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captainamericasbeard · 4 years

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Rescue 3/10

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Enhanced!Omega!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Bucky being soft

Summary: The Avengers are sent in to rescue a group of omegas from the hands of Hydra. There Bucky finds you, an enhanced omega. Can you ever be fully rescued from what Hydra has done to you?

A/N: Chapter 3. I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you all enjoy reading it. If you’d like to be tagged PLEASE SEND AN ASK. It’s difficult to keep track of replies and reblogs. As always this is dedicated to @all1e23!

Rescue 2 l Masterlist

Bucky never left your side. Bruce tried to get him to go to his room, telling him he would be the first to know when the cradle opened but Bucky refused.

“I want to be here when it opens,” he insisted, folding his arms and settling himself deeper into the uncomfortable chair. He sat and watched the cradle, slept, flipped knives, paced the room, anything to pass the time.

Eventually Steve came and found him and made him leave. Best friends can be very persuasive.

“At least go shower Buck, you stink. And you look scary as hell. Go shower and put on some normal clothes.” “I do not stink.” Bucky snapped, offended.

“Yes, you do. I’ll sit here while you shower if you want.” Steve insisted.

“Okay, fine. But if she wakes up I want you to come get me.” Bucky replied.

“You got it, punk.”

“Shut up jerk.”

Bucky knew Steve was playing him like a fiddle but he didn’t care. He did feel disgusting and didn’t want to look like burnt toast when you came out of the cradle. He was gone for all of 30 minutes.

It was two more days before Bruce came wandering into the room.

“Well, she’s looking good. Her brain function has been clear for about six hours. I think it’s safe to open the cradle up.” Bruce announced casually, causing Bucky to jump up from his seat. A few techs came into the room and started powering down the cradle.

“Wait-,” Bucky said, “get her a robe." Bruce stopped what he was doing and looked at him confused. “You put her in there half naked. She’s going to feel vulnerable if she has to stand around here like that.” Not to mention Bucky was feeling a touch possessive and didn’t want anyone to see you in a state of undress. Bruce glanced at one of the techs who hurried off to fulfill Bucky’s request.

Once everything was in place, they opened the cradle. Bucky thought you looked so peaceful as you lay there and a thrill ran up his spine when your scent reached him again. The days without it had seemed cold and lonely. He never wanted to be without your scent again.

Slowly you began to wake up, your brow furrowing. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on Bucky and glancing at the chair behind him. You put two and two together and realization dawned in your eyes. He waited for me, you thought. The image you conjure of him sitting stoically by the cradle waiting for you makes you want to melt into him. But then the picture of your alpha swam into your vision and you have to wonder what Bucky wanted from you. No alpha was kind just for kindness sake. You tear your eyes away from Bucky and look around the room at the techs removing sensors from your body and holding out a robe, for which you were very grateful.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Bruce asked kindly.

“Good, actually. Hungry,” you said timidly.

“We can take care of that,” Bruce said nodding to one of the techs. Before the tech could move, Bucky strode out of the room headed for the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later with a tray covered in soup, sandwiches, and fresh fruit.

“I didn’t know what you wanted,” he mumbled softly, diverting his eyes so you wouldn’t feel intimidated by him. Your eyes went wide at the sight of so much food and you greedily dug into the sandwich.

“Go slow there, Y/N, you’ll make yourself sick,” Bruce warned. You nodded, your mouth too full to talk. “I need to run some simple tests to make sure you’re in the clear. Is that ok?” he asked gently. You hesitate and stop chewing, glancing up at Bucky. He gives you a soft smile and a reassuring nod.

“Okay,” you answer quietly, swallowing down your sandwich.

“Bucky, you can go. I can let you know when she’s done.” Bruce says distractedly. He’s pulling up the equipment he’ll need to run your tests and you suddenly feel a wave of nausea as your nerves hit you. Your eyes snap to Bucky as he silently questions whether you want him there or not.

“I’ll stay.” Bucky says firmly, never breaking your gaze. You nod at him and take a deep breath of his scent, trying to calm your nerves. You feel so conflicted when it comes to this alpha. You were sure you couldn’t trust him, or could you. His scent was an invitation, not a warning. His presence soothed your threadbare nerves. You wanted him close, just not too close.

It’s two more hours of tests, checking your vitals, assessing your brain function, and getting a reading of your powers. Despite having spent the last four days in the cradle, you’re exhausted and it’s starting to show. Bucky could read it in the lines on your face and the slump of your shoulders. Bruce pulled out yet another instrument to begin another test when Bucky spoke up.

“Bruce, can any of this wait? I think we should let Y/N get some rest.” You glanced up at him overwhelmed with gratitude at his words. Bruce looked at you and realized how tired you were.

“Yes of course. I’m so sorry Y/N, why don’t you come back after your had some real sleep.” You nod your head feebly and stand up to walk only to swoon on the spot. You were more tired than you realized. Bucky was at your side immediately. He grabbed your elbow to steady you and you looked up to see his eyes laced with concern for you.

“I’ll show her to her room, Doc. Thank you,” Bucky said. Bruce nodded and turned to a computer to begin breaking down the data he’d got from your tests.

“You okay to walk?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, gently pulling your arm from his grip. Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets to assure you that he wasn’t going to touch you without your permission.

“Come on, living quarters are this way.” Bucky headed out of the lab and led you through a series of hallways, past empty offices and conference rooms, and up an elevator. The elevator doors opened and deposited you into a homey looking open space with a common room and kitchen. He walked you down a hallway and stopped in front of the second door down the hall, opening the door for you. The space inside was plain but somehow cosy with a bed, a couch, and its own bathroom. Bucky stood by the open door, making sure not to invade your personal space in anyway.

“I’m two doors down on the left if you need anything. There should be some spare clothes in one of the drawers,” Bucky said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He was being so kind and gentle with you and you were desperate for him to wrap his arms around you. You longed to trust him and hold him and call him your alpha but you just couldn’t. There was a wall there that not even Bucky Barnes could scale. But as he stepped away to give you your space you realized you couldn’t be without him. Not yet. As he turned away from you, you reached out your hand and grabbed his arm, relishing the feeling of warmth and strength you found there.

“Don’t go,” you said quietly, your eyes downcast. Bucky moved closer to you, taking your hand in his. “Can you stay? Over there?” You ask pointing at the couch. Bucky smiles tenderly. It makes him swell with pride that you want him near. All he wants to do is protect you and you’re giving him that chance. He’d sleep on the floor if that’s where you wanted him.

“Sure thing, Doll,” Bucky says. He moves into your room and toes off his boots at the foot of the couch. He lies down, tucking his arm behind his head, his metal one resting on his stomach. You walk over to the bed and grab the spare pillow. You don’t like to see him uncomfortable.

“Here you go,” you say extending the pillow timidly.

“Thank you,” Bucky says, accepting your offering. “Go ahead and try to rest. I’ll be here if you need anything, don’t hesitate to wake me up.” You nod your head and get into your bed, snuggling down into the plush comforter. It’s comfort like you’ve never experienced before but it’s cold and smells sterile. You poke your nose out to breathe Bucky’s scent deep into your lungs. Peace and calm washes over you and before you realize it your eyelids have grown heavy and you’re slipping into a restful sleep. Bucky watches you drop off, contentment filling his heart. You’re near and that’s all he wants. Your scent mingles with his in the room and as he drops off he thinks this is how it should always smell. You and him, at peace and together.

_________________________________________________________________

It’s dark when FRIDAY’s soft voice comes over the PA. You sit bolt upright at the sound of her voice.

“Y/N, your presence is requested in Conference Room C.” Bucky’s nose itches as fear floods your scent. He wakes up to find you sitting stiff with your hands clenched around the comforter.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just FRIDAY. She’s an AI who runs the compound.” Bucky reassures you, his voice thick with sleep. “Okay,” you nod

“I think Tony wants to meet you and go over a few things. He’s a bit brash but he’s really a good guy.” Bucky says. “I’ll walk you down.” He pulls on his shoes while he waits for you to emerge from your cocoon. Your cheeks blush as you realize you didn’t put any clothes on before you went to sleep.

“I need to get dressed,” you mumble, embarrassed and keeping your eyes firmly fixed on the comforter in front of you.

“It’s no problem. I’ll be right outside. Come out when you’re ready.” Bucky said, getting up from the couch and stretching. His shirt lifted a little giving you a glimpse of his chiseled abs and the top of his underwear. Your stomach does a flip and you quickly avert your eyes. You couldn’t let this alpha have that affect on you or your heat would come and you weren’t ready for that.

Bucky waited dutifully outside your door, his hands in his pockets and his foot against the wall. A small smile played on his lips as he thought of your face, your lips, your scent. He got lost in the thought of your smile wondering what it looked like. He was snapped out of his reverie at the sound of you opening the door.

You emerged dressed in sweats and a tank top. Goosebumps dotted your flesh as you stepped into the chilly hallway. Bucky shrugged off the zip-up hoodie he was wearing and draped it across your shoulders, wrapping you in his fresh scent. Sunshine and cut grass and morning dew. His smell was everything you ever hoped for.

Bucky lead you down the hall to the conference room FRIDAY had directed you to. There were two men waiting inside for you, one smaller with a goatee and the other bigger than Bucky with cropped blond hair and rippling muscles. They were alphas, their strong scents told you that much. You recoiled into Bucky.

“I thought you said it was just going to be Tony?” You asked quietly, giving both men a distrustful glare.

“That’s what I thought,” Bucky said. “How you doing Thor, I didn’t know you were on world.”

“Greetings Bucky!” Thor boomed, causing you to flinch. “Tony here appraised me of our young omega’s powers and thought I could be of some assistance.” Thor flashed you a winning smile and nodded his head in your direction but you weren’t comforted.

“Thanks for bringing her around Bucky, you can go," Tony said, his attention focused on the file in front of him.

“I can stay,” Bucky said, “it’s no trouble.”

“No, you can go,” Tony retorts looking up from the file, “you haven’t debriefed. Get down to Rogers and file your paperwork.” Bucky didn’t budge and instead stared Tony down, his scent becoming more dominant. You didn’t want to see an altercation so you gently placed a hand on Bucky’s chest.

“It’s ok. I’ll be okay.” You whispered. Bucky glanced down at you and softened at the look in your eyes. You were trying to be strong for him and he respected that.

“Okay, I’ll go. I’ll be right down the hall.” He lifts your hand off his chest and gives it a squeeze. You want to lean into him. You want to nuzzle your face into his neck and scent him. You want to be his, especially when he was being so kind and soft. Instead you wiggle your hand out of his grip and take two steps back.

“Go,” you say simply, dismissing him. You watch the pain flit through Bucky’s eyes before he gives you a nod and obeys. And again you’re more confused than ever. An alpha that obeys an omega. Who is this man?

Tony and Thor have watched your interaction with curiosity and they quickly avert their eyes as you turn to the table and sit in the seat closest to the open door. Your chair is pushed back from the table and your body is tense, ready to run. You regret the loss of Bucky’s scent surrounding you and you pull his hoodie closer to you.

“Alright well we’ll keep this short,” Tony says sensing your discomfort. You’re in a room with two strange alphas and you’ve sent your protector away. What were you thinking? Your panic slowly starts to rise. “I want to offer you a home if you want it. If not, we can help you find your own place and get you set up. I’d like to add that if you stay you’ll have full time access to a world class therapist and Thor here will be your personal trainer. He’ll help you get a handle on your powers and explore their full potential. What do you say?” Tony stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks up on the balls of his feet as he looks at you imperiously.

You’re overwhelmed at his offer and start to feel dizzy at the overload of information. The thought of staying is terrifying. You know the longer you stay the harder it’ll be to resist Bucky. And he’s not the only alpha in the compound. What happens when your heat comes. How will you bear it. But you’ve known nothing but Hydra since you were little. You don’t think you can survive on your own. You look up at Tony who was watching you process his offer with a curious expression on his face.

“I can get Barnes if you need to-“

“No. This is my decision,” you cut off Tony taking a deep breath. “I want to stay. But on the provision that I can leave when I want to. I’m not an Avenger, I’m not bound to anything here,” you say, mostly trying to convince yourself. You couldn’t know Bucky was in the hallway listening, his heart aching at your words.

“Done deal. Stay as long as you like and when you’re sick of us, I’ll set you up on your own,” Tony says, extending his hand to shake on the deal. You flinch and shrink further into yourself. Tony quickly clenches his hand and lets it drop to his side. He can see you’ve had enough and calls out to Bucky.

“Come on in Barnes. You can take her back to her room.” Tony calls. Bucky quickly appears in the doorway and you realize he never left you. It’s starting to sink in that maybe he never would.

Bucky waits patiently for you to stand up and move towards the door. He leads you back to your room and stands at the doorway, making no move to come in uninvited. You timidly take his hand and nod your head towards the room, pulling him inside. A glance at the clock tells you how late it is and you collapse into bed. Bucky pulls the comforter up close around you. He stops himself from kissing the top of your head and moves to the couch and settles in for the night.

You stare at each other as your eyelids grow heavy. You’re terrified at what tomorrow will bring but at least you’re safe here now, with Bucky.

Chapter 4

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Taglist:

Italics means I couldn’t tag you.

@fanfictionjunkie1112, @kiki5283, @humanexile, @starkrobb, @alyxkbrl, @momc95, @bullshitantichrist, @the-omni-princess @littlelonewolfgirl, @carlya65, @animegirlgeeky, @acf2510, @fluffyirwinie, @disasterwelshgirl @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @38leticia @guccicloudz @holyhumorliteraturelight @mrsalwayswrite @no-clue-whats-happenin @booktease21 @mymomcallsmefury @fafulous @asgardlover75 @susmita121 @noseyrosey1597 @jennmurawski13

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes #alpha bucky barnes x reader #alpha x omega #Winter Solider #winter solider fanfiction #winter solider x reader

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barnesandco · 4 years

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Third Time Lucky (Expanded)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Kissing

A/N: I wanted to expand the original drabble, but I’m leaving the original up as it is instead of editing it bc it’s smol and I like it.

The first time she kisses Bucky, it's an accident.

He, along with Earth's mightiest heroes, is helping her move into the apartment she bought because she wanted her own space. An escape, a personal sanctuary, away from the Compound.

Not away from Bucky, though, never away from him. Much like him, she's quiet, still hesitant, only four months in as an Avenger. Her calm demeanor occasionally interrupted by bouts of laughter at his dry remarks, usually aimed at Sam. Bucky finds himself speaking more in an attempt to elicit that magical sound, not knowing that she's managed to bring him out of the shell he's been in since he left Hydra. In a number of weeks, she's unwittingly and effortlessly accomplished what they've all been working at for months - Steve's incessant mothering, listening to Sam at the VA, his therapy sessions, Shuri's cheerful video-calls, hours and hours in the gym to work out all that anguish. She hasn’t fixed him, and she isn’t trying to. But she’s made him comfortable, and that’s all any of them were asking for.

She can't remove his pain, nor he hers, but they've established a silent companionship; alone together. She prepares his coffee in the mornings, accepting a quirk of his lips in return. Breakfast passes with him pretending to read her newspaper upside down - he's actually studying the movement of her lower lip as she chews at it thoughtfully.

On the days they don't have missions, or meetings, or meet-and-greets, they'll spend the whole day on opposite ends of the breakfast nook. Surrounded by history books and a laptop - all Bucky's - and cocooned by her blankets and the scent of the flowers that grow in her vicinity when she's at ease. And she is, around him at least. His gentle, inaudible movements now useful for something other than assassination. Tranquility only broken by someone in the kitchen - mostly Sam for lunch, or Wanda, teaching Vision. The bustle of the Avengers filtered out between the tapping of her nails against her phone, and his pencil scratching against half-full notebooks. Peace is a rare thing for a soldier, and yet, here she is giving him some that soothes his very bones.

All of this without apparent affection, other than a fond look when he laughs at a meme she shows him, or the urge to hold his hand when his forehead wrinkles at a particularly nasty detail in the books before him. Averse to touch, after the kinds they've experienced.

Until now, and it’s a thoughtless, subconscious action that finally introduces Bucky’s skin to the feel of hers, the feel of her lips, actually, and it’s electrifying.

He holds the door for her on his way out to pick up more of her stuff, and she absently pecks him on the cheek in thanks, despite the box full of books straining her arms. She moves forward quickly, not knowing that the soldier now cannot, the split-second sensation like being tased, and the current runs from his face to his feet, stopping his heart momentarily.

The first time she kisses Bucky, he's left standing in the doorway, rowdy sounds from his teammates playing in the background as he tries to calm the furious blush painting his face.

---

The second time she kisses Bucky, she's flirting.

They've been dancing around whatever the hell this is for months, and she’s sick of it. Growing closer was inevitable, a predetermined destination with the course they were taking, but she didn’t think that getting addicted to the scent of his cologne was a prerequisite for becoming attracted to Bucky Barnes. Which she is. Hopelessly, ridiculously, unfairly attracted. As a consequence of their growing friendship, she’s become more familiar with him, providing excessive material for the Bucky-involved part of her brain to think about. The cool metal of his left arm around her shoulders, the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs. The sound resonates through the room and then through her heart as if it’s an empty cavern, even though it feels so, so full when she’s close to him.

Right now, she’s very close to him, as they're dancing, metaphorical situation having manifested itself in real life. Surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D. employees at the office party, Billie Holiday on the Stark sound system, courtesy of Steve’s unwanted wingmanning. He doesn’t need the wingmanning; does just fine on his own. Took him a while to loosen up, but even he - forties boy that he is - knows the tension between them is palpable. Uses it to his advantage, loves making her shy away, and loves it even more when she responds to his 9mm shots at her with a .950 JDJ. In fact, he's about to tell her her skin glows in the fairy lights when Sam - cockblock that he is, vodka-drunk off his ass, asks to cut in, and bows so low he almost falls at her feet.

She giggles and then gives Bucky an apologetic look, before the innocence gives way to something more, and she stands on her tiptoes to murmur in his ear. His hands automatically fall to her waist when she holds his shoulders to steady herself.

“Sorry, Buck. Thanks for the dance.” It’s a millisecond exchange, over just as Sam straightens up, rolling his eyes when she winks at Bucky, and pulls away from his hold.

The second time she kisses Bucky, he's left in the middle of the dance floor, rubbing the spot where his jaw meets his neck, just below his ear. Wondering if the whisper against his skin is a phantom feeling, or if she actually nipped him with his teeth in goodbye.

---

The third time she kisses Bucky, it's to interrupt his tirade at her recklessness. He had been grounded for this mission, and she was on a self-destructive streak because she blamed herself for the injury responsible for his obligatory bedrest. Three gunshot wounds and a shattered arm. He could have died. She knows this all too well, having spent a consecutive 36 hours at his bedside thinking of nothing but his absence.

They’ve just gotten back from another mission, where she went after the ringleader of the illegal weapons manufacturing they had gone to shut down. Normally, that’s their aim. However, when you disconnect your coms, and go in without backup to kill, instead of arrest, a powerful, well-protected man, it is very much a problem. She could have died, and he’s thankful that she didn’t, but presently the gratitude has been pushed back as the anger and fear elbows it’s way forward.

The team waits awkwardly for the argument to end from the next room so they can have their well-earned meal.

“Well, someone needs to get laid.”

“Tony!” Bruce hisses furiously, and the others erupt into discussion, Steve doing his best to disguise the smirk on his face. Silently, he agrees, as the battle of wills rages on.

Not much of a battle, really; Bucky's yelling his face off as hers gets more and more tense until the rubber-band finally snaps.

“Are you out of your mind? Do you still not underst-” She grabs him by the face, pushing her mouth to his, all tongue and teeth and flesh. It's inelegant and angry, and this is not how she imagined it would be, but it doesn't matter because it's him. It's Bucky, and he's holding her by the waist, as well as he can with his arm in a sling, uncomfortably pinched between them. She doesn't care, focuses instead on the feel of his hair in her hands. The deep groan that she feels rumble from his chest where it's pressed to hers when her nails scrape against the nape of his neck. His tongue, warm and wanton, learning hers thoroughly, attentively. The gentlemanly Brooklyn boy, both corrupted and saved by the tinge of copper on her lips, and the beating rhythm of her pulse under his hand on her neck.

“I can’t lose you. Not you.” Bucky says against her mouth. Chest heaving, she nuzzles her nose to his, shuts her eyes, and breathes him in.

The third time she kisses Bucky, he's left out of breath and with a raging hard-on, metal fist cracking the counter behind her. They pant against each other, lips rasping against one another, foreheads bumping. She kisses him until she finally, finally, loses count.

Taglist: @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @kentuckybarnes

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arigatouiris · 5 years

Text

daughter of artemis // p.p — [15]

c h a p t e r f i f t e e n

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Word count: 4115

Author’s Note: Thank you so much everyone for writing back to me and telling me you enjoyed this story. It means so much to me, and I cannot tell you how much this story has made everything better for me mental health wise. Thank you, each and every one!

And for those who would want to read more of my work, I’m writing a Bucky x Reader series after this and if you want to be on the taglist for that, just send me an ask!

15 // χαρουμενα happy

❅

“Could you place the plates on the table? Morgan will help.” Pepper grinned, as she pointed to the plates on the kitchen slab.

(y/n) looked almost clueless; she had almost always ordered food, or her uncle brought it home to her. She hadn’t ever worried about placing cutlery on a table and eating together. She knew this was how families usually ate, but even when it was just her mother and her, they’d sit by each other and eat under the stars. A dinner table was new to her.

She had returned from Greece with Peter, as Apollo dropped the kids back at their apartment. He hated seeing how much Peter and (y/n) were clinging to one another, and promised them that the next time they travel, it’d be by flight and the speed of light wasn’t working out well for them. Pepper had welcomed (y/n) back more gloriously than Tony had, who merely just sat and stared like a cat would. She looked at him and wondered if she could smile, but the awkwardness made itself rather clear.

Pepper then announced that they’d eat dinner together, and with (y/n) agreeing on moving in with them, it’d be their first dinner together as a new family. (y/n) was nervous, and wondered if things were moving a bit too fast, but that didn’t matter at the moment. She knew of Tony’s awkwardness, but he had tried; and now it was her turn. Determined to make the first move, (y/n) grabbed four plates before heading to the dinner table. She saw Tony sitting there, quietly, almost as if he were lost in thought, and she gulped.

She placed the plates gingerly on the table, not wanting to interrupt Tony’s deep thinking, and just as she was about to place a plate in front of him, Tony helped her. Letting out a sigh, he stood up, confusing the girl, and looked at her with a pained expression.

“Uh…” She didn’t know what to say.

Just as Tony was about to say something, Morgan and Pepper came in with the food. (y/n) was moved out of her reverie and she turned away, helping Pepper and her younger sister who was paddling along by her feet. Morgan was naughty, this she had guessed from the first time she had met her, but that night, she would learn that her sister was a mastermind.

“Dad keeps talking about you all the time.”

Tony almost choked on his salad. He hated salads, and he normally, even without Morgan’s revelation, would have choked; but this called for a reaction. Pepper grinned to herself and kept quiet, not wanting to interfere. Unlike Tony, she was quite experienced in displaying open modes of affection. It wasn’t as if Tony was not affectionate; with Morgan, his affection was quite natural. It was (y/n), and everything that he wished to know about her that caused the difficulty. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, and he knew that to most people, in their first go, Tony can be quite intimidating. And he certainly didn’t want to cause any sort of mental disturbance to his own daughter.

(y/n) sat next to him on the table, Morgan sitting across from her and Pepper next to Morgan. Dinner was pretty simple, but it was indeed the best dinner (y/n) had the luxury to eat. Pepper asked her about things she liked, Morgan teased her with Peter, which caused something to burn inside Tony’s heart; and the casual aspect of dinner that night was something (y/n) had craved for ever since she set foot in America.

This was what she had in mind when she came looking for Pepper and her father. A family, a family that accepted her, albeit the awkwardness that Tony displayed. She understood him, however, and knew why he was being this way. It was as difficult for him as it was for her, to suddenly meet someone out of the blue and be introduced to them as an immediate member of the family.

Pepper stared at her husband, who was thinking primarily on how to welcome her.

Right after dinner, Tony rushed to wash the dishes, which left the women at the table. (y/n) looked at Pepper and chuckled once, knowing that even if dinner was a bit quiet, it was home.

“He doesn’t know what to say to you.” Pepper said, slowly, making sure not to let Tony hear.

“I know… I don’t either, really. I’ve always wanted to meet him and I always thought I’d have so much to say, but… I’m speechless.”

“Maybe you should say that.” Pepper said, placing a hand on the girl’s own hand.

(y/n) smiled and nodded, turning to where Tony was, and heading over there. Turning to Pepper and Morgan, (y/n) looked almost hesitant, but what she saw was comfort smiling back at her. Morgan raised her hands in a thumbs up and giggled, with Pepper smiling from ear to ear. What (y/n) knew at that second was nothing far from the truth; Pepper and Morgan were family now, and she was already growing to love them. Turning back, she entered the kitchen to find Tony just standing there, by the sink, staring at his gloves.

“Um…” She didn’t know if she was disturbing him or if she was getting in the way of something.

Tony looked at her, almost startled. Walking over to him, she was aware of his eyes on her, as she stood beside him.

“Need any help?” She asked, looking up at him now, his eyes already on her.

“I’ve got this.” He said, frowning.

“Tony?” She said this time, wanting to address the elephant in the room.

Tony was quiet. This wasn’t a moment meant for a sarcastic statement or something funny. Tony had realized that now was when he could address it, and he was slightly thankful for all those other things like her prophecy and whatnot, which kept her occupied, and kept them from speaking about what actually mattered. He took a deep breath and just stood there. The dishes were not getting done.

“I… I’ve never really thought of what I’d say to you when we meet, you know?” Tony looked at her from the side. They were standing next to one another, shoulders touching. “All those years ago, when I first came here, I thought you’d be this warm and welcoming person, who’d just… probably make me forget about Olympus completely. Maybe, someday, and even if this sounds terrible, I wanted to feel better about losing mom—”

“That doesn’t sound terrible. Not one bit. Kid, I’m sorry I wasn’t—”

“No, see, I...“ She gulped, feeling fresh tears in her eyes now. Her hands were resting on the sink’s side, close to Tony’s gloved hands. “I wasn’t being much of a sport there, either… Running away from you and—”

In one quick sweep, Tony pulled the girl into an embrace and held her; he removed his gloves and threw them by the sink before pulling her closer to him, shutting his eyes and just breathing. He could feel his chest hurt, and he felt her shake slightly.

“You’re my kid. You’re my kid. I’ve missed so much of your life already, (y/n). You’re my daughter. The moment I got to know about you, I should have taken you in. I was just scared. I couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t want to. I thought it couldn’t be, especially with everything—”

When her hands wound themselves around him, Tony cried. (y/n) hugged her father back for a solid two minutes, and Tony stood there, taking in everything about her. She was so small in front of him, she was so precious, she was everything that had kept him alive when times didn’t make sense, and he didn’t even know it. Pulling away from her, he wiped the tears off her face and stared at her; his hands on either side of her cheek.

“You’re my kid.” He said, as if affirming it.

(y/n) chuckled and nodded, hugging him once again. She closed her eyes and calmed down, feeling at ease. Tony’s hands held the girl’s, and he noticed how small they were compared to his own. He ruffled her hair and felt it, finding it similar to his own. She had his jawline, she had his eyes. She had his smile.

“God, you’re melting.” She joked, and Tony laughed.

That night, either of them didn’t get too much sleep. She told Tony about her mother, and about everything that she had seen or gone through back in Olympus. They were sitting by the front of their cabin, shoulders touching, Tony playing with his daughter’s hands. He loved her, he loved her like his life depended on it, and if there was ever a choice, or a situation where he had to choose between himself and his daughters, he would gladly sacrifice his life for them.

“What about Parker?” Tony asked, cocking his eyebrow at her.

(y/n) raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Tony leaned forward and squinted at her, wanting the answer out of her.

“Yeah, so… He was the first person I met when I was teleported here.”

“Parker or Spiderboy?”

(y/n) frowned at her father before muttering, “Spiderman, but yes. Spiderman.”

“And you figured it out over the years that he was in the costume?”

(y/n) shook her head, “Not over the years, but after I met Peter as Peter. I mean, we were talking about Star Wars and I,” she laughed when she remembered this, “I asked Spiderman if he had seen it, and I guess it was his reaction that gave it away.”

Tony scoffed, “Right. When something nerdy’s mentioned, he lets it slip. Some secret.”

(y/n) playfully hit her father’s shoulder. Tony chuckled.

“He’s a good kid. I’m…” He cleared his throat as he continued, “I’m glad it’s him you’re playing tonsil hockey with.”

“Ew!” (y/n) was wide-eyed, scrunching her face at Tony. “How can you even—? That’s disgusting!”

“But, that’s what you two do, so don’t deny it.”

(y/n) was blushing so hard, she tried to cover her face with her hand. As she was groaning, Tony watched her, with a soft smile on his face. He was so glad she was sitting next to him, and if hadn’t ever showed up, he’d have never understood what he was missing.

“You’re crazy, old man.” (y/n) said, still covering her face.

Tony let out a dry chuckle, “Well, this old man cares about you.”

After a brief silence, Tony cried again. It was a simple shedding of tears; an emotional response to a closure. He had wondered what it would feel like when he became a father. Ever since falling in love with Pepper, someone who had invariably changed him inside and out, he had wanted to start a family. He wondered what it would feel like to have his child’s hands in his, the kid’s eyes looking right back at him, smiling and giving him another reason to breathe.

He wondered if it would make him feel full. Full of something.

After that brief silence, just before Tony shed tears that night, he felt that fullness. He felt that fullness when his eldest daughter took his hands in hers and leaned her head on his shoulder. A simple gesture, but it ended with,

“I love you, dad.”

Tony breathed in sharply, and remembered what he shared with her. Their thing, like Morgan’s 3000. Kissing the girl’s head, Tony closed his eyes. He was full of that something, and couldn’t possibly wish for anything more.

“I love you, moonchild.”

❅

MJ hated hugs, but for (y/n), she made an exception. When she saw the girl walk into the classroom that morning, MJ stood up on her own and approached the demigod. Hugging the girl like her life depended on it, MJ didn’t realize that she had widened her eyes.

“Oh my god!” MJ whisper yelled, shutting her eyes.

(y/n) held her back and chuckled, “Let’s not worry about gods anymore,”

Pulling away, MJ grinned at the girl.

“I’m serious, I’m really done with that life now. Let’s finish school here and do something normal.”

“What about that dagger? Still have it?”

(y/n) grinned, “Nope. It’s with mum now.”

MJ smiled, placing a loving hand on the girl’s shoulder. Nodding once, they retreated back to their desks, feeling warm.

“Apparently, we have a new English teacher. Girls in class are devastated.” MJ said, scoffing.

“Yeah, uncle had to head back. Godly duties.” (y/n) frowned a bit.

“Right. So normal.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. A moment later, she noticed Peter and Ned walk inside class, and her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t tell MJ yet that Peter was there with her in Greece, after everything was done. Peter gave (y/n) a look before smiling and waving shyly, causing the girl to chuckle.

“Why’s he acting like that?” MJ asked, frowning.

“It’s cute.”

“Ew.”

Sometimes, she worried about Zeus returning. However, the prayer she had made to Hera told her that things would be okay. Hera, she understood, was a terrible person. Terrible because she was filled with jealousy, anger and everything that made her rude to everyone around her. However, as a goddess and a Queen, there was no one like her. And when someone prayed to Hera, (y/n) understood, they were protected.

Please keep my family safe, she had prayed, intently meaning every word.

After school, (y/n) approached Peter, who seemed like he was in a hurry. Folding her arms in front of her boyfriend, she narrowed her eyes before wondering if he had even asked her out in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, blinking.

She pressed her lips together before saying, “What are we, Peter Parker?”

Peter’s eyes widened before his hand shot up to his mouth in surprise.

“I—I was meaning to, but w-with everything that h-had happened, I just—”

“Relax,” She leaned forward and kissed the boy’s nose. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Peter relaxed at her words, and his hands flew to her side. He looked at her lovingly for a moment before pulling back, causing the girl to chuckle.

“Let me guess, Stark Internship?”

Peter shrugged before kissing her squarely on the lips and running off.

“I’ll see you later tonight!” He yelled before rushing out of school.

That evening, she was meant to take her things from her old apartment into Stark’s cabin. She was still getting used to things, with her now openly calling Tony as ‘dad’ and Pepper as ‘mum’. It was harder to call Pepper ‘mum’, but perhaps it was because it was Pepper that she made it easier just a bit. There was no force, there was no hurry. Pepper told her to ease it in, if she wanted to, and the choice that she was given made all the difference.

When she entered her apartment, she noticed all her things were already in boxes. Her eyes were wide, as she entered the flat and looked around. Standing by the entrance to her room was her uncle, wearing nothing but an orange tank and brown cargo pants.

“Uncle?”

Apollo turned to her and shrugged.

“A godly favor.” He said, causing her to roll her eyes.

She walked over to her uncle and hugged him, causing the god to hold her back. Pulling away, she turned to her things and stared.

“So this is it.”

Apollo nodded, “It was strange. I always knew I’d get along with you eventually, but this was…”

“The way it happened was weird.” She said, laughing.

Apollo chuckled before turning to the girl, “Peter Parker is a good boy. I always knew it, and maybe that’s why the vision came forward in the first place.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened as she turned to her uncle with shock, “You made me see that vision?”

Apollo scoffed, “I am an oracular god. I thought the visions would help you. I didn’t know what they are before I made you see them.”

(y/n) chuckled. “Wow. So you can think beforehand. That was… that was quite smart, uncle. Hestia is indeed missing out.”

Apollo’s eyes widened, “How did you—”

“How did I know Hestia turned you down? Come on, uncle. Everyone knows that.”

Apollo’s face reddened before he turned away.

“Despite everything,” She was playing with her fingers now. “Despite me thinking you hated me, and how we came this far, I… I want to tell you that you were like a dad to me.”

Apollo blinked. “(y/n)—”

“And you will always be the best dad ever.” (y/n) said, grinning.

Apollo’s eyes filled with tears, and in hindsight, three or four more large clouds formed in the sky. It wasn’t Apollo’s doing, just sometimes, he had no control over how his emotions affected the atmosphere.

“Don’t make Stark feel bad now…” Apollo said, blinking away his tears.

(y/n) giggled, “He’ll have his chances, but he’s certainly got a lot to live up to.”

A second later, “Uncle, are you crying?”

“Clear this apartment, you stupid child.”

❅

The last person Natasha Romanoff was expecting that evening to turn up at her little flat was (y/n). No one, not even Stark knew where she lived, so this was a bit of a shocker. Smirking, the red haired woman let the girl in, before shutting the door behind her.

“How did you—”

“Followed you last night, you like coffee from that one store near 9th street.” (y/n) said, folding her arms.

“Your skills have gotten better. How’s Tony taking you?”

“I really didn’t think he’d cry.”

Natasha chuckled.

“Nat,” The woman looked up at the sudden mention of her name, “I want to begin where we left off.”

Nat cocked her eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

The girl shrugged. Sparring with Black Widow made sense to her back then because there was a purpose. However, it was something that (y/n) looked forward to on most days. Natasha was a great teacher because she wasn’t too soft, and she wasn’t too brittle; she was the right balance of experience and skill, showing the girl what she had to know. Ultimately, later on, it had become something out of a want than for her purpose.

She missed it, basically.

“The sparring. I just… Now that I really don’t have to worry about it, it doesn’t mean I have to forget it, right? I had fun.”

Almost expecting Natasha to say the same thing, (y/n) eased when Nat smirked.

“Yeah, it was. When do you want to start?”

“Right now, if you’re up for it.”

❅

That morning, (y/n) felt nervous as she walked into class. She saw Peter and Ned already in there, who were looking at her oddly for being late. There was a reason for it, and the reason was something she didn’t even tell Peter or MJ; it was something she wanted them to find out on their own, a sort of surprise.

She sat down at her desk and noticed Peter’s confused expression. Winking at him, she eased his worry instantly before the homeroom teacher walked in.

“We have quite an announcement to make,” She said, her eyes wide. Clearing her throat, “Mr. Stark walked in this morning with a story to share. Turns out, he’s had a daughter all along. An illegitimate daughter.”

The class erupted in murmurs and Peter understood what was going on. MJ had no clue that Tony Stark was her father, but now she did. Turning to her friend, she mocked an expression of betrayal, which soon was taken over by an expression of elation.

“The paperwork was done yesterday, so the announcement was due today. Welcome, (y/n) Stark.”

She felt her heart explode at the way her classmates cheered, both in shock and wonder; pure joy because she was related to the man who had brought everyone else back. Peter stared at her lovingly, slightly intimidated that she was Mr. Stark’s daughter, but that didn’t matter.

His eyes told her he loved her at that second, and her smile said it back.

After school, Peter and (y/n) walked out hand in hand, only to see Happy waiting by, waving at her when she exited the gates. She paused, before turning to Peter, who merely chuckled once. He leaned into her ear and said, “Get used to it.”

She turned to him and groaned.

“Please, I can come by myself—”

“Tony’s not gonna have that, kid.” Happy said, smirking.

Sitting inside the car, she felt at ease. Actual happiness always looked meagre in front of every bit of sorrow she had gone through in the past. And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand.

But, the second she got home, and saw Morgan running to her, Pepper and Tony on the couch, she wondered if grand was something worth fighting for. It was a simple image, them doing their thing and Morgan welcoming her. Tony’s eyes followed his youngest daughter and landed on (y/n), before his eyes warmed at the sight of her. Pepper looked up and waved, before ushering her to come sit by her.

She realized that grand wasn’t the pinnacle of any fight at all.

It was this. This simple and meagre result of a thousand fights. It was worth everything.

And she would find them; time after time.

❅

She had never gotten the chance to listen to the whole song because the last time, her father had interrupted Peter and (y/n) while they were listening to it. She played the song in her new phone, and sat there, humming along. It was right after dinnertime, when she had said her goodnights and had come back into her room to end the day.

She knew there was nothing stopping her now. However, just as she pressed play, she heard a knock on her window. Her eyes widened when she saw Spiderman there, waving at her. Sighing, she got up and opened the window, and letting him inside, as Peter took off his mask.

He held her and kissed her squarely on the lips, as her hands flew to his face. She kissed him back, having missed the feeling of his lips against hers, and relished how natural it felt to be in his arms. As Peter pulled away, he looked at her before muttering ten or twenty ‘I love you’s to her, as if he had never said it before.

“I love you, too, Peter Parker.”

“(y/n), will you be my girlfriend?”

She mocked him by pretending to think, causing Peter to grab her hips and pull her tightly against him. Giggling, she nodded.

“Yes, yes! I will.”

“I love you, (y/n). And each time I swing by New York and I see the moon, I see you. I see the sun, I see you. Casually, you’ve replaced almost everything there is around me, and I think of you. I love you.”

Her heart warmed at his confession. “I love you, Peter Parker. Ever since you saved my life five years ago to now. I love you.”

Moving forward, she kissed him on the lips before closing her eyes. Right then, he was oxygen and she was dying to breathe. The touch of his lips on hers was featherlight, tentative, uncertain. She closed her eyes as the kiss sent a thrill through her body, until it felt like her hair was standing on end, like her whole body was a live wire, humming with electricity. (y/n) felt his lips travel from her forehead, whispering something against her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose. His thumbs stroked the length of her jaw, but even they stilled as she pulled back and turned to look at him.

“I love you, daughter of Artemis, girlfriend of Spiderman.” He said, and the rest was history.

“Dad, Spiderman’s here!” Morgan’s voice suddenly sounded, and the two teenagers’ eyes widened with fright.

They turned to the door and spotted Morgan there, waving at them. Peter, right before he puts his mask on and rushed out of the window, kissed his girlfriend for the last time that night, just as they heard Tony’s voice.

“Parker! You better not be smooching my daughter!”

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve added your urls here!

@maddie-laufeyson, @mscoloneldanvers, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark, @spider-mendes, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames, @alina-margaret, @yourwonderbelle, @viarogers, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave @oliviaisnotlistening @mizpotatobiscuits @editsbyjenny @abbieroseb @justtrynagetthroughlife @secretlittlewonders @missmulti @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com @eunoiametonia @adistiany @justletmesleeptillidie @ppunderoos @myheartonthemove @heir2chaos @honeybutterparker @truthdaze @mvmakki @-thatgirloverthere-@growingthornz @freddies-fried-chicken @jinxedleohttps://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/wrongyuckie @gogoca @kewl-r @death-by-viola @losersunitetonight @hungoverhellhound @ro2424 @https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/blackkookiebunn @absmiles123 @fxckingfat @ludwigvonbaethoven @xbabykookiix @madds-lolo @uwukinawa @sunflowernightss @diamonddia-mond @5knee @imsuperawkward @smileyishere92 @awkward-youtube-trash @spiderbabyx @theshortegg @samthesnoop @kaithezaftig @kissingg-incars @miamua-posts @jaayypasta @kimjeon7 @booksarebae2000 @tanya-diggory

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generallynerdy · 6 years

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Unexplained (Loki X Cat!Reader)

Summary: Loki is greatly amused by the cat version of (Y/N). Everybody knows, too, because he just keeps turning her into one. When he does so yet again to keep her from going to a mission, she is at the end of her patience. However, Loki comes back a little less than okay and (Y/N) quickly realises she’s the only one who can help him.

Requested by Kittypet(AO3): I had the idea [for the Loki x Reader] Loki constantly turns the reader into a cat but never says why. The reader, is understandably quite annoyed by this at first but let's it happen, learning that everyone's favorite mischief maker does it because he only gives her genuine affection when she's in that state- in the form of teasing and cuddles. It's my headcannon that Loki is an extreme cat lover (and plus there are a lot of Lokitty x Reader but not too many Loki x Cat!Reader and I think that's a problem)

Key: (H/C) - hair colour, (Y/N) - your name

Warnings: Mentions of life-threatening injuries, mentions of near death, Loki has sort of a panic attack? But it’s not like those loud ones, it’s the quiet one where he’s just achad;kfjadk ya know?

Word Count: 1,587

Note: what is english where i am what year is it

(Y/N) hadn’t ever interacted with Loki since Thor brought him to Earth. She didn’t have a reason to and it wasn’t like the guy was exactly friendly. It had taken them months to even talk and, when they finally did, it was because they were sitting awkwardly in the back corner of one of Tony’s parties. Even still, the pair weren’t close. They might say they were ‘friends’, but it was one of those ‘I can’t call you an acquaintance because you know too much about me and we see each other too much, but we’re not friends’ sort of situations.

However, after too long spent suffering in the compound, the two felt they had a unique connection- one that came from being the only ones on the team with sense.

That was when Loki did something completely and utterly ridiculous.

The first time it happened was after a mission, one that had gone overall decently, but had a few kinks along the way. (Y/N) was arguing with Tony over his reckless decisions and something Loki had done during the mission as well. The two were having at it, voices raised and fists clenched. At one point, everyone else in the room had migraines from the pure stress radiating off the pair.

So, Loki did everyone a service- mostly for himself, though, and for his own amusement. With a simple wave of his hand and a flash of green light, (Y/N) disappeared. Well, she didn’t disappear. Instead, she was turned into a tiny (H/C) ball of fluff. Loki had turned the woman into a kitten.

It took (Y/N) a few moments to realise how short she was and, the second she did, she turned on the Asgardian prince with a yowl. Meanwhile, everyone else was laughing hysterically, mostly Tony, who calmed down at the transfiguration.

Loki grinned devilishly at (Y/N) but didn’t get a word out before she leapt at him, claws outstretched. Luckily, Thor was there to drag her backwards and Loki avoided injury.

Let me at him! Let me at him!

It took Loki a full week of annoyed meows and rips in his curtains and sheets to change her back. How she got past his magic and into his room in the first place was what floored him more than anything.

No one thought of it thereafter.

Until he did it again.

And again.

And one more time for good measure.

It seemed Loki received a great amount of amusement from turning (Y/N) into a cat, though she didn’t quite appreciate it as much. It became a trend around the compound. If you saw a small (H/C) cat lurking about looking grumpy, you wouldn’t mess with it. You shouldn’t even smile at it, if you wanted to live. Sam got more than a few scratches on his arms and legs that went unsurprisingly unexplained.

The god of mischief turned (Y/N) into a cat whenever he found a good excuse, despite her arguments that there was never a good excuse. He transfigured her whenever she got into a heated argument with someone, when she got too reckless during a mission- pretty much whenever she needed to be human. Loki only made things worse by refusing to turn her back for days on end, even if she was needed. Fury was almost as annoyed as she was.

(Y/N) started to notice an odd pattern in these times when Loki would change her, though. He only seemed to do it when she was in danger or in danger of getting into a row with someone. It was odd. She told herself it was just him taking advantage of an opportunity, but she could never be sure.

Even weirder, Loki was actually somewhat...affectionate when she was in cat form. He would scratch behind her ears or between her shoulder blades, smirking when she was unable to hold back a purr. It was impossible to give into her feline instincts when she turned. She found herself enjoying a lot of cuddles from the team, but Loki was her favourite, mostly because she had never seen him act that way toward anyone. (Y/N) didn’t understand it, but she accepted it.

Then came about an unfortunate series of events.

On a mission that Loki was strangely absent from, (Y/N) got herself injured. She was cornered by an enhanced and nearly had the life beaten out of her.

For weeks, she was on bedrest. The team refused to let her do anything or go anywhere, not by herself. When she attempted to go train with Clint, who thought she was pretty much good to go, Natasha literally dragged her by the ear back to her room. Surprisingly, even Tony was adamant she rest. It felt like everyone was working against her.

Weeks later, when she was mostly healed, the team got called to another mission. (Y/N) immediately volunteered to go, but everyone eyed her doubtfully.

“I’m fine!” She protested, “I’ve been resting for weeks.”

“(Y/N),” Bruce interrupted with furrowed eyebrows, “You were close to dying. It’s not a good idea to-”

“Oh, C'mon, Bruce. I’m fine! Seriously. You said I was doing great.”

“Banner’s right,” Steve stepped up, as he always did, “You need to keep resting. The mission is too risky, you could just get hurt even worse and we won’t take that chance.”

“I will!”

The team shared knowing glances, unsure if they could stop her. That was when Steve sighed and motioned briefly to Thor, who nodded almost dutifully. Before (Y/N) could ask them what they were up to, Loki shrugged, almost disappointed but half amused. With a wave of his hand and a string of expletives from his subject, (Y/N) was a cat yet again.

The team left her behind with quiet apologies and reassurances that it was for her own good. Meanwhile, Loki lingered behind. The prince kneeled down and pet her head, which she took without protest. She was becoming used to this form, as weird as it was.

“It’s better this way, silly mortal,” Loki chuckled, but (Y/N) could see a light of seriousness behind his eyes.

Then, he left, no longer smiling. (Y/N) huffed and sat back on her haunches, mentally preparing herself to rip her team a new one when they returned.

When the Avengers returned from their mission more beat up than usual, (Y/N) put her plans of revenge on the back burner. She raced about, checking on everyone, but there wasn’t anything she could do with her size, much less without her hands. At that thought, she started to irritate Loki, trying to get him to change her back.

However, the prince looked absolutely exhausted. (Y/N) swore she could see a flicker of red in his normally bright eyes. She continued to bother him, though, sure that she needed to do something- anything- to help.

Loki ignored her and stumbled to his room, leaving the door open just enough for (Y/N) to slip through. When she did, she just barely saw him flop down face-first onto his bed with a sigh.

(Y/N) mewed weakly, but he did not acknowledge her presence. He was truly exhausted, she realised. She’d overheard that the mission had gone awry, but she didn’t realise just how bad it was. It must have hit Loki harder than the others, because (Y/N) had never seen him like this, so vulnerable.

With another cautious meow, she leapt up onto the bed beside him, poking his arm with her little nose. He simply huffed and shuffled away. She persisted, though, and eventually got him to roll onto his back.

When Loki finally did show his face to her, (Y/N) was astonished. The area around his eyes had gone completely blue and his eyes themselves were red. The Jotun had shifted almost entirely into his Frost Giant form, a shape which (Y/N) had never seen before, though she had heard the stories. Supposedly, according to Thor, Loki only showed this form when he was in great turmoil, or experiencing emotions stronger than usual. If that was true, then Loki was definitely suffering.

(Y/N) did not know that Loki had almost lost control today in his fear. She did not know that he had almost lost Thor, that his only thought was returning to the compound so that he might turn her back. She did not know that he realised today how much he wished to be close to her, to get to know her away from the times he messed with her.

What (Y/N) did know was that he was hurting. And she could help.

She wandered over near his face, which made him flinch away, but she meowed softly. This encouraged him to remain still as she snuggled up to him, muzzle buried into the crook of his shoulder as she laid beside him. Hesitantly, Loki lifted his arm to wrap around her small form, protecting her as she protected him.

(Y/N) remained there for a long time, watching as his face lost its blue colour and his eyes returned to the ones she knew so well. When he finally returned to normal, he did her the favour of turning her back from her feline form. However, this did not prompt (Y/N) to leave his side. There she stayed, warm hands entwined with Loki’s cold ones.

Masterlist

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anonthenullifier · 5 years

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Alone for the Holidays

Summary: Vision discovers the holidays are very different when half the team is on the run.

Word count: 4k

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069387

Wishing everyone a peaceful holiday season.

Vision always finds hovering above the stairs is preferable to physically stepping, a preference that is amplified in this moment as it allows him to focus on balancing the stack of boxes in his arms. If he were to step down it is possible that the weight distribution would shift ever so slightly as to unbalance his carefully arranged load leading to an unpleasant outcome. Hovering efficiently removes such nuisances.

“You know you can take more than two trips, right?”

Sage advice that Vision typically follows, but each descent into the storage room tonight has led to an increased weight in his chest, one he desired to stymie by reducing the number of trips. Which is why he is unable to see his companion from behind the wall of boxes in his arms. “I did not wish to unnecessarily draw out the process.”

Though he cannot see him, the tone of Rhodes’ “Fair enough,” conveys an image of the man’s characteristic nod and shrug he utilizes whenever readily accepting someone’s reasoning. “Come on over and learn the system.”

“Of course.” Vision slowly squats as he places the last of the boxes on the ground next to Rhodes’ wheelchair and then stands to attention as he awaits further instructions.

“Alright, so this one,” Rhodes points towards a pile on the coffee table of opened and partially sorted boxes, several stray pieces of tinsel clinging to the tape residue on the flaps, “is for the tree. This one,” a new pile that looks almost identical to the other one minus the tinsel is on the chair Vision uses when playing chess, “is for the halls and common area.”

There is a third stack, located on the couch, where all of the tape has been cut and the flaps delicately folded shut again. “And these?”

“Those need to go back in storage.”

Vision feels foolish after asking as the answer would have been apparent had he simply stopped and applied logic before speaking. “Oh yes, I recall now.” Given their former teammates are still internationally wanted fugitives, it was determined that any object or decoration traced to the rogue Avengers should be kept in storage. Invoking the old adage of out of sight, out of mind. Yet Vision is not certain hiding it will truly remove all thoughts of their friends. Or at least, it has not done so for him, the compound’s silent rooms an ever present reminder of the schism.

“We should probably just get this over with.” He suspects Rhodes feels similarly, though they have not spoken about it. It is a hunch predicated on the knowledge that both of them have put off decorating the compound until it was unavoidable. “Want to take the tree or the boxes?”

Neither is particularly enticing or meaningful since this is only his second holiday season and he still lacks the traditions so deeply embedded in his teammates, so Vision chooses what he believes Rhodes would prefer. “I can sort the rest of the boxes and then aid you.”

“Sounds good.” A pang of guilt stabs Vision’s chest as he watches Rhodes’ onerous ascent from his wheelchair, the exoskeleton Stark crafted for him still in beta testing and prone to giving out unexpectedly. It is amazing to Vision how unperturbed Rhodes is most of the time and how, besides their first conversation post Leipzig, he has never lashed out at Vision for what happened (unlike Tony, who has done so on a handful of occasions). It doesn’t mean Vision allows himself leeway in accepting responsibility for what occurred, but it does help him breathe easier knowing there is no ill will between himself and Rhodes. “I’ll need your help towards the top, I’m not climbing that ladder.”

“Understood.” The year before, when everyone was present, including Tony in an askew Santa hat and a drink in his hand as he directed everyone’s decorating, there was music streaming from the surround sound and a fake fire crackling on the television. Wanda stayed with Vision in the kitchen, stirring the hot chocolate and spiked cider, commiserating with him about how odd all of the traditions were to outsiders such as themselves. Now it is silent minus the clink of ornaments and rustle of tinsel as Rhodes works on the tree.

Vision isn’t sure if this paradoxically weighty hollowness overtaking his limbs is normal, a topic he will need to investigate more tonight once Rhodes has retired, the past several nights introducing him to the possibility of seasonal affective disorder, though he has yet to have Helen test his melatonin levels. Vision tries to shrug the feeling away, or at least ignore it for the time being. So he begins his task, slowly forming a rhythm of running the box cutter through the tape, opening the box, and then sorting it to the appropriate pile. The process is fairly quick, his impeccable memory about where all the decorations went the year before means he doesn’t need to investigate beyond the top item in the box. That is until he glances at the contents of the second to last box. The glittery and cheerful golds, reds, and greens of the other decorations have been replaced by shiny whites and blues. Something in his chest seizes and he can’t stop his fingers tracing the dreidels printed on the crinkly paper of the string lights. The year before, long after all the holiday parties were thrown and gifts given, Wanda had confided in him that she didn’t actually celebrate Christmas. Vision, for a reason he had not been able to fully understand back then, felt a deep desire to honor her heritage and had gone to a local store to buy an assortment of, what he hoped, were acceptable decorations for Wanda. She had hugged him tightly and made him promise he’d help her hang them the next year. Only now it is a year later and he is folding the box shut and stacking it with the other off-limit decorations, somewhat concerned at the faint tremor of his hands as does so .

“Can you help me out?”

The request draws his mind back to the present, hands smoothing out his sweater as he turns towards Rhodes, “Gladly.” Vision studies the pattern and placement of the string lights on the bottom of the tree as he takes the dangling, sparkling bulbs from Rhodes and flies carefully around the tree to finish. Rhodes passes the rest of the decorations, occasionally directing Vision (in a much more subdued fashion than Stark did the year before) on the placement of the garland and ornaments.

Vision lands next to Rhodes once the star is affixed to the top of the tree. “It’s um,” the man next to him studies the large evergreen, one that could easily be placed on the cover of a magazine and will soon be on the covers of all newspapers and news sites, “a bit impersonal.”

“It is.”

Amongst the boxes in the pile going back to the basement is the vast array of personalized, garish ornaments the team traditionally gifts each other. Tony had insisted they put up the ones for the three of them, but Rhodes and Vision agreed it would only draw more attention to the missing members. What is left is a gorgeous albeit meaningless tree. “You doing okay, with all of this?”

The question is quiet, almost remorseful - whether because it is out of obligation or because he is worried about stepping on Vision’s toes is difficult to discern. “I believe so,” which is not entirely true, but is what Vision believes is socially the most acceptable answer.

“You’re still welcome to come to my sister’s, she won’t mind.”

It’s an offer Vision truly appreciates despite having no interest in accepting. “I believe it is mandated in the Accords that at least one Avenger must always be on the premises.”

This line of reasoning has not stopped Rhodes from pestering him, and it likely still won’t, but Vision can’t muster a better acceptable explanation for his refusal. “I doubt anyone would know if it was empty for a few days.” The truth is that no one realizes when the compound is empty because Vision is the only one who is consistently there to notice. “I just,” Rhodes sighs, hands waving in an attempt to convince Vision to change his mind, “I hate to think of you alone for the holidays.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Vision offers a brief, friendly smile that hopefully conveys his genuineness, “but I will be fine.”

Rhodes inhales deeply, seemingly contemplating if he continues to push on the matter, but then his chest deflates soundlessly as he accepts Vision’s decision. “Okay.” A shrug sends away the last of the concern from his voice, replacing it expertly with a more lighthearted topic, “Please tell me you remembered to order the backup sweaters for tomorrow.”

The sweaters Tony ordered for the annual Avenger Christmas card are...questionable at best, caricatures of their faces with Santa hats on with The Accordions embroidered underneath. “Yes, I have them in my quarters.”

“Thank God.” There are still half a dozen boxes of decorations left for the hallways and windows, yet Rhodes rubs his hands together the way he usually does when a task is complete. “I think we can finish the rest tomorrow, I’m kind of tired.”

Vision wonders if it is the same tiredness he has been feeling since the fallout of the Avengers. “I believe we only need the tree for the picture.”

Rhodes nods, eyes glistening from the glow of the trees, “Alright.” This is how each evening ends between them, at least when Rhodes is at the compound, very little interaction, awkward silence, and then one of them (typically Rhodes) extricates himself from the situation. “Goodnight, Vision.”

“Goodnight, Rhodes.”

Alone, standing in front of the tree, Vision searches for anything similar to his first Christmas: the awe that filled him each night when he would hover in front of the tree while the others slept, the confusion he experienced at each new tradition he was introduced to, and the warmth that bloomed from the sheer joy of the people around him. Unfortunately, he comes up empty handed.

Deciding that brooding is not the most productive use of his time, Vision glides to the couch, rearranging the closed boxes based on size and weight into a well-balanced, easily movable stack. Once it meets his specifications, Vision transfers the boxes back into the storage room, strategically placing each one on the shelves to take up the least amount of space, a real-life game of Tetris minus the disappearing lines. He would have lost the game, however, as the last box should have been placed third, its size and shape more parsimonious for the position than the one he put in its place, yet he failed to do so. Instead he slowly re-opens the box, sifting through the decorations as a gloom seeps deep into his vibranium cells. Had so many things been done differently, words been exchanged, or perhaps words been kept silent; some emotions kept in check while other, more useful, emotions were followed; actions withheld or even actions completed (he still cannot bear to think of the multitudinous options he failed to consider at Leipzig to stop the fight earlier), then this box might not be shoved into the darkness of the basement.

Vision closes the box, careful not to tear any of the delicate papers inside, and slides it onto the shelf. At this point he should retire to his quarters, or at least move to a more suitable location in the compound. He doesn’t move, however, eyes remaining on the brown wall of the boxes as his mind works.

There is a knock at the door. Wanda ignores it, certain it’s the guy from two doors down coming back drunk, yet again. Another knock and she rolls over, tugging the sheet up higher, body strongly disliking the stark temperature difference between day and night in the desert. A third knock and a painfully polite “Wanda?” jolts her out of bed, her powers flickering in the darkness as she pulls her sweatshirt towards her with one hand and closes the curtains over the window with the other. She steps in front of the door, hand poised over the knob as she sends a tendril of scarlet to confirm she wasn’t dreaming. She wasn’t. Wanda yanks the door open with a, “Vizh, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I-” this is not her normal response to seeing him, but this is also not a planned rendezvous, something they both agreed should be avoided in case other factors, like their teammates being around, would create a perilous situation. Vision seems shocked at her ire, his human disguise faltering around the eyes as she watches his irises spin. “I um wanted to bring you this,” he holds out a box to her, as if that should be answer enough.

The hallway is empty, thankfully, but there is no guarantee it will remain that way. “Just, come in.” Wanda steps aside to allow him to enter the tiny space, which is about half the size of her room at the compound, if she wants to be generous in her estimation. With the door shut and the lights on, she is torn between her desire to hug him, always elated to see his face, or scold him for misusing her coordinates given his demeanor doesn’t suggest there is any real emergency. “Vision, what’s going on?”

A quick assessment of potential sight-lines to the outside precedes the disguise dissolving into his crimson and silver visage, a sight she misses daily. Vision turns towards her, lips pursed and eyes incapable of settling on any one object. “Rhodes and I were decorating the tree for the Christmas photo tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

She is waiting for him to tell her the compound burned down or the tree somehow crushed Tony (she can hope). “It was,” a long, timid pause breaks up his sentence, a realization dawning on his face that is soon followed by a frown and flick of his eyes to her, “I feel quite foolish now.” Which confirms there is no emergency.

“Vizh,” a squeeze of his forearm draws his eyes to her, his embarrassment bursting in the air around them, “I won’t judge you, you know that.”

He sends her a sheepish, appreciative smile, “I know.” Another long pause and three breaths is what he needs to continue. “It was very disheartening to partake of such an activity without you and the rest of the team.”

A hairline fracture forms in her heart at the sorrow swirling in his eyes. “It’s always hard to celebrate without everyone you care about.” The hollowness and confusion she senses in Vision’s mind is one she knows intimately. The holiday season has long been something she tries to avoid, as best she can, wrought with reminders of all that’s been lost, of times when she didn’t have to stare at the empty seats at the table or feel the absence of the pressure of arms wrapped around her or hands gripping her own as they prayed. After their parents died, she and Pietro found one way to cope was to adopt their own traditions, taking only small pieces of their parents with them. It worked, for a time, until they just stopped celebrating other than occasionally eating Hanukkah gelt and lighting a candle in remembrance on particularly difficult nights. Last year, her first without her brother, almost destroyed her, even with her vain attempts at sidestepping it by simply not acknowledging her roots, because if the holiday doesn’t exist then it can’t haunt her. Unfortunately that’s not how it works, all the parties and the shows, the cheesy movies on television and the songs on the radio, the cards plastered to the fridge of happy, smiling families, all serve as reminders of how very much alone she is. It all leaves a bitter taste in her mouth - one she hopes doesn’t develop for Vision, his own experiences still so new to be sullied already.

“It’s not foolish Vizh,” she grips his arms and waits until his gaze meets her own, her voice developing a firmness that he won't dare to counter with any of his logic, “at all.” She wants to reassure him more, explain how she can’t make it through the season without at least three breakdowns in the privacy of her room, but the tears are already building in her eyes and she knows she won’t make it through the explanation, especially with the way he is looking at her, head cocked in empathetic concern. Wanda directs the conversation down another avenue. “So what’s that?”

“Oh, right,” they both stare at the box in his hands, “I did not want to renege on my promise.”

Wanda’s eyebrows lift as she grabs the box, inviting him to sit on the bed with her as she pries open the container, the sight of the overly commercialized, slightly tacky decorations he bought the year before shattering the dam of her tears which fall in time with her shallow, disbelieving laughter, “Vizh, you’re ridiculous-”

“I apologize for-”

“No, no no,” she puts the box on the ground and grabs his hands, hoping to convince him she’s not upset, “I mean it in the best way possible.” More laughter comes unbidden from her mouth, her reaction confusing to herself but she imagines it is even more confounding to the man next to her, how she can be crying and laughing all at once. “You flew all the way to Marrakech to give me this at three in the morning.”

Vision’s mouth quirks up into an uneasy smile as his eyes search for more information from her face, “I admit it was not the most well-thought out plan but it felt enormously important to do so.”

“What are you hoping to do with this stuff?”

He contemplates her question, his flimsy plan falling apart at the seams the longer he studies it, and she knows if he could blush that his cheeks would be turning beet red right now. His explanation comes out in a quiet, stuttery mess. “I, um, thought we could possibly, if you are amenable and interested, um, decorate your room.”

“Natasha is going to be here in four hours.”

This seems to confuse him even more, his brow knitting around the Mindstone as if her comment is in a foreign language that he is unable to translate using the internet. “Yes and I have to be back to the compound in the morning for pictures. I do not think it will take more than that.”

One the the main rules of being a fugitive is to travel light and keep only the smallest of personal mementos to reduce the risk of someone inadvertently learning too much about you. It means that Wanda knows she can’t keep the decorations, if they were to be discovered, there’d likely be questions which could lead down a dangerous road. There is no reason to tempt fate and risk losing her contact with Vision. At the same time, however, she’s unexpectedly excited at the prospect of decorating. “I suppose we could put it up and enjoy it for just a little bit.” The smile on his face is mesmerizing, his cerulean irises twisting joyously at her decision. “But you have to take it all back with you, understood?”

“Understood.”

Eagerly Wanda stands from the bed, holding her hand out to help Vision up, knowing full well he doesn’t need the aid, but he obliges, gripping her hand as he stands. “Okay, let’s see what we have.” It’s a small box and it takes them longer to decide where to put the Star of David garland and dreidel lanterns than it does to actually hang them. As Wanda fixes the angle of the lights, Vision places a cardboard cut-out menorah on the coffee table before stepping back to admire their work.

“It is not as much as I remember buying.”

Wanda rolls her eyes at the regret lacing his words, curling her fingers around his wrist and pulling him backwards until he sits with her on the bed. “Good thing this place is so small then.” They’ve grown closer in the months of clandestine contact, but not close enough to still the flutter in her stomach as she lifts his arm so she can snuggle into his side, a rush of victory to her chest when he hugs her to him. “Thank you for this.”

“You are most welcome.”

A snap of her wrist turns the overhead lights off, allowing her to more thoroughly enjoy the soft and pleasant glow emitted from the lanterns and the way it reflects off the vibranium on Vision’s face. “Are you feeling better?”

He nods, “I am, though it is always lonely whenever I leave you.”

An irrefutable statement. “I miss you too.”

Wanda smiles as he draws her closer, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, an action that encourages him to lay his cheek on her head. Several minutes pass in companionable silence, only the synchronization of their easy breathing disturbing the quiet. She contemplates staying like this, cozy in his embrace, but she also, given his motivation for breaking protocol, feels a need to probe just a bit more. “Vizh?” His hmm? buzzes happily against her head. “Is anyone going to be around the compound for Christmas?”

“No,” which is what she suspected. “Rhodes has invited me to join him at his sister’s house.”

The way he says it brings to mind a shrug, the intonation of the words dismissing the concept before it is even fully formed. “Why don’t you want to go?” Wanda knows the answer, has turned down multiple offers in her lifetime to join random (or not so random sometimes) families in their celebrations.

Vision inhales deeply, her own body rising and falling with his steadied breath. “I worry that I would merely be intruding. Given their ages and closeness, I imagine there are numerous deeply ingrained, unspoken traditions and normative expectations."

”You don’t want to feel like a stranger or risk unintentionally ruining anything.”

”Precisely.”

What social etiquette dictates is she argue against this reasoning, because she knows Rhodes and his sister would likely understand, have already accepted this possibility with the invitation. But Wanda has been that stranger, has seen Vision be that stranger for a large part of his existence. “Then don’t go. Or,” she does have one good memory of crashing someone’s holiday, last year the Bartons invited her out a couple days earlier than the rest of the team. It had the same strangeness, but it faded quickly due to how welcoming and understanding they all were of her situation, “maybe just go for a couple hours and see if you enjoy it?”

Vision’s nod shakes her head, his fingers cinching into the fabric of her sweatshirt as he considers the amended proposition. When he speaks it is quiet, a bit nervous, but filled with a renewed hopefulness. “That is a fair suggestion but I was actually wondering, even though we have a planned excursion in early February, if you might possibly be available to meet before the New Year -," the more flustered he gets the higher her smile climbs, "I, um, given that Rhodes and Tony will be gone from Christmas until the New Years Eve party, no one will notice my absence.”

The plan for Wanda is to travel with Natasha to Belarus where they are being joined by Steve and Sam for a rare week together. Technically it should be deemed too risky to even consider his offer, but technicalities are never her main concern. Wanda wraps her arm around his waist and squeezes him closer, an eager smile gracing her lips, one she isn’t sure he can see in the dim lights. “I’m sure I can sneak away for a day or two.”

“Fantastic.”

Life has taken a lot from Wanda, sometimes through her own decisions, sometimes due to outside forces she can’t control. After Pietro she had accepted that, even surrounded by teammates, she would always feel alone for the holidays. Somehow, however, the thought of spending time with Vision partially fills the hollowness of that fate, and maybe, if they can manage to keep going in this direction for years to come, neither of them will have to be alone again. “It is.”

#scarlet vision #wanda maximoff #vision #mcu #james rhodes #fanfic #mine #ao3

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foryourinsight · 7 years

Text

Draft Zine

Introduction

In the present day today there are many instances where immigration is talked about. In the last few years and still continuing today the Syrian Civil War has taken the lives of many civilians and the number of refugees has increased. Many of these civilians were killed just because they were in the way or simply living in their own home. They are people just proceeding through their day whether that is going to work, going to school, having a bad day and finally coming home anticipating that tomorrow will be better. Then, suddenly not existing in the world and no one would know that they ever existed as an individual because days, weeks, or maybe months later their acquaintances are also gone from this world. There are also people who barely survive and get to another country to live the tale and try to help people from where they left.

With war, there are always refugees or people who seek a new place to live because of their status in their own country. Like any other war there are people who die, and people who don’t really care about it because it doesn’t affect them in their everyday life since it is normal to them; however, what if suddenly there was a war where you live that there is danger lurking around and you don't know when it will come to get you. That one day you will just be gone like anyone else and suddenly you wouldn’t be able to see who’s important to you.With these questions in mind, I want to proceed with a personal story. A story of a lucky young lady that left her country after the war and now have two beautiful children in college.

The picture above represents the journey of how Vietnamese refugees got to their refugee camps before they got accepted to migrate into the country.

The stick figures in the sea represent one of the hardships of leaving their home country to go to a new, unknown country. Those people represent the people who died while on their journey to a safe place.

Câu Chuyện Gia Đình Của Tôi

( My Family’s Story )

My mother at the age of eighteen left her home country. It was about three years after the war when the Việt Cộng took over South Vietnam’s capital Saigon. During that time, everyone in the South was looking for a new place to live because of the land that was destroyed by the war. Lots of youth were told to work for the government and worked on clearing trees in the jungle to get new land for farming. There was also hope that another country would accept them. The U.S. started to help people in South Vietnam even before the war ended with some people taking the U.S. navy routes that lend them all the way to Camp Pendleton. Unfortunately, after the U.S. pulled out of the Vietnam war the Camp closed down. There are other refugee camps that were at the islands that were close by. One of the islands was Bidong Island which belonged to Malaysia. My mother at the time was living with her aunt and her cousins. Before my mother, my great aunt had sent some of her daughters to the United States already so she knew how to get on the boats. One way how people got on the boat was by offering gold to the people that live close by the bay to see if there was the boat there and to secure seats or space for them to travel. Once they got on the boat, there was an overload of people making it obvious that this boat would go to a refugee camp. The boat was at the bay for thirty days with no people going in and the only way going out was if they died. With an overload of people, there was not enough food for the people and they started to die of hunger. When they died of hunger they were tossed off the ship and a gong was hit to signal a moment of silence for the person who died; however, with no food, the bodies started to accumulate so whenever someone had died they just tossed them out of the boat. The boat eventually did not leave and let the people out.

Eventually, my mom got on a boat and arrived at Bidong Island around 1979. Pictures of how the refugee camp was are shown below.

After a while, with all the papers filled out for immigration, my mother got to immigrate to Canada. She arrived in Canada in May 1980 and eventually moved to California in 1987. Actually, before she went to Canada she met her brother at the Refugee Camp. Her brother was actually supposed to arrive a few days earlier than she because he left on the boat earlier than her but his boat got lost at sea. She was happy to meet her brother stating that “Of course, I was happy to see him. I didn't know I would meet him at the refugee camp because he left a few days earlier and the path each boat takes are different. The truth is..I didn’t know if I would be able to see any of my family members again. Once they were out on the boat, it was like saying goodbye to them because we didn’t know if they would survive.”

Of course, when there are some people who survive they are others that don’t make it alive.

My grandfather was recruited to be in the military to help the Republic of Vietnam. Where he was dispatched there was a bomb mine. He stepped on one of them and according to a neighbor that also went into the military that he died because of the blast.

My father who was also in Vietnam at the time with his mother and father. At the time they were living in a village in Da Nang which is in the Middle of Vietnam. According to my aunt, they were on the run because military personnel would rain through the village and take everything they had and kill everyone. They had to run away whenever they heard machines or guns that were shot. According to my aunt, my grandmother and grandfather did not make it to Macau where their relatives were at. They were killed on the way to Macau.

Why does this Matter?

What is overlooked when a person moves to another country whether it is for a better life, a new job, war in a country, or for personal reasons is how a person had to start from scratch in the new place. My mother and any refugee would know that to leave your home country alone is the hardest. With no knowledge of how your family is if you would make it alive, or what you would do when you finally get to this country. The only thought they have in mind is “Will I survive today?”.

Even to this day my mother really hates to get on boats because of what it reminds her of, her memory of how she spent days at sea not knowing if she will make it. When I was younger I was curious on how my mom recognized the smell of the ocean when we pass by a city by the ocean. I later realized that she knew this smell because it was the smell of fear for her. Now every time I pass by or go near the ocean the smell of salt always reminds me of my mother. The image of my eighteen to nineteen-year-old mother on her own in the corner of a ship rocking back and forth with the waves as the boat goes over them.

Then my thoughts go to how did this happen? How did these people experience this? Whether blaming it on the Americans who backed out of the war during the middle which resulted in the end of the war or the fact that the war was actually going on because of land the refugees had to experience this. Was it their fault to experience it because they wanted a different life or was it just the reason behind their leaving the country?

Just like in Toni Morrison’s Beloved with the theme of Rememory, I wanted to bring up the untold story of the Vietnamese refugee. I wanted to bring awareness to the people that this is one example of what happened during those times. That the Vietnamese people are more than the ladies that are doing your nails and you are thinking that they are talking bad about you.

Rememory is simply about living the present in the past. To acknowledge the history that happened and to do something about the future. That what happened in the past influences what happens in the present. The civil war took a toll on the Vietnamese people and the people who lived through it are affected by it critically.

Since we are all people in rememory, we should do something to change the future or at least try to figure out what we can do to change the outcome of things.

To remember this event that happened to the Vietnamese people and make sure that this doesn’t happen to other people we can start helping the people in the Middle East who are experiencing some of the same things. That the United States got involved in a war with some of the countries there and that there was a civil war that was started there. That they are taking the lives of other countries for their own benefit and it’s like they don’t even care what happens to the people that are just trying to live. With war, there are refugees that are looking for a new place to live. We can all help by giving money to:

International Rescue Committee

UNHCR (The UN Refugee Agency)

Save the Children

Or going out on your own and looking for local organizations that help the people who are affected directly.

I advise you to take action. Lives are at stake. Innocent lives are becoming numbers as death totals.

And Remember This Can Happen To You At Any Time

Maybe at that time…no one can help you…because they are now all gone…

Resources:

http://saigontimesusa.com/bai/thuyennhan/1338_divedau.shtml

Images for the Refugee Camp :

http://refugeecamps.net/PBPhoto.html

For More Information about Vietnamese Refugees or Body Counts Please look for Professor Yen Le Espiritu’s work here:

http://www.ucpress.edu/book.php?isbn=9780520277700

#zine #draft #foryourinformation #acknowledge

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