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watevermelon · 4 years

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Patience is a Virtue | Shinsuke Kita x Reader

✧ Summary: You lost track of the days that you were in love with Kita. He was so much more than just the team mom that many outsiders dubbed him as. He was the wielder of cold-logic and held the bluntest of words at times, but he showed his own special brand of care for each member of the team. What you hadn’t expected was for him to especially care about you. ➳ Warnings: Language because twins lmao ➳ Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; mostly fluff and humor; Atsumu being a little shit; friends trying to be match-makers; mild jealousy on Kita’s part; introspection and some character development

✧ Masterlist

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As the manager of the Inarizaki volleyball club, you were no stranger to the antics of your generally loud team. And while this was usually elicited by the twins, with most of the team ahem especially Suna being no help (since many would rather film then break-up the fight), you were almost a pro at keeping them calm to the public eye.

You grew up alongside most of the members of the team, a strange connection between all of the players. From advanced classes in junior high to being literal neighbors to some of them, you were long-term classmates with many of the members - including the captain himself.

Kita was much more than the doting team mom than people gave him credit for. Yes, he was often the face of the team, the voice of reason that handled the interviews and other press coverage, but this all came from a place of stone-cold reason. He had strict routines and never cared about doing things without practical rationale. Kita had a mature way of thinking, often compartmentalizing both people and emotions, to the point that it made people his own age not relate to him.

Even the quiet Suna, the analytical little shit who loved to poke fun at said captain, had honestly admitted that he thought Kita to be on the robot-side of the emotional spectrum.

And, despite all this, Kita was the long-term object of your affections.

It was all the little things that made your crush on him grow. From his proper speech, the blunt words no matter to whom he was speaking to, or his unusual brand of care he extended toward his teammates, Kita was the foundation of Inarizaki that you fell for. And when he was named captain of the volleyball team? You almost cried alongside him, reveling in the rare fit of pure happiness that he was gracing your eyes with.

You remembered the last time you walked home together, for once not being called away on separate duties as captain and leading manager. He treated you to ice-cream and walked along you side-by-side.

“Mint chocolate-chip with two cherries.” He told the street-cart vendor confidently, knowing your favorite flavors by heart at this point.

You ordered for him in kind, receiving the treat from the vendor as Kita paid for both of your orders. Anyone else would be contesting it, but you knew that Kita would not take no for an answer. He did stuff like this all the time with you, you were better off not fighting it. This was not the hill you wanted to die on.

But you were surprised when Kita licked at your ice cream, smiling as he tasted it and maintaining your gaze head-on. The shock on your face must have been evident since the smirk on his widened. You reached for the cone in his hand, only for him to lightly slap it away.

“Should I be asking with a pretty please or something?” You asked with a playful pout.

“No.” Kita replied, before lowering it to your eye-level.

Did he want you to lick it? While he was holding it????

Wordlessly, you followed his silent command and felt the minty taste of your afternoon snack on your tongue. Kita watched the action, eyes following your tongue as he shot you a friendly smile. He pulled away before you could get that much more, before licking your ice cream again.

Was that an indirect kiss???

“My, you two make quite the couple.” The vendor commented, clasping her hands together as she watched your interaction.

“We’re not dating.” Kita answered, squashing any hope you had from that interaction.

He was just?? So confusing??

You had so many little moments like this over the years. So many that had you often questioning deep into the night what truly was your relationship with the blunt captain of Inarizaki. You fell for him so many years ago, it made you wonder when was the last time you really thought of him as just a friend. Did he truly not know about your feelings?

But Kita was smart and on just as many occasions, you wondered if he knew the truth but simply did nothing about them. If he could read the twins with little effort, there was no doubt he understood your feelings long-ago, but decided not to act.

At least, that was your reason behind not openly admitting it to him:

That Kita knew you had a crush on him. And since he did not feel the same, it was better off if he did not address them.

And so you never brought it up, stewing in silence for years.

Eight years was a long time to be in love alone.

“You should just give up on him.” Jisoo, your fellow Inarizaki manager commented one day. She was in the same class as the twins, a year your junior.

The both of you were lounging outside in the courtyard for lunch, a humidly hot day that made the two of you especially lazy this particular school-day. Only a few more hours more and you would be free of classes, liberated of any schoolwork and finally enjoying the weekend.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, looking at the different posts on social media from your various friends. Atsumu had posted of his serve practice the day before, his comment section flooded with various hearts by his fan-club of all things. Osamu’s private Instabook was of food while Aran’s had posted one of the day’s blue skies.

“Why would I do that?” You asked with a sigh, already used to her trying to guide you away from him. You understood why, it was hardly a smart decision to hold onto your feelings, not that you really cared.

“Aren’t you tired of it by now?”

But was that a good enough reason at this point? You were a third-year and about to graduate. If there was one thing that was constant throughout your entire life in the farming prefecture you called a home, it was that you had feelings for the captain.

The sky was blue. Summer was hot. You liked Kita.

It was that simple sometimes. And while there were moments that hurt your heart, it was not like you had any head-space to even try to stop.

“Maybe.” You answered candidly, “Honestly, I wouldn’t even know how to. But I don’t want to either.”

“I worry about you, senpai.”

“What can I say?” You tried to joke, even with your sad smile. “Kita has my heart on lock-down.”

“We’re all going to the twins’ party this weekend, why don’t you try talking to some of the guys there?”

“Not this again.” You complained as you put your phone down on the table.

“Come on!” Jisoo pushed, “I’m sure there’ll be someone there that peaks your interest.”

You raised a brow in response, doubt evident on your face.

She teased, “It could also be on a purely physical level.”

Laughing at her statement, you said. “Like that’s any better.”

“A little smooches here and there never hurt anyone.”

“Now I’m worrying about you.”

She giggled, before continuing. “Just think about it. First guy tonight who hits on you, give him a chance.”

While you would have dismissed the thought immediately, there was something rather playful happening in the pit of your stomach. As if, for once in a long-time, you wanted to feel the puppy love of just casually flirting. Of grinning and laughing along with someone's advances and actually enjoying one these parties; rather than just sitting on the couch playing Mario Kart waiting for Kita to hopefully show.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

She sighed loudly, happy to have cracked you a little. Jisoo continued with a teasing grin on her face. “Oh right, I forgot. You’re a masochist.”

“I could’ve told ya that.” Another voice broke out, the familiar setter of two-tone hair taking the seat next to you. He picked at one of your french-fries, eating it with no preamble as Suna took the seat diagonal from you, next to Jisoo at the picnic table outside.

For someone who spoke a lot of game about not being caught up with the twins, Suna tended to hang around Atsumu quite a bit.

“I am not a masochist.” You defended from Atsumu’s words, earning an eye-roll from the other female manager.

“Why else would you agree to manage a team with the twins?” Suna quipped before taking out his phone, probably scrolling through social media as well. Atsumu shrugged in agreement, a smirk on his face.

“Also, tell that to your love life.” Jisoo countered, playfully moving her lunch out of Atsumu’s reach before the setter could commandeer some of hers.

You quietly pushed the rest of your fries in his direction, appetite long gone on this overly humid day. Doing this sort of thing was actually quite natural with the twin, sharing food and hugs were a normal thing with your friend.

“It’s not that bad.” You argued.

“Wait, have ya ever dated before?” Atsumu asked.

“Have you?” You countered back, the setter was infamous for his many… romantic encounters. But the young man had yet to ever put a serious label on any of those instances, at least not to your knowledge.

He rolled his eyes in response, turning to Jisoo instead to continue.

“Come on senpai, not even a smooch?” She pushed.

You felt your face flush at having been called out, “Well....”

Atsumu turned his body toward you in his seat, his insufferably confident smirk back on, “I could help ya with that.”

You pushed away at his shoulder, “You say it like it’s a problem.”

“Ya savin’ it till ya get married or somethin’?” He asked, genuinely curious. Even Suna turned to you, looking up from his phone in interest.

You turned to Jisoo, the conversation taking a dangerous turn. If you said yes, their curiosity would definitely be spiked. And it was not like you could lie to them and say it was some random person in your class - you knew these boys for years, but they also knew you in kind.

Yes or no?

The other manager did not even try to bail you out and your silence was already tantamount to an answer.

“Aww. How cute of ya, (L/N).” Atsumu chuckled, reaching to pat your head. You slapped it away before he got too close. For someone younger than you, he was quite the brat. Years of being friends long stripped away any formalities apparently.

“Looks like our heart-breaker manager is actually very sentimental.” Suna commented, a brow raised in your direction.

“Heart-breaker?” You questioned in genuine confusion.

“Come on, (L/N)-san.” Jisoo answered this time, “She’s had her heart set for so long, she hasn’t even seen the other boys she’s curved.”

“How is that possible when no one’s confessed to me?”

Jisoo laughed while Atsumu absently tapped his finger on the table, “Even I know that ain’t true, (L/N).”

“Whatever.” There was no reasoning with your underclassmen when they were this dead-set. No one had confessed to you before, right? At least none to your memory, they were just being instigators as usual?

“That doesn’t answer the question why ya sittin’ here single.” Atsumu stated.

“He obviously has feelings for you, but she’s too much of a wuss to confess.” Jisoo stated it plainly for you, then turned to look at Atsumu with an expectant face. “So it’s either because he hasn’t noticed, which I doubt, or he’s not looking for commitment.”

“Ah. And it’s someone we’ve known for years, huh?” Suna deduced, words come out slowly.

You straightened your back in surprise and shot warning looks toward both boys. This was getting too close, they were starting to put together pieces of a puzzle you hadn’t even willingly handed to them. And knowing these little shits, they were not going to let this go until they found out.

Atsumu inclined his head for you to continue while Suna’s eyes never left your own. Suna was smart all the time, but with being associated with the twins constantly, it was easy to forget that fact. And since the trio acted like idiots so often, you tended to forgo how truly analytical even the Atsumu was.

This was not good - so not good. It probably would not take them long to deduce the person at this rate.

“I swear to the highest volleyball gods out there,” You spit out as your turned to the other manager, “I will fucking smite you off this planet if you say another word.”

Jisoo burst out laughing immediately, almost choking on her lunch as Atsumu grinned at your warning, the exact opposite response you wanted.

“Strong words ya got there.” He commented, body still angled toward yours in interest. “Looks like we hittin’ a lil too close to home?”

“Don’t even try it.” You responded back, turning away from his inquisitive eyes and back to your phone.

Needless to say, they didn’t listen.

Suna backed up in his seat, eyes glancing between you and the setter. “No commitment, huh?”

Meanwhile, Atsumu was rapid-firing questions. “Is it a second-year? Third-year? Is he on the volleyball team? Do we know ‘em personally?”

You smiled at his now peaked curiosity, the setter almost looking like a small puppy waiting for a treat. But you refused to answer, no doubt sure that they would tell the captain the moment they found out the truth. You turned to Jisoo, who was smiling away at Atsumu, but otherwise sat thankfully quiet.

Atsumu was firing off specific names now, hoping to get any response from you.

“The bastard’s gotta be on the team.”

“Bastard?” Jisoo laughed at the nickname.

“Shut up, Atsumu.” You countered, attempting to poke harshly at his forehead to stop. But he just grabbed the hand in one of his own, holding it in his lap as he continued to spit out names.

“Is it Aran?”

“Will you stop?”

“‘Samu?”

“I will murder you in cold blood.”

“... Is it me?”

You tried your best to pull your hand away, now realizing his tightening hold on against the skin of your hand. How long had you been sitting there holding hands? You felt a natural rosiness rise to your cheeks, not really because of the recipient, but because you were doing so in public with some guy.

Instead, you poked the setter’s side roughly, earning a deep groan, but freeing your hand in the process. Packing up your belongings, you stepped out of the picnic table and stated, “Lunch is almost over, we should get to class.”

You walked away with a small wave, the boys turning to the now only female occupant of the lunch-table.

“So…”

“Nu-uh.” Jisoo cut off Atsumu, moving to leave the table before she accidentally said anything.

“Throw a man a bone here! Or at least help him bone.” Atsumu murmured that last part under his breath, “Ya don’t even have to verbally confirm it - is it me?”

Jisoo paused as she stood, books in hand already. The look she threw him was mischievous, but otherwise she left in silence.

Unfortunately for you, all you were thinking about during class was that conversation you just had. Kita sat on your right in your next few classes, the mild Ōmimi behind the both of you. The last thing you needed was to linger on their teasing words of smooches and marriage. You couldn’t confess your feelings, imagining anything else?? You could only imagine the bright blush at the simple thought of it.

And apparently, you hadn’t hidden it well.

“Something wrong?”

There were still a couple more minutes until the teacher would return. And so you were sitting in the classroom with Kita alongside you, other students milling around the room. He was so damn good at reading people and you cursed that he was using it against you now.

“Just thinking about some stuff Jisoo said at lunch.” You tried to wave off.

“You’re blushing.” Kita stated bluntly, putting his book down as he spoke to you.

He was never one to sugar-coat his words.

“Am I?” You put your palms to your cheeks, as if to feel the heat. There was no point in trying to lie to him. “She was teasing me about boys.”

“Oh. Are you dating anyone?” Kita asked.

God, this was awful.

There was nothing worse than your crush asking about your crush.

“No, not yet.” You shook your head negatively, turning towards the window on your left, at least trying to hide your expression.

“Yet? Are you looking to date soon?”

You wanted to scream.

“Um, not in the near future.” You tried to deflect, “But it could happen!”

“Of course.” He smiled, “I packed extra onigiri for lunch, but I couldn’t find you. I’m not sure if you still want it.”

“Ah, I would love to! If I’m not imposing, then yes.”

Kita shook his head, “I packed it for you.”

“You’re so sweet sometimes.” You said honestly, taking it and munching down.

“You usually either forget your lunch or eat junk.” He stated plainly, making you suddenly blanch at his cold-words. I mean, he wasn’t exactly wrong either. You thought back to the lunch you had today, literally just water and french fries that you ended up giving to Atsumu.

“Ha, well.” You trailed off before settling on, “Thanks for always taking care of me.”

Kita’s small grin widened as he looked you in the eyes, “It’s my pleasure.”

When he said things like that, it easily set your heart aflame. It was so simple, such small interactions that you would have to squint hard to find anything underlying in his words. But you wanted to. You wanted to feel needed and also give to the captain as well.

The blush you had earlier was probably nothing in comparison to how you looked now, you were sure. And, with Kita being the ever smart cookie he was, there was no doubt that he spied your inflamed reaction.

Was that conversation over? Was he expecting a response?

Maybe the volleyball god’s did have mercy on your poor soul, since your teacher walked in then and thankfully brought your conversation to a halt. You tried not to outwardly seem relieved, turning to the front and taking out your notebooks.

Your mind wandered in and out of the lecture. There were moments that your gaze just happened to meander over to the captain to your right. It was one thing to suddenly notice you were staring at him, but another thing entirely to be caught in the action. Kita would usually just smile at you kindly, before nudging his chin toward the front of the room toward the teacher.

Even later during volleyball practice, your eyes would casually dawdle over to where the captain was standing. Whether he was watching the team with careful eyes or participating himself in practicing spikes, your eyes usually just found him.

But today was not the day to let down your guard.

Atsumu and Suna were paying careful attention to you. And now it was no secret where your gaze was pointed to. Suna smirked when he realized, but Atsumu clicked his tongue and mentally filed it away for later. Jisoo once snapped playful fingers in front of your face, grabbing your attention to flip the scoreboard.

When it was finally time to clean, Kita helped you collect the left-over volleyballs and roll the hammock into the proper storage room. You did so carefully, making sure not to accidentally touch his skin lest he back off from the motion. But the kind, neutral expression he shot you went straight to your heart.

“Let’s get the scoreboard next.” He instructed, the both of you moving to opposite sides of the wheeled board.

And you would have, if Atsumu had not thrown a casual arm across the captain’s shoulders.

“Hey, do ya mind helpin’ ‘Samu over there?” He motioned with his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to his twin who was not looking at all.

Slightly suspicious, Kita did as asked anyway and went with the grey-headed twin to mop the floors.

“What was that about?” You asked as Atsumu pushed the scoreboard along with you.

It was only when you entered the storage room alone that he replied, “So Mister No Gaps Kita Shinsuke, huh?”

“What?!” You fought the inward need to slap yourself, high voice and exclamation enough to show that he was right on the money. “You asshole, how do you know that?”

“I didn’t need anyone to tell me that.” He emphasized, gesturing at your eyes with two fingers. “Ya kept starin’ at ‘em the entire practice.”

You huffed frowning, “That obvious, huh?”

“Yea, he probably knows too - especially if Suna and I figured this shit out.”

That didn’t help at all.

“Great.” You leaned against the nearby wall and put a palm to your forehead.

Atsumu crossed his arms, “So why haven’t ya confessed to ‘em yet?”

You scoffed and shot him a flat-expression, “Because he doesn’t like me back?”

“What? He said that to ya?”

“Well, no.” You hesitated, but explained. “I mean, he definitely knows I have feelings. And Shinsuke has never been one to beat around the bush. If he hasn’t addressed it, it’s probably because he doesn’t want to make it awkward… since he doesn't feel the same.”

“I think you’re a dumbass.” Atsumu stated back, sighing heavily. “Kita don’t think like that and we both know it.”

“Why else would he be waiting it out?” You asked, “This is the same Kita that told us he doesn’t understand how people feel nervous.”

“Jesus, (F/N). He was talkin’ about volleyball.” Atsumu groaned, raking one of his hands through his piss-blonde hair. “Kita’s human too. Maybe he’s not sure how ya would respond for the same reasons.”

“I don’t know if love advice from the school’s resident fuck-boy is a good idea.” You jabbed instead, a playful smile on your face.

Atsumu put a mock-offended hand on his chest, a smirk finding a way on his face before he squashed it down seriously. He took a step toward you until you were less than an arms’ length-apart, “Fine, have it your way. Stew in silence until he finds someone else.”

That struck a silent chord in you.

“Honestly, that was kind of the plan these past few years.” You admitted, turning your head toward the ground. “If he could find his true happiness with someone else, then I would be happy for him.”

Atsumu must have detected your seriousness, since he hesitated to say his next few words. “Don’ be like that. Stop bein’ an idiot - he likes you.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, (L/N).” Atsumu levelled with you, “Ya standin’ here like ya ain’t the only girl he’s ever withstood.”

“Wow, what a feat.” You muttered as you sighed.

“Fine, if ya don’t believe that. Aren’t ya’ll best friends anyway?” Atsumu asked, “I’m sure he’d do anythin’ to keep you close.”

You hesitated, but agreed. Your relationship, no matter if he reciprocated your feelings or not, you were best friends. But if he didn’t feel the same and you said something? Would there ever be recovering from something like that?

Atsumu drew you out of your thoughts before he lost you further to your over-thinking, “You’re a real catch. Anybody would be lucky to have ya.”

“Oh?” You shot a withered smile at him.

“And I’m not just sayin’ that to put the moves on ya.” Atsumu joked, earning a light punch to his shoulder as you walked past him to leave.

“Yeah, yeah.” You said before turning back towards him, remembering to say. “None of this leaves this room. You hear that?”

“Yes ma’am.” He mock-saluted, a second later a loud ahem ringing through the room.

You tensed up and turned toward the door, seeing a blank-faced Shinsuke standing in the open doorway. Atsumu was always surprised, albeit much less worried than you were. Was your secret finally out?

“Am I interrupting something?” He asked, before you pushed shouted a loud No! and brushed past him back into the gymnasium.

Atsumu tried to casually exit the room as well, before his captain’s voice rang-out again, “Care to explain what that was about?”

The setter had two options here: either brush it off or fan the flames that he knew for a fact was there. You were the obvious party, openly staring at the captain like your eyes belonged on him. But Atsumu knew that those feelings were not as unrequited as you thought.

He remembered some club-room talk not that long ago. It was normal for the guys to discuss their preferences, something that Atsumu was rather vocal about on multiple occasions. Aran was just looking for someone he could cook while Ōmimi stated he liked girls who were generally very kind. Osamu preferred someone who was a bit meeker while Atsumu loved ‘em vocal, even bratty to the point of talking back.

“Of course, you would.” Suna commented as he dressed.

“What the fuck do ya mean by that?” The setter bit out.

“As in the fuckboy thinks he’s a girl tamer.” Suna snarkily replied.

“Well, when a girl has a mouth on her. I want to put it to good use.” Atsumu said with a smirk, earning a loose towel to the head, one that Osamu had just launched from across the room. Aran sighed and grabbed it before Atsumu could whip it back. Kita nodded toward his counterpart in quiet thanks.

Many of the others were still dressing after practice this day, it would be annoying to have to break up another fight between the twins then.

“Can ya be less of an asshole?” The grey-headed twin asked.

“Wha? I’m speakin’ the truth!” Atsumu defended, “Not every girl is like that anyway.”

“And who would the infamous Ratsumu have his eyes on?” Suna asked, genuinely curious but not missing the chance to poke at the setter.

Atsumu frowned, but continued anyway. “No one, right now. But I still got eyes, ya know. Ya can’t tell me our manager ain’t a cutie.”

“She would rather hand you a new asshole than ever date you.” Suna said, to which Akagi laughed.

“Careful, ‘Tsamu.” Osamu playfully warned, “People might think ya like (L/N)-san.”

“What can I say, she’s single and hot as fuck.” Atsumu replied off-handedly.

It was a plain statement, but you could almost physically feel the temperature change in the club-room. Aran was glancing between the captain while the rest wondered why it was suddenly dead silent.

Osamu wondered if his prayers had been heard and he would soon be an only child.

“I suggest not saying that again.” Kita stated over his shoulder as he buttoned up the rest of his shirt.

That was a clear enough warning to everyone in the room that you were off limits. Suna had remembered this instance as well, in the present day reminding Atsumu after lunch not to push any buttons. It was clear then that Kita had no tolerance to any shit he was going to pull and now the pining was mutual on both your ends. Suna reminded him again and again during class to just let you and Kita sort your feelings naturally.

Pfft.

Was Atsumu going to be a little shit and try to sew some discord?

Hell yes.

“What can I say?” Atsumu feigned being casual, even shrugging as he exited the quiet storage room. “A pretty girl and a young guy enter a closet alone together, you know the rest.”

The glare he felt on his neck could have been enough to snap it with this much pressure. But, Atsumu digressed. He was doing the both of you a favor anyway, pushing you together when you both already had feelings for one another (albeit with some mind games interspersed).

Atsumu almost laughed when Kita grabbed your hand when the two of you walked home together.

Kita knew what the setter was doing. What buttons he was trying to push, what he was trying to imply with you. The captain knew it all and he was still getting pissed off.

True to everyone’s assumptions, Kita knew about your feelings for him. The extent and duration, that he was not sure of. But he knew that you have thought about him in a romantic light for quite some time. Lingered looks and purposeful touches, on both your ends, was not something he could easily ignore.

What made Kita wonder was why you hadn’t said anything at all?

You were often pretty straight-forward as well. Not exactly in terms of romance, but you when were interested in something you tended to speak your mind. Whether it be a new show, some shounen anime you were following along with, you always shared it with him.

And for that fact he was always grateful.

Many of the others your age tended to be warded off by his way of thinking, branding him too mature or even too cold at times. To think that even the sarcastic Suna had nicknamed him as a robot, it was interesting to see that was how most people saw him.

But you didn’t.

Or at least, you saw passed his cold exterior and were just a freely-spoken with your mind. Kita’s blunt way of speaking had casualties sometimes, but you usually voiced if his blunt speech was too much. There were times that, if you were inadvertently hurt by his words, you would say it out-loud.

He remembered the last time this happened, not even a month ago. The two of you were hanging out under the shade of a tree, about to go out to a team hangout when you exited your back porch wearing a blue sundress. It flirted high above your knees and showed off the creamy legs of yours that he loved to trail his eyes over.

You looked breath-taking.

And so he said:

“Is there an occasion I’m missing today? I thought we were just going out with the team.”

The disappointed look on your face was immediate and it did not take a genius to figure those were the wrong words to say. But what he was not sure is where it went wrong. Logically, it made sense. You were going to walk at least two miles to the train and then from there a mile to the arcade. And most of that time you would all be standing. Would you even be comfortable doing all this walking in sandals?

But you didn’t get offended or draw away from him from these smaller misunderstandings.

You were always ready to knock some sense into him if need be.

“Not even a compliment on how I look? How mean.” You said with a frown, “I tried a bit more because I don’t usually get the chance to.”

“I know, but I want you to be comfortable considering the walks today.” Kita lightly grabbed your elbow as he stepped closer, “Besides, you always look beautiful no matter what you’re wearing.”

Your blush was palpable, Kita was almost sure he could fry an egg on your forehead, if the redness was any indication of temperature.

“Let’s save this dress for another occasion. Preferably where only I see these.” He glanced down to indicate your legs, to which you sputtered and allowed him to guide you back inside the house.

And instead, he picked a pair of light-colored shorts and a loose summer-blouse. Kita knew you had a pair of black-and-white sneakers that would go with it anyway. You commented how it was almost scary that Kita knew your wardrobe, but he stated it simply:

I like what you wear. And I think it looks very agreeable on you.

It was simple and he stated it thusly. And from your reaction, it seemed as if it had made your day. From the beaming smile on your face to the new skip in your step, it was clear to him that he had amended the situation properly with your guidance.

But he still had the same issue: Kita thought he was being clear as day.

There was no one else he was spending time with like this. No one else whom Kita was expressing interest in like he was with you. From sharing ice-cream to hangouts alone with just the two of you, he thought his way of flirting with you was obvious? His actions alone should have been clear that he was showing his own interest in you.

And so if Kita was being clear with his feelings, why hadn’t you said anything?

This was not something he could just say and retract, either. The last thing he wanted to do was put your entire friendship on the line just to lose you. What if you actually did not feel the same way? But from your constant blushing and obvious gaze on him, you liked him too? But why hadn’t you said anything? Were you expecting him too?

He almost groaned aloud at this line of thinking.

Nothing had him flustered quite like you. Kita was confident both in school and on the court, a sure faith that no matter where it was. It was not a baseless arrogance, but more like a calm trust that he knew what he was doing was right.

And yet…

When it came to you, that brand of confidence simply withered away. Not always a bad thing, you often caught him off-guard with your own kindness and rarely did you ever truly fight. But there were times that he sorely wished he knew what was going on in that head of yours.

Like why hadn’t you said anything to him regarding this tension?

Or better yet, why the hell were you whispering with Atsumu in the gym closet?

The setter knew all about your being off-limits. Kita made it very clear that day and it seemed even then, the message did not totally receive in the asshole's mind. Or rather, it probably did, Atsumu just decided to ignore it.

And so on your shared walk home after practice, Kita gently grabbed your hand and did not let go. You almost jumped in surprise alongside him. Not that you hadn’t held hands before, but it was usually called for in the context. Navigating one of the twin’s parties, through a crowded group, or just to guide you somewhere.

But never had he held your hand for no reason.

Kita just smiled, hoping this would send a clear enough message to both you and the meddlesome boys behind you.

Meanwhile, Atsumu had to stop himself from cackling aloud. Osamu was ready to question his brother over what the hell was that about, but Suna assured him that it was best not to get involved at this rate. Aran simply sighed, but waved goodbye and goodnight to the rest of the team.

Your smile was a mask to your inward screaming, only to be silenced to a blank void. Your mind was comparable to that picture of spilled milk - the only thing inside as if the very act was an enigma. You had no idea what to say, what to do in this situation as you both continued to walk along.

For someone who was an athlete, the skin of his hand was surprisingly soft as it encased your own. You felt your hand unconsciously squeeze his and feared that the act would have him pulling away, as if waking him up from his act. But Kita squeezed back, a fond expression reflected back at you.

The two of you walked home together whenever you had the chance, unless called for by other duties. So this was usually normal for the two of you. Conversation was just easy, ranging from school or recent events, and even if one-sided you had no issues with simply speaking to the captain. And yet today…

Kita and you were both completely silent.

You couldn’t even tell if something else was on his mind, a neutral look on his face as he looked ahead. Was this action to show that he was reciprocating your feelings? You hated being unsure like this, but there was too much vulnerability to simply lay-out what you wanted to say.

Even on the train, Kita sat next to you quietly but still held your hand over his knee. You watched the action, before trying to level your breathing as to not freak out. But Kita kept going about his day, even taking out his phone to check a few texts with the other hand.

It was meant to show this was entirely on purpose.

Only when your house popped into view during something conspiratory popped into your mind - Did one of the boys tell him?

You felt the small seed of hope grow further. Was it just a coincidence that the day Suna and Atsumu found out about your secret was the same day, after literal years, that Kita found out as well? And that maybe if he knew now, was he reciprocating in some way?

You moved to glance at him in the corner of your eye, but he was already looking at you.

The both of you stopped short of the gate, but you hesitated for a second to say anything. There was so much on your mind and stewing in silence was the exact opposite thing you wanted to do. Before you could even think of words to say, your captain made the first move again.

Kita tenderly reached for your other hand, holding both in his much larger ones. He brought them up together and shot you a gentle smile, “(F/N), your hands are so soft.”

It came out like word vomit.

“I like you, Kita!”

SHIT.

Maybe you read him wrong?? If he was going to make a move, why was he looking at you so surprised??

“And here I was, wanting to say something first.” Kita said as he chuckled lightly, his hands gliding the rest of the way up your arms. “I like you, too.”

You didn’t even have time to overthink, Kita wasting no time and pulling you towards him. Quickly raising your hands to his chest, you steadied yourself against him as he held you in the close embrace. His smile was almost blinding - not from the size, but rather the genuine feel behind it.

Your hands slid upwards, folding behind his neck as your faces drew closer together. One of his hands gently carded in your hair, lightly guiding you to him. You closed your eyes in silent anticipation, long awaited joining finally happening with only stars as your audience.

The skin of his lips slotted gently against yours and you silently relished the feel of the prolonged peck. You pulled him closer, silently nudging him to go the step further. Kita smiled in response, making you beam right back at him. It was honestly hard to deepen the kiss further, expressions pulled from your shared grins. You were two idiots smiling at one another, foreheads pressed together as you struggled to deepen your impassioned kiss.

“I’ve waited so long to hold you like this.” Kita whispered against your lips, one of his hands resting around your waist.

“Me too.” You replied in a low vice, eyes still closed as you just felt him.

He watched your cute expression, from your rosy appearance to the way you deliciously leaned your body into him. Kita felt his eyes shutter closed, savoring the feeling of you two finally joined. You moved together in tandem, softly at first, and then with a swift intensity that made you cling to him even further - as if Kita was the only solid thing in this suddenly swaying world.

The world was constantly moving, either too fast or too slow or too much at times. Until finally, in Kita’s arms, it finally felt right.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time.” You confessed.

“I know.” Kita responded simply, “Me too.”

You almost wanted to laugh, but withheld it from possibly breaking the atmosphere. “Is it really that simple?”

“Yes.” Kita said as he smiled, moving to place a light kiss on your forehead. “I was honestly… afraid to say anything in fear of your response. But now we are both aware, right?”

You grinned back and stretched on your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, “Yes.”

“That’s it then.” Kita stated as he leaned his forehead back against yours, “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

You whispered back, “Sounds like a deal.”

His insistent mouth parted your eager lips, sending wild tremors crawling up your spine, evoking sensations you had never known you were even capable of feeling. And as the swimming giddiness spun you round and round, you steadied yourself to kiss him back just as passionately. With a swipe of his tongue against the crease of your lips, you parted your mouth eagerly.

There was no battle, no insistent fight between your two appendages. There was only Kita, eagerly roaming around your mouth as you sensually rubbed tongues. You openly moaned at the feeling, not even noticing the noise until Kita was smiling in response.

You blushed at the realization, but Kita only complimented the sound. “Make that noise again for me.”

Your smile dropped to a more sultry smirk.

“You’ll have to earn it.”

Kita felt his eyes comically widen before dropping to a half-lid, “Oh?”

“My parents aren’t home…”

“Oh.”

Kita placed a kiss on your forehead just to lean away, one of his hands dropping to grab your own. You hurried along with his pace, suddenly breaking out into a faster walk in the direction of your home.

“Let’s make up for lost time, shall we?”

BONUS:

“No way.” Jisoo commented on the sight before her, nudging Atsumu standing next to her. The twin’s party was ravaging around them, but there was an unlikely and yet very likely couple that had just walked through the door. And while it was normal to see the two of them together, it was the first official time as an exclusive couple.

Walking in was Kita and you, hands clasped together like this was oh so natural.

Akagi greeted the both of you with a smile while Aran waved you guys over to the living, where many of the other team members were playing a game. Kita guided you through the party, joined hands proudly on display for all party goers.

Atsumu held out a hand in Jisoo direction’s, causing her to frown but nonetheless place some lost yen in his open palm.

But seeing you smile and share a kiss openly with the captain, Jisoo didn’t exactly mind losing this bet.

---xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx---

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chrisevansluv · 3 years

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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

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?"

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!"

"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.'"

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.

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

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?"

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.

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."

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!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

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nemuitoka · 3 years

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What are your favorte jshk fanfics? also where do you like reading them the most?

Hi Anon!!! today is the day I can finally answer this question😈 ahaha you know how much I enjoy making fic recs so 👀 Let’s go!!!

To answer your second question first, I like reading them on AO3 the most! Mostly because I get almost unlimited number of characters to rant in the comment section........... 😆but also the tagging system is very helpful.

Okay, now to the fun part of this ask😏

You said JSHK, but I mostly read Hananene ones so all of my favs include that pairing... as I already did a fic rec here of my favs, this list will continue that one, so please check that one first hehe ((I apologize in advance..., I would love for people to recommend me some mitsukou ones tbh... I’m really lost when it comes to other pairings orz))

If I’m completely honest with you anon-san, my favorite JSHK fic right now is the one Roxanne ( @istoleyourboat ) wrote based of my art and her snippet:

Star-Crossed and Falling- Where Stars Go to Die by lilaflo

Hanako is Princess Nene’s personal knight 👀. A tale of forbidden love. They slowly fall in love as they exchange a series of gifts, one that includes a pair of matching earrings that remind them of their love when they’re apart. Also, jelly Hanako of Nene’s suitors😏... Oh, but nothing lasts forever and those sweet moments will come to an end when they have to face their cruel reality, in this world, they don’t get to choose neither their battles or the ones they love.

Now more of Roxanne, because I seriously enjoy her work so much (I’m sure everyone knows by now lmao sdkj)

Night of the Phantom King by lilaflo

This one is a spooky one. Nene’s regret for never realizing who she truly loves takes her to mourn her deceased friend Amane and cry on his grave in a Halloween night, then suddenly the Phantom King comes to take her away👀 & he looks suspiciously familiar... Beautiful world building btw, also the ending is just, excellent.

12 Year Romance by lilaflo

Amane meets Nene at the Tanabata festival, she’s older than him, but he falls for her instantly, fast forward, Amane is now in middle school, he’s a troublemaker, & gets constantly into fights, but he swears the new school nurse looks familiar... he then realizes it’s her and thinks it must be fate!!!... This one hits close to home bc I’ve been in this situation irl, so I can confirm all of Nene’s struggles are real (and ofc how a love with an age gap should be handled the correct way, this fic really teaches you many life lessons hahaha)

took a sip then another sip, then you turned and said to me by chivalrousamour

This autor has a bunch of good JSHK fics!! I recommend you check their AO3 out, bec you may find something you like for sure! But, this is my absolute fav from them. Nene is a mangaka, celebrating the finishing of her long serialized manga, while Amane is a delivery boy who happens to find her in a very questionable state in her house👀 (it’s all family friendly ofc, anon, I’m not a slimy pervert like some ghost boy)

Maid for Each Other by corologs ( @corologs )

Courtney has this amazing College AU collection series that I encourage you to check out!!! But Maid for each other is my fav!!! So it’s the Yugi twins birthday, and it’s Tsukasa’s turn to choose where they go to celebrate it... you can already tell where this is going... (let the chaos begin) & as the title said, it involves maids!!! (it has Kaicho wa maid sama vibes if you liked that anime~~)

If I Could Tell Her by corologs

What if the picture perfect arc plan was successful??? Well, this fic explores this idea, and it’s very interesting to read. I like how Amane and Hanako are two separate people here.

the horizon tries but it’s just not as kind on the eyes by sincerelyand ( @sunlightinourheadlights )

(Oh my sweet Karen, she writes such good fics, so go check her AO3 out as well!!) Amane and Yashiro are friends that share an apartment (& they were roommates-- OMG they were roommates), even if Amane has its complains, because Nene can be a handful sometimes (and in denial of her true feelings as always, are we even surprised at this point?) he loves her dearly anyways😭.

for real, this time by sourlemoncandy ( @sour-lemon-candy )

Did somebody say fake dating AU?????? Because hell yeah I did asajj I loved reading this so much!! Nene and Amane are childhood friends, and Nene overhears some girls talking about Amane and how one of them plans to ask him out... but she senses these girls are up to no good so she... well, you gotta read it to find out more~~ it’s no fun If I tell ya everything hehe... so go go go!!

lemon cream by sourlemoncandy

Amane and Nene, just two good friends having a road trip and sharing donuts... what could go wrong?? 😏 seriously, I loved this fic so much!! Instant fav! Also makes me wanna try some good sweet donuts...

Trip Down Memory Lane by insipidenvy ( @insipidenvy )

This fic is so sweet. I have such a huge attachment to it, because I read it when I really needed some fluff in my life hahaha. It’s sort of a collection of memories between Amane and Yashiro’s relationship over the years. So heartwarming... if you need the fluffs you’ll enjoy this very much!!

The Radish Princess and the Toilet Prince by insipidenvy

This is my favorite fic from insipidenvy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You know how I am a slut for Royalty AUs so that’s why!!!!! Also Toilet Prince!! hahahaha such a good nickname lmao. I love how they bond over their insecurities, it’s very relatable tbh.

Between Wind and Water by WingSongHalo ( @wingsonghalo )

My beautiful Wing always delivering the good Hananene content, as she should!! This fic is so fun to read!! I laughed so hard at Nene and Hanako being awkward with each other!!! So you know how Hanako is super clingy with Nene, he’s always touching & hugging her, but this time something weird happens and he’s so distant~~ Nene doesn’t want to admit it at first, but she misses his clingy ghost boy~~ you’ll have a good time reading this for sure!

The Monster's Bride by Hammsters ( @uglierdaikon )

Have you heard about the myth of Cupid and Psyche? Well this fic rewrites it in a very Hananene way <3 hehe I loved it so much (as I’m a huge fan of mythology~) To sum it up, Nene is fated to marry a monster that lives in the mountains so she’s devastated... to her surprise, her husband is far from what she expected... she only had one rule to obey and well... we all know how reckless Nene is so... you go find out what happens next now!! hehehe

Morning Reflections by FalalalaLa ( @miss-sternennacht )

So you’ve heard of Hanako watching Nene sleep, but what about Nene watching Amane sleep???!! this fic offers you this and so much more fluff <3 Also Nene remembering how they met and how their relationship evolved during the years, aww <3

Cursed Coin by DaikonSenpai ( @daikonsenpai )

There’s a school dance, Yashiro’s supposed to be dancing with Kou (since she can’t go with Hanako, which causes him to be jelly~~ and bitter), but she loses a coin Aoi gave her for good luck so she goes out and searches for it on the last place she saw it, the school fountain. Suddenly Hanako spots her, what’s she doing outside??? is she drunk or something?? what happens next you may find out when you read it~~~

Between Love and Hope by Baronesscmd (SweeterThanYourDarkestSin) ( @baronesscmd )

Oh to be Nene and get to sleep between the Yugi twins... God really has favorites uh... ISTG, this collection of fics is so cute. I love how Nene loves the twins so much in this AU, they have their little cute family. She ofc is in love with Amane, but their relationship with Tsukasa is so tender... it’s mostly this trio having fluffy moments together to heal your soul... if you need some, you’ll get it here for sure hahaha.

Ghost of You (And All the Futures We've Forgotten) by Indigo_Floof milkteamoon ( @indigosienna , @spades-queen )

So anon you may have been wondering, well this bitch likes fluff only???? how about some angst for a change, uh? DAMN, OKAY THEN, here you have some angst to rip your soul out and wish you never sent me this ask in the 1st place, bec of the emotional damage this fic will leave you sdajjsa, also if you liked “Erased”, you’ll love this fic too!

Hanako of the Opera by zxrstan

Finally, but not less important, me being annoying about Hanako of the Opera & POTO AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!! This fic is based of the AU Aidairo created mostly, it’s really fun to read if you didn’t get much of what was happening during the Hanako of the Opera event, it has a nice ending also! very satisfying I must say.

AAAAND THIS IS THE END OF MY ALL TIME FAV LIST OMG;;;; Kudos for me for searching through all my damn AO3 and Google Chrome history (from both my PC and phone, since I am a FOOL and forgot my AO3 password so I read a lot of these in the past as a guest before recovering my password LMAO, please be patient with me omg, and also if you see me bookmarking them now, you know why 😭)

Kudos to all of my writer homies as well, I love and appreciate all of you so much!! you have no idea! 💖

I hope you find this list useful, anon!! Thank you for sending me this ask and have a wonderful day!

Ps. Please everyone feel free to add more fics to this list if you want! this is all my personal picks, but I’m aware there are a lot more fics that I haven’t read and deserve as much recognition as the ones I listed!

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mychampagne-mybubbles · 3 years

Text

Sustainability is sexy such as including saliva into our beauty routine

I am still trying to understand the purpose of this article further than to put there the stunt names including the brands (clicks? damn! guilty! but just for scientific matters) and how a written interview with the known "official" stunt media cover: Vogue can be so... weirdly done.

I am gonna break down some of the doubts that left me with that look on my face: 🤨 Maybe... as a therapeutic process for my own sanity.

So the first surprise came in when I discovered she is a "brand activist". A term that I have never listened linked to her before, maybe that's why I don’t really understand the principles this article stands for; since for me that should involve social change, and believe me not in nor out the article she appears as these type of leader. Makes me wonder on which grounds is she making "the change" other than applying these products on her skin.

Oh yeah... and using saliva in her beauty routine... ofc, that's very sustainable oriented sexy

The market & the target:

What is it with the "indulgent" feeling? Why is she SO concerned about it? I get how the message is to encourage people to use skincare but... is this really the reason that is holding consumers back? Is this a general feeling? Maybe in California (land of the brand's origin?)

Not gonna go into the brand mission or the nuances she uses to sink support it, since I guess they are satisfied with the interview. But there are A LOT of brands out there that are concerned and working on protecting the environment…and standing as an eco friendly brand to the affirmation of "being good for" the ecosystem (let me doubt it, and if it's so… give me some for my plants! 🌿) I find clear distanced points. but OK!

The Stunt: Main characters

"...Wilde, who has become increasingly under the microscope following her separation from longtime fiancé Jason Sudeikis and new relationship with Harry Styles, to decide how she wants to present herself as a woman and mother."

She has become what?! Is more likely to picture it as if she has thrown herself under the train... of the camera's lens.

This wedge is irrelevant and makes me even miss Jeff my brain must have created that union instinctively out of seeing them so much together to keep on some coherency with reality.

Avoiding what???

HELP!!!! What does this mean? Who thinks sustainability is that? Seriously who is driving her polls??

It is or it isn't indulgent??? Your perception or a general?

Again the "indulgent" feeling... She links the connection with our bodies, being grateful for them, interacting with them through skincare... it tries to make it too deep & complicated for a cream with as much sensory characteristics tbh... or maybe I'm short on 🍄

Sharing the personal experience

I mean... she did not... I can't even say a word about this.

"It’s really funny because it’s the Nalgene water bottle. The most simple, old-school one is the size that I don’t mind having with me everywhere. It’s a step in the right direction. It’s still, you know, made of plastic, so it’s not the best thing in the world. I also have the titanium ones. But I’ve moved fully away from plastic, like the Fiji water bottles that I used to have everywhere. And I was like, This has to stop. I can’t participate in that. And it is, again, baby steps. I’m finally driving a car. I feel really good about it. I usually was in New York and not needing a car,"

Then she ends up talking about plastic water bottles and driving electric cars. I get the feeling that she wants to present herself as that brand activist, but she cannot deny what we have seen so many times despite she is avoiding the social media trap... right?

Even though the article is complicated, I think I have got down to this point where she is simply adding more tags to her "owned" long list of versatile, honorable and valuable titles if they were true: The woman, the feminist, the fighter, the representative to a generation, the mother, the single mother, the worker, the attractive, the committed, the businesswoman, the expertise, the eco-friend(ly), the spiritual, the sensitive, the family-oriented, the mature... and a long etcetera.

Everything tore down before even reading the first word, knowing where she is standing. Witnessing her performances.

#harry styles #love on tour #the stunt #holivia #fake holivia shit #fake holivia article in vogue #vogue #longpost #long post #champagne post #fakeholiviashit #media

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gottaenjoythelittlethingzz · 3 years

Text

Early Evening

Part 2 of the ongoing, loosely interconnected series Swellview has a New First Lady.

Summary: When Ray returns to the Man Cave after a particularly messy battle against a villain, we get to see the internal workings of Cheyanne's and Ray's flirty, romantic relationship. And Cheyanne reveals exactly how much sway she holds over Ray.

*Keep in this series can be read on AO3 & FF.*

~~~~~

Cheyanne had just finished closing up the store for the night. Another shift gone over without a hitch. The counters were wiped down, the junk was newly organized into bins and separated from any loose odds and ends, and the sign hanging on the glass entrance to Junk N’ Stuff read, ‘Sorry, we’re NOT in’. The cash register was emptied, and she carried the day’s meager profits in the elevator, counting bills as she rode down.

When she stepped into the Man Cave she noticed it vacant. This suited her well. It was nice when she could turn in for an early evening. A rare occurrence in these parts.

She was halfway to the sprocket which would lead her further into the expansive underground maze when a swooshing noise halted her footsteps. A single tube shot abruptly to the floor and a blue-and-red-suited superhero dropped in.

“Honey, I’m ho-hughhh.” Ray came tumbling out of the tube clutching his stomach and nose independently. His sarcastic comment lost behind a violent, extended wrenching noise. Since he’s so use to the tube ride it was clear his nausea was in response to the black soot smudged across him from head to toe. The gooey substance was largely crusted on and had entered ever crevice possible. It replaced his normal golden eye makeup with a smoky eye look. The smell it produced wafted across the Man Cave floor and Cheyanne smelt it herself before he approached her.

Cheyanne went to cover her own mouth and nose before smiling sardonically and using two fingers to trace a subtle path from her manicured brow to her peaked lips. She tapped them lightly when questioning, “So, how’d it go?”

“Terrible!” Ray roared. He further smudged the muck on his face and temporarily lost his balance when he could no longer see. Thankfully, he stopped with a few feet of flooring between himself and Cheyanne to correct his eye sight. “Professor Putrid had us chasing him all over down town and into the Swellview ‘Sludges and Slops’ disposal plant. I fell into a vat of tar trying to land a punch on him when he sprayed me with canned skunk spray.”

“That’s horrible.” Cheyanne made her voice sound soothing and sympathetic while simultaneously desiring to reach for a bottle of Febreze. “It should really be a more difficult place to break into. How did – hmph – how’d you catch him? I assume you did in the end.”

“You better believe we caught him!” Ray scraped at his skin with both his hands looking much like a kitten trying to cleanse itself without help until he opened one eye and then finally the other. “Henry used his super power to taunt Professor Putrid in a game of tag. Led the gross weirdo underneath a bucket of quick dry cementing mud. Done in by his own prototype. They’ll have to chisel his face free to get a clear mugshot of him.” Getting his first proper look at Cheyanne in what had been hours, Ray attempted to draw nearer to her while regaling his heroic tale. “The bucket was just dangling there. Suspended ten feet off the ground. Can you believe it?”

Cheyanne made a circular motion with her arms to raise them in question. A visual distraction as she took a sizeable step backwards at the same time. “Who would have thought?”

“You’re one to know, Chey. Anyone who would do half of something like this to the Man Mane is going to serve time.” He ran his hands over his hair trying his best to peel strands loose. The tar had plastered the locks to his scalp and refused to budge. He took another step forward. He hoped to be met with affirmation of his character. “Man, I’m going to have to do my most advanced hair care routine.” The process was designed to be grueling, employed numerous creams and gels, and was assured to undo most any damages.

“It sure is a good thing there’s a new suit in each gumball because that tar is never coming out.” Cheyanne tried to take a step forward to meet him halfway, but another wave of vile odor hit her nostrils, and she relaxed her arms by her sides. Least he think she was offering her hands. “Speaking of taking criminals to jail. Is that were Henry is now?”

An expression flitted across Ray’s face, one like he had not only forgotten his sidekick had been with him mere minutes ago, but it was as though he had forgotten the teenage apprentice existed entirely. “Yeah, yeah. Henry’s taking Professor ‘Pitiful’ to Swellview county prison. Should have dropped the mad scientist off by now.”

“What have I told you about making Henry go by himself?” Cheyanne’s voice shifts from playful to maternal.

“Henry knows where the prison is. He’s been enough times. He’s totally fine!” Ray manufactured excuses. “This was just an annoying level three villain who didn’t even have a superpower. It’s not like I asked the kid to take Arson Boy to jail by himself.”

Cheyanne shook her head with concern. Her brown eyes were always warm, deep pools of understanding but could turn stern all the same. “I don’t like Henry taking criminals to jail on his own. Some of the officers pick on him for his age. The criminals could escape from him. And besides, a crime isn’t solved until the perpetrator is put away. You should have to complete each job with him. I don’t care if Henry’s getting older and is able to handle more responsibilities. It simply isn’t fair to him that he ends up pulling more hours at work than his boss.”

Ray renewed his tactic with an equal level of enthusiasm that he carried with him down the tube. “But, what if I said I wanted to hurry home to spend more alone time with Mrs. Manchester?” His eye brows climbed his forehead. He reached for her again. This time planning to snake his arms around her curvaceous waist.

“No, no, no.” Cheyanne skipped around the couch, using the furniture as a barrier between herself and the immature man. “Not until you’ve thrown that suit out in a dumpster somewhere far, far away, and taken a long, long shower.”

“Come on,” Ray clasped his hands against the rim of the mobile amenity. He made quick crab walking steps to the left and right while verbally taunting her. “You know I like to fool around in uniform.”

“That’s fine, except we can’t actually see it underneath all that foul muck!” Cheyanne was able to expertly predict Ray’s movements. She herself was unable to bite back the adoring smile from creeping onto her face.

He pointed an accusing finger her way. “Don’t act like you don’t like it just a little bit when I come back sweaty and grimy from an epic battle. You know you’re the only person I can temporarily share my ability with, huh?” Ray’s face was completely overtaken by his perfect teeth shining through his victorious grin. He could easily be swayed by his own words even when they didn’t work on anyone else around him. “It’s kind of our ‘thing’, right?”

Cheyanne gasped playfully and brought a hand up to her chest, bracelets shifting noisily to follow the path through the air her arm created, suggesting she was offended by his lewd suggestion. “There’s a lot more going on with you than natural bodily fluids, okay?”

Before she could condemn him further Ray sprang into action. He catapulted his legs over the couch, slide across the table, and landed with his feet on the cushioned seat directly in front of Cheyanne. She was startled by his boisterous movements and leapt backwards straight into the monitors’ chair. She was able to narrowly dodge his sweeping arms.

“Ulch,” Ray complained. He collapsed against the backrest. His head and arms drooping over the edge. “You’re really not going to jump on this opportunity while there are no crimes in progress, and no one is down here to bug us?”

Cheyanne cocked her head and calmly stood from the seat. She spun it in her hands and walked behind the object to place it between them. “Maybe I will reconsider…” She tapped her nails rhythmically to call his eyes onto her. “But first you must get rid of that old suit. And you have to shower - twice.”

Ray smirked at the images his idea called to mind. “Or maybe you could join me in the –.”

“Shower twice!” In a flash, his face morphed with disgruntlement. Flopping dramatically onto his back and sliding off the couch feet first, he began begrudgingly heading towards the stairs. His feet stomping. He might have mumbled something under his breath.

“And darling,” Cheyanne called to his retreating form.

Ray stopped to look over his shoulder. Hope swelled upon hearing his pet name used.

“Put on one of the shirts I like.”

Ray rotated his shoulders to face her, his expression suddenly befuddled. “You mean, don’t put on one of the many loud button up shirts I wear?”

Cheyanne clicked her tongue and nodded assertively.

He brought his hands up to his chest where he tapped his fists together. “Th-the blue one or the purple one?”

Cheyanne gave him a once over before replying with a curt, “Surprise me.”

“And then, maybe…” his voice trailed. The back of his neck warm to the touch.

“I can be persuaded.”

With an emphatic nod, Ray stated, “I can do that.” He promptly headed towards the shower. A new sense of urgency in his steps.

~~~~

No edit this time, but maybe in the future. Feel free to let me know what you think of this couple so far!

#nevada writes #wip series #henry danger fanfiction #oc: Cheyanne #henry danger #ray manchester #i ship them #writeblr #writeblr community #humour

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isitmadness · 3 years

Text

A Chance to Try

summary: Cody and Obi-Wan meet again after being separated for months and realize how much they missed each other.

characters/relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Commander Cody, Codywan

words: 4.9k

tags: AU - modern setting, angst with a happy ending, idiots in love, sad mutual pining, me: write some pure angst!, also me: BUT WHAT IF WE FINISH WITH FLUFF

a/n: This is a follow-up to Out of Chances to Give. I’m not sure it makes a whole lot of sense on its own, but I couldn’t leave those boys sad...Anyway, let me know what you think! (Comments and/or reblogs mean so much if you enjoyed it!)

Read it on a03

It had been eight months since Obi-Wan had left.

Eight months of freedom and quiet and nights spent not worrying if Obi-Wan would make it home on time, or at all. No messes left behind from his little half-finished projects, no dirty teacups left all over the house in nooks and crannies he’d never look in, no dirty clothes left right inside the bathroom door to trip over, no fighting, no--

No little projects cooked up as a way to make Cody’s life easier, no tea shared in the early mornings or late nights just because Obi-Wan said it helped to calm his nerves, no sweaters left hanging over the back of the chair for Cody to put on and snuggle into when he missed Obi-Wan the most.

He should have been happy there was no fighting, but he found it really only made him sad.

He missed Obi-Wan...desperately and it sat in his chest like a dull ache on most days.

----

It didn’t at first.

At first there was a new-found sense of freedom. He and Obi-Wan had been together a little over three years—he hadn’t thought of anyone else for even longer than that. He had worked with Obi-Wan for years before he ever made his move—there really had only ever been Obi-Wan for a long time. But now there was no Obi-Wan and he was re-learning how to meet people and mingle and socialize in ways he hadn’t in a long time.

And so he tried a couple of new relationships, which started well then--

The eyes weren’t bright enough, they weren’t the right shade of blue, the corners didn’t crinkle when they laughed, the hair wasn’t the right ginger shade (or at all). They weren’t funny or sassy enough, their eyebrows didn’t arch after telling the horrible punchlines waiting for Cody’s reaction. They didn’t hum or sing. They didn’t gently card their fingers through his hair while he rested his ear against their chest.

He found himself looking for Obi-Wan everywhere but never found him.

In eight months he had talked to him twice. Once to tell him he had left behind some things, then again when they met up to pass them off. Obi-Wan didn’t look too different then—he still looked tired with dark circles around his eyes and Cody wondered if he got to sleep at all or if he just stayed at work all the time now. But that had been seven months ago. All Cody could hope was that he didn’t let it consume him.

He thought of Obi-Wan often and wondered if he’d ever get to a point where he wouldn't.

----

Cody walked into the bright new cafe that early spring morning feeling a sense of renewal after the long, bleak winter. He was meeting a client for coffee in a part of town he didn’t frequent often, but he knew Obi-Wan’s brother and his family lived fairly nearby, and a tiny part of him wondered if he could run into them (he hoped he wouldn’t).

He stood in the back of the line, flipping through the different apps on his phone as the line slowly inched forward. The shop was busy and loud. He looked up and around hoping he hadn’t missed his contact yet, but he hadn’t seemed to. The line shuffled on, with names and orders being shouted for pick-up while music blared overhead. Cody finally looked up to watch the bustle of customers and workers as they made all the orders. Then suddenly, behind the counter, just barely showing above the top of the espresso machine, he saw the right shade of sandy-ginger hair. His heart sped up.

The man never looked up, presumably too busy making drinks, but Cody couldn’t take his eyes off of the top of his head. There was no way it was Obi-Wan. He was being ridiculous. Why would Obi-Wan be here working?

The line continued forward and Cody was next. He tried to crane his neck to get a look around behind the counter, but he was unsuccessful. Finally it was his turn.

“Yes, what can I get you?” The young lady behind the counter smiled even though Cody was basically ignoring her. Once he realized he was holding up the line, he looked at her.

“Oh, uh, coffee with room for cream and uh...a blueberry muffin, I guess.”

The lady pulled a cup and marker from behind the counter, “And name?”

“Oh, Cody.” His eyes snapped back to the man, their eyes finally met, and they both just stood there staring at each other.

It was Obi-Wan. And yet...it was almost not him.

His eyes were bright and warm, just like Cody had remembered them, and also that right shade of stormy blue. But the dark circles were nowhere near as pronounced. His hair was the same shade as before, but it was much longer than he had ever seen it. The bulk of it was pulled behind his head in a short ponytail, but a few pieces hung below his jaw, tucked behind his ears. And his beard was gone. He looked like a younger twin brother of his Obi-Wan.

He isn’t yours though, is he? A tiny voice in his head told him. You kicked him to the curb when he wasn’t always around to give you what you wanted.

Cody shook his head. The lady had said something to him, but he didn’t hear. “I’m sorry, what?” He turned to her then looked back and Obi-Wan was gone. She gave him his total again and he dug the money out of his pocket to pay.

When he finished, he walked to the end of the counter where the orders were placed and waited. He kept looking for Obi-Wan, but he never saw him again.

----

The cafe on the other side of town was never anywhere near where Cody needed to be, but he found himself there a couple times a week hoping against hope that he would run into Obi-Wan again. He couldn’t ask for his schedule, that would be creepy, and they probably wouldn’t give it to him anyway… he already felt a bit ‘stalkery’ coming by so often, but he HAD to see Obi-Wan. He HAD to talk to him—even for just a minute.

Today there was no sign of him again, so he grabbed his coffee and left. As soon as he hit the pavement at the front of the shop, he heard a voice call to his right. “What are you doing?” He whipped around quickly, heart pounding in his chest. He would know that lilt anywhere.

Obi-Wan was leaning against the wall, right leg bent with his foot pressed against the brick building, and he was smoking. He thought Obi-Wan gave up smoking years ago. He just stared as he took a long drag then blew out the smoke. He pushed himself off the side of the building and turned to face Cody.

Obi-Wan was always lean, not too thin, but healthy. He appeared to have put a few pounds on, in addition to some muscle and Cody thought it suited him well. His hair was down this time and it fell almost to his shoulders, flipping at the ends. Cody found his fingers twitchy, wanting to run them through it. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and his apron appeared to be slung over his left shoulder.

“Obi-Wan?” It was all Cody could think to say. Of course it was him.

Obi-Wan stretched his arms out to the side then dropped them back down, “In the flesh.” He took two steps closer to Cody, but he was still out of arm’s reach. There was a hardness in Obi-Wan’s expression that Cody figured was directed at him. “You’ve discovered my great secret it seems.” He took another long drag from the cigarette—it was...distracting.

Cody blinked, “Your...your great secret?”

Obi-Wan took another step forward. “Found where I worked.”

Cody looked between the coffee shop and Obi-Wan. He knew he worked here, he’d seen it with his own eyes, but he had convinced himself that it was a one-off thing, that maybe Obi-Wan was volunteering to help, as a friend, or something...none of it make sense, but Obi-Wan working here didn’t make sense either. “You work here? Since when?”

Obi-Wan scrubbed a hand down his face, “I’m not sure why it matters, it’s just a job to make ends meet, to pay bills...but four months.”

Had Obi-Wan fallen on hard times? Did he lose his job? He didn’t think anything less of Obi-Wan, he just wanted to know why he was here and not in his old financial job. He had a million questions to ask and he was in danger of asking them all right this second. “Are you okay?”

Obi-Wan gave a short laugh. It sounded incredulous, even derisive. “I didn’t expect such pleasantries. I am well, I hope you and your family are, too.” As he started back towards the door, he threw his cigarette down and put it out with the toe of his boot, but Cody caught him by the arm. Obi-Wan looked down at where their skin met then back up at Cody who dropped it quickly.

“I need to talk to you,” Cody blurted out before he chickened out.

“Well, I have to go back to work, my break is over.”

Cody shook his head, “No, not here, not now. Later?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Text me time and place details—that is, if you kept my number.” Then he walked back inside leaving a very confused Cody standing on the sidewalk.

----

Obi-Wan sat on the park bench, waiting. He wasn’t going to be late—not this time. He looked at the message in his phone again. He assumed that Cody had deleted his number long ago, wiping him out completely. He wasn’t sure how to feel now knowing that he still had it. But more than that, he didn’t expect he’d want to talk to him either. They hadn’t talked to each other in months, and it didn’t end exactly the greatest last time. Obi-Wan had made a fool of himself, groveling, and he wasn’t going to be doing that again.

But that ache in his chest was back. And had been since he saw him standing in line in the cafe that morning.

Over the months, he had managed to tamp it down, make it more of a dull ache instead, but it was very clear now that he had never gotten over Cody. He probably never would. He didn’t even want to hope that they could maybe be friends now. Hope was dangerous.

But he missed Cody, so he hoped anyway.

His leg was shaking out of nervousness as he looked around the city park looking for warm brown skin and short dark hair. He looked back at his watch—it seemed Cody was the late one now.

He had been turning over in his mind all the things he wanted to say, but couldn’t decide on any of them. They sounded too weak, too little, feeble attempts at making up for all the hurt he caused. He couldn’t undo any of it, so there was no point in even trying. He had stayed out of Cody’s life, just like he had asked. Then Cody had to come along and re-insert himself into his.

“Hello.” Obi-Wan turned his head and found Cody standing at the other end of the bench. He looked unsure, and a little tired himself. But still just as handsome as he always was. His hair was shorter than it had been—it seemed he had attempted to cut all the curl out of it, but Obi-Wan could tell that even short, it started to wave.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan finally replied and gestured for Cody to be seated. They sat two feet apart on the park bench, facing forward. Obi-Wan almost chuckled to himself imagining how stiff and ridiculous they looked. He turned to Cody again.

“Well--”

“I just--”

Of course they would start at the same time. “Please, you first,” Obi-Wan said. “This was your idea.” It came out rather irritable, and he didn’t really mean it that way, but well…

Cody cleared his throat, cutting his eyes over to Obi-Wan then back forward. “Hmm, well, yes...I just-- I guess I was surprised to see you working there and I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

Obi-Wan bit back what he really wanted to say—there really was no point in being short or difficult. “I’m fine, like I said before, it’s just a place to make some money to pay the bills, help Anakin and Padme with rent.”

Cody looked over at him, “Oh, you live with your brother?”

“Right now, yes. They have been kind enough to let me stay while I…” He was prepared to tell Cody everything. He guessed it didn’t matter if he knew or not. “I’m working on my master’s finally and don’t make enough at the shop to live on my own. They’ve been kind enough to let me stay. And I get to see and take care of Luke and Leia. It's mutually beneficial.”

“Ah,” Cody nodded at the almost-clinical description of his living arrangements. He knew that family meant the world to him. “So you don’t…?”

“Work at that other place?” Obi-Wan chuckled mirthlessly. “No. They saw fit to get rid of me two...three? Three months after yo--” Obi-Wan stopped that line of thinking. “Anyway, so here I am.”

“Here you are.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “And you’re here, too. Which I can’t understand.” It was out of his mouth before he could think better of it. He watched Cody wrestle with something - he looked down and away and didn’t respond for a while. “I know you came back to the shop several times after that first morning, too.”

Cody looked at him confused, “But I never saw you.”

“That’s because I didn’t want to be seen.” The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth lifted slightly and he shook his head. “You think I wanted you to find me there?”

“Well, I....” Cody shifted and put out a hand, then quickly drew it back. “Listen, Obi-Wan, if you’re embarrassed, there’s nothing--”

“Of course I was embarrassed. I’m not embarrassed working there, no, but having you find me there… ‘oh there’s Obi-Wan, the great screw-up. Not only was he overworked and terrible at his job, he couldn’t even keep it!’” There was no humor in his laugh.

“Obi-Wan, I didn’t-- I wasn’t thinking that.”

Obi-Wan looked at his watch then stood abruptly. “Well, you’ve checked on me, you’ve seen that I’m okay. I need to be going or I’ll miss my bus.”

Cody stood, too. “I could give you a ride home, if you want. If you want…”

In the end, Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to accept the ride—not just yet. But he did agree to see him again in a few days’ time for dinner.

It would just be a dinner between acquaintances.

But could those acquaintances become friends again?

----

Dinner was pleasant enough, but also at times quiet and awkward with neither of them knowing once again what to say. They got caught up on their families, which took some time, then talked about Cody’s job for a bit, but they were so very carefully avoiding the enormous elephant in the room. And Obi-Wan was growing antsy.

He put his fork down and took a long sip of his water. "Cody…" he started, but Cody cut him off.

"No, I'm sorry, I can't do this." Obi-Wan winced—it felt like that night eight months ago all over again. Why did he agree to this? It wasn't even his idea. "I'm-- I'm so sorry for how things ended all those months ago. I'm sorry for the way we parted that one time we met up. I'm sorry for my part in the breakdown of our relationship. Because of course it wasn't just you. We were partners, a team, and...oh gods, I've missed you so much. I didn't realize how much until I saw you again in the shop, and I...I had tried to move on, but I didn't do a very good job of it, I guess. I couldn't, I can't...and, I'm not here with any expectations, I just want you to know that, I just wanted to see you and talk to you and make sure you're okay." Cody exhaled and sat back.

Obi-Wan was stunned. He very nearly took all the words right out his mouth. But...Cody still missed him? He tried to calm the hammering of his heart.

"Cody, I-- I don't know what to say."

He shook his head, "You don't have to say anything, I guess, if you don't want to." Cody looked at him and gave him a soft, encouraging smile. And Obi-Wan couldn't find any of his words anymore. He only knew he wanted to kiss him so badly.

Cody put his hand out on the table, palm up. Obi-Wan looked down and hesitated, unsure of what this would mean, of what Cody wanted. He wanted, but he was afraid. Time seemed to slow and stop.

"Oh," Cody said quietly as he pulled his hand back into his lap. "I'm sorry, I think-- maybe we should get the check." They had both screwed up again.

----

It was stupid, it was too soon, why would Obi-Wan want him back after kicking him out? He was a fool. All of these things Cody thought to himself as he paced their old living room.

They had paid their checks and parted on the sidewalk quickly as it had begun to rain. Cody insisted on giving him a ride home, but Obi-Wan had adamantly refused, claiming the bus was just fine. Cody knew it was an excuse, and he couldn't deny being hurt, but he supposed he deserved it. There were no plans to talk or see each other again. Obi-Wan didn't request that Cody not come back to the shop, but Cody felt it was implied anyway.

A quick burst of lightning flashed followed shortly by a long rumble of thunder, and Cody hoped that Obi-Wan had made it to the bus station before the worst of the storm hit. He flopped down on the couch and pulled out his phone to text him. That was normal to check on a friend, he told himself, to make sure they made it.

But instead, he opened the thread of texts. He hadn't...hadn't deleted any of them, and it didn't take him long to find texts from their breakup or texts from even longer before, going back as much as two years. Texts where Obi-Wan had sent him some random fact he had discovered while reading, a photo of Leia sitting in a mud puddle, a small grocery list, simple declarations of love...and his chest ached. He laid his head back on the couch cushion and closed his eyes listening to the rain, his neighbors upstairs, and loud rushing of blood through his ears.

He jerked up when someone banged on his door. He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. It had to be Obi-Wan, it had to…

But he remained fixed to the spot, unable to move. After what felt like an eternity in his own mind, he jumped up and ran to the door, throwing it open and finding no one there. He burst out of the maisonette just in time to catch that ginger hair moving quickly toward the main entryway.

"OBI-WAN!" He didn't care if he woke every neighbor in the building or even the street. To his surprise, Obi-Wan did stop and turned. He was soaked. Water was gathering in a puddle at his feet and his long hair hung limply around his face. He was breathing quickly and looked as if he was reading to take off. They both remained frozen to their spots.

"Obi-Wan, please come inside, you're soaked. You'll get sick." Cody was taking a risk, he knew, but he hoped it would pay off. Obi-Wan had come back—it was more than he ever could have hoped.

Obi-Wan hesitated then looked down. "I don't-- I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

Cody sighed, "Just get warm then you can go home. Think of your family." A cheap ploy, he knew, but he didn't care—as long as it worked.

He looked at Cody then started back up the stairs slowly. "All right."

When they got back inside, he helped him take off his jacket then took it to the kitchen sink, where he left it to start drying. Obi-Wan stood in the middle of the kitchen thinking of all the meals they had cooked together there, the cups of tea shared, the cold leftovers he subjected himself to—not that that had been Cody's fault...then the kisses and that one time they had--

"Come on, you know you can't stand there in those wet things." Cody stood in the doorway of the kitchen, an inscrutable expression on his face. Obi-Wan knew he was right, but he knew it would prolong his stay. He should have just caught the bus like he was supposed to.

But he nodded anyway and followed Cody up those familiar stairs to that familiar bathroom. "Just wait here, okay?"

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, "Where do you think I'm going like this?" Cody just shook his head and left.

Everything was nearly the same, maybe some new touches here and there, but it was all so very Cody, just how it had been months ago and Obi-Wan was finding it harder and harder to be here. He looked at himself briefly in the mirror then sat down on the edge of the tub. What was he going to say? Why had he run back? Why didn't he take his hand at dinner? Why would Cody want him?

"Okay, here's a towel," Cody said, startling Obi-Wan out of his trance. He jumped up quickly and took it and a change of clothes from his hands. "That...I hope that still fits." Obi-Wan looked at the sweatpants and t-shirt and recognized it immediately as one of Cody's old university shirts that Obi-Wan had stolen many times. He had kept it. He couldn't hold back the sob any longer.

"Cody, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...for everything." He covered his face with his hands and cried. Cody's heart was breaking. Even a month ago he couldn't see himself here. He wasn’t sure they’d ever speak again. He had felt for a long time that if they ever did, then he would have to be the first one to do it, but he never had the courage. But now Obi-Wan was back, sobbing in their once-shared bathroom, and he was angry at himself for many things.

He slowly reached out, afraid that Obi-Wan would refuse his touch, but he surprisingly let himself be pulled into Cody's arms where he held onto him tightly. It felt good and familiar and right. Cody ran a soothing hand down his back, nearly ready to cry himself with how much he missed this.

They stood there for a long time, both afraid of once again making the first move, both not wanting to pull away. But finally Cody did. He reached up and put his hands on either side of Obi-Wan’s face, "Change your clothes and come downstairs, okay?" Obi-Wan nodded again and Cody left him alone.

----

Everything was feeling so painfully just how it once was that Cody didn't know if he'd be able to handle Obi-Wan leaving, and the two of them going on just as they had been. It was selfish, but he couldn't help it, he knew he still loved him.

He stirred milk in Obi-Wan’s tea and walked out to the living room just in time to see Obi-Wan coming down the stairs. He had attempted to towel-dry his hair, making it wilder than he had seen it in a very long time, and he had changed and looked comfortable and cozy in Cody's clothes. Something ignited low in his gut.

"Here you are," Cody said, holding out the tea which Obi-Wan took gratefully. "Come sit down."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan tucked one leg under himself and sat down carefully on one end of the couch while Cody took the other. Obi-Wan couldn't quite meet his eyes yet, but he could feel them on him.

"Obi-Wan, I--"

"No," Obi-Wan interrupted, setting his cup down on the coffee table. "I think I need to speak first this time. That's what I had come here to do."

Cody blinked at him several times, "Well, then go ahead."

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, "Cody, I never ever meant to put you or what we had on the back burner. And I'm sorry. I hated the decisions I was forced to make—you or the never-ending work projects—and I hate that I didn't push back more. I'm sorry I let them. Later when you… when we were through, they pushed harder, but all I could do was be grateful that it would no longer affect you. I knew you'd be happy, or could be happy, without me dragging you down." At this Cody frowned. "When they let me go, I was devastated, as maybe you could imagine, but then with sudden clarity, I realized it was the best thing that could ever happen. But the victory felt hollow without you. I've missed you terribly, and I don't know if I have a right to say any of this, but I can't help it, I need to.”

It was Cody’s turn to be stunned. He watched as Obi-Wan leaned forward, grabbing his cup and taking another sip of his tea.

"I’ve enjoyed my time working at that shop, but I'm still a bit embarrassed by you finding me there like that," Obi-Wan shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know what I was thinking, but I had hoped that perhaps I'd be back on track before I saw you again…" He set the cup down once more. Before he saw him again? Cody sat up slightly.

"I told you, Obi-Wan, it's nothing to be embarrassed about, but… but perhaps you could explain, before you saw me again?"

Obi-Wan finally looked at him, "I suppose it was a foolish notion, especially given the way we parted when we last saw each other but, well, I kept holding onto hope for some reason—it was all I had. Finish school, get a different job, become worthy of you…" He gave Cody that sweet half-smile, and Cody adored that it was so visible now since his beard was still gone. But that was neither here nor there.

"Worthy of me??" Cody asked incredulously. "Obi-Wan, you were always worthy. Surely you don't think that somehow you weren't then, or even now?" He didn't know what to do with this information.

Obi-Wan looked down and away with a chuckle, "Well...I…"

"Obi-Wan," he reached out and grabbed his hand before he could think twice about it. Thankfully, he didn't recoil from the touch. "I love you. I always have. I never stopped. I'm ashamed to admit I tried, but it was impossible—you were everywhere and nowhere. I'm so sorry for the way I treated you, I was… upset, and neither of us did a good job of communicating." He could feel Obi-Wan’s hand shaking. He scooted closer to him and put his hand on his cheek so he'd look at him. "Obi-Wan, I love you."

Obi-Wan stared at him, wide-eyed, wanting to fall backwards into the couch and forward into Cody's arms at the same time. He chose the latter.

They fell backwards, Obi-Wan knocking the breath out of Cody's chest and laughed. Obi-Wan grabbed Cody's face and planted kisses all over it, much to Cody's amusement. Each kiss was punctuated with "I love you, I've always loved you," until Obi-Wan got a hold of himself and realized what he was doing, what he'd done.

He started to pull away but Cody wrapped his arms around him tighter. "No! You can't leave, I don't want you to." Obi-Wan smiled and dove in for another soft, chaste kiss. “Stay, please stay.”

Obi-Wan pulled back and looked at him. He supposed he was trying to find any trace that Cody might be having him on, playing some cruel trick. But Cody wasn’t cruel. “Do you mean it?”

Cody kissed him once more, then stroked his hair back off his face. His face was so very dear—how did he let it go? He sighed. “I know this is a lot right now, and I don’t mean to push you, I’m sorry. You can have my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch--”

“No, no, no, you impossible man,” Obi-Wan interrupted with such fondness in his voice. “I’ll take the couch, I’ve slept on it many times.” He tried to ignore that phantom ache in his chest.

“Obi-Wan…” Cody said exasperatedly.

“Cody…” Obi-Wan returned with a grin. He loved it when he said his name.

Cody knew he wouldn’t win, but he was completely fine with it. As long as Obi-Wan was here with him and that they would have a chance to try.

#my writing #modern au #modern setting #codywan #obi-wan kenobi #commander cody #obi-wan x cody #angst with a happy ending

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Busy (reblog)

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Word Count: 1,802 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Sex toys, Dom/sub, Multiple orgasms, Daddy kink, Oral sex, Come marking, Subspace, Aftercare, Established relationship

“I’m almost done with my reports, sweetheart,” Aaron says softly, flipping the page to sign another expense form. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay, daddy,” Sophie murmurs, and he runs a hand over her thigh, making her sigh with pleasure. She is already sleepy and boneless from two orgasms, doesn’t know how he managed to focus on forms while she came no more than a foot from him—though, he wasn’t entirely unaffected, she could tell by the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes were almost too fixated on the stack of papers in front of him.

Usually work and sex have to be very separate in both of their minds, so they can give each their full attention when appropriate, but when she told him she was horny and needed to be close to her daddy, he was quick to create a solution that would work for both of them.

That’s how she ends up lying half naked across his desk in the home office, with a vibrator in her panties and strict instructions to keep herself occupied while he completes the expense reports. He touches her periodically to keep her grounded, smooth brushes of his palm over her stomach and legs, and she moans softly, more at the sight of him looking so hot in his shirt and tie than because of the device pulsating against her clit—though that doesn’t hurt, either.

“You’re doing so good, baby, keeping yourself busy while I finish my work. You’re going to get a big reward for this, you know?” She hums at his words and stretches her body, turning to face him fully, laying on her side.

“Do I get to choose?” she asks, and he looks up from his report, takes in her body before him, licks his lips.

“Do you get to choose what?” The corner of her mouth pulls up in a smirk and she flicks her eyes purposely over what she can see of his body.

“My big reward.” He stares at her for a moment, says nothing, and hits a button on her toy’s remote, increasing the intensity. She groans and flops onto her back, pushes a hand through her hair.

“You’re distracting me. I thought I asked you to keep yourself busy.” She stretches her neck and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as the vibrator works harder, making her oversensitive clit feel a little uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, daddy. I’ll behave.” Again, he remains silent, the scrape of his pen and the buzz of the toy the only sounds in the room, and she closes her eyes, gives in to the feeling of discomfort until it becomes pleasurable again and her thighs tremble. “Mmm.” She feels his eyes on her, opens hers up to see them raised just a little over his paperwork, peering at the taut line of her body.

“Are you doing okay, sweet girl?”

“Yes, so good,” she sighs, letting her bent knee fall open for a better visual. “Feels so good.”

“You’re gorgeous like this,” he murmurs, and it’s clear by his tone that he’s done with work for the night. “Coming for me over and over.”

“Yes, daddy. You asked me to.” He groans and stands, his erection clearly straining against his pants, looking so sexy she feels hungry for him. “Did I earn my big reward?”

“Of course. You’re so good for me, always.” He rubs a hand over her breasts, making her arch off the desk and toward the heat of his skin, and his breathing is heavy and rough. “What is it that you want?”

She turns to look up at him and makes a show of lifting her hips, scooting up toward the edge of the desk so that her head is draped over the side of it. Slowly, when she’s sure she has his full attention, she opens her mouth, bares her flat tongue, and he mutters shit and opens up his pants.

He rarely ever asks for her to suck him off, so she takes it upon herself to choose it as a reward for being good, sometimes, knows that they both enjoy it. He steps to her side of the desk, cock bobbing free, and leans down to press a kiss to her chin before slowly guiding himself into her mouth.

She wraps her hands around his thighs, content as he sets a slow, steady pace, pumps shallowly into her willing mouth, and she feels around for the remote control, turning the vibrator’s speed up to three.

“Jesus, baby,” he pants, and he moves his hands to her breasts again, rolling them gently in his palms. The position she’s in kind of sucks, neck wise, but she knows it won’t be long until he comes down her throat, so she’s not particularly worried. “So gorgeous, so good for me. My perfect, desperate, slutty girl.”

She moans long at that, can’t help it; she knows that she is absolutely a desperate slut for the man currently fucking her face, doesn’t see the point in trying to fight it.

“You’ll come in your panties again, but I bet you still won’t be satisfied. You’ll want something inside your pussy, maybe fingers or another toy. You won’t be content until you’re fucked-out and your head is empty, will you, baby?” His hips move a bit faster, nothing she can’t handle and he knows that, and it indicates to her that his impending orgasm is a little closer than she expected.

She pulls out all the stops, digging her nails into his legs, moaning around his dick—the vibrator sends insistent pulses of pleasure up and down her body, so it’s not like it’s difficult—and when she reaches her third climax, squeezing her weak thighs together, Aaron pulls out of her mouth and jerks himself off until he’s coming hot on her chest.

It’s hotter than it should be, being covered in come, and she looks up at him, chest heaving as she catches her breath.

He puts his hand behind her head and helps her sit up a little, then kisses her so thoroughly she kind of wants to pass out, just let him hold her while she floats on a happy, dreamy cloud or something. When he pulls back, her eyes flutter open and she gives him a stupid, contented smile. “I love you.”

“I love you, sweetheart. So much.” He brushes his fingers over her cheeks, her lips. “Do you feel alright?”

“Yes, daddy. Did I do good?”

“So fucking good.” He catches her mouth in another kiss, rougher, and she whimpers into it. “What do you want now? Shower, sleep, food?”

“Hmm. Will you clean me up in the shower?” She starts to try to stand up, but he stops her, pulls her into his arms instead.

“Of course. Let’s turn this off,” he says, reaching for the remote, and he stops the toy from buzzing, making her sigh in blissful relief.

He gets her out of her panties, strips out of his clothes, and she must be on the bed while he does it, because everything is soft and white beneath her. She hears him turn on the shower, knows it’s just the right temperature because he’s good at that, and he scoops her up again, brings her into the hot, steamy room and makes the water pour over her, spraying off the come on her chest and the slippery stuff between her legs.

“Sweet, beautiful girl. My love.” He brings a soapy cloth to her arm and scrubs down it, then the other side, repeating the gentle motions until her whole body feels bubbly and clean and new. She leans against him, practically purring when he massages shampoo into her hair, rinses it out, adds conditioner, his lips pressing against hers periodically. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“So happy, daddy. Love you so much.” She opens her eyes very well so she can look at his handsome face, smiles when his warm eyes are looking into hers.

“I love you too, so much. It’s time to rinse, so shut your eyes for me again.” She does as she’s told, and the nice hot water is all over her again, getting rid of the bubbles so that she’s just warm and ready to be dried off and snuggled, which is what she knows he will do because he knows she will want him to.

He towels her body off gently, her hair and face too, and he presses her back against the pillows for a moment while he asks a question. “Do you want anything? A snack? Ice cream?” Her throat is a little sore, so she thinks she wants ice cream, says so. “Okay, I’ll be right back. One minute.” She knows he will be back when he says, so she lets him go without fuss, and in one minute he returns with a bowl of strawberry ice cream for them to share, because they both like it.

He feeds her some so carefully, small bites that practically melt on her tongue, and when she’s done he takes the bowl away and kisses her cold mouth with his cold mouth, and it feels good.

He gets them both under the blanket, her back to his chest, and he just talks about how much he loves her and how good she is until her head is less empty and all she is is tired. “Aaron,” she murmurs, and she rotates in his arms so that she’s facing him. His expression is soft and gorgeous, especially when he smiles.

“There you are. Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I feel great. Thank you.” She presses her mouth to his a couple times. “Tired. How about you?”

“I feel great, too. I wasn’t expecting you to choose what you did, for your reward.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, it just sounded good.” She curls closer to him, wrapping her arms and legs around his body. “Wasn’t expecting you to come on me.”

“I wasn’t planning on it either, but I think it broke you.” They both laugh softly, and she yawns after.

“Yeah, I think that’s safe to say. Did you set your alarm for running and breakfast?”

“No. I was thinking I might try to convince you to skip the run and order breakfast in instead.” He smooths a hand over her cheek, and she smiles softly.

“Won’t take much to convince me. My legs feel like jello.” They meet for a slow, easy kiss, and she unwraps herself, turning back into the little spoon so he can rest his chin on her head. “Night, baby,” she murmurs, pulling his arm where she wants it and resting her own on top of it, and he kisses her hair.

“Goodnight, my love.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner/original female character #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x original female character #criminal minds fanfic #latina original female character #busy #reblog

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elliethesuperfruitlover · 3 years

Text

its gonna be an oolong night

A/N: Yes, I’m still alive. This is for a character that literally nobody is familiar with, and I honestly don’t care at this point. He’s wonderful, attractive, and my god great character yes yes yes. Mat x reader.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem! receiving), major teasing, like more than usual for me, but somehow still soft like what the fuck

I also know that a lot is going on right now, fandom-wise, and here in the US.(i swear to god one of these days im just gonna start throwing hands at the police) (or just the world in general.) But here’s some smut to take your mind off that, at least for a few thousand words.

Tag List: @super-unpredictable98, @seanfalco, @seancekitsch, @bisexualnathanyoung, @neuroticpuppy, @misskittysmagicportal, @ghoulsbuddy, @magic-multicolored-miracle, @the-freckled-luba, @maerenee930

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s literally just a dosage cup full.” he said, leaning the small cup towards you. Mat was testing a new brew of coffee, one he made this time. Although you loved and trusted him, sometimes he didn’t have the best execution.

“Sir, you have no idea how much anxiety I’m gonna be having if I have like any of that.” you reply, slowly backing into the corner. You look around for any type of escape, and it seems as if the side door in the kitchen was the only option. As Mat dove forward, you spun to face the door, and placed a finger on the handle.

“One move and I’m gone sir. Not permanently of course, the dick’s too good, but you know I have places to be. Food to eat. Arson to commit.” you say, half-stern, foot inching towards the door.

“Ugh fine. At least I know that I’ve been fucking you right this entire time.” he replies, downing the coffee before throwing the small cup in the sink, walking towards you. The sun was out, and he was simply glowing in it. Especially after that work out with Craig, dear lord, that man was looking scrumdiddlyumptious.

“You always listen. I have no idea if it’s because of your anxiety, or that you drink your respect women juice every morning. But what can I say, you know your way around.” you mutter, letting him come from behind you in order to hug you.

“I don’t think I’d want it any other way. Finding the body’s secrets and enjoying them together. Are you purposely trying to get me to fuck you on the couch, because I will.” Mat whispered into your form. You could feel him press his hardness into you, and a few thoughts passed through your head.

Do I want this man to fuck my brains out? Yes/No

Am I going to have to clean the couch, bed, counter, and or kitchen table afterwards? Yes/No

Will he make/give me brownies afterwards? Yes/No

But I have work to do??? Do That First, And Let Him Tease You Through It/Ignore

“Okay, fine, I’ll let you fuck me afterwards. But you can tease me throughout, it’s always an option.” you mutter, turning around to see the half-smirk on his face.

“Oh, you’re going to struggle, mama.” he said, putting a record on, Keys of Life, as expected.

“We’ll see.”

And fucking see you did. You couldn’t get a fucking break from this man’s fucking hands. He was observing you while you folded laundry, and would purposely brush his hands with yours when you handed a new article of clothing to him. You were washing dishes practically attached at the hip. It took you a good hour to get all of the housework done. Of course, it would’ve gone much smoother if Mat wasn’t sitting on counters like a cat, mind, counters that you were trying to clean.

“Yay, you’re finally done!” Mat cheered, climbing towards you from the end of the bed, gently tugging your pants off. He kissed up your calves, and breathed in deeply once he got to your hips. He let the sigh out, and got to work on treasuring your legs and thighs.

You took a deep breath, and got distracted in thought for a moment. Mat always treated you like, well a queen. Waking up in the morning to cook before he goes down to the shop, and letting you try new recipes. He even let you go back into the kitchen to tour it once. Although, Pablo headbanging wasn’t what you intended on seeing. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t take it back for anything. Mat’s wonderful, and he made sure everything was as it should be. Well, most times at least. It gave you a warm, fuzzy feeling, and you came back to the realm of reality where Mat was finishing his rounds, fingers threading a trail to your underwear.

He also tugged those off, and without a second thought, your legs spread further, and Mat gently kissed along your slit, then using his fingers to separating your labia. Your head sat back on the pillow as his tongue made itself familiar with you once more. His hands came up to hold your hips to his face, and you had half a mind to squeeze his head with your thighs. Tiny, lewd noises filled the once-quiet space as Mat went to town on your pussy, like he hadn’t eaten in days (thats a lie, he ate you out during a work call the night before). His nose gently nudged your clit, and you gasped. He smiled against you as one of his fingers came to toy with it, rubbing gentle circles. You sighed at his touch, but then the fucker began teasing.

His tongue would get within centimeters of your clit before retreating back down. You were very tempted to reach down to hold his head where you wanted. You thought it out for 0.5 seconds before reaching down and gently pressing his head into your sex, adjusting your hips as to where they’re slightly off the bed. He looked up at you, glaring, as he let you have your way with his head...for the time being at least.

He lapped at your excretions, almost disgustingly so, but every noise that come from below further fueled the fire. The burning, aching fire in the pit of your gut that wanted nothing more than to absolutely be ruined by (or to ruin) your lover, as well as the bedsheets that you’d been occupying. For short moments of time, you focused on the feeling of his dreads on your thighs before another intrusion made you gasp out loud, making your hips stutter against Mat’s face, losing their up and down motion. Mat’s fingers were more than skilled at getting where they needed to be, and as you felt them (yes, them, he works quick) scissor into you. Your walls contracted when he moved his mouth over your clit, sucking roughly. Those fucking sounds drove you over multiple waves, but the big one was yet to arrive. You were getting extraordinarily close, and on extremely short notice. You couldn’t make head nor tail of Mat’s fingers or his tongue. All you knew was more and more pressure right where you wanted. The flat of his tongue just needed to move like an inch to the left-

oh jesus fucking christ~

Your legs squeezed around Mat’s face as you came, and you screamed to the heavens, head thrown back. Angelic, almost, except maybe God won’t let you in for this moment, right here in particular. Mat came back up with the bottom half of his face covered in slick, eyes blown with lust.

“Every time you properly give me an orgasm, I swear 5 extra years get added to my life.” you mumble, catching your breath.

“Mm, and well deserved. You taste so fucking good, I need even more time to cherish you.” he replied, shedding his shirt.

You admired him from your spot on the bed for a short moment before the sex gremlin in your brain leaned forward, urging you to kiss your partner. He reciprocated, and his arm found its way back around your body as the two of you made out. Mat’s hard-on pulsed against your thigh, even through those fucking boxers, you thought, as Mat detached from the kiss, moving his way to your neck. He nipped at a few spots, and kissed over your clavicle before finally taking off his last article of clothing, and you contracted once more upon realizing that this man, truly was yours. He wouldn’t be this tender and caring with anyone he found (on second thought, mans does have horrible anxiety, so-). But no, he usually wouldn’t eat out some stranger, then ask them what their favorite surprise flavors in cupcakes are. He wouldn’t carry them to bed after their day was too exhausting to even want to life another finger. He wouldn’t come over and smoke, and talk over records with just anyone.

“I know you’re thinking about something. Come on, my penis is a simple being, it’s not a deity.” Mat says, chuckling afterwards.

“Right... let me just call the pp doctor real quick. In reality, I was thinking about how good you are to me. But please, do feel free to stick it in, I’m waiting sir.” you reply, letting Mat line himself up before he gently sheathed himself in you, causing your head to tip back once more. Mat also let out a beautiful, guttural noise of his own, furthering your own want for him to fuck your brains out.

Mat gently pulled back before starting a decent pace, making sure to let you adjust where needed, and tucking his head into your neck. You looked over to his back, and stare at his ass before deciding to actually focus on the pleasure you were experiencing in that moment. Your hands rested on his back as you gently clenched and unclenched, thinking of nothing more than being absolutely wrecked and fucked out by Mat, letting your thoughts wander to the dirtiest, most filthy parts of your brain. Once you were done practically creaming at the thought of being ruined, Mat groaned against your neck. He was almost whimpering, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his muscles gleamed in the sunlight, which peeked through the blinds.

You just so happened to look down at where Mat was slamming into you, and it was such a wonderful thing to see. There was cream practically streaming out of you, and the spot underneath you was soaked, a good sized puddle of release surrounding your bottom. Mat wasn’t even fully pulling out anymore. That didn’t even matter though, he just felt so good. Too fucking good. The sound of him fucking you into the mattress was so good. So much better than the toy in the bedside drawer. It worked wonders, true, but my god, Mat did you so well. Could never hold candle to him. Mat was getting louder, and the almost full-bladder feeling built inside of you, but that was for another time. Although, the sheets can’t possibly be ruined any further. Anyway, Mat was about to fucking mating press you into the goddamn mattress.

You clenched, and gasped loudly as Mat hit that one spot. The definite, all-in spot that made you see stars when tapped correctly. Your nails dug into Mat’s back, much to his liking, and he drilled you into the mattress, legs held by his hands, and all thoughts thrown out of the window. He was openly praising you, how good and tight you felt, and how he wanted to *shudders* fill you up while he gently, but somehow so roughly made love to you. A few more loud moments passed, and you ground your hips upwards, making sure that somehow, you remained dominant in your own sense. Mat sped up impossibly, hips moving like a blur into you. He reached his end, and cried out, hips pressed directly into yours as he came. His eyes were closed, but he looked so fucking good, head thrown back, chest glistening with sweat. He collapsed next to you, breathing heavily. You contemplated getting up, but Mat always got a smidge clingy after his orgasms, so you were you wrapped your arms around him, in an odd sideways hug. Minutes passed, and you were fighting sleep, and resisting the urge.

Once you were almost out, you heard a muffled noise from besides you.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.” you muttered. Mat moved his head from the pillow and said something very honest.

“I want you to sit on my face. You didn’t get a chance to orgasm again, and I want you to have as lovely of a experience as I did.” he replied, and you were a deer in headlights for a moment. A very aware deer, but like sir, I need some reference. Don’t tell me to pop, lock, and drop it on your face right after I just held my legs in one spot for like 30 minutes.

“Fucking get to it then.” you purred, hips hovering above his face

He waited only seconds to begin absolutely devouring you, nose buried in your pussy. You barely even had to move your hips, as was getting into every spot you needed him to perfectly. His tongue seemed to move a mile a minute, getting all of the best places it could find. You were afraid of what was to happen if he was too quick. Poor thing would need a good five minutes of warning. You fully let go of the tension in your body, and let Mat work his magic, hands holding onto your ass extremely tight, sure to leave bruises.

You screamed when he landed a slap to your ass, harder than usual, and you were just moments away from another wonderful climax. At this moment in time, you wished that you had a mirror on the top of your bed, so that way, you could see everything. It would be so perfect for so many tender moments in time. Or less tender, more rough and “chile, we shoulda got the roast out at 4:45, but it’s 5:25 moments”

Your brain just go happened to think about looking down, and Mat’s blissed out face, mildly flushed in comparison to other moments. You moved your hips just one touch to the right, and it caused you to orgasm on his face. Quite messily for an observer’s eye. Yeahhh, you should’ve warned him about that. Mat wiped his face off, and smiled, kissing your thigh as you fell to the opposite side of the bed. You laughed it off, and almost immediately knocked out.

“You could’ve told me about that, y’know.” Mat said, the next morning. He was brushing his teeth, and preparing to open The Coffee Spoon up for the morning.

“It would’ve ruined the fun. Who doesn’t like a bit of spice added to their coffee, hmm?” you retorted, watching as his eyes drifted over to yours in a somewhat happy, somewhat “oh my god, the fucking nerves of that pun” way.

No matter, because there would be a lot more surprises where that came from.

Mat, for reference:

Masterlist

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tyunniverse · 4 years

Text

FRIENDS FOR A DAY (2)

pair: yeonjun x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2654

parts: 1 | 2

· · ───────────── ·.☆.· ───────────── · ·

It had been a long time since Yeonjun felt like this. Sometimes life in general had become too much to bear and the things that used to make him happy weren't working for him anymore. Times spent alone slowly became more frequent for him than times he'd spent with his friends.

He'd skipped the first day, not wanting to go back to that routine life just yet. And towards the start of the day, he would never have imagined meeting you and getting to spend the day doing things that strayed far from any of the schedules he'd previously planned. A breath of fresh air was what he liked to call it, and he had you to thank for that.

Unlike him, everything was new to you; a new city, a new school, new people, and a whole new life ahead. Yeonjun felt a little envious after realizing it when you'd talked more about yourselves during lunch, but after seeing how you seemed to enjoy every single second of your little sight seeing endeavor, he thought that maybe he could also be a part of something new in your life.

Best friends.

You had agreed to be his best friend from today onwards; the pendant around your neck serving as proof. Yeonjun finds his hand wandering over to his pocket, holding on to his old necklace.

Half of a star. He'd bought it a few years back. The necklace had a similar purpose with the one he was wearing now— meant to be worn separately by two different people. In his case, he had bought it as a whole and had decided to keep one half of it still in its case, stashed inside his closet. His reasons for purchasing it never really felt clear even to him but he also wouldn't call it an impulsive decision. Yeonjun liked to think that he'd be able to find a use for it in the future.

"Yeonjun." You call for his attention, pointing at the posters plastered on a random shop's wall. "It says that the annual carnival will be opening tonight. Wanna go?"

Yeonjun grins. Opportunities somehow kept showing up right in front of his doorstep. "Yeah, only if you want to though. Afterall, I'm only the tour guide for today."

"Shut up." You hold back a smile. "Have you been there before?"

Yeonjun repeats the question in his mind. As someone one would consider pretty popular, you'd expect him to be no stranger in hanging out at fun places like an annual carnival, but that's just it. Yeonjun had never visited that Carnival once ever since it opened. His friends had asked him to tag along but something about it just never seemed to make him want to.

"No." Yeonjun answers, scratching the back of his head. "If we end up going then this would be my first time too." The first time he'd actually wanted to go.

"I guess we're going then." You grin and Yeonjun finds himself smiling back. "It says here that the Carnival's just around the corner so it'd probably be okay if we just walked there."

"Yeah."

The two of you make your way to the Carnival. You still had a good amount of time left before it opened so a few quick stops at some stalls along the way didn't do any harm.

· · ───────────── ·.☆.· ───────────── · ·

In all honesty, Yeonjun didn't even know when and how he'd ended up holding your hand, laughing his heart off by the time you arrived at the entrance but it all just happened somehow. Was it the when your ice cream cone almost landed straight on his shoe earlier? Or when his hand nearly hit you square in the face when he noticed a bug flying towards you? It could've even been when a group of old ladies started hitting on him at the handbag boutique and all you did was stand there shaking, wanting to laugh your ass off.

No matter what the reason was, he liked this. Somehow, it just felt right.

The two of you pay for the tickets before heading inside. The place was larger than any of you had ever expected, cleaner too. People of all ages were enjoying their carnival experience to the fullest. Children were running around with their guardians following closely behind, couples and groups of friends chatting along and taking pictures— Yeonjun could swear he saw two old men arguing over who gets to take a picture with the mascot first.

"So, which ride do you wanna go on first?" You ask, turning to him.

"Well, how about that one." Yeonjun points at the viking and you feel yourself getting more and more excited.

"NICE—" Before Yeonjun knew it, you were dragging him around to every single ride at the carnival.

You liked to keep count of everytime Yeonjun freaked out while you went on the rides, and Yeonjun liked to do the same. Despite the thrill of being at a carnival keeping you hyped up, there were a few times when you had overestimated your tolerance with being thrown around. Yeonjun nearly puked twice: once at the twister, and a second time on the rollercoaster. Even you were almost a victim by the rollercoaster's loops.

Yeonjun had claimed he was an expert at navigating haunted house attractions, stating, "I've been watching horror movies all my life. Nothing scares me at this point, tbh." True enough, nothing scared Yeonjun except every single ominous decoration and jump scares the haunted house threw at him. You weren't too fond of horror yourself, but you ended up trying to be the brave one after Yeonjun basically clung to you half of the time. It didn't help whenever you freaked out since you ended up losing Yeonjun after he not so subtly abandons you at the slightest suspicious sound. It was a miracle you made it out in one piece.

"Yeah, so, uh, sorry about that." Yeonjun laughs it off the moment you two got out.

"Sure but you should know that I'm never gonna let you live it down." You tell him, smiling widely as you hold up the photos you received from one of the staff. "I got evidence."

Yeonjun snatches the photos from your hands. "Bold of you to assume these'll affect me— oh." It definitely did.

You watch as he slips the photos inside his jacket as if it wasn't obvious enough that he was trying to hide it from you. "Nice try but," You take out another batch of photos and wave it around. "Boom. Two copies."

"Wow, okay."

The two of you ended up laughing at each other before you suggest in trying out the stalls. They say time flies by fast when you're having fun and they couldn't be more right. There had been an unspoken competition between you and Yeonjun of who can win the most prizes and let's just say you weren't about to let yourself lose. By the time you got tired, you had a total of three plushies and a bunch of candy bars stuffed in your pockets and well, Yeonjun had the exact amount of prizes you had.

"Fine. It's a draw for now but only because I'm tired." Yeonjun holds the plushies tighter. "We should really get a bag for this. I wonder if we can get a huge plastic bag somewhere."

"Nah, we can just put em in here." You take off your back pack, opening it wide. "I'm sure it can fit all six of them. They're small enough." You were lucky that they did, finally leaving your hands free.

"Wait." Yeonjun pauses after putting the last of his plushies inside. "How can I be sure you won't just take my plushies for yourself after we leave? I'm pretty easy to distract so—"

"If you forget to get them back then I'll just hand them to you tomorrow at school. You go to HSU too, right?" You tell him.

"Yeah, but how will you contact me?"

"Obviously, we exchange numbers."

Yeonjun blinks. Of course that'd be the simplest solution but still. He'd been talking about staying as friends even after all this but the thought of exchanging numbers hadn't really crossed his mind. He takes out his phone and the two of you quickly added each other as contacts, somehow feeling a bit closer after the exchange.

"While we're at it—" Yeonjun pulls you in closer as he bends down. Only now that you've felt Yeonjun's warmth close to you have you noticed how cold it actually was outside . It takes you a few seconds to register that he wants to take a few selfies.

You bust out a smile and tried to go along with whatever weird faces and poses he did. "Send them to me later." You say after examining the photos. There's one where Yeonjun mimicked a kissing motion near your cheek, making you smile. Who would've expected you two were total strangers up until a few hours ago.

"Got room for one last ride?" Yeonjun asks as you return his phone.

"Yeah, sure. Which one?"

"Don't ask as if you don't know. I'm pretty sure you left this one out on purpose."

Perhaps unconsciously, you did. In every single movie that involved the two characters going to a carnival, for some reason, they always left the Ferris Wheel for last. It's not like you wanted something grand to happen when you ride it, but more like you just wanted to get a good view of the entire carnival before leaving. It seemed like the perfect final attraction.

Yeonjun notices how you've gone quiet and decided to hold your hand, pulling you along. "Let's go before the place closes."

"Okay." You look up at him, nodding.

· · ───────────── ·.☆.· ───────────── · ·

The Ferris Wheel ride wasn't all you had expected it to be. It looked pretty slow in the movies but right now? You were about to puke.

"Yeonjun, wait." You hold on to Yeonjun who was sitting opposite to you.

The Ferris Wheel was going too fast to your liking and you started feeling dizzy. Getting a good view of the carnival seemed impossible at this point and looking at your partner made you even more miserable.

Yeonjun was having the time of his life. He loved the feeling in his stomach whenever the ride went down, and the fact that you were lowkey suffering right in front of him made him laugh even harder.

The speed went on for a few more rounds until it finally slows down. Your heart and probably everything else stilled once the ride came to a complete stop just as your car reached the top. "Thank God. I felt like I was going to die."

"Well, you're safe for now." Yeonjun grins, leaning back in his heat. "You wanted to enjoy the view, right? We'll be stuck here for probably about a minute or two so enjoy it while it lasts."

"Yeah." You smile back, looking outside the window.

The winds were colder up there, reminding you of how warm it felt when you stood close to Yeonjun earlier. Yeonjun catches you warming yourself up with your hands and chuckles. He takes off his jacket and hands it over to you. "Here, put this on."

"Thanks." You quickly put his jacket on. Usually you'd go for the polite route and turn him down but if you were going to continue this friendship business then you weren't about to suffer in the cold when the dude's practically handing you a solution.

Yeonjun gives you a little smile before you continue to admire the view. Down there, the lights almost looked like a sea of stars. The music around the place didn't really help set the mood but somehow, the mixture of it along with the laughter and delightful screams of the other visitors made it feel right. After everything that happened today, you felt like it was the right decision to end the day with this breathtaking sight.

And Yeonjun couldn't agree more. The lights below reflected in your eyes in a way that made the atmosphere lighter. He could tell you were happy and right now, that seemed to be enough for him.

The Ferris Wheel began moving. Yeonjun snickers as he felt you grab for his hand, worried that the ride might throw you off once more, but it didn't. The way down was slow, allowing you to enjoy the ride in peace. Your pendant started to shine, reflecting the lights. It reminded him of everything that happened, from the moment you two met and agreed on a friendship that would last for only a day, up until now where he held your hand on the Ferris Wheel after deciding to be friends for real this time. The pendant became the sole proof of that friendship and Yeonjun couldn't help but wonder if the ones he bought a few years back would truly be of any use in the future. But what would it symbolize for? Who knows, he might just give you the other half.

Your car comes to a stop and the doors open. The realization that the day has officially come to an end left you feeling disappointed. Yeonjun squeezes your hand, bringing your attention to him. He gestures for the two of you to get up and you do, finally stepping back on the ground.

Both you and Yeonjun felt that the way back to the entrance was too fast. It really did seem like the two of you wouldn't see each other again despite the fact you went to the same university. The thought felt silly but that's just how the carnival experience gets to you.

"I guess this is it." Yeonjun speaks up first. "You live pretty far from here, right? I can take you home if you want."

"It's okay. My cousin lives nearby and I texted her earlier that I'd be staying over." You tell him, not wanting him to worry. "How about you? Will you be alright on your own?"

"Yeah, definitely." Yeonjun reassures, holding up his hands. "Oh, and by the way. Is it okay if I leave the plushies on your bag for now? I can't exactly carry them on the way back. If it's ok with you."

"Don't worry. You can just take them back tomorrow." You grin and Yeonjun smiles back. "Also, I'm keeping your jacket for now. I'll return it after I clean it up."

"I can work with that." He shouldn't feel this happy but he did. In a way, he was able to find an excuse to meet up with you tomorrow without things getting awkward. Maybe this friendship could work out afterall.

"Thanks for today. Honestly, this was the most fun I've had ever since I got here." You say, taking one last look at him.

I should be the one to thank you. "You know, I have a lot of things I wanna say to you right now but I think I'm gonna wait until I feel like it."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. I'll text you later." Yeonjun gives you a quick pat on the shoulder before running off to the opposite direction. "See you at school! And don't forget to bring the kids!"

You raise a brow. Did he just refer to the plushies as his kids?

He felt dumb, running away from you. The longer he stayed, the more he had trouble leaving, which was new for him. It's been a while since he actually found someone he'd like to hang out with and he was having trouble controlling his excitement. Soon, you'd be able to visit each other's houses, hang out more freely, talk about your days as if it were nothing, and get to know each other more. Honestly speaking, Yeonjun couldn't wait for that day to come but I guess he'll just have to start with tomorrow.

#txt imagines #txt x reader #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun imagine #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun

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noxtms · 3 years

Photo

❝ WE DOUBT EVEN THE MOST SEASONED OF SEERS could have predicted the way that we would exit the dismal winter season ! spring is finally here, and though we’ve all been shaken by the events of the past three months, the wwn is here to remind you that while some things do change... there’s even more that doesn’t. a diagon alley staple, the start of spring festival, kicked off this week in a rather exciting fashion when the leprechauns employed by the ministry of magic to run their annual treasure hunt decided to take to the alley on the backs of some of the magical menagerie’s unmistakable lambs ! it took four aurors several hours to round them up again, and if you were wondering where your tax galleons were going, now seems a good time to remind you that it’s to that specialist department ! we’ve been assured that everything is now completely under control, and that the spring festival and the assorted st patrick’s day celebrations are expected to run without a hitch... and without any more runaway leprechauns, though i think i speak for everyone when i say that that’s something i’d kind of like to see for myself... ❞

WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE :

there’s almost always some celebration or another taking place on diagon alley. as the heart of the british wixen world - and given the sheer number and variety of businesses and vendors all hoping to maximise their profits - they tend to take any opportunity that comes their way, as is their right.

the first START OF SPRING festival happened decades ago, and what it looks like often changes. the magical menagerie will always have baby chicks and tiny ducklings on front window display, and sometimes, you might just be able to get yourself a little pet lamb ( usually dyed an outrageous color ). the leaky cauldron will always serve meals heavy on the spring vegetables, and vendors along the alley will promise that the ones they’re selling are the very best type of hand picked organic. shops will slash their prices on certain items ( almost always the ones they haven’t managed to shift since the holiday season ), and there’s always little activity stands, for families and kids and really, anyone who wants to take part. learn how to make a crown from freshly picked wildflowers, or bet a sickle on which magic endowed butterfly will emerge from its cocoon first on the stand outside of gringott’s. try the specially themed ice creams at fortescue’s ( honey is particularly popular, at the start of the month ), and indulge in the feeling that springtime brings ! the days are getting longer, the air is thick the smell of freshly bloomed flowers, and life is... returning. it feels particularly poignant this year.

as it turns out, no one is immune to the charms of the irish, either. the diagon alley celebrations probably started out drenched in irony, but they’ve become wildly separated from what they were originally attached to over the years - probably helped by the fact they blend so much with the spring time festivities. quality quidditch supplies almost always begins pushing their irish team merch in the leadup to the day, and the ministry employs real life leprechauns to do a kid’s treasure hunt with real leprechaun gold. there’s even vendors selling muggle beers to those above the legal age that they promise will give you an authentic irish experience - though, take my word for it : guinness doesn’t compare to a good old fashioned butterbeer.

the fun doesn’t stop as the week goes on, of course : on the day, families have been promised their annual little parade. little is the operative word, given it’s a bit of a tight squeeze - floats that actually float are decorated in garish greens and oranges & everyone is guaranteed a faceful of fast sticking confetti. if that doesn’t do it for you, there’s no need to worry. it wouldn’t be a proper irish celebration without an ‘all out bash’, and the leaky cauldron has flyers up from the start of march about their february 17th patrick’s day party. this year’ll be the first where they have to compete with the poison apple nightclub, of course, but... what do they really have, aside from their themed magical drinks ?

OUT OF CHARACTER :

it’s a little on the nose, i won’t deny it : but a festival that really celebrates the everything that makes up the spring season, with a real special focus on the new life that it brings - really felt like a good place to start, this month. of course, i’ve also managed to throw in good ‘ol st paddy.. this may be a britain based rp, but who would i be if i were not constantly making ireland relevant ? we move in real time, which means that while all the little extras provide setting and content for threads, we won’t hit the end part, the party, until later on.

this event will be two weeks long, beginning officially on monday the 8th of march at 12:00am GMT - click this sentence to see what that works out at for your timezone !

you're under no obligation for the first week to pause any threads you currently have going - when we transition from general festival to final phase, we’ll take a little vote and we’ll see what the consensus is !

event related starters ( including private ones ) should be tagged with nox.event013, and the location is strictly diagon alley. please keep the galleon system in mind with these starters, since they can earn you points !

if you have any questions or concerns please do not hesitate to message the main, and please reply with your favorite holiday song once you’ve read the post !

#nox.event013 #nox.important #nox.event #hp rp #harry potter rp

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aleksandermorozovaa · 4 years

Text

Over cookies?

Charlie Barber x Reader

Summary: Charlie comes home after a long day of work and is greeted by his two favourite people. But a nice night is apparently the last thing the universe has in store for him.

Warnings: Angst? over the top drama?

A/N - My first time writing for Charlie, and I love this man more than anything. I’m posting this since I’ve been sitting on it for a while now and I’m hoping ya’ll can encourage me to continue? We shall see.

AO3 link: XX

Part 2: XX

Tags: @commanderbensolo

The sound of laughter echoed throughout the house, bringing a smile to Charlie’s face as he closed the door behind him and hung his keys on the little hook on the wall. A hook that you’d insisted on putting there after he’d forgotten his key three times last month, causing you to leave work early to let him into the house. At the time he’d argued that it was a one-time mistake, a lapse of memory as he rushed out of the house to get to rehearsal or a meeting. But he’d not forgotten them since the hook had been installed, a fact he could tell you’d been dying to point out.

Charlie shrugged off his coat and hung it between yours and Henry’s new favourite bright green coat that he’d insisted on getting because it reminded him of some cartoon character that he couldn’t name. Nicole would know, you probably would too, not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things, but he felt guilty that the name kept escaping him.

“Dad!” Henry called running towards him with a look of glee on his face. Henry paused to quickly hug him but before Charlie could move his hand to ruffle his hair as he usually did Henry pulled away and bounded towards the kitchen. “No time! Gotta move!” He called.

“You’re home early.” You said as you came down the stairs, folding your cardigan over body. It was getting colder out, not terribly so but enough that you couldn’t leave the house without a coat.

Call it his director’s brain, but he couldn’t help but think you looked angelic standing there, as if you were descending from the heavens to bless humanity. If he was in the theatre, if this was one of his plays, he’d make sure to have the lights dimed and have one singular spotlight on you, lighting you up so that everyone’s attention was forced to be on you, so they couldn’t look away. It was what someone as amazing as you deserved, not that you’d like that. You shied away from the spotlight. Something he failed to understand.

“Finished rehearsal early. Everyone’s in a foul mood, no point continuing so I called it.” Charlie explained as he toed off his shoes and pushed them against the wall. It wasn’t their proper place, and he’d rectify that later but right now he wanted you in his arms.

“Everyone seemed in a fine enough mood at lunch when we visited.” You said with a small frown as you made your way down the last few steps, pausing on the bottom one, leaving you almost eye level with him. A habit you had, stepping on anything you could to make the height difference between the two of you smaller. “I just think you missed me.” You said reaching out to him, your fingers hooking around his belt loops, tugging forward. Not forcefully, but enough for him to get the picture, enough for him to get excited.

He let out a hum as he moved towards her wrapping his arms around her pulling her tight, breathing her in. She smelt of coffee and something sweet that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“There might be some truth to that.” Charlie said pressing a kiss onto the top of her hair. In reality, he had been the one in a foul mood, after the two of them left at lunch to go to the park he’d been disappointed he had to stay behind. She of course had to keep sending him photos of Henry having a great time causing him to be completely unfocused and instead constantly checking his phone for more. One photo of him climbing a tree which at first had his parental instincts going wild but then he saw how close he was to the ground and he calmed down. There had been one with Henry holding a rabbit at some pop-up petting zoo and finally a selfie of the two of them, Henry covered in cream from the hot chocolate in his hands. He’d saved that one as his lock screen.

In the end Wallace had suggested they call it a day, which Charlie didn’t try to argue against. Instead he’d nodded and packed his things up in record time to get home to his favourite people.

“Y/N!” Henry called running back towards them, he held something in his hands, an egg timer Charlie noticed. Y/N turned her head which had been buried in Charlie’s shirt. “Stop being gross and come help me! They’re going to burn!” Henry’s bouncing up and down trying to express the urgency of the situation.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at the pair as he allowed Y/N to disentangle herself from him. Henry promptly took her hand in his as he dragged her towards the kitchen. He followed of course; his curiosity peeked.

Charlie settled against the kitchen counter folding his arms. He watched the pair of them crowding around the oven. Y/n gestured to Henry to move back so she could open the oven. Charlie took the chance to grab him by the shoulders and pull him back against him. “What have you two been up to.” He asked his son, ruffling his hair as he had attempted to do just minutes before.

“We made cookies.” Henry said looking up at his father with a grin. “I wanted to add gummy bears but Y/N said that it might be a disaster and you’d be upset that we wasted your secret stash.”

It was true he always made sure to have a packet of Haribo’s in the house and in his desk at the theatre, it was a guilty pleasure for him. When he was writing or planning or working on something practically tricky. The chewy texture and sugar rush did wonders to help his creative juices flow. He wasn’t sure why he hid them, other than Nicole had always given him hell for having them. Claiming it was encouraging Henry to have unhealthy habits, and he suppose it had stuck.

“You know about-“

“We know about your stash, honestly honey just because you’re built like a fridge and the only one able to see the top of it but that doesn’t mean you should hide things there.” Y/n said as she placed the tray filled with possibly the worst cookies he’d ever seen. They looked slightly over cooked and had melted into wonky uneven shapes, but he knew he’d still eat as many as he could get away with stealing.

“They’re burnt!” Henry whines looking at the cookies disappointed.

“Only a little!” Y/n said quickly in response. “Besides we have the other half of the dough ready to go in, and we know not to put them in for as long.” She added taking her oven gloves off and draping them over her shoulder.

“Maybe if you and dad didn’t spend so much time being gross we’d have two batches of good cookies!” Henry pouted and stepped out of Charlies arms. Clearly in a huff. Charlie looked up catching Y/N’s eye, she seemed hurt by Henry’s outburst.

“Hey now kid, don’t be like that.” Charlie said pulling Henry back into his reach, he gripped his waist and lifted him so he was sitting on the counter. Charlie’s arms on either side to stop him wriggling out as he predicted he would try to do.

“It’s the truth!” Henry protests, but it sounded more like tooth than truth, he’d lost his front teeth a week ago and his new ones were still growing in.

“Henry, sweetie it’s okay, we can make some more.” You say taking a step closer.

“Mom wouldn’t have burnt them. I wish mom was here.” Henry snaps and Charlie’s breath hitches. Giving Henry a chance to break from Charlie’s body prison and run. He didn’t even try to catch his son as he bounded away and up the stairs to his room. “I hate you!” Henry shouts before slamming his bedroom door.

Instead he turns his attention to you. You’d never experienced one of Henry’s outbursts, or at least not one aimed at you. You’d been there for him whenever Henry had screamed at him, it had hurt at the time fresh after the divorce. It had taken Henry a good year to get over his “mommy phase” as Nicole called it. Meaning he seemed to hate every second he spent with Charlie, and had no problem being vocal about it.

You’d held as he wept one night in bed after a particularly bad day. He’d clutched your waist and pressed his head into your chest, your shirt was soaked with his tears but you didn’t care. You’d ran you’d fingers through his hair and told him Henry didn’t mean it, that he was still processing the separation.

He wanted to do that for you now. To be that solid rock.

“Sweetheart.” He starts seeing the hurt on your face. He wanted to reach out to you.

“No, it’s okay Charlie.” You force a smile and move to go past him and he stops you, instead taking you into his arms.

“you know he didn’t mean it, don’t you?” he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips hovering just above your skin.

“I do. You should go check on him. I’m going to go for a walk.” You pull away pausing to cup his cheek allowing him to press a soft kiss to your palm.

“Stay. Please.” He all but begs, it was getting late and he didn’t want you walking the streets when you were clearly upset.

“I just need a break, honey. I won’t be long. I promise.”

“Okay.” He knew better than to try and stop you when your mind was set on something.Instead he watched as you slipped on your shoes and coat before leaving. You didn’t let the door slam behind you like he normally did, everything you did seemed gentle like that.

He waited until you’d made it to the bottom of the garden before turning away. Then he turned to the stairs and took them two at a time.

“Henry.” he called as he stopped outside his door, he raised his hand to knock twice.

“Go away.” Henry shouts back, Charlie knows by the wave in his voice that he’s crying. He’s torn between wanting to let Henry have his tantrum and wanting to deal with it now. He tried the door handle but Henry had clearly locked the door. Nicole’s voice plagued him then, berating him for letting Henry be able to lock his door.

What if there was a fire? What if he hurt himself and was trapped. You’re so irresponsible.

Fuck Nicole for being right, even if it was his made up version that did nothing but critisise his parenting. He took a step back, his back hitting against the wall with a thump. How had it all gone wrong so quickly?

He’d been looking forward to coming home all day, to your smiling face and Henry’s excited chatter about dinosaurs or space or whatever else took his fancy that day. He’d spent all day recounting the ingredients in the fridge thinking about what him and Henry could make for dinner while you folded laundry or hoovered or just sat and relaxed. But here he was, you’d left and Henry was seemingly distraught.

All this, over cookies.

#charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber #wife me charlie barber YOU FUCKING BEAST #my writing #shut up caitlyn #Love of my life #adam driver #shatter my knees you fuckable redwood

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meandmyechoes · 3 years

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The more I think about Dark Disciple, the more I find something odd.

[28th March 17:46]

I keep referring to it as a ‘favourable experience’, and there is no question the writing is what made me fall totally head over heels about quintress, but I also just, can’t?

I mean, yes. It’s very passionate, dramatic, scenes and gestures I can only dream of. But I also, don’t really see it in that ’omg they totally belong together here are my sixty headcanons of them’ sense?

I am very involved in the pairing, but also don’t really, actively ‘ship’ it — like the way it was an open book with Rhayme or Latts Razzi (since it’s the same author that indoctrinated me to Captain Rhayme). I could imagine them being happily ever after and silly shenanigans and slow-burn. But the concept of a quintress fairytale ending is so wild. I can only ask how much it is tainted with my personal view on relationships.

I know the plot leaves little room for “the future” and fed us well on all tropes possible. But, it just never occurred to me to put them in any other clichés or invent a missing scene.

Winding up, I don’t think their relationship is "weak", but it’s very motivated by circumstances and once you take that out of them, you are a little bit lost. For example even during the illicit affairs month, I… can’t really propose one date that does not seem tonally insensitive. (I can think of them being cloak dorks and Vos bringing her to ice-cream, that’s it, after a long hard moment) Really, all I possibly want is that sweet, sweet angst and canon is already there so I have no complaint.

It’s just… I don’t really get why it has to be the two of them that fall for each other. I understand why they did, and I believe it— Perhaps it’s much more a physical attraction thing that I don’t really have personal experience with.

I don’t know if quintress classify as slow-burn because 10 chapters still seem a little quick in the grand scheme of things. (aside: I’m quite disappointed Ventress wasn’t doing much in the last quarter of the book.) My point is, they do feel a little bit puppet to tropes, and while it’s deliciously written, there’s not much potential outside of canon. And that lack of inspiration makes me grimace a little.

[3rd April, 01:39]

I’ve scrolled through the dd tag and let the book sank a little. I am better articulated to talk about the sexist criticism now.

It’s a romance story, and when I judge it by that (lower) standard, it ticks the boxes. However, it might be a weakness as well, due to the projectability of the heroes. And yes, the whole assassination is dumb. Yet, tcw has been consistently this dumb at us. The last two times when she’s more rooted in the dark she failed, sent Savage and failed, so she’s gonna do it again with Vos… after she put down her desire for revenge. right. and surprise! Our “assassination” plan is to find Dooku and duel him directly. right…

I’ve read a review that says the romance takes away from the plot. However, the romance IS the plot. The book IS supposed to revolve around the two of them. I do agree them becoming begrudging allies then partners is a more unique approach, more rewarding as foils as well. but I guess a romance is easier for the conventional to process ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

With the “Ventress lose agency in falling for Vos”. Now, I can’t dictate how each of us buy into their physical attraction and chemistry (or lack thereof), and there’s no denial that a conscious human being is making that choice for the fictional character, I think the stance on this topic varied person to person from the above two factors, which are very different starting points.

I kept Katie Lucas’s foreword vividly in mind while reading. She said this is a story about people seizing chances to rebuild. That there’s always a choice. Cliché as it is, I believe ~the power of love~. I believe there exists someone you’re willing to sacrifice everything for, to overlook everything for, to forgive - to love them, warts and all. So, yes whether you think Ventress loses her agency to the romance, or if that’s a conscious choice on her behalf, is swayed heavily by how much you buy that they are the one.

[10th April, 10:30]

Yesterday I’ve been thinking a bit more about this. I do love this ship, I just don’t believe they’d be two people who find each other again and again in every life time, in every universe. That’s why, as magnificent as fireworks, it also won’t last.

To explore this, it’s not entire impossible for quintress to separate peacefully after this incident, but would that cheapen the build before? The entire motivation of dark!Quinlan hinges on his vision of their future. And say, Ventress did saved him and survived. How would he balance being a Jedi and his feelings - that’s publicly exposed to the Council? (sidenote: i really don’t like Ch. 27 where a bunch of old men are questioning their love life, but uhhh yes, I’m a sensible person!) For now, I’m seeing another Obi-Satine situation. And honestly how bad that an outcome is. It’s not like Ventress died for her war crimes! The show gave her a full pardon! So Idk man. Why can’t she leave him because she loves him and she exiled herself and they never see each other again WHY NOT FILONI WHY NOT.

Now I’m lamenting more what could’ve been with the two arcs. In Filoni’s original sketch, Aayla and Maul were involved. Man, that could’ve been the dream.

~~~

Part 2: [26th April, 15:15]

It has been… a month, since I finished Dark Disciple and I feel like it’s time to conclude all the thinking this book has made me do.

On the wider reflection about attachment and the Jedi Order, I still have to do more reading on it from other sources to form a concrete opinion. This theme won’t be touched on in this post yet, but I cannot shake how intriguing it is to compare “falling” in love to falling to the dark side. The temptation, and the submission to their emotions, the irrationality, the newfound curiosity, it all incites. Very curiously, it was Anakin Skywalker who commented that one is “blinded by love”

Okay, so what I’ve been scratching my head off the past two weeks is how I look at the romance between Asajj Ventress and Quinlan Vos. How would I define it?

Now this is as much as an exploration of how I view romantic relationships. Well, I’ve decided it wasn’t “love”, it was an “affair”. It was an affair because it’s a rush of passion, it’s a secret, it won’t last. Before I chop my own head off for bluntness, I mean it in, of course they are hopelessly in love with each other, that’s the exact premise of why it moved me so. But it wasn’t a complete relationship, wasn’t a healthy, sustainable one by any objective standards. Then, that’s the exact contradiction. Oh to throw caution in the wind with you, or to build a future with you?

Both are things I want a lot, and the ideal is of course one after the other. What quintress had (in the end) is definitely not something I’d want for myself, but it’s so fantastical, it’s alluring, just like the concept of falling in love - opening up yourself and trusting another person, is - it’s risky. That’s why it’s a sweet, sweet drug.

I’ve been so angry at all the red flags in this relationship. Reading this book, getting into both of their shoes, yelling NO like their best friends. But ultimately, what they had is unique to them and I can’t influence it in any way. Re-reading, I find myself holding myself back at all the places I was furious about going ‘You are smarter than this!’. Because it’s a tragedy, and the beautiful (I guess) thing is they chose each other.

The other day something on the dash inspired me to really think about ship dynamics. I, unashamedly admit, I’m VERY into Obi/Quin/Ventress in any and all combinations. *cough* I will not explain further.

I do accept the premise and I did discover they share quite a bunch of traits, but it confused me a while what made them cross the boundary, and it was, physical attraction (that the book was selling so hard I was blushing hot). I love them both a lot, and I would like to date them both, and I can see myself in either of them. Again comes the contradiction, is it a good thing to have characters so easily projectable, or do I want to see myself in more complex characters like them?

I probably lost quite a few cars stalling this train of thought. And I've been a canon apologist since forever. This book brought me a lot of emotional upheavals and a lot of food for thought. It brought me down to reflect on my romantic worldview and sexuality because I have nothing better to do. It totally challenged me as a writer and it’s just a really good novel by its right, regardless of the absurdity that is The Clone Wars. It’s a lot of firsts for me. And I really should find something better to do.

[26th April 16:00]

I must address that I got spoiled of the ending and the first and second half of the book probably went through some big changes.

If I cried for this book, it’s score would be even higher. And I’ve been so obsessed with discussing the relationship, without shedding light on the characterization, which is definitely an unfortunate side effect. Then it occurs that quite possibly the second half (26-42) deviated even further from the script than the first? It doesn’t have concept art or blocking, plus possibly (heavily) edited to omit correlation to other arcs. My major complaint for the second half is Ventress doesn’t do much and we know NOTHING about Vos, even though he is given screen time in the book. my, I just wish Ventress punch him harder and drag his idiotic mess back to the light sooner.

And to criticism about it being their ‘toxic’ relationship being portrayed as ‘true love’, well, it really depends on how thoughtful the reader is, right? I think if the reader is able to notice all these red flags and gave their own interpretation of the relationship and its outcome, it’d’ve been an educating experience. There’s what for the reader and what for the characters. They don’t know this ‘love’ is destroying them, and what kind of message is it sending? What ‘love’ depicted in the book is true then? I have my answers, and I hope every reader comes to their own as well.

#dark disciple #sw reading #clean version #i yell 'EXCEPT THE FLIRTY PART' every three scenes

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january-summers · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fate: The Winx Saga (TV), Winx Club Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bloom/Stella (Winx Club) Characters: Bloom (Fate: The Winx Saga), Stella (Fate: The Winx Saga) Additional Tags: adding sapphic energy, why rage when lesbian vibes, Canon Divergence, just girls being a little bit gay for each other, non-sexual intimate touching, Episode 2: No strangers Here Summary:

Stella finds Bloom in the Stone Circle and teaches her how to call her magic.

Bloom all but scowled at the bowl, sparks and embers crackling amidst the crystals at the bottom, but no real fire.

She had to get this, she had to get control.

'Clear mind and positive emotions,' she reminded herself. There was too much riding on this for her to keep failing. How long until she hurt someone else? How long until it wasn't just hurt?

“I hear you're broken,” Stella's voice cut through the mire Bloom hadn't even realised was building in her head. In jerky motions Bloom turned, letting go of her magic attempts.

Stella stood by on of the stone circle's shorter pillars, dressed in pale blue. Bloom shoved the thought that Stella looked like the peaceful sky on a nice day into the darkest, most private corner of her mind.

“- in more ways than one,” Stella said, stepping forwards and into the stone circle. Bloom turned back to the pot, shame blossoming in her gut. “No secrets in the suite,” came the reminder as Stella made her way to the opposite side of the altar stone to Bloom.

“I'm still going to help you,” Bloom replied, a little aggressive as her shame coiled tighter around her insides, the feeling of uselessness creeping in.

“And I'm thrilled,” Stella said, a touch of sarcasm in her voice, “but I'd prefer we wait until you aren't completely useless.” The blonde looked Bloom over for a few seconds.

“What's the damage?” Stella asked.

'I'm just useless and pathetic,' Bloom doesn't say, stumbling instead over the admission of “I don't know. The more I try to figure it all out, the harder it gets.”

Stella ignore the waver in Bloom's voice, the one that says she might just be about to cry, and focuses in on the book beside Bloom. The pages are filled with writing, and even reading it upside down, Stella can see the key words of the 'magic for dummies' speech.

'Magic = Emotions'

“This thing is your problem,” Stella leans across the altar to tap the book, “you can't think your way into magic.” Stella knew that well enough.

“I know,” Bloom acknowledges, picking up the book, “it's all about clear and positive emotions. I have a whole page dedicated to them.” Bloom smacks the book, probably the page just mentioned, with the back of her hand.

Stella wants to laugh, Bloom had completely missed the point, she was likely still thinking of emotions as an academic objective. As a separate ingredient instead of just feeling them. A whole page full of...

“Wait, you made a list? What's on it? Your favourite ice cream flavours?”

Bloom was starting to scowl, it made something twinge in Stella's gut as Bloom all but slammed the book onto the alter stone.

Stella took a deep breath and changed tracks. She'd thought for a brief second about taunting Bloom, showing her how to build her rage into a magical manifestation, but the idea caused an ugly sensation in her gut.

It tasted like old bile on the back of her tongue.

Bloom had been the subject of Stella's ire since they'd met, Stella's jealousy leaking out, but Bloom still looked at her like...

Like Stella hadn't been so harsh, like Stella hadn't been bitter at their every interaction.

Like she honestly thought Stella would do and be better than she really was.

Besides, it looked like Bloom was already steeped in negative emotions, and that clearly wasn't working out for her.

Stella stepped around the altar stone, one hand trailing on the stone's surface as she tried to remember the advice Farah Dowling had given her. Why bother teaching Bloom rage when it was the very thing that had ruined Stella's own magic.

Stella's mistake... how much worse would it be were it made in fire?

“Here,” Stella said, sliding behind Bloom, taking hold of the other girl's hips and pressing against her back so she could prop her chin on Bloom's shoulder. “Step one: 'close your eyes, and open your heart'.”

Bloom let out a little snort, turning to Stella with a bemused expression.

“'Close my eyes and open my heart'?” There was a hint of mocking, and Stella knew what Bloom felt, the incredulous 'how' of it all. She could hear the question in Bloom's tone as well. Stella turned her head for a second to hide a smile in Bloom's shoulder before looking back.

“Just... close your eyes,” Stella tried again, a hint of laughter at Bloom's expression making it through her control. “Hands on the pot,” she added as an after thought.

She saw Bloom open her eyes just long enough to grab the pot again.

“Now,” Stella slid her hands from Bloom's hips, one to Bloom's stomach, the other inappropriately high. Bloom gasped, the kind of gasp that's made with your whole body, a subtle motion that rocked her back into Stella.

But she didn't try to shake the blonde off.

“Breathe,” Stella said, “feel it in your body.” She let Bloom breathe deeply for a moment before pressing with her hands.

“Feel, you're looking for a warmth, it's inside you probably somewhere near my hands, can you find it?

Bloom did feel a warmth, a roiling heat in her gut, but she thought it had little to do with magic, and more to do with the beautiful girls hands pressed intimately against her.

“I feel a heat?” Bloom admitted, but her tone was light, blithe. The nonchalance conveying the idea that 'this is silly, and I'm going to fail, but it doesn't matter, because it's silly'.

Stella saw right through it though. She heard the truth.

'I'm scared I'm going to fail, so I'm pretending it doesn't matter, so I can lie to myself about how much it will hurt when I can't.'

“Good girl,” Stella doesn't mean to make it sound saucy, but wrapped around Bloom as she was, there was no way those two words weren't coming out dirty. “Follow,” Stella said as she began to move her hands again, “bring the heat up, breathe, let the fire breathe.”

Stella shoved aside the thought of how nice Bloom's breasts were as she passed them, her hands drawing up to the shoulders then down the arms, as though she could physically drag the fire with her.

“Let the heat build between your hands, let it breathe and ignite.” Stella saw the fire blossom over the bowl from the corner of her eyes, her gaze fixed on Bloom's face.

There was focused intent, but also a peace there.

“Remember this feeling,” Stella said softly into Bloom's ear, “this heat, this flow of fire, engrave it in your mind, sink it so deeply in your bones you never forget it.”

Bloom nodded in a single slow motion.

“Now,” Stella smirked, “open your eyes.”

Bloom gasped, startling back into Stella when she saw the flame, bright and strong above the bowl.

Grinning Bloom turned to Stella and froze, the fire in the bowl flaring as Bloom realised how close Stella's face was to her.

How close their lips...

“You're glowing,” Bloom said, and it felt like someone else was saying it, but it was her mouth moving and her voice. Her awe at the soft light emitting from Stella's skin and hair.

Even in the daylight Bloom could see the glow.

'I should have kissed her then,' the regret filled thought dropped as Stella turned away, embarrassed, glow fading to nothing.

“Ahem,” Stella cleared her throat and pulled back, putting space between their bodies for the first time in... how long had they been there? “It happens, light fairy, don't worry about it,” Stella's face felt hot as she tried to wave off her lapse, she was certain she was blushing.

“Anyway,” she turned back, narrowing her eyes in a mockery of a glare, “you're not finished.”

Bloom frowned, so Stella rolled her eyes and tilted her head in gesture to the bowl, where the flame still lit the air.

“Now put it out,” Stella said, leaning gently against the altar stone. Bloom's face pulled into a slightly exaggerated grimace, and Stella could imaging the 'yikes' Bloom wasn't saying. Stella smiled, a little smug.

“Let it cool,” Stella advised, “dissipate, fire goes out when it's done, if you decide this fire is done, you decide it's time for it to go out.”

Bloom nodded, not saying anything about how nonsensical that sounded. She let the idea of it settle in her head. This fire was hers, it lived and died as she decided.

She breathed, and let the flame die out.

Slowly, cautiously, she took her hands from the bowl's handles. Nothing disastrous happened.

Bloom smiled, felt a laugh bubble up in her chest. She raised her arms, both in triumph and so she could fall onto Stella and hug her.

“Now do it again,” Stella said, cutting off the planned hug before it could begin.

Bloom pouted cutely as she dropped her arms and turned her attention back to the pot, but her smile soon returned as she called and banished the flame repeatedly under Stella's instruction several more times.

#fate the winx saga #stella x bloom - Fate Saga #fate the winx saga fic #fate the winx club saga #dealing with my disappointment by making things gayer #stella x bloom

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