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ali-annals · 1 year ago

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5: isn't it just so pretty

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On June 24th, Red Robin popped by Lucky Charms, but it was closed.

He then headed to 195 Andes Plaza but saw Damian glaring at him from the window and left.

Marinette was finishing preparing for her upcoming album release/tour and didn’t need to deal with inquisitive birds and bats right now.

The second story had a large room for the kwamis to play around in. The spacious garden out back, tended by Tikki, Pollen, Nooroo, Fluff, and Wayzz, was lush and blooming abundantly.

Tomorrow Fairy would release the album cover and name, then in a week the tracklist and another MV for her second single, Threads of Time. With the new info released, there would be more interviews. One would be with Clark and Lois.

So Damian protectively shooed his brother away from Marinette.

Chloe and Icarus would be going on tour as well, in the States and Europe. At least Bruce hadn’t questioned him when he requested to not begin working at WE till January, taking a gap half-year. There was the tour, the wedding, and planning the functions to do. He couldn’t be there for Mari and keep an eye on her health while he was busy acclimating to working at WE as well.

~~~~~

June 25th the Waynes were stunned by the cover of Fairy’s new album, Golden Ties. It was different from her debut album, Gossamer Wings. Gossamer Wings’ background was an iridescent, shimmering background with golden lines like butterfly wings curving up from the surface. Black italics spelled the title.

Golden Ties was a black background with loopy gold letters all connected spelling the title.

Fairy’s picture on the back of Gossamer Wings showed her back, with fairy wings attached. (Actually, they were her Ladybug wings and the background of the cover.)

On the back of Golden Ties was her profile in black, wearing her signature red lipstick and a plain gold masquerade-style domino.

July second, the tracks –all sixteen of them– were released, plus Threads of Time (MV).

Damian, as Icarus, appeared in it.

One of the songs, Emerald Eyes, was about him, though no one except him, Mari, Jagged and Penny, and Chloe knew that.

~~~~~

Fairy began the American leg of her tour in Gotham with Jagged.

The Waynes came, of course, minus Damian again but including Bruce this time.

Fairy sent Chloe with a note inviting them backstage after the show.

Chloe reported that they were happy to join her and that they had all (minus Bruce) squealed in excitement.

Once the backstage fans left, Icarus escorted his family to Mari’s dressing room.

“Hi! How have my ‘biggest fans’ been doing?"

“Great! This album is even better than your debut, and the concert was amazing!!”

“Thank you! Icarus inspired a lot,” she smiled at him in a way that the Bats could *tell* was reserved for him only.

"Did you know MDC was engaged to someone?” asked Bruce, not foregoing his detective tendencies even in the face of his children’s favourite artist.

“MDC is engaged? I didn’t know she made a press statement,” Fairy played dumb. “I did notice a lovely ring on her hand, though. She also seems quite close with whom I believe is your younger brother...Damian?”

“That’s him. Unfortunately, he had a previous engagement scheduled and couldn’t come tonight. I do know he actually quite enjoys your music.”

“High praise! I’ll have to tease him about it if MDC brings her man around!” Fairy giggled like her namesake. She turned to Icarus. “Remind me next time we see him?”

“Of course, Cherie. ”

~~~~~

Gold was the color of the leaves when I showed you around Centennial Park

Damian asked Jon to cover for him while he followed Marinette around the US. In return, Jon got MDC clothing and signed Fairy and Jagged Stone merch.

Jon was introduced to the kwamis, and Trixx was enlisted to create illusions of Damian and Marinette as needed. Kaalki was the MVP, opening portals regularly so Damian could maintain his presence in Gotham.

At the end of August, Fairy headed to Europe for the next leg of her tour. She hit all the capitals, saving Paris for last. Luka, Jagged, and Clara all joined her at different parts of the tour for surprise collabs.

Finally, the day came when Marinette arrived in Paris again. She hadn’t been since she wrapped up her and her parents’ affairs two years ago, and she was glad she was only there for a short while.

Damian portalled over, thanks to Kaalki, and they disguised themselves to go sightsee.

Marinette showed him Master Fu’s shop, the Couffaine houseboat, her grandparents’ house, and at last, the park by her old house, where she used to sketch.

The sunlight filtered golden through the leaves, the warm air blowing Marinette’s hair in her face.

Damian brushed it out of the way and handed her an elastic off his wrist.

She took it with a smile, grateful one of them could keep elastics close at hand.

They came out at the other end of the park, standing facing the corner where the bakery used to be.

Marinette’s grip on Damian’s hand tightened, and she wiped a tear away from her cheek.

“Let’s head back, mon ange .”

~~~~~

Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

“Bonjour, Paris!” called Fairy the next night on the catwalk. “As many of you know, I’m originally from here. It’s good to be back!” And it really was, as she thought about it. With Damian by her side, her return had been much less painful than she had originally thought.

“As I wrote Lady Luck to pay homage to the Miraculous Team, I’m proud to perform it in their city! If you’re watching this, I hope you know how much we appreciate your hard work and selfless sacrifices!”

She knew the Couffaines were in the audience, and Chloe was backstage. Adrien and Kagami were planning their wedding for the week she was back, so she was unsure if they would be too busy to come or not. She had sent them tickets anyways.

Her guitarist played the opening riff, and she started the song.

~~~~~

Adrien and Kagami were married with Marinette and Damian in attendance. They planned to honeymoon in Osaka, then fly to Gotham for Marinette and Damian’s wedding. Two days later, Fairy and Icarus returned to Gotham.

Marinette and Damian’s long absences had been chalked up to wedding planning, which was true. Mari only wanted a small wedding–just friends and her few family members– and Damian didn’t want lots of fuss either. His family attending was enough fuss, considering all their drama, he grumbled to her once. She simply giggled and told him she was sure they would be on their best behaviour.

Wayne Manor had much larger grounds than Marinette’s house, so the ceremony was set to be held there.

Tikki, Wayzz, and Pollen definitely never snuck over to encourage the lush grass and flowering blossoms, and Trixx never aided and abetted by illusioning them. The greenery was all Alfred’s green thumb.

In between concerts, Mari sewed her wedding dress and Chloe’s maid of honour dress.

Damian’s tux and Jon’s suit were already prepared, and she collected what had been Gina’s veil while she was in Paris.

The final touches of embroidery were added in the last weeks before the wedding, and all the preparations ran smoothly, thanks to Chloe and Damian’s combined terrifying ruthless efficiency.

October 10th dawned clear and bright, sunny for once in Gotham.

(Marinette bet it was something to do with Tikki’s luck and cleansing accumulating in breaking down the curses on Gotham.)

As Chloe helped her dress she reflected that maybe she should be nervous, but she only felt happy and content. She was marrying her romantic soulmate today, what more could she ask?

(The whole week before she carefully avoided even thinking of anything that could go wrong, lest Plagg’s bad luck jinx them.)

Marinette surveyed herself in the mirror by the door as Tikki and Pollen slipped into their Chosen’s bouquets.

Her veil was her ‘something borrowed’, Tikki’s earrings her ‘something old’, her dress her ‘something new’, and the sapphire necklace Damian gifted her for her birthday her ‘something blue’.

The dress was scoop-necked white tulle over white silk, the layers creating a slightly flouffy skirt. It was simple and understated, but when the light shone on it, gold threads embroidered throughout the fabric became visible. The patterns ran from her slightly pouffed sleeves, down her fitted bodice, and branched off in the skirt. Many little mementoes and details important to her and Damian were stitched in it. Ladybugs, the league of assassins and the bat symbol, a needle and thread, masks for Fairy and Icarus, dates important in their relationship, like their first meeting, the day Damian proposed, the day they found each other in her shop.

Damian’s suit was black, but another gold thread wound throughout it, spots and feathers trimming the edges. Plagg had taken a liking to Damian, and she had occasionally let him practice with the ring, just in case he needed to use it, so a tiny pocket for Plagg was sewn into his suit as well.

The car pulled up to the flower strewn aisle, and Marinette gripped her bouquet, preparing to step out. The door opened and Bruce extended his hand.

She took it with a smile, sad that he wasn’t her own father but pleased that she could incorporate Damian’s into the programme.

Alfred, as the officiant, was waiting at the end of the aisle with Damian and Jon, Damian’s best man.

Damian’s jaw dropped as he saw Marinette walk down the aisle like a pageant queen, but he quickly closed it when Jon nudged him.

His eyes fell briefly to Tikki, hidden in the bouquet Mari held. She and the other kwamis had given him the equivalent of a shovel talk, which he took quite seriously, as he should. They all walked away from that conversation satisfied (and a little unsettled, on Damian’s end).

Damian met Marinette’s love-filled gaze and smiled widely at her, causing Dick, Bruce, and Alfred to tear up a little.

Tim, Steph, and Babs were a little surprised at how outwardly happy Damian was acting, but were pleased for him. Cass watched closely as Marinette took Damian’s hand and joined him in front of Alfred. Her hypothesis was confirmed when a faint golden glow appeared as they exchanged rings. Soulmates .

Bruce eyed his new daughter-in-law’s bouquet. He was sure something in it was watching him.

Plagg cackled quietly in Damian’s pocket.

After a lovely reception provided by Alfred and Wang Feng and Marinette’s cousin Fei, the newlyweds departed for parts unknown on their honeymoon.

In reality, they moved into 195 Andes Plaza. Relaxing at home sounded much better than jetting off after they’d just been on an extended world tour. Now was the time to be quiet and put down roots.

(It also had the added benefit of keeping the Batfam’s prying eyes off them, as the Bats didn’t expect them to be under their noses, still in Gotham. After all, who decided Gotham was a prime honeymoon destination? Only Damian and Marinette.)

#daminette #DCxMLB #IbTS #fic #ali writes

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monstersinthecosmos · 1 year ago

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could you go into more detail re: how you changed the post-bom smut in chapter 9 of TTSR? i looove the whump+smut combo but i totally get what you meant by thinking it wouldn't be realistic for keith to even recover from what you initially had in mind, esp. given it's a multi-chaptered fic and listen we have places to get to we have burns to slow and daddies to kink and whatnot. but still i am kinda foaming at the mouth to know what the original plan was LOL, if you're up to talking about it ofc. btw it's sheith VC anon and i've just started reading IWTV! lestat cracks me the fuck up but i feel like louis would sound just as ridiculous from someone else's pov, arguably more so. girl you are out there standing still in the middle of the pouring rain for hours. love the moments when it stops being an interview and becomes a psychoanalysis session instead, hey it's free therapy. if he's even aware of such a strange and novel concept yet. also the AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE COFFIN bit made me lose it

WHAT A DELIGHTFUL ASK IN MY INBOX FIRST THING IN THE MORNING HAHA. LOUIS PLZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11 i s2g lol baffled-idiot-at-the-zoo-core

Gosh so like, when I write outlines, I kinda

list the points out

in the bottom of the document

that i can always peek down and just see the next part im trying to make it to

AND THEN I ERASE THE LINES AS I GO HAHA. So there's no real record of my original outlines oops. So tbh I don't remember allllll the details but I do have a couple clues from DMs with my TTSR cheerleader:

Basically, like, in the first aid/aftercare area of the chapter I was gonna have Keith in like COMPLETE hysterics hahahaha but I'm kind of a slow writer so idk the trials part of the chapter took WEEKS to write so like. It's hard for me sometimes because in my mind I feel like "I've been staring at this scene for weeks and it's getting boring" without remembering that it would take like, idk 10 minutes to read? I get very worried that my fics are long and boring LOL. But like working on the trial for weeks where it was like so dismal and violent and dark, I think it MAKES SENSE that someone would be in hysterics, but I also felt like.!!!!!!!!!!

I wanted the sex at the end of the chapter to be like quiet and intimate but for Keith to be really shut down and uncomfortable afterwards, and I wanted him to pull away and have walls up. Like to be in hysterics, then to have sex, then to calm down and be really embarrassed that he was in hysterics in the first place, and get freaked out that they're being too intimate.

But it feels like at a certain point I'm not trying to like slow burn or drag the story out FOR THE SAKE OF DRAGGING IT OUT, I don't want to include those things if they feel gratuitous. Does that make sense? Because I've read some bad slow burns where I felt like the author was being purposefully verbose to inflate the word count so that you FEEL SLOW BURNED by the slog of words but not necessarily by what's happening in the story? To me, slow burning is about what the characters are DOING and what's happening and how everyone feels, not strictly about making people sit through 100k of build up. You can slow burn someone in 3k if you're purposeful! So like without my original notes anymore what I do remember is

Keith was going to be in COMPLETE hysterics. The notes probably were like "Keith comes out of the trial puking and has a huge meltdown" and when you write notes it feels kinds harmless but then when you write like idk 15k about the trials suddenly it's like "a huge meltdown" feels like Too Much.

Shiro drugging him wasn't in the original outline; this was my excuse to get him calm and loopy instead of having a metldown.

I felt like Keith emotionally shutting down during sex at the end was going to be TOO MUCH so I let Shiro take care of him a little more. A compromise was that I added that he COULDNT COME LOL I just thought it would like still give me an excuse to have him be frustrated/burnt out/whumpy but without pushing it so hard. (Of course Shiro figures out a way to get him off anyway because I didn't want to like edge the reader on that either, that also felt a little cruel LOL)

I don't recall if I planned whose bedroom they'd be in but I let Shiro fell asleep at least before Keith leaves. FALLING ASLEEP IN KEITHS BED LOL FEELS SERIOUS.

I also think I wrote something about how he wasn't going to want to see Shiro's face or be on top in the second scene because in the opening scene he's on top for the first time and he's really nervous and uncomfortable and doesn't like it. So like instead of the BOM trial bringing them CLOSER I thought it was going to like push them further from each other because he was too traumatized LOL.

BUT IDK IN THE MOMENT ONCE I ACTUALLY SAW HOW THE TRIALS WENT I JUST FELT LIKE IT WAS TOO MEAN LOL. AND I DECIDED IF HE'S VERY HIGH AND EXHAUSTED HE CAN AT LEAST PARTICIPATE AND I DONT HAVE TO HURT SHIRO'S FEELINGS LOL. AND HE CAN STILL FEEL VERY EMBARRASSED AFTERWARDS WHICH IS THE NEXT CHAPTER THAT I'M WORKING ON NOW.

ajsdkglasdg

#stuff i wrote

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nationalharryleague · 4 years ago

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One Day

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Drunk!Harry Fluff!

Word count: 2K

A/N: Hi all! This is some drunk boyfriend harry fluff that I just love sm. It’s based off of “One Day” by Catie Turner (I highly recommend listening to it!!) More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think in my ask! Thank you so much for reading!

***

Harry was the life of the party when he wanted to be. He knew how to let loose, with a tequila on the rocks in one hand and a beer in the other, ready to party until he (literally) dropped. He always ended up on some sort of elevated surface like a teenage girl, usually a kitchen island or an absurdly expensive coffee table, singing along to whatever music was playing, magically knowing every word to whatever came over the speakers. Sometimes he would get lost in the winding corridors of the massive mansions his friends lived in, taking a wrong turn in his enhibrated state and ending up somewhere he definitely wasn’t supposed to be. There was also one time he jumped off a (thankfully low) roof into the swimming pool below.

But usually, he was calm, cool, and collected; gently sipping on a single drink he would nurse for most of the night. The two of you liked to sit and watch during these parties, his hand settling securely on your waist, keeping you close to him and away from the chaos that unfolded before you. You would curl up on a couch somewhere and just watch it all play out like it was an observational study, often giving commentary and ranking people and their drunk dancing out of 10.

“I feel like we're the mean girls in the corner of the cafeteria who just sit and silently judge everyone around them,” you would giggle, nuzzling yourself further into his side.

“That’s because we are the mean girls in the corner judging everyone around them, sweetheart” he would reply, in a slightly buzzed drawl.

But tonight was not one of those nights. And Harry had ended up standing on top of the dining room table scream-singing ABBA at the top of his lungs.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic and messy performance. His limbs flailed freely as he wiggled his hips along to the beat of Dancing Queen, singing into a small statue of a naked woman he had picked up off an end table that you assumed to be very, very expensive, like it was a microphone. He wore a pair of high rise denim flares that swayed along with his movements to the music and his white “Women are Smarter'' shirt was now stuck to his body with sweat, just see through enough for his butterfly to make an appearance.

He only came down after a green malaise began to settle over his features, skin slightly clammy and a bit pale. You extended a hand, helping his loopy body down off the table and letting him settle into your side for support once he was on solid ground again. “Let’s head to the bathroom, H,” you said gently, trying to settle the panic that was beginning to crawl into his eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

Once he got to the beautifully large and extravagant bathroom, he crawled into a small, or as small as the large man could make himself, ball and rested his hot clammy cheeks against the cool marble of the floor. “May have overdone it,” he grumbled from his spot on the floor, holding on for dear life as you were sure the room was spinning for him.

“Ya think?” you teased, immediately feeling a pang of guilt when you were met with a pathetically needy face from him in return. “Oh baby, it’s okay.” You carefully dug through the cabinets, knowing there had to be washcloths somewhere in the lavish room, and once you found one you dampened it with cold water. Settling down on the tile next to him, you pulled him and his sweaty curls on to your lap, wiping the layer of sweat delicately from his skin and then resting the cold cloth on his forehead.

You two stayed in this position for a while, carefully rubbing his back in an effort to sooth the large man and trying to ignore the loud music that was still shaking the house around you. He looked small like this, no longer your giant protector, but like a younger version of himself who just needed someone to take care of him. You were happy to be that person, as he always was for you.

This was the first time you had ever seen him like this. He always managed to know his limits, but tonight he just went off the deep end. He had been working like a dog, constantly in and out of the studio, frustrated that none of the songs he was writing were up to his astronomically high standards for himself. It wasn’t too shocking that he was trying to escape that stress.

Gradually, as he laid on the floor and you held him close, the color came back into his cheeks and he stopped holding onto your legs like the room was about to take flight. When you sat him up against the wall, he was still a bit wobbly, but no longer looked like he was about to unload his stomach contents all over the room.

“How are you feeling now, H?” you asked softly, scanning his face for discomfort or distress as you dabbed the washcloth over his skin.

“’m okay,” he hiccuped back, “jus’ needed a cuddle.” He got exceptionally British when he got this drunk, his accent coming out in a barely distinguishable garble of tall vowels and dropped consonants, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

His eyes fluttered open and closed without rhythm as he looked at you, his light green eyes glazed over with a glassy shine, and his mouth hung open slightly, like he didn’t have the coordination to close it. His pink cheeks were flushed and his skin had a sweaty sheen. His head had rolled off too one side and rested on his shoulder, like his neck had given up on holding his head up, and his arms fell heavy at his sides.

You should have been at least slightly annoyed with him for acting like a college kid, drinking until he made himself sick. His behavior and subsequent need for you to take care of him should have gotten under your skin and caused a bit of anger to bubble up into your chest. But it didn’t. You were just taking care of your man.

“Do you still feel nauseous?”

“‘m a-ok, babay” he said, making himself giggle with his rhyme. His lips lazily curled up into a smile and he dragged a lazy arm up to give the “OK” symbol with his uncoordinated fingers, before the heavy limb dropped back down to the tile beneath him.

“Okay, funny man,” you began sarcastically, planning on instructing to drink the glass of water you had retrieved on your way up to the bathroom, when he cut you off.

“I am pretty funny, aren’t I?” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back the loud belly laugh that fell past your lips. He took the glass from you and began to sip, a proud smirk never leaving his lips as he looked at you.

“You were a comedian in a past life.”

“I agree.”

You two were quiet for a bit, Harry drinking something other than tequila for the first time the entire night, and you just admiring him in silence. You let your hand crawl into his, interlocking your fingers together before bringing it up to your lips and pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles. It wasn’t long before his glass of water was finished and he crawled back into your arms, his back pressing to your chest with your arms wrapped securely around his shoulders. Your fingers ran through his still damp curls, initially just to push them up and away from his forehead and eyes, but continued when you heard the little happy mewls coming from him.

“Ya take such good care of me,” he said sloppily with a gentle tone, breaking through the bubble of silence you two had created together.

“I always will.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his salty forehead and settled back onto the hard wall behind you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hadn’t been together for long, with saying the “L” word still being pretty new, and still slightly foreign, to both of you. But you meant it when you said it, you loved him, and your body always filled with a blushing warmth when he said he loved you too.

You had met through work when you interviewed him for the magazine you worked at. From the moment you saw those dimples in real life, you were weak in the knees and enamored with him. You hadn’t been trying to flirt, it just happened. And before he left the office, you had a date planned for that Friday. That was 6 months ago now and they had been some of the happiest of your life.

“Will you marry me?”

The question left his lips in his absurdly difficult to understand drawl and it took you a moment to process what he said, but when you did your heart stopped.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry him, because you did, but not now.

It was too soon. There was still too much for you to do together, too much still to learn about him, and too much for him to learn about you. You hadn’t even had a serious fight yet; you didn’t know how he dealt with conflict or how you would react to it. You didn’t live together; you didn’t know how your living habits would match up or if they would drive each other insane. You didn’t know how you would deal with him touring being away for so long.

There was just too much you didn't know.

“I will someday.” You spoke gently, trying hard not to hurt his currently fragile feelings. You were now holding his face tenderly, like if you held him steady and close, you could lessen the blow.

“So, no?” he looked up at you with his big puppy dog eyes, feeling guilt punch you in the gut.

“For now. Everything is just going so well right now, we don’t have to mess with it.”

“Jus’ wanna be with you forever,” he said softly and your heart began to melt. He was such a soft person, who felt everything so deeply and with so much emotion. He was a sap, and you loved him for it. You pulled him closer to your chest, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

“And you will be,” you breathed. “Forever will still be there down the line.”

“Why not now?” His lips held an adorable pout and you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing a kiss to them. He tasted awful, like tequila and sweat, but the kiss was loving and sweet as you tried to pour all your love for him into it.

“Because we still have to grow,” you watched the end of his mouth tick up, sure to make some sort of smartass comment about you both being grown already. “We have to grow together,” you finished.

“I guess so,” he mused softly.

“I promise that I will say ‘yes’ when we are ready someday.”

“Someday,” he repeated softly, feeling the words on his own lips. “I’m going to keep asking, ya know?” he smirked up at you, his smile and joking tone signalling that you hadn’t broken his heart, just bruised his ego a bit.

“That’s perfectly okay,” you sighed, a contagious smile finding its way to your own lips. “I’m going to keep saying ‘no’ until we’re ready, ya know?” you teased, using his own words against him.

“One day, I’ll make an honest woman outta ya when you let me.”

“One day.”

Thank you reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean the world!!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harryandhockey #my writing

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wandsandwheezes · 4 years ago

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Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH1

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff.

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London's best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

He was giving you that look. not the look, that look - the one that told you to stop doing what you were doing. It wasn't often that you'd layer it on thick for the press, making sure that you're giggling as you press your hand to his chest. With each flash of a picture you make sure you're striking a different pose. It was hard work being a liar, but it was even harder work without the publicity you gained.

Your Publicist Cheryl or 'cherry' as she begged you to call her, had devised her own scheming plan to generate not only some amazing press for you, a well established quidditch player, but also some well-needed hype and sales for Fred Weasley's shop. After all, it's not every day that London's best quidditch player was dating Infamous Fred Weasley, Gryffindor Star beater and all-in-all stellar man. The plan had been well and truly in action for just over four months, With Fred the main face of the shared brand with his brother George, it felt like the best option according to Cherry.

You were leaning into Fred, answering press questions about the latest win, how you were feeling about the upcoming game and, of course the all too regularly asked update on the relationship. You were 'very happy with a man like Fred', he was smiling down at you, gushing sappily "She may be the best Seeker in the game, but my god is she a keeper." The line made you sick to your stomach, When Cherry had pitched it to you both, you were groaning in disgust, but as she pulled the lollipop from her bright red lips with a pop, staring at you with raised eyebrows, you knew it had to be done.

As the interview began to wrap up, you thanked the photographers and journalists, grabbing Fred's hand and interlocking your fingers with a beaming smile, you made sure the cameras could see, after all the last issue of the Daily Prophet branded it as a 'winning smile'. You were escorted away from the press, once out of sight from them, your hand dropped from Fred's grip. "Well done for not making that so not obviously fake." you quipped at him, going to pull your coat on and check your phone for any messages. He laughed, imitating your voice, "Oh, Fred, you're so handsome, won't you just kiss me right now?" You scoffed, throwing your bag over your shoulder. Your phone had three messages when the screen had lit up, your stomach feeling like it had butterflies when you noticed the name.

>> Do I get to see my beautiful girl later?

>> I got your favourite for dinner.

>> I miss your lips already

You felt like the luckiest girl alive in his presence, he made you feel like a princess - a queen even, with every night you spent with him. It all started at Hogwarts for you two, after all, It's not often you get to see the best Slytherin seeker and the Gryffindor star beater together. It really wasn't often because you'd been hiding your relationship for that long. He taught you quidditch skills that got you to where you are today during late, late night practices, often ending with makeout sessions on the grass as you straddled his hips,giggling into the bitter Scottish air.

You fell in love with George Weasley as a teenager, and for 6 years you had kept your relationship a well-guarded secret. Even through the war, you kissed each other goodbye, praying that it was only a see you later. You knew that one day you would marry the gorgeous man you loved so dearly. You tried to persuade Cherry, who had and still has no clue about your true relationship status, for it to be George you had a public relationship with, but she quickly shut the idea down because George was 'too quiet'.

<< I miss you so much Georgie… heading back to the shop with fred now

<< btw I'm staying over tonight, I won't suffer another night without kisses :'((

>> Just kisses? ;)

<< Shut up.

<< I love you xx

>> I Love you too, babygirl xx

>> Daddy can't wait to see you <3

George stood lazily, arms draped over the balcony as he was smiling down at his phone like a muppet. He was so head over heels with you that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. George wasn't mad that you had to fake date his twin, after all, he'd rather it be Fred than some random quidditch man, or worst of all, Krum. He knew and recognised how important it was to your career plus, what good businessman turns down the opportunity to rake in some sales? It hurt to read the papers sometimes, seeing how much attention you both got together, a part of him wished it was he who got to show you off.

When you entered the shop, you caught George's eyes immediately, a bashful smile spread across your face, immediately feeling like a schoolgirl again in his presence. Fred sulked off to his office, leaving you to browse the shop until your driver arrived to take you to team practice. You were browsing the upper back wall of products when you felt his stare on you, he was meters away from you and you ached to draw him in for a kiss. You reached out to him, making the grabby hands that he couldn't resist, he checked over his shoulder, seeing nobody, before waking over to you, he pulled you into a quick and needy kiss by your neck, his other hand finding your hip.

"I'll be home after practice," you mumbled between kisses. It was common for you to travel to his via floo, arriving at the place you truly called home, leaving a vacant and empty flat behind. He shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. "Too long to wait," he laughed softly, his lips pressing to yours again, you were just about to deepen the kiss when you heard Cherry yell out, "Y/N let's go or you'll be late for practice!" You sighed, leaving your boyfriend behind, fingertips being the last thing to separate as you walked away, leaving him dumbfounded.

Practicing with your team was always a long, tough grind, your captain worked you hard and she knew it was all for the best, she was due soon to step down from her duty as captain, leaving the team in your hands, so you felt like you were learning double constantly. The warm water running down your skin made you crave George's touch even more, pushing the thought of Fred's hand on your hip out of your mind completely, you simply couldn't wait.

When you arrived home, George, as promised had your favourite dinner ready for you. He was an amazing chef, using muggle techniques and tools to help create the perfect dishes without the need for magic. You shrugged off your jacket and bag, relaxing into the dining table chair as George brought out your bowl, his hands were massaging your shoulders as you ate, "Aren't you gonna eat, Georgie?" you questioned him, he smirked, "I've been waiting for you to get home so I could have my favourite." George was on his knees, hands reaching up to pull down your leggings, you lifted your hips up, allowing him to drag the material down each of your legs, hooking them over his shoulders,

You knew exactly what he was doing, your hands found his hair and he tutted, breath fanning over your pussy as he looked up at you. "I made your favourite for you, Princess, You always liked it when we eat together." His tongue darted out to lick over your covered slit, feeling you already wet through your underwear, he hummed in appreciation, his teeth pulling the material to the side before attaching his lips to your clit.

Every time he hummed against you, it made you shake, the task of eating dinner becoming more and more strenuous, as you struggled to swallow down the food while he was pulling such sinful moans from you. George's skilled tongue was fucking your cunt, swallowing everything he could like it was the last meal he'd ever eat, and godric did he think you tasted divine, his thumb came up to circle your clit slowly, bringing you closer and closer to the ege.

Thing is with George, he doesn't stop till he's got what he wanted. "Finish your dinner, baby," he smirked, a long finger slowly teasing your entrance, "I'm not finished until you are too." he was a determined man, by your second orgasm you could hardly hold up your fork, but nevertheless you soldiered on, managing to swallow the last piece just before number three hit, your legs were shaking and you were moaning incoherent sentences. That was possibly the best meal of your life, your weak legs could hardly hold you up when you tried to stand.

George pulled you up into his arms, carrying you to the bed where he found your favourite shirt of his, helping you change into it, he left to make you a cup of tea, bringing it into the bedroom for you. sitting contently beside each other.

George's phone buzzed on the side, he read the message from fred. Laughing before showing it to you, the irony all too funny for him to resist.

>> George, if only you had to do this… Fancy swapping places at the product launch on Saturday?

<< Love to, but I'm not sure that's how the whole twin thing works.

>> With an ass like hers, I don't mind it too much… shame, she seems like your type.

The last text from him made george both laugh and be angry at him sexualising his girl. You laugh, pressing a soft kiss to your boyfriend’s jaw before taking a sip of your tea, "He doesn't know George."

He hums a little bit before typing a reply.

<< It really is a shame, she does have a nice ass.

You scoff, rolling your eyes - Men.

///TO BE CONTINUED/// Chapter Two >>>>>

Taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #george weasley fic #harry potter #mutuals innit #weasley twins #fred weasley #harry potter fic #fred weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #harry potter smut #harry potter writing #Fake It Fic

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khiphop-discussions · 2 years ago

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SMTM11 Diss Battle Ep.7 Part 2

This is the Team Quiolin vs Team R-Jus. If you haven't seen part 1 yet then I suggest you go see it.

Background: So it starts off with QM talking in an interview with SMTM producers. He says that Don Malik is the one who dissed VMC first. He was a fan but felt like they changed over to mainstream after dissing mainstream. Then Justhis diss VMC. This whole time I was underthe impression that Justhis was the main catalyst but really Don Malik was. I think Justhis got more attention from the diss because he is more famous than Don Malik. Then, QM dissed Justhis. QM also dissed Don Malik but Don Malik never responded to the return diss. So this is the first time that Don is responding to QM.

Back on stage before the battle starts: The Quiett is effortlessly throwing shade when asked about the upcoming battle. He makes a comment about no props and just going back to the basics/fundamentals. To me, it came off shady because the Don/Justhis/QM/VMC diss was all about basics/fundamentals of starting off in the underground, taking pride in it to the point off DISSING mainstream, but then "switching sides" to be mainstream. It's like they are forgetting or abandoning their roots (aka fundamentals/basics). Don and Justhis dissed VMC for that but then ended up doing the same thing so they basically forgot the fundamentals too. So Quiett kinda brought it up without bringing it up. Very slick LOL. Side note but R-Jus team reminds me of the Ballas gang in GTA: San Andreas lol. If you've never played, they're a fictional street gang with purple as their gang colors.

Battle preparation: Justhis has the energy we NEEDED to make this battle good. "I'd like it better if it were something a bit more offensive". Then Leella is like "I'd like it to not be excessive" to his team during seperate prep. That's because Leella is a sweetheart LOL. At some point, Los(?) exposes that QM was an idol trainee. That was shocking. Even to R.Tee.

Battle starts with Khan vs NSW Yoon: NSW Yoon takes out bug spray because of Khan's "mosquito" voice. Personally, I think it was tired and played out. Loopy already did that on SMTM777 when he was facing Super Bee. He asked if Khan washes his hair or not. I think NSW mentions this is because he wears braids and the bar before is about his braids so that's why I think it's connected (Context: its common for people who aren't Black to not wash their hair [or wash it way less regularly than they should. Like going weeks or months without a wash] when they have Black hairstyles. This is because it's hard for their hair to hold these types of styles. Black people can wash these hairstyles more often without them getting ruined BUT the more you wash the more "frizzy" and they don't have that freshly done, neat look anymore. This happens more quickly if you don't have afrotextured hair. I have more to say about Khan's hair but I'll save it for another post). Because of Khan's voice quality, he calls him an "ASMR rapper" He also has this "KhanMakie" (sorry don't feel like switching to the Hangul keyboard at the moment) line that is clever AF! If you haven't seen the episode yet, just watch this part for the lyrics plus explanation. It happens around 55:40. Overall, NSW Yoon's rap has more lines but the ones mentioned stood out to me the most. His rap was MEAN! Like DAAAAMMMN!

Khan raps a few lyrics but the first one that really stuck with me is "Your biggest hit features Khan" that line was CRAZY! Also, "Hwang JiSang's gofer, NSW Yoon" is a line Khan got the crowd to chant. Khan and NSW Yoon are good friends so Khan knows it pisses NSW off. So I thought that was good lol. Overall BOTH of their raps were MEAN as hell. I was like "Well, damn. Do y'all even like each other for real?" LOL they do. I felt like NSW Yoon had more good diss bars overall. He did end up winning.

Don Malik vs QM: QM comes out HARD. His frst line is actually Justhis' line from the UV Cypher that was probably meant to be shade to VMC. "After all that criticism, now you want to earn money too?" Then he referred to Don's lyrics calling rappers who come on TV "whores": "You said that coming on SMTM is akin to selling yourself, so how much do you cost?" DAAAAAMMMMMM!

"Can't handle Deepflow alone so y'all became a group of four" He's referring to Lil Boi, Taekwon, Justhis, and Don Malik doing vv2 remix. As you may remember, one of the rappers Deepflow dissed back in the days was Lil Boi. So all of the had beef with him. I didn't know Taekwon did, maybe he's just a part of it because lil boi and his are close. So even Taekwon (who was in the crowd) ended up taking a stray (bullet). QM said something about Nucksal working with Yoo Jaesuk so he must be higher than Justhis can reach. Just watch this part of this battle. It's explained better there and you'll have the context of the rest of the rap. (This part happens at around 59:50). QM went IN! This isn't even half of all the lyrics and disses he had. This is one of the best SMTM diss battles.

Switching over to Don Malik: Don was more playful. Most of his individuals lines weren't all that interesting as far as dissing go imo. It kinda goes along with the fact that he never responded to QM cause he kinda looked down on him and felt he needed to improve. So it's kinda the point that his diss is kinda childish and flippant (mostly just said different variations of "HAHA QM is fat"), cause he doesn't take him serious. It's subtextual (this is how I view it) so you have to know that info to put it together. It was witty (as witty as you can be just calling someone different variations of "fat") and good but QM's was better to me. QM's diss is one of the best in SMTM history imo.

Don Malik ended up winning.

So then right before the team battle: Khan randomly starts making fun of Damini's voice. He's doing an impression. Since it was so random I was like "awww does someone have a crush?" lol. After seeing the team battle it makes sense why he "randomly" chose her to go after.

The team battle was MEAN as HELL!

Damini said Huh was prettier than her and I thought it was hilarious (its funnier when you're watching obviously). He is handsome though lol. Damin also says at one point during her diss that "she doesn't have much to say" and Khan's petty ass goes "Thank You. Thank You!" Basically he's saying he's thankful he won't have to hear much of her voice/rapping. He's mean lol. Khan was being an ass during this battle haha.

Huh's diss was vicious! His main lyrics was "Damini looks like dog poop". It's the most childish line but the delivery of it in Korean was very impactful. It landed really hard. I found out Damini dissed Queen Wasabii (she said the n-word though that's not what Damini dissed her for) so I definitely like Damini more now. He also said "You don't rap, you poop with your mouth" I was like "Damn Huh that's COLD!". He also said "everyone will know she's a bubble". The subber's note said that a bubble is someone or something that looks good on the outside but is empty inside. Honestly, I'd have to take that as a compliment cause Huh just accidentally called her good looking...but only AFTER saying she looks like dog poop lol. His finally lyrics that was HARSH as hell was saying "You're black on the inside, the only thing that's white is your tongue coating"...DAAAAMMMMMNNNN nobody expected Huh to be this mean. Also, this was after he made fun of her wearing the same outfit by asking if she washes it and basically calling her dirty. After the "tongue" line, I gasped and covered my mouth. It was SOOO bad!

Next is Los. One bar he said to Crucial Star was that "Soul Company failed right after you joined". That bar is CRAZY but honestly...it didn't age well because now VMC is closing and Los was one of the last few artists to join haha.

Los called Damini a "crazy bitch". I, again, gasped with my mouth open.

I found out Don Malik is only 1 year older than me. He was born in 1996. I thought he would be older. Then Khan came being an ass again. "What this fool does best is collect food coupons." (see I told you most of what was aimed at QM was fat jokes). It landed well and the delivery was good (why it landed well). I was just like DAMN Khan is MEAN!

Anyway, R-Jus won to me. I thought there was no way they lost. Just off of the disses to Damini. They ended up winning by 126 votes overall. Team Quiolin eliminated Damini. Leella looked SOOOO sad. He legit looked sadder than she did. Khan said Damini did a good job. He probably feels bad for the disses (or likes her lol).

At the end all the rappers are hugging backstage and on stage. QM and Justhis hug. Don and QM have a brief talk. They end up hugging and The Quiett funnily declares the beef over with a Squid Game quote.

@lilsvt

#smtm11 #show me the money 11 #diss battle

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destinyc1020 · 3 years ago

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Anon, please (and it's fine if you don't post/leave it as a response just to you, if you want -- either way).

I hope it didn't seem like I was judging Z re: whatever was happening during that time. Just observations -- like you said, her behavior and appearance seemed very out of character from what we know of her. And I agree that Tom was no better off. He's said that he was drinking all the time (other than while on set, of course). Again, not a judgment -- just referring to what he, himself, has said. There's also that video of Tom and Dom in Tom's Berlin "home," and Dom voiced concern a couple times about Tom's drinking, which Tom shrugged off. You're right: anything to deal with heartbreak.

It was like they both sort of looked up and whoever was right in front of their faces was going to be the person in their life -- for Z once, for Tom twice. (I mean absolutely no disrespect to O and N, who seem like capable, pretty, worthy women. Poor N basically lived in a frat house when she moved in during quarantine. I'm sure for Tom that made the relationship seem pretty good -- hanging out with your best friends all day then getting some affection, too. I do mean a little disrespect to JE, though.) I don't think it's a coincidence at all that Tom got together with N right after Z's pap pics came out. I feel like there was such devastation there for him (which you can see in that one interview you posted) and that it's often overlooked that what was particularly painful about it was that Z did with JE the exact thing (or one of the primary things) that broke T&Z up, not only that she was with someone new. I'm not judging Z at all, and we know how insistent she was that the pics be taken down. I think both of them were doing the best they could. Anyone in that situation is doing the best they can, just trying to tether themselves to something.

Anyway, sorry for the length. That video of Z just took me back to those thoughts. I'm so glad that's behind them -- for them as a couple and for them as individuals -- and that they've gotten to the other side as stronger, wiser, even more loving people. If only we were all that open, mature, understanding, forgiving, and humble, right?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for your heartfelt post anon. I agree with everything you said pretty much. I didn't think it was coming off as judgmental at all. I really think that fans need to stop thinking that their faves are perfect. They're NOT. And it's okay to accept that. NONE of us are perfect individuals. I think when you put people too high on a pedestal, you will end up setting yourself up for disappointment, because people are just human beings at the end of the day, and they may mess up, do something out of character, or disappoint you in some way etc. We're all imperfect. We all make mistakes and do/say things we shouldn't at times. 🤷 That person you may love and admire may have said years ago that they would "never" do x,y,z, but then, during a time of stress/heartache/depression or whatever, they end up doing things they never really thought they would do. This happens sometimes. So I'm not going to put anything past anyone. You can have some slip-ups and STILL be a professional. The two are not mutually exclusive. I'm pretty sure prior to the Tomdaya breakup, Tom probably didn't think he would be having a bunch of random hookups either! But yet, after his breakup with Z, there were some rumors that he was having flings (esp in Cleveland), and even he himself admits in a Cherry interview that he didn't want to "go into details" about all the things he did to "cope" with his heartbreak (which, lets me know that he was doing adult things 👀). So, that right there tells you that sometimes we may do things that are out of our character when going through a hard time, or a hard breakup. I never saw any interviews where Tom looked loopy or anything, but dude was definitely drinking a lot more than usual after the breakup. It almost seemed like he was drinking all the time, or looking drunk asl in pictures that summer and fall (like the ones I posted). Again, I don't judge whatever TZ did during that time in order to get over their heartbreak or to try to move on. It happens. It's not a big deal to me. 🤷 The point is they are both HAPPY now and back to their old selves again it seems. That's all that matters. 😊

Anyway, that's the last I'm talking about that topic, because it's old news anyway now.

#submission

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 3 years ago

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I wish Euphemia existed in real life. Lily quitting her career in order to do something that makes her happy and lets her live as well resonates very much. I also have a degree in something that took a lot of time and effort and well... I don't love it. I was completely burnt out, then I had a baby and honestly, being on maternity leave has been the best thing ever because I got away from my job (my baby too, of course). It seems terrible to admit. But yeah, go Euphemia.

My iteration of Euphemia in the story is basically my projection of what I wish all bosses were like because mine has passive-aggressively bullied me to such an extent that I am sending in my notice tomorrow, and I don't even have another job lined up yet because I am signed off sick and in too much pain to properly do a Teams interview without medication that makes me go loopy (did one last week with no meds and got offered the job immediately but they want me to work in an office five days a week when Covid is still happening so I was like NO, and the pain I was in was so intense that I can't do it again until I feel better). It's not terrible to admit that you hate your job. EVEN if it's something you studied for. It just shows how broken this entire system is that were expected to choose what we do for the rest of our lives when we're 17 or 18 years old.

Part of why I gave Lily the job track I did in this fic is because I feel so strongly that if ambition and advancement costs you happiness and you can get by just fine with a less jazzy job that you are pretty chilled with, then fuck ambition and advancement. You have ONE life. One. And my god, if watching my incredible sister-in-law slowly die at such a young age has taught me ANYTHING, it has taught me that. It's taught me that our lives are short and we should grab what happiness we can. It's taught me not to stick with a job that makes me feel physically sick with anxiety when I could NOT do that. I am very happy for you and your baby, anon, and I hope that your career circumstances change in the future because you do NOT deserve to spend your life doing something you hate and nobody has any right to make you feel bad about not loving it just because it's something you studied when you were younger ❤️

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k-hiphop-trash · 4 years ago

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GROOVL1n PROFILES AND FACTS

It was founded on June 26th 2019.

RAVI

Real name: Kim WonSik (김원식).

Nicknames: Ambidextrous Rapper, Lava, Lucky Boy.

His stage name Ravi means “charming”.

His favoucolours are black and white.

His hobby is body training.

Among the members of VIXX he sleeps the most.

His most valuable belonging is his lyrics notebook.

He is allergic to dust.

He enjoys drinking coffee at night.

Heloves doing graffiti.

Hehas several tattoos including: “YOLO, You Only Live Once” on his chest; an angel on his left side; “Love attracts love to the wearer”.

He was born on February 15th 1993.

He was born on Jamsil Dong.

He is 183 cm.

His bloodtype is O.

Hehas a younger sister.

He founded his own hiphop label GROOVL1n on June 2019.

He won the 2020Brand of the Year Awards: Idol Variety Star.

He is part of the k-pop group VIXX and part of the sub-unit VIXX LR, were he is a rapper and dancer.

He went to Seoul Jamdomg Elementary School, Jamsil Middle School, Jamsil High School and Howon University with a master in Musicology.

He is a very good MC and is a fairly good freestyler.

Ravi’s ideal type is a pretty and self-conscious woman.

His motto is “You Only Live Once”.

His favourite artists are Kanye West, A$AP Rocky, Chris Brown, Drake, Big Sean and August Alsina. He is also a fan of G-Dragon.

He became part of VIXX because he was one of the winners of the show “Mydol”.

He features on Chad Future’s new music video “Rock the World”.

He wrote the song “What U Waiting For” thinking of the members.

Park MyungSoo offered him to work together when he was impressed after his cover of the song “Fire” on his show “Park Myun Soo’s moving TV”.

He participated in SMTM4 but was eliminated.

He wrote VIXX LR’s “Beautiful Liar”.

In June 2018 he produced a song for the girl group ELRIS.

To promote one of his albums he held a guerrilla concert at Gangnam station.

On April 2nd 2017 he uploaded a picture of a French Bulldog to his Instagram officially introducing “Buttie”, VIXX’s new member. His nickname is “BADA$$”.

He debuted as a soloist on 2017 with his mini album “R.EAL1ZE”.

He is part of the group “Parka Friendship”, including Taemin (SHINee), Kai (EXO) and Timoteo and SungWoon (HOTSHOT). His song “Ravi Da Loca” mentions their name to express his gratitude towards them. He says his best friends are Taemin and Kai.

He appears in Brian Joo’s MV “Let This Die”.

If he were a girl he would go out with N among the VIXX members because he is really nice and reliable and he would probably not be a cheater.

He is the 3rd idol with more songs registered to his name.

He won the golden medal in bowling with Ken on the Idol Star Athletic Championship 2018.

Jellyfish anounced on May 24th that he would be leaving the company but will still promote with VIXX.

He cares a lot for the members of GROOVL1n.

He has a YouTube channel with a mini series were he interviews different artists.

CHILLIN HOMIE

His real name is Jeon WooSung (전우성).

He was born on September 3rd 1999.

He is 178 cm.

He was born in Seoul but lived in Pohang for a long time, which is why he considers Pohang his hometowm.

He started rapping at 18.

He debuted in 2018 with his single “Gang Move”.

He joined GROOVL1n on 19th September 2019.

He is part of NFL crew.

On Februa 1st 2020, he released his first EP album “Saviour from the Hell pt1” with a music video for his title song “WASSUP”.

He rapped for 2 years before applying for SMTM at 20.

He was a contestant on SMTM777, SMTM8 and SMTM9.

He used to play piano when he was young but his fingers didn’t straighten well so he learned to play the piano and the flute.

He got his first tattoo at age 20 on his face which says in kanji “better safe than sorry”; meaning you have nothing to worry about if you are prepared. He also has a chain tattoo on his left arm that has the birthdates of the members if NFL Crew.

In SMTM9 he was a member of team Giriboy&Zion.T with Wonstein, Lilboy and Skyminhyuk.

He made it to the mic slection stage on SMTM9, but decided to drop out due to his panic disorder. Due to this, rapper Skyminhyuk performed a solo stage on his place.

He appeared talking to Ravi, the CEO of his label, about his mental health and Ravi showed lots of interest and preocupationfor his well being.

His career role model is JTONG.

He uses English on his songs because it sounds nice and looks good.

He used to go everywhere, including SMTM recordings using public transportation, but since signing with GROOVL1n he goes on the label’s car. He says this is one of the many benefites of having a label to back you up.

He also said that during the two first times he participated in SMTM he looked rough and grubby, nothing like in SMTM9. He also said that he once asked for new music equipment and the company bought it for him in a short time.

He likes clear weather and dislikes rain and snow.

He loves football and his favouclib is Pohang Steelers from K league and Arsenal from Premier league. He has a friend that play on Pohang FC and his favourite Arsenal player is Hector Bellerin.

In order to learn and understand English he uses the translator and watches translated songs.

He featured on Ravi’s single “ASURA” along with other GROOVL1n members that was released on December 7th 2019.

He’s worked with artists like Mckdaddy, DSEL, Eptend, Wonstein, LilBoi and others.

With his upcoming album he wants to break the strong image that a lot of people get from his rapping.

COLD BAY

His real name is Oh InSeob (오인섭).

Nicknames: Cold Valley, Coldy.

He was born on July 7th 1993.

He was born on Iksan, North Jeolla.

He is 182 cm.

He has 2 older sisters.

His bloodtype is O.

He went to Korea University.

His first music tour was with Ravi.

He debuted on July 22nd 2019 with his single “Ruined”.

He collaborated with Ravi and Xudo on the track “Fashionable (prod. gXXD)”.

XYDO

His real name is Park ChiWoong (박치웅).

Hewas born on January 29th 1994.

He debuted on August 14th 2019.

He is from Seoul.

He collaborated with Ravi and Cold Bay onthe track “Fashionable (prod. GXXD)”.

He was an underground R&B artist.

He collaborated with Ravi on his song “Hoodie”.

He says his name is hard to pronounce in English so you can just call him C.W.Park.

He already completed his military service.

His stage name, Xydo, comes from: “Try” in English is “시도하다” in Korean. The pronunciation “Shido” is similar to Xydo and he wanted a name without preconceptions, so he chose Xydo.

He says music is his best friend and that he can share it wether he is happy or sad.

He isn’t sure of how long he’s been pursuing music.

He likes songs made to express himself.

About his music: he does want his music to be tied up in one place and doesn’t want to categorize it into any genre. However, if he were to do this, he would say R&B and Pop.

He says he wants to be different from other artists and says that he wants to show his own colours.

He likes Jamie Foxx, Miguel, Nao and wants to work with Ruel.

He likes watching movies, specially ScyFy, and if the weather is good he likes to play basketball.

To people that wants to pursue music: finding your true self is the most important and he is still doing that himself.

He says having international fans is awesome and that it suddenly feels like his world is wider and brings a new perspective. He also wants to visit any place were there is a fan of his no matter how far.

One song he recommends: “I like many genres rather than just one thing. From what I’ve listened to lately, I would like to recommend “Remember Me” by Umi.

A song of his that he recommends: “Lee Sang”, because everyone tries to do something they want. I think there were times when it felt like something was getting farther and farther away.

When he feels down and feels about to guve up, he tells himself: “Believe in myself”.

A song he’s proud of is: “Drawing”, because there were a lot of difficulties in making the song but he overcame them.

NAFLA

His real name is Nicholas Choi and his Korean name is Choi SeokBae (최석배).

He was born on February 28th 1992.

He is from Pasadena, California.

He went to University of Southern California.

He was a member of MKIT Rain.

He is a member of 42 crew.

He is 162 cm - 169 cm.

He has an eyebrow piercing.

He likes to die his hair red.

The name Nafla means”Natural Flavour”. A friend of his thouht of this name after drinking something that said “100% Natural Flavor”.

He joined Groovl1n on December 22nd 2020.

He has a tattoo on his left arm.

He has collaborated with artists like Babylon, Dumbfoundead, Dynamic Duo and Woo Taewoon.

He would like to collaborate with Frank Ocean.

He went to Universit with Killagramz. They used to exchange messages through Facebook.

If he wasn’t in MAKIT Rain, he would like to be signed in 1llionaire.

As of 2016 he lived on his studio.

He has been friends with Ravi for a while.

After Show Me The Money he remained good friends with Kid Milli and often jokes around that he is a member of Mkit Rain.

He founded MKIT Rain with Loopy.

Some Mkit Rain members were involved in a marihuana scandal when they were caught smoking it, Nafla was one of them. He later made an Instagram post apologising for his behaviour. However, his charges were dropped since it was the first time he committed an upinfraction regarding this matter.

During his 60 second evalua in SMTM, The Quiett said it was the first time such a good quality rap and performance was shown on national tv.

When he gets dresses, he chooses his hat first and coordinates the outfit to compliment it.

His top favourite rappers (2016) are: #1 Gaeko, #2 Beenzino, #3 E-sens, #4 Lobsta, #5 G-Dragon.

He and Loopy met in a bathroom during a concert in the USA.

The car he won in SMTM777 was given to Loppy as a present to thank him for everything he had done for him.

He won SMTM777 with team Giriboy&Swings.

According to Loopy, Nafla was thinking about leaving MKIT Rain for a while and his leave was officially confirmed through Instagram on early December 2020.

He won Best Mixtape of the Year 2015 with “This & That”.

Nafla has a lot of respect for Just Music, specially Swings and Vasco.

Nafla was involved in a diss with CJamm. Neil, who was in the same crew as him, Young Creation, dissed CJamm and somehow Nafla got involved. It was nothing serious and there weren’t any bad feelings afterwards.

During SMTM777 he was selected as the leader on the group battle and every of his team members said he was really nice and helpful. Regarding this, he said he was happy to have Loopy by his side because he has a lot of experience and helped him a lot.

Source: https://kprofiles.com/chillin-homie-profile-and-facts/; https://kprofiles.com/ravi-vixx-profile-facts/; https://kprofiles.com/cold-bay-profile-facts/; https://kprofiles.com/xydo-profile-facts/; https://kprofiles.com/nafla-profile-facts/

#groovl1n #ravi #vixx #coldbay #cold bay #xydo #chillin homie #nafla #smtm #mkit rain #show me the money #khiphoptrash

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callmeelle22 · 4 years ago

Text

Blue Dream VII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 034

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave; They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Brave

Broken hearts are made for two

One for me and one for you

Tell me have you heard the news

We are now in love

Fall break from school is scheduled during the last three days of the last week of October. Before she can take some time off, Iris has midterm articles to write and grade. Barry is busy testing DNA samples or whatever it is CSIs do so they don’t see each other for several days after he leaves her house the morning after Wally’s party.

On the Wednesday of Fall Break, the first day off, Iris lets herself sleep in until almost 10, and then she packs up her bag, stuffing a notebook, a couple of pens, and her laptop in, before dressing comfortably in a pair of dark leggings, and a white oversized CCU hoodie she stole from her brother. Throwing on a pair of white low-top Chuck Taylors, Iris heads out to Jitters. It’s a rainy day, and other than workers who’ve no choice, not many people are out. A storm is brewing for later in the night, the sky dark and cloudy, but for the moment, it’s just a steady rain that has Iris walking carefully to her car and driving a lot slower, thanking her lucky stars that she finds a parking spot right in front of the coffee shop.

Back in high school, especially once her dad had gotten her a used car during the beginning of senior year, Iris and Linda would come to Jitters to do homework or stare at the college boys who would come in. The coffee shop has expanded since then, buying the small antique store that had been next door and adding more seating and a bar that specializes in alcoholic coffee brews. It’s still one of Iris’s favorite places to work because now the manager is a young Black woman with wild curly hair always dyed in one bright color or another and a soft spot for mid to late 90s R & B female singers. The shop is comfortable, with couches and overstuffed chairs in mismatched browns and beiges and blues set up near the walls and windows and several tables, two- and four-tops, taking up the space in the middle. Two of the walls are exposed brick and the others are painted stark white and feature framed prints in wild colors. It’s changed since she was a child, but Iris likes to think that she’s changed with it, that as this integral part of Central City has grown and added light and color and comfort, so too has Iris.

Today, her plan is to outline at least two entire stories from interviews she’s completed over the last couple of weeks before she even thinks about leaving the coffee shop. She settles into one of her favorite spots, a soft navy armchair behind a small circular table. She sets up her laptop, her notebook with her notes, her pens, and once a waiter drops off her brown sugar latte and a chocolate muffin, she lets the sound of the rain, and the Erykah Badu playing on the speakers, get her into her work.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Iris looks up just as Barry stops beside her. She’s been at Jitters for just over three hours now, and her shoulders are cramped and she’s coffee high and hungry. The rain is still pounding down, so hard that it looks like it’s raining sideways, and Iris curses her inability to get any work done in her own home. Besides all that, she’s reeling. She’s just outlined a story of a man explaining the story of the woman he’d loved his entire life: from growing up together in a small city in North Carolina, to becoming best friends and de facto siblings when his parents died and her dad agreed to foster him; from not dating but seeming like it in high school, to falling for other people in college; from having other spouses and children to one night of passion before they found their way back to each other when she decided to leave her husband after his wife died. It was a ride from start to finish, such a roller coaster of feelings—of love and pain and joy and heartbreak—that make Iris feel a bit heavy with them, a little loopy with them.

Barry stands to the side of her, towering above her, in as simple an outfit as what she’s wearing, a pair of black joggers and a white sweatshirt. She’s startled that he's there because she figures that he should be at work, but her heart does tick up at the sight of him. That is, until she lets her eyes rake over his lean frame. He looks a little...down, like a physical manifestation of the story she’s just outlined. His hair is messier than usual and his eyes aren’t carrying their usual sparkle, in addition to the darkening bags that frame them. He’s also a little stubbly, his jaw covered in a fine layer of coarse hair, his pallor a bit ashen.

(Iris will also admit that she thinks he looks sort of, well, good, like this; but that’s neither here nor there and she feels terrible—and maybe a bit perverted—that she’s lusting after him when he’s obviously going through something.)

“Hey,” she responds softly, and she stands up to assess him further. He seems so much taller than her like this, when they’re both in sneakers. She hasn’t seen him since the morning after Wally’s party a week ago when he dropped her back off at her car after spending the night at her place. They’ve talked a bunch and FaceTimed once, but she’s missed him. She reaches up into his hair, rubbing at his scalp a little until his eyes close and he lets out a soft little moan. She keeps at it and then touches gingerly at his face, at some of the moles dotting his cheeks, at the stubble he’s grown. He reaches up to stop her, eyes still closed, and it startles her a little bit. She goes to pull her hand back, but then he holds on to her wrist to bring her hand down and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

She’s never seen him like this. He’s always so open and, maybe not happy, but never so melancholy. There is always a pep to his step, as her grandma used to say, a smile on his face that always said that he feels some sort of contentment in his life. And obviously, people are allowed to have days like this. But it does something to Iris, to see him this way. She wants to lash out at whoever has made him look like this, like he’s drowning in emotions that he can’t easily pull himself out of.

“Bear, you okay?”

He nods, a little woefully, and he catches her eyes again. She bites at her lip as she stares back at him and, on impulse, she leans up to kiss him. It’s just a little more than a peck, something to tell him that she’s there with him; but he takes it a step further, kissing her harder, biting at her lip enough that there’s more pain than she’s expecting. She moans at him and he pulls back, breathing labored.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You didn’t hurt me. Well, a little, but I didn’t hate it.”

That gets a more real smile out of him, and he thumbs at her bottom lip. “Hmm, I guess my good girl is a little bad.”

Iris rolls her eyes and gives him a look, sobering for a minute. “Bear, what’s up? You okay?”

He doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he nods at her table and asks, “you get a lot of work done?”

She eyes him, wanting to ask again. But she knows how she is when she doesn’t want to talk about something and so she lets it go. For the moment.

“Yeah. Or, at least, I’ve done most of what I set out to do.”

He nods, casts his eyes out of the glass, looking at the rain for a moment, watching it fall in heavy sheets. Normally, Iris likes the rain. It’s soothing and she enjoys how it makes the world take a moment to slow down. When she was a little girl, her grandma (her dad’s mother who grew up somewhere at the bottom of Georgia) used to say that when it was raining, and particularly when it was storming, that the Lord was doing His work and that it was the time to be still. They’d have to sit quietly, usually with the TV and the lights off, and just be. And while life doesn’t allow her to drop everything because it’s started raining, there is always a hushed feeling that comes over her when it rains, something tranquil, but also a little turbulent, a little uncontrollable, quite like the very rain she’s reveling in.

“Wanna come over?” he wonders, voice unsure.

She nods readily. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

He goes to return her mug and plate while she packs her bag back up. He meets her at the door, opening up a large umbrella and throwing an arm over her shoulder to lead her out into the rain. She walks with him past her own car as he takes her a short black away to where his Jeep is parked. He helps her into the Jeep first, watches as she tucks her bag under the seat, and then closes the door before walking around to the other side.

They ride to his house in silence. He lives far on the south side of town, a good twenty or so minutes from downtown if they hit the highway. Instead, he takes the streets, adding another ten minutes to their drive. Iris doesn’t mind; as she said, she likes the rain, and in this big Jeep, tires sluicing easily through the flooding roads in a way her car definitely can’t, she’s enjoying the ride. He had silently connected her phone to his car’s Bluetooth, so she took it to mean that the music choices were hers. She contemplates finding something that he might like, but she figures he likely wouldn’t even be paying much attention. So she decides on one of her slower playlists, ones with songs that dip and fade, that take listeners on a journey of highs and lows, and she lets it play. The lyrics tell too much, so i guess that i should mention; that i am in no condition; to put you in this position; i might fuck this up, although with the heavy weight on Barry’s shoulders right now, she can’t tell if she’s talking to him or vice versa.

He takes them past one of the major shopping districts in the city, past the Apple store and the Michael Kors shop and the one restaurant her dad took her to when she graduated college where pasta dishes run nearer to forty dollars. These shops, and the nicer mall and a couple business buildings that rise as tall as those downtown, lead into longer stretches of road where trees interspersed with beige or cream apartments begin to take up where businesses once stood. He turns into the familiar subdivision that she remembers; it’s a little older than some, which makes sense if his parents were able to buy and pay it off before they were gone. That also means that none of the houses are the same cookie-cutter versions that tend to make up most subdivisions these days, where houses are identical save for the color and the trim and what children’s toys litter the front yard.

He presses a button on his visor and the garage opens as he maneuvers the car so that he can back up into the driveway. He stays in the driveway, though, the music cutting out—but whatever the case, you're my favorite mistake; more than happy to make you—when he turns the ignition off. She waits for him to come around with his umbrella and he half picks her up to pull her out, holding on to her as he walks her through the garage.

She’s as quiet as he is, taking in her surroundings, trying to get a better sense of who he is by what he’s got going on in his house. There isn’t much in the garage; there are a bunch of boxes neatly stacked on one wall, a couple bicycles in another corner. There is a wall full of tools and a couple tables that have science looking tools on them, like a microscope and several bunsen burners and petri dishes, though nothing looks as if they’re currently being used.

He leads her through a door that opens up into the kitchen as he presses another button to close the garage. His house is as cute on the outside as it is on the inside, although she wonders how he might feel if she were to call it cute. The kitchen is large, done in white, gray, and green, with steel appliances, gray marble countertops, and the look of a place that doesn’t get a lot of use. They both stop to toe their shoes off right outside of the kitchen where a couple other pairs of Barry’s shoes lie. His living room is pretty big: a wide space that features a real stone fireplace as the focal point and a large screen television situated above it; a huge sectional in a slate gray with a few throw pillows; and a big square wooden coffee table. It’s masculine and clean without being gaudy or too bro and Iris wonders if he did this himself because even if she never knew her, she doubts a woman who loved flowers as much as his mother would decorate her living room this way.

The dark curtains on the windows are open wide and Iris can see the backyard but the rain coming down in sheets keep her from being able to make out much besides the patio with what looks like a grill and wicker furniture. Iris remembers being told that his dad had been a doctor and his mom some sort of university researcher and the house matches that.

Barry lets her hand go to tug his sweatshirt off, revealing a plain white t-shirt that rises up over his taut belly. She doesn’t avert her eyes, giving herself permission to track how the sweatpants hang off his slim hips and how he isn’t so much sculpted as he’s hard and tight, with just the beginnings of abs. He catches her staring and he smirks at her before dropping down in the corner of the couch, one leg spread out along the seats of the chair.

“Come here,” he tells her, and she moves toward him, sitting so that her back is pressed against that hard chest and his arms are wrapped around her. She grabs a hold of his forearm with both her hands and settles her head in the crook of his elbow. She’s surrounded by his scent, lemongrass and clean cotton, and for a while, the only sounds are his breathing and the pounding of the rain. He touches her, the hand she’s not holding on to stroking up and down her thigh. Her leggings are pretty thin and she feels his touch fully; if she concentrates enough, she can feel those beloved calluses on his hands. He rubs his hand towards the juncture of her thighs and then over her hip and then back again, and like always, his touch ignites something in her, even as she’s wondering how she might be able to help him out of whatever funk he’s found himself in.

“You ready to tell me what’s up?” she wonders a while later.

“Hmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not yet. Tell me about your day.”

She shifts so that she can look back at him, noting the way his eyes have darkened a touch, become grayer like the sky outside, and it’s different from the bright blue-green she remembers from the day of the festival or the wicked blue-gray they always are right before he pushes hard into her.

He blinks down at her and licks his lips slowly. It’s not an explicitly sexual act, even if her body thinks it looks that way, and Iris finds herself lost in it, in whatever he’s emanating. It’s erotic in that it’s intimate, a whirlwind of whatever hurt made him seek her out at Jitters, of whatever still lies unexplored between them, of the attraction that doesn’t ever seem to dissipate.

When she pulls herself out, she tells him, “I was working on a story today. One that made me feel a little bit like how you might be right now.”

“Yeah?”

Wanting to look at him more comfortably, she uses his pause so that she can turn around fully and seat herself on his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically go to her hips, one sliding inside the waist of her leggings so that he can touch her skin.

“Tell me about this story,” he requests. She knows that he’s asking so that he can think about something other than what’s on his mind, so she does, giving a little more than she would originally, working out how she might want to tell the story in her blog.

“It was a couple,” she starts, “that grew up together, in the country. They bonded by playing together in the lake, climbing trees, and playing pranks on each other. And then they start to grow up. Their swimming becomes fraught with tension, the bathing suits showing the same skin, but more, ya know, both of them recognizing the differences, cataloging them, thinking about them, remembering them. They don’t act on it, because they’re friends, and he doesn’t actually understand what it means, that he’s 13 and he keeps dreaming about her at night, waking up with a wet bed and a pounding heart. And then his parents die and her dad, who’s a do-gooder in the community and had been his parents’ best friend, takes him in. Now they’re siblings, but of course not. Regardless, it makes it all harder and odder because she sleeps right down the hall from him, their shared bathroom always smells like her, and he understands now, that he likes her smile and the way she speaks and the curves she seems to develop out of nowhere.”

Barry squeezes at her and she pauses as he asks, “And what about her? How does she feel about him?”

“Well he doesn’t know it, but she’s there too. At first she thinks that she’s just conflating it, confusing their friendship. Because she doesn’t laugh with anyone else like she does with him and she never has as much fun with anyone else as she does him and she never feels as comfortable with anyone else as she does him. He’s her best friend. But she sees him, one night, in his room where the door hasn’t fully closed and he’s, well, he’s masturbating, touching himself, eyes closed and moaning, and for the first time outside of the books she’s read, she feels something. And she knows it’s not just because she’s seen him naked because she’s kissed boys before, she’s felt them hard under her before, but something about this feels different for her.

“But she doesn’t act on it. And he doesn’t either, because remember, he only thinks this is one-sided. They graduate. They go to the same college. But their majors are different and their friends are different. She joins a sorority; he gets into a couple of clubs. Their paths separate, even if they still laugh and talk and be when they’re home for the holidays. Then she gets a boyfriend.”

“She never had a boyfriend before this?” Barry questions.

Iris shrugs. “Sure. But it was high school and the beginning of college. They were mostly hookups that didn’t last. This guy is serious. He’s a couple years older, got his own place, and eventually she moves in with him. Heartbroken, he gets a girlfriend too, one of her friends. That doesn’t last long because she figures out that he’s a little bit in love with the main girl, and then he moves on, to someone sweet, someone who’s been not so subtly hinting that she wants to go out with him.”

Barry seems to be engrossed now. She can’t say that the dark look he was sporting is completely gone, but she can see that he’s not as deep in it, interested in the story she’s weaving.

“They go on to marry these people, even if their hearts are not fully in it. His wife has a kid first, her baby comes next. And meanwhile, they’re still friends. Her dad is still his guardian, so to speak; they are together for whatever holidays they don’t spend with their spouses’ families. They still laugh and talk and be. They still look a little too long and want a little too much.

It comes to a head one Christmas. The gods or fate or just some movement on their parts mean that they both go home to her dad’s house with their spouses and children coming in the next day. But her dad is called in to work so they order take out and watch movies in front of a fire. And they laugh and they talk...and they hug and they kiss and they…

“Be?” Barry tries, a tiny little smile on his face.

She matches it. “Yeah. And it’s beautiful, transcendent. But they’re married. To other people. With kids. So they vow to forget it, to never bring it up again. A couple of years pass. They don’t laugh as much, don’t talk as much. She’s having troubles in her marriage. He is too. He actually consults a divorce attorney because he thinks that it’s unfair to both him and his wife, to live like this. And then the wife dies in a car accident.”

“Oh damn,” he mutters.

“Right,” she agrees. “He’s wracked with grief and more than a little guilt, because he loved her but was never in love with her and she had no idea he was going to leave her.”

“What about her? The one he loves?”

“She’s there for him. She consoles him, cares for him, takes his kid when it gets too hard. Her husband doesn’t like it though. Thinks she’s doing too much, thinks that there’s another reason she’s over at his so much. Later, he learns that this wasn’t a new accusation, that even before she and her husband got married, the husband would question their closeness, would wonder what, if anything, had ever happened between them.

“Eventually she gets tired of it. Her kid is older, in their teens now, and she leaves her husband, packing her things and her kid’s too and moving back in with her dad for a while.”

“And what happens between them?” Barry wants to know.

“He and his son come over more. They hang out more, the four of them, going to dinner and to the movies and to the arcade together. And when their kids are gone, at sleepovers or game nights with their friends, they laugh again, talk again. Fall in love again.”

The ending is implied. Iris closes her eyes when she’s done, letting Barry continue to rub at her back, his fingers so so warm on her skin.

“It's a happy ending,” he says, eventually. “But getting there was a little...depressing.”

Iris chuckles softly, lightheaded again at having gone through that again. It likely didn’t make Barry feel any better, but she’ll take the win that it took his mind away from his own problems, if only for a little while.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “But it reminds me that just because it’s not easy and just because it takes some time, it doesn’t mean that things aren’t worth it.”

He nods, slowly, thinking.

“What about things that are...easy? That come like breathing? That start as a simple dance and just, just keep going?”

She stares down at him and she knows that this is rhetorical. She can see the question in the depths of his eyes, feel it in his hands still kneading her flesh. It would be easy to retreat, to tell him that nothing is ever easy, even if the reality is that it is because they are, because they fall into each other so effortlessly, that she’s terrified. There are always hiccups, obstacles, and the fact that she can’t find any keeps her on edge, waiting, anticipating trouble she knows must be coming. She doesn’t want to believe it, wants to stand firm in them—stand firm in the lyrics she keeps hearing, if you decide to stay, know that there is no escape; there's no one here to save you—and she holds onto that as he asks,

“Don’t you think it’s worth it, Iris? Even if it’s this easy?”

She can’t speak, but his eyes are imploring her to answer. Pleading with her for a response. And however terrified Iris is, or however much Iris tells stories, she is not a liar. So she nods and whispers to him, “yes.”

Without waiting for her to say anything more, he kisses her. He squeezes at her waist and leans up to capture her mouth. She meets him with his same fervor and it’s different, this kiss. She knows the passion of his mouth when he’s high, the boldness when he’s teasing her. But this is new, this is fervor, warmth and agony and doubt and pleasure, all wrapped up together.

(Something also tells Iris that there is another word for this, that this is the part of the story where feelings would be laid on the table, where hearts would be splayed open and she’d say it, or he would, and the other would respond in kind, with declarations of adoration, of infatuation, yearning, of any other word that means what she can’t say yet.

But she feels it, what she’s wanting to say, what she thinks he is saying, in this kiss. It is slow and nasty, all tongue and mouth. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling, at how he licks into her mouth and then sucks on her bottom lip, at how he licks against her tongue and then holds her face to bring her closer to him. She feels it, she feels it, she feels him…)

He stands, holding on to her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tightening her arms around his neck as he carries her through the house. The kisses don’t stop, though they become shorter, more mouth now, and he takes her down a long hallway past several doors until he turns into one at the end of the hall. She makes a quick note of the light gray and burnt orange decor, the side tables holding books and knickknacks, the one window that spans nearly the entire wall, but she focuses most heavily on the king-sized bed on which he throws on her, the soft comforter half hanging off the bed.

Her clothes come off first, Barry pulling her sweatshirt over her head and yanking her pants over her hips. He comes out of his own clothes as she discards her underwear, and then he’s between her thighs again. But she wants something else first so she taps his shoulder to flip them and then she’s hovering above him.

She gives him a kiss, slow and sweet, and then she makes her way down his chest, kissing as she goes. She loves the feel of his skin against her lips, likes how his skin tastes as she presses tongue kisses on him. His belly clenches and unclenches under her ministrations, and by the time she’s looking back up at him from her position near his crotch, she can see the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing.

She reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his dick. It’s long like the rest of him, and thicker than she would have expected just looking at him. It’s a pretty dick, the base the same color as him, the head slightly pinker. It’s a little veiny, but the skin is smooth, and already he’s starting to leak. She lifts her eyes to find him watching her, his own gaze hooded. In her peripheral, she sees his hands grip the bed sheets and she revels in how she hasn’t even done anything and his control is starting to slip.

“Tell me what you want, Bear.”

She says the words softly, but Barry doesn’t miss the cheek that lies under it, if the slight smirk he gives her is any indication.

“Your mouth,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming about that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”

She shudders at the tone of his voice, at the vision of her on her knees for him. She likes it.

“I bet you have too,” he guesses.

Without a response, she licks him, holding him at the base and running her tongue up one side of him. She does it again, and then one more time, acquainting herself with the taste of him and the satiny feel of him on her tongue, and then she adjusts and covers the whole of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

She hums around him and she sucks him down, taking him until he hits her throat. Then she pulls back until just the tip remains. She licks around his head and sucks him there, letting the spit pool in her mouth, letting it mix with his own wet. She opens her mouth and lets it slide out, dripping down onto him, and her own body starts to drip at his wrecked whisper, “god, baby, look at you.”

She adds her hands, palming his testicles in one and rubbing her spit down the length of him with the other. She finds a rhythm, sucking him down, inch by inch, hollowing her cheeks as she goes, and then stroking his back up. Barry keeps his hand clenched in the sheets, but he cants himself into her mouth, rocking his hips lightly. She’s getting into it, loving the way he responds to her.

“Come here,” he says, suddenly, reaching for her, and she pulls back with a soft pop.

“Barry?” she furrows her eyebrows in question.

He gives her a gentle smile and grabs at her arm; Iris moves at his request, crawling up his body.

“But you didn’t finish,” she says, pouting a little.

“I know. I want to come when I’m inside you.”

She’s mollified by that, and he settles her on his lap.

“You were so good though, baby,” he says, kissing her. “My good, good girl.”

He reaches down to touch her, slipping his fingers easily into her sex. He groans into her mouth at the feel and he pulls back to ask,

“Is this all for me? Did you get wet sucking me off, good girl?”

She nods, rocking her hips against his hand, against his sex still hard beneath her. “Can, can you…?”

He tilts his head at her, fingers still caressing inside of her. “Can I?”

She huffs out a small laugh because he’s always fucking with her. “You said you wanted to come inside of me,” she reminds him.

“I did, didn’t?” He takes his time removing his fingers, eyes on her as he does. Even with the window curtains wide open, the dark sky has the room dark

(and she doesn’t dismiss the fact that the window faces the side of someone else’s house, where they could be seen if the neighbors were so inclined to watch)

and his eyes look a little like molten lead in the faint rainy light like this. He goes to reach over to his bedside table but Iris stops him.

“I want to feel you,” she says.

He licks his lips and she doesn’t mistake the twitch of his dick she feels under her. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m on birth control. And I trust you.”

He nods once and again, and then he takes her by her hips and slides her down his cock.

After, Iris decides that this time is the single most erotic experience of her life.

They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way.

She rides him, and he’s so full in her like this, so deep in her like this. His back is against his fabric headboard and she’s so close to him, her knees jutting into the headboard, her thighs holding around his hips, her breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples pebbling with each brush on those hard planes.

She holds on to him with her hands holding the back of his neck, softly scratching at the nape. But he’s touching her, always touching her, his hands caressing her spine, and then holding her waist, and then squeezing her hips. He guides her: keeps his favorite pace, smooth and languid; bring her up to the tip and fucks her back down; shows her how he wants her to roll her body when he’s full in her, so her clit is brushing the soft hairs on his pelvis, the sensation incredible.

He uses his mouth too: to kiss her throat, deep tongue kisses that’ll leave marks she knows she’ll have to cover up; to whisper against her mouth, “see how easy this is; see how good, baby; fuck, see how good this is; yes, yes, yes, my good girl.”

And Iris feels so caught up in it. She can’t stop looking at him, loving when the lightning slashes across the room and illuminates those eyes, the constellation of moles on his skin, his wet, pink mouth. Her body hums with pleasure, soaking her thighs and his, tightening around his dick as if it never, never wants to let him go. She voices her satisfaction, in soft sighs and heavy pleas, and his name on her tongue like a chant, or better, a song, “Bear, Bear, Barrryyy.” They’re so close, her skin sticking to his wherever they’re touching, chest to chest and ass to thigh. She feels full and whole and filled...with him and with desire and with, and with love, the thought of it making her shudder and close her eyes.

“No,” Barry whispers. “Don’t. Just let it, just let it...stay here with me. Can you do that for me? Be brave for me?”

She nods, head heavy as her body starts to reach its climax, as her body loosens at the same time that it tightens and she has to fight to hold on to him. “Yes,” she moans again, holding his gaze again.

He touches at her face, holding her cheek and staring back. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t know whose climax triggers the other. She just knows that at the same time that her body explodes, fluttering wildly around him, he comes too, so hard that she feels him throbbing against her walls, that she feels him filling her up with his cum.

He doesn’t let go of her right away. He just holds her, hands at her hip and her face, and then he kisses her, cementing what they’ve just done, cementing what Iris feels for him.

“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” he says, out of the blue. “And when I went to visit my dad earlier, I found out that he’s sick, something with his heart, and I’m-I’m reeling.”

It’s been a long while since they separated and Iris climbed off of him to pad into his bathroom and warm a hand towel under warm water to clean them both. They’ve been lying in his bed, only half under the covers as they let their bodies cool. It’s quiet now, so quiet that Iris has thought he’d fallen asleep; she’d almost fallen asleep. But when he speaks, she blinks wide and then turns her head to face him.

“14 years today,” he adds. He’s looking up at the ceiling as he talks, but Iris feels the hand that’s settled at her waist tighten, the move bringing her closer to him. She understands that he just needs the contact, so she turns so that she’s all the way curled on him, one of her legs thrown across him, her arm tossed over him too, hand settled on his heart. It’s beating slow, steady, and so she strokes his bare chest, right it.

“How’d you find out?”

“I was still at school,” he tells her. “It was a Friday and some of my friends had convinced me to go to a football game, so we were there pretty late. Games could run until 11. I was 17 so I had my own car. It was an old car; we’d bought it from a guy she worked with. By this time, my dad had been gone for a couple years, and my mom was always working late at the lab, so when I got home around 10:30 that night and the lights were out, I wasn’t surprised.”

He shifts a little and continues. “I took a shower, put some leftover pizza in the microwave, and just as I was sitting down to eat, the doorbell rang. It was the police looking for her next of kin to tell them what had happened.” He sighs heavily. “I got lucky. The courts let one of my friend’s parents take me in until I graduated a few months later. I was able to get a work study job in college to pay my bills since the mortgage was already paid off.”

He says it all like he was lucky, but there is nothing lucky about losing both of your parents in that matter, even if one of them was still physically alive. Iris knows from experience that he doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for his story. But she can’t help the way she wants to comfort him, and so she lets herself do that, tightening herself around him, snuggling even more into his chest.

“How are you feeling about your dad?” she asks, mumbling against his skin.

“Devastated. He looked like, like, I don’t know, like he’s giving up. I don’t get to go see him too often, every couple of months, really. And he looked so different from when I saw him last: smaller, frailer. I think there might be something he’s not telling me. Like he’s been sick longer than he says he has.”

“Is he supposed to get out soon?”

“Another couple years. But I don’t know if he wants to hold on that long.”

She feels them first, the tears. She tries to hold him even tighter, tries to crawl into his skin almost, trying to stem his pain. He doesn’t cry for long, just a few sobs, and then he’s inhaling deeply and wiping at his eyes. But it must be enough because he sounds a little hollow when he says,

“And truthfully, I’m not so much sad as I am mad, that he seems to be giving up. On getting out. On me.”

She hums, not dismissively, but because she understands. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes, I hate my mom.”

He sort of jerks up at that. Not fully, he looks down at her, eyes widened in shock. However inappropriate it might be, she finds herself laughing a little at his expression. Then she explains.

“I know that addiction is not a moral failing. I know that she struggled right up til the end. I know both of those things as completely as I know anything else. But sometimes I wonder why my dad wasn’t enough, why me and Wally weren't enough. I wonder what she was trying to find in those pills that she couldn’t find in us, and I get so pissed that she let it take her away from us.”

She’s startled when he moves. He pulls himself from under her, letting her fall onto her back, and then he’s hovering above her, holding himself up on his elbows. He falls into the spread of her thighs, his sex nuzzling comfortably against her still warm center.

“I’ve seen some of the worst effects of addiction,” he says, “when their bodies end up on a slab of metal and it’s my job to dissect the things around them, to even sometimes help detectives dissect their lives to figure out what happened. And something I’ve learned is that it’s always, always about them. Never about the people they love.”

He searches her face, brushing a piece of hair back from her forehead. “And whatever your mom was or wasn’t thinking, you are enough. You are more than enough, Iris.” He leans down and gives her a kiss, deep and dirty, and she moans in frustration as he pulls back from her. He gives her a grin, one more reminiscent of the Barry she’s used to.

“Repeat after me,” he commands. “I, Iris West…”

“Really, Barry?”

“Yes, come on. I, Iris West…

She sighs, but says it. “I, Iris West…”

“Am more than enough.”

She licks her lips then, blinks, works to not let the tears that have suddenly gathered in the corner of her eyes escape.

“Am more than enough,” she whispers, finally.

Barry’s smile turns fond. “Good girl.”

She shakes her head because she doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss him. Which she does, deeply, reaching down to grip him in her palm. She pauses, just for a moment, to tell him “you know that you are enough too, right?” and she kisses the look of awe off of his face. It’s a long while before she stops kissing him, and then it’s only to moan into his mouth, to let him whisper his dirty somethings into her ear.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

They’ve just shared a shower. Barry is throwing on another pair of sweats and a hoodie and Iris puts her own leggings back on, sans underwear, and thumbs through Barry’s closet for another sweatshirt to put on.

(There’s no reason that she can’t put hers back on, but she’s feeling particularly sentimental and she wants to take something of Barry’s with her, something that smells like him, that feels like him.)

“None, really.” She pulls out a red sweater that reads Central City University Track & Field and throws it on over her bra. “Why? You kicking me out.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Wanna get dinner? And then go with me to my tattoo appointment? It’s at 8 tonight.”

She smiles at that. “Sure.”

They take the highway back downtown. The rain is still beating steadily and there is still the occasional rumble of thunder, the sporadic flash of lightning. He parks a bit further in the arts district, in front of a restaurant specializing in wood-fire pizzas and craft beers. This time, she knows to wait for him to come around and open the door for her so that she can walk under his umbrella. Once he locks his jeep, he grabs her hand, and they walk the couple doors down and into the restaurant.

The place is brightly lit, in direct contrast to the dark sky and even the faint light that had been on at Barry’s place. The weather assures that it isn’t densely packed, just a couple booths of families and what looks like a couple, so they’re seated quickly and easily. They eat fast since they’ve only got an hour before his appointment. In the meantime, they both keep the conversation light. It’s been a day, for the both of them really, and Iris doesn’t think that she can cry twice in a day.

After he pays, she goes to the bathroom and he tells her he’ll wait at the door for her. She goes in and it’s as brightly lit as the rest of the place and she quickly does her business and washes her hands before heading back out to where he knows Barry is waiting in the little space between the outer door and the door to the restaurant.

She walks through the place and out of the restaurant door, likely too quickly and without really looking. She takes several steps, straightening out Barry’s sweatshirt again, and then she’s bumping into what feels like a solid wall, almost falling backward. A quick hand reaches out to catch her, the hand large, easily wrapping around her forearm.

“Shit,” she says, shaking her head to clear it as she looks up. “I’m sorr..Scott?”

He doesn’t move back right away and so she has to look up, up at the man holding on to her. Scott Evans is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’d been her editor when she’d work at CCPN right out of college, and she’d had the biggest crush on him. Tall with dark caramel skin and a neatly trimmed beard, he’d been the one to help guide her in the ways of mass story-telling. They’d gone on one date and Iris is not actually sure why they’d never gone on another.

“Iris West.” He says her name slowly, his grin widening at the same pace. He gives her a once-over, slow and heated. “How’ve you been?”

“R-really good,” she says, stumbling a little at that grin. Even if she doesn’t actually regret never seeing him again, Iris can admit that a man this good looking makes her a little tongue-tied.

“Yeah? I’ve been catching your blog when I can. It’s some good shit, West. I can see why you left our little paper.”

“Please,” Iris rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “There’s nothing little about Picture News.”

He shrugs, humble all the way. “Still, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that.”

“It’s the truth.” He looks down at her, swiping at his lips with his tongue, and she suddenly realizes that they’re still too close. She steps back fully from him, glancing over Scott’s shoulders to see Barry watching them, his expression unreadable.

“Um,” she speaks, catching his attention. “I gotta go Scott.”

“Oh yeah; of course. We should get together soon. Maybe do dinner.” Scott looks back out of the window where rain steadily pours. “It’s still raining out. Can I walk you to your car?”

Her eyes don’t leave Barry’s and he tilts his head, waiting for her answer. “Scott, I’m not alone.”

He turns as if he’s just realizing that Barry is standing there. Barry is still quiet and only lifts his eyes to look at Scott when he mutters, “oh, hey man.”

Barry nods. “What’s up?” Then he looks at Iris. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I am.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and she throws one more glance at Scott. “It was good to see you.”

He graces her with that smile again. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

Barry takes her hand and they walk back to the truck. They’re on the road again, driving to a neighborhood near her own. For a second, she thinks he’s going to take her home, but he passes the road to her apartment and goes on to a neighborhood featuring several bars and little shops that cater to the college crowd. He pulls into the parking lot of a place called Black Gold, the lights inside near as bright as those in the pizza place.

Again, she waits until he comes around and turns as if to get out. He stops her though, holding the umbrella high, standing in front of her open legs. He does his thing, his stare like he's trying, and succeeding, to get inside her mind.

“That your ex-boyfriend?” he wonders.

She shakes her head. “Ex-boss.”

His expression doesn’t change. “All your bosses look at you like that?”

She swallows at the sudden feel of his hand on her thigh. The rain is pounding and drops fall on them, but she’s not noticing it. Instead, she’s caught in the storm that’s returned to his eyes, in the feel of his hands inching steadily toward her center.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she says, instead of responding to him.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and the confident, bordering on cocky, Barry is looking at her now, even if that sparkle hasn’t returned quite yet.

“Nah,” he says. “Not jealous. You’re here right now. And you were with me earlier, moaning for me, coming for me.”

He slides his hand between her thighs and because she is, almost literally, always thirsty for him, wet for him, her legs spread easily. He fingers at the crotch of her leggings, and she knows that he can feel her warmth through the thin material. He thumbs at her until she gasps against him, finding her clit in a way that reminds him that he knows her body better than she knows it herself.

“He ever touch you like this?” Barry asks, voice a whisper above the rain. “Make you whimper even without getting your clothes off?”

She is whimpering, as he keeps his thumb on her clit, rubbing on her in slow circles. That’s all he’s doing: touching her with one hand, looking at her with those eyes that tell as much as they conceal, with his voice a deep rumble that rivals the thunder. He might be turned on, but he’s proving a point, naming himself as someone who, well, who owns her, even if she recognizes that no man should claim any power over her.

Heat spreads through her, a low, simmering sort of heat, but it’s enough that her folds grow slicker, start opening like the flowers of a petal waiting to be plucked. He keeps rubbing at her, staying on her clit, staring in her face, so much that she can’t hold his gaze. Because it feels better than it should, and her wet is soaking through these too thin leggings, and her breaths are coming in longer, coming in heavier.

“Tell me he hasn’t, Iris,” he says, commands, and Iris throws her head back, legs widening at their own volition, hips canting against his hand. “Tell me.”

“No,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed. “He never even touched me at all.”

“Tell me it’s just me,” he adds and she’s too far gone to note the pleading in his voice. “Tell me no one has ever touched you like this.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just you, Barry, shit, just you.”

“Good,” he groans. “Good, good girl.”

Even if touch is the word he’s using, Iris understands that it’s more. She understands that they’re both wrapped up in uncertainty, never too sure of where they lie in others’ affections, never too sure of where they lie in life at all. She understands that he��s asking her if she feels it too, if she’s there with him, if this too easy, this too natural, feeling is a first for her too.

He’s asking if she’s brave enough to tell him the truth, if she undertands is meaning-understands that I'm no walk in the park; all these scars on my heart; it’s so dark here-even as she’s wondering the same, as she’s feeling the same, wondering if the churning feelings of abandonment make her unworthy somehow. Wondering if he’ll come to see that unworthiness.

Barry leans forward, just a touch away from her mouth, eyes blazing.

“There’s only you too, Iris,” he says, unprompted. “I swear I’ve just been waiting for you.”

He closes the distance to kiss her and that’s enough to take her over. It’s not a powerful orgasm, not like usual, but it does make her shut her eyes tight, make her limbs seize up as she rocks her hips through it. She breathes out, and she can’t stop the little laugh that comes out.

“You really are a dick,” she muses, opening her eyes slowly.

“A polite one, though,” he says, as he stands straighter and holds his hand out to help her down from the car. He holds the umbrella high over her. “See how I’m making sure you don’t get wet.”

“You didn't think of that earlier.”

His grin is devastating but it doesn’t hide the plethora of emotions in his eyes: the simmering lust, the faint traces of insecurity, the grief that’s been hovering all day...the love she doesn’t think he wants to hide anymore.

She hikes up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, and then she walks beside him into the parlor, words flashing in her head like a sign, but if you’re a warrior, there’s nothing to fear; nothing to fear.

And later that night, as she cuddles up next to Barry is his large comfortable bed, she listens to his soft breathing, the sound a melody to the rain still pattering against his windows. She listens and she stares at him, taking in his features, softer than they were before, the stress of today easing away with every second he’s lost to sleep. A flash of lightning lights the room, and it catches her eyes again, the new tattoo, the purple ink bright on his skin, covering the space from a lily on his shoulder to just over his heart. It goes dark again, his room blanketed once more, but in her mind’s eyes, she can still see the vibrant ink on his skin, the pretty drooping petals of an iris.

Cause you're so brave

Stone cold crazy for loving me

Yeah, I'm amazed

I hope you make it out alive

#westallen fanfiction #westallen #barry x iris #iris west #strangers to lovers

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