As night falls, protestors settle down on pavements and roads, bathed in the glow of street lamps. They are surrounded by umbrellas, flowers, banners, clothing, placards, tents, all a bright yellow. Yellow has been the symbol of pro-democracy protests in countries like Hong Kong and Malaysia, where I live, in the past ten years. Though change is often frustratingly out of reach, and the barriers to better and more egalitarian governance may seem immovable, seeing people come together is still a cause for hope.
I actually don’t know what inspired me to write this I just thought it would be cute :)
The streets of London were pouring with rain. It could be seen flooding down the streets and pavements of the busy city; it could be heard pitter-pattering on the window sills of the tall skyscrapers and offices.
The door of one of these particular offices had just swung open. Out of it stepped Phil Lester who, having already been made to stay at work late, was not at all excited about the walk home.
Phil hated the rain.
He also remembered as he stepped outside that he’d forgotten his umbrella again (sigh) and his coat (double sigh), this really wasn’t a very good day. As he roamed the streets of London surrounded by workers and tourists, all of whom held varying patterned and brightly coloured umbrellas suspended above them, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of envy and longing. Phil kept his head down low, as though that would somehow shield him from the water that had already drenched him. No one payed any attention to him, they all seemed to have places to go and people to see and certainly didn’t have any time for poor little Phil. Or so he thought.
He wasn’t sure what had made him do so, but Phil looked up suddenly. Only to see that a path had been cleared for him, the people seemed to have side stepped out of the way leaving a clear walkway…
Well it was almost clear, in fact Phil had thought that it was until he had seen him. He was wearing a long black raincoat that was much to long for him as you could barely see the skinny jeans he wore underneath. His feet were adorned with bright yellow welly boots that matched the umbrella in his hand, it was overall a pretty strange look (but hey, at least he’d been more prepared for the weather than Phil had) and somehow he seemed to pull it off, Phil thought he looked quite attractive actually.
Phil had spent so much time looking at him that he hadn’t even noticed that the boy was walking straight towards him. Even his walk seemed so graceful and angelic while Phil thought he was probably looking the complete opposite. As the boy reached Phil he stopped for a second, blushing and looking Phil in the eyes, he then held out his arm in which the umbrella was being held and spoke.
‘Here… have this, I don’t need it’
‘I um…’ Phil mirrored the boys blush and hesitated, he thought of a million things to say such as ‘but it’s raining, of course you need it’ and ‘oh no, really it’s okay’ but for some reason he went with:
‘Thank you’ and took the little yellow umbrella. The boy smiled. His eyes seemed to light up, which Phil didn’t think was possible especially for someone with brown eyes as this boy seemed to have, but they did and Phil’s heart jolted as it happened.
He was so beautiful. Phil could see, now that the umbrella wasn’t shielding it, his brown curly hair. It was messy and unkempt but Phil had a strange desire to run his fingers through it.
No. Phil was just being stupid, this boy was way out of his league, he wouldn’t want Phil, Phil didn’t even know if he was gay and this boy might… oh for goodness sake he had only just met him what was he doing? He thanked the boy once more and turned to leave when…
‘Wait!’ The boy called.
'What? Do you want your umbrella back?’
'No silly, I wanted to know your name’ he giggled.
'Oh. Phil… my names Phil.’
'Well you’re very pretty Phil’
'Thank you’ Phil blurted out in surprise, was it his mouth that had just said that? 'And your name is?’
'Dan’ the boy blushed.
'Well you’re very pretty too Dan’
Phil replied, looking at Dan whose hair was becoming a little less curly now that it was exposed to the rain.
'Hey, I know you let me borrow this umbrella and all’ Phil said thoughtfully, 'but I was thinking that maybe… we could, we could share it?’ For a moment neither of them spoke, they only looked at each other, both unsure of what was happening.
'I… I’d like that’ Dan said. As he placed his hand back onto the umbrella his hand brushed against Phil’s and Phil had a sudden urge to kiss him.
He wasn’t sure what had given it away. Maybe it was the look on his face, maybe he’d said something without even realising, but Dan seemed to have had the exact same thought.
'Can I kiss you?’ He said, shyly. Phil didn’t speak in reply, instead he leaned in and brushed Dan’s lips with his own. Although Dan had been the one who had asked he still seemed a little shocked as the warmth of Phil tingled against his lips. As Phil kissed him the rain trickled down their umbrella but none of it reached them, they were completely transfixed, despite being in public they felt as through they were alone in this moment. Dan leaned in closer and wrapped his arms around Phil, who placed his hands in Dan’s hair ran his fingers through it. They were both soaking wet from the rain but neither of them cared. As Phil pulled away he starred back into Dan’s eyes, he had completed forgotten his day at work, the fact that he’d forgotten his coat, the inconvenience of the rain…
This is the last one I swear it just came to me and I had to ask, could you do Elriel + "Did you really just ask me that? Of course I do!"
This stupid non-canon ship will be the death of me dammit.
Azriel didn’t mind working at the cafe. They were flexible with his class schedule and his meager salary was just enough to pay for rent, a few groceries, and drinks with Rhys and Cassian every month.
The cafe was split into two parts: the actual restaurant and the coffee bar. The restaurant side served basic deli sandwiches and some soup options, and the coffee bar had all sorts of fancy drink options that were a real hit with the college students.
One of those college students was Feyre’s sister, Elain. He had met her while at Feyre’s birthday party last month held at his shared apartment with Rhys and Cassian.
He’d never seen Elain before in any of his classes, so she certainly didn’t run with any of the engineering majors. When Cassian mentioned something about Azriel’s job at the cafe, it hadn’t escaped him that she had started listening pretty intently.
So he wasn’t too shocked when she showed up the next week.
She was a pretty girl with a unique style. Her skirts and sweaters were always bright colors and soft material. Some days she would wear flower crowns and they somehow suited her even in the middle of winter. She was a bright contrast to his dark style and jet black hair.
When she had first started coming in she would always sit in his section on the restaurant side.
Azriel was uncomfortable with all the customers, but none more so than Elain. At least at first.
His hands would fidget on his notepad, shaking when he wrote down her order - the same thing every time: a BLT with extra pickles and a lemonade. As soon as she said it she would smile at him brightly and he would mumble something about the food being out soon before vanishing to the back room.
She stayed forty-five minutes every day. She would eat, read, glance at Azriel every two minutes, and then leave as soon as he caught her eye long enough to give him a goodbye wave.
It was routine. Azriel could handle routine. And he didn’t dislike Elain, not by any means. She just… intimidated him. She was so bright and smiley and sunshiney and nothing that he understood at all.
But… he liked her. He liked her visits. After a few weeks he found himself anticipating her arrival every day, making sure to keep her table open and the pickles stocked.
And then he got moved to the coffee bar.
It was the most popular part of the cafe, and they had more than enough waitresses on the restaurant side. And according to the manager, Azriel’s “mysterious aesthetic” matched the coffee shop culture they were trying to advertise… whatever that meant.
So when Elain stumbled into the coffee shop side on his first day as a barista with wide eyes at the crowd full of beanie wearing, script writing hipsters, Azriel finally forced himself to recognize that she came to the cafe every day for HIM.
She had smiled brightly at him the same way she always did, cutting her eyes over to him every few seconds while waiting in line. When she finally reached the register and he went to take her order, she froze.
“Ummm… what do you suggest?” She had asked innocently. Azriel had to bite back a laugh.
“Well I drink an Americano almost every day.”
“I’ll have that then,” she had said brightly, standing up on her tiptoes excitedly.
After he had made her drink, he kept his eyes on her while serving the other customers. A guy ordering a mocha frappuccino had looked at him like he was insane when he laughed suddenly after seeing the hilarious face Elain made at the first sip of her drink.
It was clear she hated the coffee, but she stayed the whole forty-five minutes like she always did. He wasn’t able to look over at her or talk to her hardly at all since the coffee bar was constantly busy, but he knew she was there.
He did make a point though to catch her goodbye wave through the crowd.
This continued for a week. Every day he suggested her a new drink and she agreed immediately. And every day she could barely swallow it down and threw it away without another sip.
Then on Friday, there was a horrible thunderstorm that closed down half the bridges in the city. So on Saturday morning when Azriel was working, the coffee bar was - for once - blissfully quiet.
And there she was. In her bright blue raincoat and a yellow umbrella stumbling through the door with a huff as she pushed her wet hair out of her face. Azriel leaned against the counter and laughed.
“Nice umbrella,” Azriel called out. Elain jumped, the umbrella in question slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor.
“Oh shoot,” she murmured, making Azriel laugh as she bent down to pick up the umbrella. She whipped her head up at the sound of his laughter, whacking herself in the face with her wet hair. “For goodness sake,” she huffed as she finally pulled herself together.
Azriel was still chuckling as she hung up her coat and umbrella and walked over to the counter.
“It’s quiet in here,” she said, a blush blooming on her cheeks. “I’ve never seen it not packed before.”
“That’s because most people aren’t crazy enough to come to a coffee shop when half the city is shut down.”
“I’m not crazy,” Elain bit back. Azriel’s brow lifted in surprise. “I just like… coffee,” she said carefully.
“Elain,” Azriel deadpanned, narrowing his eyes at her. “Come on. Do you really like coffee?”
“Did you really just ask me that? Of course I do!” Elain shot back incredulously.
“Okay.” Azriel stood to his full height. “If you love coffee so much…”
He reached out and grabbed a small cup, filling it halfway with their traditional house blend. He sat it down in front of her smoothly.
“I’m sorry, what?” Elain’s eyes were huge.
“You like coffee, right? Then plain coffee shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Right,” Elain said slowly, nodding her head. “Coffee. Plain coffee, of course I like plain coffee. I drink plain coffee all the time, it’s like my lifeline you know? Can’t study without coffee, am I right?”
Her nervous fake laughter was the most adorable thing Azriel had ever heard in his entire life.
“Oh for sure.” He nodded back to her, biting his lip to keep back his smile.
“Okay. I’m just gonna… drink this now.”
Azriel propped his chin in his hand and watched as she lifted the cup to her lips. She winced when the smell hit her and his shoulder started to shake with restrained laughter.
Closing her eyes tightly, Elain threw back a decent amount before setting the cup down in front of her.
“Good job,” Azriel said. “You still haven’t swallowed it yet though.”
Elain nodded, her face red in pain. She squinted her eyes back shut as she forced herself to swallow the drink in full.
She took in a deep breath, licking her lips.
Azriel kept it together for about two seconds before he burst into laughter. Elain groaned, pushing the coffee away from her and putting her head on the counter.
“Is it really that obvious?” She moaned.
“Oh painfully so,” Azriel said. In a rare moment of confidence, he put his index finger under Elain’s chin and lifted her face to his. “You know you could’ve just ordered water.”
Elain blushed profusely, dipping her eyes away from his gaze.
“I know, but… I thought that would make it even more obvious why I come here every day.”
“And why do you really come?”
“You know why.”
“Yeah. But maybe I want to hear you say it.”
Elain took a deep breath, biting her lip.
“I like being around you,” she whispered. “You look at me like… like I matter. You don’t make fun of the bright colors in the middle of winter, or the flower crowns. You just seem to see… me.”
Azriel stared at her, his mouth parting at her words. Instead of saying anything though, he leaned across the counter and pressed his lips to hers.
He felt her sigh into his mouth, her lips so soft under his own. She tasted like peppermint chapstick and…
“You taste like coffee,” he said with a laugh.
“So do you. If we’re going to do this more often you need to start carrying around a toothbrush.”
Imagine Enjolras going to his favourite coffee shop every day, in a rush because he has to go to work and he’s already late and he isn’t a morning person, not at all, and he just needs his caffeine. And sometimes, he caches a hint of colour in the edge of his vision, but he never pays attention to it. Until one day.
It’s a sunday so he was able to sleep in and now he’s supposed to meet Combeferre at the coffee shop around lunch time. His friend is not yet there when Enjolras arrives so he looks for a table and sits down, really looking around for the first time since he comes to this coffee shop. And his eyes widen more and more.
There are paintings at the wall - the Eiffel tower at night, a full moon shining above it, a lady with a bright yellow umbrella in an otherwise grey and empty street, a close up of a violin, a field of flowers in soft colours… Enjolras looks at all of the paintings, and oh, how he loves them. It is as if the artist is sharing their way of seeing the world, offering the viewer to see a glimpse of it through their eyes, and Enjolras is amazed. He finds extraordinairy beauty in every one of them, but he quickly has a favourite: it’s a drawing of the Seine covered by one of her old stone bridges, soft outlines hinting at the city of Paris in the background, everything illuminated by a soft spring sun.
“You seem quite interested in the paintings”, a voice suddenly says and pulls Enjolras out of his thoughts. He turns around in his chair to see a man looking down at him; unreadable grey eyes, wild dark curls.
“Yes, I love them!”, he answers enthusiasticly.
The stranger raises an eyebrow, shakes his head and fixes his gaze at his shoes.
“Nah, they’re not that good.”
“Excuse me? They are amazing!”
Enjolras does his best to not get angry; he wanted to have a nice calm sunday morning, and he discovered some beautiful drawings, that’s good, he should be happy, but really, who does this man think he is to critizise these pieces of art?
To his surprise, the stranger is smiling now.
“Thank you”, it’s barely a whisper and Enjolras gets even more confused. His missing understanding must be showing at his face because the stranger opens his mouth again.
“Well, they’re mine, you know. Like, I painted them.”
For a moment, Enjolras is speechless; he’s just looking at this person who created such beauty, and then they’re talking, and somehow, he realizes that he wouldn’t be too angry if Combeferre would be a few minutes late for their meeting…
Fandom:Final Fantasy XV Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: promptis if you squint real freaking hard, this was supposed to be a funny fic, it ended up with sad bits, I’m Sorry Summary:
An argument with his father leaves Noctis escaping the Citadel for time away from his duties; and who better to do that with than Prompto?
“Duuude. You’re like, totally soaked. Practically fish-level soaked.” The rain above him stopped abruptly as Prompto Argentum stood before him, now holding a bright-yellow chocobo print umbrella over the two of them; looking at him with a mixture of amusement and concern touching his expression. Amusement at seeing the Crown Prince looking like a drowned rat, but concern for seeing him shivering against the cold.
Noctis shrugged, avoiding the concerned gaze by focusing his attention on the brickwork of the wall aside them. “Didn’t have time to grab a coat.”
Hufflepuff: playful laughter, the warm sun beating down on your face as you look to the sky, cloud watching, letting a handful of soft sand sift between your fingers, the smell of bread baking, handfuls of colorful flowers, long and tangled hair, a shy smile, warm woolen mittens, the feeling of a forgotten word slowly coming back to you, daydreaming, chasing butterflies, a basket of clean laundry, tall grass rustling in the breeze, the smack of flip-flops on pavement, cuddling in a nest of blankets, blank paper, chirping birds at sunrise, spinning in circles until you feel dizzy, bright yellow umbrellas, a lullaby, a small footpath wending through the forest, the shine of lip gloss, bendable straws, the creak of old wood, holding hands on the first date, gentle kisses, telling the truth, ripping a piece of gum in half, the clack of marbles, scribbling hearts in a notebook, afternoon tea, sweat cooling on your brow, lit candles, sliding your tongue across the inside of your cheek, popping the last bit of candy into your mouth, mismatched socks, uncomfortably long hugs, little shoes lined up in a row, scuffed sneakers, untying the bow on a present, a partially visible rainbow, a rose-colored blush, and a patchwork quilt sent from home.
Slytherin: life in the big city, the numbness of diving into the ocean, blood-red lipstick, black lace, a half moon at midnight, the tingling scent of pine needles, black and white photographs, nails tapping on the desk, a symphony of crickets, the edge of a blade, ornate mirrors, empty rooms, jewel-toned ballgowns, the flash of lightning during a rainstorm, loose change, seeing your breath on a cold day, a strong hand upon your shoulder, family heirlooms, a bottle of alcohol, brushing the dark velvet stage curtain before the show begins, the fluid stroke of a paintbrush, 3 am, touching cold marble, dancing shadows, a pair of dice, closed doors, effortlessly brushing through silky hair, a thin layer of frost, perfect handwriting, twinkling stars above your head, spilled ink, silence, dark chocolate, hitting the bulls-eye on a dartboard, mahogany tables, a wax seal, the Cheshire Cat’s grin, slippery fish scales, unsolved mysteries, tracing a name with your finger, hooded cloaks, what you hear but cannot see, stiletto heels, the sweet satisfaction of a lie, eyes adjusting to darkness, blackberries, ear piercings, and the dull whisper of secrets.
Ravenclaw: swaying branches of a willow tree, old parchment, cathedrals with stained glass windows, ticking clocks, the slender tip of a pencil, a game of chess, a coffee mug filled to the brim, abandoned buildings, the final math problem of the exam, tightly woven braids, a full calendar, the hum of a computer, steampunk decor, written correspondence, glue dried upon your fingers, a sigh of content, motionless rocking chairs on a porch, fingers caressing bare skin, a mass of sticky notes, rusty springs, putting on a new record, the sound of a doorknob turning, sewing needles, speaking a poem aloud, witty banter, a pile of antiques, elaborately spun cobwebs, waking up before the alarm goes off, eating sushi with chopsticks, unspoken words, undoing the clasp of a necklace, a telescope, bent paperclips, a pair of glasses folded neatly, half-completed crosswords, saying the right thing at the right time, calligraphy, cats scratching at the windowpane, overcoming a rival, shortbread cookies, maple syrup, extra buttons, arms wrapped around a textbook, white chalk, skipping stones across a quiet lake, puzzle pieces fitting into place, incense, and the orchestral vibration of string instruments playing in unison.
Gryffindor: the bustle of a lively marketplace, skydiving, riding a roller coaster, the crackle of a campfire, singing off-key, a gilded throne, finding a lucky penny, swing jazz concerts, the moment before you break into a sprint, the crisp autumn air burning in your lungs, requited love, screaming until your throat hurts, the height of a raging party, making a bet, open windows, crossing the finish line, the climax of a novel, a rush of adrenaline, pricking your finger on a thorn, cherry pie topped with whipped cream, passionate staring contests, stepping inside a new home for the first time, speeding trains, blindfolds, hanging upside down from a tree branch, heat pouring from an oven, brick walls, riding your bike downhill, traffic jams, hot buttered popcorn, carrying a friend on your back, cracking knuckles, saying the first thing that comes to mind, glowing with happiness, static electricity, the feeling of Christmas Eve, horror movie marathons, chasing frogs in the backyard, tattoos, fairy tales, standing on the roof, pulling an all-nighter, the sting of a high-five, a pair of scissors, and the deafening blast of fireworks.
Inspired by @mitsouparker ’s beyond beautiful art :)
Hopefully you’ll like this, doll
It’s absolutely pouring and I am the only one outside.
I love the rain, the pattering song it sings against my blue umbrella and how it washes away all the dirt, makes everything grow anew.
I jump from puddle to puddle, humming a tune and grinning like a child as the water splashes against my yellow rain boots. They look like two small Suns on stilts wading trough the mud.
Sometimes this is the way I relive the childhood I never really had.
Splashing through puddles is also a not so secret guilty pleasure that I happily indulge in every chance I have.
A car rushes past me and I deftly jump aside, almost tripping, but then someone grabs me and an oddly musical voice admonishes me gently to please be careful.
The body behind me is warm and soaked by the rain. I smell cedar and sandalwood, undeniably posh and feel hard lines, long lines.
A very pretty guy, I decide, as I turn around. Soaked and grumpy-looking and very pretty.
His, slightly longer than chin-length, hair is plastered to his face, looking like wet, black ink and the wings of the murder of ravens I saw at the Tower last year. Some of it, especially the tips, is curling around his ears and his pale, aristocratic face.
And I should probably stop staring because he is watching me with eyes as dark and mercurial as the hide of a jungle snake.
I fumble with my words as I usually do and they try to dance around my tongue and evade to be properly spoken, especially as he raises one slender, inky black eyebrow at me.
“Si… Simon.” I manage to blurt out before my tongue and my brain give up on me.
“Enchanted, I am sure. Baz.” he drawls, honest to goodness drawls and clutches a bundle of sheet music to himself.
I shuffle sheepishly and then get onto my tiptoes as he is quite a bit taller than me, draping my umbrella over both of us.
He watches me incredulously and dripping, then something like a smile dances across his lips and I come to a decision.
“I’ll walk with you wherever you want to go.”
This day started perfectly shitty as usual.
As soon as left home to drive to my violin lesson, the car broke down and a downpour of almost biblical proportions started.
I had to take the public transport and then the bus had to get stuck in the mad traffic caused by the heavy rain which urged me to get out and walk.
Then I met this guy with the hair like sunlight, with those ridiculous yellow rain boots and his blue umbrella.
He’s walking beside me, struggling to keep pace with my long strides and bopping his head to some unknown tune that only he knows.
I am holding the umbrella now just for logistics and proportions and the handle is still warm from his touch.
He drops me off at my tutor and lets me keep the umbrella and a crumpled note with his name and his number before he skips off, his rain boots winking at me, shining through the dreary grey.
It is weird, I muse as I blink and clutch the umbrella. I have always dreamed of a white knight on a noble steed rescuing me from the darkness I was spiralling towards, the edge I was blindly dancing on.
But apparently my knight is no knight but a small young man with messy hair the colour of sunlight and butterscotch, eyes that look like small specs of the sky on a sunny day and he doesn’t have a noble steed but a blue umbrella and a pair of bright yellow rain boots.
Alec was not comfortable with working the counter, but he had to do it.
His only other co-worker in the bookstore had had a family emergency. She’d called last night to tell Alec and he’d told her that it was absolutely no problem at all. Then he’d spent the rest of the night psyching himself up to work the counter.
The small little bookstore smushed between a music shop and a cafe didn’t get a huge variety of customers. Bookworms were a diverse species. They could either be quiet and withdrawn like Alec, who used books like an escape artist. Or they could be bursting with energy; people who carried pieces of every universe they’d ever read about in them.
the gays are at it again, but this time, it’s raining. enjoy! :)
Fucking rain, Baz thought, looking up at the dark clouds. It was about to start fucking raining again, and he was still six blocks from his flat.The humid summer air hit him like a smack in the face, and he could feel it in his hair, blowing against the sweat that culminated there. It was gross. This whole day had been gross.
The first droplet hit him in the nose, and he tried to ignore it. “Fucking rain,” he muttered, quickening his pace. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a full out thunderstorm- after all, the day had been disgustingly hot and muggy. So sweltering and bright that it hadn’t crossed his mind for a half second to bring an umbrella when he walked the ten blocks to Uni. In fact, on the way there, he’d found himself wishing he’d worn a lighter shirt. Now, as the rain got heavier and began pitter-pattering down onto the white fabric, Baz cursed it. It stuck to his reddish gold skin and he peeled it off like a sticker with two fingers, only to let go and have it cling even tighter. The entire back of it was already seethrough.
He was just about the only person on the street, and everyone inside the shops was looking at him like he was a bloody halfwit. Which he was. He could have waited at Uni, surely, until the storm passed. Just hung out in the cafeteria with some friends (or rather, friend-like people) for an hour or two. Or he could have caught the bus down at the station a few minutes back. But even then it didn’t look like rain, and Baz was reveling in the newfound cool breeze, a grin spread across his face as he looked up into the blue sky- and realized it wasn’t blue anymore. Thus, he was here, six- now five- blocks from his place, with his bookbag over his head to protect at the very least his hair (and it wasn’t working very well), running and looking like an absolute dolt.
Suddenly, thunder rumbled from some faraway place, shocking Baz so hard he dropped his bookbag. The red plaid bag landed facedown in a large puddle, covering Baz’s expensive jeans in muddy water and staining his brand new white Converses. “Fucking rain,” he muttered, picking up the bag like it was contaminated and holding it as far away from himself as he could. He tiptoed delicately around the puddle (not like it mattered- his shoes were a wreck already- but he wanted to still retain some semblance of dignity). Lightning shocked the sky. For a half second, the grey of it turned purple. Baz stood stalk-still, listening to the breeze whisper in his ears, watching the sky as the outline of the lightning faded. He reached up traced it with his fingers, momentarily distracted from the situation at hand.
“You look a bit… wet,” a voice said behind him. Baz spun around, startled.
“Well, yes,” he replied, irritated, before realizing he was looking into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. It was a boy, a few inches shorter than him but about his age, with fluffy bronze curls and dimples. He was smiling with his pink mouth, a big smile that took up most of his face and almost swallowed up those Crayola-crayon blue eyes entirely. “Can’t you tell it’s raining?”
The boy laughed. “I’m Simon,” he said, and held out his left hand. Baz gave him a strange look, then saw that the right was firmly attached to a large yellow umbrella. “And I think you need this more than I do.” He gestured at the umbrella with a nod of his head, curls bouncing.
“Baz,” Baz replied, shaking his hand awkwardly. “You can keep your umbrella.”
“No, really. You should have it. I want to dance in the rain.” The boy- Simon- didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved the umbrella into Baz’s arms. Baz held it above his head tentatively, sighing at the reprieve from the harsh storm. “So, where are you headed?” Simon asked, as if it wouldn’t be at all disconcerting for Baz to see a near-grown man spinning around and holding his hands up to the sky.
“Um… um, my flat.”
“Which would be located where?” Simon replied, a teasing edge in his voice.
“Just a few blocks that way,” Baz replied, pointing to a left turn. “And on the right.”
“I’m going to take you there, then,” Simon said as he splashed into a puddle. Muddy water clung to his bare calves. Baz swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his long, thin throat. Simon was a very pretty boy, he admitted to himself. Even if he was acting like a five year old. Perhaps, Baz said to himself, that’s part of his charm.
No matter how fast Baz walked or talked, Simon was always one step ahead of him, throwing questions at him like darts- and always hitting a bullseye. He knew how to keep a conversation light and with every word that he spoke, Baz felt his heart do a little exclamation point. That’s the one! It kept saying. Him! That one! “Shut up,” Baz mumbled under his breath, and Simon turned around.
“What?” he asked. Baz took a sharp intake of breath, but let it out quickly. Simon obviously hadn’t heard what he said, because his eyes were still happy and bright.
“Nothing, I was just talking to myself,” Baz said quickly. Simon nodded. “We’re here.”
For once, Baz felt self conscious of his apartment complex, something that had never happened before. With Simon standing there, looking up at the concrete staircase that lead into the grand-looking building, he felt his cheeks burning. “It’s not much, but it’s what I can do.”
“Not much?” Simon grinned. “Baz, it’s fantastic. You must be rich!”
“You could… you could say that, I suppose.” His face was getting redder by the second.
“Well, it’s much better than I could ever do. My flat is so tiny. It only has three rooms!” Baz smiled and turned to go up the stairs, eager to change into something dry. “Wait!” Simon cried.
Baz turned around, confused, then remembered the bright yellow umbrella he still held. Simon waited at the bottom of the staircase, an amused, expectant smile on his broad face.
I’ll probably never see him again, Baz thought, then shoved the thought into the corner of his mind. He closed the umbrella and held it out to Simon, who grabbed it, fingers brushing lightly against Baz’s, and tucked it under his arm.
“Thank you,” Simon said, and looked down at his feet. For the first time, his voice dropped in volume. “But that’s not- that’s not why…” He glanced up at Baz through his golden eyelashes, his watercolor-blue eyes wide, a blush forming fleetingly across his freckled cheeks.
“Why, then?” Baz asked gently, tucking a lock of black hair behind his ear, suddenly self-conscious. The rain pitter-pattered down, soaking both of them to the bones. Simon wiped water out of his eyes, brushing one of his eyebrows the wrong way. The little hairs stook up all over the place, and Baz repressed the urge to reach up and smooth them down.
“It’s just, I thought maybe you would… Could I maybe…” He trailed off again.
“Out with it then, Simon,” Baz teased, but a nervous edge still lingered in his tone. What was he getting at?
“CanIkissyou?” Simon spat it out like one word, then looked shocked, like he hadn’t really meant to say it. Baz jumped back, physically flinched with surprise and putting up his arms. Simon dropped his eyes and hung his head, already starting to mutter an apology, turning away.
It was almost too late when Baz reached out and pressed his hand into Simon’s shoulder. The curly-haired boy glanced back, tears in his eyes (or maybe raindrops, Baz couldn’t be sure). “Yes,” Baz breathed, so quietly it was lost to the wind. Simon cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed together in an unspoken question. “Yes. Yes, you can kiss me. Yes.”
Simon’s face broke open into a grin, and Baz could have sworn pure sunshine was pouring out.
“Then I guess I’ll do that,” he said, stepping closer and weaving his arms around Baz’s shoulders.
“I guess you should,” Baz responded, wrapping his own arms around Simon’s waist and leaning down to meet his lips.
Since it has been raining a lot here lately I had this idea~ So here is how the members (ot9) would spend a rainy day together with you, their significant other.
Kyungsoo always enjoyed days like this because the two of you would stay inside all day. Closing the curtains tightly with only a few lights on. It’s dark outside anyways and he liked the pleasant rain sounds knocking against the window. You’d make hot chocolate or tea and maybe even some warm food together. Cooking was something the two of you enjoyed anyways. Spending the rest of the time wrapped up in blankets you watched a few movies. There was no better time than a rainy day for Kyungsoo because he had a good excuse to trap you in his arms the whole day. “With you beside me I don’t mind the weather at all. It’s so nice and warm.”
At first he’d probably be pretty sad that the day started with rain that didn’t seem to let up anytime soon. Yet he wouldn’t let some raindrops lock him up inside. He’d convince you to go outside with him and of course he’d shield you with an umbrella because there was no way he’d let you get wet and sick. Also he had a bit of an excuse to stay really close to you while walking. Being the child at heart that he is he couldn’t control himself from jumping through puddles making you laugh uncontrollably as he got dirty and wet himself. This tall sunshine would make even the rainiest weather seem like a bright summer day. “Hey let’s have some fun outside. It’s the perfect weather.”
He’d actually enjoy this rainy day, it made him feel at ease and he would have time to read a book. Normally the two of you would go out a lot but every once in a while he enjoyed to stay at home to relax. You were cuddled up next to him with one of Suho’s arms gently around you. Yet as he noticed the rather gloomy look on your face he put away his book and did everything to cheer you up. Being it jokes, puns or little silly dances. Everything to make both of you enjoy yourselves together. “Outside it might be raining but you always make the sun shine in my heart.”
He’d be so sweet. You were home alone, feeling a little under the weather, especially since you had been caught in the rain. Xiumin would come to visit you with some hot coffee or cacao with marshmallows. Seeing you already wrapped up in a blanket but still trembling he instantly pulled you close against him trying to warm you up. Xiumin would be pretty drenched himself because he hurried to see you. He’d treat you extra nicely, bringing you whatever you needed also as an apology that he couldn’t bring you an umbrella earlier this day. And even if he insisted that it’s alright you’d make it up to him as well especially since both of you ended up getting sick. “I’m so sorry I was late….but I got you something hot.”
This sweetheart would be so sleepy. It was raining heavily outside as he woke up next to you. It was dark and the atmosphere gloomy. Turning over he stared into your eyes before suggesting to spend the whole day in bed. Chuckling you dove right back under the covers. Though after a while you felt restless, wanting to do something. You asked him nicely to get up and the sweet boyfriend he is, he agreed. Yet as the two of you got ready to watch a movie together he had already fallen asleep again. In the end you didn’t disturb him until he woke up himself. He probably apologized a thousand times, peppering you with little kisses. “Sorry….rainy weather always makes me so sleepy….”
He’d probably be really depressed because he planned to do some fun outside activities with you. And now out of all time it had to rain cats and dogs. You’d find him sitting on the couch pouting and wrapped up in a blanket so that only his face would barely stick out. Pushing him over you’d start unwrapping the blanket armor before tickling him. Laughing and struggling he’d soon forget about all his bad mood and start to attack back. Being back to being a little sunshine he’d plan out some just as fun things you could do inside, like building pillow forts. “Even though the sky is gray you always light up my mood. Now let me brighten up yours too.”
The two of you were outside walking Kai’s dogs as it suddenly started raining. Being unprepared and too far away from home you tried to hide underneath a nearby big tree in the park. He’d laugh and wipe away the drops of water on your face as you looked a little displeased. Kai couldn’t stand to see you like this so he decided to cheer you up. Also taking the opportunity to show you some of his skill he’d give the dogs to you before starting to dance in the rain. At first it started out as a few silly dances but soon turned into something a little more heated. Blushing heavily you couldn’t hold back a smile any longer. Being content he pulled you closer dancing together until the sky cleared up. “See you make all clouds disappear with your beautiful smile.”
He stayed behind at the studio to practice some songs, but as he was about to leave he noticed the dark gray sky and the heavy rain. He was about to return inside as he saw a bright yellow umbrella and a very familiar person. Smiling widely he run up to you, wrapping his arms around you and almost knocking the umbrella out of your hand. On days like this you’d always looked out for him because you knew how important his health was especially for his singing. He was forever grateful and of course showed it to you with lots of cuddles and kisses also making sure to quickly get you dry and warmed up. There was also a part of him that worried and felt guilty for making you come out here for him. So whenever it was possible he’d try to be the one waiting with and umbrella. “You’re the sweetest and most perfect person I know so let me be just as good to you. No even better.”
He’d probably be the one that’s the most gloomy about a rainy day. Complaining about pretty much everything, the rain not stopping, him getting wet, the sky being dark and so on. But he wouldn’t say anything around you. Smiling sweetly and saying stuff like a little water won’t hurt the great him. Thing is you already noticed his bad mood even if he tried to hide it. So in the end you’d secretly do little things that pleased him to cheer him up again. At some point he would notice and give you this sweet and embarrassed smile. He’d even try to return the favor once in a while. “Oh bubble tea! You’re the best….but now whenever it rains I crave bubble tea. So promise to get me lots more ok? I pay you back with kisses.”
My ask box is open so if you want to request a reaction or scenario on your own please go ahead. You can find the “rules” here and the ask box over here. For the other things I already posted on my blog you can check out my masterlist. Thanks Sen~<3
omg can you pls do "It’s pouring with rain and there’s space under your umbrella au" with sterek???
The rain is coming down in droves. Stiles is late to the stakeout, something about getting all the supplies they needed. He’s still magic training with Deaton, so Derek presumes there’s some sort of thing Stiles wants to practice while they’re making sure the brownies aren’t up to anything nefarious.
The pack is alternating a watch, a buddy system that Scott came up with, and Derek isn’t sure he should be appreciative or frustrated that he’s paired up with Stiles. Ever since Stiles got back from his first year at college he holds himself a little differently, a little more confident in his step, body filling out a little more, smirk a little more self-evident in the way he described his multitudes of dates with guys and girls and just– many times, many positions, making Derek grit his teeth and wait for the subject to change.
It’s fine. It’s summer, it’s raining, a bit of humid soggy wet just coming down and down and a thunderstorm in the distance, crackling in the forest and Derek just wants this night to be over.
He smells Stiles before he sees him, all bright cinnamon and excitement, and then hears him, loudly stomping through muddy puddles as he makes his way to the hideout spot.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Stiles says.
He’s holding a luridly bright umbrella that’s yellow and has cartoon clouds on it, and no sort of emissary materials in sight. The rain makes gentle plop plop noises as it slides off the umbrella, and Stiles looks delightfully warm and dry underneath.
“Dude, have you just been sitting here in the rain?”
“No,” Derek says. “I’m keeping watch in the rain, there’s a difference.”
Stiles snorts. “Whatever you say. Here. There’s enough room for the both of us.”
years back I took my first painting class at a local community college. The instructor was great, but he had one particular quirk:
He set up the worst still-lifes you can imagine.
He would literally just grab any knick-knack, object, or trash that came to hand and pile them all together. Artistically(?). For example, one time I found myself painting an upside down stewpot, an umbrella, and a gallon jar of mustard. The bright yellow plastic kind.
We painted several of these junkdrawer-meets-hoarder scenes throughout the semester. My very first painting, in fact, was one of these scenes.
Except it’s in black and white because we hadn’t learned colors yet.
Why, yes, that looming film noir nutcracker is rather creepy. No, I wasn’t trying for that effect, he just started that way. No, I don’t know why he’s leaning on the grapes. Maybe he’s hungry? Do not question the nutcracker.
No, I don’t know why the grape bowl is upside down. Yes, I do realize that defeats the purpose of a bowl. I don’t know, maybe my art teacher had a pathological phobia of up-turned containers. Note the second blurry wine bottle on it’s side in the background. Yes, come to think, the number of empty wine bottles my teacher found to hand might explain a lot.
That blurry object in the corner? A mango. Yes, I have noticed that mangoes have no particular discernible features in black and white, why do you ask?
DO NOT START WITH ME ON THE PLAID/CHECKERED TABLE CLOTH.
I originally named this stunning work of art “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” but over time we came to call it simply “IT COMES AT MIDNIGHT” because we are like 99% that nutcracker would eat you and strip your bones if given half a chance.
Anyway, weird painting, but it was my first so I think I am contractually obliged to keep it in my life forever and always.
(I gave the plastic mustard jar painting, with entirely intentional passive aggression, to my dad, who I was still speaking to at the time. WINNING.)
Moving this story along:
Nutcracker-painting-of-doom bounced around a lot– it was on my wall for like, two hours, I gifted it to my brother who likes nutcrackers (he was SO grateful), one his friends claimed it ironically for an exciting two years, then it returned and lived on the floor behind our sofa for five years or so.
Most recently, we moved to a place w/ more wall space and I have once again enshrined it on my brother’s wall.
It stares at him while he sleeps. :D
Which leads us two brother #2, who, in a spirit of much admiration, commissioned me to do a papercraft of the nutcracker painting.
Which I did.
Lord forgive me.
Nutcracker take 2, now in stunning technicolor, and with roughly 70% more hat. Truly, this was a worthy use of many additional hours of my life, which I in no way regret. (got paid, tho. :p )
^ Please, take a moment to admire the elegant death-skull-mango. ^
Also, this toothy, grape-chomping grimace:
I can’t speak for myself, but Brother #2 was extremely satisfied with his commission. He framed it himself and promptly and lovingly
HUNG IT ON BROTHER #1′s WALL, BESIDE THE FIRST ONE.
So, end of story, now both “It Comes at Midnight” and “It Came Back Oh God” can loom toothily over my brother’s room at all times:
This little ditty came about a few nights ago when I decided to give Google Docs Voice Type feature a go. All I did was ramble at the computer to see how it worked [omg, it was awful. so many words misinterpreted, grammatical errors, you name it…I will not be using that feature again.] The resulting story was kind of adorable so I sent it off to one of my favorite writers @lenny9987 and my ever vigilant beta @outlandishchridhe for several thorough editing look throughs. I hope you all enjoy this unknown universe of a Modern AU. It has zero correlation to Mo Chridhe and is completely a stand alone piece. Should I continue this piece and see where it goes? Let me know! And as always please let me know what you think!
“Hello,” she said. “I believe you were looking for me.”
Jamie didn’t know what to think of this brazen English lass. She was right he didn’t know it but he had been looking for her, he had been searching his entire life and never knew what he was searching for until he met her.
“I’m sorry lass, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Have you been looking for me as well?”
Claire smile and look down blushing furiously. “No, but if I was, I only realize I had been now.”
Jamie smiled and reached out a hand beckoning her forward. She tentatively reached out her hand and grasped his. The heat and electricity that shot through her at his touch surprised her. No one had ever made her feel this way, not even Frank. Who was this man?
Jamie’s insides felt like they were on fire and simultaneously doing somersaults. This strange woman made him feel like you could do anything.
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee or tea…or…if that’s not your thing something else?” Jamie stuttered.
Claire nodded, “I would love a cup of tea. do you know a good café where we can find some? I’m afraid I’ve just arrived and I’m not familiar with this place.”
Jamie grinned from ear-to-ear happy to help, “Oh, aye, Sassenach, I ken a place just fine that will be perfect for a shared pot of tea. It’s down the road a little ways,” he hesitated not wanting to assume she’d be willing to walk in the rain. “ Are you okay with that? It’s maybe two kilometers, but I ken if ye’d prefer to drive than walk…”
“I don’t mind walking,” Claire said squeezing his hand tight. “The rain never really bothered me. Besides I have an umbrella and perfect company to escort me. You don’t mind walking do you?”
Jamie squeezed her hand back, “No, mo nighean donn, I think a walk is exactly what I need.”
The couple walked down the dreary lane, hand-in-hand, smiling and laughing the entire way. The inhabitants of the small town walked about with knowing smiles. They watched the couple with intense interest, waiting to see if the lad would try to steal a kiss. They could already tell that these two had more love between them than most couples do. They didn’t know the young couple had only just met that day for the very first time, but it didn’t matter because the love shared between them was palpable and plain as day for everyone to see.
The young couple arrived at Mrs. Baird’s Books and Tea Cafe. The rush of hot air that escaped the building when Jamie opened the door felt incredible to the frozen pair. They both shook themselves off and deposited the bright yellow umbrella in the umbrella stand beside the door. Jamie quickly ushered Claire to his favorite spot in the corner nook squeezed in beside a big bay window and a cozy bookshelf. The chair was a big blue crushed velvet plush love-seat perfect for two. Claire blushed again as Jamie quickly rushed off to the counter to order his favorite pot of tea and plate of biscuits.
She gazed longingly out the window, a secret smile across her face. She couldn’t believe what she had done when she packed up all of her bags and just left… everything! Frank, her job at the hospital, London, and the future that it held—a future she did not want.
Something told her to go to Scotland, so she took a risk and went with her gut. So far her gut had not led her astray. The charming red-headed Scot, whose name she still didn’t know, was worth it all. He was the first person to treat her with kindness and not expect anything in return. She’d only known him a short while, but that was all the time she needed to know this man was different.
Jamie fumbled his way through the small cafe back to where the beautiful Sassenach sat waiting for him. Him. He couldn’t believe his luck or the blessing he had been given. He didn’t know her name; nor did he care, she was his Sassenach, his nighean donn. He smiled as he grew closer to her, her own smile soft, tugging at the corner of her lips. He felt his heart race.
He sat down beside her and grabbed a cup of tea, presenting it to her. She blushed and accepted it, their fingers brushing up against each other. He nearly dropped the cup at the contact.
“I—” He cleared his throat. “I hope ye don’t mind, but I had them put a spoonful of honey to the pot.”
Taking a sip, Claire smiled at how adorable this man could be. “It’s perfect.”
He smiled, a boyish grin that made her insides flutter.
“I feel silly asking this,” she said nervously, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. He nodded in encouragement. “What’s your name?”
He let out a laugh. “It’s James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser.” He said with a cheeky wink. “But ye can call me Jamie.”
“Well, Jamie, I’m Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. Normally I would say call me Claire, but I quite like what you’ve been calling me.”
Jamie flushed from chest to forehead. “Aye, well would ye prefer mo nighean donn or Sasseanch?”
“Both.” They both smiled.
The two young, soon-to-be lovers enjoyed the rest of their tea and biscuits with laughter and perfect conversation.
please do gekkan shoujo nozaki kun style Aomine with his s/o in the rain, where Aomine is trying to reinact romantic shoujo scenes of holding the umbrella for his s/o but due to the height difference it fails horribly
Hope you enjoy this, my dear anon~
The sudden downpour caught him by surprise.
Aomine stared at the drops of water hitting the ground, mentally cursing himself for not listening to Momoi again. She had told him to bring an umbrella before. But then again, he never listened.
He browsed trough his bag. Maybe he could try to use his jersey to cover himself while he ran back home. His attention was diverted though. The bright yellow color of your umbrella worked like a flash sign for him. Suddenly every romantic scene from those boring chick flicks Satsuki made him watch flashed trough his mind. Not a bad idea he thought as he approached you. “Oi, _____. I see you got an umbrella there. Do you think we could share? I’ll walk you home.”
Before you could reply, he took the umbrella from your hand. Holding it up as he nudged you with his elbow, gesturing you to lock arms with him. A soft chuckle left your lips. That cute smile that made his heart skip a beat appeared on your face, “Sure, Why not?”.
As you began your lazy stroll your body clinged to Aomine’s side. The rain continued pouring and the umbrella was held a little too high for coverage. The tanned male’s smirk only grew bigger, enjoying the proximity. However, despite the closeness the water managed to soak part of your uniform, “Aomine-kun do you think you could move the umbrella a little more to my side?”.
“Ah sorry.”, he apologized, as he did what you asked. “I didn’t notice you were getting wet”.
Thanking him after readjusting the umbrella, you kept going on your merry way. However, it didn’t take long before the drizzle made you wet once again. Tugging on Aomine’s arm, he turned his attention to you, his eyebrow quirking up. “Do you think maybe I could hold the umbrella?”
“Of course, here you go.”
His hand brushed softly against yours. In that moment Aomine could’ve swore he felt a spark inside him. Of course he would never admit that because it sounded extremely ridiculous in his head and just by thinking of saying something like he felt embarrassed. His cheeks turned pink just by the sudden thoughts and he cursed himself in his mind. ‘Oh great. Now they’re gonna think think I’m embarrassed just by touching their hand’
Which was a ridiculous thought.
They’ve been walking arm in arm the whole time. That’s way more contact than a simple brush.
The brainstorm in his mind was interrupted by the thud of his face hitting the plastic fabric above the two. You were too short to be holding the umbrella. But even then, the young boy thought he would be fine. It’s not like he needed to see where he was going. As long as he kept walking next to you.
He was wrong.
A sharp pain hit him as his shin made contact with some sort of rock standing in the middle of the road. What the hell was that rock doing there?! Sudden flashbacks of Midorima’s poorly placed lucky items surfaced on his mind but those didn’t matter. This hurt like hell.
“Oh goodness. Are you okay?” You asked concerned after seeing him stumbling forward while trying to caress his leg.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine…Just…”
Roughly, he pulled your arm towards him. Now he could clearly see in front of him; However, he failed to realize the stream of water coming down directly above them from some rooftop. The stream slid graciously down the umbrella before landing right on your now exposed head, soaking you quite a lot.
A car zoomed right past, completely soaking the both of you. An angry scream escaped Aomine’s lips as he threw the umbrella to the floor; Angrily stomping on it. A string of courses being chanted almost as if he were reciting a satanic summoning incantation.
Whenever she had the chance, she would take it. Junhee always enjoyed the outdoors, whether or not the weather wasn’t ideal for a walk. Even her dislike for rain wouldn’t stop her from taking an umbrella and hopped around, her rainboots allowing her to skip in puddles.
She wasn’t unnoticeable either. The color of her umbrella reminded of the sun, bright and yellow. Although the idea would be to be invisible to the public, avoiding any possible chance to get recognized, the soloist did the opposite. Rare were the occasions of being called Juniel in the streets unless she had a planned event. Dressed casually, she just wandered around Hongdae until she found a more secluded and artistic side of the region, admiring the street art and exploring the narrower roads.
Oh? From afar, she noticed a little boy. A lost kid? She wasn’t sure, but the sight of having no adults around him was self-explanatory.
“Hey,” Junhee approached calmly, placing her umbrella above his head. “You will get sick if you stay under the rain like this…” And a soft smile appeared on her features, hoping that she wasn’t going to scare the toddler with her unexpected presence.