words said between them

Bus Stop

[V/Jihyun Kim X Reader]

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.

He laughed.

“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.

We Could Never Be Platonic (Wolfstar)

Oneshot based off of this post: The Downward Slope.

Setting: Marauders Era / Post Hogwarts / Pre-Azkaban

Word count: 3,983

Playlist: Think About Me - dvsn

Notes: Unbeta’d and riddled in mistakes <3 

The rain had just started to come down. Sirius grumbled to himself. Bloody perfect. It wasn’t as if the night had been bad enough. No. Now it had to rain a torrential downpour. Minutes before reaching his favoured safe house. He sighed as he limped up the walk way. The outside light was on. A slight smile grew on his mouth. Lily. She always left the light on.

James had a hard time understanding the concept. Muggles had a common practice, to leave their outside lights on to inform other muggles (strangers even) that they were home. James spent many nights trying to explain that the only people who could see their home were those who had been privy to its location. To him, it didn’t make any sense to keep their front foyer light on all through the night.

Lily never listened. To her that light meant hope. Hope for all the soldiers out here fighting in an unfair war. Hope that they would see it and know that they had a safe place to hide. A home for a few nights. Somewhere to take a break. On a night like tonight, Sirius was glad that Lily left that light on. It’s welcoming air extending and engulfing his person. He blinked through the falling droplets. This was his home; his reprieve.

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Washed Away

Nessian, 2.9k, Rated T

A/N: This is based on the moment in ACOWAR when Nesta admits that she can’t take baths anymore because of Hybern. I wanted Cassian to help her out with her fear.


Nesta stared at the tub filled with an ankle deep of water. Her breath came out shaky, causing small waves to form over the surface. A towel wrapped around her skin, and the fabric irritatingly rubbed against her body. She knew there was no possibility of submerging herself in the water, two buckets were already filled beside it, but she wanted to try dipping her foot in. Just for a bit. Feyre had already contracted someone to install a shower, but it wasn’t going to be finished for another two weeks. Thus, Nesta continued her routine of using buckets.

Inside, Nesta knew she must look ridiculous, for she was staring at a seemingly empty bathtub. There was nothing in that water that would hurt her, not something that shallow at least. She would lift her leg and dip a toe, nothing more. That would be enough. All of her muscles seemed locked in place as her mind urged her leg to twitch towards the water. She could barely breathe the longer she stared, her thoughts circling around the image of Elain being shoved in those waters, not knowing whether her sister or a corpse would escape. Those moments when Nesta could hear her own heart thundering in her chest, even without Fae hearing. Then, Nesta’s thoughts raced to her own drowning. The tight grip of the Hybern soldiers’s hands on her body. The rage coursing through her as she pointed her finger. The flooding of her lungs—

“By the Cauldron! I am so sorry!”

Nesta whipped around faster than one could winnow to see Cassian standing in the doorway.

“What. The hell. Cassian.”

He was already retreating out the door, covering his eyes with his forearm. “I’m sorry Nesta. I thought—‘

“Did no one ever teach you to knock when there’s a closed door?”

“I’m sorry—“

“Closed, Cassian, the door was closed.” Her breathing came out incredibly ragged, and she practically shrieked, “Get out!”

She turned with every ounce of dignity she had left.

“What are those?”

Her voice came out very clipped. “What do you mean, what are those?”

His silence stretched on between them, daring her to turn around. She only allowed her head to graze over her shoulder before she saw he was not looking anywhere near her. Instead, his gaze locked on the buckets on the floor, and his eyes showed where his thoughts were going.

“Cassian. I said get out,” she snarled at him as she turned to face him fully.

“Nesta, are those—“

“They’re nothing,” she breathed, losing all courage from before, “Just leave.”

His head nodded at the order, still not looking at her as he left, lost in his own mind. When he closed the door, she walked over to check the lock and rested her back against the wall. Cassian’s interruption dragged more fight out of her than she thought it would, and she couldn’t motivate herself to even approach the tub let alone dip her toes. Her fight mellowed the longer she stood there, and she slid to the floor.

Too damn weak. She felt so inadequate that she couldn’t even stand. Everything seemed unnecessary beyond her inability to clean herself. Last time she washed was yesterday. She hadn’t done anything strenuous today, so she could wait. She could wait until tomorrow when she would have to wrestle with herself all over again to enter the bathroom and fill the buckets. When she drenched herself in their water, she would always hold her breath and move as quickly as possible. Her record was six bucketfuls, she didn’t think she could handle anything beyond that.

The water was surely cold by now, and as she stood to empty it, her legs shook. Plunging her hand into the tub for the drain, her eyes closed and she felt two silent tears slowly run down her face. The gurgling of the water was the only noise for a while until she heaved the buckets up to drain in the bath as well. Her towel somehow stayed snug against her body the whole time, and she hid the pails under the sink before leaving the room. Where she saw a hulking bat sitting across the hallway from her.

His lips moved as if to speak, but Nesta shot him a glare and practically ran to her room. She heard him follow her, but she just moved faster before slamming her door in his face.

As quickly as she could, she disrobed and dressed herself as he sighed on the other side.

“Nesta—“ he paused, as if wondering if she was going to let him continue—“I’m sorry about earlier. I was debriefing Rhys downstairs and was walking backwards into the door. I didn’t see it was closed. My apologies.”

She could hear him turning to walk away, but for whatever cauldron-damned reason, she opened her door.

“You weren’t there.”

His back strained at her words and his wings hitched slightly.

“Nesta, you know that ever since Hy—“

“Not there. I know there’s nothing you could have done. I don’t think you do, but that’s for another time.”

He was facing her now, and his jaw worked as if he were going to say something. She held up her hand. “Let me finish. You weren’t at the meeting with Graysen.” She took a deep breath, somehow this private admission a million times harder than the one that she made so long ago. “Your eyes were on those buckets, and your thoughts seemed to be working faster than your mind could handle. So I, ah, guess you should hear it from me before you draw your own conclusions. Taking a bath is pretty difficult after —“ she gestured pathetically with her arms—“everything. Feyre’s getting a, what do you call it? A shower installed. It’ll be another two weeks, so I use buckets instead of a bath. I wanted to see if I could dip my feet today, or at least my toes,” she sighed, “turns out I’m a little too pathetic for even that.”

She didn’t realize that she never once looked at him the whole time, but when she did, his face was completely stricken with devastation. Her fingers scratched behind her ear, and she attempted to walk past him.

“Nesta.” His hand was on her arm and his gaze was intense. “Nothing about your situation is pathetic. We share at lot of sexual jokes, but I’m serious when I say I have a shower at my house that you can use in the mean time. If you need to. Want to.”

She’d never admit how grateful she was at his offer, but the look in his eyes showed that maybe he could feel her relief. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

Their gazes locked for a moment longer, before she turned to leave and his hand left her arm.

At Ritas that evening, the whole inner circle enjoyed a night out including Elain and Nesta. All together, they shared a few drinks though Nesta drank less than everyone and sat completely erect on a barstool. Their group swayed along to whatever tempo they pleased while Nesta stared amazed that even Amren joined in their revelry. Looking at them all, she knew she could join them, in fact, they’d already encouraged her multiple times. Cassian never directly asked her once, but his eyes skirted over to hers almost too often. As if now that she told him her fear, she would shatter if left to her own devices.

Nesta slowly nursed her water at his excessiveness until the prick behind her shoved into her the bar.

“Excuse—“ Nesta started as she turned around.

Her voice was drowned out by the fighting males behind her. And the full mug of ale that completely drenched her outfit. There was no time to become angry at her sodden state. The fighting pair continued as though nothing happened, and Nesta just stared at herself mouth agape.

“Hey, Hey, Hey, HEY.”

Nesta looked up at that.

Cassian stood with his arms erect, breaking up the fight. His words were hushed between the two swaying drunks. Whatever he said calmed them, and his main tactic seemed to be forcing them to break eye contact by repeatedly claiming “look at me”. Nesta heard him say it so much that she didn’t realize he was saying it to her until she looked up.

His eyes were inches from her face and stared at her with concern. “There you are.” He gave her a small smile. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay. I wasn’t in that fight,” she hummed, “Can you get out of my face?”

He moved as if he just now realized their proximity and skirted his gaze down her dress. With his raised eyebrows, she couldn’t help but look too. “Nesta, I’d always thought I’d see you wet, but these were not quite the circumstances I was imagining.”

Nesta’s jaw dropped for a second time that evening. “Is there a real reason you came over here? Or did you just want to make some poorly timed innuendos and have to disrupt that fight to do it?”

“If you must know—” he leaned in close again—“your damp state seemed like you were going to need to wash.”

Nesta froze. She had not thought about that part of her evening yet.

“And I thought maybe you’d…want to come to my place.” The last words came so fast that she almost thought she misheard him. Almost. Which was why her response felt like too much.

“Fine. But you’re not allowed any more innuendos.”

He put his hands up in defense but wore a grin of satisfaction before leading the way out.

Not a word was spoken between them as they winded through the streets of Velaris. Nesta’s anxiety grew the longer they walked. From an outsider perspective, their situation would look promiscuous as he took her home, but there was nothing sexual about their silence. They weaved their way through town, down alleys, and Nesta could’ve sworn they‘d cross the Sidra twice. The peace shared between them seemed so delicate that Nesta had no desire to break it, especially since Cassian was offering so much to let her use his shower. A slight breeze passed, and Nesta’s dress, clinging to her body now that it was soaked, caused her to shiver.

She could feel Cassian look at her out of the corner of his eye and almost snapped. Tear him apart for taking them in a seemingly pointless journey through Velaris when there had to be a better route. Her mouth opened slightly to voice—

“Here we are,” Cassian gestured to a single brick townhouse, identical to all the others on the street. To Nesta’s surprise, every window had a lush garden growing in boxes underneath them. Cassian walked up the stairs, and Nesta stared at his back without really seeing it.

“Do all Illyrians in this city live in townhouses?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian jangled his keys, and Nesta began to ascend the stairs after him. “At least we’re not compensating for anything—” he turned to wink at her—“But considering there’s only three of us, yes we all do.”

Nesta scoffed at that and stepped aside as Cassian opened the door. As though he forgot she was there, he stumbled into his home without any bravado, not even turning on a light, and lightly made his away upstairs.

“Nesta, there’s definitely no water out there. If you would like to enjoy the particulars of indoor plumbing, you’ll need to follow me to the bedroom,” he called as he turned towards her.

“We agreed on no innuendos.”

“And there has yet to be one. The only bathroom with a shower here is upstairs—“ he turned back around—“So my offer still stands, but you’ll need to enter the room where I sleep.”

Nesta padded up after him.

His bathroom was huge. Everything in it was built to accommodate wings, making it all three times larger than necessary. What she assumed was his shower had three spigots each with two handles underneath. Cassian left her there unceremoniously, and she’d already stripped herself bare. Though she claimed she would be fine, there were too many levers and the water shot down in a pounding waves so hard that Nesta immediately turned it off, scared of its power. She cracked the door open.

“Cassian,” she practically whispered as if he’d be right inside his bedroom. No response.

“Cassian.” Much louder.

Footsteps sounded from downstairs, and she waited for his approach. She felt like an uncivilized idiot who couldn’t even learn how to use a freaking shower.

Someone tapped lightly on the door. “Can I come in, Nesta?” he sounded incredibly tired on the other side. She let him in.

“I don’t know how to work the shower,” she stated, “I mean I don’t know how to make the water more tolerable.”

He just stared at her. “Is the rain okay?”


“You’ve been out in the rain since the cauldron. Is the rain okay?”

She thought back to memories of such gloomy weather and nodded. With those directions, he turned some dials on the faucets and spun the handles so water came out.

“That should feel like a light storm. If all three are too much, just use the one in the middle. The knobs underneath control the water temperature.”

A wave of exhaustion passed through her so strong that she had nothing to remind him that she knew how to turn it on. She left it at, “Thank you.”

As he left, he called, “When you’re done, just come get me to bring you home. I’ll be downstairs.”

She nodded before he turned and walked away. The bathroom that once seemed huge, now appeared tiny. Nothing in that room mattered except for the dripping water. Nesta stared at it a little, astonished that Cassian had been so generous throughout this whole situation. After so many years in that hovel, she was trained not to waste water, no matter how much she wished she could just stare at it and be clean. The towel dropped to the floor as she caught a waft of her beer-ladder self. Tentatively, she raised her arm and let the water cascade down. She could stop herself whenever she felt, but she chose to step over the tiny ledge on the floor anyway.

The sensation of all that water hitting her at once was too much. The warmth of it enveloping her to a point of choking that she blindly grasped for the faucet on her right, shutting the flow off immediately. On her other side, she fumbled more, but still managed to find it rather quickly. Above her, water came at a calming, leisurely rate. She closed her eyes. It’s just rain. It’s just rain. It’s just rain.

Her breathing slowed, slightly.

She could do this.

She’d already stood there for longer than those buckets could ever drench her. That thought though, forced herself to exit the stream. Her toes remained wet. She couldn’t help but think of only a few hours ago when she’d restrained from even putting her foot in the water. A sharp laugh escaped her.

Lathering herself in soap and washing multiple times, Nesta could only stand in the water for maybe a minute at a time before believing the shower a rainstorm washed away. All in all, she stayed there for maybe seven minutes. A short wash for anyone else, but the longest Nesta had had in months. Though they’d won the war, this felt like  Nesta’s largest victory. Cassian’s towel felt like velvet as she wrapped herself in it, wondering if she just thought that way because of the significance of her evening.

Outside, folded neatly on the bed, were a small stack of clothes meant for her. She quietly wandered downstairs to find Cassian. As she passed through his living room, she thought maybe he was in the kitchen only to find it empty. Rather, after some insistent searching, she found him curled on the couch, his wings forming a cocoon in place of blanket, making it appear as though he never meant to fall asleep.

His face seemed peaceful, more so than she had maybe ever seen it. After everything he had done for her tonight, he deserved some rest. She found a blanket and draped him in it before realizing that with his hulking form, there was really no place for her to sleep down here. Scrambling back up the stairs was her only option. First, she opened the door across the hall from his room, hoping to find a guest suite, but it was an office filled with maps and strategies. Which meant her only option was his bed. It felt like a personal intrusion, but the more exhausted part of her mind reminded her she’d already used his shower, so why not surrender to the comforts of his sheets.

Immediately, his scent invaded her nose the tighter she tucked herself in, but she found it intoxicating. A depressant stronger than any alcohol consumed that evening. She pulled the sheets tightly, almost feeling like Cassian was there with her. After almost no time at all, she fell asleep, her dreams filled with not a single drop of water.

In the morning, Cassian woke her up by poking her shoulder. They’d shared a small smile before he walked her home, and again neither of them said anything until they reached Rhys’s home where Nesta thanked him. Then, kissed him on the cheek, an action that surprised them both.

No matter how much shock there was though, Cassian welcomed her to his home for showers every day before Feyre got one installed. And thankfully never commented when she occasionally stopped in after it was.

Gabriel Fic
Author: @riversong-sam

Parings: Gabriel x Reader

Word Count: 3176

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Escape:  the medical school years

She sat on the couch, wrapped in the Fraser plaid blanket that Jenny had given her for Christmas.  

She had spent the night shaking in reaction, and finally drifted off to sleep sometime in the early morning hours.  Her restless mind hadn’t let her sleep long though, and she’d been awake with the sun. 

Hours later she was holding the ivory handled brush, absently running it over her chin.  The bristles were still soft, and smelled of shaving lotion.  Uncle Lamb. Dear, sweet Uncle Lamb.  When they were on a dig in India he was given an elephant tusk.  Secretly horrified that a magnificent, regal animal had died for this, he decided to honour it by having the ivory made into many useful things, one of which was a shaving brush.  She had found it among his belongings after he’d died.  Out of all his effects, this one brought her to tears. So many memories of him on site shaving in rough conditions, flooded her mind.  Later, it sat on his vanity during his years as a professor.  Giving it to Jamie was only natural.  


He would be so angry with her.  Angry, and disappointed.  

The tears welled up in her eyes.  How would she explain?  It was so clear now.  A driver.  Alec.  He taken steps to protect her before she would even admit there was danger.  He’d known.  Secrets.  But not lies.

Caught up in her thoughts, it took a minute for her to realize the door opened. 


He tossed his key in the general direction of the table by the door, eyes on her. Her first thought was how tired he looked.  His cinnamon and copper hair was disheveled, his handsome face covered in day old stubble.  She saw Alec discreetly place the suitcase just inside the door, then close it behind him.  

She was on her feet, and flying across the hardwood.  

Two paces away she noticed the blood from his neck that had soaked into the collar of his dress shirt, and stopped dead in her tracks.  

“Jamie!” she said, “You’re hurt!”

Without a word he closed the distance between them, and sliding his hands into her hair, kissed her.  His mouth hugged her bottom lip.  Nothing more, just a press of his soft lips on hers.  He breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent. Claire. He lifted his mouth only to kiss her again, feeling her hands cup his jaw, her thumb caress his chin.  He tasted the salt of her tears, and felt the shake of her limbs.  Mo graidh.

“Jamie,” she breathed, pulling her mouth from his, “let me see.”  She turned back his collar to see an ugly wound, the flesh cut deeply, skin hanging.  His hands slid down to cup her shoulders and rub them softly. 

“Hurts like the devil, Sassenach.”

“It needs stitches.”  She looked up at him.  “I’ll need to clean it properly.  How did it happen?”

Without taking his eyes from hers, he pulled the sgian-dubh from his coat pocket.  She gasped.  Claire shot a quick glance at the bookcase across the room where the dirk should have been, her eyes widening when she realized it was gone.  She’d never noticed.  “Where did you get it?”


He watched the emotions play across her glass face. Surprise.  Confusion. Realization.  Anger.  Shame.  

“Jamie, I-,” 

“Shhh, Sassenach.  It’s fine.”  He offered her an exhausted smile.  “Can ye get yer wee kit and fix me up?” 

Claire unwound the plaid from around her shoulders, and laid it on the back of the sofa.  As she walked away, Jamie fingered the cloth thoughtfully.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  Looking at Claire, feasting his eyes on her, helped him manage the pain as the needle pierced his skin.  She’d only had a light topical ointment on hand to numb the area.  Watching her face while she worked took him back in time to when he first set eyes on her.  She was then as she was now, with her brow furrowed in concentration, lips pursed, luminescent English skin showing the smattering of freckles across her nose. He watched the sun play through the tendrils of hair that brushed her neck and cheekbones.  He’d fallen for her so easily.  He was still falling, if he was honest. 

Images were swirling in Jamie’s head.  His jaw tensed.  He was so very angry with himself.  To not be here.  To not stop him.

She clipped off the last suture.  “You’ll have a scar.  A triangular scar,” she informed him.  Only then did her hand start to shake.  “God, Jamie,” she whispered, eyes filling with tears, “just an inch to the left and you would have hit-“

“Shhh, Sassenach.  We’ll no’ borrow trouble, aye?”  He slipped his hands over her hips, and under her shirt to rest on the small of her back.

She swallowed, looked him in the eye, and nodded.  “I need to bandage it.” She stepped away to wash her hands quickly at the kitchen sink, and then dug through her bag for a sterile gauze.  Gently, she applied the stark white cloth to her husband’s throat.  She could barely see for the tears clinging to her lashes. She turned her head to blink them away.  The idea of Jamie, or anyone being hurt because of her lack of judgement was too much. 

She felt his hand on her face, turning her towards him.  Eyes closed, she felt his thumbs brush the drops away.  

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, so softly he might not have heard.  

His forehead came to rest on hers.  Leaning into him their breath mingled. Hers hitched as she tried not to sob outright.  His came in long calming breaths as if trying to stay in control.  

“Claire.”  She glanced up at him under lowered lids.  “Look at me, mo neighean donn.”  Swallowing hard, she met his gaze.  

“When we wed, we became one.  You have my name,” he gestured to the plaid draped over the sofa, “My clan.  My family.”  He used a finger to lift her chin higher, “and if necessary, the protection of my body, as well.”  

The dam broke.  

Sobs racked Claire such as he hadn’t seen since that day he found her feverish and exhausted on the stairs between their apartments.  He gathered her in and held her head against his shoulder, rocking her gently while the tension of the week came pouring out of her.  Her long fingers clutched at his shoulders, and naked chest trying to gain purchase, to hold on to something, anything.  

Jamie’s body was responding to its own tension.  Jet lag, adrenaline crash from his fight with Horrocks, and the pain from his wound were all taking its toll on him now.  He needed to sleep.  

“Claire.”  He pressed a kiss to her temple.  “Sassenach.”

She lifted her head, a soft hiccup escaping her as she tried to stop crying.

“Lie wi’ me?”

She nodded.  Grabbing the blanket from the sofa, she took her husband’s hand and walked with him to their bed.

“It was Murtagh.”

“Hmmm?” Claire mumbled, legs tangled with Jamie’s, her head next to his on the pillow.  

They had crawled into bed under twisted, and tortured sheets from Claire’s restless night.  They tussled a bit as Jamie tried to get Claire to shed some clothing layers, teasing her once again about how she wore too much to bed. Then finally, they curled together with the heavy duvet thrown over both of them.  The shared warmth soon lulled them to sleep.  

“Alec, I expected, of course,” Jamie said.  “I wasna so surprised to see Willie.  I thought he just had some papers for me to sign.  Business, ye ken.”  
Claire slowly came awake listening to the low rumble of Jamie’s voice. 

Understanding dawned.

“But when I saw Murtagh, weel, my knees buckled a bit.  I knew.  He’s the closest thing I have to a father.  And I remember thinkin’, why is a man who hates crowds, hates noise, at an airport?”  Jamie paused, and she felt his arm tighten around her waist.  “I never want to feel that kind of fear again.  Never.”

Claire moved then.  She rolled toward her husband at the same time his hand slid down to cup her bottom and lift her towards him.  She sprawled herself on him, finding his mouth and kissing him deeply.  She gripped his hair, turned his head to the angle she wanted and fused her mouth to his.  

She was wild, and a little rough.  He liked it.

Even when the stitches pulled a little, and made him hiss in his breath, Jamie let her take control.  He let her grab his hands and place them on her breasts, let her show him what she wanted.  

He understood.  

She was exorcising her own fears.  Fighting her own demons.  They would come together on her terms.  She would take her pleasure the way she wanted.  She would erase the memories of what that bastard tried to offer, and may have taken had Alec not been there.  If this was what Claire needed from him, then he would give it.  He left himself at her mercy.  It wasn’t easy.  He and Claire shared the same passions in bed.  They danced this dance a hundred times, giving and taking in equal measure.  Yet in this moment he understood instinctively that he needed to surrender himself to her control.  

When he tried to kiss her, she dodged him.  If he moved his hand somewhere else, she slapped at it until he put it back.  She nipped at his lips, scraped her teeth across his hip bone, and bit his thigh.  

It was the sweetest torture.  There was pleasure in the pain.    

She made him ask permission for everything.  To be kissed, to be touched.    

Permission to enter her body.

As their cries echoed around the bedroom, and she collapsed onto his chest, Jamie held his wife and tenderly stroked her back.  He felt the dampness on his skin from her tears.  His heart broke just a little.  “Shh, mo graidh, shh,” he whispered.  “He’s gone, Claire.  Gone for good.”

She stretched her neck to kiss the hollow of his throat, and saw the small red stain on the gauze.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, caressing his jaw with the backs of her fingers.  

“Aye.  A bit.”  He brushed the damp curls away from her temple.  

“You should have told me to stop.”

“Nah,” Jamie said, giving her that lopsided smile she loved so much, “I was completely under yer power and happy to be there.”

Written in support of and solidarity with the KakaSaku fandom


She ignored the plea, tightening her grip on the hand threaded through hers.


The crunch of the gravel grew louder under her feet, a soft tremor running through the ground that one could have mistaken for the general hustle and bustle of the village marketplace but for the perfect timing of the quakes to the falls of her footsteps.

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Nessian - The Shower Has Been Installed

This is my first ACOTAR fic. I haven’t written fan fic in ages so am a little out of practice. It’s a little smutty, but not full on. NSFW depending on where you work lol. Please reblog, add comments, and let me know what you think. I hope you enjoy, thanks!

It had been two months since the battle with Hybern and Feyre had finally installed the shower she had promised Nesta. After everything that had happened Nesta hadn’t pushed her on it and had spent the last months grudgingly using buckets to bathe until her damned sister deigned to remember her request for an updated bathing room. One of the wraths, Nuala or Cerridwen, Nesta could never tell them apart, had showed her how to use the new standing shower and now Nesta stood naked in her bathing room waiting to take the plunge.

It was ridiculous she knew, her unwillingness to go in a bath. The king was dead, the cauldron safe and far away, and yet she still couldn’t get her head to go under water. She had tried countless times to just get over it, but she would never forget being submerged in the cauldron for the rest of her very long immortal life. So she turned the faucet and stepped into the stream of water. It was glorious. After months of buckets the feel of the water rushing down her skin in a steady stream was bliss. She grabbed one of the many body soaps she had collected during her time in Velaris and began to scrub every inch of her body. She had to admit that despite her initial distaste for the City of Dreams, it did provide an excellent selection of luxury goods.

As she relished the endless stream of hot water she heard a knock on her bedroom door. “What” she snapped at whoever was interrupting her first moments of happiness in a long time. “Rhys has news about the human queens. He expects us all at the House of Wind for a meeting in an hour” Cassian called through the closed door. Nesta tensed. Things have been strained between her and Cassian since that day on the battlefield, more strained than usual, which was saying something. Nesta always had something to say, always, but with Cassian she took an extra second to consider her words. She had seen the way Feyre looked at Rhysand, like he was a god among males and scoffed at ever feeling that way about another, but with Cassian, she had to admit there was a pull. Something drew her to the insanely handsome warrior with the cocky grin. Enough was enough, they’d barely spoken these last two months and she deserved some fun. Elain was finally adjusting to life here; the war was behind them and Nesta wanted to feel alive again.

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A Deal with the Devil

Originally posted by andallthoseothercliches

“That’s it?” His low voice questioned as a steady stream of smoke came from his parted lips. He laid back in the bed, a sheet barely covering his naked body. He watched you from the comfort of it, as you bent over in the glow of the moon light entering through the big windows. He watched you with the intensity as if you were a dancer, following your every move. He watched your chest puff out as you inhaled and cave back towards your heart when you exhaled. He watched your hands delicately pull the straps onto your shoulder. All the while he watched you, licking his lips that tasted like smoke, while you tried your best not to watch him.

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So this post about Silver having a strength!kink happened and @angrypiratehusbands started whispering things at me, and I started whispering them back, and the end result is this. Have some Silverflint strength!kink fic. (Also available over at AO3)



Flint had Silver pinned up against the wall and just happened to glance down. “…are you hard?”

Silver glared at him. “…no.”

Flint slid his thigh between his legs, pinning him further and Silver couldn’t help releasing a moan.

“You are!”

“It’s not my fault.”

“You can’t possibly be blaming me.”

“No, I’m blaming your thighs.” Silver rocked against his thigh for emphasis.

“My thighs have done nothing here.”

“Well,” Silver conceded, “to be fair, they could be doing more.” He emphasized harder.

Flint wanted to tease Silver about how he was leaking through his breeches, but now he was hard too.

“Seems like neither of us is unaffected by this.” Silver murmured.

Flint wanted to throttle him but instead he pinned Silver’s wrists high above his head.

Silver’s eyes closed, a puff of breath leaving his lips as he reveled in how easily Flint moved him, holding him firm. He wriggled slightly just to test the give, and the tightness of Flint’s hold on his wrists sent a fresh wave of heat straight to his groin.

“Are you really testing my patience right now?” Flint whispered, a breath of menace on his lips.

Silver grinned though he kept his eyes closed. “What gives you that impression?”

A faint derisive snort filled the air between them.

“Well, it tends to be your strong suit.” Flint groused.

Silver opened one eye then. “Well, if I asked nicely, you wouldn’t give it to me, would you?”

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three empty words

Different week, same routine. Friday night had always been date night since the beginning of their relationship. Then he went on tour and it became increasingly difficult - but they made it work. For a while. She would fly out to his shows when she got the chance and would show her support and love from the wings of the stage. But lately, he didn’t see her face in the crowd. He didn’t hear her screaming his name among the thousands of other screams. She didn’t hear the pain in his voice when he sung about their strained relationship every night.

So here he was: Friday night, same time, same place.

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not the stars, but ourselves

A/N: I’ve had a “Snow and Charming are being exhausting with wedding planning and Emma needs a break so Killian takes them out on the Jolly Roger and they have a secret wedding with just the two of them” headcanon for so long and canon gave me the opportunity to write this. Also I’ve had Killian’s vows written for literally a year and wanted to work them into something eventually so here you go.

Rated G, 1.5k words, FFN

It has made me better loving you … it has made me wiser, and easier, and brighter. -Henry James

Emma stood at the bow of the Jolly Roger, breathing in the relaxing scent of the cool, salty air. The wind was pleasant and the temperature surprisingly warm for how close the sun was to the horizon. Most importantly, the only sound was the creaking of the ship and the gentle crash of the waves below her feet. She loved her parents, truly she did, but with their arguing over wedding plans and their stubborn refusals to compromise even a little, she had just needed a break. Killian, being the incredibly intuitive man that he was, had suggested taking the ship out, and she had agreed almost before the question was out of his mouth.

She heard his footsteps on the deck behind her moments before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. Her eyes drifted closed, revelling in the peace and security of being in his arms.

“Thank you for this,” she murmured. “I know they mean well, but if I have to hear one more argument about where we should get married or what food to have or whatever argument they’re having now I might just rip my hair out.”

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alessiascara  asked:

‘I am going to kill my friend because they sent me on a blind date and I couldn’t turn them down without explaining that I have a huge crush on them’ AU (from the prompt list)

ahh thanks for prompting me :’) i had fun writing this!

Derek wasn’t going to lie; the guy Stiles set him up on the blind date with was handsome and kind and would definitely be a fun time in bed. He’d apparently spent a lot of time living in Paris and it showed in the way he presented himself; he dressed like a model with his fancy scarves and he ordered his food in (as far as Derek could tell) perfect French while Derek had stumbled over the foreign pronunciations. He had beautiful curly hair and an impeccable jawline and the prettiest blue eyes that would make anyone’s knees weak. But at the end of the day, he wasn’t short brown hair, whiskey eyes, and a sense of humor so sharp it could slice. Or, in other words, he wasn’t Stiles.

“Derek? Are you with me?”

Derek’s attention snapped back to Isaac and he nodded. “Mhm. Sorry. You were saying?”

Isaac raised a brow, but didn’t make any comment. “Jobs. I told you about mine. I was hoping to hear about yours?” He sipped his wine and leaned forward, being careful not to let his elbows touch the table.

Derek nodded and sipped his wine before answering. “I guess I’m a bit of a historian in the making. I work at the Natural History Museum in L.A.,” he said. He licked his lips and fidgeted with a loose string on his jeans beneath the table.

“Oh? And what exactly do you do there?” Isaac asked. “I’m assuming you don’t just hand people their tickets.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, not exactly. I organize special exhibits, study the museum’s relics from the Inca civilization, and only sometimes hand people their tickets.”

Isaac laughed and nodded. “That sounds pretty fascinating, actually. Aside from the ticket handling, of course.” He winked as he sipped his wine and Derek just shrugged. He knew he should feel something when a man as gorgeous as Isaac winks at him, but he felt nothing. He just wished that it was Stiles sitting across from him winking at him and drinking wine in a fancy French restaurant.

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anonymous asked:

histrid anger bad upset argument fight fic? basically them in a very anger fight but making up anyway because their histrid. (:

Here you go. Get ready for some OC Hiccstrid. :D


Hiccup stormed through the landscape, shoving past bushes and shrubbery as he blindly made his way to the cove. This visit to Berk had been a disaster. But what did he expect? A treaty renewal with a tribe who’s chief has a muscular and very “Viking-like” heir is bound to bring trouble. If not not for the tribe, then for Hiccup himself.

And Astrid. Although she didn’t seem to be the one in trouble.

His prosthetic tripped over a tree root, and he slammed to the ground. He didn’t move for a moment from the spot, merely rolling over and breathing heavily from the run he’d exerted himself with for the last fifteen minutes. Finally catching his breath, he stumbled to his feet and began making his way, having long since passed the cove and trying to find his way to the cliff side. The cove was the first spot she’d look, and today… he didn’t want to be found.

Upon reaching his destination, he slid to the ground and leaned back heavily against a tree, staring blankly at the calm ocean and sunset. This scene reminded him of the event only a few months ago, only he and Astrid had been sitting together at Dragon’s Edge. They’d shared there first “officially a couple” kiss then.

He shivered, and reflexively looked to his side. Astrid wasn’t sitting next to him like he longed for her to be doing. For one horrible moment, he wondered if she’d ever sit beside him again. Would she even want to speak to him after today?

“You want him!” he’d shouted, waving his arms madly towards Laidir. “You want someone with muscle- someone with two legs! Someone who can support you! Someone who actually has a chance…”

“Hiccup, stop.” Astrid had shouted equally as loud, stomping her foot and waving her finger. “Stop it, right now! You’re overacting. This is nothing! It’s not even me! He keeps-”

“I saw you two.” Hiccup hissed. “I saw you two kiss. I was there. I was in the stables. I saw you two… behind Stormfly. Don’t even try to tell me that that wasn’t you too.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head madly. “No- no, Hiccup, you don’t understand-”

“I’m not dense!” Hiccup shot back. “No matter how stupid you think I am-”

“STOP THAT!” Astrid shrieked.

“What!?” Hiccup exploded, stepping closer. Astrid’s eyes widened again, and she involuntarily took a step back until her back was pressed against the table edge. “Stop telling you the truth!? That what you want me to do, huh?”

She blinked and shook her head, mouth gaping in shock a she whispered a word too soft for him to hear. He leaned forward closer, their face mere inches apart as he whispered. “I gave you… gave you everything, Astrid.” His words came out deep, and a bit sharper then he knew he was capable of. “Gave you my heart- my trust. Is this what you do in return?”

She stared back, terrified.

Hiccup breathed heavily. “Fine. I-I don’t… this… this is it. Go with Laidir. He’s got the muscle, he’s got the leg, he’s got the Viking attitude that you deserve. I should’ve known you wouldn’t want this one-legged twerp.”

Astrid continued to gape, before her hand shot out and she grabbed Hiccup’s shirt color, pulling him even closer. “Hiccup. STOP.” she whispered. “What you say isn’t true- just let me explain…”

“No.” Hiccup growled. With that, he shoved away and pushed past the others standing open-mouthed in the doorway, staring on in utter shock and confusion. No one had ever seen Hiccup so angry before, and if he’d been in his right mind he would’ve apologized. But right now, he was much too furious to think of them at the moment.

He ducked out, and dashed towards the woods, not even bothering to explain what was going on to his confused father whom he passed in the street. He was just… just so angry.

Hiccup sighed, and the burning feeling in the pit of his stomach faded away, until all that was left was an aching tightness in his chest. What had just happened?

He lowered his head and bit his lip, trying to stop himself from crying. The tears came regardless, and once again he was reminded of the fact that he and Astrid were no longer together. They might not even be friends anymore, he thought despairingly.

“I’m sorry. Thor, I didn’t mean-” Hiccup muttered, feeling like a fool. She’d wanted to explain, and he hadn’t even given her the chance. But… but he’d seen her and Laidir kiss in the stables. Sure, Laidir had moved first, but Astrid hadn’t even struggled. It brought a fresh bout of pain to Hiccup’s already bleeding heart.


He nearly jumped off the cliff he was so startled. He swung around, staring in confusion at Astrid’s form, noting how she didn’t stand two feet away. He blinked, gulping before turning back around, hoping that if he ignored her this conversation would hold off.

She silently moved forward until she stood by his right side, before she slid down and let her legs dangle over the edge. She was surprisingly close- but not as close as she’d been that night not so long ago. Hiccup swallowed again, fingers playing with the grass as he waited for her to say something.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, eyes staring downwards. “I-I… it was all my fault. I was an idiot.”

“I just don’t understand.” Hiccup breathed. He turned his head, staring at Astrid with wide and pain filled eyes. “Why, Astrid? Why?”

She winced at his pleading tone, but swallowed thickly before beginning softly. “He told me it was a good feeling. That it would be fine. So… we stopped at the Hall. Went to the Mead Hall with some of his friends.”

Hiccup stared, already guessing where this was going. But was she telling the truth? Was this all a lie?

“I didn’t even realize I’d had so much until it was too late. I still don’t know what I did- I didn’t even know I kissed him until you told me.” She fidgeted nervously, not meeting his gaze. “I’m so sorry, Hiccup.” She whispered. “It was my fault- I was an idiot. But… his sister, she’s amazing. Did you see the way she wielded that sword? I just wanted… just wanted some tips. She told me that that was the only way.”

“Scum.” Hiccup huffed.

Astrid jumped a bit, head swinging around to stare at him in panic. “Wh-what?”

“Those scum!” Hiccup exclaimed, left leg swinging out angrily to click against the cliff face. “How… why- that’s just low.”

Astrid stared at him, remaining silent. Hiccup took that time to calm down some, but the image of Laidir’s face kept playing in his mind. How he wished he was there, so he could give him a harsh punch to that smug face of his and put him in his place.

“We have to tell the chief.” Hiccup finally said, calm yet still with a hint of anger.

“Do you forgive me?” Astrid whispered.

Hiccup paused, and twisted till his right leg was resting on the ground, left still swinging over the cliff. He leaned forward and grasped her hands, smiling slightly as he let his thumb rub her fingers.

“Absolutely. But only if you’ll forgive me as well. I overreacted-I should’ve known you would never do anything like what… um, drunken-you did.” He blushed. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

She nodded and let out a laughing sob, leaning forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Hiccup- s-so sorry. Remind me never to touch mead again.”

Hiccup laughed and pulled her against him, rocking back and forth while pressing little kisses to her hair and cheeks. “Will do.”

“Mm.” She hummed when he pressed his lips against hers, beyond relieved that his fears were quelled. What he feared wasn’t true- and he should’ve known. Now that he thought about it, Astrid had not been herself in the stables. She’d giggled at one point, and even slurred a string of words. He’d thought it had been the distance that had made her slur, but in truth, it was the liquor.

How could he be so stupid?

“I love you.” He said, although the words had never been spoken between them before. They weren’t needed, but right now, he felt so overwhelmed that the words merely slipped out. “I-I love you, and I’m sorry.”

“I love you too.” She replied quietly from his arms. “M’sorry.”

He kissed her again, intent on going back tot he village and punching Laidir and his sister first thing. But for now, he had a lady to comfort.

(Sorry for any mistakes, I didn’t have time to edit this. :)

Indigo Flowers

Fire Emblem: Fates

Pairing: Xander/Inigo

Description: After a tough mission, Xander is feeling down and Laslow tries to cheer him up with mixed results.

another fic for @brynhild-r, who introduced me to this under appreciated pairing



A tentative knock at the door brought Xander from the hellscape of his thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long he could continue to follow King Garon’s orders, especially when they meant murdering innocent women and children for suspected treason. Their final expressions of terror were imprinted on the back of his eyelids and no matter what he tried to do they refused to leave.

“Come in,” he said, head in his hands.

“Milord, you haven’t left your quarters in six hours, I thought I’d check up on you,” Laslow said.

Xander looked up and saw the young man smiling at him, concern hidden beneath his familiar grin.

“Thank you for your concern Laslow, but I’m fine,” Xander replied, as much as he enjoyed the company of his flirtatious retainer, he was not in the mood for a friendly chat.

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the rest of the evening was painfully awkward. the unspoken tension that was in the air was palpable, almost smothering. parker was counting down the seconds before she and hunter could leave.

the walk home from the restaurant, only a couple of blocks away, was silent. not a word was said between them. it wasn’t until they reached hunter’s house that parker broke the silence.

“you wanna tell me what the hell that was?” 

his back turned to her, hunter was hunched over the kitchen sink, quiet for several moments.

“hunter. i’m waiting.”

he sighed, turning around and rubbing his temples. “that… i’ve known silver for a while. since we were in high school. she moved away a few years ago, after… things happened. she was scout’s best and friend and is my ex… my ex fiancée. parker, i was going to marry her.”

his admission was like a punch in the stomach. her? but she didn’t dwell on that for too long, because everything else started to make sense… everything with scout, everything with hunter. the silver situation. “what happened?”

“she was convinced i was cheating on her. can’t say i blame her. i was working long hours, coming home at all hours of the night. came home to her fucking someone else. in our bed. so that was the end of that.” 

she felt her heart twist at his words, but parker couldn’t help herself. “do you still love her?” she asked softly, locking eyes with hunter. he laughed, loudly, and pulled her into a kiss. 

“no. not at all. i think i’m in love with someone else.”

beginning | previously | next

no words left to say, 2/2

Tom Riddle was a level-headed, mature individual who was definitely not going to strangle Ginny Weasley. 

[Modern AU where Tom & Harry grew up in foster care together before going to Hogwarts. A heads’ up: Tom’s in love with Harry, but it’s very much a possessive, obsessive sort of love.]

Tom flicked a jinx over his shoulder nonverbally, trying to feel some sense of satisfaction as he walked away. Ron would begin to feel its effects in a minute. It should amuse him. Instead, he felt strangely hollow. As Tom walked, he heard a whoop of joy behind him. Harry had caught the snitch. There was laughter, teasing, (red hair tangling with black as they hugged, Tom had seen it a billion times but it was when he couldn’t see it that it angered him most), a loud whine from Ron about dinner, something from Harry that he couldn’t quite hear, and then—

“Wait up, Tom!”

Tom prepared himself to see Harry again and congratulate Ginny on her flying, but when he looked back, it was only Harry running towards him. The two Weasleys were lagging behind, Ginny carrying both her and Harry’s broomsticks and waving them in a vaguely threatening manner towards Ron.

“Harry,” Tom acknowledged.

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SasuSaku Month 2017
Day 8: Heartbreak Hotel

She always knew it wouldn’t be easy, loving Sasuke Uchiha never was. But Sakura hoped, foolishly hoped the universe would give them a well-deserved break.

They’ve been through a lot, and for once in her life she craved the uneventful life of civilians. A life without dangers, without world shattering responsibilities, where their biggest problem would be Sasuke forgetting items off the shopping list or Sakura leaving her medical books scattered all over the house.

But, no. Soon after they’ve been deluded into thinking they’d get some peace, that they would finally get to be like a normal couple the ninja world tears them apart again.

I need you out there, Sasuke. As Hokage I have to stay here, but you have to be my eyes out there. She had wanted to go with him, they had just started their lives together. You can’t Sakura, we need you here in the hospital, you’re our best medic. They argued, but Naruto wouldn’t relent having finally learned to put the village first.

So they lived their lives in little moments away from the world.

This time she met him in a small in on a silent village on the outskirts of the Fire Country. She hid beneath a hood gave the clerk his fake name and was given direction to his room. Two knocks and she was let inside.

She shed her disguise slowly and turned to look at her husband who sat in the corner of the bed observing her. There was a small smile on his lips as he stood and took her into his arms his lips meeting hers in a quick kiss.

“I’ve missed you.” He murmured his lips against her cheek then. I’ve missed you too, so much. But she was tired of saying it, tired of it being one of the few words said between them before they were forced to part again.

This time she had other plans in mind, she had another purpose. “I’m pregnant.” She blurted out and he paused his roaming hands and leaned back to look at her. His eyes held both excitement and fear, he didn’t have to say anything for her to understand.

She saw as a dozen possibilities flashed across his eyes; he could leave everything, they could run, their child would not grow up without its parents.

“I’m not going back.” She told him, she had already decided. Naruto would have to drag her back, probably would.

Only One Year

When Y/N had first told Joe that she would be going to Greece to volunteer, he had mixed emotions.

Of course, he was proud of his girlfriend, because she wanted to go help the refugees that were over there. It was an amazing thing to do, and he knew how much she wanted to help.

The opportunity had came up, and she couldn’t say no. And he would never tell her not to go.

But Joe was also against it because it took Y/N away from him for a year. Plus, where she was going was going to have limited service, so their communication would be minimal. They also didn’t know if they would be able to visit each other during the year.

Overall, it was a bittersweet thing.

The trip to the airport when she was leaving was difficult as well.

They didn’t say much in the car, just held hands as she rested her head on his shoulder, tears silently falling down her cheeks.

No words needed to be said between them though, they knew that even with this year of Y/N being gone, that they would make it through. And so Joe refused to cry. Because it wasn’t a goodbye. It was just a see you later.

She had been reluctant to leave at the security, because it was the point he couldn’t cross without a ticket. The point where they would have to say their see you later.

“I’ll miss you so much.” Y/N had mumbled, her fingers playing with the small hairs at the base of his neck.

“I’ll miss you more.” Joe replied, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

“Doubt it.”

“Want to bet?”

“No.” She shook her head, “I just want to kiss you one last time.”

And they did.

Before she finally pulled herself away, offering him one last loving smile before turning and heading through security.

One year, Joe told himself. Only one year.

The year was long, and filled with sporadic letters and Skype calls that kept getting lost.

Unfortunately, Joe wasn’t able to get time off work to go visit her. And Y/N was too busy with the volunteer work to jump back to England briefly.

And so they settled with their barely there communication, holding onto those precious moments that they did have.

Time dragged on for Joe, but every time he saw Y/N’s smiling face on his screen, he knew it was worth it.

She was tired, sore, and having the time of her life.

He was so glad that she had decided to go, and knew it was the right move for her in her life, even if it took her out of his for a while.

But now, the year was coming to an end, and Joe was on his way to the airport.

The entire time, he could barely stay still.

His knee would jump up and down, his fingers would tap against any surface, and his eyes darted across the passing buildings.

He would finally be able to hold Y/N in his arms again.

“Thank you.” He told the driver, smiling broadly at him before slipping out of the car.

His feet carried him quickly into the terminal, glancing up at the screen, he felt relieved to see that her flight was still marked as on time, and had actually just landed.

Perfect timing, He thought to himself, dodging around a lost looking family.

It didn’t take him long to find the gate she’d be walking through, and so he waited.

All Joe could feel was excitement, and it continued to grow as the doors slide open and people began to pour from it.

On either side of him, families and loved ones greeted each other, but his eyes only searched the crowd for her.

And when he finally laid eyes on Y/N, smiling lovingly over at him as she picked up the pace, Joe felt the tears fill his eyes.

He met her halfway, catching her as she threw herself at him, arms and legs wrapping around him. He buried his face into her shoulder, the tears soaking through her shirt instantly.

“I missed you so much.” She mumbled against his skin, and he could feel the wetness of her tears on his skin. But he couldn’t respond, so he simply tightened his grip on her, breathing in her scent, soaking in her warmth.

It was really her. She was really in his arms.

“Joe,” She said softly, her feet sliding to the floor. “Joe, look at me.”

He finally lifted his face, gazing into her eyes as she lifted a hand to his cheek. Giggling softly, she brushed away the tears with his thumbs.


“Hi.” He replied, ducking his head to kiss her.

The rest of their words could wait.

Except for three.

“I love you.” Joe mumbled into the kiss, the kiss that tasted sweet and salty, both of their tears mixing together.

“I love you too.” Y/N replied, wrapping her arms around his neck to kiss him deeply.

Perfect End To Any Day (Rewritten #3)

Pairing: Linstead
Timeline: AU to season 5 where Erin never leaves.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort.
Rating: G

A/N: I would like to thank everyone who in any way lets me know they’re liking this! Thank you for taking the time and making this girl happy. You, yes you, you’re the best. 

If you guys have any wishes/ideas for what you want to see Erin and Jay do before/in the middle/after cases, you can always shoot your ideas to me.

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