#i love living here but the cloudiness and rain makes it harder

[hyungseos-cafe]

._.

[arminsumi]

❀ 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝟐 Gojo Satoru / Geto Suguru

Falling in love despite a language barrier.

𝐂𝐡. 𝟐 | 𝐖𝐜. 𝟐.𝟗𝐤 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Satoru blinks awake to see your face. His heart beats harder.

結局昨日は夢ではなかったのか？ Yesterday was not a dream after all?

He's not an early bird at all, but from the first day of your visit he magically woke up early as if his soul was too excited to sleep when it knew you were right there, in the flesh. No screen. Just you.

When the first day starts, it feels like you've always been together. Was there ever a screen separating the two of you? And were you really going to disappear behind one again in just a month?

今のところ、彼女はここに留まるように感じています。彼女が訪問を終えて出発するとき、私は空港で赤ん坊のように泣くことになると思います。 For now, she feels like she's here to stay. I think I'm going to cry like a baby at the airport when she leaves after her visit.

Morning routines are carried out. The sky is cloudy at first, threatening rain, and by the time you three cluster into the kitchen to make breakfast together, it starts raining.

You and Satoru banter like two cats. Suguru's morning rasp is very strong.

"Satoru... uh... sugar?" you ask, preparing to make yourself a second one and automatically making Satoru another one, since he looks still very bleary-eyed even after spending an hour freshening up in the bathroom.

"...? Yes?" he tilts his head, then you raise the sugar cube jar. "Yes. Uh... four. Thank you."

Suguru's blushing because of the cute tension between you and his best friend. It fills the whole kitchen, which already felt full with their two bodies and a third one now. Everyone keeps bumping elbows and yet not complaining about it, in fact it's enjoyable to be squished together. Maybe because you three waited so long to be together in person, you don't mind it.

There's a silent, ever-present comedy in the air about the tight proximity.

You hum happily, tossing in one, two, three... four? That's a lot of sugar. "Suguru, tell Satoru he mustn't have so much sugar all the time. It's not good for his health."

Suguru laughs. "I try to tell him that every day. But his sweet tooth is incurable."

"His dentist must hate him." you smirk at Satoru, who's been looking at you blushingly after hearing his name mentioned.

彼女の声が今では一番好きな音だと思います。 I think her voice is my favorite sound now.

もう一度私の名前を言ってください。 Please say my name again.

"Satoru? Coffee?" you interrupt his lovey-dovey thoughts and he suddenly reanimates himself, because for a moment there he zoned out and just stared at you with those pretty eyes.

"Mmm... thanks." he takes the coffee from you with a noticeable timidness that you can't quite explain. There's a lot about him that's indescribable, you're having a small internal crisis; aren't you supposed to be fluent in English? And yet you can't even begin to describe just how sweet and gentle Satoru behaves. The most you can do is use metaphors that barely justify him.

"Suguru, tell her... her voice is nice, and also sorry for cuddling you in my sleep (and that she can definitely kick me away at night if it bothers her.) Also!" (the three of you head into the living room, and Suguru habitually trips over the cat who stalks under his feet too quietly to notice) "Also tell her... if it rains today, does she still want to go out? Because if we go out in the rain, she might get sick. And I don't want her to get sick on her trip. Not that I'd mind taking care of you, Y/n, of course."

Suguru lets out a long sigh and pulls a funny face. You smile amusedly.

"...It's too early to be a translator..." he grumbles in English after Satoru overloads him.

"What? C'mon tell her everything I said!"

"Let me have my coffee first. How about the two of you write to each other?" he suggests, putting the rim of the cup to his lips and sipping languidly.

"Eh, fine." Satoru pouts, and stalks off into his bedroom to get his phone.

Then, when he's in his bedroom, his chest flutters for some reason when he sees your suitcase standing there opened and emptied into the free cupboard space. He takes his phone, smiles at the homely feeling of seeing your belongings in his room, and leaves.

"Oh..." he has a sudden idea, and remembers the magnetic drawing board that's hanging in the kitchen. He and Suguru usually use it for writing reminders to each other, like get milk or you're an idiot or sometimes it has doodles of Mint the cat with sunglasses on.

So he returns to you with this magnetic drawing board, and points at it meaningfully, then holds one finger up and bows his head as he begins writing very slowly.

Suguru's checking the weather forecast and muttering sour complaints under his breath to you. "Of course it would rain for three days just when you arrive... at least by the weekend it will be clear and sunny..."

"Mmm... it's alright. A little rain never hurt nobody." you respond.

"I like your optimism." Suguru compliments flippantly at first, but then continues; "It's really uplifting. I think Satoru said something about you being a joy once, he said it really poetically but I can't recall it now."

"Aw..." you dip your head beneath your coffee cup, hiding the bashful expression on your face, which Suguru chuckles at.

And then, for a long moment, you just stare and watch Satoru writing on the board. You're completely captured in this moment, completely captivated in his enveloping presence as he sits next to you. He has slow, meticulous wrist movements. His knees press together, like he's worried that he'll invade your personal space if he sits too comfortably close to you. Funny, considering he cuddled you all night and you had no complaints about it.

He's writing very simply and neatly, just like how he texts you. You're a bit baffled by the characters he's using, though he's trying his best to avoid using any kanji knowing that you don't know a lot of it. He's sure you can figure things out by slowly pronouncing each hiragana character, or at least he hopes.

"Here." he hands you the magnetic drawing board, and then raises from the couch to go feed the cat.

"Minto-Minto... " he calls after the cat and makes a small cute sound to lure her out.

You're trying to read each hiragana character, eyes squinting a bit.

Suguru leans in close to you. He just takes a look, but the proximity for some reason gives both of you butterflies.

"Ooh... that's cute." Suguru comments after reading what Satoru wrote. His voice reaches deep in your tummy.

"Hm... I'll spell it out and... figure it out... anyways, why did you name your cat Mint?"

"Oh... well. There's two reasons. So the first..." he sets down his coffee, like he's about to tell you a great story, "Is because Satoru watched this show called Tokyo Mew Mew growing up, and he liked the character Minto. So he calls her Minto. And then I agreed on calling her that, but I call her Mint, because I hate mint the herb."

"You — haha, wait what? You call her Mint because you hate mint?"

"Yes. I hate mint, both the herb and the cat. She hates me too, clearly." Suguru raises his hand to remind you of how the cat scratched him the night before.

"Such a cute Hello Kitty sticker..." you tease.

"Thank you. Only the manliest men wear Hello Kitty Bandaids."

"How did she scratch you anyways...?"

"Oh, she likes to hang out in the washing machine if Satoru accidentally leaves it open. And when I try take her out of her comfy spot, she scratches me."

You sympathize, "Poor thing."

"What, the cat or me?" Suguru laughs.

"The cat." you lie teasingly.

"Wow! And here I thought you were being sympathetic!" he raises his brows.

You giggle and look at him, eyes finally making contact — ooh no that's bad bad bad, better break it immediately. So the two of you look away like you've both just indulged in a taboo intimacy. His stomach flips.

"Minto has been fed. She gave me cuddles." Satoru comes back into the room, and you admire the feeling he brings with him.

"No scratches?" Suguru asks.

"No, obviously, she loves me more than you." Satoru cheeks.

"Fuck you, haha."

Satoru makes his voice lower and leans to Suguru, "(Did she figure out what I wrote yet?)"

"Y/n did you figure out what he wrote?" Suguru asks.

"I'm trying so hard. What does this part mean...?"

Suguru shakes his head and puts his hands up. "Like I said, I'm not Mr Translator in the mornings."

"But you've had your coffee! Please, just this part..." you beg, and he can't deny that sweet begging. He easily folds for it, just like when Satoru begs for anything.

"Okay, where — this? Uh... Satoru your handwriting isn't usually this neat, is it...? That part means... 'voice'."

"Oh... ohhh!" you suddenly realize, and then the boys swoon over you when you pronounce the characters out loud to yourself.

"Uh... I think I know what it means..." you feel your cheeks warm up from the crown to your jawline.

あなたのこえがすき。 a-na-ta-no-ko-e-ga-su-ki.

"I like your voice, too." you respond to Satoru, and he half-gets it and gives you a thumbs up.

"Thanks."

You look at each other and then promptly look away with shy smiles.

"You two are cute." Suguru comments.

"Ahah... ahah shut up... hey, the sky has cleared up." you point out.

"Ooh... it cleared up 'cuz Satoru walked back into the room."

You awe at what he said.

"?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, Translator — (stop talking about me behind my back!)"

Suguru chuckles, "I wasn't! I was just — never mind. Let's get ready to head out."

And so you head into Satoru's bedroom to get ready, and Suguru heads into his bedroom, and Satoru himself goes into the cramped bathroom. Poor boy. He's really too tall for that archway, he bumped his head again.

彼女に花を買ってあげるべきでしょうか？それともちょっと多すぎますか？ Should I buy her flowers? Or is it a bit too much?

（なんてことだ）、なぜこのシャツには穴が開いているのでしょう？ (Oh my god), why does this shirt have holes?

The door slides open, he steps out of the bathroom half-dressed, and intends to quickly slip into Suguru's bedroom to borrow a shirt instead of awkwardly knocking on his bedroom door and disturbing you.

But oh, you know what? The cheesiest possible thing happens instead. The universe likes making Satoru's life a little more fun in odd times. So the two of you encounter each other in the hallway; you're fully clothed and he's got just pants and socks on.

He stutters once, swallows awkwardly, and even more awkwardly places his hand on your head as if to say sorry for this inconvenience.

But you laugh in response to the funny situation.

ああ、またあの美しい笑い声。 Ah, that beautiful laugh again.

"Sorry." he mutters, and disappears to go get a shirt from Suguru.

"It's okay." you reply.

The image of your pretty smile is burned in his head.

You can hear him telling Suguru something in the other room, and then you hear Suguru's muffled laugh as a response.

"(Don't laugh! I'm embarrassed! She's seen me shirtless now! No one's seen me shirtless except you!)"

"(You're such a virgin.)"

"(Say that again, I dare you.)"

"(Sorry, I don't understand you. I don't speak virgin, only English and Japanese.)"

You're wondering why Satoru sounds so embarrassed and annoyed, and then he groans down the hallway. It feels like you're their roommate, it's funny.

"Hi."

"Hi."

The two of you encounter each other in the hall again. This time he has a shirt, yes. And this time Suguru is there, too, and he's holding back an amused smile. He fluffs Satoru's hair as a way of embarrassing him more.

So Satoru leaves, and he leaves in such a way that it's super comedic, making you and Suguru laugh. Ooh, what a laugh that boy has; his Addam's apple shifts up and down deliciously.

"Ah... Suguru? I need help with the washing machine..."

"Yes...?"

"...this kid on the plane who sat next to me, he spilled strawberry juice all over my shirt and now it's sticky."

"But at least it smells like strawberries, right?" he jokes. "You can put it in the washing machine, I'll be doing the laundry in a second anyways..." there is a small moment of eye contact shared, then Suguru looks down, and frowns at something he sees, "(SATORU YOU LEFT YOUR SOCK ON THE FLOOR AGAIN!)"

"(Haha, sorry.)" you hear Satoru half-heartedly apologize from the other room.

So Suguru picks up the sock like an annoyed mother and goes to lecture Satoru.

"(You're embarrassing me in front of our guest. For the love of god, don't leave your goofy ass socks on the floor. What if she slips on them?)"

"(You're such a mother, Suguru.)"

You're calmly and casually going to put your juice-stained shirt in the washing machine like Suguru said, but then...

(the boys are talking and there's just this hilariously dramatic scream from the laundry room)

"DID THE CAT SCRATCH YOU?"

"(Did the cat scratch her?)"

"Ow, y-yeah!" you whine.

Suguru's the first one at the crime scene, and he picks up the cat and proceeds to lecture the cat as if it understands Japanese. It licks its lips and nubby nose and has an evil stare. You giggle.

"I'm so sorry... come, uh — (Suguru, we still have Hello Kitty adhesives somewhere, right?)" Satoru instinctually holds your hand that got scratched.

And he holds it so tenderly and caringly that it makes your whole chest quake for him.

彼女の手の傷はとても小さなものですが、それでも私は心臓がチクチクするのを感じました。 Although the wound on her hand was very small, I still felt my heart tingle.

He leads you to his bedroom, picking up some adhesives and antiseptic on the way, and sits with you on the unmade beds. You watch his fingers nimbly peeling the plastic off the adhesive, admiring how swiftly and perfectly he does even the littlest things. He has such a great attention to detail, it makes you self-conscious; is he thinking of you with the same attention to detail as everything else? Yes... he is.

He dabs some antiseptic on your small scratch, and then gently wraps and pats the Hello Kitty adhesive around it. You're pretty sure he's the one who bought them. Oh, if only you could ask him, but where even is your phone? Lost in a void somewhere, probably.

"Thank you, Satoru."

His eyes light up. His heart thumps. Why did those small, simple words have such a great effect on him?

"Mhm." he hums in acknowledgement. "You're welcome."

あなたの傷がもっと良くなるようにキスしたいです。 I want to kiss your wounds to make them better.

A second after thinking this and looking at your hand, he brings it to his lips and presses a very delicate kiss to the edge of your wrist, where the small cut spanned up to the base of your palm. Can you even call it a kiss? It's more like his lips graze your skin, hovering timidly.

And for some reason... the atmosphere becomes very intimate. Is it because of the place where he kissed you? The inner wrist has never occurred to you to be an intimate spot, and yet you're feeling as if he just kissed you on the lips.

You hear him audibly swallow, like he's conscious of this, too. The both of you become very aware of the tension in the atmosphere.

And then he looks apologetic, as if he overstepped a boundary. So you mutter a small, whispery "thanks..." which lifts his heart up into his throat and reassures him that you don't mind the intimacy.

"Mmm..." he blinks at you, pursing his lips.

His eyes linger on your lips for a moment, and it feels like he's about to... well you know his body just wants to... he sort of...

"Hey, how's the wounded patient?" Suguru interrupts, and you and Satoru spring apart like you're elastic bands that just got released after being stretched.

"Ahah, I'm okay. It's not a bad scratch." you lift your hand, "I'll cherish this Hello Kitty Bandaid forever, thank you."

"Yeah, Satoru bought 'em so you can thank him."

"I knewww he bought them, haha! So expected... cutiepie." you admire Satoru, and he's pretty sure that the last thing you said is some cute nickname, so he smirks.

"Okay, well... anyways, let's head out before the sun rises too high and it gets too hot to walk."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[driaswrld]

it's raining outside, and yuuji is sharing his earphones with you.

there's an occasional rumble of thunder that has him subconsciously tucking you tighter into his side, you want to tell him it's fine, we're on a bus, on our way home, nothing is going to swoop down from the sky and take me from you.

his playlist is on shuffle, hood pulled over his head and bubblegum hair resting against the window, watching the dark clouds shift above.

yuuji thinks, if he tells you he loves you right now, in such a dark and gloomy setting, if you'll even believe it.

but it's always when skies are dark and rain pours and his vision is cloudy and his knuckles are bruised does he feel the urge burning in him to say, i love you, i love you, i love you.

“i think it's gonna be a storm.” you murmur into his shoulder and he hums, careful not to shift too much — you glared at him the first three times he kept fidgeting and made the earphone fall out of your ear — “you still afraid of lightning?” he asks, big brown eyes full.

he could just say it right now.

“i'm not— i wasn't ever afraid of lightning...” you argue and yuuji laughs, raising a palm in defeat. if you told him the sun was blue, well, he trusts you enough to know you know better than him. plus, he wouldn't mind living under a blue sun with you.

there's a sudden crackle, and a strike of lightning. an echoing boom of thunder follows.

his arms are already wide open before the chill runs down your spine and you dive into him, face buried in his chest — i'll protect you, i'm here.

( i love you. )

“not afraid of lightning?” yuuji dips his head to whisper, you groan into the fabric of his hoodie, and out of pure spite you pull hard on the drawstring and he chokes out a giggle. “look at my brave girl... so pretty.” his voice is muffled, and you release your grip on the twin strings.

“don't make fun of me—”

“m’not making fun of you, i swear!”

the soft rumble of thunder is near ominous, but you don't hear it, not over yuuji's sickeningly sweet songs that remind me of us playlist and his cackling in your ears.

he likes this, being the one you turn to.

he wonders what you might've looked like back when you were scared by yourself. and just as he wonders it he promises himself, that you'll never be scared without having him to run to.

“why're you afraid of lightning?” he asks, soft yet unsure. would you tell him everything that scares you if he asked? “told you, m'not afraid—”

“okay! why do you... not like lightning then?”

yuuji watches the way your brows furrow, the twist on your lips. i love when you think, he wants to say, but that would sound weird out loud wouldn't it?

“it can kill you, for one. plus, it comes with thunder and it makes this stupidly scary crackling noise—”

“i thought you said you weren't sca— okay, m'stopping, for real this time!”

there's another crackle and pop! of lightning, a drumroll of thunder, it's so sudden that your eyes squeeze shut immediately, but the rest of the noise comes muffled— the hum of bass in one of your ears louder now.

better? yuuji mouths to you, both of his palms cupped over your ears, blocking out most of the sound from reaching you.

you nod, and his heart flutters when you mouth back thankyou, i love you.

it takes yuuji a minute, just as the rain pours a little harder, his gaze fixed on yours before he lowers his head, tip of his nose tickling your own and mouths,

you're safe with me, i love you.

[channwie]

𓍯 IT’S RAINING OUTSIDE ⋆ ITADORI YUUJI ─ ⋆

yuuji wants to tell you he loves you, but it’s raining .

no wc ⋆ gn!reader ˖ fluff ˖ young love esque ⋆ notes ˖ my condolences to everybody who’s scared of lightning, me too.

it's raining outside, and yuuji is sharing his earphones with you.

there's an occasional rumble of thunder that has him subconsciously tucking you tighter into his side, you want to tell him it's fine, we're on a bus, on our way home, nothing is going to swoop down from the sky and take me from you.

his playlist is on shuffle, hood pulled over his head and bubblegum hair resting against the window, watching the dark clouds shift above.

yuuji thinks, if he tells you he loves you right now, in such a dark and gloomy setting, if you'll even believe it.

but it's always when skies are dark and rain pours and his vision is cloudy and his knuckles are bruised does he feel the urge burning in him to say, i love you, i love you, i love you.

“i think it's gonna be a storm.” you murmur into his shoulder and he hums, careful not to shift too much — you glared at him the first three times he kept fidgeting and made the earphone fall out of your ear — “you still afraid of lightning?” he asks, big brown eyes full.

he could just say it right now.

“i'm not— i wasn't ever afraid of lightning...” you argue and yuuji laughs, raising a palm in defeat. if you told him the sun was blue, well, he trusts you enough to know you know better than him. plus, he wouldn't mind living under a blue sun with you.

there's a sudden crackle, and a strike of lightning. an echoing boom of thunder follows.

his arms are already wide open before the chill runs down your spine and you dive into him, face buried in his chest — i'll protect you, i'm here.

( i love you. )

“not afraid of lightning?” yuuji dips his head to whisper, you groan into the fabric of his hoodie, and out of pure spite you pull hard on the drawstring and he chokes out a giggle. “look at my brave girl... so pretty.” his voice is muffled, and you release your grip on the twin strings.

“don't make fun of me—”

“m’not making fun of you, i swear!”

the soft rumble of thunder is near ominous, but you don't hear it, not over yuuji's sickeningly sweet songs that remind me of us playlist and his cackling in your ears.

he likes this, being the one you turn to.

he wonders what you might've looked like back when you were scared by yourself. and just as he wonders it he promises himself, that you'll never be scared without having him to run to.

“why're you afraid of lightning?” he asks, soft yet unsure. would you tell him everything that scares you if he asked? “told you, m'not afraid—”

“okay! why do you... not like lightning then?”

yuuji watches the way your brows furrow, the twist on your lips. i love when you think, he wants to say, but that would sound weird out loud wouldn't it?

“it can kill you, for one. plus, it comes with thunder and it makes this stupidly scary crackling noise—”

“i thought you said you weren't sca— okay, m'stopping, for real this time!”

there's another crackle and pop! of lightning, a drumroll of thunder, it's so sudden that your eyes squeeze shut immediately, but the rest of the noise comes muffled— the hum of bass in one of your ears louder now.

better? yuuji mouths to you, both of his palms cupped over your ears, blocking out most of the sound from reaching you.

you nod, and his heart flutters when you mouth back thankyou, i love you.

it takes yuuji a minute, just as the rain pours a little harder, his gaze fixed on yours before he lowers his head, tip of his nose tickling your own and mouths,

you're safe with me, i love you.

[wordborne]

All for Us

Jerome Valeska finds someone new to torment.

That someone is, unfortunately, you.

TAGS: Jerome Valeska/Reader, alternate universe, unhealthy relationships, bad decisions, canon-typical violence, major character death, eventual smut, Jerome can only be classified as nuisance to lover.

CHAPTER: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8/ 8

FANART BY baicalpascal 

Jerome was loud. Every time he came home, there was the snap of the door as he shut it. The jiggle of keys being tossed somewhere around the living room. The fridge opening and closing. His loud call of ‘honey, I’m home’ before he plopped on the bed next to you because, somehow, somewhere down the line, you’d woken up by his side and decided that’s what you wanted to do for the rest of your miserable days. 

“Sometimes I wish you hated me,” He said, trailing his hand down your cheek and leaving it there, cupping your jaw. He didn’t kiss you. He didn’t try anything else, either. He just stared.  You did the same, thumb caressing his cheek. He welcomed the touch with a grin. “Why’s that?” He shrugged. ���Would make things easier.” “For you or for me?” “You.” “Since when do you care? “Touché.”

And, for that, you had to laugh before kissing him with the same ferocity he sometimes did, feeling his fingers flexing on instinct, the tenderness almost bruising now.

That’s the way Jerome loved. With imaginary bruises and pain. It was all he knew. All you ever wanted from him. And that little voice, the one that belonged in Arkham, basked in the feeling of his lips on yours. Told him you loved him, even if he stopped momentarily before kissing you harder.

“Of course you do.”

Of course.

How could you not?

It couldn’t be real.

But there it was, his name engraved in stone at last. The wind smelled almost sweet. And, in his chest, the pressure lessened the more he stared at the tombstone.

Jerome was finally dead.

He had to check for himself. To see the lone tombstone by a tree. It was almost poetic, seeing such a quiet resting place for someone like his brother.

Jeremiah wondered who’d made it so.

It was hard to recognize yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were rimmed red, the bags under them darker than ever. You’d cried until there was nothing but emptiness inside, and it still wasn’t enough. They took him away from you, said that little voice from Arkham, but you knew that, this time, it was spewing lies. He’d done it himself. You saw the footage. Him hanging on by a pipe. Detective Gordon’s hand reaching out to get him. And he’d let himself fall. He’d let himself fucking fall without even thinking about it and- A broken sob escaped your lips. Did he even think about you, in those brief moments before he let go? Was he selfless enough to think about anyone other than himself for one fucking second? Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he did. But it didn’t matter now. You’d heard rumors about a new tombstone and ventured out into the graveyard, finding it surrounded by some of Jerome’s groupies, smoking and drinking. And you weren’t thinking straight when you took the gun out of your pocket and aimed it directly at the first person you saw. “Leave. And take all that shit with you.” Venom spewed out of every word as they hurriedly picked up cigarette butts and empty beer bottles strewn around the grave, as if it was a place to party. Not to mourn. Just another landmark for them to hang out. Smiling. Laughing. It made your blood boil until every last one of them left, tail tucked between their legs, nervously looking at the gun and grumbling that you were no fun before you sat down in the grass beside Jerome. Here lies Jerome Valeska. Second time’s the charm!  “Fucking asshole.” And the tears were rolling again as you decided to laid down, staring into the cloudy sky, hoping that rain would come and swallow you whole so the tears would finally feel like something other than sorrow. Little pinpricks of cold. A bucketful of ice-cold realization.  Everything changed but nothing had changed at all. And that’s what hurt the most. Ruffled feet were heard. Quiet. Hesitant. Powerful. You raised your head and felt the image take your breath away.

He was there. Like a ghost. Skittish. Not scarred. Hair parted in a way you’ve never seen it before. He looked like the boy in the news, nose red, crying about his mother. But he was wearing glasses, and he avoided your eyes, frowning at the new tombstone as a woman stuck to his side. Impassive. Tense. Muscles taught just like the ones in your neck as you strained to look at them. He looked like Jerome. But he wasn’t. Wrong. Said the voice at the back of your head. And you agreed. He was wrong in a way you wanted to see more of. To see if you could catch a glimpse of Jerome in his eyes instead of the impeccable suit and tie. But you recognized him from those long nights where Jerome would let his mouth loose, talking about this and that. About his brother. Twin brother. “Fuck off, Jeremiah. You’re not welcome here.” And, with that, you were back to staring at the sky, still sprawled, seeing their presence on the corner of your eye.  The woman took a step forward and tossed something on the ground. You didn’t even flinch until Jeremiah spoke up. “I don’t want it. Figured whoever was here would.” You didn’t look at it until they left. Fingers closing in on worm leather, customized by colorful stickers that spelled Jerome Valeska. You held it with reverence. Looking at the pictures. Speaking over failed and successful plans. Stopping when you saw a crude drawing of yourself, x’s for eyes. I should kill her. She’s fun, I guess. No, she’s stupid. She gave me a key. She’s mine. I’ll bury her with me like the Egyptians did with the cats.

She’ll never get over me. Isn’t that a punch in the gut?

Even in death he was a pain in the ass. But how could you not feel your heart being ripped apart the more you scanned the pages. Saw his shitty handwriting and little drawings of things you had at home. The black and white tiles. The static from the TV. The stock image in the picture frame you kept in the living room to make it seem livelier.  He noticed. He noticed every single thing. Every imperfection. Every space even when he was away, forever recreated in those pages that you held close to your face as tears threatened to fall again. And he was right. You’d never get over him. Jerome Valeska wasn’t someone who you could get over. He wormed his way into your heart like a parasite, draining it for all it was worth. Blood. Pain. Tears.  Life had to go on. But not for now. Tonight you’d stay there, clutching his diary and looking at his tombstone, just like you did on the rare moments he fell asleep before you. With peace, and kindness, and everything he wasn’t and you wished he never was. And maybe. Just maybe. That gray piece of concrete would say third time’s the charm one day.

[allthewriteplaces]

Love On the Battlefield

Author's Note: This is a short story I wrote based on one of my favourite audio roleplays/dramas on YouTube. I will post a link below in case any of you want to check it out and might I also recommend subscribing to him because his content is top tier!

I should also note in the original version, the soldier doesn't have a name, but I thought of inserting a random one just because he deserves one. Story Summary: Y/N has been a member of the Healer's Guild for the last three years. She has seen her fair share of death and seen many broken soldiers, but none of them have managed to capture her heart as swiftly as Everett, who, little do they know, is someone from her distant pasts.

Story Warning(s): Angst, descriptions of war, but I promise there's a happy ending.

Word Count: 3,915 Inspired by this audio:

When I first arrived here on this forsaken island, I tried so hard to ignore it: the haunting, shrill whispers of countless weapons, gunfire, people crying and screaming out in agony, and artillery barrage sounding as though the earth were cracking up like an egg of super-gigantic proportions tapped by a gargantuan spoon, that’s what my father, who was once a soldier himself, described it, and now and then, the unmistakable roar of aircraft hovering the starless, smokey-gray sky, ready to fire at will at any given moment, with absolutely no remorse, mercy, nor regard for the multitudinous lives that will consequently and regrettably be stolen.

I used to close my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else — some place where the only sounds to break the peaceful silence are the crickets chirping in the cattails, frogs calling to one another over the still-sounding water, or a child’s laughter. In this place, you won’t look up and see those heavy storm clouds of smoke, but an endless, purple sky where the stars pour out, and the air hasn’t been poisoned by the smell of rotting corpses, blood and ashes, instead, it smells of wildflowers and earth.

But the longer I stayed, the more suffering I saw, not even my imagination could make it go away, and the harder it became to pretend it wasn’t happening and to keep up this brave front that I’d constantly tried to put on.

People assume that my job is easy, caring for wounded soldiers, and perhaps in a way, they’re right. I should count myself fortunate that I spend most of my time shielded by the fabric of this tent and not out there with a weapon in my hand, praying that when I fall asleep, I’ll survive to fight another day, but you shouldn’t assume that we don’t have our own stories to tell, stories of hopelessness and grief and heartache.

I, too, have seen the many horrors many soldiers tell us about when we’re young and curious, I’ve seen many a man’s flesh be torn apart by bullets and shells, I’ve heard their piercing cries of pain as the poison takes over their bodies and minds. I’ve heard the desperate calls for friends long lost, and I’ve seen their eyes go cloudy as everything around them goes quiet and still as they take their last breath.

Surely there are better places for a man to die.

And it is not easy. Not in the least, and I do not wish these horrors on anyone. Not even my worst enemies, which by the way, there are few.

As I and several other members of my guild make our way down a steep hill toward the beach, trying hard not to slip and tumble all the way down to the bottom — though I will admit it would save me a lot of time and effort — I strain my ears and scan the landscape for any survivors, guided by the cries of seagulls and the sound of the ocean crashing against the sand.

My throat tightens the closer I get and my stomach churns and swirls, both from nervousness, and the monstrous waves of impending doom that threaten to pull me under minute by minute.

Reaching the bottom of the hill at last, I stand there for just a moment, frozen by fear and by sadness. Sheets of rain pour down on us, as though God Himself is trying to wash away any evidence of battle, to cleanse away that dark, crimson liquid staining the ground and tainting the once blue waters and restore the beach to its original beauty.

I wish it were that simple, to just wash it all away as if it never happened.

Many of the men here once thought the same. They’ve tried to forget, to put that part of their pasts behind them, but the dying cries of their friends and enemies, and the sounds of gunfire still plague their dreams, and not even the god of sleep has the power to take them away. For some, the memories are too much to bear and the only way for them to have some form of peace, is to drown them all in drink or to find a way to put their minds to rest permanently.

Amidst the symphony of sounds and through thick haze of smoke the smoke, I spot someone kneeling on the sand, his one arm pressing hard against his chest, inches away from where his heart should be. His damp, chestnut brown hair sticks to his forehead and his head slowly tilts upwards to look my way before he squeezes shut.

His mouth moves. I don’t know what he’s saying and it’s hard to tell if he’s speaking to me or to himself, and then he lies down on the ground. My breath hitches and wasting no more time, I trudge the sopping, wet, almost muddy ground, trying to block out everything else and get to him before it’s too late.

“Did you not hear me? I-I said leave me.”

Despite his protests, I sit down on the ground next to him and gently bring his head to rest in my lap, moving his hair out of the way and checking his body temperature with the back of my hand.

He has a terrible fever. I need to get him back to the campsite, though I cannot do it on my own without risking further injury.

Speaking of which, I need to put pressure on the wound to keep him from bleeding to death.

“Why would I do that?” I ask, tilting my head to one side.

“Because I failed. That’s why,” he replies, a mixture of anger and regret causing his voice to shake. He swallows thickly and sighs deeply. “I failed to save those I swore to protect; and it’s not that I failed once. It’s time and time again and it never ends. I was hoping to be like the great ones, hoping to be a protector, but all of my efforts have been in vain.”

His heavy-lidded, icy blue gaze shifts from the sky, to the ocean, and then to me as raindrops run down his cheeks, or maybe they’re tears.

“I’m sorry.”

Something in the way he says these two simple words pierces me. Why is he apologizing as if this whole thing is somehow his fault? I can’t say I haven’t been in the same position before. Whenever one of my patients dies in my care, I go over every possible scenario in my head, wondering what I could have done right in order to prevent it from happening. I think about their families whose lives will be shaken because I failed to help them.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I tell him after a long beat of silence and trying to figure out what to say to ease his guilt, though from experience, it is not an easy thing to do, to not blame yourself for what has happened to someone else. “No one among us could have prevented this. Some things are far beyond our control.”

I reach into my sack and pull out a small canteen that’s filled with fresh water. He shakes his head, his eyes becoming misty once more. “You shouldn’t waste this on me. I’m sure there are others who need it more. Besides, I have nothing left in me. I probably wouldn’t stand if I had the strength.”

“Well, in that case, I would carry you away from here myself,” I counter, “You might look at me and think, ‘this girl couldn’t possibly be strong enough to lift and carry a fully-grown man, but trust me, I’d find a way.”

For one split second, I see the briefest, most microscopic smile flicker across his face and if I had blinked, I may have missed it.

“Why do you treat me with such good will?” he asks, his voice sounding less scratchy now, but still tinged with sadness. “Why do you insist on being so kind and helping someone who has done you nothing? A stranger? A broken soul?”

“Because you are someone worth saving. No one deserves to die out here alone and afraid, and because you’ve done so much more for me and for many others than you’ll ever realize.”

Before I can say anything more, two uniformed men come running toward us with a stretcher and lift him onto it, carrying him towards the campsite.

For a second, my composure falters.

I stop feeling the ground beneath me and my chest tightens as though my heart might actually break, but then somehow, I am on my feet again and marching back to the tent, trying my hardest to keep the tears at bay for just a while longer. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The long hours drone on and day turns into night. The rain has calmed down to a light drizzle, the thunder now a quiet, distant rumble and the time being, the sound of gunfire has ceased. We take every advantage of the opportunity to tend to the wounded, stock up on supplies, and for some of us, this may be our only chance to get some rest.

As the broken soldier lies in a bed, covered in blankets and breathing softly in and out, I sit on a wobbly wooden stool by the bed, and count the number of times his chest rises and falls, keeping track of each breath, worried that if I close my eyes, even for a second, he will slip away.

Moments ago, we gave him a sedative to keep him asleep and something for the pain while I worked on removing the bullet and managed to close up the wound. I made sure to leave it open for a little while and to check for swelling or infection before dressing it with gauze and some medical tape. Once that was done, we put him in some dryer clothes and then hung his wet uniform to dry above the fire.

His fever has gone down significantly, but he’s not out of the woods yet. He will need constant care, at least until his wound has fully healed, so for now, I stick to making sure the dressing is clean and that when he rouses now and then, he has something to drink before going back to sleep. He doesn’t say much aside from thanking me for the water or for asking me where he is.

I resist the urge to run my fingers through his dark locks or to press a gentle kiss to the side of his forehead, however, I do allow myself to hold onto his hand and whisper soft, reassuring words in his ear if I see that he’s having a nightmare.

It isn’t until the middle of the night when I hear him mutter something about two suns staring down at him and he opens his eyes again, groaning softly as they adjust to the dim lighting of the tent and they focus on my face.

“Such soft hands,” he says, running his thumb across my knuckles. “I’ve received kindness before, but not to this loving extent. I mean, I have no ties to you, but here you are, bandaging my wounds and staying awake to watch over me. I remember that sweet sorrow as I lay there in the mud, waiting to die, and then feeling your gentle touch.”

He pauses, halting his movements and then his eyes look right into mine.

“I used to be a thief. Spent my entire life on the streets, stealing what I could to survive, searching for work and being unable to maintain a job, which is how I ended up taking to this horrid lifestyle. I was hoping to redeem myself, to make my life mean something, but it seems I couldn’t even do that well.”

“Please. You mustn’t speak of yourself that way,” I respond, trying my hardest to keep my own voice from breaking. “Seeing you lying there reminded me of my father who served in the army, hoping to return to his wife and children, and I thought, maybe you had someone waiting for you. A family, a lover, children, and I wanted to make sure you got back home to them. Not only that, you saved my life once before.”

For a long time, he searches my face for something. Some semblance of someone he met long ago, a memory, and soon enough, the pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together.

“I was leaving a tavern late one night and these men started following me, circling around me like vultures at the feast, ravenous, looking for an easy meal. But then you stepped in and defended me. You remember that, don’t you?”

“I- I remember how terrified you were and throwing the first punch, knocking one down and then I saw you run. I never knew whether or not you got to safety, I just knew that you were away from them. Did they hurt you?”

“Thanks to you, they didn’t get the chance.”

“All this time, you remembered,” he says and a new expression comes over him. His one hand reaches outward and I feel his warm hand brush across my cheek.

“See? You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for.” I smile, leaning into his touch, wanting to remember it forever.

“And I shall never forget how you reminded me of that.” He pauses again and then breathes in deeply. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for all you’ve done for me. If it’s not too much to ask, might I stay here for just a little while longer? There’s something comforting about being with you. I can’t place what it is exactly, but all I know is that I don’t want to let it go just yet.”

“Then hold on, hold onto me for as long as you need.”

As the days unfold, the war presses on. The wounded keep coming in, seeking solace from cries of pain and the distant rumble of artillery, and I and the other nurses do their best to put an end to their pain and sorrows, to listen as they speak of their fears—fear of the battles that awaited, fear of the darkness that clung to their pasts, and fear of the unknown that lay ahead.

Each life saved carries the weight of those lost, but no matter how hard the earth around us shakes, and the bond we have formed from the threads of shared pain and healing, grows stronger. Our conversations become a lifeline, a thread weaving through the fabric of the night, binding two souls in the midst of turmoil. This tent, once a small sanctuary of respite amidst the chaos that raged beyond its flaps, transforms into a cocoon of shared stories and whispered confessions between the two of us.

He tells me more about his childhood, about how his mother died shortly after he was born, leaving him in the care of his father who was so overcome by grief that he could barely look after himself, much less a newborn. As a result, he spent most of his life in an orphanage, until he was old enough to leave. He didn’t wish to, but times were hard, and there were other young boys who needed a bed to sleep in and food to eat. That’s how he ended up as a thief, guided only by his wit and his determination to survive.

In turn, I tell him fragments of my own life — about my family, where I grew up, the endless days spent playing in the meadows with my friends, and how much my mother and I cried when my father joined the army and how happy we were when he finally came back home to us. I even tell him about when I joined the guild, the one place where I could use my skills and truly make a difference in the world.

One night, as the dim light of a flickering lantern casts shadows on the tent walls and I’m changing the bandages, I notice that the rain has stopped and that only the wind rustling the leaves on the trees and the soft snoring of the other men in the tent can be heard. It’s almost too quiet and I’m just praying it lasts.

“It’s funny. I’ve known you for so long and yet I never asked your name,” he confesses suddenly and then I remember all the conversations we’ve had. He’s right. Out of all the conversations we’ve had, not once have we asked each other what our names were.

I smile. “Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

“You’re something else, I’ll give you that. Very well, you can call me Everett.”

“And you can call me Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, savouring the syllables. “A name as gentle as the hands that saved me.”

My cheeks suddenly feel warm. I’d like to believe that it’s because of the candles burning on the desks to keep out the chill outside, but then again, it could be because of the way Everett is looking at me with those eyes. Eyes that if I stare too long into, I might end up drowning and unable to come up for air.

“Wow. I’m sorry. That sounded a lot more poetic in my head than it did out loud.”

“Don’t apologize,” I reply, tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear. “No one has ever said anything so romantic to me in my whole life.”

“Really?” He tries to sit up and adjust his position while being mindful of the stitches so they won’t tear.

I tilt my head to one side. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, if you’ll forgive me for sounding forward, but I thought you had someone back home. A husband, a lover, someone who says things like that to you all the time, but it seems to me that’s not the case.”

“No, I’m not married,” I respond, “nor do I have a lover.”

“So, I have a chance then?” He sounds so hopeful that it makes my heart skip a beat and brings a smile to my face. “I hear all the girls where you come from love rugged, rogue soldiers with messy hair.”

I laugh softly, unable to resist that charming smile of his. I cannot deny that Everett is in fact the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life and the bravest I’ve ever met. No one has ever made me feel those sparks and those butterflies like he does and he’s the only person who can make the outside world seem distant and out of reach even as the war presses on.

“Only if you try and get some sleep,” I whisper, gently putting my hands on his shoulders and easing him back against the pillows. “You’re sitting up well enough on your own now. That’s a good sign. How about tomorrow we shall see if we can get you up and walking again?”

“Only if you stay here with me,” he says, patting the empty spot on the bed beside me. I stare at the spot and then look over my shoulder, hesitating.

“You know, I normally have very strict rules about sleeping next to my patients, or any man I’m not married to, for that matter. However, we’re both grown adults. I will not cross any boundaries and I trust you to do the same.”

“That’s true. I am above all things, a gentleman and I give you my word of honour that I will not lay a finger on you unless you wish it.”

“Just for tonight.” I crawl into the empty space beside him. It’s not the most practical sleeping arrangement, considering how the bed is technically only big enough to fit one person, not two, and there’s little room for personal space, however, it’s not as if we’ll be locked in a passionate embrace.

We’ll just be sleeping. That’s it.

“Just for tonight,” he confirms.

It’s just like the sleepovers I had with my friends back in school, only much, much different.

I bury myself under the blankets and lay my head down on the pillow. We are so close to each other that I can feel his warm breath on my neck as he buries himself deeper under the covers and I swear he can hear my heart ramming against my chest and see the blush on my cheeks.

“See? That’s not so bad now, is it?”

Even with the lights out, I can tell he’s grinning from ear to ear and I’m sure he can tell that I’m rolling my eyes.

“Careful, or I might hit you with a pillow,” I say in a non-threatening tone.

“Ah, but if you do that, then I might have to hit you back,” Everett replies, “and if I may offer a word of advice, I think it’s only fair for me to warn you that all rules I have for the battlefield are thrown out the window when it comes to a pillow fight.”

“Hmm, now that I think about it, it would be unwise for me to challenge a soldier to a pillow fight and perhaps it’s best to keep our pillows to ourselves.”

“Smart girl,” he chuckles softly. Suddenly, I feel his lips on my cheek and lay still for a long, long time and I hear him add, “You said nothing about keeping my lips off of you.”

“Oh, well, I should have been more specific,” I shake my head and then without thinking, I lay my head down on his chest. “This doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Y/N, you could never hurt me. Not in a million years.” He wraps his arm around me, rubbing his hand up and down my back in a comforting gesture. “If we ever make it back home—”

“When,” I correct him.

“When we make it back home, I want to marry you. I want to save up enough money to afford to buy you a proper ring.”

“I don’t need a ring. It’s a piece of jewellery and could never be as valuable as the love we feel for each other.”

“What about a house? Surely we will need a place for the nine of us to live in.”

“Nine of us?” I question.

“Yes. Nine of us. You, me, and our seven beautiful children.”

“Not so fast, Romeo. Let’s start with one and see how we feel afterwards.”

“And this is why I love you,” he says, giving me a gentle squeeze. “You’re smarter than me in so many ways and you have given me a reason to keep going, something worth fighting for.”

In the quiet, we whisper words of commitment and our hearts entwine in a dance that transcends the present chaos. We find hope in the idea that beyond the battlefield, a life awaits us beyond the confines of the makeshift shelter—a life built on love, resilience, and the promise of a tomorrow, where the echoes of war would be replaced by the laughter of a family.

And as I write to you here, dear reader, as I look out the window and see my husband and our three beautiful children playing in the meadow outside the window, I can confirm that our dreams did indeed come true, and that love does in fact, conquer all.

The End.

[t3kandson]

Love & Betrayal

Word count; 2,724

Fandom; A.C.E. & Oneus

Pairing; Reader X Kim Sehyoon Aka Wow & Reader X Kim Youngjo Aka Ravn

Characters; Kim Sehyoon, Kim Youngjo, Park Junhee, Lee Donghun, Kim Byeongkwan & Kang Yuchan

Warnings; Angst, unprotected sex & Cheating.

Notes; Happy Anniversary 💜💜💜💜💜

Earlier chapters found here

A specialised declaimer to this series if you have any questions.

Waking you shifted slightly to get an tingly buzz hit through your body. It wasn’t hard to realise the throbbing feeling was your morning glory hard against the sheet that you had moved against. Taking a look to the side your beautiful girlfriend was sprayed naked on her bed. Her morning bed head would make her wince but to you the view was perfect. The messy the better, it made you think of all the times you had exhausted her ravishing her body. The curve of her back so beautiful that you wanted to kiss. The duvet was wrapped between her legs just like at this very moment you wanted to be. Her beautiful resting face full of peace was delightful to witness.

You had been in love with this woman since you was a kid. Moving city’s your usual geeky appearance had no chance for the beautiful girl who lived across the road. She was so stunning and beautiful that most the guys threw there attention on her. You had tried to communicate with her but she never gave you more then a mere short lived couple of words. Boys often stealing her attention before you could even get a longer dialogue with her.

However, you was fortunate one time to find her alone in a field once not far from your school. She was sitting looking as if the world was lost. Your heart wanting to console and take her pain away. She found in the Distance a sunflower as she smiled to her self enjoying the beauty. Just like to you she was your flower the person that made you smile the warmest. Making your way to her she was startled as you approached. “Oh hi,” she smiled looking your way recognising you which warmth your heart. “Didn’t think you was the kind to love flowers,” you said sitting opposite to her on the hay. “I’m not usually, but Sunflowers they’re so pretty. They make me smile on a cloudy day,” she said frowning as she looked up at the sky. Dark swirls of clouds was beginning to form threatening to rain. “That’s a lovely way to think of it,” you smiled before watching the rain start to drizzle. “I forgot to ask you the other day, what’s your name?,” she asked as your heart beat a thousand times finally getting the question you wanted from her lips.

But before you could reply the rain started to fall harder, her beautiful body soon covered with wet soaking clothes. Taking your jacket you placed it around her smiling as you held your hand to her. “Thanks,” she giggled under the rain as you both started running. Drops of water streaming down your faces, her beautiful hair that was sticking to her face was such a beautiful sight. Your heart thumping like crazy from the warming clench of her hands in yours. Reaching your home saddened that your time with her was almost up, you pulled her towards you. She smiled looking up towards your lips and in that second you wanted to kiss her so badly.

But your first kiss was stolen moments later by the scrawny kid behind her. “Yiseo, your catch a cold,” he scoffed bringing a blanket around her. His eyes flashing to yours was one of possessiveness. Was this her new boyfriend. You knew she was popular with the boys, but seeing the moment of tenderness was heart wrenching. “I better go my brother can be annoying at times, thanks for the jacket,” she said passing it back to you. “No problem,” you said beaming at the revelation he was a protective brother not a possessive lover.

Your heart was broken when less then a week later it was revealed that she and her brother had moved to a high school in Seoul. Her Father had sent them there for better education. You had planted some sunflower seeds in your garden with permission from your mother. Hoping for some sort of closeness to the beauty that had stolen your heart.

She had returned for the summer the year after. You was so excited to see her dashing outside the minute you spotted her walking past. “Your back,” you squealed with far too much excitement then you wanted to show. She looked at you tilting her head. Her memory clearly trying to fumble your identity. You couldn’t help but feel the sting that you was so very little important to her. Not as much as she was to you, not a day you forgot about her like she was some sort of goddess. “Nice Sunflowers, sorry I forgotten your name,” she said sweetly your way. Before you could reply with your name you turned to see her attention stolen. A much more muscular bloke appeared as he walked towards her cupping her face as he kissed her. In that moment every dream that you ever made with her broke your heart beyond repair. “Bye Sunflower boi,” she smiled as if she enjoyed that kiss for show. Did she know you crushed over her?

“Bye,” you muttered feeling stupid and more importantly nothing. You swore in that second that you would never let a woman steal your heart ever again.

Each time she returned home, you avoided her focusing on your studies & health. You still kept growing sunflowers, looking after them well. It was a reminder to never give your heart to anyone else. You used the gym to build yourself up so one day you would be the heartbreaker.

You never however, imagined to see her at your creative art class at your new college. At first you was excited, it was like every emotion you ever held back came rumbling back. However, not just did she not recognise you but she had got even more full of herself over the years. You soon found out she shared an apartment with the senior Fuck boi Lee Donghun. Hearing the several comments of how they was extremely close, the pit of your stomach was full of jealousy. How was it that jerks who used women for holes was the ones she went for. It made you very irritable as you made it your challenge to annoy her as much as you could. Getting satisfaction from her strops and sulks had become your favourite moments of the day. Even if it did sadden you that she paid more attention now then ever before.

However, it soon changed the minute you noticed her that day outside your project room. You saw her lean against the window, her hands sprayed against the glass. Her eyes was shut as if she was ready to pass out. Dashing to the window your heart in your chest worrying about her health you looked at her concerned. Opening her eyes she looked at you with surprise, blinking confused at your sudden appearance. Blushing like you never seen her before you thought to yourself that you had witnessed that with others. Did she find you attractive? Your sure there was something when she dashed away as quick as she could. Swirling around as quick as you could your hopes and dreams was back alive. You was going to make sure you would get her what ever the cost. Enjoying every moment that you soon learnt made her squirm in your company.

Here she was with you even if it cost you your friendship with Kim Youngjo. Three years and going the every bit stronger for it.

Your cock throbbing still reminded you how much yours she really was. Finding your fingers, you raked them down her back stifling a chuckle when she arched sleepily. “Baby.” She cooed without opening a single eye. “Yes Princess,” you whispered deeply that you know turned her on as your lips found her shoulder. “It’s too early to wake up,” she grumbled fidgeting that was amusing. “Tell that to our friend,” you said nipping her ear lobe as her eyes fluttered open. “You tell him, I’m too tired this morning,” she whined as she flicked her head to not face you. Pouting momentarily you hovered over pressing your chest to her back, squashing her to the mattress as she groaned. “Well let me do all the work,” you said rolling your self against her ass. Legs sliding open to give you permission and better entrance, you smiled how she was such a slut for your cock. “Why is my girlfriend so lazy,” you growled once more rolling yourself into her again. “Because my boyfriend likes to get me up far too early,” she muffled from throwing her head in her arms.

Rolling the tip of your cock to her entrance she moaned that most delightful sound that has your shaft throb. You couldn’t help but take advantage needing her warm pussy wrapped around him. Slamming into her her cry’s of you stretching her filled the air. As always you felt guilt, you knew even after all these years stretching around you caused her discomfort at first. Stilling to help her adjust you pressed kisses to the top of her back. Starting a slow pace you let out a husky moan, her walls seemed to suck you in. It was like her pussy was made just for you. Picking your speed up your teeth pressed into the flesh of her neck marking her in ownership. Ever since she had become yours it was ritual to mark her up so every one knew she was yours. Panting in her ears you felt your cock squeezed by her walls. You could tell by the tremble in her thighs that her high wasn’t far. Squirming underneath, you chuckled inwardly at how caged and stuck she was with you fucking her into the mattress. Hips snapping harshly you chased your high, made easy from her walls that was clenching on and off around your throbbing shaft. “I’m going to cum,” she whined into the air with your cock feeling like it was being choked to death. “Then cream on my dick,” you choked out trying to hold back your orgasm. “Cum with me,” she pleaded panting as your hands reached for hers. Threading her fingers with yours made your body tingle. It was your favourite passtime holding her hands, but right now In this second it was intoxicating as you made love. Hands clenching each other tighter it was like you jumped off your high together. Her walls convulsing around your cock prolonged your euphoria as you filled her pretty cunt with your thick ropey cum.

Panting you collapsed into her, your cock buried deep still refusing to leave. “Love you,” you whispered after catching your breath like you did every time. “Me too,” she said clenching her hands with yours. “Suppose now I’m up we better get changed for work,” she chuckled as your lips slipped back to her neck. “Or round two,” you said against the soft skin. “How about shower sex, clean on the way to heaven,” She said chuckling as your dick twitched inside her. “He votes yes,” you said pulling out to manoeuvre to flip her. Your heart skipped a beat when her eyes found yours, like it always did stealing your heart away.

“You got everything?” You asked as Yiseo was roaming around her bedroom looking anxious. “No,” she pouted throwing her arms around you. “Why what’s missing?” you asked pressing a kiss to her crown. “Your not in my suitcase,” she sulked with her bottom lip that was just the most adorable look on her. “If I could I would, you know I would,” you said cupping her face as she gave her beautiful puppy eyes. “Man has to make his bread stop being a needy seductress,” Donghun’s voice fell from the door. He was leaning against it with his usual cocky glance but amused with what he was viewing. How on earth you could have thought those two was having sex was beggars belief. They was more like siblings, bitching yet protective to the bone of each other. Though to be fair Yuchan her twin was the same. When you realised that day that your attractive shy house mate was the same geeky boy you met as children you was annoyed with yourself for not realising sooner. You had really kicked yourself thinking that they was lovers instead of siblings. “When you get a real partner come back and lecture me,” Yiseo said as you chuckled at her sassiness. “I’ll tell Junhee he’s not my real partner then shall I,” Donghun argued back. “Open relationship’s isn’t a real one,” Yiseo said rolling her eyes. “Ok ok we’re wasting our time here bitching like a married couple you two,” you teased as they both deadpanned your way. Before either of them could bite back Junhee arrived. “Yiseo, come on,” he shouted through to your bedroom. She looked at you with sad eyes once more almost pleadingly. “Last chance,” she said before pressing her lips to yours in a passionate kiss. “Sorry baby,” you said with a gentle pat of her ass. “Well I’ll message you my room number incase you change your mind,” she said hopeful before picking her bag up to leave.

“If your missing her so badly just drive out there,” Byeongkwan said throwing himself in to the sofa. “Work,” you said swigging on your beer. “Just call in sick before you get love sick from missing her,” Byeongkwan replied as if it was so easy. “If you don’t go and see her then I’m going to be sick from hearing about it all,” Chan bitched as you smirked his way. “Seriously, you was suppose to be going with her anyway,” he said tossing his pretzel snacks into his mouth. “Who’s going to pay the rent while I’m away for a week,” you said trying to make a point. “I’ll pay the rent you can’t, it’s not like you and Yiseo’s not done it for me,” Chan offered looking at you with seriousness. “Come on Sehni, put yourself and us out our misery and go to her,” Byeongkwan pleaded as you laid your head back on the sofa contemplating.

It was that conversation that spurred you on the following afternoon. After your shift you was in the car and on your way to Busan. The early text from last week with the hotel details burning in your shirt pocket. Feelings of excitement at seeing her again even though you had only been apart a short period of time was extreme.

You already knew she was at the hotel having messaged a few hours ago that it was a chaotic day and she was looking forward to the comfort of the hotel room that she was on her way to. Though she had been quiet since that message, you had no doubt due to her busy schedule that she probably had fallen asleep.

Heart beating fast you knocked on the hotel room door, sunflowers your relationship flower in your grasp. Had she heard you? She was taking her time answering. Knocking again more louder you heard movement inside. Of course she was asleep, your perfect beautiful lazy head.

However, instead of excitement on her face when the door opened. The horror and fear on her features left your throat feeling like it was closing on you. The colour in her face draining instantly as your eyes fell to the person behind her.

You could have almost collapsed as you took the view of a topless Kim Youngjo. Had they had sex? Had he got his revenge for the affair you had when you was his. Three years he had ignored your calls had he ignored her? Had they even ever been apart? Your heart and fear and worst nightmares flashing infront of your eyes as your mind swarm in so many questions. But what was worse was you was struggling to find your breath.

“It’s not what it looks like,” She said panicking. It felt like a gutter punch. Those same words fell from her lips when Youngjo caught her from the after affects of your affair.

How could you let her break you once again. She was never yours all those years ago just like she wasn’t now.

To be continued……

Also plan to write a cross over series with Kim Youngjo.

Also as a spoiler incase your offended with how I left this. It’s not as it seems as all will be explained in Youngjo’s new series.

Previous chapter

Full Masterlist

A.C.E.'s Masterlist

[admiringlove]

“choose her.”

+order: hi! i'm not sure if you still have spots for your 500 special but I'd like to order angst/fluff (or hurt/comfort) with Suna and "Choose her." I wonder how Suna would act with someone strongly pushing him away (not a childhood friend). This is a such a cool event and thanks <3 xx [submitted by @cherryblossomsxoxo​]

+word count: 1.2k

+warnings: smoking; hurt/comfort.

+author’s notes: hi, i hope you like this <3 i left the reader as gender neutral, but suna’s sexuality can be interpreted in any way you like! to anyone who wants to send a prompt, here is the link to the event masterlist so you can know which shows you can request from!

The night sky never looked more lonely. 

Your throat is dry as you slowly take a puff from the roll in your hand, looking up from your opened window. Nights like this one once used to be filled with mindless laughter, and reckless blushes���nights you reminisced in this one with dried tears on your cheeks and a hollow mind. 

You met him at a convenience store. It was funny, perfectly cliché—something out of the movies. One late night, you had ventured out of your dorm, looking for some excitement to spark your ordinary life. You went to the convenience store first, going to the very back and picking up a pack of cigarettes. The cashier seemed to be a tired college student who didn't give a shit, and there was only one other customer there. 

That one other customer, whose hand brushed yours while picking up the same item as you. The two of you had smiled at one another, and checked out at the same time. You stood outside the store in silence, watching the chartreuse-eyed man smoke as you tried to figure out how to do it yourself. 

He had chuckled when he looked back at you. You vividly remember him showing you how to hold it with his nimble fingers touching your hand, and then he lit your cigarette. He told you to take a puff, and you had immediately coughed after. 

He laughed. Then introduced himself, "I'm Suna Rintarō."

You two became friends faster than ever. After learning that he goes to the same university as you, he tended to spend more time with you. He had caught you walking into the library that day, and followed you in. 

You never knew when you fell in love with him though. It was unjustly a blur. 

Because the late-night escapades, the all-nighters, the 'trying out every coffee shop in town', the movie nights, the college parties—all turned into something more. You never understood how his hand lingered on yours for a tad bit longer, or how he hugged you just a smidge tighter, or how he tended to smile more when he was with you. 

You were dense like that. He used to call you dense. It made you smile, as you looked back on the better days. 

Being inseparable from Suna came with its benefits and demerits. He was sarcastic, and sometimes a little harsh-tongued. But he was also kind, passionate, and apologetic. He was the type to immediately apologize if it felt like he hit a nerve, and that was one of the many good things about him. 

Everything was going well. Or so, you thought. 

Suna Rintarō soon had someone else tagging along with him when he came to eat lunch with you at that diner by the campus. The diner soon turned into a salad bar downtown when the said 'someone else' begged Suna to go there. The movie nights soon turned into, "Sorry, can't make it tonight". The coffee-shop tryouts soon became, "She decided to come with us. The more the merrier, am I right?".

Everything changed. And soon, you learned, that the girl who had ultimately become a part of what was once just you and him, liked him.

"[Y/N] likes you," she said, in the middle of lunch one day. Your fork dropped from your hand and onto your plate as you looked up at her, and then Suna, whose eyes were wide. You opened your mouth to say something, but she got there first, "[Y/N] likes you as more than a friend."

"N-no," you mumbled out, your heart becoming audible as it began to beat louder and louder like a speeding metronome, "I don't."

Getting up from your seat, you took your bag and left, not responding to Suna's voice calling out for you. You board the bus, and when you look back, you see him. He had run out of the salad bar, and to the bus stand, but he was too late. 

Seventeen missed calls, twelve texts, and four voicemails. You chose to respond to none of them. Almost a month passed after that.

And one night, as it rained(perfectly depicting the storm brewing inside your mind), Suna Rintarō showed up outside your dorm room. He knocked on the door an insurmountable amount of times until you finally opened it and looked up at him. 

He sighs, "Why didn't you answer my calls?"

"I didn't feel like it," you lie through your teeth, not being able to meet his gaze. He could tell that what his other 'friend' said was true, but he chose to stay quiet. Running a hand through his damp hair, he says, "You didn't even talk to me after class."

"I didn't feel like it," you repeat. He nods, continuing, "Okay, so why didn't you come to the salad bar?"

"I was at the diner," you mumble, returning to your desk. He follows you to your room, raising an eyebrow at you as he says, "But I was waiting for you at the salad bar."

You drop your pen haphazardly, letting out a shaky exhale as your fingers reach your temples, "Rin, you weren't waiting for me there. Please, just... stop lying to yourself."

"Was it true?" he asks, his voice soft, and almost inaudible. You look at him this time, your eyes glassy as your voice becomes hitched, "Leave."

"Look, I don't want to leave you or her-"

"Choose her, Rin." 

He left after that. And here you were, cursing yourself as you flicked the spent ashes into a tray while staring at the cloudy sky. You regretted saying that to him, because some way or another, you had learned to find solace in those small moments. Those moments recklessly infused with love had become addicting, and after she came into your lives, it became harder and harder to conjure those sickeningly sweet times. 

There's a knock on your door for the second time this night. And you can't believe your luck, because again in the same night, Suna Rintarō is standing outside your door, completely drenched this time. 

"Let me in," he says, boring his eyes into yours, "I need to tell you something."

"I thought-"

He pushes past you anyway, taking off his boots by the door and leaving them there. You’re standing there in awe, looking at him inquisitively as he breaths out a sigh. He walks towards you, and you cower away for the second time this night. 

But he doesn't let you. 

"I can't," he mumbles, "I can't choose her."

You look up, the screams of desperation and agony stitched into your irises as you whisper out a "why". Your hands have begun trembling, and your heart is almost ready, beating faster and faster again just like a speeding metronome, anticipating to hear the words you yearn to. 

He smiles at you, pressing a small peck on the top of your head as he cups your cheek, a single tear shedding from his eyes as he prepares himself.

"Because I love you, idiot."

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[bruhlsbees]

Mmmm mayhaps Alex and a s/o getting caught in the rain while on their way home? Maybe having to share clothes since theirs are drenched, maybeee, idk let your imagination roam. I hope you get out of your funk soon, I know how frustrating it can be ✨

dancing in the rain || alex kerner x fem!reader

gif credit to @/lovecafes

summary: on your walk back home you get caught in the rain and insist that you spare the moment to dance

pairing: alex kerner x fem!reader

word count: 1,809

warnings: none, just pure fluff and wholesomeness

a/n: this was such a soft idea i love it so much thank you nony for sending this in!!!

You always enjoyed the season of Spring. When the weather was warm enough to wear shorts, but still wear a jacket if you needed one. The birds were coming back from their departure for the winter and the flowers were beginning to bloom. Everything was peaceful, beautiful, alive.

You were particularly fond of the park that you and Alex would go to for your weekly picnic - the one day that you both had off that worked around each other’s schedule to spend time with one another. It always went far too fast for you, longing for more time with him, but you still appreciated every second you were able to have with your dear Alex.

Today had been rather cloudy though, and Alex had insisted all day leading up until when the two of you were supposed to meet that they do something else in case it rained - but you didn’t mind taking the chance. You had already made his favorite desserts and bought meat and cheese from the deli at the store. So after pleading with him in your kitchen, holding him close to you by the front of his flannel, your bottom lip sticking out and giving him your best puppy dog face - he finally gave in.

So there you were, laying on the blanket nestled in his arms while you stared up at the clouds, going on about your week as he played with your hair. You had asked him a question about his mother, who was still in the hospital with her coma, but he seemed to be too focused on something else to catch what you had asked him.

Turning your head up, you smiled up at him while he smiled back down at you, cheeks going pink when you began to laugh, “What? What’s so funny?” He asked, rolling onto his side so he could face you more, his arm settling across your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“I asked you a question...how your mother was doing? But you seemed to be lost in your own world,” You hands went to his hair, pushing his hair back and out of his face before pressing a kiss to his nose, “Have I bored you?”

He stumbled over his breath, choking briefly as his whole face went red while he shook his head, sitting up to catch his breath before continuing, “N-No!” He spat out, “Of course, not! I’m sorry, my mother - yes, as good as anyone could be I suppose that’s in a coma.”

Alex turned back to look down at you, smiling as you laid on your back, hair spread out around your head. You looked like an angel with a halo to him, glowing with pure happiness, radiating amongst the grey of the clouds. He leaned into your touch when you extended your hands up and to on either side of his face, gently caressing his face.

Moments like this, where he could finally relax with you, he took it all in, not wasting a moment. The past few months had been painfully hard for him - it felt as though he was drowning everyday, but the day he got to spend with you, Alex could finally breathe.

He didn’t notice the tears that were falling down his face until hearing your sigh, “Oh Alex, come here.” You cooed, pulling him down to lay in your arms now, comforting him now as he had done for you.

You continued to stroke his face and play with his hair, wiping the fallen tears off his face before kissing his cheeks dry. “My sweet Alex, when will the world stop torturing you?” You whispered, looking over his features until he pulled his head up from where it laid on your chest. You smiled at him, as he smiled down at you before leaning forward, meeting him in the middle for a sweet kiss.

When he pulled away, he shuffled his arms up to rest on either side of your head, his elbows propped as he moved your hair around. You were suffocated by Alex, if you were being honest, but you didn’t mind in the moment - you’d give anything to have him this close to you more often. With the two of you tangled on the blanket, embracing one another and taking in each other, you almost didn’t notice it begin to rain until the squeals of children came from the other side of the park.

Moving in sync, Alex pushed himself up off of you, gathering the food into the picnic basket while you picked the blanket up, holding it above your head to shield yourself from the rain as it began to come down even harder. Taking Alex’s hand, you followed him as the two of you ran out of the park, down the sidewalk and onto the main stretch that took you back to his apartment. Alex had slowed his pace down slightly to reach around you and take the blanket in his hand, the basket now in your’s as he shielded the both of you with the now soaked blanket.

The two of you moved quickly down the sidewalk, cars buzzing by and spraying you with water as you trekked back to Alex’s apartment. You couldn’t be mad even if you wanted to despite the given circumstances. It was like something out of a movie, getting caught in the rain with your lover. If Alex wasn’t so protective, pushing you to continue on so you didn’t get sick, you would have stopped to enjoy it.

But when you passed by the patisserie, hearing the lively tune that played inside, your steps came to a sudden stop, Alex knocking into you with a grunt. He kept the blanket held above you, the rain loud as it hit against everything around you.

“What? You okay? Do you need to stop?”

Turning, you grinned up at Alex and nodded, “Come on, Alex - will you dance with me?” You stepped out from under the blanket and set the basket down, letting your head fall back as the rain hit your face, a laugh escaping from you.

Alex on the other hand, was completely confused. What did you want to dance in the rain for? You could have waited and he would have danced with you back home. Where it was warm, dry, and you wouldn’t get sick. Not outside the patisserie to the cheesy music they were playing.

“Come now, Alex, just live a little. For me? Make a girl happy?” You extended your arms out and squealed when he tossed the blanket down, taking your hands after a moment of debating with himself. You pulled him to you and wrapped your arms around his neck, stepping in beat to the music, laughing as he twirled you around, your dress coming up and spinning with you - the water that soaked your dress coming off.

“Don’t I make you happy already?” He asked, pulling you back to him after the last spin. Both of your hairs were stuck to your face, wet from the rain. You leaned forward and pushed his back out of his face, standing on your toes to kiss him deeply until you pulled away for air.

“The happiest.” You breathed, leaning forward to kiss him one more time before continuing to dance, pulling away from him as you began to spin around again, laughing as the rain continued to fall. Alex followed in suit, chasing after you and linking arms with you, spinning in circles with you until he got dizzy and toppled over, you catching him before he fell.

As if it couldn’t get any more cliche - the song came to a stop, along with the rain, leaving you and Alex soaked as the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds. You glanced down at your shoes to see that your slip-ons and calves were doused in mud, the bottom of Alex’s jeans muddy too.

“Don’t worry, you can borrow something of mine when we get back. I’ll wash your dress for you too and give it back to you next week.” Alex insisted, gathering up the blanket and basket before wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side while you continued on again, making the last stretch of your journey back to his apartment.

And he did - as with all promises he made to you, he kept them.

While he left to throw the soaked clothes and blanket in the wash, you were in his room, sliding on the old basketball shorts that he had along with one of his t-shirts. Being in his clothes made you feel warm, safe - and the scent of him on the shirt made your heart skip a beat. This was what home felt like to you, Alex - your dear sweet Alex.

You heard the door open and shut, turning to see him in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, making his way to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss. Of course, you kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he began to walk you back towards the bed, collapsing down with him following.

When stumbling onto his bed, you could only giggle with him falling on top of you, his hair sticking up in odd places from his hair drying. It was moments like this where he looked so innocent. His expression was always soft, tired from the long week, but still managing to enjoy the day with you. You always took the time to tell Alex how much you appreciated him and what he did, because that’s what he deserved and you knew nobody gave him the recognition he deserved.

Alex rested his head back on your chest, closing his eyes as he laid in your arms on top of you, your own legs wrapped around him, as if trapping him from leaving you. You knew you didn’t have to worry about that though, because Alex was the one - and you knew that the two of you would be together forever.

It was his light snores that pulled you from your thoughts. Pausing your movements through his hair, you craned your neck to the side, watching as his eyes closed, mouth open while he slept, the light snore picking up the more he sank into slumber. You couldn’t be mad at him for falling asleep - he needed it.

You decided that it was only fair that you sleep too. If you were trapped under him, until God knew when he would wake up, you deserved a nap yourself. You leaned forward and kissed his head once, feeling him bury his face into your chest more as he clung to your sides, before falling back into his pillows, nodding off into your own personal slumber.

[kuroosweakness]

pouring rain | miya atsumu | pt. 1

summary: timeskip!atsumu: in which atsumu meets you for the first time 

word count: about 1,900

a/n: my first mini fic without an established relationship :) i’d love love love to what you think of it!!

atsumu scoffs and skids his shoe across the sidewalk. small rocks fly up in the air and tumbles down back on the concrete. is he really off his game today? no, it just seems like his teammates couldn’t do their job and just score. oh no, he’s going back to the same toxic mindset he had in high school. only this time, osamu isn’t here to kick him back to his senses. 

with a heavy sigh and hands deep in his pockets, atsumu reluctantly turns back towards the gym. his head hangs low as he feels people’s eyes staring at him in judgement. atsumu lifts his head to glare at them, only to find no one’s looking at him. he sighs again and slowly turns the door knob to the gym entrance. a wave of warm air hits him. he forgot how warm it is inside the gym compared to outside. 

“tsum-tsum, you’re back!” bokuto exclaims, jogging over to him and giving atsumu a big pat on the back. atsumu narrows his eyes at him, trying to find some snarky remark to say but decides against it. 

“yeah, i am,” he quietly says. his eyes dart around the almost empty gym. “where’d everyone go?” 

“home. it’s said to rain soon and since the practice game’s over, they headed home early. it’s just hinata and i.” 

right on cue, atsumu’s eyes find hinata waving at them while drinking water. 

“we need a setter to practice with us-” 

atsumu waves him off mid-sentence. “not today. i’m gonna head home.” 

hinata dashes over and atsumu quickly puts on an even grumpier face to resist hinata’s cheery eyes. 

“you usually always stay after practice,” hinata points out and starts doing high-knees in place, then arm circles. 

“well, today’s different.” atsumu reaches down for his bag and slings it over his shoulder. he needs to get out of the stuffy gym as soon as possible. “see ya guys later,” he calls and pushes the gym doors open. 

“see ya!” he hears bokuto and hinata call. 

oh he can’t wait until he gets home. when he gets home? and then what? by ‘home,’ he means the little apartment he recently moved into that’s always cold and dark when he goes back. not a very welcoming place, especially not with today’s grey, cloudy weather. 

atsumu trudges across the sidewalk and waits for the walking signal before crossing the street. a crowd of people walks towards him so he walks to the very right to avoid any contact. just four more blocks until he gets home. 

the near distance is the main reason atsumu chose the apartment. the short walking distance between home and the gym is nice, especially after tedious hours of practice. what’s even better is the fact that ‘samu’s restaurant is only a couple blocks away. 

oh, ‘samu! atsumu’s eyes widens as he straightens his posture. the thought of biting into a warm, delicious onigiri is enough to make his stomach growl and his mouth drool. only three more turns, he thinks, pacing his steps to avoid stepping on the sidewalk cracks. he suddenly remembers the way he’d laugh at osamu when they were children everytime osamu stepped on a sidewalk crack. 

“step on a crack and break your momma’s back~” atsumu would say as he held his stomach in laughter. his laughter quickly died down when osamu calmly reminded atsumu that they have the same mom. 

the skies are darkening. the clouds appears to be getting thicker. it’s only a matter of time before rain starts to pour down. good thing i beat the rain here, atsumu smiles and opens to the door to osamu’s restaurant. 

as usual, he walks over to the very end of the store and settles himself on a stool. good thing no one has taken his spot. he places his bag on the empty stool next to his right gives it a small pat before hollering out for his twin’s name. 

“‘samu! your favorite sibling is here~” 

osamu’s figure appears behind the counters. he’s wearing a black shirt and black pants with an apron covered in flour placed over them. on top of his head is his usual black cap. 

“and my least favorite sibling,” the cook chuckles before frowning at atsumu’s face. “why do you look so stupid?” 

atsumu pulls back and huffs. “stupid? is this how you greet me after a long day?” 

osamu’s lips slowly tugs upwards. he reaches down and dries a bowl with a grey towel. “care to tell me what happened?” 

“let me have some food first.” 

osamu rolls his eyes and places a plate with three beautifully wrapped onigiris on top in front of atsumu. atsumu’s eyes immediately glows as he snatches an onigiri and chomps down. 

“you didn’t even wash your hands.” osamu sighs and reaches for another bowl. 

“my sets weren’t so good today,” atsumu mumbles, setting his onigiri down and looking into the distance. “and so i got mad at my teammates for not scoring. they got mad at me and said that it wasn’t them, it was because of my sets. i don’t know why i’m not on top of my game like every day.” 

osamu goes silent. his drying pace slows down. “...’tsumu, you haven’t taken any breaks since you joined msby. maybe you ought to slow down and take care of your health.” 

to osamu’s surprise, atsumu doesn’t defend back. he just heavily sighs and takes another bite. “i guess so.” 

“oh look,” osamu nods towards the nearest window. “it’s already sprinkling.” 

“good thing i never remember to unpack my bag so my umbrella’s on me. gotta work smarter, not harder~ ” atsumu smirks and slowly steps out of his seat. “better get going before it rains even harder. bye ‘samu, thanks for the food.” 

osamu nods. “i’ll see you later.” 

atsumu slings his bag over his shoulder and heads toward the front door, only to see you also head for the door. who goes first...? atsumu awkwardly gestures toward the door. “you first.” 

you take in the sight before you. a tall, muscular, blonde guy who looks ... well, a little weird. handsome? yes. also really dumb. it’s so cold today, yet he’s wearing a sleeveless top. you scoff, it’s probably because he wants to show off those arms, isn’t it? 

from his frown, you realize your scoff was a little too loud. before embarrassing yourself any further, you give him a small nod and opens the door. as you step out, you leave a hand on the door to keep it open for him. he gives you a small nod as a thanks and steps out under the roof a few feet away from you. 

the sound of pitter-pattering is all you hear. water droplets skids down the brown roof and plop, onto your shoes. at least it’s not pouring, you think as you pull your hood over your head, ready to dash into the rain all the way home. 

as if right on cue, the swaying of the tree speeds up. the pit-pattering turns violent. 

“i um, have an umbrella if you want to ... share.” 

you turn to look at him in surprise. he unzips his bag and pulls out a small black foldable umbrella. with a press of a button, the umbrella opens. 

“if your home is in walking distance, i can drop you off,” he says with a shrug. he places the umbrella over your head and gives you an awkward smile. 

trusting a stranger to walk me home, what can possibly go wrong? you sarcastically thought. “you’re osamu’s twin, aren’t you?” 

“so you’ve heard about me,” he says with a smug smile, possibly one of the most annoying smiles you’ve ever seen. annoying, because they’re hard to resist. 

it’s hard not to when there are billboards with your face on them all around here. “yeah, i have. you’re... miya atsumu?” 

“that’s right. and you’re ...?” 

“y/n... maybe you can drop me off at a convenience store so I can buy an umbrella there and walk the rest of the way home. where i live is pretty far away...” it’s not that you believe he’ll murder you, but that he’ll have to walk all that distance and back just to drop you off. you can’t have a stranger go all that way for you. 

“are ya sure? the umbrellas in convenience stores are always expensive. i’m not looking forward to heading home anyways so don’t worry about me.” 

... “well, okay. my apartment’s across from ‘hug a mug’ cafe, if you know where that is.” 

to your surprise, atsumu chuckles. “yeah i know where that is. i can’t but laugh everytime i hear their name.” 

“it’s cute,” you defend. “you know, like getting a warm, toasty hug along with a cup of coffee.” 

atsumu blinks at you and appears to what you said into thought. “i guess i should go to ‘hug a mug’ more often then, shouldn’t i?” he steps out into the rain and waits until you step under the umbrella to start walking. 

“yeah, you should. business has been slow for them lately. every time i go, there are barely any customers.” you look at to avoid stepping in puddles, and to avoid walking too close to him. every time you inch a bit further from him, he just seems to center the umbrella with wherever your head is.

“i should recommend ‘hug a mug’ to my teammates then. i’ll have to go try it out first, of course, just to make sure i’m not recommending anything bad,” he chuckles along his last lines. 

“...atsumu, your shoulder.” 

“my what?” he whips his head in your direction. 

“you’re not covering your shoulder,” you point out. water’s running down his right arm. 

“it’s fine,” he replies, and leans back to peek at your shoulder to make sure it’s not like his. “osamu and i used jump in puddles and compete with each other to see who could make the biggest splash. whenever i made a big splash, osamu would pretend he didn’t see it.” 

you softly laugh under your breath. the puddles ahead of you are quite tempting. but you know better not to jump in, for the possibility of splashing on his shoes and pants. who knows how much his shoes might cost? he’s a professional volleyball player, afterall. 

“just one more turn, right?” atsumu asks. “oh look, the rain has slowed down.” 

little droplets of water slides off the black umbrella in front of you. “yeah, you can drop me off here, i’ll walk the rest of way since it’s barely raining anymore-” 

he huffs. “drop you off at a random corner? and what happens if it starts pouring again?” 

... with a few more steps, you spot hug a mug across from the street and points it out to him. “see? we’re here. my apartment is just on the second floor. i’ll get going now, thanks for sharing your umbrella...” you give him a small wave before speed-walking up the stairs to your apartment. 

halting in mid-step, you turn to see if he’s still there, only to see a bare sidewalk with water running down the drains. he must’ve left already. 

as you unlock the door to your home, atsumu’s walking back home with a stupid grin spread across his face, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding in since he left his brother’s restaurant. if only if he had walked slower, then maybe the conversation with you would’ve lasted longer. 

[ga-yuu]

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 19~

Warning!! The story has strong language, gore, and attempted rape.

Chapter 18

*

*

*

-------Part 1-------

Kurama: “I’ll feel better when you’re out of my sight....because I want to get rid of this feeling in my heart.”

Yoshino: “.......I see.”

Kurama’s voice sounded as if he was condemning my sin, which I falsely attributed to a small smile.

Kurama: “But you and I will meet again on the battlefield. It would be easy to snuff out a dream....It might not be a bad idea to leave you under the cherry blossom tree on this day forever.”

(Eh?)

The wind blew harder than ever, causing petals to fly in the air.

A moment later I squinted at the momentum----Kurama gently turned his head towards me.

Yoshino: "Mm....."

Our lips meet and a sad moan escapes from my mouth.

We didn't know which one of us was melting from the heat.

Yoshino: "Mmm....haa....ahh.."

(....Why?)

His tongue slipped through the thin lips and tickling the sensitive areas.

He stimulated all the right places and my body was supported by his strong arms.

When I opened my eyes, my view was blocked by my messy bangs disturbed by the wind.

Yoshino: "Nnn...."

Our lips separated with a faint wet sound.

My hair was a mess and Kurama gently adjusts it without saying a word.

Kurama: ".............."

Our gazes intertwined and our wistful breaths touched.

Kurama: "I'd rather kill you than have someone else kill you. Until then, stay alive."

Yoshino: "........"

The words were too dangerous to be an expression of possessiveness and smelled too much of blood to be a confession of love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. I won't get myself killed...(+4/+4)

2. Kurama is the one who must not be killed.

3. No reaction...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: "I'll do my best not to get killed..."

(For myself and for my friends...)

Kurama: "Good. I like that about you."

At some point, the residue of the withered tears was swept away by the wind along with the petals.

Kurama: "Yoshino. From now on....you're not my toy."

Yoshino: "......Mm."

I felt my heart tear into a thousand pieces, but I pretended not to know the pain.

Yoshino: "Because now....I'm Kurama's enemy."

I did not ask or speak about the meaning of that kiss.

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

Time moves on, leaving stagnant thoughts behind.

Yoshino: "I think that's pretty much it for packing."

-------Part 2--------

Yoshino: "I think that's pretty much it for packing."

(Finally, today is the day I leave here.)

The Shogunate and the Rebels each have a system whereby only the messenger and a few soldiers as my escorts precede them to the battlefield.

(The Rebel messenger is going to take me and hand over to the Shogunate messenger on the battlefield....)

(Then, as soon as the two sides' main armies join up, the war begins, right?)

I gently looked at the shiny stone in my hand.

(As a member of the Shogunate I fight against the Rebels.)

Yoshino: "Kurama.....is going to kill me."

(I, too, cannot protect anything unless I am prepared to do so.)

(And yet...)

(I still have such a crush on Kurama.)

I gripped the stone tightly and dammed up the emotions that were about to spill out.

Yoshino: "...................."

And then, I stood up and I went out-----

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

Yoshino: ".......I'm coming in."

I called out softly and opened the sliding door to enter.

I already had a hunch that the room owner----Kurama would be out.

(.....Forgive me, Kurama. For entering your room without your permission. I'll leave as soon as I've done my business.)

I apologize in my heart and kneel down on the shelf at the end of the room.

The shiny figurines owned by Kurama were carefully arranged and sparkled.

Yoshino: ".................."

I take out the shiny stone I picked up from the Otherworld and placed it between the beautiful ornaments to hide it.

The small white fragments glow dimly like the daytime moon.

(....If we can't let go of our memories, let's at least leave them behind.)

Yoshino: "Thank you for everything. .......goodbye, Kurama."

As I said those words, my vision again caught the shiny stone and it started filling my memories.

(Somewhere along the line, I naturally accepted that I was your toy.)

(I felt like that was a manifestation of your typical possessiveness.)

(By the time I got to the point where I wanted to be more than a toy, it was..... too late.)

I stood back up and left the room quickly...

I started walking without even looking back.

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

-----On the same day, evening at Kyoto.

The mysterious light of twilight illuminated the beautifully furnished room.

Ibuki: "I've made you wait, Akihito."

Ibuki walks into the room and sees a young man sitting in front of him smiling languidly.

Akihito: "You have a bad habit to call people immediately and make them wait, Ibuki."

Ibuki: "Looks like you were busy playing with that."

Ibuki pointed to Akihito's lap as if to make fun of him.

He was comfortably beating his drum to pass time.

Akihito: "What else can I do here? Well, anyway..."

------Part 3------

Akihito: "What else can I do here? Well, anyway...Yoritomo has outwitted us all, hasn't he?"

A soft, unreadable smile crept across Akihito's lips.

Akihito: "I didn't think they'd take back the fox princess."

Ibuki: "Why are you laughing about it?"

Akihito: "Why not? You'll manage it, won't you? I sowed the seeds of evil, Yasuchika nurtured them and....Ibuki, it's your job to reap the harvest."

Ibuki: "Pain in the ass."

Akihito: "I thought you loved playing?"

Ibuki: "Okay okay, anything for you."

After a snide retort, Ibuki laughed and sat down next to Akihito.

----To discuss their future plans.

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

Rebel soldier 1: "The sun will soon be gone. Let's start preparing the camp."

A rebel soldier riding in front of my horse looks back at me.

Rebel soldier 2: "Ah. Hey, are you feeling any better?"

Yoshino: "Yes, I'm doing fine."

As a prisoner of war to be handed over to the Shogunate, I have been treated with respect by the rebel envoys.

It was Yoshitsune-sama who gave the order to do so.

(Yoichi-san and Benkei also were sweet enough to see me off. It is as if they forgot I'm an enemy.)

------FLASHBACK------

Benkei: "I know you're gonna stubbornly say 'No' if I asked you to run away. But nothing can be done now, isn't it?

Yoichi: "We'll just have to hope that we won't run into you on the battlefield."

------FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(Those two also risked their lives to fight for Yoshitsune-sama and their friends.)

(I'm going to stand on the battlefield, so I should learn to face anything.)

On the back of the horse, I look ahead and think about the battle that lies ahead.

At that time-----

Rebel soldier 3: "Hm? What the....?"

(What happened?)

One of the soldiers suddenly looked at the mountainside on his right.

Yoshino: "......Sand dust?"

I gasp at the sound of many horses' feet galloping towards us.

Rebel soldier 1: "No way, an enemy attack!?"

(No way.)

Dozens of men jumped out of the slope and rushed towards us on horseback.

Enemy 1: "She's here! Get her!"

Enemy: *ROARS*

Rebel soldier 2: "Are they from the Shogunate!?"

Rebel soldier 3: "I don't think so. There's no point in making a surprise attack when we've already negotiated so much."

(That's right. So, who are these people....?)

Rebel soldier 1: "We can't let em hurt our prisoners..."

-------The oldest soldier turns to me.

Rebel soldier 1: "And you, follow me closely! Let's get out of here."

-------Part 4-------

Rebel soldier 1: "And you, follow me closely! Let's get out of here."

Yoshino: "Yes!"

The rebels soldiers lined up their horses around me and ran frantically.

I was followed by the shouts of my escorts and the clatter of horses' hooves.

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

At the same time---Kurama, who was leaning on his side in his room, was playing with the silver crown in his hand.

Kurama: "I don't like it. The glow should be undiminished, but it's not."

As he put the crown reflecting the orange of setting sun, back on the shelf.

A similar sparkling object falls off.

Kurama: "........."

He picks it and was about to place it back, when-----

Kurama: "What the?"

Kurama frowned at the dimly shine of a stone, placed hidden in between his collection.

Kurama: "This is...no way...."

It's as if he's trying to hold on to a memory of someone who's just popped into his head.

Kurama cradles the small stone in his palm.

At that time-----

Yoichi: "Kurama!"

Suddenly, the sliding door of the room opens and Yoichi rushes in, breathing hard.

Kurama: "What is it?"

Kurama's gaze sharpens slightly at the unusual appearance of Yoichi.

Yoichi: "There's an attack. The Court's hands have extended to the party which was sending over Yoshino."

Kurama: "!!!!"

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

(It's been a day. ....We've managed to escape, but.)

Rebel soldier 1: "It's not good. The horses are getting tired. I wish the enemy would give up for good."

We jumped into the mountains and tried to move along the ridge, hiding from our pursuers.

(At least if we knew who the enemy was....?)

At that time----

Rebel soldier: "Shit! They're here again!"

Yoshino: ".....!!"

At the same time as we turned around at the sound of the impatient voice, arrows poured down like rain.

Rebel soldier 2: "RUN!"

He shouted at the top of his lungs, and when one soldier tried to return the fire with his own bow, he was shot and fell from his horse.

I was about to reach out to him when another soldier tugged at my horse's hitch.

Rebel soldier 3: "Just run!"

Yoshino "..... Okay."

(If the enemy's goal is to catch me, I must never be caught.)

Keeping low, we sprinted along the beastly path, which narrowed the further we went.

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

(How long has it been, since I'm running....?)

Running like mad, falling down the mountainside, still running away, but.....

Rebel soldier 1: "They're catching up. We'll have to fight our way back!"

-------Part 5-------

Rebel soldier 1: "They're catching up. We'll have to fight our way back!"

The rebels soldiers started protecting me with their backs.

The rebel soldiers drew their weapons in unison and they glittered in the cloudy sky.

(.....I can't believe I can only watch like this.)

Enemy 1: "What can you even do with such a small number?"

The enemy smiled hatefully and stepped forward as if he had plenty of room.

Rebel soldier 1: "LET'S FIGHT!"

Rebel soldiers: *ROARS*

Enemy 1: "COME ON!"

Some shoot arrows, others wield white blades.

(But the number of soldiers on our side is too small compared to the other side. At this rate....)

The rebel soldiers, who are slowly retreating to fight back, are clearly in a bad mood.

Enemy 2: "Eat this!"

Rebel soldier 1: "Nn...."

(Ah.........)

A soldier was cut down in front of me and fell into the mud.

Rebel soldier 1: "Fuck...you should....go first. Go!"

The horse's rump is beaten and he clings to the reins.

Enemy 1: "Don't let her get away! Go, go----"

(....I'm scared.)

I winced as one of the arrows pierces my arm.

But still, I ran with all my might------

Yoshino: "Kyaa!!"

My horse lets out a high-pitched scream and rocks violently.

(They shot him in the leg!)

There was nothing I could do, and my body falls off the horse.

(Damn it!)

Yoshino: "Ouch...!!"

I staggered back to my feet and stared in amazement at the hellish battle.

Rebel soldier 4: "Gwaa..."

One by one, the rebel soldiers fell into the mud.

I was immediately confronted by several enemies, who blocked my escape.

Enemy 1: "He ordered us to be careful. We were just ordered to capture and keep the woman alive."

Yoshino: "Nngh....."

Enemy 2: "Now now, don't make it difficult for us....come here, missy!"

One of the men who had dismounted grabbed me roughly by the arm and I winced in pain.

(Ah.....)

My eyes widen as I look over their heads, only to see the last of the Rebels soldiers fall.

Yoshino: "...Let go of me!!"

Enemy 3: "Hey, shut up!"

Enemy 4: "She looks like some ordinary town girl? What's so valuable about her?"

Enemy 5: "Who cares...? All our employers want, is her. But, well, it wouldn't hurt if we love her a little bit before handing it over, right....?"

I got goosebumps all over my body as he gave me a lecherous smile.

(No....)

I shake off their hands and try to run away from the emerging smirking men------

Enemy 1: "Where are you running off to?"

Yoshino: "Nn...No."

They soon caught up to me and dragged me down to the ground.

My vision darkens with despair as I see multiple arms stretching towards me....

???: "What the fuck are you doing?"

(Eh...)

At that moment---- the air around us was suffocatingly tense.

Enemy 1: "Ngh....."

The men's smiles froze, and they all turned their attention to the owner of the voice.

(No way....)

Kurama: "Did you touch the woman?"

Chapter 20

[sasuhinasno1fan]

No relationship is all sunshine, but two people can share one umbrella and survive the storms together- Adrien AUGrest Day 3

Doing this event again and even though there are less prompts, still might only be able to do a few. Still hope you like this though, it a Descendants AU, with Adrien as Rapunzel and Eugene’s son and Luka and Juleka as Captain Hook’s kids, but they were looked after by their mom cause Arnaka is amazing. Umbrella

Adrien wasn’t sure if it was his anger that made him blind to the weather outside. He had a good reason; it was like most of the council didn’t even care about those from the Isle. Most of his classmates thought they were hooligans who deserved to live there. No one deserved to live in complete poverty, with no running water or access to food. That fact that it had been allowed to go on for 20 years and for those heroes who started out from humble beginnings to not care? It filled him with rage he didn’t know he had.

Did he want Mother Gothel anywhere near his mom? No, of course not? She kidnapped her and locked her in a tower and tried to kill his father, not to mention abandon his Aunt Cassandra. But if she had a child, then that child deserved to live life not suffering for food. He didn’t know how many of the villains had changed and cared about their children now, but from what he got from the new VKs attending their school now, there weren’t many. The number of heroes who wanted things to change were so few it was taking so much to even get the council to listen to him.

Maybe dating a VK made things harder but he wouldn’t change that for the world. Maybe he got his type from his mom, rugged guys who had hearts of gold. Though, Luka was nowhere near as vain as his dad could be when he got into one of his moods.

He stared at the rain, thinking about how unfair everything was and how his home was full of hypocrites when he heard a welcome voice.

“Stuck in the rain kitty cat?”

Luka, son of one Captain James Hook, was nothing like his father. He had a mild temper, was a mother duck and didn’t hate the people of Auradon on principal. He said it was because of Anastasia, Cinderella’s step sister, talking about all the good things Cinderella did for her. Adrien just thought Luka had a kind heart to not judge before he met people. Adrien made himself available as a friend when the VKs came to Auradon and Luka just accepted it without judgement. They’d talked and interacted the longest and what had first been a simple flirting to keep the more overzealous girls at bay, turned into giving him baked goods as a thank you then an invite to explore the Enchanted Woods and teaching Luka how to swim better in the Lake and then…the kiss. It just happened, Luka somehow more nervous to swim in a lake than shark infested sea water and holding on to the edge of the stone gazebo, Adrien calming him down, them staring at each other and it just, happening. Adrien felt fireworks and he knew.

Not that anything after had been easy. Telling people turned out to be the worst idea ever. None of his Auradon friends wanted him with Luka, thinking the pirate had spelled him. The VKs that didn’t trust Adrien thought he was only with him for publicity. It was hard and difficult and Luka was so worth it, but he questioned if they were making the right choice. His parents assured him he was.

“When you met someone, you know can change your whole world, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. You need to listen with your heart.” His mom said.

“Besides, no relationship is all sunshine, but two people can share one umbrella and survive the storms together. that’s what your grandparents told us after we wondered if we could still get married after the whole debacle with your Aunt Cassandra.” His dad explained.

If his parents, who’d been two totally different people made it work, than he could do it with Luka. and so far, despite the storm they faced with judgement, they kept each other warm through it all.

“Hi my jolly sailor.” Adrien loved how Luka looked in his black coat, the snake wrapped around the Jolly Roger living on its back.

“You look upset.” Luka said sympathetically. He always seemed to understand how Adrien was feeling, even without saying anything.

“Meeting didn’t go well. How they can spout about being heroes yet turn their backs on people in need, I’ll never understand. Plus this rain isn’t helping.” Adrien said pouting at it.

“I like the rain.” Luka said.

“But it’s always cloudy on the Isle.”

“Yes. The barrier doesn’t make the weather the greatest but I don’t know. Maybe it was because mom is always with us, but when the rain would turn into a storm and rock the boat, she’d have me and Jules lay with her on a hammock and we’d feel the boat rock back and forth. Even hearing dad yell at the other pirates to secure the boat didn’t bother me. It just felt really relaxing. Honestly, the rocking boat has been the thing I’ve been missing the most.”

“Not your mom?”

“Well, we video chat with her whenever Fairy Godmother can arrange it and speak for ages after that, so it’s not too bad. But yeah, the boat rocking always made me fall asleep easier.”

Adrien didn’t know how he didn’t realise the dark circles under Luka’s eyes. Now that he knew they seemed to stand out more against his eyeliner. Part of him felt guilty that Luka seemed to always be there, even when the night got late if Adrien asked to see him. He opened his mouth to ask when Luka started to pull his jacket off.

“Didn’t bring an umbrella. I was waiting here when it started up, so we’ll have to run fast. I suggest holding on to your bag tight, ok?” Luka said, lifting his jacket so it was over their heads and stepped close to him. “Ready?”

Adrien nodded. While Luka was more open than the rest of the VKs, he would still clam up if Adrien pushed too hard. So he’d have to plan a little.

                                           _________________

“Ok, step up. Oh, sorry!” Adrien said, tilting the umbrella back so Luka wouldn’t get wet again. It was still raining later in the week, which was perfect for what Adrien had planned.

“Kitty, what are we doing?” Luka asked, still obediently covering his eyes with a gloved hand. His hair was starting to curl slightly from the rain.

“You’ll see.” He brought them to the middle, letting Luka stay close so they were both under the umbrella. “Ok, open your eyes.”

Luka did as he as told, looking around at the rather old school yacht they were standing on. The sails were tied up and the seating on the deck were covered to protect them from the rain, but the elegant lines of the 33m VIP ketch still stood out in the greyness of the rain.

“Where are we?”

“On the Flynn Rider, my parents’ yacht. My dad sailed around when he was pretty young so he chooses this one and named it after the name he went by when he met my mom for the first time. It was from a story book he read when he lived in the orphanage. He says if he never read the stories, he would never have met mom later. You said you like sleeping on a rocking boat in the rain. It doesn’t shake that much but it’s still pretty ok. No hammock but you can still feel the rocking on my loft bed. Is this, ok?”

Luka took the umbrella from Adrien to free Adrien up to be pulled closer and kissed him. “You certainly always surprise me kitty. It’s prefect, thank you. you up for cuddling with this pirate?”

“Always.”

[callmeelle22]

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

[fanfic-cave]

I also love some nice Angst with a hint of fluff in the end 😄 So how about after Sera told them about Umbara and what happened, she gets a really nasty nightmare about what happened there and this time the batch is there too and Hunter takes the place of her Captain and everything is even worse. Then Hunter wakes her up, comforts her with a cup of hot chocolate he hates because of the intense smell but makes it for her so she feels better. And they cuddle.

If this doesn't fit with the storyline just ignore this ask 😅

Just a Dream

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: OC x Hunter

Warnings: War Scenes, death, and trauma.

Summary: Sera relives her worst and last battle of the clones wars through a nightmare. When Hunter arrives as she wakes, Sera tries to confide in him.

Authors note: I've had this draft sitting for like ever im sorry it took so long, I get so perfectionist-y about my fanfics even though im trying to just do it for fun asdakljf anyways I thought this was nice so enjoy! Thank you for the ask! :)

P.S. I went full out on this and studied the war tactics and how it actually happened on Umbara, this is just like a snippet of the details that I had figured out! tags: @mangoberry99

“General!” Captain of the 401st ran to Sera. He had his blaster in hand, ready to fight despite the fact that they just crash landed.

“Yes?” The Jedi General, Sera, looked up from her work. She knelt over an injured clone trooper, trying to do what she could to ease his pain. Based on the charred hole in his body, he wasn’t going to make it.

“We only have stray survivors from our ships, casualties are high-“ Sera and the Captain both ducked as rocks flew over their heads from a nearby explosion.

Sera glanced around the field and calculated quickly. “We need to retreat. Try seeing if you can reach General Kenobi or Skywalker, they’re the only battalions we’re close to,” Sera’s Captain nodded in agreement as she spoke, reaching for his comms.

“I’ll round up the survivors and try to find the best direction to retreat.” The dark planet's sky lit up with more enemy fire from the Umbarans. Sera’s face and the Captains helmet were lit up from the brightness. They only stared at each other in silence for a brief moment as the Umbara sky ignited above them. Sera’s expression was somber, and while she couldn’t see the Captains face, she knew his expression mirrored hers under the helmet. Neither of them liked their odds right now.

The heavy fire landed, exploding the nearby ships. Blood curdling screams came from the same direction. A sense of urgency filled Sera as she heard the screaming. “I’m counting on you, Sharp!” Sera began to turn away, yelling to Captain Sharp over her shoulder. “Yes Sir,” The Captain nodded, already working with the comm unit in hand. Sera glanced down to the clone she had been trying to heal moments ago. He was frozen, his head slumped and body limp.

The Jedi forced herself to continue, telling herself she can mourn once the battle is over. She had to save whoever she could now. “Troopers!” She yelled across the field, looking at a group of clones who were taking cover behind a flipped air transport. Their heads perked up from across the battlefield, and some hopeful expressions appeared as they saw their General. Sera squinted, then her eyes widened when she saw Wrecker was among the soldiers now, throwing scrap metal towards the enemy tanks. Tech suddenly flickered into existence, taking cover behind the same transport. One of the soldiers that had turned to Sera now saluted her. His arm was prosthetic, and the soldier suddenly morphed into Echo.

Sera shook her head, then suddenly something felt off and a sensation tugged at her gut. She froze. She knew it was the force, and it was a warning. Her eyes widened and turned to look toward the enemy lines.

Umbaran airships whizzed by and began firing down on the survivors. She looked to the surviving soldiers with a horrified expression. The Umbarans fire landed right in the center of her men, and she only heard their screams before her vision blacked out.

Sera got thrown back far, her body slamming to the ground hard. While her head snapped back and hit the rocky terrain, she felt her troopers' lives get instantly snuffed out from the heavy fire that rained from above. It felt like cotton filled her brain, her body not responding to her quickly enough. She opened her eyes, and tried to gather whatever strength she had left in herself and through the force that flowed through her. She rolled over to her side, and felt blood coming down her forehead.

Once she rolled over, she saw a soldier's charred body not too far away. He held a rifle in his hand, and she recognized the tattoo marks on his eye that formed a Crosshair.

Sera looked away from the disturbing sight, then tried sitting up. She halted her movement, then gasped and gripped her side. She had felt a sharp pain, and looked to see blood was on her hands. Her vision began to get cloudy, blood dripping into her eyes from an open wound on her head.

“General,” the whisper cut through the haze, and she recognized the voice immediately.

She ignored the pain and crawled over, seeing her Captain sprawled body lying feet from her. “Captain-“ Seras voice caught in her throat, and she couldn’t speak more, the sight of his broken body stealing her voice away. More flashes lit up the sky, and more fire came from the enemy’s tanks and airships. She squeezed her eyes tight. This can’t be happening. It’s just a dream.

“General-“ Sharp coughed weakly. He brought Sera back to the scene before her. She let the tears fall and she sat up as best she could, reaching to grab ahold of his bloodied hand.

“Stay with me Captain.” She forced herself to speak, and tried to sound confident. She tried to sound like the General these men deserved, not the one that had just failed them. He reached and lifted up his helmet.

Sera saw it was Hunter's face that was underneath the Captain's helmet, and he squeezed her hand tight. She sobbed quietly, letting the tears fall.

This isn’t how it happened

“Hunter, stay with me.” She remembered speaking this sentence before, the words came out forcefully and with passion just like they had the first time.

“It was an honor, General.” The words that had been spoken by Sharp came out of Hunter's mouth, now in his voice too instead of the Captains. Sera only sobbed harder.

“No! Not you, no no,”

The light left his eyes and his hand stopped gripping hers.

————

Sera awoke in bed, gasping for air. She sat up and ran her hands through her hair, trying to remember where she was.

He’s dead. They're all dead.

The door to her bedroom opened, and someone came through. Sera didn’t look up, but kept her fingers tangled in her short blonde hair, gripping her head tightly.

“Sera!” Hunter's smokey voice echoed through the room as he ran in, his vibroknife in hand. Sera kept staring down, trying to recall where she was and how she wasn’t injured. She pressed a hand to her side and felt no pain.

“What’s wrong, are you hurt?” He looked around, trying to find a threat.

“I-“ Sera couldn’t get another word out, and she tried to steady her breathing. Her memories started to come back to her now that she was awake.

It was just another nightmare. Everyone in clone force 99 is alive.

“I'm sorry, it was just a dream.” Sera's voice came back to her and she looked up to Hunter. His hair was messy, the bandana still in its rightful place though, and he wore his blacks.

He relaxed, then set the knife down on an end table, and looked down at her. He took in the scene, Sera shuddering in the bed, coated with sweat, breathing shakily. His expression softened as he began to comprehend what had happened. “A nightmare.” It didn't quite sound like a question when he said it, but Sera still nodded in confirmation.

Hunter looked away, placing a hand on his chin as he thought hard for a moment. Then an idea came to him and he looked up to Sera. “Will you be okay if I go for just a minute?”

Sera examined his expression. His eyes didn’t waver from her, and he waited patiently for her answer. She could tell that if she asked him to, he would stay with her no questions asked.

“Go, I’ll be okay.” Sera tried to smile and nod. She still felt herself shaking a bit, and she knew the smile probably wasn't convincing. Hunter nodded back and slipped out of the room.

While Hunter was gone, Sera sat herself up in the bed and tried to get more comfortable. She wiped away the layer of sweat that covered her forehead, and took slow, deep breaths. Her dream felt just like what happened on Umbara, it was almost a perfect replay, like the other times she had this nightmare. The difference this time was that the bad batch was there too, dying alongside her soldiers. But they’re alive, she reminded herself.

Sera’s thoughts were interrupted when Hunter opened the door, and held a steaming cup in his hand. His nose was wrinkled a bit, but he managed to maintain a normal expression otherwise. “Here.” He handed it to Sera. She looked curiously, and then took the cup. She instantly felt it’s warmth, and recognized it was Hot Coco.

“Hunter, you didn’t have to do that.” Sera looked at the cup gratefully. She knew the smell of the drink bothered him, ever since she made it for herself the first time she stayed aboard the havoc marauder. After seeing how it irritated Hunter's senses, she never drank it around them anymore.

Hunter shrugged, trying to act like it was no big deal. She could see his nose was still wrinkled, and turned away from the cup. “You’ve had a bad night. I know you like drinking this when you can’t sleep, Echo told me.”

Sera would’ve denied it if he hadn’t mentioned Echo, but it was true. Sera and Echo both had a habit of being insomniacs, and sometimes the two would pass by each other on a shared sleepless night, and sometimes they would keep eachother company

Sera sighed and decided not to fight Hunter on this. Despite what the clone thought, the Coco smelled amazing to her, and the warmth she felt from gripping it was inviting. “Thank you.” Sera quickly took a few sips, which turned into a few gulps of the chocolate drink. Hunter chuckled as she easily downed the drink.

“You're welcome.” He smiled and looked away, then sat at the edge of Sera’s bed. After she finished, she set the drink on her nightstand, just by her bed. She saw Hunter's knife was sitting just next to her now finished cup. She decided to reach for it, bringing it to her lap as she held it in her hands.

Hunter watched her fiddle with his knife, and decided to speak up. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked her. Sera looked up and met his eyes. He was leaning back on his hands, and she could tell he didn’t want to push her.

“Just bad memories.” She answered briefly, then looked back down to the knife. She held the point at the tip of her finger. Her brow furrowed as the memories flickered in her mind, and she mindlessly fiddled with the blade, scraping the tip of it on her fingers. Hunter's hand came over hers, and her eyebrows came up, slightly surprised. She didn’t move.

“We all have bad memories from the war.” Hunter opened her hand and took the knife away gently. After it left her hands, she squeezed her now open hand into a fist. She nodded at his words.

Sera had these dreams so many times, too many times to count. She’s even had these nightmares while traveling with the group of rogue clones. Something was different this time though. She didn’t have someone here when she awoke from the bad dreams.

Sera’s chest felt tight as the emotions began to overwhelm her. Despite not following the Jedi code anymore, She still found herself in the habit of trying to have no attachments. Being attached to her soldiers, her men, it’s what hurt her the most when they died. But here they were, more clones once again breaking her walls down.

Hunter's arm came around Sera’s shoulder, and she easily leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re safe now, Sera.” Hunter squeezed Sera’s shoulder, trying to comfort her.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Hunter turned his face a bit to eye her suspiciously. “You’re worried about us?”

Sera didn’t look at him. It felt like history was repeating itself. Sera finding more clones, joining arms with them, creating a close bond with them. There was only one thing left to make both of these stories the same.

No more deaths.

Hunter's chuckle brought Sera’s attention back to what was happening. “You know we can handle ourselves, right?” He was genuinely amused at the idea of Sera being worried about them.

“That was part of my nightmare.” Sera lowered her voice when she spoke, just breathing the words out.

Hunter didn’t laugh at that. Sera closed her eyes, and pressed her face into Hunter's shoulder. Hunter frowned at this, beginning to see how real her fear was.

“Hey,” Hunter shifted, moving so he could see her face. Sera lifted her face up when Hunter moved his shoulder away.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Hunter looked Sera dead in the eyes, both hands on her shoulder. He squeezed her shoulders gently. “You’re stuck with us as long as you’ll have us.” The corners of his mouth turned up a bit as he finished his sentence.

Starting to feel a surge of emotions come, Sera put her arms around Hunter and pulled him into an embrace. He wasn’t expecting it, but easily returned the gesture. He had gotten used to hugging more with her, and easily patted her back comfortingly.

“Thank you,” Sera breathed into Hunter's ear. Hunter froze for a moment, then straightened himself up and pulled away.

“Alright mesh’la, lay down and try to sleep.” Hunter gently grabbed onto Sera’s shoulders and started guiding her back down onto the bed.

“Mesh what now?” Sera yawned as she spoke. She didn’t know mando’a, except for picking up on some of the insults crosshair would direct to her occasionally.

“Sleep.” Hunter ordered, ignoring her question.

Despite wanting to argue, Sera’s eyes felt heavy, and she willingly laid back down on the bed. A few minutes passed, with Hunter staying diligently at the edge of the bed. He listened to her breathing, and glanced at her occasionally. He waited to be sure no signs of another nightmare came, and that Sera would sleep soundly. Once he was confident she was fast asleep, Hunter planned to quietly leave the room and go back to sleep.

Once he shifted though, he felt fingers grip his wrist. He turned to glance at Sera. She wasn’t awake, but when he moved she reached out and grabbed him. Hunter tried to peel her fingers off, but she shifted in the bed, only tightening her grip.

Who knew she could get so attached?

Hunter gave up on leaving, already entranced by watching her sleep. He did, however, feel too uncomfortable with sitting on her bed any longer, so he instead reached over to a chair just a few feet away and pulled it up. He settled in, leaving his arm on the bed that Sera would not release. The chair and his body were parallel to the bed, and he continued to watch her carefully, ready to chase away any nightmares that came.

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Ghost Of You (Part 1)

Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

W.C.: 2300

Summary: The war with Voldemort was over. Draco Malfoy was forced to flee for his life ending up in Muggle London where he met you, the muggle whose house he broke in looking for a place to hide. You agreed to let him hide in your house if he promised to let you live your life normally. How will your relationship work as time passes and you both realiz you’re no longer just partners in crime?

A/N: Hello, it’s me again! So, I thought of this last night and started working on it because quarantine. This was supposed to be a one-shot but now is going to be a mini series, I guess? Yaaaay! This is based of the song “Ghost of you” by 5SOS.(Stream CALM!) 

If you would like to be tagged in this or other things I write, shoot me an ask or something. Okay, I think that´s all. Enjoy!

Warnings: Imperius curse. Mentions of blood. Swearing,maybe? 

*Not my GIF. Credits to the creator*

You lived a normal life. Worked as a teacher at the local high school, had tons of lovely students who greeted you in the mornings with smiles and waves of their hands. The parents often came to your classroom and thanked you for being a guide to their children, helping them with decisions about their future or everyday life problems. You were more than happy to be a guide, besides the plus of home baked treats as part of their gratitude.

You lived just outside town, near enough the basic places you needed in a weekly basis but far enough you weren’t disturbed by the city life or loud neighbors.  You liked to think of your home as a cabin in the woods, with the cloudy weather and the ruffling of leaves as the wind blew through the trees. 

A simple life.

But your favorite part was the woods behind your small community. The smell of pine and rain filling your lungs as you walked by the dirt path, watching the small forest animals past you. It was your form of therapy and alone time, even if you always were alone. 

You never met someone who you looked at and said I want to spend the rest of my life with them. It just didn’t happen. Your ex-boyfriend of three years broke up with you a couple months back and, although sad and heartbroken, you were more afraid of the change in routines you would have to make to return to a single person lifestyle. You got over it pretty quickly and wandered if you were capable of love, if you ever actually loved him. You were for sure fond of him, but the idea of marriage and a family never crossed your mind and they took notice of it, ending things with you. 

Your life consisted of your work as a teacher and your friends. 

One monday afternoon you got out of work real late, catching up in grading some exams you still had to return to your students. The only reason you even thought about stopping being the sound of your phone ringing. You reached for it, eyes still on the exam at hand. “Hello?” you said, not looking who was calling you.

“Y/N dear,” said a warm voice on the line that you recognized as your neighbor, Mrs. Wallis  “Are you home?” she asked making you stop holding the phone with your hand instead of your shoulder.

“No Mrs. Wallis, I’m still at the school.” you told her, getting up from your desk and putting all your things inside your bag “Is something wrong?” you asked in concern, moving faster.

“Well, your kitchen light  is on but since I didn’t see your car here I got worried” you could hear movement from her side of the line, the ruffling of her curtains and her hurried steps that told you she was looking across the street from her window, just where your house was “Do you want me to call the cops, dear?”

“Please, Mrs. Wallis” you mumbled, starting your car “I’ll be there soon” you told her, hanging up and racing to your house.

********************************************************************

You drove like the devil himself was after you. Luckily the streets were empty and you made a 15 minute drive into one of 5. And just as Mrs. Wallis said your kitchen light was on and you were sure you didn’t left it on by accident, your time spent mostly on the living room or your room. The kitchen being the isolated room of the house.

You were probably going to regret this, making your way carefully to the door. You slid your key on the lock, softly twisting it until it open with a soft click. You gave yourself a mental pat in the back for keeping your doors oiled as it opens smoothly with no sound at all.

But your proud self drew back deep into your mind, replaced by your previous panicked state at the sounds coming from the kitchen. You took the umbrella by the door as a weapon, not the greatest choice but you had to improvise. The soft sounds you heard by the door quickly turned into grunts and you gripped the umbrella tightly to your body.

“Bloody hell.” a male voice hissed, and you froze in place as you got a glance at the man leaned in your counter. He was tall, his head reaching the shelves where you have to step on your tiptoes to get a look a what was in them; his skin concerningly pale, almost blending with the wall behind him if it wasn’t for his dark clothing that gave him some kind of shape if you stare long enough, which you shouldn’t do.

Your eyes moved with him, his hand pressed firmly against his side. The touch made him flinched, lifting his hand to the light you gasped loudly at his blood covered hand. Of course, getting his attention. 

His head snapped in your direction just as you slapped your hand over your mouth probably harder  than you should have. He straighten his back, ready to march in your way when he almost tripped, swiftly bracing himself against the counter. “Don’t move.” he said lifting his arm with a stick-like object in his shaky hand that, for some reason, had you terrified.

You closed your eyes, dropping the umbrella and raising your arms in less than a second “Please don’t hurt me.” you whimpered, not daring to open your eyes again. 

“Are you alone?” he asked you hoarsely, you limited your movements to a simple nod “ Alright, sit.” he ordered and you did as he told you. Maybe if you tried hard enough you could outrun him, seeing as he could barely walk a good blow to the head would have him on the floor for sure. But you were in a state of shock, in other words, useless.

Then the loud sound of sirens caught your attention and you cursed to yourself, completely forgetting that the police was on his way. 

“You called the police?!” he growled your way, his weird weapon pointed directly at the side of your head and you tried to suppress a laugh. Now wasn’t the time to laugh, yet you couldn’t keep it in at his reaction. What would he have done if someone got inside his house? Probably not go inside like you did, but you were a special case. You chuckled and essentially saw his face fuming at you “Stop.” he ordered, pressing the stick harder into your head.

“Ow” you muttered, leaning away from him “What are you even doing inside my house?” you asked, the red and blue lights from the police shining through your window.

“Shut up.” he said, yanking your arm up and turning you to the front door. You thought about turning around when a weird but pleasant sensation filled your body, all the tension sliding from your body “You are going to tell them that it was all a mistake” he whispered softly in your ear “That you are not alone and your boyfriend surprised you”

Your feet got a mind of their own at the door knocking loudly, you were so relaxed your hand missed the knob a few times before you actually got it. “Good evening, miss Y/L/N” said one of the officers at your door, one you recognized immediately as the father of one of your students. 

“Good evening, Officer Forbes” you said back with a smile “Can I help you with something?” you asked him, feeling the movement of the man intruding your house just a mere feet away from you.

Officer Forbes gave you a concerned look taking a step forward, his hand discreetly reaching for his gun “We had sa call someone broke into your house” he explained reaching for the door when you opened it and stepped outside with him.

“Oh! That,” you laughed, seeing his body relaxed at you answer “I’m sorry I made you come all the way here. My boyfriend is here as a surprise, he has a key and  let himself inside.” 

His expression changed quickly to one of surprise, running a hand through the back of his head “Oh, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” he said awkwardly, taking a few steps back “Well, as long as everything is fine” he question you.

“Never better.” you answered “Again, I’m sorry you came all the way here for nothing” you said with an apologetic look.

“That’s alright.” he waved, circling his car and looking at you before he started the car “Goodnight, professor” 

“Goodnight, Officer” you waved back, watching him go down the street and out of your sight. 

You stepped inside, locking the door behind you before you stumbled back realizing what you had just done. “What the hell?” you muttered, looking up in rage at the man looking at you with a dead stare “What the hell did you do to me?” you screamed, storming to him when he lifted his hand again “What. is. that?” you said through gritted teeth as you glared at the stick in your chest.

“You muggles are so clueless” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he took your arm again “Walk.” he said and you stood there in a form of defiance, crossing your arms over your chest. He scoffed, and this time you heard what was whispered right into your ear. “Imperio”

What a funny word, you thought to yourself, your feet moving without you realizing it. When did you got to the kitchen? Wait, you didn’t want to be in the kitchen. You wanted to run out and away from him and yet you sat peacefully in your counter, watching him get things out of your pantries in exasperation. 

“What are you looking for?” you asked him, taking a plastic up from the floor and placing it back to its place. He glared at you and your action, following your steps to the other side of the kitchen where you placed all the things he had took out in the right order “Is it for your wound?”

“Yes.” he said with a frown “Where the you keep that?”

“The first aid kit is in the bathroom.” you said, jumping to your feet and going out of the room. Not a minute later you had returned with a bag in your hand “Here you go” you placed the kit in front of him, taking the chair next to him in the small table.

Hesitantly he took it, grabbing the bandages and alcohol. He worked in silence, that until his weird attack on you wore out and your free will returned with a burning rage.

“Stop doing that to me” you growled, glaring at him from your spot.

“Behave and I won’t have yo do it” he told you, and if it was any other person you would have laughed and probably slapped them across the face, but his warning set deep in you, not really eager for another dose of Imperio or whatever.

So you stayed silent throughout all his healing process, all the things that had just happened settling in your head. He had to be some kind of spy or drug expert to do something like that to you. If he was a spy maybe you would come out as the hero who helped him in his mission, now the idea of the drug expert scared you a little more. 

“What do you want from me?” you asked after a long time of silence, that you realized were only five minutes after a look at the clock.

He lifted his gaze from the wound on his side, moving his shirt down to cover up the skin “I won’t hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to” he said. Charming. “I’m hiding. They won’t look here for me, it’s the muggle part of London.” 

Muggle? What in heaven is a muggle? But you didn’t ask, not really wanting to know. “So if I let you stay,” you began, earning an interested look from him “Can I carry on with my life?” you asked, a hopeful glint in your eyes. 

“You’re willing to let me hide here?” he muttered with a surprised look, when you nodded in affirmation he took a careful look at you. “You don’t know who I am” he said and was even more shocked at your response.

“I’ve seen your face,” you started explaining “I can easily go to the police and identify you, which won’t work with you because you’ve said you are hiding and I don’t want to die.” He had an interested look on his face, his frown had turned deeper but he nodded, letting you continue “So if I let you hide here you’ll let me live normally. I won’t say anything because I would be as guilty as you for helping you hide, and I don’t really fancy going to prison. So, Y/N Y/L/N.” you said, holding your hand out for him “You are?”

He stared at your hand suspiciously, running all the possible ways this was a trap and he was falling right into it. But again, he was the wizard and the one with power in the new relationship he formed as he shook your hand.

“Draco,” he answered “Draco Malfoy.”

You smiled, getting up from your seat and leading him through the door “Well, Draco,” you said mocking his more heavier accent “Let me give you the tour.”

TAGS: @fanficflaneuse @accio-rogers @gloriousrebelrunaway @slytherinprincess03

[bts-reveries]

daddy duties | 19

“Good morning beautiful,” Jimin says, peppering your face with kisses. You couldn’t help but laugh, putting your hand on his chest. 

“Good morning,” you say back, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“How was your sleep?” He asks. You press your head deeper into your pillow. It being the first time in a while where you had decent sleep.

“The best~ Mingyu slept all night…” speaking of your son, you look around, not seeing him at all. “Where is he?” You ask your husband. Jimin laughs, pulling you up.

“He’s with our parents. Your mom and dad came early.” Your eyes widen at his words.

“Mom and dad are here already?!” You yell. As if they heard you, your mom yells out: 

“Yn! Are you not out of bed yet?” You turn to the sound of her voice, laughing before zooming out of the room. Jimin smiled so big as he followed you, walking out of the room. 

“Mom! Dad!” You yell, running to hug your parents.

“Oh!” Your mom lets out as you hug her tightly. “Omo, you act as if you are still a teenager,” she says, pulling away to hold her daughter’s face. “Oh my, honey, your dark circles…” You groan pulling away from your mom. It’s the first time she’s seen you in a while and this is what she tells you!

“You’re still adorable my princess,” your dad says, hugging you next. “You always admired pandas didn’t you?--”

“DAD!” You yell out, making everyone laugh. “You both always have something to say…” You pout.

“We say it out of love,” your mom said, winking at you. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you both though,” you smile. You look around for your son and see your mother in law holding him. You gasp as he smiles and kick his feet when he sees you, reaching out for you immediately.

“There’s my baby!” You say, walking toward him and taking him into your arms. “Good morning mini,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Ahh… I still can’t believe my baby -- has a baby!” Your dad says, walking over to poke Mingyu’s cheek.

Jimin felt so happy being surrounded by his parents and your parents. Mingyu’s grandparents loved the three of you being in Busan and wanted to spend as much time as they can with you three as possible, keeping the entire weekend full. 

“So what’s the plan today?” Jimin says, looking at his parents. His mom started putting lots of food out on the table as they talked, preparing a huge breakfast.

“We were thinking we would go to the beach,” she says. Jimin starts to help her put food out as well. 

“That would be fun, we only went to the beach once with Mingyu. He liked it though,” you say. “Right Gyu?” Mingyu blankly stares back at you and you laugh, turning back to your parents. “Maybe not so much..”

-

“Look at all the seagulls!” Jimin says, running on the sand, chasing the birds away.

“Yah! Can you help?” You yell out, taking Mingyu out of his car seat while both yours and Jimin’s parents take out food and a blanket for you seven to lay on. 

Jimin comes running back to you and squishing your face in his hand.

“Don’t be a grumpy bear,” he says in a baby voice, taking Mingyu’s bag.

As soon as you all were settled on a picnic blanket on the sand, you wrap Mingyu up in a blanket because it was super windy and cold out. You then wrap your arms around him, making sure he’s extra warm.

“Babe let’s go near the water,” Jimin says, holding his hand out to you.

“But Gyu,” you said, looking down at your shivering baby. 

“Give him to me honey,” your mom says, reaching out for your son. You turn to your mom and hand her Mingyu, who she wraps tighter in the blanket and hugs tightly.

“Let’s go,” Jimin says, grabbing your hand and pulling you up.

“The water is so cold,” Jimin says, trying to walk closer to the waves rolling up. You scream as the waves come running to the both of you.

“Don’t get wet, you’re going to get sick!” You tell him, pulling him away from the water. Jimin laughs as he pretends to push you in, making you yell and grabbing onto his jacket tightly.

“I will kill you!” You say. Jimin couldn’t help but laugh as he pushes you away from him and runs off.

“Park Jimin!” You yell, running along the shore, chasing your husband. Jimin manages to turn back and run past you before running through a crowd of seagulls.

“We should feed them,” he says, running back to the blanket where your family was at.

“Mom did you bring any chips?” He asks, his dad turns around and grabs one out of the picnic basket they brought.

“Oh- thanks dad!” He says, running back to where you were standing. He rips the bag open and pops one in his mouth, handing the bag to you after getting a few chips in his hand. He then takes one chip between his pointer and middle finger, raising it up when a seagull passes by. The seagull misses it and flies off, making Jimin pout. He was about to put his hand down when another seagull rushed to him and stole the chip, catching him off guard.

“oH!” He yells. His yell and the bird passing by your face surprised you, making you throw the bag of chips up into the air where a flock of birds rushed to.

“AHHHHHHH!” You yell, stumbling backwards as the birds fight over the bag of chips, making you fall.

“Babe! Are you okay??” Jimin says, rushing towards you. You reach your hand out for him when a wave comes up the shore, soaking your entire bottom. 

You yelp at the cold water, Jimin’s eyes widening as he quickly pulls you up.

As if your mom already knew what was going to happen, she had a towel ready for you when you two walked back to the blanket. 

-

“Why’s it so cloudy?” Jimin says, looking up at the sky. He was laying right next to you as you fed Mingyu. You turned to look up at the sky and noticed that it was starting to cover up the sun.

“Oh no.. is it going to rain?” As if the sky wanted to answer your question, a few small droplets fell on you and Jimin’s faces. 

“I checked the weather this morning and it was supposed to be sunny all morning,” Jimin’s dad comments. Your parents began helping Jimin’s parents pack up, noticing that the rain was only going to get heavier and none of you brought an umbrella.

Jimin helps you up as you’re still feeding Mingyu. He takes another towel and covers Mingyu with it as he helps you walk back to the car. The rain was only getting harder. 

“Well that was a fail,” Jimin’s mom says, apologizing to everyone as they all got into the car.

“It’s okay mom! I’m sure we can still have some fun at home,” you say, reassuring her that the day was not at all ruined. You fastened Mingyu into his car seat, he was already falling asleep.

“We can watch a movie or have a board game night?” Jimin’s dad suggests. You nod, agreeing to his idea. Movies and board games were always a safe and fun home activity to do. You did it with the group all the time. 

“Oooh! I brought Uno cards!” Jimin excitedly announced. You scoff at him.

“You really brought it? Honey… I don’t think our parents know how to play that.” He rolls his eyes at you as if you weren’t stating the obvious. 

“I know,” he whispers, “this is the only chance I have at winning. Shhh..” 

-

“I’m going to put Mingyu down for a nap,” you say, as soon as you all get back home. Jimin immediately jumps on the couch and grabs the remote, searching for a movie to watch. 

“Ahh… we’re back at grandma and grandpa’s house,” you say softly to Mingyu, who had his eyes closed but was still half awake. “I’ll come get you in a few hours okay?” You kiss his little head before setting him in the little crib you guys had in the room. 

As soon as you put him down, you sneeze. Then again. And…. it went away. You rub your nose on your sleeve, immediately taking your clothes off to change into dryer ones. Your pants were still pretty cold from when you fell and the water hit you. 

Your nose kept running and you kept sneezing as you were getting into new pants. As if he sensed something, Jimin walks into your room.

“Are you okay?” He asks, “I was wondering what’s taking you so long.” You sniffled a bit before you answered him, your voice sounding muffled with your congested nose.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you shivered. Jimin’s face had worry written all over it as he rushed over to you and helped you lay in bed. He made sure to tuck you in and make you all warm.

“I’ll tell our parents we can continue our hang out later, but you should rest and warm up. I’ll bring you some tea and I’ll ask my mom if she has any medicine you can take, okay?” He tells you, you nod your head, snuggling into the blanket a bit more to get yourself warm. He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before getting up.

-

A couple hours has passed and you seem to have fallen asleep, matching the rhythm of Mingyu’s nap time. 

You look over at his crib, finding him missing once again.

“Jimin?” You called out with a raspy voice. No one answered so you peeled off the bed sheets off of your body and you slowly got out of bed. You walk out of the room and into the living room where you saw Mingyu laying on his dad’s chest as his dad watched tv.

“There he is,” you say, Jimin turns to you, startled.

“You’re awake,” he says. “How are you feeling?” You smile lazily at him.

“Tired. Stuffy.” You tell him, walking over to both your boys and sitting down next to Jimin, snuggling his side.

“Oh no… but don’t worry, your parents went out to get medicine for you,” he says, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you even closer. You rub your cheek on your husband’s chest, staring face to face with your son. You caress his soft head and he stares at you funny. Before you knew it, he sneezed on your face next. 

“Ah--” You back up from him and his dad, reaching for the box of tissues on their side table. Jimin looks at you, then at Mingyu with his mouth the shape of an “O.” 

As soon as you wiped your face your frown at your baby.

“Oh no, did I get you sick?” You say, and he responds with another small sneeze. “This is not how this weekend was supposed to go,” you say, leaning against the couch. 

“It’s okay, at least we had fun yesterday and that we’re with our family,” Jimin says, pulling you back in to cuddle him. He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Babe, you’re going to catch our cold.” Jimin shakes his head.

“I’m pretty sure it’s inevitable,” he responds. 

“Honey are you still feeling sick?” Jimin’s mom asks, walking into the living room. You nod your head.

“I think I got Gyu sick too,” you confess. 

“I don’t think it was such a good idea to take you three to a cold beach during the rain,” Jimin’s dad says sheepishly. “Speaking of, there’ll be heavy rain again tomorrow so you two be careful going back to Seoul.”

“Why don’t you three just stay a little longer? Until you two get better at least. I don’t want you two getting worse,” your mother in law suggests. Jimin nods, agreeing with her instantly. You couldn’t help but think of Sarang’s wedding and how she wanted you all to get back safely to ensure that everyone would be complete. But also you didn’t want to risk the health of your son. You knew you would be back before the wedding anyways, and Sarang would understand the situation.

“Okay, we’ll stay.”

☔︎☔︎☔︎☔︎☔︎☔︎☔︎

daddy duties

☔︎part nineteen: pandas☔︎

pairings: newdad!jimin x wife!reader

a/n: i’m so sleepy but i wanted to post before i slept

it’s 2am T.T im reading this like rlly tired so if there’s any mistakes i’ll fix it tomorrow. i literally fell asleep like 5 times trying to read this through

also, long distance tweet was about jimin sjefkrhghg

taglist:

@crazyferalvigilantedragonwriter @taekookcaneatme @osnapjenn @rjsmochii @cosmicdaylight @monosomes @the-things-in-the-dark @kimchii7 @softboyfriendtae @smauslut @igotarmyofarohas @heartfeltscribblings @ruinsofangels @sope-and-shine @ephyra1230 @uglyratlmao @samros95 @hellotherehoneybee @moon6rop @kpopliisu @butterflylion @moonlightrose19 @teawithbucky @strwberry-jam @listless-losers @dreamcatcherjiah @httplovemaze @raplineh0e @salty-for-suga @chiminilove @bts-kay @my-chaos-in-stars @kookiemonstersugatea @vantaexx @blueberrykenn @sunnyoongles @knjkitten @itsjynop @seoulicitae @sayanne @prdshobi @thegirlwhocares @btsxdoll @callmepaopao @sterynlis @cribabieee @incredibleella @nctssidehoe @dammit-jjk @goldenchemistry

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