#the past two days the weather has just been grey and rainy and wet and foggy so i jave been soaking it up as much as possible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foli-vora · 4 years ago

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there she goes

A/N: Soft boi has arrived! Literally only watched his episodes of the Mentalist because Patrick Jane, quite frankly, annoys/bores the absolute shit out of me.

Pairing: Marcus Pike/f!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: none that I can see but please let me know if you think something should be added!

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Standing in line at your favourite little café, you watch the rain pelt against the glass panels of the shop with disdain, cursing the bright sunny morning that tricked you into leaving your umbrella and jacket at home. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky when you woke and left for work this morning, and now it seemed like the dark grey clouds delivering the onslaught of rain stretched from horizon to horizon with no signs of a break any time soon. Typical, you thought to yourself. Like your day hadn’t been bad enough already.

Your landlord had dropped the bomb of a rent increase, your car had a flat, you had missed the bus and had to take a cab, your desk chair decided to die – leaving you practically on the floor trying to answer calls and use your computer and the office printer refused to print anything, no matter how many times you called it a piece of junk and kicked it. Suffice to say, you were more than ready for a strong hit of caffeine.

You’re dragged out of your inner grumbling when a finger gently taps your shoulder and you whirl to face the tapper immediately, sharp words of irritation dying on your tongue the second you meet their gaze.

Brown eyes, you notice instantly. Soft, soulful brown eyes. He was… nice. Understatement. He was gorgeous, with neatly trimmed facial hair and windswept dark hair falling just above his eyes.

He gestures towards the counter with a polite half smile, “Uh, you’re next.”

You blink in confusion before glancing at the young girl behind the register, seemingly waiting for you to step forward and order, and quickly apologise to them both. She smiles, making quick work of your regular order and then you’re stepping aside, throwing another apology towards the stranger before finding a seat and sitting with a deep exhale.

The rain comes down harder because of course it does. You mentally add embarrassing yourself in front of the first decent looking guy you’ve seen in a while to your list with a quiet groan. Melting back into the chair, you take a moment to fully bask in your somewhat dry clothes and shoes before inevitably having to end up running through the torrential downpour back to the office.

A to-go cup is placed gently in front of you, your name scrawled across the side, and you blink dumbly at it before following up along the arm until you’re looking at the man from the line. He’s smiling again, his own coffee in hand and the other now buried in his pants pocket.

“Someone’s away with the fairies today.” He notes light-heartedly, and then gestures over his shoulder. “They called your name – I hope it’s okay that I bought it over.”

You blink again, and only when his brow quirks ever so slightly do you snap out of your reverie.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m not usually this spacey.”

His face softens, lips quirking into a sympathetic smile. “Bad day?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You reply dryly, eyeing the rain as you stand. “Thanks for bringing my coffee over. It probably would’ve been stone cold by the time I came back to Earth.”

You’re rewarded with a deep chuckle and it sends a little flutter through your chest. You made the pretty stranger laugh – not a total loss of a day, after all.

“I could try and make it better, if you want.”

You raise a brow, smiling shyly. “Oh yeah?”

He nods with a small smile, “Yeah.” He looks over his shoulders and shrugs lightly. “I could get you a slice of banana bread, a muffin, maybe… a gingerbread man? He has mini marshmallows as buttons.” His voice is light, playful, and when his grin widens, you find yourself unable to resist returning it.

You hum in thought, “Sounds like you’re a big fan.”

He chuckles, looking down as he nods. “Yeah look, I may eat colourfully decorated marshmallow buttoned gingerbread men more than a fully functioning adult of my age should.” He admits, grinning as you chuckle. “We could grab a table... maybe talk for a bit?” He watches you check your watch, hope growing in his chest at the thought of getting to know the pretty distracted stranger a little better over coffee.

“As tempting as that sounds, my break is almost over and I’m pushing it for time.” His face falls a little and you mirror his disappointment, briefly wondering if your boss would let you off if you tell her all about the pretty stranger at the coffee shop. “Thank you for the offer, though…”

“Marcus,” he smiles, shaking your hand firmly. The encasing warmth of his hand is enough to send a thrill through you, and your heart flutters in nervous excitement. The feeling doubles as he murmurs your name, pointing to your cup before you could ask how he knows.

You duck your head, smiling warmly at him before turning to the door and bracing for the wet chill that’s about to take hold. A warm hand softly pulls your arm back, and you turn back to him in question. He’s looking at your empty hands with a frown.

“Don’t you have an umbrella? Or a jacket at least?” Marcus asks, frown deepening when you shake your head.

“No, it was sunny when I left this morning – bad day.” You explain, a smile still tugging at your lips despite the downpour bombarding the street. There was something about this kind and pretty stranger that had you unable to stop smiling, and your cheeks were starting to pay the price with a lingering ache.

“Well, you can’t go out there without one, here – have mine.” He reaches past you and grabs the dripping umbrella propped up by the door, holding it out to you expectantly.

You recoil instantly, “What? No!”

“Please. It’s bad out there!”

As if to cement his argument, a snap of thunder crackles overhead, the rain increasing, and you cringe instantly.

Still, you shake your head and push his hand away, “I can’t take your umbrella! What about you?”

“I drove here – my car’s around the corner. Please, take it.”

You weigh up your options, not wanting to leave the handsome stranger with nothing to keep himself dry, but ultimately, it’s his pleading puppy eyes that completely win you over and then you’re reaching out, taking the umbrella softly and desperately trying to get a hold of your rapid heartbeat.

“Thank you, Marcus.”

He shrugs, an easy grin stretching his features and your eyes fall to glance over it appreciatively. He had a damn good smile. “Don’t mention it.”

“My knight in shining suit.” You coo, chuckling at the flush of faint pink that washes across his cheeks. “I can’t tell you how much this has turned my day around.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” And he truly is.

You linger a moment longer, grinning as he turns slightly bashful under your heavy scrutiny. “It was really nice to meet you, Marcus.”

He beams, “You, too.”

With a small wave, you disappear into the rain and Marcus sighs softly, watching you go with a small flicker of regret at the missed opportunity. Umbrella and your number next time, Pike, he scolds himself solemnly.

His nose curls as he watches the rain for a moment and then sighs deeply, reaching for the lapel of his jacket. He pulls it over his head and briefly thinks about his car, still parked in the nice and dry parking garage back at the bureau. He’s not at all sorry for telling you a little white lie to get you to take his umbrella, you needed something in this weather and it was his absolute pleasure to provide. Knight in shining suit. It had him smiling to himself the entire run back to the office, despite the downpour that had him saturated in the first two minutes.

He keeps an eye out over the next few days, intentionally going for lunch at the same time as that rainy day in hopes he’d see you again. Every day, he was left walking back with a feeling of disappointment, but not letting it crush his hope for the next day.

It’s not until over a week later when he’s standing in line, the café busier than usual, when he hears a familiar voice pipe up from behind him.

“I’ve heard the gingerbread men here are pretty good.”

You’re already smiling when he turns to face you, a grin of his own creasing his cheeks.

“I’ve been keeping an eye out for you.” He admits, nodding when you tilt your head with a curious oh? “Just making sure you’re not holding up any more lines – people need their coffee, after all. Can’t be waiting around all day.” He teases, laughing when you softly shove him playfully.

Shaking your head, you step up next to him and lean in to his side, “So guess what?”

He chuckles softly to himself, looking at you expectantly. “What?”

“I took a long lunch. Well, actually, I’ve been taking long lunches all week hoping to see you.” You admit, somewhat shyly. Were you coming on too strong? You hope not. It’s only been a week and you had missed him like you had known him longer than five minutes. You weren’t sure whether to be slightly concerned that a literal stranger had you so caught up in a whirl or thrilled that you had finally met someone who seemed genuinely decent.

He smiles softly, relieved that this little thing between you both wasn’t one sided. “I’ve been hoping to see you, too. I actually –”

“Hey, move it along!”

You startle, turning to frown at the irritated man behind you when Marcus chuckles and offers a small apology over his shoulder, before reaching for your hand and gently pulling you the short distance to the counter to order. You barely take notice of him and the barista talking, instead focusing on your hand now wrapped up in his, his thumb rubbing softly across your knuckles, and how it’s making your body thrum with electricity. You smile to yourself, eyes flicking back up to his face to find him looking at you expectantly, brow firmly raised with a small smirk.

You blink. “What?”

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #the mentalist

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dirty-holy-things · 4 years ago

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The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 20 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-19 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is exclusively 18+ and explicit. This chapter includes references to, and descriptions of, abuse from a parent. It is no more extreme or explicit than any other chapters, but please exercise caution.

Words: 5.2k update, 98.1k total.

If you would like to be added to my taglist for updates on this project and / or others, please fill out this form!

You pushed yourself up from the bunk, feeling the woolen blanket scratching against you as your body shifted. Your legs wobbled unsteadily at your weight, having grown accustomed to the comfort of the bed; but you straightened your spine as you crossed the cabin of the ship to the man you loved, the man who was still avoiding your gaze. The floor was freezing cold against your bare feet, but the chill only made you more alert and aware of your body and the space around you. Each step felt progressively more confident than the last, until you were standing mere inches away from him. He continued to gaze above and away from you, not affording you the illusion of eye contact through the blackness of his visor, but you were undeterred. You loved him, and you had hurt him, and you wanted to make things right.

You extended your arms slowly, just as you had many nights ago, on your first night in the ship. You thought back to how you had once moved with such trepidation, such nervousness, wondering if he would allow you to show him kindness. He had chosen to let you hold him then, and you hoped that he would make that choice again; you hoped he would make that choice every day.

Your hands landed on his waist, and he didn’t retreat or push you away. You drew closer to him, your breaths staying focused and steady; and he allowed you to wrap your arms around him, moving underneath the beskar, as you needed to feel closer to him. You pulled his body into yours with a bit of force, and you could feel the exhale of his chest as he pressed into you. He didn’t pull away, just as he hadn’t pulled away that first night, and you were just as grateful now as you had been then.

"I think I could stand anything, any suffering, only to be able to say and to repeat to myself every moment, 'I exist.' In thousands of agonies - I exist. I'm tormented on the rack - but I exist! Though I sit alone in a pillar - I exist! I see the sun, and if I don't see the sun, I know it's there. And there's a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

You blinked your eyes, and as they opened to the sights around you, you came to the realization that you were sitting on a beach; coarse sand shifting against your body, a whipping breeze moving through your hair, and navy blue waves crashing against the shores, setting off a cascade of ivory foam that exploded around you like fireworks. Yes, you were unmistakably by an ocean. You weren’t sure how you had gotten here — wherever here was — so you looked around for any clues that you could find.

You were in the same clothes you had been in on Nevarro. They were dirty — was that sand, or dust? What were those dark stains?

Dragging your palms through the coarse grey sands beneath you, you discovered there was nothing within your immediate grasp that would offer any clues; but you could feel stinging pinpricks across your body as the salty air blew against you. Looking around, your head swiveling, there was a sharp ache in your neck — but you pushed that pain away, needing focus on finding something that would give you some insight about where you were and what was happening.

Looking onwards, you saw that there were fearsome navy storm clouds rapidly approaching the shoreline you were seated at, and your eyes scanned the horizon nervously; you anxiously listened as the waves roared, almost like you had heard Din roar many times before.

Din.

Where was Din?

Your curiosity and worry was momentarily diminished as you felt something unexpected and wet fall against your warm cheek. Looking up, you understood that you were not crying, that the wetness on your face was not of your own doing. The roiling, dark clouds above you had now unleashed their freezing torrent, and the raindrops fell onto you with a steadily growing frequency that threatened to soak you through to the core within minutes.

You pushed yourself up from the sandy beach, brushing your stinging palm onto your pants to try and clean them off, before turning to try and find something in this unfamiliar landscape around you that may offer shelter. You had weathered many a storm, and knew of the aching cold that it would bring to those who were left exposed.

The landscape turned out to be not entirely unfamiliar — there were certainly many things out of place, but simultaneously recognizable in an irrefutable way. In the distance, through the fog of the rain, you could see what appeared to be your childhood home. The stone house was nothing spectacular or impressive, and it was quite small, but you would’ve recognized the pattern of those dark, moss-covered stones anywhere. You had spent many hours being forced to stare at the stone wall, after making the cat levitate, or talking to the pretty stranger woman in the marketplace who spoke a language that nobody else could understand. Somehow, you had come back to this place, to a home that was never really home.

As you shivered, the freezing rain running in rivulets down your body, you understood that you were being forced to make a choice. Sit here in the torrential downpour of rain, endure nature’s impersonal barrage; or seek shelter in the one place that had never truly been a shelter as it should have been.

You felt your heartbeat pick up speed with every fat raindrop that landed against you, their impact becoming steadily more and more forceful. Your thin jacket wasn’t holding up against the power of the storm, and with a shaking breath, you took a step towards the stone house. After all of these years, surely it was empty. Surely the inhabitants had changed, despite the resilience and timelessness of stone. This wasn’t really even your home planet — it was some amalgamation of memories and dreams from Eadu and Chandrila; it simply had to be.

The path to the house was a familiar one, although you knew that the home had never been close to an ocean — this absolutely must be some sort of dream, to bring together this combination of gorgeously torturous imagery — and as you drew closer towards the door with every step, you said a quiet prayer to whatever gods or Force that may accompany you, that the house from your memories would be empty. Your hand connected with the weathered and damp grey wood of the door, and you pushed your whole body weight against it, recalling how the door always stuck against the frame whenever it rained — which was often.

The door gave way as a particularly strong gust of wind blew against you, and you tumbled into an achingly familiar scene. The hearth across the room held a dying fire and red-black coals; the cots positioned around it were covered in the same green and grey blankets you had once wrapped yourself in; and the chest full of family valuables and heirlooms was tucked away in the corner, protecting the assorted quilts, books, and ceramic items that had been collected and protected throughout the years.

A sense of unease and comfort settled upon you simultaneously, almost as if the weight of a still-damp blanket had beed draped across your shoulders. Heavy, possibly well intentioned, and yet still unwanted.

It seemed to be blessedly empty, this memory of the house you had once known, and you were exceptionally grateful for that. The thought of a reunion with anyone from your past life, whether you were dreaming or awake, made your stomach clench in fear. Stepping through the entryway of the small house, you saw your father’s coat hanging by the door; it was weatherproof, as he worked endless hours on this rainy, desolate planet, and you were certain that if you were to pick it up it would still smell like him. Strong soap, a hint of tobacco, and an earthiness that could never be scrubbed out of the fibers, or the soul.

This isn’t real, you reminded yourself. This scene wasn’t really real, but the sensations felt as though they were, so you forced yourself to reach out for the jacket that would offer you warmth and protection from the storm. You felt tears prick your eyes as you shrugged the oversized coat onto your small frame; it was exactly as you had remembered it; and somehow it almost felt as though it were still warm. Retreating further into its protection and coverage, you stepped back out into the storm that was bettering the coast; your previous worlds of Eadu and Chandrila merging into one.

As you surveyed this unnatural scene, continually trying to rationalize and remind yourself it was a dream, you saw a familiar glint of silver — a glint of beskar. A scream tore itself from your throat as you bounced on your tiptoes, trying desperately to catch Din’s attention through the swirling debris that the powerful winds had whipped up. You could just barely see the thin line of the visor turn in your direction before your attention then turned to the small green toddler that was clambering across the sand dunes, the duo making their way towards you through the ceaseless rain.

You felt your heart leap at the sight of these two, the odd duo that you had come to love more than anything in this galaxy. You tried to run towards them, but as your muscles strained you felt as if there were an impossibly heavy weight cemented to you, holding you back from reconnecting with your true family. You fought harder and harder against the weights that held you down — and as your body fought back against this unseen power, you watched as Din and Grogu somehow begin to move even further away from you.

Arms reaching out desperately, you cried and clambered your way towards them, but for every step you took, you were dragged back threefold. Your muscles screamed in agony and exhaustion, your throat was raw from screaming their names — and yet they were still receding into the horizon, bodies eventually disappearing entirely behind the grey dunes and their grasses. This was a dream, but watching your family disappear could only be described as a nightmare.

And then out of nowhere, as you cried out for your companions, a wrinkled hand came swinging towards you at full force, landing across your face with a startlingly familiar impact that stung and smarted in a way that you hadn’t experienced in years. And yet, despite the respite from violence that Din had given you, you would’ve recognized those hateful hands anywhere.

You looked up into the aging face of your mother, hateful and wild, terror in her eyes — it held the same look that you had seen on the day you had run away; and your heart seized up in a paralyzing mix of fear and sadness, the same way it had the last time that you had seen her. All these years later, and you would still run from your mother. For all the growth, all the talents, all the forgiveness, all the skills you had developed — the instinct that had been beaten into you won out, and you felt adrenaline course through your bloodstream like gasoline to a fire, telling you to run like hell as you had once before.

As the fear and grief churned within you, the storm around you began to worsen as well. The crests of the waves grew taller, crashing with increasing ferocity; the stinging rain was now mixed with hail that threatened to break skin; and the winds that whipped around you threatened to knock you clear off of your feet.

“Well would you look at that,” your mother hissed, stepping away from you. “Ever the disaster, even now. All you bring is destruction!”

You shook your head, knowing this was a dream, knowing that what she said wasn’t true. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t right. You were only dreaming — you were really at home in the ship, wrapped securely in Din’s arms. This too will pass, you reminded yourself.

Though you knew it was only a dream, you wondered why did the sands and her words still sting, as the wind blew them into you? How could it still burn, knowing that no true pain was inflicted upon you?

Your mother looked towards the same horizon that Din and Grogu had disappeared behind, and you followed her gaze. “And of course, you’ve run off with whatever man gives you the slightest bit of attention — you clearly haven’t learned your lesson, stupid girl — wonder how long it’ll be before he has to start beating you like Orron did. Like I did.”

Her impossibly cruel and hateful words hit you with a breathtaking force, and you felt a concerningly familiar hatred and anger boiling within you, just as it had when you killed Bragant. Yes, you had killed Bragant — that truth could not be denied. You panicked at this sudden surge in emotions — you needed to control this, you needed to be in control, you didn’t want to lose yourself to that terrifying, encompassing darkness ever again —

And the very world around you began to violently shake as you fought back against the darkness, as you fought back against that thick, black, boiling hatred — you threw every ounce of yourself into pushing it away, wrenching your eyes shut in concentration, shutting out the painful image of your mother and her stinging, cruel hands. This evil, choking darkness felt as heavy and overwhelming as it had on Nevarro, but this time you fought it just as hard as you had fought for Din’s life on Bardotta. You were not going to let it win, you were not going to let it overtake you and drown out the humanity and love that you had so carefully cultivated. You could feel yourself screaming though the unyielding pressure and weight of the darkness, but as you clung to the smallest thread of light, you felt the vitriol and violence slowly begin to recede.

And then you saw Din and Grogu, reappearing on the storming horizon, fighting to cross over the shifting grey dunes to you.

They had fought to come back to you, despite the hurricane that you had created here.

Somewhere deep down inside, you had truly come to believe in their love and their dedication to you; and you had let go of the ideas of your mother, that you were nothing more than a source of pain and destruction. These two were living proof that you were capable of good things, that you were worthy of being loved, that you were capable of creating love and light, and growing something worth fighting for.

The thunder and crashing waves began to quiet, as the hint of a smile quirked your lips upwards. Your mother continued to stare in horror and disgust; you saw her mouth moving with hateful words, but you could no longer hear her voice. The torrential rain slowed around you, until it was barely a mist that settled across the landscape before you, and you felt the weight that had held you frozen in place slowly begin to lift. You stepped forward tentatively, your gaze moving past your still-screaming mother, to rest on the two that were now climbing down the last grey, rain-spattered dune.

You continued to step forward with rapidly growing confidence, until you were running at a breakneck pace, leaving your old cobblestone home behind — your heart was moving at lightspeed as you approached Din and Grogu, and as you came closer, you practically launched yourself into Din’s arms, colliding with the ice cold beskar with no regard for the bruises it would inadvertently press into your skin. As you wrapped your body around his, tears streaming down your face, the two of you somehow slipped — bodies tumbling, you landed on top of him in the sand, a laugh coming up from your chest to join the tears that had been brought to the surface.

You pressed your face into the cool beskar breastplate, your chest heaving with emotion; something was pressing into your arm, and you looked up to see that Grogu had climbed up onto the tangled pile of limbs, coming to rest between you, and he was making happy gurgling sounds that warmed your heart. This was your true family, these were the ones that you loved unconditionally, the ones that loved you back just the same.

The sound of the waves eventually disappeared, a silence settling around you; the winds slowly ceased to blow, and the sand that the three of you laid on disappeared beneath you, as the scene around you was wiped away and replaced with the scene of your true home — the Razor Crest.

***

You felt two strong and familiar hands on your shoulders, their grip insistent as they shook you from your sleep, as they shook off the dream that you had found yourself in just moments ago. Your eyes opened slowly, working to focus on the thin black visor that was in front of you — but something prevented you from focusing fully, and as you continued to blink you felt tears escaping from your eyes, rolling hotly down your cheeks. Your eyes flitted back and forth across the visor, as if you could see anything behind it, and you touched a shaking hand to your warm and swollen face that was covered with the dampness of tears. You must’ve been crying.

Din pulled you in close to him, sitting you up in the small bunk as your frame rested against his chest; he ran his hands through your hair, breathing deeply as he held onto you. “Are you alright? You were — you were crying, in your sleep. I couldn’t get you to wake up from it.” He sounded breathless, worried, nervous.

You nodded, your cheek brushing against the side of his freezing helmet as you worked to quiet the whimpering that was coming forth from you, and steady your shaking breaths. “It was just a dream,” you whispered, distantly recalling the storm that you had fought back against.

Din remained quiet as he continued to hold onto you; after all of the turmoil and upheaval of the past ... however many days, the two of you clung to each other even tighter, having experienced a taste of the devastation and terror that would accompany any separation.

Your breaths and heart rate slowed and became more steady; the ship was just as it had been before you and Din had fallen asleep against one another. You were safe, you were home. You pulled away from him slightly, wanting to reassure him that everything was alright. Your hand rose from your side to rest against the sharply angled beskar helmet. “I’m okay, Din, I promise. It was just a...”

Your voice faded off as you saw the utility jacket that dwarfed you. Your eyes widened in incredulity as you slowly extended your arms in front of you, seeing the sturdy weatherproof material move as your body moved within it.

“Just a dream,” you whispered, not wanting to scare Din, or have to try and explain something that you had no explanation for. You would address this new mystery at another time. You pushed this newfound mystery and worry to the side, focusing on the man in front of you who had remained by your side through all of the chaos.

Chaos, that could not remain unspoken. “Din,” you started, shifting to face him better. “I know what happened... with Bragant.”

His sigh crackled through the modulator as he moved to bring you back into his chest, but you resisted. The truth of this couldn’t be denied any longer, and you would have to confront this reality and assess how it would affect your future.

“Bragant was a bounty. He was a criminal. You won’t be in any... trouble, for what happened. Karga offered to... pay. If you want.”

You inhaled deeply, trying to wrap your mind around this information, trying to wrap your mind around everything that felt both insurmountable and invisible at the same time. “I hadn’t — hadn’t even thought about any legal consequences.”

“The Marshall assured me that you wouldn’t face any.”

You nodded, feeling grateful that this piece had been resolved before you even had time to worry about it. “It’s not only that, Din — when I was there, in that alley — he said things to me, awful things,” you paused, as you noticed your voice was shaking, and you fought back against the tears that rushed to your eyes and the heat that was rising in your throat. “When he said those things, I got... I got so angry. Angrier than I had ever been, angrier than I ever knew I could get. And I... I lost control.”

“You defended yourself against a violent criminal.” Din’s voice droned through the modulator. He was stating a fact, but this fact didn’t cover the whole truth of the matter. There was more to it than he wanted to acknowledge, but you had to.

“Din,” you spoke up, your voice holding an insistent edge that quieted the protests of the historically stubborn man. “Din, I killed someone. When I didn’t mean to. I lost control, back there, in that alley — I understand that killing may not seem significant to you, but it does to me, that was a lifethat I took —“

Din pulled away from you abruptly, a bit harshly. “You think that killing others doesn’t affect me? Is that what you really think of me?” His voice was louder than you had ever heard it before, and it cracked with strain and frustration; you could hear the hurt through the modulator. “Do you think that I enjoy it, like some sadistic bastard? Do you think that I don’t carry the weight of every single life I’ve ended?”

You cowed at his brazen display of pain and frustration, and an instinctual part of yourself pulled away from him, your legs and arms retracting inwards to protect yourself. You felt a hot wave of tears crashing into you, and you buried your head in the crook of your elbow, not wanting to upset him, not wanting to make this worse than it had to be.

“No, Din, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You whispered, your voice breaking; you weren’t sure if he even heard you as your face was hidden from view, buried within your arms. You screwed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever fury may follow.

It stayed silent for several moments, the tension and emotion rolling thickly off of the both of you; the air felt heavier, and each breath required more effort to draw the weighted air into your lungs. As you slowly came to the realization that nothing horrible was going to happen, came to the realization that Din was nothing like the ones who had come before, you lifted your head up from your arms to confront this emotional scene... but without violence. You had never experienced conflict without violence before; you didn’t know how to handle it, but you knew that you loved Din and trusted him.

He was now standing in the cabin rather than seated directly next to you; his body was facing yours, and yet his head was turned away. This was an intentional choice on his part; his body language spoke volumes, and he knew that every inch of positioning was intentional. And despite all of the beskar, despite all of the weapons, and despite all of the mental walls that he threw up against you — you could still feel how your careless words had cut him deeply. You had hurt Din, and you had to confront that. You had to acknowledge that, and work towards repairing this.

As you rested your head against the unyielding, cold steel of his breastplate, you pressed your hands even deeper into him, trying to convey all of your love and sorrow through touch alone; you hated that you hurt him, that you ever caused him a single moment of doubt. “Din, I’m so sorry,” you sighed. “I was — I wasn’t thinking, when I said what I said before. It was crass, and careless, and completely untrue. You’re a good man, Din Djarin. The best man I’ve ever known, and I’ve never even for a moment thought you were anything less than that.”

“Your measure for good men is concerning.”

You couldn’t tell through the warping of the modulator if he was being sarcastic, and making a joke; or if he was still smarting from your earlier words.

You pursed your lips, nodding against him. “You’re right. My gauge for a moral compass is a bit broken, a bit biased. But you have been the brightest spot in my life, the brightest star in my sky, and I want you to know that I think you are a better man than you give yourself credit for.”

You could sense a change in the beat of his heart, could hear it echoing against the beskar you were resting against. His posture shifted as his arms came to wrap themselves around you, drawing you into the familiar lines and curves of his body. You sighed in relief, melting into him, trusting that he had accepted your apology and forgiven you.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly that the modulator only barely altered the true sound of his voice. “I know that... what happened, was hard for you. You’re sweet, and kind, and that’s... one of the many things I love about you.” He was quiet for a moment as he pulled you in tighter, nearly lifting your now-freezing feet off of the ground. “I want to do whatever I can to help you.”

You nodded against him, a few tears escaping as you knew that you had his understanding and his support; and that was all you needed to trust that you would be able to navigate this uncharted territory together. You weren’t alone in this; you had Din and Grogu, and the three of you would find your way through this new challenge, as you had found your way through many before. You pulled away from his strong grasp, trying to gaze into the black and blank visor, needing at least some illusion of contact and connection. “I just... Din, I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve read books from at least 10 different planets, from 100 different cultures, and I haven’t got a single clue about how to manage this or what I can do to be better.”

Din stayed silent, as he often did, but you could feel the way that his fingers pressed more deeply into your body, imparting a sort of comfort that only he could give. You could feel his concentration as he contemplated what to say next; he had never been rash or rushed with his words, and it was one of the many things that you loved and appreciated about him.

“When I was traveling with Grogu, we crossed paths with a… Jedi. Ahsoka Tano.” Din paused, understanding the weight of the information that he was sharing with you. “She... said she couldn’t train Grogu, because he was too attached to me.”

Your lips quirked up in a smile, a small laugh coming from your chest. “She wouldn’t want anything to do with me, then.”

You heard Din chuckle quietly, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you knew he was not holding any grudges. “No, she wouldn’t train you either. But she told me that there is a planet, that has a... rock, that is important to the Force. Or to the Jedi. She said that by sitting on it, Grogu may be able to connect with other Jedi in the galaxy.”

An eyebrow raised up in suspicion at the story he shared. “Sitting on a rock will help us find another Jedi?”

Din shrugged, and you could imagine a clueless and befuddled look existed behind the beskar. “I don’t know. All of that magic — sorry, Force — stuff seems impossible to me. And yet I’ve seen it.” He gently tucked away the strands of hair that had fallen into your face, his hand coming to rest at your chin, lifting your gaze back to his anonymous one. “It seems too simple, just going to this rock — but it may be the best option we have.”

You nodded, resting your head in his large hand, enjoying the warmth of the contact. “I want to talk to Grogu first, though. I want to make sure this is something he wants too.”

Din nodded in understanding. “I’ll give you some space to clean up, and then we can meet Karga and the Marshall in town. They’ve been looking after the kid. We can talk about the bounty pay, and then set a course for Tython.”

You reached up to squeeze his gloved hand gently before turning to retreat to the fresher, to try and wash away some of the stress and the pain of the past several days. Your head felt as though it was swimming, or spinning, or both, with all of the upheaval that you had experienced; and as you shrugged yourself out of the weathered, industrial jacket that had somehow made its way onto your frame, you felt even more disoriented. You gripped the edge of the steel sink tightly, taking deep and slow breaths until you felt steady enough on your feet to turn on the water of the shower. You shrugged out of the rest of your clothes, your muscles still aching with exhaustion.

The blistering hot water rolled down your skin, and you worked to clear your mind and return to the meditative state that Ixxith had once taught you. Your body went through the motions of cleaning, your mind going peacefully blank and quiet. You couldn’t solve any of your problems or overcome the complexities while in the shower; so you saved that stress for another, more appropriate time.

When you had finally scrubbed away the last of the grit and grime that clung to you, feeling like a new and whole person, you dressed yourself and met Din outside of the ship that you had been encapsulated and recovering in for days. The sunlight felt harsh on your skin, but you welcomed the sensation that you had gone so long without. Stretching your limbs out into the open air, you smiled confidently over at Din, hoping that the confidence and bravado that you projected would eventually sink in and become more real.

He placed his gloved hand onto the small of your back, and you could feel the pads of his fingers pressing into the vertebrae of your spine, holding you up and encouraging you forward, just as he had so many times before. It was a quiet kind of support, but the weighted silence and intentional touches spoke more than any texts or volumes could, and his love and confidence made you stronger and more empowered than any Force training could.

Whatever happened next, on Nevarro, on Tython, on any other far-fetched planet in this galaxy, you knew without a doubt that you would face it together. You would face it with the kind of love that could only have grown in the quiet places of the ship, in the cold of hyperspace, between those who had been denied love and yet held an extraordinary capacity for it.

Taglist: @knivesareout @tanzthompson @stageleftlauren @greatcircle79 @bdavishiddlesbatch

#din djarin x reader #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic

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northcarolinanative · 5 years ago

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𝐀 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐨 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Request - by @cleverpapersharksalad: “Can you do an imagine about JJ writing the reader letters about how he feels about her with no intention to show her and one day somehow she finds them and they become a couple?”

A/N: This is pure fluff right here, seriously. It also is giving me to all the boys I’ve loved before vibes and I’m totally here for it. I know the request says that it was a letter, but I saw a post somewhere that said that JJ liked to draw and was actually good at it, So I kinda threw that in there? If you want me to re-write. I can haha. This is so different from my other writings so I hope y’all enjoy it:)

Not many people knew that JJ had a way with paper and pencil. It wasn’t uncommon around the cut, gave them all something to do during the rainy days. Writing, drawing, and reading was something that many of them picked up when the weather was too bad to go out. JJ was no exception. One of the things that he carried in his backpack was a sketchbook, it was old as time really, he had it for years. One day he was out on the hammock, he had it out in his lap as the rest of the pogues talked.

John B and Sarah sat in a chair, Kie and pope on the other hammock, while I was sat on the opposite side of the hammock as JJ. “Okay this has to be the hottest summer ever,” Sarah said, dramatically laying out.

“I second that” Pope said wiping sweat from his forehead.

“What about a quick boat trip and a swim?” Kie suggested. We all looked out over the marsh behind us. The grey forming cloud looking to only be moving forward. “Nevermind that,” Kie said, making us all chuckle a bit.

JJ had not looked up from his sketchbook. “What are you working on over there?” I said tapping his leg with my foot. JJ’s sketches always took my breath away. He would never admit it, but they had so much emotion in them. The lines and way it all came together was beautiful. Once, back when we all kinda tried in school, he had done a piece for art class, it was a portrait of John B made up with lines and colors, behind it was a letter, vaguely recalling how they met and his favorite memories. I teared up when he showed it to me. The painting was wonderful, but the words behind it were powerful. Of course, JJ being JJ said that it was nothing and just a dumb assignment, he needed the easy A. We all know JJ doesn’t care that much about his grades.

He turned the book to show us the page, it was the dock down the yard from where we were sitting. “Just a little sketch of the dock, ya know? Keeping my hands busy, with Y/N here so close.” He joked. JJ’s comment didn’t really throw me off, not anymore. JJ was flirty with everyone. He used to be that way with Kie, then the whole Pope and Kie thing started, and Pope got as territorial as he could for Pope. JJ respected him, so he stopped. Leaving me, the sole contender for JJ’s terrible pickup lines and borderline creepy innuendos. Not that I minded.

“That’s really good JJ,” Sarah said. She was still learning about the pogues and all the little things about us all, beyond the surface level everyone saw.

It wasn’t long before the rain started to drizzle down of us and we ran for cover into the house. On the way into the house, JJ tripped up the stairs, causing him to drop his sketchbook and pencil on the ground. I picked it up and turned it over. I was about to close it when I realized what it was. I opened the book so I could see both the pages. On the right side was a photo of me, it looked like he had drawn it on the boat, my hair was flowing out to the side, the lighting in the sketch really did me justice. It was in the same line heavy style that the portrait of JB had been in. I looked up at JJ, who looked frozen in his spot. His hand went to his neck, he couldn’t believe that of all the pages in that old sketchbook, it was that page that fell open. The other pogues had gone inside, still bickering over something small. I looked back down over the sketchbook, the rest of both pages were scribbly, messy written words, strung together in sentences. Tears pricked my eyes. I looked at JJ once more. He was still scratching the back of his neck, his gaze stuck on the floor.

“Do you mind if I read this?” I ask quietly.

He just slowly nodded his head and mumbled a “go ahead.”

I looked down at the letter once more. One big clump of text, waiting to be read. I started at the top.

“Y/n. I hope you never see this because I would probably die if you did. I don’t know how to talk about my feelings. I’m never good at it unless it just us. You bring out a softer side in me. When I’m with you I want to be better. I know you deserve better, and you have helped me work toward that. Every time I get into with my dad or a kook I know you’ll be there for me, always. You’ve taken care of me like no one ever has before. I think that’s why I have fallen so hard for you. Not that I would tell you. No pogue on pogue macking.” I laughed slightly thinking about Kie and Pope. “You have made me a better person. You’re beautiful, and I’m not just talking about the way you look, but that too. I guess what I’m trying to say is…” the in larger letters, trailing down the right side beside the portrait in bold scratched letters, “I think I might be in love with you?” I hadn’t realized the tears that fell from my face. JJ had never been this vulnerable before. I was surprised that he even let me read it. I looked up at JJ. The other pogues had quieted down inside, wondering what was happening on the porch.

“J” I stepped closer handing the book back to him. “That was beautiful.” My voice was quiet, barely over a whisper. I swallowed as he took the book back and started to walk past me to the door.

I grabbed onto his wrist, pulling him back to me. We were so close that I could feel his breath on my face. I looked into his eyes, as his eyes flashed between my eyes and my lips. I nodded slightly and before I knew it his lips were on mine. It was not like another kiss I had ever had. I heard JJ drop the sketchbook and I felt his hands on my waist pulling me even closer. One of my hands resting on his shoulder the other resting on his jaw. The kiss was sweet, it was soft. The emotions that we both had been bottling coming out at that moment. He tasted like mint and smoke, something that I could get used to.

“Umm guys” I heard Pope’s voice from inside muffled by the door. Then a few small gasps followed by a laugh or two.

JJ and I pulled away from one another out foreheads resting against each other. JJ moved one hand to wipe my still wet cheeks. “I think I’m in love with you too.”

-- MASTERLIST--

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hxbbit · 4 years ago

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Sweater Weather (Rafael Casal x Reader)

Words: ~1.7k

Warnings: Smut! some slight dom/sub undertones

Summary: On a rainy day in LA, you shrug on one of Rafael’s sweaters and Rafa likes what he’s seeing. A lot.

Now here I was, wanting to write a cute little drabble about wearing Rafael’s sweaters cause it has been raining for a couple days now where I live (and apparently also in LA) and it turned into - you guessed it - smut. Hope you like it!

It was one of those rainy days in Los Angeles, which were very rare, so you could barely believe your eyes and ears when you woke up that morning to a grey sky and rain pattering against the windows. You pulled the covers around you tighter, since it had also cooled down quite a bit. It didn’t help that Rafael had already gotten up to take Mia on a walk, so he wasn’t there to keep you warm and cuddle you.

Eventually you decided to get up, putting on sweatpants and warm socks together with one of Rafa’s sweaters which had Oakland written on the front of it to keep you warm. It wasn’t only the actual sweater that made you feel warm and comfortable, it was also the fact that it was Rafa’s and on top of that it represented a part of him and his home and something he is very proud of. It made you feel very close to him.

You went into the kitchen and made some coffee and while it was brewing, you stared out the window, watching the rain roll down the glass until you saw Rafael and Mia walk past outside, returning from their walk. They both looked equally wet which made you grin. Only a few seconds later you heard the front door open and saw them both come in. Rafael grabbed a towel to dry off Mia and her dirty paws before taking off his jacket and hanging it up to dry. He took his shoes off and then ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back and out of his face, that’s when he noticed you watching him.

“You’re up early,” he grinned at you, walking over into the kitchen where you stood.

“Couldn’t sleep, the bed was cold,” you replied with a little shrug and an obvious tease that he left you to wake up alone.

“Hey, blame it on Mia, not on me.” He held up his hands defensively, moving even closer to stand before you. You then noticed his gaze drop down to you chest, to the writing on it and a smile started tugging at the corners of his lips again. His gaze softening.

“You look so good in that,” he said, tugging at the fabric, pulling your body closer towards his, wrapping his arms around you and leaning down to kiss you.

Somehow you could taste the rain on his lips and you moved your hands around his neck, raking your fingers through his still wet hair and deepening the kiss.

His tongue ran against your bottom lip and you eagerly opened your mouth for him, letting out a satisfied little moan. You felt his hands move, inching their way underneath the sweater until his cold fingers reached your naked skin. You let out a little yelp in surprise, breaking the kiss.

“Rafa, your hands are so cold,” you laughed, feeling goosebumps form on your skin, squirming in his embrace to make him move his ice cold hands.

“What, you don’t wanna help me warm up again after being out in the rain all morning?” He said with mock offense, but still not moving his hands away from you.

“How about I pour you a nice hot cup of coffee? I’m sure that’ll warm you up,” you winked with a grin, turning around in his arms so your back was against him, trying to reach for the mugs and the coffee on the counter.

“Fuck coffee, I’d much rather have you warm me up,” he whispered into your ear before you felt him press a kiss right underneath it and placing some more along your neck, his beard scratching and tickling lightly. You angled your head to the side to give him more access and by now you knew him well enough to feel him smirk against your skin, satisfied, knowing that you gave in. But then again, it didn’t take much convincing to begin with.

And that’s also the moment when you felt his hands move again, which were not as cold anymore now. One hand slowly made its way towards the waistband of your sweats, moving underneath it, as well as your panties, with ease.

Rafa’s hand was all warmed up by now and if it wasn’t, it sure was now, cupping your heat.

“Look at you, already wet for me,” he whispered into your ear and it was true. It didn’t take much for you to get turned on by Rafa.

He moved one finger through your slit, gathering and spreading your wetness up towards your clit, where he slowly started rubbing circles around it.

His other hand moved upwards, taking your breast in one hand, massaging it and pinching the nipple, which made you push out your chest more against his hand.

You also started grinding your hips, trying to get more from him and his finger on your clit, but also feeling him hard against your ass behind you, and wanting to give him some of that friction as well. Rafa got the hint and sped up his fingers, but only for a few seconds, before he moved them away and down to your opening where he swiftly pushed in two fingers into your wet heat. A moan escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against his shoulder and he kept moving his fingers in and out of you rhythmically, the heel of his hand pressing and working against your clit.

Trapped between the kitchen counter and Rafa’s body, you were glad to have it steady you, because your legs were starting to feel like they were going to give out with your approaching orgasm. Hands holding on to the counter, needing something to dig your fingers into. Hips still moving, grinding, trying to chase the high that was about to overwhelm you any second now. Heat building up low in your stomach.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,…” You managed to mutter, accompanied by moans.

“Come on, baby, come for me. Come on my fingers,” he said, continuing his ministrations; and hearing him give you permission and spurring you on was what you needed to push you over the edge. The orgasm moving through your body in hot waves of pleasure.

Your head was still leaning against his shoulder, you turned it so you could kiss him as the last waves of your high were pulsing through your body, breathing heavily.

The hand that was on your breast slipped out from underneath your sweater, brushing a few strands of stray hair away from your face.

“Now bend over.” He pulled his hand from between your legs.

“What? Does your cock need warming up, too?” You asked with a grin and a breathy laugh, but you still did as you were told, leaning down onto the kitchen counter and Rafa immediately started pulling down your sweatpants.

“Oh it sure does, sweetheart,” he laughed.

Looking over your shoulder you watched Rafa pull down his own sweats and starting to stroke his hard cock and you couldn’t wait to have him inside of you.

You wiggled your ass a little to entice him some more, which only earned you a playful smack on your ass.

“So eager for my cock,” he smirked, moving the head of his cock through your folds, trying to push your hips back against him, but he held you in place with his hand on your hip.

“Always,” you replied.

He kept on teasing you like that for a couple more seconds, before he then finally pushed his cock deep inside of you in one stroke, bottoming out completely, filling you out so perfectly while he let out a deep groan.

“Fuck,” you let out on a quiet breath, but he didn’t give you much time to adjust, pulling almost all the way out again, before thrusting in once more and then setting a steady rhythm.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” He asked, on a hard thrust, but you couldn’t reply, too focused on the pleasure Rafael was giving you.

But you should’ve known better, you knew Rafa liked hearing your verbal responses, so when you didn’t answer him he reached for you hair and pulled your head back so you had to arch your back more.

“I asked you a question,” he said, this time with more bite to his voice.

“Sorry, yes, feels so good,” you managed to moan out, hoping that he would be satisfied with that answer. That slight sting of his grip in your hair adding to your pleasure.

“Good girl.”

Rafa kept fucking you, rutting into you and it didn’t take long before you felt his rhythm start to falter a little, getting more erratic. This was also the point where you started shamelessly chasing your high again, knowing that he was close to orgasm too.

You moved one of your hands between your legs, moving your fingertips over your clit and almost instantly you were at the edge of coming again.

And when you felt him thrust into you hard and cumming inside of you, it pushed you over that edge completely, clenching around his now slowly softening cock.

Rafa then let go of your hair and you slumped down against the counter again.

You both stayed like that when you felt Rafa move to lean over you and grab the kitchen roll. He pulled out of you and you could feel his cum starting to drip out of your pussy and Rafa watched for a second before he wiped it away, cleaning you up.

Once he was finished, you pulled your pants back up and turned around to look at him.

“Well, I think that coffee is cold now,” you laughed a little.

“I can’t help it when you look so hot in my clothes,” he said with a shrug, obviously not caring about the coffee, and pulled you into a hug once more.

His hand moved into your hair again, massaging your scalp slightly, soothing the sting of him pulling on your hair that had long since passed, but you still loved how he cared so much.

“You good?” He asked.

“So good.” You leaned in for a kiss. “You almost made up for that empty bed this morning,” you said with a mischievous tone in your voice and a smirk.

“Almost?” He said with raised brows. “Oh, baby, you just got yourself into some trouble.”

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal/reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #blindspotting #hamilton #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfic

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duskypinkbow · 4 years ago

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Shitty weather II Jeff Wittek

summary: You meet Jeff again after a long period of time.

word count: 3,4k (upsy daisy)

note: This is my first fic ever so pls bear with me! :)

A veery very big shoutout to my lil angle @geoffwittek for proofreading and correcting my mistakes! Love u gurl u r the best 🎀

“The house could be packed“ Natalie took the time to warn you. You waved her off while putting your bag between your legs „that’s totally fine“.

As you two drove through LA traffic you looked out at the sky and noticed the clouds are getting grey. „it might rain today..“ you determined, while the two of you continued your conversation. Finally, you pulled up at her house, or to be more specific, David’s house she happened to be living in. Nat parked the car in front of the gate due to the fact that the entrance was already blocked by other cars. Your friend looked at her phone „yeeep“ she said as the scrolled through her messages „there is definitely something going on here…“ - „oh, well I can always leave right away if it gets too much“ you promised while unbuckling your seatbelt and making your way to the house.

„Daaaaavid!“ she screamed, falling to the ground in fear. „You can’t do that to me!“ she complained as her hands rested over her heart. The brown-haired boy giggled, his phone still recording in his hands. After putting it back in his pocket he helped Natalie stand up again. „That’s my idiot roommate..“ Natalie explained to you. „aaaaand boss“ he added smugly, smiling from ear to ear. He stuck his hand out towards you. „David“ he said - „y/n“ you introduced yourself in return.

Once the introductions were done, you observed a big living room further down the hallway. „Come with me…“ Natalie instructed “I’m gonna show you my closet“. You followed her steps through the living room, which was indeed packed with people. Some of them sitting on the big white couch while others were leaning on the kitchen island. Natalie greeted them with a shouted hello, while you just waved shyly in an attempt to symbolise a well meant greeting to all of them.

In the bedroom, your best friend showed you her very well organised closet filled with dresses and fancy skirts alike. „What size shoes are you?“ she asked. “umm.. y/s/s..“ you answered while looking through the endless hangers. „damn, so I can’t give you those fanc-„ before she could even finish her sentence a loud „Naaataaalieee“ came from the hallway. „ugh“ she groaned, reluctantly setting the pair of high heels down. “I’ll be right back..“ you softly nodded and continued to look through her closet.

After some time had passed you still couldn’t decide between three of her alluring dresses. You put the hanger of one of them above your head so that it was hanging clearly in front of your body. „Oh you would look so cute in that one!“ Natalie said as she was re-entering her room. You smiled at your reflection in the big mirror. „Don’t you think it’s a bit too much for a wedding?“ you asked, still a little uncertain. „Absolutely not!“ she denied your worries. „When is the wedding anyways?“ - „in like three month..“ you answered, still glancing in the mirror while posing a little for yourself in assessment. „Then just take this one and the other two… you can decide closer to the day.“ you looked up, in slight disbelief at her offer. „I mean it..“ she asserted „I won’t need them…at least not in the next couple of months“ her words reassuring you.

With the dresses in your arms, you made your way to the hall in order to leave the big house again. You waved your goodbyes to the people still sitting and chatting in the living room.

As you made a turn in the hallway your head collided with a solid chest, your body almost falling down at the sudden loss of balance. Instead, two hands rested on your shoulders, effectively preventing the fall. „sorry i didn’t see-“ you said while looking up to be met with a pair of brown eyes. Your mouth remained slightly open, the rest of the apology stuck in your throat. It’s been almost six years since you last saw him.

You met on a rainy day in late autumn. Your clothes soaking wet as you stepped through the door of the studio. „shitty weather out there huh?“ first words he ever spoke to you. „tell me about it“ you nodded, focused on trying to wring out your soaked hair. „I don’t think that will help“ he chuckled lightly. The first time you heard his laugh, the handsome boy looked at you with a little smirk. „heey..can we get a hairdryer or somethin’ for her?“ he requested the man who was passing through the room, his right hand pointing in your direction. „Yeah I can grab one, you guys here for the shoot?“ the employee asked. Both of you nodded simultaneously „Perfect. Could you get ready in here?“ he instructed you on where to go and promised someone would bring the hairdryer.

It was silent on your way in before he decided to end the quiet by asking: „Sooo..is this your first job?“ - „umm, second“ you answered shyly, a bit intimidated by his hight, especially next to your smaller figure. „Is it that obvious?“ you asked, now a little embarrassed, questioning if you already did something wrong. He chuckled again „not at all“ he reassured, holding the correct door open for you „Jus’ wanted to start a conversation “ you smiled, feeling your cheeks flush at his straightforwardness.

„Yeah, I actually have another job in like two weeks“ you said while on the phone, a little after you two began to take some photos for the launching clothing line. „No…- I guess.. - no I need to find a new place for that time.. - yeah.. - worst case scenario I will just go to a hostel or rent a cheap hotel room…- i mean I’m just sleeping there right? - no yeah...i understand.. - i should really get going now.. - i’ll call you back okay? okay.. bye“ you end the call and return next to the tall stranger you just met, waiting for instructions on what’s next in the shoot.

„uhmm“ he begins shyly, still looking to the cameraman who was adjusting his camera. „not to be nosey..but did i hear that right? You need a place to live or something?“ you looked at his side profile, explaining your current situation. „Alright, so about that..“ he interrupts, glancing between you and photographer. „A friend of mine has a spare room going in his apartment. He’s actually already looking for a new roommate, but that could be postponed. If you want to I could call him up and ask if it would be okay for you to stay there?” - „wait.. deadass?“ you ask, his generous offer shocking you. „well, I mean only if you want to?“ He looked down to observe your reaction. „I- yeah..- i mean your friend won’t murder me right?“ you joke, looking up and into his warm. He’s the first to break the eye contact, glancing at the cameraman again. „He’s one of the nicest guys I know out there…“ he assures with a small smile present. „He is so fucking nice, wouldn’t even kill a fly…“ his words of comfort continue. „Well, then yes, please I am totally willing to take you up on that offer“ is your enthusiastic response, his full attention back on you & a genuine smile decorating the handsome features. „Alright...I will ask him after the shoot is over then..“ - „Thank you so much!… it really means a lot -...umm?“ you begin, hopeful of catching his name „Oh shit yeah, guess I never introduced myself right?“ the man realised. „..My name is Jeff“ he said, reaching out for your hand „Yeah right“ you chuckle, not about to fall for his joke. „No, really..“ the smirk is back on his face. „Oh, so you are an undercover police officer just like me?“ you whisper, hoping he might catch the 21 Jumpstreet reference. „damn..“ he mutters while searching in his back pocket „this fuckin’ movie really ruined my life..“ his hand emerges with a wallet, the ID in it soon handed to you. „Jeffery Wittek..“ you read aloud „the one and only..“ he confirms still smiling softly at you.

After the shoot was over Jeff called up his friend, confirming it would be alright if you stayed with him. The very next day he helped you take all of your stuff over to his friend’s apartment.

In the weeks that followed, the two of you grew inevitably close. Although both busy with work & other responsibilities on some days, you still managed to spend at least a few hours each day together.

Sometimes he just checked in on you, making sure to ask if everything was alright. On other occasions, he visited his friend and stayed the whole day to do nothing but spending time together.

You showed him pictures of places you have been to, in return, he would share his childhood memories. You even told him about your plans for the future, while Jeff opened up about his past. It became your favourite pass time to make jokes about his inability to read properly, to which he would only tease about your short height.

Throughout your stay, the pair of you talked almost every night, about everything, just because it came so easily between you two. Always enjoying every second of valuable time together, not wanting it to end.

One of those nights, you finally built enough courage to admit that you were moving out of the country to live in Italy with your boyfriend. In reply, Jeff confessed his plans to move out to LA cause he met a girl.

Your friendship started innocently. Neither of you would have thought that it could ever build into such an intense and deep connection within the short amount of time. You were strangers only days ago, now openly sharing secrets usually too afraid to tell even the closest of friends. Maybe it was because both of you understood the reflected lack of ulterior motives in honesty. After all, you made sure to just keep things friendly, flirting carefully avoided. Or because you knew both of you were leaving, that alone reason enough not be dishonest with each other. Whatever it was, it started to become a little dangerous with time, you all too aware that the two of you were playing with the fire.

Time continued to pass, you could feel yourself begin to like the familiar boy more and more. Your heart would beat faster any time you saw him, breathing stopping for a second every time his skin touched yours. It continued on: you would get lost in his beautiful eyes whenever he looked at you, asking yourself if he could feel the same way you were. If there could ever be more. You did your best to stop those thoughts immediately, reminding your mind how you were about to leave the country for your boyfriend, whom you loved and didn’t want to betray. Besides, Jeff started to see that girl.

One night, Jeff's friend decided to hold a little get together with some of his friends, your stay in the apartment effectively forcing you to take part. Everyone had their fun, all chatting & playing drinking games on a cheerful night.

After a while, some of you somehow ended up on the rooftop of the building. Most of the people out there just wanting to get a bit of fresh air or have a cigarette, but you went up solely to enjoy the view. You loved going up to the roof just to see the shining lights of the city that doesn’t sleep.

„So your stay here is coming to an end huh?“ Jeff was the one to interrupt your admiring, walking up to you, while you looked out to the lights. You nodded „yeah“ the word spat out sadly before taking another sip of your drink. „I never thought three weeks could be over with so quickly..“ his words carried a sad undertone. „Me neither..“ you acknowledged, „i think i did and saw more in those three weeks with you than ever before“ he chuckled at the true words. „yeah.. we experienced quite a lot of New York together“ he made sure to exaggerate with his accent, sight remaining locked on you.

When you finally looked up at him, you couldn’t help but tease „So.. Is the tough Wittek gonna miss me?“ you asked jokingly while running your hand through his wind tousled hair. „Of course i will.“ he admitted. „Haven’t had so much fun in a long time..“. A smile sneaked its way across your face „oh your gonna have fun again when you are reunited with your special lady.“ you rebutted, oblivious to how his smile faded a little. Of course he would have fun again he thought. But the girl he was seeing right now wasn’t you. She was funny, but her humour couldn’t compare to yours. She was beautiful but she didn’t have those cute little dimples, which only showed when you laughed aloud. She had a promising career in front of her, but she just wasn’t you. „I guess…“ he eventually replied, still deep in thought about the girl who couldn’t compare.

You took another sip of your drink and gazed away into the distance before finally glancing at the man who had your heart. „I think you- ..you have a little eyelash on your cheek“ Jeff said, abandoning his drink in favour of stepping a little closer and moving his hands up to your face.

One of them rested gently on your cheek, to give your head some balance as he titled it upwards, the other grazing right under your eye to get the fallen lash. His fingers lightly brushed over your skin, grasp so gentle on your face as if it was something precious. As if it could break if he put too much pressure on your little cheek. It was the very first time you really let yourself look him in the eyes tonight. Not that you haven’t looked into the brown pools before, but this time, in the light of the city, just inches away from your face, you really saw the artistic strokes of the different shades of brown melting together. You saw how the dark parts covered up the few light spots, saw his kindness and how much he truly cared about you, all by simply looking into his beautiful brown eyes.

His hand stayed on your cheek, despite the lash being long gone. You breathed out audibly, lost in the present moment. The scent of his cologne travelling up and into your nose in the proximity you two shared right now. „we should-..probably get back to the party…“ he whispers slowly, involuntarily glancing at your lips while his palm moved from its hold on your cheek to the back of your neck. „mhmm“ you could only hum lightly in response, feeling your heart starting to beat faster, slowly rising to your tippy toes. Your face is slowly inching closer to his & then you can feel his breath on your lips, eyes starting to close on their own accord, the two of you so close and right before your lips could touch - „Paarty time!“ one of Jeff's friend accidentally interrupts, tipsy shouting entering the rooftop. The two of you pull back immediately, not wanting him or anyone else to witness the kiss you almost shared. The friend walks obliviously towards Jeff. „man we thought you’ve left already!“ his word stuttered drunkenly. „No, I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye“ he chuckles away as if the moment you two just had never happened.

You had three more days in New York after that slip up before you finally left for Europe. Neither Jeff nor you mentioned the moment you two had together. After that night, and after you both finally sobered up, you convinced yourself that Jeff was too drunk to even remember what could have happened. His own thoughts were similar. Both of you far too scared to say something and ruin the time left. You were too embarrassed because Jeff had already started to date that girl he thought he liked, not to forget you were in a relationship with a boy you thought you were in love with . Both too cowardly to admit that there is indeed a spark there.

As your last day has come Jeff and his friend escorted you to the airport. „Man it will be so weird not having you around anymore y/n“ Jeffs friend said while driving through New York traffic. You looked out of the window in the backseat of the car. „I’m really gonna miss this..“ you stated, now slyly looking at Jeff, sitting in the passenger seat without returning your longing glances. In reality, what you would really miss..is him. You would miss his high pitched laugh, dark sense of humour and dry jokes, his warm and caring hugs and especially, his presence in your life. Not knowing if you would ever see him again or if you will ever come back to America again.

Jeff and his friend lead you to your gate, saying their goodbyes, promising to visit you in Italy someday, assuring that you’ll always be welcome if you decide to return. You hugged your new friend, who allowed you to stay in his apartment so graciously before looking up at Jeff. „Come here..“ he says, opening his arms for your embrace. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his head resting atop of yours. You breathed in heavily, trying to hold back the inevitable tears. He stroked your back in comfort „I’m really gonna miss you y/n/n..“ he conceded in a whisper. „me too..“ you admitted as well. „Promise me we will see each other again?“ Jeff asked, now looking down at you, while your own gaze travelled up to his eyes. You smiled sadly „I promise..“ you nodded with watery eyes. He hugged you again, saying your last goodbyes before you left to get your flight.

Jeff’s hair was slightly wet from the rain outside, a similar expression of shock on his face.„wow..uh, what?“ you let out, first to break the silence between you. „wow…“ he repeated dumbfounded. His hands were still resting holding onto your upper arms before he eventually raised them to his head in an act of disbelief. He shook his head, not sure if this was really happening right now, if it was really you in front of him. „I-„ you started again, but before you could keep talking he quickly forced you into a tight embrace.

His hands went back to your shoulders, still unsure if it was really you „This is insane..“ He muttered eventually, „it is..“ you confirmed. „How long has it been?“ Jeff was quick to ask while you still struggled to grasp the situation. „Almost 6 years..“ you uttered lightly.

„How’s Vince?“ he couldn’t help but ask with interest. „Oh...we uh, we broke up a while ago..“ you admitted, remembering your days in Italy. „oh I’m so sorry.“ the reply was sympathetic. „Yeah..how is Cierra?“ you asked in return, curious about the girl he started to see when you guys just met. Jeff glanced over into the living room, suddenly aware of all who were witnessing your reunion. „we also broke up a while ago..“. The information delivered with no emotions. You nodded lightly, unsure on how exactly to react or respond.

You checked your phone to look at what time it was, „I should probably go now..“ you mentioned, breaking the short moment of silence between you two. „Yeah..“ Jeff nodded, freeing your way to the exit. As made your very first step towards the door he stopped you by saying „Listen, before you go, can i get your num-“ before he could even end his sentence you interrupted „-just ask Natalie for it“ you informed him, „‚cause if you won’t, i’ll promise you that i will..“ you stepped closer to the door while teasing. „I’m not gonna lose touch with you again Wittek..“ you reveal and he chuckles.

Just when you were reaching for the front door again Jeff stopped you „y/n..“ you turn to look back at him, seeing that his stretched out hand held an umbrella „Here, take this..“ he demands softly „S’shitty weather out there..“ he adds with a little knowing smirk.

#the vlog squad #the vlog squad imagine #jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x y/n #jeff wittek x you #jeff wittek x reader #my post

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meliaaizawa · 4 years ago

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THE TYPHOON

Shota and Meiya get trapped in some pretty bad weather.

Word count: 2,054ish

*Shota's POV*

I walked down the street towards home when a light drizzle began. It had been cloudy for days, but it hasn’t rained, which is surprising since it’s rainy season. Because of the season, I had my umbrella with me, so I pulled it out of my bag and opened it in time for the drizzle to become a sprinkle. I stood, just looking out into the rain when I felt the approach of someone right beside me. It was Mei. “Hey, I was an idiot and forgot my umbrella… do you think I could squeeze under yours with you?” she asked as she stood next to me. I shrugged and said, “fine,” before continuing to walk in the direction of home. Mei has been one of my closest friends for all of high school, but she was also the last person I wanted to share an umbrella with. I’ve been trying to distance myself from her for the past year, but she seems to keep popping up from nowhere, making it harder for me to ignore her. The two of us walked in silence, with our elbows hitting each other on occasion as the rain gradually began to pick up. I had a bit of a growth spurt over the past couple months, making me a significant amount taller than Mei now.

I did my best to cover the both of us with the umbrella, but it was pointless, as the full force of the impending storm was now upon us. The wind was blowing the rain sideways, and it was hard to see directly in front of us. I felt Mei grab onto my arm with both of hers as if she were going to blow away, and I remembered her fear of storms. The umbrella blew inside out, so I ditched it and told Mei to make a run for it, grabbing her hand instinctively and pulling her along. We managed to make it to her apartment building and stood inside the entrance, both soaking wet. I looked through the window of the door we had just entered and saw nothing but grey. Mei was looking out as well and grabbed my arm again, and I could feel her hands shaking slightly. “I don’t think you’re going to make it the rest of the way home in that… You can come up to our apartment until it stops…” she offered. “I don’t want to intrude,” I replied. As much as I wanted to spend more time with Mei deep down, I knew it was highly irrational… but when I looked outside again, it was apparent I wouldn’t be making it home. I followed her up the stairs to their apartment, and upon opening the door, her mother was immediately there to greet us.

“Mei! Thank goodness you’re home! I was so worried you were stuck in the storm!” Amiyagi-san said, wrapping her daughter in her arms. “It’s alright, Mom… Shota helped me home,” Mei said, drawing her mom’s attention to me now. “Oh! Aizawa! Thank you so much for helping Mei back… she’s terrified of storms!” she said to me. I shrugged and replied, “I apologize for inconveniencing you. I will leave as soon as the storm lets up.” “Ah, well you may be here longer than you anticipated… according to the news, the ‘storm’ is actually a typhoon and is supposed to go through the night. I suggest you call your parents and let them know you’re staying here,” Amiyagi-san said. *Staying at Mei’s apartment for a whole night? Great…* I sighed to myself. “Oh, where is my hospitality? You’re both soaked! Mei, go get on some dry clothes… and if you have anything that would fit your friend, you should bring some out,” Amiyagi-san said. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mei quickly turn and escape into her room. “Please make yourself at home however you can,” Amiyagi-san told me before heading to the kitchen. I pulled my phone out of my soaked bag and sent a text to mom. *I’ll be home tomorrow* was all I typed.

After I hit send, Mei resurfaced from her room wearing dry comfy-looking clothes and her hair in a bun, with some folded clothes in her hands. “I had to borrow a pair of shorts from Zashi one day over the summer, so I know those will fit you… and this is one of Obo’s old hoodies he gave me a while ago… hopefully it will fit,” she said, handing me the clothes. “Thanks,” I said simply before heading towards the bathroom to get off my wet clothes. *Why would she need to borrow Yamada’s shorts??* I thought to myself as I slipped them on. They fit just fine, but the hoodie was another story... As I mentioned before, I had gone through quite a growth spurt… plus with all the working out and training I’ve been doing, the hoodie fit on a lot more snuggly than I cared for… it must’ve been from middle school Shirakumo. I came out of the bathroom with the wet bundle of clothes in my hand. “I will hang those up for you!” Amiyagi-san said, holding her hands out to take the clothes. “Thank you,” I said with a polite bow. I turned to see Mei sitting on the couch reading a manga, trying to ignore the storm going on outside. I went over to where I laid my school bag down and opened it to find all my books soaked. “Great,” I mumbled to myself as I shook the water off. “You can borrow some of my manga to read if you’d like,” Mei said, looking up from her book. “you know where my bookshelf is,” she added before looking back down.

Manga sounded like a good form of entertainment to get my mind off of Mei, so I headed into her room to grab a couple of volumes. I hadn’t been in her room since Shirakumo died, so I was surprised to see so many of his things there. I recognized one of his Loud Cloud jackets hanging up on a hook on the wall, some hero posters that were once in his room, several anime figures that I remember him buying, and a number of framed photos on the shelf just above the manga. I looked at the photos as I stood at the bookshelf and felt bittersweet about it. There were several of just Mei and Shirakumo, many of which were before high school, but there were also many of our little friend group.

Though the memories that were pictured were good ones, I couldn’t help but feel sad and a bit aggravated… *How can Mei stand to look at him every day as if nothing happened?? She’s already moved on to the point where she isn’t bothered by it… but she should be* I thought to myself. “Oh, for a second there I thought you forgot where the manga was,” I heard Mei’s voice come from her doorway. “I know, I’ve made quite a few changes to my room,” she said, reading my mind as she walked over to stand next to me and look at the photos. I kept trying to rationalize Mei’s feelings in my mind, but couldn’t, so I decided to just ask her. “Are you not bothered by the fact that your best friend is dead? You and Yamada act like nothing ever happened,” I asked, feeling hurt, guilty, and sad that our friend was gone.

I couldn’t look at her when I spoke, but I noticed she didn’t look at me either. “I knew Obo better than anyone… and he was the closest thing I had to a brother… I couldn’t possibly move on from his death as easily as you say,” she began. “I am bothered by it, just as much as you, if not more… and I miss him terribly. But because of how much I miss him, I am able to ‘carry on as if nothing happened’ as you said… I felt guilty and sad about his death for a while, but the more I thought about him, the more I remembered the good times we had while he was still here. I knew that if he saw me being sad over his death, he’d be upset with me, so I decided to do what he always did… move forward,” she said, picking up a photo of her and Shirakumo as young kids. “And even though I keep going forward, I’ll never forget him and all we’ve been through, which is why I like having so many reminders of him around me. It makes me feel like I can be at least a fraction of the great friend that he was,” she said. In that moment I admired Mei. If anyone deserved to sulk over Shirakumo’s death, it would be his best friend since childhood… yet here she was smiling and being the great friend that she said she wanted to be a fraction of. I wish she could see how she has never left my side in the past year. She has handled this situation a lot better than I ever could.

Before I could come up with any reply, the lights suddenly turned off as I heard a crash of thunder… we had almost forgotten that we were in the middle of a typhoon. As the thunder crashed, I felt Mei grab onto my arm again, as if I could do something to protect her. When she realized what she had done again, she let go of my arm and said, “sorry…” before turning to look for a flashlight in the dark. A light from the door came and lit up the room. “You kiddos alright in here?” Amiyagi-san asked as she came into the room with a lit candle and flashlight. “We’re fine, mom…” Mei said nervously as more thunder crashed. “Ah, well I finished cooking just in time, so let’s go ahead and go eat!” Amiyagi-san said cheerily as if there was no storm going on outside. We all sat at the kitchen table eating silently. I kept thinking about Shirakumo and about Mei… *if she could move on and heal from this, why am I having such a hard time?* I thought.

I noticed she was more quiet than normal. Whether it was because of the storm or because of what I said, I wasn’t sure. “You know what? We should play a board game or something after we finish eating!” Mei’s mom said, probably noticing the somber mood of the table. The storm continued to rage outside as we finished our food and transitioned into playing monopoly. It seemed to take Mei’s mind off of the storm, and she was soon back to normal, giving me a smug smile when she took ownership of all my properties after I had gone bankrupt. By the time it was finished, it was quite late, and the typhoon wasn’t getting any lighter. “Mei will sleep with me tonight, so you can sleep in her room… I already changed the sheets and everything!! Hopefully you’ll get some sleep tonight despite the storm,” Amiyagi-san said to me. I bowed politely and said, “thank you for your hospitality.” The two went back into the master bedroom while I made my way back into Mei’s room and got settled into her bed. It felt a little weird at first laying in her bed, but the scent of her put my mind at ease. Though I was relaxed, I felt like I wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight after all… not because of the typhoon, but because of my mind not shutting up.

#bnha #fanfic #shota aizawa #meizawa #typhoon #lowkey cute #teen!aizawa

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doctors-star · 4 years ago

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writing challenge prompt: apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter. (Pairing Peter/Alex/Ruth if you fancy it)

prompt list

apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter

The farmyard looks like it’s on fire. Great coiling, curling masses of steam are rising off it and ascending heavenward, for all the world as if a large dragon had set up shop beneath the chickens’ feet and is now puffing away to itself. The steam is solid silver and grey in the midmorning light, swirling on invisible thermals like Degas’ ballerinas, and edged with sunlight that is altogether too bright to look at.

He is looking anyway.

His eyes are scrunched up with an intensity usually reserved for awkward texts and inscrutable hill forts, brow furrowed and creased over heavy, dark brows. He’s got one hand on his hip, the other wrapped thoughtfully around his chin; his feet are planted squarely in boots coated in solid, cloying mud. He looks immovable as an oak tree, there in the farmyard. The world around them could end, he thinks, and Peter would still be standing.

Peter shifts, hand moving from chin to forehead to form a slight shield against the vivid wall of brightness. His sleeves are rolled up and it is possible to watch his muscles shift under his skin, as has been impossible for the past few weeks of seemingly endless rain. It has been cold and wet and miserable for all of January, feels like, and the dawn of February has not given them much cause for hope; but now, the rain has stopped, the clouds cleared, the mercury in the thermometer made the effort and risen above five degrees, and Peter has his jacket off and sleeves rolled back right away, as if this is the only sunshine he expects this year and he had better appreciate it.

In fairness, it is Britain. Stranger things have happened.

And anyway, Alex can understand the idea. He is, after all, watching Peter as though the man might disappear; as if this is his only opportunity to lean propped up on the cart in the sunlight and see him, sleeves pushed back and squinting and lit up by light and steam. How very long the winter has seemed.

Alex leans back a little and folds his arms, glaring into the east a little more himself, to look the same way as Peter. Ruth - of course, of course they are watching Ruth - is talking with great animation to their flock of chickens, hands on her hips as she chides them. They keep ducking about around her feet rather indignantly, dipping their heads with their strange stop-motion movements to tap their beaks unenthusiastically against the frozen ground as if to say why aren’t you feeding us? we cannot possibly be expected to feed ourselves in this weather! And Ruth is laughing at them, with the sun behind her head and behind the trees so that the rays are oddly defined; segmented spikes, like a great art deco sunburst.

“I will not feed you,” she is telling the birds with stern amusement. “You do not need it. It is a glorious day, at last, and you can go and enjoy it. And eat all the other things who are out enjoying it, too. It’ll be good for you. Lazy sods.” One of the chickens, the buff-coloured, famously bad-tempered one, darts forward and then struts nonchalantly away towards the pig sty. Ruth sputters an indignant laugh, jaw dropped in surprise. “Did you just peck my shoe?” she cries after the retreating bird, who puts on a burst of speed. “The audacity!”

Alex can feel the grin that’s lodged on his face; Peter, face still screwed up against the light, snorts inelegantly and she looks his way and beams. “Are you no longer a chicken authority?” he asks her very solemnly and sympathetically.

“My shoe has been pecked!” she informs him, rather redundantly, but it makes them both grin all the same. “They’ve lost all respect for me.” She watches the other chickens follow the vicious ringleader towards the patch of grass by the pigs where they peck morosely at the grass and dirt as if they don’t expect to find anything and reckon they’ll have starved by lunchtime. The various worms and insects which have ventured to the surface to enjoy the rare sunlight and which are now being snapped up by the sharp, aggressive movements of the chickens appear to do little to make them feel better.

“Get free-range chickens, they said,” Peter sighs, not unhappily. “It’ll be so rewarding to watch them hunt for themselves, they said.”

Ruth turns back to him, hand dropping from over her eyes, to laugh. Then she tilts her head on one side, offering him a lop-sided smile. “Are you alright?” she says. “I’m sure the camera crew would lend you some sunglasses until we film, if we haven’t got any thirties specs - face all screwed up, you look like a gargoyle.”

“I’m feeling great, thanks,” Peter says, voice all level and dry to make her laugh. “Really complimented and supported too. Have we actually got any proper shades, though? Alex’ll love them - he likes pretending he’s in Top Gun.”

“I do not,” Alex protests automatically and without a great deal of conviction.

Peter and Ruth turn to the sound of his voice, faces open with pleasure and slight surprise. “Oh, hello lurker,” Peter says cheerfully. “Was wondering where you’d got to.”

“I do not pretend I’m Tom Cruise,” Alex tells Ruth firmly, ignoring the lurker comment. She raises her eyebrows, one finger pressing against her mouth in futile prevention of a smile, and waits with interest for him to elaborate. “That - that bloke in The Mummy,” he finds himself saying, snapping his fingers as the name escapes him. “He’s got to wear sunglasses at some point, hasn’t he? I’ll be him.”

“Who, John Hannah?” Peter says, chirpy and obtuse with a grin from ear to ear and his hand cupped around his eye to shade against the February sun. Alex sends him a mock-withering glare and his smile somehow widens; Ruth laughs, bright and affectionately evil. “You do kind of look like John Hannah, you know,” Peter says, very deliberately reasonable.

Alex points at him warningly. “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he tells Peter’s smirk, “but you know I was talking about the other one. O’Connell,” he says, snapping his fingers again in triumph.

Peter tuts and shakes his head sadly. “Nope, the hairstyle will out - you’ll have to be Hannah and I-” he places his hand on his heart like an old-timey Shakespearian actor about to monologue his way through a half-hour death scene, “-shall be O’Connell.”

Alex spreads his arms in indignation, appealing to Ruth in supplication for aid; as expected, she laughs at him.

“Ruth can be whatsherface. Evie,” Peter adds happily.

“No, no, I’m being Lara Croft,” Ruth corrects. “I want to run about in temples and have a mansion and a butler.”

Alex nods, conceding this point. Peter wanders over and places one large, sun-warmed palm on Alex’s shoulder, gesturing at him with the other and squinting towards Ruth. Heat leeches from the sun to the air to Peter, and he presses it into Alex’s joints like a balm. It soothes and steadies, even as Peter says “Do you want Alex for your butler?”

“Oh, yes please,” Ruth says cheerfully and Alex sighs, as deliberately and falsely put-upon as the chickens. Peter snorts and hauls him closer, half hug half headlock; he goes willingly, even as he makes an effort to look hard-done-by for Ruth.

“Why aren’t there any more cool archaeologists?” he says.

“Well,” Peter says, sounding rather apologetic, “there is always…”

“Indiana Jones is a terrible archaeologist,” Alex says firmly. “Great jumped-up cowboy.”

Ruth huffs a laugh at the tired old argument and tips her face up into the sun rather than engage with its well-trodden lines. She breathes deeply, inhaling great lungfuls of warmed, clear air; against his back, Alex can feel Peter breathe slow and steady and perfectly in-time. There’s something soothing about it, in the same way that there was something soothing about watching Peter watch Ruth: it is nice to know, sometimes, that other people operate the same way he does. For a moment, there, in their long-awaited sunlight, the whole thing had been as mana from heaven, all warmth and brightness and that peculiar kind of beauty that cannot be looked at head-on. He’s not sure he had really noticed, before, how much the interminable, rainy January had worn on him, until he had been confronted by the sunshine; by Ruth’s art deco halo, and Peter’s scrunched-up gargoyle face; by truculent chickens for the laws of farm and man. And intensity of emotion can be isolating, if the moment is not shared - but it is. Ruth is breathing it; Peter is holding him a little too tight; they are all together under a sun a little too warm for the season.

“There should be more films about historians,” Ruth declares to the sky, eyes resting closed. “What’s not cool about this?”

“Right,” Alex says. “We haven’t been rained on for, ooh, must be twelve hours now. Hours of action and entertainment in this line of work.”

“What’s it mean for Candlemas weather predicting,” Peter says, shaking Alex’s shoulders slightly but letting him stand fully and lean into his side, “if Candlemas itself is disgustingly wet and rainy but the day following is worryingly sunny?”

“Worryingly?” Ruth snaps, cracking an eye open to frown at them.

Alex ignores this and sucks his teeth. “Oh, nothing good, I’m sure. We’re being lulled into a false sense of security, mark my words.

Peter frowns with deep and false concern. “Snowed in by the morning?”

“If we even last the night.”

Ruth works one glove off her hands and throws it at them, nailing Peter in the chest; he scrambles to catch it. “Worse than the chickens, you two are,” she says, fighting a smile. Peter holds out the glove and she presses her lips together and crosses the yard. Her fingers fold around the leather in his palm; his thumb falls gently to rest over her knuckles. Ruth looks up at them, all amused reproach. “Can’t you just enjoy it?”

Alex and Peter share a look, and then Peter shrugs. Alex looks back at her, and the sunlight, and the chickens and the pigs and the way her hair shines copper and Peter’s scrunched-up face and the warming, thawing ground - like spring is coming. He shrugs too. “We’ll give it a go,” he says.

#all heavily influenced by the time i yelled the audacity! in a public place because a pigeon peckedd my shoe #a pigeon!#the audacity!!#i'm not over it.#incidentally it's minus two and snowing today so this is based on a day last week #i'm cold :(#thanks for the prompt!#i am working on the others #this is your captain speaking

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toho-literature · 4 years ago

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Curiosities of Lotus Asia - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Summer Rainy Hall - Part 1

With its strong sunlight and blue skies, the peak of summer has come to Gensokyo. However, the area around Kourindou alone has forgotten that the rainy season has ended, and the strange downpour continues... The first half of Chapter 5, about an unusual weather phenomenon, of an original story based on the "Touhou" series!

Summer Rainy Hall (First Half)

Once a year, the humid Japanesque rainy season comes to a close, and Kourindou is allowed to bathe in intense sunlight again.

The rainy season promotes the spread of mildew which damages books and tools, causing no end to the troubles of my antique shop. That melancholic time of year has finally announced its end.

...However, my worries have not yet cleared up.

It's not that I especially dislike the summer sunlight. The strong sunbeams make the shop's interior darker; possibly because of the angle. The contrast of the darkness of the shop and the brightness outside the window really makes it feel like summer. I like both the darkness and brightness.

However, this summer is different. The strength of the sunbeams prove, without a doubt, that midsummer has arrived. But more light than necessary is shining in through the window... It's as if the shop were standing next to a body of water, with the reflected light illuminating the interior. This absurd brightness doesn't feel like summer. For some reason, it seems this type of weather is only occurring around my shop. What's more, it's been like this for three days now.

Unfortunately, investigating "incidents" like this is not my specialty. Usually, even in the slightest occurrence of an incident, there would be people around to solve it for me immediately. Except... as it seems that only the area around my shop has been affected for one reason or another, it looks like she hasn't noticed yet. But going to request an investigation in the middle of this kind of weather is troublesome...

Well, knowing her, she's bound to show up even if I leave her alone. She always comes when it doesn't matter, or when it does matter. I don't know if that's a help or a hindrance...

―――Knock, knock.

“Hey! Why's the rain only falling around your shop!”

See? There she is. The incident specialist I mentioned. “Well, if it isn't Reimu.”

“You came just at the right-” is what I was about to say, but for now I'll see how things will turn out with Investigative Specialist Reimu. She might know something about this incident.

“Of course it's me. Jeez, don't you even know what state your own store is in?”

Though the rainy season is over, the rainfall continued to fall with no sign of stopping. It is indeed a strange occurrence. Not a cloud can be seen in the endless blue sky, yet this phenomenon is solely located in the vicinity of my shop. However, for the time being, I've decided to pretend to ignore it.

“What kind of state are you talking about?”

“I'm shocked. Don't you go outside at all? It's raining so hard around your shop you can't even see outside. And there aren't even any clouds... From a distance, it looks like there's a white blanket covering just this area. You're not running any weird experiments again, are you?”

“Ah, so it really was just around the shop.”

Well, I knew that.

"What are you scheming?"

“Nothing at all, Reimu.”

“Even so, this is quite the fox's wedding you have here. It doesn't look like this is your average fox.”

It doesn't seem that Reimu has any information about this either. Perhaps I should devise a way to get her interested in an investigation. I handed a towel over to Reimu and told her to dry her dripping clothes with it.

“Anyhow, it sounds like you had it tough back then.”

“What do you mean 'back then'...? I always have it tough, so I don't quite remember.”

“It was snowing until just before the rainy season started. Weren't you the one who solved that problem, Reimu?”

“Oh, that? It wasn't a big deal. I've had far worse run-ins, and those weren't even that big either, I guess.”

“I'm not sure if that means you are having it tough or not.”

“It's the same as always. If anything, things will get tougher if I leave them alone. If spring hadn't arrived, it would be trouble so that problem had to be taken care of. If the mist didn't clear up, it would be trouble so that also had to be... Wait, so that means you're in trouble, right?

“It seems like you understand perfectly. Yes, I'm in trouble.”

“You should have said so in the first place! I guess I have no choice. I'll investigate this fox's wedding for you.”

Reimu seems to be having fun. However anyone looks at it, it doesn't look like she has it tough. Rather than solving it because I'll be in trouble, she looks nothing else but thrilled at the thought of flying headlong into strange happenings.

“Sorry, but I have some other business I need to take care of. I'm worried as to what I should do about them.”

I don't really have any particular things to do. You can clearly see that I'm unoccupied, but this kind of incident is outside my field of knowledge.

“Well, whatever. My clothes are soaking wet anyway, and it won't make a big difference if I go out in the rain again... You should take care of your "business" and stay here. Though I think this kind of minor problem can be squared away in no time.”

Upon saying that, Reimu left the shop in high spirits. She took up my request, as expected. But thinking about it very carefully, I realized that Reimu came for no particular reason. Actually, maybe she had every intention of solving this incident all along.

I came to this conclusion from the mostly dry towel I had handed to Reimu. She hadn't used it. It looked like she entered while planning to go right back out again. Or maybe she didn't care whether she was soaking wet or not.

If I leave things to Reimu, after a few hours the crisp summer sunlight will shine down upon the shop, and the shop's interior will once more regain its summer darkness. Once she sets to work, the usual incident will be resolved in two to three hours, up to half a day and at the very most a day. That's the standard.

I wondered if I should make some fresh green tea and read a book. I can leave the rest until later. The pleasant smell of tea makes you forget the passing of time. Though if Reimu were to see me like this while she is working hard, she might become angry...

But even if Reimu didn't seem to know the reason behind this fox's wedding, I think I have an idea. I never thought it would be possible, but... if it is what I think it is, it's an omen. If I wait a short while, things will return to normal, so perhaps this is something that can only be handled by Reimu's emergency procedures. Besides, it would've been dangerous to tell anyone else. I especially couldn't tell Marisa.

―――Boom! Craaaaack...

It happened in an instant. The shop's interior lit up with a blue-white light so bright that I couldn't even read my book, and then along with the exterior, darkened the next moment. Soon, the rain became heavier, the sky that should have been clear darkened, and the distant scenery became obscured.

I was expecting the strong sunlight of summer, so was honestly shocked by the sudden thunderstorm. To think that there could be thunder while the skies are clear... Although I suppose even in fine weather, it can start raining anyway.

The sudden heavy rain made me worry a little about Reimu, but it was her idle complaints after she solved the matter that really worried me. She'll fix the problem eventually, but clearly I had not predicted the pouring rain. I should probably prepare a change of clothes for her. If anything, her mood is the bigger problem here.

I approached the window and took a look outside to see what the conditions were like, but I couldn't see Reimu at all. The rain just kept getting stronger, like it was trying to drain the color from the world. The outlines of the forest and the mountains gradually began to fade, finally becoming a world of dark grey. The only thing I could hear was the sound of the rain striking the roof.

At that point, I saw a human run past the shop. A figure that, like the current surroundings, possessed no color. It was white and black; a monotone shadow.

#touhou cola #curiosities of lotus asia #touhou #touhou project #project shrine maiden

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slippinmickeys · 5 years ago

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Fools In The Rain

Inspired by the prompt set forth on Twitter by @IngridDaS1013: “Mulder and Scully get caught in the rain on the way to Mulders apartment so they go up and Scully has to wear something of Mulder’s while her clothes dry…”

XxXxXxXxX

It had been a bit of a shitshow from the start, Scully thought, as they ran down the wet cobbles of Prince Street, dodging puddles and doing their best not to slip and fall.

What had started as a weekend work session at Mulder’s apartment had turned to pell mell running through a deluge when lunchtime rolled around and Mulder had nothing in his fridge or pantry but a jar of pickles and 3 month old milk.

Scully supposed she was partly to blame as well, having turned down Mulder’s offer to have pizza or Chinese delivered, and they headed out into Old Town without checking the weather.

They’d landed at the Majestic, which had a salad Scully had been craving for weeks, and midway through lunch, the sky had opened up and the heavens wept. And wept. And wept.

Their waiter suggested they stay as long as they needed to for the weather to clear, and, feeling bad for taking up a table on a busy Saturday, they both ordered a drink. And that’s how they found themselves, 3 Yuenglings and 2 rather large Sauvignon Blancs later, dashing through Old Town, and the 15 minute break in the rain they thought they had ended up being only about 5.

It was pissing rain, they were soaked to the skin, and as uncomfortable (and tipsy) as she was, Scully wasn’t about to soak the back seat of some pour cabbie’s ride when Mulder’s apartment was only another 3 blocks away.

When they were one block away, Scully had almost fallen twice, and at that point, Mulder took her hand and didn’t let go.

Hegel Place loomed ahead, and of course Mulder fumbled with his key, dropping it twice before they practically fell inside, finally out of the weather.

Scully looked at Mulder as they ambled toward the elevator bank. She hadn’t seen him this soaked since the hurricane thing with Arthur Dales down in Florida, and his hair plastered to his head, with little rivulets running down both cheeks reminded her of an otter. She thought of Mulder holding a rock with two hands trying to open a clam shell and she laughed out loud, the sound of her guffaw echoing down the hallway. Mulder shot her a look askance.

This was the last time, she promised herself, she was ever drinking in the middle of the day again.

XxXxXxXxX

Mulder was glad Scully thought this was funny, because an hour ago, he was pretty sure she’d wanted to kill him.

Not just for the fact that he had no food in his house when he’d invited her over, but he’d also forgotten the envelope of receipts in the office that they needed for their last two expense reports, which is why they were working on a Saturday in the first place. He’d been as chivalrous as he could while they were out, hoping to make up for it – picking up the tab at lunch and helping her over giant puddles at several intersections too deep and wide for her to jump over.

He suspected her mood had more to do with the ¾ bottle of Marlborough’s best she’d had after lunch than his own quiet acts of heroism, but he let her lighthearted laugh take some weight off of the day’s general mood.

He grabbed another look at her as they stepped off the elevator on the 4th floor, and he forgot about his own discomfort at the sight of her.

She’d dressed down, it being a weekend, and had been wearing an apple green fitted sweater and a pair of lightweight black slacks. Both were now clinging to her almost lewdly, plastered to her body like they didn’t want to let go. Her hair she’d pushed back with both hands and it was slicked back away from her face. He was reminded of the old Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issues he’d hoarded in college, and his mouth went dry despite the humidity.

“Mulder?” Scully said, looking at him quizzically.

It took him a moment to realize they were standing in front of his door. He shook himself and unlocked it.

XxXxXxXxX

The second they were inside, Mulder disappeared into his bedroom and was back a moment later, shirtless, toweling off his hair with one hand, while he held out a towel to Scully with the other.

It took her a moment to take the proffered linen, momentarily distracted by the sight of his bare chest.

At various times in their partnership, Scully had had the opportunity to see Mulder shirtless – generally while he was injured and under duress – and she’d seen him both sprinkled lightly with chest hair, and shaved bare. He was currently the latter, his skin smooth and slightly tanned, the definition of his rectus abdominis pointing like an arrow to the area of his anatomy she shouldn’t be thinking about but definitely was.

“Here,” he said, as she took the towel. “You can have the bedroom to change. Grab anything in the dresser to wear – if you put your wet things outside the door, I’ll run them down to the laundry and throw them right in the dryer.”

She ran her eyes over him again as she nodded and walked slowly back toward his bedroom, closing the door behind her and giving the towel a dubious sniff for freshness.

It smelled like Tide and Mulder, a heady combination that brought her to flashes of his clasping embrace, of evidentiary conversations in rental cars, in interview rooms -- his low brushing voice three inches too close. It was fresh breeze and moschate, and she pushed her nose into it and let herself have the briefest of moments.

Moving herself off his rug and onto the hardwood, she peeled off her clinging clothes, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. She toweled off quickly and moved to his dresser, assessing her choices.

She dismissed dress shirts and slacks, passed by jeans that she’d practically swim in. Finally in the bottom drawer, she found what might work – a tatty pair of grey sweatpants with a drawstring and a faded Knicks T shirt.

She gave herself a quick look, realizing that all her clothes without exception were completely soaked through, and she’d have to sit in Mulder’s apartment for a good hour wearing his loungewear sans bra and panties.

She’d have driven home right then and there if she felt like she wouldn’t be driving slightly under the influence.

Gathering up her sopping clothes and holding them in front of her like a shield, she headed for the door.

XxXxXxXxX

Mulder was rifling through his desk drawers on a mission to find quarters when he heard the door to his bedroom snick open.

He turned toward her, and there she stood in an old pair of sweatpants and his Knicks shirt, dwarfed by their size, looking like a bird just emerged from an egg. She held her wet clothes out in front of her like a sacrifice proffered the gods.

“Never let it be said,” Mulder said, straightening, shoving the loose change he’d found into a pocket, “that no one looks good in sweatpants. You’ve proved the adage wrong.”

She gave him a small smile, and he leaned forward, taking the bundle of wet clothes from her.

The rain had stolen whatever makeup she’d been wearing and she was fresh-faced and nubile—her skin having the dewy collagen look of a Neutrogena commercial, and Mulder thought his best course of action was to get down to the building’s laundry room before he embarrassed himself.

He changed into jeans and a grey T shirt quickly and bounded out the door, careful not to look behind him.

Once in the laundry room he discovered that all it took was a rainy Saturday for the rest of his building to decide that it was laundry day -- all the dryers were currently being used. He threw the pile on top of one that had the least amount of time left on it and made his way back upstairs.

He opened the door to find Scully leaning over his desk almost suggestively, peering out the windows.

He cleared his throat and she straightened.

“There’s definitely going to be flooding by the river,” she said, looking at him over shoulder. “It’s still coming down out there.”

A few years ago there had been more precipitation than normal and the river-adjacent areas of Old Town had flooded – he and Scully had gotten close once and watched people with canoes and kayaks paddling down the street. He thought back on the memory fondly.

“The dryers are all in use down there,” he said to her as she turned and made her way to his couch. “It’ll probably be another—“

He cut himself off as she sat on his couch, tucking her feet under her. The loose T shirt pulled at her chest as she settled on the couch and her nipples were pert and erect, pushing against the fabric.

“It’ll be…?” Scully said, looking at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat and turned, looking for something he could busy himself with.

“Probably at least 30 minutes before I can get all the clothes in,” he said. “Would you like some coffee? I’m going to make some coffee.”

Scully declined and he beat a hasty retreat into his kitchen. How he was going to survive this day with his reputation and manhood intact, he didn’t know.

XxXxXxXxX

Scully pulled down the blanket that had been resting over the back of the couch the second he was gone and wrapped it around herself like a cocoon. As soon as she’d sat down she could feel her nipples pushing against the soft cool cotton of his T shirt, and while it felt divine – she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat around in just loungewear (probably college) – she could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She was feeling a little drunk, and a little in love with her partner, and a little morose because there wasn’t a damn thing she could really do about it.

And Mulder was of course sashaying around in bare feet and jeans and a tight grey T shirt, with his damp hair and his delineate biceps and she wondered how many years past seven she would possibly be expected to not jump his bones.

It wasn’t fair.

He came into the room then carrying two steaming mugs. She lifted her eyebrows at him as he held one out to her.

“Tea,” he said, by way of explanation since she’d declined coffee.

She accepted with a small smile, but thunked her head into the back of the couch in defeat, still feeling petulant. He was even being thoughtful. Why the hell did he have to be thoughtful and sweet right now?

She took a small sip, careful not to burn her tongue and the heat of the brew sliding down her throat made her shiver.

Mulder noticed, his brows creasing in concern.

“You’re cold,” he said in a voice tinged with frustration, and Scully could tell just by looking at him that he thought he’d somehow let her down again.

“Here,” he said, moving toward her, opening up his arms and gesturing with one hand toward himself.

She was feeling buzzed and weak and sorry for herself, so she just stood and walked into his embrace, the blanket falling down behind her.

It’s so effortless, she thought, her arms tucking perfectly under his ribcage and around his waist, her head snuggling under his chin . It’s not fucking fair.

She breathed out a sigh and so did he, his warm breath wafting around her, smelling sweetly of the yeasty fug of beer and a warm, masculine scent of what was just indefinably him.

She wondered how long they could stay like this. How long until the phone would ring or the doorbell would chime or another monster would come to call.

She could feel her hair starting to soak a wet spot through his shirt, so she pulled her head back, turning up to him to apologize, and found him closer than she expected, his head bent down as if to tell her a secret.

Later, she would blame the wine (it wasn’t the wine), or her time of the month (it wasn’t that) or the lunar pull of Mercury in retrograde--anything to blame but her own weakness—but whatever it was, she found herself on tip toe, pushing her lips into the cushy softness of Mulder’s own, his breath sucked in in surprise.

There was a split second where he didn’t react, his body tense and unmoving and her belly dipped low, the rip of embarrassment of his not reciprocating about to tear through her, but then he did move, his lips suddenly pushing into hers urgently, his arms pulling her into him, locking like vices.

The tip of his tongue tentatively touching her lips was all it took for her to let go. She could feel something inside herself unclench and suddenly she was filled with an insouciant lightness and she smiled, she actually fucking smiled and let her own tongue dart out to meet his.

Fuck it, she thought.

XxXxXxXxXxX

It had to be her call. It always had to be hers, Mulder knew, and that she’d called it today of all days, in his cluttered, dusky apartment, her hair slicked back, pluvial and sleek, the tips of her breasts pushing toward him through his own worn T shirt was almost too much to take in. He felt like he was living out a good bad dream.

Scully hummed low in her throat when he plunged his tongue inside her mouth to taste her and the sound turned him animalistic. He reached down to grab her ass, grinding his hips into her and that move elicited a gnarl from her as well, so he continued on lifting, hoisting her up into the air. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him and he could not believe how perfectly she fit into his arms. It was like she was made for him. Strategically, specifically crafted for ultimate Fox Mulder compatibility. Breathless from the realization, he almost didn’t notice that she was yanking at the bottom of his shirt, and he leaned back, trying to catch her eye. Her eyes flicked to his and her tongue rested on her upper lip as she drew breath. He shuffled his feet a bit and backed her up against the wall outside his bedroom, her breath catching as he pressed her into it. “I like where your head’s at,” he said, gently nipping at the flesh of her neck, “but I don’t want to put you down.” “Shirt. Off.” Was all she managed to get out and he grinned into his ministrations. He pressed her further into the wall and brought up his knee, using it to hold her in place while he took his hands off of her and ripped his shirt up and over his head.

The next thing he knew, she was grinding herself into his leg, using the friction from the whole of her weight pressed into small square inches of his knee.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She shared the sentiment. Their pull toward each other had always seemed elemental, gravitational—an undeniable force more than a fleeting biological imperative. Had she known touching him this way would feel like this, she would have done it ages ago. It was electric. Anywhere his skin touched hers, it sent a frisson of awareness through her, of lust. She remembered that gravity was the most powerful force in the universe. When she ground her hips into his knee again, he gave a strangled moan and hoisted her up, moving them through his bedroom doorway and into the room. He paused at the foot of the bed, his mouth on her neck and mumbled into her— “Do you… do you want this?” She almost laughed. His concern about her consent was touching –she also felt a nudging in the back of her mind – a pinging worry that they both might regret this later and she knew he was feeling the same—but the fact that he was asking while she was dry-humping his hips was a comedy unto itself. “Yes, Mulder, Jesus,” she answered, just as he sunk his teeth into the skin where her neck met her shoulder. He laved his tongue over the bite, an apology, and tipped her back onto the bed then, needing no further encouragement. Before she knew quite what was happening, his hand was under the waistband of the sweatpants and his fingers were curling into her sex. Her hips bucked up off the bed at the sensation. “Jesus, Scully, you’re so—“ she nodded at him, knowing the evidence of her arousal would not be hard to come by and she blew out a lusty breath, looking him in the eye. “I need you,” she said, “now .” He stood quickly and raked his jeans down over his hips, kicking them aside. She moved to do the same—wanting no barriers between them, but he held out a hand and stopped her. “No,” he said, “leave it on. Leave everything on.” He knelt back down on the bed, and reached a hand to cup her breast through the thin material of the T shirt, squeezing gently and rubbing his thumb over where her nipple was straining through. She wrapped her arms around him, her nails digging into the hot flesh of his back as he brought his mouth to her other breast and sucked on her through the shirt, his breath hot through the material, his tongue soaking it through. He moved then back up to kiss her and the wet spot he left on the shirt turned cold and she thought she might come just from the sensation. He kissed her soundly, thoroughly, and she could tell he was trying to draw the experience out, but she pushed into him and turned the kiss ruttish, reaching down to grab him, stroking him while trying to draw him to where she most wanted him, not wanting to wait, not able to.

She felt him reach down and pull the waistband of the sweats down, just enough. He positioned himself at her entrance and canted his face back just enough to catch her eye before easing into her.

She returned his look, unblinking, and his top teeth bit into his bottom lip as pushed himself the rest of the way into her, pausing at her apex, filling her right up to her soul.

Love. She’d felt it for him for years, but couldn’t say it. How could she put a word to something so much bigger and stronger than herself? How could mere words contain it? Four letters. Seven years. Miles and miles of feeling inside of them.

Other people felt love, but they didn’t feel this. It was too big, too consuming, too frightening. If other people felt love, she was sure, it was merely in the prinprick light of a star — what they had filled the whole of the sky.

She felt tears forming in her eyes, so she shut them tight and nudged him with her hips. He took the hint and started moving, slow at first, but quicker as she dug her fingers into his back and pulled her knees up to his shoulders. The new angle had him hitting her perfectly and she could feel the slow tingle of orgasm starting to build.

She could tell by his breathing that he was close too, and she pulled him tightly to her, his head tucking into the curve of her neck, the wet slap of their coupling the only sound in the room save their urgent breaths, syncing together as they seemed to do with everything else.

And then she was there, her orgasm starting with a rush from her toes that flashed up through her body like quicksilver, pulsing at her center in a rush. That was all it took for Mulder to come undone as well, and he groaned once and clasped her to him, and they rode out his climax together.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He kept his head tucked into her shoulder, but reached up as their breathing slowed, running his fingers gently down her cheek and into her still damp hair.

“That was...” Mulder mumbled into her shoulder, not knowing how to finish, “I feel like we should high five.”

He finally tilted back to look at her, and caught her wearing an impish grin, her cheeks flushed and rosy.

He felt something dip heavily in his heart and he turned serious.

“I can’t go back to the way we were,” he said, “knowing what this is like, how this feels.”

“Do you think it’ll be too much?” She took his hand from her hair and held it to her cheek.

“I think it’ll never be enough.”

“I… I know what you mean.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Do you forgive me for forgetting the receipts?” He asked her after a few minutes of comfortable, reverential silence.

She blinked at him slowly and ran her fingertips lightly up his arm, goosebumps following her touch.

“Ask me again once my clothes are dry,” she said, and crooked a finger at him, all things forgiven.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The End

#txf #msr #fanfic #prompt #the x files #first time

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goldeneyedgirl · 5 years ago

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Ficathon: Mad World

I’ve spent today on uni work and chipping away on Shadow to Light, so instead of a prompt fic, have a sample of one of my WIPs - this one is Mad World, a fic where Alice is the daughter of Charlie Swan’s estranged sister who goes to live with Bella and Charlie. It was an experiment in gothic horror/romance, tbh.

“If you don't know where you are going any road can take you there.” - Lewis Carroll

When I look up at the sky in Forks, I don’t see clouds. Or I do, but they’re obscured by leaves and branches; the forest stretches above me and it’s nice. Private and safe, even though it makes it feel a lot later and darker than it really is. It’s like we’re in a cocoon, and there’s no one else in the world.

I return to reality as his teeth rasp against my stomach, above my belly button, and I giggle, ticklish. I’m splayed across a rock, and it's scratching my back - my sweater is balled up in the dirt, and my shirt is pushed up above my bra.

My fingers twist in his hair and I smirk as he looks back up at me. Jasper Hale; who I sit next to in History and in Trig. His shirt hangs open, revealing a body that will be taking pride of place in my fantasies.

“You okay?” His voice is low and even, but his eyes are sharp. Dark, and watching me. For a moment, I see calculation and something I should react to. Something dangerous. Like he could kill me right here and now; fuck me and choke me; rip me into wet, meaty pieces; beat my skull into dust with a rock. This boy, this man, is dangerous, and I have invited him to get much, much closer. He could do whatever he wanted to me, and he wouldn’t be the first.

And I don’t care. That darkness, that rage, and potential for violence, I’m not scared of it. I haven’t been for a long time. It’s easier to consent than to resist. And more than that, I like that darkness. I like that sharp edge. And what I know of Jasper Hale, I like.

Whatever I am feeling twists and fades into the steady thrum of lust, of confidence and willingness.

“Absolutely nothing,” I say, and tug his hair to bring his face closer to mine.

And that’s how I spent my third afternoon in Forks; fooling around with Jasper Hale in the woods behind the high school auditorium.

—

It’s a rainy Thursday night when I finally, finally arrive in Forks. And in that moment, it is the most beautiful place on earth - the green of the forest, the grey of the rain, the fresh air. It is Shangri-La on Earth, and I am apart of it.

I left North Carolina on Monday, and since then have taken a bus, a train, another bus, another train, and a third bus. I have layers upon layers of deodorant and grime upon my skin; my phone is dead; my hair is greasy from the endless styling tutorials I looked up to combat boredom, and all I want is something to eat and a shower. Anything that isn’t itchy seats, never-ending road, or snack foods would be heaven upon earth at this moment.

In truth, I don’t feel human anymore. I feel like a transient spirit, a modern-day gypsy, a lost girl. That for the rest of time, this will be my life - dirt and fuel and waiting for an end that never comes. But somehow, I have made it to Forks; the red ‘x’ on my photocopied map is finally a real place, with buildings and streets and people. Forks isn’t home, but it is the most welcoming sight I have had in years.

I jump down from the bus; a backpack on my shoulder, a satchel across my chest and a duffle bag in one hand. For all intents and purposes, this is all I own in the world. Twenty-three dollars in my wallet, and my entire life in my bags. I could go anywhere I wanted, except twenty-three dollars won’t take me many places.

No one else on the bus carries as much luggage as I do, and no one is dressed alike either - I changed at the Seattle bus station into my second-to-last clean outfit, to try and make a good impression. Everyone else is wearing a jeans-parka-boots combination, which is probably smart with the horrible weather. Not that I will miss the hideous summers of North Carolina. But I get the sense that this bus is full of locals, who busted happened to be travelling from Port Angeles or Seattle. There’s something about them, like the green of the forest, the dirt and mud of the ground, the rainwater has sunken into their bodies and marked them invisibly as belonging to the town of Forks. I wonder if I’ll be here long enough to be marked too.

The bus station is the smallest I’ve been to on this whirlwind road trip - a tiny convenience store, a spinning rack of postcards, a payphone, and endless wooden benches.

Uncle Charlie is right there, waiting for me - sitting on a bench with a paper cup of coffee. Even if he hadn’t been wearing his uniform, I would have guessed he was my uncle. He doesn’t strictly look like my mother, but there is something in the way they carry themselves, the way that they fill space. I don’t know. I just know that he is definitely Mom’s little brother, one Chief Charlie Swan of Forks, WA.

My new guardian - saviour or gaoler is yet to be determined.

“Uncle Charlie!” I put a big smile on my face and march straight up to him - if life has taught me nothing else, it’s that first impressions count. And not to piss off the person in charge of your welfare. “I’m Alice.”

Uncle Charlie looked up at me, and for a moment, just stared.

So, my outfit wasn’t the best first impression I could have picked. But it was the only one left that I could wear in public - my beloved, holey galaxy leggings; ancient floral Dr Martens that I had laced with pink ribbons; a giant purple and black sweater, and a black miniskirt. Combined with the pancake make-up I had used to cover up my blotchy-skin and dark under-eye circles, my greasy hair knotted in two buns with my collection of dollar-store butterfly clips, and the fact that I smelt like four days of bus, sweat, and fried food, I definitely looked like the devil child my mother probably portrayed me as.

“Mary Alice!” Uncle Charlie recovered. “How was your trip?” He smiled awkwardly and stood up.

“Long,” I said ruefully. “But I’m here now.”

—

Uncle Charlie tried to make conversation as we drove back to his place, as if a truncated game of ‘Twenty Questions’ could undo the awkwardness of not knowing about each other for seventeen years.

And it wasn’t like I could abridge my messy, ridiculous life story into a fifteen minute car trip, anyway. Or that Charlie Swan could become a beloved uncle between the bus station and his home.

Who was I?

I was Mary-Alice Brandon, eldest daughter of Annette Marie Swan-Ackerman, the only child of the late artist Nicholas Brandon. Resented step-daughter of Stephen Ackerman. A granddaughter and a niece and a half-sister. Former prisoner of a remote reform school. Epileptic. A secret keeper, and an artist.

How could I tell Uncle Charlie all the tiny details that made up me, and the reason I was here with him now?

That my mother is no Swan, but a chameleon, a snake, a cuckoo in the nest?

That the last of my stitches came out last week, but the scars still itch like crazy?

That I used to love gas-station slushies, especially pink ones, until I was twelve? That now I love soda, so cold it makes your brain and teeth hurt, and tastes like static?

And besides, what do I know about Charlie and my cousin? He’s a divorced police chief, and his daughter Isabella is also seventeen years old - five months older than me - and lives with him full-time. She attends the local public high school. That my grandparents are dead, and my ex-aunt has since remarried.

That’s it. That’s all I really know. And I am about to live with them.

If I think about it too much, it just feels like another trap.

—

The Swan house was small, but then, so were all the houses on the street. It was old, too, but I’d always known that was a probability. It didn’t make it easier, though. I’ve never done well in old houses. It needed a few repairs - the paint was peeling off, one of the shutters was hanging at an angle, and the front garden was dirt, grass, moss and ferns. Uncle Charlie struck me as a neat and practical kind of person, so this was surprising. But maybe in the spring, I could coax some kind of garden to life, as a way to say thank-you.

We walked in the backdoor, letting it swing shut behind us with a bang. Inside, the hallway was narrow and dark, with stairs leading up, and a few aged pieces of art hung on the plaid walls - mostly landscapes, and several of fish that were very good, if hideously ugly.

The first thing my eye caught was the mantlepiece in the sitting room, above the fireplace - a shrine to a teenage girl who bore a startling resemblance to Mom.

“Wow,” I said, moving closer. The eyes, the smile, the brown hair - this had to be my cousin. “Is that Isabella?”

“Yeah, that’s Bells. She’s out with her boyfriend at the moment,” Uncle Charlie said, setting down my duffle bag.

“She looks just like Mom,” I said, amazed. It was uncanny - Bella looked more like Mom’s daughter than I did.

“I guess she does,” Uncle Charlie said. “Bells is much prettier than Annette was at that age - but that’s all Renee.”

Charlie sounded uncomfortable, and I had to admit to myself that I was uncomfortable hearing my mother’s name. Turning away from the photographs, I pasted a smile back on my face.

“Sorry, I’m easily distracted,” I said. “You were going to show me my room?”

“Yeah. It’s not much,” Uncle Charlie began. “It’s pretty small…”

“You’re taking me in. That makes everything else perfect,” I said firmly, grabbing my backpack again. “Lead the way.”

—

Well.

Uncle Charlie had warned me that my bedroom was tiny.

It was more than tiny – more like a large alcove with glass doors. The walls were off-white, and a square window looked over a tiny yard and the forest. A narrow bed was wedged against the wall, made up with a hideous yellow bedspread. A dresser was arranged against the wall between the bed and doors. Opposite the dresser was a tiny desk and chair. Jammed in the gap at the end of the bed, next to the desk, was an old laundry hamper.

I was betting I could touch the window and the door with my arms outstretched.

Luckily I was used to small living spaces. I wasn’t sharing with anyone; that was enough to make up for the fact that this room would have been a better closet. Or window box. Apparently, Uncle Charlie had used it as an office when he needed to bring work home.

I set my bags on the bed. This was going to be my home for the next year and a half. It felt overwhelming all of a sudden, that I would be living with an uncle and cousin I had never even met before. It wasn’t like school, where I had shared a room with seven other girls, and we’d all been strangers.

I could do this.

It was only eighteen months. I had been away at school nearly three times that long, and if I could survive school, I could survive living at Uncle Charlie’s.

I had intended to unpack and settle in before dinner, but in the end, I just changed into some pyjamas, shoved my bags under the bed, and fallen asleep nearly instantly. I didn’t wake up until much later, almost midnight, starving and disorientated. I crept out of my room, making a note to buy some kind of curtains for the glass doors to give myself some privacy.

Uncle Charlie and my cousin were clearly already asleep, so I got myself a glass of water. There was a note scrawled out for me, telling me to help myself to food, and that they’d see me tomorrow. I felt bad for vanishing without spending time with them or even meeting Bella, but there wasn’t much I could do about that now.

The house was quiet in the darkness, but I used my phone to carefully navigate - and look around. The shrine held a wedding photo of a much-younger Charlie, and the woman who was my ex-aunt; a sad memento when I knew that Uncle Charlie had been divorced for quite a long time. An off-brand recliner sat near a small, out-of-date television, the remote on top of a TV guide, with various sports matches circled in pen. Several pairs of shoes sat by the front door - my cousin was clearly a strong supporter of Converse sneakers.

The leftovers in the fridge looked kind of suspect – some luminous mac and cheese, a chicken that was nearly picked clean, and some greasy looking Chinese. I ended up slapping some peanut butter on some bread, and drinking nearly half a carton of milk, before vanishing back into my new ‘bedroom’ for some more sleep.

Peering out of the uncovered window into the night, I could see beyond the fence line into the black of the forest. The tops of the trees cut the bottom half of the sky off perfectly, like an old-fashioned silhouette. It was strange to imagine my mother living in this kind of town, growing up here. But then, I had a hard time picturing my dad and her being married, too.

Lying back, I stared out at the night sky, the slow movement of clouds over the stars lulling me back to sleep.

#fic: mad world #jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight fan fiction #twificathon2020 #twilight #my fic #my writing

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meararutherford · 6 years ago

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I love the idea of Cullen and Meara slowly falling for each other at Haven. He is more reserved and unsure, standing on protocol and years of Templar training especially since she is the Herald, but she has found herself at ease and comfortable with him.

A long day of training had turned into a long rainy night and Meara was relieved to reach her quarters. They had been out so long they had missed supper but there were still lights on in the windows at The Singing Maiden which meant there was a chance for something to eat. Cullen had said he would go over to the small tavern and see what he could do about a hot meal and meet her at her cabin if she wanted to go find some dry clothes. She had been all to happy to agree to his suggestion, they had grown closer over the past few weeks and she felt at ease with him. Plus, she was drenched to the bone and was pretty sure she could grow spindleweed in her boots now.

Meara put another log in the fireplace and changed into a dry outfit. Just as she pulled the second chair over to the small desk figuring it could serve as a table for the two of them, there was a knock on the door. Meara opened it to find a half frozen water-logged Commander standing on the other side with a basket.

“Looks like you had some luck with supper, not so much with the weather though!” she laughed noticing the rain changing to snow as it fell to the ground.

Cullen passed her the basket, “Yes, there was a good deal of inquiry as to where I was heading and why I needed supper for two though.” He stood in the doorway and had started to pick up a slight shiver.

Meara took the basket from him, “Come in I just put more wood on the fire, you are going to need a healer if you stay out in the cold and wet much longer.”

Without hesitation Cullen stepped through the doorway, then he stopped as if something had just occurred to him. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Meara raised an eyebrow questioning him as she put the basket on the desk.

“It is late, and it may be seen as inappropriate for me to be alone with you in your quarters at this time in the evening.” He turned as if he intended to leave.

“For Andraste’s sake, people should have more important things to worry about than the two of us having a meal?” Meara motioned for him to sit down. “Not to mention other than Varric, most of Haven has turned in for the night, who would know you are here?”

Cullen laughed, “Varric could be enough! However, I will stay long enough to warm up while we eat.” He removed his boots and left them upside down by the door and placed his dripping surcoat over the back of the chair.

Meara opened the basket and removed a warm loaf of crusty bread, a slice of roasted meat and small chunk of cheese and placed them on the desk. “Good, I don’t want to be the one who has to explain to Cassandra how you got sick being out in the cold and wet all day!”

Cullen laughed, “Unless you are Varric, Cassandra is not that frightening. Allow me to help you with that.”

“You didn’t wake up in a cell with her staring through your soul a month ago!” Meara snickered.

As they ate the two exchanged stories of their experiences with Cassandra and agreed she had her moments of sternness however, she was not as scary as Varric made her out to be. When they had finished Meara pulled a bottle and two cups from the bookshelf.

“I found this in a cabin in the Hinterlands, can you believe one brother who was a Templar challenged his own brother who was an apostate to a duel!” She opened the bottle and poured a small amount into each glass. “I thought family was supposed to mean more than that.”

Cullen crossed the room and took the cup from her, “This war has divided everyone, the sooner we stop it and restore the peace the better.”

“I will drink to that,” Meara tipped the cup back taking a drink.

“Where did you say you found this?” Cullen coughed a little trying to hide his surprise at the strength of the liquor.

“In a cabin in the Hinterlands, Blackwall says it has Grey Warden markings something about them mixing bottles to refill them and keeping their loads light. I believe the saying goes, ‘Nothing burns like the first cup!’”

Meara sat down on the red rug in front of the fire place and motioned for Cullen to join her, she poured them each another drink. “Guess we will have to find out if it gets better as you go then.”

Cullen laughed as he put the cup to his lips, “Let us hope so!”

An hour later and the bottle lay empty on the floor, Meara shifted onto her hip and then laid down placing her head in Cullen’s lap. Cullen was unsure of her move at first, however she seemed comfortable enough and he could get used to the closeness. The two of them debated Cassandra’s verdict of Varric’s guilt or lack thereof while growing sleepy from a full stomach, too much drink and the warmth of her quarters.

Cullen stretched out, “I should be returning to my tent and you need to get some rest for tomorrow.” He looked down to see that Meara was sound asleep in his lap.

For a moment he entertained waking her, then he found himself running his fingers through her hair. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he spoke, “Meara?” There was no response.

Leaning back on the small table he pulled a bit of blanket over her. He could let her sleep for a little, they had trained hard today and he knew she was heading to Redcliffe tomorrow. As he felt the warmth of the room pushing him to give in to his own exhaustion, he pushed the hair from the side of her face behind her ear and whispered softly, “By the Maker, you are beautiful.”

#dragon age inquisition #commander cullen #cullen rutherford #slowly falling #first sparks

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yes-i-do-love-my-fridge · 6 years ago

Text

First Meeting/Touch - April Klance Prompt from Monthly Klance - Day 2

I hope this is like, okay. I sort of got this idea from the ‘Garden of Words’ anime. It’s a really good anime. Though, here, I tweaked a few things. Hope ya’ll like it!

Title: “The Rain of Dreams”

Tags: Adopted!Lance, Alternate Universe, First Meeting, Sort of Meet-Cute, Businessman!Lance, Writer!Keith, Photographer!Lance, Bisexual Lance, Gay Keith

Lance has always been his parents’ puppet.

He never once disobeyed them; knowing how much trouble that would lead him to. So he stuck to their orders, listened to their wishes, and buried his own dreams deep down inside.

It was fine. Just like his parents would always say; he wouldn’t be where he was without them.

He met Keith at a bus stop in the rain.

While he was rushing off to his parents’ company, it started raining. Big, fat raindrops started pouring on his head and on the sidewalk. So he ran quickly to the nearest bust stop to avoid getting his clothes wet.

But he isn’t so lucky.

“Damn it.” Lance cursed lightly as he sat down on the seat. “I just had this suit from the dry-cleaners.”

On top of getting his suit wet, he was late. And god knows how time is so important to his parents. He groans, already imagining the disappointment on their faces. He slumps down on his seat and runs his fingers through his hair.

As he grumbled to himself, he felt a presence beside him.

“That’s my spot.”

Lance looked up and saw a guy, with blank and striking amethyst-colored eyes and jet black hair. He looks beautiful. Lance tried not to stare too much at his eyes and gestured to the empty seat beside him. “There’s an empty seat here.”

The guy shook his head and pointed at the spot Lance was sitting on. “That’s my spot.”

Lance nods slowly and slips to the other seat, giving up his own. Lance watched as the guy closed his umbrella and took the spot Lance sat on. The guy stared forward blankly, not even uttering an apology or an explanation to why he wants to sit there.

Lance shook his head at the guy’s weirdness. If he wasn’t so beautiful and Lance wasn’t slightly attracted to him, he would’ve put up a fight rather than giving up his seat easily. Lance sighs and looks away from the guy, looking forward and watching as the raindrops fell.

He always did like the rain.

He loved the way it would sometimes drop quietly on the ground, or pour harshly throughout the day. Whenever he was sad, he would seek comfort in the rain, and everything was better. He remembered when he was a kid, all alone in the orphanage, and when it would rain, he would run outside and just bask in it. Sometimes, he even went there with his best friend, Hunk. Even Pidge, when she wasn’t so busy doing something in her laptop.

But as they grew older, and Lance got adopted and was separated from them for a while, they still kept in touch. Lance missed those times when they were just kids and had no care in the world. Now, they were all grown up and had jobs and are too busy to do some childish stuff they did all those years ago. It made Lance a bit sad, but what else could he do?

Lance and the guy sat in silence for a long while before the bus finally came. Lance stood up and glanced at the guy, who was still staring blankly ahead. He decided to hop on and ask the bus driver if he knows the guy.

“Oh, Keith?” The driver says. Lance repeated his name softly. So his name was Keith. “Yeah, poor kid. Lost his family, and always sits on that spot whenever it rains. No one knows why, though.”

Lance thanked the bus driver and sat down on a seat, watching the guy- Keith- from the window. He was still staring blankly, with his impassive face and cold amethyst eyes.

As the bus drove off, Lance wondered if they would meet again.

The next day, Lance came prepared. He watched the weather forecast. It said that it would rain for at least a month. Lance brought an umbrella outside as the rain started pouring. He walked once more to the same bus stop and there- there he saw-

Keith.

He’s actually there. Again. In the same spot he stole from him the day before.

This is weird, Lance thought as he sat beside him. It was quiet; only the sound of raindrops and cars passing by filling up the air. He waned to strike up a conversation with him, but he didn’t quite know where to start.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

Lance jumped as the guy- Keith- spoke up. “I... I’m sorry for how I treated you yesterday.”

“It’s alright.” Lance replies too quickly.

A heartbeat passed before Keith spoke again, but with a depressed tone when he did. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me by now.” He glances at Lance for confirmation, and Lance nodded guiltily. He sighed and stared back up ahead. “I see.”

“But for what it’s worth,” Lance tries, “You don’t have to tell me anything about what happened to your family. If you’re- um- not comfortable to talk about it.”

Keith nods and gave him a warm smile. “That... that would be great. Thank you.”

Lance smiled back at him and waits patiently for the bus, a feeling of accomplishment surging in his bones. He doesn’t know why he feels proud, but he does.

Keith’s kind words feels so much better than all of those ‘Congratulations’ his parents tell him.

The next few days, when it rains, they always seem to meet.

Lance doesn’t know why he feels so excited when he sees rain pouring out from his window. He doesn’t know why he feels so happy when he arrives at the bus and sees a familiar pretty face; already sitting there with his regular blank expression.

They always make small talk; exchanging stories, but not really revealing anything about their personal lives. It was pleasant, fun, and comfortable. He always felt at ease with him, even though he barely knew him. He doesn’t know why. Keith was just... he just had that effect on him. The more Lance gets to know him, the more he wants to know him.

Eventually, they started to grow closer. Their pleasantries turned to deep conversations that sometimes makes Lance miss his bus. The questions like, “What’s your favorite color?” turned to, “What’s your dream in life?”

Keith asked him that, once, and Lance only laughed. “Oh, I always wanted to be a photographer.”

“A photographer?” Keith repeated. Lance nods. “But...”

“But what?”

“But... why don’t you have a camera or any equipment with you?” He questions. Lance’s eyes widened, before he gave him an awkward chuckle. “Oh- I, um- I’m actually not a photographer.”

“Why?” Keith prods. “Isn’t that your dream?”

“Well, yeah, but my parents need me to take over the family business so- uh, I can’t really be a photographer.” He finishes lamely, darting his eyes everywhere to avoid Keith’s.

He was silent for a while, before he muttered a quiet, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Lance assures. He quickly changes the spotlight. “How about you? Any dreams or plans in life?”

Keith just smiles and looks up at the rainy sky. “Well...”

“Well?” Lance prompts.

Keith looks back at him and his smile grew more shy. “I’ve always wanted to be a writer.”

“Oh really?” Lance smiles. A writer, huh? “What stories are you writing?”

He immediately deflates and looks away from him. “I- I’m actually not writing anything at the moment.”

“Oh... why?”

“Because...” He trails off, staring blankly with his amethyst eyes at the grey sky. “I’m not happy.”

It was another day with Keith.

This time, Lance arrived an hour early just to hang out and talk with him. He’s not sure, but he thinks Keith is grateful to have him around.

If last time was about dreams, then today it was about family.

“Huh, why would you want to know about that?” Lance nervously says after Keith asked him to tell him about his family. Keith just smiled and shrugged. “Well... I feel like we should get to know each other better. It’s been, what? Two weeks since we met, right? And I fee like we still don’t know each other that well.”

“Don’t you feel like...” Lance cleared his throat. “That we’re going about this a bit too fast?”

“Oh.” Keith says, sounding disappointed. “Well, it’s okay if you don’t like to-”

“No, no, no,” Lance interrupted. “Sure, I’ll tell.” Lance’s heart skipped a beat when Keith’s face immediately lit up.

Ugh, being bisexual really makes him a big mess. Or maybe he is already a mess even if his sexuality is not involved.

“Um...” Lance started, looking away from Keith’s curious and excited eyes. He doesn’t think he can handle looking at his pretty eyes for so long, or else he’ll just keep blushing like a high school girl with a crush.

Well, he’s not quite sure if it’s a crush that he feels, or just some one-time infatuation. Either way, there’s something that he feels and he’s not quite sure what to do about it.

“Well, to start off, I.. um...” Damn it, this is harder than telling Keith that he was bisexual. But thank goodness that when he did, Keith accepted him easily. In return, Keith came out to him as gay.

But this is different. This was his family that he was talking about. He always hated talking about his family. He hated the way people’s faces would scrunch up in pity, or sympathy when he would talk about his past. They would ask him multiple times if he was okay, and he was! He is! People just exaggerate so much about his life and how ‘sad’ it was, and Lance hated that about other people.

“Do you know the Garrison?” Lance asks. Keith nods. “Well, it seemed that both of my parents used to work there. And well, there was a mission. To go out in space and look for Kerberos. People said that it was a pilot error, but I didn’t believe them.” Lance smiles at the ground in a bittersweet way. “I was six years old at that time. Me and my siblings were all underage. Naturally, we got separated in the orphanage.”

Keith was silent. Lance continued. “No one wanted to adopt five kids at once. Little by little, I watched as they got adopted by different people. Marco. Rachel. Luis. Then Veronica.” Lance swallowed a lump that was forming in his throat. “It was hard, being left behind. But I’ve met friends. The two of them lived in houses that was close to the orphanage. And we would meet up at the playground, or at a diner, and play and talk and bond.”

Lance smiled when he remembered the times he, Hunk, and Pidge spent together when they were kids. Those were the times where, even though Lance wasn’t adopted, he was free. He wasn’t obligated to do something he didn’t want to do. He wasn’t forced to do something in his life that made his energy drain with each and every day.

But things were different now. He isn’t an orphan anymore. He’s not a kid anymore.

“The three of us called ourselves the Trio. The Three Musketeers. The Adventurers. The- you get my point.” Lance explained, scratching the back of his head nervously. “We promised that we’d explore the world. To go to different cities and countries. Hunk would be a well-known engineer, Pidge would be a famous programmer, and I would be a photographer. We promised that we’d achieve our dreams and support each other when we do. But then...”

Lance sighed. “Then I got adopted.”

Keith was still quiet, but Lance knew that he was listening. That he didn’t want to interrupt and wanted Lance to keep talking. “I was twelve- I think? Saying goodbye to them was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Hunk wouldn’t stop crying, and Pidge’s huge eyes would just look at me and though there were no tears coming out, her eyes were so glossy and it made me so sad when I saw them like a mess. I mean, I was also a mess but seeing them was so hard. We promised that we’d meet again. And we did! Six years later, we met again. We kept in touch. And they pulled me through the hard days, just like before.”

“My step-parents... well, they pushed me into doing business. They wanted me to take over their business. I... I couldn’t say no.”

Lance smiles sadly, actually a bit sad at the way how his life turned out to be. He looks at Keith. “So? What’s your story?”

Keith smiles at him, which made his heart do weird things. “Well, not like yours, but it isn’t any different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Next time, Lance.” Keith shook his head, looking up at the pouring sky. “Next time.”

They had their first fight today.

They were both sitting on the seats at the bus stop again, not really talking but only listening to the sound of the rain.

That was, until, Keith spoke up.

“You should quit your job.” He says in all seriousness. He turns to look at Lance. “If you’re unhappy about it, then just pursue the career you want.”

Lance started laughing, which confused him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.” He says, shaking his head in amusement. “Look, I thank you for your suggestion, but no- I will not be disobeying my parents for a dumb dream.”

Keith furrows his eyebrows in slight anger. “What do you mean, ‘dumb dream’?”

Lance shrugs. “It’s just a dream; one that I know won’t come true. It’s fine, though, I don’t need-”

Keith stands up abruptly, his jaw set and his fists clenched. He looked mad, something that Lance hadn’t seen on him before. “It’s not stupid if it’s your dream! You should always follow what you want; not what people expect of you!”

Lance furrows his eyebrows. Is he serious? Is he really giving him this cliché talk? “It’s just a dream. I don’t need it. My future is set in stone, I can’t change that-”

“Yes, you can!” Keith interrupts. “You should live your life doing what you love! Not what you’re forced to do!”

Lance balled his hands into fists.

He really thought Keith was different. That he wouldn’t be like all those people that he met that told him the same. ‘Do what you love!’, ‘Do what makes you happy!’ All that crap. Why would he do that when his step-parents, who raised him and fed him and took care of him, only asked for that one thing? He’s grateful for them. He’s grateful that he gets to live in a house, to have new clothes, and to be raised well. Why would he want to pursue his dream when the only thing his step-parents asked of him was to take care of their business?

No one understands. Keith doesn’t understand.

“What do you know?” Lance muttered.

Keith furrows his eyebrows again, this time, in confusion. “What?”

Lance stood up and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Why, instead of writing and ‘doing what you love’, you sit here and brood like you’ve lost everything?”

“I did lose everything!” Keith yells, standing up and giving Lance a hard gaze. “My brother, my parents, everything!”

“But you should live your life, Keith!” Lance yells back. “You should do what you love and not go out only because it’s raining! You’re not living your life!”

He was going to continue, but he stopped when Keith’s palm made contact with his cheek.

Quiet.

The sound of raindrops filled the air.

This... this is the first time Keith had ever touched Lance’s face, or even touched him at all. Period. Even after weeks of hanging out, they never touched.

Except those times where Lance imagined of running his fingers through Keith’s pretty hair, even if it was a mullet. Those times where he wanted to reach out and interlock his hand in Keith’s when they would both just sit peacefully and watch the rain.

Lance never imagined that the first time Keith would be touching him was by a slap.

“Goodbye, Lance.”

The sounds of Keith’s footsteps away were louder than the rain around them.

Another sound filled Lance’s ears.

The shatter of his heart when he hears a sob escape from Keith’s lips.

The next few days were sunny.

Lance couldn’t see him anywhere. When he arrives at the bus stop, he was greeted by an empty seat; untouched by anyone.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and sat down, feeling guilt gnaw at his insides.

He wishes he could see him.

But if it wasn’t raining, it’s nearly impossible to find him.

Lance doesn’t know when he’ll meet him again.

Probably not any time soon.

Lance calls up someone who he has ignored for months.

“Hey, buddy, how you’ve been?”

Hunk’s kind tone and words greeted him. Lance tears up, knowing how badly he treated him and Pidge for them just trying to help him be happy.

He pushed them away. His friends. The people who tried to be friends with him. Keith.

He pushed them away because he’s a coward.

He pushed them away, even though all they wanted was his happiness.

“Lance, you okay?”

Lance tried to blink back his tears.

“Buddy? Is everything all right?”

Right then and there, Lance broke down.

Lance walks down the corridor.

“Lance, bud, I’m sure this Keith guy only wanted you to be happy.” Hunk explains softly, after Lance explained everything. “I’m sure he just wanted you to achieve your dream.”

Lance knocks on the door, which clearly has a plaque that says, ‘Chairman’,

“That’s it, Hunk!” Lance groans. “I can’t- I don’t want to achieve my dream! I’m happy the way I am right now!”

“Lance,” Hunk starts softly. “Have you ever thought, that maybe Keith didn’t see that? That he knows you’re unhappy with what you’re doing right now, that’s why he tried to push you to pursue your dreams?”

Lance went silent.

Lance hears the, “Come in!” and opened the door. He saw his step-parents sitting on the couch, seemingly in a conversation before Lance had shown up. They both gave Lance a smile and asked him to sit down.

Lance did, and he told them he had something to say.

“Lance, we just want your happiness. Keith does too. He knows you. We know you. And we know you’re not happy.”

Lance carefully explained to his step-parents, saying how much he’s thankful for them. For adopting him, and for being his parents. He’s very, extremely grateful.

But he didn’t want this.

“But in the end, it’s all up to you, buddy.” Hunk tells him. “Do you want to keep staying at your parents’ business, or do something that makes you happy? Whatever you choose, we’ll still be here for you.”

Lance watched their expressions changed. He thought it was out of disappointment for him leaving the business, but it was disappointment for something else.

His step-mom took his hand gently, and looked at him in the eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us from the start?”

“Lance, what do you choose? Business, or happiness?”

They weren’t disappointed because he didn’t want to take over the business.

They were disappointed because he didn’t tell them that he didn’t want to.

All his life... he was scared of being ungrateful. Of disappointing his parents. But now, right here, they were telling him that it was okay. That he didn’t have to take over the business if he wanted to pursue something else.

They wanted him to be happy.

All his life, his parents said, they gave him everything- because he wouldn’t say what he wanted. He wouldn’t ask for their help, or complain, or even ask for anything. His parents just wanted him to give him something that he liked. That he wanted.

They’re so sorry they never asked.

“Lance?”

Lance chose happiness.

A few months later, and a bit of training, Lance decided to buy a new camera since his current one was so old.

As he payed for his equipment on the counter, he thought he saw a familiar black-haired guy from the corner of his eye. He told the employee to wait for a minute and ran outside, his eyes searching the crowd for any sign of an emotionless amethyst-colored eyed guy.

There... there was no one.

Lance enters back in the store, defeated, and not noticing the same black-haired guy hiding behind a pole with a smile on his face.

Out on a sunny day.

It hasn’t been long after Lance became a photographer, and truthfully? It’s great.

He’s finally doing what he loves, not what he’s forced to do. It’s really fun, and he owes it all to one special guy.

I wish... he thinks. I wish I could thank him.

He didn’t expect for his wish to come true.

Lance walked on the sidewalk, texting Hunk about their plans to go to a nice restaurant or something with Pidge, until he felt something drip on his head. He reached up to his head and saw water.

Water.

His eyes widened and he looked up, his smile growing as rain started to drop from the sky.

Rain.

It’s rain.

Lance grins. Finally. He turns on his heel and started running. Running to the bus stop to where he knows he’d be.

Running to the place where he’ll finally get to see him again.

Running to the guy who made him open his eyes and see what he needed to see.

He ran. And ran, and ran, and ran and ran and ran.

Until he finally arrived. He arrived, and saw- there he saw-

Nothing.

No one was there.

Lance’s shoulders slumped. He... Keith’s not here. He sighed and was about to turn back back home, but he froze.

‘Cause there was someone behind him.

Breathing heavily as if they rushed and ran towards this place.

Lance slowly turned around and there he saw-

Keith.

Keith, who had a bright smile on his face with flushed cheeks from running. Whose eyes were twinkling with joy and pants were heavy with exhaustion. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lance beat him to it. “I-” he cringed by how high-pitched his voice sounded. “I quit my job. And I became a photographer.”

He smiled widely, his eyes twinkling and making Lance’s heart beat faster. “That’s good.”

“How about you?” Lance asked. “What did you do?”

Keith smiled and turned his head up to the sky, watching as a stroke of thunder flashed through it.

Gosh, he looks beautiful.

“Well...” He starts.”I first went to my parents’ grave and talked to them. For the first time.”

Lance grins at him as Keith clasped his hands behind his back. “It was... it made me feel lighter. It actually made the weigh I feel on my shoulders a lot lighter.”

Lance laughed and stood close to him. “I guess that’s just the magic of talking, huh?”

Keith laughs with him, and Lance’s heart goes overdrive. “Yeah, I guess it does. And because of that, I moved on.”

“You started to write?” Lance questions.

Keith shook his head slightly. Lance’s gaze looked down as Keith’s fingers intertwined with Lance’s. Lance smiled, held his hand tighter, and looked back up at him. Keith strayed his eyes away from the sky and locked it with his. A soft smile spread on his face.

“No.” He says. “I started to become happy.”

#klance #monthlyklance #april prompts #first meetings #bisexual lance #lance mcclain #keith #lance #keith kogane #gay keith #first touch #slight angst #fluff #sort of??

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sukkadeservedbetter · 6 years ago

Text

Edge Of A Thunderstorm

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Summary: A chance encounter during a thunderstorm leaves you freezing, caffeinated, and starstruck.

Warnings: light swearing, brief mentions of drinking

Word Count: 2K

“Alright, I’m heading home,” You say to your co-workers as you place your laptop into your bag and grab your umbrella.

“You’re walking?” One of them asks in astonishment. “In this weather? Girl, call a cab.” You roll your eyes playfully.

“I can handle a little rain and we’re not that far from my apartment. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” they sing. “Catch you Monday!”

“See you!”

Turns out, you can’t handle this rain. Rain is one thing, but this? This is insane. The wind blows your umbrella so hard that you’re exhausted after just five minutes of walking. As you squint out into the grey, you can’t be sure which direction the rain is coming from. Cars speed past you, splashing you with the pools of water that were collecting below the curb. Thunder rolls above you and soon enough white flashes through the sky. You’re soaked and miserable. Okay, enough! This is ridiculous, you tell yourself as you run under a brown awning for momentary shelter.

You shutter under your coat and try to shake your hands dry enough so you can reach for your phone. Your fingers fumble over the keys. You open the Uber app and wait for a driver. You look up and see a figure through the grey, running for cover much like you had moments before.

“Jesus, this storm is ridiculous,” the man says from underneath multiple jackets and a hoodie as he reached the awning.

“Yeah, tell me about it. You would think people like us would listen to the weather channel,” You pity-laugh as you spoke.

“An inch of rain, my ass.” You laugh at the man’s comment, still looking down at your phone, hoping for anyone to pick up your ride request.

“I’d wager it’s closer to two,” You comment nonchalantly. Your phone buzzes in your frozen hand: Your driver will arrive in 59 minutes. You groan internally, debating whether the walk would really be all that bad. Thunder crashes simultaneously with a bright white flash of lightning. You jump and yelp, earning yourself a chuckle from the man next to you.

“Scared of a little thunder?” He asks.

“That one just caught me off guard,” You reply.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, but could I possibly borrow your phone? Seems mine is dead and I’d really like to call a cab.”

“Oh, um, sure!” You say, handing the stranger your phone. “Let me know the wait time if you get through. Uber said it’s going to take at least an hour.”

“That blows. I’ll let you know.” You absentmindedly tap your foot as the stranger uses your phone. Something about his voice is familiar, but you can’t place it. The accent throws you off. “The lines are busy.”

“Hm?” You ask, realizing you had zoned out.

“The lines are busy. Looks like I’m stuck here.” He says.

“You would think Ubers and Cabs would be better equipped to handle rainy days. I know they’re probably busy but it’s a little annoying.”

“Yeah, and you would think they would employ more people for high volume days,” He says. You nod in agreement. “Oh well, I think I’m going to head inside and grab a cup of coffee while I wait for the storm to settle; do you want to join me?” The man tentatively asks. You look at the building behind you, realizing for the first time that it was a small cafe.

“Oh, sure!” The man holds the door open for you and you step inside to the heat and the faint smell of coffee grinds. You turn around to thank the man for holding the door for you but words don’t reach your mouth. The man had taken his hood off and you finally realize why you recognized his voice. Spider-man was standing in front of you. His real name was escaping you in the shock that Spider-man had just asked you to get coffee with him. He gives you a cheeky smile as he walks past you to the counter.

“I’ll have a medium coffee and…” He pauses as he looks back at you. You’re still standing by the door, mouth slightly ajar at your realization. “Whatever she’s having.”

“What? You don’t have to do that!” You stutter out.

“Hey, it’s the last I can do. You let me borrow your phone.” You know that those two didn’t quite match up, but you let it slide because it had been a while since a cute boy offered to buy you a coffee and how often do people like you get to hang out with a superhero? You walk up next to him and read the menu.

“A medium vanilla latte, please,” You tell the barista. You and Spider-man walk to a small, mosaic table in the center of the cafe. The soft yellow glow of the overhead lights makes the room feel warmer than it actually is. You feel bad calling the man in front of you Spider-man in your head, but you can’t, for the life of you, remember his real name. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Oh,” He responds, slightly taken back by the question, like he expected you to already know. His eyes light up. “It’s uh, Tom.” You make a split-second decision to not make a big deal of his fame, a decision that you thanked yourself for making later.

“Nice to meet you, Uh-Tom. I’m (Y/N).” You throw in a cheeky smile as you bring your vanilla latte to your thawing lips. Tom laughs at your bad joke.

“So, where were you headed when the storm hit?” Tom asked.

“Home. I live about a mile and a half away. What about you?”

“My mate Harrison’s house. We were supposed to grab drinks. That’s obviously not gonna happen.”

“I don’t think binge drinking and massive storms really go together,” You muse.

“You obviously don’t hang out with the right kind of people.”

“Oh? And what do the ‘right kind of people’ do when they blackout and can’t figure out how to get home at the end of the night?” You ask.

“They wake up in a dumpster the next morning with one hell of a story to tell.” Tom shoots you a grin and you snort.

“Oh my, God. I’m so sorry.” You bring your hand over your mouth as if that would stop the noise that had already come out. Your face burns red hot and you sink lower into your chair. Tom bursts out laughing, tears nearly spilling from his eyes. “Tom! Stop laughing!” You whine.

“Aw, don’t get embarrassed. That was adorable.”

“That was horrendous,” You disagree. “So, what do you do?” You ask, even though you know the answer, hoping to change the subject.

“I’m an actor,” Tom smiles.

“What kind of an actor?” You ask. “Like a ‘starving artist’ actor? A ‘I have to bus tables in between plays’ actor? Or a ‘I’m the next Brad Pitt’ actor?” You were loving watching Tom laughing at your comments. It’s nice to know someone thinks I’m funny, you think to yourself.

“Hm,” Tom thinks. “Somewhere in between starving artist and Brad Pitt.”

“Been in anything I might have seen?” You ask. You’re teasing Tom and he has no idea. Where did all the confidence come from? Who am I? You ask yourself.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Your opinion on superheros,” Tom says. He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Tobey Maguire was better,” You deadpan. Tom’s head snaps up.

“You knew?!” Tom nearly yells, but he’s smiling wide.

“Of course I knew, Dude! Marvel’s marketing isn’t exactly subtle; your face was plastered everywhere earlier this year.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tom asks with a laugh.

“Didn’t seem important until now.” You shrug. “Besides, I liked watching you try to conceal your real identity. It was very Peter Parker of you.” Tom laughs again.

“So, you’re a fan?”

“Kind of! I mean, I like the movies but I’m not, like, writing smutty Loki fan fiction in my free time, you know?”

“Gotcha. That Loki fanfic gets…” Tom trails off.

“Fucking wild,” You finish his thought for him.

“Exactly. Do you, uh, do you really think Tobey is better?”

“What will you do if I say yes?”

“Cry,” Tom jokes. “Sue, maybe.”

“I can’t afford to be sued by you, and I’d feel pretty bad if I made you cry, so let’s just say Andrew was the best and call it a night.” You raise your eyebrows at Tom.

“Oh, fuck off!” Tom quips. The two of you continue to talk well into the nigh. You blow through an array of topics and Tom tells you stories that have you laughing so hard you cry. You don’t even realize how much time has past until the barista walks up to your table.

“Hey,” She rudely interrupts you telling Tom about the most embarrassing date you had ever been on. “We’re closing up.” You and Tom exchange a glance of terror and confusion. Have you really been here for four hours? You look towards the window, expecting to see grey. Instead you only see black with blurry bright lights peeping through the window.

“Have we?” You ask.

“There’s no way…” Tom responds. You both stare at each other for a moment before you both bust out into laughter. Tom grabs your empty cup and stands up, walking to the trash. As you stand, a moment of sadness hit you. The last fours hours with Tom have been the most entertaining and carefree hours you have had in years, but Tom is a celebrity. Tom is Spider-Man for God’s sake. What would he want with you?

“So I had-” “Can I get your-” You and Tom speak simultaneously.

“Sorry you go,” Tom says.

“No, really, you go!” You encourage.

“Um, okay. Can I get your number?” Tom ask/.

“Seriously?” You squeak out.

“Are you seriously questioning it? Yes, seriously. I’d like to take you out sometime when we’re both not sopping wet and exhausted… if that’s okay.”

“Y-yeah! Of course! Here put your number in my phone and text yourself!” You hand your phone to Tom with a smile plastered across your face that you can’t quit. You stare at Tom as he types away on your phone. For the first time, you recognized how truly beautiful he is. His sharp jawline blended down into soft skin and broad shoulders. A curl of his brown hair cascaded down over his eye and his fingers were-

“(Y/N)?” Tom’s smooth voice interrupts your thoughts. “You’re drooling, love.” You blush like mad.

“S-sorry.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over seeing how easy you get embarrassed,” Tom says. Before you can say anything, Tom leans in and leaves a barely-there kiss on your lips. “See you soon, Darlin’.” Tom smiles and walks out into the rain without another word. You stand under the awning, stunned by the interaction you had just had.

You hop out into the rain like a little kid during the first storm after a long summer. Though it isn’t as stormy as it was before, the rain still pelts against your skin and seeps into your shoes and socks. The wind pushes you up the sidewalk. You knew you’d have a hefty Uber bill waiting for you for missing your ride, but you couldn’t be bothered; You had a date with Spider-man.

A/N: This is the first “fan fic” type thing I’ve written in, like, 3 years so let me know what you think!! I plan on writing a lot more for this blog so feedback is appreciated :)

#tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland scenario #marvel #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #tom holland fluff #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman fic #spiderman fanfiction #harrison osterfield

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boomboombitches-blog1 · 6 years ago

Text

Rain

Pairing- Joshua Hong x Fem!Reader, slight Yoon Jeonghan x Reader Genre- Angst, College AU Warnings- Major Character Death, mentions of suicide, one mention of cheating, bad ending because who actually knows how to end things well Word count- 2666 (is that a sign should i be afraid)

A/n- I listened to Rain by Taeyeon the E N T I R E time i was writing this so if you’re wondering what inspired me and u want the full experience go ahead it’s a fucking great song. I meant to make this longer but it just didn’t go that way i guess. One more thing !!!! Kinda spoiler alert but i guess u probably already figured it out so read at your own risk !!!! the vote thing i did yesterday was to decide whether to kill joshua or not because my original idea was to have him and the reader just break up and get back together but then i got ~inspired~ so thank you to everyone who voted yes it actually did help me a lot because i got to write what i was really like seeing for the story there u know but also thank you to everyone who voted no because you almost saved ya boi

Part Two

Rainy days were always your favorite. No claps of thunder, no flashes of lightning, no sunlight warming the ground or streaking through the clouds in charming little pockets of warmth. Just drops of water, slipping weightlessly down from the grey clouds to soak the earth. To slide down your skin, drown away droughts, wash away sorrows with ironic displays of melancholy and pull it right back- make it hurt more and less all at the same time.

You were never the type to run through the rain when you didn't have an umbrella. You liked the feeling of the cool water on your skin, the period of reflection and release it gave as you seemed to be the only one brave enough to walk out in it. Things seemed to slow down for you on a rainy day. Time would set back, the world would move on as usual with you as an exception. As people rushed about to escape the flood, you could take your time and nothing would come from it except a few stares and some heavy clothes. Usually.

You met him on a rainy day.

You were walking through the city vacant of most usual bustle- with far fewer individuals racing around. Most people called it a holiday when the rain started to pour, stayed inside to enjoy their days quietly, but you never did. Even if it meant you were soaked for class, it was worth it. Maybe not the class you were hardly that interested in (and probably wouldn't have bothered attending in the rain if not for your love for the weather,) but the excuse to get out in the rain was more than welcome. He was in your class and rode your bus, and he was walking towards the same class when he spotted you walking slowly, without an umbrella through the rain.

In a warm act of chivalry, he jogged up beside you and held his own umbrella out above your head. You were absorbed in your thoughts- so absorbed that you didn't even notice how the light dulled above you- you only came back to earth when you realized the rain had stopped falling on your skin. You glanced up from the ground and looked around, only to jump in surprise when you saw a dark blue umbrella above your head, and a boy walking in the rain beside you, politely keeping enough distance that not only was he on the opposite side of the umbrella from you, he didn't even get under it. Startled by the presence, you slipped on the wet, smooth concrete. Only then did he get under the umbrella, stepping towards you and grabbing your forearm with his free hand to steady you.

You smiled at the memory.

His hand was cold, large enough to wrap fully around your forearm, for his thumb to touch his fingers when he held you up. He smiled kindly, eyes a warm, welcoming chocolate brown as he met yours through the shade cast by the opaque fabric above your heads.

"Sorry," He said softly, voice smooth and soothing like warm milk and somehow it sent a chill through your body, hair rising on the back of your neck as goosebumps rolled over your skin. "I didn't mean to scare you," He trailed off with a soft chuckle, clearly amused at your reaction. You couldn't help but to laugh a bit in return.

Slowly, the both of you continued walking. Silent and calm and slow, there was somewhat of a mutual agreement between you. You didn't mind having him under the umbrella as well, your shoulders almost brushing but somehow not.

"I'm Y/n." You spoke finally, far past halfway to your building. You could see it by now, were steadily approaching it though your pace was still snail-like. He seemed to be waiting for it, and immediately smiled when he heard you.

"Joshua." He replied.

He was good. You had expected he would be as your first meeting was him going out of his way to keep you dry, even if it meant him getting wet- but good as he was, he was still different from your expectations. He was kind of quiet, but mischievous. He was quick to voice his opinions- but only where he thought they were needed. He teased his friends a lot, and he had a bit of a temper. He was a little jealous, and as hard as he tried, he was bad at hiding it. He was protective, cared about everyone. He was kind to even those who had done him harm, after he had time to calm down about it. He could sing really well and had good music taste- it seemed there was nothing he wasn't good at.

You fell for him hard, and fast. Somehow, he had done the same for you.

He asked you out on a rainy day.

Four months. You had known him four months. It started less friendly- he would walk you to class when it was raining, but only when it was raining. Then one day, he sat with you in the back. You didn't speak, just sat within each other's presence and wrote notes for your class. Then he sat there again. You sat in silence for a week- not an awkward silence, just silence- before he finally asked for your number. It wasn't awkward, it wasn't weird, it just... was.

He invited you to study with him and some friends a few days later, and you accepted. You loved his friends- their whole dynamic together was majorly amusing and welcoming- and they loved you.

You ended up with three more numbers that night. Jeonghan invited you to their next movie night, and you met a few more of their friends. You sat by Joshua, and talked more that night than you had at all previously, which was somewhat ironic considering you were supposed to be quieter during a movie than most of the other times you'd hung out. You spoke about that, too.

He invited you over to study at his house a few days later. That time, you had to postpone because you already had plans, so you went two days later instead. Soon, it was a once a week thing. He started walking you to class every day, whether it was raining or not. You noticed he always had his umbrella in his bag.

Two more weeks went by, and you grew closer and closer. The next time it rained, he asked you to be his girlfriend under his umbrella, on the walk to your school building.

"We've been on friend dates." He hummed when you asked why so sudden. "I want the real, us dates to be like that. Relaxed and familiar. No awkward first dates and being scared of making a bad impression or worrying about what to wear. Just friend dates where we're a little more than friends. I already know i like you a lot, and we get along well so i thought it might be a little less stressful to just... Rip the band-aid off."

You nodded, and he knew that was your yes as well as your 'i understand' by the way you smiled, the way your eyes lit up with warmth and the way you reached for his hand. He took your outstretched hand, smiled, and turned his gaze to the same building yours lingered on.

You both loved rainy days.

You could remember clearly all the days where you had nothing to do but be together, when the rain would fall on the sidewalks and windows of your apartment and distort the world around you so it was only you two together and you would bake and cuddle and dance- even when there was no music playing. It was cheesy and gross and awkward and you stepped on each other's sock clad toes, but you always smiled and times like that were some of your fondest memories.

You were soaked by now, but you guessed that was okay as the smile on your face and the rain dripping down your hair, down your face and smearing your makeup was more than enough to hide your tears as they melded salty, warm water with clean, cold and dripped off your chin. You couldn't stand to look at the street you had walked so many times with him, couldn't stand to imagine how his umbrella blocked the rain from getting you sick, how it distorted the light and kept you warm. It hurt so badly to imagine his footsteps, running up behind you and his warm hand reaching for your cold one as he scolded you, again, for not bringing an umbrella, telling you you would get sick and he wouldn't be able to miss another class so he could take care of you again.

But you did it anyways. You could almost hear him, feel him, smell him. But you didn't want to. Selfishly, you wanted to forget him. You were almost to class, you couldn't be crying. You can't disguise it once you're inside the building and though they've all been through it before, your whole class has seen you break down at the very mention of him, you don't want to do it again.

He left you on a rainy day.

You were arguing. You hardly remembered what about... you didn't want to anyways. Thinking about it would only make it worse. You didn't want to make it worse. He stormed out. You tried to stop him- the worst thing to do is run out at night when you're angry and not paying attention- and your neighborhood isn't exactly the safest, either.

It wasn't too bad, people weren't killed on the daily but there had been a few attempted robberies in the time you lived there. Only at night, though. Nobody in your neighborhood went out alone after dark- except Joshua that night. You started to follow him but he hissed a "it's not safe," and gently shoved you back in your apartment, slamming the door in your face. You wanted to follow him, but he wouldn't let you. You knew he wouldn't let you.

All of the attempted robberies were women, anyways. No one was killed. No-one was even robbed, because whomever was horrible at their job. Joshua would be fine.

Joshua would be fine.

You cried, reassuring yourself of that until you fell asleep.

You stopped walking. Sobs shook your whole body, your hands reached to cover your face. You could hardly hold yourself up. You didn't want to go to class. You knew you were a mess. It had been three weeks since his funeral, you couldn't keep missing. Your knees were weak, you knew they were shaking. Your whole body was shaking. You could feel your lungs getting tighter.

You couldn't see through your tears, so you pushed your hands up a bit further to cover your eyes, only moving them when your legs gave out and you fell to your knees, hands steadying you on the concrete. There was a puddle around you, growing slowly with the rain, but you didn't care. No-one was around to see you. You still wanted to curl up and disappear- you wanted to be wherever he was and apologize and hug him and cry with him- god you hated being alone. You were so used to him holding you whenever you cried, or his soft voice comforting you over the phone, but now he was gone and you were the reason. Your head dropped to let the tears drip straight from your eyes and fall down into the puddle around you.

You shouldn't have let him go.

The phone call woke you up late. Near 2 in the morning, but you didn't mind. It was him- it had to be him. You answered quickly, your stiff muscles crying out at your sudden movement after falling asleep in an awkward position on the couch.

"Hello?" Was all you heard before you gasped, sitting up with your hand over your mouth to hide your sobs. It wasn't him. It wasn't one of his friends. God, you would've rather it had been a girl he went and fucked on the side but no, it wasn't. "Are you Joshua Hong's girlfriend? His parents are in america, you're the closest relative he has. We need you to come down to the hospital. He... Well... I'm sorry miss. Just please come."

You rushed. You didn't want to go at all but the tiniest hope that maybe it wasn't him rung in your head but you knew better. Even so, you so desperately wanted to find out that you were wrong and he was fine. You didn't even change from your pajamas. You didn't care that you shouldn't leave your apartment alone at night- you didn't care if you were robbed or mugged or killed or what- you didn't even remember because your brain was so trained on him. Him, him, him, you had to find him, he had to be okay. You got to your car, soaking wet from the pouring rain. It was supposed to storm that weekend, there was a hurricane nearby and some of the rain traveled. You didn't care if you were soaked.

The hospital looked normal. Somehow, you expected it to be crazy. You expected it to be chaos, tears and sobs and anger and guilt- like you were feeling. But it wasn't. You were the only one, and everyone stared at the crazy woman who was sobbing, dripping rain in her pajamas and flip flops with her hair a mess and makeup staining her cheeks. Your knees almost gave out in fear and guilt and exhaustion when you stumbled up to the counter and choked out his name, stuttering on the words. The lady glanced over at an officer and a doctor who were standing together, and they nodded.

When they took you to the morgue to identify the body, that was when you broke.

It was him.

You didn't stop crying. Not when you heard his footsteps running towards you. Not when you heard him call your name, fear and worry in his voice. Not when he stopped just beside you, when his umbrella covered you and it was the same blue, cast the same shadow you recognized so well. In fact, you only cried harder. When he crouched down beside him and reached for your face, his skin warm and tan and lively unlike how it was when you last saw him. When he tilted your face to look at him, and you recognized him, but was disappointed. When his warm brown eyes met yours and the rough pad of his thumb brushed your tears away but more continued to fall.

"Yn..." He trailed off. You could hardly look at him. "Come here." He mumbled, reaching to pull you into his chest. He knew how you met, he knew what set you off. He knew his matching umbrella stung you more than it helped.

"J-Jeonghan," You stuttered in a weak cry, clinging to his warmth desperately. How could you do it? How could you go on without Joshua?

He understood everything just from how you cried out his name. Jeonghan wrapped his arm tighter around you and gently lifted you. He was trying not to cry as well, truthfully, but he had to be strong for you. You were with him, you blamed yourself even though he was the one who threw himself out in front of the car. You were hurting the most. Jeonghan was careful, he brought you back to his place because he knew you couldn't stand to go to your own, and he took care of you the way Joshua would have. The way Joshua asked him to.

He dried you off, helped you change without looking at your body, made you a warm drink and held you while you cried.

He saved you on a rainy day.

#IM SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS I DIDNT PLAN IT #KSJDHFGJD USUALLY I PLAN THINGS BUT THIS HAD NO PLANNING I JUST TURNED THAT SONG ON AND WAS LIKE OH YES ANGST TIME #I HOPE U LIKED IT THANK U FOR READING HOES I LOVE U ALL #Seventeen #Seventeen imagines #Seventeen Drabble #Joshua Hong #Seventeen joshua #Seventeen fanfic #Joshua Hong drabble #Joshua one shot #Joshua scenario #Seventeen Scenario #hong jisoo #joshua fanfic #Joshua au #hong jisoo scenario

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