#when its drizzling i just go and stand outside

[cainternn]

does anyone else really like it when it rains

[katsu28]

rain, rain, (don't) go away

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you put your trust in a handsome stranger in the midst of a bit of bizarre wet weather. what could go wrong? (4.6k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: not quite the summer lando series i've been working on but the idea for this came to me in a dream a while ago lmao

It doesn’t often rain in Monaco. Especially not during the summer. 

So when you feel a drop splash against your forehead, then another, you’re wildly unprepared. You squint up at the rapidly darkening sky like it's personally wronged you, and you’re met with another raindrop, this time in your eye. 

Part of you wonders if you could try and make it home before it starts to pour. The other part knows it would be an impossible feat given your lack of a car and how far you’d have to run in such a short amount of time. Even as you ponder the thought, the occasional drops turn into a heavy drizzle. 

You barely make it under the nearest awning before it really starts to come down. All around you are people scrambling to get out of the rain and somewhere dry, caught off guard by the unexpected downpour like you are. 

“Crazy rain, huh?” You startle at the sound of a voice from next to you, gaze snapping to your left to see a man huddled under the same awning, most likely having come up with the same idea you did. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologizes, holding his hands up in surrender. “I take it you weren’t expecting rain when you left the house today either?” 

You scoff, chuckling. “Was anybody?” 

You tear your eyes away from the sky to look at him once more, and to say you’re pleasantly surprised is an understatement. 

Your awning buddy is awfully attractive, and looks to be around your age too. A form-fitting black sweater stretches across broad shoulders, paired with baggy blue jeans that might not have worked for everyone, but definitely suits him well. He’s smiling at you too, a lopsided grin that has you intrigued by him. “The one time I didn't check my weather app before I headed out.” 

“You actually check the weather app?” He chuckles, tilting his head. 

“You don’t?” 

“Can’t say that I do. Usually I just trust the vibes when I look out the window. Didn’t really work out today, though.” He holds his palm out from under the makeshift shelter, letting the rain pool in his hand before dumping it on the ground, flicking his fingers to rid them of the excess drops with a scrunched nose. “Is this your first time in Monaco?” 

You shook your head, smiling softly. “I live here. You?” He bobs his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s never rained like this though, especially this time of year.” 

“If it’s any consolation, I reckon it’ll stop soon. It’s usually pretty quick—” 

A bolt of lightning flashes through the sky right at that moment, followed by a clap of thunder not five seconds later. If it continues on like this, you might be stuck here forever. 

“Huh! Maybe not.” The man sounds amused, aiming a sympathetic smile at you. You can’t help but chuckle, and you notice it makes him perk up a bit, looking pleased with himself. “Hope you don’t have anywhere to be.” 

“Honestly? I don’t. But I’d rather not be standing under this awning til the storm lets up. Could be ages, by the looks of it.” 

A stream rushes its way down the street, carrying a sad swirl of leaves down the storm drain at the corner along with it. It seems everyone else has come to their senses and found somewhere warm and dry to wait out the sudden storm because when you look around, the two of you are the only ones still outside. 

As if the man can sense what you’re thinking, he speaks. He’s smiling hopefully at you, head tilted invitingly. “There’s a cafe down the block that was open before it started to rain. Care to join me?” 

Normally, you’d be wary about a handsome stranger inviting you to an unknown location. This seems like one of those situations you’ve been warned about, but right now you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s about time you put yourself out there, take a chance for once. You’re pretty sure he won’t try to kidnap you. 

“I’d love to.” You reply. You peer out at the dreary grey sky again, lips twisting into a grimace. “Is it just me or does it seem to be raining harder?” 

“I say we make a break for it. Run like hell on three.” He says firmly. You nod and he does the same, holding out his hand. You slip your fingers through his without a second thought. “One, two, three—go, go, go!” 

You both take off in a wild sprint down the sidewalk, splashing through puddles on your way. He giggles the whole time, peals of laughter bouncing off the cobbled street that sound gleeful. You’re laughing too, because who would’ve ever thought you’d be running through the rain hand in hand with a guy you’ve only just met?

He tugs you along, leading the way to your destination confidently. Well, as confident as one can while being half-blinded by a torrential downpour. 

You nearly slip as you make a poor attempt at a sudden stop when he finally slows, and you probably would’ve ended up flat on your ass if he hadn’t grabbed you by your forearms, steadying you with an infectious grin that you can’t help but return. 

The bell above the door rings when the two of you stumble inside, soaked to the bone even in the very short time it took to get down the road. But you know what they say, when it rains, it pours. 

He shakes the rainwater from his hair not unlike a dog would shake out its fur, and in the process splatters you with the droplets. Normally you wouldn’t be too happy about it, but you’re already drenched and he’s very cute, so you don’t mind. 

The place is pretty much empty when you look around, save for a handful of other patrons doing their own things. It’s cute though—cozy and warm, the smell of coffee beans and something sweet floating through the air. You never noticed it before, but it’s exactly the kind of cafe that you love. 

The man seems to notice that you’re still holding hands, because his cheeks turn pink and he drops it, smiling rather bashfully. 

“Sorry. I’m Lando, by the way.” He introduces himself softly, rubbing the back of his neck. You tell him your name and he repeats it, testing it out on his tongue. You’re not ashamed to admit you like the way it sounds when he’s the one saying it. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too.” 

“I’m gonna go order something so they don’t think we’re loitering. Preferably something hot, because I’ve got water in places water definitely shouldn’t be.” He shudders, pulling his soggy sweater away from his torso as proof. “Do you want anything?” 

You ponder for a moment before responding. “A latte sounds amazing right now. I’ll pay you back, of course.” 

Lando shakes his head, backpedaling towards the counter. “My treat. You just sit there and look pretty.” You roll your eyes playfully at him, but smile nonetheless. “Oh look, you’re doing great already!” 

That makes your cheeks grow hot. You’ve just met Lando and he’s flirting with you, and you don't mind at all. In fact, you have half a mind to flirt back. 

He finds you at a table soon after, balancing two cups and a concerningly large paper bag. You pop to your feet, carefully grabbing the bag to ease the load, and peer into it. There’s at least five different pastries inside, all of them looking absolutely mouthwatering. 

“I hope you’re hungry. Got convinced to buy a few things by the lovely old lady at the counter.” Lando says sheepishly, sliding into the seat opposite you. “Very persuasive, she is.” 

You shrug. “I could eat.” 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, chatting with each other like you're the only two in the world. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to him too. He’s funny and quick-witted and he talks very animatedly with his hands, you notice. You find it cute. 

Lando tells you about himself, asks about you and your life story, and you find yourself settling in nicely with his friendly nature. This isn’t a date by any means, but he makes it feel like one by the way he truly pays attention to you and what you're saying, nodding along closely with rapt attention. As far as listeners go, he's a fantastic one. 

You’ve also learned a lot about him. He was born and raised in the UK, but moved here a few years ago for work. What exactly did for work, he wasn’t too forthcoming with, but you don’t pay it any mind. You’ve just met, after all. You’re not expecting him to tell you his whole life story. 

But it also doesn’t feel like you’ve just met. You aren’t sure why, but Lando has this way of making you feel like you’ve known each other for ages, of making you feel comfortable and at ease with every word out of his mouth. 

Your clothes and hair have just started to dry out a bit, and you’re having a great time. Such a nice time, you don’t even notice the girl approaching your table. Lando sees her before you do, and he smiles politely. 

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you guys, but are you Lando Norris?” She asks hopefully. She looks young, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Her eyes flick to you, and you can tell she’s nervous, so you smile back. You’re confused to say the least, but you remember what you were like at her age. She reminds you a bit of yourself. 

Lando nods. “I am, yeah. What’s your name?” 

“Valeria. But everyone here just calls me Val. I’m the owner’s granddaughter, so I work here all the time.” 

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Val.” 

She looks positively starstruck now, hands trembling as she holds up her phone. “Would you mind if I got a photo with you? You can totally say no if I’m interrupting something, I—” 

“You’re alright, love, don’t worry.” Lando stands, moving into selfie position next to her. The poor girl’s arm shakes so much you’re positive the photo won’t turn out clear at all, so you slide out of your seat too. 

“Here, let me.” You take the phone gently, motioning the two of them to scoot closer to get them in frame with each other. 

Val looks a combination of relieved and grateful, while Lando gives off nothing but a cool, albeit reserved, confidence. The same kind of confidence a celebrity might have when approached by a fan of theirs. But certainly Lando couldn’t be famous…right? 

You shake away the idea, snapping a handful of photos before passing it back to her, figuring there can never be too many to choose from. She beams bright, hugging him quickly, then to your surprise, gives you a hug as well. 

“Thank you so much! I’ll get out of your hair now. Enjoy your food!” With that, she hurries away with a bounce in her step, disappearing into the kitchen. 

You turn to Lando with arched brows. “That was interesting.” 

“So interesting.” He echoes, but his tone makes it sound like he doesn’t quite agree. 

“What are you, famous or something?” You mean it as a light jest, but Lando looks guilty for some reason. He beckons for you to take your seat again, sliding back into his own before offering you a sheepish smile. 

“Um, there might be something I haven’t told you yet.” 

“Shit, are you actually famous?” 

“...Yeah, kinda.” You arch a curious brow, and he sighs, but not in exasperation. “I’m a Formula One racing driver. For McLaren.”

Formula One…racing…it all sounds slightly familiar, but you can’t quite place it. Then it dawns on you. 

Lando isn’t just a local celebrity—he’s literally world famous. 

You’ve heard your friends talk about the races before, a few of your relatives who keep up with the sport, but you’d never paid it any mind. It just wasn’t something you could see yourself being interested in. That really famous race that takes place here in the streets every year that makes traffic an absolute fucking nightmare the whole week, Lando drives in that race, and countless others around the world, if you recall your limited knowledge correctly. 

He’s…cool. And he’s sitting right here with you in a tiny cafe, and you had no idea who he was. 

“Oh my god, you must think I live under a rock or something! This is so embarrassing, I—” 

“No, no! I’m not—I don’t go around expecting everyone to know who I am, I swear. It’s just that most people usually do recognize me, and it saves me the whole ‘having to tell them I’m famous’ thing, which always just makes things really awkward, and…yeah.” 

“Things don’t have to be awkward.” 

“No?” 

“No. We don’t even have to talk about it.” 

“We don’t?” He sounds a tad wary, but when you nod, the tension in his posture melts away. Relief floods his features at once. “Thank you. It’s actually quite nice to meet someone who has no idea what I do. Makes me feel normal for once.” 

“Glad my lack of sports knowledge makes you feel like a regular guy,” You joke, nudging his foot with yours under the table. He gives you a light kick in return, infectious smile back in full bloom once again. You quite like it when he smiles. 

You’ve just moved on to a new topic that has nothing to do with Lando’s job when his phone buzzes, making him jolt in surprise. He digs it out of his pocket, and when he sees the name flash across the screen, his eyes go wide. 

“Sorry, hang on. I’ve gotta get this.” He says, hitting the answer button. It’s a quick phone call, and you try your best not to eavesdrop, but whoever is on the other line has Lando worked up when he hangs up. 

“Everything okay?” You ask lightly. Lando bobs his head quickly. 

“Yeah, it’s—I, uh, I’ve gotta go. I forgot about a work event, apparently. That was my press officer, wondering where the hell I am and how fast I can get there.” He sounds disappointed, smiling almost sadly. “So much for feeling normal.” 

You try your best not to let your face fall when you nod. “I should get going too. Get home before the next freak summer rainstorm.” 

It’s nice when you step outside. You tilt your face up towards the sky, feeling the sun warm your face. This is the Monaco you know and love. Though if it hadn’t rained, you would’ve never met Lando. 

He turns to face you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for the nice afternoon. I had a good time.” 

“Me too.” 

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” 

“Maybe you will.” 

“I certainly hope so.” He says softly. You shift slightly on the balls of your feet, suddenly feeling awkward. You’re not sure how to leave things with him, and it looks like he feels the same by the way he mirrors your actions. “Um, I really should leave, so…goodbye, I guess?” The look on his face tells you that leaving is the last thing he wants to do, but he has to. 

“Bye, Lando.” 

“Bye.” He echoes, one more time before turning away from you to head down the street. 

You can only bring yourself to wait a few seconds before you call his name again. He turns around instantly despite his hurry, meeting your gaze. You want to say something to him that’ll make him remember you, because chances are you’ll never cross paths again. If you were brave enough, maybe you'd even ask him for his number. But you’re not, so you don’t. Instead, you just smile at him. 

“Thanks for the latte.” 

If he’s disappointed, he hides it well. He smiles back at you, warm and bright like the sun beginning to peek out from behind the clouds. “Of course.” 

You watch him walk away, fighting that pesky little feeling in your gut telling you that you’re making a mistake by letting him go. It’ll go away soon, and you’ll go on with your life like you’re meant to. 

-------

You find yourself going back to the same cafe often, whenever you're out and want a little treat before you go home. The pastries are always still as delicious as the first time you had them, and you’ve become well acquainted with the staff as the time goes on. 

Oh, and that feeling you had when you let Lando leave without a word? 

It never went away. It’s still here, worming its way into your thoughts every chance it can get. 

You’re a little embarrassed to admit that every time you walk into the cafe, you hope you’ll see Lando. It’s wishful thinking more than anything, hoping he’ll be there when you go. He’s probably busy doing his thing anywhere but here, busy racing around in the world to the tune of thousands of screaming fans. You’re not sure if he even remembers you, or the afternoon you’d spent together. 

Why would he? In the world of Lando Norris, world famous Formula One driver, you’re probably just a speck of dirt in his rearview mirror. 

The thought gets pushed to the back of your mind as you step up to the counter to order. Val beams at you from behind the register. 

“Hey, Val,” You greet the young girl warmly, returning her smile. You’ve become quite fond of her and her youthful energy, and she always brightens your day. “How’s business going?” 

“Oh you know, same old.” Val waves an absentminded hand in the air as she keys in your usual order with the other. Her smile turns mischievous at the same time, like she knows something you don’t, and you narrow your eyes at her, already knowing what she's going to ask. “Have you heard from Lando?” 

“No, I haven’t. How’s summer school going?” 

She makes a funky face at you, rolling her eyes. “Boring. Way to change the subject though.” Before she can press any more about Lando, someone calls her name from the kitchen. “Ugh, I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfy, wait for your order, you know the drill!” 

You chuckle to yourself, heading straight for your usual table by the window to wait for your name to be called. 

You like to sit while you enjoy your food and drink, watching the people and cars go by outside. The streets of Monaco are always busy and bustling, but being in here feels like a pocket of peace. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

Your brow crinkles at the sudden voice, because you know for a fact there are at least four or five other empty tables available other than the one you’re currently sitting at, but this person chose to to ask you. 

Pocket of peace…disrupted. 

You let out a short sigh through your nose, turning your head from the window to politely tell them to find another seat, preferably at a table that isn’t yours, and that’s when you see him. 

Lando is grinning at you when you look over, lopsided and endearing just like the first time you met him. 

“Oh fuck!” You can’t help the expletive that falls from your mouth at the sight of him, even though there’s a thousand other things you’d told yourself you’d say to Lando if you ever saw him again. He’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, and he’s rocking on the balls of his feet slightly like he’s nervous as he waits for you to do something other than curse at him. “Lando! I—you—hi.” 

“Hi,” He echoes, shoulders creeping up towards his ears. All you can do is stare at him, wide eyed in disbelief. “Mind if I sit?” 

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes, you can sit.” You fumble over your words like you’re not used to speaking, feeling your cheeks flame embarrassingly hot. Lando just chuckles, sliding into the chair across from you. “Um, so how’ve you been?” 

He rubs at the back of his neck, bobbing his head. “Good! Bit busy. We had a triple header the last three weeks, so it’s just nice to be home again.” 

“Oh, I bet. I don’t think I’d be very good company if I couldn’t sleep in my own bed for three straight weeks.” 

“That’s fair. Though to be honest, I’ve gotten scarily good at falling asleep anywhere. If it’s a flat surface, I can nap.” 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.” 

“Impressed would be mint. Otherwise I just sound like a dumbass.” 

You laugh at that, and in this moment, you realize just how much you’ve missed Lando. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself to forget about him, to convince yourself that there was no point in pining after someone you’d only spent a few hours with, it all came back to this. You missed him because you like him. 

“I need to tell you something.” He blurts suddenly, bracing his elbows on the table. 

You nod, expression turning thoughtful. Whatever thoughts you’re having about liking Lando can wait. “Sure, go ahead.” 

“This is gonna sound unbelievably weird and maybe even a little bit creepy, but I need to get it off my chest or else I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Lando looked nervous. The bouncing of his leg you can feel under the table and the way he plays with his fingers supports your theory. 

You cock your head at him, reaching across the surface to steady his fidgeting with a hand over both of his. His gaze snaps down to your touching hands, and you can see him visibly gulp. 

“What’s going on? Are you okay, is something wrong?” 

He shakes his head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. Everything is…the opposite, really. Everything is right. Meeting you, finding my way back to you—here of all places. I don’t believe in fate or anything like that, but this sure feels like something along those lines.” 

“Lando, I—”

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that afternoon. I tried everything. Nothing worked. I couldn’t get you out of my head.” He confesses. His fingers curl around yours gently, thumb stroking over the ridges of your knuckles. “If I’m being completely with myself, I think it’s because I didn’t want to get you out of my head. And I just got off the plane an hour ago, but instead of going home and passing out like I usually do, I came here, hoping that somehow, you’d be here too.” 

“Can I say something now?” You ask lightly, stifling a giggle. 

His cheeks flush an embarrassed pink, and he motions for you to go ahead. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. I talk too much when I get nervous. I’m working on it, I—fuck, sorry again. You go. I’ll shut up.” 

“I still think it’s cute.”

“Is that the only thing about me you still think is cute, or…?” 

That gets another laugh out of you. You chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze. “Not at all. I still think all of you is cute, and…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either. We haven’t known each other long, but I really like you, Lando.”  

“I could kiss you right now.” 

“What’s stopping you?”

You don’t have time to second guess your newfound confidence before he’s leaning across the table, sliding a large hand over your jaw and pressing his lips against yours. Lando kisses you softly—gentle, like he’s worried you’ll pull away if he’s too forward with it. 

You’re fully aware that you’re smiling like a madman against his lips, but in your defense, he is too. His eyes open slowly when you pull away, almost tentatively as if he’s not quite sure what just happened actually happened. 

He leans back just enough to study you, letting his gaze flit around your face, taking in every detail he possibly can. All while he grins larger than Cheshire cat, like he’s a kid whose parents just told them they could get whatever they wanted at the candy shop, instead of kissing you for the first time. 

“I was gonna be nice and bring you your order, but it looks like you’ve already got something sweet.” Val’s voice cuts through the moment, and when you look over at her, she looks over the moon. 

“Lando, you remember Val, right?” 

“Uh huh,” Lando hums, holding out his hand for a fist bump that she happily gives him. “Thanks again for the heads up.” 

“Hold on, what? What heads up?” 

The two of them share a look, like they’re debating whether or not to tell you their secret. Then Lando sighs, giving her a go ahead nod, and she squeals, setting your food down. 

“Okay, so you know how you come in here all the time after work? Well me, being the keenly observant, brilliant young mind I am, noticed a pattern. You come on the same days, at the same time, and you never stray.” She explains excitedly, all but bouncing on the balls of her feet. You aim a questioning glance over at Lando, who just gives another amused nod.

Val continues excitedly, “So I’m expecting you today, right? But then the door opens and guess who walks in? Lando! He asks me if you’ve ever come back here after that one day and I’m like oh my god, you have no idea! So I tell him to wait a half hour for you, and now you’re both here and my matchmaking skills can be put to rest.”

“Are you being serious right now? Really, I can’t tell.” 

She tilts her head, popping a hand on her hip. For the same girl who’d been so nervous to meet Lando just weeks ago, she’s got a surprising amount of sass in his presence today. “Why would I not be serious? I’m basically a genius, and I expect to be invited to the wedding. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“Alright, that’s enough, cheers, Val!” Lando blurts, shooting her a pointed look. 

“Can I get paddock passes for making this whole thing happen? Preferably Monaco but I could probably make it to Monza too. Imola is a little far.” 

Lando blinks at her for a few moments, probably seeing if she actually means it. When all she does is raise her eyebrows, he concedes. “Maybe. I’ll make some calls, see what I can do.” 

“Fantastic. Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone!” 

You both watch as she all but skips happily off, then turn back to each other. 

“She’s…definitely something,” You sigh, shaking your head. Secretly, you owe her everything. 

“Eh, I dunno. Kid’s growing on me.” He reaches across the table, lacing his fingers through yours with a fond twinkle in those pretty eyes of his. 

“How serious are you about those paddock passes?” 

“I mean…she did help me out massively. I’d have missed you if it weren’t for her.” Lando shrugs, rubbing an absentminded thumb over yours. “I hope you know I would’ve come back until I found you again. Everyday, if I had to.” 

“Me too.” 

If you’d told your past self that a bizarre summer rainstorm in sunny Monaco would’ve led you to where you are right now, you wouldn’t have believed it. But now, as you sit here with Lando, smiling at each other like complete and total idiots, you’ve never been more grateful for a bit of unexpected rain.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[kykyonthemoon]

Rain On The Way Home

Zayne takes you home after an argument between the two of you.

ಇ. Zayne x Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags & warnings: since there's a bit spicy at the end I shall put 16+, MDNI here, fluff, short and sweet, kiss and make up, making out, argument, hurt/comfort, established relationship, character might be a bit ooc idk.

ಇ. Word count: ~1k9

ಇ. Based on a request by YNhi.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Your lips were pursed tightly. Hands placed on your thighs were clenched so tightly that you could feel the nails digging into your skin. You did your hardest to keep back the tears that threatened to fall, but failed. Warm drops dripped on the back of your hands, and you brushed them away as soon as you noticed a familiar figure approaching from afar.

Zayne opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat. He did not glance at you or say anything. You turned entirely to face the window, observing the soft drizzle fall outside. All you wanted to do was kick the car door open, run out into the rain and scream your lungs out.

The atmosphere between the two of you had never been this stuffy. You could have left alone, but because your body was injured and your emotions were all over the place, you lacked the strength to oppose Zayne's decision. So you let him do anything he wanted. Perhaps that was best for both.

Just a second ago, you fought to reject him and ended up sitting here with bitterness in your heart, allowing him to take you home, allowing him to control you like a puppet again.

The third time you had been hospitalized in one short month, you had also reached Zayne's limit.

People at the hospital claimed that when Dr. Zayne was upset, he became quite frightening. They thought he would explode and anyone unlucky enough to get in his way would suffer. On the contrary, Zayne's rage was like a blizzard on the horizon. You might believe it would not find you, but when it did, no matter where you hid, you would never be secure. 

And that day, for the first time ever, Doctor Zayne was seen losing his usual composure.

His lengthy and fast steps resembled racing through long and busy corridors. The hospital room door opened in such a way that it was about to come off its hinges. Zayne's face solidified. Without a word, he confiscated your medical documents and commanded everyone to go, in such a frightening manner that the nurse caring for you had to shiver from the cold after leaving.

Zayne looked at the documents and then at the wound on your shoulder. It was treated in time but remained painful. The injury had left you quite weak, but after nearly a day of medical care, what distressed you the most was Zayne's attitude.

Before he could say anything, you spoke up and explained:

“It was just an incident… It wasn't like I took the initiative to accept this mission. It's just that there were no other Hunters closer to the attack area than I was…”

“That's why, despite the fact that you hadn't completely recovered and were resting, you hurried to the scene, dismissing your prior injuries. Dismissing your doctor's orders?"

One corner of the file in Zayne's hand was so tight that it became wrinkled when he let go and threw it hard on the nearby table. He turned his back on you and looked out the window. One hand on his hip, the other hand to bury his face. He acted as if he was trying his best to retain the last bit of composure. 

"I'm fine." You said. "I honestly felt no discomfort. I have been able to move properly for a week now. Staying at home constantly is boring. I needed to stretch a little so I could get back to work quickly."

Zayne slowly turned around to look at you. He was still standing in the corner of the room, and you noticed the window glass behind him starting to freeze. 

“You were bored? If you feel bored, call your friends. If you feel bored, go shopping or hang out where you like to go. You were bored so you decided to jump right into a group of Wanderers?"

“Zayne…” You grimaced. “I don't like you this way… You… are acting so strange…”

“Do you think I'd like to see you lying here? Do you think I'd like to see you being carried to the hospital?"

"I'm sorry…" You murmured. You knew it was you to blame for not listening to him and instead running to the scene of the attack. But you were conscious of your own strength and wanted to fulfill the commitment you made when you decided to become a Hunter.

"You've said sorry for the third time this month." Zayne responded. His face was rigid, yet his fists were clasped firmly. "I've heard enough."

"Oh, just quit it!" You abruptly raised your voice. "I told you I didn't like you acting this way. As a Hunter, it's normal for me to get hurt!"

Zayne opened his eyes wide. He was astonished by your response. He stayed silent so you could pour out your feelings.

“I am capable of taking care of myself! I don't like being told what to eat or drink. I don't like being told what time I must  go to bed. Or being compelled to stay at home even though I have completely recovered and ready to battle! I'm not a child for you to order around, or tell me to do this and that!”

“You're saying, I'm too controlling over you?”

“I…” You halted. It seemed that was true. Even while you knew Zayne had good intentions and genuinely cared for you, you were unable to avoid feeling as if he was in charge of every part of your life, controlling every meal and sleep. 

"Understood."

Silence permeated the hospital room for a long moment. Zayne gazed at you as if he was considering something, then he started to pack up your clothes and belongings that remained in the room.

“What are you doing?” 

Zayne responded: “I don't want to be the one who controls you. You will be discharged from the hospital and free to do as you please.”

“What do you mean by that?” Free? It sounded like he did not care about you anymore. It sounded like he was going to give you your freedom back by not getting involved in anything related to you anymore.

“I will not force you to stay here. No one can do that. In roughly ten minutes, someone will come and take you to my car. I only ask you to do this for me once more.”

Having said that, Zayne turned and left. The door closed behind his broad back and you swore you were about to cry right from that moment.

The nurse came to inform you that Dr. Zayne had directly requested your discharge from the hospital. They let you go since your situation was not too serious and they believed Zayne would care for you discreetly at home. Zayne waited for you in the parking lot. He unlocked the door for you to enter first and returned to fetch a few more medical supplies before driving you home.  

All along the way, you kept wondering if you had made a big mistake. You were exceptionally disrespectful and became frustrated with Zayne for no reason. However, he did not give in to you as he always did. Confused, you simply wanted to lie down on your pleasant mattress at home and weep loudly. However, as the car came to a halt in front of your flat, Zayne refused to let you get out.

You turned to look at him. He looked exhausted and miserable. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, then your eyes met for a moment. You were the first to break that connection.

"I'm home now. Can I leave yet? Or do I still have to wait for your permission?"

"Just stay a little more." Zayne's deep voice rang out. He was considerably more relaxed now than he had been previously. "I'm sorry…"

That was the first time you had heard an apology from him. How strange! Usually, you were the one making trouble, and Zayne was the one who looked after you. You were the one who said sorry. Hearing those words coming out of his mouth made you feel so odd.

“I'm sorry if I become too controlling and that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

You were astonished for a second. You still wanted to weep, but your emotions had settled down considerably.

Zayne slipped his hand down from the steering wheel to seize yours and turned it over. He said:

“When I saw you almost unconscious from the poison, being carried into the hospital room, my heart seemed to stop beating. That is not something I want to see at all.”

Zayne's eyes were quite sorrowful. You subconsciously imagined that if you switched roles and the injured person was him, you definitely would not be able to remain calm in such a situation.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Zayne continued. “But I still want to help you do that and protect you. In my own way.”

After he finished speaking, there was a moment of calmness. The street lights were illuminated, and the rain stopped pouring. You softly clutched his hand.

“I'm sorry too, because what I said was not true… I didn't mean to call you a dictator who controls this relationship…”

You smiled at him. The corners of Zayne's lips also loosened somewhat. He took your hand and tenderly pressed a kiss on.

“I'm really okay.” You added. “The doctor also said that the poison from the Wanderers had been purified. I don't feel too much pain anymore."

Zayne gave a slight nod. He understood this from the moment he read your record. That was why he boldly asked for you to be discharged from the hospital. Even though he was upset, your safety would come first in any case.

"You said you were fine?" Zayne inquired out of the blue. "How do you prove it then?"

You exhaled. After all, he still had reservations about your ability to care for yourself. You leaned in to offer him a passionate kiss. The resentment in your heart melted away in his warmth.

As your lips withdrew from Zayne's, he whispered:

"Good enough. However, in the future, if there is an issue between us, or if you are dissatisfied with something I do,... can I trust you to talk to me directly about it?"

You gave a modest nod. Zayne kissed you, deep. He caressed you but only so gently, as if afraid that you would melt into rain bubbles if he became too greedy. A while later, perhaps since your head was hazy from the injury, you had no clue how you ended up sitting on top of Zayne in the driver's seat, your lips locked with him while your hands constantly touching his flesh underneath the shirt. His delicate but searing kisses fell on your shoulder, around the bandaged area that had just been revealed to his sight as he pulled your shirt down. He kissed your wounds, new and old. He asked softly, would you feel pain if he touched them? And you replied that there was only pain if he did not do so.

Rain began pouring again; it might last all night long. How convenient, since he did not intend to let you get out of the car in such a condition.

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[kisses4reid]

date night | ·˚ ༘ aaron hotchner ,,

summary - you’re late for date night after your own kindness distracts you, but aaron doesn’t care as long as you’re with him.

genre - fem!reader x aaron, reader has a job not at the bau (you can decide), fluffy fluff, date night, selfless reader, angst if you squint really close??

warnings - light swearing, r being rained on, blabbering and near crying, haley doesn’t exist neither does jack

w/c - it’s short. trust me.

a/n - pov: pia asks for requests, starts writing those requests, and instead uploads an original fic. enjoy!!! (this is from a year ago so beware the writing. i just need to upload something before the engagement goes down 😭)

It got dark quicker this evening. A storm was approaching, you could tell by the drizzle outside of your office window. Your colleagues were already packed up, waiting for you, and you shot them a small smile and scurried to pull on your jacket.

In the elevator there was a rumble, a girl you had begun to get close with gripped your arm obviously scared and you looked at her concerned. Her eyes batted at you and all you could do was squeeze her arm in reassurance - you weren’t going to point out her fear in an elevator of office men. She looked great, a nice dress shirt, hair done nicely. You recalled her giddy whispers from that morning, I have a date tonight!

The excitement felt weirdly familiar, you couldn’t put your finger on it.

And although the restaurant she was going to was close by, you still worried about the rain.

See, you often opted for the outdoor afternoon stroll, but now the dark clouds had rolled over and it felt more like walking home at night with no moon as your guide.

You waved your friend goodbye and stepped out from the covers of your office building, into the rainy street with a thin pink umbrella overhead. Your small heels clicked against the roads, your jacket barely saving you from the chill, and you set off to your fiancé’s apartment. Your apartment now, you reminded yourself.

The trees lining the avenues and backroads swayed in the rain that was starting to pound harder, and the puddles you avoided started to get, well, unavoidable. You had always loved rain. Spending the weekend snuggled against the large window of your apartments living room with a good book and a warm drink was one of your favourite things to do, but right now you slightly cursed the storm and wondered why you didn’t check the weather app this morning like you always do.

Your sole focus was seeing your fiancé, and yet when your attention catches on a struggling older lady, you can’t help but step through mud to help.

“Shit.” A shorter lady, maybe in her late 50’s, was pull a wagon of flowers and plants along the sidewalk, and each step she took, the back left wheel would spin uncontrollably or not spin at all.

You scurried over and approached the woman, talking from across the wagon, “Can I help you with this?”

The woman’s face crinkled with relief and she nodded furiously causing you to smile back.

Helping people was your way of paying back the world for how well it treated you (most of the time). Your parents were constantly helping others and you had no choice but to follow suit. And at times your friends had to tell you to calm it down, saying you were being selfless and sometimes even a pushover.

That didn’t stop you.

“Thank you so much! My legs are getting too old for this.” You pulled the wagon up by its back legs and moved with the woman to pull it under cover, closer to what you assumed to be her flower shop. She locked up the store promptly and thanked you again but you stopped her.

She was dressed in a lovely floral dress, a thick cotton apron and small ballet flats and you just couldn’t stand to see that outfit go to waste. You held out the handle of the pink umbrella, rain immediately dampening your hair.

The lady held a wrinkled hand to her heart and placed a red-lipsticked kiss on your cheek. Your heart sank slightly, realising you would not be coming home in the state you wanted to. It wasn’t like Aaron would care, it was your own worries about ruining the apartment’s carpet and probably the elevator too.

You started down the street, not attempting to avoid puddles or mud anymore, just attempting to hide under bus stop covers when you could. The rain was truly heavy now, but luckily you were only a block away from your apartment.

“Hi Aaron Hotchner.”

“Hi Y/n Hotchner.” His hair was combed nicely and he was still in his work suit, he looked stoic and so manly - you placed a chaste kiss on his lips. His large hands took your jacket off and a cheeky smile slipped on his face. “Why are you drenched?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He definitely remembered you taking your umbrella before you left for work.

“Oh I,” you sighed, knowing you would get a small scold for your actions, “I walked in the rain.”

Aaron sighed, knowing you were lying for your and his own good. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You pouted, “I didn’t know if you’d be home.” You moved yourself further down the hall, Aaron trying but failing to keep you back. He clenched his fists as you stopped at the end of the hall in shock, you were supposed to close your eyes.

You held a hand over your mouth and let your eyes wander the room. Your dining table was decorating with candles and petals, there was an amazing smell coming from the kitchen and suddenly you felt the whole world crash onto you. How could you forget about date night?

“Oh my god, Aaron. Aaron, I am so sorry I completely forgot, oh my god.”

Aaron moved in front if you, a small smile adorning his handsome face, “Hey it’s okay, I understand it was raining and your umbrella magically disappeared. I only got here 10 minutes ago, I wasn’t waiting or anything.”

“Aaron I ruined it I mean- Look at me!” You looked down and extended your arms to motion at your whole being. Drenched dress, stuck hair, a shivering disaster.

“What do you mean-“

“My makeup is trashed, and- and my hair. There’s leaves in my hair! I’m wet and now your suit’s wet and- oh Aaron I’m so sorry, I don’t look like a good date at all.” Shoulders slumped, eyes tearing up, you looked down at your feet and felt your heart attacking your ribs.

“You don’t have to be sorry honey. I should be the one sorry, I didn’t think to come find you so you wouldn’t have to walk home in the rain.” He placed two fingers under your chin to lift your gaze back to his, and moved his other hand to pluck out a leaf from your hair.

“I ruined our date.”

“No you didn’t.” Aaron talked smoothly and low, as if you coming home looking like you’d been to hell and back wasn’t concerning him at all.

“Aaron I look horrible.”

“You look…”

“Awful? Hideous? Like Poseidon put me on a hit list?” You brought a hand up to wipe your eyes of slightly smudged mascara before Aaron’s larger hand caught it.

“You look beautiful. You look gorgeous, like always.” His eyes stared deep into yours, his hand squeezing around yours.

“… Thank you.” You sniffled, “You should just break up with me now.”

“Eh, that engagement ring was too much to let you go that fast.” He twisted your hand slightly to smile at the dazzling ring on your left hand. His hand moved from your face down to your waist and leaned in to place a loving kiss on your trembling lips before he caught a glance of something and paused. “How’d you get that red mark on your cheek?”

“Oh- I helped a lady out with her flower cart because it was stuck in the rain. And then I gave her my umbrella, and she kissed me on the cheek.”

He pulled back, sighing, “Y/n…”

“Her dress was very pretty, and I could tell her hair was freshly permed, okay. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.” You crossed your arms over your chest and smiled cheekily.

“You’re unbelievable.” He couldn’t help but smile, he knew his girl was unforgivably selfless. Aaron took your hand and lead you to your bedroom so you could change for your date.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He leant against the doorframe, “I meant it as a good thing. Let’s eat, and then we can shower, and you can tell me about your day was.”

You opened your closet and sighed, “I’m really sor-“

“Don’t say sorry. You can apologies but wearing something nice and complimenting my subpar cooking.” He shot you a charming smile that warmed your heart and exited to set up the food, all you could think of is how lucky you were to have him.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover

[moralesmilesanhour]

piece of cake

summary: meeting miles g at a bakery, and other happenings. wc: 3k+ warning: blood, grief (more at the periphery, not a major theme), and lightly implied mommy issues a/n: ngl i was hungry asf when i wrote this. why can't i ever write normal fluff fics anymore. first fic of 2024!!

Brooklyn Middle is closed for winter break. The basketball court where the snow-covered hoop no longer has a net is empty, save for the blinking Christmas lights strung across the chain-link fence.

In a few years, the pizza place across the street where students would linger after school will be demolished, replaced by a shiny new Oscorp building that reflects the sun from all angles of its glass exterior. But for now, the place is just closed early for the holidays, a few blocks away from a bakery.

The tall, bear-like frame of a father dressed in a long black overcoat can be seen entering with a wiry young boy in a red hoodie and bomber jacket tailing close behind. He has an afro as opposed to his father’s closely-cropped hair. The boy keeps trying to straighten his posture - as if his spine would suddenly lengthen and his shoulders would broaden from the act alone. He wants to make himself look important today, because he is on a top-secret mission: 

Operation: Get Mom a Cake.

“I think mom’ll like that one.”

The boy points at a slice of tres leches cake sitting behind a glass display. It’s not as flashy as the other decorative cakes drizzled with chocolate and strawberries or encased in pink frosting, but those wouldn’t melt on the tongue the way tres leches did. 

His father raised an eyebrow at the plain slice, but the boy looked at him with a certainty that he’d never seen before, through eyes nearly identical to his mother’s. The man knew then that he was getting an expert opinion.

“Alright, if you say so,” he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll take that one, Val.”

The boy smiled proudly at the older woman as she handed him the pink box containing the cake. Mission accomplished.

Now, he looks up and frowns at the Oscorp building blocking the view of where his old school used to be as he picks at a slice of cake with a plastic fork.

The ‘Employees Only’ door behind the counter swings open, and Valeria Cruz hobbles out, removing her apron.

“It’s almost your shift, Miles, hurry up and finish that cake.”

Miles takes one more bite before rising from his seat near the entrance and pushing the paper plate and half-eaten slice into a small trash can.

“You got it, Miss V.”

“Did you take out the trash?”

He pauses, and his eyes widen.

“I’mma get that done right now, Miss V!”

The woman sighs, running a hand through gray and white-streaked curls as the teen sprints out the door and back outside.

A forest green puffer jacket rushes past you on the sidewalk. It’s the same one you had seen shuffling out of the back entrance of Val’s bakery the other morning, lugging two black garbage bags with a purple hoodie obscuring the stranger’s face. 

He probably works there, then, you think. Good. She could use the help.

The place had been packed the week before Officer Morales’ funeral, and for several weeks after. But over time, business began to slow down to a trickle. Hipster cafés and towering condos sprang up and choked out the little pizza shops and restaurants that took their owners’ last names, like when an invasive species of plant grows taller than the local varieties and smothers them, blocking out the sun.

You had been seeing Val’s face since you were in diapers. Families used to go there for birthdays, for elementary school graduations, middle school graduations - or sometimes just to grab something sweet to eat after church on Sundays. You continued the tradition–even if just to buy a tiny bag of cookies–in the hopes that the place might still be standing for your high school graduation. 

The bell above the door rings to signal your entrance. The once baby pink wallpaper has begun to fade, but the late-afternoon sun makes it feel as vibrant as it did when you were twelve. Valeria is standing in front of the display of freshly-baked pastries with her apron folded neatly over her arm.

“Oh, were you about to close up shop?” You begin to take backward steps. “I can come back later–”

“No, no, sweetie, it’s fine!” The woman waves her hand, beckoning you to stay. “I was just about to go on my lunch break. I have someone about to take over for me.”

“It’s cool, I can wait. I saw somebody taking out the trash, that him?”

She sighs wearily, “That’s him, alright. He’s a good kid, but he’s always–”

“Sorry I’m late!”

In rushes Mr. Green Jacket through a chilly gust of wind, who turns to nod in greeting towards you before weaving past Val and behind the counter, where he disappears through the ‘Employees Only’ door.

“That boy, I swear. Never on time!”

He reappears sans the jacket, wearing a white apron identical to the one Val is holding. The name tag on it reads ‘Miles’. 

Miles. Where have you heard that name before…?

The hood on his sweater is no longer pulled over his head, revealing two neat cornrows that cascade all the way down his neck. The surrounding hair has been shaved and faded at the nape of his neck and hairline. He’s the sort of brown-skinned that looks golden when the sunlight hits his face as he approaches the cash register. 

“You gonna be alright for the next half hour?” asked Val with an eyebrow raised.

Miles drummed his fingers on the counter and grinned. “Yup, I got it.”

“Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone!”

“I won’t, promise.”

She pushes the door open with a skeptical look and leaves.

With this new stranger temporarily in charge, you carefully approach the counter. He looks up at you with curious brown eyes.

“Whatchu want?”

“Um…” you blink before remembering what you were here for. “Just sugar cookies, please.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

He turns to grab a paper bag, then bends to drop the desired amount of cookies into it with the pair of tongs that sit on the inside of the display.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what school you go to? I haven’t seen you around here before, feel like I’d remember you if I had.”

Miles pops his head over the counter and tilts his head with a cheeky grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You avoid eye contact, shifting from one foot to the other. Suddenly it’s not so cold anymore.

“I-I don’t know. You just seem memorable.”

He laughs a raspy, breathy laugh and hands you the bag of cookies over the counter. His hand is much larger than yours with slender fingers at the end of it, but still manages to appear almost clumsy-looking. Big enough to be a man’s, but with only half the dexterity.

“I go to Visions.”

“Fancy. You like it over there?”

“It’s aight. Kinda uptight, but my dad always said it was a ‘good opportunity’, so I stayed.”

You hum in consideration. 

“Can't do everything for your parents, though. They'll have you living their dreams before you know it.”

The smile fades a bit, and Miles averts his gaze.

“Well my dad passed, so I just figured I’d just do this one thing for him.”

You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I'm so sorry, I–”

“It's fine,” he snorts without any humor. “You might be the only one that doesn't know who my daddy is. Kind of a relief.”

Miles encloses the money you just gave him in the slot beneath the cash register with a loud snap. 

“You need anything else?”

You chew on your bottom lip in embarrassment and clutch your bag of cookies.

“No. Thank you.”

He doesn’t look up from the register.

“Have a nice day.”

Your mother is leaning on the window sill, nibbling on a granola bar when you get back home. She’s silent, which means she is observing. You’ll need to tread carefully. 

“I brought cookies.”

She gives you a sidelong glance.

“Val’s cookies?”

“Yup, same as always.”

“That lady still working there all by herself?”

“She hired somebody to help out, actually - I saw a boy working the register.”

She notices the upward inflection in your voice at the mention of a boy, which interests her more than the cookies.

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s got, um,” you make a gesture over your head. “Twin braids–cornrows–and a green jacket? Kinda tall, too.”

Your mother nods, thoughtful. The description rings a bell, but she needs to confirm.

“You catch his name?”

“Miles, I think.”

“Lord,” she gasps, fully turning to face you. “That’s that Morales boy! I used to work with his momma, bless her heart. Barely saw his face after the funeral.”

The image of Miles’ face at the mention of his dad makes you cringe at your comment earlier. How could you not recognize him? He practically stole his face from the mural that was plastered above the precinct. You had only heard the boy’s name uttered once by your mother over the phone at 2:00 A.M., whispered like a secret.

“I can’t imagine how it must be for Miles. Didn’t he just get into that nice school down there? Of course they’ll have to let him go home. He should be with his mother.”

“He was such a sweet little boy. Then I saw him the other day?” 

She shook her head, “Look like a different person. He had them flashy studs in his ears, nose pierced and everything.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had tattoos under that coat as well. Damn shame.”

“He seemed nice when I saw him,” you remark quietly in a weak attempt to defend his character, despite having known him for all of five minutes. “Sweet, like you said.”

Your mother’s face hardens, all of her attention now focused on you as she folds the wrapping of the granola bar.

“That’s why you’re not bringing no boys home ‘till you’re eighteen,” she sharply reminds you. “‘Seems nice’ - How you know if he’s really nice or not?”

Again, Miles’ face appears in your mind’s eye. He didn’t seem to want your pity - rejected it, even. And what of his apparent chronic lateness? 

Still…

“You don’t know that, either,” you say despite yourself. “I spoke to him while I was there.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow. 

“Girl, I know that look. I better not see you runnin’ around with that boy, understand me?”

She looks set on not changing her mind now, so you only nod in defeat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In your head, you’re already making plans to hit up the bakery tomorrow - both to apologize and to see the sun kissing Miles’ face again. Maybe tomorrow he’d even have the piercings in.

But when you get there the next day under the guise of ‘a trip to the corner store’, Miles isn’t at the register. 

The sky has turned a pale shade of gray, and it has begun to drizzle. Pulling your navy blue coat tightly around you, you consider turning back around when–

Boom!

The sound of something hitting a trash can from behind the establishment catches your attention. It could be him taking out the trash at the last minute again.

Your assumption is proven only halfway correct.

Stepping over discarded boxes and tin cans, you find Miles doubled over, clutching his side. “Are you okay?” 

Startled, bloodshot eyes glance at you before focusing on the ground.

“Fucking fantastic,” he grunts painfully.

As you get closer, you can see a dark stain blooming from where his hand is. A sick feeling swirls in your stomach.

“Oh my God, do you need me to call somebody?”

“Nah, I’m…I’m straight,” Miles says through labored breaths. “I just gotta…patch myself up before I get home.”

You whip out your phone and frantically unlock it.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Hell no–”

“You are bleeding!”

He tilts his head towards a duffle bag lying near his feet. 

“I got First Aid in there…that’ll do me just fine.”

When he tries to reach for the bag, his knees give out, causing him to collapse right next to it.

-

Miles shivers as you gingerly wrap white bandages around his waist, the flat expanse of skin on his stomach partially exposed to the elements. He fades in and out of consciousness, between your face and black nothingness. When he’s awake, he stares up at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t call 9-1-1, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him with a grin. “This should stop the bleeding, but I can’t help you beyond that.”

“Wusyaname?” he mumbles, head lolling towards you. He’s on the brink of passing out again.

“Call me (Y/N).”

“Wasn’t gon’ call you anything else.”

“Shut up, I just saved your life.”

“Mmmm-hm,” Miles hums with a lazy smile that makes you wonder if he’s becoming delirious.

“Eeeeverybody loves sayin’ that. Everybody always…”

His eyelids get heavy before he can finish the thought, and he finally blacks out again in your lap. 

-

There’s a short line inside the bakery that weekend, and you wonder if Miles has anything to do with it. 

Word seemed to get around mysteriously fast that the former teenaged recluse had come out of hiding after that conversation (if you could even call it that) with your mother. From where you’re sitting–by the window, nibbling on a sugar cookie, observing–Miles does not seem to enjoy the attention.

Or maybe you’re just imagining the strained smile on his face as the line of customers becomes a Greek chorus of gasps and squeals.

“You got so big!”

“What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh, you look just like Jeff.”

“How’s Rio?”

“Good to see you out and about again.”

The sparkling curiosity is nearly drained from his face by the time he joins you at the end of his shift with a slice of cake. He does not have the fabled nose piercing in, but two diamond studs sparkle when the light hits them every time he moves his head.

“So?”

“So…?”

“Are you alright after I found you the other day? I saw you limping back there.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine. My mom’s literally a nurse. She got me straight.”

“What’d you tell her? Looked like you broke a rib.”

“Far as she’s concerned, I fell off my bike.”

“I’ve never seen you on a bike.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

You shrug. Touche.

“What did you have to say to me that was worth stalking me after my shift?”

“Stalking?”

“You buy the same thing every time, you think I ain’t notice?” Miles smirks, like a detective who’s just gotten a confession. “Who goes to a bakery and only gets cookies?”

“Lay off me, man, these are excellent,” you take another bite for emphasis. “Anyways, I actually came to apologize.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“For what I said the first time I saw you. I didn’t know you were that Miles.”

The corners of Miles’ lips pull downwards into a frown. 

“That’s it?”

“Mm, well…”

You bite your lip by force of habit.

“I also wanted to talk to you again. Under better circumstances. That your favorite type of cake?”

Miles looks down at his plate when you point to it with your fork, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, tres leches. What about it?”

“I dunno, I just always see you eating that and nothing else. Is there a reason?”

You expect to say something about the sweetness, or the texture, but instead he answers:

“It always tastes the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like…” He puts down his fork and starts to construct an analogy in his head.

“It’s like when you see an ice cream truck. You run up to it before it drives off, and what do you ask for? First thing that pops into your head?”

“Vanilla?”

“Exactly. You could try one of the other ones, but what if it tastes like ass? Now you stuck eating something you don’t like–”

“And it’s a waste of money.”

“Exactly!” Miles laughs. “You get it. My mom makes fun of me because I’ve been eating the same thing since I was five. But it’s always good! And the same amount of good.”

“Can’t argue with that.” 

You tap your nails on the table, thinking. 

“But what if you find a new flavor that you really like?”

He shrugs, “Then lucky me, I guess. But that doesn’t tend to happen.”

“It could happen, though.”

He watches the strange way you eat. Slowly, teeth-first, as if you’re afraid to make a mess. It’s weirdly dainty, which makes him chuckle beneath his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-uh, don’t do that. What’s so funny?”

Miles gives you that same head tilt again.

“It’s cute, the way you eat.”

Your hand freezes just as it’s about to lift another cookie to your mouth, and you stare at him blankly.

“That’s…”

He pauses too. 

“...Weird, yeah. Sorry. I dunno why I said that.”

A beat of silence passes that’s so heavy with awkwardness, that the two of you can’t help but burst into poorly-stifled laughter.

You lean forward with your chin resting in your hand. “That’s fine. I kept coming here just to spy on you, so I guess I’m weird, too.”

“Ah, so you admit it!”

“Hey, if I wasn’t bein’ a total creep, you might’ve bled out next to the garbage dump. Val can’t lose a valuable employee, right?”

“If you put it that way.”

You can see the white of some of Miles’ teeth peeking out as he smiles. One of his canines is charmingly crooked, and sharper than the others. When the smile fades, he suddenly looks uncertain.

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Ask away.”

“Do you wanna make this,” he gestures between you, “like, a regular thing? Y’know, ‘meeting under better circumstances’.”

It’s your turn for a smile to spread across your face. 

“We should. Whatever you did to end up bleeding out in the rain, I guess I’d be a witness now.”

“M-hm. Can’t have you yappin’ about that to my customers,” He plays along, then winks. “I’mma need your number too, just in case.”

Just before you reach for your phone in your pocket, you hear your mother’s voice in your head, casting a shadow over the whole thing and giving you pause.

All jokes aside, Miles had never explained what had landed him in that predicament behind the bakery in the first place. He’s always late. He lies to his mother. You’re about to lie to your mother. 

But the sun is hitting his face again, and with the light bouncing off of his pupils, he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly. The shadow remains at the corner of your eye. Just the corner.

You grin and hand him your phone.

“You got it. Just in case.”

[loveywon]

♡𓂃 ENHYPEN AND KISSING IN THE RAIN !

pairings: enhypen ot7 x gn!reader (separate)

wc: 1.8k+

synopsis: when you and enhypen kiss in the rain <3

warnings: FLUFF, little angst if u squint in jay’s, (innocent) kisses, jungwon calls reader pretty, you can tell its rushed im sorry :(, not proofread Lolz

LEE HEESEUNG ♡𓂃

as you rush your way to the school’s gymnasium, a million thoughts are going through your head. your brain is still having trouble wrapping around the fact that heeseung likes you. you feel like you’re about to pass out with how dizzy you’re getting from the amount of butterflies that are fluttering in your stomach when jake had accidentally revealed heeseung’s crush on you. you couldn’t wait til the next day of school, no. another ten hours is too long, and you must confess now. it was only drizzling when you had left the house, but now as you’re nearing the school you’re absolutely drenched from head to toe, but you could care less. you know heeseung’s basketball practice is almost over, and you cannot wait any longer to announce that you reciprocate his feelings. finally reaching the two big gymnasium doors, you stop for a moment to catch your breath from running. the door swings open, and there is heeseung with his teammates, chatting, but the chatter stops abruptly upon seeing you drenched in the rain, alone. his eyes widened with concern, thinking the absolute worse like something happened and you had no one else to turn to but him. “y/n! are you okay?” he rushes to you, disregarding his umbrella. he could care less if he gets wet. what matters is you. you stand up straight, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. “i like you too, heeseung!” you say loud and proud, and heeseung’s teammates think that they’ve never seen him so frozen before. “w-what?” he’s still processing, but you’re so caught up on adrenaline, you ask him, “can i kiss you?” in which he replies with a mere nod, eyes still blank but once your lips meet his, he’s back into reality and melts with you.

PARK JONGSEONG ♡𓂃

you storm out of your shared bedroom with jay, your feet stomping as you grab your coat. “where are you going?!” jay asks exasperatedly, and you roll your eyes. “anywhere but here,” you retort. you didn’t mean to start a fight with him, but you suppose bottled up emotions got the best of both of you and it blew up in your face. “it’s raining outside! you can’t go out right now. let’s just talk it out, please?” he proposes, and he’s near getting on his knees for you. you don’t care, and you don’t give him another glance as you open the door despite the pouring downfall. you slam the door behind you, but it’s quickly opened back again with a jay running after you, an umbrella in hand. “y/n, please, you’re going to catch a cold like this,” he pleads, grabbing your hand to stop you from walking away. his strength is enough to turn you around to face him (without hurting you), and his face instantly softens upon seeing your soaked cheeks that’s not from the rain. “i don’t want you getting sick. please, can we go back inside and talk it out again?” he frowns, and you nod slowly. you know jay would never hurt you intentionally, and he’d do anything in his power to prevent anything from happening. you bury your head in his chest, and he rubs your back with his free hand comfortingly. he places a delicate kiss on your forehead, “you mean everything to me, i’m sorry.”

SIM JAKE ♡𓂃

it’s so cheesy, you think. the way you and jake run out in the rain out of pure impulse is just something you would only do with him. you convince yourself it’s because he’s been by your side since elementary, so you really only trust him more than anyone else. he drags you with him, despite your protests and screaming because you just washed your hair, and you didn’t want to wash it again. your “no! jake please, no!” falls on deaf ears and jake only grins from ear to ear with the way your hands are intertwined together and running away from the roof that was keeping you both dry. your head is down, trying to keep your face at least dry but jake won’t have this. he tilts your head up with his hand cupping your chin, “chin up, enjoy the moment!” he says so enthusiastically that you feel like you have no choice but to listen (not like you could say no to jake anyway), embracing the wet droplets that land on your face. he giggles, so entranced with the way you look so at peace underneath the rain. “you’re so unreal,” is all he says before his lips meet yours.

PARK SUNGHOON ♡𓂃

it’s so painfully awkward, the silence between you and him as you both sit at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to come but it’s been fifteen minutes since the bus was scheduled to arrive. you didn’t know each other well, and because both your friends wanted to do a stupid double date forced you to leave with sunghoon. he’s too gentlemanly to leave you to go home alone, but with the way the bus doesn’t seem to be coming at all, you let out an exasperated sigh. “sorry. you can go home if you want,” you say, but he only shrugs his shoulders and doesn’t look up from his hands, playing with the rings that decorate his fingers. “i’m just gonna walk home. it’s only like, twenty minutes. sorry to be a bother,” you apologize again, standing up and bowing down to him slightly. he finally looks up, “oh. i’ll walk with you then.” it simply doesn’t cross his mind that you’re living opposite of where he lives, but you don’t refuse because you know he’d still tag along anyway. the walk is silent, the rain really brings down the mood and amplifies the awkwardness. after a long twenty minutes, you stop at your door. “okay…well…bye,” you bite your bottom lip and sunghoon opens his mouth to say something so you decide to not completely move yet even though you’re absolutely soaked from the rain and he is too. “um, do you want to actually go on a proper date? just us two?” he asks, and it really takes you aback because you thought he had no interest in you at all. you smile, nodding as you hand him your phone to put his number in. “thank you for walking back with me,” you say, quickly pecking his cheek before running to your door.

KIM SUNOO ♡𓂃

one step out of the school doors, you’re met with pouring rain. you frown; maybe you should have listened to your mom when she nagged at you to bring an umbrella. as you’re about to accept your fate and step out from underneath the roof that is keeping you try, you feel a presence next to you. “hi,” sunoo greets with an umbrella in his hand as he takes a step forward so that you’re standing underneath the umbrella. you smile at him, “hello. i don’t need the umbrella, it’s okay. i normally shower after school anyway.” you brush him off, but he’s stubborn and knows more than anything that cold rain is going to cause you to get sick, and he doesn’t think he can get through school without you for a week. “don’t care! let’s go.” he grabs your hand and drags you with him, despite your assurance that you’re fine. as you two walk to your house, side by side since his umbrella is a little small, you sigh, making sunoo look at you with concern. perhaps he was too pushy, he assumes. “you really didn’t have to,” you say, but you really want to just ask him why, and he seems to understand. “i just want to spend more time with you. i like you, y/n,” he states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and you can only gape at him. “oh.” you two are already close to each other, so all you have to do is turn your head to peck him on the lips. “i like you too.”

YANG JUNGWON ♡𓂃

late night studying in the library happens almost every time you’re with jungwon, so you’re not surprised when the librarian walks over to kick the two of you out. with continuous apologies to the librarian as you and jungwon walk out, jungwon hears pitter patter from outside the window. “umm…y/n, i think it’s raining outside,” he says and you run to the nearest window to look outside, only to see that he is right. you don’t recall seeing the weather app saying it was going to be raining today. you frown, “oh, i don’t have an umbrella,” to which jungwon replies with “me neither.” the two of you stare at each other awkwardly until jungwon decides to take the first step outside the door, to which you follow. he purses his lips together into a thin line, the heavy rain bringing you two to a dilemma. “well!” you shrug, grabbing his hand and dragging him out from the safe and dry roof, the two of you instantly becoming drenched. with a lighthearted laugh, you start to run towards the direction of your neighborhoods, and jungwon joins in with fits of giggles. “oh god, my grandma’s gonna be so mad at me when i come home soaked!” jungwon yells to you because the rain is just so loud, it’s difficult to hear each other. you laugh, finally coming to a stop to catch your breath, “not our fault the weather app lied to us,” you grin, and his own lips curve up into a smile as well. “you’re really so pretty,” he says breathlessly, his chest still heaving up and down from the run. “you too,” you reply, placing a kiss on his cheek and he mimics you, kissing your cheek as well.

NISHIMURA RIKI ♡𓂃

it’s one thing to be stupid and reckless, and it’s another thing to be nishimura riki. this realization only occurs to you now, as the two of you stand idly, drenched and cold. you sigh, “this is exactly why i hesitated to say yes.” you grumble underneath your breath, arms hugging yourself to try and adapt some warmth. he feels so bad upon seeing your shivering state, and he knows the thin jacket you’re wearing does absolutely nothing to shield you from the cold. so instead, he wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a hug and successfully warming you up (but you don’t let him know because you’re trying your hardest to be mad). “sorry, y/n,” he apologizes sheepily with a boyish grin, and it's so hard to stay irritated with him. you lean into his hug, “it’s fine. next time try thinking before you decide to get yourself into even more trouble.” you mumble and he nods enthusiastically. he brushes your wet hair out of your face, pecking soft and apologetic kisses all over your face. its silent for a moment as the two of you are in each other’s embrace, despite the constant droplets of rain. “i can call us an uber and i’ll make hot chocolate when we get back!” he proposes and you smile and nod as he pulls out his phone.

taglist!: @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @hyunes4ngel

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

saw your name on the erised particpant post and i'm so excited to read what you wrote! it's like seeing authors in the wild when they do fests and stuff. can't wait

Ahh thank you! I've participated three times in Erised and unfortunately, this year will be my last time for that particular fest, but I am glad you are looking forward to it! There's another fest I participated in as well that will get revealed in the next couple weeks. If you are interested in my past fest fics, I'll link them.

-Dear Cousin, Love Regulus [Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018] As the sole Malfoy heir, Draco understood that his path was set long before his birth; who to be, how to act and what his choices should be. What he had not counted on was the power of outside influences. Letters from his deceased cousin caused him to realize that he did have choices, starting with the choice to be someone else, to be who he wanted to be. The road to self-discovery was difficult and navigating that path in the shadow of Harry Potter was its own challenge but maybe, just maybe, his friends would help him along the way. And he would owe it all to Regulus Black.

-Ardour of Karma [H/D Erised 2019] “Malfoy knows something is going on with you and unless you both want to go back to fighting and death glares, you should fix it.”

“How do I do that? Just waltz up to him and say, ‘I know I’ve been a prat but your scent makes my dick swell. How’s your day?’”

“Mind repeating that?”

The familiar drawl had Harry’s throat clamming up as his blood ran cold. Oh no.

-The Forsaken [Harry/Draco OwlPost 2019] When Draco imagined his future as a child he thought he'd be a Potion Master, get married and maybe have a kid. But the reality was he was a retired Assassin, bitten by a Vampire and mated to a reckless, idiotic, foolish ex-Auror now turned Veela—Harry Potter.

-Borrowing Courage [H/D Erised 2018] After years of being a Magical Artist and painting for other people, Draco decides it’s time to paint for himself for once. The secrets pile up as he tries to unravel the mystery of his relatives but the only thing he didn’t count on was having to go to Potter of all people for approval.

-Save a Horse, Ride a Malfoy [HP Kinkfest 2020] Riddles are woven throughout life, some never answered and many lost in frustration. Whatever riddle it was that defined what Harry and Draco had was a mess of a riddle that worked for them, despite what everyone else thought, even if there was no answer—yet. Sex was another riddle, only that was one they had solved many, many times over. 

-Still Standing [H/D Fan Fair 2019] Not many know the evil origins of a Philosopher's Stone. When Draco discovers that the Goblins found one and kept it, he'll stop at nothing to see it taken care of. Even if that means having to deal with Gringotts' very own resident twat: Harry Potter.

-Augury Forecast [HP Drizzle Fest 2018] Draco had always known that teaching at Hogwarts would be an experience, he just didn’t think that meant a flash flood in the kitchens, a windstorm in the Great Hall, or a sandstorm in the Quidditch pitch. Months of extreme weather would grate on anyone’s nerves, but to have Potter, the ever annoying Divination Professor, around every corner was even worse. So much for a quiet life at Hogwarts.

-Teach Me [HP Contest Fest 2018] "If you can’t learn Occlumency, then you can’t become an Auror.”

No. All of this couldn’t be for nothing. Harry hadn’t spent so much time proving himself, proving that he was more than just a famous name for all of this to go to shite. “This can’t be the end.”

"I have someone in mind that could teach you if you are willing, but I can't guarantee he will help, especially considering your... past." 

"You don't mean Malfoy, do you?"

-Worth Betting On [HP Joggers Fest 2018] The easy way Malfoy breezed into the arena in an unprofessional attire—grey joggers that outlined far too much, and a white dress shirt open with nothing underneath—which showed off his chest, his sweaty sweaty chest—had Harry sitting up straighter. It wasn't unusual to see Malfoy in such a state of undress, it was a signature move that he refused to change.  

Not that Harry wanted him to change. 

 Or the one where Draco is a professional Duelist, and Harry can't stay away from the matches.

[bentosandbox]

Ambience Synesthesia tutorial blog

rambled this out because I didn't have inflight wifi otw home and the turbulence was too crazy to draw

Buying the ticket

erm so they only dropped the tickets like slightly less than a month before lol kinda insane

The concert tickets were sold on Damai so you need a CN number or know/pay someone with one who'd buy it for you which is what I did by recommendation (A tier 1280 + 400 'service fee' [apparently it would have been cheaper if they only helped you half way or something but i wasnt gonna risk running into a payment hiccup so]) Iirc they sold it in two batches but I don't remember the ratio split between first and second wave…

I got a ticket for 5/5's afternoon show (so the second last performance), I DID meet an oomf who said they managed to snag a ticket for themselves on their own (without a Professional Ticket Snatcher) so its not too impossible to attain on your own I think??? (I didn't get a CN number until like 2 days before I flew back home soo)

Professional Ticket what?? Uhhh apparently there's a whole industry/scene for this you look for listings on xianyu/taobao etc for people to buy on your behalf, you have to give them your real name and identification number (so for foreigners it'd be your passport number) for verification purposes during entry so yknow yea

getting there

You could cab directly to the venue but my friend signed us up for the free shuttle bus (they had freebies last year but not this time) and before we boarded they gave us like free water and bread (apparently free raincoats too on rainy days) which was nice of them but also insane because. the venue doesn't allow you to bring food/drinks in so a lot of people were leaving A LOT of unopened bottles near the gate and I saw a venue staff just throwing them all into the bin (HOPEFULLY JUST TO CARRY THEM AWAY IN ONE GO AND NOT FOR STRAIGHT DISPOSAL….) They drop you off near the venue but you don't go in directly, there's a 'Doctor break room' where most people are seated waiting to be ushered in batches into the venue, but also a lot of people standing around on one side of the room swapping/offering merch

merch swap

ive been told this is a very concert culture thing but i feel like its kind of different because a lot of these are so high quality ike…you could sell them at Artist Alleys but here they are just distributing for free if you have a E2 60 blorbo lmao or whatever (there seems to be a tiny…? minority that prints official art but most of them seem to be handdrawn/made)

i was too unprepared for this lol i did exchange some of my old stickers (missed out on a collapsal plastic fan bc my brain lagged when the guy asked me and i went to my auto 'sorry i dont have any merch' response' :( regretted this bc the room got a little hot from the amount of people in there and i was wearing like 3 layers with that fan on my mind)

from people watching a lot of trades are arranged beforehand on weibo/other sites unless you're willing to yell WHO WANTS TO TRADEEE/anyone wants freebies (a lot of people were also wearing 'Feel Free to Swap Merch/Ask for Freebies' tags) which i was definitely not brave enough to do lol… met up with an oomf i got to know from last dec when i attended an arknights only and they gave me some birbs and charms (bottom of post), there was someone who got a free LGD zine and charm from me bc i posted on wb that id give a free copy to anyone with a Mod 3 swire/swummer LMFAO

I had 2 more people to meet but, uhhh so I bought an esim for mobile data and it would intermittently lose signal here and there which was a little annoying when getting coffee but it just died entirely when i reached the venue and it was kind of Dire because i was waiting for one more friend who was coming over from the fes and i couldn't contact them lmao. told the friend i came with to go in first because I thought if my food got confiscated at least my oomf could see it beforehand LOL

waited outside in a light drizzle for an hour trying to trouble shoot my data to no avail and ended up borrowing a staff's wifi hotspot to get my entry qr code (I actually bought a second data roaming plan on my local sim but i quite stupidly did not check the country coverage and only learned later that night that 'Asia' doesn't cover China kuxiao) she was so nice i was (bow emoji) so sorry to trouble you im a stupid gaijin and she was like no its ok enjoy shanghai!! pien

spent a good 30min next to this board praying for data to no avail

the show

erm anyway because of that clownery above i more or less missed the first piece (the one w the goated hoho) but at least i wasnt the guy next to me who went for a bathroom break right before starset came up

The live singing this year was definitely an improvement I think… I can't really remember the setlist off the top of my head but I'm sure someone else has already listed it out, there were a couple of new pieces that weren't related to the concert groups like a Babel/Kazdel?? one sung in Latin, a Victoria…? one (in victorian ofc) also an Amiya (? just remembering by the visuals they used lol) one in Japanese

ohh yeah so almost every track would start with like a faction logo transitioning in from 3d to 2d which was cool but also amusing because it was honestly bringing quite the 'I will Make Your Company Logo Into 3D Fiverr' vibes

Since I missed the first piece idk if any of The Dreamer(s) got 3D models but The Pilgrim(s why are they all singular) had Kaltsit playing on that piano (there was also a replica of that piano on stage the white one complete with 'Arknights' text on it lmao) and Siege being cool running around in 3D (and ofc Eureka during her denpa number) it was very cool but man... its a pity the other characters in the group just get their live2d png during the beginning and effectively get sidelined lool compared to say Phenomenal Agents idk if i like this tradeoff but that eureka bit was so good sheesh #NOVAFIVE⭐ULTRALIVESWEEP

The other stuff was really great too looking at you Lone Trail medley…!!!!! I might be wrong but I... assume... you're encouraged to karaoke bc they always show the lyrics on screen… I couldn't even hear myself anyway but it was very fun singing songs you can't get on joysound/etc with a whole crowd going at it too (even if most of them would only sing 1-2 lines of the chorus)

Mary Clare did Radiant (they had the lyrics scrolling on the sides very cool) and iirc the Throne group's song...? Radiant was so fun live

Starset did Monster > Telescope and when the latter ended they were like Bye! and we(?) started yelling ENCORE--awkwardly because idk how they do it here (I was half expecting it to be JP style 'an-call-roo' but a bunch of us just yelled en-core en-core here and there until they returned to perform Infected) speaking of yelling.. between every piece when they had to switch sets people would just yell memes or skill names (like Dage's) to pass the time or sth i barely caught half of whatever they were memeing about

did i forget to mention anything else uhhh originium rock turntable for Guide Ahead's boss theme/Dossoles Lobby and they had IS4 medley live throat singing very cool also the dancers they got for silbenherze's boss theme good stuff...

iirc after starset was like a behind the scenes video of how HG prepared for AS and a recorded lowlight video saying some stuff that i forgot LOL just some thank you message basically. 9.5/10 bc no missy/shu EP live

i just realised i forgot to display all the merch from the A tier ticket but w/e. light stick photo ft. merch swaps/gifts from friends and strangers 🥹 (the iffy lenticular card was literally dropped into my bag by an iffy coser (wearing the LT outfit..?!) while waiting for the cab LMAO)

[idiotwithanipad]

HC

Each year on each ghost's birthday they become corporeal, still dead, still ghosts, just corporeal. If they were to walk into the wall, they wouldn't glide through it like they usually do, they'd just bump into it. Livings still can't see them, except for Alison, and Alison is the only living they can touch without feeling sick since she has the sight.

It's also their only chance to leave the grounds. They still can't change outfits; their clothes would just go straight back on them like in canon. So if they go on a day trip with Alison, they'll get a lot of weird looks. It's also the only opportunity they get to eat something or drink.

(Edit: They can change outfits but livings would see them. By 'them' I mean that the living would just see an outfit standing and walking on its own, like an invisible mannequin. So changing outfits has to be kept in the house only)

All the ghosts thought this was some kind of miracle work at first but as the years went on it turned into their birthday parties. All except Robin; the others thought he'd be bouncing off the walls, but no. He stood rock solid in place for most of the day, unable to move. It's been so long, so so long since he's even felt what the ground feels like under his boots, or the breeze, or all the scents of nature that he'd forgotten.

But it's not all bad, when he finally started walking around, he met up with his mouse family and finally got to stroke one of the newborns with his pinkie. He was a fluffy mess after that.

For the first few birthdays, Robin didn't want to leave the house at all ( it was over stimulating for bby🥺) , not even to go outside, but as the years went on he started to enjoy it again. And Alison always liked to surprise them with some of their favourite foods. Robin's was a little difficult at first, so she had to substitute mammoth steak with beef. Rump steak just how he'd like it. She made it authentic by converting one of the outdoor dog kennels into a mini smokehouse to cook it.

Humphrey's head actually stays on during his birthday, just as long as someone places it on his shoulders before midnight. (When Amy dies, she tries to get everybody to try some Monster even if it's only a sip, just to see their reaction). If the door is open, Alison always catches Robin heading to the lake to drink, so she teaches him how to use the taps and the kettle (He doesn't bother with those and instead becomes obsessed with Fruit Shoot blackcurrant cause why not? 😂)

Alison obviously bakes birthday cakes for them:

Robin: Basic vanilla sponge decorated to look like the moon

Kitty: Any kind of lava cake or Sticky Toffee Pudding

Fanny: Lemon Drizzle or Victoria Sponge

Cap: Says he'll take a Victoria Sponge but falls in L O V E with the Battenbergs

Pat: Prefers little cupcakes so that there's plenty to choose from rather than one big cake. So, he opts for Sprinkle cakes or Flapjacks

Thomas: Black Forest Gateau or Chocolate Eclairs

Julian: Says he'd like a Rum cake Or Spotted Dick just to crack jokes about it but secretly loves Bakewell Tarts

Humphrey: Red Velvet cake or any kind of dark chocolate cheesecake

Mary: She likes muffins, anything colourful. Jam Tarts are high up on her list but Rainbow cake wins her over

[oddinary4bts]

Hey!!!

Do u think u could make an JJK FF about two people falling in love bc of fate and coincidences?

I received this before my follower milestone but it works for the celebration I’m hosting so you are in luck hahaha

The Coincidence of Fate | jjk

☆pairing: Jungkook x reader

☆rating: 18+ (no smut in and of itself, just mention of oc and jungkook making love. Minors please DNI)

☆genre: slices of life!au, fluff

☆warnings: OC slips because of a mask, one mention of characters making love

☆word count: 1.3k

☆☆☆☆☆

You weren’t supposed to be here. You still can’t believe the series of events that led you to be standing here, in this coffee shop, drenched with water from the heavy rain outside.

First, you woke up this morning with an inexplicable yearning for your favourite cappuccino from that café you used to go to when you were in college. Literally, you woke up craving the taste of it, and the aromas that swirled on your tongue whenever you studied at that café, by the window overlooking the park on the other side of the street. So you elected to make a pitstop there before going to work, as your first meeting is only at 10:30 am anyway.

Second, you forgot to look at the weather before you leave – which mind you you never do. You usually look at the weather every morning to prepare yourself for the day – what you’ll wear, if you need to put boots or shoes, if you need to bring an umbrella. This morning you forgot, and your trustee red umbrella is still on its hook, in the wardrobe next to the apartment’s door. It’s probably laughing at you from where it hangs, warm and dry.

Third, you took the wrong metro line, which is entirely because you are so used to be going to work directly from home that you don’t even think when you do it, you just let the flow of the crowd guide you. It took you three stops to realize you took the wrong line, and you pull out your phone to figure out the most efficient way to get to the café. It turns out to be a bus, so you get out of the metro and wait at the stop two streets down.

Fourth, the bus drops you off a good seven-minute walk away from the café. Which you reckon isn’t a lot, you’re usually the kind of person that always walks if it’s less than a thirty-minute walk. But the rain starts then, just a small drizzle that doesn’t worry you all that much. It’s summer, so it’s warm anyway, and the drizzle is a good relief from the heat.

Fifth, the café is closed due to renovations, but another one a few blocks down the street took over their menu – of course the café knows how important it is to the university students, so it didn’t want to betray its loyal clientele. But that means a longer walk, yet it still doesn’t scare you.

Sixth and last, the drizzle turns into a full-on shower by the time you make it two blocks down, and you run the rest of the way, trying to avoid your designer clothes getting all wet. Which obviously doesn’t work, because you’re currently dripping on the floor of the coffee house, looking like a lost puppy in the rain.

You’re still adamant about the cappuccino. In fact, you crave it even more now – you’re going to need its warm comfort.

The coffee shop is mostly empty, save for a group of girls studying in one corner, though they seem like they’re gossiping more than anything else. They don’t look at you, and you don’t look at them, walking towards the counter.

There is no one behind it, and you glance at the double doors that probably lead to a kitchen or something of the sorts. What you miss then, is the surgical mask left on the floor by a careless client, and damn you the tiles of the coffee shop have been polished recently.

The moment you step on the mask you fly, and your back hitting the floor has you feeling far too dizzy for your own good. You shut your eyes for a few seconds, wincing in pain. When you open them again, you wonder if you hit your head.

If you hit your head real good and died, because someone’s kneeling next to you, and you’re pretty sure he’s the most beautiful man you’ve seen in your entire life. He’s got big doe eyes, a soft gaze that holds so much kindness you think he can only be an angel. Strangely, what your eyes focus on is the mole under his mouth though.

His lips move, distracting you from the mole, and you notice light glinting on a piercing before you realize he’s speaking. And he’s speaking to you, with a concern-filled voice.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

You blink a few times. “I think so.”

He helps you to sit up, and you’re painfully aware of his hands on you. They’re large, warm, and they hold you for a time, making sure you’re as okay as you say you are. His eyes don’t ever waver from yours once your gazes connect, and you’re pretty sure you’re hearing bells.

You are. It’s the bells from the door, and you let out an embarrassed chuckle as your eyes fall, and he moves his hands off of you to glance at the new client.

“Why don’t you sit while I take care of their order?” he suggests, motioning to the nearest empty table.

You blink again. “Oh.” You glance at the two guys that walked in, before nodding your head. “Yes, sure. Good idea.”

He chuckles, and you think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. It has your pulse racing, in that good way you usually only see on a movie screen. Your gazes catch for a moment again, and it feels like the moment is stretching into its own little eternity.

Then the guy is helping you to stand, and you notice the sleeve of tattoos. They look out of place, on this sweet innocent-looking man, yet they fit perfectly. You gulp, before sitting at the table as he moves back behind the counter to serve the two customers.

His eyes keep darting to you. You know because each time he catches you already looking, and he sends you a small, secretive smile that has you think you have to know him from somewhere. The way he moves feels familiar, the stretch of his shoulders feels like you’ve seen it a thousand times before. You almost remember holding that large hand of his, almost remember the sound of his voice as he whispers against your skin…

You blush then, and your eyes obstinately fall to the table, boring a hole there.

You’ve never been a big romantic. Never believed in love at first sight… but when he puts your favourite cappuccino down in front of you, before sitting in the chair across from yours, you think maybe fate is just a series of coincidences.

“How did you know…” you trail off, motioning to the cup in front of you.

He smiles. “Intuition. I’m Jungkook, by the way. I’ve never seen you around here before.”

Blush dusts your cheeks again. “Y/n.”

He nods, as if he knew anyway.

It’s no wonder you fall in love. No wonder the puzzle pieces meet and form art, because it was meant to be. At least that’s what you think the first time he kisses you, after a Narnia pub quiz date that had both of you sharing two pints of beer, because you both don’t want to leave after the first one. That’s what you think the first time he makes love to you, forehead pressed against yours as you breathe the same air and he tells you he thinks he knows you from a past life. That’s what you think when he makes you dance amongst the falling leaves a late October evening, and that’s what you think when he kisses the top of your head first thing when he wakes up on Christmas morning.

And a year later, when he proposes in that same café you were never supposed to go to, you think he’s your favourite coincidence as you say yes, yes to an eternity next to him. Because you know, you know now your life was just a series of coincidences, all of them leading to him.

[rivertalesien]

Death is not the end.

The rusty creak of a weather vane cut through the quiet over the leaf-strewn grounds.

Staring at the words carved in stone, Clarke traced them in her mind, over and over, as she pulled at a handful of weeds and replaced the old dead flowers with the fresh-cut bouquet she’d bought at the little supermarket on her way to the cemetery. 

Death is not the end. Death is not the end. Death is not the end.

She thought about the cashier who’d wrapped the flowers for her, an older woman, maybe as old as her grandmother, someone who should have retired by now (but who can retire anymore, she’d wondered). The surgical paper mask had slipped down the woman’s nose several times as she looked down at the thin sheets of paper, the skin of her fingers worn almost the same.

Who were they for, she’d asked, absently, reaching for a strip of tape off an old plastic reel of Scotch.

Is it someone’s birthday? Spooky time of year for it.

Clarke shook her head and smiled, reaching for a packet of Wintergreen chewing gum. Her heart was skipping and the sudden stops were making her dizzy.

“Oh, it’s a date, huh?” 

“Sort of.” 

Sliding her card through the reader, she declined the receipt and gave a short thanks to the woman, who adjusted her mask and eyed her as she took up her purchases and made a slight gesture with one hand.

“It’ll get better, you know. It always does.”

Clarke was unsure what the cashier might be referring to: maybe she was thinking of the pandemic, maybe she thought someone was ill. Nodding, she pushed gently at the double doors and stepped outside, moving smoothly past a neglected pile of small pumpkins resting on hay bales.  

Reaching for her keys Clarke took a small breath, grateful that the skies were still clear even if it smelled like rain was on its way and the trees were drizzling red and gold around her car.

It’ll get better. It’ll get better. It always does.

Death is not the end. 

Then what is it?

She shook slightly and remembered where she was.

Touching the engraved L and E and X and A, as if her fingers could reach through the letters and caress the person this once was; a face she hadn’t seen in three years, a voice she hadn’t heard, a kiss she hadn’t shared with anyone else.

A grief that wasn’t going away.

“I love you, Lex. I miss you so much. I don’t know what to do.”

It was dark by the time she left and the leaves were piling high on the grass, crunching beneath her shoes like old newspapers.

She could still smell the rain on the way, but something had shifted. She was tired. Bed would be easy tonight.

As she started the car and drove off, the weathervane creaked again.

And changed direction.

*

“I know it’s a bad time, Clarke, but I was wondering if you could come in for just a bit on Monday? I’ve got someone I think you’d be good with and maybe it’d be good for you. Just call me back when you get this. Love you.”

Clarke deleted her mother’s message, tossing her phone on the saggy green couch before flopping down in Lexa’s old leather armchair. It had been her dad’s and she’d lugged it around from Navy dorms to small apartments until it had finally found a permanent home in the little Craftsman they’d bought six years ago. Clarke laughed a little to herself. For something she was so devoted to, Lexa had rarely sat in it. She just liked the aesthetic of it. And that it was her dad’s.

They’d lost their fathers at almost the same time, both men working in different parts of the same building, both unable to escape when a bomb went off in a bathroom and took out nine floors in just under two minutes. Clarke had received a single text: I love you, sweetheart, hours before she’d finally answered all the missed calls, still trying to avoid Finn, and couldn’t stop crying for days afterward.

They had met at the memorial service, where the President gave a speech that rang hollow and bitter and hypocritical and Lexa was forced to stand at attention with her squadron and salute the man who had helped ignite and fund the war that led to the terrible tragedies that seemed to be plaguing random cities all over.

Clarke had noticed her outright, recognized her from the news reports, though she looked more polished than the footage of her in a flight suit, giving a press briefing from an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic somewhere.

Commander Woods’ elegy to her father had been through clenched teeth and pain, perhaps only partly from the wound in her shoulder, where she’d taken two slugs from an enemy rifle only three weeks before. Standing before the congregation in the Sixth Avenue Church, Lexa had first said the words Clarke couldn’t get out of her mind, even now, almost ten years later.

Death is not the end.

Finn had shown up, though, uninvited, wanting to pay his respects, wanting to apologize, again, wanting Clarke back, again, and it was Raven who surprised him and dragged him out, offering Clarke a small apology as they left. She had just wanted to get some air, to be alone, to not listen to her mother grieving with all the other widows and to expel Finn’s presence for good. She could hardly picture her dad, even with his photo on the tall easel. Nothing felt real.

She hadn’t expected to see the rumpled military figure sitting on a small bench under the church’s stone lichgate, tugging at the knees of her uniform trousers, as if irritated with the material. She hadn’t expected her eyes to be so soft and gray or how quiet her voice could be. They’d sat together under the small shelter as the rain fell and the world slipped away.

Curling up in the chair, Clarke lingered in that memory: how an hour had passed and then another and how phones rang but no one answered them and how, when the rain let up, Clarke made sure Lexa followed her home.

Always staying a few steps ahead, sometimes turning to look back, never speaking, not even when they got to the door.

Clarke left it open as she stopped in the middle of the empty living room and waited as the door was closed and long fingers pulled down the zipper of her dress, then the straps, smooth over her shoulders, as a gentle breath warmed her cheek. As arms slipped around her and held her tightly, groping her breasts, as lips pressed rough and sweet at the wild pulse in her throat.

She could always smile at the memory of that first time, both in terrible need of something, anything to bury the ache, to feel anything but their pain. How they clutched and clung and held on for dear life as they lost themselves in one another and found it too perfect to stop. She could remember every detail: the color of the ceiling, the contrast of Lexa’s jacket, the polished shoes kicked into a corner as she was lifted, laid against the table, almost eaten alive, almost until she was screaming.

It was torture now, remembering how Lexa felt, how her hands shook, the glint of her watch, the scent of her shampoo, her red-rimmed eyes staring up at her from between her legs as she burrowed into Clarke’s soul through her cunt and made her forget.

Days of fucking and sleeping and so few words passing between them; that’s how it was, until Lexa had to return to assignment, had to fly off into hell and gone and how they had both shuddered, almost painfully, at that last time, in the back of the rental, where Clarke had bit her so hard it left a scar under her ear and they cried in frustration at one last release, slotted so hard and hot between them, pressing until it hurt, hoping the hurt would make goodbye easier.

But it wasn’t and it didn’t and it only took three years to get a yes out of her, and a ring, and a place for her dad’s chair.

Reaching between her thighs, Clarke ached now, worse than any ache she’d ever known, and pressed into herself until the ache settled a little and she could lose herself in sleep.

Outside, the rain fell.

*

“Oh god you’re soaked. Come in, quick.”

Clarke held the door open as Raven entered, dripping but smiling, holding what looked

like a bag of groceries.

“I was in the area, thought I should visit. Wow, Clarke. What have you been doing?”

Shaking off her jacket, Raven made a slow inspection of the living room, noting all the piles of books and boxes and empty fast food bags.

Hanging up her friend’s coat, Clarke shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself as if cold.

“Just thought I’d do some spring clinging, dust, you know.” 

“Well, it’s October, and aren’t these Lexa’s?”

Picking up a dusty volume, Raven flipped through the pages.

Clarke dropped back into the leather chair and nodded.

“Yeah, I just thought I’d maybe go through them. Figure out what to keep.”

“She really had a library, huh?”

“If you want something, just, go ahead.”

Raven stopped and looked back at Clarke, curled up in her spot, a red-wine throw draped over her shoulders. 

“Hey, I stopped at the Dragon and brought some food. I got those noodles you like and the chicken. We can eat and I’ll help you clean up.”

“I’m okay, Raven. Really.”

“You haven’t been to work for a week.” 

Clarke sighed and pulled the throw up to her chin.

Why does everyone have to fuss?

“I’m fine. I get down sometimes. I’ll get over it. I’ll be back at work on Monday.”

Kneeling by the chair, Raven picked invisible lint off the blanket.

“Abby said you were thinking about quitting.”

“It’s got nothing to do with Lex. I’ve been thinking about taking up painting again and I just need a little less stress in my life. That’s good, right?”

Raven nodded.

“You’d really walk away? I mean, it’s kind of been your life, Clarke.”

Gritting herself, Clarke took a calming breath.

“I haven’t decided anything yet, I just need some time to do that. I need something different, Raven. I’m not like my mom. I’m not like Wells. They just don’t get it and I’m tired of having to explain it. I’ll be fine. I just need…something else.”

She was everything and she’s gone and took everything with her.

Rubbing at Clarke’s covered foot, Raven attempted a smile.

“I’m sorry. I’m not here to pile-on. Come on. Let’s eat and sort some books.”

*

It was after midnight when Raven left, taking a box of books with her.

Clarke had tried to offer Lexa’s piano, but Raven doubted it would fit in the car and doubted further that Clarke really wanted to part with it. Music was Lexa’s first love, even if her dad and the military put it second and it was a love she shared with Clarke through mix tapes and play lists and old vinyl and late night slow dances in the kitchen.

In such moments they would dream up names for their fantasy lounge act, with Clarke draped across the piano like Michelle Pfeiffer in The Fabulous Baker Boys, but all the good ones were taken and Lexa had read where the actress had to wear knee and elbow pads for the scene, so the idea was often floated around but then abandoned by the time they reached their bed.

Sitting at the dusty keyboard, Clarke tried to remember a few notes Lexa had taught her, an old Billie Holiday song she’d always loved.

Ask the sky above And ask the earth below Why I'm so in love And why I love you so Couldn't tell you though I tried do Just why I'm yours

Resting her head against the top of the fallboard, Clarke’s hands stilled and her eyes closed, and in her mind she could see Lexa beside her, playing quietly, never looking up from her hands as the melody unwound itself from the instrument.

When you went away You left a glowing spark Trying to be gay As whistling in the dark I am only what you make me Come take me I'm yours

She remembered it was Halloween and she’d forgotten candy again and the clock had stopped and the rain had stopped but the music was too gentle and comforting and she could hear it clearer now, imagining a warm shoulder against hers, moving.

How happy I would be to beg or borrow For sorrow with you Even though I knew tomorrow You'd say we were through If we drift apart Then I'll be lost and alone Though you use my heart Just for a steppin' stone How can I help dreaming of you I love you I'm yours

The song ended and she felt herself breathless with racked sobs that wouldn’t stop, even as strange, familiar arms held her and rocked her, silently, and clear gray eyes met hers and nothing was real but everything was real and she felt her heart sinking and rising so painfully it might have been shock: the unspoken wish, fulfilled.

“Are you here?”

No sound, only graceful caresses across her cheeks, her temples, through her hair, and those eyes that saw through everything and said everything.

“Are you here?”

Silence again, then something like a smile.

“Do you want me to be?”

Tears were catching on her jaw, dripping into her neck and Clarke felt herself laughing. Maybe she was dying. Maybe this was the end of everything.

She pressed the longed-for face between her hands and the answer frozen the air between them--until their lips deliquesced in yes after yes after yes.

[madwomansapologist]

━ ✧ unraveling you | chapter 1 - welcome to westview!

masterlist | pinterest board | spotify playlist |  AO3

series synopsis: Trapped inside Westview, Agatha Harkness was reduced to Agnes. The noisy neighbor and nothing more than that. Until a meteor rain brought something strong to Westview. Something strong enough to help her, and maybe strong enough to free her. You. In a journey to save herself by teaching you the ways of magic, Agatha Harkness wants one thing only: to avenge herself.

Agnes woke up before the alarm, unsure if she even slept last night.

Standing in front of the bedside table, surrounded by shadows and whispers of familiar voices, cold water soaked her feet. It rained at midnight. She remembers it now. Soon Agnes will forget about it, but for now she remembers.

The analog glitched, its numbers changing again. Agnes tried to blink. It never works. Not before the right time. Rubbing bellow her sore eyes, Agnes felt the trace of tears. It wasn’t raining, a familiar voice whispered on her ears. If only she knew whom it belongs to. My tears flooded this cursed place.

Something trembled inside her mind. Hatred. Agnes didn’t knew she could name her feelings. Hatred, hatred, hatred. That made her laugh, but then the clock changed again. Time to wake up. The rebellion was gone just as quickly as it came.

She made her bed, without noticing that the pillowcase was left backwards. Agnes opened the curtains. It had stopped raining already. Something told her to dry the floor. It was an order, and she obeyed. What else could she do?

The kitchen was next on her assorted routine. Agnes made coffee, without any sweetener, althought she prefers tea. She drank it all in one gulp. It burned her tongue and throat.

She stared at the knifes on the counter top. It was impossible to not wonder. To not imagine a different path. An exit door. If only she were allowed to get near them. If only Agnes could grab one of them and just…

Agnes took her keys and stood before the main door. She smiled widely. As she walked outside, her hands waived automatically to her neighboors.

An empty puppet, something whispered in her ears. You lived far too long. Agnes agreed.

― Good morning, hot suff! ― Agnes purred, opening the fence. ― A good day to be good, am I right?

Sarah Proctor bumped her head against the car. It was too early for someone to be that noisy. She rolled her eyes and went back to taking her groceries out of the car, ignoring Agnes’ presence.

― Just drop the act ― Sarah murmured to herself.

Agnes passed by her, continuing her daily walk through town. After wandering around the center, her path ended at an isolated grove. She sat on a bench still damp from last night rain and gazed at the sky.

After an hour the watch on her hand bipped, allowing Agnes to go back home. Later that day, the clock on her kitchen’s wall gave her permission to eat. Another on the living room made her turn on the TV. Then off. One informed her of when to go to bed.

That morning, when the clock woke her up, Agnes threw it against the wall. It ricocheted, the metal colliding against the bricks, and slid under her bed. It kept on echoing inside her head.

When Agnes got out of bed, it stopped.

Agnes ate eggs with no salt and drank old, icy coffee.

― I am happy ― Agnes smiled, glaring at herself through a mirror on the kitchen’s wall. Lips ever so enchanting. Her cheeks burned. And so did her eyes. ― Don’t look at the knifes. You are happy.

Forced to walk out of that place ― she can’t call it home, no magic or spell can make Agnes call it home ―, Agnes felt the cold tears against her skin. More of a drizzle than a tempest, but uncomfortable still. Without an umbrella or warm clothes, Agnes continued her day.

Part of her wanted to know what month it was. It’s raining more often. Which season are they on? The other part knew that time meant little now. It lost its meaning when she stopped trying. She can’t remember how long ago that was.

She can’t remember most things now.

Gazing at the sky, all she could see were gray clouds. They moved slowly, the air changing their shapes as it continues to rain. Then, something passed right throught it. An blue line crossing the sky, leaving an trail of smoke behind. Dozens upon dozens of them fell from the sky, all ending the gray hanging over Westview.

Meteor rain.

It burned so brightly. The fire catching as they passed right throught the atmosphere seemed rosy from where Agnes stood, watching intensively the espectacle. The rain ceased, the clouds dissolving so the blue sky was visible.

It is beautiful. Agnes laughed. The world really is.

Agnes watched as they dissapeared in the sky. All meteors burned until they were barely tiny rocks. Once so powerfull, now reduced to nothing out of Earth’s nature. Except by one. It was bigger than the others, and it glistened red. It continued falling, crossing the sky with ease, as if its fate was to be a constant presence.

Her laugh ceased when Agnes realized it was too close.

Unable to move away, to say anything, Agnes was the witness of its destruction. It crashed into the trees of the grove, tearing everything on its way down. The wood turned into dust, the grass disappeared, the rainwater boiled. An endless moment of pure despair.

It was so beautiful.

A circle of fog expanded throught the grove with its impact. It covered everything there. Agnes coughed, trying to protect her face from the hot air.

Agnes tried to find her way towards the meteor. Ignoring the destruction, she focused on a pearly glow deep into the grove. Outlined by the trees, it glistened. Agnes just wanted to see it closer.

It has been so long since she last wanted something.

The pearly glow started to fade, and a woman’s silhouette appeared in the middle of it. It looked like she was walking on fire, then it suddenly was the opposite. She was brighter than anything else. The only thing shining in this whole world.

And she looked at Agnes, eyes burning in a white liquid light. A sign of strength. Of power and potential. Agnes was unaware that her own shined purple, overflowing with her magic.

The woman fell unconsious on the floor, leaving Agnes to figure out how to take her home.

 ― Welcome to Westview ― Agnes murmured to herself. ― Home is where you make it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The universe was fated to end in harmony.

All worlds crumbled together. Suns imploded in waves, disturbing the planets orbiting around it. Galaxies crashed against one another, satelites imploding and changing comets’ paths.

Colors that were once infinite, sounds that were once the only unavoidable event, all faded.

Nothing remains. No darkness, no vacuum, no space to be rebuilt. Nothing except them, ready to go and never look back. The job was finished. They turned out the lights, cleaned the mess. Now it’s time to leave and lock the door behind them.

― I can start it over ― you declared. ― Get it right this time. Do it right.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The ceiling was molding. It was the first thing you’ve noticed. Not only was it visibly molding but you could smell it too. Those facts came accompanied by a doubt: who’s ceiling was that?

― Morning, beautiful ― a energetic voice startled you.

You moved your neck, now seeing the woman standing at the other side of the room. As you sat on the bed, back against the icy wall, your whole body throbbed.

― You’ve slept for quite sometime now ― she pointed out. A voice so full with energy, and yet her eyes were sore. She looked exhausted. ― Do you remember anything that happened?

You tried to think of what you did last. Of where you were. Nothing came to your mind. You are here now. There is no before. There is just this room, that tired woman and doubts you don’t have a way to answer.

― Who are you? ― You rubbed your face, trying to get your mind to work. Your heart vibrate inside your chest. ― What is happening?

Agnes saw that same light pooring through your eyes again. That pearly glow defying the rules of gravity. Little rays of energy came out of your fingers, and their intensity made the room vibrate.

Your magic was untamed.

Tempting.

― I know as much as you do ― Agnes sat down beside you. She reach out for you, stroking your back slowly. As if you were a beast chosing between attacking or running away. ― Breath in, breath out. There is no need for you to panic.

You tried to do as she said. Again and again, you tried to calm yourself. The energy on your eyes disappeared, the power gone, revealing tears about to escape.

Agnes wiped your cheek. The tear glistened, and Agnes saw it for what it was: a crystal. When her thumb brushed against it, the crystal penetrated her skin. She saw it disappearing on her finger, but felt nothing.

Keep her around, that voice told her. This time, it sounded different. Like it came from a different plane of existence, one that suddenly became closer to her own. Agnes recognizes it now. That voice was her own. Don’t let her go.

You did something to her. To Agatha Harkness. Not Agnes, not the noisy neighboor, not an middle age lady with something flirtatious to say. She is Agatha Harkness. You shattered something, and Agatha needs you to fully break it.

― There is something about you ― still, the words were pronounced by Agnes. That tooth-aching sweet tone, so fake and unhuman. ― Something impressive about you. Reminds me of someone I used to know.

― Used to?

Agnes opened her mouth, but the words she wanted didn’t made out of it. Agatha could think, but Agnes is the one that can act. And Agnes isn’t allowed to do as it pleases her.

― It’s fine ― you saw right throught her. She wanted to say something, but couldn’t. You felt it in your bones. ― If you can’t talk about it.

Can’t. Not don’t want. You said can’t.

The clock interrupting her line of thought once more. Time for another walk. Agnes kneeled down, getting it from under the bed. She glared at it, broken in pieces and still ticking.

That bitch can’t be simple, can she?

Agnes’ threw it out of the window.

― It’s that annoying?

― Honey, you don’t even know.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The leaves levitated, dancing on the sky. From the questroom on the second floor you couldn’t see the ground. For you, the leaves were flying etternaly. A matter of perspective.

Your back burned. You were being watched. Turning around, you expect to see Agnes. The woman you meet a day prior. That funny, tired, noisy woman who took care of you when you needed it the most. Instead, by the open door of your room, tiny black eyes glared at you.

You kneeled down and waited for it to get closer. When it did, you stroked its ears. So soft against your palm, malleable and warm. A rabbit. You remember. That tiny animal is called a rabbit.

― Let’s buy something different for dinner ― Agnes entered the room, cleaning her hands with a towel. You smelled raw meat. And you don’t know how, but you knew she would rather starve than to eat that again. ― Put on some clothes.

You continued to scratch the rabbit’s ear.

― I’m already using clothes.

― You’re using a nightgown.

― And? ― It was a honest question. Agnes could tell. ― Is it wrong to wear that?

That naivety intrigues Agnes. She saw it on Wanda before. That need to pretend the world is somewhere simple than it is by turning yourself into someone easier to be. Something happened to you. Something that you rather forget than face.

No honest questions or sweet smiles will make Agnes forget you came with the meteors. That you smelled like magic and potential. You’re strong. Strong enough to recover from whatever stole your memories. All you need is time. Agnes will give you that.

And when you’re to pay for your debt, Agnes will chose what to take from you.

― He likes you ― Agnes said. She opened the wardrobe, looking for something you could use outside. ― Señor Scratchy, I mean. That’s no very common.

― I like him too ― you yawn. ― You could feel it, right Señor Scratchy?

Cute.

Agnes put some clothes on the bed and walked from the room, giving you time to change. After long enough for Agnes to get impatient, you appeared on the kitchen. In front of the main door, Agnes grabbed the keys.

― Do you remember anything else now? ― She unlooked the door, trying to look like she wasn’t giving to much thought to the subject.

It wasn’t the first time Agnes asked you that, but it was the first time you had something to say.

― Yes, I do!

― Oh ― Agnes smiled. ― And what is it?

― Señor Scratchy is a rabbit!

Agnes opened the main door, nodding to herself. That was on her, she admits it. She better lower her expectations. Althought, it is curious you know what a rabbit is. She wonders if maybe you hit your head after the meteor crashed. Perhaps it’s a medical case, not a magic one.

But her intuition says the contrary, and Agnes trusts it enough.

― Of course, sweetheart ― she murmured. ― A rabbit.

You weren’t paying attention on her. Wandering out of the house, you just observed the world. It was the first time you got out of the house. So many lights and colors, they all blend together to create new things. From that tiny window, all you could see were trees and the skies. But this…

― Wow ― you laughed. ― Oh my.

Agnes held you by the shoulders to make you walk towards the center. Instead of behaving, you just walked whenever you wanted to. A few times Agnes had to stop you from crashing against a car.

― Can you stop moving? ― Agnes hissed, following you. ― We were supposed to head…

― Morning, Agnes! ― A neighbor she don’t remember the name waived at her.

― Morning, sweetie!

When she turned back, you were gone. Agnes cursed, running towards you on the other side of the street. Agnes crossed the park’s entrance, but stopped trying to reach for you when she noticed what this place was. A graveyard.

She just wanted to buy pork.

Agnes made to where you stood, glaring at an old grave. It was molding, and part of it fell down. In silence, she observed it. The birthday was unkown. The death was a few years prior. What happened to them?

― What are those? ― You looked at her. ― That’s a weird place.

― They bury dead people here ― Agnes explained to you. ― And write some things about them on stone. Birthday, date of death, name, maybe a pretty sentence.

― Why?

― I’m not really sure ― she admitted. ― I guess it makes the living feel better.

― I don’t have a name ― was your response. You pointed at the grave, but Agnes kept on looking at you. ― I want that one.

Agnes laughed. A real, belly aching laugh.

― Stealing someone’s name, huh? ― Agnes nodded to herself. ― I don’t think they will miss it.

As you explored the cemetery, Agnes watched over you, testing your new name on her tongue.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

UNRAVELING YOU TAGLIST: @harknessshi

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr

[dameronscopilot]

downpour

Kayce Dutton x reader

summary: You've always loved rainy days, and now, Kayce might just find a reason to as well.

word count: 800+

content: fluff, kissing in the rain

SENSORY DRABBLES SERIES -> prompt: Kayce Dutton + rain + dark green

When you step out of the bunkhouse late in the afternoon, you pause, inhaling the rich, pleasant scent of petrichor hanging heavily in the humid air. The sun is nowhere to be found in the overcast sky, the gray shade of which paints the sprawling landscape of the ranch in a muted, surreal tone. 

Ryan nudges your shoulder as he swerves around where you’ve planted your boots in the gravel just outside the doorway, playfully grousing, “This your first time seeing rain clouds?”

You roll your eyes, digging the toe of your boot into the ground, the dusty pebbles scraping against one another as you shake them loose. 

“It’s been dry as a desert out here for weeks. It just feels…” you trail off, looking for the right words.

“Like everything is just holding its breath waiting for the rain to finally fall?”

Your heart stutters in your chest at the sound of Kayce’s voice, the feeling compounding tenfold as you turn to see him approaching, mouth upturned in a grin. 

“Yeah,” you respond, suddenly a bit breathless. “That.”

And as the sky begins to scatter a tentative drizzle across the hungry terrain, you exhale. 

–

Later, when the clouds have opened up into a yawning chasm, you find yourself caught in the barn, standing just out of reach of the relentless downpour as you gaze out the open doors. The horses knicker restlessly in their stalls, and you silently promise them that they’ll be glad for the rain when they’re back out in the pasture grazing the lush, verdant blades of hydrated grass.

The fields are thoroughly soaked through at this point, water pooling in some areas as the previously parched, cracked ground is now struggling to absorb it all fast enough. The looming trees skirting the edges of the property sway and dance under the weight of the water drenching their leaves.

You’ve always loved the rain—the luscious, earthy scent the oncoming precipitation brings forth, the way it effortlessly paints each piece of vegetation it touches in deep, rich shades of dark green.

The way the whole world seems to go quiet.

“You need an umbrella?”

You jump slightly as Kayce startles you for the second time in one day.

“Why, did you bring me one?” you ask, your casual tone warring with the way your face is already heating up as you glance over at him.

Kayce shakes his head, smiling as he shrugs off the jacket you hardly ever seen him without. “Nah, but you can use this. I’ll walk you back to the bunkhouse.”

You want to protest, because you can’t see a point in Kayce getting soaking wet on your behalf when you could just settle down in an empty stall and wait out the rest of storm⁠—a bale of hay can be comfortable enough in a pinch. But there’s something about the imploring look in his brown eyes, the way he wiggles his fingers a bit as he holds out the jacket.

His noble idea quickly becomes a fruitless effort as the wind decides to pick up when the two of you begin to embark on your walk, rendering the cover he’s holding over your head utterly useless while you’re pelted with an onslaught of wet droplets now falling sideways. 

You can’t help but laugh as you nudge Kayce’s hands away, urging him to give up on the makeshift umbrella. In moments, your shirt and jeans begin to cling to your body as you’re soaked to the bone. 

But you don’t mind. 

Not really.

Especially not when Kayce’s standing there looking at you like that.

“What?” you ask him as you spread your arms wide, tilting your head backward and closing your eyes as you opt to embrace the feeling of the rain on your skin.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“I never really cared for rainy days.”

You look over at him, willing yourself to ignore the way his damp, black t-shirt is now stuck to his chest. 

He steps closer to you, continuing before you can respond, “But I think I might like them now.”

Hands dropping to your sides, you meet his steady gaze. “And why’s that?”

He reaches out with one hand, letting his fingers hover over your cheek. You can feel the way he’s waiting for you to pull away, the question that lingers in the space between his skin and yours. 

The question that’s been lingering in the air between the two of you for months, since you started working at the ranch.

Lingering between too-long glances, the weighted pause between words.

But this time, you lean into his touch. 

“Because of the way this damn miserable weather seems to make you smile somehow anyway.”

Your lips curve upward in response, and his thumb carefully brushes across your jaw.

“It just always feels like the start of something new," you say softly.

Kayce's smile matches your own.

And then the cool feeling of rain droplets on your face is replaced by the warm caress of Kayce’s lips as he kisses you, your mouth responding to his in kind, eager as the parched foliage welcoming the storm.

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

coming home (wolfstar, harry, hope - muggle au)

a/n: this one’s a snippet from a bigger fic i’ve been toying with. we’re in wales in the 80s, and i hope i’ve done it justice. quick note before we start - in this fic, james was puerto rican.

‘Remus!’

The door is barely open when Hope rushes smiling out onto the doorstep to hug her son. She holds him close and tight, and Remus is almost a child again, breathing in the scent of her soft floral perfume and the warmth of her woollen jumper.

‘Hi, Mam,’ he mumbles into her shoulder. Pulling back, she pats him affectionately on the cheek and turns her attention to his boyfriend, who’s stood somewhat awkwardly to his left.

‘Hello to you too, Sirius,’ she says kindly, and he ducks his head obligingly to let her kiss him on the cheek. He’s a fair bit taller than he was his last visit to Wales.

‘Nice to see you again, Hope. It’s been too long.’

‘That it has, dear.’ She looks down. ‘This’ll be the little one then?’

‘Yeah,’ Sirius affirms. ‘Harry.’ Harry turns his head then, as if aware he’s being introduced, and gazes curiously up at Hope from where he’s strapped against Sirius’ chest.

‘Oh, he’s a precious dwt lad, isn’t he? Poor thing.’

There’s a sinking sort of silence then. It’s cold, bitter. Sirius swallows thickly. Overhead, the lead-coloured sky seems to press down on them with greater vigour, and the clouds are heavy and congealed.

‘Is Dad in?’ Remus asks eventually.

‘No, cariad, he’s out fishing. I told him you’d be calling, though.’ Hope suddenly becomes pensive with this, staring absentmindedly at her son. Sirius tries to figure out what she’s thinking, but comes up with nothing. Her expression looks a bit like grief, and he wishes somewhat painfully that he wasn’t so intimately familiar with the feeling. Whatever it is she’s preoccupied with, she snaps out of it, coming back to herself as quickly as she went and shaking her head.

‘Sorry, we’re all just standing out in the cold, aren’t we? Come on in you two, I’ll put the kettle on.’

Hope makes weak tea, Sirius is reminded as he’s settled down beside Remus on her settee. They’ve set Harry down on the carpet, and he’s crawling around and babbling to himself quite happily whilst the adults are speaking. A dull drizzle has started up outside, and it’s began beating its routine rhythm morosely against the window panes. Sirius’ thigh is warm where it’s pressing against Remus’.

Sat in her armchair beside a worn little lamp, Hope smiles as she watches Harry play delightedly. Any shyness he might have been battling before has been quickly overcome and he crawls clumsily towards her from time to time, keen to make a new friend. She coos at him appropriately when he does so, and he looks quite pleased with himself.

‘Ti’n iawn, bach?,’ she asks him when he tugs on her trouser leg a second time. He just babbles in reply.

‘Will you be teaching him Welsh, love?’, she inquires, looking over at Remus.

‘It’s not something we’ve really talked about. Although I suppose with us being back in Aber… Pads?’ Remus turns to his husband and Sirius starts a little at his inescapable inclusion in the conversation. Fishing his gaze out from the milky swirls of his mug, he blinks rapidly and clears his throat.

‘Well, he’s a clever little bastard already - I reckon he won’t have much trouble picking it up. And yeah, if he’s going to be growing up here, he should speak it. I’ve been thinking that I, uh… well, I might even try teaching him a little French, if he’s up for it.’

Remus’ eyes widen a fraction, before softening into a small, proud sort of smile.

‘That would be great, love. That would be really nice.’

‘And, erm. I’ve also been thinking about maybe getting him a Spanish tutor. I can’t speak it, not properly, so I’m no use, but he should. He should.’

Another quiet falls. It’s not exactly easy to sit with, but it’s warm somehow. It sounds like remembering. Hope looks across at Sirius with a subtle understanding. Her eyes are light and kind, but streaks of determination run through the set of her jaw.

‘I’ll help you with that. We’ll get him a proper one, a good one. And I’ll help you with plenty more, too. If you need me to mind him for a bit, if you need me to pop to Safeway on a Saturday, if you need anything at all. You call me. It’ll be nice for me to have a little one visiting. I’m sure he’ll liven us both up, me and Lyall.’

‘Thank you, Hope. Honestly.’

‘We’ll find you your place here yet, Sirius, love. You, and sweet Harry as well. Aber will treat you well so long as I’m around.’

[the-forests-blessing]

Chapter 2

Lukas’ morning begins with rain. 

     Our pensive little writer stands at the window of his room, peering through the glass up towards the dark gray clouds in the sky. He hadn’t expected rain to roll in so soon after a day as bright and sunny as yesterday was. He can’t help but frown with disappointment. I guess I won’t be heading to the forest, he decides begrudgingly. He stares outside for a little while longer, listening to the rain patter against the glass and watching the droplets drizzle over the long, expansive grassy field that lay between himself and the dense woodland. So close, yet so far, he sighs. Turning away, he ponders how to spend his day. Well, the library isn’t that far down the street. 

     Lukas walks over to the coat hanger on the wall near the doorway and grabs his heavy brown jacket, pushing his lanky pale arms through the sleeves, then adjusts the rest of it over his body. He gives himself a quick look-over in the tall mirror on the wall, examining his dark pants and his dress shoes, assuring everything is nice and neat. Then, he reaches up and grasps the collar of his orange turtleneck sweater, giving it an orderly tug. He turns his head, looking over his hair one last time to make sure it's styled properly. He must ensure his hair maintains that clean, glossy look. Even if BeaconTown is in its own disheveled state of untidiness, Lukas won’t be caught dead with his hair looking like a mess around these people. 

     When he decides all is well and good, he turns to Dewey. The ocelot currently munches on his breakfast in a bowl on the floor beside the bed. “I’m gonna go out, Dew.” Lukas approaches and kneels in front of his feline companion, peering down at the almost empty bowl. “It’s rainy out, so I doubt you’ll be wanting to join me.” Dewey lifts his head up, gives his lips a few licks before responding with one single nod, then returns to his meal. Lukas smiles, lingering just a moment longer to appreciate his little spotted companion before he’s standing and heading out the door. “Hold down the fort for me while I’m gone!” 

     Lukas mulls over yesterday's first impressions as he makes his way down the steps from his room to the inn’s foyer. It was already pretty late, with evening just beyond the horizon when Lukas finally made it to town. His wishful thinking wanted to believe that time of day had to do with all the sourness in people's attitudes, but he’s got a hunch that that won’t be the case. 

     Exiting the BeacInn, Lukas is greeted with mostly empty streets, save for two people huddled close beneath an umbrella walking by. The smell of rain hits him instantly, enticing him to draw in a deep breath. Lukas’ gaze flicks left and right, really taking in how desolate it is here. It’s… sad . He can’t help but feel a ping of sorrow slip through him, yearning for the lively town he’d been eagerly anticipating so long for. 

     He digs into his inventory, grabbing his own umbrella and opening it up. Immediately the rain dribbles against the protective barrier. Lukas holds it firmly over his head as he walks down the steps and begins his stroll towards the library. In weather like this, one of his favorite things to do is find a nice cozy spot by a fire and read while listening to the rain patter against whatever roof he’s settled beneath. 

     Thankfully that old man from yesterday was right. The library is in close distance to the BeacInn. It would have been miserable walking back and forth from one side of town to the other just to get here. Lukas ascends the steps of the library and approaches the tall dark oak doors. He closes his umbrella and shakes it off before tucking it back into his inventory. Grasping the handle, Lukas pulls the door open and is immediately greeted with a heavenly sight to behold. 

     The library itself is rather dim. The only natural lighting comes from the massive skylight window that’s built into the ceiling of the library, filtering through and bathing the study area that sits in the middle of the room in delicate light. To his right is the check out area with no staff in sight. Row after row of shelves labeled from nonfiction to fantasy and many other genres surround the study area on all sides. Lukas steps in further, feeling a little more comfortable when he glances around and notices a few lonesome people residing within these quiet walls. He clutches the strap of his satchel and ventures forth, feeling at ease within this literary setting.

     He walks towards one of the isles, reading the sign on the end cap that says “environmental literature”. Lukas draws in a deep breath, bathing his tongue in the refreshing scents of the bibliosmia in his surroundings. Nothing brings his spirits up more than the smell of old books! Lukas adjusts his bag and dips into the aisle, taking in the numerous options. 

     “Hmm…Philosophy, cultural geography, archeology,” Lukas mumbles to himself as he draws his fingers down the differently labeled shelves. “Ah, here we go! Ecology. Perfect.” The blond reaches into the shelf and spends ample time dissecting each one for the most beneficial reads that pique his curiosity. Sitting criss-cross on the old carpeted floor, Lukas scours the titles and summaries of each book before deciding on six hefty novels. Each one weighs heavy with knowledge, inciting a peppy mood for the experienced novelist. 

     He carries his findings to the nearest table in the middle of the room and sets his stack down with a light ‘thump’, drawing the attention of a lone scholar sitting by himself at a different table a few blocks away. Out of the corner of his teal eye, something catches Lukas’ attention. He turns his head slightly, reading the “History” sign on one of the end caps in the back. How he noticed it? He’s not sure, because the section is wedged deep in the back where the books lay most dusty and untouched. 

     He stares for a few moments, looking back down at his choices, then glances back up at the nestled isle. Naturally, his curiosity flares like a cats. He hesitates, debates for a few moments, then sighs audibly. I told myself I wouldn’t do this. 

     Lukas approaches the back wall now, eyeing the sign with rising skepticism. Strange. In almost every library he’s ever been in, the history genre is usually somewhere close to the front with easy access. Lukas looks behind his shoulder once before he enters the aisle anyway and finds… quite the disappointing discovery. There’s only a meager three books back here. Lukas gawks at the empty selection, absolutely floored at the amount of dust collecting on the spacious divides. The books here are old, so much so that when Lukas reaches for a novel with dark leather binding, its pages sulk when being held up straight. 

     “Oh no...” Lukas frowns, his heart torn in two at the state of this book. He can smell the chemical breakdown emitting from the old, worn out sheets. He rests the book down onto the shelf delicately, lifting its cover and finds— Lukas blinks. Confusion makes him surge through the pages until he finally stops and processes. “This is a book of Redstonia’s history.” Lukas flicks his eyes to the other two books currently rotting away against one another. He grabs one, gives it the same attention and– “BoomTown?” 

     The last one is the most worn out, the hard cover has withered away after so long that it's no longer attached to the pages inside. Lukas always hates this part. With deep remorse, he peels the novels binding away and flips carefully through the tattered pages. This novel is much shorter than the others and mentions the name of a town he doesn’t recognize.

     A small town in the center of numerous biomes with a population of just a measly two hundred thirty-seven civilians. He gives the book a thorough look over, reading a few of the intelligible passages that haven’t been water damaged or had parts of it torn out over the years. What he gathers is the town was peaceful and known for holding fun festivals that attracted people from all over. But it’s strange… This town doesn’t appear on any of his maps, and Lukas has a lot of maps. 

     The real head scratcher here though is where on earth are the history books on BeaconTown itself? With a town as famous as this one, you’d think this section would be loaded up with informative works on the history of the town, its people, and the heroes that brought it all together. 

     “Whatcha lookin’ for?” 

     Lukas nearly leaps with surprise. If he had an ocelot tail, it would most definitely be bristled with shock. Lukas whips his head towards the source of the voice. Oh, it’s that young lad from earlier. The scholar who was sitting quietly with himself at his own table. The man before him dresses in a shabby green hoodie, paired with a yellow sweater beneath it. His dark hair is sleek and glossy in the front, giving his bangs a dangly kind of style that bounces whenever he turns his head. The blond peers down at the rest of him, eyeing his blue jeans and clean work shoes. He looks tired, but giving his dark rimmed glasses a quick adjustment, the man straightens with a soft smile. 

     “Uh. I was just checking out what the history section had to offer but–” Lukas gestures with a useless wave towards the empty shelves. 

     “Ohh…” The other male leans in, eyeing the shelves before falling back on his feet and looking at Lukas. “Yeah, we’re pretty lacking in that department.”

     “ Lacking is an understatement. I mean,” Lukas expresses annoyance in another gesture towards the blank shelves. “This is BeaconTown. You’re telling me there’s no history books here?” He scoffs, cocking his head to the other male expectantly. 

     The stranger merely shifts on his feet, gazing down at the carpeted floor awkwardly. “Well… no. I suppose there isn’t.” 

     Lukas narrows his eyes on the boy beside him, suspicion rising within. A moment of silence befalls them both, one that draws Lukas to look back at the shelves with a sigh. 

     “I always thought this town was a utopia of peace. A place where people would come to make friends easily and to build and craft freely. But everything I’ve seen so far?” Lukas shakes his head, raising his hand to gently grasp the shelf. “I don’t know. Makes me think that all that stuff was led on by false rumors and it all turned out to be just some big myth to draw in tourists .” 

     “Nonono!” The man beside him pleads, stepping closer to the blond. “No you mustn't ever believe that! BeaconTown was… It’s-” The boy pauses.

     Lukas stares at the man in shock. “It’s what?” He flinches when the stranger slaps a hand over his mouth, then begins to randomly start backing away. 

     “I-I— I said too much!” And just like that, the man bolts out of the aisle, scurries his way down the open room, yanks his books from the desk and hightails it out of here. Lukas watches, completely taken aback by the absurd display. 

     “You barely said anything at all…” Lukas mutters, watching the heavy front door close from his spot all the way on the other side of the library. He lingers here for a few moments, then glances back at the shelf one last time before he inevitably leaves the cubby and returns to the table with his books once again. 

      That was really weird. Said too much? All he said was…

      “Don’t believe that BeaconTown has always been like this…?” Lukas whispers, drawing his hand over one of the ecology book covers. 

      Okay. So… Then there really is something wrong here. Lukas needs no more evidence to draw to that conclusion. There’s already so many mysteries to investigate here, and while Lukas is quite drawn with curiosity as to what they may be, he knows better than to go sticking his nose in business that is not his own. It’s like that lady at the front desk said. It won’t be a mystery at all if he asks the right people. But it’s kind of hard to want to approach anyone with questions when everyone around here looks like they want to sucker punch him in the gut. 

     Lukas sighs, debating on what to do next before he lands on a decision. 

     As much as he would like to sit down and enjoy his time in a quiet, public space, there’s just no predicting what else might happen. Instead, he’s going to get these books checked out and head his way back to the hotel for some quality time with his latest literary adventures. Lukas picks his books up and carries the stack over to the front, chimes the bell on the counter, then waits… and waits. He spends a good three minutes standing there before he’s being approached by a short-stack woman with glasses. 

     “Erm… what are you doing?” 

     Lukas turns to her. “Oh finally. Here, I wanted to check these out.” He says with a smile, giving the books a good couple pats.

     “That won’t be necessary here. There’s no staff to do that.”

     “...What.” 

     “Nobody checks out books anymore. People just come in, take what they want, then leave.”

     “ What?” Lukas looks like he’s just been slapped across the face. “But without the proper organization system established, books will go missing or–or get stolen without anyone knowing,” he says in a rather fearful tone.

     “No one but regulars swing by here nowadays.” She shrugs. “You’re the first new face I think I’ve seen in months. Just bring them back when you’re finished like everybody else.” The woman turns and walks away, leaving an offended looking Lukas to stand by his lonesome once again. 

     Lukas leaves in a rush. The words that woman spewed out of her mouth nearly made him sick. “That is appalling,” he growls under his breath, becoming increasingly disgruntled with the town he’s about to spend the next three months in. “What is wrong with this town? Griefers, armed weirdos, and this unethical system I just cannot understand. Seriously. Not even Norfairian’s were this weird, and they live in the Nether.”  

     “Weird?” A voice behind him speaks. 

     Lukas turns, staring at a short blond girl and… that same guy from earlier! The two stand together side-by-side beneath an umbrella. 

     “You say we’re weirdo’s yet you’re the one talking to yourself in public, brah.” The girl says in a slow, lazy tone. The scholar from earlier stands tall beside her, but keeps silent. 

     “Hey, it's a force of habit. No one usually listens to me.” Lukas defends himself whilst an embarrassed blush spreads over his pale complexion. 

     The girl chuckles, waving off Lukas’ worries. “Chill dude, I ain’t grillin’ you. Just find it ironic is all.” 

     Lukas raises a brow at her. He’s vaguely familiar with the slang she uses in her wording, but can’t quite put a pin in the map from where it's from. From her laid back demeanor, she seems somewhat harmless. The shorter blonde’s cheeks are lightly freckled, her bleached hair braided and decorated with beads here and there. She wears a tank top and shorts despite the cold, rainy weather. She’s even sporting some flip flops too. 

     Compared to the other civilians walking the streets here in BeaconTown, these two seem the most… friendly. Lukas allows himself to relax, straightening up to address the two strangers with a firm nod. “Okay…” Lukas then turns, unsure of what else to say to them. He can’t tell if she was just making a comment, or wanted an actual–

     “Hey! Where are you going?” The male beside her asks.

     Lukas turns back to them, giving the two a puzzled look. “Back to where I’m staying. Why?”

     “You should, like, totally come with us for a sec.” The girl suggests, though it’s going to take way more convincing for Lukas to agree to an invitation so vague.

     “And why would I do that?” Lukas asks further.

     The two strangers glance at one another with a knowing look. Lukas quirks a brow, his suspicions only increasing. The taller male steps forward, easing himself out from under the safety of his shared umbrella to lean closer to Lukas. He puts his hand up, covering his mouth to whisper, “ we can’t talk out in the open.”

      Lukas’ eyes widened. Okay. Now we’re on to something.

     “You two aren’t going to take me into some dark alleyway and mug me right?” Lukas puts it plainly, earning a soft chuckle from the blonde girl and a nervous frown from the man. 

     “No, no, I wouldn’t dream of it. Just follow us, but try not to look suspicious. Hunter’s are always watching from all angles.” The male tilts his head in a gesture to follow, then begins walking away with his friend. 

      Hunters? Lukas wonders to himself. What does that mean? 

     Lukas peaks around, finding nobody else in sight. Just the constant downpour of rain pelting the stone brick street, filling in the broken cracks and puddling in the deeper divots. Lukas draws in one long breath before sighing heavily. He picks up his feet and follows, now finding it harder not to be glancing into every alleyway or the nooks and crannies of empty shops. Always watching, Lukas thinks to himself. 

     He ends up following the two with a couple blocks of distance between them. The taller of the two glances back occasionally for what Lukas can only guess is to make sure he’s still following. Lukas still can’t help the anxiety forming in his gut over the decision he’s just made. Should he stop and turn back now or…? This might be his one chance to get some actual information on the town. What the young man said earlier suggested he knew more than he was letting on. That he’d said too much. 

     Lukas is eventually brought back down the same path towards the BeacInn. For his second day in town, he certainly isn’t doing much sightseeing. They bring him over to a house, one that’s in pretty good condition. It’s nestled in behind a vendor’s stall though. A little brick path snug between some grass has Lukas feeling a little more comfy, enjoying what little nature there is in the heart of the town. Approaching the house now, the girl drops her umbrella and shakes it out before stepping up the staircase to the front door, the man following close behind. 

     Lukas takes one last look over his shoulder. His last moment to decide his fate. Leave? Or trust these two strange individuals? He looks around the lawn a bit, finding the flowers growing here a bit more comforting and helping him to ease the tension in his limbs. Okay… Lukas closes his own umbrella and follows the two up the steps. The girl holds the door open for them both and seems to notice Lukas’ weariness. 

     “I swear we aren’t gonna hurt you, dude.” She reassures with a lazy smile.

     Lukas gives her an odd look, then glances away. “Sorry it’s just… weird to have people who actually want to speak with me. Everyone else around here usually interrupts me mid sentence or just flat out ignores me.” He explains with a somber tone. 

     “Yeahh..” The young man speaks quietly. “That’s how it is now. Best to keep to yourself. Oh! My name is Radar by the way.” Radar reaches out, inviting Lukas to shake his hand. Lukas nods, taking his hand and shaking it firmly, executing peak professionalism. 

     “Nice to meet you, Radar. My name is Lukas.” 

     “And I’m Nell,” Nell says, earning a curt nod from Lukas.

     “Pleasure.” He shakes her hand accordingly, then draws away, shoving both hands in his pockets and looks around. The house here is ocean themed, something that immediately clicks in Lukas’ mind with greater understanding towards Nell’s tone and style of speech. He’s been to numerous oceanic towns and met the people living there, some of which speak similar patterns to what Nell has. Very kind and laid back people, perhaps she is one of the unfortunate souls who came to BeaconTown in hopes of a better life too? Regardless, he is very fond of the decor, especially the basket of seashells and sand dollars on the coffee table in the living room. The interior of this home is small with the kitchen, bedroom, and living room all crammed into one space from the looks of it. 

     “So… uh… Sorry about earlier. I didn’t want to get into any trouble for speaking about this where someone could hear us.” Radar speaks up. Lukas turns his attention back to the man, noting how nervous he seems. “You were searching for BeaconTown’s history? …Why?” he asks carefully. 

     Lukas quirks a brow, puzzled by the question. “Well, I can’t help but find it kind of strange that the world famous city known for its kindness and generosity has turned completely upside down. I mean-” He reaches into his coat pocket and holds out his postcard. “I mean this is the BeaconTown I was looking forward to. Not–” He allows Radar to gently take the postcard from his hand, then gestures to his surroundings, “all this craziness.”

     Lukas pauses when he sees the other man's lips tremble when staring down at the postcard. A feeling of oncoming dread seeps into his body seeing those eyes glisten with untold emotion behind those dark rimmed glasses. Lukas frowns, but says nothing as the two take their time to examine the image on the card. Something seems to have stricken a cord within them both, especially Radar. 

     “Wow. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it like this.” Radar frowns deeply, and with great sorrow. 

     “Yeah man… Brings back memories.” Nell laments softly. 

     Lukas scratches awkwardly at the back of his head, feeling uncomfortable in his position. “I– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” 

     “No-no, don’t be sorry.” Radar assures, offering the postcard back to Lukas. The blond takes it and offers a gentle “thanks” in return. “You’re right. BeaconTown is way different than it once was. That’s why I was so surprised to see a new face open the library doors. No one who enters BeaconTown these days usually comes to the library of all places.” Radar sighs, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “I mean, it used to be one of the hottest spots in town. Now it's-” Radar stops there with an indifferent shrug and glances away.

     “I was so totally stoked when Radar came and told me a new guy showed up in town that didn't look like a total whackjob. We couldn’t help but wonder what the heck brought you here of all places?” Nell says, looking at Lukas curiously. 

     “Well I'm relieved to hear I don't look like a whackjob,” Lukas chuckles softly, “but anyways, my reason for visiting BeaconTown is that I’m actually an author. Well, I’m trying to be. I’m currently in the middle of writing an extensive biome encyclopedia that goes in depth about each and every biome. I’ve been working on it for the last five years! Hoping to finish it by the end of this year.” Lukas smiles.

     “Oh wow! That sounds super-duper exciting.” Radar expresses with an honestly intrigued grin. Nell on the other hand doesn’t seem as enthralled with the idea. 

     “Sounds like a loooot of moving around from place to place, huh?” She asks, a bit turned off at the idea of doing that much traveling. 

     “It is,” Lukas nods proudly. “I’ve been all over the world, and here I am, BeaconTown being one of my last stops before I settle down… uh… somewhere , and finally finish my draft and move forward to finalizing, then publishing!” Lukas’ eyes glimmer with excitement under the dim torch light. He always gets so worked up talking about this stuff, it makes him all sorts of giddy. 

     “Wow, that’s honestly amazing. And you’ve been doing it for five whole years? Jeez, talk about serious dedication. I’m totally inspired! Although I’m not sure what to do with that inspiration.” Radar smiles sheepishly. 

     “Heh, thank you. And hmm… read more books? Can never go wrong using your inspiration to make room for new knowledge,” Lukas suggests with a shrug.

     “YES!” Radar exclaims. “I like that idea a lot. Maybe I’ll do more environmental studies! Gosh, it’s so nice having someone friendly to talk to.”

     “Totally. I look forward to, like, totally vibing with you and stuff,” Nell projects an invitation for a future gathering session, the idea making Lukas’ heart relent, quickly withdrawing from the idea.

     “Oh well I-... That's awfully nice to hear, really, but I've got business to attend to on the outskirts of town for most of my stay.” Lukas awkwardly confesses. He's not sure he's ready to hang out with Radar and Nell. He barely knows either of them and the idea of subjecting himself to social gatherings when he could instead be using his precious time to broaden his research; well, let's just say ‘vibing’ won't be a part of his extremely tight schedule any time soon. 

     Radar is taken aback by this, blinking, then narrowing his gaze. “Outskirts where, exactly?” 

     Lukas lights up, instantly. “Oh, the-”

      Knock knock knock. 

     “Radar! Nell! Are you two in there?” A loud shout booms on the opposite side of the front door, causing everyone in the room to flinch with surprise. The strength of the knocking is strong, but pretty obnoxious in Lukas’ personal opinion. Is it the guards?

      “Oh crap!” Radar hisses, turning to face Nell who looks back at him with a mutually worried expression. They don’t linger on one another for long; Nell quickly rushes to Lukas’ side and gives the confused author an urgent push. 

     “You’ve got to get out of here, like, now Lukas-dude.” Nell presses.

     Lukas sputters his confusion- “Wha-? Why? What’s going on? Am I in danger?” 

     “J-Just a second!” Radar shouts towards the door, then rushes towards the back wall of the single room home. On the wall is a tie-dye tapestry, its colorful pattern draping long and low to the floor. To Lukas’ surprise, a door is revealed behind the decor as Radar grabs it and pulls it back. “Here! Leave through here and don’t let yourself be seen,” he says in a hushed tone. 

     “O-okay,” Lukas replies with uncertainty, then takes his steps towards the door. Confusion and concern tread the shallows of his mind as he’s ushered out the back door, the blond considering the worn out wooden steps before stepping down them and entering the grassy lawn behind the home. The moment he looks back, the door is shut. Lukas is left alone and most certainly bewildered by the moment. Who was on the other side of that door? The two of his newfound … acquaintances, seemed genuinely frightened by the voice on the other side of the door. Radar said not to linger though, so Lukas quickly takes a look around and departs from the home, heading into a nearby alleyway that eventually leads him out to BeaconTown’s mainstreet. 

     The rain continues to pour, forcing Lukas to break out his umbrella once again. The umbrella keeps his now partially drenched form from getting any worse than that. He looks around, noting that he’s found himself on the other side of the street from that coffee shop from yesterday. He recalls that threatening looking group that had settled down there before, although the shop is free of their hostile presence today. Well… He’s not sure what else to do as of now, so maybe a cup of cocoa will assist in helping him mull over the minor discoveries he’s made this morning.

     Settled down at one of the booths inside the coffee shop, Lukas keeps his hot chocolate close, warming his cold hands while he watches the rain outside. As much as he’d like to indulge in thoughts revolving work, he can’t help but find himself lost within the mystery this town holds. He adds a bit of vanilla creamer for extra flavor, stirring, then takes a sip of his warm brew as he fishes his notebook out of his inventory. The old thing is gently set on the table, its bindings worn with use. Anyone who takes a look at the journal could tell it’s well-loved. Lukas’ eyes narrow down at the empty page he’s flipped to, contemplating the blank lines before flipping through a few more pages, skipping ahead of his previous notes. At the top, he jots down “BeaconTown” in professional cursive, then continues to describe his findings. 

     The disorienting revelation that BeaconTown, the world renowned city of heroes, has no documented history to its name, is one of the many things he logs into his research. Tapping his quill against his chin, the author hums, scanning the pages before writing into it, “as of now, I’m uncertain I want to get involved in any of BeaconTown’s secrets. I suspect many dangers hidden between the lines; I’ll only discover trouble if I continue to step into places I’m not welcome.”  

     Lukas takes another sip of his cocoa, sighing with satisfaction at the flavors melting on his taste buds. He’ll need to take his compliments to the brewer, as this is one of the best cups of cocoa he’s had in months. After another ten minutes of sipping and note-taking, Lukas’ mug is empty and he is thoroughly pleased with himself. He takes his empty mug back to the counter, gaining the attention of the single person behind the register. He smiles kindly, then takes out an emerald and sticks it in the ‘tips’ jar. “Thanks for the cocoa, it was delicious,” he says as he then turns and begins his exit from the establishment. The middle aged gentleman behind the counter sputters his surprise, then offers a rushed “t-thank you, sir!” as the door creaks open. “You’re welcome!” Lukas says and departs from the shop.

     Despite the exterior of the building’s messy state, Lukas finds himself making a mental note to return here in the future. So far that was the best thing BeaconTown has had to offer him. 

     After Radar’s handful of indistinct warnings throughout the short time Lukas spoke to him, our author finds himself walking at a fast pace to get back to the Inn for the rest of his afternoon. The warnings that linger in his mind keep him anxious and fidgety, peering between every other building or checking behind his back to make sure some shady eyes aren’t following him. Hunters were one of the other perplexing things that kept Lukas on high alert and cautionary. Does he mean trophy hunters? Bounty hunters? Or just your classic hunter who ensures the town is fed throughout the changing seasons? 

     Lukas grips his umbrella’s handle tighter, determined to learn more on the subject matter. He recalls that group of unfriendly-looking people wielding swords and arrow baskets. Armed and dangerous all while sitting outside of a public cafe. They didn’t wear armor at all similar to what the town’s guards wore, but Lukas couldn’t get a good enough look at them to tell exactly what they did wear in terms of protection. He wonders if these people are the hunters Radar warned him of. Lukas glances behind his back as he approaches the inn’s front doors, giving the wet street one last look over before entering the safety, more or less, of his temporary housing establishment. 

     Lukas collapses backwards against the bed in his hotel suite. He’d hung up his coat, laid his satchel and books out on top of the clean, sleek writing desk in the corner, and of course greeted Dewey before he finally became one with his bed once again. Dewey trills happily whilst he bounces up onto the bed and joins Lukas. Pleased his caretaker has returned, the ocelot clocks on and begins making biscuits in the blankets of the bed. Lukas smirks, listening to the deep rumble of his spotted companion. Dewey’s purrs always help soothe his anxious thoughts. 

     Lukas turns his head, looking at Dewey as he reaches out and scratches the ocelot just beneath his jaw, but right above his orange bandana. The ocelot purrs louder and leans into the gentle affection. Lukas huffs out a soft, tired laugh. “It’s nice to see you again, buddy.” Even if it were only a few hours, it's not often the two separate. Dewey sits down and gives one agreeing nod. “I learned some new things about BeaconTown while I was out, but I have to admit, it’s all still very confusing.” Lukas turns, rolling over onto his belly. “I met two strangers earlier, a skittish guy named Radar, and a relaxed girl named Nell. They seemed friendly enough to trust, so I ended up following them back to this small house where they confirmed with me that BeaconTown truly wasn’t always like this…”

     Lukas’ eyes flick up to the large windows looming in front of him. The rain has since calmed, it is now nothing more than a gentle drizzle outside. The dark, brooding clouds in the sky now pale as the sun begins to break through their thick barrier. Lukas gazes for a few moments, his mind drifting…

     Dewey perks up and watches his blond owner move off the bed and return to one of the windows. Here Lukas rests his eyes upon the forest once again. The expanse of grassland between him and the higher altitude forest will probably take a few minutes to walk through, which is just more time spent admiring the tree line while he gets closer. “I’m really hoping this rain stops by tomorrow morning. It would be fun to start the day with an adventure, right Dewey?” Lukas turns, looking at his biscuit kneading ocelot. Dewey flicks his tail in acknowledgment to what Lukas says, but offers nothing more.

     Lukas turns back towards the dense woodland with a hopeful glimmer in his oceanic eyes. 

     Morning couldn’t come any sooner.