No, that can’t be right. Her office is on the 33rd floor, and the dog would have had to travel up all those floors past 18 different layers of security, walk right past her, and somehow unlock open close and then relock her balcony door without anyone noticing. So no, that high pitch bark that just sounded behind her must be something else. There is no actual way that there’s a dog on her balcony right now.
A loud yip followed by claws scrambling against the glass wall behind her suggests otherwise.
Slowly, Lena allows herself to turn around annnnddd yep. There is definitely a dog. Her first thought - after realizing the impossible has once again happened to her - is that that is one tiny sounding bark for such a huge animal. And it is huge, standing on its hind legs nearly as tall as her, it’s paws and drooping tongue pressed to the glass. As if sensing her thoughts the dog barks again, high pitched and excited. It obviously wants to come in.
Lena can see the muscles flexing in its limbs and figures an animal that size could get in with or without her help, so she might as well be proactive about it. The balcony shakes from the force of the dog’s tail smacking the ground faster and faster, its excitement growing with every step towards it Lena takes. The entire floor is shaking now as she reaches the door, pausing for a moment to stare at what may be about to kill her. The dog just presses its face to the glass, as if it’s trying to get as close as it can, and Lena unlatches the lock just as tiny cracks begin to snake out from where the dog’s nails dig in.
All the air is forcefully head-butted out of her lungs as the dog tackles her, knocking her to the ground. She feels it’s massive jaw opening against her own and she clenches up in anticipation of the bite. Imagine her surprise, then, when she’s instead treated to the absolute slimiest tongue imaginable roughly dragging across her face. It gets a solid four swipes in before she can fully get her arms up between them, trying to shield herself from the goop that’s dribbling excitedly onto her face. She’s pretty sure a puddle is forming around her.
The dog opts then to push its head again at her, pressing it into her hands and chest and face with a desperate sort of enthusiasm. Hesitantly, she scratches behind its ear.
“Good boy,” she says, and is met with another yip and sloppy tongue. A few more careful pets end with the dog sprawled out completely on top of her, pressing its face into the curve of her neck, unmoving if not for the continuous room-shaking thump of its tail.
Lena’s not sure how long she lays like that, a monster of fur and muscles pressing her down with its enthusiastic affection into an ever growing puddle of sloop. She does know when Kara arrives, though, because the dog finally moves. His head perks up and before she can even think to say something the dog is bounding towards the now open door and tackling Kara.
Lena scrambles up then with a shout of warning, but Kara is fine. In fact, the beast has jumped up on its hind legs to lick at her face with abandon, and Kara’s just laughing!
“Krypto,” she says, “there you are!”
Kara’s glasses are practically ripped from her face by the force of licks raining down on her.
“Lena, where did you find him? This is that dog I was telling you about, my new rescue!”
Lena has to forcefully pry her clothes from the floor, the saliva puddle sticking like duct tape. Kara looks so beautiful when she’s happy.
“I found him in the park,” she says, after watching their reunited love fest for a moment more. Krypto - seemingly remembering her now - turns to lunge back at her but is yanked back by Kara’s firm grip. The dog’s claws scramble against the floor as he fights her grip but Kara holds firm like there’s barely any resistance at all. Lena’s arms ache from their harsh collision with the floor.
So many things are beginning to make sense now.
“Lena, I can’t believe it. I’ve been so worried about him. Thank you so much for bringing him here.”
There are happy tears in her eyes and Lena really can’t do anything but sigh in defeat.
“Of course, Kara. You know I’d do anything for you.”
Every day he saw her waiting there at the bench. Sometimes she would be standing. Her sun dress flowing in the wind, as if the lace or fabric had been lighter than air, catching even the smallest breeze. Her hair dancing about her face. His eye sight was poor, but he could see her tangled hair dancing. He could smell the perfume of her shampoo carried in the wind as he approached her. Other times she would be huddled together on the bench as she sat. Her knees clenched closely as she held her heavy coat to her frame in the cold wind.
It was the same as when he first met her. The droplets of rain fell hard, each splash on the pavement demanded your hearing. V could hardly believe someone had been caught so off guard by the storm. Her hands went from wiping her ever-dampening hair to her arms, to her soaked cloth clinging to her frame. He remembered thinking how beautiful and natural she looked. How helpless. How, in that moment, he saw someone in need of his help, even if his sight was less than superb. Her bangs and hair clung to her face and she smiled to him. The smile that he had grown to look forward to for weeks to come.
“Please, share my umbrella?” he asked of her as he held it above her shivering frame.
It was the first thing he ever said to her. The first words ever spoken between them as they stood there at the bus stop. Her careful nod and slight smile pierced through him in that instant. Her gratitude. Had he ever been so thankful for his eyesight before?
In his mind he could remember every detail of her. Her face. Her makeup and the way the strands of hair clung messily to her face from the rain like thin vines on a beautiful sculpture. The sound of the droplets on the umbrella and the feel of wetness as the bottoms of his jeans began to soak water and creep up his shins. It didn’t matter, as long as she was dry and comfortable.
“Thank you,” she spoke in soft syllables through the heavy rain.
Her voice had been like a symphony to the backdrop of the rain pattering. Her smile the beams of sunlight in the clouds of rain. It was a gift to see her before him.
When the bus approached and she nodded in gratitude before entering, he felt a heaviness in his chest. Such grace and beauty lost to him now because he hadn’t the courage, nor the strength, to ask her for any more than she had already bestowed upon him. Only a warm smile and a slight giggle from her as he sheltered her from the rain.
The next day it was drizzling lightly as he approached the bench. His sight limited to the bus. And…as if a sign from above, he saw her looking back to him with that same sweet smile. It would insight the tightness in his chest once more. She recognized him? Even with his blurry vision he could never mistake her for another.
“Hello, V!” she would smile and exclaim every time.
Always the same cheerful greeting. It always elicited his heart to work overtime in his chest. He wanted to know more about her. Wanted her to know more about him.
“Call me Jihyun, remember,” he laughed and smiled.
“Oh! Of course, I’m so sorry,” she would laugh and cover her face in embarrassment.
He loved that about her. And without another thought his umbrella would be covering her and sheltering her from the spring rain.
“You don’t take the same route as I do, yet you’re always here at the same time,” she says casually, “why do you take the bus? Your clothes….ah! I’m sorry, is that rude?”
The way she gets flustered turns his cheeks red. He didn’t think he was dressed so richly? Maybe only compared to Jumin…
“It’s not rude,” he chuckled, “my eye sight…” he let his voice trail off.
“I know,” she replied.
Delicate fingertips pressed against his cheeks and shocked him more than he had anticipated. The feeling of her warm fingertips on his skin made his heart leap and his body feel warmth in the growing cold.
“Is that why you…ride public transport?” she had asked.
“Mostly, yes,” he found himself admitting.
It is true. He can still see alright, enough to get around daily life. But he can not drive. Public transport is his means of traveling. He doesn’t wish to be like his friend Jumin, spending money on personal drivers and cars. Figures from afar appear as blurs, but not her.
Perhaps it was the way she smelled. Or sounded.
He could hear her rustling and know it was her. Her delicate hands moving through her bag to find her chapstick. Or her sunglasses. Or phone. He could tell her apart from anyone else in the world. it would start off as if she had forgotten the thing completely. Frantic and manic were her hands in the pockets and crevices of her bag. Eventually, the all-too-familiar sigh would escape her when she found what she was looking for. Maybe others could not pick it up, but he could. He heard and watched her pop the cap from her chapstick in the summer and rub it against her full lips. She wasn’t aware of how bad his sight had been. But she was more aware than most.
Most good days, when he met her at the bench, they would talk about themselves. If she was carrying bags, she would explain what she purchased for him. Even if it was trivial, he found himself enthralled in her explanations.
“Shoes for the beach. You know my old ones always gave me trouble,” she laughed and he agreed since he had known as well, “and this new dress. I don’t know how well it will look. Maybe for a lunch with friends…”
She held the dress up to herself and he felt almost bad for imagining her in it. Perhaps on a moonlit night. She would be waiting as he approached from a street corner. She would be smiling, only for him, in that dress. He’d buy her dinner and wine. They would share her favorite dessert and she would tell him all about her day. He would listen intently. He cared. For a moment he had to remind himself of where he was.
“It’s a beautiful dress for you,” he remarked.
“Why, thank you,” she replied and stuffed the items back in her bag with red cheeks.
One day she was showing him what she had purchased, when she noticed how aloof he seemed, though he was trying his hardest not to show it.
“Your eyesight,” she spoke softly, “it’s getting worse…isn’t it…”
Why was he choking back his words? Was it the slight drizzling rain clouding his eyes, or his own tears as he held his umbrella over what he hoped was her frame. If he could do anything in this world, it was to keep her from being cold…and wet. Somehow, she knew. Just by the way he had acted, for he hadn’t said a word about how he was doing.
He felt a soft hand on his own free one. It was hers. Without thinking twice he smiled and let her lead him. He could even hear her smile in her voice.
“Sunglasses…not that I’ll be needing them anytime soon, don’t you agree? I feel like a fool for believing the weatherman,” she laughed and held her forehead against his own as she did so, while still guiding his hand around her bag.
Was she not put off by his ailment? It was one of the first times he could say he hadn’t felt like an outsider. Someone who needed to be asked to be accepted. She had grabbed his hand…
She had grabbed his hand…and from then on, she continued to do so.
Some days, he didn’t need it. Some days, the sun shone bright and still would be out-shined by her radiance. Her smile and aura as he approached the bench would radiate his core. Whether she was heading to work, meeting friends or shopping, she looked beautiful and full of hope to him. She filled him with her warmth even on the coldest of days.
It wasn’t since Rika that he had felt this way about another human being. And even thinking about her inner beauty, could he say he even felt this way about Rika? No. This person who had accepted him as who he was, even with his sight as it happened to be. This person who asked nothing from him other than conversation as they waited for the bus to take them to their destinations.
When he had fallen in love with her, who could say? But he was sure she felt the same way. Her subtle touches to his hands and arm when they met. The way she leaned in close to explain things to him.
“It is cold…but I do appreciate the rain,” she said one day to him after he had placed his jacket over her. “It gives life to the flowers around us, the plants…Life would cease to exist without the rain. I think we should appreciate it. Don’t you agree?” she asked him.
Of course he did. His hands held her shoulders tightly as he explained so. How badly he wanted to ask her to dinner in that moment. Maybe just to a cup of coffee. To ask her everything about herself. Did she garden? What was her favorite film? Did she enjoy music?
He could sense a lot about her just in the time they spent together. She was selfless. She only went shopping when it meant it was needed. If it was for meeting friends, or perhaps something she didn’t have before. He liked that about her. She was observant.
“The bus has been a little late…fourth time this week…I hope the driver isn’t feeling ill,” she had mentioned one day.
“What’s so funny?” she smiled and put her hand on his forearm playfully, “ I really am worried!”
“Only you would be worried about the driver when your ride is late…I just…find it charming,” he admitted to her.
When he was late, or struggling to make it to the bench, he found her at his side, helping carry his things and hold him steady.
One particularly rainy day, her bus arrived on schedule. It was the familiar slosh of the flowing gutters as it pulled close to the curb for her. The all-too-familar squeak of the door hinges as it swung opened for her. But she did not move. She did not enter. Her hand lay wrapped on his forearm, which held his umbrella sturdy to protect her the best he could from the elements.
“I’m not going in today,” she spoke coyly as the door shut and the sound of the bus driving down the road faded once again in the distance.
He couldn’t hold back his smile much longer. Her touch soothed him. Her delicate hands he had grown to fall in love with. And the sweetness in her voice like warm honey coating his soul.
“We can’t waste the day,” he found himself replying, “how about I take you to lunch…and then maybe dinner?”
“Nothing could make me happier, Jihyun,” she pulled her body in close to his as she spoke.
He could feel her steps in sync with his own. This wasn’t the first time he had taken her out. Not even the twentieth time…her feet and hands, her voice, her steps and the pitter patter they made next to his own feet…the way she walked was all too familiar.
Yes…this day was like many others he had come to share with her. And yet…he felt in his pocket, that hardness in the shape of a box. The velvet case with a ring inside.
It may have come to be a familiar day for them. But today, he would ask her to be his wife.
new girl brings rainstorms to Riverdale, and more specifically, more rain in
Word count: 1,844
A/N: I’m sorry I haven’t
been writing requests, but this idea popped in my head and I decided to write
it. Hope you all enjoy!
He only saw her when it was raining. Maybe it was pure coincidence, or maybe it was
The first time he met her was a rainy Monday afternoon. It was the first day of their freshman year in
Riverdale High. Jughead continuously
announced to anxiety-ridden Archie and Betty that he was not nervous at all. He would never admit it, but there was a
twinge of fear in his stomach as he walked through the doors of his new school.
The day became a blur in his memories, nothing especially
memorable occurring. Except one thing:
(Y/N) had just moved to Riverdale from Seattle, so her rainy
first day of school in a small town helped her transition from the large city
she was used to. She sat in her last
class of the day, English, when the rain began to pour even harder. Right as the bell signaling the beginning of
class rang, one last boy walked through the door.
Jughead knew that, by being late, he wouldn’t get a seat in
the back of the classroom that he craved. There was only one vacant seat left next to a
girl he didn’t recognize. He sat down
next to her, slumping in his chair.
“You’re new, aren’t you?” he whispered as the
teacher explained the syllabus. (Y/N)’s
head shifted to look at him out of the corner of her eye, shocked that someone
had spoken to her. She had been ignored
“Yeah,” she confirmed his suspicions. "How did you know?“
"This is a small town,” Jughead answered. "Everyone knows everyone.“
"Right,” she muttered, turning her focus back to
the teacher. Jughead, however, continued
to stare at the new girl.
“I’m Jughead,” he introduced himself. "Jughead Jones the third.“
"The third?” (Y/N) quietly laughed.
Jughead shrugged. "Yeah,“
he responded. A smile grew on his face. "It’s funny, though, because most people
laugh at my name being Jughead.”
“I think it’s cool,” she complimented. "I’m (Y/N).“
"Well, (Y/N),” Jughead said, “what’s
“Mr. Jones!” their teacher suddenly interrupted
their conversation. "Ms. (Y/L/N)!
Please, no talking while I’m speaking!“
Jughead and (Y/N) muttered ashamed apologies, and with a
satisfied nod, the teacher turned back to the board. Jughead shifted in his chair so that he was
slightly facing (Y/N).
"I was gonna ask what’s the best burger you’ve ever
eaten,” he explained quietly. "But
that’s a stupid question, because I’m gonna introduce you to a burger that’ll
put every other thing you’ve ever eaten to shame.“
“Definitely,” he smirked. "Have you ever been to Pop’s diner?“
The rain reduced to a drizzle as Jughead and (Y/N) walked
from school to Pop’s.
"You’re sure you don’t need an umbrella?” Jughead
asked for the hundredth time.
(Y/N) laughed, “For the last time, Jughead, I’m fine. I’m from Seattle; I can handle a bit of
Jughead’s umbrella offers died down after that, and the two
quickly arrived at Pop’s. They entered
the diner, Jughead leading her towards his favorite booth. He sent subtle waves
towards all the beaming waitresses who greeted him.
“Someone’s popular,” (Y/N) commented as she and
Jughead sat down across from each other.
“I come here quite often,” he shrugged.
A waitress approached the table and asked for their
orders. Immediately, before (Y/N) could
even open her mouth, Jughead ordered two cheeseburgers. About ten minutes later, the same waitress
carried out two baskets. She set one in
front of both Jughead and (Y/N). Jughead
watched as (Y/N) picked up her burger.
“Are you gonna eat yours?” she asked before she took her
Jughead shook his head.
“Not until I see your reaction,” he said, biting back a smirk. (Y/N) shrugged and nonchalantly took a
bite. As her tongue registered the
beautifully charred beef mixed with the freshly melted cheddar, topped with
refreshing tomatoes and lettuce, Jughead broke out into a grin.
“This is so good,” she moaned, taking more bites of her
“I told you,” Jughead laughed.
“We’re gonna come back here every day and get these, right?”
(Y/N) asked, between burger bites.
Jughead’s grin widened.
“Whenever you want.”
Riverdale was rainy for that entire week. On Thursday, their English teacher assigned
their first project of the year, splitting the class into pairs. As if answering both of their prayers, the
English teacher paired up (Y/N) and Jughead.
They decided to start the project that night, agreeing to meet at (Y/N)’s
“I’m sorry about all the boxes,” (Y/N) apologized as they
entered her bedroom. “I still haven’t
“It’s no problem at all,” Jughead waved it off. “My place is even messier, and I can’t make
up excuses about having just moved here.”
(Y/N) laughed and shook her head, sitting on her bed. Jughead chose to remain standing, scanning
(Y/N)’s room. He glanced at her pastel
blue walls, the simply-framed windows covered by pale white curtains. He walked in front of the window.
“I think you brought Seattle weather with you to
Riverdale,” Jughead commented, pulling (Y/N)’s wispy curtains aside to
look at the rainstorm outside her window. She rose from her bed and walked over to stand
next to him.
“Good,” she muttered. He turned to face her and raised his eyebrows.
“I like the rain.”
“So do I,” he agreed, “but this is
“No such thing.”
Even without the project, Jughead and (Y/N) frequently met
up. Whether it be the drive in, (Y/N)’s
house, or Pop’s, the two always tried to make time for each other.
A month after they met, Jughead decided to introduce (Y/N)
to his other two best friends: Archie and Betty.
It was drizzling on a Wednesday when they met in Pop’s, both
Archie and Betty immediately adoring (Y/N).
“You must be (Y/N),” Betty smiled, sticking out her hand to
shake. (Y/N) beamed as she happily shook
Betty’s hand. “I’m Betty Cooper.”
“And I’m Archie Andrews,” Archie greeted, choosing to simply
wave at (Y/N) rather than shake her hand.
“I’m (Y/N),” she introduced herself, laughing, “but it seems
that you already knew that.”
“Jughead talks about you a lot,” Betty giggled, causing
(Y/N) to smirk at Jughead.
“Oh really?” she inquired, and Jughead rolled his eyes.
“She’s never gonna let that go,” he complained to Betty and
Archie. “Thanks a lot.”
The four quickly fell into a casual conversation, (Y/N)
fitting into the friend group with ease.
It felt like she had always been with them in Riverdale. Archie and Betty noticed the obvious
chemistry between her and Jughead, and throughout the dreary evening, Archie
and Betty exchanged knowing glances as they observed (Y/N) and Jughead’s
interactions. Neither of them said
anything, but instead, they chose to just sit and watch Jughead and (Y/N)
slowly but surely fall in love.
After two more months, Betty and Archie grew frustrated with
the lack of progression in Jughead and (Y/N)’s relationship. Riverdale had grown too cold for it to rain
anymore, but the snow, in Jughead’s mind, still counted as rain. It was only frozen.
He hadn’t seen (Y/N) in a while outside of school, both of
them too busy. (Y/N) became buried under
her heavy academic burden, and Jughead grew immersed in his writing. They hadn’t grown apart, they just didn’t
grow any closer, much to Betty and Archie’s dismay.
A bitter and cold
February passed through Riverdale, and it was during that month that (Y/N)
finally met Kevin Keller. It had been
four months since Betty and (Y/N) had met, and the two of them grew very
close. Not as close as (Y/N) and
Jughead, but Betty was definitely (Y/N)’s go-to girl.
“You’re gonna love Kevin,” Betty assured her as they sat in
Betty’s pastel pink room.
“If you insist,” (Y/N) smiled. A light knock on the door caught their
attention, and they whipped their heads around to see Kevin entering Betty’s
“I finally have the privilege to meet the famous (Y/N)
(Y/L/N),” he grinned.
“Kevin Keller,” she laughed.
“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” he said, sitting down next to her. “God, I’ve been dying to meet you ever since
Betty started talking about how cute you and Jughead were together.”
“Together?” she lightly scoffed, playfully rolling her
eyes. “Jughead and I are just friends.”
“And you like it that way?” Betty questioned with a smile
tugging at her lips.
(Y/N) hesitated for a split second. “Of course,” she answered.
“You hesitated,” Kevin immediately noted. (Y/N) released an exasperated sigh.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I never really thought about it that way.”
“Well maybe you should start considering it,” Betty
suggested. “I’ve known Jughead for
years, and I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you.”
The rest of winter breezed through, and soon April showers
began to roll into Riverdale. It was the
rainiest spring they ever had, but it came to no shock to Jughead. He stood by his belief that (Y/N) brought the
Seattle rain with her.
With spring came more free time for (Y/N) and Jughead,
allowing them to begin to meet up more often.
Their relationship picked up where they had just left off, except with a
small alteration. Jughead couldn’t quite
pick up what had changed between the two of them, but (Y/N) knew exactly what
They sat in her bedroom again. It was a typical scene, but something was
different. The sun was out for what felt
like the first time since they met. Something
had shifted in their relationship, and neither (Y/N) nor Jughead knew how to
“The sun’s out,” Jughead gave his daily weather
report. (Y/N)’s eyes lazily flicked
towards her window, watching the beams of light float into her room.
“Yes,” she replied simply.
“I don’t think it’s been sunny since you’ve moved
here,” he joked, forcing out a laugh. (Y/N)’s fingers twiddled with the soft fabric
of her bed. Jughead sighed at her lack
of response. They sat in silence for a
couple minutes, Jughead continuing to stare out the window and (Y/N) fidgeting
on her bed. Finally, (Y/N) stood up and
crossed her arms over her chest as she ventured next to Jughead.
“It was very rude, you know,” she drawled, earning
a confused look from Jughead, “that you made me fall in love with you. Inconsiderate, really.”
A split second of silence passed as Jughead tried to collect
“Not what you had in mind?” He smirked.
(Y/N) shrugged. "Quite inconvenient, actually.“
"I’m not sorry,” he stated, stepping closer to
her. He tenderly placed a hand on her cheek.
“Me neither,” she whispered, her gaze focused on
Without any more hesitation, Jughead brought (Y/N)’s face
towards his and pressed his lips against hers, just a feather-light kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a
desperate attempt to deepen the kiss, like a flower craving the thirst-quenching rain.
“You know,” Jughead disconnected their lips,
“I lied about liking the rain.”
“Yeah,” he nodded,
smiling. "I just pretended to like
it for you. I actually hate the
What if Genji, Tracer, and DVa's s/o died in the battlefield and they saw it happen? Like, what would they do?
A/N: Damn, this is some angsty stuff! Fun to write in a morbid sort of way, always enjoy figuring out how characters would react in different situations. Cheers!
Genji’s mortified, he’s over to your side in an instant. He wants to believe he can save you, that there’s something he can do. You can get a second chance, like he did, you can live through this. He’s pleading with anything that was listening to save you, but to no avail. Genji holds onto your body long after you’ve passed on, his metallic howls echoing through the battlefield. Mercy will retrieve your corpse, taking it somewhere safe, but Genji refuses to return to base. He’ll cut a path through every enemy he stumbles upon, fueled by the blind rage he’s been thrown into. Eventually, his armor will be coated in their blood, his green visor faintly glowing from beneath the crimson paint. He’ll return to give you a proper burial, putting on an emotionless facade while your casket is lowered into the ground. Zenyatta’s the only one he’ll truly open up to about his sorrow, and his personality will begin to shift towards Hanzo’s. Genji will be more distant, he’ll quietly leave Overwatch with Zenyatta and resume their travels across the world. He’d lost himself before, sure, but he’d never lost someone that close to him before. Genji will visit your grave every month, leaving a bouquet of cherry blossoms before the tombstone. He’s been broken again, but this time he isn’t sure how he’ll be put back together. Even Zenyatta feels like something in him as shifted, and he’ll do everything he can to help Genji come to terms with what happened.
Tracer’s fast, but she wasn’t fast enough. She watches you go down, time seeming to slow down as she watches you hit the ground. She drops everything to be at your side, grabbing onto you and rewinding, desperately hoping that she can bring you back. She keeps rewinding, over, and over, and over, and over, each time more tears rolling down her cheeks, pleading with you not to leave her like this. Eventually, she just stops, she holds onto your body and just sobs into your chest. No one knows what to say, but eventually she gives your corpse over to Mercy to be prepared for the burial. She’s strangely quiet before the funeral, confining herself to her quarters, only rarely interacting with Winston. Tracer’s an utter mess at the funeral, it’s impossible to tell what streaks on her face are from tears and what’s from the rain. Winston has his arms wrapped around her, her sobbing muffled by his fur, even Soldier 76 appears visibly uncomfortable watching her be this distraught. She’ll still stay with Overwatch, it’s her family, but something about her changes a little. The chipper attitude returns, but occasionally a crack will appear. She spends a lot of time talking with Mercy and Winston about what happened, how she couldn’t save you. She’ll visit the grave every single day; mourning, just chatting to the grave, reminiscing over the memories you had together. No one should have to go through what she did, and she promises she’ll never let it happen to anyone else.
D.va doesn’t notice immediately, thinking you just took a bad hit and need a medic. She’ll make her way over to you once the battle is over, expecting to cheerfully reminisce over the battle with you. Mercy’s distant stare instantly tells her that something is wrong, and she’s out of her meka before she even sees you. Tears roll down her cheeks as she watches your still body, hoping for you to come back to live, somehow. D.va’s known loss from the Omnic Crisis, but it never felt as personal as this. She’ll sob as Mercy comforts her, making sure she doesn’t see the medics take your body away, she’s still so young. The funeral is soon after, it’s a quiet affair, D.va just stares at your coffin wordlessly, attempting to put on a brave face in public. The rest of the Overwatch team is with her constantly, she’ll spend a lot of time with Lucio and Tracer, each of them trying to cheer her up. She’ll take a break from streaming for a very long time, she needs some time to herself, and certainly won’t be as extroverted as she once was. D.va will visit your grave frequently, trying to stop by at least once a week. She feels guilty about what happened, wondering if there’s something she could’ve done to save her player two.
Two women, in the forest, in the evening, in a light rain. The older has no expression on her face. The younger hangs her head down. The younger was in love, is in love, was in love. But the lover is in love with the older not the younger.
So I don’t know if this is late or early considering technically the episode doesn’t air till Sunday, but whatever, here we go:
There was only one awesome thing about this episode, which was anything to do with the Night King and the Wight Dragon. Everything else was a complete departure from all we’ve come to learn about these characters, but that aside, let me try to understand it as best as I can.
We start the episode on Jon and the rest of the A Team trudging along and making fun of Gendry. I actually really liked all these scenes because the male bonding was done well, the dialogue was funny and the chemistry between these characters was believable. I mean I didn’t know I needed a Tormund x Sandor best friendship till that episode, especially when they begin talking about Brienne. Mr Tormund “I want to make babies with her” Giantsbane. It was brilliant, needless to say.
What’s not so brilliant but a great moment of foreshadowing was Tormund’s conversation with Jon. He essentially tells Jon that although Mance Rayder was a great man, his pride got a lot of people killed, echoing Jon’s own words to the man:
“"Isn’t their survival more important than your pride?”
And of course Dani’s words to Jon in the Cave of Invisible Chemistry.
The problem I have with this is that it comes from Tormund, a wildling man whose pride is as much as a defining factor as his ginger beard. But whatever, I see what they’re trying to do here. They’re trying to justify what happens later because if Tormund can understand the dire need for Dani’s help over his own pride then Jon should too, and he does, of course, as we later find out.
Here’s the thing though. I am still firmly of the camp that it’s all a ruse, and this is the moment Jon realises he might have to bend to Dani’s will for her alliance. He doesn’t want to and he knows fully well that the Northern houses will not accept her as their queen in any capacity, but all he cares about is his people’s survival through the Long Night. He’s willing to lose his kingdom for their safety. And this thought becomes even more concrete in Jon’s mind the moment Dani arrives to save his dumb ass with her three dragons. The look of awe on his face as those dragons rain hellfire on the wights is indicative of this because up until that point, he’s had a very abstract understanding of what these dragons are capable of and how they can help him. Seeing it in person, seeing them turn a hopeless situation into a victory, Jon fully understands now that the only way to survive is for Dani to fight with them with her dragons.
prompt: A piece of paper attached to the pillar. It reads, ‘p.s. I was falling in love with you.’ @oftheskyepeople
word count: 5315
“You left her a note? How old are you?”
“I can’t tell if you’re implying I’m immature or old and out of touch.”
On the other end of the call, Octavia sighs. “Both, probably.”
“Your support is always appreciated.”
“I know it’s stupid.” He admits with a sigh of his own, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “But when have I ever not been stupid about her?”
His sister is silent for a moment, a confirmation.
“You said she went there all the time right?” she finally asks.
“Yeah, even before we were friends.”
“So she’ll probably go back. And she was friends with you, so who knows? Maybe she’s into that kind of inept flirtation.”
He wants to argue—but, “That’s really the only kind I’ve got.”
“Good luck, Bell.”
Bellamy became friends with Clarke Griffin in the way that feels like a whirlwind but was actually a fairly basic, linear series of events, starting two years ago:
He moves to the city, fresh out of undergrad, to work as a glorified assistant at the city library archives. Which isn’t to say that the library isn’t great, but Jaha doesn’t trust him with doing any original research yet, so Bellamy spends most of his time filing or verifying details on the other archivists’ research.
It’s a start, is what he keeps telling himself. Octavia’s got an amazing scholarship to a school in California; she’s having the time of her life. Which means Bellamy can stop worrying about her and work towards having a career he actually loves, instead of working as many jobs as possible, on top of balancing classes.
He’s still getting used to it.
It’s raining when he meets Clarke, the first rain of the fall, and he obviously didn’t think to check the weather that morning, so his walk home from the library is decidedly dreary.
“you’ve been camping in a crappy tent next to my really comfortable caravan/motor home and it’s been raining cats and dogs for ages, do you want to come in and have a cup of tea to warm up?” (5000 words, rated M) AO3
Setting her Kindle down on her chest for the third time in ten
minutes, she covers her eyes with her palms and tries to shake away the thought
that keeps creeping past her well-constructed rules. Rules that don’t allow
welcoming strange men into her camper. Rules that don’t care about the flash
flood warning that keeps popping up on her phone and definitely don’t care that
his tent is at the bottom of a hill. Sure, he’s seemed relatively harmless the
few times they’ve crossed paths, twice at the showers and once down at the
lake. His smile had been friendly each time, mildly flirtatious and
devastatingly sexy, but not smarmy and he’d left her alone. A casual wave is as
much as she’d gotten, one that she’d returned without thinking. She’d seen him
sitting at his campfire the night before, seemingly transfixed to the flames as
if lost in thought, or memories maybe, but that had just been her spinning tales as she’d gazed upon his fire-lit profile. Even after the logs were little more
than ash, he’d stayed there, waiting until the last ember floated away on the
breeze before turning in for the night. She can admit to herself that there’s
something about him that intrigues her, his confidence in his solitude,
perhaps, something she knows a bit about herself.
So why is she lying here fighting an urge to save him? Who says
he even needs, or wants, to be saved?
Frustration has her shucking the covers from her legs so she can
stand and pace up and down the narrow walkway between her bunk and the
kitchenette. Each time she passes the small window she pauses for a longer
look, the rain pelting the window obscuring the view the faint glow of a
lantern illuminating his tent from the inside. Eventually, she just stops and
stares, waiting to see if she will see his shadow move past the light. When she
does, it’s like a flip gets switched and a decision she doesn’t remember making
is already made and she’s shoving her feet into her hiking boots and fumbling
her head through the hole of her $3.00 rain poncho.
Her jeans and face are soaked almost immediately after stepping
outside. Curses fly from her lips as her boots sink into unseen puddles of mud
and she nearly topples down the hill, her hand grabbing a nearby tree catching
her fall. By the time she’s reached the side of his tent she’s convinced this
was the dumbest idea she’s ever had. It’s only seeing the shadow of him
standing and moving to the entrance that stops her from turning around and
heading back up the hill.
A dark head of hair emerges from the zipper, one hand shielding
eyes she knows are the brightest of blue from the unrelenting rain
“Everything alright, love?”
Bristling slightly at the endearment, she aims her flashlight
pointedly at the puddle overflowing into the opening of his tent.
this was taken before i was involved in the fandom so i’ve never posted it but i found this picture of me from the red tour gillette stadium night 1, 2013!! it was the first time i ever saw taylor live and i was so unbelievably happy. i never wanted to leave.
Feyre had never known a first date to be like this.
Had never known it could be so… Well, so unlike the other
ones she had been on before. But maybe that was due to the fact that Rhys was
unlike every other guy she had dated – Or, in her case, guys she had gone on one
date with, which had inevitably ended badly, but Feyre had never really cared. Because – if she was being honest
– the guys she had gone out with weren’t people hard to get over, at least not
But now… Feyre found herself wishing that this would go
well. That maybe – just maybe – this date wouldn’t end with an awkward goodbye
or a half-hearted We should do it again
sometime! That was so clearly a lie.
Feyre often wondered why she ever thought dating would be a
But when Rhys had come to her door with flowers, had smiled at her in a way
that made her toes’ curl, had been a perfect gentlemen all night… maybe she had
been wrong about dating.
prompt: jughead is at south side high but sneaks into riverdale high for make out sessions w betty and her friends investigate and find out
Betty stared dreamily out the window of her second period chemistry class, her chin propped up in her hand, and a lazy smile gracing her face. It was raining and she had always loved the sound of the heavy water hitting the roof of Riverdale high, rain was something that was constant, there would always be rain, soft and steady or Sparatic and rough it was always there to wash away the bad.
A heavy hand dropped to her shoulder and she looked up to find her teacher smiling down at her and gesturing to the empty classroom, she must have been daydreaming for longer than she thought, smiling apologetically she gathered her books and walked into the empty halls, it was lunchtime and no one ever hung around when food and socializing were on the table.
JJ: alas fair Juliet, our schools may part us but parting be but sweet sorrow.
Betty giggled at the silly text message her very favorite boy had sent her, his wide vocabulary wasnt something anyone ever expected when they met the dark haired Serpent.
“Wow whoever can make you laugh like that must really be something special.”
Betty whipped around at the familiar voice, a grin breaking out on her face as she eyed the boy up and down.
Jughead Jones was leaning casually against the dark blue lockers, a toothpick dangling lazily from his mouth and his leather jacket snug on his shoulders, his wavy dark hair was messy and His hands were shoved in his pockets, a goofy grin on his face.
“What are you doing here? How did you even get in the building?” Betty asked, her perfect blonde ponytail bouncing as she walked towards the mysterious boy. Jughead instantly reached his hands out and gripped her tiny waist, his fingers playing with the waist band of her cheerleading skirt.
“I have my ways.” He grinned lazily “a guy can’t visit his girl in her beautiful, state of the art highschool? I mean look at those water fountains, Southside highs only have brown water.” He shrugged.
“Oh I totally get it, you’re using me for my water fountains, That’s fine.” She teased, her hands moving to play with the dark curls at the base of his neck, his eyes instantly falling closed at the familiar comfort of her smooth fingers.
It all started a few months ago, Betty had been helping Jugheads father fix up an old Harley in the backyard of his trailer, she had been referred by Pops and she was more than happy to help. He didn’t think he had seen anything sexier than the gorgeous blonde covered in motor oil, holding a wrench as her tiny denim shorts and tiny white tshirt dripped with water form the sprinkler next door. He quickly learned how complicated her life was and his interest in her only peaked, for someone so small she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, he wanted to do everything he could to carry some of that weight.
“Is that okay?” Jughead heard Betty ask from his embrace, tearing him out of his thoughts.
“Hmm?” He smiled apologetically
“I said, I’m going to stop by the bar today, I sewed up vipers jacket and I promised Hause I would drop off cupcakes for his daughters birthday.”
That was the other thing, Betty had embraced the Serpents almost immediately, they were a second family to her and she never judged, even though he could sense her worry as she cleaned him up from some particularly nasty brawl, she never said anything, just kissed his bruises and helped him tug his jacket back on.
“Sounds good to me beautiful.” He dropped his lips to hers and her hands moved up slightly, burying in his hair.
After about a minute of holding each other they were both ripped apart by the clearing of a throat and the slamming of a locker. Betty pulled away shocked as Jughead kept his hands on her her waist, his guard instantly up.
“Betty Cooper you have some explaining to do.” A dark haired girl smirked, her arms crossed over chest as the boy beside her stared with wide eyes.
The second boy clapped excitedly
“You’re a Serpent! Oh this is fantastic, Betty why didn’t you tell me! This is amazing!”
Jughead raised a brow, but Kevin cut her off, moving to grab Jugheads hand and shaking firmly
“My name is Kevin Keller my boyfriend, Joaquin? He’s part of your gang, we can definitely do double dates now!”
He heard Betty giggle from beside him and he couldn’t help the smile that creeped up on his face.
“I’m Veronica Lodge and this is my boyfriend Archie Andrews, were Betty’s best friends and we’ve never heard of you.” She stared evenly at Jughead as Archie straightened his back, squaring off against the new guy.
“Jughead Jones. I’m the boyfriend, happy to meet you.” He stuck his hand out for the raven haired girl to grab, she took it hesitantly and elbowed the red haired boy.
“Archie Andrews.” He grunted. Jughead tried to hide his smirk.
“Nice to meet you dude.”
Something seemed to soften in the quarterbacks eyes and he grabbed the leather jacket wearing boys hand
“Same here man.”
With introductions done Jughead looked back to his girlfriend and brought her hand to his mouth
“I’ve gotta get back, I can only avoid Southside high for so long.” He sighed pressing his lips to her knuckles and pulling away as she smiled lovingly at him
“See you tonight?” She asked softly
He nodded, a look of complete adoration in his eyes that wasn’t missed by the three friends, Kevin and Veronica visibly swooning
“I’m not sure what your plans for tonight are but why don’t you two join us for a milkshake at pops later on, Archie’s treat.” Veronica asked, gently nudging her boyfriend as he grunted and rolled her eyes.
Jughead just stared at the girl in surprise, his eyes turning back to Betty’s for assurance, she nodded excitedly and he couldn’t help but chuckle
“We’ll be there” he said finally “thanks”
With that he threw one last glance at his beautiful girlfriend before heading out the doors of Riverdale high.
It was silent for a few moments before Kevin broke the moment
“I love him.” He said dreamily. “If you don’t want him I’ll take him.”
I have too many other fics Im working on right now to really write this but:
. Real talk, Kara must feel so alone and isolated right now.
. With all this shit between finding out James is Gaurdian, Winn keeping secrets, and Mon-El’s manipulative behavior she must feel kind of betrayed
. Shes THRILLED for Alex but also really missing the more frequent one on one sister nights
. And theres only so much ice cream you can eat by yourself
. So she reaches out to Lena
. Lena’s basically felt this way her ENTIRE life so shes really good at making Kara feel better
. Then they get “closer”
. Suddenly its Valentines day and Lena does this huge gesture to show Kara how much she cares about her
. But only “in a friend way” because she will actually die if Kara rejects her
. Kara sees right through her
. Shes scared at first, but without realizing it, she fell in love with Lena Luthor, her beautiful best friend
. After a ridiculous amount of potstickers and contemplation Kara decides she just has to lay it all on the line
. So she shows up on Lena’s balcony (in the rain for effect)
. Rambling on about how she feels terrible she didnt get Lena anything for Valentines day until Lena interrupts “so whats my present?!”
. And Kara just sticks a big ass bow on her head with this stupid goofy grin on her face
. “Me, silly”
. Then they kiss on the balcony in the pouring rain and fly off into the sunset to live happily ever after.
Characters: Y/N (reader), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, unnamed OC
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: Mention of previous character death, it’s a bit angsty but not to bad, implied smut
Word Count: 1400ish
A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble. I am sure I will learn how to eventually! But you guys told me which character, prompt and gif you wanted me to use. Gif is in the fic and prompt is highlighted. Character was Dean :D
***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***
Dean felt so hopeless as he watched her run for her room as soon as they got back to the Bunker. She hadn’t said a word the entire drive back, which wasn’t like her. Still Dean understood better than anyone what she was going through. Coming back to reality after being stuck in a Djinn’s dream world was brutal. Dean only wished she would talk to him or Sam at least. Sam didn’t push her though, he just ignored Dean’s looks and headed for his own room as soon as they got back, leaving Dean in the library with a bottle of whiskey.
Sitting in the dark of the library, Dean thought about all the things he should have said to her. All the ways he should have forced her to confide in him, but he knew he couldn’t. Y/N didn’t bottle things up like he did. She was a talker and her keeping quiet meant something bad was going on in her head. He felt her slipping aways from him fast and he had no idea what to do about it.
❛ It is when I am most joyous that he strikes. ❜ ❛ Time passes without you and I am fine. ❜ ❛ It is strange that I should want this sight of your face. ❜ ❛ What beasts we are, in human flesh. ❜ ❛ It was a curse of a hovering sparrow. ❜ ❛ The heart of the night is such a sight. ❜ ❛ All that triggers my evil within, making it harder to find. ❜ ❛ I will always remain beautifully broken, outside and within. ❜ ❛ When the clouds have parted, will I find that I’m a damaged soul? ❜ ❛ I tried my hand at alchemy to make myself a heart of gold. ❜ ❛ My imprint of my old self is now buried down under. ❜ ❛ A flood pours out and the blood beings to seethe. ❜ ❛ My bleeding out, is that what sets you free? ❜ ❛ Blood slips onto the roots, boiling underneath. ❜ ❛ I’m being trapped inside this past to the point of no return. ❜ ❛ My craving for the blade is stronger. ❜ ❛ How cold is the heart that’s as brittle as glass? ❜ ❛ The pain unable to be washed away by tears. ❜ ❛ Can you not shed a tear, are you misunderstood? ❜ ❛ I lay there numb with only memories to hold on to. ❜ ❛ I am selfish even until death . ❜ ❛ Darkness in my room, same as the night. ❜ ❛ My fingertips glaze across rain-soaked granite. ❜ ❛ Because of our greed we give pestilence, death and pain. ❜ ❛ Let’s break the chains that hold us back. ❜ ❛ I linger behind you, a reminder, a refrain.. ❜ ❛ I live without substance and burn without fire. ❜ ❛ Amidst the blackness of a frost-covered glen. ❜ ❛ Awaken this fire of the coldest hell. ❜ ❛ Her hungry tongue danced as it licked at the lost. ❜ ❛ I’m doomed to die here as a frozen tomb. ❜ ❛ The guilt rips the remains of my rotten soul. ❜ ❛ I’ve banished, locked away my pain deep in my soul’s dungeon. ❜ ❛ ‘Tis just a melding of simple fate. ❜ ❛ You put wear and tear down onto me. ❜ ❛ I find you rattling my cage at midnight. ❜ ❛ For you are the one who made me aren’t you glad? ❜ ❛ This dark room of four walls becomes a prison to my heart. ❜ ❛ I worship you with the tainted hymns of funeral pyres. ❜ ❛ In this nocturnal air, I’m as ravenous as fire. ❜ ❛ The nightmare set like chains onto our souls. ❜ ❛ A shadow of rain embraces her porcelain face. ❜ ❛ Darkness ascends from her Hell within. ❜ ❛ I elicit the shadows in ravenous streams. ❜ ❛ My abhorred soldiers shall win my new throne. ❜ ❛ Listen, have you heard something so satisfying? ❜ ❛ Oh, how great is your desire to be torn apart? ❜ ❛ Where the warm air breaths dusk’s last kiss. ❜ ❛ These are the silent screams that nobody hears. ❜ ❛ The candles on the walls fall down and sets my rage again. ❜ ❛ Hearts can be broken, yes, but hearts are resilient things.. ❜ ❛ They see the scars and the reasons they’ve conquered. ❜ ❛ I have been battered and beaten, my soul is torn apart. ❜ ❛ A voice so quiet you dont hear a word. ❜ ❛ Cold and alone, I lay awake, listening to the silent night. ❜