#he is a coward I would kill without hesitation to be so lovingly called such a thing

[jumper-insectia]

I have been listening to so much tma recently and I have finally gotten into season three and more specifically the arc I’m gonna personally call “mr archives realizes some shit and now he can’t stop realizing and also mannequins want him to adopt a new skincare routine”

[gunpowdville]

The Great Flesh-Eating Cake Incident of Year [REDACTED] (Not to be Confused With the Bifrost Incident)

Chapters: 1/2

Words: 3502

Relationships: Drumbot Brian - Raphaella la Cognizi (queerplatonic), Gunpowder Tim/Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum, The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina (although most don’t show up until the second chapter)

Other Things: genderfluid tim, she/her tim, he/fae marius :)

Summary: Brian and Raph bake a cake. Or, they try to. It doesn't exactly go well. (aka, Why Raphaella la Cognizi Should Never Be Allowed in the Kitchen)

read on ao3 here or read below the cut for people who don't like ao3 (i will post the second chapter. at some point. hopefully soon)

Chapter 1

“Try it now.”

“Is it safe?”

“Does that matter?”

Brian gives her what she calls his teacher look, a combination of calm exasperation and gentle chiding. “I would prefer to not fry myself from the inside out, if I can help it.”

“Boring,” Raphaella accuses, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And you know I’d fix you if you did.” Well actually, she would get Nastya to fix him, as Raph herself has absolutely no self control when it comes to the prospect of tinkering with a complex mechanism and Brian hates being tinkered on without his permission.

“Yes, of course, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell,” Brian points out. “Not to mention how horrendously it would fuck up my systems.”

Raphaella pouts. “So I installed the flamethrower for nothing?”

Brian hesitates. “...I didn’t say that.”

Raphaella perks up immediately, turning her full attention from the clattered worktable to her partner. Brian straightens up and faces away from her, focusing at the blank wall at one end of the lab. He pokes his tongue around the inside of his mouth a little, probing at the new addition in the back. He tests out flipping its settings, making sure everything flows smoothly, then steels himself and opens his mouth, turning it on. Nothing happens.

Raphaella throws up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t understand! That should have worked! It-”

Brian yelps suddenly, clapping his hands to his throat as the back of it heats up rapidly, too rapidly, the heat growing from gently uncomfortable to unbearable in a matter of seconds. Luckily, his systems react before he can, shutting off the new attachment the second it could cause potential harm. The heat fades almost as quickly as it had swelled.

“Ow,” Brian says mildly.

“That was about to work,” Raphaella huffs, hands on her hips, eyes fixed somewhat accusingly on Brian. “If you had just waited a moment longer.”

“It was about to melt my vocal cords,” Brian points out in retort. Raphaella throws up her hands again.

“My husband is a coward,” she declares to no one in particular, with no actual insult behind it. Brian can’t help but smile softly at the endearment. They’re not married, technically, but for all intents and purposes they might as well be.

“I’ve started to become convinced that you’re simply trying to kill me,” Brian remarks to her as she turns back to the notes on her lab table. She shoots him a brightly malicious look, one backed heavily with fondness. “Maybe I am.”

He sits down on the stool beside the lab table and reaches for her, catching her waist from behind and pulling her onto his lap. She leans back into him as he wraps his arms around her, and he rests his chin on her shoulder so he can peer down at the pages of notes in her hands.

“Here, tell me what I’m doing wrong,” Raphaella holds up the notes so Brian can get a better look at them. He hums thoughtfully as he scans her delicate sketch of his body, each part individually labelled with possible enhancements to be added in Raph’s lacy handwriting. Brian’s own handwriting, cramped and blocky, annotates the science officer’s notes with his own observations of measurements and possible difficulties.

In his mind, Brian overlays the sketch on top of the official schematics the doc left in there, focusing on his throat and the new addition, checking for anywhere where it isn’t wired properly or messing with any of his other systems. Nothing. He bites his lip, a very natural bad habit that he’s never been able to shake, despite it splitting the rubber badly. Raphaella hits him lightly in the side of the head when she notices him doing it.

“I don’t think it’s anything you’ve done,” Brian says finally, leaning back slightly on the stool. “I think it’s simply a matter of too much heat.”

Raphaella ‘hmphs’, taking her notes back from him and setting them back on the table. She turns her head to study Brian’s face, placing her hands atop his where they rest over her stomach. He quirks an eyebrow at her, and she regards him silently. He can tell that she’s thinking through what next to work on, now that their flamethrower experiment is a bust.

He gives her stomach a light pat. “If you don’t mind, I was going to go bake something. Tim’s been complaining that there aren’t enough ‘munchies’ onboard. And yes, that is the word xe used.”

Raphaella slaps a hand to her heart melodramatically, the gesture accompanied by a theatrical gasp. “Leaving me for Tim, are we? Scandal.”

Brian chuckles gently as he rises to his feet, dislodging Raph in the process. “Yes, I’ve decided you’re much too cruel and brutal for me, and I’d be much happier feeding Tim for the rest of eternity.”

Raphaella tosses her hair and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her chin up imperiously. “Good riddance.”

“Good riddance indeed,” Brian agrees drily, with no heat behind it. Raph glaces over her shoulder at him and grins, and he smiles back as he slips out the lab door, tipping his hat as he goes.

Ivy’s reading at the kitchen counter when he enters. She doesn’t look up as he makes his way into the kitchen proper, wrangling his hair into a wiry ponytail and tossing his hat on the counter. He peeks at the cover of her book and makes an intrigued little noise when he notices it’s about prophets and oracles throughout space and time.

“I was going to give it you when I was finished,” Ivy says without looking up. “I thought it might interest you.”

“It does,” Brian tells her, and she smirks, proud of herself. She still doesn’t take her eyes off the pages. Brian leans over, resting his elbows on the counter, and knocks his forehead briefly against hers, a somewhat awkward sign of affection that’s he’s developed with some members of the crew. She responds by patting his head absentmindedly, still not looking up from her book. He smiles, and turns back to the kitchen.

After a couple minutes of rummaging around in cabinets, Brian becomes aware of Raphaella’s presence leaning against the counter to his left.

“Missed me?” he asks teasingly. She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm. “You promised you’d teach me to bake.”

Brian pauses, replaying the last ten minutes in his mind to confirm that he has not, in fact, promised her this. And then he realizes that she’s referring to a time quite a few decades ago, when the two of them had been left back on the ship while the others had been out pillaging a nigh-extinct planet. They’d been sharing some pastries that Brian had been experimenting with, and Raphaella had asked him how he’d made them. He had launched straight into a detailed explanation of exactly which ingredients he had used and what amounts of each, and how he had played with the measurements and tweaked the recipe to see how he could improve it. Raph had listened with utter fascination, and after he had finished she had mentioned that it seemed a bit like her experiments, only with slightly different materials. He had offered to teach her a little, if she’d like, and she had said she would love to learn. And now here they are.

“I did do that, didn’t I,” Brian muses. He studies Raph, leaning against the counter, a sparkle in her eyes that both makes him excited to see what she has in store and fear for his life.

“So?” Raphaella raises an eyebrow. Brian considers.

“We are making a cake,” he tells her, keeping his voice slow, steady, and serious. “A basic cake. We are not going to put anything in it that is not on the ingredients list. We are going to follow the recipe. To the letter. And we are not, I repeat, we are not going to burn down my kitchen.”

My kitchen, Aurora corrects him gently.

“Our kitchen,” he concedes.

Raphaella steps forward and takes Brian’s hands, looking him solemnly in the eyes. “I won’t let you down,” she promises. “Trust me.”

“Phee, I love you to death, and I always will” Brian tells her, lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it. “But I draw the line at trusting you.”

“Rude,” Raph sniffs, while Ivy tries to cover up a snort.

“Practical,” Brian shoots back, letting go of her hands and reaching past her to pluck the recipe from the counter. With a flourish, he deposits it in her hands. “Find me these ingredients.”

Raphaella mutters something about ‘bossybitch Brian’ as she turns away from him and marches purposefully toward the cupboards. He watches her fondly for a moment, before busying himself gathering pans and setting up his beloved electric mixer, something he’d found being sold for scraps on a junkyard planet and had lovingly repaired and repainted with his own two hands. Its name is Small Brian, and it remains one of his most prized possessions.

“Bri, which eggs are we using?” Raphaella calls to him, her head buried deep in the disorganized fridge. Brian abandons Small Brian for just a moment and pokes his head in beside hers.

“Ah, not those,” he says, indicating a half dozen of jet-black eggs glowing faintly from within. “Those are Ashes’. They will supposedly hatch into a rare breed of fire-breathing corvid.”

“And those?” Raphaella points to the other carton of eggs.

“We’re using those,” Brian confirms, pulling the carton out. “Ah. Wait. Not this one.” Carefully, he removes a small, round, green orb from the carton and places it gently on the counter. “An octokitten laid this. We think.”

Raphaella leans over and picks it up, holding it in the palm of her hand and bringing it up close to her eyes. She looks suspiciously like she’s about to slip it into her pocket, so Brian plucks it from her hands before she gets a chance to. She sticks her tongue out at him. He waves her off to go collect the rest of the ingredients, reminding her that the lovely ceramic pot labeled ‘sugar’ is in fact actually filled with gunpowder, and the sugar is in the cabinet to its right. Meanwhile he goes back to fussing over Small Brian.

The mixer isn’t starting up properly, it keeps stuttering and stopping whenever he tries to turn it on. Brian frowns, tapping the top of it with a metal finger. “Come on, love,” he says softly to Small Brian. “Don’t give up on me now. Not after all we’ve been through.”

“Raph,” Ivy speaks up from her place at the counter, her tone amused. “Brian’s talking to the appliances again.”

“If either of you make a joke comparing me to an appliance, I will kill you,” Brian warns both of them placidly, fiddling with Small Brian’s mechanisms until the machine whines and starts up properly. “Good lad,” Brian says, patting the appliance lovingly.

“I saw that,” he adds when he catches the look Ivy and Raphaella share over the counter. Raphaella rolls her eyes and gestures to him to come approve the ingredients she’s gathered. She hooks her arm through his and tips her head onto his shoulder while he checks each one off against the recipe.

“Excellent, that’s everything. Thank you.” he says, kissing her on the top of the head. “ Now we can begin.”

Raphaella, as always, is a very attentive student, listening well and asking questions when necessary. He suspects that she asks some of the questions just to listen to him talk about something he loves, and he adores her for it. They work very well together, the two of them, bantering back and forth as they do. Ivy chimes in on occasion, never taking her eyes off of her book.

Jonny strolls into the kitchen at one point, zeroing in on the chocolate chips scattered across the counter with a predator’s precision. As soon as he spots the first mate, Brian sweeps a knife into his hand and points it at him. “Out.”

Jonny backs away, throwing his hands up in surrender. He’s been killed enough times over messing around in the kitchen that he knows by now that the best thing to do is back off.

All in all, it’s a shockingly peaceful time. Brian hums to himself as he stirs ingredients together, and Raphaella goes through the cupboards, looking for something to play with. She reaches to open one in the back, and Brian notices too late which one it is. Raphaella stops, tilting her head in curiosity as she stares at the contents of the cupboard.

“Oh, Briiiiiiiiaaan?” she calls in a singsong voice, which is usually a sign that Brian is about to either be taken apart or assist in taking apart someone else. “What is this?”

Brian sighs and sets down the bowl, making his way slowly over to her. She raises an eyebrow at him as he gazes silently for a moment at the dismantled skeleton shoved into the back of the cupboard. “Those… are my bones.”

“Your… bones.”

“My bones.”

“Why…?”

Brian shrugs. “It’s not like I’m using them.”

“Right.” Raphaella studies the skeleton for a moment longer, before declaring, “I’m going to make soup out of them.”

Brian starts. “I’m sorry?”

“Your bones. I’m going to make soup out of them.”

“You are not.”

“Bone broth is a thing, isn’t it? Ivy?”

“It is,” Ivy confirms, casually turning a page.

Raphaella grins, gathering the bones into her arms. “Brian soup.”

“Brian s- no!”

“Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup Brian soup-”

“NO.”

“I thought the doc took your bones,” Ivy mentions, as Brian attempts to gently cajole his partner into giving him back said bones.

“I asked her to let me keep some of them,” Brian explains, tugging a rib out of Raph’s arms and dislodging about three more, which clatter to the floor unceremoniously. “They are mine, after all.”

“It’s unusually sentimental of me, I know,” he adds as Raphaella ducks under his arm, executing a perfect twirl to get the bones out of his reach, “I’m not quite sure why I wanted them.”

“For soup,” Raphaella quips, and Ivy snorts as Brian throws himself at the science officer. Raph yelps and scrambles away from him, and so begins an epic chase around the kitchen, Raph struggling to run away while clutching an armful of bones, the owner of said bones following a step behind her, playfully angry.

Brian doesn’t realize he’s started humming to himself until Raphaella turns to face him, jogging backwards, and asks what song it is.

“It’s a new one I’m working on,” he says, using her moment of distraction as an opportunity to trap her in the kitchen, the wraparound counter devoid of exits besides the one that he is currently standing in front of. “It’s called ‘Raphaella Please Don’t Make Soup Out of My Bones.’”

“I hate it,” Raphaella decides, still backing away. She’s almost hit the counter, and Brian smirks at his inevitable victory.

“You’ve barely heard it,” he argues, and begins humming louder. Raphaella’s back hits the counter, and Brian stops. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he begins tapping his foot along to the tune.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Raphaella starts, but the other foot has already begun to move as well. Just tapping at first, tap tap tapping to a beat in Brian’s head, but the footwork quickly becomes more and more complicated as he eases into the song. Ivy picks it up quickly and starts tapping her fingers on the counter, taking charge of the beat while Brian continues humming the melody.

Raphaella shakes her head, refusing to let his shenanigans charm her, but Brian refuses to give up. He dances his way smoothly across the floor to her, finishing with an elegant twirl and an extended hand. Raphaella regards him with reluctant defeat, then rolls her eyes and takes Brian’s hand.

He waltzes her out into the middle of the floor, two steps forward, one step back. He spins her out, then spins her back in so they’re swaying with her back pressed to his chest. “You’re a master manipulator, you know,” she says to him. He smiles. She twirls him out, then twirls him back in and dips him, effortlessly holding up his mass of metal.

“I don’t remember this step of the cake recipe,” Ivy comments drily. She’s finally looking up from her book and is watching the two of them with an expression that is equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Which step, the bone soup or the dancing?” Brian returns, just as dry. Ivy is saved from having to respond by the arrival of Marius, who comes striding through the door like an invading general, arms spread wide in greeting.

“Well, if it isn’t my three favorite delinquents,” fae says, grinning like a maniac. “Dancing in the kitchen like- wait. Why is Raph in the kitchen?”

“I’m helping,” Raph says proudly, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a decidedly smug fashion as Brian collects his bones and returns them to their cupboard. “How can we help you?”

Marius pulls up a stool and takes a seat next to Ivy, scanning the pages of her book idly. “Tim stole my partner.”

“To be fair, Tim is also dating your partner,” Brian points out, handing the bowl of cake batter to Raph to finish stirring and put in the oven.

“Sure, but she’s being smug about it. So I’m pouting,” Marius replies, metal fingers tapping on the counter. “Oh, also: Tim wanted me to tell you. She/her for the time being.”

Brian nods, taking note of the pronouns. “Well, when you feel like speaking to Tim again, you can tell her that a cake is on its way.”

Marius raises an eyebrow. “You mean that cake that Raph just slipped something into behind your back?”

Honestly, Brian is surprised that this didn’t happen earlier. Slowly, he turns to Raphaella, who meets his eyes with a mischievous smirk as she slips an empty vial back into her pocket.

“What was in that?” he asks gently, not mad, just curious.

“Just a little something I whipped up,” Raphaella says, giving the batter an experimental stir. An odd squelching noise escapes from the bowl, and she quickly lets go of the wooden spoon as a dark tendril of… something curls up around it, possessive and hungry. “Oh. That’s interesting.”

“What the fuck was that?” Marius leans forward over the counter, curiosity evident on faer features.

Raphaella sets the bowl carefully on the floor and steps away from it, circling around it to Brian’s side. He gives her a questioning look, and she shrugs cheerfully, indicating that she has no idea whatsoever the effect of whatever she put in may be. With somewhat tired resignation, Brian steps forward to investigate what has become of his simple chocolate cake.

It’s… alive. The dark, viscous substance in the bowl has begun to writhe and bubble in a distinctively sentient manner, tendrils forming reaching out, looking to grab hold of something. The tendrils feel their way around tentatively, like a newborn animal learning to walk for the first time. The substance itself has an oddly familiar shimmer to it, the nearly oil-black surface revealing colors of every hue and nature when the light hits it.

“That looks like…” Marius frowns, clambering over the counter and dropping next to Brian as what was meant to be a cake slowly drags itself out of the bowl and onto the floor. “Oh, Raph, you didn’t!”

“Don’t touch it,” Brian advises as Marius crouches near the thing to get a better look.

Marius gives the Drumbot a scathing look. “I’m not a moron, Brian, I’m not going to-”

“Mare, get back,” Brian snaps, but it’s too late. The crawling blob has already reached the violinists foot and has clamped on tightly, wrapping its tentacles up and around his leg. He stares down at it in mild concern for a moment, then says: “Fuck.”

What happens next is hard to describe. The viscous thing sort of… stretches itself, until it covers Marius’ entire body, undulating and pulsing, then collapses in on itself, returning to its smaller form, leaving nothing but a slightly steaming metal arm left where the ship’s doctor once stood.

“What the hell did you do?” Brian demands, staring at the (now slightly larger) creation as it drags its way across the floor.

Raphaella doesn’t respond. “I think it ate faer,” she says instead. Then, “where is it going?”

Brian glances at the floor just in time to see the thing disappear into the vents. He lets out a cry, but it is much to late. It’s gone.

“Well,” Ivy says, staring with vague concern at the open vent. “Fuck.”

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

76 with danse and a f!sole, please! - “three times i didn’t return your feelings and one time i did.” 👉🏽👈🏽

in this house, we love and support danse. <3

did this turn out longer than i expected? absolutely.

prompt 76: “three times i didn’t return your feelings and one time i did.”

-

Danse:

the first time, he was injured, taking an unexpected shot from a raider camping on the roof nearby.

“you’re hurt. lay down.” danse hissed under his breath as sole pressed down on the wound located on his shoulder. sole had dropped the bullet on the desk nearby her, grimacing at the sight of his blood staining it.

“i’m fine.” he bit back the sharp breath that threatened to release as he rejected soles offer. “it’d be a waste of time if we were to halt for such a minor injury.” stubbornness. of course. it was something that the paladin was great at and it was no mystery to the people who surrounded him.

sole shot danse a sharp glare as she forcefully pushed him down to the bed. “and it won’t be a waste of time. a few hours wouldn’t hurt, you know,” she let out deep sigh as she caught the harsh tone painting her words, “you always preach about me taking care of myself, i think it’s time for you to follow that.”

as much as danse wanted to argue, he couldn’t deny the fact that she was completely right. everytime she refused to receive care or neglected her health and well-being, he was constantly on her case about it until it drove her insane. instead of talking back, he remained silent as his head hit the pillow under him. “glad we settled that.” she laughed and ran her hand on his shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine. he closed his eyes, feeling her hands work on his shoulder as she cleaned it up and have it proper attention.

he hadn’t known how heavy his eyes were and how exhausted he actually was until the warmth and tenderness of soles touch lulled him to sleep. how long he had been out of it was something he couldn’t answer but felt himself wake him up enough for him to hear the words that left soles mouth. his eyes remained closed, showing no signs of him listening, but every word imprinted in his mind.

“you gotta take care of yourself, danse.” the way his name left her lips made his heart flutter, “i love you too much to lose you.” he wanted to say something, anything, but he laid still despite the urge to do so. danse felt the warmth leave his face, and a blanket being put over his body as he pretended to sleep during it all. “not that i’d ever say it out loud.”

she didn’t have to say it out loud. he had heard every single letter that echoed within the room, leaving his heart beating and mind full of wonders. instead of bringing up the topic the next morning, he fell quiet and pushed it away to the back of his mind as if he was never listening in the first place. there was no room in his life for a relationship, especially over someone he felt no romantic feelings for.

or so he thought.

- -

the second time around, danse finds out who he truly is. in the midst of chaos, all the people he’s ever trusted had turned their backs on him without a second thought, shunning him out of their lives. the reassuring hand on his shoulder was the only reminder that not everyone had the same intention of doing so.

“danse, look at me.” she crouched down to his level, watching as the former paladin leaned forward, hunching over the bed. he had concealed his face with his hands to hide the devastation that was written all over his features. he didn’t acknowledge soles presence nor did he respond to any of her requests, much to soles distress. “danse.”

silence only followed after regardless of her voice calling out to him. with a soft sigh, she peeled off his hands from his face, eyes softening sadly at the distraught expression written all over it. it takes her a moment to keep herself together before she can properly speak to him. her hands travel to either side of his face, caressing his cheek. “i know it’s hard right now, and i know you’re going through hell,” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, eyes glistening with tears. sole notices this but doesn’t say a word, not knowing what was going through the former paladins mind at that moment. “but i will always have your back until the end of time.”

as expected, danse just stares at her with distraught eyes and gave no response. sole doesn’t take mind to this and continues, brushing her thumb over his cheek soothingly, “it doesn’t matter if you’re a human or synth, it will never change how i feel about you. you’re the most important person in my life danse, and you will never be nothing,” she fights back the tears that threatened to spill, knowing she has to be the strong one in this situation, “you can push me down a million times and i’ll always get back up. you won’t be alone. you will never be alone.”

her arms snake around his shoulders as she pulls him into a tight embrace, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “i love you, danse. i will always love you for who you are and who you’ll be. nothing will ever change that.” he doesn’t acknowledge her words nor does he return it back, but let’s a tear slide down his cheek as he envelopes his arms around her torso.

those words lingered a little longer than the last time it had left her mouth.

- -

the third time, shes deadbeat drunk, nearly to the point of blacking out as preston supported her, standing in front of danses doorway. he held a nervous smile as he tried to let the words down easy, “sorry, danse. she got a little carried away.”

he cocked a brow up, irritation clearly plastered all over his face as his eyes flickered to sole for a mere second. “just a little?” preston smile died down as he shrugged awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. danse let out a small huff, stepping forward to take sole into his arms, looking at the lieutenant before shutting the door. “i appreciate your assistance. have a good night.”

he carried her to his bed, laying her down on the bed as she dozed off, not far enough to sleep. she still had the strength to remain awake despite sleep calling her name. danse went to the kitchen and brought back a bucket of water and a towel, setting it on the nightstand near his bed.

“what were you thinking?” he chided her, wiping her face down with cloth gently, removing any signs of alcohol. “i understand that it is normal for you to consume alcohol, but this is unhealthy, even for you!” he didn’t mean to be harsh- danse was just terribly worried. out of their time of being together, he’d never seen her like this, only going as far as seeing her tipsy and whatnot.

he noticed the guilt in her eyes and instantly regretted scolding her. “ ‘m sorry, danse. i didn’ mean to make you worry. just needed to take my mind off things.” she slurred with half lidded eyes, “don’ hate me, please. don’ be mad.” danse sighed heavily, placing the cloth into the bucket. he looked at her, his voice much gentler than it was earlier, “i’m not mad and i don’t hate you. just don’t do this next time, it doesn’t benefit you in any way.” he hesitated for a moment before speaking up, “feel free to speak to me. you don’t need to go to these measures to ease your mind.”

she stared up at him, and for the first time, he felt his heart beat in a way he was unfamiliar with. “ ‘re you worried ‘bout me?”

“of course i’m worried. anyone would be if the person they cared about neglected their health.” he felt himself pull back, a blush creeping onto his face as sole grinned softly, almost childlike. he had seen her grin a thousand times before, so why did it suddenly feel so different now?

“ ‘m glad you care ‘bout me.” she happily whispered, “next time, ‘ll come to you if somethin’s on my mind.”

“please do so.” he coughed, tucking her in so she wouldn’t be cold for the remainder of the night. sole continued to gaze at him lovingly, and he felt his chest tighten at the sight of the expression on her face. “i’m here for you.”

“thank you for caring ‘bout me. i love you, danse.”

those three words filled the air again, only this time it affected him in some way. the way his face turned red, his heartbeat rang through his ears, and how choked up he became when he processed them was entirely foreign. he couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, but it certainly didn’t feel unpleasant.

“rest, sole.” was all that came out instead of a proper response. she hummed in approval before closing her eyes in content. “m’kay.”

even long after sole fell asleep in his bed, he remained in the same spot he was in moments ago, unconsciously admiring soles features as one question lurked in his mind.

why couldn’t he reject her?

- -

out of all the times he could’ve returned her feelings, fate decided for it to be this one. danse swallowed the anxiousness in his throat as he waited for soles return, knowing that she was a day late from the date she was scheduled to come home. he tried to do anything and everything he could think of- build a cabin, mod his armor, mod some weapons- but the more time went by with no sign of her, the more he began to lose his sanity.

she never returned home late, even in the craziest of situations she found herself in, she always came back on time or maybe a little earlier if she was lucky. then again, in the commonwealth you could never know. he bombarded preston with questions, growing impatient at soles absence and demanding answers he knew the lieutenant himself didn’t know.

“i’m sure the general has her reasons, danse. you can’t put her down so easily.” it was prestons way of reassuring danse that sole was perfectly fine and would make it home regardless of the dangers out there. danse wasn’t convinced, not one bit.

he lied in bed, staring restlessly at the ceiling at images of sole popped into his mind. danse missed her smile, her voice, her touch- he missed sole and it was killing him inside and out. all his memories led up to the one that always seemed to linger in the back of his mind, but never properly confronted due to his cowardness. suddenly, he feels a burning pain in his chest as tears begin to rise in his eyes, a soft sob escaping his mouth as it reverberated off the walls to remind him of how much soles disappearance had affected him.

“i love you, danse.”

and it hits him like a train. he shouldve told her everything he’s felt about her instead of trying to push it away and avoid it with every fiber of his being. he should’ve held her in his arms a little bit longer and told her how much he appreciated everything she’s ever done for him and how much she’s changed his life. this pain was unbearable; he couldn’t breathe or think right and the tears fell uncontrollably as his words came out strangled for no one to listen, “come home,” he cried, “please.”

and when sole does come home the next day, he drops everything he’s doing and runs up to her as fast as his legs could take him, nearly pushing down any settlers that dared to block his path. before she could let a word out, she felt his arms wrap around her as he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his head into her shoulder. sole had been caught by surprise, nearly losing her balance as the man nearly crushed her lungs out, removing any air out of her system.

“woah, woah. whatd i miss?” she’d joke, wrapping her arms around danse, who refused to loosen his hold on her. once she realized he was trembling, she pulled away, holding danse on both his shoulders, a look of concern on her face. he looked terrified and it didn’t suit him well. “danse? what happened?”

and just like that, those destined words left his mouth before he knew it. “i love you, sole. i’ve always loved you. i’m sorry for not saying it sooner, i-i..”

sole blinked in surprise, a blush spreading across her face at the sudden confession. “w-what-“ she couldn’t even come close to completing her sentence as danse interrupted her, stammering.

“when you didn’t come home... i was so scared.” he cupped her cheeks gently, his voice barely a whisper. sole leaned into his touch- it was so warm and tender. “i was so scared id never see you again. i was afraid of losing you.”

sole took one of his hands and placed a soft kiss on his knuckle, “you’re never gonna lose me. i told you i’m never gonna leave you alone and i meant it.” she whispered into his skin, “i love you too much to do that.”

danse pulled her in for another embrace, taking in her scent as she wrapped her arms around his torso tightly. he placed a soft, gentle kiss at her temple as he caressed her hair. “don’t ever do that to me again.”

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

“WE ARE A TEAM!”

Angel Reyes x (pregnant) reader.

Chapter: 1

Chapter: 2

Chapter: 3

Word count: 1336

@iffoundmyhappythought asked: Angel falling for a girl who’s pregnant (father didn’t want anything to do with a baby) and her being hesitant to get involved with him because she couldn’t believe anyone would want to her with all the “baggage” she comes with. Would want her with all the baggage she comes with** but angel doesn’t care he’s so enamored with her and is excited to be a dad 😭🥰

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. English isn’t my first language, I’m sorry if I have some mistakes with grammar. Fluffy-daddy-Angel in da' house.

“ANGEL, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU SAY ‘EMPUJA’ AGAIN, I'M GONNA CUT YOU IN PIECES”, you cry yelling at him, taking his shirt between your fingers, till you're knuckles starts to white because the effort.

“Son, go away. Let me do this”.

“But pops...”

“ANGEL, GO FUCKING AWAY NOW”.

Pain. Your body is fully in pain with your legs open and four doctors helping with the childbird. You asked before to have some anesthesia, but they said that apparently you don't need it. Felipe holds your hand, leaving a kiss in your sweaty forehead while your boyfriend goes to the rest room, where the crew wait to know their niece Laura. You feel like Satan is inside you, pushing with all your might, thinking for a while you could break Felipe's hand.

It's been two hours since you were taken to that room, once your doctor said you were ready to give birth. Good god, you love your daughter, but why the fuck she's being so slow to meet the world? Is not that bad, she's gonna be surrounded by hot and grumpy old men who's gonna put a bullet without doubts in anyone who dares to make her suffer. They also had cool motorbikes and cook delicious food.

You push your body out again. One time. Two times. Three times more. At the fourth time you feel empty. A sharp cry floods the floor and you start to cry while your father-in-law kiss your cheek looking at the small baby. The doctors clean her with some warm water, putting her into a white blanket before leaving your daughter between your arms. You hug her softly looking up to the old man by your side with the happiest and tired smile you can show him. Everybody says that new-born babies are ugly, but Laura is the most beautiful in world.

“She's my granddaughter...”, Felipe says in tears with a whisper.

“Yes, she is”, you ask with a drowned yawn, before he takes her in his big hands.

──────────────

(Next morning)

The guys are drinking a coffee in the hospital hallway in front of the door of your room, where you're resting since Laura came to the world. You had no energies, so you fell sleep quickly. Everybody knows her. Everybody is there. The Mayans, Letti, Chuky, Vicki, even Chibs came from Charming to meet the new member of the MC.

“Is (Y/N) there?”

The men turn around, finding a younger man than is walking fast to them and pointing the room with a finger. Angel knows him. He saw his face in a picture, when you two move on together. He set it on fire. EZ looks at her brother, reading every gesture in him, putting a hand on his chest to stop the crazy shit he wanna do. “Please, don't”, Felipe says, holding his shoulders with an arm. But no one could stop him, not even Alvarez who cuts his steps.

“ 'fuck you doin' here, ah?”, Angel pushes Marcus away, upping his arms with anger and this kind of walk he uses when he's gonna beat your ass with no regrets.

“I came to meet my daughter. Who are you?”

Wrong words with ten men in front of him, who can kill him in the worst ways possible and sleep before like babies. Crossed arms, upped chins, security poses behind Angel. He laughs, licking his own lip with his eyes away. He's trying to control hisself, for you and Laura. You two don't deserve that a day full of happiness be ruined because of him.

“You better go away and never come back, puto cobarde”. (fucking coward)

“I'm not goi...”

Before Matt can finish the sentence, Angel's rings break his nose with a punch. Blood in the wall, falling to the floor, whinings. The oldest Reyes' brother lay on top of him, taking his red sweater with angry fingers, face to face. “Listen, motherfucker. If ya' dare to come back one fucking time again, I'm gonna make ya' dig your own grave. After that, I'm gonna tear off your skin and make ya' eat'. And then I'm gonna bury ya' alive”, he's eyes are fully open with the crazy mood can screw the shit out of Bishop, Galindo and whoever thinks that is on top of world.

EZ takes him by his shoulders, while Chibs checks the blade of his knife is well sharpened, 'cause he's gonna make sure Matt remember who the fuck are Laura's family. Coco brings the Reyes a coffee an put him apart, Creeper and Gilly takes the other man outside being followed by the crew looking for an alley. He never should come back and he's gonna regret it the rest of his life.

You wake up slowly and disoriented. For a moment, you don't know where you are. You still tired and feel a pain you've never experienced before. ‘Pi, pi, pi’, that sound is giving you a horrible headache, trying to incorporate yourself. Your weak arms falls laying again on the bed. You have to wait a couple minutes till your eyes get used to the white light and the sunny morning that iluminates the room. “Angel...?” You say with the dry throat. You can hear what's happening outside of the hospital room and you're shaking afraid. Tears falling down in your cheeks, calling Angel again with some coughs interrumpting it. The Mayan runs to the bed, having a seat and holding you between his strong arms. He fulls you of kisses all over your face.

“It's okey, mi dulce, I'm here... I'm here”, he says trying to calm you down with soft caresses on your back. “Laura is ok, and we're ok. He's not gonna come back”.

“He can't if he doesn't have legs”, Coco enters to the room talking more seriously than ever before. He hugs you too, being followed by Letti.

“Can... Can I hold her...?”, you ask looking at the baby resting in the cradle at your right. Angel nods walking to your daughter to bring you. She's the most beautiful creature in life, sleeping peacefully. You know you can't be more in love with someone else than with her. She's everything. She's gonna be a warrior.

Five minutes later, Bishop call to the open door, with the crew behind him. He carries a bag in a hand.

“What's up, mami?”, Tranq doesn't want to wait, hugging you softly and giving you a kiss in your cheek. “We bring Laura two presents”. He pokes her nose lovingly while the guys stand around the bed with a big smile on his faces.

Bishop takes a black blanket out of the bag with the Mayans' icon embroidery on it. You know Vicky made it and that's so kind.

“Show her our fav, show her our fav!”, Riz is very excited, taking it off the president's hands. Seconds later, he up on air a little vest. One exactly that their wearing. “Now she's an official member of Mayans”.

You start to laugh, leaving away the tears. Felipe holds Laura in his arms, moving like he's dancing to calm the girl who start to wake up. You take the leather vest, brushing with your fingers the patch at the right that says “miembro de honor”.

“Laura Reyes, miembro de honor of Mayans, soun' fuckin' good, man!” Angel says making some noise with his hands on the bed. “I'm gonna teach her to beat everyone ass! Yo! No one gonna bother my fockin' daughter!”

[ravenforce]

Cheating Death IV

Warning/s: Mentions of Violence. Angst (as promised). 

A/N: Here ya go people. Your daily dose of pain. Enjoy!

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 6

You were planning to check out a lowkey hole-in-a-wall pub tonight with Cass and Megan so you three can properly catch up without having to shout at each other over the loud music if you went to your usual club. But the universe has a wicked sense of you humour, and it turns out the club is exactly what you needed. Thankfully, your friends are intuitive enough to drive the batmobile directly to the outskirts of town.

“Get lost kids, this is a private club.” You heard the bouncer upfront said sternly to Cass and Megan. He’s at least two feet taller than you are, bulky as they should be. You strode over but a boy in line caught your arm.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’ve been for an hour and you think you can just walk up there and bypass the rest of us?”

Cass and Megan shivered at the dead look on your face. It feels like another lifetime when they last saw you sporting that look in your eyes. “This is trouble,” Megan whispered and tried to get to you but Cass stopped her.

“Let her be.”

The boy continued to shout at you along with other people on the line. “Unhand me,” you warned.

He didn’t. Instead, he continued to mock you. You sighed, the universe was definitely trying to get a rise out of you, and you’re not in the mood to be the bigger person. So, you put your hand over the boy’s hand and twisted it. Not a warning twist, no. You broke it off the socket, he yelled and cried like a baby.

Bouncers and security personnel came over to you and tried to rip you away from the boy but you were holding him tight. In every jerk, he cried out and beg for your mercy. The ruckus caught the attention of the club manager, so he went to see what’s the fuss.

“Holy shit! Stop! Take your filthy hands off her!” He yelled.

“I was starting to wonder, what a girl gotta do to get into her own club.”

Technically it’s your sisters but semantics. “Y/N,” the manager greeted. You look at the poor man-boy on his knees, with tears streaming down his cheeks before you threw him backwards and on his ass.

“Take the trash out and I want everyone out of the club.”

“Pardon?” The manager choked out.

You didn’t spare him another glance. You just continued walking towards the entrance.

“Did I stutter?”

The manager couldn’t do anything but ask each of his staff to herd everyone out. 

***

“Get my seat out, now.” You commanded one of the staff. Everyone knows which one it is. There’s only one seat in the house the Al Ghul’s sat on. You, Cass and Megan, walked towards the bar and ordered a bottle of your favourite drinks each. The best vodka for you, and a bottle of Jack for Megan and Cass.

“Ma’am, your seats are ready.” On the way to the stage, you realized that not everyone has left as you wanted.

“Oh, oh,” Megan tutted behind you. You can feel your anger rising as you watch a table full of leather-clad men ignore you. Flashes of Natasha’s image with the blonde woman keeps surfacing in your head and it’s fueling your anger to rise faster into the surface.

“Boys,” you said when you stood in front of their table. You tried your best not to crinkle your nose in disgust as caught a whiff of the smell of leather, sweat, smoke, and hair gel. They only spared you a glance.

���Perhaps you didn’t hear but I have asked everyone to leave.” You’re trying, for your sister's sake, to be diplomatic. The gang looked up at you and laugh. The one on the middle stared at you in contempt.

“We heard, we just didn’t care.”

You smirked at him. “Well then, you leave me no choice but to drag you out of here myself.”

They laughed so hard, they had tears in their eyes. You, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch. So many have laughed at your face in the past, thinking you were a dog full of bark but has no bite. You’re used to it by now, people, men specifically, belittling you because you’re a woman.

“Bite me,” the gang leader said. He nodded and two of his boys immediately stood and started attacking you.

You started by dodging them first. Especially since you’re wearing a 5 inches heeled boots. When they started closing in the second time, you didn’t hesitate to neutralize them with a hard punch on their solar plexus. Bringing them to their knees and gasping for air. You twisted their necks, efficiently knocking them dead.

You looked back at the gang leader as he stares open-mouthed at his dead comrades.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

He growled before sending all his men, approximately fifteen of them, to attack you all at once. You can faintly hear the sounds of siren closing in on the club but you didn’t care. It's not like these mortals can catch you anyway.

“Shouldn’t we be helping her?” Megan asked worriedly as she sips her jack coke from her seat on the stage.

Cass just shrugged and sat comfortably beside your throne on the stage.

***

One man put his weapon out and aimed it at you. You smiled insidiously at him. You hate people who bring weapons on a gunfight.

“Make it a kill shot or I will tear you apart using my bare hands.”

“I’m bored of watching you play with your food,” Cass yelled. “Finish it.”

You smiled before they started firing at you but you dodged all of them. You glided along the darkroom, taking down everyone on your path. You can smell their fear mixed with the smell of gun powder and blood. Oh, how you missed it. Truly, you love being free from the burdens of being your father’s prodigy but being Osiris is truly freeing.

***

Nat and Carol were pulled from the relaxing evening when Maria called to say that the Vipers, one of the biggest gang in town, is holding hostages at a local night club called the Underworld. They arrived at the scene just as Bucky and Sam did. 

“We told Maria we can handle this,” Sam complained. Nat just rolled her pretty green eyes at him.

“No offence but the last time you handled the Vipers, you two almost got killed and that says something since one of you is immortal and the other wielding Captain America’s shield,” Nat retorted. Bucky just chuckled, while Sam huffed. 

Carol was busy getting details from the police commander on-site. Before she can come to her team though, the sound of gunfire sounded from inside the building. It was the only cue the Avengers needed to breach the area. 

***

It stopped the moment they barged in through the door. The club was dark, and it reeks of the smell of gun powder and blood. You turned at the sound of footsteps. The Avengers can see a lone figure standing in what seems to a pile of dead bodies but that’s it, they couldn’t see your face.

“Hey, you! Hands in the air.” A man with one silver arm yelled.

“Ah! Avengers welcome to the Underworld,” you said cheerfully. Their weapons aimed at you had you chuckling to yourself.

“He said hands in the air.” Now it’s the blonde who spoke. The world tilted and stopped. She can’t see it because the lights in the club were busted by the bullets the ricocheted around but you were glaring at her. She’s the same blonde woman who has her arms around Natasha Romanoff earlier.

“Why would I do that?” Seeing her there was the last straw before the door to the tomb you buried your alter ego finally opened.

Cass and Megan stood on their chair by the stage as they felt the ground shake, and a green aura simmered out of your skin. “Oh shit.”

“Just put your hands in the air and get on your knees.”

“For the redhead, I will but for you, never.” The sound of teasing and mocking evident in your town. Carol is slowly losing her temper, and you can smell it.

“Don’t make me ask again, lady,” Carol said through gritted teeth.

“Or what? You’ll blast me?” You laughed. “I’d like to see you try, Captain Marvel.” 

That was it, Carol’s fist glowed and she tried to shoot at you. It blasted through the wall.

“Tsk, tsk, my sisters will have you pay for that wall.” You whispered right beside her ear. She whipped around confused. Everyone was always confused at first. No one knows how you move around so fast, forgetting that you were born of darkness. So darkness and shadows will always be your friends.

“Show yourself, coward.”

“Where’s the fun in that, Captain?”

Out of spite, you super speed towards Bucky and ripped his metal arm off. He cursed out loud. Carol and Nat towards the sound. While distracted you zoomed at Sam and bashed his head on his hand-me-down shield. He groaned in pain before crumpling down the ground. Nat scrambled to help Sam.

You walked silently towards her, leaving only a foot space between you two. You desperately wished you could touch her but she’s not yours to hold. Then Carol came over to help, and you watch like a stupid martyr as they look at each other lovingly.

Carol Danvers. Strong, brave, and good af.

You shook your head. You were delusional to think you ever had a chance with Natasha Romanoff before. How much more now that you’ve embraced your true nature.

You walked away. Cass and Megan waiting on the fire exit for you.

[roseamongroses]

Antithesis: (1) “cracks knuckles its time to get educated fools”

Summary: For their Junior project, Roman is unceremoniously paired with Dmitri. 

He's hardly interacted with the guy, a strange occurrence since Virgil has had a weird/unexplained hate-hate relationship with him since middle-school. But it isn't like he's complaining. Dmitri's cute, he compliments Roman, and damn can he paint.So Roman may or may not catch feelings, and he may not be wiling to uncatch them anytime soon.--Dmitri returns the sentiment.

[General Warnings:] Misgendering, Past Misgendering, Past Bullying, Mild Sexual Content,  implied emotional abuse, Cursing [Tags/mood:] highschool au, project troupe, fluff and angst but its all good, chat fic, teen stress, its flordia no snow we die like men [Pairing:] Roceit (Roman Sanders/ Deceit Sanders), hinted future/possible logince/roloceit/loceit [Characters] Roman Sanders/Deceit (Dmitri) Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Remy (Sleep) Sanders, Nate Sanders, Dragon Witch (Diana) 

(1) (2)

R: hey this is Roman[star] [crown] [star]

R: what do you have in mind for the project??

---

As simple as that text was, according to his very reliable memory, it took him exactly an entire decade to work up the nerve to send that. And he was not a coward mind you- reasonably afraid of sudden movements, sure, but no damn coward. He made sure to inherit the fight gene when he was in the womb with Virgil, around the same time he graciously decided not to absorb the little shit.

As if to further emphasis the magnitude of his fetal sacrifice, Virgil gulped down the rest of the milk. Straight from the pint. Just as Roman poured his cereal.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, “What’s got you all riled up prin-cy?” he tossed the pint. Even though Mom wasn’t there to rag on him for being an absolute heathen, she could still do so later if he left behind evidence.

“Nothing, nothing at all.” He ate his cereal dry, carefully avoiding Virgil’s scrutiny.

“Oh--” Virgil choked, “Oh shit, what did you do.”

“Excuse me,”Roman squawked, “I did nothing, you here? I am a good child.”

“Fuckface,”

“We have the same face,”

“Fuckface,” Virgil flicked his dyed purple, and regularly straightened hair for emphasis, “Last time you didn’t actively shout your problems, we found several stray cats in your room--and then there's the time you lit grandpa’s shed on fire with your self care candles and then there was the homecoming incident of fres-”

“--Ok,” Roman interrupted, “--wow Virgil, drag up my entire hero’s journey while you’re at it,” he pouted, “It’s no big deal, really.”

“When the hero’s journey could make a convincing argument in a court of law that you’re unreasonably fire-prone, then yes it's a big deal Ro, spill.”

“I’m just a little,” understatement, “Overwhelmed, by our junior project--” It's definitely not the project, definately definately, definitely not the project.

“That thing?” Virgil frowned, confused, “Me n’ L, going down to the space-station to do interviews, and a couple of presentations, what's going on in the art department?”

“Fuckin’ nerds,” Roman snorted, stabbing his cereal again, “Pat jus’ had to switch last minute to help the new kid out, so Dee and I got paired together and he--”Roman looked up,suddenly very aware of how Virgil’s normally slouched position became deathly straight, face calm, “Uh...Virge…?”

Roman feels like he forgot something important.

Virgil smiled, “What did that snake-fucker Dmitri do?”

Bingo, that’s what he forgot.

It wasn’t like Virgil’s thing with Dee was something that could be traced back to one particular incident, more like a culmination of the two being forced into being in each others general vicinity when they did not in fact want that company.

Roman avoided that drama, mainly because Virgil and him could hardly stand each other at the time either. So most of what he knows is second hand.

Though Virgil has explained it as, “When he opens his mouth, my flight or fight response is activated.” and as far as Roman knows Dmitri just returned the sentiment.

Roman shoved another spoonful of cereal in his mouth, “Chill, it’s Nothing, really, just, he said something that caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed, “If he does it again, tell me,” he said, “Logan says I can restart the prank war with probable cause.”

Roman shrugged,“-Kay” he said

He will most certainly not.

---

D:Sanders? from 3rd block?

R: ye who else would i be??? where is this other roman???

D:Who knows? How do I know you’re not Virgil w/ Roman’s phone?

R: //gasp// i am no fake. 

D: Proof?

R:[Picture: Roman’s knees are pulled to his chest, him pouting at the camera. 

His hair dyed aubrun and  thrown into a messy bun, paint and freckles littering his  brown skin]

[ThatOneGuyThatVirgilHates <3’s a picture]

D: Oh thank god you are the cute one

---

[out of the way fives]

Hotleg: so.

Sipsipsippin: dammit roman.

Hotleg: i didnt even say anything how dare

Sipsipsippin:hon, i dated you, i know.

Hotleg: we made out like once

Sipsipsippin: i know.

Hotleg: it was like, eigth grade

Sipsipsipin: i k n o w

Hotleg: ok, ok wise and powerful, remington. Guess who it is, bitch.

Sipsipsippin: ill bite

Sipsipsippin: logan?

Hotleg:....

Hotleg: id say ew, but,,,im not entirely agnst that, ,,, i

Hotleg: nope no, it is not infact logan

Sipsipsippin: FUCK i owe pat a five

Hotleg:????betrayl??????in my sanctum????

Sipsipsippin: shh, i did not type that and you saw nothing

Sipsipsippin: gah give me a hint

Hotleg: hes,,,, good with his hands ;)

----

Remy slammed his hands down the table, “Roman you filthy animal tell me who it is.”

A few people nearby looked up, startled, but not entirely surprised. Patton still winced, pointedly looking at his book and pretending like he didn’t know these actual public disturbances but didn’t bother to move. Which is hard to do regardless, when one Roman has made your shoulder his home.

“Sorry can’t speak english,” Roman said, exaggerating his drawl. He picked off of the leftovers on Patton’s plate, avoiding the daggers being driven into him from behind Remy’s tinted frames.

“Patton, do you know?” Remy asked.

Patton frowned, “Know what?” He flipped a page.

“Our wittle Roman’s got a cwush.” Remy slid into a chair, grabbing a fry.

Patton tilted his head, giving Roman a smile, “A crush you say?”

“Shit.” Roman moved to scramble out of his seat, but Patton somehow managed to put down his book, and fit his arm snug around his waist, tugging him lightly back down.

“Pattonnnn,” He whined, “This is an abuse of my need for affection.”

“Poor baby boy,” Patton hummed, “So, about this crush.”

“C’mon Pat, it could just be a squish,”

“Ro, do you find all your squishies that attractive?” Remy said.

“I find all of my friends aesthetically pleasing, I love you all, lots. I would kill for all of you without hesitation.” Patton rested his chin on Roman’s head, “Did he talk about their hands?” he asked pointedly.

“He wrote poetry.”

“Not to romo,” Patton said, “but yeah it’s a Roman Crush™.”

“I just said how much I loved you guys and this is the betrayal I receive? I thought y’all were the Evagiline to my Ray- instead you’re the animation industry to my animators.”

“Bitch, you bugged me all last week about the same shit,” Remy shot back, lovingly, “Karma’s here, so tell me his name or I’m stealing your toenails and feeding them to your first born.” He sipped his drink, face victorious.

Mid gasp, Roman felt Patton’s grip around his waist tighten. He turned around curiously finding Patton’s attention no longer at the table.

Roman followed his line of sight, blinking, “Dmitri?”

“You have a crush on D--fuck,” Remy hissed, rubbing where Roman’s heel dug into his thigh.

“Sorry can’t hear you,” Roman gritted through his teeth, “--call again after the beep bi-Hi Dee!”

Patton leaned back in his chair, picking up his book again but had yet to remove his arm.

Dmitri shifted the tray in his hands, “Uh, hey,” he smiled, “Can I talk to you?” His hair was down today, the short bob barely falling past his shoulders, but his clothes were noticeably covered paint, yet frustratingly enough other than that, nothing seemed ruffled or half assed. All clean lines and angles.

“What about?” Roman’s brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” Remy chimed, waggling his eyebrows, “What abou-oW.”

Dmitri ignored that, “Can I talk to you,” He glanced at Patton, “Privately,” he emphasised, “I found some old art magazines and projects in the library storage room, Mrs. Ider said we can check it out.”

“Uh, okay,” Roman nodded dumbly. He hopped up, snagging a fry before he followed Dmitri.

Walking down the long stretch of hallway, Roman found himself checking his watch several times- something he hardly ever does. Yet, the uncomfortable silence lingered, with only Dmitri’s avoident gazes and the clicks of Roman’s boots to fill the silence.

Lucky for Roman, his tendency for avoidance was relatively short on supply.

“Did I do something wrong?” Roman forced himself not to wince at how needy he sounded.

Dmitri opened the door for him, blinking, “Of course--” his voice dropped to a a whisper as the entered, “Of course not, why do you say so?”

“You seem different?”

“We’ve hardly talked before, aside from text.” Dmitri reasoned, tone awfully similar to when Logan’s trying to justify consuming an entire jar of Crofters in one sitting.

“Dee,” Roman said, raising an eyebrow, “That’s true, but you’re hardly one to get… nervous,” he said, “I’ve heard enough stories from Virgil alone to know.”

Dee froze, neither smiling or frowning, “What… type of stories.” His cheeks were delightfully pinched pink. “Tell me what I did wrong and--” Roman switched on the light to the libraries storage room, hiding a wicked smile as he glanced back, “And I’ll tell you some of my favorites.”

“Just wonderful,” Dmitri muttered, stepping inside as well, “But truthfully you did nothing wrong, I just don’t quite know how to do apologies.”

“Same,” Roman said, “Where are the ‘zines?” he distractedly asked, dragging the step ladder from behind the door.

“Back, left shelf,” Dmitri replied. He steadied the step ladder as Roman climbed up searching the dusty shelves. “What were you trying to not apologize for?” Roman asked, dropping magazines to the floor beside him.

“The...flirting?”

“Oh just the flirting?” he paused, holding a magazine to his chest, “Oh.” he repeated, now breathless. Dmitri looked way, ”Yeah, it didn’t mean anything, sorry,” he said, “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, I swear I’m usually only a little sleazy.”

“So,” Roman dropped the next magazine, ”It was a joke.” He said a bit quieter, the magazine slapped the ground with more force.

“So is everything cool or…?”

“Uh,” Roman breathed in, blinking rapidly, “Uh, yeah it's all-- Wait, did you say boyfriend?”

“Yes...Is he not?”

“Who, who would--Oh. Oh, No, Patton isn’t--” Roman’s shoulders sagged, “We’re just friends.”

Roman stepped down from the ladder and was met with Dmitri’s look of skepticism.

“Oh, then I meant every word.” Dmitri said, all too casually, “Are you always so touchy with your friends?” he questioned, voice softer.

“Only if they want to.” Roman shrugged, “What do you and your friends do?”

“I don’t have… that many,” Dmitri admitted with a shrug of his own, the two of them hefting up their own pile of magazines, “And the ones I do would probably punch me if I tried anything like that.”

“Do you want to be able to do that?” Roman questioned, tugging open the door with ease, holding it open for Dmitri with his back. Dmitri was quiet, the two settling the stacks onto a table.

“Hey you don’t have to answer it’s really no pressu--”

“No it's fine,” Dmitri said, hugging his arms, “I’d… think I would, but I doubt any of my friends would want to…” His nose curled, “They’d tell me to piss off and get a girlfriend,”

“Well,” Roman said, “I’m your friend, and I’m certainly not going to promote the heterosexual agenda, unless that’s your thing, so I guess the awful duty of cuddles befalls on me,” He winked.

Dmitri looked at him again, “...I guess it does.”

Ao3

[darveyfics]

COuld you please write a 7.12 fic related please plaease im sorry for bothering you

So this is the scene of the two of them drinking together and listening to his father’s records. The one piece of context somebody might not know is that during a flashback to Harvey’s childhood in this episode Gordon’s band is playing a song called “Boppin’ with Donna”.

Sometimes I like to write a fic that starts on nothing and goes nowhere, you know, like the show. I hope it’s not too bad - Maria

Reticent

“Rememberwhen-”

“Ido.”

“Youdidn’t let me finish.”

Shechuckles, looks over at him with an eyebrow raised cockily “Really?”

Hersmugness stirs something beneath his chest, a warmth, a momentum only she canprovoke. It makes him feel guilty, the intimacy and precision in the way sheaffects him, dangerous. He swallows it down, dry and thick. Feigns indifferencehe figures she sees right through.

He rollshis eyes, “Sure, what was I saying?”

“Youwere going to ask if I remember another time we heard this song,” there’s notease in it but perhaps a little nostalgia, she understands his resistance tospar, she always understands.

Henods unspoken gratitude even though their agreements are supposed to beentirely elusive. A tired sighs pours out of him feeling the weight of theirrecent misunderstandings then, like fifty pounds sitting on his chest, stealinghis breath. He forces himself to shake it off “With my dad,” he meant todistract from the choking way he thinks about her now, in these increasinglyrare moments, like the two of them, as a unit, are fading, but it outs in awhisper like it is holy. In some ways, he figures it is.

“Withyour dad,” She agrees quietly, lovingly, a reflection of the sanctity in hisvoice refracted and divided like light into purer, more colorful sentiment.

Shehas always been better at this than he, better at feeling his feelings.

Therecord gasps and stops, saddling them with imperfect silence, the hum of thecity, ghosts and blurred edges. Harvey reaches over and lifts the needle beforeit can sing again.

Heleans back into the cushions, rolls his wrist until the amber in his tumblerspirals like a drain. His mind swirls and sinks with it, struck by a memory.

“Firsttime you heard it, right?” He asks almost sweetly; halting the swirl by rollingthe glass the other way he turns to her slowly.

Pastblends into present, he blames the scotch for seeing two of her overlapped. Oneexists minus ten years with longer hair and brighter clothes, bangs and a lotless complication; the other has been wearing black for the last week andhasn’t made him coffee in a year.

Hewonders who he would pick, fleetingly; knows without a doubt he would chooseher now, whenever now is. The most important thing has always been that she stays.

Donnasmiles, “Yeah, and he had the brass to say it was for me,” She reminisces,leaning forward. She pours herself another dose. The crystalline sound of thebottle touching the edge of glass ricochets across empty space prettily; theirtheme song.

“Itis your name in the title,” Harvey argues with faux gravity, still seeingdouble. In his mind’s eye, her dress is purple and his father’s voice ischarming, he never missed a beat with her.

“Itjust happens to precede my arrival by a couple of decades,” She counters.

Harveyscoffs, “Your arrival?”

Shenods “Yes, the amazing, life changing day, you met me,” she declares grandly.

He agreesbut cannot agree, “Seriously?”

Sheputs one hand on her chest, mouth agape, the picture of over-dramatic outrage“Oh, I’m sorry, we just established I was prophesied.”

“Inever said that.”

“Ithink you did.”

“No,I didn’t.”

Donnastraightens herself, crossing her legs and resting her hands on top of eachother on her knee, she stares him down seriously “Your honor, I think thedefendant is aiming for a perjury indictment.”

Harveysnorts a laugh, surprised as she sparks to life the old routine, there’sdelight but also an ache to it as they flex muscles they haven’t used forlonger than he had realized, “I believe the prosecution is distorting theevents,” he rebuttals setting down his glass to focus.

Donna narrows hereyes, pretends to look down at imaginary papers and push up glasses she doesn’tneed, “Mr. Specter, do you deny the day you met me was life changing?”

Harvey rolls hiseyes, “Really?” He whines.

“Plead the fifth?”She offers defiantly.

“Coward’s move andyou know it,” he chastises.

“If the shoe fits,”she says, reaching for her glass and taking a sip that does not break eyecontact. He watches the glimmer of humor in her hazel eyes and only marginallyremembers this is exactly what he was supposed to be avoiding.

“Whether you did ordidn’t is not the point, the point is I never said it,” he argues smugly.

“Well, well,” Donnastarts, leaning back with poise and pride, resting her forearms on the arms ofthe chair and drumming her fingers on the edges reflexively, “I see we havelowered ourselves to technicalities. Cheap.”

Harvey smiles, “Aslong as it gets results.”

“No honor,” she nods disapprovingly,though a laugh is edging behind her lips.

It is something elsehe has not seen in a while, this specific expression, he wonders if they reallyhave been fading or if he just hasn’t been paying attention. Which reminds him.

“My father did writea song for you,” he blurts out.

Donna lets the laughfly, he has heard it plenty but it is still welcoming warm familiarity, “No, hedidn’t,” She tells him like it is sure and obvious, like he has had too much todrink.

“He did,” Harveyinsists, wondering how he could forget, though maybe he is stretching thetruth, “He kinda did,” He corrects himself.

Donna raises aneyebrow, sustaining her suspicion “Kinda?”

“He never recorded it.It was a draft,” he reveals, “He said he got inspired out of the blue one day,”Harvey sinks into the memory, he himself only heard it once.

It was at his father’sapartment during a damp New York summer afternoon and they had run out of otherthings to talk about. Gordon hesitated to play him the song, kept explaining himself.Harvey mostly thought it was funny, “He asked me not to tell you,” He hadn’tand then it had never come up again, “I’m sorry, I forgot,” he apologizes and turnsto find her eyes, they’re glossed over with unshed tears. He blinks andrealizes so were his when wet warmth rolls down his cheeks.

“Did he write itdown?” It moves the very ground he stands on that that is the first thing sheasks, that she misses his father too.

It hurts all the moreto have to answer, “If he did, I never found it.”

She sighs, “If you do,it’s mine,” assertive but kind.

He sees the purple dressagain and bright red hair cascading over it as she throws her head back tolaugh at Gordon’s blunt flirting, “Of course,” he whispers so gravely it feelsmore binding than any contract. He could not deny her most things, much lessthis.

Donna nods, takes adeep breath and lets it out slowly, “You really killed the casual mood,” shejabs.

Harvey smiles, shakeshis head, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I wantedto know, I just wish you hadn’t done the job halfway,” she says it between asmile, it is a joke, an absolution, but he can see the edge of disappointmentin her eyes. He cannot read them as perfectly but that is a look he has alwaysbeen afraid of and paradoxically only grown more familiar with. He needs to dissolveher ache.

“Hey,” he whispers,reaching for one of her hands and stopping short of touching, they have kissedand hugged but he doesn’t know where they draw this new line, if meaning it toomuch violates its borders, “I am sorry,” he tells it from his core and watchesher drink it into hers.

“It’s okay,” sheanswers, her fingers tremble, itching to bridge the gap between them, insteadshe recoils not wanting the blame for breaking them again just for trying toinch closer, “It’s okay.”

They are too tangled,metaphorically, sometimes he wonders if he can even shake her off withouthollowing himself out, wonders if she feels the same. He is selfish enough towish she does, it would mean some kind of barrier from the searing pain ofbeing left. He is selfless enough to also wish she doesn’t for a chance tonever hurt her again with his careless needs.

He should not be thinkingabout any of that, “We finished the bottle,” he points out flatly, stealing aglance at the half inch of scotch left inside the glass.

She follows his gaze,“We almost did,” Donna says andreaches for the neck, downs the rest in one gulp, “There, now it’s done,” Hewatches with bemused surprise as she sets the empty Macallan back on his centretable, turns it between her fingers to ponder the label, “At least it was justa 12 year.”

“You say that like itmakes us less drunk,” he remarks, covering her hand on the bottle with hiswithout thinking, without pretense, just to turn it to him so he can also read.Hers falls away a second later, he wonders if it means she is afraid to touchhim now, hopes not.

“It doesn’t,” sheagrees, “I think I’m tired,” she says and points it with a yawn.

“You think?” Harveysmiles affectionately, “Are you brewing a hangover?” He asks, mildly worried.He knows scotch can upset her stomach and that she hates to vomit, he alsoknows she has some secret hangover cure she never told him about because itwould ‘encourage his bad habits’. How the tables have turned; he is barelydizzy.

“Are you asking thatas my boss or my friend?” She interrogates, side eyeing him suspiciously.

“Both,” because he isboth, needs her there tomorrow morning but also cares if she will be miserablethe entire night.

“I’ll be late, butI’ll be fine,” she bargains.

His eyebrows knighttogether, “You don’t have to come in,” the complacency is immediate, so muchfor thinking he can accept her misery.

One corner of herlips pulls up, she wants to say that is not the business-wise decision “I’ll behere,” she reassures him instead. She is a little disappointed in herself forbeing so averse to letting him down even in small ways.

Donna smoothes outthe skirt of her dress and stands on surer legs than the half bottle she drank wouldhave anyone guess.

“Already?Lightweight,” He teases, sneaking a glance at his watch, a quarter to midnight.

“I thought you had tobe home an hour ago,” She bites back, the implication is a double-edged sword,reminds him he has someone waiting; reminds her that she does not.

Harvey presses hislips together and watches his hands intently. She sighs, taking pity on him,like always.

“Sorry, I need Advil,”she breathes out tiredly.

He nods, “You’reright,” he says without meeting her eyes, “Good night.”

Donna considers him,them. She is tired and dizzy and has a headache brewing behind her eyes; it isnot her job to heal him, it never really was, “You know, I was wondering,” Shestarts and waits until he looks at her again, “Would I make a good lawyer?” ahand outstretched, it isn’t her job,she volunteers to save him.

Harvey allows himselfa small smile, “Thinking about going to law school?”

She scoffs, “God no.”

His eyebrows shootup,”Excuse me?”

She rolls her eyes,“You know what I mean.”

He does. He takes apause to think on it “You wouldn’t,” he answers earnestly.

She is mildlysurprised; Donna narrows her eyes at him, “Not smart enough?” As if, she isfishing and he knows it, she wants him to know it.

Harvey snorts alaugh, “You’d overachieve I’m sure,” it is what she wanted to hear, theexpected, but he isn’t done “Too good,” He adds, “You’re… too good,” headmits softly, with candid admiration.

Her breath hitches,he can do that sometimes, when it’s almost midnight and he knows she will dohim the courtesy of not bringing it up in the morning.

“You’re a goodperson, Harvey,” their lives might be easier if she could not read him sofluently.

He presses his lipstogether and shifts his eyes to the floor, index anxiously thrumming the glassstill in his hand, “Not always,” he made a lot of mistakes, can’t tell whichone is knocking on his conscience the loudest right now, “Not like you.”

“Well,” she startsgood-naturedly, “Nobody is like me,” Donna brags jokingly.

Harvey smiles andshakes his head “I’ll drink to that,” he announces and empties his tumbler.

She watches and sighs,feeling the prickle of the headache intensify, “Now it’s good night.”

He nods, “It is,” heagrees without looking.

She can feel histhoughts, his regrets, makes it hard to detach, “Are you okay enough toremember your address?” She teases, hanging back, a subtle way to ask if he isokay.

He snorts, “Sharp asa razor, I just…” he lingers, deciding if he wants to keep her “I think I’lllisten to a few more,” He admits, “Since nobody else will from now on.”

He hardly ever makesit easy on her.

Donna sighs, crossinghis office to pour herself a glass of water. She takes a pill from her bag nextto it and swallows it down with one sip, then moves to the window where therecords are stacked and lifts two of her favorites, “Which one?”

Harvey almost offersher an out, but there is no point in pretending he does not still need herthere, that he didn’t choose the words to make her stay “Left,” he picks andshifts on his seat, reaching for it.

She pulls the vinyloff the sleeve and hands it to him, waits until he gently trades the one on therecord player for it before going back to her seat. Once she’s settled Harveylets the needle drop and his office fills with his father’s music.

“I miss him,” hewhispers like he is trying to hide the confession in between the notes.

Donna closes hereyes, leans her head back until she’s facing the ceiling and breathes it in, “Iknow,” she answers.

They don’t speakagain except to mumble simple goodbyes an hour later, giving life permission togo on unhinged at dawn.

Being understood isenough.

[angelkurenai]

Imagine accidentally killing Lisa but later making a deal to bring her back. Dean was in the beginning furious with you but then feels guilty and devastated because he lost you. (Part 3)

Read Part 1 here! l Read Part 2 here!

The air around him felt thick. Too thick to breath, too thick to let him be here. But wasn't it like that every time? Wasn't it like that everywhere that he went these days? Yet, somehow whenever he found himself here – and oh it did happen more often with each passing day – he struggled to breath more than anywhere else he went. He almost doubted he was alive, especially with all of the things he felt. He thought that it would get easier this time, he thought so the previoustime as well. But both, and every other one, was just as hard as the first when he got to look at tombstone with your name carved into it.

(Y/n) (Y/l/n). How could it bring so much joy and pain all at once?

“I'm so sorry, sweetheart.” he had choked out the first time he came here with your favorite flowers “I'm so sorry I failed you... the person that mattered the most... that mattered the world to me. I let you down and I am never going to forgive myself for that. I couldn't fully give you my heart and the love you deserved because I was so caught up thinking of what I left behind, that family with Lisa and Ben.”

He couldn't even move, he was numb “I was so caught up with that that I didn't let myself see what was standing eight in front of me. I didn't appreciate you enough while I had you, I wasted myself in other women both physically and mentally that I didn't let myself realize how... how fucking much my entire being was in need of you. How important you were for me, but now it's just too late.” he breathed out shakily as tears fell from his eyes.

“And I was wrong. So so very wrong, baby. I acted on impulse, made you feel guilty for my mistakes and my own guiltthat... I finally led you to this. I wish so bad you were here, that I could at least for once say it without being a fucking coward like I usually am. I have always been scared of words, these ones in particular but I know it was because I never truly felt them enough to say them. And the only person I do feel them with is... gone. You are gone. I wish so bad you could actually hear me say... that I love you, baby. I've always loved you and always will. I know I don't deserve to ask you something like this but...”

“... Please forgive me (Y/n).”

He talked to you, about everything that had happened, and even more everything he felt. He, Dean Winchester, was actually willing to talk about his feelings to you, although it was a little too late because it was only your grave he spoke to. He was somewhat comforted by the fact that your body lay somewhere there, glad he had let Sam and Lisa convince him to not burn the body, so he could at least make these visits to you. He wanted to pretend you were listening to him and that when you woke up you wouldn't have lost any moment with the boys but deep down there was always a small voice telling him that it wasn't going to happen.

Sam was still looking for a way to bring you back, he had almost given up which got a lot of talking out of the younger Winchester and even many more fights but Dean only knew the truth. His truth, he could never give up on the woman he loved but he couldn't let it show that he hoped really bad, fought really bad, did everything in his will to undo this. A truth he didn't let out for Sam's sake.

But this time was not like any other, not how he expected things to go. The flowers fell from his hands and his eyes widened as all air got caught in his throat. Before him still stood your grave only... empty. There was a hole in it, as if somebody had dug the ground either from outside or... from the inside, oh he so hoped the later. But even that could have plenty of explanations that he didn't want to think. The last thing he needed was some bastard parading in your body as if it was some common meatsuit.

“Wh-what?” he breathed out, eyes frantic as he looked around him. He didn't hesitate a moment to start searching, running around in case you could be somewhere close. He didn't even think to call his brother to look too, he was too caught up with his own feelings. His heart was hammering inside his chest and only after a lot of hours did he finally make it to the bunker. He'd scanned practically the entire area and asked every single person he'd stumbled on but nobody had seen you, so going back to the bunker was the only thing he could think of.

If only he knew what he'd walk into.

You were sitting on the map table with Sam and Castiel, a cup in your hand as you were curled in one of your old oversized flannels and had that soft smile while talking with his younger brother whose eyes were finally shining with happiness. But Dean's eyes only seemed to be able to focus on your form. You looked a little more withdrawn, almost weary of your surroundings, and he knew that all too well. Coming back from hell after years of torturing did a number on a person, and seeing how you held yourself back from smiling (almost as if you didn't feel it was true) and laughing because you always wanted it to be genuine proved to that.

The sound of his heavy footstep and the door shutting closed behind made your conversation get cut short and as expected all eyes fell on him, but he was interested only in one pair of eyes at the moment and, as if fate just wanted his heart to not be put together and only stay in pieces, it only lasted one second and the moment you realized who it was your eyes hardened and you looked away from him.

“Dean” Sam breathed out, his smile getting bigger “I- I tried to call you but you... didn't pick up.” he looked from his brother to you and then back at him “We- we wanted to contact you but thought it would be better if you came here. Figured you'd visit her gr-” he cleared his throat, shaking his head “Doesn't matter now, not anymore.” he breathed out with a small chuckle.

“How?” Dean's voice was raspy and deeper than he expected, laced with tears and he saw how for a moment you took in a sharp breath, slowly turning your head to look at him; still not fully though.

“We- we don't know yet, but we made sure she's not a monster or something!” Sam rushed to say.

“And that she has her soul.” Castiel added and the silence that followed was heavier than expected, or at least that was how Dean saw it.

You made no move towards him, told him no single word or the usually “Hey D.” you'd faintly whisper in the middle of the night when he crawled into your bed after a bad hunt because he couldn't be alone in his or when you'd hug him so tightly and lovingly after you couldn't join some hunt and had been worried about him. Or, simply, when you'd missed him. No it wasn't there now.

“I'm gonna go sleep. I'm tired.” you whispered, and even if you weren't directed to him your voice still felt like honey to his ears, it was the most beautiful sound after all these months of being away from you.

“(Y/n)” Sam spoke with a small frown.

“G'night Sammy, Cassie.” you gave them a barely visible smile and with pursed lips Sam nodded his head as you practically walked past his brother without a second glance.

“Dean” Sam spoke in a hoarse voice after he'd made sure you had left but Dean raised a hand to stop him.

“Don't, Sam. Just don't.” he said in a low and rough voice and the younger Winchester shared a look with Castiel.

“Dean, she is... traumatized, it hasn't been easy for her.” the angel spoke with a sympathetic look and Dean nodded his head with a bitter smile.

“Yeah, I saw it.” he mumbled although truth was they all knew that wasn't the problem at the moment bu the fact thatyou wouldn't even face the older Winchester, heck even mention his name “It's just, I-” he clenched his jaw and turned.

“No, hey Dean it's best if you don't-” Sam started protesting but he didn't even have the chance to complete his sentence as Dean had stormed off to go to your room

However once he was standing in front of your closed door he once again felt the nerves get the best of him and he couldn't even bring his hand to knock on the door, and maybe he didn't? He wasn't sure, he only knew he had opened the door and was standing right there, staring at you as you were sitting in your bed with your back facing him and a heavy silence around the two of you.

“Aren't you going to say something?” he choked out without realizing it, and it came out so more pained than he thought he could express.

“I didn't expect to find you here.” your soft voice took a moment to reply and it was certainly not what Dean expected to hear. A frown set on his face as the tears welled up in his eyes.

“What?” he breathed out, still feeling hurt by your reaction to seeing him.

“Well-” you were more calm... more cold towards him that his heart could take “Last time I ever saw you, you were shouting at me... roaring how I was responsible for Lisa's death. I thought since I did you the favors of not only bringing her back but also getting yourself rid of my pitiful existence would have made you finally decide to pursue a life with her again.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, he wanted to but his voice was caught in his throat and he felt like you had just stabbed him in that moment. It hurt so bad to hear the doubt, the hurt and the feeling of betrayal in your voice. He had done worse than just fail you after all.

“But don't worry-” you spoke instead of him, your voice laced with unshed tears “I won't let me being brought back to life get in the way of any plans you might have with her.”

“What does that mean?” he clenched his fists, scared to hear the answer.

“Just what my death meant, Dean, that I didn't exist. That I was dead instead of her, that I wouldn't take her place in your heart. That I wouldn't prove to be more important than her, or anyone else in the world for you.” the words almost sounded familiar and they shook him to the core as if he had said them “You wished for it after all that last time, didn't you?”

And he actually had.

[parkjmini]

moon & sun | pkjm

Pairing: Jimin + Reader Word Count: 4029 Genre: angst  Prompt: Person A had a bad breakup and in order to make their ex jealous, they ask Person B to be their fake girl/boyfriend. Little do they know, Person B has been in love with Person A for years.

[a/n]: this is my entry to @nightbts writing contest !! im not that competitive but i thought this was something fun to do and i love her writing so why not amirite

“Can you help me with something?” Jimin peered up at your shaking, cautious figure. He’d do anything for you, you just had to ask. He invited you in, concerned as to how fragile you seemed. The inevitable tears slipped from the crevices of your eyes and hit the concrete floor below.

You declined, hoping to make your visit as short as possible. Jimin cleared his throat and shifted uneasily on his leg. “Okay.”

Bewildered at his sudden promise, you shot up to stare at him frantic. “I-I didn’t even say what it was.” 

“You don’t need to, (Y/N). I’ll do it. Whatever you need, I’ll be there for you.” Jimin sighed heavily, however, you still couldn’t believe you were asking this of him.

“You might want to hear what it is first before agreeing, Jimin. I don’t want you to regret your decision.” You gulped, swallowing the knot in your throat. He shook his head, but your eyes remained glued to the floor behind him, quite ashamed of yourself for burdening him with your favor.

“Okay. But trust me, my choice will remain the same. I will do it, regardless.” He nonchalantly leaned against his door frame, carelessly listening. That was his first mistake.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend, only for a bit.” Jimin popped up and blinked at you with wide, doe-like eyes. His heart drummed a thundering beat and tiny, vicious flutters accompanied his stomach. His body gave away his hesitation, his palms getting slick with the thought. “See.. this is why I wanted you to hear it first.”

Relaxing, his tense shoulders dropped. He scanned the floor to try to make sense of everything. “What happened?”

“We broke up, today. He left me for someone else.” You shrugged, the sadness drooping down your face. Everything felt torn, every word, every memory of the moment before, all cut through you. Your ex-boyfriend destroyed your frail heart, and made the young insecure girl reappear. 

A small voice wanted to remind you that you were enough, but his was louder. You weren’t worth it anymore. 

“For who? Who could be better than you?” Jimin bit his lip to stop him from going on. His light pink cheeks tinted his dewy complexion. His body betrayed him whenever it came to you. He was all red faced and sweaty palms, all fuzzy hearts and nervous blood streams, all tongue-tied and submissive. His pathetic feelings left him troubled. 

He spent years trying to become uninterested, but you did everything that caused his mind to wander to the inexplicable. Your faint voice called his name so lovingly, and your soft stare broke down every wall he built. Your touch caused him to unravel and made him vulnerable. Even the smallest acknowledgment excited him. 

Every since sophomore year of high school, he’d felt this way every breathing moment. He thought it was harmless, because they were going to disappear after graduation. However, you followed him to the same college. He tried to laugh off the jokes about it being fate, but that was when he started to feel scared. He let his miniature crush manifest into something on a grand-scale.

Jimin loved you, and that was what kept him up at night. Those mysterious deliberations terrified him because they weren’t leaving. You haunted him in every class and there wasn’t a slight chance you’d feel the same way.

You were in an infamous relationship with your boyfriend every since the beginning of senior year. He was some hotshot guy with an obnoxious sense of humor. Jimin never understood why you would choose him, but ultimately he had to be happy for you. He was who made you laugh and your beautiful smile shine. Jimin would die to see that enchanting smile of your’s.

There were times when Jimin believed he would be a better boyfriend, but those wouldn’t last long. They were consumed with another thought that even he wasn’t good enough for you — no one was. Jimin deemed himself unworthy to be yours. 

He was merely a coward who admired you from afar. He didn’t stand out because there was no use, he didn’t want you to want him. It was better off that way, which is why your favor only made him second guess his answer.

“A hot sorority chick with a rack the size of my head and an ass that can fit two seats. Oh, but he claims she has a beaming personality and a kind heart behind her two jugs.” You sarcastically commented on your ex-boyfriend’s excuses.

Jimin chuckled at the explicit description and your petty remarks. You and Jimin weren’t the best of friends, but you were close. He always saved you a spot during lectures and respected your personal space. Your ex-boyfriend secretly disliked Jimin, mainly because he knew that Jimin was far much attractive than he ever was. 

Jimin was your perfect candidate. He wasn’t in any committed relationship, and merely slept around with girls. He was your friend and he wasn’t overly attached. Jimin did a strange thing where he’d often distant himself from you, giving you space or maybe giving himself space. 

He was always a secretive person, ever since high school. You two didn’t exactly speak much, until you both attended college together. Even then, he didn’t open up much about his life, especially his love life.

You practically rambled on about your ex-boyfriend any chance you got and hung out with him every day. Jimin knew all his little quirks because of your endless talks. Nonetheless, he still didn’t touch much about who he was seeing.

What you knew about his love life were accumulated rumors from other people. Everyone spoke about Jimin, like he was some royal prince. Jimin had soft features, but a powerful expression. He reeked of an alluring aura and drew in girls from every department. It was no surprise that everyone wanted a piece of him, but Jimin didn’t exactly care.

Every time you’d ask, he’d brush off the subject and say he was too drunk to remember the girl’s name. He’d become defensive and move on, so you never pushed it. 

“Well, my answer remains. I’ll do it, (Y/N). Not for you, of course, but because that scum doesn’t deserve those jugs.” Jimin winked and a tiny part of you felt better that someone was by your side.

“I can’t do it. I’m going to walk in and he’s going to be sitting there with her, holding her hands and giggling together.” You paced back and forth outside the classroom. It was minutes before the start and you and Jimin were still not in your seats.

“Hey, I’m here, remember? You don’t have to face this alone.” Jimin cooed sweetly to displace the nervousness in your system. You weren’t sure how your plan was going to be executed, and it still felt surreal that Jimin agreed to your bizarre idea. “Let me handle it.” 

He lent out his hand for you to take it, and you hesitated before proceeding to do so. “Deep breath.” Jimin mumbled before he pushed the door open and several people stared confusingly at your intertwined fingers.

Jimin probably felt more nervous about holding your hand than you did. The annoying butterflies swirled and caused his heart to stir. He fought off any warmth that dare tried to rise on his cheeks. 

“(Y/N)! How are you?” Your ex-boyfriend stood up in his seat to wave arrogantly at you, his new girl turning to watch your every step.

“She’s a lot better now that she’s not with you.” Jimin ushered you to an empty spot in the row and you settled your things.

“Jimin, why don’t you let her speak for herself?” He mocked and crossed his arms.

“I’m sorry. I don’t like assholes talking to my girlfriend. She only gives time to people who deserve it.” Jimin spat and you gazed upon him with such admiration. Seeing him heated and protecting you sparked a burning feeling in your chest.

There were several gasps from girls in different seats and the expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face was priceless. “You two are dating?” 

Jimin shrugged and joined the seat next to you. Your hand sneaked from under his side and locked fingers once again. He darted to your touch and he gripped his jeans underneath the table. Every second was torture for him.

This was slowly killing him because he knew it was all an act. It wasn’t real, your feelings were only revenge. Jimin’s were more than that, so much more, and that made it a lot harder for him to handle your thoughtless actions. He didn’t know how long he’d last before he’d burst open, and it was only the beginning.

He should be ecstatic to finally be your boyfriend, but the looming fact of everything being fake prevented any joy that would result from it. Jimin was glad he only had to pretend for a week.

Throughout the lecture, your ex-boyfriend repeatedly looked over at you and Jimin. His glare penetrated through your skin and it crawled down your spine. It was the reaction you hoped for, but the feeling wasn't what you expected. Guilt and anger surged to your heart. The painful emotions didn't allow for you to feel satisfaction.

"He keeps looking here." You whispered over to Jimin, who was concentrated on the professor in front of him.

"Isn't that a good thing? We want to make him jealous, right?" He whispered back, not peering up from his notes. He didn't see your defeated expression as you slumped down into your seat.

"Yeah, but why do I still feel horrible? How can he like another without feeling any remorse?"

Jimin paused from scribbling words on his paper. He dropped his pen onto his notebook and shifted in his seat to face you. "Because he doesn't actually like her. He likes what she has."

"Yeah, he left me for breast and ass. That makes me feel better." You rolled your eyes.

Shaking, Jimin slowly wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Peering up, you saw his sweet smile. His hand giving you a light squeeze, "you're more than all of that."

As your friend, he did his best to make you feel better. It worked, for a small moment, before your self esteem dropped again. You were appreciative of him for making an effort in being a great friend. There was no one else you could lean on. You smiled, halfheartedly.

Class was soon over as everyone began to pack and shuffle their things. "Let's go, babe!" Linking arms with Jimin, you pushed him towards the door. His heart leaped at the sound of the pet name.

You saw a glimpse of your ex’s annoyed face before the door shut. Dropping Jimin’s arm, you allowed for him to walk freely now that you two were away from the enemy’s stare. He, however, picked up your arm again and linked it back with his. “Jimin, you don’t have to---”

“---we’re going to be late for our next class. You’re always strolling and getting lost, let me walk you there.” His fingers crawled down your wrist to intertwine them with yours.

Your bottom lip escaped underneath your top row of pearly whites and a soft pink danced across your cheeks. You were afraid of being alone, wandering the halls on your own. Your ex-boyfriend always escorted you to your classes, to the point where you didn’t really know how to get there yourself. “Lead the way, Park Jimin.” 

The stress was minimal for Jimin. You never pushed him past his comfort zone or made him do anything he didn’t want to. The deal was almost over, the week ending soon. 

The experience left Jimin with a bittersweet feeling. It was a sneak peak to a future with you, but at the same time he knew you felt nothing. In no way would you look at him the same way he looked at you. Jimin was hopelessly in love with a girl who was hung up on her ex-boyfriend. 

He lost sleep during the week, up all night replaying every small moment. He over analyzed every situation, racking his brain and shaking his heart. He searched for any sign that he meant more than a friend. Nevertheless, you were a great actress.

“Thank you for helping me with this strange favor.” You and Jimin held hands, basking in the high afternoon sun. “Not only has he become a jealous brat, but I think I’ve started to get over him. That’s all because of you.”

“That’s good. I’m happy I could be there to help. I’m always here, (Y/N), you know that.” Jimin clenched his words.

Tilting your head, you pouted. “What are we going to do after this? You do realize we have to make our break up believable.” 

“I’ll sleep with twice as many girls as before to fill my emptiness of you.” Jimin smirked to mask his sulking heart.

“Oh! I’ll immerse myself in school work because I’m so torn up by two consecutive break ups.” You clapped excitedly, thinking your follow up plan was fool proof. 

Jimin seemed uneasy, but nodded along. Just as you were about to ask if he was okay, your ex-boyfriend strutted angrily toward you two. “You two are faking it this entire time. I knew it! I saw through your act. You almost got me, (Y/N). You almost had me believing that you two were dating.” 

Hiding behind Jimin, you tried to debunk his accusations. “I-I-We’re together. Why can’t you accept that? I was able to allow you to be happy with your new girl, but you didn’t let us live every since you found out.” Your voice was loud, but your body shielded away.

There was no way he could’ve knew. The only people that was aware of the plan was you and Jimin. Maybe your act wasn’t good enough.

“Quit it, dude. I’ve had it up to here with you. You’ve hurt her far too much. Leave us alone.” Jimin shoved his shoulder aggressively, you winced at the sight.

He wasn’t bugging though, “it’s more surprising knowing you agreed to her tricks. Have you lost your senses, Jimin?” 

“What do you need for us to show you were actually dating?” You asked.

Your ex gleamed with a devilish grin, “kiss. From what I see is that you two only hold hands and hug. I want to see you two kiss, on the lips.”

You rolled your eyes, secretly scared. “That’s so middle school behavior. We’re taking it slow. We don’t want to ruin our first kiss together just because you’re forcing us to.” 

Jimin blinked nervously at you, he remained tense at the mention of a kiss. “Then I don’t believe you. You’ll break up after today and think that you’ve made me jealous. To only realized that you’ve failed and I’m laughing at how hard you tried.”

“Fine. We’ll show you.” You tugged at Jimin to face you, breaking his frozen trance. “Kiss me, Jimin.” You said through gritted teeth, your eyes pleading him to do so.

Jimin gulped, and looked back between your eyes and your lips. “Just do it.” You tried edging him, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I’m waiting.” Your ex-boyfriend taunted, picking arrogantly at his nails.

“I can’t.” Jimin blurted and a laugh from the asshole followed. Dropping Jimin’s hand, you stared at the floor in disbelief.

“Nice job, (Y/N). Even your pretend boyfriend doesn’t want to kiss you. I’ll be going now, you lovebirds.” His laugh continued to rattle your rib cage. Jimin reopened the freshly patched wound in your heart, dumping salt into the flesh.

Jimin couldn’t kiss you, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was scared to. His feelings would’ve acted before him and he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he kissed you. He’d never want to let you go, only more. 

He’d fall greedy into keeping you, even if you didn’t feel the same. But the deal was meant for a week, not for eternity. Jimin needed you to be free and things to go back to how it use to be, where you were his friend and he loved you from afar.

Even if the small kiss meant nothing to you, it meant the world to him. He has imagined multiple scenarios when you two shared such an intimate connection, all the times made him itch. Jimin didn’t feel sufficient enough to kiss you. He wasn’t the best kisser and you deserved the best. He had flaws that he couldn’t overcome to be with you.

It all piled up over the years, turning into mountains that he could no longer leap over. His insecurities left him drowning, and prevented him from pursuing you. There was a reason why you didn’t like him back, even though you’ve never explicitly said it. There was something that stopped you from liking him.

He thought it was your boyfriend, that you were so in love with someone else that you couldn’t see anyone else besides him. That meant blaming you when he saw every flaw in the mirror. It was him. Jimin, too, was not the best you needed. He loved you so much that you became untouchable. He valued you so much that you became unimaginable. He just couldn’t let him spiral out of control, locked in a frenzy over actions that shouldn’t matter.

That was his second mistake. Jimin, unconsciously, thought of himself before your feelings. Your figure was slowly disappearing into the horizon as it hurried away from him. His feet were planted on the ground, not allowing him to move.

He was calling your name, but no sound came out. Other students passed by with concerned and shocked faces. Jimin panicked, knowing he had hurt his one true love, the person who means everything to him.

It took a push to get him going, a careless boy who wasn’t looking at the path in front of him. Jimin lunged forward, in hopes to catch up with your already gone silhouette. 

You’ve once mentioned that your dorm was your favorite hiding spot. It was the realm of your tears and comfort. It separated the outside world and any dangers that it held. Your dorm was a confined space of your heart --- you didn’t hold back any feelings in there. He knew he’d find you there.

He was running at the speed of light. Jimin was in track during high school and had killer speed in the sprint division. There was nothing stopping him once he’s in motion. He jogged up your stairs and pounded heavily on the door.

“(Y/N).. please open up.” He panted, gasping for air now that his heart was fluctuating beats. Jimin leaned over the door, his fist knocking periodically.

He heard your sniffs and cursed at himself for being the reason behind them. Jimin had no intentions of hurting you. He predicted that he would be the one hurt in the end of everything. “I want to explain. Give me five minutes, you’ll understand why I couldn’t kiss you---”

Jimin jotted forward as door flung open. He caught himself before he toppled over your shaking body. Wet cheeks and a pout painted your sad face. Your eyebrows were knitted at the center, “you couldn’t or you didn’t want to?” 

He almost began crying right there. You only had to look at him to strip him of his layers. Your eyes ripped through his skin and exposed his rapidly pulsating heart that refused to calm down at the sight of you. “I couldn’t.” 

“Jimin, save it. I don’t want to hear your lame excuse about how you couldn’t kiss me. You didn’t want to, I get it. You resent me for pushing you past your comfort zone, but you didn’t have to embarrass me like that. We had a deal and I wished you upheld it like you promised.” More tears slipped down your face. It resembled an earlier memory of when you first asked him of the favor, how you showed up a crying mess over your breakup at Jimin’s door. Now you were crying over Jimin. 

His small fingers gripped the ends of his hoodie, his knuckles turning white. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I wasn’t thinking about how it would affect you---”

“---yeah because no one ever thinks about how I feel. No one cares about my feelings, since when did I matter? Right? Well you and everyone else are wrong. Whatever pain you feel, I feel twice as harder because I’m the girl who struggled with loving herself for the past years just to be brought back to square one. The guy who helped me through my insecurities left me and for the reason I feared the most --- I wasn’t good enough. I am not wanted, nor am I loved and it is all because of me. He left me for her because I wasn’t enough and she was better.” 

“I love you, (Y/N)! I love you so much, don’t you ever say that you’re not. Because I am that one person who loves you more than you could imagine.” Jimin shouted, his vision blurred by puddles that dare to fall.

Stunned, you tried to dismiss what he meant. It wasn’t romantic, Jimin was your friend. He always said things like this to console you. “I’m not talking about friendship love, Jimin.” 

“I’m not either. How --- I don’t know --- how do I explain it, (Y/N)? Do you know the story about the moon and the sun?” Jimin was having a hard time expressing his feelings. He wasn’t good with his words when it came to you, which was a huge contributor to why he never confessed. Every contour of your expression caused his tongue to knot up and his words to slur.

You shook your head, your face remaining blank. He sighed heavily, gulping harshly. He began with a soft voice, “the sun loved the moon so much that he died every night to let her breathe. I’m the sun and you’re my moon. I held back for so long, still am, for you. You deserve to breathe and I could only hope that you’re shining well in the night sky. We’d never cross paths to where I could take care of you, but I could still watch over your happiness and that was enough for me.”

“Jimin, I never knew---” You started to defend yourself now that you understood the situation. You hated yourself, mainly for ever asking him of the favor. 

“You weren’t suppose to. I never decided to tell you because the news would be burdening and my sick, fragile heart wouldn’t be able to take the rejection. I restricted myself to limits, so my feelings wouldn’t grow. I slept with other people to try to get over you. Nothing worked in the end. I’ve loved you ever since sophomore year and my heart grew so attached to your meaningless efforts.” He left you completely speechless. All this time you’ve been hurting him. 

“You’re more than enough to me, (Y/N). I even compared you to the fucking moon, a precious rock in space that manages to light up my entire dark night. I couldn’t kiss you because I couldn’t let myself become greedy. I knew I wouldn’t be able to let you go after the deal if we did. It’s like my emotions will grow arms and latch on to something I don’t deserve. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t do that to you. I love you too much to corrupt you.” 

“To be in love with someone is a lot, Jimin.” Your chest was accompanied with a burning sensation, but your mind wasn’t soaking in his confession.

“Trust me, I know.” He groaned. You two stood facing each other, still at the cross walk between two realms. The hallway was empty, but was filled with a light buzzing noise from the fluorescent lights above. 

After it all, Jimin’s heart remained heavy and now, so was your’s. 

[shadcatmastered]

Kid x Law - Fanfiction - Another World - Part 4

Law gasped as he snuggled against Kid. The black-haired man had closed his eyes and laid his head on Kids chest. He smiled blissfully. Kids fingers stroked his back. Gently stroked Laws sweater and looked at him. He was beautiful. Beautiful as always. But Kid somehow felt... strange. It was hard to describe. He was full, he was happy and he was fit. And yet it felt like something was missing. That was really strange. Kid had never felt that way when he was with Law. If they had spent time together, he was the happiest man on earth. This was what he had wished for all those weeks. Law just for himself. What was missing then that he felt so strange...? "My foster mother wrote to me in WhatsApp. She bought a new barbecue and I think we got a barbecue invitation." Kid told the news and Law opened his eyes. The blue eyes looked at him worriedly. But the terrible feeling Kid had felt at the first reading had passed. Kid spoke his words neutrally. Almost expressionless. Whereupon Law's eyebrows contracted. He seemed to think. All at once a fine smile on Law's lips. “You know what? I have an idea how to tell the world that you cannot walk in the sunlight anymore. We simply say that you have developed a strong sun allergy. I can fake a few test results. With the explanation we could even have a barbecue at night! Maybe there is even a possibility that you can go back to work." Law seemed to like his idea really well. At his bright grin, Kid grinned as well. Working... a whole new thought came to Kid. There would be many people. A lot of fresh blood. Kid grinned even wider. "Oh Law, that's a great idea! I may be able to go back to work with this explanation. My foster parents would understand that too! After all, I have always had a sensitive skin as far as the sun is concerned." That was true. Because of his red hair Kid had a very pale skin. He had often spent a short time in the sun, getting sunburned. Kid was red as a tomato on her last beach vacation. If it had not hurt him so much, Law would have laughed all the time. But he had denied his laughter for him. The redhead had to admit that he had always envied Law a bit for how beautiful tan he got in the sun. Law had a bit darker skin anyway and then it worked well. Now the thing with the tan was over anyway. "Then we have an idea!" Law grinned, and the redhead pulled him and kissed him. He kissed Law infinitely tenderly and lovingly. Their kiss was long and full of warmth. Law had red cheeks when they finished it. He looked at him in love. Kid smiled as well. And yet he somehow felt confused. He looked at Law's lips. Strange. He did not feel warm inside. The black-haired man did not seem to notice his confusion. His hands brushed his red hair. Law kissed him again. This time a little more urgent. Kid felt Law's breathing speed up. "We have not had so much time just for ourselves... I really enjoy it..." Law moaned his words to Kids ear and the redhead grinned. He felt the lust come to him and he put his hands on Law's hip. Kid decided he did not have to worry about this strange feeling. It would go away when he got used to everything. After all, there was nothing in the world that he loved more than Law. "Oh yeah, me too..." The redhead groaned softly as his fingers pulled Law's pants down.

It was several hours later when Law decided to go shopping. After all, they just drove off. Without clothes, cosmetics or anything else to take. They had talked about whether they should go home again. But they really did not feel like it. On the contrary. They had decided to drive with Kids motorcycle across the country for a week. Be on the road for the night and spend the day in different hotels. At the thought of a spontaneous holiday, they both got excited. That was probably just the thing to deal with the difficult situation. So Law would buy clothes and stuff for a week. Kid smiled as he left. Even if the sight hurt his heart a little. Law went out into the afternoon sunlight. The light played around his silhouette, making Law look like an angel for a moment. Law looked at him the same way. Only that it was different with him. Kid's pale skin stood out against the black darkness of the room. If Law looked like an angel, Kid looked like a demon. Law's heart also seemed to hurt as he closed the door behind him. Kid stayed alone in the dark. The redhead sighed. It was the first time he had been alone since he was a vampire. The silence was unpleasant. Law's warm heartbeat was missing beside him. Kid shook his head briefly. It was only for a short time. He picked up his smartphone and lay down on the bed. In fact, his mom had written back. 'Don’t worry! When do you and Law want to come over?' There it was. The invitation. Kid grimaced. Now would be the moment when he should tell his foster mother the lie with the sun allergy. The redhead hesitated. 'I'll call you later or tomorrow. I have to agree with Law first.' Somehow he had no desire to discuss the topic now. He would just call tomorrow. It would certainly be easier in the conversation. Kid also saw that he had a new message from Lucio. But did he really want to read it? The 'creator' thing was still hanging over him. Well, Kid clicked on it. 'Watch out. In the afternoon, the witches come. They always come before the sun goes down. Do not sleep currently.' The redhead raised an eyebrow. ... 'Yeah, the witch came in the afternoon. Several climaxes in a row.’ Kid could not help it. He chuckled. If Law knew that, he would scold him. ‘Wow.’ ... why didn’t he tell Law that Lucio wrote to him? It's not that he forgot... he just didn’t know what Law would think of it. What if he didn’t believe him if he said that he had never taken Lucio's number? What if he did not trust him anymore just because he had responded to the vampire? ...he was a coward. Kid sighed. Now that he was thinking about it, sleeping had felt strange before. Strange, but good. It had not felt like sleeping. But rather like... hm... he could not describe it. Would he even have woken up if Law had not awakened him ...? Did that mean he could only sleep if Law woke him up? 'Would I have woken up on my own after sleeping?' If they were already writing, he could also use it for something lucrative. However, it took longer this time before Lucio answered him. Kid played in the time in an app on his smartphone. The last time he opened the app, he had intercepted Law outside the hospital and followed Law to his destruction. Kid expected an emotion of himself. Strangely enough, he did not feel anything at the thought. No regrets, no fear, or anything like that. Now he knew what was so strange. Something was going on with his emotions. They felt… numb. 'Yeah. No vampire can sleep at night.' Ah, finally. Hm. So if Kid tells himself that he just changed his sleep rhythm, he could still imagine that he was human. Like Law. Sounds nice. 'In the city center is a nightclub of ours.' Kid frowned at Lucio’s second message. Didn’t Lucio understand that he wanted nothing to do with the other vampires? Kid was about to write back that he did not care, when he suddenly heard a noise. Nothing threatening. But... Kid put the phone on the bed and looked at the window. The shutter was lowered. No sunlight came in. He knew that sound. As quiet as it had been. It brought his thoughts back to the military. The redhead held his breath. He threw his hands over his head and threw himself on the floor. Just in time. Had it been only a second slower, the bullet would have shredded his head just as much as the window. Thousands of shards of glass pelted down on Kid as he tore his head back. The wall behind him had a huge bullet hole. What was that for a huge caliber? Frightened Kid shouted in the next moment. Sunlight entered the room through the broken window. It seemed on Kids hand and face and his skin began to burn. But that was his least problem. New shots popped against the walls and right now Kid was glad he had the skills of a vampire. As fast as the wind he rolled to the side. In the corner of his hotel room, where darkness still prevailed. What the hell...?! Kids heart did not beat faster. He was not nervous or out of breath either. His thoughts were clear and his perception tense to the point of tearing. This tranquility did not suit him at all. It was not ‘like him’. But Kid did not notice that. Who would attack him? And why? Who knew he was here? His question was answered immediately. The next moment, someone familiar jumped in from the window. Kids throat became dry. A familiar face looked around in the dark and clung to him. "Lamy...?" Law's sister had a rapid-fire weapon in her hand. Pure silver, as Kid could smell with his sensitive senses. The redhead swallowed as he got up. Lamy… Why? Why?! She had tied her long, light hair in a braid and wore tight clothes. Only her eyes were different. Instead of the normal blue they shimmered in a dangerous purple. When her eyes met her, her expression was sad but determined. She raised the rapid-fire weapon and pointed it to his head. "You bit Law. I've seen it. You are not better than every other vampire. " Lamy's voice was cold. Shielding, Kid raised his hands. "Wow, Lamy, stop! Law said I should drink from him. I never endangered him!" The brown-haired woman narrowed her eyes. "Every bite is one too many. We warned you." Lamy shot. Terrified, Kid stared at her. She did not even hesitate. The redhead dropped behind the bed, but a scary hiss escaped him as a bullet struck his foot. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What should he do!? He couldn’t attack Lamy, she was Law's sister! Law would never let him near him again if he hurt his beloved sister! But the sun would kill him if he went outside! Kid pressed himself against the bed while the shots ripped the mattress. Kid briefly looked at his foot. Black blood came out of the wound. But she did not heal! Why not? What was Lamy firing on him? The redhead heard Laws sister's approach. He had to decide now. Either she or he. Kid took a deep breath. Just as Lamy had come around the bed and the gun aimed at him again, Kid stepped with all his strength with his healthy foot against the ground. There was a loud shudder as he punched a wide hole in the ground. Over the shock, Lamy fell backwards with a startled cry. Kid, meanwhile, flew through the floor into the hotel room below. Luckily, he and Law had taken a hotel room on the third floor. The room he fell in was luckily empty. But flooded by the sun. It burned against him and Kid grimaced in pain as he got up and stormed out of the room. His injured foot made him much slower. Actually Kid would have thought that Lamy wouldn’t get rid of him. But she was behind him within seconds and new shots sounded. Kid ran down the hall as fast as he could. He noticed a strange purple hue hung in the air. All the people he ran past did not seem to bother him at all. That had to do with Lamy's purple eyes. What kind of witch was she? Another bullet grazed the redhead's arm and he yelped. There was really no way out now! He threw his hands over his head and ran out of the hotel exit. In the sunlight. Immediately, the sun began to burn his skin and terrible pain flooded Kid. A car creaked in front of him as he ran on the street and heard a loud honking. OUUUUCHHH. The pain almost killed him. Kid felt his skin burn. His flesh came out and black blood dripped on the floor. It felt like being burned alive. "It was not a quick death." Oh, how much Law had understated! Kid ran between frightened people and ran into a small alley. There the light did not come and it was very shady. But still too bright. The redhead looked around frantically. There! Next to a small entrance staircase was an old fridge. It was probably shut up a long time ago and then just left there. But that was Kids luck! He ran to the fridge, opened it and then tore out all the boards. Quickly he squeezed himself into the small interior and pulled the fridge door closed behind him. He tried to ignore how much it smelled in the fridge. Oh, it hurt so much! Kid looked at his arms. They had burned to the bone. However, to his relief, he could see how it began to heal. Quite different than his foot. Kid lost a lot of black blood from the wounds and wondered why the hell did not heal. Whereby then a thought came to him. Was the bullet still in the wound ...? The redhead took a deep breath. Stay calm. You've already done that in military service ... Without further thought he pressed his fingers into the wound. He cried out in pain, but he found what he was looking for. The bullet was still in it. What Kids Finger had not expected was that the skin of his fingers was injured as well as he touched the sphere of pure silver. His screaming grew louder. With a jerk, he pulled the bullet out of his wound and dropped it onto the bottom of the refrigerator. Done. Kid leaned against the wall of the refrigerator and took a deep breath. Now this wound also began to heal. The pain became less. His thoughts became clearer again. ...even if he could not believe it anyway. Law's sister had tried to kill him. Lamy ...! How many times did she sit at their table with them, laughing and joking with them... they had always gotten along so well... and now that. Kid did not feel scared. Also no disappointment or sadness. No. What he felt was something else. Something darker. He felt anger, he felt contempt and hatred. But most of all, he thought he wanted revenge. He wanted to give back all the pain, all the shame he had experienced… To hell! He was sitting in a stinking, dirty fridge feeling... like in a coffin. If the situation were not terrible, Kid would have laughed. He probably made the legends true. The only thing Kid could think of at that moment was to call Law. He reached for his trouser pocket and... really got scared. His smartphone. He did not have his smartphone with him! It was in the hotel room on the bed! Now the redhead's heart beat faster. Where should he go now when it gets dark ?! He could not go back to the hotel. Lamy would wait for him there. He could not go home either. What if Law's other family was waiting for him there...? But where should he go then? Where should he find Law ?! Above all, Kid noticed another problem. All the wounds he had healed, all the blood he had lost ... he felt a terrible hunger for blood. His teeth pressed painfully against his lower lip. Damn it! What should he do?

When it got dark, Kid climbed out of the fridge. He looked terrible. His clothes were full of black blood and tattered by the bullets. Besides, Kid had run barefoot out of the room. He looked worse than any homeless or drug boy. A hiss came from his mouth. These many people from the streets ... that smell of blood ... he was so hungry… he needed new blood. Kid sighed. Whether it wanted it or not, there was only one place left to go. At least until he knew how to recover Law. He went to the nightclub Lucio had written to him.

written by Shadcatmastered

- I’m sorry for mistakes. English is not my native language.-

[seriouslyhooked]

Castle on the Hill (The CS Mixtape) Part 161/?

Series of CS oneshots inspired by music. Collection on FF Here.

A/N: Short AU oneshot where Emma was raised by her parents and grew up abroad near Killian and Liam. They were best friends as kids, sharing a first kiss and a first love, but then Emma has to move away to America for the last two years of high school. Not to worry though, they keep in touch and after a cute little breakdown of their last perfect day we may or may not be flash forwarding to their wedding ten years later. Inspired by multiple reader requests for ‘Castle on the Hill’ by Ed Sheeran.

“So what do you say, love, are you with me?” Killian asked, looking at Emma where she stood at the end of the lane in front of her parents’ house feeling the bundle of nerves low in his gut.

God she was perfect, the picture of effortless beauty in every way as she wore her favorite sundress with the yellow flowers that matched her always bubbly spirit. Her blonde locks were pulled back away from her eyes, giving him a better view of her, and over her shoulder she was toting along her trusty pack, the bag she’d always had since they were kids and he’d gone with her and her Mum to pick a bag worth carrying day in and day out to school. It was well worn now, and covered in markings and buttons and bits of memories from past times they’d shared together, and though it didn’t belong with a dress like this one, it gave Killian comfort to see her bringing it on this of all mornings.

He couldn’t believe this day was actually here; Emma’s last day anywhere near the place he called home had come, and he’d tried his damndest to think of a way to make it special for her. It was the reason he was currently addressing her from the seat of his elder brother Liam’s motorcycle, and the reason her eyes had gone wide and she’d bit her lip in a sign of desire mingled with uncertainty. Emma likely didn’t realize what that innocent reaction did that to him or what she herself had always done to him, but he tried to focus on her happiness instead of the growing sense of wanting her that was compounding through every nerve in his body.

“Killian, Liam will kill you if he finds out you took this! Are you crazy?”

Crazy about you, he thought to himself, but thank God he had a smidge more self-respect than that and refrained from saying it aloud. Instead he shrugged playing it cool and then leveling her with the truth in a less blunt and revealing way.

“It’s worth the risk, love. I’d never put you in any danger and Liam will understand. Besides it’s the last time we’ll have this chance and this is the fastest way to the castle.”

That reasoning pulled a look of melancholy to Emma’s jade colored eyes, but being the strong and enduring girl Killian knew her to be she straightened her shoulders and faced their struggles head on. She didn’t run from him or from this sad situation, but pushed those feelings they were both sharing of grief aside until later. They could deal with the fact that the whole bloody world was about to fall apart with her leaving after today. For now, Killian wanted one last perfect interlude, one last day to show Emma Nolan just what she meant to him and what she’d always meant since they’d first met as children.

Once she was on the back of the bike with her helmet and the red leather jacket he’d brought for her on and her arms were linked around his waist for the impending journey, Killian took off through the busy streets, maneuvering like a pro since this was hardly the first time he’d driven the bike. Of course this wasn’t strictly legal seeing as he hadn’t passed his testing for this particular mode of transit, but damn the rules. What was life without a little risk, and when was a better time to risk it all then when the girl he was in love with was about to leave him to go back home and probably never come back?

He shook away those thoughts, as best he could, focusing on the road before him and the feel of Emma pushed against his back, her arms holding tightly around him in a truly delicious way, but it was only when they’d parked along the green across the city limits that Emma always fancied that Killian felt himself breathe easy again. The two of them hopped off the bike and the smile on Emma’s face outshone the sun and every star the universe over.

“Okay, you were right. That was awesome, and way better than the bus,” Emma said as Killian gathered the basket he’d had on the back of the bike, seeing everything was just where it should be despite their bit of speeding he’d indulged in on the roads here.

Killian smiled in return as he gazed upon her again, invigorated by Emma’s enthusiasm, but then he found himself battling with his desires internally. On the one hand, he wanted more than anything to take Emma’s hand in his and take today that one step further than they’d gone before. They’d been best friends for years but he’d loved Emma with all his heart since the first day she popped up in his year six class with her long blonde hair and determined green eyes. She should have been petrified of a new school in a new country, but she wasn’t. She was fearless and courageous and from the start he was in awe of her.

Now she’d only transformed into something more magical. She was every dream he could every envision made real, and though Killian had heard it from a hundred people that someday another girl would come along who measured up to Emma in his eyes and this would all prove to just be a young man’s take on puppy love, he knew the naysayers were all wrong. Emma was it for him, and it was just his luck that she was leaving with no indication that she’d ever be moving back.

“Killian?” she asked, pulling his attention back to her and then she offered him her hand and he grinned, taking it without hesitation.

In the moment their fingers intertwined there was nothing but a raw flow of electricity and joy coursing through Killian. He’d never felt so alive, and if he weren’t so familiar with the winding walk up to the manor house they were visiting (which Emma lovingly called the castle) he’d have likely made an ass of himself. But as it was they made it to their spot by the old willow tree and Killian spread out the blanket he had and shared with her the bounty he’d planned out for them.

One by one Killian took out the contents of the basket and he watched Emma’s reaction as she realized it was all of her favorite things. Her eyes grew misty and her lip quivered a bit, but still she remained happy underneath it all. Killian could see that he’d done well and he was proud of that. For even if their time together would be ending soon, he had to believe there would be a way. Somehow, no matter what it took, they’d keep in touch and meet again and it would always be his wish to put a smile on her face and keep her close when he could.

Their afternoon unfolded in a perfect way where they talked about everything and nothing at all. On the knoll of the green Emma found her favorite yellow flowers, the ones that looked like the pattern on her dress, and then she collected them all for herself as they prattled on about anything that wasn’t the impending Nolan family move. It was easy and effortless, but it was also gone too soon, because sure enough the sun began to sink in the sky, signaling the end of their last day as the sun set behind them.

It’s now or never, Jones, Killian counseled himself when they’d returned to the blanket to take in the pink and orange hues painting the sky and the clouds about them. Either you tell her how you feel now, or you live your whole life regretting that you were too much of a coward to do so.

“Emma, there’s something I need to tell you,” he started, feeling the tensions rising through him but trying to keep his head and push forward despite the fear of this girl who was far too good for him rejecting him. “It’s something I’ve been trying to say for a while but… oh bloody hell I can’t seem to… what I’m trying to say is -,”

Before Killian could actually articulate himself, however, Emma had moved in, closing the remaining distance between them and kissing him. Again she was the leader, the one marking their path to the excellence Killian had always associated with Emma. But this kiss was better than anything he’d ever known. It was everything to him, the best thing that had ever been and ever would be aside from Emma herself, and when they finally pulled apart a few seconds later and Killian was looking at her again he didn’t know how to put that feeling into words.

“I’ve been waiting forever to do that,” Emma whispered, a piece of her golden hair falling in front of her face as she did thanks to the slight breeze coasting along the hillside. “I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, love,” Killian said as he tucked the strand of hair behind her ear and watched the shiver that came when his fingertips brushed against her skin. “I’m only sorry we had to wait at all.”

With those words between them they spent a few more hours wrapped up together, learning each other in a more intimate way than they ever had before and taking heated kisses further in that teenager-like way. It was all relatively innocent, but to Killian it was the actualization of everything he’d ever wanted. Finally he had his Emma in his arms where she rightly belonged, and she told him that she was his now and always, but they had to get back, and when they were finally there at the front walk of her house again he couldn’t bear to let her go.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” Emma said softly, the sound of the tears that were threatening to slip evident in her voice, and as much as Killian was hurting, all he wanted was to ease her worries and make sure she knew that he’d meant what he said. They would be tied together forever, no matter what may come, or what life may through in their path.

“Then we won’t, Emma. Whatever happens this isn’t over – our story isn’t over. We’ll find our way back to each other someday, somehow. And there won’t be a day that goes by when I don’t think of you, love. You have my word.”

“Promise?” Emma asked, the first of her tears slipping down her cheeks and Killian’s throat tightened as he moved to brush them away.

“Promise,” he replied before kissing her again and cementing that vow for this day and all his days still to come.

…………….

10 Years Later

Curled up into Killian’s embrace as they swayed together on the dance floor at the reception being held in their honor, Emma couldn’t help but feel a resounding sense of joy coursing through her.

Today was easily the best day she’d ever known, because finally, after years and years of waiting and hoping and wishing for this moment to come, she was Emma Nolan no more. Now she was Emma Jones, wife of the man who’d stolen her heart when she was just a girl and he was just a boy on the outskirts of London raising hell and risking everything for the chance to feel alive and adventurous.

It meant everything to Emma to be here after waiting so long, but the road to getting to this beautiful state of bliss hadn’t always been easy. Especially at first, after their one perfect day where they’d both admitted how they truly felt after keeping the secret so long, Emma had felt adrift in the world, struggling to adapt to life back in the place she once called home without her best friend and favorite person at her side. She’d missed Killian terribly and had embodied every heartbroken, lovesick stereotype of a teenage girl crossed in love. But even when he was an ocean away, Killian found a way to build her up and give her the strength to keep going and to always be the best version of herself no matter what.

Despite all odds and the cards being stacked against them, Emma and Killian had made it through those long two years apart. They’d never lost touch in that time they still had left at school between occasional visits and near constant phone calls and letters, and though she’d nearly shocked her parents to an early grave, Emma didn’t hesitate to choose a college halfway across the country when the time came because it was where Killian would be going too. Emma had had enough separation from her true love to last one lifetime, and ever since that first day of freshman orientation when they’d been reunited for real Emma and Killian hadn’t had to go even one more week without each other.

“You’re doing it again, my love,” Killian whispered to her, calling out her internal replaying of their whole story in their mind as they danced there amongst the party of people. Dozens of eyes were on them, taking in the bride and groom and whispering amongst themselves about childhood romances solidified forever, but Emma didn’t pay them any mind. Instead she kept all of her focus on her husband, and she grinned at the thought that she could finally call Killian that at last.

“I can’t seem to help it,” Emma replied, gazing up at him and meeting his blue eyes that were alit with all of his own happiness and wonder on this glorious day. “I mean after all we’re at the scene of the crime so to speak.”

And they really were, because after pulling dozens of strings and calling in every favor they possibly could, Emma’s parents had managed to get use of the ‘castle’ where Emma and Killian had confessed how they felt to each other ages ago. Their special place had become the sight of the most important day of their lives, and Emma couldn’t imagine a better spot to vow to love and to hold and to cherish Killian all the days of her life. It had been remarkable to share this moment with him here, and it only added another gorgeous layer of history and meaning to this place she’d always loved since she was just a kid.

“This might be the place where I first admitted to you how I felt, Emma, but it’s hardly the place I fell in love with you. I was yours far earlier than that day as you well know.”

“I do,” Emma murmured as her hand came up to cup his cheek and her eyes took in all the sincerity on his handsome face. Killian had gown so much from the boy he used to be when they first met, and to say her husband was sinfully attractive was an understatement, but Emma could still see traces of the Killian she’d first fallen for when she was considered ‘too young’ to truly understand love. “But I don’t think it would have been as romantic a ceremony if we got married in Mrs. Turner’s grade six classroom. I mean just imagine cramming all these people in there and my mother trying to decorate up to her ‘standards.’”

Killian chuckled at Emma’s joke, his hand tracing over the soft ivory silk of her wedding dress at the curve of her hip, warming her through as he did. Then he leaned down and took her lips in what had to be their hundredth kiss of the day. The kiss left her a little breathless even if it was a relatively innocent embrace but Killian was always doing that to her, always sending her spirits into overdrive. It was that connection and that never ending sense of peace and adventure that he combined into one exhilarating feeling that had always proved to Emma that their love was more than mere chance. The two of them were really meant to be and she would never turn her back on her destiny, not when it was this amazing.

“Truth is, love, we could have said ‘I do’ anywhere and it wouldn’t have made any real difference to me. All that matters is that we’re here, and after all those years of trying to make my way to you, you’re really mine, just as much as I am yours.”

For all the things that had changed in their lives, this one element had remained the same: Killian still had a way of making Emma feel like she was everything without even trying. His powers of articulation had improved some since the first time he tried to say he loved her, but the feeling in her chest and the resolute knowledge that she was adored by him packed all the same punch. In his heart of hearts Killian valued nothing and no one above her and he made no attempt to hide that. He put her first each and every day, and that was good because Emma felt the same way and she tried to always emulate him in sharing the best parts of herself and choosing hope every time.

“I love you,” Emma whispered, knowing it wasn’t near enough, but that Killian would understand just how much she meant it all the same.

“And I love you, Emma. Always and forever.”

And with that solemn promise, the two of them enjoyed the rest of their night at this castle on the hill dancing and mingling with their family and friends before slipping away to the new home they’d purchased not too far away to build the life they’d always wanted. And as the years went by and their family grew, Emma and Killian never let go of their memories here or the magic of this place, sharing it with their children and their children’s children along with the story of a boy and a girl who’d fallen in love as kids only to build a life long love that would last for all eternity.

…………….

When I was six years old I broke my leg I was running from my brother and his friends And tasted the sweet perfume of the mountain grass I rolled down I was younger then, take me back to when I

Found my heart and broke it here Made friends and lost them through the years And I've not seen the roaring fields in so long, I know I've grown But I can't wait to go home

I'm on my way Driving at ninety down those country lanes Singing to "Tiny Dancer" And I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

Fifteen years old and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes Running from the law through the backfields and getting drunk with my friends Had my first kiss on a Friday night, I don't reckon that I did it right But I was younger then, take me back to when

We found weekend jobs, when we got paid We'd buy cheap spirits and drink them straight Me and my friends have not thrown up in so long, oh how we've grown But I can't wait to go home

I'm on my way Driving at ninety down those country lanes Singing to "Tiny Dancer" And I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill Over the castle on the hill Over the castle on the hill

One friend left to sell clothes One works down by the coast One had two kids but lives alone One's brother overdosed One's already on his second wife One's just barely getting by But these people raised me and I can't wait to go home

And I'm on my way, I still remember This old country lanes When we did not know the answers And I miss the way you make me feel, it's real We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill Over the castle on the hill Over the castle on the hill

Post-Note: Thank you all so much for reading, and to the readers (because there were three of you) who requested this song thank you thank you thank you! I love this song and Ed Sheeran and it was a real joy to write this. I honestly could have mad this a whole multichapter fic too, and I still think there will be a day when I write one based on Ed Sheeran songs, but that will have to be a project for another day. Anyway I hope that you all enjoyed and that you have a lovely rest of your day! 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103, Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160

[shadowvalkyrie]

Remember that we are in a deconstruction!

In the wake of Black Sails 4x03, I have seen a lot of people unhappy with the scenes that showed Captain Berringer [sp?] with the pictures of his wife and child, calling them a cheap ploy to garner sympathy for an otherwise irredeemable character, etc., and remarking on how this failed to work for them and they still hate him.

Which... Of course. That is the whole point. And by using this as criticism, you miss your mark by a mile. Worse, you’re failing to see just how brilliant the writing on this show really is.

From the start, Black Sails has been a show that rejects clear distinctions between good and evil. Every single character has glaring flaws alongside the traits that make them sympathetic.

You can’t admire Charles Vane’s willingness to stand up for freedom without also seeing his willingness to kill people for it. Eleanor is smart and fierce, but she’ll watch the world burn to get what she wants and betray people she loves for power with only the barest hesitation. The same principle applies for every single character this show ever makes you root for. They’re all multi-faceted, deeply human beings.

And it’s not just the main characters, in whose favour the viewer is bound to be biased, either. The plantation owner who lovingly cares for his sick wife is the same man who threatens his slaves with murdering their families if they flee or rebel. A vicious, primitive enforcer like Berringer having a family he loves/loved is no different from all the other complicated characters. It would be more remarkable if they made no attempt at all at humanising him.

There have been long essays written on whether Flint is a hero, an anti-hero or a villain protagonist. While they all undoubtedly make good points, they also (in my opinion) miss one of the central premises of this show: Namely, that everyone is the hero of their own story and the villain of someone else’s, and mere window dressing in so many others.

Berringer, too, is the hero of his own story. He is a soldier who serves his country against a pirate insurrection and it may not be a pretty job, but it’s necessary, and he’s good at it. The show wants you to acknowledge that, in any other show or film, he could even be the central protagonist. White, straight, middle-aged, middle-class, past his prime and let himself go, but clearly once a passingly handsome man, turned hard and bitter by the death of/absence from (does it really matter?) his family and an impossibly demanding life-or-death job. If you’ve ever rooted for a character played by Bruce Willis or Russell Crowe, you’ve rooted for this exact guy.

And the visual shorthand of the locket is especially clever, because it comes up over and over. I’m sure you can name three films from the top of your head that use it. You probably didn’t even realise that Berringer didn’t need to say a single word for you to understand his backstory in a matter of seconds.

But at the same time, it doesn’t work. And deliberately so.

It is meant to make you question all the other times you saw the aforementioned middle-aged white guy confirm his status as a human being by making a split-second reference about him being capable of loving people/grieving for them (but without ever establishing those people as individuals beyond the protagonists feelings for them), before proceeding to watch him murder his way through swathes of Muslim terrorists/a Vietnamese village/a congregation of Chicago drug dealers. 

If, on this show, you feel infinitely more sympathy for the Black woman trying to bring an empire down to free her people from slavery, for the pirate captain avenging the deaths of his gay lover and their shared wife, for the abused prostitute who got back to her feet and made a life for herself that she desperately clings to, for the cynical coward who slowly learned to form genuine bonds with people, for the gender-role-challenged fighting couple who are both just a little too queer to be husband and wife, and fell in love with other people almost as much as with each other, but vowed an unbreakable partnership nonetheless, you will inevitably start to wonder where they and the other people like them are in all the other stories.

You are meant to question whether being a soldier/cop justifies the average white guy protagonist’s murder spree. Whether avenging his family/working through a separation does. Whether maybe he isn’t the villain in everyone else’s stories and you just never saw it that way, because he is part of what is erroneously regarded as the social norm and thus has every imaginable kind of privilege on his side that makes him the hero by default.

So I hear you about not feeling any sympathy for Berringer, but I still loved those scenes, because that lack of sympathy was entirely intentional on the writers’ part.