#re: the blooming bloody sun

[starbluud]

— 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙊 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙀𝙉𝘿𝙎 𝙒𝙀 𝙂𝙊 (𝙏𝙊 𝙁𝙊𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙒 𝙇𝙄𝙆𝙀 𝘼 𝘿𝙊𝙂)

—.🌿. PAIRING. hwang hyunjin x f!reader

—.🌿. TW. cursing. violence. blood and injury. gore. mental health issues. severe ptsd. flashback. heavy trauma. murder. panic attack. mentions of vomit. arguing. chan being a dick (sorry). just heaviness.

—.🌿. GENRE. tlou!au. angst. slight fluff.

—.🌿. NOTES. i had an idea to write this fic before to go along with two other of the same au i had, but it was written about a person who turned out to be a complete fuckface. i’ll come back in the future to re-write those with an actual likable person. however, this little mini series thing idk what to call it holds a very special place in my heart so i wanted to continue it, but with different people. i’ve never written for stray kids or any type of k-pop before so please bear with me if anything seems weird. another note about this piece, minho and chan are roughly 10 years older than the rest of the members. i apologize for that, but it works with the way the plot was written. anyway, i hope you enjoy! :)) btw, not proofread lmao.

— THE SUN WAS brighter today. it shone down, warm rays casting a brilliant golden hue to the fluttering field of grass. a gentle breeze passed by. its presence made stray hairs dance slightly, the strands tickling the bridge of y/n's nose. she inhaled, lungs expanding fully before letting the breath go.

she enjoyed the peace. the sound of distant birds. the smell of blooming wildflowers along the forestline. the feeling of the wind against her scarred skin. it was a moment of tranquility she was still getting used to. after spending so long on the hunt, fighting for survival and tracking one down, it felt unfamiliar. foreign almost, like she never spent a moment before basking in the blanket of silence.

her eyes finally opened.

felix always suggested a moment of calamity would help with the anxiety she carried. to stop and soak in her surroundings. it was to show she wasn't in constant danger. there was no need to step on eggshells every minute of every day, especially now since their group decided to settle down.

after chan getting shot, hyunjin taking arrows to the shoulder and lung, and y/n left beaten and bloody, they all needed a moment to relax. at least to relax as best as they could given the trauma they continue to carry.

the others resided in jackson, deciding to stay back home to help chan recover. y/n and hyunjin broke off, finding a farmhouse not too far from the community.

it was a two-story building, abandoned and forgotten since the beginning of the end of the world. the white outside paint was worn and the porch was well-loved, sporting scratch marks in the wood from used rocking chairs. the inside was open and roomy, giving them enough space to decorate it like their own. lots of windows brought in sunlight and the smell of the outside traveled through screen doors. a fence sectioned off the outgrown yard from the woods and a small barn sat outback. it housed a handful of sheep they rounded up when they first moved in and a small garden planted next to it.

it felt like home for the first time in a long fucking time. ever since minho died, walking the world without him felt empty. like she'd never find a place where she belonged again.

the thought of her brother made her swallow. she took a breath and stood, making her way toward the house and stepping through the screen door. the sound of it slamming shut caught hyunjin's attention from the kitchen.

he peeked around the wall to catch a glimpse of his girlfriend setting her flannel over the back of one of the wooden dining room chairs.

"hey," he said with a small smile, tossing the wet cloth he was using back in the bucket of warm water. the dishes could wait a moment. he walked over to her, using a hand to lean on the table.

"hey," her voice was weak. it sounded almost strained when she spoke, like she's been quiet for so long that she forgot how to talk properly. hyunjin wouldn't be surprised if she had. he noticed how having a moment to rest after chaos really brought everything out of her. the sleepless nights, the panic attacks, the anxiety, the way she interacted with everything now: it all poured out now she didn't use survival as an act to push it down.

he reached out, fingers pushing back a few baby hairs from her forehead. "you were out there a while." he said quietly. i'm worried about you.

y/n shrugged. "it's nice out." she said. don't be. i'm fine.

he forced back the words he wanted to say. i don't believe you. instead he nodded with a grin, glancing out a nearby open window. the breeze that came through blew the curtains apart lightly. "that it is." he looked back at her. "i'm thinking a salad with the stuff from the garden would be nice for dinner. cucumbers, broccoli, carrots: nice and fresh for a day like today. what do you think?"

she nodded. "sure." she spoke before slipping by him. he frowned, but bit down on his lip to hide it. he followed after her, watching as she grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the drinking pitcher.

"okay. i'll go put the sheep in the barn for the night and head to the garden." he explained, heading to the shoe rack next to the back door to put on a pair of his boots.

y/n sat down her glass. "i got the sheep. just go to the garden." she offered. hyunjin blinked at her.

"are you sure?" he asked, standing up. concern swam in his gut. she's been off today, more than normal and it's starting to worry him. he didn't want to leave her alone any more than he could today.

"yeah. it's fine." she reassured. "it'll take like ten minutes."

"okay." he said after a moment. "okay, yeah. holler then... if you need me." he covered his nervousness with a smile. he reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a small squeeze. she returned it.

"i will." she said before dropping his palm. "i'll be back."

hyunjin watched as she headed out the back door, dark eyes fixated on her shrinking figure. he pulled his hand up and rubbed his right shoulder, a familiar twinge of pain spreading across the muscle. he could feel the textured skin under his shirt, bringing back the memory of seeing y/n pinned down with fists flying to both sides of her face.

he shook his head, willing the thought away before it came. he sighed before heading towards the garden.

“come on, jesse, please.” y/n begged the last sheep. jesse, although small, had a knack for making things harder than they should. a mischievous ewe of the herd, black as night with snowy spots around her face, she enjoyed making her handlers work for what they want.

thankfully this last plea led her to give in, following the others inside the barn. y/n trailed behind to make sure the sheep didn’t try to run off before leading them into the pin.

they walked in and began munching on their dinner for the night as y/n locked the enclosure. “you,” she pointed towards jesse. “you are a bitch, you know that?”

the sheep bellowed as if agreeing to the statement. the snide remark earned her an eye roll. “jackass.” y/n muttered under her breath.

she turned, ready to head back to the house when a noise caught her attention.

she looked back, the end of the barn swimming in darkness from the setting sun. despite knowing she’s in a safe place, the thought of not being alone pressed down on her chest. “hello?” she called.

no person came out. in the place instead was a lamb, little tail flicking as it tried to hide between old farm tools.

“barney? how’d you get out?” she asked herself, striding over to catch the animal.

he caught wind of her actions and ran behind a bucket and shovel, making the two smash against each other and fall.

bam!

a scene flashed behind her eyes. minho laying still on the floor, looking just how he did when she woke: bloodied, bruised, and dead. his face was swollen and crimson leaked from his vicious wounds.

the sight caused her heart to clench and her breathing to catch.

“please…” she begged, trying to focus on the sheep in front of her. he sped by, too fast for y/n to catch and headed towards the barn doors.

she followed behind, breathing rugged and hands shaking. “p-please, barney.”

the wind outside picked up slightly. what was once a gentle breeze turned violent, catching the door before slamming.

she couldn’t see. she couldn’t feel. she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her gasping breaths. hyperventilating overtook her, unable to properly calm herself.

yet as soon as the light left, it came back through a flicker of a flashlight.

she was back here again, swaddled in a thick jacket and gloves. snow melted in her hair that sent shivers down her spine. she stood at the top of a familiar set of stairs with a white door at the bottom.

minho’s screams were on the other side, calling out to her in pain and agony. the realization that her brother was in there sent her flying. she sped down the stairs, nearly tripping and calling his name.

“minho! minho!” she screamed, trying the doorknob. it was locked.

his voice grew louder and the sound of metal hitting skin came through the wood. “no, no!” y/n shouted, trying to slam her shoulder into the door.

smacking, screaming, kicking, punching, slamming. nothing worked. it never worked.

the sound of her name being cried from his lips made her head spin in desperation. over and over and over again until she felt herself being pulled.

being yanked back to reality was never easy. where she was always felt so real. so fucking real every time she’s back at that door, but the feeling of hands on her face and shoulder and the voice of hyunjin grounded her.

“y/n! y/n!” he shook her. “breathe, love. in and out.” he pleaded, feeling his heart twist at the sight of her frantic eyes. “he’s not here, none of them are.”

y/n took a breath, feeling her lungs skip from the straining she put herself under. it was shaky in nature as she followed along with the exercises hyunjin demonstrated.

she gulped and leaned her head back against the wall. she was sat on the dirt ground, straws of hay poking her skin through the material of her jeans.

in through her nose and out through her mouth.

“i’m sorry,” she rasps, blinking back the tears that burned her eyes. “i’m sorry.”

he shook his head and settling down next to her. “no need.” he spoke softly, brushing back her hair like he did before. he was gentle with his touch, fingertips like feathers across her sweaty skin. “there’s no need to be sorry, love.”

she nodded and screwed her hues shut for a moment. his hand fell to her knee.

“you haven’t had an episode like that in a while.” he muttered, thumb grazing over her pants leg.

“yeah,” she croaked, sniffling.

“is it the same one?” he questioned, eyes tracing over y/n’s features. swollen and red hues, the irritated skin around her nose, and the puffiness of her lips from her constant biting. she looked so worn down. that hurt more than any wound could.

“it always is.” she replied.

they sat in silence for a moment longer.

“come on. let’s get you cleaned up and fed. we can go to bed early tonight.” he helped y/n to her feet, placing a small kiss to her temple.

she didn’t respond, but let hyunjin lead her back to the house after making sure the sheep, now including barney, were good until morning.

her footsteps were sluggish and heavy. to hyunjin, it felt almost like carrying a drunk person, having to help haul their body weight back home. he didn’t mind it though. he was too preoccupied with his running thoughts.

his mind trailed back to that day. gunshots rang throughout the old theater they were held up in. he hurried from his place upstairs, wincing slightly with every step from his sprained ankle, but managed to follow the sound.

the image of chan laying still when he walked through the doors sent a shiver down his spine. his friend, his older brother practically, on the ground in a pool of his own blood, gunshot running through the back of his head and knee.

he gagged. seeing someone he was so close too lay limply and lifeless, it made him sick. his hands shook as he covered his mouth, trying to fight back the bile rising in his throat. yet, he didn’t have time to dwell on either his friend nor the vomit threatening to spill once the sound of another gunshot echoed through the auditorium.

the first thought that came to mind was y/n. she wasn’t anywhere near and deep down he knew she was in the midst of the havoc.

he didn’t waste time taking the stairs, but instead hauled himself up on the stage to run through the curtains. then he saw them.

abby anderson. she was the very person that set y/n off. the very cause of minho’s death. he remembered her. she looked exactly the way y/n described. built, muscular frame, long blonde hair tied in a braid, and a look that could kill.

god, the damage she caused. he’ll never forget the way his heart sank seeing y/n’s unconsciousness figure laying next to minho’s corpse. fear struck his bones, blending with the chill of the snow stuck to his skin. dried blood coated her nose and mouth, seeping between her lips and dying her teeth red and left eye starting to swell with purpling skin.

she was still alive. the shallow breathing of her chest told him so and he’d never felt so thankful yet so selfish.

the hope in his heart burned, happy to note his girlfriend was still here, but so disgusted with himself praying she wasn’t the one dead. that’s something he’d never grow to forgive himself and every time the memory of his friend’s body flashes by, the more guilt he continues to grow.

and this moment now was an entire recreation of that day.

abby was on top of y/n. her frame much bigger and stronger than the girl she had pinned. brutal fists were coming from all angles, paining y/n’s skin crimson.

he could see it everywhere. it seeped from her nose and mouth and leaked into her eyes. she coughed and gagged, trying her best to fight back with a broken arm.

the sight of it alone, the ptsd of the day he found her knocked out, it all came flooding back. so he charged. he sprinted and slammed against abby, pushing her off of y/n’s gasping form.

she wiggled in his grasp trying to take the upper hand. he stole it, swinging back with knuckles to meet her face. punch, punch, punch, punch. over and over with a rage he never knew burned in him.

he would kill her. he wanted to kill her and he was going to.

until a sharp pain struck his left shoulder. a deep ache he’s never felt before. he paused, both abby and himself staring at his wound in astonishment.

an arrow was driven through him, a broad head tip peering through his top, sporting blood and meat. red slowly started to spread across his white shirt, expanding like the very fungus trying to kill them.

then another hit and this time was much more painful. it the right side of his upper back, piercing right between his ribs and driven into his lung. the instant taste of metal flooded his tastebuds before a violent cough racked his system, blood spilling from his lips.

he doesn’t remember much after that. other than getting pushed off with knuckles to the face, everything went black. he didn’t wake up until weeks later with y/n by his side and her arm in a split.

he shook his head, willing such a painful memory away and fell back to the present.

he spared a glance over to y/n whose face was pointed down and hands shaking like a leaf in the wind.

yeah, an early night sounds good.

the sunset of the next day was just as bright, painting the chipped white paint of the house a warm orange.

y/n frowned at the sight of a familiar horse tied to their porch. she headed forward, the rabbits for tonight’s dinner bonded with rope was tight in her hand.

she was reluctant to step inside. a well known voice spoke with a gentle ease to hyunjin. she frowned.

a small step through the screen door caught the duo’s attention. hyunjin sent her a smile from the dining table, chan sitting right across from him.

he sent her a grin, too. it was hard to read, a mess of emotions passing through making it difficult to discern. his right eye was white, baring a scar circling the socket of his skull. the right corner of his mouth couldn’t move to far.

“hey, i was wondering where you were.” chan chuckled, willing himself to stand. y/n could see how shaky his stance was, causing hyunjin to leap over and help him regain balance.

“none of that. i’m capable of doing things myself now.” chan shooed hyunjin away, placing a hand on the male’s shoulder in a silent thanks.

he limped around the table, his left knee still weak after all this time but managed to make it to where y/n stood and pulled her into a hug. he squeezed her lovingly, happy to see his adoptive niece after so long. y/n wasn’t as expressive with her touch, opting to just rest her hands around his waist loosely until he backed away. she hoped he didn’t notice that.

he did, but chose not to speak of it.

he looked around, peering at the decor the couple managed to find to decorate their living room. “rather nice place you two have set up here. feels very… homey.” he chortled with a nod.

“well, it is home now.” she responded back, seeing hyunjin step over to take the food for the night from her palm, giving her hand a small squeeze while doing so.

y/n cleared her throat. “so, how’s everyone? good, i hope?”

chan nodded, turning to her. “yeah. felix is studying to help with the medical team. han, changbin, and seungmin are on patrols more often than not, and i.n. is, well, just i.n.” a light laugh left his mouth. “nah, he’s helping the town’s children with their learning.”

“that’s great. i’m happy for ‘em.” y/n gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“i’ll let them know you said that.” then, he sucked in a breath. “but, um…” he trailed off, trying to find his words. “but i’ve came by to talk about something.”

y/n cocked her head slightly. “what is it?” she questioned.

“here.” he sat back down on a wooden dining chair. he patted the table, motioning to the seat next to him. “come sit.”

she followed, seeing hyunjin come back from the kitchen out of the corner of her eye.

she watched as chan pulled out a folded paper and opened it, revealing a map of the east coast. “i’ve been putting out feelers for a while and a guy heard my story.” he smoothed out the sheet on the table. “he told me about a woman he traded with a while back when he was going through california. said she was built like an ox, traveling with a kid with scars across his face.”

y/n swallowed thickly, nails digging and scraping into the wood of her seat. she felt her chest grow heavy.

“he said they were living along the coast on a sailboat. here,” he pointed towards a marked spot on the map before peering up, meeting y/n’s eyes. she felt her stomach twist with his next words.

“that’s gotta be her.”

a silence fell over them for a moment, y/n unable to form the right words.

it’s as if hyunjin could feel that unease radiate from her and took a step, leaning forward and resting his hands on y/n’s shoulders. she could feel the slight trace of his thumb run comfortingly across the skin of her collarbone.

“we’re done with that, so…” he chimed in.

chan peered at y/n, brows furrowed. y/n let out a shaky breath. “i’m sorry,” she looked down.

she could see the way his face twisted, an expression of almost betrayal falling over his features. “well,” he cleared his throat. “i can’t go.”

y/n gave him a small nod. “i know.” her voice was growing weaker.

a pause followed after that. y/n could feel her skin crawl with the way chan’s eyes scanned her. then, a scoff.

“all right.” he sneered, grabbing the bag he traveled with and stood. “reckon it’s easy to forget about her while you’re sitting so comfy and cozy all the way out here–“

“hey,” hyunjin cut in, taking a step forward.

chan ignored him, still fixed on y/n and her saddened hues. “i’ll make her pay. that’s what you said.” he sneered while putting on his backpack.

“chan,” hyunjin tried again, stepping in his line of sight. y/n looked away.

chan rolled his eyes and snarled. “what a fucking joke.” he hissed and limped through the front door.

hyunjin turned to her, standing form towering over her. he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “stay here a minute, yeah?” he muttered. she nodded, feeling one more peck be placed to the crown of her head.

she heard him head out, footsteps heavy with anger.

“the fuck was that?” she could hear hyunjin’s voice flow through the open window.

“nothin’.” she heard chan respond back.

a groan of irritation came next. “god dammit, chan. you know what the fuck we’ve been through—“

“save it.” chan snapped. “she made me a promise.”

“i don’t fucking care!” hyunjin barked back, making y/n bite her lip until metal seeped to her tongue.

“and that’s your fucking problem, hyunjin. i know you don’t give two shits.”

“you listen here,” her boyfriend’s voice was sharp. “don’t you ever, i mean ever, come into my fucking house with that bullshit ever again. do you hear me?”

y/n was no longer paying attention to their conversation, too preoccupied with the thoughts running in her brain.

abby was so close. so fucking close. and y/n, she could end it once and for all. for her. for hyunjin. for chan. for all her friends. for minho.

she shook her head, forcing them away. it’s done. she’s done.

she grabbed the map and headed upstairs.

sleep didn’t come easy that night. hyunjin laid beside her, dark hair falling over his pillow with small snores leaving his lips.

y/n was sat up, feet dangling over the edge of the bed. goosebumps riddled her skin. the night air flown in through the open windows, making her shiver in her sleep shirt and a pair of hyunjin’s boxers.

she sniffled and sighed, swallowing back the lump in her throat before standing. she walked over towards the window and closed it quietly.

she peered over her shoulder at the man she loved asleep so soundly and made her stomach flip with both adoration and heartbreak. he’s been with her through it all. from minho’s murder, to the hunt for abby, to violence she’s committed, even to his scratch with death. and he’s still here, choosing to be by her side through anything and everything.

she dug her nails into the skin of her crossed arms. chan’s voice echoed through her mind.

i’ll make her pay. that’s what you said.

she let out a broken breath and buried her face in her hands, rubbing harshly at the skin of her forehead. she dragged them down her face.

another shiver racked her body. there’s more windows open downstairs.

with one last glance at the sleeping hyunjin, she took gentle steps into the hall and down to the lower floor. she walked around. the entire house was dark except for the moonlight shining through the curtains, bright enough for y/n to see to move around.

a howl of wind came from nearby. y/n strolled over, hands and feet chilly as she entered hyunjin’s little art room. the walls were pinned with his works. charcoal drawings of herself, paintings of their friends, sketches of jackson’s outline. he was talented.

y/n closed the window and took a few steps back, her hip knocking into a stool. a thud hit the floor, causing y/n to jump at the sound. her guitar case laid there and stared up at her.

she swallowed and bent down, opening it to reveal minho’s old guitar. it was loved, the wood scratched from old picks and old snapped string ends tied to the tuning pegs that he was too lazy to remove.

she grabbed it, thumb running across the neck. she sat on the stool and placed it in her lap, fingers falling back home to where they always were. a few soft strums followed. it was a familiar tune, one she grew so used to playing.

if i ever were to lose you, i’d surely loose myself.

she paused. minho’s voice sang in her head. future days by pearl jam. it was one of his favorites when he was young, he said. his mother used to play it for him when he was a boy and unable to sleep.

“and i wanted to teach you, you know,” he shrugged, sitting on the sofa in y/n’s little makeshift house she claimed as her own. “just in case you need it.”

she chuckled, twirling side to side in her swivel chair. “and why would i need that?” she asked. “i don’t even know how to play.”

he rolled his eyes in a playful manner. “that’s why i said i’ll teach you. it’s almost like you don’t listen.” he reached out, fingers tangling in her hair and giving it a good ruffle.

she pushed him away. “thanks for that. now i look like i’ve been attacked by a bear or something.” she sassed, trying to smooth out her locks.

“it’s not too bad. though, i don’t think hyunjin would mind no matter how your hair looked.” he teased, causing her cheeks to burn.

“shut the hell up.” she brought her hands to her face, trying to conceal her redness.

“yeah, yeah.” he laughed. “but i’ll teach you. if you can’t sleep, just play it. it’ll help. besides, it’s a good song.”

she nodded. “it is. maybe once i learn, i’ll play better than you.”

he scoffed. “doubt it.”

the memory played on repeat. she missed him and his dumb teasing. the only family she ever had was him, practically becoming her brother figure over the course of their journey across the country.

and his death: unjustified and left behind. it left a bitter taste in her mouth, especially since she’s given up on it. on him.

she couldn’t do that to him, not after all he’s done for her. she wouldn’t.

she needed to find abby.

hyunjin was cold when he woke up. the left side of the bed was bare, leaving him alone in the dimly lit room. the sun hasn’t risen yet and the bright moon left a ghastly white glow on the walls.

y/n was missing and that worried him. he knew her insomnia was growing worse by the day. she’d stay up for hours on end, tossing and turning with no dreams to be found. he wondered where she was now.

he got up, bare feet hitting the hardwood floor that sent a shiver down his spine. he headed out and down the stairs, hearing the sounds of shuffling come from the kitchen.

he rounded the corner and felt his heart sink. y/n’s back faced him. she was crouched, frame swallowed in minho’s old jacket he wore all the time, and she was stuffing things into a bag. she was leaving.

“hey,” his voice came out soft. it’s still startled her, making her flinch and peer over her shoulder. she stood.

“hey.” she replied, clammy hands rubbing against the material of her jeans.

“you okay?” he asked. it was dumb. of course she wasn’t.

she nodded nonetheless, lying straight to his face. “fine.” she croaked, stepping over to hide the backpack from his sight. it was useless to do so. he already knew what her plan was.

“come. let’s go back to bed. let’s talk in the morning.” he motioned towards the stairs and turned, hoping to not give her time to argue. he wasn’t quick enough.

“i need to finish this.” her words were broken, much like the way his heart was.

he clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut. he turned, taking long strides over to her. he shook his head.

“you don’t owe chan anything. you know that, right?” his hand reached out, brushing back her hair. she pulled away, looking up at him with exhausted hues.

“i don’t sleep. i…” her voice broke slightly. “i don’t eat. i’m not like you.”

hyunjin’s brows furrowed, face twisting in a blur of offense. he took a step back. “like me?” he scoffed. “what? you– you think this is easy for me?”

y/n’s frown stretched deeper.

he scowled. “minho was my best friend, y/n. for years, he was there for me. with– with advice, or solutions for my problems, even to just fuck around with. he watched me grow up and you think it’s easy for me to act like his death didn’t effect me?”

y/n shook her head. “that’s not–“

hyunjin cut her off. “i do this for you, y/n. everything i do is for you.” sadness washed over his anger. “i love you. please, just stay.” he grasped her face gently with his palms, thumbs running along the high points of her cheek bones.

“i can’t.” she whispered.

“so, am i just supposed to sit and wait for you? for me to drive myself insane thinking your dead or ripped apart?” he exasperated. y/n shook her head in his hands.

“i don’t plan on dying.” her voice was stable for the first time in a while.

“well, neither did minho.” the words slipped out faster than he could catch. his blood froze in his veins at the look of pain making home on y/n’s features.

she didn’t respond, but instead ripped away from his touch to grab her bag, taking steps towards the back door. he panicked, jumping forward to cup her face once again. “no, don’t. please.”

her breathing was ragged. what he said was unfair on every level and he knew that. but, anything to keep from separating, he’s willing to do. “please. i-i can’t…” he cracked. “i can’t lose you, too.” his eyes burned with tears, gaze locked with hers.

“i have to kill her, hyunjin. she’s still alive and minho’s not. i can’t live with myself as long as she’s still breathing.” she whispered.

he leaned forward, forehead pressed together, and let out a shaky breath. “let me come with you.”

“no.” her response was instant. “no, you can’t come.” she shook her head, attempting to pull away from him. his gentle hands stayed.

“why?” he begged. “tell me, why can’t i come?” he scanned her face. her emotions bled openly. her fear and agony of watching someone she cared for to be hurt again was on full display.

“you’ll get hurt. i-i can’t have you dying on me. last time was cutting it way too close.” she explained. “and that was because of me. you came because of me and that earned you a collapsed lung and a run in with death. everything that’s happened to you was because of me.”

she sniffled and hyunjin shook his head, wiping a rouge tear from her cheek. “no, god no.” he swallowed. “you think this was your fault? are you fucking serious?”

she nodded. “of course it is. if i hadn’t–“

“if i hadn’t, you would’ve been dead.” he cut in. “if i hadn’t been there, abby would’ve beaten you to death and i would be sitting in jackson wondering where you were. if i hadn’t, you would’ve been taken and killed by the wlfs. if i hadn’t, i would’ve lost you for good.”

another tear slipped down her cheek. he wiped it away, not acknowledging his own. “none of this is your fault. none. it has never been your fault. what abby did, you had nothing to do with and i know that in your mind, you believe you’re the root cause of everything, but believe me when i say you’re not.” he pushed her hair back, much like he did when she had her panic attack in the barn.

“and i know this is what you feel is needed. i know this feels like the only thing you can do avenge minho’s death and i know your mind is made up. i wont stop you, but god forbid i let you do this shit on your own. you’re much too precious to me to do that.” he breathed.

“i’d go to the ends of anything and everything for you. i’d follow you into any place you want. fuck, i’d walk blissfully into hell if that’s where you’re headed.” he licked his lips, salt on his tongue. “please, love, please let me go with you.”

y/n swallowed and sniffled, feeling the weight of his words crush her. she could see it in his eyes. please let me come with you. i’m begging, my love, please.

a sigh and then she nodded. “okay.” she croaked. “okay. you can come.”

a sense of relief filled hyunjin’s chest. he leaned down and captured y/n’s lips with his. desperation fled from him to her, spilling between them in a flurry of emotions. the very need to be by her side at all times consumed him, to survive and die right next to her. and he would without as much as a second thought.

he breathed her in, hoping to consume and bury all her worries and fears, and sprout them into flowers of hope and courage. she was his everything.

and if it’s to the ends they go, he’ll follow her like a dog.

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

Genosha Pride

old RP snippet from an event of Pride in Genosha

𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 that bloom. ***They wilt.***

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭. Nothing is supposed to grow from the **bloodied feet** that *cross the green grass turned crimson*. **They take root**. *They still grow*. `The garden grows as it fights.` That is what its own rebirth calls forth. The garden learns to grow from the drowning blood. **The garden does not grow red.** The sacrifice still lets it grow from the muddied ground to the mid-day skies 𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤 of the 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗯𝗼𝘄.

`𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 that bloom beyond death - despite it - do not wilt.`

The greenery along the sides of the skyscrapers let in sunlight through the gaps. On this day, 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐴 awakened to the light turning past their windows, like the shine of the sun reflects back a 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗯𝗼𝘄 from a mirror. Upon a look out their window, *dots have scattered across 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐴* that capture the sun’s bright shine and returns it in all colours created by nature. The dots have a **metallic shine**, soft petals that are almost transparent that open in the face of the sun to bring forth the form of a rose. 

𝕄𝔸𝔾ℕ𝔼𝕋𝕆 has **forged** from the depths of 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐴, from the pressure of tectonic plates moving along one another, an own metal of 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗯𝗼𝘄 colours. The **heavy metal** is *non-toxic, a naturally diamagnetic element with the lowest values of thermal conductivity among metals*. Naturally appearing ***BISMUTH*** has *very low radioactivity* - this specially forged one was missing the familiar touches of particles falling apart to spread the waves to the surroundings. The 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑚 could have held the waves at his fingertips. But the *snap of a finger* was all it took to re-arrange the ions, the electrons and protons to turn the **metal stable and safe**.

The world saw cameras and images blinded by 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗯𝗼𝘄 reflections. They see the gardens of 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐴 bloom with the force that the 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑚 controls. The world becomes a witness.

The **new island nation** does not just *illuminate the greenery*. Waterfalls down to the cliffs and sides of buildings turn 

`red`

`orange`

`yellow`

`green`

`blue`

`purple`

Above the skies, ***flags of 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐴*** are paired with the colours that break apart in the rain when the sunshine hits the water. Cheerful voices of mutants and their calls fill the streets. *Music and powers fly among the blue sky*. *All rubble has left* the surface of 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐴, made up the new foundation. Now, it is the ground on which **life and love** is celebrated.

*𝕄𝔸𝔾ℕ𝔼𝕋𝕆 has been different his whole life.* In all roles he has played, it was the 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲 from which he himself learned to persevere against them only with the same sentiment. 𝑇𝑊: 𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑡 ||There used to be days where the ones of ‘𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻’ 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 were marked with pink.|| 𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙠 understood the pain. 

Understood the ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ sʏᴍʙᴏʟs ʜᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ʜɪs sᴋɪɴ. They are all hunted.

The 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑚 turned to the woman next to him, a human in the ranks of the pride. In Genosha, pride was different than just to humans.

**"**𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. They lived in ***fear***, **drowned in it**. Now, look at them. They hold so much hope and happiness - it is beyond capture. The world has tried to drag them through the maw of a wild beast. 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑂𝑆𝐻𝐴 is shining for the world. I see, however, **our persevering does not end with our temporary survival**.**"**

The *mutant master* had found himself returning to old patterns. What 𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 he thought he could cast away in a white-lie paradise returns easily to the bones that remember each act of wrath even in dreams. 𝗔 𝘄𝗮𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿, waiting for the first acts that kill the Earth. True horror does not wait long as mutants **celebrate themselves loud and proud in the face of their enemies**. And 𝕄𝔸𝔾ℕ𝔼𝕋𝕆 held the eyes of those enemies wide open. They can watch the *peaceful persevering of pride* in all the colours of the 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗯𝗼𝘄 that sends the satellites blind.

[sa-suga]

if i wrote a bokuaka spinoff based on a myth i created for tbbs would anyone read it

[sapph--ire]

Signals Lost - I

Photo Edits/Graphics/Page Breaks by me. Gifs as credited.

Signals Lost: Sy x Reader

Synopsis: Set at the start of the Iraq war, and the years that follow. Y/N (Reader) and Captain Syverson meet on base as he trains for a new role in the military. Warnings: 18+ Angst/Romance/Smut: (Update as I go) Slowburn, misogyny, swearing, drinking, smoking. A/N: I've been sitting on this one for a while, um'ing and ahh'ing over whether I should publish. My first series so please be kind, like, reblog etc. Feedback is always appreciated! I am but a wee Sy fan with big ideas for his character.

Do not steal, do not re-post to external sites or claim as own.

Disclaimer: Not Beta’d, all mistakes are my own. Details of military life from personal experience not fact. I do not own any rights to Captain Syverson/Sandcastle. Feedback and commentary are appreciated, enjoy BBZ. Saff x 🥸✌️

MINORS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!

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Signals Lost

Words: 6.5k Reading Time: 26 Minutes

I - September 9th, 2002:

The droning of your strained car engine blends with the booming pop beat coming through the old blown-out speakers. Indicating right onto the quiet motorway, you wind the window down to alleviate the late summer heat. Allowing your hair to whip around your face you can feel the cool lick as the wind finds the sweat at your hairline. Switching into 4th and pulling into the stream of traffic you turn your indicator back up and settle in for the next 20 odd miles of countryside. The sun sags heavily, looming over the wide horizon blanketing the expanse of flat fields. In the distance, a huddled group of hangers and buildings reveal your destination, a town rising in a wispy haze of heat blooms.

Living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere has its benefits, a sense of happy isolation from the world - but desperately boring at times. You think of your friends you left school with, happily married with children, the continual drip of dull, domestic life. But you are happy, at least this summer had been a happy one. Since graduating from Uni you’d made an effort to be more sociable, taking this job was one check off that list, meeting new faces getting to know the locals. It wasn’t a well-paid job, but a family friend put you up to it on the assurance the Americans tipped well. Which they did of course, but on the rare occasion they didn’t, they more than made up for it with a story or two.

Now 6 weeks in you felt comfortable, and conversation was something you’d always excelled at - you’d be lying if you didn’t admit the best part of the job was being able to mingle with some of the best looking men you’d ever laid eyes on, but that was just a perk. They were different to the men here at home, alien. You’d never encountered so many tall, broad men, fatigues filled with muscles - and that’s ignoring just how respectful they were. Yes Ma’am this, No Sir that.

Overtaking a tractor heavily laden with beet, a wobble from under your accelerator reminds you to book the wheel alignment on your piece of shit car, you sigh as you make a mental note to call the garage as soon as you get to the bar, more expense to worry about. The sun still setting on the skyline you reach the first sign for the base, your reminder to turn off. Making the turn into the left lane you see litter left behind from a recent anti-war protest, fluorescent signs plastered with the CND symbol, angry slogans zip-tied to the chain-link fence, and one very offensive cartoon of Bush and Blair in some sort of 69 position. If only you could stop and steal that one, it was bloody hilarious, thinking about how you might pick it up on your way back later to avoid explaining it to the entry guards on your way in. Pulling up to the gates you fish your ID from your bag, wind down the rest of your window, and make sure to slow enough to appease the 4 huge men gripping tactical firearms. Just to quell your anxiety you pull forward cautiously until the one at the front holds his hand out gesturing a stop.

“Good Evening Ma’am” He twangs with a short smile “Identification?”

“Sure, I’m headed to The Stoke, I’m a barmaid there,” You say trying not to look at the huge rifle clipped to his jacket. “uhh Civvy” you add.

“Ok, you know where you’re headed Miss?” he hands back your ID with what seems like a wink.

“Yes thanks” you nod awkwardly, ignoring the subtle twinkle from his eye.

“Lemme just get your slip” he notes pointing to the hut, “what time are you finished?”

“Midnight, but can you make it one please?” he looks at you expectantly “oh sorry…I mean I’m locking up tonight so it will probably take a bit longer, you can check in with my manager if you need to, um Brian West”

“No it’s fine Ma’am just make sure you're off the base by one, or I’ll be in the shit” he smirks. After a short moment in the hut he comes back with a parking slip on a piece of receipt paper:

The barrier lifts and you wave your thanks as you make your way over the speed bumps. A handful of flag poles line the road, the ropes clinking against the metal posts in the late-afternoon breeze. Little roads meander from the hub of the base twisting to meet behind the administration building towards your right. Here the streets are named after states, to your right Iowa leads across to the rear of the admin block, and straight on California to the airfield. Making sure to stick to the 10mph speed limit you drive past clusters of airmen huddled at junctions, some guarding entrances to unmarked doors, others checking the array of parked cars with mirrors on sticks. The base has been on high alert ever since what happened last year, but even more now the anniversary was approaching.

The bar is found at the recreation plaza a little further back from the building you just passed, but still nowhere near the bulk of the small town here. In the distance, you can see the heavily guarded interior gates that block the operational base from the residential side. The airfield and hangers slowly fade into the dusk, and you can make out a dozen or so figures lumbering seats and benches to a roped-off area on the tarmac. To the east of that, there’s a huge middle school for the kids here on base, a complex of married quarters and row upon row of small houses lining what looks like the streets of a model village; as if someone tried to replicate an American suburb with very little space. Not nearly enough to house the 1500 strong population of families here on PCS. Bathed in the yellow floodlights you note the group of men jogging down the path toward the entry gates, and park your car around the back of the bar. You place the parking slip on your dashboard, grab your bag and slide out of your car. It’s not really a ‘plaza’, just a group of buildings huddled around a small fountain lined with more flags and an outdoor seating area. Directly opposite a bustling pizza shop serves a growing line of Friday night customers. Next door is a now-closed donut shop, that one gets real busy in the morning, and past that the gym specifically for relatives on the base. Checking your watch you note the time 17:19 and walk through the open double doors into the bar.

A cloud of cigarette smoke lingers above the mass of bodies at the entrance, practically squeezing through the huddle of men, you see all the tables are filled. Mostly groups of men drinking together after work, but some are families and couples. In the far corner past the pool table, you see what appears to be an unofficial creche of misplaced children playing cheerfully, several running and sliding on their knees to the noisy music. Hugging through the crowd you raise your hand and smile at Mary behind the bar, letting her know you’ve arrived. She barely notices you as she’s taking cash off a woman with one hand and pouring red wine with the other. Setting your things on the hook behind the kitchen entrance, you sign in to the clipboard on the back of the door and check your reflection in the mirror. A crumpled paper sign saying Smile hangs aside it from a small strip of not-so sticky tape. Before you’ve even got time to tie your apron around your waist Mary comes wobbling back to greet you, “Y/N so glad you’re here, I would ask how you are but I’m rushed off my feet, do you mind starting a bit earlier?”

“I’ll be right there Mar” quickly finger-combing your wind whipped hair, you check your mascara and apply a quick coat of lip gloss. Whilst practicing your best smile you unashamedly adjust your top to expose more of your chest than normal, extra tips you think. You scoot around the barrels of oil and kegs of beer in the hallway, and squeeze past Brian who is making his way back to the Kitchen holding an empty tray from the hotplate, “Brian!” you give him a friendly smile, “Busy tonight!” you quip. He grumbles under his breath and in his typical quick wit shouts back “for my sins!”, limping off to refill the fries.

The back of the bar is small, only room for two to pass, but pretty much covers the length of the room, “you take that end Y/N” Mary shouts, you can barely hear her over the band that’s playing on the small stage at the right of you, smiling at the sea of hands waiting for service, you move closer to Mary, “I said you take that end” she repeats into your ear, a waft of cheap perfume and cigarette ash lingering around her head. “I need to get another crate of bottles, you man the fort”, you nod in understanding.

“Can I do that for you, what about your back?” almost yelling into her face, it’s so bloody loud. Yet another night the band ‘forgets’ to soundcheck.

“Don’t mind me dear just get these people away from my bar” she shouts and turns before lifting her hand “don’t forget to take a card if you’re doing tabs, for the love of god Y/N” Mary smiles at you and slaps you on the back as she teeters off to the storeroom on her heels. Mary wasn’t elderly, but she was small and hunched. Clearly once a very beautiful woman, she was prideful in her appearance - always neat. She never wore flat shoes regardless of her back pain, always wore dresses, and styled her perm with what smelled like a full can of Elnette. Given her pack a day habit, it was a total surprise she didn’t self-combust. A never-ending bundle of energy despite her aging years, she and Brian had managed the bar here for well over 30 years, even before the Yanks descended. Turning back to the baying crowd at the bar you take a deep breath and start on orders, a pitcher of draught beer and 2 glasses, whiskey chasers, red wine, more beer, 3 bottles of Pepsi for the kids. Being a barmaid wasn’t hard but it was difficult getting around the expectations of the customers. We didn’t have those fancy cherries or all the brands of liquor they wanted, we didn’t even have an ice machine - but we did our best with a smile, no matter how forced.

About an hour after arriving, the crowd starts to quieten as the early birds make their way home before the evening drinkers pile in. The families and children, some carried sleeping by their parents, leave the bar; satisfied and ready for bed before the weekend ahead. You take advantage of the change in pace and move to the far end of the counter to count the cash and deposit it in the till, punching in the numbers to ensure it all totals at the end of the night. Don’t want a repeat of last week. A major fuck up on your part had the till declaring to be hundreds over what you actually had counted out back. An awkward conversation later everything was fixed, but you just didn’t want to go through that again.

“I’m back dearie” Mary appears from the back door clutching napkins in her neatly manicured hand, “want to take a break? Get some air?” she says while fiddling with the napkins and making little piles of paper umbrellas for the pots. The band has stopped for a quick break, their instruments resting on the stage - only the backup CD playing now, a slow country ballad. Looking across the dance floor you note the dirty tables full of glasses and a few couples slow dancing in the disco lights.

“I thought you’d never ask! Do you mind if I make a call from the phone?” you say wiping the sweat from your top lip.

Uninterested she waves her hand “yes dear that’s fine” she’s now measuring out bowls of bar nuts.

“Thanks Mar, I’ll just grab these dirties from the floor first”. Moving around the room you bring them up to the bar, noting the stack of glasses and pitchers left on the pool table. Tutting to yourself, you have no idea why they won’t get someone else to help. It’s going to be even more manic later. Remembering to make your call to the garage you have a sly smoke break out the back door and make your way to the toilets. It’s not even 7 pm and you’ve been so busy you didn’t even have time to piss. Reaching for the paper you feel an empty roll, typical! - thankfully you have a napkin in your apron, you wash your hands, and get started on checking the customer loos for the same problem.

It’s not long before the bar is filled again with heated bodies bustling towards the counter, cash in hand eager for service. Thankfully Brian has closed up the kitchen and is diligently working the floor, grabbing empties from tables and replacing the back of the bar with boiling glasses from the dishwasher. A group of airmen on your right side propping up the bar, are keenly keeping you busy in bottles of beer and tequila chasers. The band is back now, but instead of the previous crowd-pleasing country music, they’ve switched to some rock and roll. Mostly oldies but a few you recognise and love. A pretty decent cover of ZZ Tops – Gimme All Your Lovin blasts over the noisy PA system. Dancing along to the music you swiftly take orders and cash in return for booze including the odd kiss on the cheek. You’re raking in the tips tonight. In your head, you’re not just the barmaid, you feel as if you were Violet from Coyote Ugly, free pouring whiskey into the mouths of rabid men, spraying them with water when things get too wild. Taking a swig from your bottle of beer you lean across the bar to greet another nameless regular with a friendly face.

“Two beers babe” he shakes a 10 in your face, teasingly pulling away when you go to take it. Following his lead, you put the 10 in your cleavage, cheekily pocketing the change and hand him the bottles.

“Service with a smile” you grin. Have a nice day arsehole.

In the corner of your eye, you see Mary dancing with a young serviceman who’s found his way behind the bar, doing her best Tina Turner impression strutting in her wobbly heels. Brian simply raises his eyebrows to subtly acknowledge what is clearly a regular occurrence and carries on stacking cups. Whilst Tina’s getting her rocks off you try your best to move up and down the bar, pouring pitchers and pulling beer caps at the same time. It’s getting late, past 10 at least, and your back heaves, impatient with the mob.

The thumping bass line from the speakers hits your chest relentlessly as you hurry from punter to punter your shoes sticking to the mess of soda and spirits spattered on the linoleum. Taking short breaks you pull your cold bottle of beer to your cheeks to ease the burn of the humid room on your skin. Before you realise it the optics on the wall need changing and you shout to Brian to grab more whiskey and another bucket of ice.

Predictably the serviceman who was dancing with Mary is now behind you playfully rocking his hips to the music against your back as you pass drinks across the counter. Refusing to rise to it, you try to push him away with an awkward laugh at the men in front of you. He drunkenly stumbles back against the wall of optics and comes back closer forcing you up against the bar, humping you insistently in time to the music, laughing as if it’s all some kind of big joke. Drinks spill over you as he pushes you further into the countertop. You look at the faces in front of you, some of them women cheering him on in howls, the others laughing at the display in front of them. A flush rises to your cheeks, embarrassed by the attention. You’re used to being teased by these types of guys, but right now you feel entirely humiliated, fucking pig. Pushing again you move your right elbow back as hard as it can to meet the side of his ribs.

“Get the fuck off me” you yell. “Arsehole!”. A chorus of boos erupt from the baying audience.

“You’re no fuckin’ fun” he spits in your face, before swiftly jumping back over the bar into the commiserating thumps of his friends, pulling off a strip of stars and stripes bunting with his boot as he goes. As hard as you try to shake it off a wave of guilt enters your mind, you worry you were too harsh, and take a deep breath. Moving the hair from your face you use a bar mat to mop up the spillage as best you can, chuck it in the corner of the floor, and turn to serve the airmen waiting on the right-hand side of the bar; holding back a burn of tears you summon your best fake smile.

“You ok?” The taller of them leans in and hollers to your ear, you step back and meet his heavy-lidded eyes, he’s probably just doing the gentlemanly thing. “Fucking trench monkey” he jibes whilst the 4 others beside him roar in agreement. “4 more shots!” he waves a note.

“I’ll be fine, typical Friday night” shrugging it off, you take his money and lay out the glasses pouring warm tequila to the brim. On decanting a 5th for yourself you snicker at the handsome face eagerly watching you, “emotional compensation” you add with a wink.

“Hell yeah baby!” he howls following your lead and in passing back the drinks to his buddies they chant and down them in unison.

“Free Bird! Free Bird!” an anonymous voice booms from the crowd toward the exhausted band. A smattering of claps and cheers punctuates the request as agreement. The band reluctantly continues for one last song as the ring of the bell signals it’s time to move on.

“Jesus!” you slump your tired arms against the counter, your hazy head falling on your hands.

“Another packed night” Mary pats you on the back in appreciation. Moving up and down the bar, cigarette in hand - unphased by the wild events before. “Good for business” she chirps, spraying the wood and polishing each section fervently.

“Yeah, about that Mar, any chance you can find someone else to help out?” you straighten and look toward her optimistically, the last of the rabble slowly rolling out of the open doors and crisp evening.

“It depends, you’re not planning on leaving us?” pointing at the grate above the hatch she pulls herself onto a small step stool to reach the top.

“No!” you laugh, “despite the over-friendly customers, I really enjoy it here…”

“1, 2, 3” and you both pull down on the metal together, closing the bar for the night. You fiddle with the lock on the grate and put the key in her small hand.

“I mean, the 3 pm shift not so much” you joke, “it gets kind of slow, you know?”

“Well,” she starts “I’ll speak to Brian, he’s the man with the money.” A smile forms at her mouth and she winks. “Speaking of, do you want to be paid now or Sunday?” from nowhere she has a mop in her hands and with her back turned she gets stuck into relieving the sticky mess from the floor. The lights buzz on from the left to right, and all that’s left is the loud ring of tinnitus and Brian shaking the hands of the weary band on the far side of the floor.

Sunday is planned to be a quiet day, the base has a full day of anniversary events lined up, the bar will probably host a few small groups – mainly the regular crowd before they head back to their homes. “Sunday is more than fine” you reply.

Shutting the back door ensuring it clicks, you turn the key in the lock and replace the key chain to your ID lanyard. All that’s left of the night is the navy blue of the star-dotted sky and a misty amber glow from the many floodlights dotted across the estate. Rummaging in your bag you quickly check the time - 12:25 am.

“Night Y/N” Mary waves out the passenger side of her car as Brian drives them back toward the entry gates along the vast airfield.

Still time for a quick smoke, you think, before you get back in your car and head home. Lifting the filter to your lips you pull a lighter from your pocket and drag the thick burning vapour to your lungs, a wash of peace falls over you and you flex your heavy shoulders. The base is practically silent, save for the whir of generators and vehicles on the breeze. It isn’t until you walk a little way to your car you suddenly hear a cacophony of raised voices - angry voices. Around the corner of the bar, a small gathering of people litter the plaza, refusing to give in to the call of their beds. Directly in front of the now locked doors, you see the airmen you served earlier, arguing with a couple of guys sitting on the wall. One of them seems to be spitting sick into a bush, hunched hands on knees into the raised flower bed. Lovely. Not wanting to be seen you slide back against the cool brick and continue to meditate on the evening gone. The burning embers of your cigarette light your face as you take a deep breath and sigh heavily.

Being on base always feels a little like trespassing into a place you’re not supposed to be, the last thing you want is to be caught in all this. The echo of retching and vomit hitting the pavement turns you around. You know you should really get going but he was kind to you earlier, checking in on you – and you really couldn’t forgive yourself if you didn’t try to help, fuck. Whilst crossing the cobbles you dig in your bag for tissues, maybe you could even grab him a water from the kitchen, it’s the least you could do. You flick the half spent cig to the side and squat down to face the Airman.

“Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for checking in on me ba…” you are quickly interrupted by a scoff on the other side of the pathway.

“That’s the fucking bitch”. In the low glow of the parking lot lights, you realise it’s your insistent dance partner from before. His mouth curled up in disgust. “Don’t flatter yourself” he jeers clearly hurt. Fucking fuck! “What’s your name?” You offer the tissues to the man at your side.

“It’s Y/N,” you say timidly. “Look, I didn’t mean any offe..”

“Well you’re a Cunt Y/N!” he spits on the floor at your foot punctuating the disgusting word from his mouth as you step back trying your best to avoid the inevitable confrontation.

“Hey that’s out of line buddy” a bystander points back.

“Go home, Bryant,” another says shaking his head.

Before you can process what the hell is happening or even bother to try and argue back, the nauseous airman is wobbling ahead of you. Squaring up to your aggressor, unstable fists raised for a fight, he lunges forward pushing him back into the bush. A symphony of groans and shouts erupt as his colleagues run to pull him back. The men grapple with each other for an uncomfortably long time, their arms pulled back in anger over and over again, battering whatever they could find. A sickening thud and snap echoes across the plaza, and the airman falls back on his bum clutching his nose.

I can’t believe this, FUCK. “Shit man, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you groan as you push the wad of tissues under the airman’s nose, his warm blood emptying all over your hands.

Without warning a truck surges into the parking lot, brakes shrieking as you cover your eyes from the blinding white beams of the headlights. The stragglers hanging about the plaza quickly scatter and tramp back to their respective quarters, a sign that you should too. You get back on your feet, backing up between the entrance to the bar and the men in front.

If you had a chance to dash it, it’s definitely gone now. Two figures emerge from the cab, slamming their doors in time, resonating a loud bang off the circle of buildings. They’re looking in your direction, or at least at the group of exhausted men in front of you. The bigger of them is wearing smartly pressed fatigues with a green beret, he towers head and shoulders above the rest. His thick arms swing at his side as he advances. Considering you’ve been working on base for 6 weeks, you still have zero idea what any of the uniforms or patches mean - but just from the swagger of this hulking guy…you know someone’s in deep shit, and a deep ache in your stomach says you should leave before you find out who.

He lumbers up the curbside and you audibly gasp as you notice he has a handgun strapped tight across his thigh. What really takes your attention, however, is the flash of steel clipped to his belt. A tactical knife longer than your forearm sheathed in a crested leather scabbard. Apart from the guards patrolling on site, you’ve never seen any other weapons up close. The proximity alone raises your heartbeat, a mixture of fear and curiosity rushes over you as you wonder why this soldier, in particular, carries a handgun so close to their body.

Without a word the men jump to attention, swaying drunkenly from side to side. The smaller of the two approaches locking on to the airman, blood oozing from his nostrils.

“What in the ever-loving fuck is this!” He booms “Peterson, do I have to hose you down like a rabid dog”

“No Staff Sergeant” he burps, the pungent smell of vomit and alcohol wafting from the vapours of his mouth.

You feel your cheeks flush at his mere volume, trying not to jump with each staccato boom of his interrogation. Don’t panic, don’t panic you relay to yourself. Just explain what happened, you’re not in trouble. You haven’t done anything wrong. Squinting your eyes to adjust to the headlights you search for some sort of way out of this mortifying scenario.

“Are you inebriated Shitbird?” he yells a mist of spit dusting onto Peterson's face.

“Ineb…inebriat? Staff Sargeant” he stammers flicking his head to prevent the blood from his nose trickling down his top lip.

Now looming down onto Airman Peterson's head, eyes freakishly large behind his wide brimmed hat, he repeats “Are you so fucking wasted you don’t know what that means, shit head?”

“Sir, yes I am drunk Sir” Peterson announces to the smirks of his friends.

“Get the fuck out of my sight and back to bricks before I send you to the stockade” he yells “all of you!”. The crack in his voice at the end of ‘you’ is somehow so childishly hilarious at that moment that you let out involuntarily snort in a self-conscious chuckle. The silent taller man snaps his head in your direction, although just a silhouette you can feel the burn of his eyes as he scrutinises you. You bring your hand to your mouth wishing you could sink into the floor and disappear never to be seen again.

“Yes Sir” the four airmen bark in agreement and swiftly exit past the pizza shop in the direction of the inner gate. As they leave a series of awkward laughs disappear into the darkness with them. Now it’s just you, the officers, and your assaulter.

Feeling a chill you realise the novelty of the situation has long gone, what the eff do I say, think THINK!

The Staff Sergeant continues, “Can someone explain to me what in God’s name is going on here?”

In the heavy silence you take your chance to speak up, nervous waves sound as you try to excuse yourself. “Look, I am so sorry” Shit do I say, Sir? Sirs? You contemplate it for a second. “The Airman…um Peterson…was unwell, and I was just trying to make sure he got home alright” shut up, shut up, shut up ”S…Sir?”. Pulling your hands to your arms in comfort, you feel your goose-pricked skin tighten from the chill of the Sergeant’s inspecting glare. Is it fear or nerves? You know this is it, you’re going to get shouted at by at least one of the most terrifying men you’ve ever met. Remembering that time you got called to the Headmasters office for swearing at Ms. Dixon – and subsequent suspension, a worse thought crosses your mind. What if I lose my job! Oh god. If only I’d just gone home when I could.

The larger of the commanders pushes forward, “Not you” he drawls in disdain. Without even looking at you he points his finger, commanding you to shut up and stay put. You don’t know if it’s the gun on his thigh or some sort of mind trick, but you freeze in submission, chest tight, too scared to even breathe. He eclipses the light from the truck with his body as he advances on your aggressor. In the halo of white now lighting his face you can make out his features, a thick 5’o’clock shadow stubbled around a striking moustache, dark curls lay on his forehead. Something else catches your attention, something you can’t quite place at first. The early morning wind picks up, creating a vortex around the small plaza, gathering up leaves and litter as it rises. It’s the smell of his deodorant or cologne, a rich musk mixed with a lilt of whiskey. The fragrance lingers around you, distinctly masculine, a sudden twinge in your belly follows budding wetness in your knickers. Really? You chide your growing schoolgirl crush, a bloom of heat visibly rising to your face as you realise you’re turned on by his icy disregard.

“This is the second call I’ve gotten about you this evening Bryant”, he rumbles at the serviceman now shadowed by his superiors broad frame, “first for assaultin’ a barmaid and now for fightin’ in the God damn street?!” he doesn’t need to raise his voice, a disappointed grumble punctuates his words so perfectly you shift from side to side, feeling scolded in turn. He scrunches his face, bringing his hand to the bridge of his nose.

“Apologize to Staff Sergeant Holmes, Cadet” he orders, his deep voice gravely and fatigued. Something in his tone tells you this is not the first time Bryant has fucked up in his charge.

Bryant turns, ego bruised but still at full attention to the man beside him. “I am very sorry Staff Sergeant, Sir.”

“I am disappointed in your behaviour on my base Son. Hardly becoming of an Officer in training. Given the circumstances, I will let Captain Syverson decide how best to penalize you” Holmes starts, a smirk on his smug face. “But!” He cuts, chin to chin with the Cadet “If I see you as much as piss in my direction I will gladly PT you until you’re shitting blood for a week. Do you understand Son?”

“Yes, Sir!” Bryant jolts. Satisfied, the Staff Sergeant shares a confirmatory nod with the Captain and silently turns back toward the truck. A series of revs signal his departure, and the truck fades from view.

“You fuckin’ idiot Bryant” The captain throws his hands to his hips. You can’t help but notice how large they are, the pads of his thick fingers drum into the woven band of his belt as he contemplates what action to take. “Are you purposefully tryin’ to make us look bad?” He grimaces as Bryant bursts into raucous laughter. Am I bloody invisible?

“Come on Sy, that was fucking funny, you should have seen that guy's nose”. “Shut the fuck up Bryant. Apologize to…” he finally turns, taking you in with a pained inhale. “What’s your name darlin’?”

You step back at his sudden change, Darlin’? Who the fuck does this guy think he is? I am NOT your Darlin’ Grunt. The words you wished you could say, that is if you weren’t so scared of him. “It’s Y/N” you barely manage to get your words out. Searching the Captain's face you try to determine just how much trouble you are in. “Look I need to leave, my permit runs out in…”, you check your watch, “Fuck, I have to get off the base”.

“I’ll make sure you get back to the gate, OK?” he raises his finger again, a sign to stay while he deals with Bryant. He turns a frosty gaze toward the Cadet. His chest rises as he takes his beret in hand wringing it between enormous palms.

“Apologise to Y/N Cadet” he starts, louder than before. Bryant quickly reassumes his attention, clearly, the Captain is not playing buddy tonight.

Turning towards you he spits out his best non-apology, “Y/N I am so sorry you’re a CUNT” his words are full of spite, his eyebrows dance up and down in insult as he mocks you.

“Bryant!” The Captain smacks the cadet upside his shaved head, the slap reverberating in the still of the dark.

“Fuck! I am very SORRY” he virtually shouts, “I am sorry for bothering you” His eyes meet the floor, cracked like a scolded child”

“Right, now stop pettin’ the fuckin’ wildlife, are we clear Cadet?” The Captain orders back, his eyes boring a hole into Bryant’s drooping head. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, Just what exactly is that meant to mean?

“You’re lucky I don’t call the MP’s out this late.” He grumbles turning back to glance at you. You can’t control the shudder from your core as the cold of the night blankets your bare arms, or was it nerves still? “We are guests on this base and in this country” The Captain continues, “I’m takin’ your off base privileges for a month, you can spend your nights on CQ duty” He smirks content with his judgment as Bryant shakes his head to the floor, a whispered curse under his tongue. “FINE” he snarls, “0600 for write up, you can face the Wing Commander”.

“Yes Sir!” Bryant complies through gritted teeth.

“Right, now fuck off” he breaks his gaze from the dejected Cadet and steps forward to you. Placing his beret back on his head, he combs back the dark curls rebelling from the thick gel covering the rest. He presses his fatigues down with a flat hand searching for something in the velcro pockets.. “You said something about a permit?” he smiles, producing a pen from his chest pocket. You can feel the warmth of his breath as he closes in on you. The sheer proximity of his frame making your knees weak.

“Sure, it’s in my car.” You squeeze past the Captain, “it’s just here” you point to the dark at the back of the plaza and make your escape. “Look am I in trouble…becau…” you turn expecting him to be where you were just stood. “Fuck!” you jump, “you’re really quiet?!”. He simply chuckles, cocking his head at you. Laughing awkwardly you hope he doesn’t sense just how nervous he’s making you. Unlocking the passenger door with the key, you lean in to reach past the steering wheel. “I mean I’m just a barmaid…it’s not a big deal, we get arseholes like that most weekends” you ramble searching for the slip of paper in the dark.

“Vulgar Display of Power?” you hear him mutter behind you.

“Sorry?” you look from his pointed hand to the box of tapes spilling onto the footwell.

“You like metal?” he probes.

“Oh yeah I suppose. I like a lot of music, depends on how I feel that day”, You hear a soft ‘tsk’ behind you and glance back. He’s taking in the view of you, one knee on the passenger seat, bent at the waist, struggling forward.

“I mean there’s also a lot of shit I listen to in there, boy bands, Pop-y stuff” you remark, finally finding the paper that had slipped under the glass of the windscreen. “Shania Twain…”.

Pulling yourself back and tugging your jeans up – you cover what you assume was distracting him, the back of your thong. “Here” you stretch your hand to his and pass the piece of paper, he scribbles something on the back, turning to the light of the streetlamp to see better.

“All set Darlin’” he arrogantly pushes the paper back into your hand, the heat from his fingers brushing against your frozen knuckles.

“Thanks, for this”, you raise the paper between you and force a smile tucking the slip into your jeans pocket. “And for, you know, not kicking me off base”.

“Still time for that Doll’” he teases looking at his watch, “you have 9 minutes” stepping back and disappearing around the corner of the bar. His deep voice carries in the dark “Now get! Before I change my mind” he echoes from the shadow.

Navigation

[ratdoeswriting]

summer kiss

Summary: Thomas hates summer, he always has.Jimmy loves summer. To Jimmy, there is no better time of year - how could there be?

Pairings: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent

Warnings: none :) just fluff

Word count: 800

A/N: this is cross posted on AO3 and my main blog

~~~

Thomas hates summer, he always has.

The first memory he has of summer is of long grass and a warm breeze as he and his sister run through the fields until their legs are numb and it felt like they were flying. His second memory is of tears and bloody knees and raised voices. Since then summer mostly passed in a blur, all the way up until he started at Downton.

He had almost been excited for the first summer there - half formed dreams of lavish parties and weeks spent in London and weeks spent with family, and the reality had been a slap in the face. Summer at Downton was hardwork in the sweltering sun, sweating through his shirts and jackets and pounding headaches and days upon days upon days that left him feeling like he’s covered in a thin layer of grime he can’t wash away.

This year though, Thomas is hoping summer will be a little different. There’s still the gruelling work, the near unbearable heat, insects and picnics and on and on, but this year there’s Jimmy, too.

Jimmy loves summer. To Jimmy, there is no better time of year - how could there be? The flowers are blooming, in the mornings he sees rabbits and foxes running after their mothers, and lambs in the fields; there're fairs and parties and late nights watching the sunset when he’s supposed to be clearing tables and polishing silver, but, mostly, he loves the feeling of the sun on his skin.

Since they had settled into their own routine, Jimmy had taught Thomas the beauty in summer.

It had started with Thomas waking earlier than usual one morning and nipping out for a fag. Jimmy joined his outside a few moments later and they stood in silence as the sun rose on the horizon. In the cool light, Jimmy spotted the rabbits scampering along a wall a little way away, and he began talking in a low voice.

“I was out here the other morning and there was these little rabbits, must be the same ones, and they-”

Thomas was only half listening, not because he was bored, rather because he couldn’t help but notice how Jimmy’s eyes seemed to twinkle a little in the morning sun.

~~~

The next time Thomas realised that summer might not be so bad was another seemingly mundane day.

Mrs Patmore had run out of something or other and sent Thomas into town, but the family was away and Mr Carson had let Jimmy tag along. The pair of them definitely took longer than necessary, meandering the narrow roads, browsing the comically over priced bits of tat in one of the shops and stopping for lunch.

The sun was getting low in the sky by the time they were making their way up the drive - they would definitely get a bollocking from Mr Carson - and Jimmy was telling a heavily embellished story from his childhood, complete with funny voices and dramatic re-enactment. His laughter carried lightly on the breeze - he could hardly go a few words without giggling and Thomas wasn’t even sure they were halfway through the story yet - and when he threw his head back, the sun bounced joyously off his curls and scattered around him like a glittering halo.

~~~

It was early September, the weird time of year where it was freezing and boiling simultaneously and even though the sky was always cloudy, the sun shone unrelentingly from when it rose to when it set; Thomas actually quite liked this weather.

By some miracle he and Jimmy had a coinciding afternoon off and decided to take a walk to the river with a small basket they had begged off Mrs Patmore. There was a small bend in the river that was protected by low hanging trees and high bushes - their own little world, just for today.

Thomas ended up sitting with his back against a tree, Jimmy’s head in his lap, running his fingers through his curls. As the sun came round and began to set it danced across the water and rained down through the trees, casting a warm orange glow across Jimmy’s face, illuminating his half smile and rosy cheeks.

Jimmy glowed. He glowed when he and Thomas woke up together, he glowed when they walked together in the afternoon, he glowed here, in their private get away...

It looked like the sun was kissing Jimmy. And Thomas couldn’t help but kiss him too.

[kozutenshi]

FLOWERS & PEARLS—KEIJI AKAASHI

keiji akaashi x f!reader

collab: spring formal with hqhangout!

what: 1.3k of fluffy mutual pining in two different lives with a hint of hanahaki and angst.

Spring was around the corner, but the war hadn't ended unlike the cold days of winter.

The man with gunmetal green eyes held his lover close to his chest, giving them a shell, somehow like a telephone, with a pearl attached to its point.

His lover remembers the parting smile he gave before he went on to war with tough spirits, carrying the other of the pair of shells.

From afar, through the distances, he called and talked until his voice disappeared, swallowed by the pearl that had grown bigger overtime.

Three, four years later, his voice had disappeared and it was spring again. Believing that he will come back to his lover waiting for him, he visited the cherry blossom trees near his home everyday until the cherry blossoms grew in his body, with the sight of his beloved in another's arms, her voice restored.

Swallowing the pearl by himself to reclaim his voice, he cried and grieved about his lost love until he coughed up flowers, familiar white and pink petals covered in blood, and felt his heart stop.

Akaashi closed the book in his hands. He didn't know the reason why he even opened the book in the first place. The cover was a bit torn, the pages sure to become brittle soon and the golden letters that spelled "The Tale of Hanahaki" were barely visible.

But he felt drawn to it, as if the book was beckoning him to pick it up.

He sighed, wondering if it was real since science had not found an answer to Hanahaki's source yet. Even he knew that in every story, there is an inkling of truth.

He had watched people lose their voice, the first symptom, and recover shortly after they "confessed" to the people they liked and learn that they reciprocate those feelings. He watched some advance to the next stage of the disease with bloody petals in their hands.

Rationally, he couldn't believe it, but it was real, and the only cause they knew for the Hanahaki disease was unrequited love.

He had read books under the genre of romance, had seen movies, and even witnessed it in real life as he crossed paths with different people on the street insignificantly and held the significant ones close.

Is love real, or is it just a construct?

Finished, he made his way out of the library, on his way to his work to bump into you.

He recognized you as one of the workers in a cafe he frequently went to. Apologizing, the both of you walked towards the train station, you on your way to work while he's on his way to grab a cup before work. The cherry blossoms weren't growing yet, but the wind told him that spring was in a few weeks.

He didn't know that learning your name, and the small encounters whenever he goes to the cafe was a big deal until the reality hit him when he found him staring at you more, getting flustered, and feeling more than what friends feel. He wondered, in this early spring day, with the almost melted snow and budding blooms, do you feel this way too?

Was this what love truly is?

His feelings for you were no secret to his friends, nor was it to your coworkers. Maybe, you were just as dense as a brick to not notice them, or you were too focused trying to stop your own feelings from growing every time you meet his gunmetal eyes, when a smile creeps up his lips, and his protective stance whenever you two rode the train.

You didn't notice, until he came with you to the cafe, failing miserably in hiding his sickly pale complexion, and with trembling hands.

At first you couldn't convince yourself that his situation was real. After all, he seemed healthy the previous days. Yet, reflecting, you remember how he excused himself a lot whenever you're around, how he comes back with a smile that was trying to coax you to believe that he was okay, that his disease didn't exist.

And the same goes to him.

Years, months, days; he tried so hard not to fall in the same situation. Yet, here he was, trying to catch your attention with an order of a cup of coffee and playful, short banters. Here he was, falling down the rabbit hole of unrequited love like all those victims of the disease.

Why, of all the better timings, did it choose to come now?

"Let's go find a good spot and reserve it."

His voice was hushed trying to shield the fact that his voice was disappearing. You know it, with the way he shoots a short reassuring smile when he coughs, or when you just simply look at his direction.

Always so reassuring, ever reliable Keiji Akaashi.

Watching the cherry blossoms in full bloom was, yearly, your tradition. You used to stay only for a few minutes, visiting them alone and praying to famed gods for prosperity and happiness. Having him beside you, a picnic basket on hand, was new.

But you, oh you, could definitely get used to this.

With a nod, you followed him. The sun hasn't risen yet, but the moments before it were already fulfilling. Unpacking breakfast and eating it silently, laughing at the silliest arguments, and just being together in silence.

Akaashi smiled, bittersweetness flowing through his aura, as he re-reads the Tale of Hanahaki. Now, he feels how sad the tale was. Seeing their lover gone from their arms, growing flowers that he didn't desire to see anymore; the whole tale was just too unfortunate. He notices the similarities of the war veteran in the tale, and him, a simple human overworking himself with a cup of coffee on his table.

Would it end the same for him: alone, returning to nature through becoming one of the cherry blossoms you'll visit every year after he passed?

The sun started to rise, yet he found himself inching closer to you. His touch was tentative as he interlaced his fingers in yours, bringing them to his lips.

The slight touch of his lips on your knuckles made you feel warm, cozy, as he took you in his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. You watched the sunrise together, oddly familiar with his warmth, his smell, and overall presence. Butterflies swarmed in you, fluttering rapidly as you felt him press a kiss on your temple. Your heart raced as he whispered his next words, a sentence that you've waited on for so long, one that you would've said if he hadn't:

"I love you, I'm sorry."

"You don't have to answer, nor do I need it. I—" you shushed him with a tight squeeze on his hand. It was warm and sweaty, trembling from weakness and nerves. The hand you held was his, and he held yours.

"I love you too."

For a second, he couldn't process what you had said. After all, it wasn't what he was expecting. Have you known about it for a while? Was this your own way to console his stupidity in falling in love?

He didn't know, but he did know the genuine happiness, and the tears of relief that bubbled up your eyes.

And suddenly his chest wasn't so heavy.

There are a few things a human can do compared to their gods. Decide fates, create universes, and show how beautiful their creations are. It was a sad fact, but on that spring day, the only thing in his mind was the flutter of his heart almost like the delicate flower petals floating, taken by the wind and your mesmerized eyes as he holds you in his arms.

And he, oh he, could definitely get used to this.

footer: there's something so romantic abt the tradition of flower viewing for me :") i wish i can watch cherry blossoms soon too *dreamy sigh* reblogs are appreciated!

tags; @rendezvoi join the taglist if ur interested!

[darling-i-read-it]

And the Woman Clothed in Sun

3x10

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, pregnancy 

Author’s Note: I am half asleep. I really hope this makes sense. This is short too which super sucks but there was a lot fo Francis in this episode that I cut out because thats boring because the reader isn’t in it lmao 

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary: Carving retrieved from crime scenes help Will and the FBI learn about Francis Dolarhyde's psychology; Dolarhyde finds a way to communicate with Hannibal.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​ @sweetgoodangel​

(not my gif) 

You stared down at the bathroom counter. You looked back up at yourself in the mirror and took a long, deep breath. This wasn’t ideal. This was not ideal. You didn’t want this right now, you didn’t need it right now. 

Will had gone out to get you breakfast and you wanted to test the suspicion you had picked up the night before. Will had been talking about children and it got your mind reeling. You got up early to get a pregnancy test, just to try it, just in case. 

The face staring back at you in the mirror was scared. She wasn’t easily scared. She just wasn’t ready to be a mother. You turned on the faucet and splashed some water in your face. 

At the sound of the door opening you quickly grabbed the two pregnancy tests you had taken and shoved them in your purse that was sitting on the counter. You forced your nerves away. You weren’t ready for Will to know this quite yet, especially not after last night and his nightmares. 

“Coffee,” he called, holding up a bag of food and tray of coffee cups.

“You’re a godsend Will Graham.”

“I do what I can.” 

-

Francis Dolarhyde sat at Hannibal’s desk. The desk must have held many memories when it came to the killer. Francis was amazed that he was there, Hannibal on the phone with him. He had never really actually thought they would talk to each other. And yet, here he was. 

“I have admired you for years and have a complete collection of your press notices. Actually, I think of them as unfair reviews,” Francis said. He looked in front of him at the office. He imagined himself sitting there, across from Hannibal, like a patient. 

“As unfair as yours?” Hannibal thought about how to angle this. “They like to sling demeaning nicknames, don’t they?” 

“The Tooth Fairy,” Francis sneered. 

“What could be more inappropriate?” Hannibal questioned.

“It would shame me for you to see that, if I didn’t know you suffered the same distortions in the press.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Hannibal promised. Francis thought about this. The clippings he had read and re-read of Hannibal always mentioned the Grahams. The Bloody Valentines. 

“Yes, I suppose it has to.” 

-

“I don’t think I’ve been here since you last taught,” you whispered. You stood outside one of the FBI’s lecture rooms with Will. You could hear the echo of Bedelias voice inside. 

“You had to bring that up,” Will muttered with a fond remembrance of a smile. “Hey, I used to love your lectures. They were interesting.”

“You liked to tease me as much as you could,” he argued. You shrugged.

“I thought it added to the entertainment. Come on.” 

The two of you walked into the room together. It was packed but Bedelia was about to be finished. You had planned to come and see her when she would be alone but catching the tail end of her Hannibal lecture was alright too. 

“Days and evenings again, the smell of fresh flowers and the vague awareness of a needle bleeding into me. Hannibal always stood at a distance, very still. There were days of talk. He never called me my name.” She recognized you and Will as you stepped into the room. She moved slowly around her podium. “It was strange at first, and then it wasn’t strange. And then my name was Lydia Fell. Deeply-felt truths of who I am as bedelia Du Maurier were smoke and mirrors of the highest order.” 

You and Will stepped into the crowd and sat down. Bedelia walked over to you and the audience followed her, ears engulfing what she was saying. 

“What we take for granted about our sense of self, everything we see, everything we remember, is nothing more than a construct of the mind.” Will eyed her with an uneasy mix of skepticism and sympathy. “Dante was the first to conceive of hell as a planned place. An urban environment. Before Dante, we spoke not of the ‘Gates of Hell’, but the ‘Mouth of Hell’. My journey of damnation began when I was swallowed by the beast.” 

-

The class wrapped up quickly and the rest of the room emptied. You and Will stood up and waited for them to leave. Eventually, when they were gone, Will spoke. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his glasses laid perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

“Poor Dr. Du Maurier, swallowed whole. Suffering inside Hannibal Lecter’s bowels for what must have felt like an eternity.” You smiled smugly at his words. “You didn’t lose yourself, Bedelia, you just crawled so far up his ass you couldn’t be bothered.” 

“Hello Grahams.” 

“You hitched your star to a man commonly known as a monster,” you said with that same smile. 

“You’re the Bride of Frankenstein,” Will said. Bedelia looked at you, eyeing you carefully.

“We’ve all been his bride,” she said and ignored the thoughts creeping up to her. 

“How did you manage to walk away unscarred? We’re covered with scars,” Will said. Bedelia still dodged the question completely because she knew how and you knew how. It was becoming increasingly clear that you had not told Will about how Hannibal actually saw Bedelia in Florence. 

“I wasn’t myself. You were. Even when you weren’t, you were Will.”

“I wasn’t wearing adequate armor.” 

“No. You were naked,” she said. “Have you been to see him?” You and Will shared a look.

“Yes,” you answered.

“Haven't’ learned anything, have you? Or did you just miss him that much?” 

-

Bedelia’s home office was strangely homey. You hadn’t expected that kind of thing from her, considering how stoic you read her to be on occasions. You weren’t sure how you felt about it. But Will had insisted that you come along. The last time he talked to a therapist by himself it ended up in more murders than he had planned. 

“If he does end up eating you, Bedelia, you’d have it coming,” Will said. 

“I can’t blame him for doing what evolution has equipped him to do,” she argued. 

“If we just do whatever evolution equipped us to do, then murder and cannibalism are morally acceptable,” you said . 

“They are acceptable. To murderers and cannibals. And you two,” she mused.

“And you,” Will shot back. “You lied, Bedelia. You do that a lot. Why do you do that a lot?” he asked. She and you shared a look. 

“I obfuscate. Hannibal was never not my patient. Covert treatment suffers secrecy and disapproval,” she said. You shook your head lightly.

“You lied in your lecture. To others. You lied to the police,” you said. She and you stared at each other and that was the first moment that Will understood there was something he didn’t actually know. He looked between the two of you. 

“My relationship with Hannibal isn’t as passionate as yours,” she said. “Did you ever discuss why I’m alive?” she asked at you. You and Hannibal had only talked about it once, in front of the painting back in Florence. Will had been so wrapped up in his head then that he didn’t even register it as something he should have noted. 

“You tell those people that you believed you were Lydia Fell which is a lie in and of itself. But then you let Will believe that you just were out of dodge because Hannibal liked you. But that’s not true is it?” you asked. She pursed her lips. You stared so intently at each other that Will felt as though he wasn’t even there. 

“You know how I lived because I wasn’t the first woman that Hannibal imagined as you,” she said. You raised your chin and gave her an amusing look. 

“Bedelia Du Maurier, Alana Bloom…,” you whispered. Will was picking up the hints now. He understood now. “He needed companionship.”

“No, he needed you,” she argued. “But he could never have you because you were Will’s and he cared far too much for Will to take you. Do you realize the extent of your reach?” You surpressed your pride.

“Why don’t you tell me?” you challenged. 

“I used to wash his hair when he came home, drenched in blood. He whispered your name when he forgot who I was. Can you imagine, having so much hold over a person who is usually so contained? I was amazed. From a professional standpoint, I was amazed.” She glanced at Will who was hearing all of this for the first time. “He used to bring people over for dinner and when he killed a man he asked if I wanted to participate, knowing I wouldn’t but knowing you would.” 

Bedelia smiled gently. 

“It’s a good thing that you married each other. Hannibal’s place things, linked for life.” She looked over at Will. “You couldn’t save him. Do you think you can save this new one?” 

-

You and Will sat in the car together in the parking lot of the hospital Hannibal was being held at. You had been quiet the whole way there.

“You knew about all of that? All of what Bedelia was saying?” he asked. He looked over at you but you looked only forward. 

“I figured most of it. I knew he dated Alana to spite me, he told me once when you were in jail that Alana was easier to sleep with.” You scoffed. “But I only ever thought about it in correlation to Bedelia. I knew she was lying all around,” you whispered. Finally, you looked over at him.

“Should you stay in the car?” he asked. You shook your head.

“That was ages ago,” you promised. “Don’t even think about it.” 

“I have to think about it because I can’t knowingly take my wife to go talk to the man who fantasized about being with her for practically two years,” he said calmly. 

“What’s he gonna do in the cage Will?” 

He thought about this for a moment. He went to open the door but you grabbed his hand. He looked over at you quickly and noticed you seemed to be holding something back. That irked him.

“What else have you not told me?” You looked over at him and wondered if you should tell him. You had to tell him. You wanted him to know. You needed him to know so that he could help you. You grabbed your purse and fished out the pregnancy test before handing it to him. 

It took him a moment. He looked down at it and his brain, usually so quick, did not realize what that small pink symbol meant. Then it all came at him. Slowly, he looked up at you.

“Are you messing with me?”

“No,” you said nervously. He was quiet. “Well?” He looked up at you and read your worry. He had made you nervous and it made him feel bad. He wasn’t nervous about being a parent with you he was nervous about the baby.

“Oh my gosh,” he said and a smile creeped onto his face. 

“You don’t hate it?” 

“No! Not at all? I mean...” he trailed off and there were the nerves again but you grabbed his hand and held it. 

“We’ll take it one day at a time.” He took your hand and kissed your palm gently, shaking a bit. He was going to be a father. Him. He was amazed. 

“Well now I’m defiantly not letting you come with me.” 

“I’m not going to tell Hannibal. Not yet anyway. It would look suspicious. Come on.” 

-

Will stood in front of the cage, just inches from Hannibal. You stood right beside them, leaning against the glass.

“Are you familiar with William Blake’s The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun? Blake’s Dragon stands over a pleading woman caught in the coil of its tail. Few images in Western art radiate such a unique and nightmarish charge of demonic sexuality,” Hannibal said, holding the crime scene photos. 

“The man who killed the Jacobis and the Leedses saw something in them that drew him and drove him to do it. He chose them because something in them spoke to him,” Will said.

“The Jacobis were the first to help him, the first to lift him into the Glory of his Becoming. The Jacbois were better than anything he knew,” Hannibal explained.

“Until the Leedses,” you muttered.

“As the Dragon grows in strength and Glory, there are families to come.”  

“I have to believe there is a common factor and we’ll find it soon,” Will said steadily. 

“Otherwise you have to enter more houses and see what the Dragon has left for you. Eleven days to the next full moon. Tick-tock.” Hannibal looked over at you. “I like this Dragon. I don’t think he’s crazy at all. I think he may be quite sane.” 

“I think that your opinion on his sanity is subjective,” you said. 

-

You and Will walked into the museum together, up to where they kept the important painting. 

“This way, Mr. and Mrs. Graham. You know, you’re the second group who’s asked to see the Blake today,” the tour guide said steadily. You stiffened and Will gave you a look. He took his glasses off slowly and you took them from him, putting them in the case you were holding in your jacket. 

As you reached the level where the painting was you grew unsettled. 

Will grabbed your arm. He had seen something that you hadn’t and now that you were two, he had extra reasons to be paying attention to it all.  You turned around and the tour guide left the room to go find his colleague. The elevator was still open and Will pushed you gently out of the way. 

Before you could protest, Will caught the closing elevator door. There was a moment of silence as the man in the elevator stared at Will and then he attacked him, shoving him to the ground. 

You rushed to Will first who was pointing eagerly at the elevator but before you were able to stop it it closed. 

“Are you okay?” you asked quickly.

“Yes, downstairs,” he said even quicker. You and him got up and rushed downstairs but by the time you reached the final flour, he was gone.

3x11

[heelshire-stories]

Oh, i love your writing for Brahms ah. May i request something like, the reader was a old friend of Brahms, like, she was his friend and Emily's friend too. And after greta leaves Brahms alone in the mansion, She conveniently comes back just to remember old times, but, she founds the real Brahms, and she helps him cure his wound? idk, this is weird? srry if my english is weird :c

Hi there! Thank you very much for such an interesting question ❤

Old friend.

You've been thinking about him for a long time. You seem to have spent a lot of time together in childhood, but the sinistrous fire took away a truly good friend from you. Despite the fact that many years have passed and the memories of this person have blurred and faded under the influence of time, for some reason you were always sure that he was an innocent child. This loss you endured hard despite your young age.

Summer. The bright sun awakened nature, everything bloomed around. A light breeze swayed the treetops outside your window, making the leaves rustle pleasantly. The trees seemed to be whispering about something to each other, telling stories to each other. You didn't even notice how you sat and watched the dance of nature fascinated for about ten minutes, plunged into the abyss of your thoughts. You caught yourself thinking about an old friend, long gone, but not left your heart. Brahms. You wonder what he would be like if he survived? Would you communicate? You remember how you loved to play in the garden of the Heelshire Mansion in the summer. There was another girl with you. Her name was Emily. Vague memories were refreshed. It seems she was killed. It was after this incident that a fire broke out in the mansion.

The nostalgia intensified with every passed second, you wanted to re-experience the long-gone feelings, to remember your childhood. The decision to visit the mansion wasn’t long in coming. The silence interrupted by the sound of a running car engine. Driving along the half-empty road, you thought about the family of your deceased friend. You remember how your parents talked about them. That they were almost mad with grief, having replaced their son with an antique porcelain doll. You wonder if they still live there?

When you arrived at the grounds of the mansion, you discovered that a slightly rusted winding gate was open. There were tire tracks on the half-baked ground. Does this mean that people still live here? After you parked your car near the gate, you headed towards the stately mansion, which looked unusually lonely and dreary, even in such wonderful weather. An inexplicable feeling of anxiety didn’t leave you, something was wrong.

— Just anxiousness, — you quietly calmed yourself, looking at the garden, which has changed a lot. When you were little, the Heelshire family garden could be considered one of the most beautiful in the city, when, as it was now, it was clear that the gardener hadn’t worked here for a long time. Despite not the best view, you decided to take a walk in the garden, stopping at a gravestone. It seemed that a friend you lost for so long shouldn’t have made you feel melancholy, but you felt that you had lost a very important part of your life. Your sad gaze was directed towards the front door, which, to your surprise, turned out to be half-open. Another prick of alarm made you hurry to the house. Something is clearly wrong. It seemed that someone was leaving here in a hurry, since they didn’t close either the front door or the gate.

Entering the house, you looked around. You moved carefully, practically not making a single sound. There was fresh food in the kitchen, so it was as if someone lived here. With careful but firm steps, you made your way into the living room, armed with a kitchen knife just in case. The picture before your eyes made you numb. In the living room, total chaos reigned was an unknown man covered in blood. The clang of metal heard in the tense silence. You didn’t even notice how in a state of shock you dropped the knife that you were holding in your hands. You came closer and looked around the room. There was a narrow corridor in the shattered mirror, but you didn't have the courage to enter. On the floor lay bloody shards of porcelain, and nearby a mutilated doll.

— What the hell is going on here, — you whispered in alarm and hurried up to the second floor, not forgetting to take the knife. You were seized by a completely natural fear for the current situation, but also by an incomprehensible feeling that made you move in the chosen direction. Something unknown called you, pulled you to itself and you walked towards.

The tension reigned around you, pressed on your shoulders, took air and made you gasp for breath. The rooms on the second floor were empty. You walked over to Brahms' bedroom and stopped for a moment. The heartbeat quickened. It seemed that you were about to open the door and see a little boy sitting on the bed and reading a book. Plucking up courage, you hesitantly opened the door and went inside. Brahms wasn’t waiting for you inside. A man lay in the room, half of his face hidden by a broken porcelain mask. Seeing the burns, one name slipped into your thoughts - Brahms. What if it's him? What if he survived? Thoughts were floundering, but despite this, you weren’t confused. After running out of the bedroom and entering the bathroom, you took the first aid kit and returned back. You were sure that it was him, your heart told you that your old friend was lying in front of you.

— Brahms, don't you dare fall asleep, you hear me?— your voice trembled treacherously, betraying excitement. You took a screwdriver out of the lying man's stomach and began to work on the wound, occasionally glancing at his face. He has grown so much, so changed. What happened to him and why is he wearing this mask? Fuck questions. You were just glad to find the person who left you a long time ago.

Brahms' eyes slowly opened. A blurred gaze froze on you. He silently looked at you and breathed heavily, tormented by pain.

— It's ... you ...,— he croaked. Tears welled up in Brahms's eyes. Overcoming the pain, he sat down and hugged you tightly, bursting into tears.

— I found you. I won’t leave again. It's okay, — You hugged your friend and stroked his hair, starting to cry.

[ratisnotcrying]

Summary: Thomas hates summer, he always has.Jimmy loves summer. To Jimmy, there is no better time of year - how could there be?

Pairings: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent

Warnings: none :) just fluff

Word count: 800

A/N: this is cross posted on AO3 

~~~

Thomas hates summer, he always has.

The first memory he has of summer is of long grass and a warm breeze as he and his sister run through the fields until their legs are numb and it felt like they were flying. His second memory is of tears and bloody knees and raised voices. Since then summer mostly passed in a blur, all the way up until he started at Downton.

He had almost been excited for the first summer there - half formed dreams of lavish parties and weeks spent in London and weeks spent with family, and the reality had been a slap in the face. Summer at Downton was hardwork in the sweltering sun, sweating through his shirts and jackets and pounding headaches and days upon days upon days that left him feeling like he’s covered in a thin layer of grime he can’t wash away.

This year though, Thomas is hoping summer will be a little different. There’s still the gruelling work, the near unbearable heat, insects and picnics and on and on, but this year there’s Jimmy, too.

Jimmy loves summer. To Jimmy, there is no better time of year - how could there be? The flowers are blooming, in the mornings he sees rabbits and foxes running after their mothers, and lambs in the fields; there're fairs and parties and late nights watching the sunset when he’s supposed to be clearing tables and polishing silver, but, mostly, he loves the feeling of the sun on his skin.

Since they had settled into their own routine, Jimmy had taught Thomas the beauty in summer.

It had started with Thomas waking earlier than usual one morning and nipping out for a fag. Jimmy joined his outside a few moments later and they stood in silence as the sun rose on the horizon. In the cool light, Jimmy spotted the rabbits scampering along a wall a little way away, and he began talking in a low voice.

“I was out here the other morning and there was these little rabbits, must be the same ones, and they-”

Thomas was only half listening, not because he was bored, rather because he couldn’t help but notice how Jimmy’s eyes seemed to twinkle a little in the morning sun.

~~~

The next time Thomas realised that summer might not be so bad was another seemingly mundane day.

Mrs Patmore had run out of something or other and sent Thomas into town, but the family was away and Mr Carson had let Jimmy tag along. The pair of them definitely took longer than necessary, meandering the narrow roads, browsing the comically over priced bits of tat in one of the shops and stopping for lunch.

The sun was getting low in the sky by the time they were making their way up the drive - they would definitely get a bollocking from Mr Carson - and Jimmy was telling a heavily embellished story from his childhood, complete with funny voices and dramatic re-enactment. His laughter carried lightly on the breeze - he could hardly go a few words without giggling and Thomas wasn’t even sure they were halfway through the story yet - and when he threw his head back, the sun bounced joyously off his curls and scattered around him like a glittering halo.

~~~

It was early September, the weird time of year where it was freezing and boiling simultaneously and even though the sky was always cloudy, the sun shone unrelentingly from when it rose to when it set; Thomas actually quite liked this weather.

By some miracle he and Jimmy had a coinciding afternoon off and decided to take a walk to the river with a small basket they had begged off Mrs Patmore. There was a small bend in the river that was protected by low hanging trees and high bushes - their own little world, just for today.

Thomas ended up sitting with his back against a tree, Jimmy’s head in his lap, running his fingers through his curls. As the sun came round and began to set it danced across the water and rained down through the trees, casting a warm orange glow across Jimmy’s face, illuminating his half smile and rosy cheeks.

Jimmy glowed. He glowed when he and Thomas woke up together, he glowed when they walked together in the afternoon, he glowed here, in their private get away...

It looked like the sun was kissing Jimmy. And Thomas couldn’t help but kiss him too.

[westerhos]

Our Story: Chapters 2-3

Thank you to everyone who has sent such lovely messages about this story! Happy to hear some of you are re-reading it while others are discovering it for the first time. Now for the next two chapters, which really should have been one...

[December 24th, 1990]

Their home is a modest one—a studio clinging to edges of the city, not far from where they first met. It’s an older building, mid-19th century, with pipes that freeze in the winter, burst like Scottish primrose in the summer. There is a single window on its western side, which welcomes the December-white sun at each day’s end. And it is here, lined along this sill, that Claire’s plants reach hungry towards the sky, try to trap this silver sliver of heat inside their veins.

Save for the flowers, theirs is an ascetic sort of décor. Sparse like a monk’s quarters—though Jamie and Claire hardly mind. They decorate the empty corners with their future, hatched in whispers during the night.

One day, Jamie promises, they’ll have Persian rugs and a four-poster bed. One day, they’ll own a leather sofa, its cushions like butter against Claire’s bare thighs. “And a vase!” she adds. “All fancy people have vases.”

But for now, they sleep on a musty twin cot, their belongings stored in the trunk at its foot. Jamie’s manuscripts are stacked inside, their pages marked in ballpoint scribbles and soil-dusted fingerprints. (“I canna read what this says anymore!” Jamie yells. “S’okay,” Claire says. “That paragraph was rubbish anyways.”) He’s an editorial assistant, the paltry salary worth the power of the red pen, which reshapes the written world to his liking. It buys food and rent, and covers what med school tuition Claire’s scholarship does not.

It’s a quiet life, but a happy life.

Claire yawns. “Did you know that every Christmas Eve my uncle told me a story? Made it up himself, right on the spot.”

“Are ye trying to tell me ye want a story?”

“I may be hinting at that, yes.”

“Ach,” Jamie says. Her favorite sound, every inch of him encapsulated in this strange, Scottish scoff. “Your subtly always turns me on.”

“Oh, hush. C’mon.”

He runs a hand through his hair, auburn and cinnabar limned in moonbeam.

“A good story on the spot? That’s no small amount of pressure, Sassenach.”

“How about a request then?” she offers, and Jamie raises a brow. “How about my favorite?”

“Yer favorite?”

“Don’t play coy. You know. The one you always start incorrectly? She is wearing a holiday sweater, a confection of silver bells and sequined penguins…”

“Weel, it’s a much better beginning than the ‘curl of my lips’…”

“Debatable,” Claire replies, tongue tracing the valley of his cupid’s bow.

But Jamie nods, chooses a different beginning this time: “It was immediate…”

He twists one of Claire’s curls around his finger and inhales. She still smells like the springtime, earthy and ripe, and perhaps there’s a hint of his own musk now, too. He likes it this way, enjoys finding proof of his existence somewhere beneath her skin. Permanent.

“Immediate!” Claire echoes, a one-woman Greek chorus. She is pressed into him, feeling his chest curve around her spine. It always surprises her how their bodies fit so perfectly, their limbs folding and molding to fill all their negative spaces. (And she has so many, our Claire, between her toes and between her ribs. Vacant rooms where her mother, her father, and her uncle once lived.)

“Aye, from the minute I saw ye, I ken you belonged wi’ me.”

“Mmm,” she hums, not saying, “Of course I felt the same thing,” or “Of course I loved you from the very first.” Because, of course, Jamie knows this already. (Strange, they both think, how the heart can move faster than the speed of light.)

“Speaking of which…” she says.

“Ye don’t want to hear the rest?”

“In a sec,” she replies. “But your friends seem to think we should get married. Dougal especially.”

“They do,” Jamie says softly. “And Dougal does—to him, maybe.” He brings Claire’s hand to his lips, smiles into the Christmas present he’s wrapped around her finger. A ring: one mounted pearl, taken from his mother’s necklace. (“No’ an engagement ring, mind,” though they both knew it meant forever.)

“Do you, though? Think we should get married?”

“I’ll do anything that means I can call ye mine.”

“You already can.”

“Aye, but I dinna think the law agrees wi’ you.”

“Devil take the law.”

Jamie laughs. “I reckon the Devil doesna want the law either, Sassenach. He hates the law.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Which is?”

Claire turns towards him, remembers this past year together: their first date (Italian restaurant, 9PM showing of Pretty Woman), their first fight (broken coffee mugs, a noise complaint). She remembers the first time they made love in this small, crooked flat: middle of the floor, surrounded by packing boxes and crumpled newspaper. The bubble wrap had crackled beneath them—pop-pop-pop!—as if they were dancing on fireworks. (“I never want to leave this place,” she’d told him. He thought she’d meant the flat, but she’d meant his arms.)

“Which is…Well. Do you want to marry me, James Fraser?”

He squints. “Is that a proposal?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t ye on your knees?”

“You bloody—”

Claire’s elbow swings towards his face, but Jamie catches it, stretches her arm back so that her palm lies flat against the wall. He rolls on top of her, leans down and lets her heart beat against his lips. Wills it into him until his blood thrums with it. The sound of their story.

“Yes,” Jamie says. “I want to marry you, Claire Beauchamp.”

“You mean Claire Fraser?”

He laughs; she smiles (they are both winners on this day).

“Aye. Beauchamp, Sassenach, Fraser.” His voice drops, a whisper: “My wife.”

[December 24th, 1991]

While Jamie and Claire’s studio remains the same, the flowers change with the turn of seasons: baby-skinned petals become felted cloth, neon-bright as they hang from a child’s mobile. The pots along the sill are gone, their soil-dust trails swiped away and their roots transplanted to a community garden. In their place, sits a collection of shiny, new tools for a shiny, new crib, which stands half-assembled beside the cot. The flower mobile blooms above it, suspended in silent wait for spring. For Faith.

Come April, Jamie and Claire will bring the sunshine into their home, no longer needing the single window and its lancing, evening light. Come April, they will have marigold walls, yellow linens, and bright rubber duckies floating in the sink. All of this for the baby that will sleep inside the shiny, new crib beneath the flowers that will never die.

Faith. This is the name they have given their future, no longer an unfurnished corner in their studio, but a growing presence inside Claire’s belly.

“Ugh!”

“That bad is it?”

“Worse than bad. I look like a whale who’s just fucked a Christmas tree.”

Jamie opens his eyes, his wife framed by his fingers, and he moves his hands to stifle a laugh.

“And a few wee penguins at that…”

“You’re not helping,” Claire whines, examining her reflection in the mirror. Rounded cheeks, rounder stomach; sharp lines blurred by months of pregnancy. All afternoon, she has scolded and cajoled, bribed and threatened, her cottons and nylons.  But the fabrics have been stubborn, loath to surrender their bodily claims to the child pushing against them.

“Jamie, I can’t go out wearing this.”

“I dinna see how you’ve much choice in the matter, Sassenach. We should've gone to Waverly yesterday,” Jamie replies. The sweater—the same one she’d worn the evening they met—hugs her stomach. Tight but still discreet, the purest flash of flesh above her waistline. “Party’s at 8. We’ve no time to go shopping for a proper outfit. It’s either that or what God gave ye.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a treat? A naked, pregnant woman sipping virgin egg nog in front of the buffet. Happy bloody Christmas!”

“Angus wouldna mind.”

“Well, so long as the host is happy.”

“I wouldna mind.”

Claire snorts and twirls, as if to say, “Are you sure of that?” (He is, absolutely, and to the marrow of his bones.)

Jamie sighs. “D’ye want me to wear mine too?”

“You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

“Aye, that’s the one.”

“Yes,” she replies, grinning. She remembers where it lies amongst the rest of their clothes, just as she remembers its wooly scratch against her breasts two years before. Jaime’s hands (so much larger than hers, even then) lifting it up and over, laying her bare beneath the fluorescent lights of his dorm room. “Yes, I want you to wear your Belligerent Santa jumper.”

Jamie nods.

“And no beer for you, either. Just store-bought non-alcoholic egg nog. My misery needs company.”

“Fair is fair.”

“And—”

“There’s more?”

“Much more.”

“Ach, weel. Anything for the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Oh, Rupert will be so grateful you think so, Jamie.”

“What are friends for?” He draws closer, vibrating. “But what about you, Sassenach?”

“Me? You’ll look more ridiculous than I will. I’ll be peachy and taking shots of fake egg-nog!”

Claire finds the sweater and throws it to Jamie, watches him catch the frayed and wrinkled ball of it. The hem is still an unraveled spool, which she winds and winds around her finger. Once, twice, three times until it marks her skin in a pale, white ring. She pulls it taut, feels the slow draining of her finger as the blood retreats, towards her husband. Electricity between them (the pipes groan, the winter thaw come at last).

“Now,” Claire purrs, “put that on so I can take it off you.”

“D’ye think we have time?”

“Of course we do,” she says. "We always have time." (Not always, not forever.)

“Well then,” Jamie says, bowing. “Your servant, madam.”

At this point, I still had no idea where I was going with this story, and I think that’s abundantly clear here. Regardless, I was very much taken with the “romanticism” of being poor, in love, and bohemian in New York City—so these two chapters are basically my written daydreams about being a young Patti Smith. Luckily, that never happened! Although I did wind up living in a tiny long-term Airbnb with an opera singer, a grand piano that took up the. entire. living. room., and a very uncomfortable futon that I slept on for my first 6 months in Brooklyn.

These are really the last ~~happy~~ chapters for a while, which is totally a reflection of the fact that I had moved to Brooklyn and was scared, lonely, and just generally very angsty, lol. So my apologies for what lies ahead.

One closing thought: Why did I choose Pretty Woman as Jamie and Claire’s first date movie, lol? Had I just watched it? Did I just associate the ‘90s with Julia Roberts romantic comedies? Did I not bother researching other movies that came out in 1990? Your guess is as good as mine!!!

[scribeofmorpheus]

Himmeløyne [18/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: Angst???

A/N: Nothin’ to report Cap’n

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Heimdall

Heimdall looked over at the corner where Y/N had nestled into. She looked smaller, so much smaller than he’d ever seen her. A part of him was angry, though, to his detriment, he didn’t know what he was mad at the most. There were too many options: Odin, the carnage in the throne room, the leeching, Dagma’s prophecy that lingered on his mind day in and day out. He wished Sigrid were there with him, at least he’d be able to ask her for help. He was only just getting used to the idea of fatherhood. On any occasion, that would be a mountainous task to undertake, but this last month, it felt like a planet was crushing his shoulders. That’s why he rarely wore his armour, and why he rarely stood at his post by the bi-frost.

Sif walked over from Hogun’s side, a look of concern pulling her eyebrows knit. She followed Heimdall’s gaze to Y/N. She too held a look of anger.

“Do you think she’s up to this?” Sif whispered. “We only have one shot at this. If we fail…”

“We won’t,” Heimdall took a moment to steel his voice. “We can’t fail. I won’t lose my daughter to this madness.”

“I hope you’re right,” Sif pressed the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Because if we do, that’s the dungeon for us.”

“Focus on your end, the portal will stay open,” he said with feigned assurance.

Sif tilted her head in disbelief and Heimdall placed a hand on her shoulder.

“The portal will stay open,” he said again with more control over his voice.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said before re-joining Hogun to discuss their end of the plan.

Cautiously, Heimdall approached Y/N. He held out his hand that had a loop of red thread twisted around his palm. He pulled one end of the thread and handed it to her. She held onto the thread for a moment, focusing on its ridges and texture, then she looked up at him in confusion.

“It’s ordinary thread.”

He held back a laugh, “Yes.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“It’ll act as our anchor through the portal,” he began wrapping one end of the thread around her palm, he noticed how cold to the touch she was, it made him feel uncomfortable, like he was touching a block of ice. “If you feel overwhelmed, tug on your end, I’ll do the heavy lifting in sustaining the portal.”

She looked him over with knowing eyes, “You don’t think I’m ready.” It wasn’t a question.

“Do you?” he challenged.

She smirked, showing some of that wily nature Sigrid had in youth. “I’ll do my part.”

 Heimdall drew an old sigil on his forehead to focus the energies, blood dripping from the slash on his thumb. The room permeated with a ghastly wind. Smell of sea salt and copper and the distinct ashen taste of volatile magic made his nose itch. Sif tugged at her collar as though it were hard to breathe. Hogun’s nose went red at the bridge. Y/N’s eyes turned glassy, water collecting near the ducts.

“Visualise opening a portal here,” he offered Y/N his hand, their thumbs leaving bloody prints on each other’s wrists. “I’ll show you where it leads.”

He searched his memories for the rare occasions he’d visited the vault, of how the walls towered strong and bright. Of the Destroyer standing dormant, held in the centre of two columns. Next to come were the stands and all the artefacts he remembered. Through their pulse connection, he transferred his vision into Y/N’s mind, letting her see what he saw.

There was a wave of energy, for the briefest moment, Heimdall thought of that soulless look she had in the throne room, and he felt afraid. Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, he knew she’d felt his fear. The candlestick on the table fell over, flames dying out as wax dripped over a carved rune on the stone table. Rime formed over the window overlooking the sea, creeping like a thief until the glass coated in a net of snowflakes.

Between Heimdall and Y/N, a portal, first black and then purple like the nebula’s he watched over, opened. Heimdall stepped through, and in a shaky instant, he was in the vault.

Send them through, he sent his message through the thread. In response, Hogun and Sif jumped into view.

Sustaining the portal proved more difficult than Heimdall anticipated. The thread grew colder in his hand, Y/N’s powers were unstable, unpredictable. He felt a tug at his organs, a driving force of a thousand horses pushing him towards the portal’s opening. A taste of blood filled his mouth, but he breathed through the pain.

“Got it!” Sif whisper-shouted as she and Hogun retrieved something that bore a resemblance to Vanir craftsmanship.

“Hurry,” Heimdall said through gritted teeth, feeling the icy sting of the thread cut into his hand. Ripples of magic passed out of the portal, shaking the room slightly. With that delicate change in atmosphere, the Destroyer awoke, peeled face honing in on their location. “Jump through, quickly!”

Heat from the Destroyer’s blast melded at odds with the portal’s waning magic. Sif and Hogun went in together, then Heimdall. Back in the archive room above the library, Heimdall smelt the smoke before seeing the singed bits of his cloak.

Before anyone could react, a blinding sun-golden light erupted from the closing portal, clashing with the magic that slithered like an angry ribbon around Y/N’s frame. In dangerous volatility, both lights collapsed a section of the wall. Y/N screamed, panting for more air as she kept one hand over her face. A delayed shockwave knocked all four off their feet, flinging them out of the room, and into the sea below.  

 ~Odin

Odin felt like a piece of parchment held under a paperweight. Ever since he came to, his world had been one unending panorama of bad news and the poor taste of regret.

Loki slept, his mind too broken to wake up. Frigga was missing, and with her was his anchor and conscience. Heimdall refused to see him, even under orders, and the bi-frost had remained unguarded since Y/N began her leeching treatment. Thor would only visit when he smelled sourly of mead and anguish. On those nights, Odin pretended to be asleep.

“My liege,” Fandral walked into Odin’s chambers, his face looking pale.

“I told the guards I didn’t want to be disturbed,” he said harshly, looking away from Fandral.

“I beg your pardon, but, it would seem, sometime during the night, the Destroyer awoke,” Fandral cleared his voice. “And, it would also seem, there has been a theft.”

Odin sat up, feeling a nick of pain where Loki’s dagger had made its home a month ago, “Do we know who was behind it?”

“No, but…” Fandral blinked several times.

“Spit it out,” Odin demanded.

“We haven’t been able to locate Sif, Hogun, and Heimdall or… Y/N for that matter.”

"Do we know what was taken?"

"Your father's belt, My Liege." 

 ~Y/N

You woke up to the sensation of drowning as you coughed up saltwater. The ground was hard, like rock.

“Wha—” you rasped, vocal cords hoarse.

“Relax, you’re safe,” Sif’s voice was light, careful. Warmth spread to your forehead when she brushed your damp hair from your face. “We got what we needed. Just rest now. We’ll be in Knowhere soon enough.”

“I can’t see,” you panicked as you blinked.

“A side-effect,” Heimdall answered. “The Destroyer’s beam passed through the portal, the light damaged your corneas. They’ll heal quicker if you rest.”

You felt a warm cloth cover your eyes, and Sif’s hair wafted the scent of fire as she tied a knot behind your head.

You felt someone try to lift you up, but then they abruptly set you down with a painful wince.

“I’ll carry her,” Hogun offered.

Hogun reached down and successfully carried you off the ground. Your neck was stiff as it dangled from his arm.

“Here, drink this,” Sif placed something small by your lips.

You opened and drank the foul liquid, choking as your stomach tried to regurgitate the potion back up. Soon, a swirl in the fog of your mind dragged you back under.

 There was a meadow blooming from your balcony window—wintersweet and a bright pink flower you’d never seen before painted the landscape in lively colours. There was an odd contrast covering the land, glowing and too clear, it looked imagined.

A pair of arms ensnared you in a close back hug. You didn’t need to turn around to see who it was, you felt his magic pool in your stomach the instant your skins touched.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Loki whispered into your ear.

“I’m right where you left me,” you said.

“Evidently not since you made me scour the palace halls for what felt like ages,” he sighed with a dramatic flair, placing a kiss on your pulse-line beneath your jaw.

“Where did you go?”

Loki spun you around, cupping your face with a curious smirk adorned on his, “What do you mean, pet?” 

You shuddered. His smirk grew deeper. 

He kissed all the way from your cheekbone to the softness of your ear, whispering in an even deeper voice: “I’ve right here, dreaming of you.”

With your front facing the mirror above your dresser, you noticed your reflection was different, older, healthier. You were in a dream. But Loki’s presence, and the scent of his hair, and the touch of his magic, it all felt real. Like the dreams of the cave.

Slowly, the world began to dissipate, and you pulled Loki’s face flush to yours. “I’ll get you back. I promise to get you back because you have to know. You have to know that I love with you.”

In a frenzy of desire, and afraid this may be the last time you’d ever feel the softness of his lips again, you pulled him into a hungry kiss that was both impatient and desperate. When you broke away, you awoke in the real world, cloth still tied over your eyes.

 You hadn’t noticed that it never rained on Asgard until you stood under the cascade pouring out of the celestial eye cavity of Knowhere port. Even though it wasn’t raining on Knowhere either, the tricklings from what Hogun called a ‘recycling plant’ were as close to rain as you’d seen since leaving Midgard.

The rain held no petrichor, no smell of wetness like you were used to. This one had a faint chemical burn that clung at the back of your throat. The coolness of the water was also different, more lukewarm.

Knowhere was vibrant and distinct, even experienced solely through sound. Where Asgard was ethereal in its timeless beauty, Knowhere was a hard wrench in the belly of a metal beast. If Sif’s descriptions were to be believed, you were now walking inside a god’s head made of artifice. Sounds of metalwork and conversation held the eerie touch of normalcy, of universality, but the dialect and the refined metalworking sounds that filled the port were anything but ordinary.

The ground pulled at your muscles much weaker than Asgard did, making you think you were a mere gust away from floating into the blackness, where, you imagined, the stars burned brighter.

Maybe you wanted to burn with the stars. Be at peace in that blanketed darkness, like nights when you’d sleep soundly, ignorant to gods and magic. Maybe the only things keeping you rooted were your bones, in the same way your mother’s crone bones rooted her visions in the future. You shuddered when a droplet of water fell near the edge of your eye, surprised that your skin was colder than the water.

“Keep your head down,” Heimdall lifted your hood to keep the poor-mans rain off you. “Try not to look—” he swallowed loudly, “to seem as lost as you do now.”

“This morning, I thought Asgard and the nine realms were all there was to the universe,” you intoned. “Now I know there are more veils to be pulled back, so if I seem lost, it’s with good reason.”

“She has a point,” Hogun said.

Heimdall lingered close by and then sighed, he sounded a little further than before. “The person we’re going to see, he’s… odd. But most dangerous of all, he is enamoured by other oddities. Try to act like you belong, and…whatever you hear or feel in there, don’t react to anything. Magic or otherwise.”

“She’ll be fine. That’s why I’m here, remember, to keep an eye out.” Hogun said.

Sif let out a groan and Heimdall let out a strong exhale. You found it in you to smirk at Hogun’s poor phrasing.

Heimdall walked away, and from the clanking of light boots, Sif followed.

“You seem different,” Hogun said to fill the void.

You pulled your cloak tighter around you, feeling even smaller than before.

“You seem older, is what I mean,” he clarified.

You didn’t know how to answer him, so you simply nodded.

“I had a wife, once,” he said out of the blue.

You were astonished by his sudden chatty disposition, “I didn’t know that.”

He chuckled, a delicate tone of joy and sadness worked in tandem. “No, I don’t imagine you would. Few know about her. Fandral, and his big mouth, I’ve known the longest, he’s the only one that met her. Maybe Heimdall with his all-seeing powers.”

“But not the others?”

“No.”

“Why are you telling me then?”

“Because I know what it’s like to lose someone you care for. It’s an irreplaceable void you can never fill. And when Lindel’s health failed her, I had to choose between moving mountains to save her, or accepting fate and staying by her side.” Hogun paused, a shuffling sound of his feet gave away his discomfort.

“I see the way the prince looks at you,” he said after a crowd’s rumble died down. “And you and I, and even he, I suspect, know you can’t be together. Pragmatically, I mean. Your lifespans are... at odds.”

“Because I’m mortal and he isn’t?” you bit back, your temper rising. “You aren’t the first to tell me that.”

“I’m not saying you must put your feelings aside. On the contrary. All I’m saying is, there will come a time when you, or he, will be forced to choose between moving mountains, or accepting that some things eventually run their course.”

“Which did you choose?”

“The wrong one.” Hogun went eerily quiet, his feet stopped shuffling too. Then, suddenly, with a more transparent tone, he said: “Let’s go, Heimdall’s waving us down.”

Another droplet fell onto your face, and you shivered, again.

[sa-suga]

rewriting chap 3 of tbbs and um. i. i think im about to write a myth centered around bokuaka

[fizzyxcustard]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time (6) - End of part 1

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Masterlist here

Read the completed version on AO3 here

Summary: You find yourself in 1209AD after a science experiment has gone wrong, and you are now making a new life in a small village in France. However, Sir Raymond de Merville has his eye on you and will not take no for an answer. You both embark on a passionate love affair which leads to Raymond’s downfall.

Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017)

Pairings: Raymond de Merville x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual references, violence, bad language, sexual language, smut

Comments/Notes: Re-post of original story which was posted on Tumblr last year in two 12-part stories. They will now be posted in two 6-part stories instead, just to condense the story down. Now has new name rather than it being a list of imagines for each chapter. If you wish to be added to a particular tag list, for a fandom, character or actor, message me or send an ask.

For a further few weeks, you and Raymond kept to your meeting place, the dairy barn. Each night you would make love, feeling the passion of your forbidden love rise. Raymond’s father had been pushing to dissolve your marriage, but he used this to his advantage, it becoming leverage to push his son into going on one last quest in their family name. “Raymond, you go on one last mission for me, and I will not see your marriage dissolved,” the old man had said, drawing a growl from Raymond.

“Whether I go or not, my marriage to her still stands,” Raymond hissed.

Then, finally, Raymond’s father had had enough of trying to make his son see sense. “If you do not go, I shall have her killed. If we go, then I shall spare her.”

Raymond knew that if his father made a threat then it was incredibly rare that he did not follow through on it. If he did not go to meet up with the travelling Irish monks on the road who were carrying a sacred relic, then you, his world, would be killed. And there was no way that Raymond could risk you, especially when you gave him news that evening.

“I think I’m pregnant,” you said softly, smiling.

Raymond swept you into a kiss, his hands brushing through your hair. “My love, I swear that after this last quest with my father then I shall remain by your side; we shall move from this god forsaken village, and I will bleed my father dry of everything. No one threatens you and my unborn child.”

“Make sure you come back to us,” you told Raymond, kissing the ring you had given him which was around his neck on a cord.

Raymond fell to his knees and lifted your dress, kissing your stomach. “I will return to you both, my love.”

The next morning would be when Raymond left, so you made sure you savoured each other in the barn that night. You made love way past the midnight hour, your cries falling onto empty air. Both of you fell asleep in the hay, wrapped together with your clothes over you for warmth.

*****

For the next few weeks that you were without Raymond, whilst he was travelling, you exchanged letters via pigeon. Every other morning and the same pigeon would come to the barn, dropping a small piece of parchment into your hand. Raymond would declare his love to you and your unborn child in each letter, swearing that his quest would uphold your honour and your vows as husband and wife.

Each letter you kept in a small wooden box which Etienne had given you as a wedding gift, a box which he had made himself, carved with roses coming into bloom.

But, suddenly, the letters from Raymond stopped.

*****

Your Raymond was dead. He had died staying true to his word and honouring you through betraying his father, trying to bring the bastard down and take away what he truly cared about. Upon hearing the news and you had fallen to your knees, weeping. Then you stormed out of the barn where you were working, kicking open the door and screaming into the open air.

Raymond’s body was brought back to the village, wrapped in a burial shroud. You kissed the fabric, your tears falling onto him. In a fold of the fabric, where you kissed, your lips touched something cold. You opened the cloth, and there across his chest, protruding from a hole in his leather gauntlet was an arrow. The sun shone down on the weapon, and on the very edge of the curled, modified shaft, you could see a small droplet of blood.

From the very day that your beloved Raymond was buried, you vowed to avenge his death. Firstly, you took his sword from his body along with the arrow, and watched in secret from behind a tree as his body was placed into the ground. His bastard of a father stood before his son’s body, his arms crossed.

He would be first.

Revenge was coursing through your body, filling your blood so it was red hot. Raymond’s death would not be in vain; you would make sure that every man who was responsible for your husband’s passing would feel pain, excruciating and raw.

The night of Raymond’s funeral and you gagged his father after sneaking into the back entrance of the house. The old man squirmed on the bed beneath you after being woken by your knees pressing into his chest. You held a dagger above the man’s body and drove it slowly downward into his chest, hearing him scream around the gag. Something dark overtook you and a sly smirk crept onto your lips as you watched the bastard die slowly, choking miserably on his own blood. But before he died you whispered in his ear, “Raymond’s child grows in my belly, and he will rise to take everything you own.”

You left the town, watching on in sadness as Etienne slept soundly, not knowing what fate would await you. In your bag you put rations of food, weapons, clothing and your box of letters from Raymond. His sword was snug in its scabbard at your waist and the arrow was placed in an inside pocket of your tunic. The few riding lessons you had had with Lucille and Henri would prove useful as you took one of the horses from the stables and left the village for good.

Word had spread in the village whilst you were there, remaining away from Raymond’s family, but still listening for news, that Raymond had been killed by a mute. This mute was tall, broad and had a cross tattooed on his back. That was enough information for you to begin searching.

You travelled far, inquiring where you could about the mute. Your sickness began, rendering you unable to travel during the first half of the day, but your resolve to see Raymond’s murderer dead was enough to keep you going. At night, lying beneath the stars or in abandoned houses, you would look upon your late husband’s letters, crying yourself to sleep.

Finally, you got a lead. He had last been seen approaching the coast, ready to get a boat to England to move back into Ireland. You stuck to the shadows, keeping your hood up out of your face. You ate at night just before sleeping and travelled by day.

In your pocket you fingered a small bottle which you had picked up from an apothecary. It was used during surgical interventions to paralyse parts of the body, but also used as a poison if it got into the wrong hands. An overdose could easily paralyse someone completely or slip them into a coma.

You found him. You saw him sitting alone at a tavern, his dark eyes watching everyone as they walked through the building. You kept your hood up and walked in, keeping to the edge of the room, your eyes smouldering in anger. You would make the fucker pay! All the people you had asked for information had served their purpose well, guiding you to him.

Being a woman may work to your advantage here, you thought. You looked across the room, through the masses of bodies, and approached him. You sat beside him, smiling and slid your hand down onto his thigh. Repulsion racked through you for touching another man who wasn’t your dearest Raymond, and more than that, this was the man who had murdered him.

An hour later and you found yourself in one of the upper rooms of the tavern, having brought a room for the night, and you were in the arms of the mute. He was kissing you, drawing all the disgust out of you, but you were doing this for Raymond. You stopped for a moment, quickly slipping the liquid from the bottle in your pocket into the ale, and then handed him the cup. “Come and drink,” you whispered. So far and he had not noticed your slight of hand.

He drank from the cup and moved forward to kiss you again, but suddenly stopped and collapsed to the bed. A grunt of frustration rose from him as he tried to move, his eyes wide in shock.

Laughing, you straddled him, and tied his arms to the bed posts, making sure that he could not move one inch. “You’re probably wondering who I am,” you told him, grinning at him. He stared at you, swallowing hard, his body completely paralysed. “This will answer your question.” From your inside pocket of the tunic you wore, you pulled out the arrow. You slid the metal down his cheek, onwards to his chest, his eyes widening even further. Slowly you ripped open his shirt, looking at the scars across him.

His body arched as you dug the metal into his thigh and twisted. Then you followed with the other thigh. Followed then by just above his chest, digging into his collarbones, each one in turn. “This is for my Raymond, you bastard!” you growled, forcing the arrow into his neck, in the exact same place that your husband had been bitten by this animal before you.

You slipped away that night, leaving behind the bloodied and mutilated body of the mute, satisfied that your beloved had finally been avenged.

**** FIN (Part 2 is on AO3 and can be posted here if people request) *****

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@himoverflowers @shikin83 @theincaprincess @deepestfirefun @nowiloveandwilllove @houseofrahl @mynameisnoneya1991 @blankdblank @captainrainbowpanda @cd1242 @c-s-stars @thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @trees-and-ink @inumorph @leah-halliwell92 @msjava1972 @bespectacled-bunny @ghostlyandee @raindancer2004 @dottiechan @captain-almighty @hobbitlover23 @catthefearless @epicallychrissy @nelswp @adaliamalfoy @spn-obsession @armitageadoration @peneigh-dzredfohl @here2have-fun @greendragonette @littlebird54 @thophil2941btw @princessoferebor94 @banlaochranda @wilhelmyna @gabrieleaquaman @rachel1959 @serpensortia06 @rcrispina @kategorically-challenged @tigereyesf @jumpingmanatee @alae-megallen @tschrist1 @inlovewithamantwicemyage @aspiringtranslator @princessofthefandomrealm @letsbeinspiredby @lilith15000 @lealina-scarsdale @scarsfanfictiontrash @mechromancing-cinnamon-roll @ra-of-light @jassy2101 @durinsqueen @hariclea @sherala007 @onewithleaf @legolaslovely @michelem703 @bthtallmadge2 @marieannetora 

Anything Richard Armitage tag list: @inkededucatednnerdy @crazytxgradstudent

Raymond de Merville tag list: @hails270105

[shreyamistry]

Valentine’s Day Together - It Lives Series

Pairings: Ava, Andy, Dan, Danni, Imogen, Lily, Lucas, Noah, Parker, Stacy, and Tom x MC

Summary: How you spend Valentine’s Day together. 

Word Count: 5.4k+ All Together

A/N: Hi all, happy early V-Day!! This is my Valentine’s Day series, if you recall I wrote ‘Realizing You’ve Fallen In Love’ - ILITW edition back in October for ILITW Appreciation Week and dedicated I wanted to another one of those, but for Valentine’s Day. My friends voted and Spending Valentine’s Day Together won the vote! Includes all It Lives Series LIs (Does not include Connor, because I don’t know how to write for him. Sorry about that). With that said, each ficlet is about 500 words and is in alphabetical order (excluding ava & andy, i forgot my abcs it seems lol.)! Hope you like it, thanks for reading! Find the first one and this one on my masterlist, link in bio!

Thanks for reading! I hope you like it!

Ava:

Ava invites you over to her apartment on Valentine’s Day, she promises to watch movies with you and enjoy the ‘commercial’ holiday with you. When you get there, she has bowls of candy on the table along with an array of pizzas from Pizza Overlord. She’s even gotten your favorite toppings on the pizza.

She wraps the both of you in a blanket and turns on her favorite Valentine’s Day movie, The Silence of the Lamb, she doesn’t even flinch during the scary parts or suspenseful parts. Instead, she laughs at you any time you jump and throws candy at you when you least expect it to freak you out. By the end of the movie, you’re certain you’ll have nightmares about this movie but at least you got to spend time with Ava wrapped up in her blankets cuddling.

“That was a good movie.” She says as she slides off of the couch approaching her Blu-Ray player. She rummages through a few select films before holding them up in your direction a wicked grin on her face. “1981 My Bloody Valentine or Let The Right One In, with subtitles. The remake was garbage.”

“My Bloody Valentine, I guess.” You reply and she pops the movie into the Blu-Ray player with a smile you rarely see before she falls onto the couch beside you holding a twizzler between her teeth. She raises her eyebrows at you, earning a laugh from you. You take the other end of the candy into your mouth meeting her in a cherry flavored kiss before she pulls you into her arms kissing you.

She presses your back into the couch leaning over you, her kisses on your neck and jaw, as the movie plays on with a lot of screaming. Not that you’re bothered to look when you have your goth girlfriend on top of you. After a while, she pulls away a smile on her lips before she leans over grabbing the remote off the table.

“You hear those screams, makes it sound real.” She hits the volume button a few times. You watch the film a few moments seeing a woman in paled by a man on a spike. Ava shakes her head with a laugh, “That’s a classic. Want to recreate it?” She pretends to stab the remote into your chest causing you to scream in surprise leaving her to fall into a fit of laughs. You shove her shoulder pouting at her.

“I hate you.” You huff, taking a handful of M&Ms tossing them into your mouth.

“Happy Valentine’s Day babe.” She replies, laughing to herself as she tunes into the movie pulling you back into her arms, snuggling up against her form as you finish watching the movie the both of you falling asleep before the movie ends.

Andy:

Andy invited you on a date to play Paintball for Valentine’s Day where his team practices. They held a couples competition for anyone interested with a grand prize of a gift card to a restaurant and bouquet of roses to give to your significant other. Andy and you decided you needed to win and try out this place for a free dinner date. When the match starts the two of you pair up together and explore the arena to take out your enemies. Before long the two of you have dominated much of the field together, luckily you’ve been able to be a strong distraction so he can get precision shots in.

The both of you finishing wiping out another team, you get the final close-range shot on the girl who stepped into your way by accident trying to flee from Andy. She smiles and congratulates you on the shot before making her way off the field. You and Andy pant catching your breath.

“You’re fucking killing it.” He grins, he gives you a high five. “If I knew you were this good, I’d have added you as the new team member when Jason quit.” You smile in response leaning onto Andy’s frame for support,  running a hand through your hair to brush it out of your eyes.

“How many people are left?” You ask as Andy inspects the leader board on his phone.

“Two people.” He replies, “We have 12 points and they have 12.”

“You ready to kick some ass than Kang?” You grin at him and he grins back.

He pulls you close to him, his hands around your body holding you close to him. “They don’t call me King Kang for nothing.” He laughs, brushing his fingers over your face, tucking your hair out of the way of your face. You can’t help, but smile at him leaning in slightly, his lips brushing against yours as his hands fall onto the small of your back. His mouth moves against yours perfectly, making you dizzy and intoxicated with the scent, feeling, and taste of Andy.  He lets out a moan, as you tug on his lower lip with your teeth before pulling away from him with a smirk.

“You’re going to give away our position, Kang.” You warn as he shrugs, trapping you against the wall, both arms on either side of you. You wrap your arms around his torso as he captures your lips in another kiss, enjoying the feeling of his kisses. Your hands running over his back with excitement, as he flicks his tongue across your lower lip when you hear someone tripping coming from the column beside you. You break apart sharing a secret smile, he nods in response, raising his paintball gun. “Give em hell, Kang.”

“Naturally.” He radiates confidence, turning down the other side of the column. You wait for him to reach the end, giving each other thumbs up before jumping into the other lane surprise attacking the team from both sides leaving them splattered with paint as you and Andy cry out in battle.

Dan:

Dan’s roommate leaves for the night to stay at his boyfriend’s house leaving the two of you to stay in his dorm alone together. He gathers a bunch of blankets and sheets building the both of you a tent out of the furniture in his place, cozying up with you on a homemade bed made out of pillows and his thicker blankets he didn’t use to make the canopy. He sneaks his tiny TV under there along with a cardboard box loaded with foods and snacks.

He cuddles up to your side, taking a handful of cheese off of the tray popping them into his mouth as your favorite Disney movie plays on the screen. You can’t help but stare at him. Your heart weighed down by how much you loved him as you stare at his handsome features, ducking your eyes down from him when he notices you staring.

“I’m glad we got the place to ourselves.” He takes your hand into his own, threading his fingers through your own. You rest your head on his shoulder nuzzling up against him. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with you.”

“You say the sweetest things,” You kiss the football captain on the lips. His free hand falling onto the back of your neck holding you to him as tilts his head to the side granting him easier access to kissing you. His lips are sweet and gentle against yours, the hand on your neck sliding down to your shoulder and down your arms resting on your shoulder. You break the kiss with a soft pant as he leans in kissing your nose. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you more, you know that?” He smiles brightly. “You’re perfect in every way.”

“Flatterer.” You grin, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You make me want to be my best self.” He smiles at you, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek lovingly. You brush your nose against him at the closeness. He reaches out to take another few cubes of cheese off the table popping one into your mouth and the other into his own.

“This cheese is fantastic.” He comments, “Almost worth the twenty dollars I spent.”

“You spent TWENTY DOLLARS on cheese!?” You ask in shock as he blushes with a laugh.

“Guilty as charged. I wanted today to be special for you.” He shrugs, “And my therapist says it’s nice to splurge on yourself and your loved ones.” You brush your hand against his cheek this time, laying a sweet kiss to his lips.

“You being here, makes it special enough for me.” He smiles at your words cozying up to your side against letting your head fall onto his shoulder as the both of you continue to snack on cheese and grapes, ignoring the shitty wine he stole from his roommate content with your boyfriend and Disney film.

Danni:

It surprised you to find Danni invited you on a late night hike for Valentine’s Day, the air was cold and crisp and you were both bundled up in sweaters as she leads you through a patch of trees. When you realize you’ve stumbled upon a meadow out of bloom.  You notice the blankets, a glass of sparkling cider, and a cookie tin.

“Danni?” You ask as she grins at you with no words leading you up the path to the blanket. She pulls you onto the blanket the both of you cuddling up to one another as she encases you with blankets. Your head on her chest listening to her beating heart in her chest as you stare at the sky. The sunset nearly there as the skies hues of purple fades a deeper shade as the sun disappears.

“I love coming out here,” She says, “the view is stunning. I wanted to share it with you, it means a lot to me. My mom used to take me here when I was younger.”

“Danni.” You whisper in response kissing her cheek. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Someone’s gotta appreciate the view and I sure as hell wasn't going to bring Eagle Scout here.” You laugh at her comment thinking of her and Parker sitting quietly watching the sunset and then going home without saying much else. “The view is better from here. Okay, that was so cheesy, I feel stupid saying it.”

“I hope it was worth the endless teasing the group chat will give you.” You laugh, as her hand cups your cheek brushing your hair out of your face.

“Not the group chat.” She reigns fake horror and the two of you laugh until your stomachs hurt. “Do you care if I take a picture? This scenery and that outfit are too good to pass up.”

You shove her shoulder playfully as she fishes her phone out of her pocket opening the camera app. “I demand you be in the picture too.” She rolls her eyes, but obliges anyway, she holds the phone out in front of the both of you and just as she captures the picture you catch her lips in a kiss. She gives in instantly after stiffening being caught off guard, her free hand on the back of your neck and she snaps a few more pictures. You relish in the moment, her lips are soft and sweet, she smells delicious as her perfume catches in your nose. Your hands running over her sides, holding her close to you by the waist.

You break the kiss to catch your breath and Danni can’t stop staring at you. She brushes her thumb along your lower lip, kissing you again gently. “I love you.” She whispers against your lips.

“I love you more.” You roll on top of her straddling her hips as the two of you plant sloppy kisses on one another, her hands in your hair and yours cupping her cheeks. After your make-out sessions, she insists on doing a photo shoot of you and the view, the two of you spend a lot of the night cuddling under blanket taking pictures and enjoying yourselves together, laughing into the wee hours of the night. You don’t even mind the cold you’ll get in the morning.

Imogen:

Imogen invites you to an ice cream parlor for your date, she buys the both of you the extra large cones of your favorite ice cream. After paying the tab and loading up your cones with different toppings, she walks hand in hand with you down the town square telling you her adventures of Pine Springs she and Kyle had together.

“Look at this!” She pulls you towards the edge of the town square overlooking a cove leading to the beach. She smiles brightly as she turns to you licking some of her ice cream that dribbles down her fingers. “This is where we ran away too. I forget what happened, but Mom was mad at the both of us and she asked him to go home and I said I wouldn’t let her do it. And she sent me to my room. He stood outside hiding, and I snuck out of the window and we met down by the cove and planned our new lives in that cove. That was my rebel moment.”

She laughs excitedly. You can’t help, but smile leading her towards the steps off towards the side leading down to the cove. She giggles chasing after you before the both of you fall into the sand looking at the sky keeping your ice cream from spilling.

“What’s our future look like?” You ask, turning to look at her. Her eyes are sweet and kind as she smiles at you, brushing her hand against your cheek, stroking your skin for a few moments before turning her attention to the sky.

She smiles, “We’ll have a horse. And a kitty cat or two.”

“Two kitty cats?”

“Obviously.” She laughs, “And we’ll be happy. Yeah, most importantly we’ll be happy. We’ll have a cute little town house big enough for both of us and Elliot, maybe even kids. We can always adopt.”

“It sounds like a perfect future, Genny.” You grin taking her face into your hands. “Because I’ll have you.” She blushes leaning in and kisses you sweetly on the lips, her hand holding up her ice cream cone from falling as she delves your hands into her hair kissing her deeper. You break apart briefly to grin at one another brushing a few strands of hair out of her face.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, kissing her nose.

The both of you untangle yourself standing from the sand and she looks at her ice cream that’s mostly gone. She frowns softly turning to you with a hopeful smile. “What do you feel about another ice cream cone?”

“Hell yeah.” You smile, throwing your arm over her shoulder leading her back towards the ice cream parlor. She goes back into another story about her and Kyle, enjoying the warmth of your body against hers in the breeze of the February cold.

Lily:

The cat café near the gaming studio Lily works at was hosting a lover’s tea set party with cats evening. Lily was super excited to go, and she knew you’d love hanging out with cats with her. You met Lily there since she had to work beforehand and find her wearing a pretty laid-back with her hair up in a cute style.

She blushes as your mouth falls open, “Oh hush!” She pushes on your arm. “The girls at the office heard we were coming and thought it’d be cute to do my hair for me.”

“You look stunning, babe. As you always do.” You place your hands on her forearms holding her there, smiling at her as you lean in to kiss her sweetly on the lips. “I feel underdressed now.”

“You’re gorgeous, you always are.” She smiles back, encasing you a hug. She tears away from you, taking your hand before leading you into the cat café. She talks to the hostess and before long the two of you are in the café sitting by yourself with cups of tea and cats surrounding you. Dewey the Cat naps in Lily’s lap, occasionally waking up to lick her paw or glare at Lily for laughing too loudly at your jokes.

You pet the cat that continues to brush against your arm, taking a sip of the sweet berry flavored tea. “I can’t believe you managed a reservation here, on a Valentine’s Day special.”

“I may have woke up at 6am to call as soon as someone got in.” She giggles, taking her half-eaten finger sandwiches popping it into her mouth. “My girlfriend deserves it.”

“You’re the best, Lil.” You smile as you place the mug of tea back onto the table. You lean down and place a chaste kiss to the top of the cats head half in your lap before crawling over to Lily’s side of the table. She smiles as you slide up next to her, scratching the chin of the cat in her lap your other hand falling on her cheek. “I’m happy we got to do this.”

“Me too.” She smiles, leaning in close to you. The warmth of her breath on your skin and yours on her. She smells sweetly like floral and roses as she meets you for a kiss. Her hand on your elbow as you cup her cheek with one hand and the other moves to the back of her neck holding her close to you. Cherishing the feeling of your girlfriend’s touch and kiss against you. 

She pulls away after a while, her teeth digging into her lower lip hiding her blush and smile. “I’ve been looking forward to that all day. I almost coded a character kissing a character they shouldn’t in the game!”

“You’re a nerd.” You smile brushing your nose against hers. “I love you with my whole heart.” She smiles back kissing the tip of your nose before saying it back. The both of you sit in a comfortable chill environment talking about anything and everything, treating yourself to cute sandwiches and cats to tasty fish flavored treats 

Lucas:

Lucas invites you on a date to his favorite museum near his university. He leads you through exhibits telling you the history behind it, listing off facts you’ll never remember and have no difference in your life. Despite it, you can’t help your growing smile your hands threaded together looking over the vast historical setups.

“Did you know-”

You cut him off quickly, “Every time you say that I do not understand what you’re talking about.” He laughs in reply running his free hand through his hair to fix the loose strands. “I love you, but you forget I’m kind of a dumbass.”

Lucas rolls his eyes in response, a soft smile spreading over his lips, “You’re not a dumbass. We're getting towards the end of the tour, want to hit the gift shop?”

“Do you think they have food there, I’m starving.” You reply exaggerating the word starving. “Typically, Valentine’s Dates include food for your hungry significant other. No?”

Lucas laughs, pulling you close to him. “I promise we’ll get food after this. The rainforest cafe is towards the entrance.” He kisses you gently on the lips, walking backwards as he faces you holding your hands in yours towards the gift shop. “Starvation takes 30-45 days to kill you if you hydrate correctly. Hopefully, you’ve hydrated before this or you might lie down and die here.”

“Now that you say that, I’m feeling feeble and weak.” You sigh, pulling the both of you to a stop. You pretend to trip over your feet falling into his arms, he catches you quickly his lips curling into a smile. “How will I go on, I am starving and weak. Lucas avenge me.” You lower yourself carefully onto the floor getting a few looks from people passing by.

“So, I lied earlier. You are a dumbass.” He nudges you with his foot. “Are you going to die, baby?” He squats down low to hear your response as you dramatically whisper to him peeking one eye open to look at him.

“No, I need kisses to save me. You wouldn’t let me die would you?”

Lucas laughs at your comment before pressing a kiss to lips softly and sweetly. His hands cup your cheeks and the scent of his cologne register on your nose. You inhale the scent of Lucas and fall into the kiss before he finally pulls away a blush on his cheeks as he glances around at the few people ‘awwing’ at the both of you. “Get up.”

“Fine. But you’re buying me something epic in the gift shop.” He helps you up, wrapping an arm around your waist leading you towards the gift shop with a laugh. The both of you enjoy the rest of your date at the museum ending with the tastiest sandwiches you’ve ever eaten in your entire life.

Noah:

Noah invites you to a concert to see one of his favorite underground artists. The drive there is silent besides their music playing as the both of you enjoy each other’s company without words. Once there, the show is in full supply and you and Noah find yourselves front row. He can’t stop smiling and it makes your heart flutter in your chest as you pretend to know the lyrics while the singer holds the mic out towards the audience.

Noah grabs you by the waist pulling you in close to him whispering the lyrics between the two of you, moving to the beat as he sways you. “You look happy.”

“I am happy.” He smiles, leaning in close to whisper in your ear so you can hear him over the music. “I’m with my favorite person at my favorite show, it doesn’t get better than this, kid.”

You smile back at him, “You should smile more. You look beautiful when you do.” He brushes his hand against your face, letting his cheeks grow red with a blush.

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, despite his words you can still see the corner of his lips curled upwards in a cute smile that he’s desperately trying to ward off. “You shouldn’t tell people to smile more, they’ll think you’re a freak.”

“You already thought that, dummy.” You laugh, the distance between the two of you, even more, none existent. His fingers thread through your hair as you are drawn together into a kiss as the band crashes down the chorus of their best song. The words swarm in your head mixing with the excitement of his lips against yours.

His lips are soft, but you can feel where he bits at the skin on his lip when he’s nervous. His hand on the small of your back the other on your cheek. Yours on either side of his neck holding him close a fear of losing him. The kiss lasts for an eternity and you swear you’re holding the entire world in your hands.

When you break apart you lean your weight against him and he holds you as the band switches to one of their slow songs. A steady sweet rhythm with romantic lyrics fills the room as the lead singer encourages everyone to dance with their partner and celebrate their love this Valentine’s Day.

“Thank you for inviting me,” You glance around at the ground before settling your gaze back on him, his eyes full of emotions he can’t express properly, “I love sharing your world with you, baby.”

“I like having you in my world.” He whispers back before the two of you fall silent enjoying the embrace of one another, the music, and the love in your heart long into the night as the band plays.

Parker:

Parker being the gentleman he is invites you to a small restaurant that he’s been going to since he was a child. He tells you stories of his youth his face bright with excitement and you listen intensely to his story happy and content to be on a Valentine’s Day date with the perfect man. The food comes out and you talk more.

“Do you like it?” He smiles politely.

You take another bite speaking with your mouthful, “It's deliahcous.”

Parker laughs, before taking a fork full of his favorite chicken pasta. Before he can even take a bite, you snake your hand onto his own, taking his fork stealing his food. His eyes widen in surprise before settling into a smile. “Really?”

“Mmmmhm.” You manage out, the hot food burning your tongue slightly, “Perfection.”  Despite himself, he smiles, plucking his fork out of your hand shaking his head. “What?” You ask at the look he gives you, his eyes glossed over with a look you’ve never seen before, but it’s healing and makes you feel loved. He smiles softly from his resting face casting his eyes down at his food before speaking.

“I just love you a lot.” His voice faintly above silence sharing the intimacy of his words between the two of you, a faint blush on his cheeks as he meets your eyes a sincere look in his eyes making your heart flutter in your chest unsure of how to respond his random declaration of love. He reaches across the table taking your hand into his own before scooting his chair towards the side closer to you. He meets your lips in a passionate kiss that tastes like chicken and sends your heart flying. His hand cups your cheek letting his tongue brush against your bottom lip. Before the kiss can last too long he pulls apart. “Wow.”

“Almost as good as the food.” You grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before taking another bite of pasta. He laughs to himself, tugging on his tie to reposition it back into place. After the both of you finish eating he invites you back home. On the car ride to his house, he holds your hand in his lap, brushes his fingers back and forth over your skin absently as he concentrates on the road.

You finally break the silence, “You know, I just love you a lot too, Officer Shaw.”

“You better.” He breaks into a grin back, he brings your hand to his lips kissing it. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in life and then some.” His eyes turn back to the road as the light turns green driving the both of you back to his place in a comfortable silence the radio purring a romantic song as you hum along to the beat feeling content and love pouring through your heart, trying to stop yourself from smiling which never happens. You’re too in love with him for your own good.

Stacy:

Stacy invites you to her house, she meets you at the door with a kiss on your cheek. She takes you by the hand leading you into her apartment. Her house smells of fruit and cinnamon and she leads you to the table where she has a set up of a cooking sheet and a microwave and a few bags of groceries.

“I thought you might like to make Chocolate covered strawberries with me.” She pulls out the chair beside her patting it for you to sit down. Her hands pull on the sleeve of her purple crop top blushing softly. “Felt tacky to buy them pre-made.”

“Sounds fun, Stace.” You smile taking the seat and she sits beside you preparing the skewers as you measure out the chocolate into bowls, she bought a variety of colors to make it more fun for the both of you. Shades of pink with matching sprinkles. The two of you melt the chocolate laughing and having fun, stealing chocolate melts while Stacy isn’t looking. She skewers the strawberries and the two of you continue to decorate your Valentine's Day treats.

While she puts them in the fridge to cool, you find a box of Valentine’s Day cards for kids on the table a grin growing on your lip as you think back to your youth of passing them out in elementary school to all of your friends; you remember giving your favorite one to Stacy every year and she’d do the same.

“I thought it might be a good laugh,” She replies seeing you look over the box. She saddles up behind you, resting her hands on your shoulder placing a kiss to the top of your head. She moves her hands up your neck to brush her fingers through your hair styling your hair to her liking giving you a head massage with her fingers.

You open the box, “I think it will be. If they’re anything like they were when we were kids, I’ll give you a vaguely flirty one since I didn’t realize I had a crush on you.” She laughs in reply reading over your shoulder as you show her the first card. “You’re the apple of my eye, Valentine.”

“Shopkin Valentine’s Day cards are so cheesy.” She laughs, taking the next card from your hand. “This one has a smiling strawberry. Have a Berry Happy Valentine's day!” You laugh in reply and she leans against the table.

“Are you having a berry happy Valentine's Day?” She asks.

You think for a minute, “A few kisses would make it even better.” She grins in reply leaning in to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. The taste of strawberries and chocolates on your mouth, as she delves her hands into your hair you arms moving to encase her body holding her firmly against you, enjoying the moment. Before long you break away smiling and blushing at one another and she suggests watching a movie and you curl up on the couch with your treats watching her favorite Rom-Coms.

Tom: 

Tom invites you over to his house the night of Valentine’s Day, when you get there you’re overwhelmed by the smell of chocolate - burning? - coming from the kitchen. You walk into his apartment finding him a mess with hair down falling over his shoulders a burnt tray of brownies in his hands.

You can’t help, but laugh as he turns around and he has chocolate frosting on the corner of his lips and he startles noticing you nearly dropping the brownies onto the floor. With a laugh you take an oven mitt off the counter taking the tray of brownies from him, kicking the oven door closing.

“Wait! I’m treating you, stop doing stuff.” Tom whines, trying to take back the tray.

You lean in placing a sweet kiss to his lips, “Were a team, baby.” He smiles in response taking a breath of relief as he steps out of the way, letting you place the warm tray onto the stove balancing between a tray of Dino Nuggets and tater tots. “Dino Nuggs and Tater Tots?”

“A restaurant seemed above our pay grade.” He blushes, “We can go out if you-” You break him off with a gentle kiss against his lips, your hands grabbing the front of his shirt holding him close to you a few moments enjoying the sweetness of the chocolate on his lips.

“It’s perfect, Tommy.” You kiss him on the forehead. “I’m gonna kick your ass in Lookout.”

Tom laughs shaking his head, “No way in hell.”

“We’ll see!” You grin, grabbing two plates out of the cupboard for you as he grabs two glasses. The both of you load up on food and sweets and the drink of your choice he always carries your favorite drink in his house. Carrying the food you leave to the living room laughing about a stupid joke he made.

Settling onto the couch next to each other yelling and playing videos games, he surprises you with a gift! He gives you a fuzzy stuffed bear holding a heart with a cutesy handmade card. You kiss him and thank him for the gifts giving him your gift before the two of you get back into your intense game play. You try to steal his control away from him when he starts to win the both of you fighting over it laughing until he’s on top of you, looking into your eyes with his sweet smile before he leans in capturing you in a kiss, as both of your characters die on screen, not that either of you notice currently; being preoccupied and all.

“You’re too good to me, Tom.” You whisper as he breaks the kiss, your foreheads against one another. He shakes his head no giving you a quick peck on the lips before climbing off of you.

“You’re too good for me, if anything.” You grin at each other before returning to your gameplay stealing smiles,  distracted kisses, and looks at one another that makes your heart flutter and Tom blush late into the night.

[aksthetwosainthijimiko-blog]

Identity quest; chapter one

Hare Krishna hare Krishna Krishna Krishna hare Hare Hare/ Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare

This fanfiction is (obliviously) written by a Hare Krishna devotee from Montreal and an ex otaku...alright, maybe not so moment I heard Krishna was in Shin Megami Tensei, I was ecstatic. when I learn he had taken the role of the villain…I sort of became mad.

Or madder than usual.

Then I became inspired to write, to share Krishna as He is in all His Glories and sweetness. This piece of fanfiction is extremely special, for it has been blessed with the wisdom of many of my teachers and spiritual Master. May it give you, whoever has the fortune of reading this fanfiction, pure love of God and the ultimate goal of life.

This work is not perfect, but Srila Prabhupada wrote in his translation of the Srimad Bhagavatam that even if imperfect, any work glorifying the Lord is topmost in quality due to its ever perfect subject. (1.5.11)

Om tat sat

(edits and update. Oh Krishna all mighty...my writing sucks. well, my computer was suffering from a bad virus, and firefox ketp crashing but oh sri Vishnu, so much purple prose, it's not even funny. those who reads it, please just plow trough, I swear I get better...I hope.)

___________________

"Hari haraye namah krishna~ Yadavaya namaha~"

Nanashi raised his head as the wonderful, ethereal song reached his ear.

" Gopal, Govinda, Rama~ Sri Madhusudana~*

Giridhari, Gopinatha~Madana-mohana~"*

It felt so familiar, it felt like home, like a dream long forgotten on the threshold of remembrance. if not for the fact that the signer moved further away From the , his voice becoming intelligible, Nanashi was sure he would have remembered where he and when he heard it last.

'...seriously, what is this song and who is singing like that?' he wondered as the desire to meet the signer bloomed in his heart.

Looking back a where his adopted sister was still engrossed in her dumpster diving endeavors, the punk in green evaluated the risk and benefit of following his ears and heart to the singer's location. 'let see. The place is clear. And knowing Nikkari, nothing will get past his watch. Asahi is still very busy and it's like bloody boring. On the other hand, if I am caught straying from her... the boss will rip me a new one...' he shuddered at the prospect...And yet, and yet he was not really one who followed the rules. and he really, really wanted to meet the singer before something happened to him.

"Yo, Asahi," he called to his sister. "I'm going to take a leak. Don't do anything stupid, 'Kay?"

Asahi's head popped out of the dumpster she had been raiding for twenty minutes now, leering at him with curled lips and narrowed eyes as if he had informed her or something worst. "Don't tell me...ugh...fine, I can take care of myself. Thank you for the TMI by the way."

Nanashi grinned, " I' m just following the standard protocol sis."

Asahi widened her eyes in joked shock. "wait, you? Following protocols."

" Hey, shut up. It was only this one time… can I to now? I really-" need to follow this singer, not that she needed to know. But just for emphasis, he began hopping from one leg to another.

yes, it looked stupid, but he really did have this urge to just bolt from there.

" Yeah, just go do whatever you want. But remember to keep us updated, and find something cool or Nikkari will really roast you this time."

Nanashi smiled broadly, after throwing a quick 'thanks' over his shoulder, began the chase elusive signer, without considering that it could very well be a demon like a siren. but then, the young anarchist had never met one, let alone a male.

As he followed the wonderful song, already, the singer was far enough that the lyrics where rendered an indistinct mess the maze of the dilapidated Kinshicho district. Eventually, he arrived at where the song resounded the loudest and clearest, there he met a sight that will never leave his mind eyes.

There was a young man of peerless beauty dresser in bright orange bed sheets. He was bare-chested, baring a fragrant flower garland and another orange blanket around his shoulder. On his shoulder also was a string instrument the stranger strummed expertly as he sang and danced exuberantly, making his matted locks of golden hair flare like an extraordinary corona.

Nanashi just stood there, staring at the dancing, glowing man. He looked so out of place in the gloom of Tokyo, as if the sun had gone down to hang out with the unclean crowd of Tokyo. intoxicated with his dancing and chanting, the man swayed and cried tears of joy. belting out a soulful Sanskrit chant that stirred the teen's heart more than a sappy movie.

As for what he was chanting?

Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna~

Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare ~

Hare Rama, Hare Rama~

Rama Rama, Hare Hare~

And, like with his previous song, it made Nanashi shed tears as the distinct feeling of having found a precious treasure once stolen flooded his entire being.

'I know is this song...where have I heard it? And why is this man so familiar.'He thought as he whipped away his unceasing tears. Glad that no one was seeing this display. he was already pretty, delicate and unsure of his orientation. he did not need more fuel to feed this particular fire.

Scratch that, the stranger took noticed, and then grabbed the fifteen-year-old boy by the hands as he swayed in pure bliss.

"Oh, glories of all glories." He joyfully declared with an accent never heard by the underdome dweller. "I came to this place expecting to find a spiritual void, bereft of any type of devotion. And then you came, tasting the nectar of His sweet name like one of His dear devotee." The exuberant stranger extolled as he embraced the youth to his chest in the greatest bear hug known to humanity. "Tell me, oh fortunate child, who are you, who are your parents, where do you reside and who is your Guru?"

Nanashi just stood there, not sure if he should fight his way out or not do anything...And finally realized that the glowing stranger did not touch the ground, and the touch of his hand (he had released the boys but not his hands it seemed.) gave the young teen...a very blissful feeling, more intense than the Marin Karin spell...But better and without uncontrollable lust.

"I'm...Nanashi. I'm an orphan...I live... I live here, and what the hell is a guru? And just who are you?" there, he was back to his normal, somewhat belingerent self.

At the mention of his unfortunate lack of biological parents and crooked answered, the stranger looked compassionately and the young punk. Calming down from whatever had buzzed him so hard.

"Ah...I see. To answer your question, my name is Narada Muni, I am but a servant of the Lord of the universe, Bhagavan Sri Krishna. And a Guru is one who re-connect his disciples with The supreme and absolute truth and re-establish them in there eternal service to God."

The moment the word 'God' left his mouth, the boy in green ripped away his hand from the soft grip of Narada and drew out his Katana. 'shit! He must be an angel. I'm so screwed.'

Surprised and worried at the way he had reacted, Narada tried his best to pacify the boy.

" Ah...shanti shanti. Please be at peace. What cause you this reaction? You know I do not wish you any type of harm."

"Bullshit, you angels are all the same." Nanashi growled " You keep killing us human left and right in the name of God just because we're not pure enough! We will not worship your God...better die free." He boldly declared to Narada in a show of defiance.

Sure, he could run...But he also knew he would not survive the chase. 'better I let him kill me now then lead him to my sister and teachers.' he thought as he was mentally preparing for his imminent demise.

Narada just looked extremely puzzled and saddened at the teen's reaction. " but why do you think-" the angel in orange trailed off for a moment, his eyes opened wide " Oh. No, my lord, Sri Krishna is not like that. He is an unlimited ocean of mercy and a reservoir of sweetness." He soothed.

The boy raised a brow, his katana poised.

"Oh, you unfortunate child. You have been bewildered by the false god of this infernal play." At those words, Nanashi lowered his sword.

"Obliviously, your so-called 'god' and my Master are not the same persons. My master, the supreme personality of Godhead, is an ocean of mercy and the best friend and well-wishers of all living entity."

"Yeah, sure..." Nanashi spoke out, "Pull the other one, it has bells on it.."

This caused an amused smile to bloom on the face of the great sage. " indeed. Well, since I will obviously not be able to convince with words, and since you appreciated my singing of His Names and Glories, I Narada Muni, will give you the greatest of boons." He said as he while he opened his right palm forward in a sign of benediction.

Nanashi tensed up in anticipation, it could be anything, and attack, a curse...a blessing in disguise.

"Very soon, you will experience the sweetness of my Lord and Master, Bhagavan Sri Krishna, as you embark on an adventure that will change many life. you will gain His ever precious association, and service, as He enacts yet another one of His wonderful pastime. May you meet many great souls and find your true family, and may love of God bloom in your heart. I give you this blessing, that the Lord of All Lord, the Master and Generator of all universes and The Lord of the Gopis of Vraja, your eternal Master, always remain with you."

A shiver went up Nanashi's spine...'what...the hell?'

"Now, I wish I could remain longer to teach you the sublime process of bhakti yoga, but unfortunately, I must leave." And then, Narada muni was gone.

No, he hadn't blinked, he had kept staring at Narada as he waited for the other shoe to drop. And then he was just gone, leaving Nanashi all alone in the blocked off street of Kinshicho wondering what the was that all about.

'...ok...that was weird...' he thought as he put away his carbon katana as he surveyed his surrounding. There was no sign that Narada had even been there, nor any demons. Taking a step back, his foot made something slid on the ground with a clattering noise.

'Oh hey! A smartphone!' he picked up the piece of technology off the ground and tried to boot it up, but the screen remained black.

'Well...at least I have something to show.' putting his meeting with Narada and his 'blessing' behind him, Nanashi somehow managed to find his way back to the team. Whom, by the time he returned, were planning a search for him since he had been gone for half an hour.

well, at least the corner of Nikkari's mouth had a bit of an upturned twist. so while he was mad, and rightly so, Nanashi knew it would not last long. like last time.

in the control room, chaos reigned and a feeling of utter hopelessness pervaded the atmosphere as the countdown to impact inexorably tick down.

Static

suddenly, one of the tech guys screamed something about Flynn being on camera four. So everyone turned their gaze at the otaku turned samurai.

Static

" I want to save everyone...no matter the cost." He spoke with resolution as he drew the legendary Masakado sword.

Static

the countdown until the nuclear head obliterated Tokyo neared zero, A...monstrous head of what was probably Masakado engulfed Flynn's own, ready to accept the sacrifice.

Static

And then, the youngest member of the counter demon force...

A pair of hand mercifully hid Nanashi's eyes from the gruesome display that he had seen to many time to count. They were so soft and fragrant...soothing like moonlight.

"Woops! That's not for you to see. not anymore." Spoke a young man with a voice as deep as the rumbling of the firmament during an earthquake...And yet a thousand time sweeter than...

Actually, Nanashi had nothing to compare it with, this voice literally was the first time had experience sweetness.

He tried to turn around...And when he succeeded, a powerful and all-pervading light blinded the boy. It was so powerful, the dreaming youth thought he would forget himself in the bliss of painlessness.

"No, please. Do not lose yourself in my light. For now, just remain 'Nanashi'. Later, you will have another name, and your eternal identity." The source of the light spoke, his voice pervading the ether.

"Who are you? What do you want of me?" the boy asked.

"...Oh, so you have forgotten about me." Spoke the light, his disappointment very clear. " I am the supreme Brahman or Supreme Spirit. But God may be more familiar to you." The light, God spoke gently. " And...I just wanted to meet you."

" why?"

" because I miss you."

Those words, heavy with love, made Nanashi reeled.

And then his sister woke him up. They had a training session with Nikkari in Kinshicho park and once again, He had been oversleeping...In her opinion.

_____________________________

" Alright Nanashi, good job." Cheered Asahi. "You're a natural at it."

Nanashi just shrugged as he cleaned his sword, he just knew how to wield a katana well and his aim was true. It took him a lot of practice to get at that level, and a pair of exceptional teachers.

But he knew that he was not at his best, his mind still lingering on last night's dream.

'it's just a dream...a stupid dream where God miss me. I swear...it must have been this Narada.'

" Nanashi...is everything alright. You look spaced out." Asahi gently asked her adopted brother. "It's another one of those dreams, is it? The one with the crucified boy?"

He nodded, for as long as he could remember, he had been plagued with very intense dreams. Some were of the past, when the bedrock dome was erected to protect them from the ICBM and locking them up with the demons. other times, it was about a boy, with blue hair being attacked by an amalgamation of demons in the shape of a two headed grinning beast., usually he had guns for fingers in those. And other times it was about a woman who had his eyes and... very uncommon hair.

She looked so much like him.

But those were just dreams... dreams he would relate to his sister when she would wake him up.

Of course, the current dream, the one about God missing him...definitely would not fly. He had heard hunters being killed for less than that. And thus he had lied.

Asahi pat him on the back. " Well that sucks...anyway, I think we practiced enough, let's go to report back at the fountain." Grabbing his hand, she led Nanashi to were their mentors waited for them. Both men were speaking about something while absentmindedly flexing and rubbing their left arm.

"Nanashi, you were distracted today." Commented Nikkari, the older demon hunter spoke as less of reproach and more as an observation.

" Yeah...weird dream."

" and then there is yesterday's escapade."

Nanashi shrunk under the older hunters disapproving gaze.

" Yo, Nik. Cut the kid some slack would ya? He's just 15, you know, stuff is changin'." Manabu spoke as he gave a meaningful glance to the 'old man' of the group who simply rolled his eyes and massaged his nose.

Nanashi just kept a stone like expression, he knew what Manabu was referring too but...well, he'd just never had something like that, something about being malnourished and lacking sunlight, the doctor said.

"Nonetheless you and your sister have improved tremendously. Soon enough, you will both have your own smartphone and demons." This made Asahi squealed in pure delight.

"That should do, for now. Let's be on our way." Nikkari spoke as he smiled to Nanashi, and the boy knew his past transgression was somewhat forgiven.

Nanashi paused as he rubbed his left arm...it was twitching like crazy and for some reason, his guts told him something...not so good was going to happen. Noticing his unease, Asahi tried to break the overall tension.

"Was fighting hard, Nanashi?"

'...really?' "Nah, not really." The boy in green shrugged, killing demons never caused him any problem. especially those who were known man-eater, meaning most of them.

"You really held out your own out there." She commented with a tender smile that did not do anything to ease the tense atmosphere.

Suddenly, shadows fell from the sky and an overpowering smell of expensive perfume choked their lungs. Immediately, both elder hunters surrounded the two cadets. and not a moment too soon, for they were now surrounded by a group of demons, all of them gazing at the small human group like a butcher a carcass.

"Shit..."

Somehow, this one word by Manabu explained the situation perfectly.

Out of the horde of demons, one walked out, and Nanashi did not know if he should be extremely scared or extremely amused.

The mix of the two was very peculiar, to say the least.

It was an unholy mix between a unicorn and a peacock decorated with piercings, purple makeup and what he hoped where false eyelashes.

The...fabulous being, sashayed from between the other demons, towering over them. Swaying his hip like a pendulum he opened his tail and struck a pose, some flames elegantly curling from his plump purple lips.

"I am Adramelech," he introduced himself with a flourish, "loyal servant and sworn knight of the Demon Lord Lucifer."

The group of surrounded human looked at one another. On one side, they knew they were doom, there was no way they could beat this demon. And on the other...

If a lipstick wearing unicock...peacorn...thing was his lieutenant, it spoke *volume* about the fallen angel.

The hybrid continued. " there's been talk of Merkabah descent from the Sky Tower and we came to have a little look-see. Of course," his reddish gaze hungrily scanned the only humans around. "After such a long and arduous trek, my solders and I find our stomach howling in hunger."

Now both elder hunters cursed vehemently as they moved in front of the two underage teens. Nanashi stuck close to his sister, he was sure he would survive since over the years it had been made very clear he was hard to kill...

His sister, on the other hand...

"I digress. Word is you human have started feasting on the flesh of demons." Adramelech put his clawed hands of his full, colourful hips." I can't say I disapprove. It's just a law of nature that the strong rule the weak."He flipped his red hair. "It's a dog-eat-dog world, after all." This caused all of his underlings to cheers, and a sure feeling of doom the descend on Nanashi.

'forget about Asahi...I don't think even I will survive.'

He felt his sister move closer to him. looking at her, Nanashi could see only fear in her eyes. It's was oblivious she was regretting her decision to become a hunter by now. The boy in green held Asahi's trembling hand...they may not survive, but he would always be there for her...somehow.

"Yo...Adramelech!" This was Manabu, the rasta hunter brazenly took a step forward. "We get you, you and your teams starving and were probably the only guys you found."

Adramelech raised a well-groomed eyebrow.

"Let's make a deal, shall we?" Nikkari spoke after meaningfully looking at Manabu. " You eat me and Manabu, and you let the two children go."

"What? No!" Asahi screamed. Nanashi held his sister...He didn't like it, but he knew where they wanted to lead the demons.

"Yeah man, me and Nik are old. Meaning more meat for you and your army. Those two kids are scrawny, barely any fat on them and full of bones. Better you eat us. Beside, bet ya never tasted a Brazilian before."

'Oh Manabu...no...' Nanashi felt so powerless, he could try to take on Adramelech, but he doubted he woud survive to do more then a few scratches.

Adramelech scratched his chin with well-manicured claws. " Well, I will admit we're running out of variety down there...And you two look both well seasoned and exotic."

Manabu lowered his shoulder as a ray of hop, at least for the sibling, pierced the cloud of doom.

And then Adramelech smirked in a way that mercilessly snuffed this newborn hope. "But I'm more of a quantity over quality type of guy if you catch my drift."

"Shit!"

"Besides, you don't expect us to wage war while famished, now do you?" The demon assembly then moved closer as the fancy unicorn smoothly danced his way toward his next meal.

Nikkari unsheathed his sword and Manabu cursed a storm as he belatedly realized that his smartphone did not charge the night before. Nanashi pushed his sister behind him as he took out his own sword and Asahi her riot stick.

"Get ready, here they come!" And so the horde was! Lunging at the Quatuor with abandoned, knowing full well that they would feast of the flesh of the young. But not without a fight.

Manabu and Nikkari showed why they were viewed in high esteem by the rest of the hunter alliance, killing demons left and right while Asahi and her brother also held their own...but not for long.

Adramelech, who was standing back from the action sighed. "Oh, I almost feel bad for you. But unfortunately, the world Lord Lucifer want to create is for the strong only. The weaks, that's you, are food." He raised his freshly manicured claw. "I grow bored...And you're just making your flesh tougher..." He snapped his finger.

"Agilao!"

Flames shot from his hand and engulfed the party, Nanashi and Nikkari barely managed to escape the inferno...but, not Asahi.

Jumping in front of her, Manabu took the brunt of the attack.

"Asahi! Manabu!" Nanashi screamed as the sight of his favourite mentor and adopted sister became obscured by the bright, intense flame. When the blaze relented, it was revealed that the rasta hunter succeeded in protecting the daughter of the Kinshicho Master...at the price of his own life.

As they reeled back from the gruesome scene,." oh Woopsis, might've left that one in the oven too long" The thing lazily gazed at the two fighters "Mmm-mmm...boy, you should see the look on your face."

Nanashi and Nikkari turned to the demon with only one desire in mind to murder that unholy son of the devil. The cadet in green was about to lung for the kill when the surviving adult beat him to it. Slipping past the rows of underlying, he managed to get close enough to Adramelech to get to his jugular...or close to it. The demo caught him before any damage could be done. "What in the world? Pah! I bet that butter knife couldn't even cut through paper." He threw Nikkari away with his sharp claw, tearing the armor and the soft flesh under. Not to be deterred, Nikkari grabbed his knife and catching lucifer's lieutenant by surprise, stabbed him as close to the heart as he could.

"Arg! Oh, how could you? You marred my pelt, you bastards!" Adramelech spat as once again swiped away the hunter, he then pulled the knife off and casually crush it.

"You must think this all so unfair." He spoke as he brushed off his wound. " In truth, it's no different then you consume the flesh of demons. It's merely...a law of nature."

Nanashi swallowed hard...He knew that fact full well. He never likes to eat them, especially when he had heard the Demon speak before. In intelligence and speech, and even in the way they dealt with one another, demons were not at all that different from human... especially now. 'Nanashi...you'r about to get killed and eaten now is not the time to philosophy.'

The bleeding Nikkari turned to the sibling, holding his ribs. "You two- run! Forget about the food and get back at the association!"

"now you're telling us?" Nanashi screamed as he grabbed his sister's hand and attempted to do as he was ordered.

"What? No, no, that won't do either. I don't care much about giving chase..." this was what Nanashi heard as he dodged and slashed away at the demons as he desperately ran to the diapidated train station...his home for 10 years now. But as they were about to clear the horde, an Infernal heat washed over them.

...And then he felt a powerful shove, sending him and Asahi careening to the side. As they fell in a heap, the sibling saw their second mentor, Nikkari, burn as he saved them.

As he felled on the ground, the elder hunter, now burned beyond recognition, spoke to the two with great difficulty.

"I'm sorry...I dragged you into this."

"NIKKARI!" Asahi yield as he Nanashi held her. "This can't be happening, we have to run."

"No shit! C'mon. Let's scram." But he knew their chance of survival was slim, they were still woefully too far away from any type of help. Besides, the enemies had taken the death of Nikkari as a prime opportunity to surround the sibling once more. And this time, they would not let them break out.

Adramelech walked toward them, chuckling to himself. "Oh my, what an entertaining meal. Too bad we lost the two big one, tough. Oh well, you will do just fine...especially you, little virgin." He spoke as he licked his purple lips.

'He will eat Asahi...'

The fire of indignation burned away his flight response, there was no way he would let the freak get his sister...not without a fight.

Taking his sword again, the young cadet lunged at the peacock demon in a futile attempt to buy some time for Asahi to run.

but his attempt, while brave and fueled by righteous anger, was thwarted by the more experience Adramelech, who simply catch him out of the air by the troath, holding Nanashi like a sadist his favorite doll.

"Ooh! Feisty one, aren't you? Alright, sweetheart, time to go night night."

Adramelech grabbed the carbon sword, snapping it in two...And then plunge his sharp claws in Nanashi's chest. The boy In green tried to scream his pain, but only blood came out of his mouth as the demonic lieutenant pulled out his heart, and crushed it.

As darkness engulfed his consciousness, Nanashi desperately turned around, Asahi...his sister, his best friend...

She was screaming his name...

'I failed her...oh God...please...help...'

___________

Update: our temple president just gave me a laptop. meaning I can finally edit this story better now.

its ok, you may now fear me.

(edit) Oh Krishna...So many mistake.

(edits...again.) It dosen't end...Please do leave a review, some constructive criticism and/ or some questions would be nice.

Now on tumblr

[swanqueeneverafter]

46. The Broken Kingdom, Pt.4

Camelot. Merlin’s Tree. (Emma, Henry & Regina are squaring off against Arthur and his knights.) Regina: “Go ahead. Call me a fraud again. I dare you.” King Arthur: “We welcomed you, celebrated you. And in return, you bring the Dark One into the heart of my kingdom, endangering all who live here. Give me the dagger!” Regina: “You want it? (Conjures a fireball in her hand:) Come and get it. Now, Emma.” (Emma takes the handkerchief from Regina’s hand and races over to the other ingredients. Adding the tears, the potion swirls to life.) Emma: “It's working!” King Arthur: “Charge!” (Regina throws her fireball while conjuring another, keeping the knights at bay. Meanwhile, Emma uses both light and dark magic to free Merlin.)

Merlin: (Getting to his feet and lowering his hood:) “I've been waiting for you... Emma. (To Arthur:) And you... The boy who would be king. My great hope. How you've disappointed me.” King Arthur: “I disappointed you? You gave me false prophecies. Sent me on an impossible quest! (Begins to draw Excalibur:) You ruined my life!” Merlin: “Put it away, Arthur. We both know that broken sword can't hurt me.” King Arthur: (Sheathes the sword:) “This is not finished.” Granny's Diner. The Next Day. (Emma, Regina, Henry, Robin & Belle stand watching as Merlin uses his magic to unfreeze and clear the minds of Mary Margaret and David.) Merlin: “There. That should do it.” Mary Margaret: “Emma. We're so sorry.” (Rushes to hug her.) David: “If we’d have known how bad Arthur was... we never would have confronted him on our own.” Emma: “It's okay. I'm just glad Merlin could help.” David: “Merlin? Y-you're... Merlin?” Merlin: “Expecting someone...” David: “Older.” Merlin: (Sighs:) “Yes. Well, let's just say that being a tree... good for your skin.” David: “Well, now that you’re free, can you do what your apprentice said? Can you free Emma from the Darkness?” Merlin: “Sure. But with a caveat. (To Emma:) Darkness like this takes a hold of a person, find its way deep inside, where nobody else can see. So if I am to free you from its grasp, I must know one thing. Emma, is your heart truly ready to be free? Because it is as much up to you as me.” 

Camelot. Dungeons. (In the dungeon, a flash of light blinds the castle guards. Robin and David enter, they fight against the guards and win. Merlin, followed by Belle, uses his powers on a knight to knock him out.) Robin: “Not bad for a bloke who spent the last thousand years in a tree.” Merlin: “Just like riding a bike.” David: “Well, it won't be long before Arthur knows we're here. How do you know what a bike is?” Merlin: “Do you really think all my prophecies came true because of luck? This way.” (Merlin stops the group. Knights walk through the room.) Robin: “Bloody hell. You really can see the future.” Merlin: “Bits and pieces, yeah.” (The group arrives at Lancelot's cell.) Lancelot: “Charming?” David: “It's okay. Mary Margaret and I are no longer under Arthur's control.” Lancelot: “How did you break his thrall over you?” Robin: “They didn't.” Merlin: “I did.” Lancelot: “Merlin.” Merida: “What about me, now? You here to free me, too?” Robin: “Merida?” David: “How did you end up in there?” Merida: “Long story. But after what your daughter did to me, letting me out is the least you can do.” Robin: “She's right. Emma would want us to free her.” Merlin: “Indeed, but much has changed in the past millennia. These bars are enchanted with magic that I've never encountered before.” (Belle finds a spell in her book.) Belle: “Here. Try this.” Merlin: “Huh. Well, aren't you the clever one?” Belle: “Glad someone noticed.” (Merlin makes the doors disappear. Some more guards are arriving.) Robin: “We best get going.” Merida: “No, wait! Wait, I can't leave! Arthur took my wisps! They're the only way I can find my brothers.” Merlin: “Right now those wisps will only lead you to one thing... Your death. I assure you, we will find another way to rescue your brothers.” (As Merlin, Robin, Lancelot and David head for the exit, Belle walks with Merida.) Belle: “Rescuing your brothers, eh? Sounds like an adventure.” Merida: “Aye. You're not half bad with magic. If I was half as good as you, I would never have ended up in this dungeon in the first place.” Belle: “Why were you down here?” Merida: “After I parted ways with the lot of you, I followed the Will o' the Wisps to find where the clans are keeping my brothers. The wisps led me to the Ivory Sea, so I stole a boat to make the crossing, but, unfortunately, the boat belonged to the wrong fella.” Belle: “What, Arthur?” Merida: (Nods:) “His men captured me and threw me in this dank prison.” Belle: “Perhaps next time you need a partner.” Merida: (Chuckles:) “Are you offering, lassie?” Belle: (Thinks:) “Yeah, why not?” (Having dropped behind the others, two extra guards arrive. Looking to each other, Belle and Merida each punch a guard, knocking them out.)

The Desert. 1000 Years Ago. (Two prisoners run for their lives through the desert.) Man: “Are they following?!” Merlin: “No. They wouldn't trail escaped Generals into this, much less foot soldiers. (The sun glitters off something in the distance:) Look, look! There it is again.” Man: ��It's a mirage, Merlin. There's no water there.” Merlin: “I would rather find out for sure than lie here and die. Come on.” (They approach a gilded goblet of water on a rock.) Man: “That's a gift from the Gods.” Merlin: “We are hardly worth notice of the Gods.” Man: “The Gods could do worse. But if you don't want any...” (The man places his hands around the goblet and starts screaming. He turns to dust.) Merlin: (Sighs:) “Well, then... To drink or die? (Speaks to the sky:) With your permission... (Merlin kneels and picks up the goblet:) Thank you. Thank you. (Merlin drinks from the chalice. Under his hand, the desert turns to greenery:) I have magic.” (Merlin stands to find himself surrounded by trees. A tall tower stands peeking over them in the distance.)  Camelot. Present. Granny's Diner. (Emma sits alone outside the diner as Regina, Robin, David and Mary Margaret speak with Merlin.) David: “So you can really do it... Take the Dark One dagger and put it together with Arthur's sword to re-create the original Excalibur?” Merlin: “I hope so.” Mary Margaret: “And we can use it to save Emma?” Merlin: “Perhaps, but I need two things. The magical means to unite the two blades. That's my and Emma's quest. From you, I need...” Regina: “The two blades.” Robin Hood: “We're pretty much at the open-warfare stage now. Getting the partial sword from Arthur won't be easy. As long as you're looking at the future, any hints on how?” Merlin: “Well, the future isn't exact. There are many parts...” Robin: “Of course there are. You're willing to send us behind enemy lines, but when it comes to specifics, everything's a little fuzzy, isn't it?” Merlin: “I understand what you’re all going through. I know what it is to lose someone you love to the Dark One. All I can ask of all of you is that you bring me that sword... and that you have patience with Emma. Her kind of power, for good or evil... It is a weight on the soul. And love is a great help, if you can find it.” Camelot. Years Earlier. (Merlin heals a woman with his powers.) Merlin: “There. You're healed.” Man: “Gratitude, great Merlin.” Merlin: “You're both very welcome.” Apprentice: “I think that's it for today. Wait. (Sees a young woman waiting:) I didn't see her arrive. I'll get her to leave.” Merlin: “What does she want?” Apprentice: “Don't you know? You always know.” Merlin: “I'll talk to her. Uh, you head back. Check on the brooms. (The Apprentice leaves as Merlin approaches the woman:) Have you come to see me?” Nimue: “You're Merlin?” Merlin: “Not all wizards have long white beards. Please, tell me. What brings you here?” Nimue: “My village... Uh, I was in my garden when a masked man rode in. His name is Vortigan. He ransacks towns, burns them to the ground, so I-I fled on foot to the woods. I looked back from the hillside, and everything was in flames. He had killed everyone.” Merlin: “I'm so sorry. Please, allow me to help you. What can I grant you?” Nimue: “Revenge. (Opens her satchel and holds out her hand:) These were all I had on me when I ran. They're seeds from the middlemist flower. They only prosper around my village. When Vortigan scorched the earth, he could have killed them forever. My best revenge would be for them to live on despite him.” Merlin: “We will plant them here.” Nimue: “Thank you. If the flowers survive, at least something other than me lived on. (Nimue pours the seeds into a pot:) I'll try and pass through again in the spring. (Sighs:) I want to see them in bloom.” Merlin: “Well, why wait? (Nimue gasps as the flowers spring into full bloom:) Stay close. You can come and see them anytime.” Nimue: “You see the future. Do I do that?” Merlin: (Sighs:) “With you, for some reason... I have no idea. I hope so. What's your name?” Nimue: “Nimue.”

Camelot. Present. Outside Granny's. (Merlin joins Emma.) Merlin: “Emma, there is a way to make Excalibur whole again. Will you come with me today so we can get what we need? It's not far.” Emma: “What is it?” Merlin: “A spark from mankind's original fire, the Flame of Prometheus. Its heat forged Excalibur, and that's what we'll need to put it back together. So will you come with me to collect the spark? We'll be back by nightfall.” Emma: “You look dire. What is it?” Merlin: “When we get there, we will need to deal with the first Dark One.” Emma: “The one who wore the mask? The one who killed the woman you love?” Merlin: “The very same. This is not a trivial task.” Emma: “I was seeing Rumplestiltskin. Like, a voice in my head. I just got rid of him. And now you want me to let another one in?” Merlin: “Yes, and not just anyone. This is the first Dark One, the original, the one from whom all the evil that followed was born.” Emma: “Will we win?” Merlin: (Sighs:) “I see two paths for our journey, Emma. On one, you resist the Darkness and we succeed. On the other, you succumb to the Darkness and I do not return. I die.” Emma: “You die? But...” Merlin: “Even immortality has exceptions. A Dark One does have the power to kill me.” Emma: “But they won't even be there. Not really. (Merlin looks down:) Oh. It would be me. If you died, it would be me.” Merlin: “If I die, it means that you lost your battle and the Darkness stained your soul. Everything and everyone that you know will be at the mercy of the most powerful Dark One ever... Yourself. No pressure.” The Well. A Short Time Later. (Emma stands by the well as Regina approaches.) Regina: “How’re you feeling?” Emma: “I’m fine. We go get this spark thing, and then I'm back by nightfall. Then, with a bit of luck, we can put Excalibur together tomorrow, and then... bam... No more Darkness.” Regina: “That’s if everything goes to plan. Be careful, Emma.” Emma: “I’m more worried about you guys. I mean I'm immortal now, but if you’re captured or-” Regina: “I can handle Arthur and his knights who say Ni. Just make sure you come home... to the people who love you.” (Emma pulls her in for a kiss.) Emma: (As they part:) “I will. I love you, too.” (Regina leaves as Merlin appears before her.) Merlin: “It's time.” Camelot. Many Years Ago. (Merlin stares at the flowers as Nimue approaches.) Nimue: “Is this some new magic? Are you frowning them into growing faster?” Merlin: (Sighs:) “Just thinking. There's a man I'm considering helping. He's tired. He's spent his life tending to others, and now he just wants to marry the woman he loves and grow old by her side. But there's an obstacle.” Nimue: “He sounds awful. (Laughs:) If I teach you nothing else, it will be to laugh at yourself. If you want to propose, go ahead. (They kiss:) Now, tell me about this obstacle.” Merlin: “Well, you know that I didn't always have magic, but I've never actually said how it happened. It was a gift. I found the Holy Grail.” Nimue: “What? The Holy Grail? You found the Holy Grail? Merlin... “ Merlin: “I drank from it, and it gave me magic. But it also gave me eternal life. That was hundreds of years ago. I don't age. I don't die. So if I were to marry you, then I would have to watch as you leave me behind. I would rather share a life with you to the end than go on without you.” Nimue: “If you still had the Grail...” Merlin: “I do. It's in the bottom of the chest, in the main room of the tower.” Nimue: “It's in my living room. Wait. There's your answer, o wise one. Let me drink from the Grail. We can live forever together.” Merlin: “I'm so sorry, my dearest, but I've already seen the cost of immortality. (Sighs:) Life is made of little moments, precious as diamonds. But imagine there were an endless sea of diamonds. They'd all be worthless. They'd be as common as sand. I do have another solution, if you'll accept it. We take the Grail, and we remake it into a sword. Such a blade could cut away my magic, my immortality, and then we can come back here, and we can live normal lives together.” Nimue: “You would really give up so much?” Merlin: “For you.” (Merlin twists two Middlemist flower leaves into a ring, and puts it on Nimue's finger. It turns into gold.) Nimue: “I don't want this moment to get lost in an endless sea of time.” Merlin: “Come. We’ll make the preparations.” 

Camelot. Present. Granny's. (The group plan their attack.) Mary Margaret: “Okay, what's the plan?” David: “We take them by surprise and go in through the front gate.” Robin: “Well, after our jailbreak, they'll be on high alert. If Merlin had told us he needed Excalibur for his plans, David and I could’ve remained hidden in the castle with Lancelot. As it is, we need a diversion at the drawbridge. The rest of us can climb the wall on the side.” Regina: “Are you forgetting I've got magic? I can just poof into Arthur's bedroom. (Throughout all this, Zelena is pulling faces and rolling her eyes:) What?! (Zelena gestures at Regina:) Well, if you're going to make a scene, you might as well make noise.” (Regina restores her sister’s voice.) Zelena: “Oh! Thank you. I do love hearing a sensible person talk.” Regina: “Spit it out. What are you thinking?” Zelena: “I'm thinking going in the front... suicide. Diversion... Arthur hides the sword. You need it on him. And you could poof right in front of a blade. Oopsie! You need to sneak in so quietly... No one knows you're there.” David: “How? Hang glider? Oh, giant slingshot.” Zelena: “If Sir-castic would let me speak, I'd tell you that I wasn't idle during those days in there, playing mute handmaiden at Regina's side. I was plotting an escape.” Regina: “I knew it.” Zelena: “And I found a way out. And if I know a way out, I know a way in.” Regina: “You're going to help us?” Zelena: “Of course. Because you're going to help me. (Holds up her wrist:) I want my magic back.” Outside Arthur's Castle. Zelena: “It's a tunnel, abandoned for years. It will take you to the courtyard.” Robin: “Well, if it's so good, why didn't you escape through it?” Zelena: “Observe the massive metal grate. See, without magic, I'm a delicate thing.” David: “Well, it leads in the right direction. Looks like your information is good, at least this far.” Zelena: “Thank you. Now I've done my part. You can do yours. Take off this bloody cuff.” Regina: “For all we know, this leads to the guards' quarters. We make it out safe with the sword, then we'll talk. Mary Margaret, how do you feel about guard duty?” Mary Margaret: “Oh, I'd be delighted. We'll chat, I have plenty of pregnancy tips.” Zelena: “Good Lord, this is worse than being in my cell.” Regina: “All right, everyone. (Sighs:) Let's get this sword.”  Merlin's Tower. (Arthur reads from Merlin’s spell book as he mixes ingredients.) Queen Guinevere: “These are powerful ingredients, Arthur. I hope you know what you're doing.” King Arthur: “We need something to protect us. These people drop from the sky, then they turn on us, freeing prisoners! They won't stop until they've taken everything from me. Guards! (Guards enter as Arthur gives his orders:) Infidels are on their way. Call up the reserves. Get every man on the parapet, and patrol every hall. And, you, give me your helm. (He clears the table and places the guard’s helm upon it.) The ladle and the caldron have special protection spells. This helmet and our friends do not. (The substance is poured onto the helmet which melts into liquid:) Throw this on any stranger you see, and bring me what's left of them. (The guards take the cauldron and leave. To Guinevere:) It will be nothing but teeth and bones. This is war now.” 

Camelot. Forest. (Emma and Merlin walk side by side.) Emma: “When I was seeing Rumplestiltskin in my head, he said he would only be with me until I embraced my dark powers. So recently, I've been thinking maybe not seeing him, maybe that's a bad thing.” Merlin: “Have you embraced your powers?” Emma: “I've done some dark things recently. I hurt someone... My son. And if I dig deep down... the Darkness is winning. But there's hope, right? You wouldn't be bothering to get this spark if there wasn't still hope.” Merlin: “There is hope, and it's up there.” (Merlin points to the top of a steep hill.) Emma: “That's a whole lot of up.” Merlin: “We can make it. The question is, will I come down?” Camelot. Many Years Ago. (Nimue and Merlin walk through ruins.) Nimue: “This was my village. My home. Look what's become of it. My house was... Was right here. Or maybe... Maybe it was there. (Scoffs:) Oh, it's so different now.” Merlin: “Sometimes the sole survivor of a tragedy can feel guilty. In the future, they'll call it...” Nimue: “I don't feel guilty. I feel angry. This shouldn't be the way that those who cannot take are taken. If I had magic like yours, if I had a million lifetimes to hand out power to those who need it and to strike down those who...” Merlin: “Nimue, shh. It's been decided. (Nimue sighs:) Look. In the street, cups.” Nimue: “It looks like every household brought out their cups for him. Why would they d... Oh!” Merlin: “He was questing for the Grail and torching down each hiding place... As he annihilated it. Will you check the pack and make sure the Grail is secure? I've never taken it away from the tower before. I'm going to perform a detection spell. (Merlin turns to perform the spell as Nimue checks the grail. Seeing something with his mind’s eye:) Vortigan. He's here, over the horizon, the way we came! Hurry!” Nimue: “He's just a man! You could kill him with one magical word.” Merlin: “If I use magic to kill, darkness will take root inside of me. Nothing... nothing is worth risking that.”