#between distractions and actually writing i finished this at almost 4:30am. way too much time for what it is.

[danieyells]

I asked bc some people are touchy with baby trap! Hshs either way I was thinking. VERY likely it's ooc but it's a thot

The mc manages to be freed by the curse but for some reason the matches don't work so darkwick is already like 'sure, finish studying here but you have to go on missions' I'm imagining that something like the Jiro dubcon fic happens but with some changes

like rather than just touching over their clothes he gets bold enough to slide inside them, and that the anesthesia is strong enough for the reader to barely remember it as a wet dream if at all. He ends up cumming inside thinking it would be alright bc he can give you some anomalous b plan pill, but during the while it takes the reader to wake up he warms up to the idea lightly, he wouldn't mind having to take care of your prenatal care. Maybe you could teach him how families work and feel

A few weeks later the reader is in a check up because of general sickness and soreness and Yuri notices something weird in their blood work like hCG so he questions them like "are you sexually active and you didn't think it was important to disclose?" "Mh? Nope since I came to the academy I didn't do anything" but Yuri doubts them bc that only means pregnancy!! So he tells them away and bitches to it with Jiro

"i'm the closest thing they have to a doctor, can you believe they lie about things like that?"

"I can take them next time"

"why do you care? " He starts leaving when Yuri figures something "jiro... Were you two alone two months ago???"

Either way next check up the mc is given a bs explanation about a wild mosquito anomaly that causes pregnancy when biting two people back to back and Jiro being bitten too. Nobody could believe it other than the mc hshshha

re: dubcon jiro fic

That's fair! Like I said, I have no squicks or triggers worth noting, so i just 'p' at just about any thought hahaha

DAMN ANON I DIG THAT the reason Jiro didn't go further in the fic was ultimately because that was part of anon's idea haha and i wanted it to have more of a dubcon and dubious feeling where it was kind of ambiguous if he actually did anything or not, but I feel like I definitely failed to give it the proper feeling of blurred reality lol. . .I think i was in too much of a rush to get the ideas in my head out and in the end I didn't entirely make what i wanted lolol

I think the matches not working could plausibly be explained away by the ring. Just a side effect of its defenses--it tried to protect them earlier after all! It wouldn't want the champion's memories altered further!

But yeah I. I like that a lot lol. . .it's a lot softer and less cruel than I usually like my babytrapping, but it kind of fits Jiro I think(or the Jiro in this fic anyway--)

(sort of kind of in and out writing and musing under the cut. It's like 1am as i write this, don't expect much--also doesn't entirely meet the idea but. /shrug) no written smut in this one.)

The curse is something mundane and silly that they already have the cure for. But they need to be put to sleep for it to work--maybe it's a simple curse where their body won't be able to sleep without outside interference, at which point the curse ends after a good night's rest once something puts them to sleep. Something utterly simple. But they're completely unconscious, at most a faint awareness of being touched that may not even be real. So unconscious that they couldn't wake up from the feeling of their cunt being broken into if they thought it was real. If they were even aware of more than pleasurable pressure at most. It's just a dream like many others. If they had a dream at all. By the time they wake up again it's just fuzzy, blurry, bubble-like thoughts, floating up and popping out before they can really be analyzed. They feel an ache in their abdomen, but they're aching all over and haven't eaten in a day due to the treatment. They can stand, they can walk, they can return to the Cathédrale Terminale. And they can sleep properly and don't feel anything but the ache of a particularly difficult mission, meaning the minor curse they experienced was gone. The days go by as usual, training with anomalous tools to be more useful on missions and studying various fields to help each house.

Jiro almost forgot about it when they come in one day feeling nauseous. It'd been weeks. Yuri had scolded him after reading the detailed medical log. But he, too, was too curious about the results to suggest they cancel his little "experiment" before he was caught.

They both agreed that sometimes ethics weren't worth considering when it came to experiments--or one's own strongest desires.

The anomalous emergency contraceptive he had considered administering after his rather untoward act of unprofessionalism had been placed back in its cabinet.

Injected along with medication to discourage side effects of the curse's healing, was an experiment of Yuri's that had been tested on several anomalies, increasing fertility and successfully allowing for some otherwise unnatural breeding patterns.

He'd drugged them and raped them and cleaned them. And after that, he'd all but guaranteed their pregnancy.

He couldn't imagine being like Yuri and being granted the privilege of acting like a spoiled child.

Perhaps the best way for him to experience 'family' would be to have his own.

That was the real reason the inspector had arrived, nauseous, to Mortkranken. But they weren't going to tell them that. Yuri scolded them for unsafe sexual practices, which they insisted with tears in their eyes they hadn't done despite the presence of hCG in their blood and urine. They had no idea how they could have become pregnant--surely there was an explanation? Yuri clicked his tongue in irritation, as though he suspected they were truly lying. Perhaps still somewhat annoyed by Jiro's misdeed, he said that they couldn't have simply been assaulted in the night by some scoundrel.

Jiro resisted the urge to snort.

In the end an explanation had been concluded--one rooted in some myth but hard to prove or disprove.

There supposedly existed a type of demon called a concubus. These demons feed on sexual energies and fluids. While they might typically seduce humans into feeding them, others were more 'shy' and would do so in the night while one slept. However many were infertile and these were able to impregnate humans using borrowed human sperm, as doing so provided them greater sexual pleasure and thus a more satisfying meal.

A female concubus(typically called a succubus) would have sex with a male human, take the semen, and have sex with a male concubus(typically called an incubus) who would absorb the semen from within the succubus, before impregnating another human with it. While the resulting child would still be human, as they were made only using the genetic material of human parents, the humans need not engage in intercourse to reproduce as a result.

Aside from the circumstances through which the conception occurred, it was an otherwise normal pregnancy with little to be studied.

Although such a horrifying conclusion shook them, they vaguely remembered wincing as Ritsu recited Japan's laws relating to abortion to a sobbing student some time before--surely this counted as rape and the pregnancy could be terminated? But with the way the ghouls were treated and restricted, something told them they wouldn't be allowed to leave campus for such a thing without reporting whoever had harmed them as proof.

And they'd been in Mortkraken long enough to know that no medical procedure would be normal here.

"You have some time to think about it." Is what everyone told them. Ritsu in particular gave them the exact amount of weeks.

Two things convinced them to carry the child to term.

The first was the realization that perhaps these demons would return to the scene of their crime--if they could be captured, the knowledge gained could help a great deal of people, especially the ghouls. Especially Luca, searching for his brother, and ghouls like Kaito, Haku, and Rui, who wanted to return to being human.

The second was the way Jiro placed a strong and heavy hand on their tummy, stoic expression somewhat curious. The way he looked at them and offered to help them. He didn't know much about babies or families or family planning, and he was a little scared to do more harm than good with his freakish strength and tendency to break fragile things--but it would be helpful to have a doctor nearby, right? And to not go at this alone?

"Even if it's not anomalous, a baby is sort of like an infectious disease." Was his comment that made them laugh for the first time the whole day.

(Yuri protested that Jiro handle this, as Yuri insisted he was the only real doctor present. Jiro managed to reassure him that surely an ordinary pregnancy would be uninteresting and unremarkable, and that the inspector wouldn't be willing to have their fetus subject to Yuri's experiments. If anything of interest or concern were to happen, Yuri would be the first to know besides Jiro. But surely he had more interesting subjects to examine?)

A matter of weeks later and the real shock came(for the scholarship student, although Jiro had forgotten, himself) when they ran a paternity test--Jiro had been 'struck by the demons' as well, and his sperm had been used to father the child.

". . .Huh." He was far worse of an actor than Yuri. Fortunately he wasn't one for big reactions to begin with. ". . .I guess that explains how I woke up a while back."

"Do you. . .still wanna help with it?" They asked in an uncertain whisper. "I understand if not. If you'd rather I not keep it. . . ."

"I kind of want it more." Jiro shrugged, continuing to mill about their checkup. "Is that weird? It's mine, so I don't think that's weird. Especially since it's with you."

They gripped their patient gown in their fists, feeling their face heat up from embarrassment. It was a bit of a stretch, and perhaps it was the sensitivity from the pregnancy talking, but that felt as close to a confession as they'd ever gotten from Jiro.

Perhaps these demons weren't all bad. Perhaps they were simply trying to help what they saw as a pair of lovers who needed a little push.

Maybe being a parent with Jiro wouldn't be so hard.

[mkkhaikyuu]

Autumn Skies: Chapter 4

 previous | chapter 4 | next |  masterlist

Horizons

Warnings: none (?) except for angst

wc: 3k 

Coffee. You desperately needed coffee. And lunch, too, you decided, your eyes flickering to the wall clock across from you to look at the time. 

You sat deflated in your seat at Miss Yukino’s office. You had just finished taking an English language assessment test for your Yale admissions that lasted around two and a half hours. It’s not that you had a hard time. You were confident that you’d managed to at least get a decent score on it. But you stayed up late last night, combing through your brain for the words to write in your college essays. 

You vaguely recall 02:46 AM glowing green on the digital clock on your nightstand when you finally plopped down into your bed last night. And at 5:15 AM, the same clock had woken you up for morning club practice. 

Practice had gone on normally that morning, which actually was quite unfortunate for you. Not only did you not get enough sleep, but you had to toss balls to each of the volleyball players for their spiking practice and had to clean up the gym afterwards. You barely had any energy left when you had your morning class.

It was the week before your final exams for the term so some classes were free so that students could get some of their own studying done. So after your first class that ended at 9:30AM, you were free for the rest of the morning. You then went straight to Miss Yukino’s office for the language assessment test. By the first hour of the exam, you were already beat. 

Stifling a yawn, you looked over at the clock again. 12:03PM. You waited as Miss Yukino typed away into her laptop, shuffled through the papers on her desk, then typed away into her laptop again.

You decided to fish your phone out of your bag and found that Kenma had texted you.

Kenma (11:58am): y/n, where are you?

You (12:03pm): I’m at the guidance counselor’s office. I’m almost done here and I’m gonna go grab lunch right after. Why?

Kenma (12:04pm): what are you doing there? did you get into trouble?

You (12:04pm): No! What do you take me for? I’m here for my uni admissions. You know, that kind of stuff.

Kenma (12:05pm): what? I thought you were going to the university of Tokyo with Kuro. he doesn’t seem to be busy preparing for all that stuff right now unlike you.

Kenma (12:05pm): y/n... is there something you’re not telling me?

You grimaced at Kenma’s text. If he were here right now, he would have pinned you down with his calculating gaze. The guy was just too observant. It was hard to let anything get past him. Sighing, you typed in a reply.

You (12:07pm): oh yeah about that...There’s a possibility that I might not be attending Tokyo uni. Nothing’s set in stone yet though so I’d rather not talk about it for now. Please don’t tell anyone?

Kenma (12:07pm): okay, sure. but you know you can tell me about anything anytime, right?

You (12:07pm): yeah, I know :) 

Kenma (12:09pm): anyway. can you come down to the clubroom once you’re done there? we can eat lunch together. i’ll buy you food. my treat :)

You (12:11pm): oh??? why’s that? but sure! thanks Kenma! You’re the best <333  

Kenma (12:11pm): you’ll see when you get there.

You frowned in curiosity at his message. Kenma was not the type to initiate something like this. You wonder what was up. Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, you couldn’t wait to get yourself to the clubroom. Just as you put back your phone back into your bag, Miss Yukino calls your attention. 

“Y/n, the testing center said that your results will be available next week. In the meantime, I suggest you work on your essays.” 

“Oh, right,” you nodded.

“The deadline’s coming up. Don’t hesitate to drop by anytime if you need any help. The sooner we can comply with all the requirements, the better,” she grinned, raising an index finger. 

You sighed in relief and stood up, smoothing down your skirt. “Thank you, Miss Yukino. I mean it.” 

She waved you off, laughing softly, “I’m just doing my job. Don’t worry too much, okay? Now get out of here and have lunch. Catch up on some sleep tonight, too! You look like you need it.”

You grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head. “Yeah, I will. Thanks again! Enjoy your lunch!” 

You gave her a quick bow then left.

Once out of the office, you headed straight to the clubroom where Kenma asked you to meet him, jogging on the way. You were half worried that something was wrong and half relieved that you could finally take a break from the wave of draining activities you’d had since you stepped foot into the school this morning. 

Reaching the clubroom, you reached out to grip the door handle and slid the door open slowly, hesitatingly, as if you were afraid of what you’d find on the other side. Peeking through the small gap, you see Yaku and Kenma staring back at you owlishly. They were seated at the table in the clubroom, Kenma holding his console and Yaku opening his lunch.

“Come in,” Yaku tells you, eyebrows raised at the way you hovered at the entrance.

“Is something up?” you asked them as you strode in and sat beside Kenma. You noted the takeout food and iced coffee that sat on the table. 

“Eat first, talk later,” Yaku announces. He gestured to the food on the table. You wonder what was making him uncharacteristically serious but at the moment you were too hungry to care. 

Right. Eat first, talk later.

“Here,” Kenma says, taking out the food he had delivered from the paper bag it came in and setting it in front of you. Your eyes glossed over when you realized that it’s katsudon from that pricey restaurant at the mall. 

“The coffee’s yours, too,” he tells you simply. 

“What the hell, Kenma? When you said it was your treat, I thought you meant food from the cafeteria! Not-” you gestured to the food he laid out in front of you, “THIS!” 

You were not a crybaby. But maybe it was the built up stress you had been feeling from dealing with your feelings for Kuroo, managing the volleyball club, and working on your Yale admissions that had tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. You pouted at Kenma, touched by his gesture. 

“Why are you doing this?” you eyed him warily. 

“You looked like you needed some cheering up this morning,” he shrugs. 

Humming, you run your gaze suspiciously between Yaku and Kenma. “Right... Well, in any case, I can’t accept this for free so I’m going to have to pay you back later.” 

“You can try but I won’t accept your payment either,” Kenma answers. 

“Can you two just eat already?” Yaku huffs as he chewed on his food.

You pouted at Kenma but he only stares blankly at you until you finally decide to relent. Sighing, you reached out to poke his cheek. 

“Thanks, Kenma,” you told him with a soft smile before digging into your food.

---

Now that you’re done with eating, the food containers sat neatly arranged on the table, ready to be disposed. You sat back on the chair and sipped on your coffee, finally feeling alive for the first time that day. 

“So, why did you ask me to come here?” you asked. Maybe they wanted to talk about the Christmas party you were going to have on Saturday. Were they planning a surprise or something?

Yaku met Kenma’s eyes briefly before he looked back to you.

“We need to talk. The talk. This is an overdue discussion,” Yaku tells you seriously, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said and raised an eyebrow at him. You turned to Kenma for some answers.

“Just so you know, this was his idea,” Kenma shrugs. 

Yaku clears his throat before asking, “Okay, I’m not going to beat around the bush. Y/n, do you like Kuroo?” 

You almost spit your drink. Being asked that question was the last thing you expected. “What? Like, as a friend? Of course, I do.” you say matter-of-factly. You have an inkling that that was not what Yaku meant but you were not going to give it to him so easily.

“You know what I mean. Do you have feelings for Kuroo? Romantically?” 

Yaku leans back on his seat, a softer look appearing on his face. 

“And if I do?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow at him. The libero’s face lit up at the revelation.

“I knew it! You like Kuroo!” he yells shortly before frowning at Kenma and muttering, “Wait. Don’t tell me you already knew all this and didn’t bother to tell us.” 

You tell them to keep it down, quickly looking around in case someone was around who might overhear.

“It’s not my story to tell,” Kenma retorts.

“Okay, okay,” you quickly interrupt the two, tapping a hand on the table twice. “What’s with all the sudden interest about me liking Kuroo?” 

At that, Yaku reveals that they’ve always thought that you and Kuroo had a thing for each other before Hana came into the picture. How the team thought you were secretly dating, and how it was only a matter of time before the two of you would announce it to the team. 

“I’ve noticed how you two don’t joke around like you used to before. You two don’t talk as much. You both were so inseparable -- practically attached at the hip -- before. It’s so weird seeing you two be so distant with each other now,” he continues. 

Kenma listened as he played with his console, occasionally agreeing with and adding to Yaku’s points. You allowed the two of them to speak up, preferring to listen instead. A few more moments of Yaku rambling passed before he quiets down.

A whisper of a frown was etched on his face. “We’re just concerned about you, you know. Ever since you showed up late that one time to practice and when you didn’t join the celebration dinner after the spring interhigh tournament on Kuroo’s birthday, the team is starting to wonder if something’s wrong. Not only that, I noticed how you’re often spacing out and acting distracted during practice these days, which is so unlike you.”

Kenma looked up from his game and turned to you. “Yeah. You always seem so tired these days. I know you’re stressing about your studies so you could maintain your grades and graduate at the top of the class, but I know you wouldn’t stress about it to that extent. I know you well enough to know that there’s something else that’s stressing you out. At practice earlier, you didn’t even look like you had a wink of sleep last night. That’s the reason why I bought you coffee.”

The two of them look at you expectantly, making you shake your head with a snort.

“I honestly don’t know where to begin,” you said, laughing wryly while running a hand through your hair.

“I was just as surprised as you, really. Kuroo never talked about Hana to me before. They just started hanging out after class one day, and since then he’s been spending less time with me and more with Hana.”

“Kenma already knows about my feelings for Kuroo, though,” you said, meeting Kenma’s eyes.

You paused, looking up at the ceiling, trying to find the right words.

Kenma nods in agreement. “He never talked about Hana with me either so we never saw it coming. The three of us were walking home after practice a few months ago when Kuroo saw Hana and told Y/n and I to go home without him. And weeks later, we found out that they’re dating.” He shrugs and goes back to his game.

“And how do you feel about them?” Yaku asks.

Your eyes scanned the room, as if the answers were written in the walls somewhere. “Hmm, I don’t know. I mean, at the beginning, I moped about it for a few weeks.” 

You thought back on all the sleepless nights and the pints of ice cream and the junk food you binged on while you wallowed in your pain and sadness. If Kuroo had seen all that, he would have thrown a fit at the unhealthy lifestyle you had adopted. But of course, he hadn’t. And so it went on like that for days.

You remember your tearstained pillows, the bad score you had on a test for the first time in a long time, and all the acting like you were fine when deep down you felt like an open wound. And Kuroo and Hana were the salt on the wound that halted your healing process each time you saw them. 

But maybe the worst of it all were the questions and the what-if’s that started to haunt you. 

What does Kuroo see in her that he doesn’t see in you? What did all the flirting, the soft looks he gave you, the lingering touches when your fingers or arms brushed mean? 

Was it really all in your head? Was everything one-sided? Did he not feel the same pull that you felt towards him? Not even a little bit? 

What if you confessed to him before it was too late?

You inhaled sharply. It felt weird to lay your feelings out in the open like this. “I was crazy to think he felt the same towards me, you know. I guess I led myself on. I actually thought I was special.” You laughed humorlessly. “But I realized that’s just how he is to the people close to him. I see it in the way he acts around, Kenma.”

“What?! No, no,” Yaku interrupts. “Like I said, we all thought you had a thing for each other. We were so sure Kuroo had feelings for you. It’s different from how he is around Kenma. There was something more,” - he paused and met Kenma’s eyes - “At least we thought there was.” 

The room was silent for a brief moment as the two quickly shared a look as if they realized that they said something they shouldn’t have.

“Well, in the rare times that Kuroo acts like an idiot, he does make sure he’s a big one,” Kenma says.

The room fell silent once more but this time, the air was buzzing with some sort of giddy energy. The three of you shared a knowing look. 

And then --

“Pfft!” Yaku snorted, unable to hold in his amusement any longer. And just like that, the three of you burst into laughter, although Kenma’s was more of a snicker. 

You don’t really know what the look they shared just now or what Kenma’s words implied, you just found it funny.

It was a few moments later when the laughter finally died down into a comfortable silence. 

“It’s been a while since I laughed that hard,” you said breathlessly, leaning back on your seat and clutching at your stomach that began to hurt just a little at how much you were laughing. 

Yaku and Kenma looked over at you with fond smiles, happy to see you happy. 

“So, are you going to be okay?” Yaku asks softly.

“Yeah, I think I’m doing better these days. I’m slowly learning to accept it. I know can’t force someone to love me. And I’m not the type to beg and chase after someone. So...” you shrugged. “That’s that. I’ll get over it eventually.” You really hoped so. You know fully well that some things were just not meant for you and you just had to be okay with that. 

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem okay this morning.”

“I’m fine! Really!” you reassured them, waving your hands off at Yaku. 

Sighing, you said, “Okay, okay. So, I didn’t really want to bring this up just yet but there’s a possibility that I won’t be staying in Tokyo for college.”

Yaku’s eyes widened in interest. “Oh? Where are you going then?” 

You grinned. “I don’t want to speak too soon since it isn’t final yet. I’ll let you know once I’m sure. So yeah, I’ve been busy preparing for my admissions these days. I stayed up late last night trying to write my essays. And then we had morning practice, which is why I probably looked like shit at practice this morning.” 

“For real? Good luck then!” Yaku beams, giving you a thumbs up. “We’re here for you, alright? Just come to us if you need anything.” 

Kenma wordlessly nods in agreement. Suddenly, the school bell rings, signaling that it was time to go back to class.

“You guys, thank you for today,” you gave them a warm, genuine smile. “I feel so much better now that I was able to talk about things with you.”

You opened your arms, inviting them in for a hug, to which they accepted. After giving them a quick hug, you reached up to ruffle their hair, much to Kenma’s displeasure. But he’d put up with it because it was you he’s used to it. Grinning, you let go and started cleaning up the table. 

With the possibility of going to Yale on the horizon, you couldn’t help but be hopeful. Maybe some distance from Kuroo is what you needed to get over him. Maybe you were just meant to be friends and nothing more. If you can’t have him the way you want him, then you’ll learn to accept that being his best friend is enough.

Baby steps. You remind yourself. One day it won’t hurt to look at him anymore.

You smiled to yourself, feeling so much lighter for the first time in a long while.

You picked up your bag from the chair as you were about to head out of the clubroom when something catches your eye. On the shelf was a nekoma volleyball club jacket with the letters KT written in permanent marker on the lining. Was it Kuroo’s? He never leaves his jacket behind.

You gave it a second look, debating whether to take it with you so you could give it to him but ultimately decided not to.

previous | chapter 4 | next |  masterlist

-

A/N: Hello! I know it’s been a while since I updated. I hope my readers are still around. Kuroo isn’t here but he will appear in the next chapter. I’ll be able to post the next chapter sooner since I already have it mapped out.

I apologize for being away for so long. Apart from being busy with studies, I also had a hard time mapping out the direction of the story. 

You see Kuroo and Hana weren’t meant to be a couple LOL. Kuroo was just meant to like her but I was too excited to post the first chapter that I completely overlooked it so I had to think of a way to blend that into my original plan for the story hahahaha. Also, I had a bit of a writer’s block for a while and wasn’t so satisfied with my writing. But i’m back! Let me know what you think of this chapter! :)

(I was going to post this as a bonus chapter but I decided that this is important to the development of the story.)

See you in the next chapter of Autumn Skies!

Brace yourselves for more angst!

taglist is still open!

Disclaimer: Kuroo Tetsurou, Haikyu!! and other Haikyu!! characters belong to Haruichi Furudate.

💖:  @elianetsantana​ @literaleftist​  @yeehawslap​ @starry-magicshop @atsunflower​ @saturnfarie @sakurahoshizora​ @kellyyween​ @donica95​ @kyomihann​  @roseestuosity​ @brattyshirabuismybff @rirk-ke @-doublezero @yafriendlyfangirl @kagebunshiin @julie-ackerman @acsycharm @fmwaifu​ @piii-chan​ @melodyofroses​

[foodcourtdetective]

thinking too hard

summary: barry berkman has been trying to forget about his soulmate for both of their sakes, but Y/N is making it very hard and using their soulmate connection to draw all over him.

tags: angsty, soulmate au, love at first sight, very brief Barry x Sally, definitely a happy ending!

A/N: I’m just really into soulmate!au’s and Barry Berkman okay?!?! (and // means time passes)

word count 2.4k

AO3 x

He hated Los Angeles. Barry’s long sleeve shirt stuck to him in the desert heat, sweat pooling in his armpits and on his back. NoHank asked him about his outfit choice, offering him a short-sleeved shirt or a tank top.

“You want to take one of their shirts? They won’t mind, they’re confident in their bodies!” NoHank said, gesturing over to the Chechen recruits. Barry shook his head, clearing his throat in discomfort. After a moment, NoHank made a movement to push up Barry’s sleeves for him, but Barry was too quick and grabbed NoHank’s pinky, bending it all the way back.

“Shit shit, okay okay! Someone has body issues! We will talk about accepting your body some other time then.” Barry ignored him, staring coldly ahead as the young Chechen recruit finally hit a beer can with his bullet.

//

When he finally got back to his apartment, Barry made a beeline for the bathroom, nodding briefly at Jermaine and Nick on his way. After peeling off his shirt and grabbing the sink, Barry took a look at his body or rather what was on it. Today, his soulmate had kept it simple: a heart on his wrist, a note to pick up two lattes at 9, and a flower chain that started at his trigger finger and trailed all the way up his forearm. He sighed, holding back a soft smile as her traced up the stem of flowers with his other pointer fingers. As he ended the journey at his inner forearm, Barry stopped to see a less traditional note: written on his upper chest right over his heart, in simple cursive, it read please talk to me, Barry. A deep sigh filled the tiny bathroom and he gently caressed their handwriting.  The familiar movement triggered a whirl of memories.

Writing excitedly on his leg the moment he turned sixteen to introduce himself to his soulmate only to get no response. Giving up on love and joining the Marines shortly after. Noticing the shy hello scribbled on his hand seven years later when he was already too far gone. Writing to them any chance he got once he find out the silence was because they had not been old enough yet. Learning her name was Y/N and that she lived in California. Having to break off communication once Fuches put him to work. The sharp lines she had drawn as she had asked if he could feel the sharp indent of her pen, told him that ignoring them for their own good was ridiculous. The obscene images Y/N had drawn all over him the first couple of years, trying to get an angry message from him, any message.

His heart sank, but Barry knew as much as it hurt both of them, it was better for them to move on, to pretend to not have a soulmate. God knows Barry would rather hide her away, hide his shot at happiness, than have her be tortured or worse by any of his enemies or allies. He groaned, his knuckles turning whiter than the sink.

//

His acting class didn’t know what to make of him at first; his long, dark clothing sharply contrasted their tight shorts and tank tops, skin flaunting their connections. But despite himself, Barry grew close to Sally, a girl who had never seen any marks on her body. After hearing that Barry also had a blank canvas, she pounced on him with a marker she had seemingly pulled out of nowhere, drawing a star on his knuckles. However, despite her persistence, no matching star appeared on her own. Sally declared them star-crossed soulmates and asked him on a date.

After a late night of drinks, Barry found himself making out with Sally on her couch. She went to pull off his shirt and for the first time in his life, he mindlessly complied, distracted by the intimacy. Sally suddenly shot up from the couch, crying out as she pointed to the drawings adorning his chest. Y/N had seen the star Sally had drawn and, hopeful that it was a message to her, drew out an intricate night sky. Hidden among the stars, scrawled out in cursive, she wrote I’m here when you’re ready, Barry. -Y/N.

“How dare you! You lied just to get into my pants?!” Sally tripped over herself to pick up his discarded shirt, balling it up to chuck at him. Barry pulled it on, dazed all the way home until he saw the message glint in the mirror as he was getting undressed. Barry slammed his fist into the wall, shouting out in frustration. Ass his phone rang, the caller ID revealing it was Fuches, Barry scrambled to put his shirt back on, scribbling a message to Y/N on the fleshy part of his bicep. I’m a hitman. Don’t message me unless you want to die.

//

After the assignment, Barry found himself staring at his chest and reading her pleas to talk further. That’s not funny. Barry. Barry! Oh my god, you’re serious. That explains a few things. You gotta talk to me, your soulmate? I need to know why. Barry sighed, wandering over to his bedroom to get a pen from his desk. He sat on the bed, anxiously fiddling with the pen in between his fingers before writing on his trigger finger: you still want to talk to me? He waits, watching the loopy letters sweep down his arm like a signature under the floral art she continued to draw every day.

Yes, I have a death wish. He laughed at the absurdity of their conversation before responding.

Why are all artists suicidal?

See, I’d rather have this with you than live without it. Her words made him freeze in his tracks, his fingers gently stroking over the confession as they faded away, scrubbed off by the writer. She filled the now empty space with a series of numbers; Barry furrowed his brow, trying to decode the secret message. After a moment Y/N wrote again underneath them.

Running out of space! Text me! He hesitated, his heart in his throat as he debated if the convenience was worth sacrificing her safety. Finally, with shaking hands, he dialed the number and hit call. A soft hello followed the ringing, the voice so angelic that he knew he would do whatever she asked him to do.

“I said text, not call! You do know how to read, right?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to hear your voice!”

“What? No, I mean I’m sorry for…” Barry trailed off, his mind swarmed by memories of pushing her away and feeling her anguish through the pointy pen tip.

“You wanted to protect me. I get it. Now we’re even from when I couldn’t write to you.”

“That wasn’t intentional.”

“It would have been! I was a pretty rebellious eleven year old.” He laughed, the silence after he finishes awkward until he breaks it.

“I’m in LA.”

“For work?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Barry doodles a flower on his thumb. It’s not as pretty as any of hers, but she draws a faint heart around it. He brushes the heart, his own beating so loudly it was in his ears.

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

“Because of who I am? What I do?” His throat was thick from holding back the dam of emotion, but his voice managed to crack in desperation.

“I’m scared you’re going to leave me again.” Barry paused at that, his own heart breaking a little at the thought of all of the pain he must have caused Y/N by abandoning her. He’s now drawing a bouquet on his forearm, a sloppier version of her own.

“You don’t have to be afraid of that. Once I see you for the first time, I’m probably never going to leave you alone ever again… Not in a creepy way…”

“I would love that.”

“I’m giving you an out right now. You can hang up, stay in the safety of your life as a… what do you do again?”

“Graphic design!”

“I knew you were an artist!”

“And I knew you were a comedian!”

“Weird way of pronouncing what I actually do…” She giggled at that, falling quiet after a hearty laugh.

“Look at your leg. I’ll see you there at 9. Don’t be late!” As she hung up, Barry pressed his phone to his lips in shock. Remembering her words, he pulled his pants down to read the directions she had jotted onto his thigh, the dots in the I’s drawn as hearts instead of dots; he almost died of pure joy right then and there.

//

In hindsight, it was good that Y/N had suggested a coffee shop to meet because Barry had not gotten a wink of sleep the entire night. He had stared at the ceiling, flat on his back and still fondly stroking her writing on his leg. As his pointer finger traced the hearts, he felt his own thud loudly in his chest. It was easier to protect her when she was just lines on his person, just another part of him that he hated, another vulnerability. But hearing Y/N’s voice, imagining what she might look like, had ignited a wanting within him, a need to be with her, his other half. She was no longer just a part of him; she was a separate entity that he wanted to get to know and love.

He had gotten to the shop as soon as it opened at 4, wanting to figure out where the best table inside would be and staking it out for them. The barista had made him order a drink at 5:30; panicked and feeling about a thousand years old, Barry ordered “something to bring me back to life.” At 6 he was shuttering, borderline convulsing from the quad espresso that he consumed quickly. His anxiety was through the room, but all he could do was dig his fingernails into his palm which was resting on his jeans over her handwriting. What if she wasn’t as okay with the age difference as she thought she was? What if it hits her that her soulmate is a hitman? What if the drawings stop appearing. What if—

Barry jolted awake in his seat, now realizing that he had crashed from the overdose of caffeine. The barista (Stacie, he later learned) made a joke about having to restart his heart. He checked his phone: 8:30am. Suddenly, a thought dawned on him and he ordered another drink. By the time Stacie brought it over and started walking back to the counter, the bell above the door tingled. Barry immediately stood up like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, turning to look at the customer. She sensed his stare immediately, turning to look him over as a dreamy blush painted her cheeks.

“Barry?” She whispered, his name less of a question and more of a disbelief. He swallowed, his throat dry as he looked over Y/N, his soulmate. She was absolutely picturesque, an almost pure aura of light around her as the door slowly shut behind her. As she drew near, Barry was almost too aware of how he towered over, a menacing presence.

“I gotcha a latt-“ Barry didn’t even get to finish his stuttering as Y/N grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a kiss. His mouth was already half open and he stumbled forward from the force of her tug. It wasn’t the most coordinated kiss in the world, her mouth mostly on his bottom lip and her teeth lightly bumped his by accident; but it was theirs. Barry felt his body fill with a warmth, like his whole being was sighing with relief at being united with his soulmate as he kissed her back. He had thought that the doodles and the sound of her voice would do him in, but this… this would knock his entire life’s path off track. After a moment, Barry gently placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled away, just looking down at her in awe.

“How did you know my coffee order?” Y/N asked, her grin stretched out wider than Barry previously thought possible. He babbled for a few seconds, removing his hands to gesticulate as he just expressed a bunch of word fillers before finally managing to get something out.

“Y-you, you wrote it on your hand as a-a part of your to-to-to do list,” he explained, trying to stick his erratic hands in his pockets but Y/N swung her hand forward to snatch his hand. She squealed, making a joke about how sweaty his hand was and Barry thought he would die of a heart attack right then and there. She pulled him down again, this time so they could sit at the table together and she could take a sip of her latte. Barry simply stared at her, his brain slightly short circuiting with delight. Eventually, rational thought caught up with him and Barry tried to remove his hand from hers, but she had a firm grip and a look in her eye that told him she already knew what he was going to say.

“You’re not worried about…”

“I thought we already went over this, Barry. I’m in! I’m all in,” she declared sweetly, leaning over to capture his lips once again. He was consumed by it, by her, his head swirling with a dizziness of emotion and his lungs burning with a heartache of regrets. They could have had this so much sooner, if he had left the army, if he hadn’t made that deal with Fuches, if he hadn’t been an idiot about wanting to protect her. The deep and mind numbing kiss ended as Y/N broke it to breathe heavy. Barry looked at her through lidded eyes, revering her with every fiber of his being.

“You are good at that! It’s a good thing too because it looks like I’m gonna have to kiss you every five minutes to get you out of that type of thinking,” she giggled, moving to lean back in her chair but Barry slung an arm around her waist, pulling her back into him with a soft smile.

“Better make it every two minutes because I’m thinking again,” he joked, his heart glowing as the love of his life obliged his request and kissed him senseless.

[electric-mindfulness-blog]

Seb and Ed

This is a continuation of a story I found a while ago, it’s a story that really resonated with me, I’ll post the links at the end.

It’s been two years. I hadn’t thought about Ed for all that time until today. A letter arrived in my flat, a week after I moved in, I had just finished uni and had a decent job, and was planning on having a housewarming party. I had been out to collect supplies at around midday, and when I arrived a letter had been posted through, or rather slipped under, my door. It had three words in a familiar, unjoined chicken-scratch style writing.

To Seb.

Then underneath, slightly smaller, as if the writer had been hesitant,

Ed.

It took me several moments to realise I had been standing in the doorway of my flat, staring at the letter for at least a minute; I had dropped my bags, cans, bottles and tubes of snacks and junk food falling across the floor. It was only when the woman from the opposite flat came out and asked me if everything was ok, that I snapped out of my reverie. It hadn’t registered that I had simply dropped two large bags of shopping: she looked distinctly concerned.

“Yeah.. I’m fine, just had a moment” I grinned, unconvincingly, but she seemed placated. She nodded with a frown and retreated back into her flat.

Shoving the letter into my back pocket, I scrabbled across the floor to pick up the detritus that had spilled from my bags, moving unnervingly fast, as if cleaning a crime scene.

Later that day, sat in my room I glared at the letter, unopened, on my windowsill in front of my desk. I willed it to open itself, to save me the task. Needless to say it didn’t. Eventually after trying to distract myself from it for two hours I couldn’t resist it any longer. I ripped it open on one end and tore the letter out, my eyes absorbing every word on the page one letter at a time, savouring the familiar scratchy writing.

Seb,

It’s been a while, I’ve never known what to say to you, and I’ve never been brave enough to call or text. I’m so sorry for how I treated you, I was in a bad place. Luring you into a setup like that was a shitty thing to do, and I really wish I hadn’t done it.

Truth is, things got worse after you left Birmingham. Me and my flatmates fell out, they left and I eventually had to leave as well, I’ve been living with Catherine for a while. Like you said, she is a good friend but.. she isn’t you.

I saw the post you put up about a housewarming party, and I’m sorry to say that I asked one of your friends for your address, I couldn’t help myself. If you want me to come then I will, if not... I understand.

Ed.

I read it and reread it several times. Several thoughts raced through my head, the first of which being how pissed off I was that he had effectively stalked me to get my address, and actually come here, second I was more enraged that I hadn’t been in when he had delivered it. I don’t know what I would’ve done so perhaps it’s best I wasn’t. And finally, a deep pang of guilt in the pit of my stomach for how I had walked out all that time ago, and the empty space in my life that had appeared since I had pushed him away.

He had been my friend since primary school, we had done everything- literally everything- together, we always sat next to eachother on the bus, we would walk to and from school with eachother, we fancied the same people and fought over the same stupid shit, but we were thick as thieves. But what he did had hurt me, not physically, but it hurt me in a dark and unspeakable way, unspeakable because I hadn’t thought about or revisited what happened with him two years previously; I’d also not met with any other men or women since.

The letter had thrown me. Throwing it down on my bed, I picked up my phone, and flicked through my contacts. I thumbed to “E”, and scrolled down until I saw his name. It seemed to stand out like a beacon .

Eddie.

My thumb hovered over his name for a second. Do I call? What would I say after two years of radio silence? “Hi Ed you fucked me over and lured me into a two hour fuck sesh that I thought was a trick to help you break up with your girlfriend”?

No.. I should text. I thought, less awkward that way. I hope. I tapped the little message bubble next to his name, and tapped out a brief message.

Got your letter. Come down a day before the party, 3:30pm Saturday.

Again, my thumb hovered. Before I could second-guess myself, I tapped send. Part of me hoped it would flash and say “message send failure” but no such luck. It sent through instantly, and no less than two seconds flat after it had arrived, the little “sent” became “read”. My breath faltered, it was strange being this close to him but so many miles away at the same time. The thought the we were almost staring at eachother through our words gave me an uneasy shiver.

See you soon.

I clicked my phone off, it’s Wednesday. I thought two days. Shit.

I busied myself by cleaning the flat, moving furniture, rearranging shelves and crockery, anything to distract me from the thoughts whizzing through my head. The following two days passed in a blur.

Saturday morning came, I woke up at 4am, and sat in my bedroom on the bay window, panes wide open, leg dangling out five storeys over the main road. There was no traffic, save for the odd early morning worker, and some cyclists. I picked up a pack of cigarettes: empty. I swore and threw the pack out the window. I slid back inside, throwing on some joggers and a baggy old T-shirt from the bottom of my draw, threw on some trainers and headed down the stairs- the elevator was yet again out of action- and out the door of the flat. I jogged to the local offlicense, and grabbed a six pack of some imported beer, and a few packs of Marlborough superkings. I ambled slowly back home, my head alive with every possible outcome of the day. This could be the total end or the new beginning of us I thought. I sat on the bench outside the flat building for a half hour, listening to the sounds of the early morning, birds, distant car engines, late night party-goers straggling home, laughter and tears. It reminded me of the morning after the night before with Ed. I cursed out loud. Violently, scaring several small animals nearby.

Back inside my flat, still groggy from sleep, I checked the clock, the red digits flashed 4:30am in its repetitive rhythm. How had it only been a half hour? I slipped out of my shoes and joggers, and threw on a long, dark green dressing gown. I wondered into the kitchen, put the beer in the fridge, and opened one of the packs of cigarettes. I sat back on the windowsill and lit it. I hadn’t smoked in a long time, and I savoured the first breath, holding the flame at the end and inhaling deeply. My breathing slowed. How long have I been hyperventilating for? And why?

But I knew why. I was seeing him for the first time in what seemed like forever, though it had only been two years. I had so many questions, so much anger and sadness and feelings that I hadn’t dealt with since I had left. And it scared me. I sat on the windowsill for a long while, reminiscing, and half dozing, all the while chaining the twenty pack, leaving a gap of barely five minutes between the last and next.

It was only when my alarm went off, signalling 6am, that I snapped back into reality, the city was alive now, traffic bustling below me, shops opening, rubbish trucks and postmen. I slipped inside and got changed. I looked into my mirror and froze. The T shirt I had grabbed from the bottom of my draw was his. Ed’s. It was a baggy old concert tee, scribbled on and doctored, ripped and safety-pinned and stitched and patched. Everything about it screamed Ed. I was torn between throwing it out of the window and crying at this point. Instead, I had a roiling wave of rage wash over me, and I slammed my fist into the mirror: I instantly regretted it. The weak frame buckled from the force of impact and my hand went straight through; shards of glass rained down onto the floor, and I gained a Large ugly slash and several stinging cuts across the back of my hand. I yanked off the shirt and wrapped my hand up, heading to the kitchen to clean it up.

After finding a dated first aid kit buried under the sink, I managed to properly bandage my hand and forearm with sturdy, albeit old, medical wraps and adhesive tape. I glanced at the microwave, the shining green numbers emblazoned 7:45, it was still dark outside, the sky was gloomy, as it had been all autumn, making it seem a lot darker than it should have been. I threw the bloodied shirt down on the counter by the sink, I’d come back to that later. I went and lay down on my bed for a while, finishing off the first pack of cigarettes, and rattling off some essays and letters on my laptop. A few hours later, my room stank, even though the window was open, the cigarettes had carved their odour into the walls, and the old porcelain ashtray was full to overflowing with ash and dogends, and there was a strong smell of my own B.O, and of stale tea and incense. It all mingled together to form a not entirely unpleasant but strong smell that strongly resembled the inside of a youth club. Or a brothel.

It was now 1:30 and the sounds of the city had dulled to a hum that I only just registered. I made myself some food, sat down and waited. Having moved all the furniture around, I was sat on a large, blue, five-person sofa in the far corner of the room, the door directly in front of me. My phone buzzed.

On the train now, eta one hour twenty minutes

Nothing I can do now. I stared at the text. It’s really happening I thought. I had secretly been hoping to myself that I would wake up suddenly, but the dull throbbing ache of my pulse across the back of my hand reminded me, all too painfully, that it was happening, however much I wished otherwise. I lit another cigarette, and as I did, I heard a familiar, slightly high pitched voice drift up through the open window, swearing at someone. He’s here. No backing out now. Steeling myself, I went to the door, the phone on the wall rang. I lifted it up, pressed the button marked with an old cinema ticket with “admit one” on its front and put the phone down. I wonder how he got in the other day. Another question to add to the list. I unlocked the front door, and sharpied an arrow on the front. Below I scribbled

This way for the party>>

And I went back inside, leaving the door slightly ajar, to my room, again leaving that door open too. I still had the cigarette in my hand, but it had burnt out. The smell of stale tobacco hit my nostrils and I threw it out the window, taking a fresh one from the pack and lighting it. No sooner than I’d taken the first drag, I heard a voice behind me.

“So you still do lucky lasts then?” He was nervous. His voice was a little pitchy, but it was him. His delicate southwestern accent pulling his A’s out. Laasts.

I inhaled sharply, and turned slowly. He looked.. stunning. He didn’t appear to have aged, his thick black hair was a little longer, and had a deep green streak through it, he was wearing fur lined denim jacket and black jeans, with a red scarf and fingerless gloves to guard against the cold. He seemed skinnier, his eyes were gaunt and his jaw was more prominent than I remembered. But it was ed. I ran forward.

Fin.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/straight-guys-messing-around/ these are the original stories