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warblingandwriting · 4 months

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I was not into The Archive Undying

I had a hard time reading this book - and full disclosure I DNF'ed it, I just couldn't keep going, so if you're a fan feel free to not read this. It's more of a vent/rant because I don't have any other way to get my thoughts about it out.... and I have Thoughts. The book, to me, is indicative of a lot of stuff I dislike in modern writing so I just want to get a few thoughts out here.

Personal Gripes:

Written in the present tense: I simply dislike it in a story, I mush prefer past tense, and present tense just sounds sort of... wrong to me. On top this, I think the present tense contributes to what felt rushed about the story to me, bypassing really interesting plot/worldbuilding elements without explaining them was annoying in and of itself, and the choice of present tense compounded this issue for me, that I'll talk about more in depth later.

MC and his voice: I’m not a fan of the main character and his voice. Honestly a lot of it really feels like the author wanted to write an anti hero, but was afraid that the Online folks would come for her for having an unlikable main character so she constantly explicitly states that there is something deeper beneath his veneer of unkindness. Something I neither needed to know nor cared about, at least, at the beginning of the story. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so clumsy, with the main character often directly thinking things like about how he’s worried that he has the urge to be nice to people etc. Obviously this isn’t the only book to do that, but I don’t enjoy it so it goes in the personal gripes section. I also just don’t enjoy the way the characters are written in general, at least at this point they all have very similar voices, and those voices feel very ‘today modern’ for a book set in the future. It’s just in the cadence of their dialogue, but it irks me a bit.

General Gripes:

Show and Tell: The book sort of does too good of a job of trying to show and not tell when it comes to the world, and the opposite when it comes to the characters. Like Sunai’s constant, very direct thoughts about how he is this or that (for a loner who doesn’t like to think he’s awfully good at dissecting his own emotions), the other characters get similar treatment where we’re often told very directly what they’re thinking or feeling. Admittedly this is a bit personal, as I do prefer books that are a bit more subtle, wherein characters often can’t state their direct feelings because they don’t know or totally understand them. But as it is I feel like I have a very narrow idea of what Candon’s (really interesting!) world is like, but I already know everything about her characters.

For a high concept sci-fi novel like this I would expect (and prefer) a focus on worldbuilding first, with the characters remaining obscure, getting to know them as the book went on, while at the same time getting a solid view of the world in the beginning so that as the story goes on I need less explanations. This is not helped by the book being written in the third person, since the omniscient narrator could just explain things without the (alleged) immersion breaking problem of characters explaining things they should already know to each other. It frankly feels like another preemptive reaction to a criticism I see a lot online around explaining worldbuilding. Many people want it to be organic, to just be thrown into a world and figure it out, and while I think that works in certain books with less complex worlds (something like The Mortal Engines comes to mind), in this book there is simply too much going on for the slapdash ‘the main character says something and you infer from there’ style of exposition Candon goes for. It feels like when someone has read and re-read their own novel so many times they forget which details are extraneous and which are vital to a first time reader.

Clunky events: The way things happen in this book also feels very clunky to me, like the pacing seems off. The first time I noticed this was in chapter one, when Sunai, who has awoken on a strange brage, decides to go talk to the captain to see what’s going on, as he was blackout drunk the last night, and doesn’t remember how or why he’s here. It’s written like this:

“...goes to track down the rig’s captain. He finds her near the head of the rig...” he just... goes to look for her and finds her. At this point I don't know if the rig travels by air, land, or water, no idea what the layout might be, and only the vaguest idea of what it’s purpose is. When I read the first sentence I figured I was probably about to get some explanation of how he gets to the spot the captain is in, some idea of what the rig is, it’s happening during a tense scene where Sunai has spotted the AI So-Beloved, so I presume Candon wanted to keep it fast paced for ensuing battle, but for me it didn’t work here. I would have preferred a bit of an info dump, because I genuinely think Candon has created a complex and interesting world here, I just wish I had understood it. I think this sequence may have worked better if Sunai had gone to find the captain, uncertain of why he was there, and had to walk around the rig a bit to find her, giving the reader a better idea of what exactly this rig is, and it's layout. And then spotted the AI from the captain’s window, and have the battle ensue from there to give a little time for explanations. Granted, I don’t need everything perfectly spelled out for me, but a little context would have helped.

Clunky writing: This was pretty mild, but mixed with everything else it felt like a major crutch in this novel. Candon’s writing is often simply redundant, which may seem counter-intuitive to what I’ve just been saying, but specifically, once again, she is redundant about character thoughts and feelings, and small details that didn’t need to be explained, while she’ll fly over a really interesting idea once, and then hardly ever return to it. Early in the novel, a character notes that in one lanaguage, the word for ‘archivist’ was a synonym for ‘vital organs’ that’s interesting! I wish she had actually made up a new word in this fictional language instead of always using 'archivist'. But we need to heard about how conflicted Sunai is over Veyadi 20 times a chapter.

Frankly, I think in spite of the seemingly complex world, Candon was more interested in her characters than her ideas, and for me, that is a writing style that demands a less complex world, something more recognizable. Or, perhaps, a longer book that took a little more time with itself to explore both. A mix of the personal and general grievances I had led to me not really liking this book, and I must admit my guard goes up every time I read something that seems to have been written to anticipate criticisms I see a lot on goodreads, especially when they’re criticisms I don’t necessarily agree with.

#my writing #reviews #book review #my thoughts #sci-fi #science fiction #science fiction novels

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scarlettriot · 3 years

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Stood Up

You (Y/N) get stood up from a date and Kaminari decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Kaminari/F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Flirty Denki, Established BakuSquad Friendship

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Electro-Stim, Overstimulation, use of pet names (cuddle bug & cutie), oral (F receiving), consensual recording

A/N: Well, here we are with the third in my Stood Up series. There is also Bakugo & Kirishima if you're interested. This one took me way too long and it's also my first time writing Kaminari at length. I hope you all like it :)

Word Count Starting Below: 2,461

You slipped your foot into the silver heels you had picked out. Something a little fancier since this was a first date after all and you wanted to make a lasting impression. Not only that but this was your first first date in a while. Being a Pro Hero made life busy and dating difficult.

Practically the entire day leading up to this very moment revolved around you either getting ready or babbling with excitement to your closest friends.

An alert chimed on your phone with a text from your date, a smile sliding onto your face expecting to read some message about how they were on their way and that they'd see you soon, but that wasn't what you were met with.

Instead, it was a screenshot of your Instagram page, multiple of them actually, all of you and the ridiculous photos you took with your friends but mostly with one Denki Kaminari. The most recent of which was from a tea shop he met you at just earlier that day so you could show him the shoes for your date.

The message below was simple and more than enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth, this isn't what I want to see when I'm supposed to be taking you out tonight. What, one date a day isn't enough? Why are you even dating? Does your blonde boyfriend know?

You giggled at what they were implying, quick to explain how these were all your friends, they had been since high school! They are people you spent what little free time you had with. Especially Denki, your best friend since you were 15!

That joy you felt started dissipating within the next few messages. You hadn't even had a first date and they were already jealous, and that was something you didn't have room for in your life. So, you slipped the heels off your feet and put them directly back in the box to return when you had the time. Tight black jeans and fitted top were exchanged with a hoodie and sweats although your makeup and hair stayed done, you didn't have the energy to undo your hard work.

Instead, you slid back into your computer chair, your headset snuggly back on your ears and before you notified everyone you were back online, you took a moment listening to the chatter of your friends.

"Shitty Hair! Fuckin' pay attention!"

"Yeah, man! We're getting slaughtered over here!"

"Less yelling at Kiri! More shooty shooty!"

"All of you are hopeless..."

Eijiro chuckled out an apology that was accompanied by a lighter giggle also coming from his mic. "Think this is gonna be my last round for a bit, guys."

"You're so fuckin' whipped." Bakugo scoffed, before screaming profanities.

"Is it whipped if I'm the one who's wanting to get her into bed though?"

You clicked your mic back on then. "Hey, remember last week when Kats forgot his push to talk so we all heard him getting head and we party whipped because someone couldn't focus?"

"You better shut the hell up right fucking now!"

Everyone else roared with laughter. "Yeah! At least I have the decency to mute myself!"

"Hey, wait a sec, why are you online, Y/N!" Denki noted, "You should have already left!"

You screenshot your messages to the group chat because it was far easier than just explaining the ordeal.

"Cute shoes." Eijiro and Kyoka commented at the same time.

There was a lull as their game ended and the messages were read.

"Ya don't need 'em if they're gonna have their head so far up their ass like this."

"I agree." Hanta chimed in. "They're not worth your time."

"Still, sorry they turned out to be a shit." You could hear the frown on Kyoka's face, "I know how excited you were."

"Right, you doin' okay, Y/N? I can stick around and we can all shoot some things!"

"Thanks, Kiri but I'll be just fine! Go spend time with your girl!"

One by one, everyone signed off. You pulled up Spotify and Stardew Valley, something of a comfort for you to get lost in for the rest of the night.

Less than an hour later, you noticed your phone lighting up with your best friend's familiar smiling face. "What's up, Denki?"

"Open your door! I have my hands full and don't wanna put everything down to get my key!"

You sprang from your desk and rushed to your door. Sure enough, on the other side was Denki with bags in both hands and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. You grabbed it and a bag before he had a chance to drop anything like the klutz he was. "What's with all this?"

"I feel bad."

"Why? You didn't stand me up?"

He fiddled with the edge of a paper bag. "Yeah, but, we both read those messages and no one said anything but they didn't just call our group out, they called us out.

"Denks, it doesn't matter to me-"

"But, it does to me! You were so excited about this and I got in the way, unknowingly but, still! So, I gotta make it up to you now!"

He pulled out take-out boxes from your favorite restaurant. Two bottles of your favorite wine. Your top three favorite movies and video games, and a board game you both had been meaning to try. "I mean, if they think I'm your boyfriend I kinda gotta live up to the hype, right?"

You really wanted to insist that none of this was necessary. That just because some person that neither of you really knew that well, assumed something about your relationship that didn't mean he had to blame himself for it.

But, you had to admit, this was really sweet. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to you that he knew everything you liked but it was nice. Instead of sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk, and trying to learn about one another, you were barefoot in your kitchen, laughing with your best friend while he plated dinner and you poured the wine.

Formalities were out the window. Both you and Denki were eating dinner in your living room, laughing and drinking just as you'd done a million times before. You snapped a photo of the delicious food on paper plates, toasting good times with your cheap wine, ready to post them to your Instagram.

"Gonna make them more jealous..."

"I think they made it pretty clear they don't want to see me so why should I care?"

He shrugged. "I just thought they might, you know, come to their senses that they obviously lost."

"I don't really care either way." You wandered back into your kitchen, putting away the leftovers, "They can forget I exist or they can stalk my page like a creep. If someones' gonna try and tell me I can't be friends with my friends or just not listen to me, then I don't want them in my life. No matter how good-looking they are."

Denki watched you from the sofa, a bit of a lopsided grin on his face that had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. "What?" Laughing to hide the bit of a crush you always had on the man. It was unavoidable you told yourself. His personality was infectious and had 15 year old you head over heels.

He pushed back bright blonde hair back off his forehead and just shook his head. "Nothin'. Uh, what's next? Video game, board game, or movie?"

You peaked on the counter at the options. "Well, we probably should have checked this but the board game needs at least four people to play... guess we'll have to save that for our next game night. Is a movie okay?"

Of course, it was.

You brought over the DVD with a refill of wine and he pulled a blanket down off the back of your sofa.

It really didn't take long, just fifteen minutes or so, and you were curled up into Denki's side. You'd make grabby hands for your wine glass and he'd pass it over with that damn grin again.

And not long after that, he'd pulled out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the two of you. "What are you doing?" You could see him on his own Instagram, tagging you, with the caption, Check out my cute cuddle bug.

"I thought you didn't want to make them more jealous."

"I decided I don't care either. You're mine tonight, their loss. And since you're mine tonight, I get bragging rights." He snapped another quick picture of you rolling your eyes at him, and then he kept snapping them.

"Denki! Why!"

"Because you're cute, cuddle bug! I like having all the pictures of you that I can!"

Even as you tackled him back down on the sofa, pinning him below you, he still managed a photo. "Bet if I post this one, they'll really get the wrong idea."

You could have moved. You were the one on top of him and you had his arms above his head. You had the power here and yet you just lingered above him.

"Y/N? Not that I'm one to complain about having a beautiful person such as yourself pinning me down, like, it's kinda hot, but..." Looking down into half-lidded golden eyes, you wondered why you had to become best friends with such a damn flirt! "Are you gonna take advantage of this situation we're in or are we just gonna keep dancing around this for another decade or so?"

You couldn't have heard him right? No... no this was your brain playing tricks on you because he certainly hadn't had that much wine tonight. You sat upright on his lap. "Another decade then, Y/N?"

"You- ha- you should stop that, Denki."

He leaned up, moving his arms around you, "Gimme a good reason to and I will."

You didn't have one. And not just because you've been in love with him for ten years but also because he was your best friend. The only reason to not go through with it was the possibility of losing your friendship if something bad were to happen but, you really didn't think anything would.

Denki might have been a serial flirt but he was surprisingly loyal in all the relationships he'd been in, not that there had been all that many serious ones.

"I'm not hearing anything." He teased, his face getting closer to yours. You could count each and every one of the faint freckles that littered the balls of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "But, I promise, if you tell me no, I'll stop, won't push this any further."

This whole thing seemed like a frickin' whirlwind, happening faster than your brain could really process the situation but you didn't want it to stop either. You wanted to take it further, didn't want to say no.

Which was why you coiled your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. There was that small little buzz of electricity that tickled your lips when he'd kiss your nose or cheeks that was now playing on his lips, on his tongue when you welcomed him in.

He leaned back again, pulling you with him until you were both a pile of needy hands and breathy pleas. Everywhere his hands roamed you felt that faint trail of shock against your skin, making the little hairs on your body stand on end.

Clothes were shed, tossed haphazardly around your living room, both of you pausing to laugh when Denki managed to land your hoodie over a lamp. His attention was drawn back to you quickly though, still perched on top of him but now he had your chest on full display since you'd forgone a bra when your date canceled.

Electrifying tongue twirled around your nipples, sensitive normally, now it felt like you knew what it was like when he fried his damn brain. He was eager, relentless even, pulling and sucking, another hand giving your other breast a similar treatment. He had you so focused that you let out a broken moan when slender fingers found their way into your panties.

"Fuckin' hell, Denki."

The bastard winked up at you, nipple still between his lips and before you could retort, he sent another small jolt through you.

You were blatantly grinding down on his hand, reaching behind you, you found him completely solid, barely being contained in the tight black boxers he wore. You had enough sense to tug them down and wrap your hand around him making his teeth sink into your soft flesh, whining when you stroked him.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, his hand momentarily distracted from his ministrations gave you enough time to shift in his lap to scoot forward putting his cock in front of you. In one swift motion, you had his length between your slick. "Oh fuck, cutie!" Golden eyes were squeezed shut while you moved along him, feeling that pleasant curve he had, you could only imagine what it was gonna be like to have him inside you.

"You're being a little tease, ma-makes me wanna do all sorts of things to y-you."

He was kissing your neck, your chest, shoulders, and arms, anywhere on you that he could reach. His hips bucking up into you, just trying to hit that perfect angle.

Strength and agility were something most overlooked when it came to Denki Kaminari but when the man wanted something bad enough, he found a way to get it.

He had your ass rising up in the air with a harsh thrust of his hips and a small squeak from you, giving him exactly enough time to scoot down on the sofa so you were sat atop his face. If you complained, he didn't hear you. Denki already had your thighs around his head and his tongue devouring you completely.

Little shockwaves rocked you while you cried out his name, hands fisting blonde locks just trying to stay upright.

One orgasm from you apparently wasn't enough, neither was two but on the third, Denki finally relented, allowing your heartrate to come back down and your gasping breaths to come in more steadily.

You slid back down his body, his erection now smack against your ass. His hair was recked, face completely flush but he had the biggest grin on his face that you'd ever seen.

Denki kissed both your cheeks, "You are so amazing, cutie!" Kissed your lips, "You taste better than anything I've ever had!" And one more on the tip of your nose. "Doin' okay?"

You nodded, starting to really gather yourself again, and by this point, you really just wanted one thing.

"I wanna... Denks... can I take care of you now?"

"Sure, cutie! How do you want me?" The wiggling eyebrows had you rolling your eyes and pushing him on his back again.

It took little effort for you to position yourself above his cock, and with how slick you were, his bright pink head slipped right inside. He held your hands while you scrunched up your face, sliding all the way down him until he was completely sheathed within.

The curve was immaculate. Hitting in just the right way that had you moaning with just a couple thrusts from him. Before long, you were eagerly bouncing on his cock. Riding him hard so he filled you up each and every time.

You barely registered him reaching for the coffee table, his phone now in his hands. "What're you doin'?" You practically slurred, slowing only slightly. He tapped the camera lens with a wicked grin. "Seriously?"

"We could make 'em really jealous now..."

Somewhere in your brain, you knew your date wouldn't give two shits, in fact, this probably would have only validated their thoughts about your's and Denki's relationship but with his cock stuffed so deeply into you, kissing your cervix in the most beautiful way, you really didn't give a damn.

You and Denki put on the best possible show you could think of. You were overstimulated, sore, and completely elated! He balanced the phone against the wine bottle so neither of you had to try to hold it.

This way he could play with your breasts or squeeze your thighs while you dug half-moons into his chest. Shocked with the playful zaps he sent right to your core.

Your makeup you'd didn't feel like taking off now ran down your cheeks with tears. Your hair was a mess thanks to him pulling at it.

Denki had you howling through another two orgasms, telling you how perfect you were, how nice you felt squeezing him so tightly, your nails felt so good against his skin.

It was only when you collapsed against his chest did he hoist your hips up so he could ram into you, pulling out just at the last second with a strangled cry of your name.

He wiggled himself free, grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you both up before stopping the recording.

"You're, hey you're gonna send that to me right?" You asked when he handed back your hoodie off the lamp.

He dropped a kiss on your lips, plopping down beside you on the sofa again and you noticed your email already up and the video uploading. "Obviously, we share all our videos and photos. Why would this be different?"

#mha #bnha #mha smut #denki kaminari #kaminari #kaminari smut #denki kaminari smut #mha fluff #denki fluff #denki smut #denki x you #mha x reader #kaminari x reader #denki x reader

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

��Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

The Military Dog Tag Dilemma

Relationship: Stucky x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff Summary: You just want to wear the military tags of both your men but Steve seems to run into some issues. A/N: I am also always a sucker for Stucky writing ok and this was my first personal attempt at it and i thought it came out well <3

masterlist

Bucky gave you his dog togs within weeks of establishing your relationship with him and Steve.

You loved to mindlessly play with them as the three of you cuddled up in bed, enjoying some pillow talk after, particularly long days. Steve spooning you from behind as you laid on Bucky’s chest, his arm thrown around you, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. Your fingers would fumble with the shiny tags, turning them over in your hand, watching the minimal moonlight hit them every now and then.

You didn’t know what it was about the tags that had you so captivated nearly every night. It felt so simple yet so intimate as you stared at your lover’s name and information engraved in them. While you weren’t exactly an expert on wartime, you knew the tags could serve as gifts to partners, assuring your heart to one another. The concept definitely drifted through your mind from time to time, but you never brought it up.

Bucky, however, seemed to be thinking the same thing. Wordlessly, one night, he slipped off the silver chain, tags clinking together musically, and slid them over your head. The coolness of them tickled your neck as the tags fell to the valley between your breasts.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was pounding as you ran your fingers around the necklace. Even Steve seemed a little shocked by the actions. But Bucky was fully pleased as evident by the cocky grin he wore watching you ogle at the gift. He had to admit — knowing you were walking around with his name dangling from your neck did something for him.

"Where are your tags, Steve?" You had asked after placing a loving, appreciative kiss on Bucky’s lips. Now that you obtained Bucky’s tags, it only seemed fitting you wore Steve’s as well.

Steve shifted. You looked up at him only to find him watching the wall across from the bed, seemingly lost in thought. "I-I’m not really sure, honey."

You let out a sad hum at the response. "Well, if you find them, let me know," you yawned, shuffling down in the bed to get comfier. "I’d like both of my men close to me all the time."

Since then, Steve had been on a mission to find dog tags. Going through archives, chain of custody notes, discarded boxes… Everything. There was just something about the entire thing that was driving Steve mad. He was honored you wanted to show off the claim your two lovers had on you but he was also deeply concerned about the fact that currently you only had Bucky’s to wear.

While Steve wouldn’t exactly call himself jealous in this situation, knowing you didn’t love him any less, the relationship was established the way it was and he felt you should still have something of his to truly show for it.

This led Steve on what felt like a manhunt for the "damn dog tags," as he kept referring to them when Bucky would check-in asking if all was okay. Nothing was really okay. He had looked high and low for them, going through every potential record in the database trying to at least confirm there was something to even look for.

He pounded his fist against the desk late one night. Steve had pushed you and Bucky to get some sleep, claiming he had some reports to look over before bed. You two had looked at him suspiciously but eventually agreed, planting loving kisses on his cheeks, and telling him not to stay up too late.

"I get cold without both of you there," you had mumbled with a sleepy yawn following. Your words almost made Steve give up for the night but then he caught a glimpse of the silver chain on your neck. Seeing you like that, using your tired, loving voice, he remembered what he was doing this for. It was you. It was all about you and your love for sentimental things.

He grudgingly agreed to be there in an hour and that seemed to please his two lovers. Except — it was way past an hour. The sky was close to daybreak when he hit the desk in frustration.

Pushing the folders away, Steve leaned back in the chair, sighing. Within seconds, footsteps came from the hall and Bucky appeared in the doorway, watching a frustrated Steve.

"Everything okay in here?" Bucky asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine," Steve nodded. "Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a bit."

But Bucky didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. He had a knowing look in his eyes which Steve tried to avoid by looking down at the now splintered desk.

"How are those reports going?"

Steve rolled his eyes, letting out an annoyed groan. Deep down he knew he couldn’t hide anything from Bucky but still, worth a shot.

He pushed all the folders away this time, leaving them at the very edge of the desk. "I did have dog tags, right?"

"That’s still bothering you, huh?" Bucky crossed the threshold into the office and made his way to one of the chairs in front of Steve’s desk. He took one of the folders and sat directly across from Steve. Casually, he thumbed through it, waiting for his partner to start talking.

Steve didn’t really want to get into it again as he had probably hounded Bucky about it all last week but acting like it wasn’t bothering him was getting him nowhere — obviously.

"Yes," Steve sighed. "I just want her to have something from each of us. It’s- It’s hard watching our girl…"

Bucky frowned, "I’m sorry, Steve. I should’ve waited to give them to her."

"No, Buck," Steve leaned forward, reaching his hand out. Bucky took the signal and leaned, placing his own hand in Steve’s. "You wanted her to have them. That’s your call. I just feel disappointed I have nothing to give."

"Well…" Bucky hummed, tilting his head in thought. Steve’s eyes furrowed, trying to get his partner to spit out whatever he was thinking. "What if we ordered you new ones?"

"Can you do that?"

"I honestly don’t know," Bucky chuckled. "But I don’t understand half of what you can do these days, so, I’d imagine there’s a way to get dog tags made."

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair, disconnecting their touch. It seemed reasonable and would do the job except for the fact— "But they wouldn’t be in combat or- or from the actual military."

Bucky just shook his head. With an annoyed scoff, he said, "Do you think that really matters to her?"

"I guess not…"

"Steve, honey, I promise. It’s about the presentation, the show of it. Our girl is just looking for something personal from you to keep close to her," Bucky assured him. "Plus, I think we can get it updated and personalized. Maybe even write something nice just for her on the back."

Steve had to admit, his heart was jumping happily at the idea. He really couldn’t argue with anything and agreed to the plan. The only issue was — they were a bit out of touch with ordering anything online. You had always been the one to assure online packages and food deliveries arrived but now they had to take you out of the equation. While excited to surprise you, they were slightly unsure about ordering and had to enlist the help of the team who all turned out to be more than happy to assist once they explained their idea.

A few weeks later, you were laying in your shared bed, back against the headboard, body cozied up under the duvet. You were engrossed in a cheesy romance novel, waiting for Steve and Bucky to join you for the night. Eventually, the two came in, but they were still in their work attire.

You frowned at their appearance. "Aren’t you guys coming to bed?"

As you asked your question, you couldn’t help but note their unusual stance. The two men were side-by-side, standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at you. Bucky had his hands in his pockets while Steve appeared to be hiding something behind his back. You eyed them suspiciously.

"We will in a bit, doll," Bucky said. You watched him as he came around to the side of the bed. He sat down and leaned against the headboard, shifting right next to you, sneakily taking the book out of your grip. "But first, Steve has something for you."

"For- For me?" You asked, whipping your head around to face Steve. He had a bit of nervousness to him as he nodded, making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Silently, he handed you a small box. You eagerly accepted the item, turning it over and over in your hands. Giving it a light shake, the box made a jangling noise. "What is it?" You asked, wide-eyed looking between the two men.

Steve and Bucky both let out soft chuckles at your excitement. "You have to open it to find out," Steve said. He still had an air of anxiousness, running his hands up and down his jean-covered thighs, fidgeting.

To put your poor boyfriend out of his misery, you opened the box. At first, all you noticed was something slim and shiny. Eyes furrowed in confusion, you pulled out what appeared to be a chain. You could feel a slight heaviness to it — and then you saw it. Your jaw dropped as you tossed the box next to you. In your hands was another set of dog tags nearly identical to the ones you already had adorned on your neck — only this pair were inscribed with the name Steven Grant Rogers.

"Steve-," you gasped, staring at the tags laying in the palm of your hands. You were at a loss for words as you read the tag.

"Are- Are they okay?" Steve asked, his nervous hand came up to rest on your thigh, pulling your attention back to him.

"Are you kidding me?" You let out a breathy laugh. "They’re wonderful, honey, thank you so much."

"You’re sure?" He asked again. Bucky gave him a pointed look for his ridiculousness but that didn’t stop Steve from rambling. "I-I couldn’t find mine so, I got a new pair made. I know they’re maybe not as authentic or something but I still wanted-,"

"You had these made?" You cut in. "For me?"

Steve nodded, "You had Bucky’s, so, it was only fair you had something of mine, too."

You couldn’t hold your emotions back at his word. Tears began forming as you looked at your soft, loving partner. You let out little sniffles as you turned back to the tags, still soaking in their meaning. Bucky placed a light touch on your arm as Steve scooted closer, probably suddenly scared by your tears.

"They’re perfect, honey," you whispered as you looked back at him and leaned forward, placing a sweet kiss on Steve’s lips. He eagerly accepted, practically sighing from relief under your touch. "They’re going to go perfect with the tags from my other man." You mumbled and turned to now give Bucky a kiss, who felt very pleased to get a turn to lock lips with you.

Facing Steve again, you handed him the chain. He looked down at it, confused.

"Well, soldier, are you going to put them on me?"

Both of the men chuckled at your actions but Steve happily slid the silver chain over your neck, watching as the tags fell to your chest. Once they landed, they clang nicely with Bucky’s. It sounded like music to your ears.

"I love you both so much," you said, your hand mindlessly running over the pair of tags. "Thank you."

"We love you too, doll," Bucky said. Steve nodded in agreement.

Smiling, you gave them both quick pecks and said, "Now, are you guys coming to bed?"

Bucky scoffed, "How could we ever deny you?"

You giggled. "I don’t think you can seeing as last time I checked I was a special girl."

At your words, both their gazes dropped once again to the tags hanging between your breasts, seeming so at place there.

"You sure are, honey," Steve mumbled, placing a kiss on your cheek.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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tobesolonely · 3 years

Text

queen anne’s coffee

A/N: hello everyone! I am not D/deaf or Hard of Hearing. However, this was requested more than once I wanted to do my best to provide. In this story, Y/N is a part of the Deaf community. if I have misrepresented the Deaf community in any way or wrote something inaccurate or offensive, then please DO NOT hesitate to let me know (respectfully, of course!) i wanted to fulfill this person’s request and be as inclusive as i could, as i don’t typically see stories with a Deaf!reader. shes short and sweet but i hope you all enjoy anyway! as always, feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated! :)

Summary: Y/N visits Harry’s coffee shop every Tuesday and Thursday and always orders the same thing. Harry HAS to get to know her!!!

word count: ~1.7k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Every Tuesday and Thursday at exactly 3:50 PM, Y/N placed an online order that consisted of an iced chai tea latte with oat milk and a butter croissant from Harry’s coffee shop, Queen Anne’s Coffee.

Y/N never forgot to add, “warmed up pls! thank you :)” in the section for comments, and she always tipped. She would then come into Harry’s shop approximately ten minutes later, walk up to the ‘pickup’ counter, grab her items, smile at Harry, and promptly leave. Harry never even so much as said hello to her, but he was irrevocably captivated––even if she was a complete stranger.

Harry decided that when Y/N came in today for her usual, he’d finally talk to her.

Business had been unusually slow for a Thursday afternoon but Harry didn’t mind–when Y/N came in, he’d be able to have a proper chat with her without having to rush the conversation along to help other customers. His gaze kept floating up to the cat-shaped clock hanging above the door, anxiously awaiting 3:50 PM when Y/N’s order would come through on the iPad and he got to read the words, “warmed up pls! thank you :)”

Harry didn’t know why he was so nervous to speak to her. As the owner of his very own coffee shop (and it’s only employee), he got to know the people who came in regularly well, even developing genuine friendships with some. It bothered Harry that this beautiful person gave him business two days a week and the only thing he knew about her was her name, which is only because he can see it when she places her order online.

When the iPad Harry keeps plugged up atop the counter chimes, he doesn’t even have to glance at it to know it was Y/N but he does anyway, feelings of excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He was finally going to talk to her! Harry contemplates scribbling his number on the side of her cup as he’s writing her name but decides against it, not wanting to be too forward before they even formally meet.

When Y/N comes in ten minutes later, Harry can immediately sense something is wrong. She hardly looks up once as she shuffles from the door to the counter, hoodie pulled up and drawn tight over her head.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N doesn’t look up or even acknowledge the fact that Harry spoke. Even though there’s only two other people in the shop besides them, Harry figures she might think he was talking to someone else and addresses her by name.

“Y/N?”

She still doesn’t address Harry as she gives him a small smile before hurriedly exiting the shop, the bell above the door signaling her exit.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When Tuesday comes, Harry’s out of bed before his alarm jolts him from his dreams.

He thought about Y/N all weekend as he impatiently awaited Tuesday’s arrival, excited over the prospect of finally seeing her again. He hoped she was doing better today than she was last week, and he really hoped she was in the mood to chat with him today.

Harry’s grateful the shop is busy today. It helps to keep his mind off of Y/N, and his eyes off the clock. When the iPad chimes at 3:50 on the dot, Harry decides he’ll wait until she comes in to prepare her order. It didn’t take him over two minutes, anyway. He figures this will give him a bit more time to chat with her, at least say hello and see if she’s doing better.

Much to his pleasure, Y/N has a big smile on her face when she bursts through the door ten minutes later. She floats to the pickup counter, then furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she looks up at Harry.

“Sorry, I’m working on your order right now,” Harry grabs a purple marker off the counter, scribbling Y/N’s name on the cup used for iced drinks. “How’s your day so far?”

Harry watches as Y/N cocks her head to the side in confusion, then pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She quickly types something before holding her phone out for Harry to take.

“I can’t hear you! I’m Deaf.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he reads what she said. He now understood why Y/N didn’t answer him when he tried speaking to her last week, and he’s secretly relieved that she wasn’t ignoring him because she hated him or anything like that.

“I know a bit of sign!” Harry types before handing Y/N back her phone. He watches as her eyes skim his words and she looks up, a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Great! This is much faster.” Her hands move quickly as she signs. “Did my order work or not? Wi-Fi is bad at home today.”

Harry realizes he doesn’t know as much sign language as he thought he did.

“OK. I am rusty.”

Y/N smiles at this and pulls her phone back out, typing what she just signed to him before passing it back to him. A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he learns she was just asking if her order came through alright, seeing as it was not yet ready. Too embarrassed to tell her he intentionally waited until she arrived to prepare her order, he just nods.

“I’ll have it ready in no more than two minutes… and refund you, too. I’m sorry for the wait.” Harry looks up at Y/N as he passes the phone to her, eyes not leaving her face as he tries to gauge her reaction.

“No!” Her head shakes as she signs. “Happy to pay. Thank you.”

Harry understands Y/N but refunds her, anyway.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Why do you always come Tuesday and Thursday? Same time?”

“Exams every Tuesday and Thursday.” The look of obvious dissatisfaction on Y/N’s face makes Harry laugh. “Your chai and pastries cheer me up after.”

Harry’s face turns red at Y/N’s admittance, so he instead looks down, pretending he’s distracted by something on the iPad. He decides at that moment that he will no longer charge Y/N for her oat milk latte and croissant. She was a college student after all––if her financial situation was like Harry’s in any way when he was in college earning his business degree, it would probably be beneficial for her to save her money, anyhow.

Ever since Harry and Y/N’s first real interaction, Y/N had been coming into Queen Anne’s nearly every day, school supplies and laptop in tow. She always sat at the table closest to the front counter, directly in Harry’s line of vision so they could sign to each other.

Y/N provided Harry with some much needed (and enjoyed) company when business was slow, and she was helping him brush up on his sign language. Harry learned that Y/N is Deaf; her hearing is completely gone in her left ear and almost completely gone in the right. She’s the only person in her family who is Deaf. She also hated eggs, is lactose intolerant (hence the oat milk), has two older siblings, is a master’s student, and a plethora of other things that Harry had committed to memory.

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy.”

“Who is A-N-N-E?”

Harry grins. “My mother. Back in London.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “London? Amazing! You must have an accent.”

It dawns on Harry that Y/N has never heard his voice before. “Yes. Are you from here?” Y/N nods in response.

“Whole life. Small town, but it’s home.” Her pinched hand moves quickly from her mouth up to her ear.

“Sorry. What?”

“H-O-M-E.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he nods in response, signaling for Y/N to give him a moment as the bell above the entrance jingles. It seems as if the few people who walk through the door act as a catalyst for others to enter, and soon Queen Anne’s is at maximum occupancy and Harry is trying to make several drinks at once while taking orders. He locks eyes with Y/N a few times and she gives him a sympathetic look, not able to do much to help him out.

Harry decides that once business dies back down, he’ll find out if Y/N is interested in a part-time job.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was interested in a part-time job.

She was a fast learner and a hard worker. Harry was more than delighted to show her how to make every drink on the menu, and consume her failed attempts. It was nice having someone else behind the counter with him––he wished he’d gone about hiring someone to help him much sooner, but he was glad to now have Y/N by his side.

“So much chai! I thought only I drank this stuff.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on Y/N for a beat too long, causing her to shift slightly. Harry’s hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “Yes. I like chai. With milk.” His hand forms a ‘C’ then closes to form an ‘S’ twice for the word “milk”.

“Regular?” One of Y/N’s eyebrows raises as she asks her question, setting a hot chai latte atop the “pickup” counter.

“S-O-Y.”

Y/N lets out a quiet snort of laughter as she shakes her head. It was the first time Harry ever made her laugh out loud. After hearing her laugh once, he never wanted to stop––it was music to his ears. “Not surprised!”

Harry’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Why?” His eyes remain on Y/N as she walks around the small area, cleaning up a small coffee spill she had earlier.

“You just are a S-O-Y boy, H. My S-O-Y boy!”

Harry’s cheeks immediately turn pink as they did the first time Y/N said something that flustered him, but he doesn’t look away.

“You’re my O-A-T girl.”

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thank you everyone for reading!!! This is only the beginning of Y/N and Harry I think <33

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #marvel fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #king!thor x you #marvel au #a wife for thor #a wife for thor pt02 #thor odinson x reader

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comedicreliefonlyworkswhenfunny · 3 years

Text

I am against the "Americanization" of fandoms.

What this applies to

Holding non American characters (and sometimes even fans) to an American moral standard. This includes

Refusing to take into account that, first things first, America is NOT the target audience, so certain tropes that would or would not pass in the west are different in Japan.

Like seriously, quite a few of the jokes are just not going to pass or hit, because they require background information that is not universal.

Assuming all American experience is standard. (This could mean watering down just how much pressure is placed on Japanese youth irl by saying that sort of thing is universal (while it is, to a degree, Japanese suicide rates are pretty fucking high because of how fast paced and work heavy some of their loads tend to be), and it's really annoying and rude when someone is trying to speak out about how heavy and harsh the standards are placed on them to succeed just for some American whose mom occasionally yells at them to do their homework dropping by to say "it's like that everywhere")

Demonizing (or wubbifying) a character using American morals, including and up to harassing fans over their interpretations or gatekeeping whether or not a character "should" get development (while you shouldn't do that fucking period, it's rude and annoying- this is specifically for the people who use American standards without acknowledging the cultural gap between them and, you know, the fucking target audience) ((Like seriously, saying "It's different in Japan" is not the end all be all excusing someone's actions, but sometimes the author didn't immediately think that maybe (insert vaguely universal thing) was that bad or that heavy of a topic before they put it into their media. If you don't want to see things like that? Pick a different series and stop harassing the fans))

Getting mad at or making fun of Japan's attempts to satirize their own culture. (A good example is Ace Attorney! To most of us, it's just a funny laugh can you imagine if courts were actually like that- guess what? Japan's are! (Not that America's are actually that much better, they just look good on paper))

Making America/American issues the center of your fan spaces

(Usually without sharing or bringing light to the issues that other countries are going through)

Your

Experiences

Are

Not

Univseral!

Seriously, very few things across America, even, are universal. Texas things the hundreds are nothing while Minnesota's like "oh it's only thirty degrees below zero"- so for fucks sake, stop assuming that all other countries work in ways similar to America.

It's good and important to share Ameican issues with your American followers, but guess what? America isn't the only country out there, and it's certainly not the only one going through bullshit. Don't pull shit like "why's no one reblogging this?" or "why should I care about what's happening in (X country)?"

Don't assume everyone lives in America.

Stop assuming everyone lives in America.

America is not and has never been the target audience for anime, and it's certainly not the only country outside of Japan that enjoys it.

Like I said above, sometimes Japan attempts to satirize its own culture. We can't tell what is and isn't meant as satire, because it's not our culture.

Social media activism can be tiring and maybe you don't have the energy to focus on things that are out of your control, but, if someone tells you about the shit they're going through, don't bring American politics up.

For the neurodivergent crowd out there thinking, "But why?" it's because a lot of social media, especially, is very heavily Americanized- sometimes to the point where people assume that everyone is American. Not to mention, it's disheartening. I'm sorry to say, but you're not actually relating to the conversation, you're often diverting the focus away from the topic at hand. Even if you mean well, America is heavily pedestaled and talked about frequently, and people from other countries are tired of America taking precedent over their own issues.

Don't divert non-American issues into American ones. Seriously. It's not your place. Please just support the original issue or move on.

Racist Bullshit

This especially goes for islanders and South Asian characters, as well as poc characters (because, yes, Japan DOES have black people)

Making "funny" racist headcanons. Not fucking cool.

Changing the canon interpretation of an explicit character of color in order to fit racist stereotypes.

Whitewashing or color draining characters. Different artistic skill sets can be hard, yes, but are you seriously going to look at someone and say "I don't feel like accurately portraying you or people that look like you, because it's difficult for me." If someone tries to correct you on your cultural depiction of a character and/or their life style, don't be an ass. (If possible, it would be nice for those that do the corrections to be polite as well, but it does get really frustrating).

Seriously, no offense guys, but, if you want to persue art, you're going to need to learn to depict different body types, skin colors, and/or ethnic features.

On that note, purposefully, willingly, or consistently inaccurately portraying people or characters of color (especially if someone in the fandom has "called you out" or specifically told you that what you're doing comes across as racist and you continue to do it). If you need help or suck at looking things up, there are references for you! Ask your followers if they have tutorials on poc (issue that you're having), whether it be bodily portrayal, facial proportions, or coloring and shading. Art is so much more fun when you can depict a wider variety, and guess what? Before you drew the same skinny, basic, white character over and over, you couldn't even draw that!

Attempting or claiming to DEPECT CULTURAL ACCURACY within a work or meta, while being completely fucking wrong. ESPECIALLY and specifically if someone calls you out, and you refuse to fix, correct, or change anything.

*little side note that the discussion revolving art is a very multilayered conversation, and it has quite a few technical potholes, which I'll bring up again farther into this post.

Fucking history

Stop demonizing or for absolute fucks sake wubbifying Japanese history because UwU Japan ♡0♡ or bringing up shit like "you know they sided with Nazis, right?" It's good to recognize poor past decisions, but literally it's not your country keep your nose out of it. And? A lot of decisions made by countries were not made by their general peoples. Even those that were, often involved heavy propaganda that made them think what they were doing was right.

Seriously, it's not your country, not your history. Unless you have some sort of higher education (but honestly even then a lot of those contain heavy bias), just don't butt in.

^^^ this also goes to all countries that are NOT Japan (specifically when people from non American countries talk about their history while in fandoms and someone wants to Amerisplain to them why "well, actually-"). When we said, "question your sources," we didn't mean "question the people who know better than you, while blindly accepting the (more than likely biased) education you were given in the past."

What this does NOT include:

Fanfiction

FANfiction

FanFICTION

FANFICTION.

Seriously, fanfiction is literally UNPAID WORK from RANDOM FANS- a lot of which who are or have started as kids. ((No, I'm not trying to excuse racist depictions of people just because they're free, please see above where I talk about learning to grow a skill and how it's possible tone bad and get good, on top of the fact that some inaccuracies are not just willful ignorance))

"Looking it up" doesn't work

"Looking it up" almost never works

Please, for fucks sake, you know that most all online search engines are heavily biased, right? Not to mention, not everything is universal across the entirety of Japan. You want to look up how the school system works in Hokkaido? Well it's different from the ones in Osaka!

Most fanfiction is meant to be an idealized version of the world. Homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, ableism, and racism are very prevalent and heavy topics that some fan authors would prefer to avoid. (Keep in mind, this is also used by some people in those minorities often because thinking about how relevant those kinds of things are is to them every day).

A lot of shit that happens in writing is purely because it's an ideal setting. I've seen a few arguments recently about how fan authors portray Japanese schools wrong- listen, I can't tell you how many random school systems I have pulled from my ass purely because (I need them to interact at these points, in these ways). Sometimes the only compliment I can think of is 'I like your shirt' or sometimes I need character A to realize that character B likes the same thing as they do, so I might ignore the fact that most all Japanese schools require uniforms, so that I can put my character in a shirt that will get someone else's attention.

Sometimes it's difficult to find information on different types of systems, and sometimes when you DO know those things, they directly rule out a plot point that needs to happen (like back on the topic of schools (from what I've seen/heard/read- which guess what? Despite being from multiple sources, might still be inaccurate!) Japanese schools don't have mandatory elective classes (outside of like gym and most of them usually learn English or another language- I've seen stuff about art classes? But the information across the board varies.), but, if I need my character to walk in and see someone completely in their element, I'm probably not going to try and gun for accuracy or make up a million and two reasons as to why this (non elective) person would possibly need something from (elective teacher) after school of all things.)

Some experiences ARE universal- or at least overlap American and Japanese norms! Like friends going to fast food places after school doesn't /sound Japanese/ or whatever, but it's not like a horrible inaccuracy to say that your characters ate at McDonald's because they were hungry. Especially when you consider that the Japanese idolization of American "culture" is also a thing.

Also I saw someone complaining about how, in December, a lot of (usually westerners) write Christmas fics! Well, not only are quite a few of those often gift fics, with it being the season if giving and all, but Japanese people do celebrate Christmas! Not as "the birth of Christ," but rather as a popularized holiday about gift giving (also pst: America isn't the only place that celebrates Christmas)

But, on that note, sometimes things like Holidays are "willfully ignorant" of what actually happens (I've made this point several times, but (also this does by no means excuse actual racism)), because, again: plot convenience! Hey what IF they celebrated Halloween by Trick or Treating? What if Easter was a thing and they got to watch their kids or younger siblings crawl around on the ground looking for tiny plastic eggs?

Fanfiction authors can put in hours of work for one or two thousand words- let alone ten thousand words, fifty thousand words, a hundred thousand words. And all of these are free. There is absolutely no (legal) way to make money off of their fanworks, but they spent hours, days, weeks, months- sometimes even years- writing. It is so unnecessary to EXPECT or REQUIRE them to spend even more hours looking up shit that, no offense, almost no one is going to notice. No one is going go care that all of my combini prices are accurate or that I wrote a fic with a Japanese map of a train station that I had to backwards search three times to find an English version that I could read.

Not everyone has the attention span or ability to spend hours of research before writing a single word. Neurodivergent people are literally a thing yall. Instead of producing the perfectly pretty accurate version of Japan that people want to happen, what ACTUALLY happens is that the writer reads and reads and reads and either never finds the information they need or they lose the motivation to write.

^^^ (This does NOT apply to indigenous or native peoples, like Pacific Islanders or tribes that exist in real life. Please make sure that you portray tribal minorities accurately. If you can't find the information you need (assuming that the content of the series is not specifically about a tribe), please just make one up (and for fucks sake, recognize that a lot of what you've been taught about tribal practices, such as shit like human sacrifices or godly worship, is actually just propaganda.)

Not to mention, it often puts a wall in front of readers who would then need to pull up their OWN information (that may or may not be biased) just in order to interact with the fic ((okay, this one has a little bit of arguability when it comes to things like measurements and currency, because Americans don't know what a meter is and no one else knows what a foot is- either way, one of yall is going to have to look up measurements if they want to get a better understanding of the fic)). However, a lot of Americans who do write using 'feet, Fahrenheit, dollars,' also write for their American followers or friends (which really could go both ways).

On a less easily arguable side, most fic readers aren't going to open up a new tab just to search everything that the author has written (re the whole deep topics, not everyone wants to read about those sorts of things, either). Not only are you making it more difficult on the writer, but you're also making it more difficult for the reader who's now wondering why you decided to add in Grandma's Katsudon recipe, and whether or not the details you have added are accurate.

Some series, themselves, ignore Japanese norms! Piercings, hair dye, and incorrectly wearing ones uniform are frowns upon in Japanese schools- sometimes up to inflicting punishment on those students because of it. However, some anime characters still have naturally or dyed blond hair some of them still have piercings or wear their uniforms wrong. Some series aren't set specifically in Japan, but rather in a vague based-off-real-life Japan that's just slightly different (like Haikyuu and all of its different prefectures). Sometimes they're based on real places, but real places that have gone through major changes (like the Hero Academia series with its quirks and shit).

Fandom is not a full time job. Please stop treating it like it is one. Most people in fandoms have to engage in other things like school or work that most definitely take precident over frantically Googling the cultural implications of dying your hair pink in Japan.

Art is also meant to be a creative freedom and is almost always a hobby, so there are a few cracks that tend to spark debate. Like I said, it is still a hobby, something that's meant to be fun (on this note!)

If trying new things and expanding your portfolio is genuinely making you upset, it's okay to take a break from it. You're not going to get it right on the first try and please, please to everyone out there critiquing artists' works, please take this into account before you post things.

I'm sorry to say, but, while it gets frustrating to see the same things done wrong over and over again, some people are genuinely trying. If it matters enough for you to point out, please offer solutions or resources that would possibly help the artist do better (honestly this could be said about a lot of online activism). I get that they should "want" to do better (and maybe they don't and your annoyance towards them is completely justified- again, as I said, if this becomes a repeated offense and they don't listen to or care about the people trying to help them, yeah you can be a bitch if it helps you feel better- just please don't assume that everyone is willfully ignorant of how hurtful/upsetting/annoying a certain way of portraying things is), but also WANTING to do better and ACTUALLY doing better are two different things.

Maybe they didn't realize what they were doing was inaccurate. Maybe they didn't have the right tutorials. Maybe they tried to look it up, but that failed them. Either way, to some- especially neurodivergent artists- just being told that their work is bad or racist or awful isn't going to make them want to search for better resources in order to be more accurate, it's just going to make them give up.

Also! In fic and in writing, no one is going to get it right on the first try. Especially at the stage where we creators ARE merely in fan spaces is a great time to "fuck around and find out", before we bring our willfully or accidentally racist shit into monetized media. Absolutely hold your fan creators to higher standards, but literally fan work has so little actual impact on popular media (and this goes for just about every debate about fan spaces), and constructive criticism as well as routine practice can mean worlds for representation in future media. NOT allowing for mistakes in micro spaces like fandoms is how you get genuinely harmful or just... bad... portrayals of minorities in popularized media that DOES have an impact on the greater public. OR you get a bunch of creators who are too afraid to walk out of their own little bubbles, because what if they get it wrong and everyone turns against them. It's better to just "stick with what they know" (hobbies are something that you are meant to get better at, even if that is a slow road- for all of my writers and artists out there, it does take time, but you will get it. To everyone else, please do speak up about things that are wrong, but don't make it all about what's wrong and please don't be rude. It's frustrating on both ends, so, if you can, please try not to escalate the situation more.)

Anyways, I'm tired of everyone holding fictional characters to American Puritanical standards, but I'm also tired of seeing every "stop Americanizing fandom" somehow loop into fanfiction and how all authors who don't make their fics as accurate as possible are actually just racist and perpetuating or enabling America's take over of the world or some shit.

Fan interpretation of published media is different than fan creation of mon monetized media. Americans dominating or monopolizing spaces meant for all fans (especially in a fandom that was never meant for them to begin with) is annoying and can be harmful sometimes. Americans writing out their own personal experience using random fictional characters (more often than not) isn't.

#just google it #better represent real life #if you tell a fic reader to ngl you're being pretty ableist and don't really have a good idea of how search engines work #also when people DO try to make culturally accurate fics often times at least one or two people will pop in and say 'actually that's wrong'#not to mention sometimes they might not even be right to begin with...#and okay once or twice it is what it is #but seriously if this keeps happening over and over most people are just going to stop writing or caring #fanfiction #fanfiction is literally free #fanfiction is free labor #adding layers upon layers of research and knowledge needed- on top of how difficult it can be to portray human emotion #it's not going to it's just going to make once starry eyed writers loss their ability to enjoy their work #and guess what #some ACTUALLY racist (or homophobic or transphobic or misogynistic) writer is going to swoop in not giving two fucks #and they're going to go on and get their work published because they don't care about accuracy

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fandomfixationstation · 3 years

Text

Warning: mention of death of a loved one.

Todays concept is MC gets a call that like their parental figure has died one way or another and this upsets them greatly because one, they aren’t there to help with anything two, the only people there to do anything are their siblings three, they considered said parent a angel or a blessing by god (optional/bonus points if said parents name means angel-) They don’t say anything at first though they seem rather angry and now one can figure out why. then they hide and have a mental breakdown to cry in hopefully but unlikely peace. now I shall write the response headcanons / scenarios or whatever I will do Update: well I didn’t write a scenario / short story bit for all of them because i ran out of energy to do so and then i never went back to it, though if anyone begs or askes nicely I could in theory maybe work something out. this was something self indulgent and was something i wrote to really get me out of a bad headspace. Lucifer

He is the first one to realize something is wrong, especially if they aren’t a very angry person.

probably doesn’t get to ask about what is going on because he is forced to deal with something else and rather quickly

though when people start inquiring where they went after lunch, finding it unlikely that they would randomly choose to skip class or something he makes his goal to find them.

Probably doesn’t take him long to find them after he starts looking. gets it in the first three guesses of where they are hiding.

“why are you hiding here with Cerberus?” Lucifer said with a bit of amusement. he figured he would find them here with his dog. just not curled up and cuddling.

“wouldn’t you like to know” was all they uttered out, having no real energy to argue, or fight. though it was clear they had been crying their eyes out.

“well something is clearly upsetting you, why not talk about it. nobody else is here to listen in” Lucifer offers to lend an ear to listen to their problems. he was also hoping that by doing so he could get to the root of the problem and deal with it. expecting that he was going to have to knock one of his brothers into line again.

“I just received some bad news. that’s all. also, I’ll be otherwise located Friday, so like, don’t worry if I’m not around on Friday, I will be back like Saturday, so there is that” They explain, clearly not wanting to get into the details of the so called bad news.

“otherwise located?” Lucifer inquired as to what the hell they meant by that.

“yeah, um, I will be visiting - visiting the human world for the day.” visiting might not be the word they were looking for but it was the word they went with nonetheless.

“your visiting the human world?” Lucifer was surprised to say the least. especially considering he wasn’t hearing about this till now.

“yeah, i was talking to Diavolo not long ago to make sure it was alright” with a sigh the were back to melting into the side of the dog.

“normally you are excited to visit the human world, what happened” lucifer wanted to get to the root of the misery they were feeling and he wasn’t gonna sweep this under the rug.

“for fuck sakes, you really aren’t gonna leave me alone till I say it huh? my parent fucking died. are you fucking happy, lucifer? Jesus Christ.” doing everything in their power to hold back a second wave of tears as they add on “my blessing of a parent died. can we drop the topic now?” they said clearly not wanting to hear anything come out of lucifer's mouth as they hardly give him the chance to speak.

“ah, I see, my condolences” Lucifer was trying to figure out what to say at the same time he was trying to figure out how to cheer them up or at least make them more comfortable. “do you want some Kleenex? how about some water?” lucifer inquired simply.

“water would be nice.” they let out a sigh.

“im sure your parent was a lovely person. I think it is safe to assume that they’ll end up somewhere where they are safe and happy” Lucifer states simply as he holds a hand out to them to help them to their feet.

“I have no doubts about it. so you don’t need to tell me twice. it just. . . hurts” They says rather quietly. Accepting lucifer’s hand and pulling themself to their feet.

”go take a seat in my office, no one will bother you in there. I’ll join you soon enough with your glass of water.” Mammon

This man probably thinks he did something wrong, spends half the day trying to figure out what he did

if its not that he is trying to figure out who pissed them off and who he should be yelling at.

he hates to admit it but he doesn’t like seeing them angry or upset.

is probably gonna be first to realize that they slipped of to somewhere and start trying to find them right away.

after checking a few other areas, Mammon finally considers they might have just gone home to hide. knocking on their door and slowly opening it mammon calls out into the room “Oi, human are you in here?”.

“Go away Mammon” they were heard but very muffled as they had encased themselves in several blankets, clearly sounding like they were crying. unless they choose to eat gravel or something.

“what’s got you so bumbed out?” Mammon said fully entering the room now know that they were in the room and completely ignoring their request to go away.

“I said go away, I don’t want to talk about it” They said pulling the pillow to their head in hopes to block out more of the world. so that they didn’t have to look up and face the fact they were a hot mess. so mammon didn’t have to see them like this.

“no! the great mammon isn’t leaving till you say what's bothering you! that way I can fix it for you!” Mammon declared boldly. goofy grin on his face hoping that his optimism would help cheer them up.

“you can’t fix this. you cant bring back the dead. well unless you use necromancy, but. that's never worked out” They had let out a dry laugh for saying all of this. but now they were holding back tears trying to not cry their heart out for a second time.

“oh human...” Mammon was at a loss of words, though to be fair he didn’t get the time to form a full sentence.

“I’ll never get them back. they were practically an angel” they sniffled, trying to not sob. “my parent died mammon. what the fuck am I going to do?” they didn’t really expect an answer from mammon.

“Listen here, the great mammon will deal with all the technical talk, and will make sure you can go to the human world long enough for you to do what you need to. but till then and maybe after, I’ll be here for you.” mammon explained simply.

after letting out a chocked sob they reached out a hand and grabbed onto mammon's arm. “thank you” they sobbed out. mammon just sat there and patted the blanket pile gently trying to give as much comfort as he could.

“do you want a hug?”

“please-”

Leviathan

since he hides away and does online classes (Correct me if im wrong) he might not even realize something is going on

unless he messages them and doesn’t get a response.

will ask if the others have seen them and like will try to figure out where they were last seen.

eventually puzzles together that something is wrong and he should look for them

Satan

He although wrathful himself, isn’t able to see through the anger and might be a little annoyed about them for being so.

though he does understand that there is probably a reason for them being upset. he’ll do his best to figure out what caused them to act this way.

he’s stubborn and straight forward, he’ll probably be direct and ask what is wrong and wont leave till he gets an answer.

or he might occasionally bring it up and keep getting updates with how their doing kind of thing.

doesn’t really have to seek for them when they hide away because he watched them slip away and got worried and followed them

Asmodeus

he is very quick to realize something more is going on, something more than meets the eye.

probably doesn’t directly do anything at first other than same some sugar coated words in hopes it cheers them up.

when that doesn’t work, he gets very worried and tries to convince them to do somethings to ‘take your mind off of things’

knows exactly where to look to find them. first try!

Beelzebub

one of two ways, he either doesn’t notice anything for the first little bit, or he has a strange feeling nagging him that something is wrong and he tries to figure out what.

once its clear that they’ve disappeared he is quick to start looking, might take a while to find them because he is gonna check everywhere to find them.

bear hugs no questions asked, will try to comfort to the best of his abilities.

will ask them what they want to do after a while to see what he can do to make them feel better

Belphegor

tbh honest probably knows something is up right away.

with either avoid it entirely or bluntly ask what is wrong

if he doesn’t get a direct answer or is shooed away he doesn’t have the energy to push for the truth, might be a bit annoyed.

once he hears that they have gone missing it probably wont take him long to find them.

will sit down next to them and be like ‘now will you tell me what is wrong?’

Solomon

since he doesn’t have the same amount of time with them he may not notice at first. or he does notice ASAP because holy shit what happened why are they so mad.

might try to inquire what is wrong and like use his natural charm to try to cheer them up.

when he hears they are lost or missing ect. he uses magic to find them as quickly as possible.

will do a bunch of considerably silly and goofy things trying to get them to smile or laugh before trying to get them to talk about whats bothering them

Simeon

doesn’t take him long to figure out something is wrong, just one look and he knows

but other wise, he’ll simply ask if you want to talk about it. when bluntly rejected he’ll leave them alone

they go missing during the day? maybe it was worse than he first realized, he’ll go looking for them.

will find them within the hour, maybe a half hour if he’s lucky.

mans will try to comfort them any way he can.

_____________________________________________________________ sorry, for not doing Diavolo, luke and barbatos, i just didn’t really have the time to do them nor could i figure out how to do ones for them so like aihogdsifh sorry. but i do hope you enjoy this post nonetheless.

#OBEY ME #Obey Me Levi #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #Obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me headcanons #obey me headcannons #obey me scenarios

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

The Undead collab

for @biaswreckingfics the undead collab! such an amazing collab and I am honored to write for Lay.

summary : The world had been destroyed. Zombies. Yes, you heard me right. Zombies took over humanities. They said it was conspiracy, others said it was planned, someone said it’s a bio weapon but you? You said this was fate and this was meant to be. In the middle of the chaos, your last proof as being a human started to disappear. And in times where you wished for safety, you did finally come to find the man who’s been embracing you in your dreams. Your online sugar daddy.

Semi smut (not explained just mentioned), romance, survival story

members : EXO-M

Pairing : lay x reader

WC : 3702

tw : zombies, daddy issues

The world had been destroyed. Zombies. Yes, you heard me right. Zombies took over humanities. They said it was a conspiracy, others said it was planned, someone said it’s a bio weapon but you? You said this was fate and this was meant to be. In the middle of the chaos, your last proof as being a human started to disappear. And in times where you wished for safety, you did finally come to find the man who’s been embracing you in your dreams. Your online sugar daddy.

You’ve lost count of the days. To be honest day and night don’t feel different as you have to stay alert all the time. There’s no time to rest, no time to slack, and no time to worry about what you left behind. It all started as a gas leak in a big biohazardous factory. The company keeps it secret, slowly affecting the workers there who are trying to fix the leak. It’s not a green smoke like what you would see in a Disney villain movie, it’s a nicely colored pink gas that smells sweet but is deadly enough to churn your organs and make you turn into what the society calls “zombie”

The outbreak spreads faster than the plague, with the infected “biting” the human and changin them into zombies. The conspiracy theories maker believe this was planned as how all zombie films look exactly like this. The scientists believed this were an unprepared bioweapon aimed to be released a century from the latest pandemic in 2020. You? You believe this is just fate and that there’s no meaning to hustle about what’s right. You just have three things in your head. Run, Adapt, Survive.

You’re glad you still have your phone, charger, knife, and a radio to contact any bases that have survivors in them. You’ve survived the days by running, hiding, and stealing big cars to help you run over the town. This morning, you got a signal from your radio saying that there’s some group of survivors on a certain latitude and longitude. You quickly take notes of it, and tell them over that you’re going to join them. As you pick your stuffs and put your compass on, you hear your radio static voice.

“How can we ensure you’re human?” one of them with a deep voice asks over the radio and you roll your eyes “Would a zombie be smart enough to find radio signals and communicate?”

You hear a loud laugh on the other end and you note that there’s more than one person there.

“How many of you are there?” you ask suddenly afraid if it’s a too big group and you have to make hard decisions with bigger parties.

There’s a shuffle and a voice comes in “There’s only 6 of us. I am the leader, Kris and you?”

You start your engine, “I’m (y/n). I’ll arrive before the sun sets hopefully.”

“Good luck and stay safe. We hope to see you in one complete piece. Over.”

“Who is it Kris?” The young man with a sweet dimple asks the leader after hearing the short conversation on the radio.

“Oh, from the voice I’m pretty sure she’s a survivor like us.” Kris peeks over the blinds of their hideout and notices how empty the road is.

“Can you reach Suho? I wonder if they survive too.” the same guy asks again.

Kris pats his shoulder “They’ll be okay Lay, don’t worry. I’m sure Suho can take care of the guys. Now, what about we try to find food for tonight?”

Lay sighs “I don’t know. With Luhan being weak today from using too much of his powers, I have to be here to help him heal faster.”

Kris sighs, with the 12 of them divided it was harder to fight the zombies. They are gifted with supernatural powers, but at the moment 6 of them are in another place and its their goal to reunite.

Kris left his radio and went to shower. They call themselves the EXO-M, with 6 members of their own powers.

---

You stop over an abandoned supermarket, after making sure there’s no one around, you quickly hoard all the canned foods and waters. Picked up fires and some warm blanket for you to sleep tonight.

Your journey to their basecamp was not smooth, with you having to walk over some hoard of zombies. With your eyes shut close you hit the gas and just move forward without thinking.

“Hey, hey can you hear me?” your radio suddenly turns on and your ears perk up when you hear the sound.

“Yes?”

There was a sudden pause.

Lay gulps and shakes his head when he hears your voice.

“Sorry, but can you bring us some food supplies?”

You sigh “I already did. You’re lucky but did you know how crazy it would be if I have to go back?”

He groans “You’re a handful aren’t you?”

You were too focused on the road, not filtering your word “I AM. You can say I am a sugar baby at all time, so yeah I am a handful.” you yell that as you strive through some muddy place and you notice there’s a small strong bunker in the middle of the field.

Lay stays silent as he controls his beating heart. Why does something rings a bell in his memory.

He grits his teeth and shake his head “Just come here quick. We have to help our brothers.”

You groan “I am in front of a bunker pretty sure this is where you guys are. How come you can find a place without any infected people?” you ask as you see a man opens the door for you to come in.

“Chen, Tao, Xiumin and Kris go take her foods and keep it safe.”

You yell as the dimpled man grabs your hand into the bunker. You shake it off “Hey, that’s my food supplies!”

“First off my name is Lay.”

“Okay Lay,” you cut him off “Stop robbing my supplies.”

Lay’s eyes turn dark “Hey, you’re the guest here. Don’t you think it’s also dangerous for us to just accept you here?! If it’s not because of Tao’s clumsy hand pressing the radio to give you a signal, Kris won’t bring anyone in.”

You feel offended, “If you don’t want me here you can say that directly. You’re not my master or husband or whatever, i can go if you want that so bad, but let me take all my stuffs with me.”

As Lay was about to spit back words to you, a strong grip separates both of you and you gasp surpsied.

“(y/n) right? Nice to see you come in one piece. I am Kris, sorry if Lay said anything that hurts you. He’s been alert for the last two days trying to heal our exhausted brother. I apologize on his behalf.” Kris, bows at you in a respectable angle and your anger fumes down. He sure is the leader and you’re glad his words didn’t sting.

“Thank you Kris, I like your welcome better. I came here with supplies, I want to share it with all of you but Lay here just robbed my car.” you sneer at the tall man and he just rolls his eyes.

“Lay, would you mind taking (y/n) to the bathroom? She can use some shower and you can check if she needs any medical healing.”

“We’ll take care of dinner. Don’t worry, you’ve had a long day. Good job in arriving here.” Kris sends you off and walks away. You sure like how this Kris manners are

You want to protest for being left with Lay but Lay’s firm grip dragging you into the bathroom left you with no option than to follow him.

“I’m sorry, your voice just reminds me of someone and I was distracted.” he suddenly speak up from the shower stall next to you.

You turn your neck to see him, the shower walls are not that tall for Lay. You can see his head from the side, but it covers your height nicely.

You gulp and continue washing your hair, facing the other way as you always did when you wash your hair. Your back facing the shower so that your eyes are free from the water.

“It’s okay, i am sorry I was just stressed and tired too. I swear I am not a handful.” you blush when you remember the first introduction between both of you.

Lay has a special memory working in his head and he chuckles “You’ll say I am wild but you reminded me of my sugar baby.”

You blushed, feeling a tingle on your naked body “Oh, in what way?”

He turns the shower off and looks at you “I never see my sugar baby, We both don’t know how each other look. We’re just talking and chatting and having fun remaining anonymous.”

Now it’s your turn to gulp and turn the shower off, you grab the towel Lay prepared earlier and wrap yourself in it “Now that’s interesting. Mind to tell me why you suddenly remember her?”

Lay chuckles and looks to the ceiling “We did voice calls sometimes, and when you said “I am a handful” you really sound like her.”

You bashfully stare at your feet. There's a bothersome fact in your head that also says Lay sounds like someone you know.

“Alright, I guess we need to go join the others?” you reappear in front of him with your fresh set of clothes you just took from the supermarket.

Lay nods “Before that, a quick check. We can’t have you bleeding or injured around here.” He twists and turns your body checking and pressing here and there to see if you have any wound or broken bones.

“You’re quiet strong for you to be alone for days. Just wounds but no big injuries! I can heal your internal injuries so the infected at least can’t smell you that strongly.” Lay explains and you just nod.

“How will you do that?” you squeak and he smiles “You’ll discover tonight.” he winks and your heart stops a beat when memories of a voice comes back to your head.

He couldn't be…

Dinner was better than what you have had for the past days. Somehow the EXO-M have their own food supplies here but they are also running out of foods.

"Before we eat, let's thank you our new sister here (y/n)," the man with doe eyes smile at you nicely and make all the rest of the men stare at you.

You shake your head "No problem, I should he the one to thank you for accepting me inside. That's a big trust you have."

The men chuckles and Kris hushes them down "We sure knows because only special people like us can survive this long." He begins to take the foods on the table and the rest of them also joins.

You were sitting next to Xiumin and he helps you to get your foods on your plate.

"We eat from the same pan, so don't worry. We don't plan to kill you or hurt you." He grins "I am the one cooking so please enjoy it."

You chuckle, if this was Lay's cooking maybe you will be careful remembering how your first impression wasn't good. Though something still bothers your mind when you see him take a glance or two at you.

You learn about their abilities, a supernatural power that helps them survive until today. Just like you, the 6 men here have their powers and they have a separated brothers who also own powers. Their goal is to reunite and survive together but as far as you understand their story, they still cannot reach EXO-K and no news know what happened to them.

Kris was able to fly, making him the one to do errands like finding foods and shelters. Xiumin is their frost guardian. Luhan is gifted with telekinesis that's why when there was an attack, he had to work hard blasting the zombies away. You learned that Chen has a beautiful and powerful voice and he is gifted with making thunder. Tao can mess with time but he hasn't master time travel yet and finally lay. Lay has a healing power.

"So the 6 of you are unstoppable." You conclude as you drop your chopstick when you're done with food.

They nod "We're quite powerful now but you see we're getting weaker. And we need to meet the rest of the brothers to become more powerful."

"So what's your power?" Tao, the youngest, blurts out the question and you laugh

"I don't have a power. what are you talking about?"

Tao whines about how you don't need to hide it from them but you really don't know what they're talking about

"I am just a regular human." You snap and that brings an awkward silence to the room. You see kris looking cross at Tao and you can't stand the stares so you excuse yourself to hide in the only place you've been. The bathroom.

You turn the sink on and wash your hands, trying to cool your head down but you cannot focus when you see the small tattoo on your wrist. A tattoo of your family surname. You run your fingers over it. Feeling your tears collect again when you remember how they all died on the first week of the apocalypse. You lost everyone and everything you love. You're forced to run and you're so young to survive because your father reminded you that whatever happen go run for your life and leave your loved ones behind.

You wash your face, trying to hide the tears that fall on your cheeks.

when you hear another footstep coming into the room, you turn the water off. You saw him coming and you expected he'll greet you with a "Stop wasting the water silly" but all you heard was a sweet deep voice you've always heard on your lonely nights. On nights where you feel so lonely and dark thoughts loom around.

"May I little one?" A voice you remember.

You turn your head to face him and shake your head "Are you really who I am thinking?"

Your heart screams "Yes daddy," but that doesn't leave your mouth.

He stops and stares at his feet "Are you someone I am thinking of?"

Both of you don't answer the questions. Instead, Lay sits down on one of the benches there and you lean on the washing table.

"You really remind me of my online sugar baby. I hope she's doing fine. I hope she survived. I cared a lot about her."

You let Lay continue talking.

"She said she likes to shower backway, her face away from the shower head. You did that earlier and I was surprised. But hey coincidence could happen right."

You blush laughing a little "You sound like you really care for her."

He nods "She's my favorite."

You play with your hair "Tell me more. I guess listening to stories like this is better than just getting asked about how my journey here looks like."

Yes you really don't need a reminder on how scary getting chased after a mob of zombies is.

"I don't think I'll ever hear from her again." He suddenly leans back and closes his eyes

"Oh how I wish i ever see her."

You fish your pocket and grab your phone out

"Do you want to borrow my phone and maybe look up her account?" You pass him your phone and he looks interested

"We didn't get the chance to take our phones when we had to evacuate. Silly us right." He brushes his hair back and you caught a glimpse of his abs.

"Will this ring a bell to you?" You clear your throat and calm your heartbeat.

"Sugar sweets here ready for you daddy" you close your eyes ready to feel embarrassed if things didn't go as planned. You can feel your ego crumbling but instead of a laugh or a wtf, you got a reply "Daddy's here sweetie, tell me what you want"

Both of you avoid each other's eyes for a minute. Ears flushing red and stomach filled with butterflies. Both of you suddenly laugh and chuckle

"So, you're my sugar daddy?" You finally ask after realizing how weird this should be but its not that weird.

"And you are my sugar baby!" He smiles "I am glad you are safe and here with me."

You walk to his side and sit next to him "i am sweetcheeks14"

He pinches your cheek "And i am the man behind sinfulwhispers"

The two of you laugh and you exhale a breath to relax

"So. What is it your super power?" You chuckle suddenly feeling stupid for asking that

Lay looks at you seriously "You think we were kidding? I really have a healing power."

Before you can scoff and reply with another power to joke around, he already pulls you to face him and as he concentrates you see his hand sticking out just few centimeters away from the stomach you actually hurt yesterday. Despite your attempt to laugh, you actually feel your stomach ache gone and a warm feeling runs in your body.

"There should be good as new. You're welcome." He clicks his tongue and you still freeze there unable to say anything.

"I- i don't know what to say." You touch your stomach again making sure it is really gone the pain.

He just sits down calmly beside you. Giving you time and space to think what the heck just happened.

“I know it’s confusing, but try to think about this.” he brushes your hair away to see your face. His warm big hand creeps up to reach your chin and holds it there “You’re a wonderful sweetheart and you’ve survived this long by yourself.” he searches your eyes to see if you’re scared of him or not, and when he sees your eyes twinkle, Lay erases the gap between you two.

“You have a super power sweetheart, you just have to embrace it.” he presses his lips on to yours and slowly bites yours.

You give in to his touch, finally tasting the kiss from your sugar daddy and finally just finally you’re not tensed from having to sleep in full alert, not stressed over where to take shelter.

Lay hugs you deep and that’s the time when you realize having someone by your side on hard times like this is the best.

Your tear falls from your eyes and when Lay wants to pull away and wipe it for you, you keep pressing his head to your lips and with one gentle move you flick your tears away only for both of you to jump back in surprise.

“What was that?” he asks suddenly holding your hand that just flick the small tears away and definitely leaves a hole on the toilet door.

You stare at your hands in horror, no way you have a super power.

Lay and you freeze in time, did you have that much power? Is that why you keep on slaying and killin the dead?

“Baby, I have a good feeling.” he picks you up before you can say anything and drags you out into a special room where you see a lot of training equipments.

“Would you mind?” he is already holding a boxing tape and you raise your palm to let him wrap your hands with the tape before he gives you an apple to your hand.

“Okay, now let’s see. We both will throw the apple and see whose will stick to the wall there.” he points to a side and you ask if it’s going to be okay.

Lay chuckles “It’s bulletproof, so let’s see.”

Both of you stand from the same line and throw the apples to the wall, sure enough yours leave a crack mark on the wall but not Lay’s

Suddenly the room echoes with claps and you turn your head to realize that the others are already here.

“We saw you running here with Lay, so we watched the camera.” Kris explained

You blushed, what if both of you were going to fuck, will they still be watching?

“Now, the final check to see if you’re still human is this.” Luhan points to a chair and you look at them confused.

“We’ll take your blood and do a quick lab test, our antibodies will be different if you’re immune to the “zombies” here.” Luhan explained as he already poked a needle into your vein and take a tube to test your blood.

“Go sleep and don’t think or worry about anything. We promise we won’t do anything to you. Take your well needed rest.” Xiumin explains and soon after the brothers discuss, Lay decided to take you into his room.

No one has to know what happens in that four walled space. You’re finally with your virtual sugar daddy and there’s a guarantee that the room is sound proof so both of you didn’t hold anything back.

“I’m glad you found me.” Lay whispers after both of you are done chasing your highs and cuddled nicely under the bed covers.

You yawn “I didn’t expect to finally be in your arms, but I will trade anything in this world to be here. I feel safe. Thank you Lay.”

Lay kisses the top of your head “Love you sweetheart, let’s see the result tomorrow and if you’re totally immune and like us, you’ll stay with us.”

You wonder what if you are not immune, will they throw you out? But before you can ask Lay already hugs you closer and hums a lullaby to your ear.

You settled on not trying to know what will happen if you’re not like them, and choose to sleep trying to think that everything is okay.

After all, you’re glad you find them and that they don’t disown you. Because having one more of the undead in their 12 immortal group is a good thing.

#the undead collab #cosmic collab #lay x reader #yixing x reader #yixing x you #lay fanfic #exo fanfic #lay x you #lay x y/n #yixing scenario #yixing smut #yixing fluff #yixing fanfic #lay scenarios

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writingoneshots · 3 years

Note

Hi how are you? Just saw your answer. I just wanted to ask if you could write a fic where Killer falls for Kid's lil sister and he is afraid of telling her. But she likes Killer too and he is all cute with her while the crew makes fun of them and one day they end up locked alone, they confess and Kids finds them kissing or something. Thank you for the attention and sorry for the bothering or if anything of the request does not follow the rules or offends you.

Killer's confession

Hey! I am sorry for the late reply. I forced myself to take a break because a lot has happened in my family but I finally feel ready to get back into the social (online) life :)

You are my first request for my 'I am back' moment haha. Hope you're happy with the little story. Have a nice day :) !

- Killer x reader (Kid's sister) - 2,028 words - romance, cute moment, tiny bit of nsfw but nothing too tragic

Since Kid made the decision to let you, his sister, join the crew, you have been nothing but trouble. Not only did you need all those extra girly things but you also got a lot of attention from his male crew. He never bothered about men surrounding or even flirting with you but since you were spending a lot of time together, it disgusted him to see his crew aggressively trying to get you into bed. You never really paid any attention to these men and it was extra funny to annoy your big brother with these things. Especially since you were the only woman on this ship, you had tons of things to add to make him angry. But one thing bothered you the most. Not really one thing, but this one person. This guy. His best mate. Killer. While every crew member tried his best to make you do some unspeakable things with them, Killer didn't even try to show his feelings. Every once in a while, he would offer you your favorite cocktail or bring you some jewelry, which he stole from another ship. Sometimes he would even try to force a conversation late at night, just to be able to talk to you. But then there were times, when he avoided you for almost a week or even dare to ignore you on purpose, even though you were directly speaking to him. You realized that these moments often appeared whenever the crew would mention how awfully disgusting you two behaved while flirting. "Stop trying to be so cute." "It's fucking cringe, man." "I get diabetes watching you two!" - "You don't even know how to spell diabetes." - "But I know that you could die because of too much sugar and sugar is sweet... right?" Usually, it would end up in a fight, where almost everyone who made a stupid comment would get beaten up by Killer. Sometimes even by your brother. You tried to ignore them because you were never able to just beat someone up. You either kill them or don't fight at all. After a glorious win against a new pirate crew, the Kid pirates were all celebrating in a pub. Drinking, eating, singing, and even dancing were mandatory in every pirate's party but with the Kid pirates you have to include a few fights, threats and topless women dancing on the tables or on men's laps. Kid was already drunk and probably didn't even know on which planet he was on. A woman kept squeezing her breasts onto his face and Kid didn't bother at all. He stood up with that woman in his arms and went straight into a room above the pub. You shook your head at that sight and finished your drink to try to delete this last memory of your brother and breasts. You glanced over to Killer, who was surrounded by two women in their underwear. They were dancing seductively and singing a song you've never heard of. Feeling your sight resting on him, Killer turned his head into your direction. Even though you couldn't see his eyes, or even his face, you knew that he was looking at you. Your heartbeat fastened at the thought of him staring at you and you immediately turned your head away, trying to calm yourself down. But it was harder than expected. It's been way too long since you've wanted someone's attention. When you've met Killer, you were fascinated by his existence and wanted nothing more but his near. Especially now.

"Are you alright?", a very familiar voice appeared behind you. It was him. You were just able to nod and wouldn't even dare to try to speak now. "I erm-", Killer paused and stepped closer to you, "I wanted to go back to the ship now.. Kid told me that you'd prefer to stay in a room here. I'd prefer to bring you there.. just to make sure you'll arrive safely." "I can defend myself and you know that.", you frowned at that request and turned back to him. His offer surprised you but you knew that he didn't mean to offend you. But his sudden change of interest confused you. "You're right but I'd prefer to see it with my own eyes. I mean.. that you're safe in your room." Killer cleared his throat and took a step back to make room for you so you could follow him. You raised an eyebrow at him and thought about his offer. After you gave it a few thoughts, you nodded softly and stood up, following him upstairs. None of you spoke up or made a single noise on your way to your room. You hated it. "Killer, do you hate me?" He suddenly froze. You turned to him, surprised by his reaction. "Wait.. did- did I-", Killer shook his head. He didn't expect you to feel as if he'd hate you. "No, I don't hate you. I could never.. It's actually the complete opposite." "So.. you like me?" Killer nodded and was still not moving. "How much?", you teased him a little and tried to hide a smile. You could clearly see how his ears got a slight blush of red and tilted your head a little. "Where is your room, (Y/N)?", he stepped closer and looked around, as if he'd try to actually look for the room. But he took his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, letting you lean onto his torso. "It's at the end of the corridor.", you whispered and smiled at this soft gesture. You missed the smell of his minty-woodish mixture and enjoyed the few seconds of him actually trying to have physical contact after a way too long time. "Alright.", Killer commented and leaned forward to pick you up with both his arms. Not trying to hurry, Killer carried you to the room and took his time to get there. He loved carrying you around and generally preferred to be the one caring for you whenever possible. When he finally made it to the door, you leaned a bit to the side to be able to open it with a single swipe. Killer slowly went in and carried you to the bed. He let you down carefully and again, took his time. "Thank you, Killer.", you whispered for only him to hear and watched him standing up again. With a soft pat on your head, he turned to leave.

"Wait, you're actually leaving?", you looked at him surprised again. You were here, alone, in a bed, and he didn't care. "What else am I supposed to do? You are safe in your room and it's late at night.", he turned to you when he reached the doorway and was thinking of turning the lights on but he preferred to see you in the light of the moon. "I don't know.. we could talk? Or.. you could just sleep here?", you looked up at him, hoping he'd take the offer. Killer had already considered it but he wasn't sure if you'd like it. Without having to think about it twice, he came back to you and closed the door behind him. "Alright. I will stay, if you don't mind.", he took off his boots and shirt and laid down into the bed. You couldn't help but stare at his figure. The moonlight was shining into the right spots of the room, revealing his muscles and all the scars covering them. "Are you done staring?", he joked a little and patted the place right next to him. You took off your heels and bra in one move and sighed relieved after feeling your chest relaxing now. "Are you going to sleep with that mask on?", you looked short at him and crawled backwards into bed until you were on the same height as Killer. A few seconds have passed and Killer wasn't sure why he was hesitating. You've already seen him without the mask, which is why he shouldn't be bothered to take it off. But he feared to ruin the moment with the look of his face. You felt how anxious he suddenly became and smiled a bit, "Don't worry about it." You leaned slowly forward and gave him a kiss on his bare chest before turning around and cuddling onto him. "I won't look. Promise! But you shouldn't sleep with it. Let your face rest from the pressure." Killer couldn't believe it. The amount of respect and comfort you were offering, stunned him. This time, he didn't have to think about it again. Killer took off his mask and placed it right beside him onto the nightstand. He then took an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. "Could you do me a favor though?", you sighed and closed your eyes. When he leaned his chin onto your shoulder, you felt how he nodded softly. "Could you please massage my breasts? They feel really sore after that fight.. I really need a new bra." Two soft pushes of his chest onto your back let you know that he had to giggle but as usual, he was hiding his laugh. Killer didn't need to hear this offer a second time and slid under your shirt to reach for the first breast. When he softly began to massage it, he leaned his head onto his free hand and looked down at you. The sight of you relaxing and the thought of him being able to ease your pain, made him happier than he could have ever imagined. Even though this was the first time that he has ever touched you like that, Killer didn't mind that it was for your own pleasure as it made him feel better as well. When Killer switched to your other breast and had to focus on himself to not wake up his partner in his pants, a loud knock on the door appeared. Killer froze immediately and grabbed the mask behind him, to cover his face. But he did not let go of you or your breast yet. "Oj! Killer! Do you have any condoms?!", Kid opened the door after no one answered, turned the lights on and froze at the sight of you two in bed. Killer had already moved his arm away to not let anyone see what he was doing and threw a blanket on top of you as nobody but him should see you like this. Killer took a deep breath to not beat up Kid at how rude he was and nodded. He cleared his throat before he grabbed something in his trousers and handed two condoms to Kid. Kid narrowed his eyes when he grabbed them and looked at you and Killer carefully. He then ripped off one condom and threw it back at Killer. "I don't want to become an uncle yet." You rolled your eyes at that comment and threw a small pillow into his direction, "Get out!" Kid went to the door and looked back at you two, stopping for a few seconds. He clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. "Move!", you threw a knife at him and he

immediately slipped out of the door and crashed the door close. The knife hit the perfect spot, where Kid's head would have been. "Next time, throw it earlier.", Killer giggled and took off his mask again. "How did he even know that I was in here?" "He always expects it.", you assured him and leaned forward, grabbing the condom Kid left. Killer raised an eyebrow and watched you lay back down to not look at him again. He couldn't help but smile a bit as he leaned back to you and kissed your shoulder softly. "There are a lot of positions, where I don't have to face you.", you smiled a bit and pulled his arm around you, to signal Killer to massage you again. "Good thing that I only showed him these two condoms. I have a whole package in my other pocket.", Killer smirked and began massaging your breast with one hand, while the other pulled down your pants.

#request #killer #killer x reader #killer one piece #eustass kid #one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #massacre soldier #one shot #openrequests #open requests #one piece request #reader x killer #eustass #eustass kid one piece #killer eustass

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alirhi · 3 years

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How I'd have done TFATWS pt 1

Okay, I am such a whore for positive attention that, yes, it literally only takes one person expressing interest to get me to do something lol. So, for the lovely @goblin-tea, here is how The Falcon and the Winter Soldier would have gone for Bucky if I'd been a writer on the show!

Also, shoutout to @gunshou, who popped up showing support when I was in the middle of writing this lol 😘

Episode 1: New World Order

I actually love how most of this episode was handled; it's what drew me into the show in the first place, and gave me such hope for the rest of it. Most of the changes that I'd make here are pretty minor, tbh.

I'd specify the setting in some way for Bucky's nightmare. Obviously, since he was there and knows what happened, when, and where he was, it wouldn't be like the setting changes in movies where they slap a big, bold title card over the scene. Still, I'd probably open with a brief establishing shot showing the city skyline or something; some identifying feature so that viewers can work out where this happened without needing a direct statement from Marvel (note: if you need to directly address your audience to clarify something from within your story, you're a bad storyteller). What year did this take place? I show technology from the time; perhaps a dated cell phone in someone's hand. The point is to establish where and when The Winter Soldier killed RJ Nakajima, without detracting from the emotional impact of the scene. Why does it matter? Because we should know why. Why is Bucky dreaming about this particular incident? Was it his last mission before the events of CA:TWS (a theory I see frequently repeated but with no evidence to back it up)? Was it earlier on? Is RJ only on the forefront of Bucky's mind because of his (unhealthy, but we'll get to that) friendship with Yori? How long has Yori been suffering under the weight of his grief?

I would not have had him crash through the wall, btw. As cool as that shot looked, let's try to remember that The Winter Soldier was a ghost story for 70 years. Ghosts don't leave giant gaping holes in hotel walls. I'm not saying brazen wholesale destruction is out of character for him (obviously not. I've seen CA:TWS lmao. many times. this moment lives rent-free in my brain:

found on google without credit; pls lmk if it's yours so I can credit.

but you don't become a "ghost story" if you always leave that much evidence, ijs)

I'd leave the terrible therapy session alone. That scene was beautiful. Beautifully shot; I loved how claustrophobic it felt, and it really did a wonderful job of showing how Bucky felt on the spot, scrutinized, almost put on display for this bitch woman. This scene establishes Raynor as clearly wrong, and an unprofessional mess, and Bucky calls her out on it. I fucking love that!

lmao gods, I love his painfully awkward forced smile... Guys, this episode is fkn great. (betcha weren't expecting so much praise from me, were you? 😂)

"You're free." "To do what?"

👆👆👆 In my show? That would have more of an impact on Bucky's arc. That question would be one of the underlying issues moving his whole story along. Twice in this show, he's told that he's free, but no one addresses what he's free from, much less what he's free to do next.

It's a minor thing, but when Yori tells Bucky to ask Leah out? I'd have Bucky do more than just shake his head in silent horror. Not much more, just something that matters to me as someone who's worked in the service industry for many, many years and dealt with too many creepos: Bucky would flat-out say "she's at work! that's harassment, Yori!"

Yori can still stomp right past that boundary, and Leah can still smile and agree. I just really want someone to verbally acknowledge that you don't fucking ask someone out when they're at work. Ever. Bucky cringing and apologizing puts the power of the conversation back in Leah's hands; it gives her an out to politely decline if she's not interested, and just laugh off Yori's flirting on Bucky's behalf as a senile old man being silly, so I'm actually fine with how this scene turned out. I just would personally have gone that extra inch there for the idiots in the audience who don't get Bucky's subtle "wtf" reaction and why Yori's suggestion was so bad. If someone's livelihood depends on being nice to you, keep your goddamn distance. Flirting with them or asking them out when they're at that big of a disadvantage and have virtually no power to say "no" is harassment.

Here is where I'd make one more subtle change, too. When Yori sees the mochi and is reminded of his son, and tells Bucky about his death, I'd just slip in a time frame. "x years ago, my son was..." blah. (Guys, it really bothers me not knowing when that scene took place rofl can you tell?)

One complaint I've seen a lot online about this show is how it's a bit murky on just how well known Bucky is in-universe. He can walk around Brooklyn with more or less total anonymity, but he's also recognized as "an Avenger" (when he was never actually technically in the group)... but honestly? I think it's actually pretty realistic. Just because someone's famous doesn't mean every single person on the planet knows who they are and what they look like well enough to instantly recognize them on the street. People look different in photos than in person, and pre-Blip, Bucky had the complete Jesus look - long flowing hair and a full beard. In TFATWS he's a little scruffy, but not this:

Sebastian looks like about 10 different men from one moment to the next just irl with a change in haircut, lighting, expression, whether or not he got enough sleep the night before... 😂 I don't really find it hard to believe that people not expecting to bump into an Avenger would have trouble seeing Bucky post-haircut as anything other than just another attractive white guy.

Anyway! Sorry for the segue lol. On to the date!

Earlier in this very same goddamn episode, it is established that Bucky can remotely operate a car with a tablet. This is not a technologically-inept geezer. This is a 30-something nerd who loves new technology, who, yes, is facing a brave new world and a whole lot of new technology, but has never shown any issue picking it up. The crappy flip phone he handed Raynor earlier? a burner to keep her out of what little personal life he does have (we never see it again in the real show, anyway). The "tiger photos" line? Stays, not to show Bucky's floundering ineptitude with technology, but as a little nod to his bisexuality. (don't like it? don't wanna see Bucky as bi? go watch the show and read Skogland's borderline-offensive interviews. This isn't "how I would pander to a homophobic audience" it's "how I would have written it." the "Bucky is bi" interpretation is super fucking common and has been since TFA so bite me 😁)

Tiny nitpick, but I'd also have the Battleship boards actually set up properly lmao. What even was that? Anyway...

I don't think I'd have Leah get all ranty about Yori and RJ. That's not first date talk, for one thing. For another, let's ease up on the beating Bucky and the audience over the head with that one incident in a single episode, shall we? Instead, I'd have her stick with the date questions - she asked his age, asked about his family; I'd have her follow it with questions about what he does for a living (giving us a chance to not only actually have that question answered for us - how the hell does Bucky keep himself from being homeless? lol - but also set up...)

He shuts down a little when she starts asking about his past; she's innocently curious, just trying to get to know him, but he's flinchy and deflects with questions about her. The date is awkward, but doesn't abruptly end with him running away lol. He walks Leah home, like the old-fashioned gentleman he is, goes home, himself, and end on him grimacing in his sleep, in the clutches of another nightmare: not as much detail as the RJ murder scene, we see disjointed, disorienting images of fluorescent lights glinting off of machinery, the occasional shot of Bucky writhing in the chair, a shot of that damned notebook (to remind the dumber audience members why Raynor's passive-aggressive notebook thing was so triggering for him), and we hear echoes of a couple of the trigger words, and Bucky's screams.

#tfatws #tfatws critical #how it should have gone #if i'd written it #bucky deserved better #bucky was a victim #victim not villain #take your victim blaming bullshit and fucking choke on it #episode 1

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