#almost made this a misdirection and turned it really fucking sad
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Today's @wolfstarmicrofic prompt is betrothed!
(145 words.)
Remus notices the nickname evolution. The stupid words Sirius attaches to Remus that make the boy smile and roll his eyes, pretending there isn't a blush spreading across his cheeks.
"Moony, my moonshine, want to go to Hogsmeade?"
"Rem, darling, when's the potions test?"
"Remus, my beloved, my one and only, what's the name of that muggle device again? The one that spins and heats stuff up?"
"Moons, my complete and utter ray of light, could I borrow a book?"
Until one day it changes.
"Moony, my betrothed..."
Remus snorts a laugh, eyes still on his food.
"We're not exactly engaged, love, you'd have to ask first-" He glances up and freezes. Sirius is on one knee in front of him, a soft, nervous smile on his face, holding out a blue velvet ring box.
"Okay, sorry, I'll try that again. Moony, my soon-to-be betrothed?"
#proposal moment?#almost made this a misdirection and turned it really fucking sad#but i'm not in the mood for sad#let them both live for now#wolfstar#sirius black#wolfstar oneshot#marauders#remus lupin#remus x sirius#young marauders#moony x padfoot#atyd marauders#marauders oneshot
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strangers again
summary: “hiiii sweetie!! can i request a steve x reader where he left yn for peggy. but he always felt guilty and missed yn. he would always stare at her pic. when he came back he bumped into yn while she was dropping a kid to daycare. and steve realized it was his son. kinda sad but fluff at the end pls!!!! and oh i super love your works!!! tysm 🌼🥺💕”
pairing: steve rogers x reader
warnings: decent angst, brief mention of a depressive episode, abandonment, somewhat unrealistic behavior
word count: 3.8k
author’s note: i really hope that this lives up to your expectations but it is a little cheesy. i’d also like to warn that i have not interacted with a child in several years, so.. sorry. (there’s also a lot of exposition so double sorry if that’s not your thing!)
You’d never forget the moment Steve left to return the stones, with the promise to be back in only a matter of moments.
Maybe your definition of a matter of moments was different from his.
You seemed to be the only one without a clue of what Steve truly planned to do, with Bucky only telling you after the matter that Steve was leaving for the past and for Peggy, and probably not coming back.
After finding out, something deep within you broke. You could barely leave your bed for days, you struggled to eat, sleep, even drink water. Every task that used to seem like muscle memory, began to feel like it carried the weight of the world behind it. Every hobby that you once enjoyed becoming empty and bleak.
You constantly felt inadequate. How could you love someone so much, and be told you were loved so much while always being second to someone else?
The simple sentiment of it had left you feeling miserable, and sick to your stomach. Literally. Nearly every morning, and occasionally if you smelled something too strong, you found the contents of your stomach emptied.
You attempted to ignore it at first. Meshed with every other unpleasant symptom you were going through, you’d figured that it was just one more bullet point on the list of things that had been plaguing you. But when your friends insisted that you go check up with your doctor, you had a hard time saying no.
Once you received the results from your blood test, you were completely taken aback by the fact that you were pregnant. You couldn't believe that you hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy earlier.
Yet, after a long and hard period of pondering, you managed to surprise yourself once again after you realized you wanted to keep it.
After all, that could be the only piece of Steve you had left.
----
You began to tell yourself that Steve was dead. That was somehow less painful than the idea that he left you for someone that he barely knew, yet had fallen so hard for nearly 70 years ago. You refused to let yourself fall for anyone else romantically, now that you were aware that anyone had the capacity to leave you at any time, no matter how deep you perceived your relationship to be.
You guarded your heart, and made sure to only let in those that you knew you could trust for a fact. For the remainder of your pregnancy, only your closest family members and friends stood by your side.
About 8 months later, you brought a small, but healthy infant into the world. From that moment on, you promised yourself to become the best version of yourself that you could be. No dwelling on the past, and no yearning for what could’ve been. Your only duty now was to provide the best life possible for your offspring.
So you did.
----
You stood in the kitchen, peeling an orange for your son before he bounded into the room. You turned and gave him a big grin, and he grinned back to you.
“Did you get dressed all by yourself?” You asked him excitedly, receiving a nod in return before he ran up to your leg, and hugged it.
“I did, Mommy!” He looked up at you with his soulful eyes, and you couldn’t help but to feel bombarded with emotion.
Even at the tender age of five, Grant seemed to become a bit more like his father every day. The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the sound of his giggle. To the average onlooker, he came across as the same as any other child, but to you, your son was the splitting image of Steve.
“Good work, little man. Now go sit at the table so mommy can finish breakfast, okay?” He didn’t even bother confirming with you before more or less sprinting to the table. You couldn’t help but to ask yourself if your son had obtained all of that energy and speed from his father as well.
Breakfast was over almost as soon as it started, and before you knew it, you were warming up your car after you’d assisted Grant with brushing his teeth.
You were in an oddly nostalgic mood that day, playing music from a time period before you’d even imagined bringing another life into the world. You glanced up at the rearview mirror and watched your son happily bop his head to the beat. You thought in passing about how much of a gift he truly was.
After arriving at his school, you hopped out of the car and over to the furthest seat in the back, where he’d insisted on sitting that day.
“You ready, big guy?” You questioned while reaching out to grab him from the car seat.
“Born ready,” he agreed. You chuckled and shook your head fondly at that while getting him out of the car.
“Who taught you that?”
Grant shrugged, “I came up with it myself.”
“I’m sure. Can you hold my hand while we’re out please?” You reached out for him, and he gladly obliged.
You soon became distracted by a large man across the street, his built figure and light blonde hair making you recall the father of your child. You gave Grant’s hand a light squeeze and continued to approach the door, not being able to help yourself, and glancing over at the man one last time.
Except this time was different. Your eyes locked with the blonde man outside of the coffee shop across the street unexpectedly. Where you once thought casually to yourself that it looked like Steve, you now had confirmation that it was in fact the man who you’d fallen in love with, and found yourself pregnant by.
You audibly gasped, receiving a bit of a questioning look from your child. Your heart dropped as a metric ton of emotions hit you all at once, anger, sadness, confusion. Everything you told yourself you needed to repress, had suddenly come back to you all at once.
Even from a distance, you swore you could see his eyes flit from you to Grant, and the next thing you knew, he was approaching your direction. Looking for an easy out, and a distraction from your rather observant child, you quickly caused a misdirection.
“Grant, is that Stacey over on the playground? You should totally go show her that new version of tag that you were telling me about!”
Your son, ever the speedster, booked it towards the playground, and you let out a sigh of relief. Although, the relief didn’t last long, as just moments later, Steve was almost all the way up to you. As you turned to try to escape, you felt a hand on your arm.
“Y/N?” He asked, almost timidly.
You weren’t even sure what to say. In fact, you didn’t feel like you had control of your own body at this point. “Steve? I-“ You ran a hand through your hair and bit the inside of your lip. “You need to go.” The pain that was rushing through you was too much for you to bare, especially considering the man who caused the hurt had suddenly decided to reappear in your life after giving you a world of self doubt and abandonment issues.
Steve seemed hurt by your statement, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand to even look at his face. “Please, Y/N, let me explain,” he begged.
“No, Steve. You don’t get that luxury. You left me for someone else, and I guess you got to live a nice, long life with her. You don’t get to just show back up in my life when you get bored, okay? I can’t afford to play those types of games anymore. Now if you’d let me go-“ You attempted to get to your car, but Steve side stepped you.
“It wasn’t like that. You know it isn’t like that.”
“Just fucking leave! You have no idea what this has all been like for me. You had your opportunity to leave, and you gladly took it. Stay the fuck out of my life, and the hell away from my son.” You grabbed the handle of your car door and got in, reeling as you watched a dejected Steve walk away.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you rested your head against the steering wheel. You were feeling way too many emotions to pinpoint exactly how you felt, but you knew that this couldn’t be good.
——
You put a brave face on for your son that day, picking him up from school in a daze, and only half listening to whatever it was that he was telling you.
You felt bad for only being able to nod along to whatever he was saying, and did he just ask you if he could get a dog? Did you just say yes?
You felt like a stranger watching yourself from the outside in. The ghost of the person you’d developed into over the years watching the past version of yourself slip right back into your body, and take over your daily routine through the next few days of your life.
You had an obscene amount of anger that soon dissolved into a deep sadness, and that sadness shorty developed into a morbid curiosity.
You spent an unreasonable, and certainly unhealthy amount of time searching your old lover’s name on tabloid websites and social media, just to see if he’d given a statement on his whereabouts, or a statement about anything at all.
After about day three of your minor internet stalking, you’d had an epiphany while sitting in your office.
You still have Steve’s number saved on your phone.
That was, of course, if it hadn’t changed between now and the years that he’d been off living in the past.
Something about knowing that you were just one text away from him made your heart race with a mixture of nerves and interest. Just one impulsive decision, and you could change the whole trajectory of the rest of your life.
If you got back in contact with Steve, you might not ever be willing to leave him. You refused to make that mistake again.
Until you did.
After reading Grant his nightly bedtime story, then wrapping him tightly in his little bed, you’d decided to treat yourself to a glass of Chardonnay.
It’d been a weird past couple of days. Your time traveling ex had randomly appeared back into your life, your coworkers seemed to get on your nerves a little more every moment you were around them, and Grant had a temper tantrum in the grocery store that afternoon over a chocolate bar, which gained judging stares from customers, and may have made you feel the slightest bit inadequate.
At least that’s what you told yourself as you filled your glass again, because two glasses can’t hurt, and again, since I kinda deserve this extra one, don’t I? The next thing you knew, the bottle was empty, and you were texting Steve for the first time in years.
Y: Is this Steve?
You watched as three white dots hovered on your screen for a moment, disappeared, then came back once again.
S: Is this Y/N?
Y: Yes.
Y: We should tlak
Y: *talk
S: I agree.
Y: So lets
Y: talk
S: I don’t think this is a conversation for texts.
Y: Then call me???????????????????
S: We should talk in person.
Y: Im not gonna do that sober
S: You’re not sober?
Y: do you think id text u sober u big fuckni asshole
S: I guess you’re right
S: So are we gonna talk?
Y: no ur gonna meet me at b cup cafe tomorrow at 10
S: AM or PM?
Y: AM I’m off
S: Are you sure you want to do this?
Y: Say yes before i change my mind
S: I’ll see you there
Y: Bye babydaddy
S: ????
You promptly deleted the messages, tossed your phone somewhere on the sofa, and sunk into the seat. Even in your not-completely-sober state, you already felt the all too familiar sense regret. You dragged the blanket that hung over the top of the sofa over your exhausted body, and closed your eyes, wishing that this was somehow all a dream.
----
It was not all just a dream.
You woke up with dried drool on your chin, and a deep pit of bad feelings and regret in your chest. Of course, you ignored the bad feelings and got ready, business as usual. You successfully dropped Grant off at school with little complications, and found yourself perking up a bit more.
Yet, something still felt slightly off. You reached into the passenger seat for your phone, and as you looked down on it, saw the familiar notification of a calendar event.
10:00 AM
b cup coff w Steeb
You groaned out loud at this. There was no obligation for you to go meet with him, but perhaps going and talking to Steve would bring you some sort of closure. Maybe then you could move on with your life, get with a nice guy who would mean it when he tells you he won't leave you, who loves Grant like he’s his own biological offspring, and to take care of the both of you through thick and thin.
You gladly daydreamed of this fantasy man while driving to the shop, but you couldn’t help but to see Steve’s face doing all of the aforementioned things. Before you even fell pregnant, that’s what you’d truly wanted with Steve. To be a family. To have your definition of home be with your people, rather than a place.
Entering the coffee shop, you briefly ordered your drink before looking around and find Steve sitting alone in a booth, mindlessly stirring around the liquid in his cup.
Timidly, you approached the booth, before setting your purse down and sitting across from him.
“You... you came?” He looked up to you with almost watery eyes.
“Of course I did,” you tried to hold yourself back from mentioning something about following through on your word. You wanted this to be as civil as possible. To build bridges rather than burn them.
“I just didn’t expect to see you in person again. And, you know, you were running a little late,” he added.
“Well, you try waking a five year old up and getting him ready for school every day,” you expelled a humorless chuckle to deflect from the slight agitation you were feeling.
“While you’re hungover?” Steve asked with a bit of a smirk, trying to lighten up the mood.
“While you’re hungover,” You confirmed, genuinely laughing now. It felt good, natural even. You’d kind of forgotten just how pleasant things used to be with Steve.
“Did you mean it last night?” he interrupted the laughter with a serious look.
“I honestly cannot remember anything I said last night. Elaborate, please?”
“That he’s mine. Your son.” He watched you silently nod, then began to speak again, “Wow, I just didn’t realize… How did that happen?” He looked down into his drink nervously.
“Well, it’s kind of hard to recall the exact details, but when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much...” You trailed off, and looked up as a barista called a butchered version of your name.
You were glad to have an excuse to get up and leave for a moment. Adrenaline was racing through your body, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep your composure before you erupted into tears, or had some sort of angry outburst.
Bringing your cup back to the booth, you sat down and took a sip of the scalding drink, “Where did we leave off?”
“I believe you were giving me the birds and the bees?”
“Right! Well, I think you know the rest. I’ll tell you more about Grant later. Right now, I want to know why you left and suddenly decided to come back.” You genuinely felt proud of your delivery. This was the moment you’d practiced in front of the mirror for years, and you didn’t even butcher it.
Steve shook his head and looked into his drink once again. It was so hard to look at you, let alone make eye contact with you, when he knew that he’d been the one to give you an ocean of grief. Yet, he was somewhat intrigued by hearing that his son’s name was his middle name.
“It’s kind of a long story,” Steve began.
“Good thing we have time,” you crossed your arms as you spoke.
“Well, waking up in a whole new time period isn’t exactly the easiest thing ever. You and me both know I missed it there, and it’s always been more than just nostalgia for me. I truly believed that I belonged back there.”
Of course, you had an idea of this, but hearing Steve confirm what you’d already thought made your insides twist.
“But I was so wrong. More than anything, I guess I was in love with a romanticized version of the past. Of Peggy.”
Hearing her name, especially from Steve, made you bristle. You wanted to interrupt him at this point, but it wouldn’t do you or him any good to become hostile while he explained himself.
“By the time I realized, it was too late. I figured you’d already moved on and found someone else to take care of you, and the world, this world, didn’t really need me anymore. But something possessed me to come back.”
“So you’re telling me that if you stopped being an idiot that just assumes things, we could’ve worked this out before? That you could’ve been an active participant in your son’s life?”
“I guess that’s a good way to interpret that story. I know I haven’t been in his life, but is there any way that I can still meet him?” Steve asked hopefully.
“Yeah, of course. He’s just like,” you sighed a bit to yourself. “He’s like a carbon copy of you. Especially his personality, but like, down to his mannerisms. I always struggled to understand how he could be so much like his dad, and never even had met him. You’ll love him.”
“Even if I didn't like him, I’d still love him.”
“How do you still manage to be such a cheeseball all the damn time? You think you’d be able to make it to dinner tonight?”
----
At exactly 6:30 on the dot, your doorbell rang, and before you even had the chance to think about opening it, Grant already was at the door, and opening it. You cringed on the inside, and made a mental note to have another conversation about stranger danger with him.
“Do I know you? Who are you?” you heard your child question from the other room as you set down the last of the plates in your dining room.
“I’m Steve, your mom’s friend... and…” Steve nearly spilled the beans to his son, but didn’t want to cause any more damage than he’d already done. “Her friend.”
“That’s so cool! I have friends too, like Nick, and Stacey, and,” you’d rushed up to the door and wiped your brow, internally hoping that you hadn’t just smudged the makeup you’d put on for the occasion.
“Hi, Steve, come on in,” You beckoned him in, and pulled Grant to the side, quietly scolding him before leading Steve into the dining room. “Grant! This is the last time I’m telling you about opening doors, okay?” He nodded obediently, then followed you and Steve.
“Can I sit next to your friend, Mommy?”
“Is that alright with you, Steve?”
“More than fine.”
Grant sat down next to him, and scooted a bit closer than necessary, while you sat across from the two of them.
“I have to in… enter a gate you now. Because Mommy never brings any over her friends over. I didn’t know she had any friends.”
You blushed a bit at this, at your son’s overdramatic behavior, and his admission that you’d become a bit of a loner.
“Go ahead, pal,” Steve chuckled heartily.
“When did you meet my mom?”
“Before you were even born.”
“Wow! That’s a long time. You’re really old. What’s your favorite dinosaur?”
“I’ve heard T-Rexes are pretty cool.”
“Have you met any?”
You nearly spat out your drink at this. If only your son had known.
“Nope, never. Have you?”
“Hmm, not yet. But they’re my favorite dino too. Now your ‘gating is over.”
You couldn’t help but to burst out into laughter at the bizarre exchange, but you were glad that your son and Steve were getting along so well.
The rest of dinner went pretty similarly, with Grant bantering with Steve, and Steve indulging him. You could tell that the relationship between the two of them was something that came both naturally and easily. You couldn’t help but to grin as Grant began to ramble about how cool Steve was, and how he swore he was better friends with Steve than you were.
“Mommy, isn’t Steve the best? You guys should totally get married so he can have dinner with us every day!” he swooned. “He even kinda looks like me, right?!”
That’s why you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.
“Grant, Steve is… He’s your dad,” you said quietly.
Grant nodded, then slurped up a noodle, “That’s why he’s so cool! He gets it from me, right Mom?”
“That sounds right to me,” You glanced up at Steve, and noticed his surprised expression. You mouthed something along the lines to ‘He’ll process it later,’ and waved a dismissive hand, before going in for another bite of food.
----
After putting Grant to bed, You and Steve stood at your kitchen sink, bumping elbows occasionally as the two of you silently worked together to wash and dry dishes.
The domesticity and familiarity of the action brought you an obscene amount of comfort. You remembered how you once believed that this is what your future would look like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve beginning to talk.
“Doesn’t this remind you of life after the first snap?” He asked, breaking the silence.
“Kind of. You’re not off the hook yet, by the way. You still have plenty of explaining and proving you’ve changed to do.” You set the last cup in the cupboard, then dried your hands off.
“I know, I know,” Steve began.
“We don’t even know if you’re ready for fatherhood. But right now, I kinda don’t care. I really just want you to kiss me.” You reached up to Steve’s cheek, and he pulled you in for a soft and chaste kiss.
You’d never felt more at home.
——
me with this fic:
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#angst#captain america x reader#captain america x you#steve rogers fanfiction#captain america fanfiction#request
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A SDD drabble in all its glory
"Si...sister?" Elizabeth gasps, golden eyes widening as she grips the balcony, "What...you were?"
"Taken and left for dead?" You laugh, large black feathered wings suspending you in the hair.
"Do you want to know what the best part about my fall from 'grace' was?" Your voice is sadistic as you land on the balcony, face close as you admire over your poor, cursed sister.
"I got stronger. I gained freedom. I haven't even reached my full potential yet." You pulled strands of her silver hair through your fingers, "I can do what I want. When I want. How I want. And do you know what I want to do now?"
She can almost read it on your face, in your eyes that are clouded with power, with hate.
"I'm going to break your curse, my dear friend Meliodis' curse and then I'm going to kill Zeldris." Still Elizabeth's eyes widen as she grabs for your hands. Squeezing them tightly as if you were the one who had been captured by your misdirected lover but that was eons ago.
"Are you sure?" Her voice soft and pleading, reminding you just how pure-hearted your big sister Liz was. She was the only one you confessed your secret affair to and in turn she told you hers. It reminded you how much of your kryptonite she really was. For a moment your heart flutters, your mind flooded with memories.
Your fingers tangled through soft raven hair, his eyes for once not hazed over as your deal with the devil was becoming something more than a good fuck.
And then you remember what he had done.
"It's to protect you! You see what's happening to my brother. To your sister!" His dark power seeps into your feathers, turning them a glittering black, "I can't let them take what's mine."
Fallen, defeated and trying to regain your footing he had taken you, trapped you in eternal sleep with a trick. Leaving you in the human realm for protection. You aren't sure what hurt more his visits while you were trapped in amber during the war or when he was woken and hadn't visited at all.
Regardless, your mind was made up. You were going to kill him and that was that.
You snatch away your hands, remembering how your sister exhumed emotions long thought to be dead. Just look at Meliodas, consuming other commandments, losing his emotions just to save her. Even if it meant he lost himself.
You'd be damned if you'd allow that to happen or for your sister to suffer anymore.
"Estarossa is already out of the picture." You say through gritted teeth and her eyes widen, "I'm going to fix this."
"I...I can't lose you again." She says, wiping away tears as you give her a harsh look.
"This will be the last time. Promise." With that she pulls you into a hug, heart breaking on your shoulder as she sobs. Her sadness summons a wraithful Meliodas whose smirk turns deadly.
"Ah Liz. You should have told me your sister was coming home." He won't take a chance with you ruining the plan, shifting his stance into that of a fight. His magical eye reads your power level and he is silently astounded by how quickly you've grown.
"My fight is not with you." You growl out, earning a smirk from the blonde consumed in swirling darkness.
"What happened to your wings? Little Zel get his hands on you?" A taunt, one that you fall for as you lunge, power levels rising as Meliodas' grin becomes manic. Your nails sharpen to claws as you intend to rip out his cold dead eyes.
And maybe one of his stupid fucking hearts. For a race with so many they could stand to learn how to feel. Or at least feel something other than murderous intent.
In an instant Elizabeth is floating between the two of you, her wings expanding to shield both of you. Hiding you on the balcony from Meliodas in the room. Unbeknownst to you another being teleports into the room, staring at his brother.
"What's all this about?" He sounds bored, jaded. His voice alone ignites a fire in your heart. In a blink you're in front of him. In front of Zeldris as he stands with his arms crossed, reacting too slow from being far too cocky with his power. His eyes widen at the sight of you just before your first connects to his jaw. Sending him straight through the brick.
"Did you miss me Zeldris baby?" Your voice takes on a deadly edge, "Or did you forget about me in those short three thousand years?"
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Whooeeee this is a long one! Also, it's so late at night... Sorry for the late post again! Finally cracked that writer's block too with this one, so that's good! (Side story- I literally leaped out of my bed and knocked over my trombone to write the second and third paragraph haha) Oh, and the idea/prompt for this one is from an irl contributor in my family who I asked for ideas! The original prompt was a sad hero whose only purpose in life is fighting the villain. Anyways, on to the story!
The room was dark. A light shone through the cracks in the door, barely shading in the dark shadows of furniture. It was deadly silent, the air thick and filled with the smell of sweat and tears. Everything felt unnaturally still, full of a menacing quiet. The only sound was the soft breathing in the corner of the room, from the curled body on the small twin bed overcast by shadows. Soon, the breathing became ragged, the small figure thrashing in their blankets as sweat dripped from their face and mingling with tears onto the pillow.
Hero jolted upright, clutching at their chest. Nightmare. They frantically tried to untangle themselves from the blankets, drowning in darkness and air. The covers seemed like liquid, trapping Hero within their restricting grasp and caging them like a bird. It made Hero panic even more, struggling and pulling at their throat in an attempt to free the air trapped there. The room filled with the sharp sound of choking gasps and the clatter of limbs against walls and furniture.
Hero stumbled out of their bed, tripping over blankets and objects scattered around the room. They reached for the table, clawing at the mahogany and pulling open the drawers in a panic. Everything clattered, filling their ears with a deafening cacophony overshadowed only by the sound of their own heartbeat. It consumed their mind, overtaking it with desperation and panic. They couldn’t think, couldn’t see- the pitch black covered everything like a suffocating blanket of claustrophobia. Hero stopped their frantic search through the drawers to grab at the light switch on the lamp, nearly pulling it down as it crashed against the headboard loudly. The floor had objects littering the floor- a piece of jewelry missing its mate here, a scrap of a long-forgotten picture there. Everything came out as Hero frantically tried to find the tiny orange container, feeling their own throat close up as they searched longer and longer. It felt like forever before they found it, prying open the lid with shaky fingers and scattering the pills onto their hand. Not bothering to count them, Hero threw their hand over their mouth and leaned back, collapsing onto the floor and waiting for them to take effect.
As the world dimmed and their mind slowed, Hero could feel the cold wooden floorboards soaking up their heat and the soft sound of their heartbeat slowing before everything faded out.
“Well, you look like shit.” Villain said, staring at Hero’s haggard face. “Long night?”
Hero grinned at Villain. “Not long enough.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Hero leaned on the door, closing their eyes slowly before getting up and walking towards Villain. Villain was about to laugh at their feeble attempts at attacking when Hero suddenly lunged towards Villain.
“We’re really going to do this now? You look like death right now. You know that, right?”
Hero smiled, their eyes still a flat black color. “No shit.” And swung.
Villain stroked Hero’s hair softly, staring at their prone form on the bed. It was laughable, their feeble attempts at attacking. It felt cruel, countering- like taking candy from a baby. Villain stared down at Hero’s face, the normally harsh edges and angles softened by sleep. The dark circles under their eyes were even clearer now that they were relaxed. They’d collapsed only a short while ago, falling to the floor when Villain had used their weakest attack. Damn. It was kind of disappointing- the fights they'd used to have had been full of struggle and fire, each party almost exactly equal in ability. But now... Now, it was so easy it was sad.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Villain looked down again, at the hero so completely at their mercy. It would be so easy. Just put their hands around Hero's neck, a few minutes perhaps of struggling and it would be over. No. Villain could imagine Hero's face, their look of betrayal and hurt stabbing Villain in the heart like nothing else could.
At that moment, Hero groaned, shifting slightly. Villain jumped out of their thoughts, gripping Hero's shoulders and pinning them down to the couch to stop the inevitable struggle. But to Villain's surprise, Hero didn't struggle. They started to move, struggling and thrashing- but their eyes were closed.
"No- No..." Hero murmured, tears leaking out of the corners of their eyes. It shocked Villain, this strange show of emotion. Made them pause, think about Hero's recent behavior.
"Long night?"
"Not enough."
Oh. Villain looked down at Hero again, teardrops quickly turning into streams that ran down their cheeks and dripped onto the pillow in an unsteady rhythm.
"No... Run... run, go-" Hero was muttering again, rolling and clutching at their chest, pulling at their clothes and skin, clutching their neck desperately. They reached up to their shoulders, struggling to pull Villain's hand off their shoulder. "He's coming... He's coming, run-"
Villain lifted their hands off of Hero's shoulder, softly stroking Hero's head.
"Shhhhhh." Hero whimpered, grabbing at Villain's hand again. "You're fine," Villain whispered, slowly brushing their fingers through Hero's hair and quieting them. Hero leaned into the touch, still making small sounds of fear intermittently. The sounds died down slowly and Hero's face seemed to relax, their expression of terror melting slowly into one of peaceful neutrality. Villain kept murmuring to Hero, quietly running their fingers through Hero's hair. "It's okay."
Hero woke up slowly, taking their sweet time and relishing the blissful remnants of a all-too rare rest. God, they hadn't felt this rested since... since before they could stretch their crumbling memory. For the past years, all they could remember, all they could see was fighting and nightmares. The only thing that kept them going was the Villain's threats and challenges, the imminent danger they kept on Hero's back and the rush of the fight. It flooded their mind, consumed them and pushed off the nightmares. Fighting and clawing and grasping at life let Hero live, let them keep going from day to day and keep pushing. There was nothing else, no one else. Just Villain and their battles. But lately, Villain hadn't been fighting back. The nightmares got worse, the panic attacks more and more frequent. Hero could feel their throat constrict, feel their body shut down every second they were awake.
For some reason, though, not today. Not today, not now- for the first time in what felt like years Hero had finally gotten a good rest. Why? As Hero opened their eyes, they felt the warmth of another body next to them. The first thing to register was that signature black hair, so dark that it seemed to suck the light out of the very air next to it. Villain.
They were sleeping, sleeping- Guard down, relaxed and resting next to Hero. Hero, of all people. What...?
Hero could feel their throat constricting. They knew why Villain was sleeping near them. The memory of their blackout, the sensation of dropping into a forced sleep- it was clear, but tucked away in a corner of Hero's mind they really didn't want to explore.
The breaths came faster, slower, faster, filling their chest with a sort of panic that sank to the bottom of their stomach and snaked into a twisted feeling of dread. Villain was, quite clearly, pitying Hero. The villain pities the hero. How sad.
Hero shook their head, gripping it with their hands and squeezing- trying something, anything, to try and crush those thoughts out of existence. Look at you. Such a failure. This is why-
No. No. It wasn't why. That wasn't the reason. Hero knew the reason, knew why, and yet- And yet. And yet. Pathetic. Excuses. Failure. Stupid. Idiot. Weak. Faster and faster and faster.
Pathetic. Failure. Stupid. Weak. Pathetic. Idiot. Disappointment. Failure. Pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic-
Hero felt a hand on their shoulder. A voice, so familiar to Hero's ears but so unfamiliar in its tone. A sort of gentility, a tone of pity filled it.
Pathetic.
No. But Hero couldn't block out the voices, couldn't ignore the fact that their own voice felt like it was strangling them. So they pushed it out, pushed it towards the only other person that Hero could pour the bottled up hate and malice onto. Villain.
"Get off me."
Villain had a half-smile, a sort of confused grin, stuck to their face like plaster.
"What?"
"Don't touch me."
The smile was fading now, disappearing and transforming into that cruel anger Hero knew so well. Strangely, though, through that mask Hero swore they could see a glimpse of hurt. No.
"Wh-"
"You heard me. Are your ears broken? Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me."
"Hero, what's-"
"You're pathetic." The voice slithered out of Hero's mouth, out of their brain, consuming the silence in the room and growing into a hate filled tornado of resentment and rage. "Just like me. Look at us. A couple of fools. You, a villain? Ha! Pathetic. So weak, so stupid." Hero started to cry, tears dripping down their face as they spat hateful words at Villain, angry words full of venom and intentionally misdirected gall. "I'm just like him. So are you. Broken. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathe-" Villain clamped a hand over Hero's mouth. Hero just sat, tears dripping down and dampening Villain's skin. A small voice slipped out between Villain's fingers.
"What else do I have to live for?"
Villain's eyes widened, staring at Hero's twisted face.
"Tell me, Villain. What else is there? I'm nothing. I'm just a failure who happened to catch your attention." Hero laughed bitterly. "God knows why."
Villain shook their head slowly. "There's a reason I chose you. You... You're different. You have purpose. You have a reason."
Hero shook with more silent sobs. "No, I don't."
Villain pulled their hand away, shaking slightly. "You have a reason."
"NO, I DON'T!" Hero screamed, wanting to hit something, hurt something. "EVEN YOU PITY ME. THERE'S NOTHING ELSE. NOTHING!" Hero gasped, struggling for air, struggling to breathe through the tears and the hiccupping sobs that shook their body. "WHAT OTHER PURPOSE DO I SERVE? THERE'S NOTHING."
Villain just pulled Hero closer, holding them tightly to their chest. "You're worth something. You're worth something."
Hero's voice quieted, hoarse and cracking with sorrow, muffled as Hero cried into Villain's shirt, "To who?"
Villain listened to Hero's cries, to their wailing and feeling the tears drip through their shirt. Before answering gently, "To me."
#villain#hero#villain and hero#hero and villain#arch enemy#sadness#hero x villain#villain x hero#hero villain snippet#angst#whump? idk i dont really know what this means but i looked it up and it seems to be applicable hereee
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Dead Girl | B.B
Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x reader
Warnings: graphic violence including fist fighting, guns and knives, death, hella sad tbh
Word count: 2.1k
a/n: welcome to a semi part 2 of the fic no one asked for! While this is technically part two to My Girl, this can be read separately. There’s like... one reference to the first one and it’s fine. This fic is based on the song Dead Girl by Baby Snooks! Anyway, like/reblog/leave feedback if you enjoyed!!! Moodboard made my me!
Since you were kids, you, Steve and Bucky were inseparable. You didn't really have the choice with Steve, but, you enjoyed Bucky's presence. Steve watched as your feelings for Bucky progressed, from your first crush, to your first love, to your first kiss. Steve couldn't complain, he loved the idea of his best friend being his brother in law. Until the war broke out, you had talked heavily of marriage with Bucky. He kissed you goodbye the night before he left and you don't know if your heart had ever been more broken.
Maybe Bucky is the reason you followed Steve into the army, or maybe it was because you couldn't bear to let your twin go by himself. Project Rebirth wanted twins for the Super Soldier Serum, and they wanted to see how it affected women. You were the perfect guinea pigs.
After rescuing Bucky to subsequently lose him again when he fell from the train, all you had was Steve. You hadn't felt this sorrow since the death of your parents. Steve clutched onto you as you sobbed, his own tears falling onto the top of your head. "Til' the end of the line," rang in the back of your minds, and you vowed to always be by each other's side.
And that's how they found you, frozen and cold in the dark depths. By each other's side. 70 years is a long time to be frozen, but for you, no one else mattered but Steve. He was all you had left and, as you progressed into this new and advanced world, he was the only person you could truly count on. Even the Avengers, as they called themselves, were a rough group to melt into, to get along with. You tended to your own missions assigned by SHIELD. When it became clear the SHIELD was taken over by HYDRA, you and your twin brother were now fugitives.
You killed me on the inside
You pretty parasite
Ate me alive
From the inside
Everything came to a head that day when you and Steve were running from HYDRA. Natasha had stuck with you to clear out citizens, while Steve had tried to distract the notorious Winter Soldier by misdirecting him. Steve’s efforts proved fruitless. The assassin’s sights seemed to be set on you.
After rolling away and sprinting down the street, you and Nat were trying to clear the avenue of civilians. Bullets flew past you as the Winter Soldier marched in your direction, shooting after you. The two of you met up behind a car and crouched, devising a plan.
"You get as many civilians out of here as you can, I'll hold him off. He won't stop, so keep running," you instructed her. She tried to protest, but you stopped her before she could, "just do it."
You stood as Nat ran. You looked in the direction of the assassin heading toward you, his prey.
Crawling thru my veins
Preying on my pain
You began your stride toward him, running headfirst into battle just like you always did. This ghost of an assassin was relentless, and he seemed to only be after you. It was your duty to protect these people and give the Winter Soldier the fight he wanted. You pulled your handgun from its holster and fired off three shots aimed for the man's chest. You were confident in your aim, but he kept coming, seemingly unaffected by bullets, and for a moment, you second guessed your shots.
He lifted the automatic rifle in your direction and fired off a volley of shots at you. You rolled out of the way, crouching behind a car again. You breathed heavily, squeezing your eyes shut in concentration.
When the firing stopped, you stood again and ran full sprint toward him, lifting your own pistol to fire a shot in his direction again. You fired the shot as a distraction before reaching him and jumping up and spinning, wrapping your legs around his torso and neck in an effort to pin him down. You used your momentum to flip him onto the asphalt, landing crouched on your feet next to his head as his gun skidded across the rough ground. You moved quickly, straddling his chest and pinning his arms beneath your knees. You managed to land two blows to his face before his non-metal arm snaked its way up your waist and made you freeze. The action was so familiar, so ingrained. But there was no possible- you were shoved to the ground before your thoughts could come together in a coherent string of consciousness. The soldier had thrown you off of him as he stood and reached for his weapon. You scrambled to kick it away.
You let out a yell as the assassin stomped your leg under his boot. You snarled and pulled a dagger from its sheath on your waist, slashing at his leg from the ground. He stepped back to dodge your attack, giving you the opportunity to stand up and face your attacker. The Winter Soldier was more than a worthy opponent and you were starting to worry about your chances.
I was weak on the inside
Drowning in my pain
In the scuffle, the soldier's eyepiece flew off, exposing bright blue eyes encircled in black. Oceans you could swim in forever. No, that wasn’t right. He pulled a handgun loose from its holster, aiming squarely for your chest. You stepped to the left and ran behind another car, the shots following closely behind you as glass shattered around you. Your head pounded as you pressed your back to the cool metal of the car. The car jolted behind you as the Winter Soldier jumped on top of it, looking down at you before raising his weapon again to shoot. You twirled and kicked the handgun free from his hand before he could fire. He jumped down and in front of you, swinging a fist in your direction. You raised your arm to cover your face, effectively blocking his blow with your forearms. You pushed at him, giving you some space to dodge and attack. You shook your head and ran forward again, fists balled and dagger in hand as you jumped and raised the dagger, swiping downward to slash across his chest. He reached up and grabbed your wrist, stopping your attack and throwing you into the side of the car behind you. You groaned as you landed on the hard ground, holding your side. You heard his footsteps marching toward you and hoisted yourself up, sending a roundhouse kick to his jaw. He was unable to block your speed this time and he stumbled backward, the force of your kick knocking his face mask off. He stood away from you now, dirty brown hair falling into his face as he caught his breath. He turned to face you and you felt your heart stop.
There, standing three yards in front of you, was the love of your life. Apparently, not dead. Apparently, very much alive. Apparently, very intent on killing you.
“Bucky?” Your voice cracked as you whispered, too much distance between the two of you for him to hear.
Bucky glared at you as he breathed heavily before turning his body in your direction and sprinting at you ferociously. Your eyes widened and you darted out of the way as he raised his fist mid-sprint and plunged it downward, right into the hard asphalt ground where you were just standing.
Without thinking, you called out. “Bucky, it’s me.” A sob escaped your lips as you looked at him.
Ima dead girl,
Ima, ima dead girl
Ima dead girl
“Who the hell is Bucky?” His voice was smooth, just as you had remembered it. It reminded you of the bourbon he kept on the top shelf, the one that created a warm pit in the bottom of your stomach when you drank it with him. A harsh blow landed on your abdomen, sending you flying as you were lost in your thoughts. You landed against the car door, the back of your head snapping through the window. You felt the glass cut your scalp and blood drip down your neck and shoulders. You cried out in pain as you fell forward onto your hands and knees, your breathing labored and heavy. You swallowed harshly as you looked up at him marching toward you.
“Bucky,” your voice pleaded, “Buck, you know who I am, don’t do this,” you cried, still on your knees as if praying to a higher power that wasn’t listening. He reached you and hiis metal hand snatched a fistful of your hair and lifted you up to stand, his eyes not looking away from yours. For a moment, you thought you saw recognition in them, until his other fist landed itself on your stomach sending waves of pain rippling through your body. You realized there was no look in his eyes, only determination to complete his mission. Your breath left your lungs and your vision blurred as you doubled over and he let you fall to the ground. He tilted his head as he looked down at you, almost curiously. You had stopped fighting back and he wasn’t sure why, but it only made his job easier. You scrambled back and away from him, pulling a second dagger out of the holster on your thigh. He raised his eyebrows, almost amused at your futile attempt to defend yourself, until he felt the knife plunge its way into his thigh. You stood a yard away from the man when you threw it. You watched him pull out the dagger and throw it to the side as if it was nothing.
Ima,
Ima,
Ima,
Fuck it
"Fuck it," you thought bitterly as tears and blood streamed down your face. He was too strong. You knew he'd beat you, eventually. He came at you hard and intense, his fists throwing blows nonstop as you dodged and blocked him.
"Bucky!" You shouted, trying to get his attention. You pushed him away and backed up, putting some space between the two of you. Your mind was racing, but you only saw one way out of this. You began to lower your arms, slowly, no longer trying to fight back, only to defend. You looked him in the eyes as he advanced on you. Nothing in them gave the idea that he knew who you were, knew what you once meant to each other. That he once loved you more than anything. He'd never dream of harming you like he had today, and that's how you knew this was hopeless. You felt a trickle of blood run down your neck and onto your clavicle, the same place that Bucky’s lips once grazed and kissed.
How's it feel to see me out here choking, choking?
"Bucky, please, remember." You pleaded, holding your palms out to him. He marched forward, continuing his hunt. You squeezed your eyes shut as he reached you, his metal arm seizing your throat and lifting you off the ground. Your oxygen was cut off immediately as the machine beneath squeezed. He threw you down, making you slide across the rough pavement. You groaned and rolled, coughing and gasping. Before you could stand, he was over you, his feet on either side of your abdomen. He got to his knees and placed his metal fingers around your throat again, choking you.
"Bucky," a tear rolled down your cheek. There was no escaping this. "I forgive you, Bucky." You coughed and tried to continue without air, "I know you'll blame yourself when-," you tried to gasp for more air as your face started to feel hot, "when this all comes back to you, but don't," the tears were unstoppable now as his grip tightened. You clawed desperately at his arm, trying to pry it away.
"Stop talking," he growled. You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them again, your vision starting to pop and blur.
"I forgive you, Bucky," you choked out. You tried to gasp one more time but to no avail. There was no air left, and you couldn't take it anymore. Your hand fell limply from his and your eyes slowly closed, one last exhale leaving your lips. He held his hand there for a few more seconds, ensuring his mission was complete before standing up and marching away, leaving your body on the cement. He had one more mission to complete.
Stripped me of my soul and left me broken, broken
Steve had to be the one to tell Bucky what he did. Years later, when Bucky was finally in his right mind. Steve had to be the one to tell Bucky where the love of his life was, who, beyond all odds, survived the same 70 years that they did, only to be killed by the one person she truly loved. Steve had to be the one to cry to his best friend who murdered you, his twin. Steve, once again, lost one of the only people in the world who meant something to him.
—
Always Taglist: @elijahs-wife @dumble-daddy @soul-revoir @akshi8278 @nikmikaelsonswife @njeancastro316 lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist
#The Winter Soldier#The Winter Soldier imagine#Bucky Barnes#Bucky Barnes fic#the Winter Soldier Fic#angst#fic#my writing#i have been working on this for a solid 3 months pls bc nice#Bucky Barnes angst#im exhausted please ignore any spelling mistakes#I did my last edit while half asleep so#enjoy!!#marvel fic#I’m nervous about this LOL#so I’m going to sleep
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Zenith: Chapter 72-75
Chapter 72
We’re in Nor’s POV. She’s moping around in her ruined palace. We find out she ordered the attack on Adhira on a whim after learning Valen was there. Cool.
This entire chapter is about how Nor is doubting herself and how she feels shitty even though this should be a triumph, and Zahn, her boytoy who’s literally described as being “too good” and “too pure” for her, telling that she’s a girlboss. Then they make out and “lust tumbles through her” and the chapter ends on them fucking.
Chapter 73
Last we left her, Andi had angsted herself out of the room after an argument with her dad. She walks the gardens for a bit, thinking about the creation myth of this world. It involves Light Bringers and Night Spirits, and two of them fall in love and from their union a black hole is born, but around it a galaxy forms, and it also creates the Godstars, which are described as “all-knowing beings with the power to give and take, the perfect mixture of darkness and light.”
So with all this wank about light and dark, you bet your ass Andi’s gonna start rambling about how dark and/or light her soul is, which she promptly does.
The creation myth is ... fine? In theory? But something light and something dark falling in love and creating the world is a bit trite, innit? Baby’s first creation myth.
Arcardius was the first planet inhabited by the Ancients hundreds of thousands of years ago, and many believed that the Godstars must have given the settlers this gift to welcome them to their new home. But whatever the reason, Andi was grateful for it. She didn’t want to be in the presence of darkness after everything that had happened. She needed to clear her mind of all that had been clogging it since the beginning of the rescue job.
I think “clogging” is a more apt description than Shinsay realized.
Andi angsts herself to a new place with a floating rock waterfall fountain thing, where Valen is, equipped with his painting gear. We get a description of how hot he is despite having been beaten and starved for two years, because of course.
His brown hair was cropped short and, skinny as he was, it made his strong jaw more pronounced. Everything about his once-soft face was now hard edges. No doubt, with some more meat on his bones, he would be striking.
The boy she remembered from years ago had now become a man.
Damaged as he must be on the inside, at least his physical wounds would heal. The awful things he had experienced at the hands of Xen Ptera would hopefully become a distant memory, as well, and more bearable with time.
The way the “hope he’ll heal emotionally as well, I guess” is tacked on right after “at least he’ll be hot” is wildly hilarious.
Valen asks if he can paint Andi. For some reason he immediately starts putting paint on canvas, because fuck sketching, he’s too fucking good for that. Also what’s the lighting situation like? He’s waxing poetic about the way the light hits Andi’s cheek plates and purple streaks (with red tips that reaches her mid-back), but seemingly doesn’t need any light on his canvas to see what the fuck he’s doing, in the middle of the night? Ok.
Later Valen, with a paint-stained face because Artiste, asks Andi if they can go somewhere else because he needs a break. They go somewhere with a view of the Magical Purple Pinterest Garden, and it’s very breathtaking and shit.
“We’ve been through darkness, Andi,” Valen said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still live in the light.”
He closed his eyes, and Andi was left to ponder how much his words echoed her own thoughts from earlier, about the balance between the light and the dark.
Thank you for pointing out the thematic connection from THREE PAGES AGO IN THE SAME CHAPTER, Shinsay. I couldn’t have figured it out myself if you hadn’t held my hand like the imbecile I am. Seriously, I can’t figure out whether this is supposed to be helpful, or if Shinsay really thought they were geniuses and just had to point it out so we wouldn’t miss how cool and deep their writing is.
Anyway, Valen asks Andi to the obligatory ball portion of the story, saying he’ll have to dance as the future ruler of the planet (???) and he wants to dance with a friend rather than a romantic interest.
A friend.
He said the word as if he really meant it. As if, somehow, despite what they’d been through, the horrors they’d shared, Valen had begun to think of Andi as a friend.
Wow ... When he said friend, he meant friend, as in friend? Amazing. What a shocker.
Also, yeah, they did go through some horrors together. Like that time Dex tossed him down a flight of stairs while Andi was somewhere else. Or that time Valen was tortured for two years and Andi wasn’t.
Truly, a friendship of the ages.
I guess this is supposed to be a misdirect, but given how blatantly unrealistic this is and how easily Andi falls for it, it just makes her look a bit like an idiot, doesn’t it?
Chapter 74
This chapter is just Andi heading back to bed but taking a detour to the library, discovering that Alfie has been destroyed while some servants throw his body in the garbage on the way.
Oh no! Not Alfie, who’s only the most annoying character! Anyone but Alfie!
We get this:
As she turned to leave, a small, shiny object on the floor caught her eye. Quickly, Andi reached down and palmed it while the maid wasn’t looking. She didn’t know much about AIs, but the object in her grasp looked like a memory chip.
[...]
It could be nothing, a useless memento, but her gut told her something different. She’d look into it later.
I-is this supposed to be foreshadowing? You literally already told us what it was, why would Andi’s “gut” be telling her something she already suspects according to her narration?
Henlo? Editors? Anyone? Hello?
Hewwo? Mistew Pwesident?
Chapter 75
Dex has been following Andi around like a whole creep and watches her enter the library. He follows her inside and then we get the obligatory “shitty writer praises the magic of literature” bit.
“The general scoured the galaxy for this collection,” Andi said suddenly.
Dex turned. She stood near him in the dark room, softly lit by a beam of moonlight. The sadness in her eyes could almost be felt, like a tangible thing.
“You said Kalee was a reader,” Dex said. He laughed softly. “I didn’t know she was this much of a reader.”
“She loved exploring,” Andi said. “The general loved keeping her close. And so she turned to books for her adventures.”
“The sadness in her eyes was almost tangible.” There, I fixed it. Now shut the fuck up.
“What is it about memories,” Andi said suddenly, walking back toward him, “that gives them the ability to hurt us so badly?”
Dex shook his head. “The past is powerful. I think you and I both know that.”
She finally looked into his eyes. “I’m tired of letting the past control me, Dextro,” she whispered. “Aren’t you?”
I’m tired of letting this book control me, that’s for sure. What is this fucking dialogue? They keep talking in clichés without really saying anything, wasting our goddamn time instead of having an actual conversation.
Anyway, they finally get everything over with, apologize to each other, then make out but decide that uwu they can’t be together because they’re so hurt and damaged and whatnot. And honestly this wouldn’t be so cringeworthy if we didn’t know it’s all just a fucking ploy to drag out the will-they-won’t they subplot that I’m sure you’re all on the edge of your seats over.
The main reason this doesn’t work is that we don’t really get any sense of why this can’t work out? They just mutually agree, after having a hot makeout sesh, that they’re not meant to be for ... reasons? Even though they’re clearly attracted to each other, have no other attachments, romantic or otherwise, and have forgiven one another. Dex thinks they both “ruined” their future together in their own ways, but we don’t get any explanation for why they can’t just ... try to build a new one. Not even a “the memories hurt too much” or “I can’t afford the mental and emotional effort right now” or “there’s no time for it with the galaxy in chaos” or even a simple “I don’t want to.”
Instead it’s “I know we’re not meant to be because we both screwed the pooch last time we tried” and you’re just there like yes and? What’s stopping you from trying again? Give me a reason. IRL that would’ve been fine, but here it just feels like the authors are trying to convince US that they won’t get together, trust me, I promise, don’t even think about it and let it blow you away when they do.
I think, weirdly enough, the reason this doesn’t work for me is the perspective. Andi has actual valid reasons for rejecting Dex and seems like she’s still conflicted about her feelings for him, which would give her plenty of justification to not jump back into the relationship. But instead, we’re stuck with Dex, who’s been desperate to talk to Andi, be around Andi, who thinks about Andi constantly, but now, when a new beginning is within his reach, he decides without reason to not go for it because what, he feels like it’s not right and assumes it’s mutual? It doesn’t track with his previous behavior, which has been constantly focused on Andi up until this point. His sudden and inexplicable decision to not pursue this anymore goes against his behavior and motivations so far, which is why it strikes me as hollow and manipulative writing.
Had he maybe wanted to offer a new start but then Andi said something or he saw how unsure and hurt she still was and decided against it, then it would’ve made sense. Had we been in Andi’s POV and she just straight up rejected him, it would’ve made sense. But here, we get:
“We can’t... This won’t ever...”
“I know,” he said.
And in his heart, he knew that it was true. Their two worlds were never meant to become one. That even through the forgiveness, even with the unavoidable feelings that echoed between them, they could never share a future. They had already had their chance, long ago. They’d both ruined it in their own ways.
Andi doesn’t even give him a proper reason, he just assumes what she’s saying because apparently he’s been thinking the same thing? His “heart” just tells him it won’t work, when all this time, he’s seemingly done everything in his power to fix what he always knew wasn’t fixable? Huh???
I’m not saying this to say that Dex should’ve pestered Andi, he can very well accept her rejection but still pine for her silently. What I am saying is that this doesn’t track with his previous behavior, and just shows the authors’ hands in this as being a cop-out for the sake of melodrama and to keep the romance subplot going through cheap conflict.
Anyway, Dex asks Andi to the ball and she’s like “lmao too late” and then the chapter ends on this note:
When they parted ways, Dex couldn’t help but feel as if he were seeing Androma Racella for the very last time.
God, I wish that were me.
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Desperation, Baby! (coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, Dean & Lucifer, Dean/Cas, 2.3k, T)
ao3 link
Death took her sweet time parsing through Chuck's book, meaning Lucifer spent longer than he'd like surrounded by his former vessel, his brother, his son, and a man whose obvious longing made him want to vomit. Instead of returning with his prize, Chuck welcoming him back, he must waste his valuable time playing 'nice; with those he can't stand.
Not that it matters. They don't trust him, each member of this ragtag group of survivors watching Lucifer in shifts. Never leaving him alone.
It's Dean's turn now, and he's driving Lucifer up a wall by doing nothing at all save for broadcasting a never-ending supply of feeling. Can he cut the signal without showing his hand, or put Dean's heart to good use?
It’s pathetic, truly. Lucifer huffs, deflating, sinking further into his seat. Weighed down by obscene amounts of longing that poured freely off Dean like a broken hydrant. Funneled into his awareness because its usual drain was cordoned forever. It flooded these now silent angelic air waves, Lucifer growing more annoyed with each, excruciating second. Until, finally, “Holy hell, can you please quit it?”
Dean startles from where he stood, jaw tensing. Mouth flattening in a thin line as he glares, “What?”
“Quit. It. Quitit!” He hisses, leaning forward. Stretches his arms across the table, reaching for Dean. Fingers twitching, Lucifer imagines Dean’s neck between them. “Seriously, you’re giving me a migraine with all your feelings.”
“Good.” Dean surprises Lucifer with his response. No attempted denial, nor misdirection. His gaze unflinchingly pierced through Lucifer’s vessel, pride bolstering its blow. Lucifer cannot detect any shame that usually clings to his soul, none of that smell lingering. He’s grown since they’ve last seen each other. Stunning character development. “Deserve it, after that dick move you pulled earlier.”
“You still upset about that?” Scoffing, Lucifer rises. Meanders across the room towards Dean, gaze never straying. Easy since it’s only them. “I thought my gift would have more than made up for that.” He grins, rocking on his heels. A breadth of space separates them now. “How else was I supposed to get in, anyway?” he continues, “Not like if I called as myself you’d’ve rolled out the welcome mat.”
“But… Cas?” Lucifer savors the taste of his brother’s name, drenched in sadness. Ripped from Dean’s heart in a barely controlled sob.
“Nasty habit,” he giggles, “Though the results speak for themselves. I mean – you know how easy it was smooth-talking little Sammy when I looked like his ol’ flame, Jess?” Dean doesn’t laugh, snarled lip suffocating Lucifer’s airy mirth. “You’re no fun.”
“Sorry,” Dean growls, “why don’t you try later when the world’s not ending.”
“It’s always ending. In one way or another.” Lucifer waves his hand and a chair drags itself over. He straddles it, gazing up at Dean. “If we waited for peace to enjoy life, there’d be no time. Better to… say what’s in your heart, even if it kills you.” He frowns, mockingly, “Or in Castiel’s case… did kill him.”
Dean slams his fist against the wall. “You have no right –“
“Timeout there,” Lucifer smirks, eyes glowing red. Reflection of Dean’s entire face, blood rapidly swelling his cheeks. “Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret…” He holds Dean there, frozen, waits until the other man seems calm. Dips his head, tries catching Dean’s gaze. “If I let you go, will you behave?” Dean remains silent, yet Lucifer hears him. Tunes into his frequency, actively sifting through his frenzied emotions. “Seriously,” he lets Dean go, hunter falling on his ass, “how are we supposed to work as a team if you’re not willing to cooperate?”
“This… isn’t a team,” Dean spits, “you’re working… with the Empty.”
“And the Empty’s trying to take Chuck out!” he argues, “So, enemy of my enemy is my friend or all that nonsense –“
“Go to hell.”
“I wish I could, but I’m kinda on a short leash.” Bored with Dean’s resistance, Lucifer threads his next few words with seriousness. “Listen, once Betty’s done with the book I’ll flit on out of here and one, two, three – humanity is saved from dear, ol’ dad! We can make this all painless if you’d just trust me, or we can keep doing what we’re doing. I, personally, am tired of this bullshit. Rather be napping back in the Empty, but no…”
“You should be.”
“Beg pardon?”
Dean bares his teeth, roiling hatred knocking Lucifer back a few inches. “You should still be sleeping, back there,” he says, “if anyone were supposed to come back, it’d be Cas. Not… you…”
“Ah, Castiel, yes…” Lucifer sighs, “that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Of course, he lacks my raw power and charm, but… yes, you’d trust anything that he said.” Hand on his throat, he affects his vocal cords. Mimicking the other angel’s gravelly tone again, “Dean, please go along with Lucifer’s wishes and help him –“
“Enough!” Dean kicks at a chair leg, interrupting Lucifer. Tears threaten to pour, dangling from his lashes like morning dew. “If you really wanna play nice, you’d stop doing that.”
“This is nice, buddy.” Lucifer pokes at Dean’s leg with the toe of his boot. “Why don’t you grow some thick skin, huh? Where’s the real Dean Winchester? That tough guy with endless bravado instead of this sad, sorry piece of shit that’s pining after some dead guy?”
Dean turns, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That isn’t me. I… he never was.” An intimate confession whispered into ancient brickwork. Meaningful for a different crowd. Except Lucifer shows little care, sarcastic clapping shattering Dean’s moment.
“Wow, Dean… really fantastic. Amazing!” He climbs off the chair, crouching closer. Tongue dragged over his lips, smile wide. “Your verbose diction astounds me… did you whip that together after my brother got dragged into super hell? Are you still workshopping it – okay if I give you a few notes?” Lucifer pinches Dean’s cheek, poking this rabid grizzly. “At least you’ve got that face. Clearly Cas didn’t fall for your emotional maturity, your observational prowess or timing…”
He weakly bats Lucifer off him, “You don’t know anything…”
“I think I know quite a lot,” Lucifer challenges him, “Between the both of us, only I managed to slip inside my tight-ass little brother. Probably why I knew all his little… perversions, although it was clear as day how he felt about you to everyone – well… almost everyone.” His hand settles on Dean’s chest, atop his heart. “Do you know amazing it was, when I slipped my blade through him? You were a buffet that night… fear, relief, hope… despair. I could’ve ended him in that other dimension, but I waited until he crossed back. Knew how much more painful it’d be.”
“Monster,” Dean says, “Fucking psychopath.”
“The old me, maybe.” Lucifer teleports, sitting on a nearby table. Legs absentmindedly pedaling, stirring confusion within Dean. “But I’ve been reborn on the right side, Dean. Nobler. I’ve got purpose.”
“You’ve got a load of shit,” he accuses, standing on shaky legs, “that you’re trying to sell me. Us.”
“Come on!” Lucifer groans, hands flying skyward, “Isn’t this supposed to be your eleventh hour? How can you be so stubborn? Here I come, with a Hail Mary, and you’re turning your nose up at me like some snob. Like you have better options waiting. All because you won’t work with the Empty –“
“It’s not just that,” Dean corrects him, “I also don’t want to work with you.”
He crosses his arms, pouting. “You’re gonna have to suck that up. So the Empty wouldn’t send your boytoy, do you blame them? For a broken, little thing he sure is popular. Who’s to say Cas’d come back once this all wraps up? At least the Empty trusts me.”
“I guess something has to.”
“You can, too, if you want.” Lucifer casts his reel wide, waiting. Eyebrows waggling like baited worms. “It’d be a hell lot easier than what you’re doing now. Come on…” he needles, “why is it so hard to believe in miracles?”
“Please…” Dean says, hiding his face behind his knees. Arms circled around his legs, curled into a ball. “Stop talking.”
He relents for the time being. Proud of what cracks in Dean’s armor he made. When Chuck sent him, he asked Lucifer to ruffle a few feathers. Mess with their heads, ensure this ragtag group of losers would stay down. Accept their fate, end this miserable experiment called humanity in sadness. “Don’t provoke them too much, though,” Chuck warned, fists curled along his jacket’s lapels, “Betrayals only work when the other side doesn’t expect them. Plot’s stretched thin as it is, bringing you back doesn’t really make sense –“
“I love you too, dad.”
“That’s why you need to lay it on thick,” he said, “steer them away from why, keep the action moving.”
Lucifer stared down at his father, frowning. “Anything else you need?”
“No,” Chuck clapped Lucifer’s shoulder, nodding. “Just be yourself.”
Except none of them wanted him. Especially Dean. He wanted… Castiel.
It’s a little off-script, but Lucifer bets Chuck will enjoy what he plans. Even if it’ll involve his least favorite character. Lucifer hops off the table, grace burning across his body. Razing this vessel’s form, stealing its characteristics and distinguishability. A tall mound of clay left that he molds into a new body. Darker hair, sturdier frame, and bluer eyes. “Dean,” he says, swallowing his laughter. “Dean…” He tries again, sounding exactly like him.
Like Castiel.
Dean tenses, “Cas?” Barely audible, Lucifer strained to hear his prayer. That hope, sweetness quickly bittering as Dean digests the scene. “No…” he sighs, mumbling into his legs. “Lucifer, thought I told you to quit it.”
“Lucifer is gone, Dean,” he lies, kneeling. “I’m here… please, Dean, look at me.” Lucifer grabs at Dean’s head, thankful the other man lets him. Green finds masked-blue, their ‘reunion’ drawing a pained breath.
“What?” Dean asks, a single tear slipping free. Trails along his cheek until it falls off his chin. “How – how is this happening?”
“Because of you, Dean.” Lucifer’s hands shift, a thumb smearing that tearstain while he runs fingers through Dean’s hair. “You refused Lucifer’s help, even though what he said was true. The Empty saw and decided, if we were to truly end Chuck, the risk of sending me will be worth it.” Expression darkening, Lucifer leans into dramatics. Lips quivering as he recites his next line, “Though not without conditions, Dean – I… you know I can’t stay, right?”
“You will,” he says, “Cas – we will… if this book really can end Chuck, and we take him out, what can the Empty do –“
“Take you,” Lucifer cuts him off. “Take you… Sam, and Jack. I step even an inch out of line and we all get sucked into their being, with no hope of actually defeating my father.” He nearly breaks character, watching how the light in Dean’s eyes flickered before being snuffed. Lucifer regains composure, growling his next words. “You understand this, then? What it means?”
Dean nods, snaking his hands across Lucifer’s wrists. “Means we don’t have long,” he barks, squeezing tight. “I have to set it right, right now.”
“Dean –“
“No, Cas,” Dean talks over him, guiding Lucifer’s hands off where they rested. Silences the disguised archangel by chaining him, making Lucifer a helpless victim. Awe real as he waits for Dean, cowed by longing powerful than his earlier annoyance. “I… I need to get through this because – well, the last time you didn’t let me get a word in edgewise and I, there was a lot left unsaid that I don’t want to stay that way. If we can’t have a future, then at least… at least we have here.” He laughs, choking on it. More tears dance their way down.
“When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t believe it,” Dean confesses, “and then, when you told me why I – I was… I believed that less. I mean, you… you’ve listened to your heart more than I have. Even if a few of those times it was wrong, everything you did was for love. Knowing you was – that was my happiness. Having you, in whatever way you’d let me. Because there you were, this shining beacon, and for some reason you kept on letting me bask in your glow. I felt I… I didn’t deserve it. That I didn’t deserve you.”
Dean brings Lucifer’s knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss along a patch of skin. The gesture disgusts him. “And you were right about how – I thought of myself so… so poorly, it kept me from saying and – and doing things I wish I’d done sooner. All my life I thought there were things I couldn’t have, rules I had to live by, and I never questioned them until you saved me from hell. Literal and figurative. Because of you, I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to be good. But I never believed I could. Then you tell me you loved me… because I was good. I already was the kind of person I thought seemed impossible. I couldn’t believe it. What’s stranger… I didn’t have to believe it, to know it’s true.” Dean smiles at him, Lucifer mirroring his gesture though it pained him. “I’m the person I always wished I could be, and even when you’re gone I’ll still be that person. I’ll miss you, Cas. Always. I’ll miss you, and I’ll love you. I’ll love you always.”
It happens before Lucifer realizes. Distracted, nauseated by Dean’s powerful emotions, he missed how a hand snuck its way towards his neck. Pinched there, startling him. In that second, Dean forces Lucifer into an embrace. Lips crashing together, Lucifer stays frozen while Dean attacks his mouth. Mewling, whimpering.
Disgusting.
He pulls the curtains back, reverting to his previous form. Delights in how Dean senses the change, peeking with one eye as Castiel’s face vanishes. The other man violently hurls himself to the side, gaping at him. “Why Dean,” Lucifer grins, awkwardness heavy in his tone, “if I had known that’s how you felt about me…”
Dean sobs, wiping at his lips. “How… what the –“
“You really thought I was Cas, didn’t you?” Laughing, Lucifer towers over him. “I figured you’d catch on but… I underestimated you. And for that I’m sorry.” He devours these new emotions radiating from Dean, eagerly lapping them up. “I’m also sorry that you’ve convinced you deserve a happy ending,” he twists the knife further. Dean flinches, turning. Fleeing. Lucifer shouts at his retreating figure. “That’s not your story, Dean! Don’t ask for more, be happy with what you have!”
Then, as he waits for his next babysitter, Lucifer’s eyes glow red. “Because soon enough… you won’t even have that.”
#supernatural#spn#spn15#15x19#15x19 coda#15x19 inherit the earth#dean winchester#lucifer#castiel#destiel#deancas#destiel fanfic#supernatural fanfic#deancas fanfic#spn fanfic
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i just wanted to write laurel having Caring and being real mad about it @caimkairos
It’s not like Laurel does much in terms of getting into situations she can’t find her way out if without dying, but she does have an ego that leads to biting off more than she can chew sometimes. Combined with not having a contracted Servant and it ends in there being some unfortunate missteps. But! She is not entirely alone. Friends come in handy. Laurel waltzes down Chaldea’s hall, a pleased spring in her step at avoiding danger, with her latest partner in crime alongside. “You saved my skin out there, Bei,” she says with a merry hum.
Bei deflects promptly. “It’s my job, and I’d like to keep you out of trouble.” It’s probably for the best she doesn’t die.
“Nah, you did great!” Laurel isn’t going to fall for it. She hops a bit. “And we pulled out all a-okay, which is a new one for me. It deserves a celebration. You get to pick. It’s been a while since I cooked and magic takes calories, I’m gonna make snacks. Whatcha want?”
Bei thinks a moment, and when they speak it’s with careful syllables. “Something with meat… would be nice.”
Laurel pauses a step for that, a moment of surprise, before she carries right on as to keep things casual. “You like meat? How come you didn’t say anything?” She hardly eats it, out of incident ended up pescatarian at best, so if Bei likes meat and all the food in Laurel’s dorm she offers is mainly vegetarian, then that means… has she seriously been doing a bad job feeding them all this time?
Bei shakes their head to deflect immediately. “It’s not a big concern, don’t worry.” Sheesh, they even clocked that she was going to make a deal out of it. But still, they also sound hesitant, awkward, like they’re worried about how their words are going to be weighed, as if there’s something other than the face of the matter. “I can eat things that aren’t. I simply… feel fuller with meat”
Oh, so there was. Laurel stops fully now, turning to face Bei with her hands on her hips to make them directly acknowledge her expression, a mix of appalled and offended. “And you didn’t say anything?” They didn’t just ask?! Aren’t they friends?! She can’t even feed them properly! Bei’s protesting, flustered and self-conscious, trying to say something about how it’s strange, they don’t want to be strange, but— too late, Laurel’s grabbed them by the lapel and is dragging them off like taking a troublesome child to time-out. Only she’s doing so gently.
Laurel realizes she has no power whatsoever compared to Bei and isn’t even pretending. She also knows that they’d follow along with her when she wants. “I have to make up for what, so many bad snacks? This is an emergency.” If anyone’s in the kitchen doing whatever it is they do, they won’t be for long. Laurel is a one-man storm of misdirected emotional maladaption and she’s going to get her way.
What ‘her way’ is would be storming the kitchen, seating Bei down at a table that’s within talking distance from the nearest stovetop, and kicking out anyone who happens to be in earshot. It might have been a long time since she last made most species of meat food, but by God she’s not going to be shown up now. She ends up freeing a wrapped pack of bacon and something else she hasn’t expected yet from the group fridge (it was probably for someone, but she’ll pay them back later, or something, burn that bridge when she gets to it) and setting at least the former to sizzling on a pan.
She was distracted enough by it that she’d stopped talking, but now that all she’s doing is waiting to cook, it’s coming back. At least she’s a little quieter, and does the favour of being quiet until a batch of cooked bacon that’s only mildly burnt (it’s easy, okay, she’s not a professional) is plonked down before Bei, who’s been fidgeting.
Alright, she’s fine. Normal. Mostly! Bei eats and almost immediately tears up shoving a piece of bacon into their mouth, as if it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for them, and that makes Laurel feel a whole host of things all over again. Eurgh!
Their heart is full of… stuff? Feelings? It’s gross, whatever it is, and Laurel slaps another batch of bacon on the frying pan. “I can’t believe this whole time you were just sitting there and eating whatever without even saying it sucks. There’s a limit to being polite! If you can’t do it for you, think about how embarrassed I am, since I’ve apparently been feeding you shit and calling myself a host. You’re allowed to tell me the bacon sucks, too, I know it’s burnt, don’t lie.” And there’s the open explanation (in part) for this whole tirade, that she’s embarrassed that she never asked or knew, and now even more so that she’s not even good at cooking something as simple as bacon! For her friend! Argh! Shitty hosting, this is! Being embarrassed is the worst! The worst! Even redirecting it to this ridiculous reaction isn’t helping.
Bah! Laurel flips the bacon with an exaggerated grumble. The betrayal… the lying and making her think she has her shit together with having friends over even in Chaldea… it was all false! Couldn’t even do the basis of providing good snacks. “You!” She points the tongs she’s using accusingly at Bei, which is lacking threat mostly because the stove is separated from the seating area by an island and decent distance. She’s within ranting range, not accurate throwing tongs range. “Do you even like tea? Don’t be polite to save my feelings, give me a solid yes or no as to if the tea I give you is shit.”
Saying it was shit would probably make her even more exasperated, but she would follow through and procure better supplies. Laurel is nothing if not dedicated. At least this time, Bei nods quickly (hopefully not still lying to make her less whatever-she-is-right-now). They swallow a little too fast, hold back a cough, and nod again. “Yes! Yes. Don’t worry. Your tea is great. You don’t oversteep it and there’s always sugar on hand, so it’s good.”
Hmm. A moment, then: “Okay! I’ll take that!” Good enough, she’s going to take that as honest and pin her continuing pride on it. Good enough to keep Laurel from continuing to talk shit while she cooks. Bei’s free to go back to eating whatever she puts in front of them, including the burnt things. Laurel is, quite frankly, impressed.
She manages to cook the entire pack of bacon before she takes a break, and stops by sitting on the table next to Bei, watching them scarf food. They still look emotional about it and once they’re done they turn to her with eyes large, already stumbling out a thanks for her. Laurel just sighs, leans slightly against them so her face isn’t easily seen. “God, dude, you’re just so fucking… sad.” That’s probably not a good thing to say out loud. Redefine, clarify: “I don’t mean it like, pitiable or anything, you just. I used to be a pretty fucked up kid, y’know? You remind me of me when I was real little, before I turned into an angry bastard, only you’re even worse off, where I don’t think I can even say that we compare. And it makes me so sad.”
Everybody’s so fucked up. Especially here. Laurel’s got nothing on this and she doesn’t even know what ‘this’ is exactly, but there’s so many stories with Servants that make her feel like she can’t even claim she relates to some fucked-up-childhood story. But here she is. Probably projecting. Still, right now she sees somebody who was at some point told ‘hey. You don’t get to ask for things. You don’t get to have people who love you,’ and she can’t let that sit.
She can at least give this stupid idiot magic cat-goblin as much meat as they can fit in their body. “Y’know. I haven’t told anyone in Chaldea this, but like.” Why’s she talking. Laurel doesn’t even know, it just keeps happening. But it’s fair, right? She clicks her tongue. “Growing up for me sucked, and I have a baby brother back home. Well, not baby, he’s thirteen. I’d do anything for that brat and he knows it. It’s a lot, and dangerous, to get around my other blood relatives, and I miss him like a motherfucker— two birthdays he’s had where I couldn’t call him now, and it breaks my heart— but it’s because I decided I wasn’t gonna let anybody I care about get stepped all over or hurt because of their position. I don’t want kids growing up like I did. You acting like that, like you get stepped all over, and then letting me not even do the basics of feeding you properly while you’re saying shit like ‘it’s fine, I’m happy with the bare minimum’, it just makes me…”
She gestures vaguely trying to find the words. Nothing comes up, and she frowns at middle distance in annoyance at its lack of helping her. “Argh! It’s sad! You know what I mean.” Good enough! It’s not eloquent. She tugs Bei’s head over into a hug where she can rest her cheek against the top of their head, speaking in a grumble. “Just, look, you’re allowed to speak your piece to me and if anyone ever hurts you I’ll kill ‘em.”
Laurel lets that sit for a moment or two, still not letting Bei go. They can go back to eating in a second, she’s having a moment, by which she means she needs to recover from the earlier moment and act like nothing happened. There’s a sniffing sound. Man, she really hasn’t said any of that shit out loud to anyone but Ash back home…. That’s wild. “Don’t tell anybody I have feelings or I’ll smack you,” she mutters, completely not serious but still sounding a bit miffed at having said feelings, before she lets Bei go and steps back.
Inhale. Exhale. Hands go to her hips. Recovered! Back to being fun and pretty and not feeling weak things like sadness or embarrassment. “That’s enough of me being a sap. Not my best look. Alright. You like fish? I can cook the hell out of some salmon. How ‘bout eggs? Do those count as carnivorous food? They’re protein, yeah?” Back to chatter and back to the stove. She’ll cook until Bei’s full (and some for herself) or tells her to stop, it’s fine. She can do that! Regain her ‘being a good host’ title.
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Kit’s Secret Fire Message # 19
Masterlist
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
Kit stared at the crowded mess in front of him and sighed a long, heavy sigh.
Thirteen scared, dirty and starved looking kids huddled together, barely touching but obviously drawing comfort from one another. Most of them cried when Kit woke them up, even though he tried to be as gentle as he knew how. With Mina, Kit didn’t have to try and earn her trust.. it was more the other way around. As much as he loved her, he was rather wary of forming any attachments to her when she was firstborn. He didn’t know if Jem and Tessa would still want him after they realized how much work raising a child will be.. not that Kit was an authority on the matter. Tessa had children before, but that was over a hundred years ago, she could possibly forget the nightly crying and feeding routines, and the amount of attention an infant demanded of its surroundings. But they never gave him a reason to doubt their love, and Mina never gave him a chance to go a foot away from her as soon as one of them entered a room.
Now the small group was hiding behind Ty, who was evidently trying to hide how uncomfortable that made him feel. Kit studied him more carefully and wondered if anyone else would have noticed Ty’s discomfort. It was clear to him in the way his fingers trembled at his sides, the small crease between his thick eyebrows and how he bit his lower lip every few seconds.. but he kept his general expression almost completely blank. His eyes kept darting between the kids and the darkness that led outside the hall.
He’s still scared, he doesn’t trust himself after what happened. The realization sent cold anger through Kit’s blood. Ty didn’t feel comfortable in these social situations, but he tried with the Eidolon demon that disguised itself as one of the children. He put himself in a vulnerable position so he would be able to protect the child, and when he turned out to be a goddamned shapeshifter from hell, Ty probably felt helpless; stripped out of his own powers, his ability to see what others couldn’t or wouldn’t, to deduce the unimaginable. He was a fighter betrayed by his most trusted weapon.
And Kit helped it happen. He could have been the mediator, talk to the child who wasn’t even a child and maybe let Ty do what he did best - detect. But he couldn’t risk the chance that he wouldn’t.. it wasn’t just his life on the line, it was thirteen other children’s, and Ty’s. Ty’s, the one person who’s life mattered the most.
Kit could feel the demonic energy in the room like it was a thick cloud surrounding them. It was palpable and absolutely unknown to him. Kit was fighting demons on a regular basis for almost three years, yet he never had this physical awareness of them that he had as soon as they entered the cave.
He knew what it meant, but his anger and frustration resented him for lingering on the realization. His powers were growing, evolving.. and his erratic feelings probably only increased it.
Ty’s deceptively calm voice shook him out of his revery.
“We should split.”
“What?” Kit’s voice was louder than he meant it to be, and some of the kids jumped, startled by his violent reaction.
“We have to get going, it’s not safe here, and-“
“What does it have to do with splitting?” Kit interrupted before Ty could finish his sentence. He was still agitated by the tired, haunted look on Ty’s face and he couldn’t care less about scaring off these kids. Some distant part of him knew he wasn’t acting like himself, that this unmanageable fury was wildly misdirected. He was surrounded by terrified children that got snatched out of their beds, their families, some of them even taken from hospitals. They were in a really bad shape as it was, and Kit’s behavior was making it a hundred times worse. He imagined the weight of Mina’s tiny hand in his and schooled his expression into a controlled absence.
Ty didn’t let any sign that he noticed Kit’s odd outburst. He was still fighting his own tangled emotions.
“We can’t risk running into the demons when the Kids are with us. We have to split. You will take them back where we came from and I will find the demons and-“
“No.”
Kit’s voice broke no arguments. He made it as firm and authoritative as he could, mimicking the rare moments he got to witness Jace being the mature, strong head-of-the-institute that he was in front of others. There was no way he was letting Ty go alone and face whatever was out there. The place reeked of demons, and Kit could still faintly feel the pulse of that energy he felt around the Eidolon demon.
“Why not?” Ty cocked his head, suddenly aware of Kit’s rigid posture.
“I’m not leaving you to go and get slaughtered by-“
“Kit!” Ty gasped in shock and quickly pursed his mouth to a tight frown. “I’m not a child, I’m more than capable of fighting whatever is out there.”
His voice was calm, almost detached, but Kit wasn’t fooled for a second. His patience was wearing thin, but he willed his voice to convey more than the shattered fear that boiled inside his veins by the thought of Ty leaving him.
“Ty, I’m not saying you’re not capable of fighting. I know full well what you can do, and I have absolute faith in you.” He took a deep breath before continuing his words, knowing what they meant and what Ty will make of them. He promised himself to be honest with Ty, and though he couldn’t give him the entire truth at the moment, he could at least give him this.
“It’s not you that I don’t trust, it’s me. I don’t trust that I won’t run straight back to you and leave them alone halfway. I don’t trust that I will be able to see you walk away from me without knowing that I will see you again. I don’t trust myself, so there’s no fucking way I’m leaving your side until we’re out of here.”
He was panting so hard he could feel raw pain in his lungs. The sheer panic and rage of his emotions made his head dizzy, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from Ty’s. He was looking at him like he hit him in the gut, the naked intensity and bewilderment made Kit’s heart drop to a numbing silence.
Finally, he was able to look away. He felt ashamed of his weakness, but couldn’t find it in himself to regret his words. He glanced at the shocked ensemble of children in front of him and muttered “Uh.. sorry for using that word. I’m American, we don’t have that much of a filter.”
“Okay.”
Ty’s voice was barely a whisper, and Kit looked up to find him standing dangerously close to him. His anger evaporated like it was never there at all, and he couldn’t remember the mechanics of breathing as Ty took Kit’s hand in his. It was warm and strong, and the reassurance in his eyes told Kit everything his words didn’t. He wasn’t looking at him, but everything about him said that he understood. He understood enough to give Kit what he needed, and it was the promise that he will stay.
It was a cruel sort of joke, that Kit would be the one unwilling to let Ty leave when he himself left him so long ago. The thought burned a bitter taste in his tongue, but it hardly mattered, not while Kit felt the steady pulse of Ty’s heartbeat through their joined hands. He squeezed Ty’s hand once, acknowledging his gesture, and turned to face the mob of kids that were gaping at them with a mix of fear and incredulity.
“Let’s get the hell out of here”.
**
The silence was so profound Kit felt like screaming just to break it. It was unbearable, the collective heavy breathing of all the small bodies that surrounded him melted to a jagged hum in his veins that grew louder with every passing minute.
They moved in unison, trading worried looks and hasty hand gestures as they tried to find their way back into the main entrance. Kit had a bad feeling, everything about this place felt off and bone-chilling. But something about the long corridors and vast clearings felt too foreign, too risky to keep for long.
It was clear they made a mistake on one turn or the other, he could tell by the lack of creepy mannequins or historical artifacts. They went in deeper than they meant to, and Kit wanted to put his fist through the wall for forgetting to mark their way when they first entered the caves. He was supposed to be the one with the mundane knowledge, as he couldn’t really expect Ty to know Hansel and Gretel and their trail of breadcrumbs.
He was bringing up the rear at the long walk through the narrow hall when the temperature dropped imperceptibly. If the feeling wasn’t familiar, Kit wouldn’t probably have noticed it.. but as it was, he stopped walking and whispered a low “Stop” that easily carried through to Ty.
It was only a few seconds before Kit could see her.
A young woman had solidified into a barely visible white in front of him. He didn’t have to ask who she was, he read the stories about the young woman who got murdered on the caves centuries ago, and while the mere suggestion of ghosts was enough to exhilarate the swarm of tourists that regularly visited the place, he for once, wasn’t excited. He was sure they would have felt the same if they could have seen the sunken, broken cheeks on her bloody face.
When he came to think of it, Kit was surprised she was the first ghost to appear to him. This place was so ancient it was almost inevitable to find more than one soul that got trapped in the circumstances of its death. Something about that thought, and about the livid fear in the ghost’s half translucent eyes made Kit’s voice pressed and somber as he understood what she was about to tell him.
“You’re too late, I know..”
Her eyes were infinitely sad, and Kit could only guess for how many years she was trapped in this cold, suffocating purgatory, wandering amongst the oblivious strangers.. whispering her story to those who could never hear it.
He felt his heart soften and harden with a quiet desperation.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you, and I’m sorry that you’re here. Thank you for warning us, and I hope that you’ll be able to find peace.”
He could barely hear his own voice but knew she could. With a tight nod, she disappeared into the feral darkness right beyond the reach of his witchlight.
Kit braced himself for the questioning eyes of his silent companions and sought out Ty’s tall figure amongst the crowd.
“They’re here, probably in the next room. We’re out of time.”
Ty’s eyes didn’t waver from Kit’s collar bones. There was a cool calmness to him that reminded Kit that after all, he was a Shadowhunter through and through. No matter the countless differences between Ty and every other Shadowhunter Kit had ever met, the steel in his silvery eyes held him upright, and quieted the beating of Kit’s heart.
Ty didn’t bother to mention the ghost, he understood and probably felt no need to state the obvious. He only nodded, lost in his own thoughts.
“We have to figure out a way to keep them here, and safe” Kit whispered.
Something dark glinted in Ty’s eyes and scanned through Kit’s weapons belt, and then his own.
Kit held his breath, letting Ty figure out what was unraveling in his brilliant, beautiful mind. He needed Ty to know that he trusted him implicitly, that his earlier outburst was exactly what he said it was, and to repay him for staying by his side even though it made absolutely no sense.
Eventually, Ty straightened and whispered at Kit’s direction.
“I can make a Malachi Configuration. I know it would put us at a disadvantage for lack of weapons when we face the demons, but it’s the best option I can see. It would keep them safe, no demon will be able to touch the seraph blades. They will be safe until we’ll come to get them back.”
He was right, this was the best option they had. A Malachi Configuration will trap the children inside a cage and will stop them from running away as much as it would stop anyone else from entering it. Not even the other Shadowhunters could brake it, it would have to be the person who made it, to begin with.
Kit looked at Ty and thought about his earlier words, of how he planned to go and face the demons himself. It wasn’t something Ty would usually suggest because it was obviously a suicidal move. Ty was many things, brave and smart and far too kind for his own good, but he wasn’t self-sacrificing. Kit knew that it was only the encounter with the Eidolon demon that made him act this way, like he had to pay for his mistakes. No, this time, Kit will have to ensure Ty would come back.. because if he won’t there will be thirteen kids trapped in a seraphic mobile prison cell that Kit won’t know the first thing about how to brake. But that scenario wasn’t optional, not by a long-shot. Kit knew it wasn’t very Shadowhunter-y of him, they were an endangered species, after all.. but he couldn’t care less. He lost too much in his life to be able to entertain the thought of losing Ty.
Kit handed him two seraph blades, hilts first, and asked with a twisted smile “How many do you need?”
Kit explained to the small group of children what they were about to do, while Ty readied the Adamas made weapons in his hands. They had to do it quickly, for the sound of thrusting blades through the stone floor was bound to attract attention.. and if not that, then the chime-like sound symboling the lock of the configuration will probably do the trick. As soon as Kit got a firm and convincing promise from every single one of the children that they would not try to set a foot outside the lines he indicated, he stepped back and let Ty do his part.
At the first blade that speared the ground, Kit drew out another of the angel’s blades from his belt and whispered a name into the echoing thunder.
The noises grew louder on either side of the small passage, and he wished Ty would get it over with so they could leave this claustrophobic place.. he had no desire to fight off demons in a place so small. These corridors are made for scared, gullible tourists or secretive make-out sessions. He entertained the second thought for another moment of sweet, dazed sunlight until he realized the bright light in his eyes came from between the blades that marked the ground. With the sharp bell-like sound that indicated his work’s success, Ty turned to Kit. Sweat plastered the long bangs of his hair to his forehead, and Kit felt the tense throbbing of his heart, begging him for some kind of release.
Ty seemed to feel his tension and scanned him for any cause of his distress. When he found none, he searched his face for answers. Something must have given him away because Ty closed the small distance between them as if sensing Kit’s need for his closeness.
Kit stared at his boots, not daring to look up, but he didn’t step back. He knew he was endangering everything, everyone, by simply standing so close to Ty.. but he was so tired. Tired of keeping his distance, of trying to lock his feelings in a place they couldn’t hurt anybody but himself. Who was he kidding? He didn’t even manage to do that.. he wasn’t Will Herondale, and he didn’t want to be. He was Kit. He was the person Ty looked at with a violent blush in his cheeks and asked him to believe that he was the opposite of nothing to him. Kit knew what the opposite of nothing was, and even though it felt impossible to even imagine that he could be something to Ty, he couldn’t not feel the truth in it.
His heart was hammering thunderous beats as he reached a shaking hand and gripped the hem of Ty’s shirt, and pulled him closer.
They stood there, Kit still staring at their feet, barely an inch from touching. The softness of Ty’s breath on his forehead, the heat of his body, the smell of his sweat and skin and phantom touch pulsed through Kit like fire, threatening to bring him to his knees.
It took everything he had to walk away. Everything he was, every silent promise he ever made to his dead father, to his baby sister, to the damned endless night he had cursed for half his life, all sang through his unwilling ears. His legs were two leaded bricks, but he managed to take another step backward and breath the shattered remains of his desire.
He lifted his eyes cautiously, just to find them mirrored in Ty’s. He took him in, the white light that fell on his profile lit his sharp bones to an almost blinding outline of his features. Kit was mesmerized for a split second before he got swallowed by the darkness in Ty’s eyes. It held the same expression he knew his eyes must have had, all fire and loss and unbidden desperation. His lips parted by the force of Ty’s gaze, unwilling to release him.
It was the coiling crackle of a flame that finally broke them free. That, and the roaring sound of the crowd of demons headed straight their way.
#kit herondale#Ty Blackthorn#christopher herondale#tiberius blackthorn#kit's secret fire message#ksfm#THE KIT HERONDALE SUPPORTIVE ARMY#kitty blackdale#kitty#blackdale#kit rook#kit herondale blackthorn#tiberius nero blackthorn#KIT TY#kit#ty#kit x ty#Ty x kit#herondale#heronthorn#kitty fanfiction#kitty fan fiction#fanfiction#fanfic#fan fiction#herondale poetry#tsc#tsc fanfic#tsc fanfiction#the shadowhunter chronicles
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poly billy and stu celebrating holidays with their s/o?? from birthdays (theirs) valentine's day, christmas, etc love your blog sm!! it's my favourite 🤩🤩
A/N: anon this is such a cute idea thank you for sending it in.
billy loomis x reader x stu macher
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Let’s start with the top’s birthday. So Billy? He is an iconic mix of bitch and bastard. Meaning that he is absolutely pretending to hate his birthday. Or at least is exaggerating on the point of how much he wants “everyone” to forget about it. Because … and I mean this ….god help you if Stu and you ever forget or listen to him when he says “don’t do anything”. It would be a fucking nightmare of which you would never wake if you both did this.
Luckily Stu already made this mistake one year before y'all were all together and he knows. The first year you’re together Billy is going through his regular shtick of bullshit. You pull Stu aside privately later and ask, “so are we doing anything for his birthday or are we listening to Billy.”
Stu gets….the most distant far-off look in his eyes. Like he’s a man that’s come back from war and just got drafted again. He’s never grabbed your shoulders harsher, “We have to do something he’s lying.“
So you do something. The good part about Billy’s birthday is he’s actually not hard to please. Start the day off right with an acknowledgement. So you do a movie night the day before. This way when midnight hits you can pause Halloween and he will almost start yelling at you before you guys whip out obnoxious colored party-horns and start trying to blow them to the beat of Happy Birthday. He is rolling his eyes but deeply pleased as he was already contemplating ….revenge of some sort at 11:55 (please god make Billy chill out for one day).
He is not lying about not wanting anything big though. He really only wants to celebrate with you and Stu. Don’t throw him a party. He won’t be mad per-say but he won’t be like pumped or anything. Will end the party early or will make you and Stu sneak off with him. This is #His Day and the focus will be #On Him.
His Mom used to make him a cake every year and Stu, as his life-long best friend (and now boyfriend), totally remembers the tradition. He's just not capable of baking or cooking. But he tells you and hopes you can do it and you can (if you're bad at baking too let's just imagine with you and Stu both working hard you can...achieve....something). Surprising Billy with the cake would make him feel #Soft.
Honestly he's spending the whole day acting tough and pretending he barely wants to do anything but?? He loves it and loves that you're both 100% focused on him and making him happy. He's just a brat. But ignore him while he's scoffing about you guys both kissing his cheeks at the same time he's having the time of his life. He just wants to cuddle and watch movies and for no one to go anywhere.
If you want to go Big for Him one year or something the best thing you could do is put Rich Boy Stu's money to good use and get him autographed shit from Horror Icons. Or original props from movies. He'll lose his fuCKING MIND. Finally breaks his lame "cool guy" act for 0.5 seconds.
Stu doesn't play hard to get and he doesn't play mind-games (with you and Billy, that is). Y'all know damn well he wants a big fuss made about his special day. He also wants a big party. It's super easy to make him happy on his birthday if you just remember that unlike Billy he wants this to be as over the top as fucking possible.
Wake him up with breakfast in bed screaming happy birthday at the top of your lungs and he jumps up like a kid on Christmas Morning. Yes....this is #His Day....pay attention to HIM.
Give him lots of presents! He's easy to buy for! New clothes. Stupid jewelry. Horror shit. New voice changer box. He just likes receiving gifts. They don't have to be expensive ...just have him open a lot of packages and he'll love it.
Do a surprise birthday party. It's not a surprise in any way at all but watching his face light up when he walks into his fucking house at the end of the day and half the highschool pops out like "surprise!!" is so fucking worth all the hassle that you and Billy have to smile at each other.
Billy has thrown him parties before but they're more of just...huge get-together’s. Like highschool(TM) parties where you're too cool to decorate. You? Not a pussy. You deck out the whole house and Stu loses his fucking mind. Knows you are the cause of this and kisses the shit out of you. Dips you and everything. Billy is protesting because, "Hey I blew up half these fucking balloons" ...don't be a piss baby it'll be your turn in like thirty seconds.
Fourth of July?? Stu has the most illegal fireworks he could get his hands on so they’re. …. pretty illegal. They’re the asshole neighbors that set them off like weeks before the 4th and if you weren't fucking them you'd want their heads on a platter. As is? Eh.....you're fucking them so I guess this is the neighbor's problems- They always forgive because Stu's family throws the greatest fucking barbecues day of.
St. Patrick's Day? Time to get fucking WASTED. You are wearing green aggressively because the one year you didn't Stu pinched your ass all day long. Even Billy joined in when he saw how feisty and annoyed it was making you. Stu is still doing it but you...tried at least, RIP. It's the tradition now.
Valentine's Day?? billy vc: love is a neurochemical con job. But don't worry Stu will not allow him to be a bastard about the day because he's affectionate and loving. Stu knows how to celebrate the day perfectly. This is his time to shine! The Most Obnoxious Boyfriend. Everyone else is jealous. Flowers? Delivered in the middle of class. Huge chocolate box that is also #Expensive? Have fun putting that in your locker (he's sweet so he's actually gonna put it in his car for you once you've had a few)! Would pay the Band Kids to Follow Billy and s/o around MOSTLY to annoy Billy but also to be cute. They're playing the fucking .... they're playing this. Billy is so angry but..... like.... his inner possessive loves being made a fuss over publicly so whatever. Maybe he won't kill the band kids for this. You're not an ungrateful cretin so you clap and laugh.
Billy does get Stu a gift ...something not really...Valentine's Day-esque but something he'll like. Like a horror-themed bong (i'm so sorry y'all this man obviously is smoking weed). You wrap it in pink, heart themed paper for him which he didn't know you were going to do and he is going to get you for that ...later...in the bedroom. But Stu loved it so whatever.
You? At the exact same time you and Stu present each other teddy bears. His teddy for you? Cute and fucking...Huge. Yours?? Fucking horror themed.. made to be gore-y and bloody looking. He gasps, obviously touched, "Babe!". Gonna get made out with so hard.... How are you so cute and funny? He loves you!! It sits proudly on his dresser.
What do you get Billy?? He really does dislike the Holiday because he thinks people who use this as the day to show they half-ass care about their s/o one day a year deserve death and despair. He will give them that death and despair. So what to give him then?
Stu pretended to be too busy planning for Valentine's Day to plan any murders with him which pissed Billy off even more the week prior. He was busy planning Valentine's Day. He was planning the Normal one they'd have with you and the more private, bloody one they'd have later that night killing couples together. Icing on cake? You pitched in by helping Stu plan it and by picking out new knives for them to use during. They're #Pink in a way that is obnoxious but the quality is amazing and you say, "it's your Valentine's Day knives!!! Just to use on Valentine's every year. Do you like them?" billy choked up: it's fucking .... alright
Got em'! The only way you can make the night better is letting Stu and Billy have sex with you when they get home. They're high off the kill rush and Billy is pleasantly-surprised that Stu did a really good job of planning everything alone. They're covered in blood and feeling love-dovey. Let's all do heavy eye-contact missionary tonight
April Fools is a mess and it leaves all of y'all mad at each other for a solid fucking week. Everybody gets got. Nobody can trust one another. Nobody should.
Thanksgiving is not a happy time for Billy. He doesn't like spending it with his Dad because while he's ...so good at misdirecting or #Avoiding Things He Doesn't Want To Deal With it gets very hard at this time of year to not get mad at his Dad. He's for some reason never going to hurt his Dad who he could easily blame for his Mom leaving?? But he won't. Though he's very angry during this time of the year. His Dad will try to do anything and he just shuts himself in his room. Doesn't even wanna go to Stu's house or your house. It would just make him feel .... weird, upset, like he's intruding... jealous, even. It's kinda sad. He won't even pick up your calls that day. You and Stu don't even have to sneak into the house. Billy's Dad quietly let's you in and you go upstairs and just hold him together. It's a solemn holiday because it's like the start of reminding Billy about his Mother abandoning him.
Christmas goes kinda the same way tbh but he's ....trying to make an effort to not be as big of a bummer since Christmas is a little more significant than Thanksgiving. He knows you and Stu actually enjoy the holiday season. He tries to distance himself in general during this time because he just doesn't know how to be anything else. It's actually kinda sad because most of Billy's emotions if they're negative wind up manifesting as anger but he's genuinely depressed as shit.
Things are different when you all move in together because now he's also not trying to spend the holidays with the literal reminder of why his life sucks (his cheating ass daddy). Plus you and Stu are determined to give him new Holiday experiences to replace the ones that make him feel so shitty with nostalgia. He's grumpy the first Christmas you guys spend together after you're living alone but not angry the way he's been at Christmas times' past. Improvement.
The Christmas after that? Doesn't cringe once seasonal music starts playing in stores. Ghostface killings get a little less violent and frequent (he's not using them to cope as soon as it gets cold). Getting better. The Christmas after that?? You can get him to help you decorate. He helps you and Stu with the tree. He makes cookies with you. You watch horror themed Christmas movies and some regular ones (you cannot be a movie tyrant during the holidays, billy-). Christmas after that? You all send out a "family" Christmas card. You and Stu are in ridiculous sweaters and Billy is in one of solid red but he's wearing a Santa hat. His arms are crossed but there's the slightest smile on his face. You each have an arm around him. You all look happy together.
Now ..... for the big one: Halloween. Thought I skipped it? Hah! Best for last. This is their happiest time of year. They are so ready for this shit you have no idea. It's disgusting how ready they are. It turns October and Stu drops this video in your three person chat. Billy replies with a devil emoji. Disgusting?? You know you're in for a chore of keeping them in line for a whole fucking month. They will be doing MISCHIEF. They will be doing SHENANIGANS. Both MURDER and OTHERWISE. They're teepeeing houses. Cars. They're stealing candy from kids like dicks probably. Or laughing at people who are doing this. They keep the kills to Halloween night though. A whole month of just planning so they can do something big and terrible. You have to be looking after them extra during this time because they're so excited they are ...not ...doing that. you: you guys please drink some water i haven't seen you move in hours billy and stu: billy: holy shit it's been- stu: babe please make us something to eat we haven't had anything since yesterday :((((
Fucking dumb idiot disease. If you're living together?? God help you, you used to only have to see them get hype as fuck. Now? You must experience it 24/7. Halloween prep starts emotionally? Once summer ends. They want to deck out the house to the nines and you’re just gonna have to piss now staring at/being aware of the over-sized plastic spider Stu put on the back of the toilet.
Everything is spooky. Cobwebs everywhere. Black! Orange! Pumpkins! Outside decorations that are actually scary as shit. They're the haunted house on the street that gets #Talked About. They're gonna go murder the shit outta people later but early in the night?? The kids that manage to walk up to the house?? Get fucking...the Mother-load of all candy. The brave little bastard dressed as a ballerina-fairy-princess?? Fist-bump. Billy does not much like kids but all the kids who get to his door? You deserve this. Full-sized chocolate bars and bags of candy. Maybe even a dollar or two. Stu is actually great with kids and is the nice one who guesses all of their costumes. Somehow can guess the weird ones accurately?
Once that part of the night is over they go out and just wreak total fucking havoc. Halloween in Woodsboro is a nightmare. They're having fun at least! This is their Christmas and they love it. Babe babe don't wait up. They tell you as if you couldn't fucking guess?? They're not home till the wee hours of the morning and they're dead-exhausted but they had the time of their lives.
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#billy loomis x reader x stu macher#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#billy loomis imagine#stu macher imagine#slasher x reader#horror imagine#thaaaank you for the request and the sweet words#stu you motherfucker...to be.....using fireworks in ca but he only has one braincell#y'all: did she leave halloween for last because it's their favorite??#me .....dead ass having forgot the holiday known as halloween while i run a slasher blog: uh....yeah
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Need Your Loving Tonight Ch. 19
Summary: You and John have a heart to heart after your talk with Roger.
Note: A lot of angst and drama in this one. Hope you enjoy! As always, the italicized part is the reader’s thoughts. The photo is one that I found on google. I do not own any rights to it. If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or an ask and I’ll add you!
Warnings: Language, Angst
Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader, John Deacon x Reader
Words: 3.5k+
November 14, 1974
You woke up on the couch the morning after your talk with Roger. A chill worked through your body, bringing goosebumps to your arms despite the blanket that Sally laid over you. You shifted, rolling onto your back to stare at the ceiling. A throbbing in your head began, matching the ache that radiated from your heart. I really fucked up.
It was still dark outside when you decided to get up from the couch, restless and unable to stay still. You checked the clock mounted on the wall in the kitchen as saw that it was just after 6 am. Every part of your body ached with sadness, feeling like you lost something and could never get it back. You moved into the kitchen and turned on the light before crouching down and searching the cabinets for the tea kettle. If I can’t fall back asleep, I might as well make some tea.
Your fingers fumbled over the pans as your eyes still adjusted to the kitchen light. The feel of the cool metal against your already shivering skin made your sadness multiply. It was something that you just couldn’t explain. Maybe the chilling texture brought you back to Roger’s cold glare the night before. You tried to move a large saucepan out of the way, but instead it ended up falling to the ground in a loud bang. A curse fell from your lips as you placed it back in the cabinet.
A rush of anger swept through you with each cabinet that you rifled through. With the tea kettle still missing, you slammed the cabinet door shut in frustration. Wet, hot tears began streaming down your face as you slumped to the ground. Your back hit against the cabinet, jamming its handle into your shoulder, which only made you cry harder. A noise came from down the hall and you saw Sally through the tears in your eyes.
“Y/n? What the hell are you doing? It’s 6 o’clock in the morning,” Sally walked into the kitchen as she spoke. Her hair was sticking up in the back and her eyes were puffy and bloodshot from sleeping. Her pajamas hung loosely around her frame as she squatted down in front of you. Her expression, while annoyed from being woken up early on a workday, was soft and full of concern.
“I just wanted to make some tea,” you said through a wave of sobs. Your breath hitched and hiccupped as a stream of tears still flooded from your eyes. “But I can’t find the tea kettle. So, I got angry. And that, mixed with everything from last night made me cry I guess,” your sobs lightened a little as Sally stroked the side of your face with her hand.
“Y/n, sweetheart,” she began, swiping the tears from your face as she did so. “The tea kettle is on the stove,” her voice was soft and caring. The tears stopped flowing as you looked up from the ground and focused on her.
“What?” you asked, feeling stupid for not checking there in the first place. You shifted your gaze up towards the stove, spotting the tea kettle resting on the back burner. You let out a choked laugh before more tears fell from your face into your lap. “That’s great. I’m just one big idiot,” you stood up and marched back over to the couch in the living room. You threw yourself down face first with your hands above your head. The sound of running water in the kitchen caused you to look up. You found Sally filling the tea kettle before placing it back on the stove to warm up.
“You’re not an idiot, you know. You just made a mistake,” Sally came over and sat on the edge of the couch. Her hands tangled into your messy hair in an effort to comfort you. “It was probably just a misunderstanding, right? You say something based on impulse that you don’t really mean. Roger gets angry and yells. Then he storms off and leaves you crying. That’s what happened right,” As Sally spoke you raised your head from the couch once more. You rolled over, facing her now as your expression turned sour.
“You talked to him? I can’t believe it,” you exclaimed sitting upright and startling Sally from the couch. She stood in front of you as her eyebrows lifted in surprise and yours furrowed in anger.
“It was only for a second. All I asked was what he did that made you cry so bad,” she defended herself, raising her hands as she spoke. “I was just trying to look out for you. He didn’t really tell me anything. He hung up almost immediately after I called,” she took a step towards you, but your face remained hard and unforgiving.
“You should have never intervened in the first place. I mean, the reason that this whole thing happened was because I took your advice. You just kept pressing me to tell Roger how I felt, to lay it all out there. And now look where that got me. I fell asleep crying on the couch for fuck’s sake. I was fine before all of this!” you shouted loudly, standing up from the couch where you sat before.
“Like hell you were. The anxiety and guilt about your feelings for Roger were practically eating you alive. I could tell, and so could Brian. And I told you to just tell Roger how you felt, not offer to run away with him. That was all you,” Sally tried to remain calm, knowing that this was just misdirected anger. But the way you spoke and the anger on your face made it difficult to keep neutral.
“Liar! You told me to ‘explore every option’. How the hell am I supposed to explore it if I’ve never even had the experience in the first place? Huh?” Sally didn’t respond, not wanting to fuel the flame of your fire. “How the hell am I supposed to face him now? He probably thinks I’m some psycho that’s just trying to use him. And John. Fuck. What if Roger tells him?” the words spewed from your mouth like a constant string of consciousness.
“He would never do that. He cares about you too much. Roger would never try to sabotage your relationship with John,” Sally’s words were calm, her arms crossed in front of her chest.
“Still. How am I supposed to face John after this? How am I supposed to move forward knowing that I might have just screwed up one of my closest friendships all because I was starting to feel a little boxed in? I mean, John is my fiancé. There’s no way to move forward without telling him. And if I tell him then he’ll probably break up with me,” you slumped back down onto the couch once more and the tea kettle began to whistle from the stove. Sally went back into the kitchen, pouring the hot water into two cups with tea bags already in them.
“You’re right, he might. Or he might not, that’s something you’ll have to face,” she added sugar to the mugs and brought them over to the sofa. She sat next to you and placed one mug in your hand as she took small sips from the other. “But relationships are built on trust and telling John is the most noble thing for you to do. Even if you really don’t want to,” her eyes gazed softly into yours and her demeanor mirrored that of someone who had found complete bliss. Her words, while anxiety inducing and potentially life changing, caused an odd sense of calmness to wash over you. You nodded, sipping the tea from your mug before looking back at Sally.
“Thank you,” you said, feeling the warmth and love that she had for you in every second that passed. She smiled at you softly before gently placing her hand on yours. “I love you and I’m sorry,” her thumb rubbed circles over the back of your hand as her eyes locked onto yours.
“I know,” she said simply before taking another sip of her tea and going back to bed.
November 15, 1974
You had called John the night before, arranging to meet him after you got done with work. He picked you up, taking you back to your apartment afterwards so the two of you could talk. You felt nervous, seeing the entirety of your relationship crumbling down which each passing second. But John didn’t seem to notice. He was too excited about how well received the album had been. He rambled on throughout the car ride about its success and the idea of a tour in Japan soon. In John’s head, everything from here on out was an upward slope. But oh, how your thoughts differed.
John trailed behind you as you entered your apartment. Sally was still at work, meaning that the two of you were completely alone. That something that seemed to not happen often these days. As you pushed the door open John wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing kisses to your neck as he did so.
“John,” you spoke clearly, trying to get him to stop. He only hummed a response instead, too invested in your neck to see the warning signs of you wanting him to stop. “John, please stop, honey. I need to talk to you,” your nerves came through in your voice, which caught John’s attention.
“What is it, baby? What’s got you so nervous?” John asked, moving to sit down on the sofa as you sat in the chair across from it.
“It’s just that we’ve been really busy all week and I feel like I’ve barely talked to you, you know?” you plastered a fake smile on your face as you looked at him. He smiled back at you and began to nod his head.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ve just been a little caught up with the new album,” John crossed his right leg over his left, placing his hands into his lap. “So, what do you want to talk about?” he asked, looking at you as your stomach twisted. His face was so sweet and full of love. He cared so deeply for you and you felt awful. You were about to tell him something that could rip his heart from his chest. You loved him too, there was no doubt about that, but this was something that you needed to do.
“Well,” you began, aiming your line of sight towards the ground to stop the guilt from flowing within you. “I wanted to talk about feelings,” you spoke slowly, as if it would stop the words from coming out of your mouth.
“Feelings?” John questioned; confusion clearly written across his face. You nodded in response trying to avoid speaking. “What regarding feelings do you want to talk about exactly?” his voice was calm but inquisitive.
“I- uh wanted to talk about feelings and how they grow and change over time,” John only looked more confused as you continued. “In uni, when Smile was still together, I had a little crush on Roger,” you started speaking only to stop when John’s face changed. He looked more so surprised than anything and that made you feel even worse.
“You had a crush on Roger in uni? Like when you first met him?” John asked and nerves just kept building up within you.
“Yes and no. I mean, neither of us did anything about it until Tim left the band. We were both really frustrated that night, and we ended up being a little impulsive,” John just raised his eyebrows, clearly not understanding. “We slept together that night,” you stated bluntly as your leg began to bounce up and down with nerves.
“Oh,” John said, his eyes staring blankly at the wall, clearly shocked at what you just said. “I had no idea,” he continued, trying to turn his eyes back to you, but seemingly unable to do so. Your thumb rose to your lips in a habitual way as you began to bite at the flesh. “That was before we were together, before we even knew each other, so it doesn’t really matter. Unless you feel like it does,” John went on, finally meeting your worried gaze.
“If this conversation happened a year ago, I would say no. I would say that it doesn’t matter. I wish I could say that,” tears brimmed along your lash line and you tried your hardest not to let them flow. “It’s just that I had feelings for Roger back then and he rejected me. Then after a little while I met you. And I fell head over heels. I love you, John. I’m in love with you wholeheartedly. I want you to know that,” John nodded even though the confusion had reappeared on his face. “But as time went on, I found out that Roger was in love with me too,” a tear spilled down your cheek before you could catch it.
“Are you saying that- that you cheated on me?” John’s voice quivered and you felt an ache grow in your heart.
“No, no, never,” John looked reassured as you spoke, and it just made you feel worse. “You see, Roger and I got into a fight at that Christmas party when you and I first kissed. He told me then that he loved me. And when he said that, it ignited some old flame within me. It brought back that little schoolgirl crush that I had on him, but I was so happy with you. With our blossoming relationship. So, I ignored it,” more tears followed, and you found that the throbbing in your head had returned.
“What are you saying,” John intercut, trying to make sense of everything that you were laying out for him. You just ignored him and went on with your story.
“For the past year or so, I’ve felt nothing but joy when I’m around you because I love you. But I also noticed that I started to feel the same way when I’m around Roger. And I know sounds horrible and you’re probably going to hate me, but I think I love him too,” your words were clouded by tears as John sat catatonically across from you. “And I told him a few days ago. I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I was being eaten alive by guilt and emotions. I’m sorry, John. I love you and I want to be with you but I’m just so conflicted. I feel awful,” you rambled on as John’s expression remained unchanged. “Johnny, please say something,” you pleaded, coming to kneel in front of him.
“I didn’t know someone could feel that way,” he spoke quietly, his eyes staring blankly ahead. More tears streamed down from your eyes as he sat before you. “Damn it,” he stood up abruptly, knocking you back slightly as he did. “I knew love could hurt but I didn’t think it’d be this bad,” he said, cradling his forehead in his hand.
“But it doesn’t have to hurt. I can put aside these feelings and move on. Roger has already made it clear that nothing will happen with me and him. I love you and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t think I can even imagine life without you anymore,” the tears continued streaming down in thick rivers on your cheeks.
“I don’t know. This doesn’t seem like something that you can just move on from. It’s not like this is some small crush, Y/n. You said that you’re in love with him. Even if you do think you can get over it, you’ll still have to see him all the time. He’s one of my best friends. We’re in a band together. I really don’t know, Y/n,” you noticed that John had tears of his own beginning to run down his face. You stood up, moving towards him to brush the tears away, to reassure him that your passion and desire laid with him. But he moved away. John flinched from your touch and you felt your already breaking heart split further in two.
“Please, Johnny. We can work this out. I know we can. I’m your fiancé. It’s not like I accepted your proposal just on a whim. I did it because I love you. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We can’t just let some stupid feelings get in the way,” your hands clasped in front of you as you spoke, feeling like you were on the verge of getting down on your knees to beg.
“I- I don’t know, Y/n. I uh, I need some space. Some time to think. To think about all of this before I can really decide where to go from here,” his voice was quiet and calculated as if he was trying to hold back any emotion that might set himself off.
“Yeah, ok. We can just spend a few days apart. Let things work themselves out, you know,” your eyes fell to the ground as you ran the thoughts through your head.
“I want the ring back,” John said, holding out his hand as he spoke. He caught you off guard and you took a step back when he did.
“What?” it came out as just barely a whisper. A chill ran through your body, feeling a numbness that you couldn’t describe. No. No this can’t be happening.
“I want the ring back. It might not be permanent, but until I can decide, I want it back,” his hand was still held in front of you. Your fingers trembled as they circled around the ring on your finger. You slid it off, holding the ring in your palm for a moment before placing it into the center of John’s hand. You let your fingers linger on his for another second before pulling away and looking back up at him.
“John,” you spoke quietly still, your throat clogged with sadness and tears. He pulled you into a tight hug, holding your boy as close to him as possible. John tilted your head up, bringing his lips to yours slowly. He kissed you with every last ounce of love in his body before pulling away once last time. “I love you,” the words fell from your lips in a habitual way as tears leaked down your face, brushing the corner of your mouth. John didn’t respond, instead he walked out the door and pocketed the ring. You followed him out, watching as he trailed down the hall, hoping that he would turn to look back at you. But he didn’t. He just went down the steps.
November 16, 1974
“I’m really sorry, but I need a few days off work,” you spoke into the telephone as your manager barked angrily on the other line. “It’s a family emergency and I have to go away for a while,” you lied, swiping at the tear that seemed to fall without your knowledge. Your manager finally gave in, reluctantly giving you a week off for the time being. The only issue was that you didn’t exactly plan on coming back.
With John and Roger both mad at you, you felt your reasons for staying in London dwindle by the second. Sure, you’d miss Brian, Sally, Freddie and all the other friends you’ve made in London, but you just couldn’t stand to be there anymore. Not when your chest ached at the thought of getting out of bed. So, you booked a flight home, arranging to stay with your parents for a little until you managed to get a good job over there. Then you’d move on, leaving behind the life you made, and then destroyed, in London. It would be difficult and lonely, but by now nothing could feel worse than the struggling beat of your heart as it worked itself in your chest.
So, you packed up a bunch of clothes, taking only what you needed for the time being. Knowing that even if you were moving to America that you would still have to come back to gather all your things. Sally reluctantly drove you to the airport, warning you not to run away from your problems, despite knowing that she can’t change your mind. You got on your plane about an hour later, heading home to New Jersey. The view of the clouds from the small oval window on the plane helped put you to sleep, something you haven’t done much of in the past few days.
You landed a little while later, feeling something different in your bones as you stepped onto American soil for the first time in a few years. An odd sense of nostalgia filled you, dulling the pain caused by heartbreak. And you had only one thought pass back and forth in your head as you hailed a cab and gave him your parents address.I could probably stay here forever.
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Notebooks and Post-it's - Chapter 12 - (Branjie) - Thankyoumissvanjie
A/N I know… I’ve started a new fic and kind of forgotten all about this one. But here ya go. A new and angsty chapter - completely on brand for this fic. Enjoy my dears. <3
Summary:
“…”
The silence on the phone was very telling, but not what he needed now, sitting in his hotel room in the middle of the night.
“Bitch, you best be givin’ me some life hacks ‘bout now, cause I be freaking the fuck out,” A’keria looked at him unimpressed, as she was getting into drag. The facetime call one she had waited for, knowing that Silk had led their girl down a path of self-destruction.
LINK TO AO3
“…”
The silence on the phone was very telling, but not what he needed now, sitting in his hotel room in the middle of the night.
“Bitch, you best be givin’ me some life hacks ‘bout now, cause I be freaking the fuck out,” A’keria looked at him unimpressed, as she was getting into drag. The facetime call one she had waited for, knowing that Silk had led their girl down a path of self-destruction.
José held his phone tightly in his hand, hoping that if he wished it hard enough, he could teleport A’keria here. He needed her. He needed her wisdom and most of all he just needed her hugs.
“Vanj… you’re an idiot,” the sigh at the end spoke of motherly levels of disappointment and José felt his shoulders sag as it hit him how stupid he had been.
“Kiki, I know. But I be like the Titanic after the iceberg hit, I know it ha-happened, but now imma need you to help me be Rose on the float and not Jack!” José was still drunk, stumbling over the words, trying to find a way to explain it to her, so she understood.
“You need to sober up boo, your metaphors are messy,” she lowered her hand that was applying eyeliner to send her a raised eyebrow.
“Hoe, my whole life be messy. Like Mama, imma need more than just Cilit Bang to clean this shit up.” falling back onto the bed with the phone in his hand, he wished that there was some way to just unmess it all. To go back to the truce he and Brock had managed to keep during the broadcasting of the season.
“Lemme just get this straight. Y'all been fucking around for weeks, and then you went and gone all Branjie, like you back on the show.”
“Boo-“ José could feel the oncoming storm of a full-on A’keria takedown, and he wanted to end it before she really got going, but he was too late.
“I ain’t finished, and then your hoe ass decided to play the jealousy game and then it made him weird and now you ran away in the middle of the night cause you drunk and all up in your feelings… AND the tour hasn’t even begun yet? Chiiiiile.” She looked directly through the screen for a second or two, trying to communicate all the way from Chicago how dumb this all was.
“I know.” Even through his drunken haze, José could see that.
“Do ya? Cause I think you’ve out-Vanjied yourself. Like bitch?”
“But what I supposed to do when he all sad face and hot and… there,”
He missed him. So fucking much.
“Nothing. You do nothing,”
“I… can’t,” It felt impossible. Brock was his favourite drug, and he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
“Nah, you just won’t,” trust A’keria to see right through him and voice the real truth.
“Why you gotta read me this hard, Kiki?” Her words seemed to hit him hard, but at the same time it was refreshing, he knew that Silk would have joked and told him to go get that good dick.
“If you wanted to be patted on the back you would’ve called silk, boo!” For a second they both looked at each other before laughing hard, “so what’s your plan? You gon’ talk to him?” She patted some powder onto her face, almost done.
Her mug looking correct, as usual.
“I mean…” José couldn’t look at her face, knowing that he was stalling.
“Vanj. You an adult, you need to have a good damn convo with yo man,”
“Bitch, he ain’t my man!”
I wish he was though. Fuck, I wish.
“You sure ‘bout that?” That all telling, all willing Kiki eyebrow was back, daring José to talk back, “Vanjie, babe. You love him, it would break your heart if he found someone new. So go get yo man,” She smiled softly.
“He don’t love me,” José knew he sounded like a child. His voice low and quiet.
Just saying the words made his heart crack a bit.
“Bitch, how you know that?”
“We’ve only been together ‘cause of me. I inist-instig… I was the one setting it all up every time, while he always be looking like he want me to leave, but ain’t sayin’ it.” Brock always looked like he was confused as to why he had shown up, the post-it in hand as he walked into one of the many hotel rooms they had fucked in.
That was why José kept distracting him, kept on throwing himself at Brock, hoping that his body would make him remember how good they had been.
Last night had felt like a turn for the better, the soft touches and tender sex had made him feel hopeful.
Until Brock wouldn’t look him in the eye.
It had made José feel like a dirty secret, and that was why he had fled the room, his skin crawling and his heart heavy.
“Vanj…”
“I know I’ve played myself, and that I best let go of him, so I can stay on that floating door on the sea and blow in that whistle to get picked up from the icy ass water by someone,” Maybe Brock was his Jack.
Maybe he was just meant to let him the fuck go?
“Boo, we both know Rose could have moved a bit and there would’ve been room for Jack on that door. You best figure out a better haiku, cause this one ain’t working, Mama,”
“Bitich
“Hoe,”
“Grandma,”
“Child,”
“Love you, Kiki!”
“Love you too, Boo. Gotta go, but bitch. Talk with you man, Jesus!”
He ain’t my man.
“Chris Hemsworth thinks I’m a woman, I am so naturally-” Brock woke with a start as his phone rang loudly, answering the phone before he was even sure where the hell he was.
Why the hell was Nina calling him?
“Nina. Shit… I just woke up-what?”
“Could you open the door? I’ve been knocking for ages” She sounded slightly annoyed, but hearing her voice after a week apart was like a balm to his soul.
“What? You’re here?” Brock almost fell out of the bed, quickly grabbing some sweatpants. Seeing the mess of the room made the event of last night flash through his head.
Well. Fuck.
“Uh-uh and I got us breakfast, so open the door, Brock,” A knock on the door underlined her request, as she hung up, Brock quickly walked over to the door, his head throbbing from the drinks, the tears and everything else that happened in the last 24 hours.
Opening the door he came face to face with the sunny appearance of one of his best friends, her face clear despite the long flight she had just arrived from. In her hand, she was holding two cups of coffee and a paper bag that smelled like some kind of greasy pastry.
It almost made Brock weep with joy. The prospect of coffee was almost too good to be true.
Nina walked past him into the room, not verbally commenting on the strew clothes and covers, but just sending him a pointed look that spoke volumes. Dropping the food on a table she turned around and looked Brock up down, pausing on the bruises on his chest and the hickeys littered all over his neck.
“Well you’ve certainly looked better,” The soft look in Nina’s eyes making something inside of Brock crack, his need for comfort suddenly overwhelming.
“And hello to you, Nina,” Brock’s voice croaked as he walked towards her to get one of those perfect bear hugs that only she could give.
“Ew, Jesus. You smell like death, sex and liquor.” But she only hugged him tighter, maybe she could feel him shaking a bit, or just knew that he needed human contact that was not conditioned on it being sexual or temporary.
Tears sprang to his eyes. The events of the last few weeks finally catching up to him. A sob was caught somewhere in his throat, but Nina heard it.
Hugging him harder.
Softly shushing him, but never pushing.
Just being there.
They stood like that for minutes.
Nina’s hand softly running up and down his back, waiting until Brock leaned back, breaking the hug, as he wiped underneath his eyes.
She could see him trying to get back the iciness of Brooke Lynn, but failing at that he sent her a small smile and went with distraction instead.
“How about that coffee, huh?” He walked over to the table and took a long sip of coffee, feeling himself become less of a disaster and more human with every second.
“B… you need to figure shit out.” The sigh From
“You bought croissants, you babe!” Brock didn’t even have to fake his enthusiasm, as he felt almost weak with hunger, plus the idea of a flaky piece of french pastry seemed like the best idea right about now.
“You guys need to have an honest conversation.” He could hear that Nina had found her way to the couch, sitting down as she got ready to give him a Real Talk™
“Honestly, thank you. I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch yesterday, so really. Thanks!” He tried one last attempt at misdirection, hoping that Nina would take pity on his hungover body.
“Brock. Come on,” He turned around and walked over to the couch, with the paper bag and coffee.
“What is this, Nina? An intervention brunch? Have you given me croissants of lies?” He tried to keep a straight face, but seeing those big eyes filled with a mixture of mirth and worry, made him chuckle softly.
“Did it work?” She bumped her shoulder into Brocks, smiling softly, “Honestly, you are wasting away. You’ve lost weight, you look like you aren’t sleeping and Jesus, Brock. The alcohol?”
“I know,” He couldn’t look her in the eye. Knowing that he had promised her to take it down a notch.
Knowing that he had done no such thing.
“Okay. That’s the first step, but the question is, are you going to do anything about it? It hurts my heart to see you like this.” A hand covered his own.
Softly squeezing it.
“I just… I’m not ready for him to leave me.” His voice was small, his throat tightening as the thought of putting an end to this made his body clench in actual pain.
“He might not,”
“Oh, he will. Last night I thought we might have moved forward, it felt different. But then he left during the night, and I get it. I wouldn’t want my anxiety-riddled-entitled-bony ass either. But I want him…” He trailed off, not sure if he wanted to say it out loud, but knowing that he needed to at least voice his feelings to one other person “I… I fucking love him.” The pain in his body grew as he felt a lump grow in his throat.
He was not going to cry again.
“I know.” Nina’s thumb softly massaged the back of his hand, trying to convey some form of comfort. “But you’re being too hard on yourself. I know you think he spins gold with his ranting words and light up every single room he walks backwards into. Sure, It’s Miss Vanjie, it’s José, But Brock, you are not worth nothing. No, look at me!”
Brock finally looked up, seeing nothing but love and understanding in Nina’s eyes.
“You are passionate and loving and our current fucking reigning. If he doesn’t want to get with you, well good riddance,” There was a fire in her eyes, and Brock felt so lucky to have her in his life.
But.
“But I-” How could he make Nina understand that he was so scared of that exact possibility. That the idea of José not wanting him back was too painful, too real and too probably.
“No buts. Seriously. Talk. To. Him!”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
Last time they had been in an elevator together they had almost ended up just having sex in there.
This time was different.
This time it was awkward.
It was complete happenstance, that they had both ended up on this exact ride. Both of them seemed to almost vibrate with nervous energy as the numbers on the display slowly decreased.
“Righ-”
“So-”
“Oh, you go-
“No, you”
They both turned to look at each other, softly chuckling.
Both trying to make the other start talking, none of them wanting to be the first one to say the words. Brock felt nauseous as if he was going to throw up any second, the nervous energy inside the tiny metal cage travelling downwards doing nothing to calm his anxiety.
“So. The others be arriving today,” José almost spat out the sentence, needing there to be some kind of talking.
“Yeah, I am reall-”
“Let’s end this, Mami.”
Brock’s heart burst into a thousand pieces.
“I… If that’s what you want?” He felt completely removed from his body, as he heard himself answer calmly and softly.
As if his heart hadn’t stopped working.
His eyes were burning, but he blinked hard.
Forcing himself to be calm.
He could cry later. Now was not the time.
“I just don’t need this to screw with the gig ya know?” José seemed completely unaware of the destruction he had just wrecked on Brock. Smiling softly at him, as he gave his explanation.
“No, Yeah. I… I get it. It’s fine,” He hoped that his acting skills were more convincing here than they had been on the show.
If this was what José wanted, then Brock just had to endure and accept it.
Even if it killed ihim
With a ding, the elevator doors opened and José was the first one to step out, seemingly in a hurry.
“Imma see you there, hoe!” He called after him, not looking back as almost ran out into the lobby.
Brock was frozen in the elevator. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
The doors closed before he managed to make his body respond to him.
I knew he would leave.
I knew it.
#rpdr fanfiction#brooke lynn hytes#vanessa vanjie mateo#branjie#nina west#hurt/comfort#angst#smut#post break-up#canon compliant#notebooks and post its#thankyoumissvanjie#tw alcohol abuse#tw dom/sub undertones#s11
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Part 10 - I just called to say I love you
Warning: smut ahoy
I just called to say I love you
I just called to say how much I care
I just called to say I love you
And I mean it from the bottom of my heart
- I just called to say I love you, Stevie Wonder
--------------
Your misdirection has worked, and although you cannot bear to see John looking so sad, you are relieved to see Santino no longer looks in the mood for a fight. You turn to your husband gently.
“Can you let me have 5 minutes Santino? I just want to thank Dr Wick...then we can go home…”
He snorts at you, his eyes still a little suspicious, but you squeeze his hand, well versed in manipulation and he nods.
“Fine. Don’t take too long,” He goes, muttering under his breath.
As soon as he’s gone John turns on you, his beautiful brown eyes glistening with hurt.
“We’re back to Dr Wick now? You weren’t calling me that in the storage cupboard…”
He is sulking and you feel frustrated, grabbing his hand. “Don’t be a baby, John. You know why I spoke that way. Santino is a powerful man...I don’t want you hurt…”
John blinks, puzzled, then frowns. “I’m not scared of your husband (y/n). He’s all talk…”
“Maybe…” you sigh and lift his hand to your lips to kiss it. John lets out a gentle sigh.
“Now you’re being unfair. I have to say goodbye to you...I don’t want to…”
He sits on the bed and pulls you into his arms. You dart a worried look towards the doorway but sink into his embrace, clinging onto him and feeling his warmth soak into you, relaxing your tense muscles. Suddenly, the reality that you have to leave him washes over you and you whimper, searching for his mouth in desperation.
John kisses you, a kiss designed to make sure you won’t forget him, leaving some of his gentleness behind as he cups your face and passionately covers your mouth with his. By the end of the kiss you’re a wilting mess in his arms.
“It’s going to be okay.” he reassures you gently and you catch his smile, smiling back, flushing a bit, remembering what you just shared together.
John gives a small smirk and presses his thumb into your dimple. “I’m far from finished with you….”
He smooths your hair, moving to zip up your suitcase just as Santino strides back into the room.
“All done with the goodbyes? Honestly...you’d think this was a fucking summer camp...it’s definitely time to go home…”
You nod and stand shakily. John clenches his fists by his sides not to rush to help you, Santino gives you a cold glance and lets you struggle alone. You walk out of the hospital doors, everything moving around you almost in slow motion. You sit in the Lamborghini and concentrate on breathing calmly. Santino drives you back home, lost in his own thoughts.
You struggle up the steps and he does help you then, his hand on your back, and you feel guilty as you instantly compare it to John’s larger, warmer one.
“I’m going to take a nap...I’m beat from the journey…”
Santino nods, his eyes scanning your face. “I was thinking of booking a holiday for us...we could go back to Rome...revisit where we first fell in love…”
You sigh, knowing you should take it as a sweet gesture, but you know your husband too well, and you know he is just trying to get you out of the country and away from a certain handsome doctor.
“I need to go back to the hospital every week for a checkup...Dr Wick told you that…”
Santino makes an annoyed sound in his throat. “How could I fucking forget? Of course my precious...we’ll stay here…”
The look he gives you is far from fond, so you stumble upstairs as fast as you can, hearing him on the phone, you hope he will be distracted by work. You flop down onto your four-poster bed and look around the room which seems ornate and gaudy compared to the simple white walls of the hospital. It is strange how quickly you began to think of the hospital as home, and you already feel a longing in your chest for those you’ve left behind.
Your phone buzzes quietly in your pocket and you pull it out, seeing a number you don’t recognise. You answer cautiously and a deep, familiar voice caresses your ear, making you smile.
“I miss you already…” says John and you sigh, letting his voice calm you down as you move to lean back into the pillows.
“I miss you too…so much, John…how did you get my number?”
You’re pleased about it, but surprised. John explains a little guiltily he stole it from your file.
“I’m just with Nora...she wants to say hi.”
You hear him pass the phone and the voice of your sassy little friend tells you she is feeling better but wishes she got to say goodbye.
“I wish that too Nora...but I’ll come and visit.”
Delighted with your promise you hear a skirmish between her and John for phone. John must come out the winner as you hear his voice alone next.
“I’m back...I’ve left Nora’s room.” he makes a sound almost like a whimper. “I need to kiss you…”
You sigh, his tone and his eagerness causing a tingle between your legs, but you try to be sensible. “We need to be careful, Santino is already suspicious.”
John gives a harsh sigh down the phone. “I don’t care about him. I care about you…”
You whimper a bit to hear him say it out loud like that. “John...do you really?”
“Why, did you think this was just fun to me?”
You can almost imagine him frowning in that beautifully confused way of his and giggle a bit at the image, teasing him playfully.
“So you don’t do that with all your patients?”
His answer is fervent “No. Only you. And I can still taste you on my tongue…”
You shiver, tipping your head back against the pillow, pressing the phone closer to your ear so you can hear him more clearly.
“I never felt that way before John….you made me so dizzy I couldn’t control myself.”
He chuckles and the sound goes right to the spot between your legs. “Do you want more?”
“You know I do.” you answer quickly.
He groans “Shit. I’m still at work. Can I call you back later?”
“Why Dr Wick, are you trying to talk dirty to me over the phone?”
“Yes.” he replies candidly and you flush. “If I can’t touch you myself then at least I can hear you do it…”
“Or watch…” you suggest, stunned at your own boldness. “We do have camera phones y’know, this is the 21st century old man…”
“Oh shush your pretty mouth. You know I’m old school. I like vinyl and face-to-face conversation.”
“I like that about you. You’re so adorable John…”
He makes a muffled sound of protest. “I’m going to have to show you I’m not just a ‘nice guy’ doctor aren’t I?”
You find yourself intrigued by the promise. “You can start later tonight. I’ll be waiting. I want to see your handsome face.”
“Santino won’t bother you?”
“No. We...sleep separately.”
“What? Since when?”
“He has a bad back and gets restless...I sleep late when he goes to work so we figured...it worked smoother this way.”
“Well it certainly makes me feel better but I am sorry for you my baby…”
Hearing him call you ‘baby’ melts your heart and you feel an almost physical longing for him. “I wish I had you in my bed John…”
“Not as much as I wish I was there (y/n). Listen...fuck..I gotta go but I’ll see when I get home…bye for now…”
“Bye…” you sadly end the call and drop back against the bed with a pathetic whimper.
You tell Santino you’re having an early night and take a bath in your en-suite, trying to relax. Your gaze falls on the shower and remember your accident, pondering how if you hadn’t fallen you’d never have met John.
You sing softly under your breath, a sad love song, thinking about him. He lifts your heart, makes you feel like your old and true self, makes you feel like there is hope life can change and get better. You know that you’re in deep but somehow you’re not afraid because of the best thing he does for you; he makes you feel you are truly lovable.
---------
You’re listening to soft music, checking for art gallery jobs when your phone flashes. It is John requesting to FaceTime with you and you smile. Answering, you are confronted with a close-up of dark stubble shot with specks of grey.
“It’s too close John…” you giggle fondly.
“Oh...sorry…” he pulls back and you can see him sitting on a brown leather sofa. He looks tired, but achingly gorgeous. A slightly rumpled grey t-shirt replacing his scrubs.
“You look good.” you say a little breathlessly.
He rubs a hand over his face “I doubt it. I had a long shift, and I was cut up about you leaving. Almost made a mess of some poor man’s stitches.”
You touch your forehead. John’s work on you was so delicate you’ve been left with only a tiny white mark the shape of crescent moon just beneath your hairline, and you’re finding you like the scar, it reminds you of him.
John watches you. His dark eyes running over your face properly, taking advantage of the chance the phone gives him. Maybe technology isn’t so bad after all, he thinks.
“You’re beautiful…” he tells you, and you see him blushing.
“John? I thought you were going to show me Dr ‘not a nice guy’” you tease him gently, touched by his softness.
He blushes even more. “Actually I was having a very ‘not nice guy’ thought.”
“What? Tell me…”
“I want to see more of you…”
Without hesitation you angle the phone downwards so he can see the top of your breasts. You’re wearing the lace nightdress he liked so much before and it covers very little of your skin. When you look back at the phone John is breathing hard, his broad chest rising and falling rapidly.
“I have a confession to make…” he pants.
You tilt your head. The sight of him getting turned on just from looking at you is making you feel like a vixen. You bite your lip. “You better tell me quick…”
“I….you know you couldn’t find your underwear in the supply closet? That’s cause I took them…”
“John!” you whimper, the thought scandalising you and turning you on at the same time. “Why? Why did you take them?”
John hangs his head but gives you puppy dog eyes. “I wanted to keep a part of you.”
He digs in his jeans and to your embarrassment pulls out your panties, bringing them to his nose and inhaling.
“I fucking love the way you smell…”
“...John…” you almost moan, the look in his eyes is hungry, lustful. Your sweet-natured doctor is sniffing your underwear, and it’s hotter than hell.
“I need you so much sweetheart…” he groans and you twist against your bed, your pussy throbbing in response.
“I need you too…”
You hear the sound of metal jangling, John is removing his belt. Your mouth goes dry. Even though you can’t see below his torso, you can imagine how hard he is.
“Touch yourself for me…” he commands in a low, soft voice, sounding just like he did when he was checking you over in the hospital, but this time, laced with sin.
“What do you mean?” you act dumb, stalling for a moment, stunned with lust, but worrying you will fall short of his expectations.
“As if I was touching you...please…”
You let your fingers skim the top of your cleavage, moving from your collarbone downwards, pushing aside the silk of your nightdress to expose your breasts. You see John lick his lips.
“Fuck sweetheart you’re so sexy….I love your breasts. Squeeze those pretty nipples for me…”
Your cheeks are on fire, but you’re soaking against your own sheets at his words, so you obey, hearing him hiss in response.
“Do you like that?” he asks, his voice shaking as he stares into the phone with such intensity you almost feel like he’s there with you.
“Yes John...they’re sensitive...but I wish it was you touching me…”
You keep your voice low, just in case Santino can hear you, but he’s in another part of the house far away, so you feel you are safe. John’s harsh breathing echoes in your ear and you wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is beating through the phone.
“I wish that too.” he says vehemently, “I want you so badly…”
He sounds almost in pain and in a rush of sympathy you move to undress so you’re completely naked. Your desire for him outstripping your shyness.
John gasps as you move the phone to show him your body and you hear him unzip his jeans. You remember the size of him, how big he was when you held him in your hand and you wish once again he was really there in your bed.
“Are you...pleasuring yourself John?” you ask, voice shaking with nervous craving and he nods, bringing your panties to his face as he strokes himself, watching you through the screen with dark eyes.
“You too….” he urges and you let your hand trail down your front and between your legs.
“How?” You want him to instruct you, to command you almost and you’re not sure where that desire came from.
“Pet that lovely little clit of yours...fuck it felt so good against my tongue…”
So it turns out John is amazing at phone sex.
“You were so wet, tasted so good, made me practically purr…”
“I remember…” you tell him, moving your fingers slowly at first, but speeding up as you see his own wrist moving faster, his face twisting with pleasure.
“Oh God...gorgeous please….put your fingers inside you...imagine they’re mine...”
You follow his instructions, whimpering at the image as well as in anguish at the fact your smaller fingers feel nothing like John’s lovely long, thick ones.
John is sweating, his head pushing back against the couch as he desperately tries to keep his eyes open and watch what you’re doing.
“How does it feel lovely? I remember you being so tight....”
You let out a tiny grunt of effort, trying to hold back your orgasm until he tells you. “It feels...oh if it was you...I wish it was you...”
“It will be me.” he groans passionately “I’m going to be inside you so soon...I promise...and it will be even more incredible than we can imagine...I can’t wait to make love to you....”
His words descend into groans and you pause in chasing your own orgasm to watch him. His face scrunched in ecstasy, the obscene sound of him jerking his cock, he blinks at you with eyes drugged with carnality, his mouth hanging open as he comes with your name on his lips.
You rub yourself, taking it all in, and even surprise yourself at the white hot pleasure that hits you suddenly as you reach your climax, your body arching off the bed, muffling your cries with your own hand.
John watches you, wishing he could record the scene somehow. When you both recover you exchange slightly shy but knowing smirks. You shared something intimate and you feel so close to him.
“John that was....so good...”
“I know....all my stress has just drained away...but I really have to just go collapse into bed now.”
You laugh fondly. “And my underwear?”
“I kinda messed them up I’m sorry...” he shifts awkwardly in his seat and you cover your face with shyness.
“Oh my god...John you didn’t...”
He grins then. “I’ll buy you more don’t worry.”
You roll your eyes. “I didn’t realise what a pervert my doctor was.”
“Again...only with you...” he confirms and your heart aches at his sincere expression.
“Sleep well doctor, you deserve it.”
“I just wish I could hold you...”
He’s starting to look melancholy so you shush him. “Soon, I promise, okay?”
John looks so hopeful, blowing kisses down the phone when you say goodbye. You turn your light off to sleep and wonder how the hell you're going to keep that promise.
#i haven't really checked this through so sorry#heal the pain#john wick x reader#john wick x you#thanks for reading#if anyone has thoughts at all you know what to do
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Can you do a scene where all four of them get in a really big argument with a fluffy ending? Plz?
When Percy woke up that morning, he knew it was going to be a bad day.
They had all gone out shopping the other night, no specific reason in particular but everyone had been working especially hard lately, they all agreed they needed some relaxation time. Only they didn’t get it. No, the universe instead gifted them with a group of particularly nasty empousai. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured but they all ended up coming back home tired, bruised and irritated to no end.
Clearly, the lack of sleep last night did not help that irritation dissipate.
When Percy walked into the kitchen, all three of his boyfriends were already awake and milling around the kitchen, looking more grumpy than the Grumpy Cat meme himself. Even Jason, who usually tried his best to hide any negative emotions due to his upbringing, was sitting at the table with his nose buried in the newspaper, bags under his eyes and his jaw clenched so tight that it almost looked painful. Percy grimaced and turned to look at Nico and Will, trying to have a silent conversation to see if they should do anything to help Jason, but neither was paying attention to him.
Will’s curls looked like a bird’s nest that had gone through a tropical storm and he was scowling down at some paperwork from…the infirmary? Was he going back to work already? Oh come on, they all agreed on no work until they got some proper relaxation time, Will seriously couldn’t think that their miserable shopping trip counted! They didn’t even get that cool shark onesie that Percy had been begging for! Percy looked over to Nico, hoping for at least some positive energy to help him make the others feel better but no such luck. Nico seemed to be the most upset out of them all, having retreated into one of his ‘I am the Mighty Ghost king!!! Touch me and you die!!!!!!’ moods. He stood by the coffee machine, practically glaring at it as if that would make it work faster. When he saw Nico finally take his cup of coffee and drink it pure black, without adding at least twenty sugar cubes like he usually did, Percy knew this day wouldn’t be easy for any of them.
Then Nico tried to retreat back to the bedroom with his cup, making Will look up and direct his scowl at him, and it all went downhill from there.
“Where are you going?”
“Bedroom.”
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?”
“No.“
"You need to eat, Nico! How do you expect to be healthy when you don’t even take basic care of your body?!”
“You need to stop being so fucking condescending, Will! I’m not a child anymore, don’t treat me like one!”
“If you want me to treat you like an adult then maybe you should act like one! I can’t help being condescending when you keep-”
“What the hell are you trying to say?!”
“The gods damn truth-"
"Oh, you pezzo di merda- ”
“Can you two please shut up?! I have a headache so for the love of Jupiter, don’t yell over stupid things. I swear you guys are more immature than the kids in my elementary class.” Jason growled out, putting his newspaper down with more force than Percy considered necessary and rubbed at his temples. Unfortunately, Nico’s defence mechanisms had already been triggered and Percy knew how he tended to lash out when they were. He moved forward to try and do damage control before anything else happened but Nico was already speaking, giving Jason a mocking bow.
“Oh forgive me, most noble Praetor, I didn’t realize that you were so above us, that we’re nothing more than annoying children to you."
"That’s not what I said-”
“Gods, can you not be fucking rude? He just said he has a headache-”
“Oh, so you’re on his side, huh? What is this, pick on Nico day?!"
Percy watched helplessly as his boyfriends dissolved into a pointless argument, hurling jabs and insults at each other without thinking twice. And everyone said he was the impulsive one. He knew he had to do something before anyone said anything that would actually be hurtful, so he stepped forward and slammed his palms down on the table, loud enough to grab their attention. He had to take a moment to strengthen his resolve when three pairs of angry eyes bored into him but he managed to stand his ground, trying his best to give them an easygoing smile.
"Guys, calm down for a moment and stop fighting. You’re all being idiots right now. Come on, let’s take a few deep breaths, make some blue pancakes-” He started, only to be cut off harshly by Jason.
“Blue- Percy can you stop thinking about your food for one minute?! You’re not helping if you don’t have any useful to say then just be quiet.” He hissed out and oh. That hurt. Percy knew he was oblivious, knew he could be too much of a goofball at times but he hated when people thought that meant he was stupid. That he couldn’t possibly have any smart or important ideas. He hated it. Jason knew that. They all knew that. He looked to Will and Nico for support but they were too busy brooding or glaring at the ground. He clenched his hands into fists and took a step back. He saw something flicker in Jason’s eyes as if he’d snapped out of whatever pissy trance he’d been in and was about to apologize but Percy was done.
“Fuck you guys. I’m leaving.” He spat out, before grabbing his coat and putting on his shoes, slamming the door behind him as he left.
When Percy left the house, he was fuming. He couldn’t believe how much his boyfriends were acting like utter jerks. So he decided to hell with them! If they thought he was so bad then so be it! He didn’t need them! He was even going to buy that shark onesie just to spite them! Ha! Take that Jason!
Then about an hour later, after mindlessly roaming the mall, Percy started to feel lonely. He was still upset about what happened, don’t get him wrong, but he also still loved his boyfriends. The entire fight had just been a bunch of misdirected stress, none of them had meant anything they said. At this point, it would be silly to hold a grudge against what happened. Plus Percy wanted cuddles. So he went home.
The sight that greeted him at home was one that he was expecting. His boyfriends all curled up on opposite sides of the living room; Jason sitting on the armchair with his head in his hands, Will curled up with his knees to his chest on the loveseat while Nico was on the couch, wrapped in a burrito of blankets. He couldn’t see Jason’s face but Will and Nico’s eyes were red and puffy. Percy’s heart hurt seeing them like that, knowing they had been crying so he took it upon himself to lighten the mood, stepping forward and clearing his throat.
Three pairs of sad eyes looked at him in surprise. Jason’s were red-rimmed as well and Percy’s urge to comfort swelled up even more so he spoke.
“Alright well…I was doing a lot of thinking while I was out and I realized I didn’t need to listen to you guys so I’ve decided to screw this-” He started, only to be cut off by a loud wail, Nico practically shooting out of his blanket burrito and latching himself around Percy’s waist as he burst into tears.
“No! No no, Percy, please! I’m sorry, please don’t leave us, Percy, I love you, you can’t-” Nico practically begged, starting to shake with how hard he was crying. Percy stared at him in shock, looking over at Jason and Will to see if they knew what was going on. Only to see Will look like he had been struck speechless, his eyes quickly filling with tears while Jason was standing now, his expression horrified before it turned desperately pleading, reaching out a trembling hand towards Percy who was now glancing around at all three of them with growing alarm. He thought back over his words to try and figure out what he had said, before realizing he had made it sound like he was breaking up with them. Oops.
“No! No, no no no, I’m not breaking up with you guys! Don’t worry! I meant I didn’t have to listen to you guys yesterday! When we were shopping!” He gently pushed Nico away a bit so he could show them the shopping bag he’d hidden behind his back. Then he fumbled a bit with the plastic before revealing the shark onesie in all its glory. “See?! Shark onesie!” He explained hurriedly.
The three of them stared at the onesie in disbelief. Then Will slumped into the cushions in relief, Jason managing a fond, albeit shaky smile while Nico burst into some sort of sobbing laughter, very insistently tugging Percy down onto the couch and snuggling close to him. Jason and Will joined them as well, the four of them smushing together into one big cuddle pile.
There was a lot of touching, they all had the overwhelming need to make sure that everyone was there. Apologies were whispered, nobody wanting the others to take their past words to heart. When Nico nestled his face into the crook of his neck, Percy held him tightly. When Will moved to lay across all three of their laps, Percy ran his fingers through his hair. When Jason pressed a kiss to the top of his head, Percy leaned into him and kissed his cheek.
He knew they would have to have a proper talk about this later. They always agreed to talk about what went wrong during their fights since it never helped them to sweep everything under the rug. It allowed too many doubts and insecurities to fester that way.
But right now, Percy was more than content to just be there with his shark onesie, his cuddles and his three beautiful boyfriends. They were going to be okay.
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The Review You Deserve: The Avengers: Infinity War
Infinity War? More like Infinity Bore!
[searches for high-fives]
[finds none]
Okay, that’s harder than Infinity War deserves. It wasn’t boring. That’s a positive that I can give it. But let’s face it, I saw it once, and that’s all I needed. In short: Infinity War was . . . better at doing particular aspects, but, overall, was on the same level as the lowest-common-denominator Marvel film out there.
Spoilers ahead . . .
Infinity War isn’t a single film, but three or four separate films stitched together by a single theme: how all these heroes tried to stop Thanos, and failed. Or, really. it’s a film antholgy trimmed down to a single Abridged movie.
The plot for Infinity War is simple: Thanos wants the infinity gems (or “stones,” as they’re called in the movie-verse) because there are too many people in the universe, and there needs to be a culling. This is the motivations of an insane person driven as such by past tragedies, but because this is Disney, we get all of this in exposition and are informed that he is a “tragic villain” through monologues over sad violins.
(Tangent: Loki was a great villain because the writers and director of Thor understood Shakespeare! You, Disney, do not! Fucking stop it!)
The heroes need to stop Thanos because they’re told that he wants the Infinity Stones for “Bad Things.” Well, that’s the surface-level reason. For the most part though, the heroes all find a reason to want to stop Thanos for personal reasons: Tony, because Thanos caused his PSD; Gamora, because he adopted her after slaughtering half her planet.
We start the story with Generic Uber-Bad’s Generals and Thanos, having just killed all of the surviving Asgardians, trying to get Infinity Stones from Thor and Loki . . . and in the most clumsy of sequences, they do. But they didn’t get them all, and with his final breath, Heimdall sends Hulk back to Earth (leaving Thor, Loki, and the Tesseract – the one thing Thanos was killing your people for – behind, because that totally makes sense as a dying gesture.)
Thanos then kills Loki after getting the Tesseract, and blows up the Asgardian ship and, supposedly, Thor with them. (Though don’t worry, he manages to survive the vacuum of space for just long enough – that being at least a few hours, if not days – to be saved by the Guardians of the Galaxy.)
Hulk lands, conveniently, in the Sanctum Sanctorum, where he warns Doctor Strange of what’s going on. That’s when Thanos’ minions show up to get the Time Gem –
– which happens to be when Tony Stark is giving his heart-felt Two Weeks to Retirement speech. Spidey happened to be friendly in the neighborhood too, and the three of them wind up on the Minion Ship when Strange is kidnapped.
Later, the remaining minions try to get to Vision when and his mind gem while he’s with Scarlet Witch (because Bulma Briefs invented frikin’ Infinity Stone Scouters for them, apparently?) but get thwarted by Captain America, Falcon, and Black Widow (the *most powerful* Avengers out there.) They convene at Avenger Compound, where Bruce Banner is waiting with Rhodes (because that makes sense?)
Meanwhile, Thor tells the Guardians “Thanks, but fuck off” and, with Groot and Rocket Raccoon to forge a new hammer, while the rest go off elsewhere.
Then we start following the segments:
Section 1: Peter Quill and the remaining Guardians try to stop Thanos themselves before he can get the stone from The Collector.
Section 2: Thor, Rocket, and Groot try to forge Mjolnir 2.0.
Section 3: Earth tries to protect the Infinity Stones that they have.
Section 4: Iron Man, Spider-Man, and Doctor Strange try to take the fight to Thanos.
Spoilers: They all fail. In some cases, for the most spectacularly dumb reasons imaginable.
Double-Spoilers: This is the first part in a two-parter, so guess who doesn’t beat the bad-guy in his goal to destroy half the life in the universe.
The film had potential. That Disney still refuses to get any real red blood on its hands is a small reason why it failed. The real reason it failed is because so many decisions were made not because they were logical to the characters or to the moment, but because they had to happen so the story could reach the next plot point. SO much of the story could’ve been solved if someone had just pulled the trigger when they had the chance! And you can’t use the whole “Well, they’re super heroes, so they have rules against killing . . . “ NO! Every one of these cretins has killed, whether blatantly or indirectly. But they had to be frikin’ idiots, because otherwise Thanos would’ve been stopped not even forty-five minutes into the movie!
And I don’t get it! I don’t get why, in a two-and-a-half hour film, you can’t dedicate at least ten minutes to show what could have been so bad in Thanos’ past that he would think wiping out half the life in the universe is a good thing, rather than have him tell us in almost five separate fucking monologues? Fucking five?! It creates a greater emotional connection for the audience when we get to feel that moment once and at the same time as the character. They obviously knew this, because they fucking showed that tender moment when Thanos kidnapped Gamora as a kid so she wouldn’t be slaughtered by his own kill-squad! Otherwise, we might not have cared as much when he threw her off a cliff so he could get the Soul Stone! See! THAT made us feel for Thanos! That worked! We got why Thanos was crying, and why he kept being choked up through the film about her death, because we were there when he found her as a kid! Wouldn’t it have been nice to have that same goddamn moment instead of him saying why he thought killing half the universe would be something good for everyone?
And of course – of course – Disney can’t let a somber moment be somber! “Oh, hi Thor! You just saw your brother be strangled in front of your eyes and your entire people slaughtered? Well, let’s have a goof-off with Peter Quill and you constantly call Rocket Raccoon a rabbit! Isn’t that great!” Or how about half the Earth population being dusted like in Buffy in the worst tragedy ever, but have Samuel L. Jackson almost get off a trademark Muthafukka? Wakka wakka fart joke!
It’s called “timing!” you repugnant rodent! Learn it!
We, the fan boys, got a bit of what we wanted. We got to see Thor with the Guardians of the Galaxy. We got to see man-child Peter Quill geek a bit with child-man Peter Parker. We had a snark-off between Stark and Strange. We got to see Robert Downey Junior phone-in impotence jokes at the expense of Bruce Banner-nee’-Hulk in a moment that shouldn’t have had jokes because Jesus Christ movie just let us have a serious moment here! But so much of the film’s progression necessitated everyone either taking a free-action to explain everything to us or to act completely out of character! Spoiler Alert: Nice job fucking things up, Andy Dwyer! Your plan to save the Universe was perfect except the part that involved you!
The directing was passable, but barely. The action scenes were cluttered at times, but for the most part, not as messy as they could’ve been. But overall, that’s all the directing was: passable. No scene passed along any sort of emotional weight, nor hinted at anything deeper than they were expressing. Even the harder moments, up until the end, didn’t hit. For example: When Gamora died . . . I felt nothing. There was no emotional impact. Thanos threw her off, we saw how sad it made Thanos . . . and then the corpse. Mufasa had a better fall-death! Hell, Inspector Javert had a better fall-death!
Also, the ending . . . which was just that: an ending. Which, I get it, it's how the comic book The Infinity Gauntlet ended. Good job, writers, you read a trade paperback! It gave no indication that there was going to be anything coming, like with Empire Strikes Back. It was just . . . and end. A "Fuck You." (And no, post-credits don't count! They never count! Stingers are post-sex cuddling!)
Now, there were a LOT of clever misdirects that kept things interesting: the reveal of Gamora’s Swiss Army Knife, which everyone in the audience was made to believe was going to be used to kill Thanos, but wound up ultimately being used as a set-up to failure, being one of the better ones. There were nice touches! And some of the parts that set up Person A being on the Infinity Kill List, but only to show that it was Person B or Person C instead, were nicely done.
But I don’t care. Because I know that these deaths are all going to be undone in the second part. In a universe where everyone can and has come back to life (coughcoughGrootcoughcoughColsoncoughcough) all of these dustings have as much impact as any comic book death or pro wrestler retirement. Plus, they didn’t kill any of the A-listers. All of the original Avengers made it to the end. Only the Second Wavers bit it.
People will say that Disney took a risk with this one. This won’t be true. Every person who died will be brought back. All the consequences will be reverted. Timey-wimey will save the day. And thanks to the Magic Space Beeper which Nick Fury apparently had the whole fucking time, we will now have our new Captain Mary Sue to come and save our day soon. (Which honestly pissed me off most: if you had a magic space beeper that could summon a space Captain Marvel to come save anyone at any time, why didn’t you use that in the first Avengers film, Fury?! And even if she did show up, what the Hell could she do now? Spin the Earth in reverse faster than the speed of light, and turn back time twenty-four hours?! Thanos won! You’re dusted! Game over, man!)
I’d say the only parts of this film worth watching are the fights, but even then, that’s only on occasion. Again, so much of the action depended on contrivance (“Oh no, his space weapon somehow prevents me from phasing, especially in this scene where I’m not being attacked! Thank god Black Widow is strong enough to block it with her not-super strength, which I have, and with her weapons made of regular material, and not from Vibranium, which is the unbreakable material that I’m made from!”) that I kept expecting Thanos to reveal that he had fabricated the events from Reality Stone out of bored curiosity the whole time.
And what the Hell, Disney? You own Industrial Lights and Magic, one of only two special effects studios in Hollywood! So why do you keep phoning in the CG? Seriously, the fight between Thanos and Hulk looked like something out of a first-generation World of Warcraft cinematic! And I can’t be the only one who noticed how obviously rotoscoped Bruce Banner was in the Hulkbuster armor at the end! Vaporwave videos had less shifting! And don’t tell me “Look at how awesome they made Thanos in all the close-ups!” because that’s just proof of what they can do when they decide to do it, the lazy assholes!
Infinity War is typical Disney, which is now synonymous with glitter-rolled bullshit! There are parts which are worth paying attention to, but is, on whole, worth ignoring. The motivations were superficial; the drama was lip-service; the characters had almost no consistency; and nobody in the audience seemed to care, because that’s what we’ve come to expect from the studio that brought us Dog with a Blog.
Final Score
Rating: 5.5/10
Xowie: 2
Half-Life: 15 months
Nelson Ranking: Laundry Film
Tom Upside
- Up until the end, Thanos, himself, only kills two people. And one of those people he kills is technically a villain. Now somebody go back and confirm this, because this film is too bullshit for me to care.
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So I watched Netflix’s Deathnote
If this was an original idea with no previous source material, I’d kind of shrug it off, be sad they didn’t incorporate more of the themes that they had hinted at (rather than shove it in your face). But this had a manga series as well as an animated series to draw from, but failed to capture those running themes.
I understand why they made us want to feel sorry for Light Turner, but I think it undermines the idea that a privileged teen with no qualms in his own life, took it upon himself to rid the world of evil and curse himself and everyone around him. Light Yagami’s home life was a perfect nuclear family, his parents were kind and supportive, and he was exceptional at school. We feel bad for Turner because a tragic parental death and some highschool bullying paint him as an underdog to sympathize with. Of course if you were in his situation you’d feel justified using the Deathnote. But that wasn’t the point. The Deathnote represents what happens when a person it presents with unpresidented power, and almost no consequences. The madness it brings with it.
It almost felt as if Light Yagami had his personality split and one half been give to Mia. I admit it made her more interesting, but without Turner having his sociopathic drive to use everyone around him as game pieces, it turned into two dumb teens who have no idea what they’re doing.
And Turner was not a genius! I’ll admit, the end sequence that Turner set up to save his own life was clever, but I wanted to see him use MORE of that. More complex thinking in an attempt to out maneuver L. More layers to his misdirection in an attempt to though everyone off his trail. And more critical thinking rather in blaming Ryuk for deaths he didn’t write because LOVE IT BLINDNESS :D
I get that the movie wasn’t even an hour and a half long. But that’s why establishing themes are so important! If they were really pressed for time, I know they could have cut cheerleading practice short and left out Ryuk fucking put a perfectly good class room (so many papers on the ground, don’t they have paper shortages anymore?)
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