gentle morning sun

Jeremy is pouring tea. The gentle early morning sun pouring through the kitchen windows, bouncing off of the prisms set on the windowsill and projecting rainbows onto the white kitchen walls. Michael is watching. Jeremy’s messy hair is tucked gently behind his ear as he carefully rips open two teabags, biting his lip with concentration. The light blue counter almost glows in the sunlight. The sliding door, leading to the back porch, is open, allowing a cold breeze to leave goosbumps on Jeremy’s thighs. He is only wearing boxers underneath Michael’s loose red hoodie. He shivers, but looks out the window, smiling and setting the tea onto the glowing counter. Michael is leaning in the doorway, he watches still. His beautiful boy. This beautiful home. Their beautiful life.

Imagine...

Prompt #48 with Tommy Shelby:  “You make me want things I can’t have.”

Originally posted by sineadjdaly

You woke up warm, like you normally did when you woke up in his bed. The feeling of your bodies intertwined was not supposed to feel so right. You weren’t supposed to even be here, ever. But there was something that always drew you back, something that always told you to stay afterwards. There was something magnetic about Tommy Shelby. You were opposite poles, always attracting no matter what obstacles separated you. And when it came to the relationship you had with Tommy, there was nothing but obstacles. 

You wanted nothing more than to just rest, to keep your eyes closed and stay in the warmth of his body and the gentleness of the early morning sun that blanketed you. But you knew you couldn’t do that. You placed a kiss on his lips, a kiss filled with things neither of you could say. Things you could say if your circumstances were different, maybe. 

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Domestic

Pairing:  Frank Castle/Reader (She/Her)

Category: Fluff

Words: 1410

Warnings: Mention of violence, Frank is mentioned to be pretty badly injured, but then again it’s Frank so of course he is

Prompts: “It’s two sugars, right?”

Summary:  Frank hasn’t had the chance to be truly domestic in quite some time.

A/N: Since this is based off of a prompt I am ignoring the fact that in Daredevil he seemed to drink his coffee black.

Masterlist & Request Rules

@kurtwxgners


Originally posted by calif0rnia-lovers

             Frank isn’t exactly used to being able to sleep late anymore. When he was still in the Marines he was on a very strict schedule that forced him to wake up early every morning, and then of course there was his kids, who he often used to wake up to jumping on his bed in the early hours of the day. And well, nowadays, it wasn’t like a one-man war on the mob offered much time to get some shut eye. But this morning was clearly different. No alarm had gone off to get him up before the sun even had the chance to rise and somehow, having a warm body in bed next to him the night before had kept away any of the nightmares that would often wake him up in a cold sweat. So, when he wakes to the smell of coffee it’s already mid-morning.

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Sakura (One-Shot)

Originally posted by katherine8595

62. “You’re not as quiet as you think you are.” + Jongin

The airport buzzed with activity. Jongin smiled from beneath his mask, lending you his confidence and leading you through the crowd to the terminal. The people amassed as you tried to get by. Soon the noise and sweat started to get to you.

Your heart raced, and you clutched Jongin’s hand tightly. There was too many people, too much noise. He looked back at you, his eyes wide with concern. He whispered to the security guard in front him, motioning back to you. The security guard nodded.

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A New Horizon (Soldier:76 x Reader)

Characters: Jack Morrison, Reader

Word Count: 1461

WARNING: This includes my own personal timeline into the future of Overwatch; where friendships can be mended, and no one is completely morally evil. <3

Dedicated to the wickedly talented, spectacular friend of mine, @heldensterbennicht. I’m sorry, but also, I’m not I really enjoyed writing this one.

The gentle glow of the morning sun peered through the shaded windows, the room illuminating with a soft orange and yellow hue. Summer mornings were the perfect temperature; just about the same as your room, except just a couple of degrees lower, with a calm and constant breeze. The sunrise in Grand Mesa was gorgeous; a constant. A consistent thing in this line of work, no matter how small, could change everything.

Sleep was infrequent, however; sleep with Jack Morrison was even less frequent. Jack had the entire weight of the organization on his shoulders; not only did he succeed in his negotiations with the U.N. to bring Overwatch back to a legal status of operations, but he also succeeded in his personal goal- redeeming Talon’s members. After a long and tiring battle, Morrison and Reyes were able to reach a standstill, and entered a conversation that was said to last for five hours. Once the debate ended, the two men left the room as brothers once more, and Reaper swore to bring Blackwatch back to its former glory. Trust was not easy to earn back for Gabriel, but he had swore off the life he once had known, and began to build his family once more.

Amelie was resistant to the change. Overwatch operatives, led by Commander Lena Oxton, were able to incorporate the Widowmaker, and she was brought to a remote, safe location in Switzerland. Through exposure therapy, self acceptance, and many other forms of therapy, Widowmaker was no longer, but Amelie remained. She maintained nearly all of her skills from her former life; disappointed in her newfound shortcomings, but happy in the life she knew now. Her heart would never return to its former state, however. Her fate was to remain blue forevermore.

Sombra was a mercenary; despite her beliefs in the corruption in Overwatch, an introduction to Winston and Zenyatta, Angela and Mei, was able to sway her enough to believe in the cause. She was kept on payroll, of course, but she was able to find a more fulfilling purpose in her newfound home.

Akande was more complicated than the other three. He was one of the highest operatives in Talon, and he would not be changed. He was a good man somewhere deep inside, but he stuck to his values, and could not abandon the group he swore to fight for. But, with most of his close operatives gone, and a stronger Overwatch, he was eventually persuaded to go easier on the team. He would not kill many, if any, Overwatch “heroes”; he would rough them up and knock them out cold, but blood would not be spilled. He wanted society to move forward through conflict, and that’s what he would do- non-fatal conflict. He encouraged his squadron to do the same, but many were not convinced. Overwatch attempted to show similar respect by bringing in many Talon operatives and showing them the light of harmony (as Zenyatta put it), thus lowering the death ratio. There was still brutal and fatal conflict, with tragedies on both ends, but the head-honchos pulled punches when it came to each other. Akande believed in a better society through conflict, while Jack wanted justice. Justice did not equal killing.

In-between the reconstruction of Overwatch and Blackwatch, plus the U.N. Debate and redemption of Talon members, Jack was tired. He was exhausted, and some nights, he couldn’t continue to work while he knew that you were still home, anxiously awaiting his arrival. You knew that he wasn’t on the battlefield most of the time, but that didn’t protect Jack from ambushes, sleeper agents and difficult political steps. Last night, Jack had come home earlier than usual, giving credit to Ana’s strong leadership and… ahem… strong encouragement to the upkeep of his mental health.

First your right eyelid flickered up, then your left. Most of the light escaping from the window shades was covered by the figure of your boyfriend, his shoulder covered in scars. Rubbing the crust from the corners of your eyes and letting out a strong, silent yawn, you gently began to trace the markings across Jack’s skin. Two strong gashes had healed on his tricep, but due to the scarring process, they grew to resemble tiger stripes. Dozens of miniature scrapes crisscrossed his back, creating a broken glass effect. Jack occasionally claimed to be a broken man, but that you had sealed him back into something better than he was. It was corny as hell, but it was endearing that he felt so passionately about you and the change you had made in his life. The silver scruffy hair that swayed in waves across the back of his head needed a good trimming, but you were capable. He also needed a shower; grit from the garages of the base covered the top of his neck and patches of his face, but he was still the man you loved. He still smelled of his signature-vigilante leather jacket and of some sort of manly cologne or shampoo. Was it Old Spice this time? You weren’t quite sure. Hana insisted on removing all labels on items to prevent copyright claims on her daily vlogs, but why she would be in her teammates’ personal spaces, you would never know. Either way, it smelled strong, but subdued.

Jack Morrison never snored, but he always had a strong breathing pattern. When you awoke from a weak nightmare, and didn’t awaken with enough energy to disrupt his slumber, you would always follow his breath. In four seconds, out four seconds. In four seconds, out four seconds. It was dependable. It was reliable. It was Jack Morrison.

With a slow but steady inhale through the nose, Jack began to stretch out after a deep dive into his dreams. As his arms reached towards the headboard, you could here his joints popping and his muscles stretching, the wear and tear of day-to-day work finally beginning to disappear. Slowly as to not wake you up if you were asleep, Jack turned to face you, pulling the cooling blanket over his shoulder. He met your gaze, those dazing hazelnut eyes becoming covered by his lower lids as his mouth formed into a small grin.

“Hello, dearest.” He whispered, his voice lower than usual. Sleep tended to do that to the poor boy, and at this octave, he could almost be the sound of a tuba.

“Hello, savior.” You whispered back, a smile peaking at the end of the sentence. Chuckling gently, Jack raised his hand to your cheek and began to stroke at the hair just above your ear.

“I’m no savior. That’s Angela’s job.” He didn’t give himself enough credit. You constantly told him that, trying to make him believe it, but he was one of the most humble guys you had ever known.

“Jack, when will I be able to tell you how much you mean to me?” You asked, shifting in bed so that you were at exact eye level with the man.

“What do you mean, y/n?” Jack asked gently, one eyebrow carefully lowering itself downwards while the other reached for the heavens.

“Every moment that I spend with you makes life that much better. How do you do that?”

“Gee, hon, that’s a tricky one,” Jack chuckled, “I am not entirely sure. I just know that you have the same effect.”

“Shut up, I do not.”

“Yes, y/n, you do. You make every action worthwhile. You make sleep bearable, you make meetings more impactful, you make me so… so happy. I love you. I love you so damn much, y/n. You are so blasted important.” By the time he had finished pouring his sleepy heart out, you had already began to tear up. Wrapping your arms around him; one under his neck, and one over his shoulder, you moved the hair from the top of his forehead and pecked him with a kiss.

“I am lucky to have such a strong man be the one that I love. Now, let’s get some breakfast, okay?” You kissed him once more on his left cheek, and pulled yourself out of bed. Stumbling to the wardrobe, you pulled on pajama pants and a t-shirt, when you saw it…

“Hey, look alive, soldier.” You called, causing Jack to turn and look at you. He began to laugh- a deep strong laugh, one that would awaken anybody in a room- as he saw his jacket over your shoulders. It was much too big for you, no matter how big you were. Jack’s jacket was nearly a trenchcoat on anyone else but him, and he would not tell the secret how.

“I love you, you goofball. Hurry up, we gotta enjoy our day off.”

The sun goddess

Her love was the morning sun
Gentle, caressing imparting life.
Her kiss gleaming on green bladed tips
The softness of her song rising in mist

Her wrath the afternoon blaze
Raging, violent, blistering the world
Relentlessly Suffocating everything within range
The virulence of her presence blinding the weak

Her silence was the moon
A welcome darkness creating peace
A reserved reflection of what was to come
The twilight a reminder she encompasses all


Cryptictalk

anonymous asked:

Definitely want to see Lexa and Costia's first meeting, Raven's first to time seeing part animal Clarke Griffin lol, and maybe Lexa coming out to Anya or vice-versa? thank

ok im gonna post these all here bc i am lazy lol

//

lexa & costia’s first meeting 

You’re kind of mortified, because you’d just tried to drag a very, very pretty girl in your historiography seminar because you thought she was white, but she’s quietly laughing in front of you now (“Actually, I’m Afghan. I know I’m white passing, and I know that definitely affects my privilege a lot, but yeah. Definitely Afghan”).

“Fuck,” you say. “Sorry, I just—sometimes people are really shitty.”

“I know,” she agrees quickly, and then, “It’s okay,” and she smells nice and she keeps walking with you even though you were kind of trying to get away from her, and oh no, when you go outside she shifts her books from one arm to the other and stops to pick a little hydrangea from a nearby bush. Berkeley is beautiful and you knew there would be beautiful girls here, and you’ve had your fair share of really nice kisses with very pretty girls already, and you’re good with people, but—the breeze kind of blows her hair back like she’s in a fucking shampoo commercial, and outside her skin is darker and almost gold under the gentle mid morning sun, and her eyes are really green.

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7

day 157 \ kolkata \ india

The streets of Kolkata are unusually quiet when the gentle morning sun shines through the haze. People are starting to awake from their slumber with a quick shower in the gutters and the first pot of tea is brewing over hot coals.

We set out bright and early to see traders in action at the Old Girish Park Sari Market. The market, which is a short walk from our apartment, stretches down the side of a very busy road. There aren’t too many cars on the road early in the mornings, so thousands of people crowd along the road to sell used saris, clothes, bed sheets and curtains.

The market vendors go from house to house each day, collecting used saris in exchange for household items, like new plastic buckets or steel plates. And they then bring the saris to the market to sell. 

There is so much life, vibrancy and colour at the markets - and a never ending supply of vendors willing to model their saris. 

White Christmas (DW Secret Santa)

Rose x Ten, Rose x TenToo Any rating, Something fluffy/happy, preferably. 

My gift for hollonsy. I hope you find lots of happiness this holiday season! 

Rose always loved snow, despite that fact that it was cold, difficult to walk through, and no one looks good with a red nose and cheeks. But she could never shake the feeling that there was something magical in a city street blanketed in shimmering white, in the soft way it dusted her hair, and especially the way it added an extra bit of charm to Christmas. And there was one Christmas that always came to mind at the mention of snow.

She remembered blinking away the fake snowflakes as she stared up into the clear night sky, both her and her Time Lord looking up at the stars and sneaking shy glances at each other. His new body was just as cool to the touch as his last one but she shifted closer to him anyways, grateful for the cover of cold air that excused her shivers.

Several years’ worth of Christmases would come and go after that one, and none of them would fill her with such wonder and happiness as that night had. After being stuck in Pete’s World, she managed to keep her to her senses; never becoming reclusive or feeling the urge to shut her family away. Rose was there to decorate the tree ever year, to watch Tony’s young hands struggle with the wrappings on his gifts, to share that last glass of spiked eggnog with Pete long after everyone else had gone to bed. Every Christmas in this new universe was warm and loving, without the need for a single insincere smile.  

But as she fell asleep at the end of every holiday she would feel the bitterness eat away at her heart, despite all her happiness. The sullen feeling that even after so many years, nothing was like it should be. She had friends, she had family, but she had no one to hold her hand.

So she would crawl into bed on Christmas Eve with the sweet words of carols singing through her memory, helping to fight the sorrow that threatened to consume her, and know that the morning light would return as a reminder that she did indeed have a reason to wake.

But on this morning, her body began to rise from slumber without the gentle kiss of the morning sun through her window. As her ears began to register sounds and her skin began to actively notice the warmth of her bed, she could only remember that something was different about this Christmas morning.

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