through the window pane

Waking Up

waking up w your avenger boo

Bucky: Most of the time you were awoken by Bucky himself shifting around in the bed, and petting the dog who managed to place himself on top of both yours and Bucky’s legs. The Great Dane seemed to think he was a small lap dog, and tended to do whatever was necessary to reach Bucky’s hand that was willing to scratch his ears. The next thing you always took notice of was the creases in your face from having your cheek pressed to his bare shoulder all night. Which also explained how your hair became a tangled mess, and one with Bucky’s long hair. But the overall best thing was Bucky’s sleepy face; hooded eyes, and a smirk that could make your pants fly across the room. Not to mention the raspy, sleepy voice that you adored more than anything. Waking up next to Bucky is the best place to be in the world.

Steve: It seemed like he donned a halo each and every morning that the sun came shining through the window panes of your bedroom. Even on grey mornings, Steve seemed to have an aura about his sleeping body that brought a smile to your face. Every morning you reach out to brush your hands over his cheeks, then place a kiss on his nose before he wakes up only to pull you closer. One thing nobody really knew about him was that his body temperature was so out of whack, so most nights he spent only sleeping in boxers because he was so warm. (Not that you minded one bit) Steve also really enjoyed having the news on in the morning once the both of you were awake, because this way he knew what was going on in the world all while having you in his arms.

Natasha: Since Natasha absolutely despises being sweaty, she “fixed” the thermostat in your room to always be a chilly 65 degrees. So waking up next to her, more like on top of her, is the best part of the day. Both you and Natasha are always bundled up with plush blankets that have been collected from various missions, and presents from over the years. To be honest, your bed could win a competition of the comfiest in the Avengers tower. But waking up next to the Black Widow was incomparable, red hair splayed out on the white pillow case, face scrunched from the dreams she was having. It was rare for you to wake up before her, since Nat’s wake up time was normally about 5 am. But either way, being with Natasha was the greatest time in your life.

Thor: The giant teddy bear you’re lucky enough to call your boyfriend was the best cuddler of all time. No one could ever come close to his soft skin and big arms pulling you to his side. However, Thor always ended up naked in the middle of the night, even if the previous night’s activities weren’t all that crazy. You often climbed on top of him and used his whole body as the bed, because he was honestly the comfiest person ever. He beat the bed’s comfort level by a long shot. If not for his horrible morning breath attacking your nose every damn morning, you would stay sprawled out on him all day. Thor adored seeing your sleepy face every morning, which gained you even more cuddles and kisses.

Bruce: He had developed a habit of scrunching himself into a ball while he slept. Bruce felt secure this way, and small enough to keep his destructive nature contained so he couldn’t hurt anyone. But the truth is, he hated it. He wanted to stay spread out so he could hold you, but his constant inner conflict kept him balled up. You always tried to lay on top him, hoping to keep him in one place for the duration of the night. It never worked, because you always ended up rolling off of him in your sleep. Which then started the chain reaction of him giving in to the reflex and curling up into a ball. It happened every night, without fail. Bruce craved contact with you, though, so he grabbed your hand and held it close to his heart. Waking up every morning without feeling in your hand became regular, because he gripped it in his sleep so unbelievably tight, like he was holding on to you for dear life.

Tony: If Tony is sharing a bed with anyone, there’s a 1000% chance there will be physical contact involved through the entirety of the night. You developed this theory when you had woken up early one morning, with one half of your body almost overheating and the other half cold enough to snap off. Feeling the steady rise and fall of Tony’s chest against your back, you looked over and realized that he had you locked in a bear hug. One of his arms were always tucked around your waist, and the other was underneath your torso, hand gently gripping the side of your stomach. Tony’s embrace is so unbelievably warm, in contrast to the below freezing temperature of his room. It feels like a furnace during the winter, so warm and so comforting. Comforting enough to keep your restlessness at bay until Tony woke up.

Peter: Sometimes when he came home from long missions in the city, he totally forgets to take off the spider-man suit. So this lead to you making sure that Tony upgraded his suit to the most comfortable material, not only on the inside for peter but on the outside as well. It was a gamble every morning on who would be where, since he formed a habit of flying out of the bed. You tried your best to prevent him from going anywhere, mostly by smushing your face into his neck and hooking your arms around his muscular frame. This usually guaranteed that he wouldn’t be flying anywhere, but there were slip ups. Sometimes, though, the placement shifted and he ended up nuzzled into your side. It was your favorite way to wake up, with his unusually warm body pressed against yours. So you loved to wake up with a faceful of warmth, and Peter.

Pietro: Since you were the closest thing Pietro had to a pillow, you always woke up with his head resting somewhere on your body, his hair tickling your skin. It woke you up every morning, without fail. Sometimes, he had planted his face on your chest, and lazily thrown an arm around your torso. Other times, he had his head on your stomach, absentmindedly rubbing small circles everywhere he could reach, the monotony putting him back to sleep. Most times however, Pietro had his head on top of your boobs, talking about how comfortable boobs are while you were lowkey suffocating. There was even one occurrence when he had completely flipped himself over the opposite end of the bed and had placed his head on your thigh. But it didn’t matter where he had ended up, you always cracked a sleepy smile and ran your fingers through his hair until he woke up.

Scott: This man child always woke up at least an hour before you did, there was never a time when he didn’t. You would have thought that he would just get out of bed and let you sleep. But no, he stayed put on his side of the bed and intently studied your face. Scott admired you like you were a piece in an art gallery. His eyes were drawn to the arch of your nose, then to the soft curvature of your cheekbones. You were in such a peaceful state when you were asleep, it was more than just beautiful. Well, to be fair, Scott thought you were beautiful under any circumstances. Sometimes he would just blurt out how pretty you were when heading home from missions, covered in sweat and blood. But there was just something about when your face was reminiscent of the peace that came with sleep that made you glow. When you finally cracked your eyes open, you immediately met his and uttered a raspy ‘good morning’, causing him to smile like a goof.

Loki: Personal space was very important to Loki. It didn’t matter that you had been sharing a bed with him for as long as either of you could remember. If Loki didn’t want physical contact, then that was that. You still were the only exception, however. Every evening, you would climb onto your respective half of the bed and get cozy, and wait for Loki to do the same. You never pressed him into any type of cuddling or anything, because you knew that you would make your way over to his side of the bed eventually. It always happened, and Loki never complained. He tried to keep the fact that he really enjoyed your cuddles a secret, but that was the one thing he couldn’t hide behind the facade. You discovered his “secret” when you woke up one early morning and buried your face in his hair, and pressed into his back. Instead of gently pushing you back to your half of the bed, he reached behind him, grabbed your arm, and brought it over his torso. Nothing could melt your heart more than that.

Clint: For some odd reason, unbeknownst to the two of you, you were both on the same exact sleeping schedule. The two of you became used to being sleepy at the same times, and opening your eyes at the same time as well. Throughout the night, Clint would wrap his arms around you, and you in turn would knit your legs together with his. The two of you would basically become human pretzels all while sleeping. He wanted to be as close to you as possible, and found that entangling his limbs with yours was the best way, without you two literally fusing together. That’s when waking up at the exact same time was good, because you could spend some time giggling and reclaiming limbs without waking the other. Honestly, you two were so enamored with each other it almost made everyone else sick, but you two were as happy as ever.

Wanda: Wanda’s room is undoubtedly the most cute and comfiest room in the whole building. Starting with the fact that it’s always at a perfect seventy degrees. The pillows are memory foam, the blankets are fleece, and Wanda is the perfect size to cuddle. So it was a given that you would sleep together in her room. In the mornings, the only thing that would wake the two of you was Steve’s incessant pestering about training. He would periodically knock on the door, open it and peek his head in, reminding the two of you that ‘you can sleep after practice’. Wanda just groans and cuddles deeper into your side, while you cover your face with another pillow, effectively tuning him out. Mornings with Wanda felt like a dream, because you never felt more peaceful with anyone else.

Star-Crossed (M)


☆Genre: Angst/Fluff/Smut || CEO!Jimin

☆Pairing: Jimin x Reader

☆Length: 22.7k

☆Summary: Like a constellation hung from the skies above, he who had once illuminated the lackluster night sky of the bustling city appeared to you like  a meteor shower raining upon the pitch black horizon, And just as quick and abrupt as the celestial display had graced its way through the lonely skies above, he left just as suddenly as it had arrived. But you should’ve expected this ill-fated story, a waitress struggling to get by had never been fitting of an heir-to-be CEO. What was written in the stars was written into history, and history is an irrevocable phenomenon that cannot be reversed.

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In the Mood for Love (2000)

Directed by Wong Kar-Wai
Cinematography by Christopher Doyle, Pung-Leung Kwan, Ping Bin Lee

“He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.”

The signs in the car

Aries don’t stop talking, often change the radio and insult the others motorists.

Taurus snuggle into the back seat by reading a book or listening to their iPod.

Gemini make faces at other passing cars, they talk a lot.

Cancer make sure everyone has what it takes for the ride, they contemplate the scenery, take pictures.

Leo keep the conversation alive, but become agitated after an hour of drive and require a break.

Virgo want to take the place of the driver because they find that it rolls too slowly.

Libra search on their smartphone for interesting places to visit once arrived at destination.

Scorpio rage a little against the other vehicles, then relaxes by putting their feet on the dash.

Sagittarius try to keep a good atmosphere, but get impatient quickly and rale after those who fall asleep.

Capricorn are true human GPS, take control of the route and choose the best routes.

Aquarius came up with many games to entertain everyone, they prefer that the ride passes quickly.

Pisces look through the window pane the landscape scroll with a dreamy air, sometimes they even fall asleep …

A World of Color

Originally posted by thelongwindedblues

Request: “ This idea came from new-fanfic-order’s Marvel blog, but I think it would be really good! A soulmate fic where your soulmate is the only person you see in color, but since kylo’s clothes are monochrome, only he knows you’re meant for eachother.”

Summary: Soulmate AU: (Y/N), princess of Lysatra, has been cursed from a young age by the infamous Supreme Leader Snoke. In hopes to end the last of the Resistance’s allies he happily awaits the day for his curse to enter the last phase. With all things going according to plan Snoke sends his most trusted knight and apprentice, Kylo Ren to finish the job. Little do either of them know however, that things are going to take an unexpected turn.

A/N: I really seriously love this concept haha, I hope I did it justice. I also remember someone requesting something along the lines of a Sleeping Beauty AU (I unfortunately cleared it cause my requests are closed but it’s meshing into this one) and it seemed so perfect for this. Hope you all like it!

In the dim light of the seemingly grand but bare hall Kylo stood with all his attention focused before him. Despite Starkiller’s destruction, Snoke assured he still had a space in which he could speak to his apprentice. Though rather than a hologram, Kylo was looking directly into the sunken eyes of the humanoid he called master. 

Snoke shifted his boney hand slightly, observing it for a moment before he spoke.

“Do you know why I have called you here today?”

Opting not to nod Kylo simply stared at his master, “Yes.”

Snoke smirked as he turned to face Kylo. Though Kylo was accustomed to his masters appearance, the sight would send chills down anyone else’s spine. 

“As I knew you would. …Today is the day in which we get one step closer to destroying the Jedi, as well as the Resistance.”

Snoke straightened himself in his seat as a more mischevious but subtle smirk settled onto his face.

“Lysatra has long been a sympathizer for the Resistance and a known home to force users and former padawans alike.”

Instantly Kylo stopped the horrid memories from playing in his mind once again. It was as if his subconcious was programmed to replay the fateful evening every time the word was uttered. What was done was done and he was onto a far greater path. Wasn’t he?

“Their beloved princess is not only intelligent, but a rare force user. A balance within herself. Mastering both the light and dark without claiming either as a refuge. Word has already surfaced that they wish to send her to Skywalker, further train her in her abilities. With her Skywalker would double his odds of defeating us. That is where you come in, my wise apprentice.”

Kylo straightened his shoulders, as if in an interview for the first time.

“As you know, in my own ability, I placed a curse of the force upon her through a tainted kyber crystal. Now after years of waiting, she has finally fallen into a deep, unshakeable sleep. That, however, is not good enough. We need to be sure Skywalker gains no more assets whatsoever. She must be rid of.”

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anonymous asked:

I love your writing! Could I request a fic please? Where McCree has a secret fiancé, living somewhere safe and reminding him that he has something to live for? But the remaining Deadlock members find her and kidnap her? And she's terrified when she realizes how much they hate Jesse and how they're willing to do anything to her in order to hurt him.

((A/N - I did this in Blackwatch era if that’s okay! It made more sense as Deadlock was more recent and oh my goodness gracious me I got so carried away with it I love writing McCree as a hero oosh. Might have to upload to AO3!))

“Please be safe.”
“I always am, doll.”

You stood on your toes to be able to press your lips against his. His rough, chapped lips that you were forever telling him to put lip balm on. You saw Jesse out the door, waving to him as set off down the road towards the Overwatch base. You twirled your engagement ring on your finger, a thin gold band that had a set of three diamonds with the middle one being slightly larger.

Jesse had proposed to you last year. You had known him since his days in the Deadlock gang, only because he used to frequent the diner you worked at. On more than one occasion he had bought you a strawberry milkshake or paid for your favourite song to be played on the jukebox. You were always careful though. You never became too close for the fear of doing something wrong which might anger him or the gang. You always accepted his compliments with a smile, and politely refused his requests to go dancing after work. It was only ever him that visited, saying what you had was a little secret, sealed with a wink.

Overwatch had then infiltrated Route 66, tearing apart the gang and luckily giving Jesse another chance at life to do good in the world. Knowing that neither of you were in any more danger, he proposed to you then and there. He constantly complimented you on your accent, your style, your pretty eyes. You had only moved to the little town a couple of years prior. He had of course sweetened you up and you accepted. You were his rock, and he was your charming cowboy.


“Honey, I’m home!” Jesse jokingly sang out as he sauntered through the front door.

You greeted him with a smile and a peck on the cheek. With what Jesse was earning working in the Blackwatch division under Overwatch, there was no need for you to carry on working at the diner. You had your own little ranch on the outskirts of town. You spent your days cleaning, cooking, sewing, ironing, being kept hidden..

“Did you tell them today, sweetie?” You held your hands in front of you, an expectant look on your face.

Jesse’s furrowed brow and sigh told you everything. Your engagement was a secret. A secret from your family, friends, and Overwatch.

“That’s.. fine.”
 You turned away from him, heading back into the kitchen to finish up the stew.

“Darlin’, it’s not fine.”
“So why can’t you tell them? Why can’t I tell them? Why can’t I tell anyone?”

You span on your heels to look at him and crossed your arms. Jesse’s eyes widened at your sudden anger. He understood your frustrations, he really did. It just seemed for however long you two has known each other everything between you had to be a secret.

“There are… Complications.”
“Such as?”

Jesse sighed and took his hat off, moving round to sit on the sofa and patting the seat next to him. You precariously followed suit, back stiff and perched on the edge of the seat.

“Yes? What about them?”
“With Overwatch being close by, they’re gettin’ a bit antsy. Since they, well, arrested half o’ their men they didn’t take too kindly to it. Doll, the base isn’t even the direction that I head off to in the morning. I have to do that in case I’m bein’ followed.”

Your shoulders tensed slightly.

“Being followed..?”
“They’re not the nicest o’ gangs and they try to keep tabs on people. Whether they know that I was given’ a second chance.. I don’t know.”

You looked at him. He was staring at the carpet, eyes drawn to a particular out of place thread. He fiddled with the hat in his hands.

“Which is why I have to keep us a secret.” Jesse slowly said.

You nodded, taking the hat from his hands and walking around the sofa to place it on a coathook. You hadn’t realised he was following you until you turned around and bumped into him.

“(Y/N), you are my home. You always have been. If anythin’ were t'happen’ to ya..”

You leant forwards onto his chest, him then covering you with his arms. He of course smelt like cigars, gunpowder and coffee. You were his home, and he was yours.

You pulled back slightly so you could look up into his chocolate eyes, etched with concern.

“I love you, Jesse McCree.”

He broke into a smile and picked you up, twirling you around.

“I love you too, (Y/N).”


The next day went off without a hitch, you said your farewells and began preparing food for dinner.

Knock. Knock.

You frowned. Wiping your hands clean on a teatowel you lightly stepped over to the front door, peering through the peephole. Two young men dressed in black stood cockishly on your porch. You weren’t supposed to have any visitors today. You weren’t supposed to have any visitors, full stop.

You hooked the metal chain onto the door, so when it opened there was only a tiny crack you could see through. Better to be safe than sorry.

“May I help you, at all?”

“Is McCree here?” The one on the right spat.

“Erm, who? I think you may have the wrong ranch.”

Your heart was racing. Jesse had prepared you for this, to feign ignorance if anyone came asking for him.

“Your fiancé?”

You blanched. You tried to slam the door closed but one put their foot in the way. You grunted, and ran towards where you kept your shotgun in the cupboard under the stairs. You’d never had to use it before, but being so far out in the open you constantly had wild beasts and trespassers roaming your lands, you had to threaten them somehow.

You aimed it at the door, preparing for the worst when a crack shot through the air and your front windows were shattered. You held your hand up to your face to shelter from the flying glass, a few shards managing to scrape across your palm.

“Don’t come any closer.” You threatened. You inwardly cursed yourself at how weak you sounded. You emphasised by jabbing the shotgun in the direction of the window.

“Why, miss, we don’t want to hurt you.”

The two intruders stepped through the shattered pane, pointing revolvers at you and grinning wolfishly. Your breathing quickened. Your eyes scanned around the room, while slowly stepping back. You needed an exit route, and you needed one now.

“Just tell us where McCree is and we won’t have to put a bullet between your pretty eyes.”

They were stalking towards you, every step you took back they took one forward. The gun in your hands was shaking. You cocked it and aimed at their feet, firing which sent a whirlwind of wood splinters into the air.

This gave you a few mere seconds to sprint out of the living room, into the kitchen and out the back door. You heard cursing from the strangers and then heavy footsteps of them chasing you. You rounded the corner and pressed your back against the warm wooden slats, gun poised to whack the butt into one of their heads as they came round.

They never came round. You were sure they were following you. You frowned, peeking out to see if they were still there. They weren’t.

Treading carefully and aiming your shotgun, you stepped around the corner to look by the back door.

“Checkmate, princess.”

Something cold and hard pressed against the back of your neck. You shuddered out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. You stared blankly ahead into the desert, dropping the gun on the ground and raising your open hands to shoulder height.

Gravelly footsteps made their way so the one that had originally spoken to you was standing in front of you.

“Wild one, she is.”
“No wonder McCree went for her.” The one behind you sniggered.

You narrowed your eyes at the one in front, who was now pointing his gun at your chest.

“Don’t try anythin’ funny, sweetheart.” He smiled sickly sweet at you, and then nodded at the one behind you.

A rag soaked in something sweet and alcoholic covered your nose and mouth, making you cry out. You scrabbled at the man’s hands by your face, hearing him wince from where you cut him with your nails. He was relentless. Trying to struggle made you breath in more sharply and quickly, which you didn’t realise was helping their cause. Your hands became fuzzy, knees weak and vision blurring.

“Sleep tight.” They chuckled.

Everything went black.


“Why ain’t she pickin’ up..”

Jesse scowled at his burner phone, the number he had been ringing going to voicemail. He wanted to let you know that he was going to be home early today, as he’d managed to get a half day off and he could help you cook dinner as an apology for yesterday.

He scuffed his way through the long grass, the heat forming sweat droplets on the back of his neck.

He frowned. Tyre tracks by the front of your ranch. You weren’t supposed to have visitors. Feeling uneasy, Jesse unholstered his peacekeeper. Before he had made it to the front of the house, he could see that the front window had been smashed in and the door was slightly ajar.

Oh no.

“(Y/N)? You home, doll?”

He peaked in through the window and saw glass everywhere. Two pairs of dusty footprints by window making their way towards- blood? He stepped through the wooden pane on high alert for any signs there’s someone still in the house. It was deathly silent.

Jesse crouched when he made it to the doorway to the kitchen, picking up a shard of glass that definitely had blood on it.

Well, shit.

He quickly put his earpiece in and channeled it to the base.

“McCree to Watchpoint 66.”
“McCree. Reyes here.”
“I need your help.”


Your head was pounding. Your palm stung. Your breathing was rattling, as though you were dehydrated. Your neck ached from where it was hanging awkwardly, a stray hair tickling your nose. You tried to reach up to brush it out of the way and scratch your nose. You tensed your arms when you realised you couldn’t, something rough had bound your wrists together behind your back. Your eyes shot open. Your vision was blurry, trying to adjust to the dim lit room. You looked down and realised you had been bound to a wooden chair. Trying to cry out for help, you realised a cloth of some sort was drawn tightly across your mouth. Glancing down, even your ankles were tied together from what you could see with rough hemp rope. You tried to regulate your breathing, air heavily leaving your nose.

Your head shot up when the rickety door swung open, a dark figure standing in the doorway.

“She’s awake.” The voice rumbled, nodding to someone else in the hallway.

The figure stepped over the threshold towards you. You tensed up, drawing in a sharp breath and head held high.

He wore dark leather trousers and a billowing cream top, almost like an old fashioned pirate. He grabbed your jaw with his calloused hand, forcing you to look up towards his shadowed face.

“So you’re the one that Jesse McCree has fallen for. A pretty lil’ thing, huh.”

He had the same southern accent as Jesse, albeit more menacing. He turned your head to the side, losing eye contact. Only spending a minute with this savage and he’s already made you feel like a piece of meat up for inspection. He leaned in close, lips hesitating over your ear.

“Do ya love him, sweetpea?”

You shut your eyes, tears squeezing out the corners and you drew in a shuddering breath.

Answer me.”

You nodded your head, him only being satisfied when he let his grip go off your face and moved back. You bowed your head, wondering how you got into this situation. Wondering what Jesse’s reaction would be when he saw how ransacked your house was. Wondering about Jesse.

“Don’t cry. I di'n’t mean to make ya cry.”

He gently wiped away a streaming tear, his touch as soft as a lover’s. You glanced at his tan hand that was so close to your cheek. He took his hand back and thwack. His right hand struck your cheek, snapping your head to the right and hair falling over your face. The pain brought a fresh batch of waterworks, sobs choking in your throat.

A dark chuckle escaped from your captor. He pulled up another wooden chair from the darkness and sat down.

“D'ya know how long we’ve been lookin’ for that mutt?”

You shook your head, learning quickly it’s better to play along.

Too long. After that darned Overwatch took half o’ my men we wanted to fight. Obviously we didn’t have enough manpower. When we learnt that ingrate was alive and workin’ for them? Hoo, that’s a whole ‘nother story.”

He leant back in the chair, his right ankle coming up to rest on his left knee.

“I had my men follow him. That Overwatch weren’t pretty smart to keep an ex-Deadlock member livin’ on Route 66 were they? He tried to be clever. Sent them on a fox hunt, he did. Until one day we finally caught him going back to ya nice lil’ ranch out back. Seein’ you greet him at the door warmed my heart, I must say.”

Your eyes widened.

“He had a lil’ missy and he was keepin’ her secret from the world. Well, I wonder why that is? That Jesse McCree had snagged himself somethin’ real nice and didn’t wanna share her. We thought we could do him the favor. We could let him know how much he hurt us, at the same time hurtin’ him.”

You frowned at this. They wanted to hurt him? By hurting you?

The stranger leant forwards placing a hand on your knee.

“Don’t worry, doll. We only want to let him know how big o’ a mistake he made when he betrayed us.“  He stood up, stalking around to the back of your chair and placed his hands heavily on your shoulders. "You are the key.”

You shuddered under his grasp, your entire body shivering at the thought of what they, or he, were going to do to you.


“Jesse, you need to calm-”
I am calm.” Jesse seethed.
“Well then get your hand off of my desk.”

Jesse looked down, his nails digging into the wood creating splints on Gabriel’s desk. He grunted, flumping himself into the chair opposite Reyes and hiding his dark eyes behind his hands.

“She’s out there somewhere and we’re sittin’ here doin’ nothin’. She could be hurt or dyin’ or-”
Don’t. Don’t you dare say it. Jesse, we will find her. I promise.”


You don’t know how long it had been. They would occasionally bring in water and sludge for what they called food. They had to feed you, this being the only time they would ungag you. Your wrists were chafed from being constantly bound, your ankles only released when you needed to relieve yourself. You had lost all energy to fight. It didn’t help that every now and then they would rough you up.

Your head ached, there was dried blood crackling by your nostril and you were sure your ribs were either cracked or majorly bruised. Breathing became a struggle, it was all you could focus on.

They didn’t seem to care about information about Jesse. All Deadlock wanted to do was hurt you. Hurt you so they could hurt him.

The door creaked open, you flinching at the light that shone through the doorway. You were tired and you wanted to give up. It was the man that you had first seen when you were taken.

“Looks like he’s given up lookin’ for ya, doll.” He smirked. “There’s been no word for.. Oh. Four days now.”

You stared blankly at the floor by his feet; you wouldn’t have given him a reaction even if you could. He walked over to you, holding something in his hand that glinted against the light.

“I think it’s time to.. Up the pace. Don’t you think, sweetheart?”

Only then did you look at him properly, studying what he had in his hand. A knife. You tried to shrink into your chair, worried eyes passing between the knife and his shadowed face. A swift strike and the blade was plunged into your thigh, blood seeping out from around the edges. You shut your eyes and let out a muffled cry, pain blinding your vision.

“Good girl. I made sure t'record that one. I’ll send it to ya fiancé and let him know how ya doin’.”

You breathed in deeply through your nose, tears now running freely down your cheeks and you trying to hold back sobs. You’d never known pain like this before.

He pulled the knife from its warm confines to wipe on his trousers, your blood running down onto the floorboards. He twirled the knife in his hands, looking like a predator wondering where he was going to make his next strike. You pleaded with your eyes as much as you could, you couldn’t take much more. You’d fantasized about being back at home, in your bed, with Jesse.

You didn’t know how strong your threshold was for pain but you knew you weren’t going to last long if they started torturing you for the hell of it.

“Com'ere, doll.” He grabbed your throat, leaning in dangerously close.

He passed the blade down the side of your face, making a deep cut down your cheekbone. You could feel blood trickling down, just adding to the list of injuries you had. He tightened his grip around your neck, digging his fingers in which would no doubt leave some lovely purple splotches.

An earthy rumble echoed through the building. Your captor looked at you in concern then span around to face the doorway. He moved around you, behind your chair and pulled your hair so your neck was on show. A loud crash and then suddenly there were three people all in dark clothing looking through the doorway where a rickety door has once stood.

“Long time, no see, McCree.” The man said, now pushing the blade against your bare throat.

“Get your dirty hands off of her, Max.”


You whimpered, struggling in your bounds on the chair. The grip in your hair tightened, making you take a short breath and changing your view so all you could see was the ceiling.

“You ain’t in a position to tell me what to do, Jesse. Unless you want your sweetheart’s blood spewin’ everywhere. Say, how does it feel? To have somethin’ you love taken away from ya?”

“Let her go.” A voice you didn’t recognise said.

“Uh uh. Not until the lil’ rat here understand what Overwatch did to my gang. And how betrayed I felt when I learnt he’d gone off gallavantin’ with ya.”

You could feel the blade dig in deeper, droplets beginning to form. The pain in your leg was excruciating.

“She’s got nothin’ to do with that.”

Your breathing was becoming heavier, the tightness by your throat and the general aches and pains from your leg, ribs, cheek and hair were becoming too much for you. The room became incredibly warm, your hands and feet becoming tingly and limp and eyes drifting shut.

“Looks like she’s already given’ up, Jesse. You’re too late.”

You heard a muffled crack in the air before you let yourself drift off.



You leaned into the touch of someone stroking your hair back from your face. You stirred, eyes shooting open and breathing increasing from what you last remembered.

“(Y/N), it’s okay. You’re safe.”

You quickly scanned the area and all you could see was white. White ceiling, white walls, white bed. Bed. You turned to where the voice came from and there was Jesse. Your Jesse that had come to save you, perched on the edge of the chair waiting anxiously. You leaned back onto the cushy pillows and let out a sigh. You glanced him over. His beard was more scraggly and under his eyes were dark. You held out your hand towards him, him instantly taking it in his grasp and holding you tightly. His thumb rubbed over your engagement ring.

“Jesse..” You croaked.
“Stop. (Y/N), I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded gravelly, broken. “I thought I could protect you.”

You squeezed his hand in reply, trying not to say anything which could damage your throat.

“I should'a been more careful. I should'a done what you said and told them about us. They could’ve protected you more than what I could.”

You frowned at this.

“No, Jesse-”
“I did this to ya. I wouldn’t be surprised if you up and left me.” He covered his face with his free hand, rubbing his forehead.

You retreated your hand slightly before slapping him on the wrist.

“Don’t you dare. You rescued me. What’s done is done but we’re here now. Safe.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, brown eyes meeting yours. A small smile formed on his lips before darting around your face and taking in what Deadlock had really done to you. It faded.

“Wounds heal, Jesse.” You reassured, catching on to what he was looking at. “I never doubted for a second you wouldn’t come for me.”

“Could'n'ta done it without Reyes.”
“I’m sure he’s lovely.”
“He’s the one that took me in after Deadlock.”
“Even more so.”

Jesse relaxed a bit, glad to see that you had woken up and hadn’t changed a bit.

“So I’m guessing Overwatch know about us then, huh?”

He nodded.

“I had to.”
“Not under the best circumstances.”
“I wish it could’ve been better.”

You turned your head towards him so you were facing him fully. You grabbed his hand that was still laying on your pristine sheets with both hands, bringing it up to kiss his knuckles. You hesitantly glanced down at your wrists, ropeburn clearly showing.

“I love you, Jesse McCree. Don’t you ever forget or think that anything will come in between that.”

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

sunny-day-sky  asked:

🌙🌈 ?

Thank you!

A headcanon about one of my rarepairs: My rare pair is Courfiustaire and they like Elvis and other old fashioned cheesy love songs a lot and dance around the cluttered apartment in lots of twirls and careful steps to “Love me tender” playing from a grammophone that Marius’ aunt gave them while the tea is boiling with warm sunlight streaming through the windows which are loaded with succulents and the window panes are stained with splatterd paint.

A headcanon that I rarely get the chance to talk about: All Vietnamese-French Amis having their version of the Musain in District 13 of Paris, teaching children proper Vietnamese and having arguments about mundane things with Patron-Minette who run the sugar cane juice food truck.

alternatively: Marius and his Grandfather who loves Marius dearly but only knows abusive ways to raise him.

anonymous asked:

55, 60, 82 from the writing prompts? :)

55. I fell in love with my best friend.

“I just love you and Spencer so much, and I love that you’re both so in love, and now you’re going to get married! Married, Y/N! Married!” Penelope still managed to be her energetic and bubbly self despite the number of alcoholic drinks she had consumed in the past several hours.

“I know, Penelope,” you laughed lightly, helping Rossi escort her to his car, “I was the one there for the proposal.”

“The proposal! Oh, let me see the ring again!” Penelope pleaded, attempting to unbuckle her seatbelt before Rossi thought fast and shut the car door, securing her in her seat.

“I’m going to go before she figures out how to unlock the door,” Rossi couldn’t help but chuckle, stepping forward to give you a tight hug, “Congrats again, kid. I’m happy for you two.”

Bidding a thank you and returning his hug, you waved Rossi and Penelope off before making your way back inside.

Just hours ago your living room had been the location of your engagement party, full of laughter and cheers coming from your fellow team members, but now it was
void of any sound or agents, including Spencer.

Making your way towards the kitchen to see if that’s where Spencer had disappeared to, you noticed that the back door was now cracked open. A quick peek through the glass window pane revealed Spencer, sitting on the bare ground with his head craned towards the sky. You felt your stomach flutter, the sight was too cute to not join in on.

“Whatcha looking at, handsome?” you inquired, taking a seat next to Spencer on the damp grass.

Spencer smiled at the nickname, but did not take his eyes off the stars above him, “I was just thinking.”

“Oh yeah?” you looked upwards at the marveling night sky, “About what?”

“There are well over seven billion people in this world. All of them, wishing one day to find their soul mate, willing to cross land and sea to find them. And yet, I was one of the lucky few. I fell in love with my best friend.”

Spencer had turned his attention towards you now, the twinkling stars up above long forgotten as he now gazed at the center of his universe.

60. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.

The sensation of Spencer’s lips trailing up your shoulder serves as your alarm clock for the morning, accompanied by his groggy voice whispering in your ear, “Good morning, gorgeous.”

Last night, you and Spencer had returned home from a long winded case, and rather than make up for your lack of sleep, the two of you decided to make up for your lack of intimacy instead.

And despite the slight tinge of pain you felt as Spencer lips ghosted over a forming hickey, there was not a fiber of remorse in your body.

“Good morning,” you breathe out, bringing a hand up to run through Spencer’s wild bed head, “What time is it?”

Spencer’s lips find their way up to your jaw before answering, “Seven-thirty.”

Moaning at both the feeling of Spencer nipping at the skin directly behind your ear and knowing that you’ll soon have to get up from the comfort of the bed, you half heartedly attempt to push your lover away, “I need to go shower.”

“I could join you,” Spencer pulls you right back towards him, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me,” you tease, knowing full well that Spencer’s only intention was to solely shower with you and nothing else.

“I don’t think sex in the shower is such a good idea, 235,000 over the age of fifteen are sent to the emergency room every year due to bathroom related injuries.” Spencer tone was quick to switch from that of a playful one to that of complete seriousness.

“Oh,” you smirked, hopping out of bed with Spencer in tow, “Now I know you’re trying to seduce me.”

82. Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.

Sighing in relief, you took a step back from the aerial map that you had just spent the past three hours meticulously sticking push pins into. Spencer had asked for your help in making a geographic profile, and while you were more than willing to help your boyfriend with the task, you didn’t anticipate how time-consuming it would be. Thankfully, Spencer was well aware of how tired you had grown and decided that the rest of the profiling could wait until the morning when you both more alert.

Returning to your desk to collect your bag before heading out of the office for the night, you noticed a forgotten stack of files that Hotch had requested earlier in the day.

Overhearing the curse you let out under your breath, Spencer slung his messenger bag across his body and arched an eyebrow at you, “What’s wrong?”

“I just have to go drop these off on Hotch’s desk real quick,” you sighed, curtly nodding your head towards the glass office doors, “How about I just meet you outside?”

Spencer agreed to your offer, making his way towards the exit as you speed walked towards Hotch’s office, not wanting to prolong your return home to a comfortable bed any more than necessary.

Depositing the files onto Hotch’s desk and closing the door back behind you, your steps faltered for a second at seeing that Spencer had returned, looking far more awake than he had when he had left no more than five minutes ago.

“Y/N we can’t leave.”

“What are you talking about?” you began to grow concerned at how frazzled he had seemingly become in such a short amount of time, “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Spencer shook his head, “But I guess security figured everyone had left so they locked up the building. We physically can not leave.”

Your jaw dropped, not knowing whether to laugh at the situation or cry at the fact that there was no way to exit the building, “Doesn’t Emily have a key?”

“I already tried calling her, but I guess she’s asleep.” Spencer rubbed at his eyes, wishing that he was in her place where than locked in his office, “Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.”

Running your fingers through your hair, you went to collapse in the nearest office chair when a memory struck you, “Garcia has an air mattress in her office.”

“Why does Garcia have an air mattress?” Spencer somehow sounded more confused by this statement than about the entire situation you two were in.

“No idea,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “But I’m thankful that she does.”

Spencer chuckled, following after you to Garcia’s office, making a mental note to thank his friend for her random office addition in the morning.

anonymous asked:

I need some angst... Hanzo, Genji and Zarya's trying to find their s/o who is fighting talon soldiers, and when do find them, they end getting shot right front of them... But somehow ending surviving.


He keeps to the rooftops, far removed from the chaos in the streets. His sonic arrows show him a path through the worst of it and when he stumbles over his teammates, cornered and trying to find their way back to the point, he helps as best he can. McCree waves a thanks at him when he shoots an attacker that would have flanked him but Hanzo barely sees. He’s searching, wasting his sonic equipment to save those crucial few seconds. The terrain is dominated by narrow alleys winding between high buildings that cast perpetual twilight on the streets below and carry echoes until their source is all but indeterminable. What he needs is visual confirmation, that’s the only way he’s ever going to find you in time. The last thing he heard from you was your frantic request for backup, the comm line breaking before you could pass on your position. He didn’t wait for Reinhardt’s permission to go look for you, knows there’s a lecture about teamwork in stock for him, but his team has things under control. You might still be in trouble.

Another arrow loosened and finally your silhouette appears before his eyes, unmistakably alive. Just a little more, around this chimney, he almost slips because he doesn’t look where he’s going, keeps his eyes on you, fearing you might disappear. He spots the man taking aim behind you before you do. And though he shouts, screams in fact so loud his lungs feel like bursting, he’s too far away for you to hear. The gunshot overcasts the sonic waves of his arrow, he’s blind to your fate, doesn’t know if you’ve been hit, if you’re still alive.
He trips over his feet the last metres, falls down the roof, not bothering to catch his fall, grabbing an arrow instead and ramming it into the enemy’s head, clean through his skull until the tip pierces his throat from the inside. He gurgles, falls over and Hanzo has to push his lifeless body to prevent it from falling on you.

You’re unconscious, but your hands are covered in blood, you must have tried to still the bleeding, which means you were still alive when you fell. Hanzo sinks to his knees at your side, searches for your pulse and doesn’t find it in his panic. Nothing, except his own heart hammering in his throat. His vision swims, the spot where the bullet struck in almost the exact same place where he impaled Genji nearly two decades ago, the blood-soaked fabric of your clothes clinging to your skin just as it did back then. He thinks he can smell the dojo, the wood and fibre, the incense, as he presses down on the gaping wound, blood squelching through his fingers. He’s doing it wrong, there’s more he ought to do but he can’t remember, doesn’t know, because all he sees is you and Genji, dying underneath his hands.

When his brother touches his shoulder he nearly screams.

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speedycatbluebird  asked:

Can i request a justin foley imagine? Maybe one where him and the reader used to be best friends and even though they kind of grew apart they were still always there for each other and after he leaves home he goes to live woth them and after a while they fall in love? (This is really specific i hope that's ok) x

It’s fine, specific is good! Hope you enjoy it, and feel free to say if it’s not what you expected…

575 words, Justin Foley/reader:

You and Justin hadn’t spoken like you used to since he really got invested in basketball and the jock crowd. You’d grown apart, but you were still nice to each other and smiled when you saw each other.

Pretty much accepting that you and Justin would never be like you used to, never properly hang out again, and be forever trapped in the awkwardness of ‘used to be friends’ it was surprising to pick up your phone to see his name above the accept and decline buttons. You raised an eyebrow before accepting the call, hoping that maybe this could be the turn around for you two. Secretly, you liked Justin all the way through knowing him in middle school. You thought you were over the crush until you saw his name again and it took your mind back to when things like this weren’t out of the blue. 

“Justin? Did you mean to call me?” 

“Yeah, y/n, I did. I’m coming over to stay for a bit, is that okay?” Taken a back that you were his first choice, you accepted anyway, mainly because of the fact that you knew why Justin wasn’t staying at his own home, and you still considered yourself to be there for him. 

A few minutes later a soft knock came from your window, which was on the ground floor. Justin stood outside, face visible due to your lamp shining through the window pane. You could see that his eyes were red and puffy, frustrated tears streaked his cheeks. Your heart broke, a passionate anger towards his mother’s boyfriend and most of all his mother who you knew just stood there and feebly tried to stop the fights that went on between her son and boyfriend. Cracking open the window so he could climb in with his blue duffle, you instinctively grabbed him into a crushing hug which he reciprocated gratefully, sobs racking his body. 

“Shhh, you’re safe with me.”

“I hate him, I hate her for choosing him over me” Justin managed between sobs. 

“I know, I know,” letting go of him you stroked his cheek affectionately. You began playing out what it would be like to tell him that you loved him, right there and then. The air around you two was already suffocatingly intimate - exhausted seafoam eyes bored into your y/e/c ones. His eyelids grew heavy and began to close slowly, your heart raced against his chest as he leant down so his pouting pink lips could gently connect with yours. Pulling away Justin seemed equally as surprised as you were; however, that’s what you’d been waiting to happen for a good four years. Passionately reciprocating a few moments later, you kissed each other to your bed, you falling back onto your mattress and pulling him down onto you.

“y/n, I love you.” he breathed out between faint pecks on your mouth, both of you panting, threading hands through sweaty hair and dampened shirt fabric. 

“I love you too, god dammit.” 

Kissing you now slower and longer between words he muttered out in the quietest of voices, “thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for loving me.” though his eyes still shone with the reminisce of his tears, you saw the affection for you swimming towards the surface of his pupils, whatever you felt for each other in that moment drowned out the lingering reason he came to your bedroom window in the first place. 

the flip side of never

#2 - “Please don’t leave me.”

It’s dark and it’s late, and Bitty wakes up from a nightmare with the chills. He sits up in bed, shivers, and looks around him.

The apartment is its still, silent self. Blue curtains hang heavy at the fringes of the windows. Providence glitters through the panes. Next to him, Jack sleeps soundly, shoulders and chest rising and falling beneath the bedclothes. He has practice in the morning, and Bitty should really just leave him be. But the shiver is still vibrating in the base of Bitty’s spine. He closes his eyes, remembers the nightmare, and sighs resolutely.

Worming his way back down under the covers, he leans heavily against Jack’s side. “Hey,” he whispers.

Jack’s breathing stutters. He makes a soft, guttural noise.

Bitty tries again. “Hey, honey.”

Now Jack comes fully awake, turning on instinct to slide his arm around Bitty. “You okay, Bits?” When Bitty doesn’t answer, he presses further. “What is it?”

With a sigh, Bitty nestles into his embrace. “Nothing, really,” he says. “I just sort of wanted.. to hear your voice, I guess.”

“What happened?” Jack’s voice is less languid now, more alert and concerned.

“I just had a silly dream,” Bitty confesses.

Jack’s silent, waiting for him to go on. How he always knows – when to speak, when to say nothing – is beyond Bitty’s comprehension, but Bitty’s glad for it nonetheless.

“It was my parents,” he says. “They were mad at me for … for some stupid reason, I can’t even remember what it was. But then you came in and you saw they were mad, and you said–” Bitty swallows hard. “You said, ‘If they don’t approve of you, how can I?’ And you left.”

“What?” Jack’s voice rings out too-loud in the quiet room. “Bits, that’s horrible. I would never.”

“I know, I know,” Bitty assures him.

“It was a dream,” Jack insists. “I’d never.”

“I know. Just a dream.” But the memory of the dream feels so real now, the cold faces of his parents and the drop of his frozen heart into his boots when Jack turned his back…

He stiffens in Jack’s arms, and Jack sighs and folds him tighter into an embrace. “Come here,” he murmurs. Bitty allows himself to be gathered up, and he presses his face into Jack’s chest and listens to his heartbeat. Above him, Jack whispers a litany of soft, steady comfort. “I’m here,” Jack tells him. “I love you. I’m here. I’m with you no matter what.”

“Thank you,” Bitty whispers into Jack’s chest. “Thank you, honey.”

“Of course.” Jack kisses Bitty’s forehead, a long press of lips that finally fades away. Bitty feels it like a lantern in the dark, spreading warmth through his body. Jack’s kiss blesses him, and the weight of the dream lifts from his shoulders.

When Bitty’s ready – and it takes him more long, long moments before he’s ready – he pushes back onto his side of the bed and lies on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “I should get back to sleep,” he says.

Jack layers his hand over Bitty’s, under the covers. “Dream of good things.”

He says it like an order. Bitty’s lips twitch. “Yes, sir, captain.”

Jack chuckles. “Good night, Bits.” He squeezes Bitty’s hand and closes his eyes again.

The sudden sink of his heart surprises Bitty. He didn’t expect this feeling, like the moment Jack’s eyes closed, he’d been left alone again. But here it is, and he’s all at once full of sorrow. He peers through the darkness at Jack, wishing for something he doesn’t have the name for. Maybe for Jack to wake up, hold him again, hold him all night if need be. Silly. He needs to sleep. And if you do need him, wake him up again. But really, go back to sleep, Eric Bittle. Honestly.

But he doesn’t. He stares at Jack, then up at the ceiling, and feels like a puzzle with a missing piece. He inhales. Exhales. Tries to figure out what remains unsaid. He doesn’t know, but he knows it needs saying.

“Jack?” he finally whispers.


Thank goodness, he’s not asleep yet. Bitty clenches a fist and listens to his own words as they tumble out. “If things don’t work out. With my parents. I mean, if when I finally tell them they don’t– if it doesn’t go the way I–” He heaves a sigh. “Just… please don’t leave me.”

Jack turns onto his side. He lifts his hand to cup Bitty’s cheek. His eyes shine bright in the darkness. “Bitty,” he says. “Never. I’m never going to leave you.”

It’s a promise neither of them knows if he’ll keep. The future is a dimly lit, faraway door that Bitty’s scared to walk through. Never is a silly word, in the face of so many uncertainties and what-ifs, because the flip side of never is forever and forever can’t be promised.

But looking at Jack right now, Bitty can believe that Jack believes in it. And maybe that’s all forever needs – two people who believe in it and refuse to stop.

Certainly, it’s all Bitty needs right now.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, and closes his eyes.

An Imaginary Life

For @loveinpanem   LOVE IS prompt. Thank you ladies for hosting another beautiful event. Your creativity, care, and thoughtfulness w ith each prompt is always inspirational. Hugs and kisses.

This story is dedicated to my friend @norbertsmom who reads my meanderings and manages to make me  sound brilliant and to  @arbyeatscheesebuns Happy Belated birthday my dear friend. MAY you have a marvelous year!

Rated: G & all Mistakes are entirely mine..

“Come on!” Primrose urged as she tugged on her coat. “Come on,” she stomped her foot as Katniss calmly put on her coat. “Hurry up Katniss!” Prim dragged Katniss out of the house.

“Really Prim,” Katniss grumbled but she didn’t really mean it as a complaint.

“We’re gonna be late,” Prim said her eyes twinkled, the apple of her cheeks were pink with the cold.

“The stores aren’t gonna get up and move Primrose. It’s Saturday and it’s my only day to sleep in.” Katniss scowled but it didn’t reach her eyes, her lips twitched upwards threatening to form a smile, even as she stared at her sisters face.

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Reaching Out

Member: Ten // NCT U

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.7k

Summary: She’d daydreamed about reaching out and touching him, but she never thought she’d actually do it. 

A/N: Thank you so much @jacksons-smile (aka my bESTIE) for making the moodboard for me! Ilysm for real :D 

She wanted to touch him.

Not like how most people would think: she just wanted to know what he felt like.

He always sat at the desk in front of her, and every day she daydreamed about reaching out and brushing him with her fingertips. She just wanted to slip her arms around his shoulders, and stroke his cheeks with her palms, and feel him. She knew, though, she would never actually do it.

Well, until that day.

It had been raining for the past week, and today was no different. Dim, gray light spilled through the window panes, and droplets tapped against the glass as if seeking shelter.

She had always loved the rain, but today she hardly paid any mind to the weather.

His hair was messy, like he’d run a hand through it one too many times, and it was slightly damp from the rain.

Oh, how she wanted to touch it. She wondered how soft it was, or how it felt when you ran your fingers through it. He was leaning back in his seat so far that all she had to do was raise her hand and -

Suddenly, she felt the sensation that she’d been imagining for countless weeks: her hands, touching him.

Her body had taken a mind of its own, and she didn’t even realize what she was doing until -

“Excuse me… Um - what are you doing?”

The voice belonged to someone she never thought would talk to her; someone she never dreamed would have a reason to.


His gaze, a blend of curiosity and confusion, was trained on her.

Her eyes widened in horror, and she tore her hand away from his hair with a flushed face.

“I- I- I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to touch your - I never meant to -” Her stammering was cut short by an easy smile curving up his lips.

“You can calm down. I don’t bite, you know.”

Ordinarily, she might’ve responded with a sarcastic jab, but this was Ten. She had harbored a secret crush on Ten for two years, ever since he walked into her school as a shy transfer student from Thailand, and he rendered her almost speechless.

“I- Well, you know… I just…”

He let out a chuckle, twisting in his seat a bit more. “You just wanted to know how soft my luscious hair really is?”



“You’ll have to excuse it, though.” he ignored her response. “It’s still wet from the rain, so it isn’t at its full softness potential.”

Glance downwards. “I… I really didn’t want to - um - touch it,”

“So why did you?” he rested his chin on his palm, cocking his head curiously.

Her face flushed at his straightforward question. “I wasn’t thinking… My hands just kind of - um - acted on their own,” she rubbed her neck self-consciously, avoiding his gaze.

“You know what they say about that,” Ten started, and she glanced up.


“That when your body acts on its own accord, it’s showing your true desires.”

“They… they say that?”

“Well, I say that.”

“Since… when?”

“Fine, you’re right. I admit: I don’t say that. But - how would you know?”

She’d been observing him from afar for ages, but it wasn’t like she could say that. Instead, she just lowered her head.

“What’s your name again?” he inquired. “You’re so quiet, I forgot someone sat behind me.

Was that a compliment or an insult? From what she knew about him, it probably wasn’t either.

So, she offered him a quick smile and shook her head. “It’s nothing,”

“Nice to meet you, Nothing. My name’s Ten,”

A small smile appeared on her face at this comment, and she was suddenly reminded of why she had a crush on him in the first place.

She had always been a quiet girl, sitting in back corners, talking to nobody. Romance wasn’t on her radar, either. She didn’t see the point in liking someone; it was only a distraction.

This had been her mindset until two years ago, when Ten had walked through the doorway and introduced himself as a new student. He was the cutest boy she’d ever seen with her own two eyes, and something in her stomach fluttered.

She had pushed it away for as long as she could, but after a couple months, it was a lost cause.

“So… your real name?” His voice dragged her out of her daze.

“Excuse me,” The teacher’s voice interrupted the two of them, and Ten turned swiftly.


“Do you believe your conversation more important than this lesson?”

There was a beat of hesitation before: “There’s a chance,”

The teacher bit his lip as giggles rippled through the room. “It’s a good thing I like you, Ten. You’d be getting a week of detention if I didn’t,”

Ten snickered, cracking a cheeky smile. “Thank you, Sir.”

The girl behind him let out an inaudible breath of relief and sunk a little further down in her chair.

She was one of those types. The types that loved wandering through libraries, winding in and out of the impossibly tall shelves, fingering the pages of countless books.

The people she found obnoxious never came in the library. On good days it was only her, all alone.

She loved the peace and muffled quiet. She could roam for hours, and not run into a single person, save for the sweet, elderly librarian.

“Found you,” A voice pierced the silence, out of place in her sanctuary.

She jumped, caught off-guard. “Ten,”

He grinned, stepping out from around the corner. “It is I, the savior of worlds.”

“What- what are you doing here?” She questioned. “You never come into the- the library,”

“I thought I’d make a little visit. I heard somewhere that the air in a library can raise your IQ a few points.” He offered a smile. “Don’t mind me. Continue on,”

Blinking uncertainly, she swallowed and looked back down at her book.

Though, with him standing so close by, casting glances in her direction every so often, it was virtually impossible to concentrate.

A minute or so of uncomfortable silence (for her, at least) passed, and he spoke again.

“I know your name,”

Her head shot up.

An amused look crossed his face at her expression. “Ah, um - Doyoung,” he explained.

She sighed. “Of course,”

“What are you reading?”


“Just like your name, right?”

Her eye twitched, and he shot her a cute grin.

“Do you not like me or something?”

“No, that’s not -”

“Or is it that you do like me?”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I’m kidding.” he laughed. “It was a joke. Calm down,”

She eyed him warily, before losing herself in her book again. When she looked up, he was nowhere in sight, and so she wandered further along the shelf.

At the far end of the row, she was distracted from her book once more.


She glanced up to see Ten, mere inches from her face.

She leaped backward, dropping the book and crashing into the bookshelf behind her. “What- what-”

He pursed his lips to keep from laughing and rounded the corner again, taking a few steps closer. “What?”

She sunk to the ground, eyes wide. “Why did you- Why did you do that?”

“You didn’t like it?” he cocked an eyebrow, squatting down in front of her. “You couldn’t have hated it that much,”

“What…? Why?”

“I mean, usually people like it when their crush gets that close.”

Her face instantly turned bright red. “I don’t kn-know what you mean,”

“I mean,” he said. “I know you like me.”

“I don’t like you,”

“Well, Doyoung says otherwise.”

“Doyoung… Doyoung was lying. He- he does that.”

“I don’t think he was lying,” Ten’s mouth curved up at the edges. “He swore at himself for a good five minutes afterward,”

She swallowed, pressing herself up against the shelf in an attempt to make herself smaller. “I don’t like you,”

“You’re lying,”

“I’m not,”

“You are,”

“I’m not,”

“I bet you’ve daydreamed about kissing me,”

Just as quickly as she’d lost her blush, it re-appeared. “I have not ever done that,”

“You have, haven’t you?” he smirked, resting his chin in his palm. “Cute.”

“I haven’t,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

“I bet you wanna do it for real,”

“I really don’t!”

He plopped down in front of her. “Well, I really do,”

“Wait, what?”

He blinked as if he’d just stated the weather (which, of course, was rainy). “What?”

“You want to- you want to what?”

He scooted a little closer. “I said, I want to kiss you.”

“What… Why? You don’t even-”

“It’s been two years, for God’s sake. Just let me kiss you already,”

“What do you mean by ‘it’s been two years’? Did Doyoung tell you that’s how long I’ve liked you?”

“No,” he shook his head, eyes on hers. “That’s how long I’ve liked you.”

Her mouth fell open, and she was left stunned; speechless.

“So, please,” he started. “Can I kiss you now?”

She responded with a small nod of the head, her face burning, and her mind racing.

Trying not to laugh at her almost scared expression, he shifted onto his knees and reached out a hand. Wrapping it around the back of her neck, he pulled her up against him.

“You’re really red, you know that?” he murmured, smiling.

She blinked, embarrassed. “I can’t help it,”

“I know. I’m just that handsome, aren’t I?”

She let out a small huff, attempting to wriggle out of his grip, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he pressed his lips to hers. She went still.

His hand slipped down to her cheek, and he smiled into the kiss whenever he felt the heat on her cheeks.

She didn’t have to try and hope she was doing it right, or think about how this was her first kiss. The only thing that she could think of was that she was kissing Ten, and he liked it.

Well, so did she.

The sun had been shining for the past week, and today was no different. Bright, golden light spilled through the window panes, filling the room with a warm glow.

She’d never particularly like sunny periods, but today she hardly paid any mind to the weather.

His hair was messy, like he’d run a hand through it one too many times, and the sunlight made it appear invitingly soft.

Ten leaned back in his chair, resting his head on her desk and sending her an upside-down smile. “You want to touch it, don’t you?”

She bit her lip, trying not to smile. “A little,”

“Don’t lie,”

“Alright,” she sighed. “A lot,”

My solitude is sublime; the roaring of the wind is my wife; and the stars through my window-panes, these beautiful particles, constantly fill up my heart. The mighty abstract idea of Beauty in all things, I have, stifles the more divided and minute domestic happiness. I feel more and more, every day, as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone, but in a thousand worlds.
—  John Keats, from ‘Life & Letters’
Draw With Me [Feyre x Rhysand Modern AU]

!!! it’s here !!! thanks anon (also ur not weird for being a slut for angst because I am too!)

I have this automatic instinct to apologize for how i write and what i write, and I’m determined NOT to do that anymore. I will say i am sorry for how long this took me (school is GETTING IN MY WAY), and I REALLY hope people enjoy it even though it’s not perfect!! I had a lot of fun writing this and building a backstory for it - Also it’s nearly 6,000 words, so hold on to your hats!

I don’t want to spoil anything (HELION), so please feel free to read and give me your thoughts - i’m debating writing a second part depending on interest. :) thanks!!

Word Count: 5764
Read it on: [ Fanfiction ] [ AO3 ]

Draw With Me

I was the first to enter the classroom.

It was 7:40AM on the first day of classes, and the hallways were already filled with students and professors as they made their way to their destinations. I had just breezed past two people, students I assumed, who were hovering in the hallway near my classroom.

I was practicing an introduction in my head, just in case, Hi, my name is Feyre Archeron and…

And what? I wondered if I should mention my age… or my preference for paints…

Caught up in my own thoughts and believing that other students had already entered the classroom, I just waltzed right in.

And slowly stopped in my tracks because… I was the first. And the classroom was completely empty. Whirling around, my eyes caught on the nondescript black clock above the door.


I knew I was early since class began at 8AM sharp, but… I had passed students and professors on my walk here. Well, since I was already here, I might as well choose my seat.

My eyes roved over the classroom, and while shrugging my backpack off, I picked my way over to an easel stationed on the western side of the classroom.

Just before I reached the easel and stool, two students sauntered in – the same two that I had breezed past just outside the classroom. They quickly surveyed the room and selected a seat, just as I had.

The female student was beautiful; she had warm brown eyes, and her long, blonde hair was braided and fell down the center of her back. She had chosen to sit at an easel nearby me, but closer to the door.

The woman eventually looked up and caught my gaze, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

Her brown eyes remained impassive as she just shrugged her narrow shoulders, her floor-length sundress rustling along the tiled floor, and gave me a small, guilty smile. Sorry.

Hmm. She didn’t look wholly repentant. They had purposely waited for someone else to enter the classroom first, but why…?

“The first always gets noticed.” The other student answered my unspoken question.

What does that mean? My eyes snapped to where he was seated across from me on the eastern side – in a chair with a drawing pad on his lap, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

Now that I really looked, I noticed he was also very good-looking, even with the hood shadowing parts of his face. He was dressed more simply than the female student, and I wondered if they were together. He wore a slate-colored, cowl neck sweatshirt, slim-cut black pants, and black combat boots.

I tilted my head, confused, but he didn’t seem inclined to say anything more. As I assessed him, I couldn’t tell whether he was an ally or a foe; his expression was mild but unreadable, although my predator’s instinct warned me that I was likely facing another predator.

However, his slumped position in the chair seemed relaxed enough, with both legs sticking out in front of him. I had no idea what to say or whether to ask him what he meant, but I figured, perhaps I would find out soon enough. So I ducked my head behind my easel and continued setting up my things.

After all, we were in the advanced introductory drawing class at a prestigious art university, the Velaris School of Design. Months after submitting my application and portfolio on a whim, I received a heavy, cream-colored envelope containing my acceptance letter as well as other important documents, including a course schedule. A note clipped to the schedule stated that I had been placed into a more advanced drawing class, but I had been more than thrilled that I had been accepted into the university at all.

When I’d opened the letter, Elain had been home tending to the garden but when she heard me screaming, she ran into the house and screamed with me. Then we called Nesta, who surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

“I had a feeling it was good news,” Nesta declared after I finished speaking, and then she added, “Congratulations, Feyre. You deserve it.”

She had sounded happy for me, proud, even. It was rare for Nesta, the coldest of us three, to show feeling, so her praise meant a lot to me.

I was shaken from my reverie by the sound of students gradually filing into the room, some in pairs and trios, and others streaming in alone. I fiddled with the arrangement of my pencils and graphite sticks, glad I had gotten here early so that I had a chance to observe my fellow classmates.

As I cast a wandering gaze around the room, I could easily identify which students had money, and which didn’t. Nobody noticed me, and nobody bothered to introduce themselves but I was happy to keep to myself.

I also noted that there weren’t enough easels, so students who filed in later would only have the choice to sketch on chairs loosely arrayed around the podium. Or stand.

Sounds of students chattering and chairs sliding filled the room; the familiar sounds of art tools clattering was both comforting and nerve-wracking at the same time. Sunlight streamed in overhead through narrow, horizontal windows on the northern wall and panes of long, vertical windows on the eastern wall of the room.

I glanced at the clock again; there were still 5 more minutes before class started.

I tried to look preoccupied with the materials I had laid out, and my mind wandered again…

It had been years since Hybern’s War, and luckily, my family and I had made it out alive – well, me, my two older sisters Nesta and Elain, and my father. My mother had died of disease during the early years of the war, but before she passed, she had made me promise to take care of our family.

I always wondered why she didn’t ask Nesta, or Elaine…

But I promised her. I said yes, and… I’d learn to provide for my sisters and my father, on my own. Alone. I hunted and killed, did things I wasn’t proud of…

As the war raged endlessly, the borders and lands of Prythian had been bent and disrupted, including our hometown. We lost our home, but saved our most precious family valuables along with whatever we could. It was many years before the war ended, but afterwards, the country slowly rebuilt and reknit itself because the High Courts of Prythian all united for the cause of rebuilding our war-torn lands.

As the war was winding down, my father took advantage of society’s momentary lapse in maintaining law and order, and he slowly began to rebuild some of his prior fortune. The money he slowly accumulated was just a fraction of the prior wealth we had all known, but it was more than we had had in a long, long while.

I still remembered and resented my father had been a lifeless husk, useless after his wife, our mother, had passed into the void…

However, even though it took a while, he saved enough money to eventually move us to Velaris, the City of Starlight. The city had been closed off for hundreds of years, but after the war, the High Lord of the Night Court had welcomed all those who wished to seek refuge.

Moving us to Velaris was perhaps the best thing our father had ever done for us. Within a year and a half, Elaine had met and married well to a serious but kind man named Graysen Tolliver. And Nesta was off doing, well, whatever it was that Nesta did – within a few months, she had quickly enrolled at a university in Velaris that focused on literature and knowledge.

But now I was here, in this classroom. It wasn’t the time to be thinking about the past.

Better to be grateful for what I had now, and the future.

I took a swig from my water bottle to try and clear my mind, noticing that the students near the door were starting to shift nervously and whisper in a hush. My eyes snapped to the focus of their attention – a woman now sweeping into the room, who I assumed was our art professor.

Her bright red hair was streaked with thick strands of white, lending evidence to her older age. I noticed her eyes next, which were ice-blue and hawk-like, as if she could simply see right through you. She wore a long, slim, navy-blue gown with pearls dotting her ears and silver bangles on her wrists.

Briskly, she stepped onto the podium with a no-nonsense demeanor. She commanded most of the room’s presence, as the students around me silenced near instantly.

I didn’t know too much about our art professor, only that she was renowned for her skills and that many lords and ladies often commissioned incredible works from her. So perhaps, it was to be expected that the fire-haired artist would feel so intimidating to students in an introductory art course.

I took a moment to relish in that thought – finally, finally I had the luxury of taking art courses, of honing artistic skills beyond my penchant for painting. I had worked hard, fought hard for my family, and now I finally had the chance to do something for myself. To attend university, and pursue art…

The professor stood on the podium. Clasping her hands behind her back, she cleared her throat. Every single pair of eyes in the classroom was already on her.

Her hawk-eyes were initially trained on the door, but eventually her penetrating stare roved around the room. “Well, it seems like most of us are here. Welcome, students. My name is Anaxandra Agnes. I do not want to waste precious class time with too many words, so I will assume you have all perused the syllabus before you stepped over the threshold. If not, there are copies of the syllabus on the table in the back.”

She gestured towards the stack of syllabi with one hand, and some students turned to look towards where she pointed. Then she clasped her hands behind her back again.

Professor Anaxandra Agnes began pacing slowly in a circle. “For today’s class, you will be showing me what you can do. If you are serious about art but cannot handle the pressure or expected to get an easy grade, you should probably leave now.”

She paused, and the whole room held their breath, collectively wondering if anyone would leave.

Instead, the door creaked open, and the whole room directed their attention to the tall, dark-haired man that slipped into the room, wearing an impeccably cut black tunic and pants. I craned my neck and watched as he immediately slunk off to a corner, seeing all of the eyes upon him.

Nobody got up to leave, so Professor Agnes continued. “I also don’t tolerate tardiness” – she turned and looked pointedly at the male who had just entered – “and contrary to popular belief, there is such thing as stupid questions.”

“My apologies, Professor. Prior engagements ensnared me.” The gentleman in the corner sketched a bow. I was surprised to hear that he sounded confident and that his voice was rich and deep, like red wine.

Recognition crossed her face, and to everyone’s surprise, the professor huffed a sigh and placed a hand on her hip. “Oh, Rhysand. You know I don’t like to make exceptions, either.

Even though I could barely see him, I was willing to bet money that the tall man – Rhysand? – was smirking.

Keep reading


Words: 4k

Genre: Fluff, Smut & a smidgen of angst

Originally posted by cutiepiebts

Hoseok is the sun.

He is blazing warmth, smiling eyes and glowing cheeks; the golden rays luminescent on his skin and you can’t stop your heartstrings tugging, a fast rhythm missing one beat when he turns to you, a face that lights up and speaks your name.

The world seemed to revolve around him, everything in creation built and made. He is the brightest star, holding the adoration of countless and the center of your shared group of friends. Friends.

That’s what you were to him.

Someone who he could depend on without needing to return a favour, someone who he could spill all secrets to and not worry about slips of the lips to strangers; someone who he could share with all the girls whom he was infatuation with. He looked at you like a friend and you couldn’t help your softened eyes and gaze that lingered, even when he already looked away.

Hoseok is the sun.

But you are the rain.  

Keep reading


Working desk job means exactly this: apartment, tube, workplace, tube, apartment. It’s hard to find sunlight anymore, but he doesn’t think he minds: maybe he’s already used to this. It’s been longer than he cares to remember. 

He spends about two hours a day on the tube - not much compared to the amount of time he spends in his booth at work, but he doesn’t really register those eight hours. It’s like his mind switches itself off the moment he arrives to work and leaves him running on muscle memory alone. Time operates the same way when he’s at home, so by now maybe he’s only really conscious during the two hours on the tube. 


Sometimes he stays back on the tube past his stop. Sometimes until it reaches the end of the line. Sometimes he takes the tube with the intention of going somewhere specific, but then just sits there as his destination flies past him into the dark tunnel he’s just passed. Sometimes he goes down into the stop, just to hear the quiet again. 

Sometimes he sees maintenance doors somewhere in the tunnels, and for no reason he keeps their locations in mind. 


Sometimes the tube takes a turn that he doesn’t recognize, and he feels his heart beating faster all of a sudden. He would stare at the railway through the window pane, counting the seconds, until the tube runs past a corner he knows, or until he reaches his destination. Those moments still happen to him after two years of taking the tube to go… anywhere, really. He thinks he has the whole map learned by heart by now, but the underground keeps proving him wrong. 


There’s a community online for tube dwellers. He doesn’t know any of the dozen of members, online or offline, but he has come by some of them on other forums before. They don’t seem to be of any particular profile: there are men, there are women, ranged from 20 to maybe older than 50. The posts are few and far between, but some of them detail everything reachable by the tube. There are things even he doesn’t know. 

He screenshots some of the posts and keeps the photos in a separate folder, for no particular reason. 

The community hasn’t had a new activity for about three months by now. The members call themselves Rats. He checks through some of their personal pages on that site; the ones he checks have all been abandoned. 

Maybe they’re tired of the lack of sunlight in the tube, he thinks on the way to work. The tube sways and trembles quietly, its hum fills the air. Humans aren’t made for the underground afterall. 

concept of something vaguely formed in my head. I call it Rats of Spice City.