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can you do a prompt with the word rain? xx

Just so you know—and for anyone in the future—whether the prompt says to or not, you are always welcome to specify what fandom/ship/character you want me to write for provided that I have previously written or am willing to write for that fandom/ship/character. If you’re not sure, just shoot me an ask. Otherwise, I’m going to write whatever comes to mind.

The raincame down in sheets. A blinding torrent of bullets pounded the car far fasterthan the windscreen wipers could handle. Outside her window, all Jemma saw—whenshe could see through the deluge—was gray. And the sight was a little unnervingconsidering she had just gotten used to living in a technicolor world.

Despitethe storm, her driver refused to slow down. They were on a schedule, yes; theirimminent destination was of significance, she would agree. But that didn’t meanthey had to run the risk of breaking their necks in the process of gettingthere. Jemma had all but secured that coveted position at the Cube pending herlast exam. Losing the job to Fitz due to any temporary physical limitationsfrom an accident involving this car wrapped around a telegraph pole would be abloody shame.

When theypassed another van driving the speed limit, Jemma gripped her seat beltlike her life depended on it because it did. Did this agent not get the memo orsomething? Had he passed his driving assessment at the Academy? Was he aware ofwho she was and where he was taking her?

The tiressquealed when he swerved and stomped on the breaks, and Jemma clutched the grabhandle on the side.

“What inthe world…”

Threelarge, dark blurs surrounded them as they stood at a standstill on the side ofthe road. Two men dressed in black and not in the least bothered by the rainapproached the car, and Jemma’s heartbeat began to match the sound of rainfall.

A set ofknuckles rapped against the window alongside the shower, and her driver openedhis door to get out. Jemma gasped at the sudden rush of wind and water whippinginto the vehicle. Seriously, did Ops force their trainees to undergo extremeweather exercises or what? Even for a Brit, she wasn’t immune to flashfloods.

That initialchill, however, did not compare to the gust freezing her to the core when her dooropened. And it was only the hard body positioned against the frame that protectedher from getting drenched.

“Grant?”

“We gottago,” he said without preamble. No hello, no appraising look, no nothing exceptthe stoic expression of a trained specialist on a need-to-know, time-sensitivemission.

And whileit had been a big deal to the organization that they registered as soulmates,Jemma did not think their upcoming nuptials meant that much to S.H.I.E.L.D.

“What isgoing on?”

“Sweetheart,now.” He leaned over—the water of his sopping clothes dripping onto hers—tounbuckle her seat belt and then tugged at her hand. And well, Jemma had nochoice really but to follow his lead right into the downpour.

Rainpelted her body, and she was soaked within the seconds it took to leave theoriginal vehicle and jump into the back of another. Not even the heatblasting in the latter could prevent her body from shaking.

Pullingher close, Grant wrapped a thermal blanket around her, and before she knew it,they were taking off. She huddled into him and breathed through her mouth.

“Youokay, Simmons?”

Jemma glancedat the driver addressing her. “Trip?” And what, was her bridal party in anotherone of the vehicles? Were her parents? “I thought I was supposed to meet youall there. Not get ambushed in the middle of the road.”

“We’renot getting married,” Grant said. Jemma wrestled out of his hold then—theblanket slipping off her shoulder as she readied to hurl a volley of queries athim like just what did he mean they weren’t getting married.

“Actually,I’m ordained,” Trip volunteered. “You know, so if you two crazy kids still wantto…”

Grantglared at the agent before returning his attention to Jemma. Gripping the edgesof the blanket, he wrapped it tightly around Jemma’s shoulders and held it inplace with one hand.

“You aregoing to tell me what’s going on. Right now,” she said. Rain continued to pour,and Jemma shivered. Something was wrong. The storm should havemade that clear, but now she knew it to be true considering the groom had allbut kidnapped her on the way to the venue.

Wait—

Jemma stiffenedand tried to jerk away, but Grant’s one hand still clutching the blanket securelyaround her wrenched her back toward him—so close that there were barely twocentimeters between their faces. His strong jawline bulged.

“Blue,”he whispered in her ear. Jemma pressed her lips together both in tentativerelief and to prevent her teeth from clacking. “The color of your ring isblue.”

Itwasn’t. The ring he had put on her finger was a round-cut halo diamond. Therewas, however, a small sapphire insert inside the white gold band. Jemmahadn’t really thought anything of it until the first time Grant had said those exactwords to her.

Mollified,she looked up at him. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

His armwound around her back and crushed her to him. He was still wet from head totoe, but it seemed to matter less now that she knew she could trust him. Jemmaleaned her cheek on his shoulder and inhaled.

“Later, Ipromise.”

The raindidn’t stop until much later that night. Not until after Grant had carried herinside like a groom was supposed to after marrying his bride and recounted howhe had killed a life-model decoy of her before stopping at nothing to find thereal her.

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