#even put up a memorial for her after she died. Plus I would argue she never really counted as Bruce's kid at all. they've never seen
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DEAREST HEART-LETTER TWO
Whooo, goodness!! I spooked myself after writing the first letter. There is a dog next door to my house and she likes to stare out towards the back "alley way" and one night while I was showering by candlelight (blinds still aren't fixed) she wouldn't stop staring out at the alley way. My azz was spooked lol. That being said, here is another "letter" from Mr. Kal El himself. Enjoy curvies MMMMMMwwwaahhhhhhh!!!!
Dark Clark Kent x Plus Size Reader
Warnings: Stalking (This chapter is pretty tame)
A few days later, the whole situation had hidden itself in your brain. You had so much going on in your waking life, you really didn't have time to dwell on a possible prank. Your birthday had arrived and you really weren't feeling too thrilled about it. Your depression just had to spike up and ruin the one day you thought you would enjoy, but you didn't even get to stress about it for long. You'd stepped into your office to boot up your computer for the day, and you saw it. On your desk was a letter, same vintage parchment, but his time it had an Aster instead of a Rose. You stared at it for so long, wondering if you should read it or not. You finally sat down and pulled the letter out of the envelope to see what he had to say.
Happy Birthday Little One,
I wish so badly that I could show you the best birthday you've ever had, but that will have to wait. I know you're not looking forward to today. I've noticed you haven't mentioned it much, and you almost forgot. How do you forget your birthday silly girl? I have purchased a gift every year since we met, I can't wait until I'm able to give them to you and you can unwrap each and everyone as if it were Christmas. Why haven't you planned anything? Not even a free day for yourself, what's going on? I wish you would talk to me. I want so badly to help you get better, but its a one day at a time deal. I was there you know, when you almost died? I was there the night you called your husband and told him the truth about how bad you felt. I swear it was the scariest night of my life when the surgeon walked in and told you they were putting you in an induced state for a week. All I could think was, what if you didn't wake up, or what if they did something wrong? What if they hurt you more or caused a bad reaction. I have seen a lot of things, but I have never been so sad and afraid to lose someone like you. I watched over you every night, making sure you'd come back to me and the baby. Well, you know what I mean. I know that's been rough on you, but you are making great progress. I remember you saying you'd like to change your hair, would you like for me to set up your appointment? I think you'd look delicious with cherry red hair, just don't cut it please. I love your hair. I love everything about you. I know you don't remember, but the moment our eyes met, I couldn't get you out of my head. I tried, I swear I tried so hard to stay away. I'd go for walks at night to clear my head and try not to think of you, and I'd find myself further and further away from home. It has to be fate that wants us together, because there you were, pulling in from work one night. I watched you sit there blaring your music, trying to finish the song before you went inside. I knew you right away, I had never been so....I can't describe how it felt, it was overwhelming. It had to be love that outweighed the hurt, even your "husband" walked out to greet you, it just couldn't overshadow what my heart felt. I told myself that I loved you enough to let you be happy, and I did for awhile. Not one day or night went by where you didn't cross my mind, so I decided to whisk by and take a picture of you, just for memory of the woman I couldn't have. One picture turned to two, two turned to ten. I had to get the perfect angle, but the only perfect angle is up close, in person; like I said I did try. I wish I could take you out for your birthday. I'd cook for us and we'd go down by the river, or I could take you somewhere 5 star. I know its really not your thing, but you deserve to be served like a queen. You are a queen to me. I dreamed about you, I dream about you all the time, but this one was different. It scared me so much, I woke in cold sweat. I can't bear to think about it now, but I know it was just a stupid dream. I will have to go out of the country for awhile, but I promise to still write as often as I can. I love you, so much.
With All My Heart and Soul,
Kal-El
"Babe!!! Babe, I need to tell you something." You said scared senseless. You rushed to your husband, showing him the letters and explained that you thought it was a sick prank. Your husband immediately called the police. He packed you all up and as much as he hated it, you all went to stay with your mom.
That night while you were up talking to your mom, she leaned back and asked you something insane.
"Is that really another man's baby?" she asked seriously.
"NO! I don't even know who this is, I swear I don't know a Kal-El. I've never met anyone like that in all my life." You whisper screamed at her as you struggled to hold back tears. She stared into your eyes for a moment before sighing heavily. Before you knew it she was crying and hugging your neck so tight you couldn't breathe.
"After all you've been through, this was the last thing you needed. I've always told you to be careful and watch your surroundings." She fussed.
"Ma I did, but I don't ever go anywhere. I stay in the house most of the time and I'm always with my family." You couldn't help but feel as if you were being attacked.
"You never know who is watching you." She argued back.
"Ma, look at me." You said standing back opening your arms to show your full body. "All these years I've worked hard to feel comfortable in my own skin. It took me a long time to feel fully comfortable around my own husband. All of these years you guys have trashed me for my weight, the times you all have told me that I get different treatment for my size, there was no way in this world I could've ever imagined that I would get stalked by-by this Kal-El fucker!" You yelled as tears flowed down your face, you could even feel your face strain in anger. "Now this is happening, and I should've been watching my surroundings. You drilled in my head for years that people looked past me for you and everyone else. You drilled in my head that people would only want me to use me, YOU DRILLED IN MY HEAD THAT I NEVER HAD THE LOOK TO MAKE IT OUT HERE, SO NOW HERE WE ARE WITH A MANIAC THAT SOMEHOW MANAGED TO FIND ME THAT I DON'T EVEN KNOW OR HAVE ANY CLUE AS TO WHAT THIS GUY LOOKS LIKE AND I SHOULD'VE BEEN WATCHING MY SURROUNDINGS!?" Your head felt like it was on fire, then all at once stars appeared and you lost vision.
When you woke up you were laying on the floor with a jacket under your neck as your mom and family (that she had called) stood around trying to get you to come back to. You tried sitting up, but only felt dizzier. Your hands and feet felt numb and you were shaking as sweat poured off of your body. Your husband sat by you, fanning you and giving you water. When you began to feel better, he helped you up and over to the couch. He asked everyone to leave you alone and not upset you anymore.
"Baby what do you want to do? How can I make you feel safe?" Your husband asked.
You stared deep in his eyes and remembered why you loved him so much. He always went out of his way to make sure you were happy. You thought back to not so pleasant days when you both argued and said mean things and your realized then and there how much you took him for granted sometimes. Before you knew it the flood gates released and you sobbed.
"Can you just hold me please?" You asked in a small pitiful voice.
"I will always hold you and be there for you baby. I love you. We will get through this together, like we always do."
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The Worst Wingman - Tiger’s Eye and Gold
(Chapter 2 / 3)
Jean x Reader
Word Count: 5.6k
Previous Chapter
Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, Implied sex
Summary: Jean sucks at picking blind dates for you, but at least he’s trying. After one final attempt at finding love at the hands of Jean, he goes on a double date with you and the newest boy he’s thrown onto you. The boy is everything you never knew you needed, and Jean has to push down his growing feelings at the idea of you being happy without him.
Notes: I am not shitting on polpette di cavallo or the consumption of horse meat in general, I understand that it is a popular Italian dish and I was only mocking my ignorance towards the subject! (Plus, I thought it��d be funny to make a horse joke in a Jean x Reader)
Second Saturday
The night air wasn’t chilly, but you stayed by Jean’s side nonetheless. You pressed against his arm, using his body heat to keep yourself warm. And, Jean didn’t mind the close company - he actually liked it when you got close to him, it was the same reason he cuddled with you so often.
You and Jean stood outside of an unfamiliar restaurant, waiting for the last two people of the party to show up and to inform the hostess of their reservation. You normally hated double dates because the other couple always seemed to have more fun than you. But, you felt safe by Jean’s side, you knew he’d go as far as blatantly ignoring his date if it meant he got to have one conversation with you. Maybe that was selfish to think, but you didn’t mind, you’d probably never use him anyways - only keeping him as plan B in a worst case scenario.
But, you surprisingly had faith. Maybe - just maybe - this date will be your last one in a very long time. Maybe you would fall in love with this football player. Maybe you’d marry him and eventually start a family. Maybe you’d make sure to visit this same restaurant every anniversary - a physical monument of where your love had sprouted.
And then, as the years ticked by in your relationship, maybe you’d find yourselves growing sick of each other. Maybe you’d come home early from work and find him fucking his secretary over his desk in his home office. Maybe you’d stay with him, but only for the kids. Maybe - just maybe - you’d be able to ignore the whole affair just to pretend you love him for a few more years until your eventual death.
Oh God, love was exhausting - even to think about. And, it always seemed to end in pain, no matter how in love the couple seemed to be once upon a time.
It was hard to ignore the facts, and the inevitable ending to all things good. It was hard to ignore the over 50% of people who got divorced each year. And, it was hard to pretend you were more deserving of a lifelong fantastic marriage full of love and laughter just because-
“What are you thinking about?” Jean asked with a giggle.
You looked up at the boy, your eyebrows furrowed, “Huh?”
Jean smiled wide, “You look like you’re going to be sick.” He looked around quickly, taking in the sight of the other couples also waiting for a table inside. “Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine and forget this entire night was supposed to happen.”
“No,” You said quickly, “I want to meet him. You went through so much work to convince him to go on this date, why would I throw that away so easily?”
“Not really.” Jean frowned lightly as he looked past you, clearly reliving memories in his head, “I didn’t really do anything, actually.”
It was true, all Jean had to do was show the football player a picture of you and he was in. Jean had started the conversation by asking the football player’s schedule for the next weekend and if he was free for a date that Saturday. At first, the boy continuously refused any date, saying he needed the day to practice before the next game, but Jean showed the boy a picture instead of arguing with his words.
The football player fell completely silent, staring at Jean’s phone with widened eyes. It was hard to say no to a date with you - to put it simply, you were a goddess. The football player continued to stare at the picture of you, taken last Halloween when you and Jean had dressed as a witch and her black cat familiar; you being the witch and Jean being your cat. It was Jean’s favorite picture of you because you showed your candid smile as you laughed at one of Jean’s jokes, instead of your fake smile you saved for pictures.
The football player quickly agreed to the date after seeing the picture. He gave Jean his number, urging Jean to text him the time and place. He’d be there, the football player promised, he wouldn’t miss it for the world.
“Sure,” You said sarcastically, “I’m sure you had to promise him a month’s supply of-” You took a moment to remember what football players liked other than football- “Steroids.”
“Seriously?” Jean asked with a laugh, “Keep the steroids jokes to a minimum when he shows up, okay?” Jean furrowed his eyebrows. “Actually, don’t mention steroids at all when he gets here.”
You sighed, “If it’s any consolation, I was going to say protein powder.” You turned to Jean, slightly tilting your head. “Can I make protein powder jokes when he’s here?”
Jean frowned at you, “I guess-”
“And,” You added with a grin, “Can I make shoulder pad jokes?”
“I suppose-”
“And, can I make football field jokes? Or, is that too much as well?”
“Okay,” Jean said as he threw an arm around your shoulders, “I see what you’re doing.” Jean shoved your face into his chest which had always been his favorite way to shut you up. You inhaled the familiar scent of his clothes, and the unfamiliar scent of a new cologne he wore specifically for this date. “You’re such a smart ass.”
You pushed your head out from between his chest and arm, “You’re ruining my hair, you bastard!”
Jean laughed as he pulled you closer to him, “It still looks great, don’t worry about it.”
“Hey, Jean,” A new voice said from only a few feet away, “And-”
Jean pushed you from his body, allowing you to extend a single hand in the blonde boy’s direction, “Hi, it’s lovely to meet you.” You told the boy your name before he finally introduced himself.
The boy shook your hand with a strong grasp, “I’m Reiner-”
“And, I’m Pieck,” A black haired girl said as she poked her head out from behind Reiner’s broad back. The girl stood in front of Jean and smiled up at him, “And, I suppose you’re my date. Unless she is-” Pieck glanced at you- “Which I’m more than okay with as well.”
“No,” Jean said quickly, “I am.”
“Awesome,” Pieck said with a smile, “Is there a table being readied for us inside or-”
“I have a reservation,” Reiner said, “The table should’ve been readied about ten minutes ago, when we were supposed to be here - Pieck - if you didn’t take an hour just to pick a dress.”
Pieck smiled wide though her words were drenched in venom, “I thought you said you’d stop mentioning that once we got here, Reiner.” Pieck turned to her friend with a tilt of her head. “Am I correct?”
Reiner’s face dropped as well as his stomach, “Of course, I’m sorry, Pieck.”
“So,” Jean said to fill the new silence that had settled, “You all think we should head inside now?”
“Yes!” Pieck said as she ran to Jean’s side, sliding her arm around his and pulling him off towards the front doors of the restaurant. You couldn’t help but pout at their backs as they walked off, noticing how close they immediately got with each other and even the new smile plastered across Jean’s face.
“And,” A gentle voice said suddenly from your left, “‘You ready to head inside as well?”
You looked at the boy by your side and took in the sight of his arm thrusted in your direction. His arm was thick, as much as a football player’s arm is supposed to be. And - if you looked close enough - you could see where his muscle was bulging beneath the fabric of his button down shirt and where the veins of his arms were protruding from within his skin.
You walked inside the restaurant by Reiner’s side, intertwining your arm with his. He talked briefly with the hostess at the entrance, and then walked with you as the group was led to a large table in the back. The table was sensually dimmed and if you were here with only one person, you were sure you would end the night in their arms - the atmosphere was enough to cause your heart rate to accelerate and butterflies to flutter around in your stomach.
You took the seat across from your date, and Pieck quickly took the seat to your right. The night started slowly, a light stream of conversation amongst the four of you. You talked about the general information of each person; their college major, their hobbies, their living situations, their weekend plans, and anything else someone could think of in the heat of the moment.
The night was going swimmingly, you ordered the white wine and a dish going by the name of polpette di cavallo which you hadn’t given much thought to before ordering. It was a smaller dish than what you were originally expecting, a white porcelain plate with a mysterious brown substance surrounding three meatballs.
You pushed your fork and knife through the slightly charred meat, cutting the balls into consumable pieces. You continued to talk with the group and - more specifically - Reiner. You found out more about the boy you were on the date with, from his personal life to his football career to his plans after college.
He was sweet, he was funny, and he always gave you time to speak - continuously asking you questions about yourself.
But, unfortunately for him, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jean. He talked with Pieck to your right, and you couldn’t help but listen to every word exchanged between the two. Even going as far as cutting into their conversation a few times and answering a question clearly directed at Jean.
“And then,” You said in response to Pieck’s question, “Jean went back to the party to pick Connie up because he finally realized he left him behind!”
Pieck giggled loudly, “That’s amazing!” She completely turned in her seat, now facing you instead of her date. “Then, what happened?”
You leaned closer to the girl, “Then, he called and begged me to meet him at the party.” You grinned wider. “Because, he didn’t want to leave again after going back.”
Pieck quickly turned back to Jean, “Why didn’t you want to leave? Even after Sasha threw that drink in your face?” Pieck then looked back at you. “And, why did he call you to come to the party as well?”
You furrowed your eyebrows at Pieck, “I’m actually not sure-”
Jean shrugged lightly, “I just- I wanted another beer and I needed somebody to drive me home afterwards.”
You turned your gaze to Jean, your eyes lit with a new fury. That was why he called you that night? For a damn ride, not even for your company? It was always strange to you how Jean could be so casually cruel. He’d speak before thinking and end up breaking a piece of your heart without noticing - and he did it frequently.
“Seriously,” The word was drenched in hurt as you shouted it across the table at Jean, “That’s seriously all you called me for? You just wanted a ride, Kirstein?”
Jean scratched the back of his neck, “I know you don’t really like drinking so I wasn’t worried about you getting drunk-”
“What do you mean I don’t like drinking?” You thrusted your hand towards your half-full glass of white wine. “I drink all of the time, I’m a real maniac.”
Jean smiled, “Oh, you’re crazy-” Jean leaned on the table, coming closer to you- “I mean, you really are a maniac - How can you possibly slowly sip white wine at an Italian restaurant?”
And, as quickly as Jean could upset you and break your heart, he could just as quickly mend your broken parts.
You bit your lip to hide your new smile, “I can go crazy-” You leaned towards Jean as well- “Sometimes, I sip from your beers and then I immediately regret it because it’s gross.”
“Oh,” Jean giggled with the word, “You’re wild.”
It was like time had stopped completely - which seemed to happen a lot when around Jean. You were sure it was because he was too beautiful not to stare at, and Father Time helped you by stopping everything altogether. Or, you thought the effect of time stopping was purely psychological considering how deeply you knew the boy. But, whatever the reason, time stopped nonetheless.
You sat motionless, only looking into Jean’s eyes - a color reminding you of a tiger's eye crystal. And - like a tiger’s eye crystal - Jean seemed to radiate confidence and strength, and gave you an unknown balance to your own being. Jean was your second half, a part of you that you hadn’t known was missing. He was like the second half of an undone puzzle or-
“How’s your-” Reiner said, suddenly breaking the moment between you and Jean- “Your- uh, po- polpette-”
“Polpette di cavallo,” Pieck finished Reiner’s sentence for him.
Reiner nodded briskly, “That.” He smiled wide at you. “How is that?”
“It’s good,” You said as you scanned the plate in front of you, “It’s very thick, I think they used a different part of the cow than what I’m used to.” You glanced at the three faces watching you intently. “Maybe the stomach? I don’t know what part they use for hamburgers, I don’t really like thinking about it.”
Pieck giggled and pushed your shoulder lightly, “You’re kidding, right?”
You widened your eyes at the girl, “Oh, is it not the stomach?” You cleared your throat. “Then, the- the thighs?”
“No, silly,” Pieck said with a smile, “That’s not beef-” Pieck thrusted at the meat still sitting on the plate in front of you- “That’s chavelin.”
You gave Pieck a blank face, “Chave- what?”
“Chavelin.” Pieck tilted her head at you. “You know, horse meat?”
Suddenly, the chavelin was making another entrance, just this time coming back up. You smashed a hand over your mouth as the horse meat mingled with your stomach acid, begging to be back on the plate in front of you. You made quick eyes around the table; first at Pieck who was rubbing your shoulder soothingly and asking what was wrong, then to Reiner who was leaning across the table with wide eyes, and then to Jean who was already standing, gesturing you towards the bathroom.
Jean, sweet Jean, you felt strangely guilty for consuming the meat but - oddly enough - he didn’t seem to mind. At least, he didn’t look like he minded as you ran off towards the bathroom, your high heels clicking quickly against the fancy tiles of the Italian restaurant.
You swung the bathroom door open, ignoring the cringeworthy smash that erupted through the room once the door hit the wall behind it. There were other women in the bathroom, but you ignored them as you made your way to the first open stall you could find. The women watched curiously as you fell to your knees in front of the toilet, threatening to throw up the food you had so mindlessly eaten for the last hour and a half.
Nothing came out though, only a few breathless burps into the toilet bowl. You sat there for a few minutes longer than you needed to, sitting against the marble-tiled wall beside the toilet. You pressed your face against the tiles lightly, letting the coolness calm down your sweating skin.
“This is the women’s restroom,” A woman’s voice said from beside the sink.
“I’m sorry,” A familiar voice said back, “I’m just here checking up on somebody. She got sick, I’m here to-”
You lightly pushed the bathroom stall open, leaning against the edge of the door. You smiled weakly at Jean, standing with two middle-aged women who you remembered briefly from when you ran in here. He seemed to be aggressively convincing them of his honesty, swinging his arms around ferociously with his words. And upon seeing you standing in the doorway, the women finally believed him and didn’t try stopping him any further.
“Hi,” You said delicately from across the few feet separating you and Jean, “This is the women’s restroom, what are you doing in here?”
Jean bit back his smile, “I thought you might want some company.” Jean crossed the steps between you, now only a few inches away. “Nobody deserves to puke alone.”
You lightly pushed Jean’s shoulder with a giggle, “You’re ridiculous, but thank you-” You turned around and opened your arms to the inside of the empty bathroom stall- “And, welcome to my humble abode.”
“Oh,” Jean said with a smile, “I like what you did with the place.”
You grinned, “Thank you, I just got done with renovations, so I appreciate that.”
“And,” Jean quickly added as he pointed towards the lone sink in the corner, “The kitchen area looks very nice.”
You shrugged, “I tried to go for something a bit more modern and minimalistic.”
Jean breathlessly giggled by your side, “Well, you succeeded.”
Jean let you take the first seat, watching as you found your spot beside the toilet with the side of your face against the tiled wall. Jean then joined you on the floor, sitting by your side and pressing the side of his face against the tiled wall, but only so he could make eye contact with you.
The bathroom got silent a minute after Jean joined you in the stall. You supposed the other women were either staying quiet in order to eavesdrop or left to return to their dinners. Either way - you didn’t care if the women were there or not - you were going to talk to Jean freely in your secret space.
You weren’t sure why the bathroom now felt sacred to you. It wasn’t at the end of the Labyrinth for only the worthy to find. Instead, it was a bathroom in an Italian restaurant with a purely Italian menu that you should have used Google Translate for. But, it felt like you and Jean’s secret space, a place where you two could always find each other and could spend the rest of eternity together. Nothing bad happened within these stall walls, and nobody was eating horse meat for the past hour and a half within these stall walls.
“Do you remember when we first met?” Jean suddenly asked in an attempt to fill the comfortable silence in the bathroom.
You nodded lightly, “Yeah, of course I do.”
You had met Jean at a house party freshman year of college. You were invited since your roommate at the time was sleeping with the home-owner which happened to be one of Jean’s closest friends. And - ironically - you met Jean on the bathroom floor in that house at that fateful party nearly two years ago. It was strange how things went full circle.
Jean leaned his shoulder into your own, “Do you remember why we even started talking that night?”
You grinned to yourself, “Yeah, I do.”
You only started talking to Jean that night because you found him crying on the floor of the bathroom when you went to find your roommate. He was tipsy and had just seen his ex-girlfriend - who he was clearly not over - downstairs, dancing with another man. You had a bag of popcorn that your roommate begged you to make for her, but you instead offered it to Jean and joined him on the bathroom floor.
Jean tilted his head towards you, “Do you remember what you said to me?”
You looked into Jean’s eyes through your thick eyelashes, “Yes, I remember.”
While sitting on the bathroom floor together, Jean ranted to you about his ex-girlfriend and even the new guy she was dancing with. You heard about why they broke up, who she moved onto, and why he couldn’t bring himself to move on. You then leaned into his side on that bathroom floor, whispering one phrase you had been telling yourself for years.
Jean smiled to himself, “When you go looking for gold, you end up finding fool’s gold - so don’t go looking at all.”
“Let the gold come to you.” You whispered back to Jean, finishing your own quote from two years ago. You hadn’t known the words were so monumentous, you thought nothing of the quote and yet it stayed with him all of these years.
“I followed your advice,” Jean said matter-of-factly, “I followed your advice so well - actually - that I even started to push the gold away when it was just within reach.” Jean looked down at his fingers fiddling with the fabric of his slacks. “I set her up on a hundred horrible dates hoping I could forget about her for only a moment. But, I couldn’t forget about her, even if somebody wiped my memory.”
You felt your cheeks grow hot as you smiled at Jean, “That doesn’t even make sense.” Jean looked at like a wounded deer, wide scared eyes taking up all of your sight. “You can’t remember me if your memory was wiped - that’s not possible.”
“I’d manage,” Jean said with newly red cheeks, “I couldn’t forget you, even if the government tried to make me.”
You pushed Jean’s shoulder playfully, “Nuh-uh - you’re a liar, Kirstein.”
Jean shook his head, “Nope, I’ll always remember you.” He leaned his head in towards you. “I’ll remember your laugh and that little wrinkle you get between your eyebrows when I do something stupid.”
“Oh,” You said with a playful furrow of your brow, “‘You mean the wrinkle I get when you do anything?”
Jean grinned lightly, “Yeah, that one.” He continued leaning in closer until he was only a whisper away. “And how you taste like tropical fruits - like lemons and coconut.”
“And,” You whispered to his mouth, “How do you know what I taste like?”
Jean smiled, “I just intend on finding out.” His lips were pressed lightly against your own, his hand on the side of your head. “So, can I find out?”
You nodded, “Please do.”
Jean gently pressed his lips to yours, and the feeling made your stomach flip with excitement. You moved your legs closer to his, bare thighs on clothed thighs and the hem of your dress shifting up to your hips. You didn’t mind the new coldness spreading over your legs because your insides felt unbearably hot when kissing him.
The softness of Jean’s lips weren’t anything new to you. You had kissed Jean before, a soft smooch during a drunk game of spin the bottle - but never like this. His lips tasted like blueberry vodka last time you tasted them, but now his lips tasted like rosé and mint - a byproduct of the wine he had been drinking all night and the mint he sucked on before you ran off towards the bathroom - It wasn’t the best taste, but you weren’t complaining.
“I’m glad you waited for me,” You whispered into Jean’s mouth.
It became extremely clear to you at some point of the night just how much Jean means to you. Maybe because of one of the many times when you caught Jean’s eyes looking into your own. Or, one of the many times you noticed Jean talking to you when telling a story, as if you were the only one there with him. Or, one of the many times when you watched Jean fiddle mindlessly with the top of his wine glass, his eyes never leaving your frame - mentally undressing you in front of everybody in the restaurant and both of your dates.
He couldn’t help it though, he’s always loved how you looked in that black satin dress. It seemed everybody liked the dress, considering both Reiner and Pieck couldn’t keep their eyes off of your frame as well. Reiner and Pieck, who were still waiting at that table, hoping for some word from their dates who now found themselves sucking face in the women’s restroom.
“Jean,” You whispered, “We should head back.”
Jean sighed, “Okay.”
So, you did. You left the bathroom with Jean and eventually the restaurant, planning on going to where you normally did after dates - Jean’s apartment. It wasn’t easy saying goodbye to such a nice guy like Reiner knowing there wouldn’t be a second date, and it wasn’t easy saying no to Pieck’s offer of a second date with just her, and it especially wasn’t easy staring into that half-finished plate of polpette di cavallo until you and Jean finally made your exit.
The car ride was mostly quiet, both of you ignoring the obvious elephant in the room - what the hell happened in the bathroom. You didn’t regret the conversation on the bathroom floor or even the kiss that came afterwards, but you did regret ever cutting the kiss short. You searched your mind for some way back to that moment, thinking of a plan of either building and operating a time machine or trying again with Jean.
“So,” You said, “Pieck seems nice.”
Jean grinned to himself, “So does Reiner.”
You nodded slowly and turned to look out of the window, “‘Think there will be a second date with her?”
“If you’re having a second date with Reiner.” Jean spared a glance from the road in order to look at you. “‘Think there will be a second date with him?”
“Eh, he’s not really my type.”
Jean stopped the car at a red light. The color red seeped through the windshield, turning the inside of the car a bright crimson. Jean’s features were lit up by the light as his gaze danced across every inch of your face.
“He’s not?” Jean asked, “Then, what’s your type?”
You furrowed your brow, “Are you stupid?”
Jean smiled wide, “What are you saying?”
You shook your head and leaned forward, caressing Jean’s cheeks gently. You pressed your lips to his, smiling against his mouth. Jean kissed you back, quickly turning a sensual peck into a feverish makeout.
You felt Jean’s hands as they moved up the soft fabric of your dress. His fingers moved across your side and then wrapped around your body, landing on your back. He used the new position to pull you closer, much to your surprise considering the gasp that escaped from between your lips to the movement.
You wrapped your arms around Jean’s neck, pulling his face in closer. You pushed your tongue towards his mouth, and he gladly let it enter between his lips. You felt his breath hitch in his throat when you curled your tongue and swiped it across the roof of his mouth. Jean responded to the kiss with a tight grip on your dress only bringing you in-
A car suddenly honked it’s horn from behind you. Jean and you pulled apart as quickly as possible, ignoring that anything had happened. You slowly wiped your thumb across your bottom lip, smearing the wetness from the kiss onto your fingertip.
The rest of the ride was brutal, your desire for Jean was only getting unbearable. He didn’t even have to do anything. His fingers curving around the steering wheel made your heart pound. His slight head bob to the music quietly playing from the radio made your stomach inflate with nerves. And, his perfect posture in the driver’s seat made you want to groan with how badly you wanted him.
It was ridiculous, you were turning into a prepubescent boy - finding anything and everything Jean did as the epitome of attraction.
The car couldn’t have pulled into the apartment building’s parking lot any sooner. You were practically melting in Jean’s passenger seat and you needed to feel him again, you didn’t care why. You opened the car door and eventually walked alongside Jean towards his apartment complex.
You silently walked into the apartment building with Jean, and even rode up the elevator just as quiet. You waited beside him as he unlocked his apartment door. You watched as the muscles in his back moved under his shirt as he attempted to hold the door and unlock it at the same time - a trick the lock needed since the apartment was so old.
Once inside, you quickly kicked your shoes off, leaving them to lay with his shoes. You dropped your purse with the shoes as well, leaving it on the floor beside the door. And once you had discarded your unneeded items, you stood there - waiting for a sign from him, any sign at all.
Jean crossed his arms against his chest, his eyes landing on anything in the room but you. He peered across the kitchen and living room, even eyeing his bedroom door for a few seconds. Jean sighed before mumbling into the awkwardly silent room.
“So,” Jean said, “What do you want to do?”
You pressed your lips together, “I liked what we were doing in the car.” Jean suddenly looked at you, his eyes widened. “And, in the bathroom at the restaurant.”
Jean grinned to himself, “‘You wanna do that again?”
“Yes.” You nodded. “I do.”
Jean crossed the space between you, swooping his arms around you and pressing your chest into his. You bent your head upwards, giving Jean more room as his mouth pressed kisses into your neck and cheek. You giggled with your words as you attempted to speak.
“Jean,” You said as you pushed your fingers through his soft hair. You moved Jean’s face back enough to make eye contact with him. “‘Race you to the bedroom?”
Jean never thought he could let go of you in general, never mind quicker than he’s ever done anything before in his life. As soon as you were out his arms, Jean was running towards his bedroom door. You tried to beat him though, grabbing his arm and pulling him backwards, but nothing stopped him - he beat you into the bedroom.
You left the door open in front of you, standing back as Jean threw his discarded clothes from the bedroom floor and into his laundry basket - a half assed attempt at cleaning up. You supposed the gesture was nice, considering he wanted to clean up for you. But, it was even nicer knowing Jean had never seen his date with Pieck ending here.
Your eyes peered across the entirety of his bedroom, something so familiar now with a different connotation. You’ve touched Jean plenty of times in this very room, but not the way you’re about to. You knew that after tonight, everything would be different between you two - but a good type of different that filled you with hope.
Your eyes landed on the alarm clock on his bedside table, the red numbers flickering suddenly from 11:59 to 12:00.
Second Sunday
Jean’s body weight was crushing on top of you, but a type of crushing weight that was comfortable. You swore you could live under Jean’s body for the rest of eternity. He was warm and strong and his kissing only made the position all that much better.
Your dress was on the floor and you were mostly naked, lying on Jean’s bed with only a bra and panties on. He pressed his bare chest into your chest, the only clothes on his body being his pair of slacks and the brown belt holding them up.
“Jean,” You breathed into his mouth, “I want you.”
Jean groaned against your lips, the sound coming from deep within his throat. He had never thought he’d hear those words from your lips, he never thought he’d be good enough to. But alas, here you were; underneath him, mostly naked, whispering gut wrenching phrases into his mouth.
You moved your hands down his lean body, dainty fingers finding the waistline of his pants. You undid the belt around his waist and threw it to the floor once it was out of the belt loops. You then brought your hands to his zipper, undoing that as well.
You pushed Jean’s slacks down his legs, moving them out of the way in order to free enough space for what you really wanted from him at the moment. You curled your hands around his body, digging your nails into his back in an attempt to bring him closer. You pressed your fingers into the small of his back as you bucked your hips upwards towards him.
You felt as Jean’s hardness pressed down between your legs, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped from between your lips. Jean moved his lips from yours, allowing more panting breaths to escape from your mouth as he continued to press down into you. He instead kissed down your neck, taking in each moan and ingraining them into his memory.
You moved your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and pushed them down over his hips. He was just as big as you had always assumed. You weren’t perverted or dirty minded per say, but some nights you’d catch yourself with an excessive amount of questions; you’d wonder about his size, if he were good in bed, and if he had ever satisfied a woman before.
Sure enough, your questions would be answered after tonight.
You brought your hips to his, feeling him through only one layer of clothing now. You brought your hips off of the bed, pushing your panties down over your thighs. You awkwardly moved your legs around Jean’s, attempting to kick the fabric to the floor.
Jean brought his mouth to your ear before breathily whispering, “Do you still want me?”
You nodded frantically, “Yes, yes- yes, please.”
Jean grinned at your response, finally bringing his hips to yours. It was a moment you had waited for for much longer than you thought. This moment was in the distance for two whole years, and now it was finally here. You had wanted this for so long, to the point where you’d take anything Jean would give you - such as a drunken peck and a date with nearly every man on campus.
Next Chapter
#jean kirstein#jean aot#aot#modern au#college au#jean x reader#aot x reader#jean boy#jean kirstein x reader#double date#x reader#slight smut#f/m
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Gonna Come True (Glee)
AN: This is a follow-up to There's a Miracle Due which was written for the Glee Twistfest, “What if Mercedes & Kurt got Maria & Tony?” back in 2014 (yikes). I had the storyline for this already back then (hello, all of three lines in a document), it's just taken me until now to actually write it.
For @krummavisur who wanted it.
Thanks to @elledelajoie for looking it over .
The title is taken from “Something Coming”, West Side Story.
Oh, and I am not trying to follow any kind of canon time-line. Just, go with it.
Gonna Come True
Kurt throws himself into preparing for West Side Story with an energy that makes Mercedes envious. She understands though – he doesn't feel like he got the role honestly, which is bullshit, but. He still thinks he needs to prove himself. In her eyes he did so during his audition, and it's everyone else who needs to prove themselves to him, but he doesn't see it that way. Years of Lima bullshit stops him from seeing it.
He doesn't drop out of the race for senior class president though, not even when he's complaining about balancing that with Tony and school and Blaine. She asks him why and gets an answer she should have expected.
“At first this was about getting at least something on my resume. But that's not it any longer. I'm running as a reminder that bullying is a problem at this school, and that something needs to be done. If I win – and I don't expect to, not here – then I have a shot at making the administration do something. If I lose I still raise awareness. Every time I speak about my agenda I force the people listening to remember that bullying is an issue, that bullying kills, and that it is not okay.
“That's worth losing a little sleep.”
Mercedes's heart swells at hearing her boo speak so passionately about it, and it breaks as she hears an angry Santana tell Brittany that she should run against Kurt.
Kurt who is currently pulling down unicorn posters around the school while pushing back tears.
She waits until Brittany walks away before cornering Santana.
“We need to talk. What you just told Brit? That's a shit thing to do.”
Santana starts to argue, all fire, and under other circumstances Mercedes would admire her willingness to go to bat for her girl, but not now.
“No. Don't you dare. Do you know why Kurt is so upset over those posters? It's because to him they represent everything that he's been bullied over. And that? Has a lot to do with you. You have been sitting in the choir room for two years, mocking him for what he likes and for who he is.
“So here we are. Him running on an anti-bullying platform, and your girlfriend plastering the school with posters reminding him of exactly that bullying. Do I really need to explain to you why it is that when Kurt looks at those posters he doesn't see Brit's intentions, her meaning – he sees your bullying.”
Mercedes sees her words are hitting home, even if Santana is putting up a good front.
“Oh, and Santana? When you mock Kurt for being gay it makes you a hypocrite. But when you mock him for being 'girly'? It's even worse. Because when you say that there's something wrong with being like a girl, you're implying that there's something wrong with being a girl. And I'm not okay with that.
“Now, you are going to go back to Brit and tell her exactly what happened here, and you're going to make sure that she forgets all about running against him. He's had enough of his so-called friends doing that, I'd think.
“I'm not saying this – any of this – to be mean. I'm trying to be a good friend, to Kurt and to you. But make no mistake. You ruin this for Kurt? I'll ruin you.”
Mercedes might not be popular like a cheerleader, but she's got friends and she's got contacts outside of school. Her threat's not an empty one, and Santana knows it.
Her phone's ringing. There's something hitting her window, and her phone's ringing. At half past eleven on a school night.
Whoever it is, Mercedes is going to cut them.
Except it's Kurt, and he's not looking right.
As she lets him in through the back-door Mercedes notices the wrinkled clothes and the mussed hair that doesn't fit with a night of dancing. More making out, but Kurt doesn't have that well-kissed look. Plus, he's pale and shaky.
Something's wrong.
It takes her a long time to coax the story out of him, about Blaine trying to rape him. Except when she says that Kurt denies it, vehemently.
“Are you serious right now? Are you defending him? No! Okay? No. Hell no even.
“Look, if I showed up at your place and told you Shane had pulled me into the backseat of a car, had tried to get my clothes off and wouldn't stop touching me even though I said no, what would you tell me? Would you tell me it was okay because we're dating? That he's allowed to do that because I'm in love with him and he treats me good the rest of the time? Would you tell me to suck it up and forgive him?
“Would you explain away that and tell me that if he won't respect my 'no' the solution is to say 'yes' instead?”
Kurt's even paler now, his eyes blown and unfocused. He doesn't say anything though. Instead he just whimpers and rushes out to the bathroom.
When he comes back he's regained some color. He still looks like shit though. Mercedes pulls out some comfortable clothes that were bought for her brother, but got conscripted as backup for unplanned Kurt-visits, and leaves him to change while she gets them some chamomile tea.
Later, as the lights are out and they're curled up together, trying to get what rest they can Kurt whispers: “I'm going to have to break up with him, aren't I?”
She holds him as he cries himself to sleep.
The next day Kurt pretends like nothing's happened. He doesn't want to rock the boat before the West Side Story premiere, he says, or deal with the bitchfit Rachel would throw. “I'll do it after the final performance on Sunday” he promises, and Mercedes doesn't have it in her to push him. Not with the memory of his tears so fresh.
Dress rehearsal that night goes well, right up to the point where Artie comes to talk to them after. They need more fire, more passion, he claims and then proceeds to tell them that they should hurry up and have sex before their first show so they can portray lovers more believably. Oh, he doesn't put it quite like that, but it's pretty obvious that's what he means.
Mercedes is stunned at first, and then furious. She's surprised that Kurt's not ripping into him, with everything, and oh. Hell no.
“Are you telling me to have sex to improve the show you're directing? Really? How about you get some classes or something, to improve your part? You know, instead of sexually harassing me.”
Artie sputters out what's probably meant as a denial, but she just talks right over him.
“If you as much as breathe about this again, to anyone, I will report you. And then my mama will go have a talk with your parents about how they've failed at raising you to be a decent human being.
“Do you get me?”
He nods quickly, mumbles something and makes a hasty retreat. Just as he goes out the door Kurt's voice rings out, cold.
“And to think I remember a boy who grieved that his first time wasn't romantic enough. I wonder what he would think of you now.”
Artie doesn't say anything, or slow down, but he slumps a little in his chair as the barb hits home. Mercedes shifts her attention to Kurt and sees pale skin, rigid posture and shaky hands. He's thinking the same thing she is.
“Boo...”
“No, 'Cedes, please. Let's not speculate about whether or not he had that speech with the others first. I can't, not now.”
So she lets it go. For now.
Mercedes is on stage for the opening show Friday night along with Kurt. Not in the spotlight, sure, but still there. She can't help but compare Rachel and Blaine's performance with what she and Kurt can do, and they come up short. Tomorrow night, she thinks. Tomorrow night we're going to show them how it's really done.
She says as much to Kurt as they leave together and he laughs, the first sign of happiness she's heard from him in two days. The laughter dies out soon as he spots a bunch of well-dressed boys waiting outside. She recognizes a few from Kurt's time at Dalton, but not all of them. She'd think it nice of them to come see their friends perform, except judging from Kurt's reaction they're not an entirely welcome sight.
He still greets them politely, smiling that small “company smile” she doesn't like while asking if they remember Mercedes.
“And this,” he says with strained, icy politeness, “is Sebastian Smythe, this year's new transfer to Dalton.”
This then is the reason they're not welcome. Still, she follows Kurt's example and pulls out church manners.
Apparently the boys have been given tickets by Blaine, the tall new boy explains, before trying to needle Kurt.
“So, Officer Krupke? How did that feel, such a...manly role?”
Ouch.
“Oh, you know, it's not about the role, it's what you put into it. And it makes for an interesting contrast to tomorrow and playing Tony. ”
Everyone quiets at that and the mood gets slightly uncomfortable. Trent is about to break the silence, but Sebastian talks right over him.
“Right. Well, we'll have to withhold judgment until after of course, but I'd say you'll have a hard time measuring up to Blaine. And you,” he turns to Mercedes, “are you also playing another role tomorrow? This one's Maria perhaps?”
She nods without explaining, and then listens as the boys stumble over excuses about not knowing exactly who'll be there tomorrow, but “We're sure you'll do great, Kurt!”
Once they're out of sight Kurt sags a little.
“He didn't tell them. He went to Dalton to tell them about the show, and give them tickets, and he didn't tell them I was in it. Didn't tell them I was also playing Tony. They tried to cover it up, but... They were my friends too, and he didn't tell them.”
She loops an arm around his waist and snuggles close.
He deserves so much better.
There's a group of Dalton boys there next evening again, making Kurt smile and Blaine startle. Some are from the evening before, including the sharp Sebastian, some are new. They all applaud enthusiastically, and wait so they can congratulate Kurt on his performance. Mercedes pays extra attention to Sebastian, for some reason, but all he says is “not bad”. It sounds genuine though, and so is Kurt's smile as he nods and thanks the other boy.
Mercedes knows they did better than “not bad”. They were awesome together. She doesn't need to hear it from this reluctant boy though. She's got a better source.
They skip the cast party. Kurt's not eager to be with Blaine, especially since there might be alcohol involved, and Mercedes prefers celebrating with her boyfriend who has been a rock. There's a small sting as Kurt walks away alone, but it slips away as she accepts Shane's flowers and kiss and walks out on his arm.
The next morning Mercedes shows up at the Hummel-Hudson house almost uncomfortably early. She drags a still sleep-tussled Kurt to the dining table and spreads out the Gazette in front of him. It's already open to the right page and she sees exactly when Kurt realizes what she's got.
“You read that, I'll fix breakfast.”
She's brought coffee from home along with juice and fresh croissants from the bakery a block away and a small carton of strawberries. It's a luxury, but it's a well-deserved one. It's the work of no time to put it all out along with cups and plates, and as she does that she hears Kurt's voice rise, reading select paragraphs out loud.
“Rachel Berry's 'Maria' is technically perfect, with the singer hitting every note. Sadly that excellence does not extend to the rest of her performance. Ms Berry fails to provide personality and emotion, and simply put she lacks the ability to bring Maria to life.”
He stops, shakes his head and looks at her.
“Ehm, ouch?”
Yes.
“Blaine Anderson as Tony does not help. Where a better singer and actor could shore up his counterpart Anderson falls flat. 'Flat' is in fact the word that comes to mind most often when seeing and listening to him performing. Anderson fails to hit the notes in several of the songs, and often resorts to what must be described as screaming instead of singing. He lacks the range needed to play Tony, and obviously also the training needed to make up for his shortcomings.
“On the acting side it's equally flat. Anderson's body language and facial expressions are mostly too subtle – or possibly non-existent – to come across from the stage, making it like watching a cardboard cut-out most of the time. On the other hand, when he does come across it's much too exaggerated, making his Tony look like a caricature. (I find myself looking at the playbill to see if this is meant to be a comedic take on this epic show. It's not.)
“Holy shit, 'Cedes!”
Yessssss.
“Finally, the dancing. Here, Anderson does better – most of the time. He clearly favors certain parts of the choreography, and there he does very well. In other parts it is obvious that Anderson lacks either the desire or the ability to perform according to choreography. This shows, as other cast members – including Ms Berry's Maria – often have to adjust their own moves to accommodate Anderson, either because he takes up too much space or because he simply isn't where he is supposed to be.
“Towards the end of the show Anderson also shows a surprising lack of stamina, and almost literally falls flat as he stumbles through some of the steps.
“The rest of the cast...”
Kurt's voice peters off, and he looks at her, stunned. Mercedes only smiles, satisfied.
“You should read on. Really.”
Kurt looks at her with skepticism, but does as she says. She knows exactly when he hits the part she wanted him to see, because he looks up at her, wide-eyed and slightly stunned.
“After this the pair playing Maria and Tony during Saturday's performance – as well as today's matinée – is a pleasant surprise. Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel bring our lovers to life in a way that looks more like a professional setup than a high school play. Not only are they both talented singers, but they also manage to communicate the story to the audience and play off each other in a way that lifts the entire show.
“It is noticeable, having seen both sets of performers that like Anderson Jones has some difficulty with the choreography. However the adjustments made to cater to her limitations in no way come off as a lesser version of what Berry performs, and does in fact make her look better than Anderson's attempt at a more complex choreography. Meanwhile Hummel needs no such adjustments and manages to pair vocals with dancing in a truly impressive manner.
“Hummel's vocals could take up an article of its own, and so this reporter will just note that it comes as no surprise that Hummel is pursuing schooling and later a career in performing arts. We are looking forward to seeing him on stage on many more occasions.”
Kurt drops the paper and blinks like an owl.
“Am I dreaming? Did an actual reporter not only attend a West Side Story performance at McKinley to write about it in the Gazette, but they actually went twice?”
“Yeah boo.”
“And they actually wrote that we did better than Rachel and Blaine?”
“Yeah, they did. And they were right, you know. You did so much better than Blaine that he should be embarrassed.”
Kurt blushes a little, then pulls a grimace.
“What?”
“I was just thinking... I've been wondering if breaking up with Blaine over what happened was an overreaction, because...” He meets her eye, and looks away. “Anyway, I'm reading this and instead of being happy for me – for us – I can't help but think that Blaine's going to go ballistic. And that waiting for the show to be over probably wasn't that great of an idea. He's going to expect me to listen to him whine about this.”
Mercedes isn't surprised to hear that Kurt's been considering forgiving his boyfriend. A bit disappointed, sure, but not surprised. He always was more loyal than people deserved. She is surprised that he's being that clear-sighted about Blaine though. That's good. That means he's probably going to follow through.
As if cued Kurt's phone starts buzzing and they both look at the screen. Blaine. Mercedes makes an unhappy face. Kurt... Kurt looks upset and rejects the call before turning the sound off.
“Boo?”
“I am not going to ruin my afterglow by listening to him complain about how no one appreciates him. Not when I'm already going to break up with him. Just, no.
“Instead I'm going to enjoy this lovely breakfast with my gorgeous leading lady, and then I'm going to read that article again and gloat. Oh, and then I'm going out to get myself a couple of extra copies as proof that even in Lima people can see our talent.
“I don't know how you did it, but you, my dear, pulled off a miracle.”
And she has, hasn't she? Not by making someone see and recognize Kurt's talent, though, but by making him smile, wide and open.
That's her miracle, right there.
~ The End ~
#chocoholic fics#mercedes jones#kurt hummel#not for the klaint of heart#not rachel or blaine friendly#i guess
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Making memories - a Chenford fanfic
For Chenfordficweek2021 - as described by @therookiebook
Instead of a fic a day for chenford fic week I decided to just write one incorporating as many prompts as possible. This is because when I read them a few just connected in my head and then I had way to much fun seeing how many I could kinda incorporate. Some of the quotes aren’t word for word but the lines are inspired by the original prompt.
*Note: my beach fic was also inspired by this prompt list but I got antsy and posted it early so if you haven’t read it, you can check it out.
Main prompt: Road Trip
Other prompts:
July 11th-
"Is that you...singing? Since when can you sing?"
"I wish we could stay like this forever."
Fight
"You're comfier than a pillow."
July 12th-
With Child(ren)- theirs or not
"I fucked up."
"Where have you been?"
July 13th-
"You're crushing me." "I can't breathe with you on me."
"Stay here."
"What do you want?"
July 14th-
"I'm calling the police." "We are the police."
"Don't move."
"That a new dress?"
Sweet tooth
July 15th-
Locked out (Car/house/station)
"Stop hogging all the blankets."
"Why are you bleeding?"
"Make me."
July 16th-
Shopping together or for the other
Getting lost
"Is that my shirt?"
Under the stars
July 17th-
Competition
Tears
"Why are you so late?"
When Lucy arrives in role call and hears she’s partnered with Tim for the day, she’s excited. When she hears they are to wear civvies and take Tim’s truck to surveil a suspect, she’s confused. And when said suspect drives further and further out of LA and they are instructed to keep on his tail, she’s annoyed. If she didn’t know better she’d think some writer designed the assignment purely because it was convenient for their story. Nevertheless, this is her life: crashing at a random hotel nearly nine hours from LA, after finally being relieved of surveillance detail, by the local sheriffs department, at 2:30am. The plus side is she’s being paid overtime, not only for the late night but also for the commute back to the city tomorrow. The down side is despite being exhausted she twists and turns all night unable to get comfortable in the strange environment. So when Tim knocks on the adjoining door between their rooms at 10am she’s already been up for a few hours. She has written a journal entry in her notes, preordered drinks for them to pick up at Starbucks and spent more time than she’d like to admit on google maps and various travel sites researching their trip home. She has also found time to plunder the continental breakfast and is currently demolishing a strawberry danish and a cinnamon bun. This earns criticism from Tim, whose plate carries sausage, eggs and an orange.
By 11am they’re on the open road again, coffees in the console between them. The small talk they had been making since they left the hotel had slowly died out so now they sit in comfortable silence. That is until Lucy reaches over to turn on the radio.
“You know how I feel about car radios Chen,” Tim warns in his best TO voice.
“Even off shift?” Lucy scoffs, and continues to press the on button and turn the volume dial up. Nevertheless, nothing happens.
“Looks like it doesn’t work anyway,” Tim states as he continues to hold the volume down button on the steering wheel, unbeknownst to Lucy.
“Fine then I’ll be the radio.” “You like Lady Marmalade, right?” She’s referencing Tim’s LA CLEAR security answer but she doesn’t wait for his reaction or reply before beginning to belt out the opening lyrics.
As she sings his initially surprised expression, morphs to shock and then awe.
“Since when can you sing?” he asks when she finishes.
She just shrugs, looking down at her hands as they begin to fiddle in her lap.
“Now I wish the radio really was broken,” Tim states as he turns it on and music starts playing.
Lucy shoots him a quick death glare before turning her attention back out the window.
---
By noon Lucy’s singing quietly along to the music (causing Tim to reevaluate his opinion on car radios) when she suddenly sneezes then freezes as her eyes go wide.
“Ah, can you stop at the next place with a bathroom?” she asks bashfully.
“We haven’t even been driving that long can you hold it?”
“Find me a bathroom or your truck will be covered in blood,” Lucy says, her tone conveying urgency.
“What? Why are you bleeding?” Tim asks, confused.
“If you don’t know why I, a woman, would be bleeding and thus need a bathroom then the public school system failed you.”
“Oh, ah, right, sorry,” Tim stutters, “I think there’s a small town at the next exit.”
“Thank-you,” Lucy replies clearly relieved.
“Do we need to find a drug store or do you have what you need?’
“Ya, if you could find a drug store.” She’s fiddling again, unable to shake the feeling of embarrassment even though she knows, rationally, she has nothing to be embarrassed about.
Several minutes later Tim’s pulling into the drug store parking lot and Lucy’s unbuckling her seat belt to run in. But as soon as she stands up Tim’s voice stops her.
“Wait Luce.” There’s a tenderness to his voice especially when he uses the new nickname that stops her more than the instruction itself. “I think we’re too late.”
Lucy looks down at the seat she just vacated to see its center now decorated with a dark red stain. A matching stain is present on the butt of the long yellow dress she’s wearing.
“Of course,” she spits as she tries to fight back tears that are already running down her cheeks.
“That a new dress?” Tim questions awkwardly, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion.
Lucy lets out a choked laugh as Tim flounders to find something helpful to say.
“I ruined your truck, I ruined my dress and now I have to walk around the drug store with a giant stain on my ass,” Lucy sniffs.
“Hey Lucy, everything’s going to be okay.” He reaches across the console to put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll go in and get what you need.”
She stares at him surprised and unsure. The idea of him buying her tampons and pads and, she realizes, new underwear seems uncomfortably intimate.
“So, ah, what do you want?”
Because she has no desire to walk around the store with a giant blood stain on her butt she gives him her order, eyes down, face turning redder by the second.
He just nods and returns a few minutes later with three grocery bags and immediately hands them to her.
Inside she finds much more than she requested. The first bag contains two chocolate bars, two bags of candy, and two bottles of water. The second holds 6 different packages of assorted pads and tampons.
“How much blood do you think someone loses on their period,” Lucy teases.
Tim gives a small shrug. “I didn’t know which kind you wanted.”
Inside the third bag Lucy finds a bottle of Advil, a package of wet-wipes, a spray bottle of stain remover, a new package of underwear (simple white cotton), a pair of black tights and a box of black garbage bags.
“What are these for?” she asks holding up the garbage bags.
“They didn’t have any shirts so I thought we could make some head and arm holes and-“ he stops talking when he sees Lucy’s unimpressed expression. “I know it’s not ideal.”
“Good thing I already have that figured out,” she says holding up a plaid button up.
“Is that my shirt?” He had taken it off as soon as he got in the car, since like usual he had a henley underneath, and thrown it into the back. Lucy must of retrieved it while he was in the store.
“Please,” she says fixing him with those puppy dog eyes. “I promise I won’t get blood on it. Well, I’ll do my best. Please don’t make me wear a garbage bag.”
He laughs. “I forgot I had that. I guess I didn’t need these.” He takes the garbage bags from her and is about to throw them in the back when Lucy speaks up.
“Actually I’ll take one,” she says ripping the cardboard and freeing a single bag. She proceeds to rip a hole in the top of the garbage bag and pulls it over her legs like a skirt. Then she puts Tim’s plaid shirt on overtop. Tim is watching her with raised eyebrows.
“What? It’s just temporary. I promised I wouldn’t get blood on your shirt.” She puts everything she needs in her bag and goes into the bathroom to clean herself up. When she returns Tim is just finishing cleaning the blood off the passenger seat.
“I would have done that.”
“It was no trouble.” “Here spray some of this on your dress before the stain sets,” Tim offers as he hands her the stain remover.
Lucy does then drapes her dress over the backseat.
“Ready to go,” Tim asks.
Lucy nods and by 1pm they’re back on the road.
---
By 2pm they’re both hungry and decide to stop for lunch. The place they choose is a fast food joint connected to a gas station. It’s busy. Probably because it’s the only place to eat for miles around. While they wait in line to order, Lucy goes to use the bathroom, only to find another line just as long. She decides to try the gas station bathroom instead, telling Tim that she’ll be right back but if he gets to the front first he knows her order. He goes to argue but she’s already gone, which is probably a good thing since he has no rebuttal, considering it���s the truth.
A few minutes later Tim has their food: a veggie burger with extra pickles and fries for her and a burger and fries for him, but she still isn’t back. He wanders over to the gas station to find her standing in line at the register.
“Put the candy back Chen.”
“Make me,” she says shaking the bags as she holds them by her shoulders.
Tim reaches for them but Lucy moves to evade his grasp. “Too slow,” she teases.
“You’ve already had two pastries, one bag of candy, a chocolate bar and a frappa-cappa-crapacciuno or whatever.”
“It was a chai tea latte and you know it.”
“It was more sugar than anything and we still have more candy in the car. You’re going to give yourself diabetes.”
She shrugs. “It’s not a road trip without excessive amounts of junk food.”
“It’s not a road trip. It’s a commute home.”
“It’s whatever we make it,” she says as she taps her card to pay for the candy.
They find a state park a few minutes up the road and unpack their lunch at one of the picnic tables. They talk as they eat, familiar banter flying across the table. As they near the end of their food Lucy is animatedly telling a story about a recent arrest. She has a french fry in one hand and as she gestures, a little too aggressively, a glob of ketchup flies off the end of the fry and right into Tim’s face.
She sinks down a little in her seat and covers her mouth to try to suppress a laugh.
“Did you just throw ketchup at me Chen?” he glares as he slowly removes the offending condiment.
“Not on purpose,” she giggles.
“If you start a fight you better be prepared to finish it,” he says as he rips open a package of mustard and squirts it at her.
Although it has poor projectile power a small amount lands in Lucy’s hair. She looks back at him mouth wide. “That was on purpose. That’s assault. I’m calling the police.”
“We are the police,” Tim deadpans as he rips the top off another mustard package.
“You wouldn’t” Lucy warns as she opens a mayo.
Then words are abandoned as condiments fly. They go through 5 ketchup, 3 mustard, 2 mayo, 1 bbq sauce, 1 ranch dressing, 1 aioli and 1 pepper packet before they both surrender. In fact the only packets left untouched are the hot sauce and salt. Both their faces are covered in assorted condiments. Most that had been scooped off the picnic table and smeared directly onto their target when it became clear the packets could barely project their contents a foot. The only one that was truly an effective weapon was the pepper which successfully gave Tim a sneezing fit.
As they sit back down to finish the last bit of their lunch Lucy picks up a fry and runs it along Tim’s cheek then throws it in her mouth.
“Not bad,” she says as Tim makes a face of disgust.
When the last fries are gone they throw out their garbage, wipe down the picnic table, then turn their attention to themselves.
“It’s a good thing I bought these wipes,” Tim says as he passes one to Lucy.
She laughs as she takes it and begins to wash her face.
“Did I get it all?” she asks when she thinks she’s done. “Because you didn’t,” she adds as she reaches up to wipe the side of his mouth.
He’s startled at first then his expression morphs into something she can’t quite read but something that makes her linger just a little longer than strictly necessary. Then she steps away and climbs into the drivers seat and by 3pm they’re back on their way.
---
By 4pm Lucy’s in the middle of a seemingly endless monologue about the bachelor franchise when she looks over to realize that Tim is fast asleep. She would be insulted but instead she sees it as an opportunity. She starts to take every turn she can. Whenever she comes to an intersection she turns on to the smallest street. By the time Tim wakes up, about half an hour later (of course he would have is body trained to nap the ideal more than 20, less than 40 minutes), they are in the middle of nowhere. She waits until he’s fully awake then slams on the brakes.
“I’ve been shot. Where are we, Tim?” she demands in her best Tim Bradford voice. He looks out all the windows to see nothing but ranches then back at her, confusion clear on his face.
“Did you get us lost just so you could prove a point?” His tone an odd combination of annoyance and amusement.
“We’re not lost I’m taking the scenic route.”
“I’m pretty sure the scenic route is supposed to run along the ocean not through the desert in the middle of no where.”
“We’re not in the middle of no where we are North of Martinus Corner at the intersection of Cross Rd and and Lockwood Jolon Rd,” she brags.
“Great you know where we are. Do you know how to get us back onto the main road?”
“It’s not all about the destination, you know, It’s about the journey,” Lucy offers. “When’s the last time you did something just for the fun of it.”
“We go for a hike or a walk along the beach with Kojo every weekend.”
“I know I’m fun to be around,” she teases, “but that’s an errand, Tim, the dog needs exercise.”
“I see your point but what are we supposed to do in the middle of ranch land? You want to go cow tipping?”
“We won’t be in ranch land for long,” Lucy replies, but half an hour and at least twenty turns later they’re still surrounded by fields and livestock.
“Will you admit you’re lost now?” Tim asks.
Lucy sighs, “Fine, can you please google map how to get to Route 1”
“We were on 5.”
“5’s the freeway. 1’s the scenic route,” Lucy explains. “the one that runs along the ocean.”
Before Tim can bring up the app they’re emerging into a small city centre. As Lucy continues down the main street she excitedly points ahead.
“Let’s go bowling,” she says indicating the bowling alley sign.
“I thought you wanted to go to the ocean.”
“We can still take the scenic route home, after we go bowling.”
Tim sighs.
“Come on let’s have some fun, make some memories,” Lucy encourages.
“You’re not going to take no for an answer.”
Lucy shakes her head and happily pulls into the bowling alley parking lot.
Several minutes later they have their bowling shoes on and their names entered in the computer on lane 4. Tim goes first and immediately gets a strike.
“You want to put money on this game Chen?” he asks cockily.
“Lucky shot,” Lucy replies. “I’m not betting money but if you win I’ll let you pick the route home but if I win you can’t complain when we take the scenic route.
“Deal,” he says shaking her hand.
Lucy goes next and gets two gutter balls in a row. “Why didn’t we get the bumpers?”
“The bumpers are for kids.”
On her third throw she throws the bowl with two-hands after swinging it between her legs.
“Speaking of for kids,” Tim teases.
“Don’t argue with results,” she counters as her ball connects with the pins.
They continue going back and forth, Tim using the classic one-handed bowling throw and Lucy trying a different technique each time. She tries sitting down and pushing it down the lane, pulling out the ball slide meant for toddlers, standing backwards and throwing the ball between her legs but eventually settles on the two-handed granny throw.
By half-way through the game Tim’s score is double Lucy’s and he starts to get cocky. He throws with his eyes closed, on one-foot and after spinning in a circle 10 times.
3 quarters through the game the black lights come on and they laugh at each others teeth glowing in the dark. The disco lights and music follow. Then Lucy who had been giggling and joking around all game suddenly becomes serious.
“I have two more turns and I really want a strike,” she states. She has a couple spares on the board but strikes remain elusive. Tim on the other hand has three.
“Can I show you? he questions handing her a ball.
He initially tries to coach her through the throw but she isn’t catching on so he steps behind her, puts his hand over hers and leans into her back as he guides her through the motion. The ball knocks over all but one pin but Lucy almost misses it because she’s looking up at Tim. He lets go and steps back.
“You think you can do that on your own next turn?” he asks shaking the huskiness from his voice.
She nods. Tim bowls, then it’s the moment of truth as Lucy throws her ball imaging Tim’s arm along hers, guiding it. The bowl rolls straight down the alley where it connects with the pins and knocks them all down. STRIKE flashes on the computer screen as Lucy jumps for joy then right into Tim for a celebratory hug. He’s initially surprised but is able to catch her and himself before they fall over. He spins them around as she laughs and he’s suddenly really glad Lucy made him stop.
With that the game is over. Tim’s still ahead but the margin had narrowed. They return their bowling shoes and head out to the truck.
“Fine you win this time, we can go back to the interstate but I want a rematch. I’m thinking mini-golf or the arcade,” Lucy says as she pulls out of the parking lot.
“Nah, go to the 1,” Tim says as he starts to read the directions off his phone.
Lucy looks at him quizzically but doesn’t push her luck. By 6pm they’re driving along the ocean.
---
By 7pm, although it’s not that late, it’s already dark. That combined with her lack of sleep the night before is making Lucy sleepy. When she yawns for the third time in less than 20 minutes Tim suggests they switch drivers. Lucy happily obliges pulling into the next rest stop. During the day it would have a beautiful view of the ocean but now all one can see is darkness. The only evidence of the ocean’s presence being the rhythmic, crashing of waves against the base of the cliff below.
They pull into the abandoned lot; Lucy takes her time backing into a spot, mostly just to annoy Tim and they both get out, reflexively closing their doors behind them. As they pass each other Tim holds his hand out for the keys.
“I just left them in the ignition,” Lucy explains. Tim looks over to the truck then back to her a look of defeat on his face.
“Your doors lock automatically, don’t they?” Lucy asks rhetorically, “I fucked up.”
They try the doors just in case but sure enough they’re locked.
“Well it could be worse,” Tim offers much to Lucy’s surprise, “at least it’s not running.” “I’ll call Angela and see if I can convince her to grab the extra set of keys from my house and come meet us but its going to be a couple hours.”
Lucy nods. “Thank-you and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Tim shrugs, “we’re making memories remember.” Then without another word we walks away from her as he hits a button on his phone and puts it to his ear. The conversation doesn’t last long. Angela obliges but insists that Tim now owes her one. He thinks she still owes him a couple from everything he did as her man of honour but decides now isn’t the time to bring that up. When he hangs up he finds Lucy has lowered the tailgate of his truck, where she now sits. She’s shivering, arms wrapped around herself, but she’s smiling as she looks up at the sky.
“You can see the stars here,” she explains hearing him approach, “away from the lights and smog of the city.”
Tim climbs up into the bed of his truck and removes a stack of old moving blankets from the storage box he keeps in the back.
“Angela’s on her way but in the meantime we should stay warm.” He wraps one around Lucy’s shoulders. Then lays the rest on the floor of the truck bed.
“Good thing I left these in after helping Tamara move last weekend.” He shimmies his way in-between two layers then taps the spot beside him, inviting Lucy to join. She climbs in beside him eager for more warmth. With the sun gone the temperature had dropped fast.
Lucy pulls up an app on her phone and hands it to Tim so he can identify constellations for them while her hands and arms stay hidden under the blankets. Then they lay down and look-up at the stars. Tim uses the app to find constellations, points them out to Lucy, then reads the story about them provided by the app. Meanwhile Lucy snuggles deeper and deeper into the blankets. Tim stops in the middle of the story he’s reading about the the swan constellation as the blankets are pulled off his torso.
"Stop hogging all the blankets,” he complains pulling them back.
“Sorry, I’m freezing,” she confesses.
He pauses for a second clearly debating something internally before opening his arm out to the side. “Then come closer,” he finally says.
She hesitates for a second before slowly moving to snuggle against his side. The possibility of warmth far outweighing any awkwardness she’s feeling. She rests her head on his chest. She can feel his heart racing to match her own and can’t help but smile to herself.
“Better?” he asks once she’s finished squirming around trying to maximize her view of the stars and the amount of body heat she’s receiving from him.
”You're comfier than a pillow,” she confirms, nodding.
Tim doesn’t respond just wraps his arm around her shoulders. He continues to point out constellations and read the stories in Lucy’s app.
“None of the constellations actually look like their name sakes,” Lucy says after a while.
“You have to use your imagination.”
“I could use my imagination to name my own constellations.”
He shrugs. “Go for it.”
She finds a cluster of stars that vaguely resembles a duck. She points it out to Tim then makes up a story about a duck that joined the LAPD and saved the city from a gang of geese. When she’s finished she turns to Tim,. “Your turn.”
He gives her his best ‘not happening’ look but he’s met with those pleading brown eyes that hold more power over him than he’ll ever admit and caves almost instantly.
He points out an X made of stars. “That is where the space pirates buried their treasure.” Lucy looks up at him expectantly. “The end,” he finishes.
“That’s your whole story? One sentence.”
“I’m not as creative as you.”
“Then tell a real story,” she says, “here I’ll go first.”
She points to a jumble of stars. “That is Caligula’s toy chest,” she says then proceeds to describe in great detail all the filthy, horrid things she had seen the day he taught her the DEAR method.
“Why would you tell me that?” he asks when she is done.
“Now you share my pain.”
Tim laughs and points at four stars arranged in a rectangle. “That is the phone that was used too much at work.” He spends his entire story essentially mocking her for always being on her phone. Lucy would be annoyed or insulted but the amount of detail he remembers about the completely benign things she has done is kind of sweet and a little exhilarating.
She next finds a ’surf board’ and tells the story of a weekend getaway with some collage friends that ended with a black eye, a broken board and a lot of great memories.
Tim follows suit finding a ‘football’ and telling the story of a particularly memorable championship game during his high school career. He’s half-way through his story when he interrupts himself. “You're crushing me,” he tells Lucy who is draped over his torso. “What are you even doing?” I can't breathe with you on me."
“I’m tucking in the blanket so our heat doesn’t escape,” she says as she pushes the edge of the blanket under Tim’s side along the length of his body. When she’s done she rolls off of him, cuddles back into his side then tucks the opposite blanket edge under herself.
When Tim finishes his story they continue to go back and forth, learning more and more about each other each turn. Lucy tells stories from the time she spent travelling and working odd jobs, from her time as a psych major and her time in the academy. Tim talks about his family, his time in the army, and his early years on the force and with Isabel.
He tells her about a colleague who despite being a great cop made the mistake of using his radio near an explosive and paid for it with his life. He is the reason Tim baby powder bombs every Rookie: so no other good officers will be lost because a critical piece of information was taught so dryly that it couldn’t possibly be recalled under pressure.
She tells him about her ring as she twirls it around her finger. About how she found it in her grandma’s dress-up chest when she was six and it immediately became her favourite item. How every time she played dress-up the ring was part of the costume, whether she was a princess or a ninja, a cat or a witch, a clown or a police officer. How unlike her parents, who always thought she’d follow their career paths, her grandma always told her she could be anything she wanted. How when her grandma passed away she had found the ring again as she helped her parents pack up her things. How she had started wearing it to feel closer to her. How as she looked at the ring day after day she heard her grandma’s voice in her head: “You can do anything you put your mind too,” “the sky’s the limit,” “do what makes you happy.” How that made her realize she was not where she wanted to be and led to her decision to quit her Master’s program. How her parents had chalked it up to grief and tried to use psychoanalysis to convince her to return. How that had pissed Lucy off and led to her applying to the LAPD. How she had continued to wear the ring as a reminder and motivator during her training. How much it had meant to her to have it returned. How now it not only symbolizes her grandma’s belief in her, but also Tim’s and her own. How it continues to give her strength.
As Lucy talks Tim rubs circles on her back as if connecting the stars that constitute Lucy’s ‘ring’ constellation.
Just as she finishes she excitedly points up. “Look a shooting star!”
“Make a wish,” Tim advises.
“I wish we could stay like this forever.” She surprises herself by how quick and confident that comes out. She hadn’t even thought about it, but it is true. In this moment everything is perfect. She is no longer cold. She is warm and happy in her little burrito with Tim: wearing his shirt, listening to the ocean, surrounded by stars.
Lucy half hears Tim name a constellation “the best boot I ever trained” and start to tell a Coles notes version of their story but she’s already falling asleep.
She wakes up some time later to Tim shifting beside her.
“Don’t move,” she groans still half-asleep.“
“Ange is here Luce. It’s time to go home.”
“Am home,” she mumbles before falling back asleep.
Tim manages to free himself from Lucy and the blankets. He shuffles out of the back of the truck and walks around it to meet Angela who is just getting out of her car.
“Where have you been,” Tim asks.
“Driving.”
“I mean, what took you so long?”
“I thought you might be enjoying your alone time with Lucy more than you’d admit, so I didn’t rush.”
He wanted to argue but he couldn’t. “Thank-you for coming.”
She shrugs. “Honestly, when your baby refuses to sleep anywhere but a moving car a 4 hour drive is not as inconvenient as it sounds.”
As if to prove her point the infant starts wailing from inside the vehicle.
Before Angela can move Tim’s opening her car door and removing his god child from the car seat. He holds the baby to his chest and starts rocking him. As the baby continues to scream and Tim continues to rock, sway and bounce, Lucy emerges from behind Tim’s truck seemingly woken by the crying.
“There’s my favourite little guy,” she coos as she approaches. “You’ve gotten so big. Next time I see you you’ll be taller than your Uncle Tim,” she continues as she rubs the baby’s back. Despite all the attention the baby continues to fuss.
“He’s hungry,” Angela explains. “Give him this,” she continues handing him a full bottle, “I pumped on the way here.”
“You pumped while driving?”
“It’s called multitasking.”
Tim takes the bottle and offers it to the baby who immediately begins suckling. While the baby drinks Lucy goes back to Tim’s truck and grabs some blankets. She gives one to Angela, drapes another over Tim and the little boy and wraps herself in the last.
Over the next half an hour Tim and Lucy work together to feed, burp, and change the baby before putting him back in his carseat, all while his mother watches with a very amused expression. When he’s buckled in they say their goodbyes, thank Angela again, then head back to Tim’s truck, which is now unlocked.
By 10pm they are back on the road. They spend the rest of the drive cooing over baby Evers and talking about their own theoretical future kids. While conveniently avoiding any mention of theoretical future spouses or co-parents.
By midnight Lucy is just getting home. As she walks through the door she sees Jackson on the couch watching TV.
“Why are you so late?” he asks turning towards her.
“Long story.”
“Is that Tim’s shirt?”
“Longer story.”
“Aha,” Jackson says giving her a knowing look.
She just rolls her eyes and goes to get ready for bed. She falls asleep almost immediately and dreams of sweets and stars, babies and bowling and a life with Tim.
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✨My (maybe) Unpopular Heroes of Olympus Opinions✨
(maybe part one??? idk)
-I don’t really ship any of the main canon ships in HoO. None of them had any chemistry and most of them are either pedophilic, forced and rushed, or toxic in some way
-Most of the characters that were shoved into relationships (Leo, Nico, and Hazel especially) really did not need a love interest to complete their character arcs and their relationships ended up boring and flat cause Riordan just wanted everyone to have a love interest and it never went deeper than the skin
-Piper took advantage over Jason’s amnesiac state and manipulated him. She really went ‘But what if he has a girlfriend he can’t remember 👉👈 it would be wrong to start a relationship with him while he still has amnesia 👉👈 and cause it was based off lies and fake memories 👉👈 lmao imma just jump all over him and make him fall for me while he’s still amnesiac 🤪’ as if that’s not taking advantage over someone’s mental state
-And then she blamed her relationship being forced on Aphrodite and Hera saying they ‘forced her into a relationship’ and ‘arranged their relationship’ even though Aphrodite never said anything about or did anything to them and Hera gave Piper fake memories of them being a couple but it was Piper’s conscious choice to act out on those memories she knew were fake and her relationship was in no way influenced by anyone (especially Hera and Aphrodite) other than herself
-Shelper and Solangelo were way too rushed and forced (inside and outside of the books) and were only added for publicity, plus it seems like most of the fandom only like them cause they’re LGBTQ+ ships
-I hate Pipeyna and Pipabeth. My girls (especially Reyna) deserve better than some manipulative little girl who went ‘we were friends? no weren’t ❤️’
-The fandom portrays the characters really inaccurately (tweaking them a bit for humor is fine, but changing their entire personality is a different thing)
-The movies actually aren’t that bad when not compared to the books (I mean, you gotta admit- it’s pretty good effects for 2010)
-And speaking of the movies, they did a better job at portraying Thalia and Annabeth’s relationship in one movie than Riordan did in 5+ books
-Speaking of which, Riordan wrote pretty much every platonic friendship that weren’t Thalia/Nico and Reyna horribly and most of them shouldn’t have been friends and wasted all the potential for the good friendships
-Calypso should’ve joined the Hunters, not Reyna
-Annabeth and Piper are horrible friends lmao (separately and together)
-Silena is a hero and deserves redemption, but Luke doesn’t despite most of the fandom agreeing he does (he was a pedophile y’all)
-The fandom over-exaggerated the Tartarus fall, it wasn’t really that bad tbh
-Reyna is stronger and a better leader than Annabeth
-Annabeth’s intelligence is more tell than show (and quite a few characters including Leo, Reyna, and Octavian have shown more intelligence than her)
-Riordan over-glorifies and overpowers Percy way too much. Just cause he’s the main character doesn’t mean he has to be the best of the best after barely 8 months of training (four years at CHB only in the summers is 8 months total)
-Speaking of which, Jason can beat Percy (8 months versus Jason’s twelve years) and so can Annabeth, Reyna, Thalia, Hylla, Luke, Hazel and maybe Frank and Nico. Percy’s skill is overrated and unrealistic
-And I feel like most of the fandom knows that Jason can beat Percy but just doesn’t want to admit it cause they like Percy more
-Same thing with the Greeks and Romans- the majority know the Romans are stronger and can easily beat the Greeks but they don’t want to believe it cause they favor the Greeks more
-Percy and Annabeth shouldn’t have been part of the Seven, they already had their chance to shine. Riordan should’ve brought minor characters into light instead
-And Piper shouldn’t have been part of the Seven either. Riordan really expects me to believe that she’s stronger, more powerful, and a greater/better hero and deserved to be part of the Seven more than Reyna, Nico, Clarisse, Thalia, etc.?
-Riordan’s women line-up of Reyna, Annabeth, Hazel, and Piper was really cheap and boring (Avengers: Endgame women line-up who?)
-Percy (in HoO) and Piper are easily some of the worst, most underdeveloped characters Riordan has ever written
-Annabeth got really bland and weak in HoO and couldn’t do shit for herself without others (especially newbies) having to help and/or save her. She pretty much became exclusively Percy fangirl
-As much as I like them, Frank and Hazel don’t have what it takes to be Praetors and Reyna and Jason should’ve stayed as them
-Jason’s whole ‘am I more Greek or Roman’ arc was dumb af
-Riordan’s bias towards the Romans is also dumb af (the Romans could beat the Greeks in an instant)
-Jeyna is and always will be 1000x better than Jiper
-Hazel is the most powerful demigod (way more than Percy and even Jason)
-My hot take on who should’ve been the Seven: Reyna, Nico, Thalia, Frank, Hazel, Leo, and Clovis (son of the god of sleep puts Gaea back to sleep who?)
-Riordan confirming Piper bi was a cheap move to make her more likable. It didn’t even make any sense. A character is confirmed LGBT only after they become a minor character despite being a main character before and kisses some random unnamed girl only three months after her ex-boyfriend whom she still loved dies??? girl what??? Kinda obvious it was just for publicity. Like- Riordan, honey, the LGBTQ+ community is not a circus you can plop your characters into to make them more entertaining❤️
-The PJ series as a whole isn’t that creative. It’s legit just a copy of exactly what past mythological figures have already done and a bunch of character tropes and clichés shoved into one book
-And in general it’s not even that well-written (like HP, it’s over-exaggerated a lot)
-All of the romantic relationships and platonic friendships are extremely unrealistic. Like they never argue/fight, disagree, etc. (then grow stronger from those fights) at all??? Even if they’re complete opposites???
-Reyna is the best-written character in the whole series and a queen she deserved better and y’all sit on her too much
-Theyna is ✨amazing✨ their dynamic and chemistry was just *mwah Pansexual Muslim blessings to you* and people are allowed to ship them even though they’re Hunters and swore off love
-Rachel doesn’t deserve all the hate she gets. Y’all hate on her cause she crushed on Percy when half of you are doing the same thing and then y’all go and ship Percy with Nico, Jason, Artemis, Athena, etc.
-If y’all want to hate on Jason for ‘not having a personality’ you’d also have to hate on most of the main HoO characters except Reyna, Nico, and Leo (and maybe Hazel) for the same reason cause they have the exact same problem tbh
-Zoë and Bianca’s deaths weren’t actually that sad. We didn’t get to see them enough nor did they have enough development for their deaths to have a real impact. The only sad thing about them was Zoë’s last words and Nico’s reaction
-Thalia needed more time in the books
-Reyna was the only main female character in HoO that wasn’t a boring, bland Mary Sue that all the other characters automatically loved. She was the only one with real flaws and distinct personality traits she’s my queen
-Piper, Annabeth, and Calypso did have flaws but the fact that they weren’t called out by other characters or even noticed are what makes them Mary Sues. It doesn’t matter how many flaws a character has, if they’re not called out by other characters (more specifically, other protagonists who actually like them) they don’t count as real character flaws
-Riordan can’t write female characters for shit
-Clarisse, Drew, and Octavian deserved better than being completely antagonized for no explained reason other than to make the protagonists seem better and to make the readers root for them. Those three had more potential than most of the Seven combined
-The whole ‘Aphrodite kids don’t train’ thing is bs. It’s specifically stated that all the demigods follow a strict schedule and have to follow it or they’ll be on stable duty or smth and the Aphrodite kids shouldn’t (and can’t) be excused from that
-Therefore, Drew should be way more powerful and skilled than Piper, at least enough to not back down automatically from a duel by a newbie who hasn’t even learned how to fight (Drew can control an entire cabin of people at once and Piper can barely control one person at a time, who’s more powerful again??)
-Also I have no idea why Riordan portrays all the Aphrodite kids as weak and girly in the first place. ‘Femininity’ and ‘weakness’ are not synonymous and ‘love’ and ‘beauty’ don’t equal ‘feminine’
-Speaking of which, love is actually really powerful but Piper doesn’t stand for love or ‘inner beauty’ and all her ‘thoughtful/insightful’ quotes in ToA/TBM about love were complete bs
-Riordan using the LGBTQ+ community for the sole purpose of making Piper seem more likable and ‘special’ was disgusting and proves he thinks that straight is the default- “...Or Hera’s ideas of what a perfect couple looked like. Piper finding her own way, not the one people expected of her” my ass. In other words, he’s saying ‘The expectations for love and the idea of a perfect couple are a heterosexual relationship, and anyone who 'finds their own way instead of the ones people expect’ are different’. ‘Different’ and ‘default’ are antonyms, so if you think LGBT people are different, then you think that straight is the default. Aphrodite is the goddess of love not heteronormative bullshit. Like Riordan, honey, you’re the one who thinks that the expectations for love and the idea of a perfect couple are heterosexual couples, not fictional gods from a fictional mythology. Remember kiddos- an author writes their own beliefs
If you don’t agree with some of these that’s fine sis it doesn’t matter if you have different opinions than me❤️
#heroes of olympus#opinion#unpopular opinions#percy jackson#annabeth chase#jason grace#frank zhang#hazel levesque#leo valdez#reyna ramirez arellano#reyna avila ramirez arellano#thalia grace#nico di angelo#zoe nightshade#bianca di angelo#will solace#clarisse la rue#octavian#ships
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Fool For Love 10- Compromising
Fool For Love Series Masterlist , Fool For Love Story Masterlist
Author’s Note: Get ready for some heavy angst and some angry alpha Dean acting an ass. This series is also available on Archive.
Summary: Sam is determined to fix things between his brother and their omega, but with Dean stuck in his self-hatred and Y/n stuck in her self-pity, that's a little harder than it seems.
Pairing: former Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, mentions of Beta!OMC x Beta!Reader
Word count: 3261
Story Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, angst, past kidnapping, Dean having no clue how to fix shit, some awkwardness, 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!! knotting sex, heat, oral (fem rec)
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“Thank you, Sam. I really could have figured it out myself, though,” Y/n said as Sam set the LOMMARP down in her living room.
"Well, I know, but I wanted to help," he said as he stepped back to examine the placement. He bit the inside of his lip for a moment before he cleared his throat. "And, uh, I didn't end up putting it together. It was Dean."
She looked away and sighed. "Yeah,” she responded softly. “I can smell him on it."
"He told me not to tell you, but I didn’t want to lie.”
“Well, thanks for respecting me enough not to lie,” she said, turning away from the bookshelf and sitting on the couch.
“Of course I resp-” Sam took a deep breath. “Y/n, I know that you were burned by Dean’s-”
“I was destroyed by Dean,” she interrupted. “He killed me and then he killed my boyfriend and then he killed my beta existence.”
Sam’s shoulders tightened with tension. “You chose to become an omega again. It wasn’t him.”
“No, it was you,” she reminded, softly. “And yeah, some of it was me. I convinced myself that it was the right thing to do, so I’m at fault for my condition too, but the simple fact of it is that none of this would have happened if Dean hadn’t killed me two years ago.”
Sam took a deep breath and sat next to her on the couch. “You need to talk to him.” She looked over, her eyebrow raised. “Look, I’m very happy to have this time where it’s just you and me and you act like the sun shines out of my ass, but…” Sam licked his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair. “You love Dean and Dean loves you and don’t argue about it because being mad at him for what he’s done doesn’t change the fact that you love him.”
She looked away from him and scratched at her neck so Sam set his hand on her knee. “You wouldn’t have saved him if you didn’t still love him. I know you’re angry. I’m angry too. We lost out on two years with you because Dean fucked up, but we can get past it. We can get past the anger and find the love again...but not if you don’t talk to him.”
"Talking to him is...too hard, Sam."
"No, it's not. I'll be with you. Come on, Y/n." He squeezed her knee and she sighed.
"Okay. But not here...and not at the Bunker. Neutral ground."
Sam smiled. "I know just the place."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The park, Sam? Really?" Dean bitched as he parked the Impala and looked around the parking lot for a sign of Y/n.
"It's neutral, Dean. It's not her place. It's not our place," Sam explained as he pushed open his door and climbed out. "Plus, it's open air so no one can claim that pheromones played a part in the discussion. It’s the best place for this."
Dean rolled his eyes and exited the Chevy, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and sighing. "This is not gonna work."
"Yes, it will. She still loves you. It'll work," Sam promised, walking away toward the picnic area.
"Would you forgive me for all the crap I pulled on-"
"I already have." Dean looked over at Sam, confused, but Sam was looking ahead to where Y/n was sitting at the nearest picnic table. Sam took the spot on the bench next to Y/n and Dean took the middle of the bench on the other side.
Dean's eyes couldn't lift from the table top as Y/n looked over at him, waiting patiently. She knew well how hard it was for Dean to speak on his emotions. "Sorry" would come easily. Admitting when he's messed up was easy for him, but talking out the whys was always hard.
Awkward silence dragged out over a few long moments, Sam opening his mouth to try start the conversation but thinking better of it each time. Dean reached out to pick at a splinter in the wood, absent-mindedly playing with it as Y/n watched.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I-I know that doesn’t mean anything but I am so sorry, Y/n.” He finally looked up and caught her eyes, tears making his olive orbs shine even brighter. “I’m so sorry about everything. I wish I had helped you when you were sick and I wish I had been able to walk away when I found out you were alive. I’m sorry I-I went feral and fucked your entire life up. What I did to your fiance...he didn’t deserve that. He just fell in love with the most wonderful woman in the world and that wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve what I did and I’m so sorry.”
Y/n shook her head, anger dripping into her scent. “He didn’t get the chance to actually be my fiance, Dean. You beat him to death before I even had the chance to say ‘yes’.” Tears filled her eyes at the memory of Malcolm covered in blood with his face smashed. “He was a good man. All he ever did was love me, support me, lift me up. And you killed him. You killed him. How is sorry supposed to fix that?”
“It’s not,” Dean answered, shaking his head. “It’s not supposed to fix anything. But I been…” He took a shaky breath and let his tongue out to run along his bottom lip. “Since I woke up and realized what I did, I’ve been sick about it. I ruined everything for you and I ruined everything again after you worked so hard to put together a good life without us and…” He shook his head as tears finally fell. “I’m so sorry.”
"Yeah, me too. I'm sorry I was so forgettable that you could toss me aside so easily. I'm sorry I picked beta existence instead of Chuck just taking my marks because if I'd chosen the first option, I'd be the only one affected. Malcolm would still be alive and you never would have gone feral, because you wouldn't be mated anymore." Dean's bottom lip trembled as she stood. "Would've been better for everyone."
"Y/n," Sam started but she shook her head and leaned over Dean.
"I was raped by a demon because of you and you never touched me again after. Do you even understand what that did to my self-worth? Do you understand that I thought I was ruined because my alpha wouldn't touch me? How broken I already was about what that monster did and how I felt so destroyed-"
"It was Amara, Y/n, she got in my head and-"
"And you couldn’t push through it. Not for me…and you couldn’t tell me why and you could-" Dean stood and moved like he was going to grab her, but stopped and stepped back instead. She let out a deep breath and licked her lips. "You hurt me in a hundred ways, Dean."
"I know. I wish I could fix it."
"You're talking again. That's a start," Sam said, moving to stand too.
"Right. A start." Y/n cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes. "I'm, um, gonna get going. I've got work in a half hour."
"Okay," Sam said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "Love you. Text me?"
"Yeah," she agreed before nodding at Dean and walking toward the parking lot.
The brothers watched her walk away until they couldn't see her anymore. "Told you it wouldn't work," Dean grumbled before walking away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I was thinking we could do dinner...with Dean," Sam suggested as he brought Y/n a cup of coffee. "It's been a few days, you've calmed down. I know you've been thinking about his apology, right?"
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of the coffee. "Yeah. I guess I've been thinking but...it’s...I’m just tired of...compromising, I guess?”
“Compromising?” Sam asked, shaking his head a little.
“Putting aside my feelings and my desires to be...because omegas make things easier, omegas soothe and fix, omegas-”
“You don’t have to-”
“Of course, I do. I’m the omega, it’s my lot in life.” She cleared her throat. “It’s fine. I’m...it’s fine. Let’s just...if you want to have dinner with Dean, we can have dinner with Dean.”
“If you don’t want to, then-” Sam started.
“What I want doesn’t matter,” she dismissed.
“Yes, it does!” Sam argued. “Of course, it does, Y/n.”
“No, it doesn’t, because what I want in my head is a different thing than what I want in my body and my body is going to win out in the end because of these stupid fucking marks.” She closed her eyes tight and scratched her nails across her eyebrows. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Call Dean. We’ll do B&E, get some pizza or something.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure. Gonna have to fix things eventually, right?”
Sam nodded and pulled out his phone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dean was nervous as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot. He wasn’t sure why he kept letting Sam talk him into this stuff. Y/n was never going to forgive him. She shouldn’t. He fucked up. He fucked everything up. He ruined everything.
She was sitting at a booth with Sam when he walked into the pizzeria. Dean swallowed thickly and approached the booth, taking the seat on the opposite side. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Sam and Y/n echoed.
“Have we, uh, have we ordered?”
“No. Figured we should wait. That’s the polite thing, right?” Y/n asked, looking down at the tabletop.
Dean bit his bottom lip and shook his head with a sigh. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. You’re obviously uncomfortable and-”
“I’m on the edge of my first heat in years,” Y/n interrupted. “I can feel it starting to claw at my insides. Little cramps, uncomfortable anxiety...it’s just been a while since I felt it, okay? That’s why I’m on edge.”
Dean nodded. “Sorry. I...I couldn’t smell it over Sammy’s scent. I...I hope...I mean...I don’t suppose you’re excited about it, but...Sam’s gonna be good to take care-” The powerful way Y/n rolled her eyes stopped Dean mid sentence.
“Sam won’t be enough, dumbass.”
“Y/n,” Sam chastised quietly and Y/n rolled her eyes again.
“He is. If he’s already forgotten how I almost died last time,” Y/n snapped.
“I didn’t forget,” Dean said, softly, picking at his paper napkin. “I just figured you’d wanna go as long as possible without touching me. Figured I’d be a last-ditch effort, keep yourself away from me until you absolutely have to-”
“You think I’d rather subject myself to rejection sickness for a while instead of having sex with you? You think I hate you so much that I’d put myself through that pain again?” she asked, seriously. Dean just shrugged, still not looking at her. She sighed and shook her head. “If I hated you, I’d’ve let you die...feral and lost. I don’t hate you...much as I want to.”
"So...you don't hate me?" Dean asked, shyly.
"I wish I did. I really tried." Y/n shook her head and picked up her drink. "I tried to hate you when you said I wasn't really dying and I tried to hate you in Seattle and I tried to hate you when Sam asked me to save you, but I couldn't. Even after what you did to Mal...I couldn’t." Y/n took a sip as Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "There was so much potential in our relationship. We got through you being a demon and the Mark making you dark...we could have gotten through anything together."
"'Til I killed you," Dean whispered. "And I did. I killed you, Y/n. I'm the reason you left and Chuck found you and I'm so sorry." He looked up and caught Y/n's eyes. "I'm sorry I'm the reason your family thinks you're dead and I'm sorry I hurt you so badly. I'm so sorry."
The server walked up as Y/n opened her mouth to reply, so she stopped. They ordered their food and fell into a tense silence that followed them across the entire meal. Y/n cuddled closer to Sam as they ate. She was feeling needy, her abdomen cramping more the longer she was around her alphas, but she was doing her best to ignore it. She wasn't exactly happy to be reduced to base animal cravings again and she planned to fight it until the fever hit.
Dean picked pepperoni off of his pizza and sneaked looks across the table. "You should hate me," he whispered eventually. "I do."
"You hated yourself before all this," Y/n snapped.
“Yeah.” Dean nodded and stood, tossing a twenty dollar bill on the table. “It made sense then, too.”
Sam stood as Dean started to walk away from the table. “We’ll call you when she starts her heat.”
“Not until she really needs me, Sammy. You should take care of her needs. I don’t deserve-”
Sam shook his head. “She’ll need you faster than you think she will. First heat. It’s just like a first heat, Dean.”
Dean sighed. “Just call me when she needs me. I don’t deserve to touch her.”
“Coward,” Y/n whispered as Dean walked out of the restaurant.
Sam sat next to her and kissed her forehead. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get you through this.”
“Don’t really have much of a choice, do we?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Y/n’s temperature spiked as Sam drove her to her house. She squirmed in the passenger seat of the classic pickup truck as she rolled the window down to get air circulating in the cab.
"God, this feels almost as bad as…" she whimpered, curling in on herself.
"As bad as?" Sam asked, reaching over to set his hand on her thigh.
"The first one. The night at the bar," she whined, spreading her legs in silent invitation. Sam slipped his hand further up her thigh and pressed the seam of her jeans into her mound. She grabbed his hand, grinding against it as she made him put more pressure on her. "It's so overwhelming."
"I'll take care of you, Y/n," Sam promised, rubbing at her clit through her jeans.
She was a sweating mess of pheromones by the time Sam got her to her house. Sam held his breath as he moved to pick her up and help her out of the truck. If he breathed in the powerful scent of her, he likely wouldn't make it inside with her. He didn’t need her neighbors to witness him knotting her on the front lawn. She clung to him as he helped her inside, pulling her keys out of her jacket and opening the door. She whined his name as he helped her in and immediately turned right into the bedroom.
They hadn't done more than kiss and grope each other since she came back to Lebanon. Dean had gone further than Sam. As Sam grabbed her head and pressed a fierce kiss to her lips, she clawed at her clothes, desperate to be free of the constricting material. Sam grabbed the collar of her t-shirt and tugged, growling as she gasped against his mouth.
"Pants off. Bed," he commanded, pulling at his own clothes. She scrambled to kick her shoes off and fumbled with the button of her jeans as she stumbled backward toward the mattress. “I’ve been thinking about this for months. Getting between those legs again, listening to you whine. Tasting you. Fuck, I missed the way you taste.”
“Alpha, please,” she whined, dropping back onto the bed and spreading her legs for him.
“God, you are so beautiful,” he whispered, joining her on the bed. He was overwhelmed by the way she smelled and how she looked, sweating and spread out before him. He ran his hand across her collarbone and down into the valley between her breasts, loving the way she pressed herself closer to him. “I’m going to make you feel better, Omega.”
Sam leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly despite the desire to bite down and make her squirm. Her hand came down and buried in his hair as he laved his tongue over her skin, making the sensitive skin pucker at the attention. Sam couldn’t put into words how much he’d missed the scents and sensations attacking his brain in that moment. A million memories assaulted him as he kissed his way down her body to lick his way along her mound. This was Heaven for Sam. Hearing her noises, hearing her gasps, feeling her fingers grabbing his scalp like her life depended on it, as he feasted on her slick. He wanted nothing more for the rest of his life.
When she came apart on his tongue, he immediately climbed up her body and looked down into her lust-glazed eyes. “Do you want to present or...or should I take you like this or-”
“Let me ride.”
Sam’s cock twitched at the breathless request and he nodded before dropping to the bed beside her. He licked his lips and brushed his hair out of his face as she set her hands on his chest and moved to straddle him. She looked apprehensive for a moment before reaching down and lining his cock up with her entrance. He put his hand over hers on his chest and smiled up at her. “It’s okay, ‘mega.”
She leaned down and kissed him as she started working her way down his shaft. Thick alpha cock filling her up was exactly what she needed and she sighed in relief when he bottomed out inside of her. “Fuck, Sam.”
“You feel perfect, baby. Such a beautiful omega, so tight and wet. Perfect,” Sam praised as she started to roll her hips.
She wouldn’t have admitted to it in Seattle, but she missed this kind of sex. She missed an alpha dick in her, knot swelling at the base. She couldn’t say she dreamed of it, she hadn’t had any sexual dreams. But she did think about it. She thought about Sam and she thought about his brother, her original alpha, her original love. She missed them both. She missed this.
Sam let her work herself into a frenzy. He let her ride as fast as she wanted to. He let her slam her body down on him and only gave quick thrusts every once in a while to let her know he was enjoying himself as much as she was. When his knot started to fill, she leaned down to kiss him again, nails digging into the back of his neck as she finally fell over into oblivion. Sam reached down to grab her hips and braced his feet against the mattress as he started to thrust up into her, chasing his own ending, wanting nothing more than to knot her once more.
His knot caught and they both moaned loudly, kissing as he continued to try to thrust, his cock twitching inside of her. They were dripping sweat and satisfaction as she dropped to lie against his chest. “That...was amazing,” she whispered, panting harshly.
Sam chuckled and held her closer to him. “Yeah. You feeling okay?”
“For now.”
~~~
The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie @paryl @wereallbrokenangels @the-american-witch @that-one-gay-girl @tatted-trina6 @sunshineandwings86 @lunarmoon8 @wheezyeds @vicmc624 @couldabeenamermaid @vulgar-library
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Harry’s Blaming the Wrong People for his Genetic Trauma... Chapter Two of Lady Colin Campbell’s book reveals a lot!
The more I listen to Lady Colin Campbell’s YouTube Channel, the more I realize how little I truly paid attention to what she was really saying in her most recent book. Lady C is a woman of high caliber. She understands better than anyone that HOW something is said matters MORE than WHAT is said. She knows how to get information out there in a way that prevents any lawsuit happy turkeys from getting litigious. There is more than one way to say something. Finding the way that says it all without saying it all… well that is an artform.
To be honest, I believe all the answers we really want to know are woven into that book. Here recently, especially since the video about Princess Anne and the conversation had with Harry, I have noticed little clues dropped. One could almost argue that Lady C has somewhat direct information being given to her from close sources. And it is worth noting, to date there have been zero legal actions taken by the Montecito Muppets. Because of this, I have started re-reading Meghan and Harry, The Real Story. It’s important to remember I am taking this go-round literally line-by-line. This post is specifically about chapter two in the book.
Chapter two is the chapter in which Lady Colin Campbell provides us with Harry’s and his wife’s upbringings. She draws comparisons between both spare and spouse, as well as contrasting points. When she gets to Harry’s side, the light bulb started to get juice. You see, when you consider that Lady Colin Campbell was first chosen by Diana to write the biography Andrew Morton later got tapped to pen, Lady Colin Campbell was given a unique opportunity. She was able to see who the person was behind the media image of Diana, Princess of Wales.
She could not put aside her dignity, her responsibility of the truth, to seal that deal. Andrew Morton had no qualms with twisting truths slightly to perpetuate the Diana Saga. When you factor in Lady Colin Campbell’s knowledge on the British Royal Family, especially regarding the Queen Mother, you realize that Lady C is telling us who’s really behind the Montecito Man-Child just called Harry. Which again brings me back to the light bulb moment.
This whole time, Harry and his wife have been hurling accusations at his family. Harry especially pointed blame toward his father, grandmother, and late grandfather for causing his “genetic pain” and trauma. But if we look at what Lady Colin Campbell writes in chapter two of the book, we learn the reality of life growing up for William and Harry. Lady C writes in chapter two that Diana would encourage the boys to go against the grain, even if that meant bucking the protocols and measures put in place to protect the Crown’s survival.
Lady C mentions that William and Harry both were wild children with little to no rules to follow from their mother. She writes that Diana was infamous for screaming matches, throwing matches, and the peace of the home rested solely on the status of Diana’s love life. She says Charles was approving of James Hewitt, knew of their affair, and was okay with him teaching the boys how to ride horses. Diana would rotate between James Hewitt, Hasnat Kahn, and eventually Dodi. When trouble was brewing for Diana and a lover, she brought that trouble to Charles.
Furthermore, the Queen Mother was so concerned with instilling her own influences on the future of the Crown, she was a major influence in the issues between Prince Charles and his mother, Her Majesty the Queen. Lady Colin Campbell even writes in chapter two that the Queen Mother would tell Prince Charles it isn’t his place to stand up to the mother of his children, even when she was leading her boys down a wild-child path.
History cannot ignore the facts. Lady Colin Campbell even highlights how Diana’s own grandmother was so disgusted with how Diana was behaving and undermining the monarchy, she died before Diana and she could make amends. Her grandmother was a Lady of the Bedchamber for the Queen Mother, and she died 4 years before Diana. Her own grandmother saw through her tricks, as the Queen Mother did.
Again, what’s my long, drawn out point? Well, just in the first half of chapter two… we learn that Charles is a hot mess because of the Queen Mother’s meddling and Diana was the one in control of how the boys were raised. As a matter of fact, Diana was known to tell the boys “do whatever you want as long as you don’t get caught”.
Of course, I still have the rest of chapter two to finish, but I found it especially interesting that Lady C quotes the Kensington Palace chef, Darren McGrady (1993-1997) as remembering Diana telling him frequently to keep an eye out for William. She would tell him that William would manage, but Harry was an airhead like her. The exact wording on page 47 of the book says “You take care of the heir; I’ll look after the spare” (Campbell, 2020). So what does all this mean? Why does it matter? And how is THIS a light bulb moment for me?
Well, when you consider the fact Harry and his wife repeatedly bash his own family (more so from the former lately than the latter)… and you consider the factual recollections from everyone else… you realize Harry is blaming the wrong people for his problems. He says his father and grandparents are to blame for his own pain, that his father only treated him how he was treated by his own parents. But that goes against reality and truth. Because Charles was raised differently than his siblings; mainly because of the Queen Mother favoring him. Plus, William and Harry spent far more time residing with their mother than they did their father. By the age of twelve, a child’s personality is already well-seeded and developed. Essentially, who you were around puberty is who you are now, save for the maturity gained.
What we have here is repeated historical recollections of both women, the Queen Mother and Diana, being at the source of it all. Charles failed to step in and prevent his boys from growing up wildly misbehaved because he took more advice from the Queen Mother than his own mother and father. We have Diana constantly instilling in Harry this sense of bucking tradition and being the rebellious one. Both women had a direct hand in creating who Harry is. Both women left him rather large chunks of change when they passed. Yet… neither are blamed when Harry goes on the record? You mean to tell me, the two women who essentially gave you all of your wealth… the two women who predominately raised you to a teen… had no impact on you life nor bare some of the weight of responsibility for your issues? Just your father? Hmm.
Why does Harry only blame his father and his grandparents? Why doesn’t he ever utter one word about his mother that is honest instead of some fanatical warped version of a distant memory? He instead hoists all the blame from his own mother and great-grandmother onto the Royal Family. Why does he never mention how his mother would have screaming matches with his father, throwing things, or how she had multiple heated affairs of her own? How she struggled with her own relationships and would gaslight his father? We hear him slant his father for cheating on his mother, but never a word about his mother cheating on his father, too.
My whole point is Harry is comfortable blaming the people still living who cannot respond to these accusations. He is not comfortable with the truth. Why? Well, let’s face it. A lot of the affection and love people have for Harry is transference. Most people “loved” him because they loved her. They loved Harry because she loved Harry. People felt like they were serving, honoring even, Diana’s legacy by sparing Harry a harsh glance. He’s the spare, “Diana’s second son” who’s not so bright. Hey let’s give the ol’ chap a break.
He can’t let anything get in the way of his mother’s victimhood, martyrdom, sainthood status. It tarnishes his own brand. When the world starts remembering the facts or realizing Diana wasn’t so innocent, the world stops garnering sympathy for Harry. The world isn’t as easily manipulated when they don’t feel sorry for you, remember? So, Harry’s biggest chore to date is protecting that image of the lamb taken to slaughter that he paints his mother to be. Without that, his own brand crumbles.
Sorry again for the rambling, but it’s important to truly think and consider just how vital a role both women had and still have in Harry’s life now. Two of the biggest reasons he could just leave the Royal way of life are the Queen Mother and Diana. They are also two of the biggest influences that made life as traumatic as it was. Yet, never a word mentioned about their own responsibility in Harry’s “generic pain”. Oops, meant genetic.
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i hate you but ii: i need to talk to sam (bucky barnes x reader)
i hate you but masterlist
summary: bucky and y/n can’t stand each other, but y/n needs help with her sister’s kids (enemies to lovers au)
word count: 2181
warnings: swearing, arguing, death, and this is not proofread
taglist is CLOSED
A/N: so uh this chapter kind of focuses more on y/n’s relationship with her sister and the kids. there’ll be more Bucky in the next chapter, dw
“I’m on my way,” y/n sighed before dropping the call.
y/n had never rushed out of the compound as quickly as she did that day. Hell, even on missions—much to everyone’s distaste—she took her precious time to make sure she had everything she needed with her. She slipped on a sweatshirt and a pair of sandals before bolting out her bedroom.
The next thing she knew, she was in the elevator, asking FRIDAY to bring her to the basement level of the compound, anxiously gripping her phone on her side.
With a ding, the elevator doors slid open and y/n, once again, ran as fast as her legs could take her, and got into her car (which thankfully, was voice activated) and drove away from the compound and towards the precinct.
y/n, her thoughts spiraling, gripped tightly onto the steering wheel as tears obstructed her vision. She was having difficulty coming to terms with her sister’s death. Yes, she hasn’t seen her sister—or any of her kids for that matter—but it was difficult to deal with. How the hell was she supposed to deal with the fact that her baby sister, the one she didn’t visit for the purpose of keeping her safe, was gone.
Was it all because of HYDRA? Was it because of some illness y/n was never made aware of? Her thoughts were starting to get the better of her until she was snapped out of her trance by FRIDAY’s voice telling her to “turn right.”
The compound was a fifteen-minute ride away from the precinct. She arrived at the slightly run-down police precinct. Parking the car and slamming the door behind her, she speed walked into the precinct only to be stopped by a man sitting at the front desk.
“Name and purpose?” he questioned her, staring up at her expectantly, his dark brown eyes boring into her e/c ones.
“I’m looking for Elise Jones and Mike Jonas? I’m Cassy Langdon’s sister, Y/N L/N” she spoke to the man stationed at the front desk. He looked up, handed her the logbook and a pen, and spoke.
“I’m going to need your I.D, ma’am,” the man questioned, holding his hand out. y/n huffed, with the rush she was in, she forgot to bring along anything other than her phone. “I don’t think I have my I.D on me right now, officer,” y/n shook her head.
“Well, that’s too bad. I’m afraid I can’t let you in without your I.D, ma’am,” the officer shook his head.
“Officer, I just received a phone call telling me that my sister’s dead and I have custody of her children. I don’t think you want to test me,” y/n chuckled, her voice raspy and tired.
“That’s sad and all, but I still need your I.D,” the officer narrowed his eyes at y/n. She took a deep breath before speaking words she’d heard Tony Stark say a handful of times while trying to enter bars.
“You need an I.D? y/n l/n, look me up because this face is my I.D,” y/n smirked, signing her name onto the log book. Once again, the officer narrowed his eyes at her before directing his attention to his computer screen and typing something into it before his eyes widened.
“You’re an Avenger?” the officer’s eyes widened, scrambling up to his feet to salute.
“I wasn’t in the military like the other Avengers,” y/n stuttered, shaking her head repeatedly, “a simple ‘oh hey, you weren’t lying about your identification, you can totally enter the precinct’ would do.”
“Of course, ma’am,” the officer nodded, returning to his seat.
y/n made her way further into the precinct and she saw what she assumed to be the waiting area since there were quite a few people seated in the room.
“Miss L/N, over here,” a familiar voice came from one of the corners of the room. She looked over to the source of the voice and saw a woman, based off how she looked, she must have been in her late forties or early fifties, clad in a blue pantsuit with a matching blazer. y/n made her way to the woman, ignoring all the stares she was getting from everyone, and taking a seat parallel to her.
“I’m going to make this quick, why am I the one taking custody of my sister’s three kids? What happened to their dad? You know, what’s his face?” y/n’s brows furrowed, unable to recall her brother-in-law’s name. After all, she never liked him for her little sister.
“Mr. Langdon is currently in a holding cell,” Elise explained, smoothing out her pants as she readjusted her position on the seat.
“That son of a bitch killed my sister, didn’t he?” y/n chuckled sadly upon hearing Elise’s words.
“Well, your sister died in a drunk driving accident. Mr. Langdon was driving and the investigators are currently taking Ethan and Olivia’s statements on what happened and from the looks of it, Mr. Langdon could be charged with homicide,” a man interrupted her, also making his presence known.
“You’re taking the kid’s statements? Wait, they weren’t in the car when it crashed, were they?” y/n panicked, her eyes widening in concern.
“Ethan and Olivia weren’t included in the half of the population that went out with the blip. I don’t think they’re as young as you remember them,” the man explained before a look of realization found its way to his face, “I almost forgot, I’m Mike Jonas, your sister’s lawyer.”
“y/n l/n, but you already knew that,” y/n shook his hand before continuing, “what about the other one; Jackson, my sister’s youngest?”
“There’s a room in the precinct for the younger kids. Cassy’s kids who were affected by the blip are there. Jackson’s in there with his younger sister, Allie,” Elise smiled reassuringly.
“So, there’s four of them, now? Damn it, I can’t believe my sister had another kid with that prick,” y/n rolled her bloodshot eyes in disappointment. Her mind flashed back to when they were teenagers and would talk about their futures.
“I want a big house, a good husband, and a big family so the house would never feel lonely. I want you there too, y/n. Oh my god, the kids are going to love you!” Cassy smiled up at y/n, her e/c eyes beaming with excitement.
“Cass, don’t you think your husband would hate it if I lived with you guys? Plus, I don’t think I’d be good with children anyways,” y/n chuckled, shaking her head.
“Can you at least promise you’ll visit us often?” Cassy’s e/c eyes pierces into y/n’s e/c ones.
“I promise,” y/n smiled, locking pinkies with Cassy.
Her eyes glossed over with tears as her mind wandered to that memory. She knew damn well broke that promise. There was a point in time when y/n kept that promise and she visited Cassy’s house every week, always bringing along gifts for her niece and nephews.
“You spoil them,” Cassy chuckled as Ethan, Olivia, and Jackson tore off the wrapping paper from the boxes she handed them.
“It’s not my fault I’m the cool aunt,” y/n winked in response, pulling an eyeroll from Cassy.
Those visits only ever stopped when y/n’s position as an Avenger began to pose as a threat to the family’s safety. What if HYDRA caught her during one of her visits to the house? What if she couldn’t protect them when HYDRA decided to use them against her?
She couldn’t have that on her conscience, so she abruptly cut off all communications with her sister and her family. She didn’t want to put their lives in danger.
To her, it’d been two years since her last visit. To Ethan and Olivia? It must’ve been seven years. Damn Thanos and his mission to “help” the universe. y/n began to feel uncomfortable in her seat. Would the kids recognize her? Would they accept the fact that they had to live with her now?
“Your sister, she once discussed you getting custody of her children if she and Mr. Langdon were to pass. She wrote about this in her will,” Mike explained, handing y/n a manila envelope.
She opened the envelope and she pulled out one crisp piece of printed paper—y/n assumed this was the will itself—and six envelopes. She was surprised to find one with her name written in her sister’s handwriting too; even after she’d abandoned her, Cassy still left y/n something.
“What’s this?” y/n questioned, holding up the envelope.
“Cassy wrote you a letter. She made sure to put emphasis on the fact that you don’t have to open it immediately. She said you would’ve taken a while before you decided to open it,” Mike explained, earning a nod from y/n as she tucked the envelope back into the bigger one as she read through the will.
There, in the section concerning the wellbeing of Cassy’s children, y/n saw her name and the conditions of which y/n would take custody of her children.
“If, however, my husband, Eric Langdon, is somehow unfit (an example of it being under the influence of alcohol for 2-4 days a week) or unavailable (an example of this having him jailed or god forbid dead), I entrust the custody of my four children, Ethan Langdon, Olivia Langdon, Jackson Langdon, and Allison Langdon, with my older sister, y/n l/n.”
“Well, when can I meet the kids?” y/n smiled sadly, tucking the piece of paper back in the envelope.
“They should be done questioning Olivia and Ethan in a few minutes. For now, I need to talk to you about how living conditions are going to be with the kids,” Elise requested, earning a nod from y/n.
“I’d like to think I have more than enough to support them without needing to dig into the funds my sister left for them. The only issue I have is that my apartment’s a two-bedroom apartment and I think the kids are going to want more space than that, so I swear I’ll try finding a better place. One with more than enough room for the kids,” y/n explained, earning a nod from Elise. y/n remembered how big Cassy’s dreams were. Sure, she liked being with family, but she also wanted her kids to have space to move around, to play. y/n owed it to Cassy to give the kids the life she wanted for them.
“It sounds like you have the living conditions under control. I like how you didn’t mention letting them move into the Avengers Compound, though I am aware it’s where you’re currently living?” Elise raised a brow expectantly.
“My apartment, it’s for when I need to get away from all the hero stuff. I don’t think it’d be great for the kids to be exposed to everything going on in the tower,” y/n chuckled, the events of earlier flashing through her brain.
“I see. But I want to discuss your involvement in their lives. Their mom just passed and their dad’s getting incarcerated. I know being an Avenger can be demanding, but I’m telling you now that you might need some time off for them to get used to having you as their guardian,” Elise explained, earning another nod from y/n.
“I’ll let my teammates know I’m taking a break now, if you’ll excuse me,” y/n nodded out, getting up from her seat and finding a more secluded area in the precinct to ring up her colleagues.
“Hello?�� a gruff voice responded and y/n groaned internally. Of all people who could pick up the phone in the tower, why did Bucky Barnes have to pick up?
“Barnes, I need to talk to Sam,” y/n was quick to cut the chase.
“Why? Did you burn down another kitchen?” Bucky quipped, pulling an eye roll from y/n.
“No, but this is really important so can I please talk to Sam?” y/n strained, her jaw clenching.
“Whatever you’re going to tell Sam, you can tell me. I’ll let him know,” Bucky spoke in a suspiciously innocent tone.
“I don’t trust you with relaying information, so not a chance,” y/n, for the second time in two minutes, rolled her eyes at Bucky’s antics.
“Alright, fine. Sam! y/n burned down another kitchen!” Bucky called out.
“I didn’t burn down ano—” y/n started only to get cut off by Sam’s voice.
“Chill out, I know you didn’t burn down the kitchen, but why are you calling? Can’t you just leave your room and talk to us like a normal person?” Sam chuckled.
“Because I’m not in the tower. I’m at the 87th precinct which is about 15 minutes away from the tower and I might need like 2-4 weeks off,” y/n explained, hearing a gasp from the other side of the line.
“You got arrested?”
“No, but I have this family emergency and it might take a while to deal with. I’ll explain it when I get back, but for now, I’m letting you know I’m taking a break,” y/n explained before ending the call and tucking her phone away in her pocket.
a/n: this has nothing to do with this but ughhhh theres this steve oneshot im having a hard time writing
i hate you but taglist: @sarcastic-britt / @kmuir1 / @shower-me-with-roses / @justab-eautifulmess / @thomasthetankson / @x-abi-sharp-x / @intovert-gone-wild / @brittanymcsharry / @leaving-the-past-behind / @xoxabs88xox / @valeriiaaass / @mylifeiscrazy0423
Forever tags: @spatium-viatorem / @sxphiiwrld / @strangersstranger / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @cutie1365 /
MARVEL TAGLIST: @captainamerica-is-bae
BUCKY TAGLIST: @missmidnightxo
#bucky#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes x teammate! reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fanfiction#winter solider imagine#winter solider x you#winter soldier#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier imagine
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Of Queens and Trash
Here’s the thing. SCK has been on a downward trend since 13. The breakup was long, getting together again was tiring, the amnesia plot was poorly handled and the mess that came following his recovery was, well, a mess. The necessary break for covid gave us a chance for a fresh start for Edser. All the bad stuff in the past, and a focus in the last episodes of them being able to finally fulfill all the promises they had not been able to. After all, this was a story that, at its core, was about two people who met and fell in love and who, no matter what, chose to be together. Invisible handcuffs. And with the return of the OG writer, it seemed we might finally get that. After 39 episodes of angst and only 7(?) of real togetherness, surely it was time? Forget the pain of the past, and start with Edser navigating their world together.
And then the trailer dropped. And all of a sudden, all the people who had spent months eviscerating Serkan for behaving badly in the 30s were celebrating this new plot, the “great angst” and Eda “being a Queen.”
For me, I can’t get over the hiding of the child. It's a hardline deal breaker. I don’t think it matters who writes it, I think it's an awful plotline. No matter how "good" the trailer looks or moments seem, I will remember that I was watching a show about two people who loved each other and never wanted to be apart, about a man who learned how to open his heart, and this ruined it all.
Now, I think it's worth noting that my hard line, in this particular case, is in response to Edser, if that makes sense. I’m not hardline, “if this is in a story I’m not watching”. If it works for the characters and story because that is the type of story being told, then fine.
I don't subscribe to the woke feminism brand of "all women are Queens and all men are Trash" which seems to be a trend of late (and not just in fandom). I think people are people and people are generally imperfect but also trying. I don’t think women, simply by virtue of carrying a child, get full say in what happens to the child, regardless of the father’s wishes. I'm not fond of a “hiding a kid storyline”, and while I get the whole "my body my choice" style of arguing, it took two people to make the baby. Two people get a say in what happens. I get you are growing the kid, but you didn't spontaneously conceive.
For me, Edser being apart and/or hiding a kid is a hardline. It doesn't fit with the characters as I know them and it doesn't fit with the storyline. And look--I hated the amnesia plot. I thought there were a literal million ways this could have been done better, but it's what we got. So for everyone suddenly defending this new plot, despite it making about as much sense as Eda getting married to make Serkan remember her, then that means everything goes. No blaming writers or ignoring canon...everything has context and meaning now. And since “it's realistic” is also a common refrain, then fine. Let’s go realistic.
Imagine being in a plane crash. You wake up, you have clear physical/mental blocks. For someone who likes to be in control, that's terrifying. You have a ring on your finger with a woman's name you don't know, and an entire year missing. You call the one person you know will come (since your parents and friends are useless) and she comes and tells you a story that jives. You can't remember shit and you keep getting flashes and your hands won't work, so you take what she tells you, because why would you have any reason to doubt? It’s not like you can remember anyway, and trying to remember hurts.
You finally go back home, and you recognize nothing about your own life. Friends, family...everything is different. Your mom is out, your dad is gone, your best friends are married. You don't even live in the same house, you have people working in your company you don’t know--even your dog is gone. And then you have a hysterical woman throwing pictures in your face of a man you don't recognize and your brain is still foggy and all your friends and family seem to be shrugging their shoulders at you.
You're terrified and alone and all you get is some vagueness about an epic love story and too much emotion and all you want to do is hide. From everything. Plus your heart is doing this thing every time the girl is near and you think you might be dying maybe and remember how your brother died?
So, the girl kisses you, you literally feel like you might be dying, and it's like naw. Fuck this. I'm getting back an ounce of control. So you propose to Selin. I mean you don’t love her and you barely want her but at least she is the same. At least she hasn’t changed, and at least she doesn’t stare at you with the weight of a million expectations that everyone else does. At least she doesn’t look at you and hope to see a man you can’t ever remember being.
But then the girl everyone claims is your soulmate is suddenly engaged to another man, and spends every moment after that claiming she hates you, she is over you, she is better off/happier without you, doesn't need you.
So it's like, okay, what is the truth. Your brain isn't helping, your friends aren't helping, she isn't helping. So you lash out, you close off, because really, what else is left. Your life isn’t your life, your mind isn’t your mind, you can’t even figure out what’s real and what isn’t. And she’s getting married and you want to die but she’s getting married and surely if she loved you she wouldn’t be doing this?
And then you get your memories back. Finally. Everything comes flooding back ,and it's a lot. You cope in shitty ways, you don't respond well, etc. You’ve returned from the dead twice, and everything feels just slightly off, but maybe you can make this work. At least you have her. After a few days, you’re feeling like your old self. You've got your memories, your girl, the possibility of the future you had snatched twice, and then BOOM. She rejects you, out of nowhere.
Won't talk, won't communicate, you have no idea what the fuck is happening. She’s crying and sad but also not leaving but also not staying and your brain can’t quite work things out but all you can do is promise that you love her, only her, always her, forever. Surely she must know that by now, right?
And then she tells you about the baby. You can't remember the sex of course, but then you find out it probably happened while your brain was fucked, and you barely have time to process this before oh yeah the love of your life is leaving you bc she would rather you raise a baby with your rapist. And suddenly you might be dying, again.
But you stop her. You stop her and even though she says she didn’t come back for you, why else would she have stayed? So, you finally get her back, she tattoos you on her finger and maybe just maybe everything will be fine when BOOM. Cancer. You aren't even over the other shit, and you have a fucking tumor. You are 30 years old, you've survived a plane crash, amnesia, and now you have a tumor. How many times can a person die?
And so you don’t cope well. You withdraw, you back away. Your brother died when he was young, you know what that does to a person. You know what it did to your family. You have this fear that curls around your heart that says “but what if she becomes my mother.” And she goes. She leaves and she takes your heart and your child (that you don’t even know about) and it’s like...fuck. Again. Because everyone leaves you, eventually. And somehow, it’s always your fault.
So, what I'm saying is, Eda endured a lot, sure. She was hurt. Their breakup in 14 was hard and I’m not denying that (although there is another post I could write about how since Eda never actually uses her words to tell him how she feels he can, perhaps, be understood in assuming that breaking up after barely being together would hurt but also that she would move on and live her life happily without him. Which I guess season 2 proves…) Losing Serkan to an accident/amnesia was hard, looking at the body of the man she loves but not seeing the man she loves must have been agony. But Serkan was fucking wrecked. So instead of choosing to write a plot where they both get to heal, where they both get to explore their pain and work through it together, we get Serkan who reverted to being a robot to cope with massive trauma and PTSD, and essentially is abandoned by everyone, again.
I guess what I'm saying is, if staying with him and supporting him when he was dealing with trauma was too much for her, then fine.That is very true for some people, and it’s certainly realistic. But I don't really think that jives with Eda and her character, and while it isn't a trauma competition, I'd still think Serkan comes out a winner here. Eda lost her parents, which was awful. She lost him, but she got him back. Twice. His trauma is losing his brother, being abandoned by his parents, a plane crash, amnesia, emotional manipulation/abuse and cancer. And then he gets punished by having his daughter taken away from him because he was having a hard time coping. Keeping a kid a secret isn't "protecting the child" it's punishing the father.
Tl;dr The direction they have taken the characters is gross for both mains, but if people are trying to justify Eda keeping his child from him because “he deserves it” or “she did what was best for her” then I think we maybe haven’t been watching the same show. Even if he said “I don’t want kids,” saying that to a hypothetical child is very different then being told “a baby is very much our reality.” Because that's the crux right? It's not that he decided he just didn't want to be a father ever, he's scared of having a family and losing them or of them losing him. And then she made that very fear be realized. Which is tragic and quite the opposite of what his life partner needed to do in that situation.
Bitte.
Thanks to @lolo-deli for the proofread and the final lines, you are the best. And for putting up with my uncontrollable ranting about this for days.
#sen çal kapımı#sck#serkan bolat#eda yıldız#SCK is officially over for me#so I’m making funerary arrangements to say goodbye to yet another fandom.#this is my eulogy#also this is a serkan bolat protection blog#jesus i sound like a 14 year old fangirl#whatever#its been a minute since i have been one of those#let me relive the days in peace
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I saw you mention in an ask that Diego spotted the abuse they underwent first. In what order and how do you think each of the kids came to the realization of what their dad put them through? They all obviously are still reeling from everything years later and it was EXTRA apparent during the light supper.
The light supper did many things, but the one thing it did most of all was show just how deeply he damaged these kids. Here they are in their thirties, meeting with a man who doesn’t know them yet—and even though they’re all completely on edge, guards up, expecting the worst, they’re still blindsided by how low he stoops just to gain a slight edge.
But I digress. Here’s how I think each one of them came to realize Reginald was abusive, and the order in which I think they realized it. This is mostly just speculation on my part, so I could be wrong, but I like to think it’s an educated guess.
Diego: Watching his dad give Luther nothing but praise while he received nothing but criticism fostered a good deal of resentment in him, but I think it also led him to see that something was very wrong much sooner than some of his other siblings. See, the torture they endured seems to have happened behind closed doors—Vanya losing her powers, Klaus being locked in the mausoleum, whatever awful things he did to Allison, Ben and Five in the guise of making them stronger—but the verbal abuse Diego went through happened out in the open. It had to. Reginald wanted to goad Diego into pushing his own limits to beat Luther at a game neither of them could win. To do that, he needed make them both aware that there was a competition, that Luther was winning and Diego was losing, and that all of the other siblings knew the score. Being locked in that dynamic meant Diego was constantly, painfully aware that no one else had to deal with Reginald’s constant nitpicking—but also that no one else was lavished with praise the way Luther was. Even to a sheltered kid who’s allowed few friends outside the family and limited freedom to leave the grounds, that treatment is visibly wrong. Diego might not have been able to call it abuse as a teen, but I think seeing the blatant discrepancies between how he and his siblings were treated—plus his legendary stubbornness—kept him from internalizing it for too long. When Reginald used Ben’s funeral to shame them all, that was probably the moment Diego began seeing him not as a bad parent, but as a monster he needed to escape.
Vanya: Like Diego, she was treated differently from her siblings. Unlike Diego, I do think she internalized it to a degree. We see her taking up the violin in an attempt to impress her dad (“I’m going to be extraordinary”) and her visible dismay when Reginald says “I’m afraid there’s nothing special about you.” Even as an adult, after years on her own, she sends Reginald a copy of her autobiography. It’s possible this was an attempt to get him to see things from her perspective, but it’s equally possible she sent it to him as a means of saying “Look, Dad, I wrote a book. I got it published. It’s on the bestseller list. Be impressed, you asshole.” Part of her wanted to impress him, and part of her believed that if she just tried a little harder, she could do it. Although she recognized that her treatment was unfair sometime in or prior to her teen years (we see her protesting Reginald’s refusal to let her be in the family photo) the part of her that wanted to earn his favor probably kept her from fully embracing the idea that she was not responsible for how she was treated. That said, I do think she’d realized Reginald was the problem by the time she moved out, and she probably began calling him abusive once she either read up on abusive relationships or learned about them from her therapist. Learning that there was a word for what she endured, and that no decent person considers it okay, was probably strangely comforting and empowering all at once.
Klaus and Ben: After Ben’s death, they almost certainly began talking more. Ben would’ve had to witness Klaus’ burgeoning addiction spiral out of control, and he wouldn’t have let it happen in silence. Maybe his resentment festered shortly after his death; maybe it came years later. Whatever the case, I think that when Ben began arguing with Klaus over his drug habit, Klaus pushed back—and eventually, this pushback led to him spilling details of what led him down that road. “He locked me in a fucking mausoleum when I was just a kid” probably stunned Ben into silence for a few hours at least—and also reminded him of the things Reginald forced him to do while he was alive. Maybe they started trading stories to empathize with each other; maybe they traded them to one-up each other. Whatever the case, I think that as they learned they’d both been effectively tortured by their own father, they both began to realize how twisted their childhoods had been—and that they were not to blame for it.
Allison: While her reactions during the light supper prove Reginald terrorized her as much as he did the others, we also know she used her power to get whatever she wanted. Parental abuse is damaging to everyone, no matter who you are; but abuse from a parent you can manipulate is a little easier to endure, and it’s much harder to recognize that something is wrong when you can buy yourself a respite—or at least a few material things to ease the pain. She had an advantage the others didn’t, and I think this advantage kept her in denial, believing Reginald might not be so bad after all, if he gave her all those nice things and didn’t complain, until Ben’s funeral. Watching Reginald use her brother’s death as an opportunity to berate and shame them for something she knows wasn’t their fault makes her angry and hurt enough to stand up to him, despite the derision this earns her. I think that day affected her pretty deeply—maybe even more deeply than her siblings. Ben’s funeral was probably the day she realized there was nothing redeemable in her dad after all and that she had to get away for her own safety. Once she was out on her own, I think she sought out books on bad parents—starting with survivor memoirs, empathizing with the narrators more strongly than she expected, then branching out into self-help. She probably read the signs and checklists over and over, just to make absolutely certain her experiences counted as abuse and she wasn’t just being dramatic and ungrateful.
Five: If he hadn’t gotten stuck in the apocalypse, I think he might have been one of the first to realize Reginald was abusive. But because he spent the majority of his life in a world much harsher than the Academy (which isn't to say the Academy wasn’t harsh, but no one had to eat cockroaches to survive it) his memories probably took on a rosier hue. A place with a solid roof over his head, where he was guaranteed clean clothes, companionship, and never had to wonder where his next meal was coming from—after starving out in the open and talking to a mannequin, Five probably thought more than once that he’d never argue with Reginald again if it only meant a return to those comforts he once took for granted. This longing, mixed with self-loathing over his stupidity at getting stuck, probably led to some self-blame over how Reginald treated him, if his “I was too hard on you” to Reginald during the light supper is any indication. He realized Reginald was abusive at some point (probably after some heated arguments with Dolores) but I think he’s also gotten it into his head that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed at the time—not as bad as growing up in the apocalypse, at any rate.
Luther: Not only did he stay in the Academy well into his twenties, but he put his own safety on the line, nearly died in service to Reginald’s goal—a goal he’d fooled himself into thinking was his own—and when the man who endangered him, mutilated him, and shunned him exiled him to a hunk of rock floating in space, he still blamed himself. While he took a major step forward in the latter half of S1, placing the blame for his pointless Moon mission on Reginald (where it belongs), I think his jump into the sixties caused him to regress a bit. I don’t think he forgot what Reginald did to him, but I do think he assumed that Reginald might be kinder in his younger years. Maybe he thought parenthood made him less patient or—more tragically—that something he and his siblings did turned him into the kind of man who would shame his surviving children at their brother’s funeral. I think he believed that if he could just talk to his dad before all of that happened, he’d be welcomed with surprise and joy, pulled into a hug and asked about all he’d accomplished. While Reginald’s rejection shattered him, I think it also, in a sad and twisted way, freed him. Luther learned, once and for all, that Reginald simply hated children. Reginald’s callousness and outright cruelty wasn’t due to anything he did—it was the result of taking on parenthood out of a sense of obligation, resenting it every step of the way, and lacking the emotional maturity to avoid taking it out on kids whose only crime was dependency on him. The fact Luther didn’t believe it until he heard it from the man himself speaks volumes about the control Reginald still had over him, even after his lies were laid bare.
#the umbrella academy season 2 spoilers#umbrella academy season 2 spoilers#tua s2 spoilers#the Umbrella academy#Umbrella Academy#tua#abuse cw#abuse mention#abuse tw#meta#analysis#luther hargreeves#Diego hargreeves#allison hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#five hargreeves#ben hargreeves#vanya hargreeves#reginald hargreeves#number one#number two#number three#number four#number five#number six#number seven#anon#answered
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your villain origin story had a hate for ned and most of the stark brothers and thought sansa was the least loved stark and atuff. i remember because i used to stan sansa and her meta would keep cropping up but everytime there was so much shit about how ned preferred arya not sansa etc, even fics about that. when ???? and idek where the brothers preferring arya came over lol, if anything the reason arya and jon were so close was that they both felt like outcasts. sansa was the ideal daughter, if ned worried about arya more it was because she reminded him of lyanna and we all know what happened with her. asoiaf's world is not the best for women and but even in the upper classes if women weren't traditionally pretty + feminine they would likely NOT have a good life (some northern houses excluded), ofc he worried about her?? but i don't see how you can get "neglectful father" from that lol, not to mention all of sansa's positive memories with bran and robb. (i think they also got mad that ned didn't want sansa to witness beheadings and punishments when he let bran witness it lmfao like maybe consider the world of the books?????)
i mean write what you want and all, but her crowd had it in their heads that sansa was the misunderstood, less-loved, underdog protagonist of the books which... was not the case lol. it was projecting 21st century fandom politics onto sansa when in the world of the books sansa definitely had an upper hand before everything went to shit because she was a beautiful aristocrat who was good at her courtesies and singing and sewing and knowing what to say and all the who's who, the ideal daughter/lady. it's after she becomes a political prisoner and her worldview is shaken at the end of book 1 that she becomes an "underdog" with 0 privilege.
I mean.... yes that was pretty much her schtick but again she was like AH I READ THE BOOKS EXTREMELY ATTENTIVELY and she hadn't for shit bc again I only read the 'raised as a sexual object' meta other than that complete amount of crap that was the robb is a dick one which makes me suspect was the first time someone told her her analysis was bullshit bc she was pretty virulent when telling me I didn't understand my favorite character lmfao but like... that's what stayed in 80% of showsansa fandom atm and I wish like hell it wasn't because it looks like they all like sansa for being cerseilite when the entire point is that she's all the contrary lmao
but like the arya villification + ned/cat villainizing when like you can argue they weren't perfect but not that they didn't... love... their children plus absolutely not understanding the basic point that what will make the starks thrive at the end is that they actually do love each other and have the kind of bond that will get them to survive the shit they got even when their parents + robb are dead and died in that shit way and not that they backstab each other which dnd didn't get but the moment you open the books it's p damned obvious so honestly I think she basically went and decided sansa was the trope she's deconstructing and banked on the 'people hate feminine women' angle when like... yeah she got hate from fandom but in-verse she has the upper hand in comparison to arya as you say and feminine women in-verse automatically have an upper hand in society anyway bc if they don't perform we all see how it goes but anyway she completely interpreted stuff avoiding the context, the worldbuild and the circumstances the characters grew up in and minimizing things and not using the same standards of judgment which was wild but at the end of it I'm still sad that I couldn't manage to actually ask her for a cut of her favorite white boy t-shirt sales since she had to put them down a week after that shop opened *rolls eyes* and with this I mean that you can't criticize sansa because she was eleven-twelve when she did most wrong things she did WHICH I AGREE WITH but at the same time robb at fifteen is the worst for having thought with his dick when he had sex with jeyne which like.... okay he's not trained to be a king, his bff betrayed him, he thinks he caused the deaths of his brothers, has had canonically obvious instances of 'I HAVE TO PERFORM TO MY UTTERMOST BEST OR PEOPLE WILL THINK I'M WEAK' and repressed anger issues and he's fifteen or sixteen but he's thinking with his dick when he has sex with a girl who was being nice to him? like if sansa being a kid means it's explainable/understandable then robb is also fifteen which is not an adult where I come from but nah he was a dick X°DDD okay X°DDDDDDD and she did that with each single char never mind the indecent jon bashing when in the s6 finale he didn't say ACTUALLY MY SISTER SHOULD BE QUEEN which,,,,,, they elected him to fight the zombies and he's been doing that since S1 in which way sansa had more qualifications in an elective monarchy??? X°DDD just.... I'm really glad she seemingly isn't around much anymore because my friend those were takes we're all better off without
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𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 ↠ 𝖎𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓 [day six, @it-lives-week]
❛ the power is back, and it’s more powerful than ever. you must band together and defeat it once and for all... or die trying. ❜
n.b. i’m basing this off my ilitw mc taking jane’s place and everyone survived in both ilitw and ilb, so some plot points are interchangeable. plus, ilitw and ilb mcs’ characteristics are obviously interchangeable depending on how you played in your own playthroughs/how you have written them.
significant characters.
↠ (DETERMINANT) mc: it lives within main character [LI: determinant]. possible faces to choose from: caucasian, south asian, middle eastern, latina, african. sexuality is determinant. nerve subject to change.
↠ (F) marisol reyes: it lives in the woods main character [LI: noah marshall]. filipina. bisexual. nerve subject to change.
↠ (F) harper vance: it lives beneath main character [LI: tom sato] african-american. pansexual. nerve is not subject to change if your mc survived ilb.
↠ (NB) jamie mcleod: it lives within side character [LI: mc or andy kang]. singaporean, irish. pansexual, demisexual. nerve subject to change.
↠ (F) sun-hee ‘sunny’ pong: it lives within side character [LI: mc or dan pierce]. south korean. bisexual. nerve subject to change.
↠ (M) okeyo ‘oak’ liao: it lives within side character [LI: mc or jocelyn wu]. kenyan, chinese. bisexual. nerve subject to change.
↠ (F) jocelyn wu. it lives in the woods + it lives within side character [LI: mc or okeyo liao]. pansexual. nerve is not subject to change.
romance.
↠ so i don’t know if this is gonna make sense but like in the game harvest moon, you can choose to/accidentally activate “heart events” that set your LI up with a different character, so i thought it would be a cool change for you to see an LI option end up with someone else if you don’t romance them. would probably be paywalled though, kind of like grace/aleister in endless summer.
↠ jaimie would not have intimate scenes until the second half of the book if mc has established a strong relationship with them.
plot points.
the plot isn’t complete, these are just some ideas i had in mind. i may change some or even all of them when i write my it lives 3 au.
↠ [this piece of information is not revealed until late into the story] noah ends up finding a ritual that allows him to bring marisol back, on the condition that he would have to give his soul up to the power after six months and take her place.
↠ in the midst of arguing with his former westchester friend group after revealing his face to them to propose an alliance in order to put a stop to the power, they are interrupted by marisol entering the room, looking and wearing exactly the same as she had on homecoming night, dazed and confused.
↠ noah, having thought the ritual hadn’t worked, is just as shocked beyond belief as the rest of them. it is then concluded that marisol does not remember a single thing during her three years as jane’s replacement (though memories come back to her in bits and pieces through nightmares and flashbacks throughout the story), and believes it is still homecoming night and the last thing she remembers is speaking to jane. they do their best to ease her into the fact that 3 years have passed.
↠ the main character’s parents were members of the society prior to their death, but they were away for college during the events of it lives beneath. upon hearing of their deaths, they move temporarily to pine springs, and notice that something was off with the quaint town.
↠ they take it upon themselves to investigate further into this and later discover the society by following one of its few remaining members into a forest. they are kidnapped, then immediately recognized as the child of their highly esteemed comrades, so they then decide to go easier on them and explain everything about the cult and their parents’ place in it.
↠ they are interrupted when a group of strangers [it lives beneath main group] bust their operation and the chief of police ends up hauling off what they then believed to be the last remaining members of the society into jail. meanwhile, tom, imogen, danni, and harper reveal what they had left out about josephine vance and the power that once lived in the lake.
↠ the main character, harboring bitter anger towards their parents’ greed for the power and how it got them killed, is immediately motivated to put a stop to it, so they are introduced to connor green, whom tom knew was organizing a group to fight against the supernatural force. together, they move to a town they suspected contained it: northbury, oregon - which was equidistant from westchester and pine springs, both of which were an hour away.
↠ the main character is introduced to the westchester group, including marisol and jocelyn; however, only connor, noah, jocelyn, dan, noah, and andy had decided to move to northbury. the rest decided to remain in their respective towns since they weren’t far away anyway.
↠ in an attempt to blend in with the locals and gain information about the recent disappearances simultaneously, MC makes it their mission to get to know the most significant current residents of northbury that ava cunningham and parker shaw had pulled up information about: jamie mcleod (the younger sibling of one of the missing victims), lawrence khan (northbury’s chief of police), jiao-long liao (occult studies professor at northbury university), and sun-hee pong (a college student who had been caught trespassing on properties including the homes of the missing victims multiple times, and the daughter of one of the missing).
↠ upon their arrival, more people start to go missing, and the gang discover that northbury has had a much darker past than westchester and pine springs combined. disappearances date back decades, and the rates are alarmingly high for a town that appeared to be bustling with residents. a local conspiracy blog/forum exposes numerous reports of dead animals cut in a ritualistic/sacrificial manner, sightings of a dark humanoid figure wandering in the trees at night, and rumors of a secret underground cave full of occult symbols drawn with blood on the walls, dust-coated skeletons, and a myth surrounding an ancient monster that was offered sacrifices by its people unknowingly.
↠ honestly this is all i have planned so far lmao but a few more things i had in mind were: (A) there could be a bad ending where they don’t defeat the power, meaning noah’s soul is claimed and he becomes the new redfield (B) if the power is defeated noah gets to stay alive and ends up with marisol, goes to culinary school, all that good stuff (C) i was thinking that even some characters without nerve could have multiple fates depending on how the story goes and who lives, like connor and jocelyn, and maybe it could be dependent on the nerve of others that way the stakes are higher and you’re more motivated to keep the nerve high. e.g. if MC’s nerve is low and they can’t complete a certain task that could save others, jocelyn ends up doing it instead and dies in the process.
so yeah this is mainly what i have in mind for an it lives 3 book! i hope PB change their mind one day and revisit it because it’s truly their best series.
#ILAweek#it lives in the woods#it lives beneath#ilb choices#ilitw choices#playchoices#choices stories you play#pb choices#noah marshall#dan pierce#andy kang#ilitw mc#ilb mc#tom sato#ava cunningham#jocelyn wu#connor green#parker shaw#imogen wescott#danni asturias#*mine#choices edit
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Oh Yeah, I Remember Now
It’s Who I Am
Part 4
Word Count: 2555
Warning: I didn’t go into much detail but there is mentions of abuse and other things which the reader went through during their time with HYDRA
How would The Falcon and The Winter Soldier have played out if you, the younger daughter of Howard Stark got involved? You had been kidnapped by HYDRA at a young age, your mind taken from you as they forced you to work towards creating new weapons for them and when HYDRA had fallen you had gotten free with your scattered memories for you to slowly piece together.
You'd had a relatively good childhood, sure your father was a dirtbag to both you and Tony but your mom was good. She tried to protect the both of you, Tony had done his best to protect you as well. But you'd always lived in their shadow. It was always, "oh you're Howard's daughter? I didn't know he had a daughter," or "aww what a cutie, you must help your mom take such god care of your father and brother." All of this made you sick. None of it was Tony's fault it was all misogyny and your father's sexism.
The next thing you remember is a science fair. It's third grade and you've made a tiny drone, which you can fly around and take pictures with. You were so excited to show everyone, to show your dad that you could be an engineer as well, but only your mother and Tony came. They tried to encourage you but you didn't say anything, it isn't until you get home and you're lying in bed that you cry. You're good at keeping your crying quiet, quiet enough that no one would know you had spent the night crying and when you got up in the morning the tears were gone.
Then you're at boarding school, somewhere they could teach you to be a proper 13 year old girl. One night sticks out above the rest, the dorms caught fire everyone was getting out. You tripped as you tried to get out of bed and then when you tried to get up a cold metal hand covered your mouth and someone picked you up, throwing you over their shoulder, you feel something prick your arm as you begin to kick and scream, and then things go dark.
You're in a small cell with grey walls and grey floors. You're 15 as you're sitting there, refusing to cooperate with HYDRA's current plan, the door slams open and in walks one of the nameless agents. They show you a newspaper, the headline announcing that your parents had died in a car crash, they then show you other photos, and tell you how they had had them killed by the Winter Soldier. From there they go into great detail on the fact that if you didn't begin cooperating they would bring your brother to be the next one they make you torture.
From there things get especially messy in your mind. Some days remembering your past and other days not. Some days you're the one doing the torturing and other days the one being tortured. HYDRA had forced you to commit many atrocities in their name, so many you couldn't begin to count. There were the times where you were the one who was in charge of resetting Bucky's mind, wiping it and preparing him for a mission. There were other times when you were difficult and they had the winter soldier beat you into submission.
There was one day, one day during which nearly all of HYDRA's agents disappeared and never came back. You were locked in your tiny cell, you don't know how long you were there on your own, hunger clawing at your stomach and dehydration quickly becoming an issue. You don't remember how but you got out and escaped.
It's who knows how many months later that you become aware of anything again. You're lying in some alleyway somewhere and have none of your memories. You find your way to a library, feeling safe there, from there you begin to figure out how exactly the world works and how you can survive.
It's another few years after that, having short term memory loss and being slow to pick up on anything. It is at this point where you've some how ended up in NYC and as you're walking down the street that you bump into Tony. You don't recognize him but he recognizes you. It happens quickly, he gets a DNA test to be sure but soon you're living with him and have some of your life together but still no memories. It's during this time that you meet a few other people, but thanks to Tony they keep the fact that you're still alive quiet, not wanting to overwhelm you with his life when you barely have yours together.
After that you're sitting in the Avenger's compound with Rhodey when something happens and people you haven't meet before show up. First it's just one guy named Bruce, then a group of people Steve, Natasha, Wanda, Vision and Sam. That was the first time you had met Sam, though you hadn't spoken to him. From there you all go to Wakanda, try to save Vision, apparently cross paths with Bucky, fail to save Vision, fight some aliens in one of Tony's suits, punch a giant purple dude in the face a few times then ultimately get turned to dust with a few billion other people on the planet.
Then you find yourself lying on the ground in the jungle of Wakanda with half of the people you'd been fighting Thanos with. Some sort of portals open up in front of all of you and you fight even more aliens. You pass by Tony at some point and give him a quick hug in the middle of all of it, despite not having memories you still knew you cared deeply for him and was one of the few people you felt safe when you were with. Then as soon as your world had come together, it falls apart again, Tony had sacrificed himself to save the rest of you.It is when you're at his funeral that things begin to set in for you, your brother is gone, you're once again alone in the world... except you weren't. Tony had a wife and a daughter, Pepper and Morgan, it didn't take much for them to take you in and act as though you had always been part of their family.
It's in the six months following that when you create your own suit, and somewhat get yourself together. At least you have it together enough that your memory of that time is pretty solid even if your mind felt scattered. It is after those six months of relative peace and calm that brings you to the present. Where you had met up with Sam and Bucky on accident and teamed up with them to figure out this problem.
There is a knock on the door you have your back too, and it shakes out of the state you are in. "Hey, y/n," it's Sam, "are you alright in there?"
"Uh- yeah- yeah- I'm fine." You stand up and quickly wipe the tears which had formed in your eyes before opening the door. "Hey," you can see the concern in Sam's eyes, "I'm fine, just needed a minute," you pause before changing the subject, "so what's the plan?"
"Sharon is going to be hosting some people here and will ask around to see if anyone knows where we can find Naegele," Sam explains, "so we can join the party and just have to blend in with the crowd."
"Sounds good," you look down at your dress that has some blood splattered on it then look back at Sam, "you think she has a different dress I can wear?"
"Probably, we can go ask her."
You let Sam lead the way back to the other room, where you give Zemo a death glare before asking Sharon, "hey, you have a dress I could borrow? I don't think blood will blend well."
"Sure," she goes over to a closet and gets out a dress which she hands to you, "here, put this on, I'm going to get headed down to begin letting the guests in."
You nod and take the dress, going to change quickly before coming back out, where you're greeted by Sam and Bucky telling you Zemo had gone with Sharon. "Can I help you?" you ask with more than a hint of sarcasm in your voice.
Bucky doesn't hesitate, "what happened?"
You raise an eyebrow at him and pause for a moment before say, "shit. Shit happened, and I... remembered." You shake your head a bit, "before you ask, no I don't want to talk about it. It's a lot, it's fucked up and it's a lot but like, I can get drunk so I'm going to go do that downstairs right now then drunk cry it out so I'm good to go tomorrow."
You admitting that you remembered has Bucky feeling uncomfortable because you were right it was fucked up and he had been involved in it.
"Y/n, getting drunk it's going to help," Sam says.
You sigh and look at Sam, "I know that but I'm going to do it anyways because at the moment I don't want to deal with it. Plus I don't think I've ever gotten drunk before so it won't take much to do so I'll be good to go in the morning."
"It's still a bad idea," Sam says but isn't going to argue further since you're obviously set on this plan.
You go through with your plan, and you were right about it not taking much for you to get drunk, but its enough that you don't have to think about life for a few hours. Then in the morning you wake up hungover, but with enough time to mostly recover by the time it's time to go find Naegele. You get dressed in in your 'suit' of leggings and a shirt before heading out with the other four to find Naegele.
You go with them down to the docks, where they keep all the shipping containers. Sharon leads all of you right up to the one he is supposed to be in. You let the boys go in and you stay out with Sharon, mostly to make sure Naegele doesn't make a run for it but it ends up being pretty convenient for fighting some of the guys the power broker sent to stop all of you from getting to Naegele.
It is with ease that you take them down, discovering that the reason you hadn't been great at fighting before was because of HYDRA wiping your mind. They took the methods you picked up over time from your mind, making it nearly impossible to improve even if you instinctively knew what to do. There is a lull in the fighting, during which you and Sharon slip into the shipping container and go to the back and into the secret are to find the others.
The two of you barely make it into the room when a gunshot goes off, Zemo killing Naegele right there. You only have a chance to shout, "what the hell?!" Before the box around you explodes.
You tuck and roll, escaping the flames and second rocket fired at the shipping crates. You don't know if anyone else made it out but for now you just need to make sure all of you will survive past this point. Your suit had protected you well, and you were thankful since you'd learned the evening before that you weren't at all enhanced but just had an unusually high pain tolerance. It doesn't take you long to spot one of the people who were after you and you focus in on them, one thing you could control. You could control that they were kept busy fighting you and you could control where they were so the others could get out.
As you throw yourself at the man in front of you, you hear gunshots and you're thankful. That means the others made it out of that explosion. You don't want to kill anyone, you had come close when Zemo had activated whatever it was HYDRA had put in your head, but you'd done enough killing in your life. You just needed to incapacitate them, and you do. It's just a matter of hitting a few pressure points and he should stay down for a few hours at least.
From there you move onto the one other person you can see but you are beat to them by Sam. You jog up to him now that things had calmed down a little and see Sharon and Bucky, leaving Zemo as the only one unaccounted for. "Hey, did we get them all?"
"Seems like it," Sharon responds.
Sam looks at her, "come with us."
Sharon shakes her head, "just get me that pardon you promised."
Sam nods once then looks at Bucky, about to say something only to be interrupted by Zemo pulling up in a car. "Shall we?"
You get in the car without hesitating, taking the seat behind Zemo so you can keep an eye on him. Bucky claims the front seat and Sam gets in behind him, saying something about him not moving the seat up. Then you're off, leaving to get back on Zemo's plane and head to the location they had gotten from Naegele.
When all of you are on the plane there is a short conversation as you go over the plan. Then silence falls over all of you, not a nice silence but an awkward silence and you can feel their eyes on you. You finally decide to break the silence and look at Bucky, "hey, I should apologize for all the shit HYDRA made me do to you, so... sorry," you frown and shrug a bit in an attempt to play it off like no big deal as it's always awkward to experience emotions with other people around.
Bucky just shrugs a bit, "it's alright, not exactly your fault. Sorry for kidnapping you."
You don't know why but you laugh. Maybe because it's so ridiculous but you shut up as quickly as you can and shake your head, "it's alright, not exactly your fault either."
"Having less of a memory problem I see," Zemo cuts in on the slight moment the two of you are having.
Your head snaps around to look at him, "you're on thin ice, so tread lightly, or I'll make you wish you'd died in that explosion back there."
Zemo laughs, "ah, there is the Stark attitude that HYDRA had so much trouble controlling." He presses his fingertips together and relaxes in his seat before continuing, "HYDRA was only able to get Lemonade to stick in your mind. It was in case you needed to protect one of the agents from a monster you had created. They had to manually mess with your memory thanks to you being so stubborn, as they couldn't seem to break you."
You can't help but feel a little nauseous as he speaks but you know he's telling the truth. "Yeah, and you better not use it again though I'm pretty sure I broke it last night." Then you look at Sam, "in the case that I didn't break the programming I have weak knees if you hit them from behind and a peanut allergy, knock me out if needed I shouldn't die."
You don't get a response to that but you felt better knowing they could easily stop you if Zemo pulled anything. But that was it and with that you were able relax for the rest of the flight.
#sam wilson#tfaws#tfaws imagine#bucky#bucky barnes#captain america#the falcon#falcon#sam wilson x you#falcon x you#the falcon x you#captain america x you#mcu x you#sam wilson x y/n#falcon x y/n#the falcon x y/n#captain america x y/n#sam wilson x reader#falcon x reader#the falcon x reader#captain america x reader#marvel x reader#mcu fanfiction#winter soldier#the falcon and the winter soldier#catfa#tfatws#tfatws imagine
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Winifred – Howlin’ For You – One Shot
Description: Y/N tries to understand Bucky’s contentious relationship with his mother, Winifred.
Pairing: AU - Biker!Bucky x Fem/Reader
Word Count: 3,700
Howlin’ For You - Masterlist
Read the series or you will not know what the fuck is happening.
Y/N was reading a book on her couch.
Bucky was on the other side of the couch. He had put on a hockey game.
But she could tell he wasn’t actually paying attention. His arms were crossed tightly and there was tension in his shoulders and neck. There was a furrow in his brow, and he was to trying to make it seem like it was from concentrating on the game.
Y/N knew him better than that.
He’d been off for a couple of days now. Y/N tried to link it to something. And all she came up with was the phone call he’d had recently with his sister, Rebecca.
For a moment, she flirted with the idea of texting Rebecca herself, asking her if something happened. And Y/N knew Rebecca would tell her. They’d grown close rather quickly and were only growing closer.
But Y/N stopped herself, not wanting to make Bucky feel like she was snooping around in things he wasn’t ready to talk about.
“Buck?”
“Mhmm?” She hummed without taking his eyes off the screen.
“You OK?” The concern in her voice finally made him whip his eyes to her.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he forced a small smile to reassure her.
She raised a brow. It said more to him than any words could. She was silently telling him that she knew he was lying, but she also wasn’t going to push him to talk about it if she didn’t want to.
Bucky just turned his attention back to the TV.
Y/N nodded, mostly to herself, and went back to reading.
Guess they weren’t talking about it.
Another half an hour went by of them silently but comfortably sitting in silence together.
Bucky finally sighed. “Doll?”
She kept her eyes on the book, “Yeah?”
“Come here,” he requested. “Please,” he added quickly.
Y/N smirked at him but crawled over the couch. She decided to be cheeky and straddled his lap, facing him and putting her back to the TV.
It didn’t catch him off guard, but it still earned her a side grin from him.
His hands automatically went to her hips, pulling her closer – if that was even possible.
Now that Bucky had her close, had her in his arms, he didn’t feel brave anymore. He didn’t know how he was meant to start or what he should say.
Y/N’s finger traced over the frown on his brow, massaging it until his face finally relaxed under her touch and it disappeared.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Bucky Barnes?” She asked him quietly, almost in a whisper.
“My ma found out about you,” he finally spit out.
Y/N tried not to show shock, maintaining a composed expression. Bucky had filled her in about his relationship with his mother.
Winnifred Barnes. A strong and independent mother, who raised two children without their father. George Barnes had passed away when Bucky was barely even four. Rebecca was still a baby. He had a rare heart disease, unusual for someone so young and healthy and happy. But death was rarely ever fair or logical.
It was almost a blessing how young Bucky and Rebecca were. Rebecca had no memories. Bucky barely had any more, many he convinced himself he’d made up.
Bucky had told Y/N how his mother was constantly disappointed in him – his choices, his mistakes, his lifestyle. She wanted what every mother wanted for their child: the very best.
Bucky and his mother didn’t see life the same way.
To be fair, Bucky was a rough teenager to handle. He was lost and angry, without a father to look up to or guide him. Winifred was just thankful he had a kind and good heart. Winifred was even more thankful for Steve, who kept her son out of trouble by getting into worse trouble himself that required Bucky to protect him. But she knew the two of them came from a place of good morals.
She struggled with knowing how to discipline him and guide him in the right direction. The two of them butted heads.
When Bucky joined the army, he thought his mother would finally see that he was making an effort, that he was cleaning himself up and growing up.
But she lost it. She threw a fit, cried her eyes out. She was convinced her son would only come home in a coffin.
Bucky had nothing to say to his mother that night. The truth was that he couldn’t bare the idea of Steve – small and fragile Steve – enlisting by himself. Bucky had to look after the punk. Plus, what the hell else was he going to do with his life?
Things got better when he finally came home for good. Winifred was just grateful that he came back with only scars and burns. It was better then him not coming back at all.
But then Bucky started turning into some kind of local vigilante. His friends started getting called a biker gang, when they had originally just been a family who rode motorcycles.
News traveled fast and Winifred was no fool. She heard the stories about bikers helping people in need, going above the law, and not being afraid to use force and violence if necessary. And it didn’t take her long to put together that her son was behind all of it.
She didn’t approve.
Things reached a new low when Bucky went to jail.
Even when Rebecca explained to her mother that Bucky was helping the Feds, that he was playing a part as an informant, Winifred didn’t care. Because she knew the Feds wouldn’t have picked her son if they didn’t have something on him too. They also wouldn’t have picked him if he didn’t play the part so well. No mother wants to realize that their son fits into prison nicely.
One time, Y/N finally had the courage to ask Rebecca for her side of things. She had smiled sadly. But it was clear she loved both of the people that were brought up. “At the end of the day, Bucky is a momma’s boy through and through. He just thinks it’s too late to ever redeem himself. Buck’s convinced he’ll never make her proud.”
“Oh, yeah?” Y/N finally responded to Bucky’s confession. “How’d that happen?” She tried to sound casual.
Bucky’s jaw clenched at the question. “Probably Rebecca. Or Steve opening his big mouth.”
“Steve?”
“Yeah, he lives close to her. He sees her every once in a while.”
“So Steve sees your mom more than you do?” Y/N asked. Then she winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”
“I know, doll. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re right.”
Y/N just waited, knowing that this was all leading to something.
“She wants to meet you,” Bucky stated.
“OK…” Y/N didn’t know what Bucky wanted.
She knew this was hard for him. It wasn’t just a matter of her boyfriend introducing her to his mother. It was far more complex. Y/N had already met the rest of his family: Steve, Rebecca, The Howlies. It wasn’t like Bucky was trying to keep her hidden, like he was ashamed of her or something. This was about his relationship with his mother.
Silence.
“Is that what you want?” Y/N asked gently. “For me to meet her?”
“I…I don’t know,” Bucky admitted.
“Scared she won’t like me?” Y/N teased.
But Bucky instantly answered with seriousness. “No. No, she’ll love you. She’ll know you’re too good for me just like everyone else does.
Y/N was about to open her mouth to argue, but he continued.
“It’s just…when my mom and I are together, things are…”
“Tense?” Y/N offered.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s not great. Even Rebecca gets uncomfortable. I don’t want to make you have to go through that too.”
“Well, for the record, some awkward family time is no big deal to me. That’s kind of a part of being in a relationship.” Then she laughed. “It’s not like my family is perfect. They were assholes to you when you first met them. And look how that’s turned around.”
Then her mouth twisted into a thin line and Bucky knew she had something else on her mind, but she didn’t want to say it.
“What is it?” He encouraged.
“It’s just…” Y/N paused, making sure she chose the right way to say it. “I know things aren’t great between you and your mom. But I do really want to meet her. Maybe this isn’t the time, but I just can’t imagine never getting to do that.”
Her eyes turned dark and sad as she looked down.
It was then that Bucky realized this was more about his insecurities and damaged relationships.
“Whatever you think of your mom or what she thinks of you…” Y/N continued. “I still want to meet the woman who raised you.”
Then she had a cheeky smirk slip onto her lips. “Because I happen to really love the bastard.”
Bucky chuckled. Then he gripped her hips tighter and swung her around, maneuvering their bodies so her back was on the couch and she was caged in by his body hovering over her.
“Bastard huh?” He growled.
But Y/N just giggled at his antics. “Yeah, I’m crazy about him.”
He leaned down and kissed her. His lips crashing against hers. The scruff of his beard scratched her soft skin, but she didn’t mind one bit.
“Alright. We’re gonna do this,” Bucky breathed between kisses, like the contact was giving him courage. He sounded like he was convincing himself more than her.
Y/N cupped his cheek. “Bucky, it’s gonna be OK.”
————————————-
Two weeks later, Y/N was holding on tight to Bucky as he drove them to his mother’s house.
Y/N suggested taking his motorcycle instead of her car, hoping it would ease him a bit.
Rebecca had offered to be there with them, hoping to ease the tension. But Bucky thought this was something he had to do without his sister.
When they pulled up, Bucky was slow to turn off the bike and put down the kickstand. Like he wanted to just make a run for it.
Y/N took his helmet off for him and quickly kissed him.
“Come on, Buck. We’ve faced scarier things than this.”
Bucky nodded. They sure the had.
“I just…I just don’t want you to see me differently after this,” he finally admitted.
Y/N had seen Bucky strong, he always was. He protected her. He protected people he didn’t even know. He was brave. He’d do anything to keep her safe.
But this was Bucky scared. And Y/N was realizing that this was one of the few moments where she could protect him.
She cupped his cheek. “Maybe I will see you differently. But I know I’m going to still love you, OK?” She waited for him to nod.
“You two just want to have dinner in the driveway?” A voice said from behind them.
Y/N quickly turned around to see a middle-aged woman leaning against the porch. She was beautiful, aging in a way that Y/N could only dream she would. Her hair was a dark red, which explained the unique coloring to Bucky and Rebecca’s brunette hair.
Her arms were crossed, and an amused, yet daring, expression was on her face.
It had Bucky written all over it.
Y/N gave her a warm smile. She would’ve tugged Bucky excitedly toward her, but he was already guiding her anyway.
“Mom,” Bucky cleared his throat. “This is Y/N.”
Y/N expected to be met with coldness or the same disapproval that had already been given to Bucky.
But Winifred seemed to be looking inside Y/N’s soul, already finding what had enamored her son.
She gave her a very subtle, but warm, grin.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Barnes.” Y/N offered sincerely. But she didn’t know if a handshake or a hug was appropriate. She thought a handshake was safer.
Winifred didn’t seem to find it weird and shook it firmly.
“Please. No ‘Mrs. Barnes.’ Winifred will do just fine. Or even Winnie, really.” Then she eyed Y/N for a moment. “It’s nice to finally meet to you, Y/N. Becca has said nothing but wonderful things about you.”
Y/N was taken aback by the kind words. Winifred had the same forcefulness and sincerity with the way she spoke that Bucky did.
“Come on in,” Winifred waved. She glanced back at Bucky’s motorcycle. “I see you got him to finally start wearing a helmet.” Clearly she was talking to Y/N.
“Well, when he started getting bossy about me wearing one. It wasn’t too hard to point out the hypocrisy,” Y/N smirked at Bucky.
“Did more than I could do…” Winifred sighed and then gave Y/N a subtle wink.
She led them into the kitchen.
“Would you like some coffee?” Winifred asked.
Bucky scoffed playfully. “Y/N’s never said no to a cup of coffee in her life.”
Y/N rolled her eyes and instantly said please and thank you.
Once coffee was settled, Winifred addressed Bucky directly for the first time since they got there.
“I’m planning on dropping off some things at Good Will this week. James, can you make sure there’s nothing up in that old room of yours that you’re not too attached to. Take it or I’m giving it away for good.”
Bucky sighed. “Haven’t slept in that room for years. Can’t imagine there would be.” But he got up from his seat anyway.
As soon as his footsteps disappeared around the corner and up the stairs, Winifred’s entire energy changed.
“Now that’s it just us girls…”
Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.
Winifred didn’t waste any time asking Y/N every and any question. But somehow Y/N never felt like she was interrogated or tested. It was like Winifred was scared this was the only time the two of them would have together. She wanted to know everything she possibly could about Y/N.
Y/N tried her best to ask Winifred just as many questions, but it was quite hard.
Eventually the conversation slowed long enough and Y/N spotted a photo set nearby. Two pictures side by side in a duel frame.
Y/N got up to get a closer look.
It was Winifred, obviously much younger than now. Maybe even younger than Y/N was. But it was the other person in the photos that Y/N stared at. A man, young and handsome, and clearly related to Bucky.
“George…Bucky’s father,” Winifred explained quietly.
“I see where Bucky gets his handsomeness,” Y/N thought aloud. Then she quickly looked at Winifred. “But he has your eyes.”
Winifred smiled at that.
“Bucky told me a bit about him. I’m sorry for what happened.”
“It feels so long ago now. Like a different life. The memories feel the same as trying to remember a movie you only saw once or twice.” There were no tears that filled her eyes. She had come to terms with the loss long ago. She lived it every day.
“I’m just sorry for what it did to James and Rebecca. For them to never have a father. I saw how it effected James, how it still does. But there was nothing I could do.”
Y/N gave her a sympathetic look. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you did a great job.”
“He didn’t want to come today, did he?” Winifred asked.
“I think he did want to come. But he was just worried and… scared.”
Winifred took in a deep breath. “Things haven’t always been easy between James and me,” she started. “I just wanted him to be the best person he could be. The world already has far too many bad men in the world. I know you’re well aware of that. I didn’t want him to be another one.”
“Bucky is a good man, Winifred.” Y/N urged. “Before I met him, I didn’t think – well, I’d kind of given up on finding someone.” She took a breath. “I know Bucky’s made some mistakes in the past. But we all have. And I know he’s done things that you don’t approve of. But he did them because he thought it was the right thing to do.”
Once Y/N’s little speech was finished, Winifred just watched her for a moment.
Y/N wasn’t quite able to read what she was thinking.
Winifred smiled sadly. “He was lost for awhile. His heart’s always been in the right place. But he just never seemed to find his direction.” Then Winifred playfully narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Meeting you today makes me think that’s changed quite a bit.”
“I love your son a lot.” Y/N’s eyes glazed over with tears. “And I know he’s tries to be better every day.”
Winifred reached over and squeezed her hand.
But Bucky had played his part of “looking through his old bedroom” long enough. They heard his purposefully loud footsteps come down the stairs.
Y/N quickly sniffed and straightened her posture, trying to hide any signs that she had almost started crying.
“Found these in the corner of my closet,” he announced as he tossed something to Y/N.
It was a small pile of old t-shirts. Some of them were bands, others just had a vintage vibe about them.
Y/N almost exclusively wore Bucky’s t-shirts to bed or just when she was lounging around the house. Clearly these were too small for Bucky’s now fully-matured and muscular frame. But they would still be a bit baggy on Y/N.
She grinned. “I’ll add them to my collection.”
“Oh, speaking of which…” Winifred got up and shuffled to a closet around the corner.
When she came back, there was a leather jacket in her hands. It was clearly from the 90s, but remained in pristine condition. It was broken in and lived in, but still taken care of.
“It was your dads. I found it in an old box I’ve ignored since – well, since he passed away. I thought you might want it.”
Bucky seemed very taken aback by both the jacket and his mother’s gesture.
“You should take it,” Y/N urged him gently.
He nodded, trying to hide his emotions and stepped forward, carefully taking it out of his mother’s grasp.
“I’ll get started on dinner,” Winifred announced. If she’d noticed Bucky’s emotional reaction, she pretended not to.
Y/N stepped to his side. She placed her hand on his back, rubbing circles soothingly.
“You OK?” She whispered.
He nodded, grateful to have her with him.
She gave him a quick but gentle kiss.
Winifred pretended not to see that too.
Dinner went rather smooth. Bucky was on his best behavior, not wanting any sort of argument or tension to make Y/N uncomfortable. Winifred seemed to be on the same page.
After dinner, Winifred got Y/N sucked into old photo albums of Bucky’s childhood.
It gave her and Bucky some time alone as they washed dishes and cleaned the table. Y/N made a fuss about not being allowed to help because she was a guest.
“The shop doing OK?” Winifred finally broke the silence.
“Better than OK, actually.” Bucky admitted sheepishly.
“You treating that girl right?”
“I’m trying to.”
“I thought Rebecca was being dramatic when she described how you look at her. Now I think she was making light of it.”
Bucky looked over to see that his mom was smiling playfully now, teasing him.
“I know you think I’ve messed up a lot. But when I look at her, I can’t help but think that at least I did one thing right.”
“I know I’ve been hard on you, James. And we’ve had our disagreements. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still proud of you.” Then she put down her dishtowel and turned to fully face him. “James, no matter what has happened or what you will inevitable do, I’ll always love you… you know that, right?”
Bucky’s eyes glazed over and he dipped his head as he gripped the edge of the sink.
“I’ll always love you, James. You hear me?”
Bucky nodded.
“Winnie?”
They turned around to Y/N standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Could I take this and make a copy? I promise I’ll bring it back,” Y/N asked with a beaming smile.
It was a photo of Bucky. He couldn’t be older than 5 or 6. He had on a little denim jacket, his hair was a mess, and he was in mid-laugh when the photo had been taken.
Y/N, of course, thought it was the cutest thing ever.
“Course you can, sweetheart.” Winifred smiled.
“We should probably get going,” Bucky announced slowly.
Winifred walked them outside.
“You be careful on that damn deathtrap, James.” She warned lowly, like it was a battle she’d lost long ago but stills wanted to make her feelings known.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied.
Y/N turned to face her. “Thank you so much for having us. It was…it was so nice to get to meet you.”
“You too, sweetie.” She pulled her into a hug. “Take care of him for me, will ya?”
“Always,” Y/N muttered into her shoulder.
Winifred went back inside before Bucky even started his motorcycle.
“You OK?” Y/N asked Bucky as he handed her helmet to her.
He nodded and then paused, staring at her.
He clutched the side of his face and kissed her deeply.
She was caught off guard by it.
Bucky finally broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers. “Y/N, I love you so fucking much,” he whispered.
She grinned. “I love you too, Buck.”
-----------------------------------------------------
Shoutout to the anonymous person who asked about this originally and miraculously inspired something within me.
And for anyone who was curious my fan-casting for Bucky’s parents were Julianne Moore and Billy Crudup.
Let me know what you think!
#howlin' for you series#howlin' for you one shot#biker!bucky#biker!bucky x reader#howlin' for you bucky barnes#biker!bucky reader insert#howlin' for you#howlin' for you universe#howlin' for you drabble#bucky barnes x reader#biker marvel au#biker bucky au#winifred barnes#bucky barnes and his mother#bucky barnes mom
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I cannot accept Scar the Predator’s facehugging and subsequent death + chestbursting on multiple levels but somehow it’s more plausible than Ripley’s infection in Alien 3
the movie literally JUST established to us that Scar is a Predator who notices things his brothers don’t. He found that guy they threw down the tunnel while his brothers passed him by, and literally right before that shot of the second facehugger attacking while Scar is unmasked, without even looking, he partially decapitates a Xenomorph while Chopper explicitly fails the exact same kind of attack. Scar is attentive and that’s why he’s the Predator who makes it to the end of the movie instead of dying halfway through like Celtic and Chopper.
Basically the movie showed us the thing about this character that enables him to survive the halfway mark and immediately subverted it.
I’m no cinematography expert but do you realize how poorly it’s shot? The facehugger jumps while Scar is kneeling, maskless, seeming inattentive just like the scene one minute prior when he caught that Xenomorph, and it cuts away. Next time we see him, he’s calmly putting his mask back on. So, we are shown a scene of something happening for a second time and I’m sure it’s meant to be a twist at the end which makes you realize that “no, the second time he got ambushed, he really did lose”, and once we tune back in, nothing seems to be wrong. But that second time/different outcome definitely wasn’t the conclusion I was led to. I’ve seen this movie like 4 times and the first three, I assumed him being stabbed by the Alien Queen was what gave him a chestburster. Didn’t help that in Requiem, that exact same Predalien has the ability to make more xenomorphs. That solidified my apparently? incorrect maybe? theory that it was a Queen chestburster. Technically that’s the fault of the sequel but it reinforced my confusion anyways.
plus, this is a me thing, but there are lots of in-universe theories about why Yautja faces are like that, and specifically I’m particularly partial to the “their faces evolved that way to explicitly keep facehuggers off of them” so call me biased
and this point can be easily countered by “he wanted to go out fighting instead” but I feel like if Scar really did get facehugged somehow, he’d just fucking kill himself right there and then with the wrist nuke, annihilating the Xenomorph nest just as he does in the actual movie. Plotwise, he couldn’t because that would wipe out our still-living human main characters cause they wouldn’t know or have enough time to escape and that’d be a short and boring movie, but it is what should happen (I’d argue that’s what happens in Requiem, almost) Getting facehugged may cause some amnesia/a slight memory blackout but if a Yautja wakes up next to a dead facehugger, somehow having been asleep during his first Xenomorph hunt, it should be glaringly obvious to him that he’s been infected. Sure, they like to go out fighting but honorable suicide is a thing.
tangentially related, someone on AVP’s writing team noticed what a plot hole it would be if the Yautja who come to claim Scar’s infected corpse had their helmets on (potentially seeing the issue and not destroying the body or removing the chestburster, etc) so every single one of them have no masks/have them tucked in their arm and don’t put them on while viewing the body.
If I could rewrite the movie, I would sacrifice the sweet duo-fighting with Scar and Lex at the end for a more logical/in-character earlier conclusion:
Scar is aware he is infected, but knows he has time and needs to find the sacrifice room, now the heart of the Xenomorph nest infesting the temple to ensure its destruction.
When Lex gives the plasmacaster back to him and she kills a Xenomorph with his combistick, he bloods her right there and then. Movie continues as normal, with added conflict from assailing Xenomorphs so Scar and Lex can have some scenes of fighting alongside one another because I am a simple bitch.
As they run to that pulley sled at the foot of the tunnel, Scar stops, aware this is the end of the line for him. He’s stabbed through the shoulder by a Xenomorph and Lex shoots it off of him, trying to get him to follow.
Scar explicitly refuses as she attempts to pull him to the sled before it leaves without them, he points to his chest and even puts her hand to it.
Whether she gets it instantly or later (most likely instantly because AVP is the “Lex Is Always Smart and Right” movie), she sees he won’t budge as he turns to keep Xenomorphs away from her and the sled.
He gives her his mask, perhaps some weapons before she goes up the tunnel without him. I think it’d be a neat subversion if he gave the plasmacaster back to her, since she is now Blooded like him and she’ll be needing it.
The blast wipes out all the standard Xenomorphs plus the eggs as they do in the movie, along with Scar. It’s a suicide but also it’ll be during his attempts to keep the Xenomorphs from following Lex and within the immediate blast range. He dies fighting.
The movie concludes with a 1v1 fight between Lex and the Alien Queen.
After she drowns the Queen and is confronted by Scar’s clan, and without a body for them to recover, she gives them his mask and anything else he handed to her.
Movie proceeds as normal, his clan isn’t hostile due to her blooded mark, the Elder gives her his combistick, and she heads toward the snowcat while the Yautja ship leaves.
Completely circumvents that plot hole about the masks I mentioned.
Sure, this annihilates the premise of the sequel and the gnarly Predalien design but I couldn’t see anything in that movie anyways.
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I love biana(yes this is the title don’t question it)
Note: i am too uncreative to come up with a title, how are you today-
lil rewrite of that one scene in flashback where biana actually existed. if you don’t know/remember that scene, first of all, same, second of all, enjoy biana actually having center stage for once and block out the original from your memory :D
Word count: i have no idea why i have this when i can never be bothered to check the word count
There was a ringing sound. It was dull, and it seemed to echo in her head as she swam through the murky darkness. The black was growing lighter, but the ringing louder. She was sure Vespera was coming for her again, back to finish the job, and she would be all alone, drowning in a pool of her own red misery again.
She had heard the same ringing in her ears when Vespera had struck the first blow, and suddenly her skin was prickling with the shards embedded in her skin and warm blood was dripping down her sides and the ringing was so, so loud-
Biana shot up in bed, looking around wildly with her arms held up to shield the blows, but the ringing had softened to a tinny alarm and the only sticky wet dripping down was cold sweat. Biana groaned and reached out for the imparter on her jewel-encrusted bedside table, clicking the button without checking who had disturbed her from sleep.
“Biana?” Dex’s voice filled the room, and he sounded a little out of breath.
“What?” she snapped. She was so not in the mood to be his weird technopathy experiment buddy. “What is it?”
“Sophie’s awake.”
Biana’s eyes widened and she brought the imparter close to her face, uncaring of her wild bedhead for once. She could see the top part of Dex’s face and the side of Tam’s face and bangs. The view was shaky, most likely due to Dex’s other arm being out of commission.
“Really? Fitz too?”
“...no, but Elwin says he’s fine!” Dex said hurriedly. “Just sedated.”
“Oh.” Biana slumped back in bed, tossing the imparter onto the other side of the sprawling comforter. “Well, thanks for the update.”
“Are you gonna come over here and visit?”
Biana rolled over so that her voice was muffled by the pillow. The tiny crystals embedded into the pale purple pillowcase dug into her skin, but she pressed her face in harder.
“Yeah, probably.”
“Okay... see you then?”
“Maybe.”
Dex clicked off, and the room fell silent.
Biana sighed and rolled over, running a finger over the light imprints the tiny jewels had left on her face. She avoided the scars.
A selfish thought crossed her mind. What if she just didn’t visit them?
After all, they didn’t come to see her when she was stuck in the healing center. They didn’t even bother to check up on her when she was finally released to go home. They left her alone, every single time...
And yet she was still slipping on glittering shoes and brushing her hair and covering her scars with brightly colored fabric for them.
“Hey, Dad, can I come with you to Foxfire?”
-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-
Biana almost left the room without saying anything. Besides the fact that it would be weird to pop up after having witnessed at least part of Sophie and Keefe’s... moment, it really hurt to see Sophie talking to Keefe so gently. Sophie cared about him, which was more than she had ever done for Biana.
Biana tried not to resent her for it too much. She’s the moonlark! She has important things to do! She’s supposed to save us all! She doesn’t have time for friends!
Well, that was, unless they were Fitz or Keefe.
Sophie would move mountains just to give them her time.
Nobody even bothered to check on Biana when she was in healing center, but Sophie ends up here and the entire gang plus the adults decide to drop everything to be with her. Biana nearly died, and sometimes she wondered how much would really change if she had.
But then Fitz woke up, and his eyes were clear and his words were determined and Biana couldn’t just stand there in silence. She couldn’t stay invisible when her brother was surely going to do something stupid the second she turned a blind eye. Even if he didn’t care about her anymore, she would never stop caring about him.
Sophie’s eyes widened at his outburst, stunned to see him awake. “You don’t think I’m losing my mind?
His jaw set at Sophie’s question, and Biana could see the stupid resolve sparkling in the eyes they shared.
“No, I think you’re angry, and I’m right there with you.”
Biana rolled her eyes and appeared in the dark corner she’d been hiding in. “So am I.”
“Vanishers,” Keefe grumbled. Biana flashed a sweet smile in return. “How long have you been there?”
“Not that long.” Long enough to see my friends have enough time for each other but never enough for me. “I snuck off with my dad when he went with Sandor and Grady to talk to Magnate Leto. But I stayed for this, because I wanted to make sure you guys didn’t decide something without me, since you’ve been super overprotective lately.”
“We have?” Sophie asked.
“Not you.” You don’t even care about me when I’m dying. “But Fitz refused to let me go to Grizel’s training sessions. And Woltzer won’t teach me either.”
“That’s because Woltzer doesn’t like you,” Fitz informed in that annoying, I know more than you because I’m older and perfect and everyone loves me voice. “You’re always sneaking off and getting him in trouble for losing his charge. Like right now.”
Biana plastered a grin on her face painfully. “It’s not my fault he can’t keep up with me. And all I’m saying is, I’m sick of being treated like I’m some broken doll because of what Vespera did- and you know that’s what you’ve been doing.”
“We found you passed out in a puddle of your own blood!” Fitz argued.
Yeah, and yet the second Sophie comes in I no longer matter. I can tell you guys care so much about me, Biana wanted to scream.
“You don’t have to remind me!” she snapped back. She rolled up one of the sleeves she had wrapped herself in earlier, showing off the scars she tried so hard to keep hidden.
Biana couldn’t believe Fitz wanted to talk to her about her own experiences when he always put them below his stupid pointless feelings about his stupid perfect Sophie.
Everyone was so perfect and Biana was so tired of trying to keep up when every part of her just wasn’t.
“The next time I take on Vespera, I want to win,” Biana said, tracing an arm down the huge scar on her bicep. It was the ugliest, but strangely, the one that bothered her the least. She was almost proud of it. Even if nobody else cared, she cared that she had survived and she had the mark to prove it.
“And I’m sure Tam, Dex, and Linh will want to get in on this,” she added. “Probably Marella too. Maybe even Wylie. We should ask them.” Because I haven’t forgotten them like you have. I haven’t thrown them aside for boys like you have, Moonlark.
Biana drowned out the rest of the conversation. It was just them dragging on and being upset and being friends and Biana wasn’t exactly keen on watching. But still, still, Biana couldn’t help but care when Sophie tried to insist that she was fine.
“I think you need to rest first, though,” Biana said, forcing herself to jump in. The room was growing more suffocating by the second. “Let the medicine do its job. You guys need to get better, okay?”
For the world’s sake, if not for Biana’s.
They gave her promises to rest and get better, Biana promised to get everyone else on board, and she almost made it out the door with Keefe. But Sophie never made things easy.
“Wait,” Sophie called. “Keefe still hasn’t said if he’s with us.”
Keefe’s returning smile was so sweet, his lingering hand as he took Sophie’s so plainly affectionate, that Biana had to turn away. Seeing them speak in those soft tones just poured an aggressive amount of salt into the open wound that they never stopped ripping open. They never even gave it enough time to scab.
She was out of the room before she could hear the words that spilled from Keefe’s lips, certain that if she stayed a second longer, they would have pushed her over the edge.
She darted into an empty classroom, pulling her sleeve down to cover her scars with clumsy, trembling fingers and pulling out her imparter. She hailed Dex, hoping the shaking wouldn’t be obvious on screen. He picked up, but she was speaking before he could say a word.
“Hey, Dex, got any science experiments you need help with?” Biana asked, unable to keep her mouth from quirking up into a soft smile when he let out a little shriek of pure joy. “I need a distraction.”
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