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Rain Rain Sleep Sounds

Rain Reminds

Ethan Lee, the heratthroab of the class. Eyes followed wherever he went. He had everything, money, house, car and girls all wrapped around his finger. He was born with a golden spoon and never knew what absence was. In addition to all this, he was a particularly handsome man. But behind all that fame and popularity, he wore a mask to cover an ugly scar. Who would have guessed that someone as perfect as him was living in such a dreadful life. Among all the students who used him to their advantage, there was this one boy who never paid any heed to him. He was always there, in the last row of the class, listening to music and minding his own business. Verch took a special note of this guy, because no matter how hard he tried, he could never get his attention. As his attempts failed over and over again, his friends made fun of him and challenged him to make this guy fall for his charm. It was just another day when Verch didnt feel like going back to the hell he called home. Dark clouds filled the sky and it was quite late at night. He wanted to stay the night at school when some frightening thoughts came to him. The locker room was so empty that even the sound of rain could be clearly heard. Tears ran down his face as he remembered the terrible days he had been through and those that were about to come. He sobbed and wiped his face, It continued. Just then, he heard someone walking up to him. Terrified, he quickly looked up. He didnt want to lose the image of the perfect boy he build up with such hard work. Now someone seeing him crying would ruin everything. But surprising enough, It was no other than, Ethan. The guy he refused to stop bothering all throughout the day. As they both stared at each other, Verch was confused of what to do make this guy never speak of this incident. just then, he couldnt help himself and-
Renlight_ · 8.8K Views

Espresso in The Rain

Noah Kim, a second-year engineering student, has little time for distractions. His world is filled with late-night study sessions, caffeine-fueled deadlines, and the constant pressure of excelling in his rigorous program. But everything changes when he stumbles—literally—into The Roasted Haven, a cozy coffee shop near his university, and meets its enigmatic owner, Elias Carter. Elias, a 30-year-old former corporate worker turned café owner, is everything Noah isn’t—calm, composed, and hiding a mysterious past behind his charming smirk. Drawn into Elias's world of rich espresso, rainy evenings, and stolen glances, Noah finds himself coming back to the café for reasons beyond coffee. As their flirtation deepens into a passionate affair, Noah struggles with his growing emotions and the looming question of what Elias is hiding. When secrets from Elias’s past threaten to tear them apart, Noah must decide—will he walk away, or will he risk everything for the man who has become his greatest temptation? -------------- Excerpt: Noah didn’t know how he ended up in Elias’s apartment above the café, but the heat between them was undeniable. The scent of roasted coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the musk of Elias’s cologne as he pressed Noah against the wooden counter. "You keep coming back," Elias murmured, his fingers tracing Noah’s jaw. Noah swallowed, his heart hammering. "Maybe I like the coffee." Elias chuckled, his breath warm against Noah’s lips. "Liar." And then their mouths crashed together—hot, needy, desperate. Noah gasped as Elias’s hands slid under his hoodie, fingertips skimming the bare skin beneath. Every nerve in his body ignited as Elias lifted him onto the counter, positioning himself between Noah’s legs. "Tell me what you want," Elias whispered, voice low and teasing. Noah shivered. "You." Elias smirked. "Then hold on tight, baby." ------
Cuteping27 · 1.9K Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 702.8K Views
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