardigan as you both sat, Henry’s arm wrapping around your shoulders;

“Such a beautiful sight”

“It’s so pretty”

“Stunning”

The silence that followed made you turn to Henry, laughing when you saw that his gaze was affixed on your cleavage;

“Henry!”

“What? I can’t help it! They’re beautiful tits, and they just keep getting bigger and bigger!”

He moved to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you as he slowly pressed you to the ground. The kiss was passionate, his tongue dancing with your own and as he moved to press a trail of kisses down your jaw, his fingers pulling down the neckline of your dress so he could grab a soft handful of boob. He was careful not to crush you, moving his weight carefully as he pressed a thigh thigh between your own, the brush of the fabric against your skin making you wet and ready;

“Henry… we shouldn’t…”

“I know… but you make me so fucking horny…”

He took your hand and rested it on his crotch, and as you gave him a firm squeeze you could feel he was rock hard and ready to go;

“Just a quick one…”

“Babe, with how hard i am, it wouldn’t be anything less”

Like a pair of horny teenagers there was clumsy fumbling of zips and underwear, before Henry took hold of your legs and angled himself home, sliding into your soaked velvet cavern;

“Oh fuck… you feel so good, so wet for me”

With your growing bump Henry had taken to stay kneeling rather than lay over you, it also meant you could both - for the time being - watch as his thick shaft plunged into you. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous” Henry beamed down at you, his smile firmly in place as he looked like a lovesick puppy; “Make me so fucking hard, i could spend every minute of every day in this cunt”

He swiped his thumb over your clit and it rocketed you rapidly towards your orgasm, keeping up his fast pace as his thick shaft stretched your tight walls. 

“Oh Henry, i’m gonna cum”

“That’s it babe, come for me. Let me fill you up, scramble those eggs”

You laughed as your orgasm hit, holding your hand over your mouth in case of making too much noise. The tightness of your walls gripping him set Henry off, a quiet strangled cry bubbling from his throat as he filled your growing womb with a thick load. 

With a final sigh he pulled out, holding your knees up as he watched his thick cream seep from you, before his fingers smoothed over your entrance and you shuddered with a echo of your orgasm;

“HEN! I’m sensitive!”

With a smirk he tenderly rubbed his thumb over your clit as he pushed two fingers into your soaked channel, pulling another orgasm from you before you lay back with a happy sigh on your face. As he pulled his hand away you caught it and brought his fingers to your lips, sucking the wetness from them as your tongue laved over his skin;

“You keep doing that and you’ll make me hard again”

You went to laugh and then stopped, a look of shock on your face;

“Hen!”

“What?”

You grabbed his other hand, whilst simultaneously pulling your dress up and laid it flat onto your bump;

“He’s moving!”

It was the first time you’d felt a proper wriggle, and although the little bean would be barely four months and probably the size of a hen’s egg, through sensitive fingertips you could feel the tiny movements.

You both lay there in the soft grass, feeling your baby enjoy the rush of happy hormones flowing through your bloodstream and therefore through theirs as well. You hadn’t realised you were crying until you heard Henry sniff quietly, looking up to see his eyes wet as well;

“Babe, that’s amazing. You’ve felt this before?”

You shook your head;

“No, this is the first time”

Henry pressed a happy kiss to your lips, before he moved his head and pressed a kiss to your stomach. At that moment you heard a dog bark in the distance;

“We should make a move”

“Yeah” 

Henry helped you adjust your clothing, and when you were both decent you may your way home, hand in hand. 

Once home Henry made a gorgeous lunch that you had outside, his hand continually straying to your knee that he would squeeze enticingly. He cleared his throat;

“Babe… when we were in the field, you called the bump ‘he’... did you find out the sex at your last scan”

You shook your head;

“No, we promised we’d wait… i just have this gut instinct”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek;

“Whatever they end up being, i can’t wait to bring them into the world with you” he paused, then let out a giggle

“What?”

“Was just thinking about fucking you in that field earlier… that was some good fucking. If you weren’t already knocked up that would have probably done the job”

“Well just keep that in mind for next time you want to scramble my eggs Mr Cavill”

Henry laughed;

“Sure thing… OH!”

He suddenly jumped up and ran into the house, reappearing moments later with a bundled up Tesco carrier bag;

“After lunch i’m hiding eggs in the garden for you to find”

“You’re going to make your pregnant wife hunt for chocolate?” you enquired

“Absolutely. But you’re going to take those knickers off so i can watch you bend over”

You laughed and lightly patted at his arm;

“You’re such a horny teenager!”

He pulled you onto his lap, lunch now long forgotten;

“Mmmm, and you make a perfect MILF”

You felt him start to harden before he lifted you up;

“C’mon, i’m gonna fuck you over the kitchen counter, and whilst you recover i can hide the eggs”

You laughed;

“Sounds more like a game of hide the sausage”

[nijiironokoi]

✤ Sawyer Oberon for @mousysims​‘s Harvest Moon BC

“Welcome to Blooming Trails, the number one place in Henford-on-Bagley to get your flowers, seeds, and nutrients. You must be new. I’m Sawyer, it’s nice to meet you.” > The pink haired florist offers his hand out to shake. “Take a look around and let me know if you have any questions. I’d be happy to help you with anything.” >  Sawyer winks at you, giving you his full attention. You feel like you’ll be seeing him around a lot.

Name: Sawyer Oberon Age: 24 Pronouns: He/Him Orientation: Bi Aspiration: Friend of the World Traits: Outgoing, Loves Outdoors, Music Lover Favorite Gifts: Music Records, Daffodils Liked Gifts: Curry, Apple Pie, Strawberries, Boba, Flowers Disliked Gifts: Fish, Alcohol, Pickled Veggies, Bugs ✤ History… Always ready with a warm smile and a helping hand, Sawyer had charmed his way into the hearts of most of the town by the time he was twelve. He loved Henford-on-Bagley, but always felt that there was something more out there for him. He wanted what he saw in the movies he watched as a kid. Loud music that left his ears ringing and his heart thumping, glamorous people with interesting stories, and dazzling lights in a city that never slept.

To say he found himself at San Myshuno University is an understatement. His hair was a different color every month and he found that he savored the energy of the night air. Every day he met someone new, and when it felt right they would talk late into the night about their experiences, their secrets, and their dreams. It felt like he was experiencing the world from its peak. 

It took one night, one drive, and one too many drinks for it all to come crashing down. His best friend, his first friend, since arriving in San Myshuno, died in his senior year in a mess of metal and glass and sirens. After a week of isolation he booked the next train back home, unable to stay in the city.

Now Sawyer is back in his family’s old flower shop manning the register, creating bouquets, and tending the garden. The familiar town was quiet and he slipped back into it like an old pair of overalls. It held none of the painful memories of San Myshuno, and that was fine. The same people were still friendly in the same way, and even the new faces in town held a familiar kindness. He smiles with his old smile but there’s something sad behind his eyes. Sawyer deflects any nosy questions about his return with a joke or questions of his own, but people still notice that he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol

Maybe the cute new farmer that comes by the shop will find more than a friendly face behind the flowers. Can Sawyer be happy in a place he’s always wanted to leave?

Misc. ✤ While his floral arrangements won’t always win best in show, he thoughtfully composes each and every one of them. He particularly enjoys paying special attention to choosing flowers that have meanings which best match the buyer’s feelings. ✤ During slow hours at the shop, you can hear him playing his guitar in the garden. He won’t admit it but he thinks it’ll help the flowers grow better. 
✤ He likes to take naps outside in the sun with his hat over his face.
✤ He’s not a pushover, but tends to run away from his problems instead of facing them head on. ✤ He’s had a lot of short flings, both in high school and particularly in college but they always ended the same way. He never knew how to make them feel special enough.. ✤ He talks about his time in San Myshuno fondly, but never says why he came back. ✤ He likes listening to pop, rock, r&b, and indie. He’s recently started to get into more acoustic music since coming back home. ✤ While he can usually be found in the local pub after work talking to the locals and drinking seltzer, sometimes he’ll be found on the stage! It’s rare, but when the band’s main guitarist is out of town Sawyer will fill in for the night. He’d love to play on his own sometime if he got the chance (heart event idea 👀?) I had a lot of fun making Sawyer and developing his background. I hope you enjoy it too! He’s basically the friendly popular kid who’s back in town and has trauma now >:3c

[spidernerdsblog]

Heyyyyyy👋

I hope you don’t mind me requesting a peter parker where the reader is in a coma and some girls are hitting on him and asking if he is taken and he said like “yes, I’am just waiting for my princess to wake up” something like that. If you’re comfortable with it ofc.🙂 or just the reader asking him what would he say to the girls who’s hitting on him🥰 thank you in advance💕

Hey! Your ask kinda low-key made me sad but honestly I love it thank you for requesting. Hope you like this. Took a little inspiration from the amazing spiderman 2 where Gwen dies but here the reader goes into a comatose state instead.

Song inspo - Sunflower by post malone

Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : none

You're a Sunflower

It's been three months now as Peter stands in front of his university leaving his high school life behind and stepping into his college life; though this is not exactly how he imagined it would be he had imagined to walk through these gates with you hand in hand by his side. But as fate would have it you now lay in a bed succumbed into an eternal sleep. 

The memory was still fresh in his mind of how Harry clad in his green goblin suit kidnapped you to get his revenge on him though Peter was able to subdue him not before Harry threw you down the building. You reached out your hand to Peter with fear in your eyes for help and even after Peter's desperate attempt to save you by shooting his webs, he couldn’t web you up in time as your body hit the ground with an impact that your humanly body couldn't withstand all he remembers was you looking at him smiling softly before closing your eyes for eternity. 

You were rushed to the hospital and admitted in the critical care unit. Your parents came running after they heard about your accident, Peter couldn’t look in their eyes because it was he for whom their daughter is battling with death. Peter cried and prayed for you the whole night. With a heavy heart the doctors informed that the impact of your fall had directly affected your brain sending you into a coma and they have no idea when or ever are you going to recover from that state. Peter thought it was all a lie, he didn't want to believe that he may have lost you forever. At his request and with your parents' consent Tony shifted you to the Avengers compound so your treatment could be done under better hands and you recover quickly but neither Bruce could provide him with a satisfactory answer of when are you going to come out of your comatose state. The only thing now he could do was wait, wait for you to one day open your eyes and pull him back in your arms, his safe haven, even if he has to wait all his life he will wait. 

He had never wanted you to get involved in his dangerous life and that is why he revealed to you his secret identity to let you know that you both can’t be together. But you had laughed it off and playfully said to him "Haha, I laugh at the face of danger!"

🌻

After his classes were done for the day Peter walks back home stopping by the flower shop to buy flowers for you. It was a part of his daily routine now everyday after college he would bring you sunflowers. They were your favourite flowers because you once said to him they symbolize ‘‘a person who has loved with sincerity and purity never forgets, on the contrary, truly loves until the end’’

And you were his sunflower. You were a ray of sunshine in his life and he always thought that your love was too much for him which he would never be able to reciprocate you back, he was lucky enough to be a part of your life because he doesn’t deserve you. He blames himself for your condition. You were a bubbly person who loved the outdoors, the bustle on the streets, visiting new places and meeting new people. And he wanted to be part of every little adventure in your life but alas he robbed you of your life.

Reaching the compound he goes to visit you in your room. He replaces the dry sunflowers in the vase with the fresh ones he bought for you and sits beside you. You looked so calm and peaceful. It pains him immensely seeing you lying motionless wired to an HRM, the rhythmic beeping of the machine a proof that your heart still beats and all hopes are not lost, not yet. 

He misses your carefree laugh, misses your sweet honey laced voice, your warm smile that could brighten up anyone’s day. He craves for your touch; he wants to feel your soft delicate hands again as you caress his wounds after every time he comes back wounded fighting the bad guys. 

Everyday it's a struggle for him to leave you like this. He wants you to call him back by his name like you used to do every night before he left for patrolling not wanting him to go and risk his life out there.

🌻

It was fresher’s night Peter had already decided to give it a miss and spend time with you but Ned and Flash had forcefully made him tag along which he reluctantly did. The party was at full swing, music booming and drinks flowing. Drunk boys and girls hitting upon each other. Peter was standing at an isolated corner drinking a coke by now a bunch of girls had tried to make a move on him which he had managed to decline politely. He was never the man to indulge in infidelity, he loved you dearly and no one can take your place in his life. You even once had jokingly asked what he would do if you vanish from his life would he move on and he had just placed his hand on your mouth warily asking you to never ever say such a thing again or even think of leaving him.

After sometime one of his classmates Felicia waltzed her way up to him.

‘‘Hey Parker why are you standing here all alone?’’

‘‘No I’m fine-’’ by the time he would stop her she was already dragging him to the dancefloor. She pulled him closer, her back pressed against his chest as she took his hands and placed them on her waist. Peter felt awkward as he gently swayed with her. Soon she began grinding against making Peter feel uncomfortable. He thought whatever was happening wasn’t right he pushed her away from him as she turned around looking at him in shock and confusion.

‘‘I’m sorry I-I can’t’’ He stuttered nervously and rushed out of the room to the ground for some fresh air as he felt suffocated. Seeing the scene Emma Frost, another classmate of his followed him. Though he backed off Peter was still feeling guilty he felt he kind of cheated on you as you lay unconscious, tears pricked his eyes.

‘‘What’s your deal man?’’ Emma asks him from behind startling him.

‘‘Uh.. what?’’ He asks, quickly wiping his tears with his hands.

‘‘I just saw you leaving Felicia on the dance floor. Who does that?! Every guy in the college wants to be with her’’ she snickers

‘‘I’m not every guy. Moreover, I’m not interested’’ he says blandly.

‘‘Are you taken?’’ she looked at him skeptical and his silence gave away the answer.

‘‘Damn! She’s indeed a lucky girl’’ she exclaims ‘‘to have such a loyal boyfriend like you these days is very rare. Can I see one picture of your special one?’’ she asks excitedly to which Peter obliged with a smile as he took out his phone from his back pocket and showed her a picture of yours looking all radiant and happy in a sunflower field just like the flowers which he had clicked when you both went on a small trip.

‘‘Here she is’’

‘‘She is beautiful’’ Emma approves with a smile ‘‘So where is she? Another college or at a totally different country?’’ Peter’s expression fell as sadness took over his features; he took a long sigh before he answered her question.

"She’s at the brink of life and death and I'm just waiting for my princess to wake up"

Feeback and suggestions are always welcome.

..................................................................................

Part 2

Requests are open.

Taglist : @peaches-parker @osterfieldshollandgirl @starcoadrienette2 @spideyth @allthisfortommy @thenoddingbunny-blog @larrystylinson-sus @bloodyscarlet @itstaskeen @dummiesshort @tutuabby28 @dramaholic18 @thehumanistsdiary @majo240820 @heyafellows @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @justafangirlduh @moniffazictress11   @goodgirlgonetom   @lyzalovealk @parkerpeterparker2004 @ladykxxx08 @joselyn001

[yespolkadotkitty]

Take What You Need

A special treat for the lovely @keeper0fthestars - a flimsy excuse to get railed into next week by Francisco Morales.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with a flimsy nod to plot. Word count: 2300

Thanking @alwaysbethewest and @songsformonkeys​ for the beta!!

“All right! You heard the man, wheels up in thirty!” Redfly shouted across the small airfield. “Catch some sleep, eat, do whatever, but I want us all in that helo, in thirty.”

“Copy that,” Pope shouted back, heading off towards the thick bushes surrounding the hangar and aircraft. Ironhead followed, probably to try and talk some sense into him. Ironhead had always been the most sensible of you all.

In fact, it was William who had spoken up for you when Pope suggested you come along.

“She’s good with a rifle,” Ironhead said calmly. “And her Spanish is decent. Way better’n mine and Benny’s, anyways.”

Redfly - the infuriatingly traditional conservative middle-class American man - had ummed and aahed, and you knew it was because you had a vagina. 

But here you were, and you’d taken out two of Lorea’s guys from the roof with your rifle, so Redfly could suck your metaphorical dick.

The man in question loped back to the other side of the airfield, towards Pope’s informant, and started to talk to her about something.

“This is a clusterfuck of epic proportions.”

You turned at that voice. A little raspy, a little husky-edged, it sent a shiver up your spine. Always had, and probably always would.

Francisco Morales shook his head when you turned to look at him. His ballcap - dirty, soft - was pulled down low over his head. Hair the colour of milk chocolate curled out from underneath it. He met your gaze, and his own hazelnut eyes were so, so tired.

“It could’ve gone better,” you agreed, letting your eyes trail down his long, lean frame - a little soft in the middle, but you’d always liked his tummy.

Francisco - Catfish to you all, because during special ops training, he’d caught one almost the size of himself - was an enigma of a man. Soft, sometimes. Hard, sometimes.

You’d known him five years now, and during that time you’d seen him pull the trigger a foot from a man’s head without wincing, and you’d seen him comfort a three year old girl left homeless in a war zone, his voice soft, his touch gentle. The yin and yang of him fit, somehow.

Catfish scoffed. “Not sure how it could’ve gone any fucking worse.” He ripped off his cap, and your eyes were drawn to a deep cut on his cheek.

“What’s this?” You automatically reached up to touch his face. His tanned skin was rough under your fingers as you traced the edges of the healing wound. “It might scar.”

Francisco grunted. “Like that’s a concern right now.”

You grinned, dropped your hand. “It’ll be sexy. The scar, I mean.”

“You think?” He laughed without humour, wrung his cap in his hand, and you saw how drawn his starkly handsome face was, the patchy scruff around his jawline grey in places. God, had you thought about kissing that almost-beard, stroking your fingers over his bristly chin. “I wish being sexy was what worried me most. I’m fuckin’ losing my shit here. The scales are off the charts, the helo will never make it to the ocean-” he swore a stream in Spanish, and stuffed his hat back on. The frustration steamed off him in waves.

“Fish.” You braced your hands on his shoulders, looked up into his face, twisted with anger and fear. “We’ll be okay. We’ve had worse than this.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never had worse with you,” he bit off, shrugging off your touch and pacing away, shoving his cap back on, his hair curling at the edges. “Jesus fucking Christ, if anything happens to you, I’ll-”

“Fish!” You shout to be heard over the noise of the aircraft prep, the wind, the sound of Redfly and Pope’s informant arguing. “Nothing will happen to me. You saw me take out Lorea’s guys. And I saved your ass on that mission in Istanbul.”

Francisco shifted, adopting that hands-on-hips stance he always did when he was thinking. “I know.”

“Then what? I’m not a porcelain doll, Francisco.”

And you saw it. His eyes went hot when you used his full name. Hot and sort of.. Dark. Like he wanted to drag you into that hangar and bend you against the corrugated metal wall and rail you into next week.

And boy, you’d let him.

“What?” you challenged. He needed this release. Whether it was shouting at you or whether you wrestled until the fight had gone out of him, he could not fly that helo with your lives and that money at stake in such a state.

He muttered something in Spanish. Your command of the language was very good but his voice was pitched too low for you to make out the syllables.

“Oh, you wanna go?” You lifted your fists in a mock fighting stance. “You ever hit a girl, Morales?”

“There’s always a first time,” he gritted out humourlessly.

You danced around, goading him. “Maybe you’re afraid I’d kick your ass.”

Fish scoffed, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, in the line of his back. He was a loaded powder keg, seconds from a bloody explosion from the heat, the stress, the shooting. “Stop it.”

“Make me.”

You saw the moment his eyes changed - went dark again, and you turned, running for the hangar.

You heard him bark out a laugh as he pursued you, his long legs eating up the terrain. You ran flat out, reaching the hangar in under a minute, Fish hot on your heels. The minute he barrelled through the door you slammed it behind him.

“What the fuck?” he asked, confusion parading over his face - somehow even more alluring when he was dirty, tired, stressed.

You yanked him close and kissed him. It was the first time, and all the times you’d thought about kissing him, an inaurgural kiss, it was never like this. It was in your shitty home town, under some trees, or under the bleachers of the old high school, or by moonlight at the drive-in.

It took a second, and then Francisco was kissing you back, his lips fierce, hard, the kiss almost painful in its intensity. He tasted of terrible coffee and the beef jerky you’d all forced down, and you licked into his mouth, tangling your tongue with his, and the flavour of his little groan was divine.

“We don’t have long,” he whispered harshly. “What - what do you want?”

Your breath was coming in pants. He smelled of clean sweat, the outdoors, and the spring rain, and you were wetter than you’d ever been. This close to Catfish, you couldn’t cope with the well of desire, too long ignored. “You can’t fly us like this, Fish. In this state.”

His hands clenched on your hips. “What?”

“Relieve the pressure.” You slid a hand down his body, cupped him, felt his erection like steel in velvet. Your blood fired. “For us both.”

“Shit.” Francisco leaned down, rested his forehead against yours. “I’ve fucking dreamed of this. But not… not like this, like you’re a cheap fuck. You’re not. You’re… everything.”

The words shook you, and you pressed your lips to his, drinking him in, loving him, like you’d loved him nearly five years, and always been afraid to rock the boat.

Well, now the boat had run aground and it was time.

“You can show me that when we’re safely back on American soil, soldier. For now…” you yanked him close again, pressed your palm to his cock. “Take what you need. Give me what I need.”

“Fuck,” he bit off, and then he was kissing you like a starving man falling upon a banquet, all tongues and teeth and Frankie, and you pressed as close to him as you could.

“How long do we have?” you panted out.

He shot his cuffs, checked his watch. “Quarter hour.”

“Then make every minute count, Morales.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathed. And he got on his knees in front of you, pulling at your jeans.

Your heart leapt into your chest at the first brush of his breath on your bare legs. Frankie rolled the denim down, ghosted a kiss over your underwear.

“You would not believe, baby, how often I’ve jacked off to the thought of having you,” he whispered.

“Fish, if you don’t do something, I swear to God…”

He took off his cap, passed it to you. “Wear this for me.” After you slapped it on your head, he pulled your hand back down, thrust it into his hair. You tugged him close as he yanked your underwear down and proceeded to fucking feast on you.

You’d never experienced Frankie like this. Near feral, his tongue licking at you like you were his last meal, his favourite food, a longed-for treat. He used his hands - hands you’ve wished were on you, inside you - to spread you so he could spear his tongue inside you, nip at your clit, write his name with his tongue, whatever the fuck he was doing, it felt like Heaven. 

“Stop. Stop,” you whined, pushing at his hair. “Want to come with you inside me.”

He looked up, those cocoa eyes dark and hot and irresistible, and then he was on his feet in a hot second, and he spun you around to face the wall.

“Hold on to something, baby,” he muttered against your neck before he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin at your pulse point, the tiny hurt only making you wetter.

The sound of his belt buckle being undone and the shove of the denim down his thighs was loud to your ears.

“Please,” you gritted out, arching your back.

Frankie slid a palm down your naked butt, and you heard the growl in his voice when he said, “Sweet girl. When we get back on US soil….” And then he positioned himself and slid home in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gripped the hangar wall hard and cried out at the pleasure and the stretch. He kept going until he bottomed out, curses in English and Spanish falling from his lips in that husky baritone made for pure sin, and then as you groaned in satisfaction, he curled a hand around to your front and rubbed you in maddening circles.

“We don’t have long,” you warned, muscles already fluttering.

“Fuck. Won’t take long. You feel too good. You’re so fucking tight. How - how do you-”

“Fast and hard,” you instructed, and you felt him twitch inside you at your words, heard his moan. “I wanna feel you tomorrow, Francisco.”

“Oh fuck,” he grated out, and then he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force was just what you needed, and you cried out at the wonderful pressure, the push of him inside you, the texture and shape of him. Better, harder, larger than you had imagined.

You spread your legs as much as you could given the  denim around your calves, and Frankie fucks you hard, keeping one hand on your hip and the other at the apex of your body, strumming you expertly.

“Wish we had more fucking time,” he rasped into your hair, pressing a frantic kiss there. “Sweet girl. You feel like heaven. Always.. Knew.. you would.”

“The things I’m gonna to do you when we get home,” you shot back, and pressed your hips into him. “Oh God, more, please.”

He upped the tempo, and the sound of your bodies slapping together was obscene. His fingers circled your clit once, twice more, and you flew off that sweet cliff edge, crying out his name and burying your face in your elbow to muffle the sound.

Frankie’s hips faltered as he gave you all he had, thrusting into you at a punishing pace before his hips stuttered.

“Two minute warning!” Ironhead yelled from outside.

“I want to feel you come inside me, Fish,” you whispered over your shoulder.

“Fuck.” And he tumbled over the precipice too, hips shaking. You felt him jerk inside you, felt the hot surge of his climax, and he pressed down hard on your clit, triggering another little orgasm for you, too.

“Jesus. Fuck.” Frankie leant his forehead on your back, panting. “Christ.”

“You gotta get some more swear words, Morales,” you said, but your breath hitched too, and you wiggled your hips, making him shiver.

He pulled out, zipped up, and then took care putting your clothes in order. When he tugged you close for a kiss, you tasted yourself.

“First fucking chance I get,” Frankie rasped, his lips in your hair, “I’m gonna take my sweet time doing everything I want to you. With you.”

“Then get us over those mountains, Francisco, and I’m yours.” You nip at his bottom lip, then sprang apart when Redfly yanked open the hangar door.

“Fuck’s sake, Fish, we thought you’d gone AWOL. It’s go time.”

“Copy that,” Frankie shot back. You let him leave first, glanced down to admire his ass in those jeans. 

And you thought, with single-minded determination: We just need to get over these mountains. Then Francisco Morales would be all yours.

Redfly looked at his departing back and then turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Why are you wearing Fish’s hat?”

****

Tagging the Pedro pals: @emmy-dandiliom918​ @thirstworldproblemss @cinewhore @poenariuniverse​ @keeper0fthestars​ @scarlettvonsass​ @casually-introverted​ @knittingqueen13​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @10-96dispatcher @buckstaposition​ @agirllovespasta​ @songsformonkeys​  @gamingaquarius​ @mstgsmy​  @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @dornish-queen​ @maxphillipswasright @winters-buck​ @mourningbirds1​ @pascalitomorales​ @mrsparknuts​ @alldatalost​ @abuttoncalledsmalls​ @mrschiltoncat​ @auty-ren​ @heatherbel​

it’s 10.45pm my brain has failed if I left you off I apologize!!

[watevermelon]

Cheating!Haikyuu x Reader

✧ Summary: Akaashi and Kuroo getting caught cheating and begging you for forgiveness ➳ A/N: Honestly, I don’t think ANY of the boys would ever even consider it. They’re all so loving in their own ways and for anyone to actually do this would be absolutely horrible to their partners. ➳  Masterlist 

But ask for angst and you shall receive. kuroo’s is funny and akaashi’s is not

----- xXxXxXxXxXx-----

✧ Intro: 

You trusted your boyfriend of the past year explicitly. Your relationship was built on a mutual friendship, going from casual classmates to one day dating when he had asked you out. You were surprised to say the least, this was one of the members of the volleyball team. They were popular throughout school with the entire student body. And so for him to show interest in you? You honestly hadn’t believed it.

But as the months went on and a few became your everyday norm, along with even getting invited over his house to meet his family, you were sure that the man you were dating was the one.

You remembered the first time he kissed you, the first I love you that he ever whispered in your ears.

And so it broke your heart to find out that you were not the only one he was saying these words to.

The school you were attending was known to be a powerhouse regarding volleyball. You were proud of the national spotlight your boyfriend was fighting on. And you fully understood the times when he would be gone or busy for weeks at a time - whether it was for traveling far away for various training camps or just practicing long into the nights for upcoming tournaments.

You remembered the first time you saw it, the text that was very much not from you. The phone had vibrated while he was out of the room and you were not trying to be nosy - calling his name that he received a notification and glancing at it briefly through the motion.

I miss your lips on mine.

You knew from the beginning that Akaashi always had a special connection to Bokuto. Even before you were close to the quiet setter, you admired how he always seemed to know how to lift Bokuto’s spirits. From the preliminary matches against Nekoma to just seeing the two in school, it made you want to foster such a close relationship with him yourself.

And on more than one occasion, you had to remind yourself they were just friends.

Your friends warned you ahead of time, that the two had a strong bond despite being separated by a year and not even attending the same junior high. You knew this and simply attributed it to his patience and overall ability to read people.

When you had once asked Akaashi about his relationship with the nationally acclaimed ace, he smiled and said, “He can be a lot to handle. But I love watching Bokuto-san play when he’s in the zone.” 

You took it a face value, instead relishing in the comfort knowing that your boyfriend was wrapping his arms around you.

Months later, with that insecurity pushed in the back of your mind, it all came swarming out at Bokuto-san’s text. There was no denying what you were reading or who it was from. It was even accompanied by owl emojis of all things - as if there was anything cute about your boyfriend’s affair.

Your attention was caught and you needed confirmation, scrolling up through their conversation and seeing similar words spanning the last few hours alone. Had he been texting Bokuto the entire time he was sitting here with you?

You threw his phone back on the couch and stood, moving before even thinking about how you looked. 

Why would Akaashi do this? Akaashi?? The kind, loving Akaashi Keiji who had the love of the whole school? Hadn’t he chosen you?

Standing in the middle of his family’s living room, you put a hand on your chest to steady your breathing. You felt the onset of panic gripping your chest, threatening to force tears to the corners of your eyes. There was nothing you could say, you just had to see if it was true.

How long had this been going on? Is it possible that this was before you were even dating? Why was Akaashi stringing along the both of you? Were any of the promises Akaashi told you true?

There was no denying the sudden jump of fear you had when Akaashi walked back in the room, a questioning look on his face as he saw you try to level your breathing.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

As if he had no idea, no reason to truly think that he was the cause behind your unease.

You tried your best to feign a smile, but there was no point in hiding anything to someone as cunning as Akaashi, you figured. He was best at reading other people. Instead, you held your frown and motioned to your phone, “I got a bad text from my mom - I need to go home.”

Akaashi was already moving toward you, arms reaching out to steady you at the shoulders. He was such a comforting foundation for you. And yet now, his close proximity brought nothing but anxiety and anger.

He seemed to notice since Akaashi dropped his hands to his sides. “Alright, let me walk you home?”

You nodded in agreement, not trusting your voice. You worried that you were going to unintentionally spill out the word vomit - accusing words ready on the tip of your tongue. He still reached out to encase your hand in his own, silently walking side-by-side for the entire time.

Thankfully, you had different homerooms and could avoid him for the first initial hours of school the next day. Did you have a plan? Absolutely fucking not. But you knew that you had to see them together - see them in their element and see why. 

You needed to know the reason why Akaashi would throw away everything you built together.

You stayed silent to your friends, not even telling your best friend what happened. Not that you were afraid of Akaashi finding out that you knew somehow, but you wanted to see what was naturally between them, without anyone else’s interference.

Akaashi had thankfully given you your space, probably assuming that your family emergency from before was what was holding you down. It also helped that they had a practice match against Itachiyama at the end of the week, so he was called to practice especially more.

He always had such beautiful hands, despite the hours of practice he dedicated to his sport. It made you wonder what he did with them. There were a number of times before where Akaashi would text you late into the night, citing that Bokuto had demanded more practice with his spikes. 

Was Akaashi really setting a ball for five hours straight after your last mid-terms?

You had a million questions in your head as you sat in the stands with your friends, watching the game of Fukurōdani vs Itachiyama. Bokuto was at the top of his game today, none of his usual vices holding him down as he played against his rival, Sakusa. For you and the other students cheering on the team, it could have been easily seen as just another game.

But it wasn’t.

You watched how Akaashi’s gaze would sometimes linger on Bokuto, long legs guiding his stride to a spike. The ace seemed to fly above the net, passion for their shared sport radiating even up in the stands where you were sitting. The fond expression Akaashi had only brought up his earlier words to mind - I love watching him play.

The interaction was so strangely intimate and yet public for any spectator the game. The moment passed, time moving forward as you continued to analyze every smile Akaashi shot the ace. Bokuto’s raised an overjoyed fist in the air in his excitement over the single point. He yelled his usual, Hey! Hey! Hey! And while you found the action usually humorous, you could only stare in blank realization as Akaashi fondly smiled at the spiker’s words.

There was no rising panic this time, nothing inside you screaming at you that something was wrong. 

Your eyes kept following the scene, the game playing out while you stood stock-still among your friends. But your mind was already made up, long before the game ended. You thought about it a few times over the past few days, why Bokuto? Why you?

Why did Akaashi even approach you in the first place?

Thinking back to any conversations you had with Akaashi that surrounded volleyball. All their little volleyball antics - it was always about Bokuto. He got in trouble with the principal, got depressed during a game, even something as simple as being overly hungry before a match. And who was the one to always pick him up? 

Akaashi.

And this was not something that could be as simply waved off as teammates. Neither Haruki nor Konoha were like this with the ace and both of them knew Bokuto longer than Akaashi. Kaori had even joked to you once that Akaashi was capable of reading Bokuto’s mind.

You were a fool.

You hadn’t told Akaashi you were going to attend this practice match in the first place and you honestly had no intention of doing so.

Instead, you texted Bokuto during the game to meet you outside by the entrance stairs, alone. 

Most of the other students had already filled out of the gymnasium, out into the streets on their way home as you leaned against the cold railing. You could hear Bokuto’s quick steps around the corner before you even saw him.

“Hey, (L/N)-chan! What’s up?” He greeted you in a friendly manner, waving with one hand fully outstretched even though you were only a few feet away from each other.

You weren’t going to smile and pretend.

“Bokuto-san.” You stated, looking him in the eyes head-on.

Despite his amicable disposition, Bokuto had quite the intimidating disposition to outsiders. The tall spiker was built with muscles, arms and legs looking seemingly sculpted. And here you were, pointing a heavy glare with your chin held-high at a man who could very easily over-power you.

“Don’t smile at me like everything’s okay.” You started, “I know.”

His smile immediately squashed to a straight line, eyes hardening as they looked down at you. Bokuto crossed his arms, his athletic duffel pushed to the side of his body.

“I won’t apologize for being in love with him.” His voice rang through the calm outdoors, not a single soul to hear his confession other than you.

You scoffed, “How did I already know you’d say that?”

Bokuto kept your question rhetorical, for once staying uncharacteristically silent. His gaze never wavered off of yours, eyes boring right into you as you wordlessly sized each other up.

“I tried to let him go, once.” Bokuto continued, “When you first started dating, I tried and couldn’t.”

They were together before you were even in the picture.

You bit your lip, asking. “And you’re going to ask me not to make you do it again?”

Bokuto paused, uncrossing his arms and looking heavenward for the right answer. How could he? They were already on the road to love before you even really knew Akaashi. Why did he ask you out in the first place? Why progress this far in your relationship? 

None of this was right and you had every bone in your body screaming at you to beat the ever loving shit out of the two volleyball players. But there was one thing you needed to cut off now.

“I don’t need an answer to confirm what you’re thinking.” You stated, “Treat his heart kindly.”

Bokuto sputtered, raising his arms in defense. “Akaashi chose you - he asked you out!”

You almost snarled at the irony, “As if that matters! What’s a label against the fact that he’s been in love with you during that entire time?”

He recoiled, nothing to say against your true question. You were his girlfriend, but how could that possibly matter when his heart continually lingered on the ace in front of you. And, since the volleyball God’s hated you, it was no surprise when the setter turned the corner to your impassioned conversation.

“What’s happening here?” His voice rang out, meeting Bokuto’s worried expression and your hardened one. 

Akaashi stopped in his stride the moment he saw the both of you, not moving closer to you or Bokuto and simply guarding his expression from leaking any of his inner thoughts.

“I thought about this a million times over the past few days.” You said low, but voice strong enough for the others to hear. “How I would yell at you, curse you to your face... But now that I see you, you’re pathetic.”

Akaashi was the master of a blank expression, but now there was nothing but panic and hurt written all over his face. Whatever words he was going to say, to somehow excuse his behavior, died on his lips when you calmly raised your palm to stop him.

How dare he.

"I don’t want to know why you led me on for so long. Or why you decided stringing along Bokuto this whole time would be good to the people you claim to love.” 

Bokuto frowned, looking to the side away from the two of you, but said nothing to refute your statement.

“Don’t ever talk to me again.”

You walked away from Akaashi then, turning away and heading home without looking back. There was nothing left, no words that could ever explain or fix the situation, not that you wanted him to try either. Bokuto’s voice reached you mid-way through the steps, his words low but aimed toward Akaashi.

The words were low and you were surprised you were even able to hear them: She’s not wrong.

The next day at school neither of them were present.

You laid it all out to your best friends at lunch then, all of you sitting under the apple tree and quietly listening to your story. They offered you small condolences, never bringing up the volleyball team or practice matches around you ever again. Konoha shot you a wilted frown in passing, no words enough to even start that conversation.

You only saw Akaashi one more time. It was no surprise that Fukurōdani was progressing to the Spring Nationals and everyone at school were quick to congratulate various team members on their victory. You saw them, preening around the lunchroom as the student body wished them luck.

They were holding hands.

You lingered on the sight for a single second. But it was enough for Akaashi to notice your eyes, shooting a withered smile in your direction. 

There was nothing you wanted to do in response, nothing left for you to say and hope for when it came to the setter. And so you simply turned back to your friends, rejoining the conversation with thoughts of the volleyball team long behind you.

You had to re-read the text three times, your mind whirling in circles to accept the fact that this was for your Tetsurō.

It was only when your hands flew to scroll upwards that you realized yes, this was really happening. It was all so quick - he had left the room to use the bathroom, or whatever, at this point you hadn’t even remembered why. Just his phone, which he always had on him, had vibrated away on your coffee table.

You grabbed it half-mindedly, original intention to bring it to him and maybe leave it at the door in case it was some type of volleyball-related emergency. He was the captain, after all. And so when the actual contents of the texts grabbed your attention, it was all over from there.

The profile picture was of the popular student body president, her shining face radiating even now. The other boys of the volleyball team had always complimented her and brought her up in conversation. Before you were even dating, you remembered that Kuroo particularly agreed with many of her features: long-hair, mild temper, and good grades even in college prep classes.

You were on the average scale of things - average grades in college prep, a member of photography club, but not particularly motivated - you were easily replaceable in the fast-paced world that Kuroo and others were constantly facing. And while you tried not to dwell on it too much, Kuroo was at the top of class with many of the female student body interested in him - there were times he had inadvertently made you felt small.

But Kuroo did try to wave those thoughts away, saying that you were the one he was in love with. It was only for you that he showed his soft side and only you were the recipient of his loving gestures.

And yet now you had in your hands evidence that none that was true.

You wanted to scream - reading all the affectionate phrases he had typed away to this woman.

Were you going to accuse him, then and there? What were you even going to say to him?

Kuroo made the choice for you.

“What are you doing with my phone?” He asked, voice promulgating the silent room.

You were sure that your eyes were glossy as you responded back quietly, “I was going to bring it to you when it kept ringing.”

“Thanks babe, just pass it over.” He said calmly, outstretching a palm in your direction.

You held the phone to your chest, there was no way you could feign a reaction now. This was no longer the simple interaction that you could pretend would pass over, the adulterous text was still open on the screen, open for both parties to quickly see.

His grey-eyes surveyed you silently, not a single word uttered, as if it would break this unmoving conversation. You always found his observant stare endearing, how his greatest weapon on the volleyball court was something he used on you to understand you better. 

And now, you could only imagine what he was truly thinking throughout your relationship.

Kuroo’s fond looks, those kind smiles, they were all calculated actions to keep you on his hook. They were not the loving terms of endearment you believed them to be. They were deliberate ways to sate your relationship, nothing more.

You frowned, handing him the phone and biting out coldly. “I want you to leave.”

“Listen babe, it’s not what you think.” Kuroo was reaching for you, taking steps to close the distance before you fled away entirely.

“Of course! What was I thinking?!” Your voice was raising with every word, anger seeping through toward the middle-blocker. “Some other girl texting you: I dream of waking up to you every day, could be some other context that what I’m too small-minded to know? Right?”

He followed behind you as you traversed through your empty house. You just wanted to get away from him, just the very image of Kuroo was enough to make you angry and inescapably hurt. There was so much you wanted to just yell at him, but at the same time you knew this was the man who held your heart.

And the same one who chose to break it.

What was there even to say to him? You’ve won? Congratulations? Get out of my house?

“Get out!” You settled on that and yelled behind you, your voice weak as you sucked in air between tears. Kuroo continued to follow behind you despite your loud command.

You pushed open the door to your bedroom and attempted to slam it behind you, but a simple kick of his foot and it stayed open. Instead, Kuroo closed it and locked it as he followed.

He had you cornered.

Would it be crazy if you jumped out the window?

Your eyes shot to the opening at the side-wall of your room, but it seemed his gaze followed your own path when he grabbed your elbow and pulled you to him.

Kuroo had his hands on your shoulders, trying to calm you down. “Please just listen to me.”

“Listen to what?” You were trying to push him away, but Kuroo refused to budge against you.

He leaned his chin against the top of your head, one of his arms going down to wrap around your waist. “Stop, you know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Then why...?”

“It looks bad. I know it does.” Kuroo started to explain, “But I can prove to you that this isn’t what you think.”

You sniffed, not saying anything as you waited for whatever bullshit response was already formulating on his lips.

What you hadn’t expected was for Kuroo to raise the phone to your ear, the ringing of the outgoing call blasting next to you.

What was he doing? Was he insane? 

You didn’t want to listen to her voice, listen to whatever she was going to say when she picked up the phone. Loving words, teasing innuendo’s, all of that you shared with Kuroo and now he was going to show-off what he had with another girl?

You twisted against him, ready to fight out of outrage of not only being cheated on, but also Kuroo doing the utmost stupid thing he could ever do and showing it off in front of you.

The voice that rang out froze you in your actions.

“Captain! Was my text really bad that you had to call?”

“... Yamamoto-san?” You near-whispered back in recognition.

You heard what was almost a yelp back. He stuttered over your name, before asking, “Ah, you and um. You and Kuroo-san are spending your day off together?”

Taking hold of the phone yourself, you looked at the screen and saw that it was indeed to the same student body president that the call was going through to. Same icon, same everything. So why was Yamamoto on the other side of the line? You looked up at Kuroo briefly, the middle-blocker staring at you right back. He urged the phone back to your ear, reminding you that Nekoma’s ace was still on the other side of the line.

“...Yeah.” You answered back weakly, remembering his initial question.

“... Was there something you needed?” He asked nervously.

“Um.” You bit your lip and looked at Kuroo, “Why is your name saved as our student body president in Kuroo’s phone?”

“Aasdfgh.” The strangled noise lasted for ten seconds before Kuroo cleared his throat next to you. “Captain! You’re there too!”

“Explain it, now.” Kuroo said flatly, his voice plain as his grip on your waist tightened. You put a hand on his chest in an attempt to keep him at a distance. You were still mad, admittedly also confused, but you didn’t want Kuroo to just hug the issue away.

Of course, he pushed your hand away and continued to hold you close.

“Please, don’t judge me (L/N)-san!”

Your confusion was only growing. “Um. What’s going on?”

“somycrushgavemehernumberbuticanttalktogirlsandididntwanttomessupsoiwaspracticingwhattosayonkurooandtherestandthentheygotmadsosometimesitextmyselffromtheirphonenumbersaspractice!” 

The words were so fast, you held the phone closer to your ear in an attempt to decipher anything that was just said.

“Wait, what?”

Yamamoto sighed loudly before exclaiming, “I can’t talk to my crush!”

You tilted your head in confusion, “... Kuroo’s your crush?”

The middle-blocker sighed above you, moving to flick your forehead while Yamamoto was near screaming in outrage on the line.

“No!! I.. I don’t have a lot of experience talking to girls! And then my crush gave me her number and she started texting me! And believe me, I tried practicing on otome games and even they dumped me!”

“Uhh...”

His loud voice kept going, explaining the strange tale, “And so I was begging the guys to help me practice and eventually they got sick of me too! She was really into me too and we were flirting and I wasn’t ready!! I don’t have anyyyy experience, (L/N)-san!!”

You shot a look up to Kuroo, his gaze locked on you without any other hints of an expression on. You were sure that your face was a mix of incredulous and worried, was this for real?

“And then she started texting me dirty things and I wanted to do it back, so Kuroo taught--”

“Skip it.” The middle-blocker stated harshly, cutting off the ace.

“Aasdafhauh.” Yamamoto outwardly struggled, remembering that both Kuroo and you, a female, were on the line. “I thought all was lost and then Kuroo let me practice texting myself and seeing how it looked from his phone!”

Oh.

lmao

“Wait, what?”

Kuroo summarized it plainly for you. “It means he was practicing sexting himself from my phone.”

“Ca-Captain!” His voice rang out.

You could not help your growing, amused smile. “Is it true?”

“I - well, yes...”

His voice trailed, but you held in your chuckle. “Ah, thanks for clearing that up.”

Yamamoto paused before asking, “Did my impassioned words led to a misunderstanding?”

“I’m sure your words are the least of your problems tomorrow at practice.”  Kuroo answered this time, earning an anguished exclamation before the middle-blocker hung-up and threw the phone away.

That was not what you were expecting.

Your mind was in a million places, not sure what to say and what you were just witness to. Kuroo pulled you along to your bed, near throwing you on top while you were distracted in your thoughts.

He hovered above you, placing a light kiss on your forehead and then trailing down the side of your face. You cupped his cheek, still trying to process what the hell just happened, but moved to slot his lips against yours and reassure yourself that this was real. 

Kuroo pulled away and whispered against your lips, “I know it looks crazy, but please trust in me - in us.”

You nodded silently, simply stating an okay when Kuroo continued to stare at you.

“I want this... more than just now in high school.” Kuroo looked to the side, before returning his gaze back to you.

Guiding his head back to yours, you pushed off your elbow to lean up to him. “Me too. I’m sorry for being so quick to accuse you.”

“Stop.” He murmured against your skin, small pecks following his wake. “I should’ve explained it to you before.”

“I mean, it does sound pretty crazy.” You joked, a fond smile growing on your face as Kuroo continued to shower your neck with small kisses. “To think you were flirting with Yamamoto of all people.”

“Oi.” A small scowl was already on his face.

You were ready to tease your poor boyfriend, “Sorry, you were sexting him.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, a hand already sneaking its way under your shirt. “Why don’t I show you what I was teaching him?”

You felt your eyes comically widen at his boldness, any hint of your previous teasing falling away as your boyfriend’s sly smirk crawled further and further down your body.

The love you felt for Kuroo was undeniably mutual, but you had to learn to trust your boyfriend.

----- xXxXxXxXxXx-----

oop lmao hope you enjoyed these short stories!

Come checkout some of the added-on endings to Cheater!Akaashi’s story: ➳  Masterlist 

[heavyy12]

Colin and Tripp: Part 1

When Colin was in high school and vacationing at his parents’ summer home in the Hamptons, he ran into his parents’ best friend’s son, Tripp Larson. Tripp was over a decade older than Colin and someone he always admired. At fifteen, Tripp lost both parents in a plane crash. As the only child with little family left, the Laceys made sure he completed prep school without issue and attend Cornell like his late father.

Tripp came out as gay to the Laceys his freshman year at Cornell. Colin was just five at the time and his parents were dealing with their oldest daughter’s teen pregnancy. Although accepting of Tripp’s admission, the Laceys weren’t present as much as Tripp hoped during that difficult time.

During the summer going into Colin’s junior year of high school was one he’d always remember. At sixteen, his parents had just bought him a new Mercedes and allowed him to spend the summer at their house in the Hamptons, permitting he maintained a summer job. It was at the local country club where Colin was working as a caddy that he ran into Tripp Larson.

Tripp didn’t recognize the teen immediately because it had been four or five years since they last saw one another. The thirty-year-old Manhattan executive to his late father’s textile company was playing a round with friends from Cornell. Colin was immediately attracted to him. He was tall and had a thick, rugby look to him under his pale blue polo that hugged his pecs and biceps.

Colin had grown a lot in those past few years and stood about an inch shorter than Tripp at 6’2. He was playing lacrosse and rugby at the same prep school Tripp attended years ago and also had come to terms with being gay.

After bumping into each other at the clubhouse, Tripp asked Colin to join him on the deck after his game. The two caught up on just about everything. Toward the end of their conversation, Colin confided in Tripp that he was also gay and planning to tell his parents by the time he finished high school. Tripp was more than supportive and gave Colin his number in case he ever needed anyone to talk to.

Throughout the same summer, Colin had been fooling around with another caddy from the club. By August, the two were fucking each other in his parents’ Hamptons home almost daily… and everywhere else they could manage. The other caddy, Zane, was another prep school kid from Manhattan and the same age as Colin. The two parted ways at the end of August and kept in touch for a couple weeks after.

By Halloween, Colin was preparing for holidays across the world with his family and applying to colleges. After a couple weeks of the stomach flu, Colin was concerned he could be pregnant. A test soon confirmed his concerns.

All four of Colin’s siblings were eight years or older than him and he wasn’t particularly close to any because of the age gap. He didn’t want to tell his parents, so he remembered having Tripp’s number from the summer. He reached out to Tripp, who suggested Colin take the train into Manhattan the following week, Colin’s seventeenth birthday, and he’d help him with an abortion.

Colin took the train the following weekend and met Tripp at his apartment in Chelsea. It was a palatial penthouse with four bedrooms and six bathrooms. Tripp greeted him and let him get settled in one of his guest bedrooms before ordering take out.

Tripp mentioned he made reservations Sunday for a special birthday brunch for Colin before his scheduled procedure the following day. The newly seventeen year old was beyond excited for his first drag brunch experience. On Saturday, Colin had the run of Tripp’s apartment while the older family friend dealt with a work issue.

After drag brunch on Sunday, Tripp took Colin to Central Park for a walk and ice cream. It was on their walk that Colin confided in Tripp that he was really excited to get pregnant someday when he was ready. Tripp made a mental note of the conversation after realizing Colin mentioned “getting pregnant” instead of “having kids”.

On Tuesday morning, Tripp accompanied Colin to the train station after his abortion the previous morning. The two hugged and Colin thanked him for everything before heading back to Connecticut. Tripp checked in with Colin daily for quite some time after and the teenager very much appreciated the support.

Colin was accepted to Cornell and started the following year. He decided to play lacrosse, like Tripp, and had an amazing freshman year. He came out to his parents the summer before he started and was accepted by his teammates and friends.

During his second year, Cornell was hosting alumni for their final game against Columbia. Tripp messaged Colin on Instagram to inform him he’d be at the game and wanted to see him during his visit. The two old family friends met up before the match and Tripp wished the young twenty-year-old good luck. He also couldn’t get over how mature Colin looked.

At twenty, Colin could easily pass as twenty-five. He stood 6’2 and weighed about 215 with muscular, hairy legs, tanned olive skin, and beautiful blue eyes. He had really grown up since the last time they saw each other on his seventeenth birthday.

Cornell ended up winning the game 5-4. Tripp and some of his buddies met the team and coaches in the locker room to congratulate them. Tripp made a point to find Colin in the process.

“Congrats, big guy!” Tripp said as he approached Colin while he changed.

“Thanks, man!” Colin said, going in for a hug with Tripp.

“Do you have some time to show me around the campus? Things sure have changed since I was here.” Tripp asked.

“Yeah, I don’t have anything planned until later-- let’s go!” Colin said excitedly.

The college student left his keys and other belongings in his locker and the pair headed on their tour. The truth was, Tripp was a major donor of Cornell and he had been there within the last three years. He wanted to spend some quality time with Colin and catch up.

Flirting was exchanged almost immediately into their walking tour of campus. Both men caught each other looking at one another numerous times throughout their campus excursion. At the library, Tripp mentioned his first sexual encounter with another boy being in the old stacks during his freshman semester exams.

“Damn, I wouldn’t mind trying that someday!” Colin joked.

As their two-hour tour ended and they approached Colin’s locker, Tripp suggested they meet up later for drinks.

“I’d really like that” Colin replied as be shut his locker after grabbing his things.

The two locked eyes in that moment and the younger man dropped his belongings and pushed the alumnus into the locker behind him and started making out.

“Have you ever done it in a locker room?” Colin asked, referencing Tripp’s comment about his library hook up during his heyday.

“I haven’t, but I’m willing to try.” Tripp grinned.

Colin lowered himself to his knees and swiftly undid Tripp’s belt and pulled down the older man’s chinos. He began blowing him for several minutes before Tripp pulled him upwards for a kiss and suggested he return the favor.

After a couple minutes, Colin pulled Tripp up for a kiss and then discreetly turned himself around, exposing his bare ass, and planted his forearms on the lockers. Without words being exchanged, Tripp used his own spit to lube his cock and gently inserted it into Colin’s willing hole.

Tripp picked up speed and the clapping of Colin’s ass cheeks intensified, as did the twenty-year-old’s groans. Nearing climax, Tripp pulled Colin back by his neck and made out with him ferociously while he deposited a big, warm load deep into the lacrosse player’s hole. After he pulled out and kissed Colin all over his back and neck, Tripp turned Colin around so he could finish him off by accepting the younger guy’s load in his mouth.

Neither man had an experience like that in their life. Although a nearly fifteen-year age gap, there was sexual chemistry like no other. Colin had another month of school and a European trip planned with friends, so the pair decided to reconvene in August at Tripp’s family’s home in the Hamptons before Colin began his junior year at Cornell.

When Colin returned from six weeks in Europe, he texted Tripp, “Hey man, when do you think we can meet up? Sooner rather than later, I hope ;)”

Colin drove to the Hamptons in the Mercedes his parents had bought him years earlier for his sixteenth birthday. When he arrived at Tripp’s, the newly thirty-five year old was tanning by the pool. Colin snuck up on Tripp as he lay on his back on an outdoor lounger.

“Getting your tan on?” Colin asked as he straddled Tripp over the lounger.

“I thought you might appreciate that.” He responded.

“I sure do!” Colin exclaimed taking off his shirt as he rubbed his ass against Tripp’s growing erection.

Colin pulled lube from the backpack he carried outside with him and within minutes of reuniting, Tripp was inside Colin. They fucked near the pool, on the lounger, against the bar, and on the pool steps for nearly an hour before retreating to the bathroom to freshen up.

“It looks like you ate well in Europe” Tripp joked as he poked Colin’s noticeably larger belly.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how I managed it, honestly!” Colin fidgeted as he embarrassingly grabbed a shirt. “There was so much walking and hiking over there!”

“I was just kidding, Colin.” Tripp replied, stopping the younger man from putting on his shirt. “I think it looks cute!”

The two spent almost an entire month together before Colin was expected to return to Cornell. During that time, Colin’s belly only grew larger.

In bed one morning as the pair cuddled, Colin suggested he might need a pregnancy test. The two discussed how he wasn’t having any of the symptoms he experienced when he was in high school and that the last person he hooked up with was Tripp. On their last day together, they drove to a drug store and got two tests.

“Well, babe, you were right.” Tripp said walking into the master suite with two positive pregnancy tests.

“I can’t believe it. I’m not even twenty-one and I’ve managed to get pregnant twice!” Colin exclaimed as he sat in disbelief at the foot of the bed.

“You must be one fertile lad.” Tripp joked.

They immediately started discussing their options. With the timing of their last hook up at the end of May, Colin was easily twelve weeks along. He had already gained nearly fifteen pounds. Tripp suggested he bring an OB/GYN to the house the following morning and Colin pushed back his return to Cornell by a couple days until they figured everything out.

“So I have some exciting news for you boys.” The OB/GYN said during Colin’s ultrasound atop Tripp’s bed. “You’re having twins.”

Colin and Tripp looked at each other in disbelief.

“I’d say you’re about thirteen weeks along, so that puts your due date around, uhh, February 20[sup]th[/sup].”

“Wow, well thank you, Dr. Houston.” Tripp said as the woman in her forties began packing up.

Colin and Tripp saw her out and the pair retreated to the back yard. It was a hot August afternoon and normally they’d be in the pool.

“So, what do you want to do?” Colin asked Tripp over some lemonade on the patio furniture.

“That’s up to you, babe.” Tripp replied. “You need to get back to school. You need to finish school.”

“I know, I know.” Colin said, “Honestly, this all feels right, though. Does it feel that way for you?” he asked Tripp.

“Very much so, Colin. We’ve only spent a month together but I can already see ourselves growing old together.”

Tripp stood up and pulled Colin up from his seat. The two embraced for quite some time and kissed before Tripp lifted up Colin’s shirt and gave his belly a rub.

“You’re going to make a fantastic parent.” Tripp suggested as he kissed Colin’s tanned and protruding belly.

“You will too, Tripp.”

As the pair continued to embrace, Tripp moved his hands into Colin’s pants and grabbed a cheek in each hand.

“I like the idea of you carrying my children. You’re going to look so beautiful growing our babies inside that fertile womb of yours.”

“I’m glad you’re excited, babe, because I’m kind of excited to see what’s in store for us.”

Colin packed up and left for Cornell the following morning. Tripp had a realtor looking for properties in Ithaca the same day. Within a week, Tripp purchased a townhouse near campus so he could split his time between Manhattan and visiting Colin.

Colin moved his things into the townhouse shortly after and began telling friends of his twin pregnancy. Colin turned twenty-one in early November and planned on returning to Connecticut for Thanksgiving with Tripp to break the news to his family.

The pair regretted not telling Colin’s family sooner, but they were still worried about their reaction with Tripp being the father and them being in a relationship. Their age gap was nearly fifteen years, after all.

As Colin packed for Connecticut, Tripp was organizing an elaborate dinner to soften the blow to his young, pregnant lover’s family. He planned on having a catered dinner at his family’s home near the Laceys the day before Thanksgiving. Colin called and broke the news to both his older sisters. Beth and Liza both knew Tripp very well and were beyond surprised of their situation; however they seemed supportive.

[chrisevansluv]

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

[shinydelirium]

Kiro’s 2021 Childhood Bday  R&S Translation [CN]

***THIS POST CONTAINS CONTENT THAT HAS NOT BEEN RELEASED YET ON EN SERVER!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO AVOID SPOILERS***

This is a translation from Kiro’s 2021 childhood birthday story released on CN server. I do not know any Chinese so this was done through Google Translate. I apologize for any errors or mistranslations. Without further ado, please continue on reading!!! :) 

***WARNING: ANGST!!! THIS IS SUPPOSE TO BE A HAPPY DAY FOR KIRO!!! FIRST IT WAS S2 CH12 AND NOW THIS!?!?! WTH, PAPERGAMES!?!?!***

[Chapter 1]: Child Star’s Birthday

7:50 am California

After Kiro ran to the classroom and sat down, he laid his head directly on the table. “You can sleep for another ten minutes.” He whispered to himself in his heart.

He is too sleepy.

Ten hours ago, he finished the last set of filming, returned from the studio to the house the company set up for him in California, and then caught up on all the missing courses and homework. It was already 3 o’clock in the morning.

As if on cue, his stomach growled and Kiro lay helplessly on the table.  

Since his debut, he has become more or less accustomed to the professionalism of being a “star” but at this time his stomach seems to be persistently singing against him. Kiro hesitated for a moment and then opened a pack of soda five minutes later.

Sweetness hits the tip of his tongue and brings a sense of satisfaction to his brain. He finally breathed a sigh of relief, put on his headphones and closed his eyes.  

This is the first time in a while he has taken a break in the past few days.  

Kiro took a deep breath quietly and buried his face deeper into his arms.

But he could still feel the gazes around him looking at him and the innocent discussions. Even the moment he walked into the classroom and sat down, the air was still for half a second.

He doesn’t like this kind of “special treatment” nor does he like how he is always affected by it.

Over the years, he thought that he should be used to being watched constantly, and perhaps he had to bear the pressure from other peers. But sure enough, in fact, there are still many times that he will be a little breathless.  

Like now.  

As a child star, there were two to three days a week that he where he would be absent from school. For Kiro, his classmates are indeed some distance away. Because of his repeated absence, the- so-called disparity was expected.  

The reasons are not so complicated in the eyes of the children. At this age, the feeling of distance is often more sensitive than adults.  

He also wants to try his best to build a good relationship with them. After all, having friends is a very happy thing.  

As if he had finally made up his mind, Kiro took a deep breath, smoothed down messy hair, and raised his smiling face along with his shining blue eyes.

“Good morning, everyone, long time no see!” No one could possibly refuse such a warm and sincere greeting, let alone Kiro.  

Even though some shy classmates nodded their heads and smiled with furtive gazes, the greeting initiated by Kiro still received many responses. Soon, a small circle formed around him. Everyone scrambled to ask which crew he went to during the period of “his absence”, which big star he saw, and what new information he gathered.

Suddenly, a boy with curly hair, leaned in and patted Kiro on the shoulder with great enthusiasm.

“Kiro! Happy birthday!”

As his high voice rang out, the children who got together cheered in unison.  

“They are all embarrassed to come and tell you, so I said it! Happy birthday, future star.”

Kiro was taken aback.

“Thank you.”

Almost a subconscious reply.

But in that small world that only belonged to Kiro, another voice sounded different from what he was doing at this time.

“So, today is my birthday.”

[Chapter 2]: A Heart to Live Up To

“Kiro, great, you haven’t left yet!”  

The lingering sound of the bell was still echoing. Kiro had just cleaned up and wanted to seize the rare free time to make up for a good night’s sleep, when he was suddenly stopped by the instructor who had rushed over. He excitedly grabbed Kiro’s hands, looking very surprised.

“Teacher, are you looking for me?”

“Yeah....” The teacher didn’t seem to know how to begin. Kiro responded sensibly, leading the question back at the end of the dialogue.

“If there is anything I need to do, you can just say it directly.”

After hearing this, the teacher nodded in relief, as if he had waited for a long time and quickly told the whole story.  

Kiro understood what was going on.  

It turned out that there was a very important violin competition for high school students today and the classmate of the classical music department who represented the school had a temporary accident and was unable to participate. He wanted Kiro to help fill in.

“...Okay, I will try my best. Thank you, teacher, for believing in me.”

Even though he was tired, he did not refuse this sudden request.

It’s not that he isn’t interested in the competition, nor is he absolutely confident in his skills, it’s just...

He hopes that he is perfect enough in the eyes of the teacher.

After all, at this critical time, the teacher thought of him and believed in him, and he must not fail this trust.

Thinking about this, Kiro clenched his teeth, swallowed a yawn that was ready to come out, and forced himself to wake up. After the teacher went back to the residence to fetch his violin, he hurried to the scene of the competition.

The site was set up in the observation deck of a building and under the transparent glass plank pathway, it is a panoramic view of the entire city.  

At the time of arrival, many contestants were already busy making preparations. Kiro’s appearance undoubtedly caused quite a stir. The teacher proudly met the gazes and protected Kiro through the crowd to their waiting area.

Kiro quickly entered the waiting area. He opened the violin bag, skillfully tightened the bow, wiped the rosin, set the violin on his shoulder, and tuned the pegs carefully and intently.  

Now that he is here, he must do his best. He cheered himself up and walked in the direction where he was ready to take the stage.

“Don’t worry, he is a little star. Even if he doesn’t do well, he has publicity and won’t make the school lose too badly.”

The voice in the corner made Kiro stop.

He didn’t listen. It seemed that there was another voice arguing with him, but that was not important. Kiro just returned to the waiting area quietly, waiting for the announcement from the competition organizer. He just lowered his head and stood there quietly.

At this time a man came over. He patted Kiro’s shoulder lightly and said mysteriously.

“Kiro, this is the first time we’ve met. I am a teacher in the classical music department.” He lowered his voice, “Actually, I don’t really like the format of music competitions. Music should be something to enjoy and convey emotions, not some sort of boring game. So don’t think of it as a competition, but as a special show. I’m looking forward to hearing the music you play. I heard that you play the violin very well. This is the first time I will hear your music.

After that, he mischievously gave Kiro a big pat on the back. *Took some liberties here with the translation*  

Kiro stared at this somewhat holistic man and did not speak for a long time. A similar and familiar feeling came out of him.  

The broadcast system called Kiro’s name.

“Don’t think about anything, just let the world hear your voice.”

[Chapter 3]: Happy Birthday Song

The competition ended smoothly.

Kiro didn’t remember the process of his performance. He only remembered the way the classical music department teacher exaggeratedly raised his hands to applaud him when he left the competition. His eyes were full of real and undisguised recognition and praise.

At the end of the competition, he politely declined the kindness of the teachers and left alone.  

The California coast is like spring all year round and the fresh air is filled with a faint smell of saltwater. Kiro walked, suddenly a little at a loss.  

For a moment he didn’t know where he should go or where he could go. He just carried his violin bag and walked alone on the streets of California aimlessly.  

Until he passed by a family restaurant.

Such restaurants are very common in California. People choose outdoor dining areas to enjoy their food with nature.

As far as Kiro’s line of sight could see, a family sat around the table warmly. There are grandparents, parents, and even uncles and aunts. And the main star of this family banquet is obviously the little girl sitting in the middle wearing a birthday hat.

She sat happily in the center, closing her eyes in front of a huge cake.  

Everyone’s face was filled with the look of joy as they watched her patiently and earnestly. No one interrupted the most solemn “ceremony” at this time.  

The little girl closed her eyes for a long, long time. Maybe she had a lot of wishes that she wants to come true or maybe she is carefully telling some wish that she wants to come true the most.  

After all, in the eyes of a child, the more important the wish, the more carefully it will be heard and realized.  

Kiro stood there and looked at the little girl’s face quietly. He didn’t know what he was feeling right now. It seemed that something he wanted to show was turning upwards along his heart, as if he would shed tears in the next second.  

He just stood there silently, watching her finally make her wish, blowing out the candles while her family sang “happy birthday.” Grabbing the balloons in her hand, the girl ran around in the open space, spinning her little skirt.  

Then she saw Kiro and ran towards him happily without knowing what she was thinking.

“Prince!” She waved her little hand at Kiro and said loudly. Kiro was stunned. The little girl ran up to him and raised her head, “His Royal Highness, are you here to wish me a happy birthday, too?”

Kiro thought for a while, crouched down and touched the little girl’s head, “Although I am not a prince, I wish you a happy birthday!”

The little girl didn’t seem to understand what he meant. She carefully picked out a yellow one from her balloon stash and gave it to Kiro.  

“Thank you for wishing me happiness, and I wish you happiness too. This is for you.”

The little girl happily ran back to her seat after speaking with him and the whole family nodded politely to him, seeming to express gratitude.  

Kiro looked at the yellow balloon in his hand and walked away slowly.

He was walking on the road, the sun a little dazzling, the balloon floating gently while he hummed quietly.

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me~”

At this time, his phone chimed, alerting him to an email.

[Chapter 4]: Special Birthday Gift

It is an email from KEY.

Since he came to the United States, KEY has always liked to use this “fun” way to keep in touch with him in addition to the phone.

Kiro sat on the roadside steps, “If my agent sees me like this, he will definitely be angry.”

Kiro thought about it leisurely but didn’t have any plans to get up.

“Today is my birthday, so I call the shots!” *Took some liberties here*

First, he simply replied to the fan messages wishing him a happy birthday on social media and then concentrated on deciphering KEY’s information. It is a very interesting little program. The code attached to the email can be directly written to change the content of the email.  

Kiro has always been happy with this special design. Under his operation, the information was quickly decoded.

“The place where you stay most often.”

Kiro read it out gently, and there was a pair of combined numbers at the same time.  

He raised his head, as if thinking of something.

The dance studio was deserted at this time.

This was the exclusive training room given to him by the company. Kiro took out the key and walked in gently in the same way as he had been in class.  

This is a special place for him.

The sun in the afternoon was particularly brilliant, flowing into the entire classroom through the floor-to-ceiling windows, which looked clean and sparkling. Kiro stood in front of a small cabinet in the dance studio.

He felt like an ordinary child at this moment, being guided to find the answer in the way he was most interested in. He was a little happy when he thought of this.  

Kiro cautiously opened the cabinet and found a box inside. He took it out, and after opening it, it turned out to be an exquisite violin.

The little violin along with the sunlight filtering down onto the light brown amber, reflected in his eyes, as if it was shining.

At this time, the second email came. It was simple and there was no need for decoding.

“Happy birthday.” He seemed to hear KEY saying this to him.

Kiro couldn’t help thinking, when did KEY hide it here?

As if responding to his question, footsteps came from outside the door. Kiro’s heart beat a little fast, and he suddenly wondered if there would be another gift.

He opened the door in surprise, and an unceremonious man greeted him.

The man didn’t even take off his shoes. The exquisite black leather shoes stepped on the smooth floor, looking particularly dazzling.

Kiro felt his fingertips instantly chill, and he clenched his hands hard to keep his body from shaking.

“I really don’t know why I’m responsible for this kid.” The man gave him a look of disgust, “I won’t talk too much nonsense with you.”

“The higher ups are very dissatisfied with you.” Each word struck Kiro’s heart, “Don’t forget why you want to become a star.”

“In one month’s time,” he threw a document on the ground, “Finish it.”

“I don’t know what you have to look forward to.” The man walked in front of him to the center of the floor. Kiro lowered his head, and there were only footprints left in his field of vision that seemed to have been dyed black with thick ink, step by step, on a clean floor.

It seems that no matter how hard he tried, he can’t wipe off that trace.

“3684.” The man impatiently left his last words, “Don’t be too self-righteous. You really think you are worth something?”

[Chapter 5]: Things You Want To Protect

In the empty dance studio, the operating sound of the air humidifier hummed quietly.

Kiro didn’t know how long he had been standing there until the tingling sensation rushed to his legs and he instinctively moved forward slightly.

The towel and hairband hanging on the side of the cabinet came into view and he strode forward suddenly and threw them to the ground fiercely. ***The towel and hairband mentioned here are what Kiro uses during dance practice to wipe off/absorb sweat***

The world swallowed his outburst silently but indifferently, making him at this moment seem small and lonely.

In the end, he dragged his numb body and walked tiredly to the towel and hairband, as if all his strength had been drained and slowly knelt on the floor.

Just like the day when he first picked them.

Kiro stretched out his hand, slowly picked up the towel and hair band, and carefully hugged them in his arms. They were his only close friends, walking side by side. They were proof of his hard work. But if these proofs can be trampled so easily, then what was all his effort for?”

The edges of the cotton towel and hairbands were slightly deformed due to their repeated use. He swiped hard, remembering that he had almost thrown them away because of being used so many times.

And whenever he was about to throw them in the trash can, the soft texture in his hands was always quietly hot at that moment.

It seemed to be telling him, “Wait a minute. Hold on.”

It’s as if they were reminding him they were made in order to continued to be used.

He once heard others say that life will find a way out.

“Is this the way you worked hard to find?”

He stood foolishly in front of the trash can, looking at the towel and hairbands in his hands, muttering to himself.

Then he would stand there, talking endlessly for a while.  

He thought that music was the way out for his life that was once empty.

It seemed that in the darkness where he still was, a gleaming light suddenly broke in. In that world, he can always shine with golden light and light up his life forever.

He can see himself.

But if he can’t maintain this purity, is he still worthy to live in this world that once taught him to redeem?

No.

Kiro raised his head and looked at himself in the mirror.

That world may be impure, but his dream is real, and his love is real. This was what he wanted to do as Kiro, and it was the only way out.

He is Kiro. Not 3684.

He rubbed the hair band firmly, then raised his hand to tie it on his head and smiled at himself in the mirror with encouragement and humbleness as he did before each practice.

“Today’s 2-hour dance training has not been completed yet.”

A dynamic rhythm sounded in the studio and the sound of footsteps rubbing on the floor resounded one after another. Kiro was practicing hard while telling himself in his heart.  

“This is just another ordinary day, tomorrow will only be better.”

Two hours later, he turned off the music, bent over gasping, and abnormally did not stand up for a long, long time.

Finally, for what seemed like ages, he slowly straightened up, took out the violin from the bag on the floor, and sat by the window. The dark brown violin was lined with soft light under the sun and he held it as if being embraced.

“I will definitely protect you.”

Kiro’s eyes were soft, and his tone was gentle and firm.

The birds outside the window chirped and landed freely on the edge of the window.

“It’s great that you are free.”

Kiro smiled and gently extended his fingertips.  

“I will be free too.”

[Chapter 6]: Free Sailing

A telephone ring broke the silence of the studio.

Kiro looked down at the phone. It was an unfamiliar number. Maybe it was from a fan somewhere, but he picked it up in a ghostly manner.

“Hello, this is PLANET Yacht Club, what can I do for you?”

Kiro was stunned. The person at the other end waited patiently for his silence. After a long time, he remembered that when he was resting on the sidewalk a while ago, he accidentally saw a magazine ad about yachts. He made a phone consultation.

However, because he needed to go to pratice immediately he asked the other party to contact him afterwards.  

Unexpectedly, it happened to be today.

“I have read your information. I have some interest in your yachts. How can I learn more about it?”

“If this is the case, you can visit our terminal directly. On which day would you like to make an appointment?”

“Is today okay?”

When Kiro said it, he was also stunned. He felt his heart beating, but he didn’t know what this feeling represented.

“Of course, we will send the address to your phone later, looking forward to your visit.”

When Kiro saw that yacht, he decided to buy it.

It was lying quietly in the corner of the entire pier, unremarkable, but in the light of the surging tide, it instantly attracted Kiro’s eyes.

Of course, the salesman saw the young boy coming to the club, obviously looking a little bit awkward and seemed to be thinking about how to politely ask him to leave.

“I want that yacht.”

Kiro didn’t leave the yacht’s sight and took out his bank card in the salesman’s dumbfounded gaze.

The boat was moored by a small harbor where there was a little old port. This was the place he saw on the way to the club.

He asked the people of the club to help him get the boat here and said that in a few days, he would come again to ask about how to operate the yacht.

It was dusk now and there were no people, only him and his boat, listening to the ebb and flow together.

The half-round sunset has fallen below the sea level. The sun is golden and far away, warmly embracing the whole world.

The yacht hasn’t been decorated yet and looks a bit simple, but Kiro doesn’t care. He feels that he has seen the future of the ship.

This is his boat, he repeats this in his heart over and over, and in the future, there will be someone who is most special to him in this world who will share it with him.

Think of it as a birthday present for yourself even though there is no cake and no birthday song today.

But this is also good.

Kiro was lying on the small deck, seagulls flying non-stop. The sky was divided into half blue and half-yellow. The boat rose and fell with the tide. He opened his arms as if he could touch the sky.

Kiro suddenly felt that he could go anywhere.

Nothing can stop him.

[End]

[euphoricdumpsterfire]

It Was Enchanting To Meet You (Edmund Pevensie x Mutant!FemReader)

Chapter V: The Lake

Summary: Edmund and Y/N are on the way to look for a mysterious cottage. They stopped by a lake where they meet some mermaids. Jealous of Y/N’s presence, they orchestrated a plan that brings one of Y/N’s nightmares to life.

Masterlist

Word count: 1397

Warnings: being underwater and nearly drowning, minor injuries, (let me know if there's anything else I missed!)

A/N: There’s going to be a scene that’s heavily inspired by Tangled and a surprise cameo from a certain marvel witch! (Also I know this was supposed to be uploaded yesterday but I had so many things to do I didn't have the time but here it is!)

"So where exactly are we going?" Y/N asked as she struggled to walk through tall shrubs in the forest,

"I dunno, Susan mentioned this cottage that magically showed up apparently. The Beavers were the ones who actually saw it, they were frolicking in the woods, saw the cottage and felt something was off because they've never seen it before. Mrs. Beaver said there was a sound of an explosion and purple smoke came out of the chimney." Edmund answered,

"Do you think it's..." Y/N said in a quiet voice, "Her?" implying that it may have been the white witch.

"We won't know until we find out." He answered and they continued to walk through the woods. They had been walking for hours and eventually felt tired. Y/N saw a lake not too far from where they stood and had suggested to take a break and get some water. Once they got to the lake, they sat on the ground to fill up their containers with water. The lake's water was the clearest of blue and it sparkled with the sun's reflection.

"This is actually good, I've never really gone to the great outdoors since forever." Y/N said as she looked up at the sky,

"You've never gone to a lake?" Edmund chuckled in disbelief,

"Only once and it was for a school field trip. After that, I've only just been in the city, and eventually stuck in my professor's mansion." she answered.

Edmund stood up and reached out his hand towards Y/N, "Get up." he said,

"Why?"

"Just get up and come with me." He said. Y/N grabbed his hand and got up, he led him to where the ground and water met. "Now, close your eyes." he said and Y/N shut her eyes closed, nervous with what's about to happen. Suddenly she felt a splash of water hit her face, making her jump in shock.

"Ed!" Y/N yelled and splashed water towards him for revenge. They continued to play in the water until they were soaking wet, they were laughing and having fun until they heard a voice.

"Hello there." A young woman with strawberry blonde hair and rose colored eyes emerged from the waters startling both Edmund and Y/N.

"Whoa... Are you a mermaid?!" Y/N exclaimed,

"As a matter of fact, I am." The mermaid answered as she lifted up her tail that matched the color of her eyes, and a bunch of other mermaids started to emerge as well. The mermaid took a look at Edmund and swam closer to the edge, "You must be King Edmund the just. What brings you here?" she said while batting her eyelashes,

"We're in search of this cottage that apparently showed up in the middle of the woods, perhaps you've seen someone who happens to be the owner of the cottage?" Edmund asked,

"I've never seen such a thing..." the mermaid answered, her eyes moved towards Y/N her expression turning cold, "And who are you?" she asked in a very rude manner which confused Y/N.

"I'm Y/N Y/LN." she answered

"I'm assuming that you're the king's servant?" the mermaid shot back,

"She's not a servant," Edmund answered, "She's actually an important guest that came from a far away land." Suddenly the mermaid's rude expression eerily changed into a charming smile and pointed to her right,

"You must come, your highness, my sister is about to play a very special song with her flute." She said and the music can be heard very clearly despite the source of the sound being very far from where they were. Without hesitation, Edmund followed the sound and when Y/N was about to follow him, other mermaids grabbed onto her leg. She screamed in agony as one of the mermaid's nails pierced through the skin of her leg, thus crimson red blood trailed down to her feet.

"Edmund! Ed!" Y/N yelled, Edmund turned around but the mermaids had already dragged her into the deepest part of the lake. She kept her eyes open, she kept resisting and tried to get back to the surface. It was then she realized she felt a sense of deja vu. This was exactly how one of her nightmares turned out and it immediately ensued more panic.

Edmund jumped into the lake chasing after Y/N who, by luck, got away from the hands of the mermaids. However, one of them aimed a trident towards Y/N. She saw the mermaid throw the trident and her hands glowed dark navy blue and she extended her arms out, directed toward where the mermaids were and a beam of light hit them, pushing them to the bottom of the lake.

With the trident still moving swiftly towards Y/N's direction, she quickly moved away. However, Edmund was in the midst of swimming to Y/N when the pointy ends of the trident cut his hand. Y/N saw this and swam to his direction, grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders while her arm encircled on his back as they swam to the surface.

They both sat on the ground, panting and still trying to process what had just happened. “Are you alright?” Y/N asked Edmund as she looked at his bleeding hand.

“I should be asking you that question.” Edmund replied,

“I’m all good. It’s just that, I didn’t expect that one of my nightmares are caused by jealous mermaids.” Y/N said making Edmund chuckle.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have followed the mermaids.” Edmund says solemnly,

“You really shouldn’t blame yourself, though I think it's a good idea to put a huge sign that says "Warning: Dangerous Mermaids" just for safety .” Y/N replied and Edmund laughed.

She looked over at his hand once again and said, “May I?” Edmund hesitantly moved his hand towards her to which she held. Deep blue light radiated from her hands as the wound healed itself.

“There, you're all healed up!” Y/N smiled while still holding his hand,

“Thank you.” Edmund said as he smiled.

Their faces were just inches away, both looked into each other's eyes and their stomachs filled with butterflies. But their attention gets pulled away as they hear a faint voice of a woman humming a lullaby. The lullaby that Y/N had been humming the other night. “Do you hear that?” Edmund asked,

“Yeah, and I’ve been hearing that voice since the other night.” Y/N stood up and tried to figure out which direction the voice was coming from. “I think it’s coming from the west, it might be from the cottage.”

Edmund got up and said “Let’s go.”

As they continued to head west with Y/N in the lead, the humming became louder and clearer. "I see it!" Y/N exclaimed and they both ran towards a small cottage with purple smoke coming out of its chimney, exactly how the Beavers described it. They stood outside the door, Edmund moving forward and instinctively stood in front of Y/N to shield her. He knocked on the door and it immediately swung open, startling the two. A woman with dark wavy hair, wearing the darkest blue dress with a purple shawl, and a small brooch placed on her chest stood right in front of them while cradling a rabbit in her arms.

"Hiya kids!" She said in the most comical way reminding Y/N of how the women in sitcoms would talk. Edmund and Y/N stood frozen, confused almost, and never said a word. "Well don't keep me waiting! Get in here!" The woman motioned with her arm to let the two inside but there was no movement. "Oh of course where are my manners!" The woman cackled and cleared her throat, "The name's Agatha Harkness, lovely to finally meet you guys." She smiled as she petted her rabbit, her eyes darted at Y/N making Edmund stretch out his arm to shield her.

"You finally found me." Agatha said directly to Y/N, "I've been trying to communicate with you for the past few days, my throat's been sore from all the humming!" She chuckled.

"How did you know that lullaby?" Y/N asked,

"Why dear, I was the one who sang it to you when you were little!" She said confidently.

[transparenttriumphzombie]

Christine Jorgensen (May 30, 1926 – May 3, 1989) was an American transgender woman who was the first person to become widely known in the United States for having sex reassignment surgery. Jorgensen grew up in the Bronx, New York City. Shortly after graduating from high school in 1945, she was drafted into the U.S. Army during World War II. After her military service, she attended several schools and worked; it is during this time she learned about sex reassignment surgery. Jorgensen traveled to Europe, and in Copenhagen, Denmark, obtained special permission to undergo a series of operations beginning in 1952.

She returned to the United States in the early 1950s and her transition was the subject of a New York Daily News front-page story. She became an instant celebrity, known for her directness and polished wit, and used the platform to advocate for transgender people. She also worked as an actress and nightclub entertainer and recorded several songs. Jorgensen often lectured on the experience of being transgender and published an autobiography in 1967.

Jorgensen was the second child of carpenter and contractor George William Jorgensen, Sr., and his wife Florence Davis Hansen, and given a male name at birth. She was raised in the Belmont neighborhood of the Bronx, New York City. She later described herself as having been a "frail, blond, introverted little boy who ran from fistfights and rough-and-tumble games".

Jorgensen graduated from Christopher Columbus High School in 1945 and was soon drafted into the U.S. Army at the age of 19. After being discharged from the Army, she attended Mohawk Valley Community College in Utica, New York,[5] the Progressive School of Photography in New Haven, Connecticut, and the Manhattan Medical and Dental Assistant School in New York City. She also worked briefly for Pathé News.

Returning to New York after military service, and increasingly concerned over, as one obituary later called it, a "lack of male physical development", Christine Jorgensen heard about sex reassignment surgery. She began taking estrogen in the form of ethinylestradiol and started researching the surgery with the help of Joseph Angelo, the husband of a classmate at the Manhattan Medical and Dental Assistant School. Jorgensen intended to go to Sweden, where the only doctors in the world who then performed the surgery were located. During a stopover in Copenhagen to visit relatives, she met Christian Hamburger, a Danish endocrinologist and specialist in rehabilitative hormonal therapy. Jorgensen stayed in Denmark and underwent hormone replacement therapy under Hamburger's direction. She chose the name Christine in honor of Hamburger.

She obtained special permission from the Danish Minister of Justice to undergo a series of operations in that country. On September 24, 1951, surgeons at Gentofte Hospital in Copenhagen performed an orchiectomy on Jorgensen. In a letter to friends on October 8, 1951, she referred to how the surgery affected her:

As you can see by the enclosed photos, taken just before the operation, I have changed a great deal. But it is the other changes that are so much more important. Remember the shy, miserable person who left America? Well, that person is no more and, as you can see, I'm in marvelous spirits.

In November 1952, doctors at Copenhagen University Hospital performed a penectomy. In Jorgensen's words, "My second operation, as the previous one, was not such a major work of surgery as it may imply."

She returned to the United States and eventually obtained a vaginoplasty when the procedure became available there. The vaginoplasty was performed under the direction of Angelo, with Harry Benjamin as a medical adviser. Later, in the preface of Jorgensen's autobiography, Harry Benjamin gave her credit for the advancement of his studies. He wrote, "Indeed Christine, without you, probably none of this would have happened; the grant, my publications, lectures, etc."

The New York Daily News ran a front-page story on December 1, 1952, under the headline "Ex-GI Becomes Blonde Beauty", announcing (incorrectly) that Jorgensen had become the recipient of the first "sex change". This type of surgery had previously been performed by German doctors in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Dorchen Richter and Danish artist Lili Elbe, both patients of Magnus Hirschfeld at the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft in Berlin, were known recipients of such operations in 1930–31.

After her surgeries, Jorgensen originally stated that she wanted a quiet life of her own design, but once returning to the United States, the only way she could manage to earn a living was by making public appearances. Jorgensen was an instant celebrity when she returned to New York in February 1953. A large crowd of journalists met her as she came off her flight, and despite the Danish royal family being on the same flight, they were largely ignored in favor of her. Soon after her arrival, she launched a successful nightclub act and appeared on TV, radio, and theatrical productions. The first of a five-part authorized account of her story was written by Jorgensen herself in a February 1953 issue of The American Weekly, titled "The Story of My Life" and in 1967, she published her autobiography, Christine Jorgensen: A Personal Autobiography, which sold almost 450 thousand copies.

The publicity following her transition and gender reassignment surgery became "a model for other transsexuals for decades. She was a tireless lecturer on the subject of transsexuality, pleading for understanding from a public that all too often wanted to see transsexuals as freaks or perverts ... Ms Jorgensen's poise, charm, and wit won the hearts of millions." However, over time the press was much less fascinated by her and started to scrutinize her much more harshly. She was often asked by print medias if she would pose nude in their publications.

Knox and Jorgensen after being denied a marriage license, April 1959. After her vaginoplasty, Jorgensen planned to marry labor union statistician John Traub, but the engagement was called off. In 1959 she announced her engagement to typist Howard J. Knox in Massapequa Park, New York, where her father had built her a house after her reassignment surgery. However, the couple was unable to obtain a marriage license because Jorgensen's birth certificate listed her as male. In a report about the broken engagement, The New York Times reported that Knox had lost his job in Washington, D.C., when his engagement to Jorgensen became known.

After her parents died, Jorgensen moved to California in 1967. She left behind the ranch home built by her father in Massapequa and settled at the Chateau Marmont in Los Angeles, California, for a period of time. It was also during this same year that Jorgensen published her autobiography, Christine Jorgensen: A Personal Autobiography, which chronicled her life experiences as a transsexual and included her own personal perspectives on major events in her life.

During the 1970s and 1980s, Jorgensen toured university campuses and other venues to speak about her experiences. She was known for her directness and polished wit. She once demanded an apology from Vice President Spiro T. Agnew when he called Charles Goodell "the Christine Jorgensen of the Republican Party". (Agnew refused her request.)

Jorgensen also worked as an actress and nightclub entertainer and recorded several songs. In summer stock, she played Madame Rosepettle in the play Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Mamma's Hung You in the Closet and I'm Feelin' So Sad. In her nightclub act, she sang several songs, including "I Enjoy Being a Girl", in which, at the end, she made a quick change into a Wonder Woman costume. She later recalled that Warner Communications, owners of the Wonder Woman character's copyright, demanded that she stop using the character; she did so, and instead used a new character of her own invention, Superwoman, who was marked by the inclusion of a large letter S on her cape. Jorgensen continued her act, performing at Freddy's Supper Club on the Upper East Side of Manhattan until at least 1982, when she performed twice in the Hollywood area: once at the Backlot Theatre, adjacent to the discothèque Studio One, and later at The Frog Pond restaurant. This performance was recorded and has been made available as an album on iTunes. In 1984, Jorgensen returned to Copenhagen to perform her show and was featured in Teit Ritzau's Danish transsexual documentary film Paradiset er ikke til salg (Paradise Is Not for Sale). Jorgensen was the first and only known trans woman to perform at Oscar's Delmonico Restaurant in downtown New York, for which owners Oscar and Mario Tucci received criticism.

She died of bladder and lung cancer in 1989, four weeks short of her 63rd birthday. Her ashes were scattered off Dana Point, California.

Jorgensen's highly publicized transition helped bring to light gender identity and shaped a new culture of more inclusive ideas about the subject. As a transgender spokesperson and public figure, Jorgensen influenced other transgender people to change their sex on birth certificates and to change their names. Jorgensen saw herself as a founding member in what became known as the "sexual revolution". Jorgensen stated in a Los Angeles Times interview, "I am very proud now, looking back, that I was on that street corner 36 years ago when a movement started. It was the sexual revolution that was going to start with or without me. We may not have started it, but we gave it a good swift kick in the pants."

In 2012 Jorgensen was inducted into the Legacy Walk, an outdoor public display which celebrates LGBT history and people.

In 2014, Jorgensen was one of the inaugural honorees in the Rainbow Honor Walk, a walk of fame in San Francisco's Castro neighborhood noting LGBTQ people who have "made significant contributions in their fields".

In June 2019, Jorgensen was one of the inaugural 50 American "pioneers, trailblazers, and heroes" included on the National LGBTQ Wall of Honor within the Stonewall National Monument (SNM) in New York City's Stonewall Inn. The SNM is the first U.S. national monument dedicated to LGBTQ rights and history, and the wall's unveiling was timed to take place during the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall riots.

Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan, during his earlier career as a calypso singer under the name The Charmer, recorded a song about Jorgensen, "Is She Is or Is She Ain't" (The title is a play on the 1940s Louis Jordan song, "Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby".)

Chuck Renslow and Dom Orejudos founded Kris Studios, a male physique photography studio that took photos for gay magazines they published, which was named in part to honor Jorgensen.

Posters for the Ed Wood film Glen or Glenda (1953), also known as I Changed My Sex and I Led Two Lives, publicize the movie as being based on Jorgensen's life. Originally producer George Weiss made her some offers to appear in the film, but these were turned down. Jorgenson is mentioned in connection with Glen in Tim Burton's biopic Ed Wood (1994), but Jorgenson is not depicted as a character.

The Christine Jorgensen Story, a fictionalized biopic based on Jorgensen's memoir, premiered in 1970. John Hansen played Jorgensen as an adult, while Trent Lehman played her at age seven.

In Christine Jorgensen Reveals, a stage performance at the 2005 Edinburgh Festival Fringe, Jorgensen was portrayed by Bradford Louryk. To critical acclaim, Louryk dressed as Jorgensen and performed to a recorded interview with her during the 1950s while video of Rob Grace as comically inept interviewer Nipsey Russell played on a nearby black-and-white television set. The show went on to win Best Aspect of Production at the 2006 Dublin Gay Theatre Festival, and it ran Off-Broadway at New World Stages in January 2006. The LP was reissued on CD by Repeat The Beat Records in 2005.

Transgender historian and critical theorist Susan Stryker directed and produced an experimental documentary film about Jorgensen, titled Christine in the Cutting Room. In 2010 she also presented a lecture at Yale University titled "Christine in the Cutting Room: Christine Jorgensen's Transsexual Celebrity and Cinematic Embodiment". Both works examine embodiment vis-à-vis cinema.

The 2016 book Andy Warhol was a Hoarder: Inside the Minds of History's Great Personalities, by journalist Claudia Kalb, devotes a chapter to Jorgensen's story, using her as an example of gender dysphoria and the process of gender transition in its earliest days.

Jorgensen, Christine (1967). Christine Jorgensen: A Personal Autobiography. New York, New York: Bantam Books. ISBN 978-1-57344-100-1.

[yandere-sins]

Blush

Yay! First #yantober entry :3 Check out my list of prompts if you like & I hope you enjoy to hear from my new sweet baby Rhys! I will make a proper introduction for him this weekend, but so far, please take what you need to know about him from my writing ♥ Hope you guys enjoy!

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The first person Rhys ever looked up to was his brother. Always smiling, always charming. He was a person that would fall to the ground, get a bloody knee, get up again, and carry on with an even brighter smile than before. Other kids flocked around him with invitations, and he even took Rhys by the hand and showed the little toddler the world around him despite Rhys barely able to talk in full sentences yet. 

In kindergarten, he met Markus. Markus would take the biggest, dirtiest branch he could find in the outdoor area, stick it into the ground and declare himself king of the grounds. Either he was a simple-brained idiot or a natural leader, Rhys never found out. Still, after a short contemplation time, the other children decided to follow their new king around his self-declared kingdom, doing just like Markus told them to. More than he remembered tagging along, Rhys couldn’t get the image out of his mind of the brightly smiling Markus, basking in the glory of being the king of the kindergarten, confident and accepted by everyone.

In between kindergarten and high school, he met many more of those kinds of people. People to look up to and admire. People that he just couldn’t help but want to be like, especially with his natural timidness and insecurities. Rhys could not deny that the lessons he learned in the past by the people around him were more than useful when he walked into his class on the first day of high school. There he met Lucas, who was the first one to let him know both sides of the social standing coin, as painful as it was. That, of the loser, and that of the winner. It came with some sacrifices of his childhood friends, but there was a satisfaction to be found in being deemed ‘cool’ enough to hang with the bullies and being free of their nagging. It finally paid off that he had studied the idols he had in his childhood, and it felt good to be popular and admired, for a change, since all he had ever known was to be an admirer, not the person loved.

That was how he grew up to become the young man he was when he started college. Observing and copying traits he admired, and even more so desired. Soon, he was the equivalent of a charming boy everyone loved. People flocked around him to see him, asked for his number, which he was glad to give out, and invited him to parties and get-togethers more than he could possibly attend. He had friends, social standing, good looks - copied right out of magazines - and admired as a helpful fellow, a good listener, an intelligent student, and for his smile, which made everyone swoon.

He was cool.

Naturally, people wanted to be closer to him, wanted to be like him. He had more friends than people attended his college, was friendly and calm, helpful and admirable. There was no way you could not like him, that’s how convincing he was. It didn’t matter anymore that he was not a popular child when he was still young. Neither did it matter that he had been clumsy and annoying, nor that he became very withdrawn and shy when he couldn’t connect to others. It all. Didn’t. Matter. Anymore. Because now, he was simply cool in the eyes of everyone else. People came to him for advice and to feel a bit better about themselves and who they hung out with, and Rhys humored them for a bit, always looking down at them with a mix of pity and understanding. It was tempting for them, wasn’t it?

Rhys learned it early. Learned how ‘cool’ and ‘admired’ people just had it more comfortable in life. They’d get snacks from others for free, more positive attention from the teachers - hell, he once got caught smoking, and the teacher just shrugged and let him off the hook, so perhaps, he even got their ignorance - and no one seemed to bother them on their way to a successful future, whereas others had to struggle so much more.

Rhys adored that feeling.

He was exactly where he wanted to be.

It felt amazing. He felt superior.

And then you came around to tear it from his hands as if it was nothing.

He had come so far, he was not going to stop now. Stop being ‘cool’ and ‘admired’. Stop being the fantastic person he is, just because you thought you had to transfer to his college. Rhys didn’t spend all these years studying people and find the perfect mix of personalities that he had to uphold to get where he was just so you could barge into his life and throw everything he knew out of the window.

In that one, fateful moment that you two shared, as he unceremoniously fell over his own feet while joking around with his buddies, and right in front of you, he swore that he’d not rest until he could stop this damn feeling. You were nothing special, nothing even worth his time and effort. Still, the hand you stretched out to him to help him up was so tender and warm, it was like you saw right behind his fake coolness that he build so carefully. And you didn’t even laugh at him for his mistake. You didn’t say anything when he so charmingly exclaimed that he might have fallen for you. You just grinned your stupid, pretty grin and gave him a, “Yeah, yeah,” trotting off with your friends and leaving him behind.

Blushing. Red over both ears. Absolutely overrun by how beautiful the sun shone down on you, illuminating just the best parts - which, to be fair, were all of them - of your body, making you look like a saint. A fucking angel even. You were everything he had worked so hard to make himself look like too. Kind, charming, funny. Quick to make retorts to his words, but never condescending, only pleasant in doing so. Someone people liked to hang out with, and they just liked you for what you were, nothing more, nothing less.

Yet again, he found someone he admired. 

He admired you because you were a natural, whereas he was just a fake puppet that embodied all that he wanted to be, but deep down, he could never be like you, and he knew it. He couldn’t be like his brother, or Markus, or Lucas, and he couldn’t be Rhys either. These damn feelings of envy and desperation came back from his childhood insecurities when he realized that he was nothing compared to you. He wanted what you had, and he wanted it now. He had spent too much of his life already worrying that he couldn’t have what you had as a natural skillset, making him look like a clown if he was to ever stand beside you. And so he decided, with his face showing his admiration for you from ear to ear, redder than even the tomatoes he liked to snack, that this time, he wanted to be like you.

And if he couldn’t have that… then he would have you instead.

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