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.

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.


Magnus is just… So silent.

These are the only words we heard from him, before he just couldn’t find his voice to answer to Alec’s questions anymore. And even these words he said are slow, heavy, full of silences between them.

And it’s not only his voice. It’s everything about him. You see it too, don’t you? Magnus is always making sounds. With the way he walks, with the way he moves his hands and body to do magic. The way his cheeks move when he smiles, how his  eyebrows move along with his expressions. Every movement that Magnus does is filled with music. Even when he doesn’t say a word, when he moves silently, even then there’s music around him.

But now? Magnus is just so silent. As the flame of a dying candle, flickering with its last effort. Even saying these words seems to hurt him.

And I want to cry because they broke Magnus; rhythmic, melodic and musical Magnus. And he will be okay at some point, I know, he’s one of the strongest men out there and he will be okay again, but right now he’s just so silent and everything feels so empty around him.

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.”

do not ask me where this came from. it just appeared in my mind fully formed and i wanted to write it and considering i haven’t wanted to write anything properly in months, well… i decided to go with it.

basically, this is how i imagine the post-reveal discussion happening once the dust has settled and the fighting has stopped (aka how i dream it happening because lbr we won’t ever be this lucky!)

He stood in the doorway, watching as Aaron slipped out of his jeans and climbed into bed. They hadn’t spoken in an hour. Robert knew because he’d been glancing at his watch every few minutes, waiting for Aaron to erupt and kick him out. He had been expecting it all day, but even as Aaron raged, hands balled into fists, eyes watery with tears, he hadn’t told Robert to leave.

A miracle.

“Stop hovering and get over here.”

Robert jumped, hitting his shoulder off the door-frame. Aaron glanced up for a moment and then slowly, cautiously, patted the duvet. His feet moved without him, desperate to be closer to his husband even if he was just waiting for the rejection he knew was coming.

He clambered onto his side, limbs awkward and gangling, feeling like a teenager waiting to be scolded. Even in the narrow bed there was still a gap between them. Robert felt sick.

Aaron sighed and then slid further under the covers, lifting his arm and looking to Robert who just stared back.

“I’m not gonna bite. Come on.”

He stayed staring for a moment, too dumbfounded to move, and then felt himself falling into Aaron’s embrace, gravity doing the work. Tentatively, he pressed his lips to Aaron’s bare, tanned chest and then pillowed his head there, listening to the heavy metronome of Aaron’s heart just beneath his ear.

“We’ve gotten through worse,” Aaron said into the darkness, his voice a low rumble and a little faded at the edges, drowsy. Robert rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezed out of reassurance for them both - I’m here, we’re here, together - and tucked his nose into Aaron’s neck.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with this. With me,” he whispered into soft, warm skin, and Aaron’s arm immediately curled tight around Robert’s waist, pulling him in closer.

“Don’t say that.” It was a warning, a hazard light flashing, but Robert pushed on.

“It’s true. You could be happy right now and instead-”

“Who says I’m not happy,” Aaron cut in, pushing himself further up the bed into a half-sitting position, dragging Robert with him. And even in the darkness Robert could see the stubborn set of his shoulders, the sharp line of his jaw jutting out. It was at once endearing and heartbreaking, the sheer strength of will Aaron seemed to possess, his utter refusal to give in even when… even when it would have been better for him.

“Aaron,” Robert began, elbow digging into the mattress so he could keep his balance, “don’t play it down. Don’t make out like your okay with this.” It was one thing to see Aaron resilient, but it was another to have him forcing a smile. Robert couldn’t cope with anymore lies, and especially none that were designed to spare him pain or guilt.

He wanted to feel it. He needed to. It was currently the only thing keeping him anchored.

“I’m not okay,” Aaron answered, and even though Robert knew it already, the raw honesty of the words lanced through him, sharp and merciless.

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Gabriel Fic
Author: @riversong-sam

Parings: Gabriel x Reader

Word Count: 3176

@charliebradbury1104   @fangirl1802   @evyiione
@impalaimagining    @supernatural-jackles  @gabriels-trix
 @sdavid09  @ohmychuckitssamanddean
@crowleysplaythings    @sandlee44   @clairese1980
@imagining-supernatural   @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll
@daughterofthebrowncoats   @letsthedogpackandthecats
@deals-with-demons   @etude-bolide  @trashforwinchesters  
@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @jensen-jarpad   @tryingtoimagine-spn  
@spontaneousam  @gemini75eeyore
@just-a-touch-of-crowley   @feelmyroarrrr   @lucifer-in-leather
@kas-not-cas @multifandomlove2002
@bkwrm523 @oriona75 @kittenofdoomage @scarletwinchester84 @samwinchesterappreciation @angelkurenai @teamfreewill-imagine @not-moose-one-shots @not-so-natural-spn @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog  @ilostmyshoe-79  @mypapawinchester
@possesstiel   @totallysupernaturaloneshots  @mrssamfuckingwinchester
@winchester-smut    @wayward-mirage  @oneshot-twoshot-redshot-blueshot  @abaddonwithyall
@whovianayesha   @destielshipper222  @impala-dreamer
@crzcorgi  @sis-tafics   @hexparker
@curliesallovertheplace    @carry-on-my-akward-son  @67chevy-imagine
@tol-sam   @deanscolette  @i-do-what-i-want-bitch
@mrsbatesmotel53  @splendidcas  @ellen-reincarnated1967
@mysupernaturalfics  @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms
@spn-idjits-guide-to-hunting   @chaos-and-the-calm67   @leslie2898
@doro7winchester  @sunriserose1023  @deathtonormalcy56
@the-latina-trickster  @love-kittykat21 @purgatoan
@pureawesomeness001  @thegreatficmaster   @sumara62 @delessapeace-blog
@angelofwinchester17  @smoothdogsgirl  @bohowitch  @buckysmetallicstump @mizzezm @thatwrestlingfan91  @i-am-an-outcast    @donnaintx
@skylions-den  @rosiesstanderds

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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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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.


~ Part three ~

“What?! No chance!” Aaron refused after Lachlan’s words had sunk in. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Lachlan shrugged, “I’ll just kill her then.” He said casually pointing the gun towards Liv making her step back behind Aaron.

“No!” Aaron shouted suddenly, “Please, not her.”

On hearing Aaron’s plea Lachlan lowered the gun and chuckled to himself, “Not her.” He mimicked, before looking Aaron in the eyes, “Who’s it gonna be then?”

“Aaron it’s okay.” Robert said softly trying to calm him down again causing Aaron look at him, allowing him to see how scared he really was.

“Kill me.” Aaron said quickly, “Let them all go and kill me.”

“Aaron no!” Chas shouted.

“Please just let them all go,” Aaron pleaded his breathing frantic, “I can’t do it, just let them go and you can do whatever you want.”

“ – Aaron don’t do this.” Robert begged, his voice breaking as he did so, tears forming in his eyes.

“Just do it!” Aaron shouted, ignoring everyone else.

The room fell into the same silence it did when Lachlan first entered the pub however this time it was in a new sense of anticipation.

“No.” Lachlan said simply, causing a relief to wash over Chas and Robert but a frustration to overtake Aaron, “Play the game.”

“I can’t – “ Aaron began to feels tears fill his eyes, terrified at what was happening.

“Why don’t I make it easier for you?” Lachlan suggested, “It’s never gonna be your little sister is it, you’re too protective of her, I can’t imagine you killing any of your own family and Vic’s the only one in this room that isn’t related who hasn’t done anything to hurt you – so it’s simple.”

Aaron’s face was overcome with horror at the realisation Lachlan’s words made him notice and he could feel his breath catch in his chest.

“Make your choice Aaron,” Lachlan continued, “The man who broke your heart by sleeping with someone else, or the woman he cheated on you with – or would you like me to just kill them both.” He smiled teasing Aaron, tormenting him.

Rebecca and Robert’s face were overcome with uncertainty, the reality of the situation hitting them hard as they watched Aaron stand between them unable to look any of them in the eye.

“You put all your trust in him, he said he loved you Aaron, then he just threw it right back in your face, the same way he did with my mum, with everyone he has ever been with.” Lachlan urged as the anger was building inside Aaron.

“He’s right.” Rebecca said from next to Aaron, causing the whole rooms attention to focus on her. “All he ever does is hurt people Aaron, me and you both know that, this is your chance to free yourself from him, take it Aaron.” She said trying to encourage him.

At this point Robert lifted his head from where he had been looking towards the floor and looked at Aaron, a million words being said between them in one moment, both of them knowing their words held a truth neither could deny.

“Don’t forget though Aaron,” Lachlan began speaking again as the tears continued to build in Aaron’s eyes, “She pretended to be your friend, all that time just waiting for the right moment, she went behind your back and now she’s won, she took him from you and now she’s carrying his child,” Lachlan whispered just loud enough for Aaron to hear, the sound of it feeling like it was piercing through his mind.

“No!” Rebecca remarked suddenly, “You’re wrong. I’ve been lying.”

Everyone was hit with another wave of confusion at her comment, urging her to explain what she meant by her words.

“It’s not his. This baby isn’t Robert’s.”

Stick with me there is a plot I’m getting to it lmaooo let me know what you think and whether you’re interested in reading more of it thanksss x

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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kanamari / 1.7k / 1x09 coda / ao3.

Mari doesn’t know why she’s still hoping.

Standing at the helicopter pad on top of the Awashima hotel, she watches the magenta helicopter descend from the sky to land slowly, blades whirring in the air, and tossing Mari’s hair in front of her face. She reaches a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, staring at the helicopter and wishing that it could just disappear.

She turns to look behind her at the doorway where the stairs lead downstairs, hoping to hear some footsteps banging up the stairs – loud voices swearing as her two best friends make their way up in a desperate act to stop her from leaving.

It doesn’t happen.

Instead, someone opens up the helicopter for Mari, and her father’s workers standing beside her nod at her to proceed, one of them carrying her luggage to put in the helicopter. Taking one last look behind her, and hoping just hoping that at any moment now, Dia or Kanan will fling open the doors and shout her name, desperation and apology in their eyes. She wants to be swept up in Kanan’s embrace once again – she wants to feel the strong arms of the other girl wrapping around her and telling her that everything is okay, and that she doesn’t need to leave.

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Small Audience - Victuuri Family Fluff

A/N: Special thanks to @sofiama for sharing that pic yesterday! @memento-scribet and and I had a pretty lengthy discussion last night about the babies and decided that the twins needed an older adopted sister so here’s her story!

Prompt: In which Victuuri adopts a kid.

“I really think your program could benefit from an extra quad in the second half of your -” Victor commented to Yuuri who was listening intently to his coach’s advice. Victor almost accidentally ran into a small platinum haired little girl who was carefully peering through the glass doors of the practice rink. “Oh! Pardon me, little girl!” Victor said stepping around the girl. She looked up at him wide eyed in star struck wonder.

“Would you like an autograph or photo?” Victor asked kindly, leaning down to the girls level. If it was possible her eyes widened even further. She shook her head and quickly ran in the opposite direction.

“Nice going old man. You scared off a small child.” Yurio sneered pushing the door to the rink open and stepping inside, completely ignoring the fans who were calling for his attention.

Victor and Yuri interacted with their fans for a few more minutes until Yakov insisted that all of his skaters get their asses on the ice for practice. About halfway through practice Victor happened to look over out the window overlooking the rink. Most of the fans have dispersed, they have been training all day at this point, but one little fan remained watching the Russian skaters with bright eager eyes. Victor smiled warmly at the wondrous look she had on her face when Yuuri landed his quad flip.

In a spur of the moment of decision, Victor exited the ice, took off his skates and walked towards the door with Yakov shouting unheard demands behind him.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked in worried confusion.

“I’ll be right back Yuuri. There’s something I need to do.” Victor explained vaguely.

“Ok …”

Victor jogged out of the rink and over to where the little girl still watched the practice from the window. She didn’t hear Victor approach her and almost comically lept up in surprise when he spoke up.

“Would you like to come inside? You can see a lot better from in there.” Victor offered her.

“Can I?” She asked hopefully.

“Sure thing! Just let me go ask your parents if it’s alright.” Victor responded cheerfully. Victor’s heart completely shattered when her adorable excited smile quickly fell from her face. “What is it? What’s the matter?” He asked trying to find any solution to make this child happy again.

“I - I don’t have any parents.” She confessed looking down at the ground to avoid Victor’s eye contact. Victor’s eyes widened in understanding as the realization of her words fully hit him.

“Ah.” He said. Victor quickly shook off his sympathetic look with a gentle smile and an extended hand. “Well then, the offer still stands if you’d like to come inside. Oh! Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Victor Nikiforov and who might you be?” Victor asked.

“Sophie.” She answered, her smile starting to return.

“Does Sophie have a last name?” Victor asked kindly, extending his hand out to hers. She cautiously took his hand and let Victor guide her into the rink.

“No sir.” She answered looking up at him as they walked hand in hand.

“Well that’s quite alright!” Victor replied warmly. He pulled the door to the building open, bowed, and gestured for her to enter the rink. “After you, my lady.” He said. Sophie giggled behind her hand at the famous skater treating her like a princess.

When she walked in and saw the rink with her own two eyes, she stopped and stared wide eyed as she took in all the sights and sounds. Unfortunately she couldn’t quite see over the boards and was hopping up and down on the tip of her toes to try and catch a good glimpse of the skaters.

“Here let me help with that.” Victor noticed her struggling and lifted Sophie up and onto his shoulders to give her a better view.

“Wow! Did you see that? That was amazing!” She praised pointing towards Yuuri who had just flawlessly landed an impressive quad.

“Would you like to meet him?” Victor asked and without waiting for an answer he waved Yuuri over. “Yuuri! Come meet my new friend!” Yuuri skated over to where the pair overlooked the practice session. Yuuri smiled kindly at the girl and exerted his hand out in greeting.

“Hello Miss -”

“Sophie.” Victor supplemented.

“Miss Sophie. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Yuuri Katsuki.” Yuuri introduced himself to the child.

“You’re a really good skater.” She complimented shyly.

“Thank you. You are too kind.” Yuuri responded graciously.

“Yuuri is too modest! He really is amazing! Oh! Here’s an idea, how would you like to skate with us today?” Victor asked with unrestrained excitement bubbling inside of him at the prospect of skating with this bundle of adorableness.

“I-I don’t know how to skate.” She admitted.

“We’ll teach you then! You’ll help me teach her, won’t you Yuuri?” Victor pleaded, giving Yuuri his irresistible puppy eyes

“Okay.” Yuuri agreed.

“Great! I’m pretty sure the rink has some spare rentals in the back that they wouldn’t mind us borrowing. They’re only rentals so they’re not the best quality blades but they should serve our purposes nicely. Let’s see if we can find you a pair.” Victor said bubbling with excitement as he guided Sophie over to where he knew the skates were held. Victor hopped over the counter and nabbed a pair that appeared to be her size. He then proceeded to help her put them on and lace them up good and tight. She was a little wobbly on her feet as she tried to balance on her blades but Victor held her hand and helped her walk back towards the ice. Victor stepped out onto the ice first and held her hands tightly as he helped her glide across the ice.

“Just hold onto me, alright? I won’t let you fall I promise.” Victor swore. Sophie nodded and gripped Victor’s hands for dear life. “Alright when you’re comfortable, to go forward you’re going to bed your knees slightly like this and while keeping one foot on the ice you’re going to push the other leg outwards and back.” Victor instructed her, showing her the motions while staying in place. Sophie nodded and tried doing it like he did but ended up leaning too far forward and slipping. Victor easily caught her before she could fall to this ice.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” He reassured. “Go ahead and try again.” Victor encouraged. Sophie tried skating forward again with a greater degree of success. Eventually after a while of Sophie practicing in the safety of Victor’s grasp, Yuuri switched off with him so that he could step back and take some pictures with his phone.

“Very good! You’re a natural Sophie! Yes! Just like that!” Yuuri praised as she started to slowly skate without holding onto her tutors. Victor watched as the two interacted with Yuuri holding both of her hands in front of him to keep her steady on her feet should she fall. Victor couldn’t help but to conjure up images of this little girl one day growing up to be an amazing skater who swept medals left and right at every competition.

“She looks a little like you, you know.” Mila commented, watching the impromptu lesson play out in front of her. “I think it’s the hair that does it. Such an unusual color you two have.” She continued.  

“There is a bit of a resemblance there, isn’t there?” Victor said thoughtfully, never taking his eyes off of his Yuuri and this little girl who was quickly making a place for herself in his heart.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were her father.” Mila said. With those words uttered between them, Victor came up with an idea that excited him more than anything. He wanted to hug and kiss Mila for the idea that she gave him but decided that should probably wait until he had the chance to discuss it with Yuuri.  

“She’s an orphan Yuuri. She doesn’t have a family.” Victor explained later that night while he and Yuuri were cooking dinner.


“Yuuri I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I think we should adop-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there Victor because I know what you’re about to say and I agree.” Victor’s face falls thinking Yuri is rejecting his idea to finally adopt a child of their own but brightens to the largest grin when he realizes that Yuuri actually agreed with his idea. They’re going to be fathers! And with any luck, to the most adorable girl in the world no less!

“Yuuri!” Victor called out his husband’s name excitedly and leapt into his arms, pulling Yuuri into a tight hug. “Oh! I could kiss you right now!”

“What’s stopping you?” Yuuri retorted with a smirk.

“Absolutely nothing!” Victor said. Victor took Yuuri’s face in his hands and pulled Yuuri into a quick passionate kiss before pulling away when he realized there was more that still needed to be discussed. “Unless you have any objections I have a child in mind that would be perfect for us.”

“Sophie? Victor, I didn’t know it before today but I think she’s the missing part of our family that we didn’t know we needed.” Yuuri admitted.

“So we’re really going to adopt her?” Victor asked hopefully.

“If she’ll have us, sure.” Yuuri agreed.

“Oh Yuuri! We’re going to be the absolute best parents this girl could ever wish for, I just know it!” Victor said hugging his husband impossibly closer to him. In that moment though, he didn’t care how tightly he was holding his Yuuri. He was just so overwhelmed with joy and happiness that their little family was going to grow in the very near future. Victor couldn’t exactly say he ever imagined himself being a father but being a father to Sophie? Nothing in his life felt more right than that.


I wanted to say a word or two about forgiveness.  It’s an act of making something that is broken work again. It’s setting yourself on your feet with the one forgiven and looking ahead. It’s the key to any door that can and will close against you. It’s coming together when separated.

But it’s also sometimes not given. It’s when you stand in front of somebody who is so right, so a part of who you are, and they can’t let you touch them anymore. It’s a troubled inertia of being so close to someone and being a million miles apart—at the same time. It’s wanting to hold and be held by someone who is unattainable by a wall that has no features, nothing to grab onto to get over it. It’s a thirst. It’s the cup half empty and half full.

The best apology I’ve seen between Oliver and Felicity was in season 2, episode 10 I believe. Oliver felt the distance he had created between them, felt self-admonished for the way he was unable to tell Felicity how he really feels about her. When he called her his partner, I heard the word wife instead. I heard Oliver asking Felicity to forgive him. And she did, the moment he put his hand on her shoulder and looked so deeply in her eyes. He was quieting her anxiety and stirring her up all over again. It was that strange inertia between them I mentioned.

I wonder if forgiveness can also bring back the dead. I wonder if Felicity will realize this in her final assessment of Billy. There have been some strange things, both hopeful and final, about Felicity’s experiences with death. When Oliver returned to her after Ra’s put a sword through his chest, there was that one moment before Oliver told her he was working with Malcolm Merlyn that I could see Felicity was feeling forgiveness. I wonder if she might have also been thinking that Oliver had come back to follow up on those last three words he said to her. Maybe things between them would change.Felicity had that fantasy of Oliver coming back to her and realizing that being near death would show him how fragile life can be.

But, it was not to be. Oliver was still inside with his monster, planning and thinking and looking for another way. Felicity tried to move on and away from what she still wanted. Oliver didn’t think he deserved her or her forgiveness. It was a hurtful, wonderful, screaming for more angst, and it cemented in me the thought that Oliver and Felicity’s whole relationship is about forgiveness.

When I wake in the morning and the first emotions, (and usually in the same order), are grief and anxiety and anger and love and hate and…well, all of those things at the same time. It threatens to become a natural state for me. It feels like I’m conceding to my failures. I want to…forgive and be forgiven.

Oliver and Felicity are that half cup empty, half cup thing.  And together, they can both fill and empty their cups, shorten the distance between them and learn that a simple ‘I’m sorry,’ can move mountains. Love and acceptance and strength of self-assurance cannot exist without forgiveness. How can a person evolve if they keep feeling that they are always asking to be forgiven? Why is there a need for forgiveness at all? And why do I have so many questions about this crazy show.

@hope-for-olicity @louiseblue1 @myhauntedblacksoul @1106angel @olicityloveolicity @it-was-a-red-heeler @almondblossomme @lovelycssefan @memcjo

** SUBMISSION TO ME FROM fresharold**

okay so i’ve been keeping this for a while now simply because i don’t think we need proofs at this point to know that larry is real. i just simply didn’t think people would care about this and tbh i was afraid on getting into trouble. however lately i see people sharing their stories that i do believe are real in some cases so i thought why not sharing this cute one i thought it wasn’t that relevant.

okay so on 13th of july the boys came to my country for the wwa tour and what happened was told to me by my godfather (let’s call him O because im lazy to write this word). i’m not going to go too much into detail about his job not only because i don’t know much about it (he doesn’t share it because of professional reasons) but also because i don’t think it’d be right for me to expose such things. but basically he is the driver of an important person related to the the stadium where the concert happened. he drives him to places, he does errands and all those things that tbh i don’t understand but don’t really matter for this.

so that day O had to drive his boss there and he lives in the capital (not where the concert happened that day) so i didn’t even know he was going to be there. only the next day he had called me because even though we live far away from each other we are close to each other. the year before (for the tmh tour) he had gave me and my friend a place to sleep and then had driven us to the arena. so he has this little knowledge of the boys and how i like them. (details details). 

so he asked me how it was the concert and proceed to tell me that he had to go to the stadium because of his boss. when he told me he was actually in the same room as the boys i freaked out oKAY. he started by telling me that the boys are really loud but funny and nice, like i believe he might have met them when they were backstage going for the meet and greet for the make a wish organisation (which consequently made the boys get late to the actual concert). so they were probably just chilling before going to meet the fans (i don’t really know and he didn’t get into the detail so whatever DETAILS). 

O isn’t really that good in english but i’ve heard him talking and i feel like he knows the basics and understands most of it. he told me that “one guy kind of blonde i believe niall” (he said his name really weirdly) said hi to him and they started talking about football (predictable) and then “one really tall with a thing in his head” (harry) (he didn’t have long hair back in that time) came to shake his hand and introduced himself (he forgot his name right away, nice) 

so after that he asked me if i knew that he (harry) was in a relationship with other guy from the band. i was sooooo confused so i explained to him that there’s fans who believe harry an louis are together. he immediately recognised harry’s name when i said it by being the tall guy with a thing in his head and he said that it was louis who he met too because he had told him how to actually pronounce his name. (also predictable) (he also said that louis had cool tattoos on his right arm)

okay this was a year ago so i can’t quote the exact words he said to me but i never forgot the stuff he had noticed. he was having trouble with understanding what harry was saying to him and louis went to their side because he was finding funny what was happening. 

O said that he is 99% sure that louis called harry ‘love’ between all the words he said when approached them, which he asked me if it was normal for friends to treat other friends by that term. I immediately said that it wasn’t usual. he continued by telling me that louis tried to make him comfortable with the fact he couldn’t understand english 100% AND I REMEMBER HIM TELLING ME “i noticed that harry had his arm around louis’ waist, which i normally do with my wife and not with my friends” MY EYES WATERED BECAUSE YES O YOU UNDERSTAND ME !!! 

he said that then harry was mostly quiet and every time louis was talking he was looking at him “in a cute way i must say” (this was so weird to hear O saying). so it’s not like this proves they’re in a relationship so i asked him if it was that that make him think they were together so he told me (im gonna use “” but be aware these aren’t his exact words obviously) 

“we were mostly talking about my job and when i say i’m from lisbon louis says that he and harry wanted to explore it better when they were there last year but there was no time for that. i found interesting that he said just harry and not their other friends so i ask if they got along better together than with the others. harry is the one answering this time saying that he and louis have a special relationship. louis says something that i didn’t understand and believe it was meant just for the two of them to listen to. he then looks at me and says that he and harry are inseparable. i started suspecting what was going on there but obviously didn’t ask. i believe that then louis said to me to think whatever i wanted in respect of those words and i decided to tell them what it’s worth seeing in lisbon if they even thought about going there, not pressing the subject”

this is the important stuff summarised okay keep in mind that O found weird the fact i said to him then that they’re supposed to be on the closet since they were so open about it with a stranger, who could immediately make a homophobic comment or even expose everything “which is what i’m doign here when i’m telling you this.”  especially when they seemed to be so proud and delighted next to each other.

he said that for him what happened behind his eyes was the enough to think they were really together. I WAS TRYING SO HARD NOT TO CRY U CANT IMAGINE at the end i thanked him so many times for telling me this that he thought i was crazy,

AND a month ago (?) i went to his place and he talked to me saying that he saw on the news that harry was dating sara sampaio (she is a portuguese model reason why it was said on TV) and found weird the fact they haven’t come out yet but wasn’t suprised that things like that was said on the media if it’s meant for them not to come out to their fans “they probably think that the fact they’re together would affect the girls that think they’ll marry them” (funny)

gottalovethatloki  asked:

Jamie taking care of Tyler who has just had shoulder surgery....

“That fucking hurts,” Tyler whined, no real malice in his voice. Jamie sighed at him and continued to adjust his sling. 

“Your shoulder won’t get better if you don’t wear this right,” he said, fussing over the straps for a second. “You have to get better.”

Tyler sighed loudly and tried not to wince as Jamie kept pawing at him. “I’m going to be fine,” he said, and when Jamie didn’t look at him, he reached up to cup his cheek with his good hand. “Hey.”

Jamie bit his lip and skirted his eyes around the room, his hands dropping back into his lap. “I know,” he said, voice small. When he did finally meet Tyler’s eyes again, they were big and round and filled with something that Tyler hadn’t seen since he’d first been traded to Dallas.

Tyler drew his hand back quickly. The inches between them suddenly felt like miles, and Tyler had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “I know you’re just looking out for me. You’re a good captain, Benn.”

“Yeah,” Jamie muttered, his voice cracking around the word. “Yeah. Gotta have you healthy for next season.” 

“Right,” Tyler said. The unspoken words between them seemed to weigh Jamie down, making him sluggish and hunched and Tyler hated it. He wanted to lift him up, get that goofy smile on his face, but the path to that was overgrown with years of repression and secrecy. 

But Jamie smiled anyway, even if it didn’t reach his eyes. “Next year is our year, huh?” He said it every year, sure, but Tyler liked hearing it anyway. 

Tyler nodded and ignored the sharp pull at his shoulder. “You know it, bud.” 

A Gift (Lucifer x Reader)

Pairing/Characters: Lucifer x reader, Sam, Dean, Chuck, Casifer

Warnings: Usual SPN injuries/deaths, swears, fluffy ending for once

Word Count:1708

Summary: Reader is Sam and Dean’s estranged sister, who betrays them to be with her soulmate Lucifer. However, jealousy grows and Lucifer kills her. Time passes and a lot changes but Lucifer might finally have a chance to redeem himself.

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s a quick fic for you, thought of and written today lol. Thanks @mybittersweetbullshituniverse for not letting me give in and making me finish it today” This one’s for you! haha 



Originally posted by ohmysupernatural

“Lucifer. You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded with the angel, backing myself away from him. My voice was filled with fear and confusion as I watched him slip the silver angel blade from his sleeve.

“Yes I do,” Lucifer spat. “I should have done this the first time I met you.” Lucifer span the silver blade in his fingers tauntingly as he crept forward.

“Why are you doing this? I love you!”

“You’re a Winchester, I should have killed you the moment I laid eyes on you. Filthy liars the lot of you.”

My back hit the wall. There was nowhere else to go. Lucifer grinned, like a predator about to eat its prey, then pressed the cold metal to my neck.

“I’ve never lied to you Lucifer, you know that! I left my family for you, I gave up my name for you! Please!”

“Bargaining with the devil? Y/N, you know so much better,” Lucifer laughed adding more pressure to my neck, the blade piercing my skin and deep red blood began to trickle down my neck.

“Please.” I sobbed looking into his crystal blue eyes. “Don’t.”

“You must really take me for a fool, little one.”

Before I could plead anymore it was done. One slash and I was done for. I collapsed to the ground and gasped for air.

“I… lo-love you.”

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Fresh Orange Ricotta Honey Cake

Based off of this post.

Castiel bounces on the balls of his feet anxiously, heavy boots crunching in the snow as his blue eyes scan the street. He’s bundled up in his peacoat and bee-themed scarf, mitts and hat, and focuses on the way snowflakes gently land on his covered hands to keep himself calm.

“Cas, hey!”

This is by far the stupidest decision he’s ever made.

Dean approaches with a spring in his step and a wide smile on his face, freckles standing out starkly against his winter-pale skin. His eyes are big and green and he winks as they stand in front of A Little Something Bakery, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “So, you ready?”

Castiel clears his throat, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he nods. The truth is that no amount of preparation will ever make him ready to pretend to be Dean’s fiancée for two hours, even if that venture is in the quest for free wedding cake samples.

Especially if that venture is in the quest for free wedding cake samples.

This is because Castiel is, in no uncertain terms, completely enamoured of his best friend. So, when said friend begged him to play fiancées in order to get free cake, Cas was a little bit powerless to resist. How bad could it possibly be, right? He gets to eat cake and pretend he’s engaged to Dean Winchester.

Unfortunately, in the time between saying ‘yes’ and arriving at the bakery, Castiel has come to his senses. He’s also been struck dumb by the fact that they’re actually doing this, and he’s spending more time sweating and trying to slow his heart than actually listening to what Dean is saying.

“…That sound good?”

Cas feels heat rise to his cheeks. “Sorry, what?”

Green eyes roll good-naturedly. “Just follow my lead, ‘kay huggybear?”

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just us two - luke hemmings (part 4)

Luke knew that parenthood was never going to be easy when his girlfriend left him standing in the delivery ward with their baby clasped in his hands. his 5 year old daughter striking up a feud with the son of a coldly beautiful single mum was not a complication he had anticipated though. nor was falling in love with her.

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 

Luke spent the next week in a now sickeningly familiar mix of excited anticipation and guilt. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself with work and with Luna he still found his thoughts straying back to Y/N. The week passed in a blur of constant motion until it was Sunday morning and Luke once again found himself nursing a large cup of coffee after a sleepless night.

‘Morning daddy.’ Luna chirped as she came and pulled herself into his lap.

'Morning baby, did you sleep well?’ Luke asked after he had placed a kiss on the top of her head.

'Uh-huh.’ she nodded happily, turning to look up at him. 'Today’s the day we’re going to the beach isn’t it daddy?’

'Yes it is, clever you for remembering.’ he chuckled, feeling himself grow happier instantly at her innocent enthusiasm.

'Of course I remembered!’ she exclaimed. 'We’re going with Sampson and me and Sampson are friends now.’

'Well I’m very glad you were so grown up and sorted out your differences. Now come on scoot that cute butt I need to go and pack all our stuff up.’ Luke said, swinging Luna off his lap and back onto the floor.

'Does that mean I can watch cartoons while I have breakfast?’ she asked with expectant eyes.

'Only if you save an episode to watch with me.’ he smiled, soon laughing as she dashed into the living room calling out a thank you behind her.

Luke busied himself finding suncream and beach towels and bathing suits and spare clothes and rubber rings and the hundreds of things it took for a day at the beach with a 5 year old. After loading up the car he finally sat down next to Luna on the living room floor, offering her a bowl of cheerios as he did so.

'So which episode are we on?’ he asked, nodding towards the TV as he took a spoonful of his own bowl.

'Kim is just about to save Ron daddy shush!’ Luna said excitedly around her mouthful.

'Lu-lu, what did we say about talking with our mouth full?’ he reprimanded her lightly.

'Sorry daddy.’ she giggled, mouth still full of cereal.

'What am I gonna do with you?’ he shook his head, unable to stop himself from laughing as well.

'Is me walking in on your shirtless going to be a regular occurrence Hemmings?’

Keep reading

How should we like it were stars to burn

“A sestina? That’s what wasn’t good enough?” Demelza said, only slightly breathless from walking briskly to keep up with Ross as they left the seminar room. It was unwise, almost certainly, and she’d probably regret it, but not as much as not saying anything. It would sound better and worse when she recounted it to Verity and there would be an enormous glass of wine or steaming cup of Lapsang souchong to console her, depending on how Ross responded. “You’re bloody terrifying, you know that, don’t you?” she added quietly, knowing he could hear her but could ignore her. It needed to be said, regardless.

“It’s nothing to make so much of,” he muttered, still gazing ahead of them, across the quad that was bisected neatly by walking paths, other students strolling in twos or threes towards the dormitories, the libraries, the pub across the road.

“Liar,” she said, letting the word hang between them, heavier than any line in Ross’s poem, whose syllables balanced to a feather-weight.

“I can’t write them any other way, I only hear the words in verse. You can feel your heart beat in your chest—do you take credit for it?” he replied. She wondered what exactly Agatha made of him, from her position of greater wisdom, of having written so many more poems and read even more. Demelza thought of what he said and felt her heart steady within her, her breath rushing in her ears. He meant poetry was music, a shifting melody that moved through him and she envied him.

“It’s not only that and you know it,” she pushed back. They’d spent the majority of the class on his sestina and Elizabeth’s contribution, a poem that was an uneasy translation of a little-know poem by Rumi, except that Agatha had known the original and recited it before she had picked apart Elizabeth’s lyric like a surgeon at a post-mortem, unconcerned with pain as the body was dead. Demelza had almost pitied Elizabeth. Almost.

“What do you expect me to say? To boast like George? To offer you a dissertation about the form like Francis would do or flutter my hands around like Liza?” he said. Liza he said, like Liza, when she’d only been Elizabeth in the class, not a hair out of place, drawn back so her long neck was apparent, the jade pendant earrings she wore swinging as leaned forward in concentration, her white hands moving through the air as she spoke like a poem Demelza couldn’t understand. But Ross could. And Ross did. It would be whiskey tonight, neat, enough that she could forget how he had sounded reading his poem and what it had done to her, how distracted she’d been by the shape of the words and the shape of his mouth, the dazed look in his eyes when he’d caught her looking at him and how it had gone away like smoke she could still taste sweet on her tongue.

“I don’t expect anything from you, Ross,” she answered, reaching up to push back a curl that had come loose; he grazed her hand with his when she dropped hers back down.

“You should. You’re the only one who understood what I wrote. You knew where it went wrong, where I ruined it,” he said, letting go of her hand but not before he’d traced the curve at the base of her thumb to her wrist, a caress she’d never known before.

“It wasn’t ruined. You only lost your way,” she replied, glancing at him. He was looking back at her, his pace slowed. There was something about him that wasn’t handsome, but fey, feral, that made her hear the music that ran through his head, that lit his dark eyes.

“Help me find it?” he asked.

“Isn’t that Agatha’s job?” she said quickly.

“I’d rather it be your pleasure,” he remarked. She laughed then because she had to. They’d walked nearly all the way to where she lived and there was nothing she could think of to say. She hadn’t yet written the poem that would be the answer.

anonymous asked:

6 Jally (BOI I LOVE YOU)


Angst-us Beef Prompt 6: “My black eye? I just… got hit with a baseball.”

 Johnny avoided going to the Curtis home. It was getting dark, and colder, as fall was changing to winter, but he didn’t want to have Darrel and Soda and Steve and Two-Bit and Pony question him about his latest injury: A bold, swollen black eye. 

  There were only two things he could’ve gotten that from; his father, or a soc. The socs were staying in by their luxurious fire places, drinking hot chocolate, so they couldn’t be the ones to blame. His father, on the other hand, drank his whiskey as if he had a parasite in his liver and needed to kill it off. Whiskey made him angrier than usual, so he kissed Johnny’s eyes with his fist as soon as he came through the door.
   He didn’t cry, only letting out a timid yelp as he ran off to his safety of the lot. Like stated before, he didn’t want anyone to seem him with a black eye. Especially not Dallas Winston. Johnny knew Dally would surely kill his dad if he found out about this. He was glad his chances of running into anyone besides Pony here were slim. Dallas was either at Buck’s or the Curtis house, so he- and his father- would be safe as long as he was here.

   Of course, Johnny’s luck ran out when he saw someone light their cigarette, walking coolly. A dark brown leather jacket shone light brown in places the blue moonlight danced off of, boots making a clicking noise against the cold pavement.

                                                    Dang it.

   “Ay, Johnny, why’re ya out here? It’s too cold ta be sleepin’ out here, man.” Dallas asked, his voice somewhat gentle. His voice was always slightly soft when he was talking to Johnny, and even when he was talking to Johnny around certain people, excluding Buck and Ponyboy.

     He clearly didn’t see Johnny’s black eye yet, or he wouldn’t have been this calm.
       “Wanna smoke, Johnny?”

            “Uh, no thanks, Dal. I’m tired. I’m gonna go ta sleep now. Good night.” He replied quickly, turning away. Dallas paused, the atmosphere changing, which made Johnny feel uneasy. That couldn’t be good.
   ‘’What’re ya hidin’, Johnny Cade?” Dally barked suddenly, sitting next to him and pulling him up.

      “N-Nothin’-” He squeaked, not fighting his grasp on his wrist.

  Dallas saw. It was too late. The blonde’s cigarette fell out of his mouth, rolling on the pavement. “Jesus Christ, Johnny- who did this?”

   Johnny swallowed meekly. “Did what?” He asked innocently, hoping to play it off as if he didn’t know what the older greaser was talking about.

    “Your black eye! I’m not stupid, I know ya know what I’m talkin’ about!”

The smaller greaser ran a hand through his greased black hair. “My black eye? I just… got hit with a baseball.”

        “Bullshit, Johnny Cade. A soc or your ol’ man? Hell- who am I kiddin’?! I know it was your ol’ man.” Dallas shot up, letting go of Johnny’s wrist. “You better hope he ain’t home before I get over there-”

   “Dally! Wait- please no! He- it was my fault! I know better than ta go home! It ain’t his fault! Let’s just go back to the Curtis’, I don’t want you in no more trouble!” Johnny followed him, tugging on his jacket to get him to stop. He had low hopes that that would be enough to convince him. He turned him so that they were facing each other, and reached up, planting a kiss on Dallas’s lips.
      Dally’s blue eyes clouded with shock and partial embarrassment, but his hands fell to Johnny’s hips. He pulled him closer to him, and closer into the kiss. They both wanted to pull back, but at the same time, they didn’t.

   The two kissed for what seemed like an eternity, but it only lasted for half a minute. 

   Neither of them said a word walking to the Curtis home. Neither of them said a word to anyone about what happened between them in the lot. Johnny was afraid Dallas would never hang around him again, but a subtle wink accompanied with a smirk from Dallas when he handed Johnny a cigarette proved his thoughts otherwise.