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tartrazeen · 2 months ago

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So! The magic. :3

I had an interesting think about this, and it covered a few steps at once.

First, I started imagining one of the 'earlier' episodes where the others find out Angus is a changeling at all (and I remembered how to spell 'changeling' 🥲). It was super angsty and turned into one of those "Angus and Rohan endlessly trying to sacrifice themselves for each other" fests. Dramatic and spectacular, really enjoyed it and I'll explain later, but ultimately not what I wanted to go for. It got 'too serious.' And with everything else I've written, me saying, "It's too serious" should sound like the ominous teaser I meant it as.

Next, I came up with a much less angsty version. I started thinking, "Hey, if everything's going immediately to hell, shouldn't there be - like... help from everyone?" Because in the first version, I was picturing even Cathbad being on the 'wrong' side. That seemed out-of-character, because surely for Rohan's sake, Cathbad would've been faster at intervening. Then I thought that was out-of-character too, because even with the mildly antagonistic relationship Cathbad and Angus sometimes have, Cathbad does care about him and has known him for years. So for Angus' sake, Cathbad should've intervened sooner. Then I took it to its logical conclusion and went, "Oh right, Cathbad has visions lmao, he could've had some way to predict this shit before any of it hit the fan." Duh-doy. Sorry, Cathbad. Anyway, that one's closer to the 'official' headcanon-canon I'm going with.

I had a third thought about the others coming across a completely separate changeling (before they found out about Angus) who'd been caught by the family she was trying to sneak into. I liked it, and it formed a wonderful parallel with how Angus and Rohan would stay friends post-reveal - and on the angsty side, a demonstration of how the general public reacts to changelings: drown them in a well.

That, plus the second scenario, morphed into my fourth idea about the magic a changeling would have in this setting. I did some basic googling about changelings, because I didn't want to butcher this, but the way I'm steering it is going to be the meat of this post. I'll talk about the first three ideas in the next one. :)

The magic comes down to two core facts: one from the show, and one from my headcanon. :3

In the show, like I've said before, Angus doesn't do much magic. Not no magic, 'cause that's what glued me onto this idea. But he's not going around summoning monsters or flying or casting fireballs. In other ideas where I give Angus magic, I either make the impact so small that it's easily explained as something that's been happening and folks simply haven't noticed, or so BIG that there's a reason he can't/won't use it. So being a changeling was frustrating 'cause it's right in the middle of those two points.

And a third point: I want Angus to have magic of his own, because the easy answer to explain why we haven't see it - one that some versions of changelings go with - is once they fully establish themselves as a human, their magic evaporates. Which is lame as hell. So I'm not doing that. And the part of the folklore I'm cherrypicking (sorry 😔) to bolster that is how sometimes the changelings will swap back.

Humans are told to care for their changeling child and treat it well, because whatever's done to it will be done to their real child in the fairy realm. But sometimes it also gets the fairies to think, "Oh yay! You did a good job making that fairy grow up okay! We kinda thought it was a goner rofl. We'll be taking it back now plz uwu" or "Wow, it's been a great time being raised by this family. But I've had my fill or I'd just like to be a fairy again, so byeeeee here's your original kid back byeeeee."

I'm tackling it here as a mix of reduced magic and changeling culture that I'm inventing in the show. As always (not that anyone would be), please don't take this as an accurate explanation of what changelings do. Go read up about them! :)

What I mean by reduced magic ties into how the fairies we get in this show tie their power to their size. We only see it once, but it gets a whole episode: The King of Temra, where Mider becomes big. (Also I saw someone spell Mider with an 'e,' not an 'a,' so just until I look into that, I'm gonna use an 'e' for a bit.) Mider's the only fairy who gets to that size while staying magical. Aideen deliberately trades her magic away as payment, becoming human and de-powered, and Fin Varra gives his to Conchobar when they rule each other's kingdoms for a day. But the immediate understanding in Mider's case is, "Holy shit! He's big! And his powers directly scaled up with that!"

To sorta marry that to the version of changelings who lose their magic entirely, I'm gonna flip it around: as changelings get bigger, it takes more magic to do the same amount shapeshifting, so their powers scale down in size.

In my mind with the first post, these changelings looked like feral children with sharp teeth (I'll get back to that), claws, and pointy ears. They act like feral children too. I guess I'm picturing Spider from Avatar 2: Electric Bluegaloo, who was the white human kid running around with white-person-dreadlocks? That. Changelings seem to be anywhere from five to maybe eight years old, and they don't usually get bigger than being waist-high compared to an average human adult.

Shapeshifting for them is different from the elves and pixies we see, too. Those guys can change into objects (like rocks) or animals (like mice). The changelings only shift into other humanoids. They don't need to change their whole body if they only want to alter a limb or two, but when a changeling is big, that's a lot more of a body or a limb to manipulate. It isn't impossible, but it's like running down the block to go to a store versus a half-marathon. I don't think they're stuck with only duplicating things their own size, though. There are a few rare stories of changelings taking the places of adults, so let's call it a "I'm not as young as I used to be" situation.

For their culture, I like the idea that changelings are wild with shapeshifting. It's fun for them to move things around or scramble someone's face up as a prank, like kids who were playing with mud. But when a changeling is dedicated to taking the place of a human, they suddenly get meticulous about their appearance. They can't go with any look. It has to be the right look. They're suddenly sculptors working with clay that's meant to harden into a statue - which makes them a laughing stock to the others for taking it so seriously, since they can reshape that clay, but they're being pretentious about nobody else touching their mastercraft Play-Doh. But it makes sense to the changeling that'll be swapping. When they make their trade, it's a patient acceptance that this is their form forever. They'll age and evolve like a human does, but they won't be smashing things up on a whim just to have to sculpt it back to what they made the first time. They're 'growing up,' thank you very much.

So that should make it 'normal' for Angus to never openly use his magic. For one thing, he can't casually shapeshift into somebody else. It's a lot of work, and not like a flipping a switch. He has to physically craft his face and form into a different person, and then mould it back to how he normally looks when he's done. The magical nature of it means the part that is like flipping a switch is when he 'unlocks his edit mode.' That has to be a conscious choice or he'd have a different face after every fight. And as long as he's seen the person he's going to copy, he can always turns his face into that, so no worries about 'losing' his normal one. But again, being bigger means working with a larger canvas, and the details are so much more visible, and the 'clay' needs to be softened up every time 'cause it was purposely left out to be air-dried...

And then culturally, he - just... doesn't want to. He's looks good, and he's supposed to dump that to look like something else? He picked this face, he mastered it, how would you like to get plastic surgery every time someone said, "Wear a disguise" on a whim?

Another level to that cultural part is how the face he picked is the face of the human kid he stole to swap places with. Before he swapped, he needed to perfect every detail he could, or else he wouldn't blend in with his new family. So as a shape-artist, it's outright shameful to still look like a changeling. It's more reason why the ones who aren't swapping go out of their way to ridicule the swappers - especially the ones who return: "I thought you were too good to be a changeling. Not good enough to pass as a human though, huh? 😏"

This is why failures like Angus don't return if they can't trick their family. It's mortifying to have so thoroughly rejected the very nature of what a changeling is, but to meekly return and admit to the others that you couldn't? And the very few who tried probably set the standard for how openly they got picked apart. That would've led to everyone who swapped staying away forever, even if they failed, so then it would seem like no one ever failed anymore, 'cause no one ever returned to say so. Now when it happens, that changeling has to admit they were wrong and be the first to admit it in probably hundreds of years? Never.

So they don't come back.

And as they live out the rest of their life, they don't ever, ever do anything that looks like they aren't human. Maybe they weren't a perfect copy, but they'll still pass as a human to strangers. It's the only hope they have left to cling to.

This all leads into my second core fact - the one that's from my headcanon. And it's important, 'cause it shapes how the other Mystic Knights find out and how much magic Angus might start to use in front of them.

And that fact is...

... Rohan knows.

'Knows'.

Air quotes included.

The headcanon across all my takes on Angus having magic is that Rohan's always - at the very least - suspected as much. Specifically, he's hoped it's true. He doesn't ever bring it up or ask, 'cause how ridiculous would "Are you a fairy?" sound, but - like...

... idk he thinks it'd be pretty cool...

and rohan's always liked fairies so...

But since he can't ask, and since (if he was right - not that he was) Angus obviously had a reason for hiding it from him, Rohan's simply been making mental notes for his fan theory about his friend.

He's grown up passing it off as a silly kid thing. Obviously Angus isn't a fairy, and Rohan's taking that daydream to his grave. He does think it's funny how much lines up to have given a kid that misunderstanding, but again, only a kid would think that. Not a man. Which Rohan is. He's very manly. Cathbad said so.

Like (after googling it), there's the fact that Angus is always after food. Growing up, starving together, Angus did work hard to keep them fed. I have a story about how far it went without Rohan even realizing, but within what he does remember, he'd often have to fight Angus over the last scraps they had. Angus would try to give it to Rohan, Rohan would want to split it, Angus would say there wasn't enough to split, Rohan would say that Angus should have it then, and Angus would try to trick or force Rohan into just eating the damn food. It was desperate, but kind. And it mattered so much more when he knows how often Angus would talk about their next meal. And it was normal, because they were starving. Angus didn't have to be a fairy for that.

... But to imagine Angus was a fairy? Secretly, it made the sacrifice even more amazing. If Rohan ever had to tell the truth, then yes, there'd been a few times he refused to eat because he didn't want a fairy to starve. He didn't think he'd be cursed for it, but it didn't seem right. He wasn't going to say that though, since it's embarrassing he let himself be so convinced.

Then there's how Angus has always liked gold and jewels and such. Of course he did! They were poor. They needed that gold to get food and everything else, so obviously Angus would obsess over it. And... sure, gold was a pretty colour. Rohan wasn't so attached to the look that he'd snap his head around after catching a glimpse of it, or mourn for a day or two because he 'missed' the gems he'd... 'found,' and traded for bread. So Angus didn't need to be a fairy for that either.

... But being a fairy would make the obsession inescapable. Angus did dumb things all the time, and some of that was from trying to risk himself to get extra gold they didn't strictly need, but that Angus didn't want to leave behind. Rohan wouldn't go so far as saying that being a fairy would make it all better, as if he hadn't been terrified when Angus got hauled away or beaten when he got caught. But it made the quirk feel more... endearing, he supposed. Troublesome, but out of an innocent love for it, not a malicious greed. Those led to the same destination, but Rohan liked the fairy's journey more.

And then there was Rohan himself. He never like to question why Angus liked him; in the end, Rohan was grateful no matter what the reason was. But they would have their fights the same as any friends, and Angus would sometimes leave. Rohan would just have to sit and hope it wasn't forever. Over winter, with Rohan in the castle and Angus somewhere else, he'd also have to hope that when spring came, Angus hadn't forgotten him. There, Rohan's fantastical belief worked against him. Fairies moved on a lot, didn't they? And they took any insult as a grievous offence? Whenever those moments happened, Rohan would be left in a wake of terror that he'd finally gone too far, and Angus was never coming back.

He did. Sooner or later, Angus always returned, and would have practically forgotten there'd been a fight. And he always showed up in the spring, bored and hungry and ready for Rohan to be a fix for both. None of it relied on being a fairy. Humans got offended too, and Kells had hard winters. Rohan wouldn't have blamed him for leaving.

... But it was how Angus would come back. That he would. Over and over. Without any reason for it outside of a shrug and a lazy, "Why wouldn't I?"

Fine. They'd been friends for long enough. Why wouldn't he?

But it glossed over how they'd made it that far to start with.

When they met, Rohan was unconscious and pinned under a tree in a forest. It wasn't normal for boys to be running through those woods alone. Rohan... well, he wasn't the most 'normal' of boys anyway. It wasn't too odd that it happened to him.

But why was Angus there?

Surely a hunter or some sort of adult should've been the one to find him. Someone with a purpose for passing through. But it was Angus, who had no reason to be wandering a forest at all.

Rohan had an answer. The official explanation was that Angus had been running away. It made sense.

But it was so convenient, wasn't it?

Then for Angus to have noticed Rohan under the leaves that the storm had blown around...

Normally anything that meant walking more would put Angus right off of it. But just this once, he'd gone out of his way to see what was in the leaves? What had even caught his attention? Rohan had been motionless on the ground, and he'd been six. Angus once handwaved it as luck, before joking that Rohan's hair looked a little bit like gold. And that was enough for human eyes to spot him in there? His hair?

He didn't have much reason to argue it. But on the other hand, gold-coloured hair seemed like exactly the thing that would draw a fairy over.

But then - after all of this - to choose to keep Rohan around? There'd been dozens of times where Rohan asked what Angus liked about him, and Angus would say that Rohan was always up to something fun. But in the dirt, in the forest, unconscious and under a tree - was that fun enough to explain why Angus let Rohan join him? Was it such an interesting set of circumstances that Angus had to take care of them both, purely to see what Rohan would do next if he managed to live for that long?

They all had reasonable, non-magical explanations. As Rohan got older, Angus' answers never changed. On their own, they didn't seem suspicious. Maybe Angus could wonder the same about him: why would Rohan be in a forest alone if he wasn't a fairy himself?

But.

Taken together.

Angus liked gold and jewels.

Angus adored food.

Angus would always sing to himself - and to Rohan, when Rohan was sick.

Angus was always playing tricks. Angus would sneak into places he shouldn't. Angus would charm everyone for favours. Angus could never resist a joke. Angus was endlessly, endlessly drawn to magic.

It didn't 'prove' anything. And Rohan was - definitively - too old to think it would. Some people simply acted a bit more like fairies than others. None of it's impossible for humans.

The feeling in Rohan about this certainly tamped down when they entered Tir Na Nog. Here they were, among the Little People, and none of them were claiming Angus as their own. It was at the bottom of his revelations from that day, but it was there. If Rohan wanted proof, he had it: Angus had to be human. Of course.

It wouldn't change their friendship, and Rohan would have never fooled himself so badly to feel disappointed. If anything, he could double down on his gratitude for Angus being the only human in the world to understand him. That made it more impressive, didn't it? No fairy magic. No fairy rules. No fairy debt or reward. Just two friends who met in the strangest of places, then stuck together through everything the world threw their way.

Perhaps, for fun, he remembers his childish theory now and then. Angus might do something or laugh in a certain way, and Rohan understands why the thought had once consumed him. Angus always has had a way of filling others with life, and how else could Rohan explain it? Knowing real and honest fairies made it even plainer to see that if Angus had been one of them, he would've still stood out. Everyone in Tir Na Nog loved food and gold and dancing, but that didn't make them like Angus.

In the end, Rohan's proud to say it doesn't matter.

But he doesn't see the harm in listening to Angus hum while they make dinner, and still pretending it's a spell to make the water boil faster.

Or when he ropes Angus into gathering herbs with him for Cathbad, pretending the trick he played to bring Angus along - one that made Angus grin but swear to get Rohan back for it - was a perfectly normal way to invite a fairy out for chores.

Or when the hazelnuts are ready and he gives Angus a bowl, pretending it was only fairy teeth that could crack the shells by biting them.

(That last one had its own story. Angus asked him once why Rohan didn't use his teeth. He didn't want to say he'd tried and hurt himself, so Rohan mumbled something about doing it like they did at the castle. Angus laughed and called him fancy. But he stopped biting them open, too. Rohan always felt bad about that, though he wasn't sure he knew why. He even asked Angus why he stopped. Angus said he didn't remember biting them open in the first place, and the embarassment of Rohan not guessing they'd probably all been partially cracked already was a healthy reminder for why Rohan would never dare to ask, "Are you a fairy?" He couldn't handle the blaze of common sense it would set off.)

>:3

So.

For the changelings, I want them to have claws because I think it helps them look more unique. The Tir Na Nog fairies and elves don't really have them. Mider does, and he's supposed to be evil, and I like the claws as that same visual shortcut to saying someone isn't inherently friendly (at a minimum, the changelings' idea of friendliness is like Tir Na Nog's idea of beauty. Poor Deirdre). It also seems like it'd be practical for them as feral hellions climbing everywhere, and even for their face-sculpting and shapeshifting. Like chisels, maybe.

Their ears, I think should be pointy 'cause all the fae in this show have it like that. It's literally only humans who have round ones. So it's for the sake of tradition, I guess.

I don't really wanna do anything to their eyes. It seems like overkill, and maybe a little try-hard.

The teeth.

The teeth are their signature.

I'm probably patting myself on my back too hard about how 'subtle' I was, since it wasn't subtle at all (😔). That's partly because it's the one I elaborated on and partly because have you ever tried to bite a fuckin' hazelnut

I hope it came through, but what that little aside was supposed to be about was what do you mean Angus can bite open a hazelnut

Like with his teeth?

A hazelnut?

(and I was gonna go, ":3c tee-hee" but this post isn't done yet so if you wanna go back and see if you can figure out what happened in that, this would be the time. Spoilers in 3, 2, 1)

I want these teeth:

Not cute little fangs. I want teeth where if you put your finger in there, it's gonna come off like you stuck it in a bear trap.

I want zero chance of saying, "Wow, that human has oddly sharp canines!"

I want 100%, "What the fuck is that"

You see a little kid in a forest and you miss the claws and the ears? You aren't missing these teeth.

Now lemme ask: how closely are you looking at the back molars in your friends' mouths?

You can see the nice, flat, square teeth at the front when they talk, right? Super noticeable!

You'll see the ones on either side of the canines when you're smiling at each other.

But even if you see their back teeth when their mouths are open, are you specifically seeing square molars, or are you just registering that there are teeth and then not being weird about it past that?

Because my thinking is changelings, in the midst of copying their target, don't quite realize they need to change all their teeth. They only see the ones in the front. The successful swappers will either do their homework once they've lured the kid closer to take a look, or get away with it until they realize their mistake and make an adjustment before their family notices.

Angus is not a successful changeling, remember?

And I apologize for my ignorance, but I'm not sure "crackin' hazelnuts with besties" is a regular past-time for people. Which means two things:

Angus didn't know humans can't chew through hazelnut shells like carrots. Maybe he knew they couldn't use their dumb front teeth, but he assumed everybody had the same back molars as changelings.

Rohan didn't know humans can't chew through hazelnut shells like carrots. This poor kid just thought he had dumb, weak teeth, but didn't want to admit it to the obvious human in front of him who wasn't struggling at all.

Once that point was made, Angus uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh stopped using his teeth for that. I'm pretty sure he fixed his teeth right after, and I'm sure he was pissed at having these basic-ass baby chompers, but he fixed them and then denied ever doing what he was CLEARLY doing, and Rohan finished the job by rationalizing it in his head as, "Oh, those hazelnuts must have been pre-cracked." 'Cause "sure, let's go with that! :D"

I love it. Here's Rohan systematically going through all the circumstantial evidence for why Angus might've been a fairy - based mostly on vibes - and throwing away the one objective piece he ever got.

The last thing I'll say about these changelings' magic is what specific gifts they have. It's - as I said - lame as hell for Angus not to have his own magic, but he's not going to suddenly start face-swapping or being an ultra master of disguise. I don't want to lose his personality by being too powerful.

But if he can't shapeshift, what other stuff can changelings do? I looked around - the list is short. Claws and teeth? That's fairly common among fae creatures. And I already took Angus' claws away from him, because we see him in the episode with the dragon egg: he uses a knife to cut through the grass and dig a hole. Same thing when he's captured in the wish episode: he uses a sharp rock to cut himself loose. He's not a biter either, so I've also taken away his teeth. It's why I put in the part about having a cultural reason to not use those: he doesn't want to look like a changeling. And he's never been in a position without a tool to replace his claws, because he's resourceful enough to gather those tools or he's somewhere that claws wouldn't even make a difference (like when Maeve captures him in the early episodes). It all works.

Tracking? Pickpocketing? Lockpicking? He can do those things on his own.

So...?

Look - this was the other reason I wasn't on board when Schimmelspore first said Angus could be a changeling. My imagination doesn't have a ton of practise with shapeshifting, and that's on me. My bad. Listening and learning.

So since I've decided to be weirdly specific about what he won't do, I have to come up with what he will do... eventually. I don't think he'd start to do it overnight, but maybe, if the others prove they're okay with him being a changeling (and they have DECADES of internalized convictions to overcome in that regard), he might do something in an emergency situation that doesn't leave him feeling too non-human for long. And with enough positive reinforcement, he might start doing it more often (setting up for an episode where he's doing it so much that it finally makes him panic and freak out).

Here's my idea: magical muscle memory.

(i know but give me a minute)

Angus isn't going to change his whole body. But in the episode where Mider got big, Cathbad threw a powder at Angus right after to see if he was human. To me, idk, that seems like quite a specific powder to have on hand. How often are non-humans appearing as humans that Cathbad has it in a bowl right beside him?

What makes better sense is that it's a powder to break an enchantment or an illusion. It's not testing if something's human, but if it's presenting itself as what it really is. This might be the same stuff he sprinkled on the fairy-dog in the episode where Fin Varra went missing, and maybe even on Deirdre to reverse the petrification (which didn't work, because she had been genuinely turned to stone).

So Angus passes the test, because he doesn't have an illusion up; this is what he is. It's the difference between wearing stilts to be tall versus growing until you're actually tall, and then having a powder thrown on you called "Delete Stilts": one of those scenarios is not going to produce results, even if you used magic to make both of them happen. It might even be why no other fairy clocks him as fae. For all intents and purposes, he's a human. But he could change back to not being one if he wanted to.

The general limitation of shapeshifters is that they can't copy someone they haven't seen. It's not a universal rule, but it's good one to keep them from being overpowered. Taking that, and the bit where I said changelings can change parts of their body, let's imagine a scenario to see how the muscle memory plays out:

Angus breaks into Cathbad's chamber. He knows what Cathbad's like, and he's trying to find a particular powder to abscond with. He doesn't shapeshift into Cathbad, but he is able to change enough inside of himself to copy Cathbad's general instincts. Ten he thinks to himself, "If I were Cathbad, where would I turn in this room to put a powder that makes you brave?" And when he lets his new muscle memory turn him around, he's facing a specific cabinet full of powders. Good enough for him! He goes over and finishes searching it himself, and sure enough, that's where the powder was (or at least where it would've been if Cathbad hadn't purposely filled it with a note to taunt him for needing it 🙃 if he wanted that, angus could've just gone back to the other changelings).

See? Magical muscle memory: phase 1. And it's the sort of magical effect that a show in the 90s could film by having the actor go, "🤔 okay i'm thinkiiiing... i'm using my power but you just can't see it... okay here's the answer 🙂 i'm facing the direction or walking towards the thing hidden in this room."

And because it's only for people Angus has actually met before, he can't use it in every single scenario. If we bump it up to only people he's studied, you get to use it in all the recurring villains' lairs (and poor Cathbad's room) but never on their first appearance. Probably not if they've hidden their identity, either. It's mostly for hijinks, and it's likely the only magic Angus has been using.

Magical Muscle Memory Phase 2 gets into those sweet, sweet 90s special effects. This is the stuff the others would have to gently build him up to. There'd need to be so much trust involved, because - again - he's not even using his claws when he's by himself. He wouldn't do this in front of other people if it wasn't desperately needed, and he'd go down with the ship if he didn't think he could trust those people anyway.

Here, he actually changes his hands into someone else's hands. Or arms - whatever, he wears long sleeves most of the time. But by doing that, it's not a 'vibe' anymore. It's the actual muscle memory of that person.

How does it help?

Oh I dunno, maybe you want to recreate a potion somebody once made, or find the exact bottle on the shelf that has the antidote.

Maybe you need to unlock something with a combination rather than a key. Maybe your best friend's an idiot who keeps accepting random duels, and there's no better practice than sparring someone who can use a sword exactly like their opponent can (but not any weapon their opponent hasn't used in front of them yet, so you better hope the duel is with a sword 👀).

Maybe you need to forge a king's royal handwriting :3

I'd like to think these are applications that Angus has never tried, or straight-up forgot were possibilities because it's been so long - or because he so completely cut himself off from his powers to commit himself to his human appearance. Either way, it'd let the others come up with ideas for Angus, and that in and of itself might show enough support for who he is to convince him to try it.

And how would a show from the 90s film this? :D

By getting the other character's actor to wear the sleeves and then only focusing on their hands. Or getting the other character's actor to just put their arm beside him, so Angus' torso still looks like him, but the arm and hand is the other person's. Or superimposing the other actor's arm onto Vincent Walsh's arm - depends on the budget! Go crazy! But it'll be the adorable, slightly hokey effect we all love from the shows in that era.

Magical Muscle Memory Phase 3 would be actual shapeshifting. He's not doing that.

But Angus and Rohan are gonna have a long conversation about where he stands on gills 🤔

Ooh, I'm havin' a thought.

Back to Fae!Angus, right?

Schimmelspore said something like this ages ago, that Angus as a fae could've been a changeling. Now at the time, I was thinking, "I'm not sure how that would work, especially when Rohan seems to be the better fit for it" - y'know, because Rohan has a brother (who could've been the changeling) with actual demon blood.

But like

I'm thinking now

Maybe I was being too simple about it. Or overcomplicating it or something. 🤔

Because now it seems totally obvious: Angus as the changeling that took the place of whatever human child it was.

I guess it's because I've been rereading all these threads? And one core piece of my headcanon I've always kept is how Angus first encounters Rohan by finding the kid knocked out in the middle of a forest. I don't know why it's such a vivid image in my mind - Angus hovering over Rohan as Rohan wakes up, being the first thing he sees as the world comes back into focus - but it is. The part that must've been throwing me off is how they would get there.

Rohan doesn't mention where he was before they met, which stands out, because he talks about never knowing his real family all the time. But again, I'm overthinking it: wherever he was, he wasn't with his 'real' family. And because he's obviously willing to settle down after Cathbad gives him a bed, wherever he'd been before must've been shitty enough that Rohan needed to get away from them.

So, Occam's Razor of clichés: probably a horrible orphanage. Assuming orphanages existed back then - it could've been a shitty farm that took kids in as free labour, and had the older kids raising the younger ones as future free labour. That gives me a reason for why anyone would be taking care of a baby, why Rohan knew it wasn't his real home, and why he eventually left: it sucked.

It doesn't explain that "You were stolen from me" line from Maeve very well, though. The reason I thought the changeling idea applied to him better was the 'bad deal' angle I could work in with that: Maeve traded Rohan for a monster she could use for a weapon, thought she'd been tricked into only getting a half-demon, and couldn't get a refund. 'Stolen.' Or just outright targeted by changelings and stolen that way, but 'stolen' in that sense implies a sort of "You took my baby :(" grief. Maeve isn't grieving Rohan. It's more "Hey, you ripped me off >:( I overpaid" energy.

But I'll figure out what that means later. 🤔 Whatever kind of deal Maeve made must've ended with Rohan getting taken away and dumped somewhere loveless (for him to want to leave) but loving enough for him to be fed and cared for as a useless baby. Exploitative child labour farm works for that.

The other option is, "A very nice family took me in but they all died :(" or "They were nice but I felt my destiny calling me." I could see the show picking one of those (because why would it pick Child Labour Farm), but they sound like cop-outs. Why wouldn't Rohan ever mention that family, then? To me, he doesn't bring up where he used to live either because he doesn't remember (which is what my old Fae!Angus idea was going for), or he hates them and doesn't think they're worth talking about (Child Labour Farm).

Anyway, it's important for me to sort that out in my head 'cause it clears the way to talk about Angus. Why was Rohan in the forest that day? Deliberately leaving or escaping where he was.

So why was Angus there?

I've talked about how Angus never mentions wanting to know who his family is, and how I take it as proof that he already knows. As in, Angus isn't an orphan. He's a runaway. I'm picturing a similar kind of thing as what I just described for Rohan, except this was Angus' actual family: awful, shitty, abusive, so eventually, he left. And as he wanders around, he finds Rohan.

Putting a Fae lens on it it still ends up working. Maybe even a little better? Maybe it's more grimly ironic? Because Angus doesn't mention wanting to know his family, but Rohan does, and Angus never seems bothered by that. He doesn't call it wishful thinking or a waste of thinking. Like, I'd imagine someone who ran from an abusive home saying, "Be careful what you wish for, Rohan. You might find your family and hate them. Trust me, it happens." But the closest he gets is getting mad at Rohan for placing Lugad, his blood half-brother, above the family he's been raised by. Like he's saying - well, he does say it: "You'd trust that monster out there more than the family that raised you?" It's focused on behaviour. If Lugad had been super chill from the beginning, Angus probably wouldn't've been so hostile about it.

I'm getting ahead of myself lmao

Back it up: what am I picturing here?

Fae!Angus. The fairy version, before he goes into the human world. I dunno how old he is, but from what I read in other books, he's still gonna be able to think like a child even if he's lived for longer than that. Sort of a Peter Pan situation, where he and the others never grow up.

He sees others doing their swaps. He sees the human kids come in and eventually become fairies as well when the magic passes into them: they're eating the food, they're in the realm, it all completes the transformation.

Eventually, he gets curious and goes to see what humans are like, and he finds a family he slowly gets attached to from afar. They seem nice. And nice in a way where he's beginning to understand why other fairies were making their own trades; he wants to be a part of this.

The longer he spends among his kind - loud, tricky, squabbling, childish imps - the more he wants to move on to that soft, warm home and be loved. He mulls it over for what could be ages, but eventually decides to do it.

Angus makes the trade.

It's easy. The human kid doesn't take much to lure away, and he's helped capture enough kids as part of other fairies' lures that he knows how excited everyone is to join and help. In the meantime, Angus uses his magic to become that human's perfect twin.

Except...

Well, it's still Angus. The job gets done but there are a few details missing. Maybe Angus (being so pretty in the show 👀💖) thought he'd be - like, a better-looking version of the kid as an upgrade for his new parents. Or maybe he just missed making a change or two because he didn't think it would matter. Either way, there's something ever, ever so slightly 'off.'

The family can tell. They're stupid humans, so it isn't right away. But they notice something's strange and make little comments to each other about it. Angus can hear and realizes he's gotta fix those mistakes: ears, nose, eyebrows, whatever they're guessing might be 'it,' he adjusts during the night.

But he's still 'off.'

The family starts getting tense. Then angry. First at each other, for being so lost in crazed paranoia. Then at him, for having something wrong with him. Then at each other again, for suggesting they do something about it. No matter what he changes now, he can't kill their suspicion. What he has killed is any hope of the home he made this trade for.

... So he leaves.

Just like that.

I mean, Rohan says it too: "When there's trouble, Angus is gone." Why wouldn't it already be a habit? There's trouble at this home, so he leaves it.

And maybe he's wandering back to his own kind again, or maybe he's wandering aimlessly. That second one would be interesting, as if he's not allowed to go back after he makes the trade. Like it's sink or swim out there, and even if the family you joined tries to kill you, it's no reason to go back to the other fairies. They don't live as a 'family' that way. There's no unconditional love or acceptance, which was what drew Angus into this swap in the first place.

But while he's on the move, he cuts through a forest and gets distracted from his thoughts (and rage and grief and embarrassment)... by some ginger kid knocked on his ass in the middle of this place. He goes to check it out, hovering over that kid's head, which is when Rohan starts to open his eyes.

What I like is how it fits in with the show, recontextualizing some of it. When Rohan says in the wish episode that he'd use it to know who his family is, Angus gives a wistful, uncommitted sound. Then he says it'd be a good wish, which Rohan seems to appreciate. But unlike with Ivar and Deirdre, Angus doesn't try to pivot it back to what he wants to wish for instead (gold). We know he can't relate to Ivar and Deirdre's things at all. But he can relate to Rohan's wish. He knows what sort of fantasy Rohan is picturing, because it's the same one Angus traded his life among the fae for. And deep down, part of him would still like to have that. But he's sticking with the wish for gold, because he's had his chance at that fantasy. He screwed it up. Getting it again would only be a second chance to ruin it.

Gold can't hurt him. He can't disappoint gold.

Then when it comes to Lugad, with Rohan putting so much emphasis on them being brothers - Angus can get that too. Brothers! Amazing! But the way his 'brother' is treating him, trying to kill him, Rohan shouldn't want that. He should walk away, like Angus did. And the fact that Rohan isn't walking off is driving Angus a little crazy.

When Rohan finally admits to the others that they're his family, that's when Angus gives a muted reaction. You'd think he'd be celebrating Rohan seeing the light, but no. It makes me wonder if he thinks Rohan is settling. Not that it isn't nice that Rohan agreed to it at last, but that it's kind of sad they all have to pretend this is "as good" as having a true, blood-related (by magic or otherwise) family to call his own. Angus will play into it, obviously. That's what friends do. But deep down, they all know this isn't... 'real,' right?

Maybe that's the fae in him talking.

But maybe it's the same fae that's never called Rohan anything other than his best friend. 'Almost brothers' isn't brothers, and one thing Angus might've always liked about Rohan is that they both understood this. So maybe it's sad seeing Rohan seek refuge in the delusion. But it's all Rohan has now, right? He tried to make the swap, and his family tried to kill him. Angus won't abandon the guy, but it's such a farce to call this a replacement - even though Angus tried calling them a family first, back when he was yelling at Rohan for not wanting to fight Lugad - that he's going to prove how not-a-real-family they are and ask Deirdre for a widdle kiss uwu

He can't help himself. Angus knows it's not the same thing. He's okay with tricking others, especially if it helps bring Rohan some tiny comfort, but he can't trick himself here.

It's not the same.

I'd want to follow this into an arc where Angus has to eventually go back to his people. The 'failure' - or worse, the adult, because Angus actually grew up - returning to seek help with some part of Rohan's quest or Fin Varra's riddle. Maybe for help against Nemaine. Something. And they laugh hysterically at him for screwing up his swap, but laugh even harder when they learn how far he's willing to go to help his human friends.

And they say it like the word is soaked in poison. Friends. Angus gave up everything he had to get a family, and all he has is friends?

Friends are conditional.

Friends are fickle.

Friends aren't bound to you.

Friends are a bad trade.

Angus is forced to listen to their evil, little chattering and suck it up. He can't really argue - not just because he needs their help for whatever, but because he's gotta admit they're totally right. And that embarrassment of failing so miserably with the family he tried to join comes back, eating at his mind, and ohhhhhh the other fae can feel it radiating off of him, even though he tries to hide it. So he doesn't defend himself against what they're saying. And yet what takes it from bad to worse is if he brought the others along (I'm thinking at least Deirdre here because she loves jumping in with a spirited defence of what's right) and they pipe up about the power of friendship and what close friends they've been.

The other fae, all grimy and child-sized, HOWL with laughter at this. It gets to a point where it starts to hurt (not Angus, who's only quiet because he's fuming), until they stop and switch to ask how good of friends they are when they didn't even know Angus was fae.

The others don't have an answer. I figure Rohan would, but either he's not here with them now or he seems to know to hold his tongue. One look at Angus and the storm in his eyes would be the sharpest clue there is to give it away.

I imagine Angus interrupting to 'humour' the other fairies. He's using his 'on' voice - the one where he's making a big performance of it, and the fairies are eating up what he's saying: friends are just friends, they all know that, but let's move this along and get to the help Angus came here for. The fairies might hem and haw but at least they decide to give the Mystic Knights a clue, which is more than what they had before. Angus takes it and leaves, and the others follow after him (Deirdre, assumedly, annoyed that it's letting those awful, pint-sized gremlins 'win'). I even imagine her complaining how mean it was to have Angus forced to pretend he agreed.

... Angus doesn't challenge her. He doesn't confirm what she's saying either, though. And Rohan would probably be the only one who can notice.

A real twenty-two minute episode would be too short for everything I'm seeing. We'd need a couple where he's revealed as a fae and the others adjust to it. A few where they see if he has any magic left to help in quests (eh, I'll come back to this). But then, finally, one where they go back to the other changelings, now that they've been building it up for a while. Angus' reluctance to go back would be the focus, and it'd explain why he's so quick to want to leave, too. Leaving forever isn't because the other fae won't accept him back. It's not like, "We'll kill you if we ever see you here." But it is like, "We will never let you forget this for as long as you live." And fairies? They live for a fucking long time.

So Angus finally getting hit with that insulting barrage - the most excruciating thing he's experienced, even if he's being stonily silent about it now - brings on an entirely new dynamic among the others. That word felt soaked in poison because it was poison. Angus is suddenly pulling back, more aloof and cavalier with them. Getting him to be a part of the team is now a 'favour,' and it's like he's more and more annoyed by how many of these 'favours' he's handing out. Eventually, with the others trying to corner him and find out what's wrong, guessing and suspecting and whispering about the something that it might be, he snaps. The words sound mild, maybe, but they show how hollow Angus feels after having had this rot away in his mind.

"I get it," he says, while being smothered by these people who don't have a reason to be this close and in his face all the time. "We're friends. But we're only friends. I don't need to do everything you ask just because of it. It's friendship, not a contract. It's not as if we're married."

This is sort of what I'm saving Rohan for. Because I think this is where he gives his wistful, uncommitted sound. This is what he went through when he was trying to accept the others as 'good enough,' because forcing himself to give up his dream of a perfect, blood-related family wasn't easy. It's what he himself wanted his whole life. And Angus gave up his life among the fairies to get it, and he failed. Trying to be satisfied with friends, in the way Rohan knows Angus is imagining?

It's another bit of a recontextualization of the wish episode again: Rohan was the one to sit the others down and talk about the value of friendship. He understands what it's like getting so caught up in a dream that you lose sight of what's in front of you. But he's not the same as Angus, who made excuses and said Rohan needed time alone when the 'Maeve is my mother' secret came out. Instead, Rohan'll tell the others to be gentle, and to be patient, but to keep their hand of friendship outstretched.

The changelings had all chittered that friends were fickle and conditional, right? That was what Angus had to be thinking, Rohan will explain. Now, more than ever, they have to prove they're not going to leave him - or let Angus leave first in some twisted point about being abandoned. He's a flight risk, remember? They know what he's like.

This is the plot that an episode could follow. The one before it could be the set-up to go and see the other fairies, which lets this one follow Angus reuniting with them, hearing what they say, falling back into those conscious beliefs, and withdrawing in an angry, confused, and humiliated panic. It's to get the other Mystic Knights slowly luring him back to them, refusing to give up, and believing in him enough (thanks to Rohan) to finally drop the "What's wrong what's wrong what's wrong something's wrong something's wrong with you what's wrong" interrogation. They force themselves to let the tension fizzle away. Angus tests it, suspects it, but they either don't react or they tell him to cut it out because he's treating them poorly. It's almost like... kinda psychological warfare, in a way? Where they're purposely refusing to engage and making him confront the fact that he keeps expecting the worst from them.

This would be playing out as they follow the clue they were given. Maybe it was a fetch quest, because I want the episode to end with Angus coming back to other fae. The clue could've been to a McGuffin, and only with that McGuffin will the changelings give the Mystic Knights what they were here for. It's far off - really far off - to let it take a few nights around a campfire. That's perfect for Angus to storm off when he's hit his limit. He can go get firewood or something, returning the first few times to hear them talking about him. Then Rohan does his intervention. Then the talking stops. Or at least it moves to regular chitchat of close friends making the most of a miserable fetch quest together.

The audience would know about Angus luring the human kid he swapped with out into a forest. That's because I want Angus to be in a forest when he finally has his epiphany.

The human kid? The one who's now transformed? That kid follows after Angus purely to ask him questions.

It's awkward, obviously, for Angus to come face-to-face with... well, essentially his own face. Just child-sized. And the original. It's a little off from his own still, but the human-fairy skips right by all that.

"What's it like being an adult?"

"How did his human life turn out?"

"He lives near a castle now?"

"He's a magical knight?"

"What are the fairies in Tir Na Nog like?"

"What does he do all day?"

And Angus, maybe a little surprised and speechless, stammers through a couple of answers before he launches into the great adventures that he's had. The human-fairy's captivated - it all sounds fun! Angus doesn't realize for a moment but... yeah. He agrees. It's been fun. And he means that as the fae do: his kind absolutely worship having fun. They barely stopped screeching and playing long enough to send the Mystic Knights out here - in fact, they didn't stop playing. The only break they took from tumbling around was to laugh hysterically at Angus' failure, which was fun for them in another way. So for him to say it's been fun, and to mean it...?

He's surprised by how happy it makes him.

It feels nostalgic.

But - look, he's not going to be face-to-face with the face he stole and not ask questions of his own. Angus wants to know if the human-fairy's angry at being kidnapped.

The human-fairy - who can't be more than six, which lines up with how young I imagine Rohan was when Angus found him (adding a bit more nostalgia to that too) - shrugs and says he isn't sure. Being with the fae is a lot of fun, and it's been so long since he's seen his family that he doesn't quite remember them. He doesn't feel compelled to find them, though, and that's because it's almost like he never left.

And Angus stops the boy to ask what that means. 'Never left'?

The boy says even though he can't picture his family's faces, he remembers how it felt to be with them. And as the only other person who's lived in the same families as Angus, he can say pretty confidently that the fae make him feel the same.

They're not the same. The fae are loud and sharp and exciting. His family felt... softer. Cozy. Peaceful. But he feels the same about them. They're both home to him. He used to only have one home, but then he became a fairy and now he has another.

So... the boy doesn't want to go back?

The human-fairy shrugs again. Maybe one day. When he's ready to settle down and be a boring oaf of an adult. "But you don't sound boring," the boy says, through a sharp, shark-like set of changeling teeth. "Maybe I'll go and be a magical knight too."

"I think there's only six," Angus says.

"There will be," the boy answers.

Their teeth are sharp. On many levels, that vicious little grin is pointed.

... Nostalgic. The spark of this threat - the game in it - breathes life back into a part of him that Angus thought had died. Grinning back in a way that would've been just as sharp if he had those teeth, he tells the boy, "Try it. Fair's fair."

"Don't make it easy," the boy says.

On that faintly deliriously hum of fun, the boy takes his leave. The challenge was made, the game's been set, and maybe someday Angus will have a changeling trying to swap back.

... Not into a family, though, as they usually would.

The epiphany comes. Gentle and soft and cozy.

It would be into a family, Angus understands. That's what the others are to him.

They're not the same as the fae, but he knows what that human-fairy meant by it: they feel like home. The people he'd tried to swap into never did. Understandable. He can admit that now. But the way the others have taken him in, and how they haven't changed even knowing what he is...

They're fun.

He might be practically human now, but it's still the most important thing to him. Fun can mean loving and loyal and - unbelievably - even quiet. But it's all fun, isn't it? To him anyway.

The other fae would howl again if they heard that. But deep down inside of him...

... He's okay with it.

He cares. He still cares. But he doesn't feel the anger and grief at the thought of them laughing at his failure anymore. When he thinks about it, yes, he botched the swap he was trying to make. But he didn't botch the swap that he got.

It's interesting.

Being consumed by such a calm realization...

He doesn't even jump when he hears the leaves crunching behind him. Somehow it makes perfect sense for Rohan to arrive, and to find each other in another forest.

Rohan asks him if he's ready to leave, putting a hand on Angus' shoulder. It isn't a tug. It's just an offer to join them at the campfire.

And it's night.

Angus lured that human kid into the forest at night back then.

The flicker that thought stirred awake fizzled out before he even named its emotion.

It'd been daylight when he and Rohan first met. But when Rohan woke up, Angus didn't need to lure him into going anywhere. Rohan was already leaving his own home, so the two leaving the forest together made sense. In fact, Rohan practically followed Angus out on his own. For no reason.

Just for fun.

And that thought, almost overwhelming him, was friendship. Angus couldn't speak around it, but it must've been clear on his face, because the hand on his shoulder gave a short squeeze. Time to go home, he figured. Back out together again.

He'll be quiet at the campfire, but it's restful now. He'll see the not-so-secret looks to Rohan, asking if something's wrong. And he'll feel Rohan's even-less-subtle, relentlessly confident answer:

No.

Because Angus is fine.

Going back to the changelings after their stupid game of fetch has a different sense of frustration now. It's more like annoyance at having to have walked so far and jump through their hoops, all to predictably lose for their enjoyment.

Angus knows what he's heading into. He's known from the start that it was all a silly waste of time meant to 'shock' them with that reveal. But whatever help they were after was locked behind this stupid charade, so he was sucking it up and playing his part, hating that he had to play pretend.

But he didn't hate himself for going back.

It suddenly felt like running into his old pickpocket friends. They were fun, sure, and familiar, but the kind he'd moved on from by now. Outgrown.

So he still wanted to get this over with.

Improvements were improvements though, and Deirdre's complaints from behind him as he lead others through winding the passages - which still felt so burned into his very being, not even needing memory to navigate - was something he appreciated. He wasn't looking forward to this. They were going to be mean. They always were. That's what made them, them. He used to join in, too.

And of course the conversation went exactly as he thought it would.

... Right up to the split second before he handed the McGuffin over.

That deep, long-forgotten, nearly buried fairy blood suddenly hummed in his veins with glee.

It was the same hum as the other changelings were making: anticipation and delight over what was supposed to happen. And he stopped, because he knew exactly what to do.

"Ivar," he said, abruptly handing the McGuffin over. "You're polite. You should give the speech."

Ivar, obviously, wasn't expecting there to be a speech, but trusted Angus to know his own people. And Angus knew Ivar.

He knew all of them.

With how long Ivar took to get through a formality, Angus had plenty of time to feel both of his families in one place. And he could feel Rohan staring, proud of Angus but a little smug about being right. That was perfect too, though. Smug was icing on the cake for this.

Ivar gave his speech. Lovely. And he bowed. Lovelier. And the prince gave the McGuffin to whoever seemed to be in charge for the hour.

That kid, in the same fluid motion it used to pick the McGuffin up, fuckin' threw that shit at a wall and made it shatter into forty pieces.

Then they all cheered.

Angus had to admit the look of horror on the others' faces - even wiping that smug part off of Rohan's - was phenomenal. He couldn't outright laugh (technically this was a joke on him too, since he'd had to get the McGuffin), but he earned getting to smile wide enough for the family resemblance to come shining through. Hundreds of tiny, shark-sharp chattering teeth were flashing through this cave - and so were Angus' 💖

"You said we needed that," he hears Deirdre shrieking in outrage over the sound. "We came to you for help-"

It's a special, extra thrill for Angus - and Angus only - to watch the princess get to work. The fear she put in the changelings? Equally as phenomenal. And in the horrified silence at the end of her outraged tirade, and at their shocked, shark-toothed mouths hanging open and beady eyes going wide, Angus felt it sink in.

And he howled in laughter.

Which was great, 'cause even though the changelings didn't seem to get the joke (too sophisticated for them, he supposed), knowing there was a joke at all - because Angus would know; he was one of them - broke the tension again. The fairies finished up their prank, handed them the real help, and Angus waved goodbye before leading the others outside. Deirdre didn't need his help this time, since she practically seethed her own way out through the rock. That was fine, 'cause the changelings didn't even notice he'd said goodbye. They were already back to scratching and biting and laughing.

Hilarious. All of them. And fun.

"I can't believe you used to be one of those," Deirdre spits when they're back in the open air.

"He's still one of them," Ivar says, defending Angus' honour.

"Well..." Angus thinks about that. "I am and I'm not." That used to be his home, after all. He used to be just like they were. The difference was simple but undeniable. So he shrugs. "I grew up."

Cue Deirdre ranting about how she wished they would all grow up. Those mini-monsters wasted days of their royal lives just to smash that trinket right when they had it? It was disrespectful - did they even know who she was?

They did. That's why it was funny.

Rohan's been at his side. Not asking, but close enough that he might as well have asked.

Is Angus all right?

Angus doesn't the answer the not-question.

He only suggests, "Back home, then?"

Rohan understands.

It figures. Who'd know Angus better than his best friend?

(it takes less than an hour for angus to whine about how far everything always is)

#mystic knights of tir na nog #my stuff #good job tartra

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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years ago

Note

more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???

Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!

with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another

Word Count: 1.7K

It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with.

A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read:

Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!

She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day.

“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen.

The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence.

“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level.

“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression.

“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people.

“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable.

“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions.

“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you.

“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl.

“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her.

“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes.

“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone.

“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash.

“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone.

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline.

“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine.

“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi.

“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine.

“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you.

“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad.

“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will.

“You’re not...”

“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...”

“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist.

“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes.

“Oh” She managed to say dumbly.

“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space.

“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile.

In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt!

#levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #jealous petra ral #modern au #erwin smith #hange zoe #moblit #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #light angst #fluff #women supporting women #no petra slander allowed #womens history month

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 2 years ago

Text

Decay of the Dead

Summary: Victor Fries hadn’t meant to start the apocalypse, but by god would he benefit.

He didn’t mean to start the apocalypse.

No, really, he didn’t.

Sure, he was a villain in pretty much every sense of the word – selfish, literally coldhearted, unable to let anything go – but Victor Fries wasn’t actively malicious most of the time. Certainly not towards people that were just existing, certainly not to anyone that wasn’t actively getting in the way of his goals.

And yet.

One science experiment goes horrendously wrong and suddenly you’re the ‘most evil person to ever grace this earth’ and ‘literally a mass murderer’. Typical.

And, for the record, the experiment had gone wrong. He had not intended to make real life zombies when he had been messing with the rejuvenation properties of fungi.

For some reason the family of the person he had afflicted hadn’t really believed him when he tried to tell them that, which was certainly a first.

The families had never trusted him, that much was clear. There was always a wariness in the way that they stood when he approached their illness-ridden family members, all tense shoulders and clenched fists, that screamed of their true feelings about him and what he did.

(And, really, why would they think that he had their best interests in mind? Why would they believe that the man who had said time and time again that he would do anything to get his beloved wife back, who had proven that those weren’t just pretty words, would ever do anything for the sake of public good?)

But they did trust that he was truly trying his best to come up with a cure for Huntington’s Chorea.

(And that was a lot more than anyone else could seem to say.)

They had changed their mind upon seeing their loved one. The man – George – had too-pale skin and glassy, lifeless eyes and his arms frantically reached out of his cage in hopes of catching something to eat.

Victor had endured their verbal barrage of insults, had only been slightly tempted to open the cage and give the poor, grieving family their son back.

But he hadn’t.

Not because of any particular care he had for humanity – he only cared for one human, and said human was currently suspended in glass – but because the zombie wasn’t quite… brainless, as one might assume he would be. No, the thing was still George in every way that mattered – he still demonstrated proper cognition and, despite his sudden inability to talk normally, he had shown recognition upon seeing his family – he had simply… acquired a very discerning, unfortunately morbid palate.

Victor Fries was sure that, if he were to open the cage, it would either be Nora or himself that would be the victim of said palate. Not the family. And, so, he decided to keep him there.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t deal with the family himself, anyways.

He tossed the three frozen people into the cage – well, tossed isn’t quite the right word, he set them in the cage very carefully, thank you very much – to thaw over time.

George sent him as much of a glare as he could with blank eyes. There was a silent challenge there, a I won’t eat them, I won’t do it just because you’re telling me to, and Victor wondered, idly, how long that would last.

He had promised this family that he would do whatever it took to make sure that he found a cure.

And, as he looked at the way George turned and stalked off to the other side of the cage to cross his arms and sulk, more alive than he had ever been under Victor’s care, he wondered if he had actually found it.

Now he just needed to find a cure for this new ailment.

He hadn’t meant to start the apocalypse, but by god would he benefit.

George had eventually given in to the hunger.

Of course he had. Desperation could make a person do anything – why else would Fries be doing what he was doing? – and hunger was one of the worst types of desperation. Especially when the solution was so painfully close.

Victor had watched on, only mildly interested, as George bit down on the neck of the person that he had once called family. Blood spurted from the now-open artery, and Victor couldn’t help but hum a little. Maybe he wouldn’t have to find a cure to the unfortunate zombie-ism at all, if the afflicted persons were able to think enough to at least give their victims a quick death. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t provide Nora with ‘food’.

Which meant that all he needed to do was find a way to kill the thing that had been expressly made to constantly regenerate itself and then give Nora her own sample and he’d be golden –.

George made a whining sound, drawing him out of his scheming so he could look over.

He expected the thing-that-wasn’t-quite-a-man–but-wasn’t-quite-not-a-man-either to be kneeling over the body of his fallen family member, eyes wide as the realization of what he had just done sunk in. Fries had seen the look many times before, when he had tossed random body parts through the bars for George to eat, and he had no reason to expect anything different this time (outside of, maybe, more horror, as he had taken a chunk out of his brother’s neck instead of a faceless stranger’s arm).

He had had no reason to expect to see the victim – Rudy – sitting up on his own accord, his eyes carrying that same unsettling glassiness as George’s did.

Ah.

It was contagious.

Victor… may need to catch up on zombie media.

It felt weird to watch movies without Nora.

He, of course, opted to set up the TV in the room that he kept her in. Angled it so she could see the screen, even if he knew she couldn’t take in any of the information. Made an extra bowl of popcorn to set in front of her, sure to go cold.

But it was strange, not having her quiet comments on the movie or squeaks of fear whenever there was a particularly bad jumpscare.

It only made the loss worse.

And yet he kept doing it.

Huh, was his first thought after finishing the third movie.

His second thought was only mildly more eloquent: I’ve been cheated.

Because, in zombie media, there are a few defining characteristics.

Those zombies, for one thing, are dumb – mindless things only concerned with their next meal. And, though that isn’t completely wrong as the hunger seems to take precedence over all else, they certainly weren’t as stupid as the movies want you to believe.

More importantly, they were by no means slow. That… he shivered, though he had long stopped feeling cold… he wished that that were the case. Instead, they were almost faster than humans should have been. Admittedly, he had suspected that this would be the case for a while, but hadn’t been able to confirm because he had never seen George up and moving about. Now that he had Rudy as a point of comparison, he knew that the fungus he had infected them with enhanced the body in ways other than simply repairing what wasn’t quite ‘okay’.

And, speaking of which, Zombies in movies were rotting and, though Fries hadn’t had them for long, he could already tell that they were not. In fact, the place where Rudy had been bitten had long-since been ‘scabbed’ over with a collection of what looked remarkably like mushrooms sprouting from his skin. The kind you might see decorating dead trees, hanging off the side like tiny shelves… or, since it was on a person’s neck, maybe saying that they looked like gills may have been a more apt description.

At least they got the superhuman strength part right. The ability to punch through drawers or drag people through chimneys is not unfamiliar to him. Not after he had watched Rudy snap the glass rod he had been using to get a mushroom sample with in two with a mere clenching his fist.

Hollywood wanted the zombies to be monsters, but they were still human in every way that mattered.

And, in every way that didn’t, they were more than human.

Metas. He had created self-healing metas.

The bat was going to be pissed.

The next time a human was downed – George’s wife, Bela – Victor made sure to watch it carefully.

He knew it would be soon after the first. Even if there were more moral stakes now, what with one of the two options being a child, the hunger that George had experienced in the first few hours after turning had been more intense than after Fries had managed to find him his first ‘meal’. It had been safe to assume that Rudy would be experiencing something similar.

So. He watched. And waited.

He still didn’t, really, understand the turning process. He had thought far enough ahead to get out his phone and record but… even after combing through the footage several times, he didn’t know when it happened. It seemed completely arbitrary. One moment Bela was human, struggling to scream through the blood gurgling in her throat, the next she was still and calm and speaking in what could only be called tongues.

The zombie movies were starting to get to him. He found himself thinking that it had to do with the host’s death… but, no, the hosts were distinctly alive in there.

He rested his head in his hands as much as the glass dome encircling it allowed.

It probably had to do with the blood stream. That was how Fries had administered the original spores. Saliva was just filtered blood. Maybe it was blood-to-blood contact?

But he didn’t know and that made him nervous.

Not nervous enough to actually stop the experiments, of course. He was on to something, he knew it.

In cases like this, his own emotions and the emotions of others didn’t matter. They were like the fogged breaths people made when it was particularly cold out – warmth that would soon be snuffed out by the cold air surrounding it.

No, the chills that ran down his spine when he looked at the family and their blood-covered mouths were unimportant. The tiny pang in his chest as the kid in the corner reached for him would do nothing. The discomfort he felt about keeping these people in a cage was not helpful.

(Maybe he was reaching a new low. But did it really matter? Was a billion really any different than a billion and one? Did the difference matter at that point?)

When he had said that he would do anything to save Nora, he had meant it.

And if she hated him for what he had done, at least she would be alive to do so.

Victor finished another classic zombie movie and sighed when yet another one went without any kind of solution outside of getting the main group to relative safety. He wanted ideas for a cure, damn it, if he was just going to hide out/ride out this zombie thing then he would have done it already.

He sighed and turned off the TV so he could tip his head back against the cool metal walls of the lab and think.

It was… strange, seeing Hollywood’s determination to make zombies into mindless things, into nothing more than monsters.

But he understood, at least on some level.

It wasn’t like it was uncommon for humans to eat others if they got hungry – desperate – enough. Cannibalism was technically not illegal, the illegal part was how you got your hands on the ‘meal’. It was that way on purpose, so people that had survived things such as plane crashes wouldn’t go to jail just for surviving.

This… wasn’t a fact that people enjoyed hearing.

No one liked to confront the fragility of human morality.

Maybe that was why people were so disgusted with him in particular. Maybe they had seen themselves reflected in the glass encasing his head and had not liked what they had seen.

It was much easier to shy away from the truth.

To think of this case as an outlier. To look on in horror as the zombies turned on their last family member, little Matt who was nothing more than a child, the sound of their stomachs rumbling hard to distinguish from the low growling in their throats. To point at them and say it was because the family was no longer human.

But they were human.

What was more human than being selfish?

Victor hadn’t been expecting much response when he had walked into the lab with a grocery bag swinging on his wrist (he had run out of milk, a travesty, really), yelling “Honey, I’m home!” like a character on a sitcom, but he had certainly been expecting something. Ragged breathing, faint footsteps, the strange language that the zombies spoke in, anything.

But, no, the place was remarkably quiet.

Unsettlingly so, really.

He made his way through the lab carefully, free hand resting over the freeze ray on his hip. Usually, when things were this kind of quiet, it meant that something had gone wrong – that the bats were there.

But, no, the problem was somehow both better and worse:

The zombies had escaped.

The bars of their cage had been bent. A group effort. He supposed that it was on him – he had put four enhanced individuals into the same area and then left them to their own devices.

At least, it seemed that the zombies weren’t sticking around to try and get revenge. He couldn’t hear their shuffling feet or too-loud breathing. They had simply used the chance to escape (which, considering his freeze rays, was probably the smart choice).

Though, if they weren’t around anymore, that meant he would have to go through the trouble to find them. And quickly, so the bat wouldn’t notice what he was doing and come to stop his experiments on the grounds that they were ‘unethical’ or whatever. That would be annoying, he would have to break out of Arkham, move his whole base of operations, start over his experiments from scratch…

If he could, he would pinch the area between his brows.

All he could do was sigh deeply.

Even though he was the one that made the sound, it was jarring in the silence that had overtaken the lab.

It was then that he realized he couldn’t hear the faint bubbling of Nora’s cryogenic chamber.

He felt as if he had been caught in the beam of his own freeze ray.

“Nora!”

He raced to the upper level of the lab, where his wife’s body had been suspended in time.

But the glass was cracked.

He dropped the bag. Milk spilled across the floor.

(He wouldn’t cry.)

Nora stood just outside of the chamber, staring at it with a blank look on her face that he couldn’t fully attribute to the shock of being alive and – debatably – well again. Already, there was what looked to be tiny mushrooms sprouting from her forearm, trying to fix the damage that had been done. Her hair was a mess. Her skin was deathly pale.

She was a beautiful sight.

“Nora,” he breathed.

She seemed to snap out of whatever stupor she was in. She turned to look at him.

Victor wished that he had at least known to wear a suit.

But she smiled upon seeing him, and he suddenly couldn’t care less.

He raced forward, taking her face in his hands. It was warm and rough and perfect.

She tried to say something.

His face fell.

They… they couldn’t communicate.

Her own smile started to fade as the realization sunk in.

But then he was shaking his head and pressing his hand to her mouth.

She looked at him with wide eyes.

“Please,” Victor said, even if she couldn’t understand him. He couldn’t stand the idea of having Nora right there and yet being unable to talk to her. He had gone so long talking to nothing, and he couldn’t do it anymore. Not when the solution was right there. “Bite me, please.”

Nora looked at him for a long moment, pupils dilated and breathing heavy in the face of the ‘food’ being almost literally waved in front of her nose. She had to have been hungry, he knew, for she had only just been turned and there was no red around her lips signaling that she had found her way to the freezer, and he was touched that she was holding back to keep from hurting him… but he would give up himself – had in many ways already – several times over if it meant she would never have to feel discomfort or, god forbid, pain ever again.

And, besides, this meant he got to finally hear her voice again.

He pressed his hand against her mouth harder.

She hesitantly gave in, nibbling on his ring finger.

Despite the softness of the gesture, it didn’t take much to bite through the skin.

Warmth flooded slowly ebbed into him for the first time in years. It was like falling in love all over again, starting out slow, with a faint tingling spreading under his skin, and then all at once as it touched his heart.

“Nora?” he tried again, cautious.

She smiled, and he pretended not to notice the tears gathering in her eyes for then he would have to acknowledge that the warmth building behind his own was not actually due to the newfound zombie-ism.

“Hi, Victor,” she said.

And, surely, he must have been dreaming.

He pulled her into a hug, unable to keep the tiny bit of elated, maybe slightly hysterical laughter from bubbling out of him. She felt the way his chest vibrated with his glee and he touched her neck to feel the steady, but slightly-too-fast pulse thump-thumping there.

She was alive, in every way that mattered.

Finally.

Her hands wound their way up to his head, carefully detaching the dome around it and tossing it aside. The glass shattered and, with it, his composure. A broken sound tore from his throat and he buried his face in her hair to hide the tears rolling down his cheeks. He had finally stopped moving, and years-worth of heartbreak and grief managed to catch up to him all at once, mingling strangely with the relief that lingered in his chest, and despite everything, for the first time, he felt that he could finally breathe normally again.

Especially because he got to breathe in Nora’s scented perfume, still preserved from the last time he had talked to her. Got to breathe in the way it combined with a smell that was so distinctly her that he had never truly been able to replicate and, admittedly (horrifically), had been starting to forget after all this time away from her.

He squeezed her tighter and promised, silently, that he would never let her go again.

Victor led her over to the TV so they could finally watch a zombie movie together properly.

She curled into his side like she always did, though she fit slightly differently now that he had bulked up for his life of crime, but now there was more of him to hold her and he was so relieved that she was there at all that he almost forgot to mourn what had been.

He clicked on the TV and rewound the movie he had been watching.

And then he pressed play.

……. oh.

He cleared his throat, his face warming as the people on the TV talked in a language neither of them could make sense of.

Nora laughed quietly, her eyes crinkling with mirth as she curled into his hold more. “Whoops.”

“Whoops indeed,” he said with an awkward laugh and a hand that came to rub against the back of his neck.

She smiled brighter, coming to rest her head on his shoulder. “I’d prefer to talk to you, anyways.”

“O-oh?” He said, and forgive him for being off his game but he had been wifeless for many years.

“Mhmm,” she said easily, lacing their fingers together. Her eyes lingered on the singular mushroom cap that was beginning to sprout on the tip of finger for a moment before finding their way up to meet his gaze. She gave him a tiny laugh. “You know, when you said that you were going to find a way to save me or die trying, this really isn’t what I thought you had meant.”

He couldn’t help the sheepish grin that made its way across his face.

“I – I wanted to find a cure for… this –” he motioned vaguely to the mushrooms lining her arm “– before I infected you, but I guess Batman can deal with it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous and yet curious at the same time. “Batman? He’s real?”

“Oh, Nora, I have so much to catch you up on,” he said, and he couldn’t help his smile because he had been starting to worry that he would never be able to tell her anything again.

But here she was, bright and happy and warm and alive and speaking with him so easily:

“I would love that, Victor.”

He was more than happy to indulge her.

And, though he was now a zombie, he thought he hadn’t felt this human in quite a long time.

#something something fries' obsession is self destructive in nature #to the point where it's debatable whether the last scene is even true #whether he was imagining it to make himself feel better #he dropped the milk upon seeing the cryogenic chamber #but was nora really there? or was she horrified? did she leave? was she taken?#who knows what is canon #i don't even know #both were heavily considered #either way this bitch's mental state?? might not be the best #anyways enjoy i wrote this in like an hour after taking three tests in two days #so it might not be my best work #but frankly idc #anyways #dc #batman #rogues #rogues gallery #victor fries #mr freeze #mr. freeze #nora fries #the most fridged person to ever live #the biology is minorly inpsired by boyfriend of the dead on webtoon #because i know nothing about biology :) ignore the fact that i was the only person to pass my bio class last year #hurt/comfort #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #dc batman

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dioko · 4 years ago

Text

NOT JUST ANYONE.

izuku midoriya x gn! reader

Word Count -> ~ 1810

Genre -> oneshot, fluff

Content -> mildly suggestive (spice rating is 1.5/5), drunk reader, swearing, college au! characters, older reader and younger deku | please lemme know if i missed anything!

Summary -> You really did believe a certain Izuku Midoriya had his nose buried in his textbooks 24/7. Your first impression of him had led you to pin him as a downright nerd - boring and young and nowhere near your type.

a/n -> 1. idk about the cover page i jus thought deku looked cool there and the oneshot title is eh 2. this was in my drafts for a long, LONG time and today i finally got it to the point where i didn't hate it. enjoyy <333

Once, you really did believe a certain Izuku Midoriya had his nose buried in his textbooks 24/7. Your first impression of him had led you to pin him down as a nerd - boring, and young and nowhere near your type.

Boy, were you wrong.

The first time you’d met him, he’d smiled at you with such bright, green eyes, it was almost impossible not to smile back.

“Hello, l/n y/n, s’nice to finally meet you! I’m Midoriya Izuku!” He'd very obviously sunken his voice an octave lower, and whether that was on purpose or not, it was still cute. Still innocent, still pure.

Not attractive, whatsoever.

“Yeah,” you'd turned your attention back to your work,“it’s nice to meet you too.”

After that, your ever-so-impatient brother had rushed him into his room, and Midoriya had obliged - not before shooting you one last glance. In hindsight, there might’ve been something just a teeny bit darker that had resided in Midoriya's lively eyes.

Then, weeks passed.

Was it just you, or did college students grow really, really fast?

As he left your brother's work room for the millionth time that month, you found yourself noticing how different he looked compared to when you’d first met him. Now, when Izuku waved a (large, my god) hand at you, he looked taller, broader… older.

“See you," he chirped to his friend, bringing you back to the reality where he was most definitely not older than you.

Wake up, you're practically a senior citizen, you’d chided yourself, there’s no way he’s mature enough for you. Then, another side of you, presumably the devil that sat on your shoulder, tried to argue. You’re not much older, it said, he’s practically the same age as you.

“Oh wait- there was something I had to ask you, l/n-”

“S’fine, you can call me y/n, ‘Zuku.” you didn’t intend to call him something so intimate, the words just.... absent-mindedly slipped out your mouth.

Oopsies daisies!

“Oh! I - I can? Um… ah,” you watched, mildly entertained by the way he tripped up his words, all from a nickname, “we’re all going out tonight, and I was wondering if you wanted to come-”

“Who’s we?”

“Er- me, and… and your brother! And a few others!”

“Oh?” You couldn’t let yourself smile, not yet.

“It’ll be fun!” He sputtered, “a lot of um, a lot of… um, drinking?” It sounded more like a question than a persuasive statement.

You blinked. “Yeah sure, that sound’s good. I didn’t take you for someone who drank.”

“I don’t?”

“Then why are you going?”

“I thought it would be a good way to spend time with y- my friends.”

“Ah, your friends.”

“Yup,” he squeaked.

“Okay then!” You smacked him playfully on his arm - his large, extremely toned, t-shirt-stretching arm - and jolted him out of his fear, “I’ll see you then, ‘Zuku!”

Izuku Midoriya had a surprising number of friends.

He had, in a gentlemanly fashion, offered to walk with you to the bar (though your brother was there too) and when you stepped in, you were taken aback by the several people at your table.

Your guts told you to sit beside the angry one - he looked… fun.

“Who the fuck is this?” The blond talked like you weren’t there.

“Kacchan,” another blond - with a black streak in his hair - chided, “be nice to the pretty birdie!” Was he drunk already?

“Yeah, Kacchan,” you smirked, “respect your elders.”

The first blond just about exploded on the spot.

“Watch your mouth,” he seethed at you.

“Hot,” you muttered, unaware of evergreen eyes that couldn’t seem to peel themselves off your lips; your soft, pink, kissable lips.

“What the fuck?” Kacchan flinched back.

“Sorry,” you grinned, “I meant ‘little snot’.”

“Yeah? I’ll show you little sn-”

Four flirtatious advances from three of Izuku’s friends, two hours and 1 mental breakdown later, you were finally ready to go home - everyone was, really - but where was your brother?”

“Deku,” he’d hissed at the greenette, “I’m not going back to the apartment today, can you take-” he gestured towards you, slumped over a pile of food, “- that thing back to the apartment?”

Izuku opened his mouth, about to ask why he couldn’t but immediately shut up again when he realized it was more time he had to spend with you. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Don’t try anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna!” Awkwardly, Izuku scooched his way past Sero and Uraraka, trying to find a place to put his hands so he could lift you off the table. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Ah, ‘Zuku!” You gave him a cheeky grin, “you’re friends are so…” you watched Bakugou, “... cute. Have a drink!” It was almost laughable how quickly you changed from topic to topic. Almost. The only non-laughable part was that Bakugou seemed to be a recurring theme.

Izuku pursed his lips, “no, you’re drunk. One of us has to be clear-minded enough to take you home.”

“You’re so smart! Good boy,” you ruffled his hair with a sticky hand, and your rapid strokes fell to a halt when you realized how soft his green hair was. “Wow,” you whispered, “I love your hair. Lemme smell it-”

“NO, no. We’re going home.”

“We?” A smirk played on your lips.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you frowned when he didn’t stutter - he didn’t even go red. Izuku’s entire demeanor had changed; there was no nervous little college guy right now trying to talk to you, there was a friend (haha) genuinely trying to get you home safely. “Now c’mon, can you walk?”

You stood up and skipped a few steps. “Yup.”

“So, Izuku,” you didn’t bother to hide the fact that you were (very greedily) squeezing his biceps, “gotta girlfriend?”

“N-no.”

“... a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, and pulled you onto the wall-side of the sidewalk when a car drove by.

“Any significant other...ss?” You added the plural, just in case.

“No,” he smiled slyly at you, “why? Are you interested?”

You’d known him for months, but this was the first time he’d said something so forward, enough to make your cheeks flare so hot they felt cold.

“No way,” you spoke like it was obvious, and then quickly checked to make sure he didn’t look hurt. “Hey! Why do you look so amused?”

“M’not,” he turned his head, so you couldn’t see the smile.

“You are. Why?”

“Ah, I can’t say. We’re here,” he punched in the apartment code. “You should get ready for bed.”

There was a small, comfortable pause before drunk-you decided to ignore his advice and speak again. “So, do ya like anyone?”

“I like a lot of people,” Izuku smirked.

Smirked.

“N-no,” you played with the hem of your sweater, “I meant, do you like-like anyone?”

“Hm,” he thought for a second, “that’s a secret.”

“C’mon ‘Zuku! You can trust me!”

“I know that - gimme your coat,” he set it onto a nearby couch and began to flick on random lights, “I still can’t say it, though.”

“Why not?”

“Y/n,” you froze. He’d called you by your first name before, why did it feel so weird now?

“Yes?”

“I’m taking you to your bedroom.”

“You… you are?”

“You’ve got to sleep.”

Oh. Boringggg.

“I don’t wanna,” you hissed, flopping onto your bed anyways. He took a seat at the foot of it.

“Do you… do you ever remember anything once you're sober again?”

“Nope!” You knew you should’ve lied, but you didn’t, “m’friends say I don’t remember a single thing the next morning.”

He chuckled a little bit, almost in disbelief at you. “That’s not something you can just tell anyone.”

“I know, but you’re not just ‘anyone’.”

“I feel like I’m talking to a child.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “it’s kinda hot.”

“What?” Did you mishear? “How do you know what hot means?”

“Y/n! I’m not that young!” He laughed, “sheesh, that hurts.”

“Hurts?”

“Yeah,” he smiled coolly. After all, you weren’t going to remember this conversation.

“”Why does it hurt?”

“... No reason, don’t worry,” he laughs again, for the third time in a row, but it feels dry to you, and empty, too.

“So who do you like?” You chirped again, completely disregarding his ‘I’m pretty sure I just got brother-zoned’ ideology.

“I told you, that’s a secret…” then, he bit his lip, “... but you won’t remember anyways, right?”

“Yep!”

“Then... I like you.”

“Who?” You smiled.

“You.”

“Oh, I like you, too.”

“I like-like you.”

“I like-like you, too.”

“You’re drunk,” he smiled sadly, “sleep.”

“I want fruit.”

“Now? You want me to go get you fruit?”

“Please?”

You inhaled the bucket of raspberries, “anyways, I really do like you. You’re so small and cute.”

“I’m small?”

“No, you’re built like a tank,” you giggled. Sober-you would have called drunk-you an airhead, “I think you’re sexy as hell.”

“Yeah?”

You leaned closer to him. You were sure he could smell alcohol and sugar on your breath, but you didn’t care. “Yeah.”

“Then can I tell you something else?”

“Sure!”

“Kacchan annoys me so much,” he wiped off the juice that dribbled down your chin with his thumb, and you made the mistake of leaning into his touch, “especially when he flirts with you.”

“When’s he ever flirted with me?”

“Tonight,” Izuku pulled back, and you (embarrassingly) fell forward. “I didn’t like it.”

“Were you jealous?”

“Yes,” he admitted, and quite shamelessly - but only because you weren’t sober.

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” you cooed at him, and then randomly, “you remind me of bunnies!”

“That’s cute,” his voice was hoarse, “then, can you promise me something, bunny?”

You flushed hot. “That - that’s not what I meant, I meant you’re my bunny.”

“Sure,” he nodded along.

You shuffled yourself a little closer to him. This wasn’t the Midoriya Izuku you’d come to know, who was he? Why was he so different from the twitchy student who cared so much about his grades?

“What did you want me to promise?” It was a good idea to change the topic, you thought, for his sake, not your own. Definitely.

“Promise me you won’t let Kacchan get so close to you anymore,” he played with your fingers, “you can do that, right? You... can be a good bunny for me?”

“Mhm,” you couldn't refuse when he put it like that.

“Go to bed now, it’s late.”

“On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“Kiss me.”

Izuku paused. His eyes were on your lips, that was for sure, but he showed no sign of moving closer. “M’not gonna do that when you're drunk.”

You frowned.

“I’ll sit with you ‘till you're asleep. I’m not… touching you, though.”

“Manly,” you murmured.

“Human decency,” he corrected.

The greenette pulled your covers above your waist and moved to the desk chair in your room, “good night, y/n.”

It was a shame this would all be forgotten, and the two of you would be back to square one by morning.

a/n -> yes the nickname has everything to do with my URL and so what

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skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru · 4 years ago

Note

I'm not sure Gojo has ever even shown an interest to any girls.

He calls Utahime weak and teases her by making fun of her, essentially- which she hates. Mei Mei is incredibly strong and beautiful, and Gojo acknowledges her skill but that's it. I also noticed that in the anime (the manga doesn't have honorifics, so please correct me if I'm wrong) but he calls her Mei-san rather than Mei Mei. Therefore, I don't think he ever tried to get much closer to her than the interactions we've seen. When she asks him if he'd comfort her if she cried, he tells her that's she strong- she wouldn't cry. I thought it was interesting that while Mei Mei's question was slightly flirty, Gojo answered so simply, without any teasing.

He calls Shoko by her first name, which is understandable since they spend more time together being in the same grade. He realizes that her ability is rare and useful, but like with Utahime and Mei Mei he doesn't go any further than that. He mostly speaks to her about work related things and doesn't flirt or tease much at all.

Honestly, I think Gojo actually respects his female colleagues and mostly pokes fun at Utahime because she's so uptight and strict. Shoko and Mei Mei are more relaxed and self-assured, and Gojo recognizes their skills and compliments them for it rather than teasing them. I doubt Gojo really thinks Utahime is truly weak more than he just loves riling her up. Other than that, Gojo's pretty respectful.

Also, in the Hidden Inventory arc, Gojo was bombarded with screaming from all the girls excited to see him. Other than pulling his shades down so they could see his face- after they asked him to, btw- he didn't really do much else. He didn't even react much to the teacher giving him her phone number. His only comment was "what a fun school," and it's interesting to see that while lots of girls do appreciate his looks, he acts only mildly amused.

Other than that one model as his wallpaper, we don't really see Gojo flirt or show interest with anyone. He only really teases Utahime to piss her off- I suspect he hates how much she follows the rules like Nanami does, who he teases often as well. He likely just enjoys annoying people so stern because rules just don't sit well with him (especially because of what those "rules" had done to Geto).

It's just a possibility, but he could be one of those guys who's more interested in work than pleasure- I know, he's handsome, but not all handsome people are players and cheaters. I think that's a horrible stigma and a lot of attractive people irl are judged and criticized solely for their looks. People make too many assumptions on someone just based on their genes, and I think it's pretty shallow to think Gojo's a womanizer just because he's attractive. And he knows he's attractive- but when did being confident in yourself make you a philanderer? Gojo has never used his looks manipulatively at all.

It's definitely a possibility that he would be a womanizer, but I'd say it's unlikely based in what we've seen. To sum it all up, Gojo doesn't show interest in anyone. He teases Utahime often, likely for the same reason be teases Nanami- they're too uptight. Shoko and Mei Mei are both incredibly skilled and beautiful sorcerers, and he does acknowledge and compliment them for it, but he doesn't tease or flirt with them. He's respectful, and he works with them as his colleagues. He didn't get distracted by the teen girls fawning over him either, or suddenly get overtly cocky or show off, only sliding his glasses down so they could see his face, and even then he acted only mildly amused. Also, when Miwa asked him for a picture, he didn't even stay and chat with her or anything (I know she's a minor, but if he truly was a womanizer, he would have at least stayed to hear her compliment him or anything to feed his ego) Maybe ask her "Oh, you want a picture with me? The strongest? How cute~" A flirty comment, a joke, something to fuel his own ego, but he doesn't do that. He doesn't act in a way that conveys he openly pursues attention from women. He just takes the picture with her and walks off casually.

Therefore, other than the fact that he's handsome- and I know many people who would assume things about someone based on their attractiveness, which is a terrible stereotype- Gojo doesn't show much interest in flirting at all. He could be the type of guy who works more than plays- and there's plenty of guys who are handsome but aren't super interested in playing around. Being handsome doesn't automatically mean he's the type to sneak around and have affairs here and there. It's completely realistic for a handsome man to be uninterested in any kind of relationships- not all men are sex crazed, and being a tease to his friends doesn't make Gojo a flirt either. Teasing your friends is perfectly normal.

Therefore, Gojo being a 28 year old virgin is totally possible- not everyone's a sex crazed teen who only thinks about what's between their legs, and basing it on what normal Japanese teens do is unfair. Neither Gojo or his lifestyle is exactly normal, and there's definitely barriers when it comes to experiencing normal youth activities for Gojo's generation- especially Gojo's generation. Yuji's generation definitely has more freedom to do fun things because of what Gojo has done to give the youth more freedom- things he hasn't been able to experience himself in his youth, like playing baseball during the exchange event. That was the first time they ever did something different to tradition, and that was only because of Gojo's consideration.

Gojo's youth was filled with blood, exorcising, and choosing between life and death. The deaths Yuji and co. witnessed were what Gojo experienced as well, if not worse. Gojo's task in his youth was to protect the weak, and he found that burdensome. At least, until Geto betrayed them, and Gojo realized the new burden he had to bear in changing the Jujutsu world because of what it had done to his only best friend.

There are definitely more important things in Gojo's mind than just losing his virginity, like saving people and choosing who to save, whether he should kill or not kill.

Gojo is the strongest, but he also bears the biggest burden- and that burden is something he chose to bear, and being the strongest is something he chose to be. Because before Geto left, it was "We are the Strongest." Now, Gojo worked tirelessly so that he could say "I am the Strongest."

And that's not something you can do while sleeping around. I think a lot of people fail to recognize just how hard Gojo works for himself and others. They just think, oh he's the strongest, so it should be easy for him. But it's really, really not that simple, is it? Especially when you have to do it on your own, and even then Gojo realizes that his strength alone isn't enough to save people. He can't save everyone by himself- It's not enough for just him to be the Strongest, so he works diligently to build and inspire his students to stand with him.

He's actually a very deep and emotional man who cares about his students and especially, even now, his best friend. Everything he does is for their sake- he sacrifices the normal life he could have lived, like Nanami had done, for their sake. And he fights with the higher ups, takes the brunt of their ire, and laughs it off, acting as if he fine, like a dad pretending he's superman for his kid's sake. But Gojo is burdened, and he's tired, and he hardly sleeps, and he has the most missions- he's the Strongest, which means everyone needs him, and he bears it.

Sorry for ranting again tho. I think I went into two different topics lol oops- 🤔

OUR SAVIOR 🤔 EDUCATING PEOPLE pay attention ya'll another thing I've noticed in the latest episode is that in his phone contacts he actually writes Utahime's name properly like formally no emojis or teasing shit he actually sees them as his colleagues people he can rely on his field of work and yes about the whole thing when he bursted into riko's class man was absolutely clueless just silent as a teacher tries to give him his number. I'm pretty sure as a child Gojo wasn't allowed to attend public schools due him being in danger or putting others in danger so he doesn't know much about public schools or normal people in general since he spends all his time with people from the jujutsu society.

That is definitely true just because someone is good looking that doesnt mean he's some cheap womanizer. I see a lot of people shipping him and Utahime together which is understandable ship who you like but I don't think Gojo as any ulterior motives like wooing Utahime by teasing her he just is plainly teasing ya know like friends do but in this case Utahime hates his guts and he doesnt know. I mean it takes some amount of hate to try to throw hot tea at someone 😂

While certainly I agree Gojo's teen like wasn't the best it was like he literally had a full time job at that age but who's to stay he didn't go messing around one time? I'm sure during his teen days he wanted to experience things he didnt get to to but now could because he lives on his own now. But maybe he didnt at all who knows? Which also raises another question, I wonder if he has any romantic experiences? And this was all before what happened in the hidden inventory arc after that I can see him more becoming invested in his duty and with what happened with geto as well would of definitely had a huge impact on him to try harder even though hes the strongest so that the next generation wouldn't have to experience the things he went through.

It's really sad if you really think about it what hes been through and what he has to shoulder all while keeping the facade that he's okay, I bet there were times he cursed his powers and his life....but he bears with it anyways because everyone is counting on him....

And don't be sorry at all! I am actually really learning alot about Gojo from you. Please continue to tell us your thoughts and feelings. I don't mind at all ❤ and thank you for taking the time to write 💕

#gojo discussions #virgin or not?#gojou satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk imagines #gojo satoru x reader #skipps chat

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tangledstarlight · 3 years ago

Text

oh all of this silence and patience (oh im pining in anticipation)

listen it’s still august in some timezones so this totally counts as posting something in august okay? okay! i hope people like this, it took me far too long to finish, but also special shoutout to the wonderful @ourstarscollided who really helped me with the whole first section of this fic, without her i truly would still be working on it, so thank you eunice, you’re the best!💜 okay enjoy!

the first firefighter!luke fic for anyone who wants to read that first, though it can be read alone: ao3 / tumblr

also on ao3!

lil disclaimer: i’m still not a firefighter and i also know that they dont use fire poles anymore but lets just ✨pretend�� for the visual okay. this takes place between part 4 and 5 in the original fic!

trigger warnings! lots of swearing, implied sexual content.

RATED T –– there’s no graphic scenes but there’s a lot of kissing and fading to black, so rating might change if anyone needs me to 😬

Word count: 6,072

“Look who it is!”

Julie feels a grin pull up on the corners of her mouth as she spots Luke’s station captain coming around the end of one of the fire trucks Julie is walking between, sending her a wave of the clipboard she’s holding. “You’re here early.”

“Yeah, class ended early and I thought I'd pop over to see if I could get some extra time with Luke,” Julie shrugs, holding up the pale grey burlap bag that Alex had packed their food into.

And there’s a sympathetic look that crosses over Harrison’s face, because she knows that the younger woman knows she’s in charge of Luke’s shifts and the reason why Julie comes over every Tuesday to have lunch with her boyfriend.

Because that’s why she was here. To have lunch with him like she did every Tuesday between her classes and when the fires of LA would allow. Sometimes Alex would text her to stop by to pick up a packed lunch for them, sometimes she made something herself, sometimes they just ordered in. The food wasn’t really the point, it was just getting to spend some time together. Julie had never really thought about it before, but there was always something, someone, somewhere, trapped or hurt or on fire. Luke was a very busy person, and it meant sometimes their lunches got interrupted by blaring alarms and him pressing a quick kiss to her lips before rushing off.

Tuesdays were apparently very busy days for a firefighter.

“What’s the master chef prepared for you this week then?” Harrison asks, crossing her arms and clipboard across her chest and lifting one brow, “Y’know Alex used to cook for us, he’d send Luke in every Saturday he was on shift with all sorts of goodies.”

Julie bites her lip to try not to laugh at the exaggerated sigh that leaves the older woman's lips as she shakes her head sadly. There was something about Vivian Harrison that just— put people at ease. The first time Julie had officially met her there had been a warm hug and teasing remarks and there was just something that had viscerally reminding Julie of her aunt Victoria that it was kind of impossible not to like the station captain after that.

“He was pretty busy so it’s just some sandwiches,” she wrinkles her nose a little before smiling, “I’ll tell him how much you’re missing his cooking though, I’m sure the blame will fall completely on Luke.”

Harrison laughs, and tilts her head slightly as she shrugs, “That boy of yours is just very easy to blame.”

She feels a sudden flush to her cheeks at ‘that boy of yours’ that she hopes can be played off by how warm it always is in the station. She can see Harrison’s lips twitching, like she’s about to say something teasing, but Julie is saved from it by two people walking past them and a change of mind.

“Morales, can you tell Patterson his lunch is here.”

“Sure thing Cap,” one of the guys says, shooting her a wide smile that Julie feels compelled to return quickly before he’s rushing off, past the fire engines and up some stairs. And Julie’s about to ask Harrison if they’ve been busy today and if she’d found time to visit the farmers market they’d talked about last time, but another voice interrupts, and Julie hadn’t even realised the other guy hadn’t followed his friend.

“So you’re Patterson’s girl, right?” The blonde asks, eyes scanning her up and down in a way that makes her want to hide behind someone. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, probably because she’s seen him in passing for the last couple of months but never talked to him. Which wouldn’t have been weird if most of the other people in the station hadn’t introduced themselves the first time Luke had invited her to one of their station parties, and made an effort to talk to her whenever she'd stopped by since.

“Yeah, I’m Julie,” she smiles politely, trying to put emphasis on her name. She doesn't mind being known as Luke's girl by people at the station who have actually made an effort to get to know her.

“Right, right, nice to meet you Julie. I’m Nick, I’m sure Luke’s mentioned me,” he grins, teeth showing and shoulders pulling back like he’s expecting her to — what? Clap? A small furrow works its way between her brows as Nick starts up a conversation without even waiting for her response and she suddenly understands what Luke means about him. Because he has mentioned the condescending, stereotypical blonde frat boy before, and never in a good way. It was mostly followed by some very creative swear words and a mumbled ‘he’s going to get either himself or one of us really hurt one day’.

She tries to follow along with the conversation, nodding politely and laughing whenever Harrison forces one out, but Nick only seems interested in talking about himself, and normally she can feign interest, but right now all she wants is to talk to one person in particular.

There’s the sound of too many voices heading in their direction and Julie turns around, eyes searching for one person, but all she’s met with is a collection of firefighters she vaguely knows and tries not to let her disappointment show too clearly on her face.

“Wow Molina, don’t look so excited to see us!” An elbow nudges her side and Julie glances up to see Carrie Wilson has appeared in the place that Nick had just stood, eyebrows raised and a blinding smile as the other blonde frowns from behind her, still trying to carry on his conversation.

“No! I am glad to see you all it’s just—” Julie starts, eyes a little wide as she looks at the other girl because Carrie had only ever been nice to her, but Luke had a lot of stories about the blonde being ruthless and rude to people she was mildly inconvenienced by.

(One of Luke’s favourite stories was about Carrie loudly telling some girl that Nick was flirting with how he had used the same lines on her two months before. Luke told it every chance he could get, sparing no details on the look of horror that has taken over Nick’s face.)

“You’re here for Patterson,” Carrie cuts her off with a wink, elbow nudging her lightly again, “Don’t worry, we all know. He should be down soon.” There’s something about how she says it that raises more questions than answers for Julie, furrow between her brows and mouth opening to comment when Carrie just nods her head behind her, and Julie turns around to spot Luke.

It’s impossible, Julie knows it’s impossible, but she could swear time slows down. Like she’s in some rom-com movie where the main character sees their love interest for the first time.

Only she’s not in a film, she’s stood next to a fire engine and trying to care about what the people around her are talking about and it’s far from the first time she’s seen the love interest. But the world still feels like it’s in slow motion all the same as she looks up as Luke calls her name from the second floor, grinning at her from over the banister and holding up one hand in that universal signal for ‘wait’.

And Julie waits, not that she could really do anything else with the firehouse blurring at the edges and Nick's voice fading into the background. Focus entirely on Luke.

She’s never seen someone slide down the pole before, didn’t even know that they still used them in firehouses, but Julie’s pretty sure it shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Though, she supposes, it could just be Luke. His hand wraps around the metal and Julie swallows as her eyes are drawn to his arms, to where his top pulls tight and his forearms are on show. If this was a film, there’d be some stereotypical song about sex playing in the background right about now. All her slightly hazy brain can supply is the chorus to Lady Marmalade on repeat. His legs wrapped around the pole, ankles crossed and thighs pressed together, comes into view as he slides down the metal, all cool and in control, and Julie's throat goes dry.

She knows how much strength it takes to slide down a pole. Her and Flynn had taken a few pole dancing classes a few years ago in an attempt to add some sort of exercise into their day. Julie can still remember how much her arms ached and the bruises that littered the insides of her thighs after even the simplest of moves.

It was hard, and Luke was making it look so easy.

His feet hit the ground, and even though she’s too far away to actually hear it, she’s pretty sure they must make some sort of thudding sound. Because that’s what happens, right? You slide down the pole and your feet hit the floor with a thud that shows you’re ready for action. Only Luke isn’t going off to put on his uniform and fight a fire or save a life.

He’s walking towards her, suspenders swaying and smile widening and eyes never leaving her face.

And look, she knows that she’s seen Luke fully naked, fresh out of a shower or panting on his back. But seeing him slide down that fucking pole in his white t-shirt, suspenders by his knees and hair a mess? Hottest thing she has ever seen. And he knows it if the way his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he gets closer is anything to go by.

“How long did it take you to practice all that, Patterson?” Carrie asks, and Julie can hear the teasing tone in her voice and would normally enjoy seeing Luke stammer and blush, but right now she’s the one feeling too warm and is pretty sure if she started speaking right now all that would come out would be a high pitched noise.

“About the same amount of time it takes you to do your hair,” is his easy reply and Julie watches as Carrie rolls her eyes, hair flipping over her shoulder, and because he’s momentarily not looking at her, Julie tries to pull her thoughts together. To get a hold of herself. This is not the first time she has seen him in his uniform, she has seen in him in far less, and she will not turn into a blushing mess right now!

“Alright you lot, back to work!” Harrison interrupts before anyone can say anything else, and everyone starts walking away, some nudging Luke as they go, some giving her a wave, and she thinks she must smile back, at least she hopes she does. Her brain is still very much focused on Luke and how his thighs probably looked coming down that pole without the heavy duty trousers. “You tell Alex I’m still a fan of the flapjack he makes,” Harrison says as she walks past, dropping an eye into a wink and giving Luke a look she doesn’t understand.

A tense smile pulls at Julie’s lips that she hopes comes across as genuine and not just her unable to speak because of her incredibly hot and infuriatingly knows it boyfriend.

“You alright, Jules? Looking a little flushed, need me to get one of the EMT’s?” Luke asks, all innocence and anything but subtle as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, teeth still chewing on his damn lip.

“Just—” she clears her throat, trying to glare up at him, but already knowing it’s ruined by the heat in her cheeks and how she can’t stop staring at his arms. God, she hasn’t been this distracted by his arms since their first date. Blowing out a breath, Julie drags her eyes away from where his arms are crossed across his chest — which, she’s like, 80% sure he’s doing on purpose right now, the little shit — and up to his face just as he raises an eyebrow at her.

“It’s just a little warm,” she finally manages to get out, raising her hand that’s clutching the reusable grocery bag too tight, “Alex sent me with lunch.”

Luke’s eyes light up at the mention of Alex and food, hands dropping from his chest to eagerly reach for the bag and Julie can’t help but giggle at how quickly he can switch from cocky to cute.

“Swee-et! Alex is best,” he grins down at her, drawing out the first syllable of the word and bobbing his head at her. “You wanna eat outside?”

Julie doesn’t respond, just nods her head and links her fingers through his empty hand, letting Luke lead her out of the fire station and to the little grassy area outside. There’s already a blanket on the ground, two bottles of water and a warmth spreads through her for a different reason as Luke pulls her down to the ground and spreads out the food Alex has given them.

They get an hour.

An hour to eat lunch and curl up together to talk and giggle and try to keep their hands visible at all times. It’s both her favourite and the most tortuous hour of her week so far. And Luke’s just leaning in to whisper something in her ear, his breath against her cheek sending shivers down her spine when the alarm starts blaring from inside and his head drops to her shoulder with a sigh that mingles with her own groan.

“I gotta go,” he mutters into the fabric of her t-shirt, and she can imagine how his lips would feel brushing against her skin if they were somewhere else right now.

“I know,” she sighs and carefully moves her shoulder so he has to lift his head up, eyes apologetic as they meet hers. “Be careful?”

“Always am,” Luke smiles gently at her and then he’s getting up and leaving her on the blanket and feeling the loss. Julie watches him go, knees pulled up to her chest and blowing him a kiss when he turns around to wave one last time like he always does when the alarm inevitably ends their lunch date early.

Which normally Julie was fine with.

He was at work. He had a job. He had an important job.

Running out in the middle of lunch was fine. And it would have been fine today, if he hadn’t slid down that damn pole and filled her head with all sorts of ideas and left her fidgeting in her seat. It doesn’t help that Luke clearly knows, if the way he presses a kiss to her forehead and mutters a sorry, eyes a little wide and promises to see her later.

Which is all well and good, but Julie can’t help but feel like he did it on purpose and wonders if there’s a way for her to make him feel just as flustered as she had an hour earlier.

It takes her a while to form a plan of revenge, and then it takes a while longer for her to gather all the things she needs. And okay, maybe at some point she forgets why she’s doing all this, and then Luke mentions the pole at the station and how it makes his muscles ache sometimes as he says he’s going for a shower and Julie remembers the sight of him coming down and redoubles her planning.

The hard part comes when she has to pick a day. Because she can’t lure him to her house, not while her dad is working odd hours and her brother is home and Victoria still has a tendency to show up unannounced. Which leaves finding a time when his apartment is empty.

Not an easy feat when Reggie works from home part time, and can’t actually be trusted to stick to his word when he says he’ll be out and Alex has a weekend routine he’s hard pressed to change and likes to get home from work and relax. Plus she has to check when Luke isn’t working on a weekend, which turns out to be the easiest part, because it turns out Harrison really likes her and was happy to schedule Luke a weekend off when she asked.

Sure, she could have enacted her plan while one or both of them were home too but, well Julie knows the boys are all very close, and she knows that they’ve accepted her into the closeness with welcome arms. But she’s not sure she wants to have sex while they’re eating leftover lasagna down the hall. Feels a little too close for her liking. Plus, she has a plan that might end up involving their bath and she’s not sure they’d want to be there for that.

So Julie bides her time. Changes her mind on what clothes she wants and practices different poses on her bed at night and drops little hints about a weekend alone together.

Alex makes plans first, announces that he’s going with Willie to an out of state kids skateboarding competition to help cheer on Willie’s little proteges. He makes a big deal out telling them all the dates and how they had plans to go to some couples spa on their way back and how his restaurant would be ‘more than happy to supply any meals for two that you two might want’.

It had gone over Luke’s head, just nodding and asking about the competition. But Julie had gotten the hint.

And then a few days later Reggie said he had ‘big plans’ with her dad and brother of all people. He’d said it one afternoon when she’d stopped by to see Luke before his week of night shifts, how they were going to go camping so her dad could take some photos for a project and Reggie could teach Carlos to fish, and then he’d dropped his eye in a dramatic wink when she’d asked if that was the same weekend Alex was also away.

(Julie knew that she probably should have found it a little weird how often Reggie seemed to talk and hang out with her family, but the first time she’d gotten home to find him sitting at the dining room table, helping her dad edit photos and offering to order pizza, had felt strangely right.

Like he had always been a part of their family.

Luke had asked her once, a few weeks after they first started dating if it was okay. If she didn’t mind that Reggie had seemed to attach himself to her family. He never explicitly said anything, but she’d known him long enough by then to see the hints, the secrets she wasn’t aware of yet. Of lonely childhoods and something lacking. The hints that he’d found that with her family. And even if she hadn’t been fine with it already, she wasn’t about to stop Reggie. The Molina’s had never been shy about taking in lost souls.)

So apparently she hadn’t been quite as subtle as she thought she’d been with her hints. Both boys clearly conspiring to get her a weekend alone with their best friend. Julie’s just glad that Luke clearly hasn’t noticed. Or if he hadn’t, hadn’t teased her about it.

And that their apartment is empty when she uses her key to let herself in on Friday evening, Hotdog already waiting by the shoes for Luke, head tilted as she looks up mewling softly in disappointment.

“Sorry sweetie, he’ll be home soon though,” Julie mummers, bending down to scratch behind the cat's ears before stepping out of her shoes, which Hotdog happily moves to sit on top of instead. “Be sure to make a big fuss when he gets in so I know, alright?”

Hotdog doesn’t respond, just fixes her eyes back on the front door to wait for Luke, and Julie moves further into the apartment, laughing quietly at the plate of brownies Alex or Willie have clearly left out for them on the counter, blushing slight as she reads the short message scrawled on a post-it note,

‘Don’t mess up my kitchen ;)’

She tries not to let herself think too hard or long about how clearly they all knew about her grand plans for the night. And the next day, and hopefully the whole weekend if things went according to plan.

Picking up the plate on her way through the kitchen, Julie shrugs out of her coat to leave on the back of one of the kitchen stools, because if Luke missed her shoes in the hall, he won't miss this, and she’s really hoping he’ll get the hint to head towards his bedroom. By the time she’s made it to Luke’s room she’s lifted the cellophane off the plate and taken a bite from one of the brownies. Definitely Willie who’d baked them, he was always doubling up the chocolate content. Where Alex was experimental in the kitchen, Willie was a traditionalist who believed chocolate was the best way to set a mood. Julie couldn’t really fault his logic as she moves into Luke’s room.

His room looks the same as it had the first time she’d seen it. Only now there’s a bottle of her perfume on his dresser, and some of her clothes on his ‘laundry’ chair, and polaroids of the two of them stuck in the corners of the photo frames of him and the boys. And Julie knows if she thinks about it, that her room at her dad's house is also littered with pieces of him as well, and she knows it’s only been a few months, but it feels like years. Like her life had been full of all these little gaps she’d never noticed until they were filled with Luke.

Putting the plate down, she starts moving around his room. Pulling out the firefighting coat he’d brought home a few weeks ago because he’d found a rip in the shoulder, rooting through his wardrobe for the plain blue cut off she’d seen the last time she was over and laying them out on his bed. Tilting her head, Julie mentally puts together her outfit one more time. Shorts, suspenders, Luke’s cut-off, coat, maybe the shoes? She bites her lip and decides to come back to it, to see how everything looks on.

It’s strange, Julie thinks as she clips one side of her suspenders to her shorts, how nervous she is about this. It’s not like this is the first time they’ll have slept together, but it is the first time she’s done anything like this. Dressed up in something other than a pretty dress for dinner that he’d taken great care of taking off her.

What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was weird? What if he got home and was too tired to do anything? He’d been at work all day, after a long week of working, maybe she should change her plans and do it tomorrow night? What if—

She cuts her own thoughts off with a groan, sitting down on the end of Luke’s bed to take a breath and fiddle with knee high sheer socks dotted with little stars that she’d ordered online. Logically, Julie knows that Luke will like this, that he’ll look at her with those eyes of his that can’t hide a single emotion and smile at her slowly and call her beautiful.

Because he’d been complimenting her since their first date, and every day since. Little things and big changes and all the between. He really did seem to like her just as much dressed up and with make-up on as he did when she’d just woken up on a morning with her hair a mess and pillow creases still on her cheeks.

And that in itself was scary.

Because he liked her for her and didn’t need her to change. She’d never really dated anyone before who didn’t want her to be less invested in music or spend less time with her family or who didn’t like Flynn or even one guy who thought she should try a different scent of shampoo. They’d all been relationships littered with red flags, big and small.

But not even Flynn could find a real warning sign about Luke. Maybe he was a little co-dependant on his friends, but neither of them could say anything because they were a little co-dependant too. And maybe he could be a little over enthusiastic, but he also knew when to give her space. He had a stable job and good friends and was cute and lived in a nice area and he had a cat.

And, once upon a time, he had had a similar dream to her.

One of the things Flynn had managed to dig up on him during her ‘background’ check was an old low quality video on youtube of three boys in a garage playing instruments that looked too big for them but taking the whole thing seriously. Voices cracking on the cover of Summer of ‘69 they were playing, but Julie had seen the way they grinned at each other, at the way a younger Luke had bounced around the small space and Reggie had rocked on his feet and Alex had thrown a drumstick in the air and caught it again. They were kids, but they were talented and it's at that moment that Julie realises Luke was right. They could have made it.

She wonders what would have happened if fate hadn’t intervened in the form of a fire. She’s pretty sure Luke has wondered the same thing too. He doesn’t talk about it much and Julie’s never sure how much to push because he seems happy in his life and choices. And plus, if it hadn’t been for a fire in a record store, there’s a chance they wouldn’t have met.

Julie frowns a little at that thought as she rolls on her second sock over her knee and stands up, straightening out her shorts and twisting the side of Luke’s cut off up and tying it into a knot. She’s never been the biggest believer in fate since her mom died but she thinks there’s something a little like fate that’s pulled them together. And she thinks they’d have met with a fire or without a fire, with music or without.

She wrinkles her nose at herself in the mirror at that thought, rolling her eyes at how cheesy it sounds even to herself. Fate and destiny, who did she think she was? They were just two people lucky enough to find each other.

An alarm goes off on her phone to tell her she’s got half an hour before Luke is due home and this is her last chance if she wants to change her mind.

Tilting her head a slightly to the side, Julie takes in her high waisted shorts, red suspenders dangling by her thighs, the way her t-shirt cinches at her waist and reveals just a strip of skin above her shorts where she knows Luke likes to rest his hands when he pulls her close. She’d taken extra care with her curls and all she had to do was apply some lipstick and touch up her eyeliner and she’d be ready.

It’s Flynn’s voice in the back of her head as she tucks curls behind her ears to lean a little closer to her reflection and, as she pulls back, smacking her lips once before letting them rest in a pout, she can’t help but reiterate it, “I do look hot.”

The front door shuts and Julie can hear Hotdog meowing and Luke’s muffled voice down the corridor as she’s pulling his coat over her shoulders. It’s far too big for her, hanging below her knees and she has to roll the sleeves up three times to free her hands, but the collar smells like smoke and metal and Luke and his last name is written across the right hand side and his station across her back.

That was the part that Flynn had said would really get him — his name on her. Luke wasn’t exactly possessive, but she and Flynn had agreed there was just something about it that was A Lot, in a good way. (Unlike buying a pole and installing it in Luke’s room for a weekend, that was A Lot, in a bad way. Her plan had gone through many different phases before settling on this one. Luckily, it was also the cheapest.)

“Jules?” Luke calls and Julie bites her lip as she carefully climbs on to his bed, and kneels in the middle before changing her mind and crawling off the other side to stand next to it instead.

“I’m in here,” she calls back and she hears something dropping to the floor, probably his bag she guesses, and then his footsteps sounding down the hall.

Julie’s glad she opted for the shoes, just simple black heels, but they give her an extra lift and something more for Luke to look at as he opens his bedroom door. She has one knee slightly bent and resting on her toes, coat sleeves hiding the way her hands are balled up at her sides and one shoulder raised a little higher than the other as she tilts her head at him, biting her lip.

He freezes in the doorway, mouth partly open like he’d been about to say something only to get lost somewhere between his brain and vocal chords as his eyes seem to lock on to the coat she’s wearing before traveling down to her bare legs and Julie watches him swallow, adam's apple bobbing. Just as his eyes get back up to her face she moves one hand to tuck her coat behind her hip and hook her thumb under her suspenders in a way she’s seen him do countless times.

And it gets the reaction she wants, his eyes zeroing in on her hand and tracing up the line of red that covers her chest. Luke’s tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip as he blinks and finally drags his eyes back up to her face, pupils blown wide and she watches as he lets out a heavy breath.

“Hi,” she breathes out, and almost immediately regrets it. She's trying for sexy but thinks it just comes across as gasping. Which she hopes she’ll be eventually at some point tonight, but would at least like to be touched a little first.

“You—” Luke starts, and his voice is rough like he’s not used it in hours so he swallows again and Julie’s momentarily distracted by the way his throat moves before his speaking again, “Is that my coat?”

“Maybe,” Julie shrugs, turning slightly so she can pull at the collar of the coat to peer down at the name stitched in the fabric, “Oh look, it does say your name. Would you like me to take it off?” She blinks up at him with a soft smile.

Julie doesn’t know if it’s the smile or her words or just everything about the moment, but Luke lets out a low groan and before she can even blink he’s stood in front of her, hands on her hips and fingers brushing against her strip of visible skin, just like she knew he would. And she’s thankful for the heels all over again when it gives her the little extra height that means Luke doesn’t have to bend down quite so far to brush his lips across her cheek.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, lips ghosting along her jaw and Julie has to rest her hands against his chest to steady herself as her legs already feel wobbly. If she didn’t love him, she’d almost hate him for how easily he can affect her.

“Luke,” she whines as he continues to avoid her lips and trails one hand up his chest to wrap around his neck, fingers winding into his hair to tug lightly which only results in making him huff a laugh against the skin below her ear before giving in and pulling back.

“So,” he starts, press a light kiss to her cheek again again, “fucking,” he kisses the corner of her lips, “beautiful.” And he finally presses his lips to hers, soft at first and then she nips lightly at his top lip and he flexes his fingers against her hip, tugging her a closer with her suspenders to deepen the kiss.

Julie walks them backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of his bed and Luke takes the lead from there, lowering her down without breaking the kiss. He pulls away just enough to gasp for a breath, and she looks up at him, chest heaving and takes her chance to start her own teasing trail of kisses up his neck and across his jaw.

“Fuck,” he mutters and Julie smiles as she sucks lightly at his neck and sees the red mark her lipstick has left behind. She just hopes it lasts long enough for her full plan.

“This was because of the pole thing a few weeks ago, right?” Luke asks a few hours later as they lie in the middle of his bed, blankets half pushed to the floor and Julie’s spent the last five minutes kicking her legs back and forth to try and dislodge the reminder from covering her legs without having to turn around or sit up. She’s perfectly comfortably lying on her front, licking chocolate off her fingers from one of the brownies that Alex and Willie had been correct in leaving for them.

“Maybe,” she tries to shrug, but it’s awkward in this position and she quickly gives up to just look at him from under her lashes with a smile.

Luke laughs, his fingers trailing up and down her arm and over her shoulder a few times before he sits up slightly and leans over to press a kiss to her shoulder, “If I’d known it would cause such a reaction I would have slid down that pole in front of you months ago.”

“It might have still taken us months to get to this. Your roommates have very annoying schedules,” she shakes her head sadly and she thinks her hair has to be hitting him in the face, but he doesn’t say anything, just carefully gathers it in one hand to drape over her other shoulder, his lips still brushing soft kisses across her skin.

“Yeah. I’d get rid of them if Alex didn’t feed me for free and Reggie didn’t get us so many free tickets to stuff,” he sighs, breath blowing against her skin as his nose nudges over her shoulder blade until his lips follow and his rest his chin on her shoulder, and all she has to do is turn her head a little to find his eyes on her lips. “Though it would be so worth it for weekends like this.”

“Guess we should just make the most of this one first, huh?”

It’s a little awkward, and Luke must be uncomfortable with his torso twisted like it is, but it’s easy to kiss Luke, and to roll over until she can push him back down until his back hits the mattress and she can hover over him instead.

“You sound like you have a plan,” Luke comments, and his hands rest on her hips, fingers tapping against her as he looks up at her with those damn eyes of his. The ones that can’t hide a single thought or emotion. And all she can see is love, and okay yeah, probably a lot of lust.

“There might have been some bullet point list involved,” she shrugs one shoulder, her hair slipping over as she moves and Luke’s fingers flex against her, squeezing one hip as he lets out something that sounds halfway between a laugh and a groan.

“That shouldn’t be this hot,” he shakes his head, but his eyes are still shining and Julie loves him.

So she tells him. And kisses him. And wonders if it’s too soon to suggest they spend all their weekends together forever.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp fics #julie molina #luke patterson #jukebox #jatp #firefighter!luke au #serioulsy what else am i supposed to tag fics on here ghfj #*fics #i post this then i go to bed. enjoy and goodnight 😌

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ibijau · 3 years ago

Note

Here's a prompt: Lan Xichen somehow dies while in seclusion—or at least that's what the rumors say—and Nie Huaisang deals with the consequences. And heartbreak. As the saying goes, you don't realize how much you love someone until they're gone.

Okay, if that sort of plot interests you, do yourself a favour and check Between the Shadow and the Soul which is exactly that. It's an amazing xisang fic, I cannot recommend it warmly enough!

And now:

Warning in this fic for a lot of references to suicide and depression

It struck Nie Huaisang as interesting that he felt so little about the whole thing. His reaction upon learning the news had been first to dismiss it as a joke in poor taste. Once it had been confirmed, and his presence had been required, he'd been too busy planning his trip to give it much thought. Then he'd arrived in the Cloud Recesses, just in time for the funeral, and gone through the motions of what was expected of him. At most he'd felt mildly when asked to keep vigil, as if there was still any connection between them. He'd only agreed for the sake of appearances, refused to look at the body, and gave his seat to the next mourner as soon as was polite.

The ceremony itself was conducted to perfection, as could be expected of the Lans. Every word was said the right way, every gesture graceful. It was almost a beautiful thing to behold, Nie Huaisang distantly thought. Lan Qiren's monotone voice was better suited for such events than for teaching, certainly. And Lan Wangji had always looked his best when in the throes of loss and despair. Sadness just became those Lans a little too well, as if they'd been born for tragedy.

Perhaps they were.

Nie Huaisang did not dwell on the subject, and allowed time to pass him by until at last the ceremony was entirely over. He would have gone home right then if he could have, his duty accomplished, but it would have been noticed and discussed. Nie Huaisang did not want to get mixed up in the gossip that was sure to spread around after this.

“Did they tell anyone what he died of?” Sect Leader Yao asked in a too loud whisper while waiting for the refreshment promised to the guests.

“I've only heard that because of his seclusion, it took them several days to even notice he had passed,” Sect Leader Ouyang replied. Then, noticing Nie Huaisang standing alone nearby, he gestured at him to join them. Nie Huaisang tried to pretend he hadn't seen them, but it was in vain as Sect Leader Ouyang called him by name until he couldn't be ignored anymore. “Join us please! You were his friend, weren't you? Surely you must know more than us.”

It was a sign of the hollowness that had seized Nie Huaisang since learning of the news that he did not laugh. What friends they had been indeed. Once, perhaps... but no, the word would never have been right to describe them. They were acquaintances at best, brought together out of love for Mingjue, torn apart after his death even if Lan Xichen hadn't known it then.

He'd learned it, in time.

Two years earlier, when Nie Huaisang had finally given a proper funeral to his brother, Lan Xichen had tried to talk to him about everything that had happened. Lan Xichen had wanted the truth, and he'd certainly gotten it. Nie Huaisang, bitter and angry and broken after going through the pain of burying his brother again, had not spared the other man a single detail of everything he'd done, everything he'd learned, everything he'd felt.

Two weeks after that, Lan Xichen had entered seclusion and they'd never met again, unless one counted what little time Nie Huaisang had spent with the other man's coffin.

Nie Huaisang did not think it counted.

“I have not been told anything more than anyone else,” Nie Huaisang said, more careful than the other two to keep his voice down.

“It is just too odd,” Sect Leader Yao said. “A man his age doesn't die without reason, and his cultivation was far too great to allow for sickness!”

“Surely I don't know what Yao-zongzhu might be suggesting.”

“I am just saying it is very odd,” Sect Leader Yao insisted, glancing toward Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji with what he had to consider a knowing expression.

“Ah,” Nie Huaisang said.

They were thinking Lan Xichen had been murdered, then.

It was amazing, he thought, that anyone could misunderstand Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji this much. Perhaps the second's reputation was no longer as pristine as it had once been, due to his open association with the Yiling Patriarch, but he could hardly have been accused of killing his brother when he profited so little from his death. It was to Lan Qiren that the title of Sect Leader went, something which had been decided long ago, and which Lan Wangji would have known. Not that Lan Wangji would ever have wanted such a title. And as to accusing Lan Qiren of murdering his nephew, it was ridiculous. There were few men in the world whose honour Nie Huaisang believed in, but Lan Qiren was definitely of the number.

If it was not an ordinary sickness that had killed Lan Xichen, and it was not another person either, then it left only one option.

The Lans tended to easily fall prey to melancholy, Lan Xichen had once told Nie Huaisang, during one of those rare true and sincere conversations between them, when they had both bared more of their soul to the other than they'd intended. And that melancholy was a powerful sort, Lan Xichen had explained, more dangerous than any disease, any war, any demon. The way he had spoken of it had made it clear that Lan Xichen himself particularly struggled with it ever since becoming Sect Leader during the war, a struggle he hid under a mask no less carefully crafted than Nie Huaisang’s. Lan Xichen had told him he thought that melancholy would overcome him someday as it had done others in his family, an affliction no less powerful than that the Nie suffered.

So it was clear to Nie Huaisang that the manner of Lan Xichen's death was...

His whole body shook as he hurriedly fought to contain a sob.

“Nie-zongzhu?” Sect Leader Ouyang said with concern. “Are you unwell?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. He was fine. He was unaffected. They'd never even been close.

Another sob had to be contained.

Nie Huaisang took a deep breath, and smiled weakly.

“Nothing dramatic,” he said with a voice he scarcely recognised as his own. “A moment of... I have known him for so long.”

“Of course. This must be hard on you. He must have been like a brother to you.”

Nie Huaisang made a noise. A sob, or a laugh, he could not have said, but it was too loud and attracted more attention than he cared to deal with. Having spent the last couple of years carefully working to undo the damage he had done to his own reputation, Nie Huaisang could not have born to be seen crying in public, something he now felt the danger of. He muttered some vague apology to the two men standing near him, and excused himself from the assembly. He managed to keep himself in check until he had left everyone behind, and only broke into tears when he was sure to be alone.

Gone was the numbness that had so puzzled him since hearing that Lan Xichen had been found dead, because the full horror of that loss finally hit him.

Lan Xichen was gone.

Lan Xichen was dead.

He would never again come by the Unclean Realm in answer to a desperate plea for help that never really needed his input. There would be no more praises of Nie Huaisang's birds, his fans, his paintings. No more gentle comforting and undeserved patience.

Lan Xichen was dead.

And if Nie Huaisang had acted with less cruelty, Lan Xichen might not have killed himself.

Nie Huaisang, a month after returning home, wondered whether melancholy was a contagious ailment, and whether one might catch it from sitting near the corpse of a man who had died from it.

He made the mistake of asking Nie Liyan, his favourite cousin and heir, expecting her to laugh or tease him. Instead she gave him a most pitiful look, and told him that melancholy was most often caught in such a manner, especially if the corpse was that of a person held dear.

It had never occurred to Nie Huaisang to think that Lan Xichen might be dear to him. The man was merely there, full of good intentions and blind to the nature of those around him. They had shared pleasant moments together perhaps, but no more than Nie Huaisang had done with others. In fact, Nie Huaisang was quite sure he had laughed more with Jin Guangyao than with Lan Xichen. If asked, he might have admitted that he'd held warmer feelings than he ought to have toward the man who had so cruelly murdered his brother. But Lan Xichen?

Nie Huaisang would have been hard pressed to decide what he felt for the man while he was alive. Only in death was he forced to realise that Lan Xichen too had been an important figure in his life and, yes, perhaps dearer than he would have liked. But it was hard to hate a man such as Lan Xichen, he told Nie Liyan when the realisation became too bothersome to bear it alone. Nie Huaisang simply could not imagine that anyone in the world might have met Lan Xichen and not liked him.

“I've never understood what people saw in him,” Nie Liyan had just replied. “And I've told you as much many times, even before your brother's death. His looks were good but not to the degree everyone claimed, he smiled too much, and he spoke too much like a book.”

“That says more about your tastes than about his qualities,” Nie Huaisang retorted hotly.

“Perhaps. Or it says something about your tastes.”

That insolent answer had not pleasant Nie Huaisang, who had promptly changed the topic, and never breached it again with her.

The melancholy did not ease with time, but instead invited some friends to live with it in Nie Huaisang's heart.

Such as a sharp terror over the concept of his own mortality.

Nie Huaisang had always known he would die early. It ran in the family, and he'd seen it happen twice already to his own relative. Considering his own temper, his weak and unstable cultivation, Nie Huaisang had long feared that he would not even live long enough to see his brother avenged. This had made him frustrated with the slow pace he'd been forced to endure, which in turn had only had a worse effect on his general state. Things had improved after the death of Jin Guangyao, making Nie Huaisang hope he might perhaps make it to the venerable age of forty, something neither his brother nor his father had managed.

The death of Lan Xichen robbed him of that hope.

It was only, Nie Huaisang told himself, that the loss had reminded him people died of reasons other than familial curses or to pay the price of their hubris. Death, even for cultivators, was not an uncommon occurrence, so no man could leave his bed in the morning and be certain he would return to it at night. And if he were to die now, what would he have to show for it except a sect that still wouldn’t be treated seriously, and the blood on his hands?

That consideration was also an important one in making a decision. No matter how hard he tried, Nie Huaisang couldn’t seem to correct the reputation he had given his sect. When people talked about the changes happening in Qinghe Nie, the way it might has started to become reliable once more, they always felt the need to point out that it could be nothing more than a stroke of luck, something that was sure to return to normal very soon under Nie Huaisang’s poor guidance. It was a source of great annoyance to him that people now considered it normal for Qinghe Nie to be weak and useless, when not twenty years earlier it had been greater than Lanling Jin.

It would take a dramatic change for people to accept that Qinghe Nie was returning to its roots.

So Nie Huaisang told Nie Liyan that he would abdicate in her favour.

She was more than ready for this, he told her. They had been working in tandem since long before the death of Jin Guangyao, and she had proven multiple times that she would handle the position of Sect Leader better than he ever would. She was a good administrator, with great martial art skill, a cultivation level that was among the best in their generation. She was also an excellent teacher, and well liked by all the disciples, from young juniors who had never known their sect’s glorious days to elders who’d known Nie Huaisang’s father as a young child. Nie Huaisang and Nie Liyan had always agreed that she would succeed him if he died the way his family so often did, or whenever he would decide to give up on a position he had never wanted.

“Are you sure now is the right time?” Nie Liyan only asked him.

“There is no right time for these things. But Lanling Jin is still not quite stable yet, Gusu Lan is in the hands of an old friend, and Yunmeng Jiang is caught up in the Jins’ business. That means the three great sects won’t give you a hard time as you settle in, and I know you can handle the others.”

“And what will you do?”

“Travel, perhaps,” Nie Huaisang replied without conviction.

He had never planned for what he would do after handing her his title, and realised suddenly that he’d never expected to be alive for that. No matter how often they discussed the possibility of a quiet succession, Nie Huaisang had never really considered he would be luckier than his father and brother. Yet there he was, suddenly forced to accept that tomorrow was something that existed for him while also dreading the uncertainty of his own mortality.

Nie Liyan accepted his answer, and they set out to plan the succession, calculate the best possible date for it, and choose how to announce the news to other sects. They did not talk about Nie Huaisang’s future any further, for which he was grateful. He had a vague suspicion that Nie Liyan thought he intended to kill himself, which would explain why she kept suggesting he took a companion with him when he left.

Nie Huaisang promised to consider it. He even did wonder who in the world might be a travelling companion worth putting up with. Nobody from his own sect would do, as he thought they would quickly grow bored of any destination that might appeal to him. And there was no one left outside of Qinghe Nie who he felt close enough to. It was only a pity, he thought one night, that Lan Xichen had passed away, as he would have been a very interesting person to have on a journey. Someone who shared his sense of beauty and his love of great landscape, who would not complain if Nie Huaisang asked to stop and paint but might instead join him. And perhaps travelling in that manner might have lifted some of Lan Xichen’s melancholy in a way that locking himself up away from the world could never have done.

Perhaps it could have saved Lan Xichen.

Nie Huaisang slept little that night, half drowning on sorrows and what-if that could never come true.

Come morning, he told Nie Liyan that he would travel alone, and she did not insist.

Nie Huaisang left the Unclean Realm as soon as the succession ceremony was over so he wouldn’t have a chance to change his mind. He recently bought an excellent horse, and the animal was packed with whatever belongings could not be put inside a qiankun pouch. Nie Huaisang had money, he had clothes, everything needed to paint and write. He even had a destination in mind at last, one suggested to him by Lan Qiren, of all people. The old teacher, upon learning of his intention to step down, had written him a thoughtful letter wishing him the best of luck in his new life, inviting him to come and stay in the Cloud Recesses if he ever went that way so they might play weiqi together, and suggesting he should go visit Baidi in his exile, where he too might become inspired to write some poetry. Perhaps, Lan Qiren added, a place so rich in history would help him find new meaning to his life.

The idea had something romantic to it. More than that, though, Nie Huaisang remembered that several times over the course of their acquaintance, Lan Xichen had expressed a wish to visit the city, while always failing to find an excuse to do so. It seemed appropriate that Nie Huaisang’s first destination should be inspired by the man whose death had forced him to reconsider his own life.

So Nie Huaisang set out toward Baidi, and promised himself to enjoy his time there, for Lan Xichen’s sake as well as his own.

#nie huaisang #lan xichen #xisang #I guess? I mean it was the original intention but then things didn't go as planned #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes

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ambertea · 4 years ago

Text

clever

Read on AO3

She’s six years old and she’s just won a certificate for Maths.

Her mum’s sitting at the back of the assembly, exchanging whispers to the single dad sitting next to her. Rose keeps looking back, trying to catch her eye, but instead watches her mother’s hand sneaking up a strange man’s thigh.

The headmaster smiles at her strangely, in a way she will later define as ‘condescending’ but in the moment she can’t wrap her head around.

“Well done, you clever girl.” He says, and Rose hates it. His clammy hand engulfs hers and Rose just blinks as he shakes it up and down.

The school claps dutifully and her mum is still not looking at her.

She’s eleven years old and she hates everyone in her class. They tease her in the playground, mock her in the classroom and the only safe haven is the tiny library. The librarian is old and odd, and she strokes Rose’s hair like she’s nothing more than a tiny doll.

“Don’t try so hard to be clever,” she tells her. “They’ll leave you alone.”

Rose leaves the library and never comes back.

She’s fifteen years old and GCSEs are utter bullocks. Mickey has already failed them all, already told her they don’t matter in the real world. She stays behind after school to sit in empty classrooms to figure out algebra and tells her mum she still does gymnastics.

She gets her results in a thick brown envelope and takes a quick glance at a long list of A’s before she chucks it in the bin.

“Pure shit.” She tells her mum. “Didn’t even try, anyway. I’m just not clever enough.”

Her mum throws her a party regardless, and Rose ignores the ache in her chest.

She’s seventeen and he’s fucking hot.

She’s told her mum she’s doing A-levels because she hasn’t figured out if she wants to do hairdressing or childcare. Instead, she doodles equations on the back of English papers whilst she waits for everyone else to finish.

She meets Jimmy outside the school gates and he’s smoking cigarettes and the smell gets right into the back of her throat. She tells him that it’s bad for him, and he tells her he could be bad for her. He’s right.

She drops out of school and her mother approves because it was giving her airs and graces. What her mother does not approve of is the filthy bedsit she moves into, where she cries as her boyfriend screams at her.

“You think you’re clever, do you?” he yells, and she shakes her head and whispers no, no, never.

She’s nineteen, fucking shop window dummies are after her, and a strange man is standing with her in the lift.

“’Cos to get that many people dressed up and being silly, they got to be students.”

“Good point. Well done.”

She’s wrong, but the praise bounces around her brain.

She runs off with him because apparently, that’s just what she does. Runs off with charismatic men, leaves her mother worried sick, because she is Rose, and Rose is not clever.

This man, however, is no Jimmy. He’s smart – so smart, any small attempts at intelligence still leave her feeling dumb. This is a comfort. She argues with him, thinks around him, and starts to feel a bit better about herself.

He’s sweet as well, and kind, and doesn't care when she asks too many questions. He shows her how to strip wires and repair parts of his precious ship, and they tinker away together in comfortable silences. Now and then, she properly impresses him, and he ignores the beauties of the universe and beams at her instead. It’s strange and wonderful and she tries her best not to disappoint him.

Then she is sent away, he is trapped, and it’s time for her to use her bloody brains only she’s not sure they even work anymore. He is dying, far in the future, but still dying, and she is watching her mum scoff down chips. She doesn’t want to go back to her old life, doesn’t want to play stupid anymore.

“Why, because you’re better than us?”

No, because she has learned what life is like when she tries, and she is not yet ready to stop.

She makes it back, using her brain and a fucking massive truck, and it is worth it if just for the way he is looking at her. He tells her she is fantastic and then explodes into a whole new man, with a lankier frame and wilder hair. He takes a long nap, and she is left to be useless once more.

She stands up in front of actual, breathing monsters and tries to copy words she’s heard, but her voice shakes, and her hands are trembling. They laugh at her, and she is eleven again, being teased by the nasty girls in her class.

He saves the day, because that’s just what he does, and she runs off with him again because his smile is still kind and their hands fit nicely. Cassandra sits inside her brain and hums with curiosity, poking around her mind like it’s a mildly interesting boutique.

“Not as thick as you seem, are you?” She whispers into Rose’s mind.

She’s inside some sort of spaceship and he is gushing over the accomplishments of Reinette de Pompadour. She already knows all this, knows who she is, but he is enjoying the sound of his own voice, so she keeps quiet.

She watches him carefully, notices the lipstick marks around his face and the ridiculous angle of his collar, and stamps down the familiar feelings of jealousy rising within her chest.

It had felt like they were growing closer. Their hugs had been lingering, hands held tightly at any available moment. She had thought something was growing, something small and precious and good. Clearly, she was wrong.

Reinette dies, and Rose isn’t glad, not really, but she watches him carefully afterward and wonders. Wonders why he keeps her around if he even wants her there. She tries to ask, but the words die on her tongue.

She has almost let the feeling go when she meets her father, a man who does not know her and apparently does not care to. She calls him dad and he runs, leaving her crying and shaking and so very vulnerable. She wonders, afterward, why. Why no one has ever wanted her properly, why it feels like no one has even met her in the first place. She sobs into her mum’s shoulder and wishes she had told her about the GCSE results.

Maybe it’s a good thing, she thinks later, that she’s alone. She has no real connections that make her want to stay at home, no real relationships that don’t leave her mentally exhausted. He is her grounding point, her focus, and he doesn’t think she’s stupid, not really, but he doesn’t think she’s clever either.

She knows she loves him; knows she will spend the rest of her life pining for him. It aches, having so much unspent emotion coursing under her skin. Feels like she could explode and implode simultaneously. But his eyes are so soft, and he is so worth it.

“We’ll always be alright, me and you.” She tells him. He just stares into the sky glumly.

“There’s a storm approaching.”

She hopes for a bit of rain but instead gets a fucking earthquake.

She’s twenty-one, she’s in a different universe, and she’s absolutely fine.

“How are you doing?”

“Are you okay?”

“Speak to me, Rose, please.”

She doesn’t speak to anyone. Doesn’t even look in the mirror.

It’s hard to assign blame on a talking pepper pot, so instead, she blames herself. If she’d been stronger. Tried harder. Been cleverer.

She tells her mum this over a bottle of wine, and she just laughs.

“People like us aren’t clever, Rose. We’re survivors.”

She doesn’t want to be a survivor anymore.

She starts working at Torchwood. Starts sleeping at Torchwood as well. Pete gives her the job out of pity but is quickly astonished by the scale of the work she’s doing.

“You’re brilliant.” He tells her one night. Jackie scoffs.

“Brilliant? Hark at her.”

Rose ignores her. It doesn’t matter.

She sits through A-levels, and then university lectures, and then physics conventions with groups of boring boys who follow her like a bizarre squadron. She has a brother now, a tiny boy with eyes just like hers, and when she tucks him into bed, she whispers stories of the stars.

She creates a dimension cannon and brings it home to show Pete. He marvels over it whilst Jackie sniffs like she’s got a nasty cold.

“Just glorified jewelry. Face it, sweetheart. You’re stuck here with the rest of us. It’s time to get used to it.”

“Shut up,” Rose says, and she can feel her pulse banging away in her ears like a marching parade.

Jackie is spluttering, Pete’s eyes are wide, and Rose isn’t quite sure what she’s doing but she’s doing it anyway.

“I can do this. I am going to do this. So just shut up.”

She does do it. She flits around universes like students backpack around Europe, and it’s strangely healing to spend so much time by herself.

She meets tiny aliens made of glass who kiss through the refractions of light and hugs ginormous bear-like creatures who are surprisingly friendly and incredibly soft.

She searches for him, and it hurts and it’s hard but it’s also fantastic.

She gets through finally to a universe that should be right but is oh so very wrong. A red-haired woman screams at her, and Rose is finding it difficult to breathe.

“I'm nothing special. I'm a temp. I'm not even that. I'm nothing.”

“Donna Noble, you are the most important woman in the whole of creation!”

“Oh, don't. Just don't.”

She tells her mum about her GCSE results because she can’t stop thinking about it. Her mum stares at her for a long while and then looks down at her hands. Rose has never seen her mum speechless before, doesn’t like it, so she just nods and leaves.

She finds him, and the feeling rushes right from her toes to the top of her head. She has done it. After all the effort and pain, she has found him, and the uncurling pride is like nothing she’s ever felt before.

He gets shot and utterly ruins it, but the feeling lingers.

Her mum shows up at the worst possible time, but she is there, and she is looking at Rose so fiercely. When the situation calms down and they are safe, she pulls Rose into a tight hug and rubs her hands in circles across the small of her back.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” She whispers, and Rose quickly wipes her eyes on her shoulders.

She is dumped on the same beach she has had nightmares about for the last five years. She is left again, but this time she is left with a familiar man who whispers promises into her ear and holds her like she is something important.

He is looking at her like he’s hoping she might lead the way, and she knows how to do this now, knows how to think and plan and strategize. She kisses him on the cheek, watches the blush that spreads across his cheek, takes his hand, and leads him back to England.

She doesn’t take him straight back to the mansion, hates the idea of speech and silence in equal measure. Instead, she takes him to her lab, and he stares at her designs through startled eyes and stolen glasses. She fidgets in the corner of the room, and wraps her arms around her waist, waiting for his verdict.

He turns to her, whips the glasses off of his face and a look of quiet wonder spreads across his face.

“You’re brilliant.”

She squirms under his gaze, picks off an invisible bit of fluff from her jacket. He is still looking at her, and she tries her best to smile.

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously. These are so impressive.”

She’s still not sure what to do with the praise, but it warms her and fills all the cracked pieces of her soul with new and growing tissue. She kisses him, both because she’s not sure what else to do, and because she can, and he smiles against her lips. They break apart and he runs his fingers over her work, his eyes soft and curious.

“How did you do this?” He whispers, and something tender and precious burns gently in her chest.

“I guess I’m just clever.”

#i've reread this so many times i'm not entirely sure if it makes sense but hopefully!#lol #fic #rose tyler #doctor who

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years ago

Text

Hair of the Dog

The problem with having a goat as a pet was that Eskel had a goat as a pet. It was usually wonderful, Lil Bleater was a menace and Eskel loved her for it. Alas, some days she was a little more than he bargained for. Visiting Geralt on the farm was always a delight, it was one of the few places Bleats could explore without a leash and Eskel knew she was safe.

All in all it was a great day, a rarity for the whole extended family to get together. Geralt had Yennefer and Jaskier with him, they were playing pass the parcel with Ciri, except whenever they unwrapped her, it was always a dirty nappy rather than a fun treat under her layers. How Eskel ended up with a family where both his brothers had two partners was a mystery, it was perhaps why he was still a bachelor with only Lil Bleater as his companion, Lambert and Geralt had soaked up all the appeal for themselves and left none for Eskel.

"Where are the Gremlins?" Eskel asked, looking around. The Gremlins were also known as Lambert, Aiden and Cahir. One at a time and they were manageable but the three together wreaked unknown havoc and destroyed an alarming number of clothes between them. If they ever wore safety pins through clothes, Eskel knew it wasn't for aesthetics at all.

"Last I heard they were heading for the barn. Cahir was going to see whether the new pony is ready to be worked yet." Somehow Geralt sounded resigned and they all knew that while the trio might have looked at the gelding, they were most definitely going to be making out or more in one of the empty stalls.

Rolling his eyes, Eskel nodded. "I'm not risking that. Tell them I said goodbye and that Lambert still owes me a drink next week, will you?" He clicked his tongue and watched as Lil Bleater blatantly ignored him in favour of hopping over puddles. Just because she was having too much fun and still full of energy despite a whole day of charging around didn't mean she got to keep going. Resigned to his fate of chasing his goat in order to get her home, Eskel lumbered off, trying to look like he wasn't approaching her with intent. Needless to say, it didn't work. With expert ease Lil Bleater avoided him, bounding just out of reach. Even worse, he brothers were watching and Eskel wanted to growl at them that they might as well help if they were going to watch. Thankfully he managed to grab his wayward goat, only for her to protest in the worst possible way, she threw herself onto the ground. Normally Eskel wouldn't mind but she chose to roll in a puddle, her white fur soaking in the muddy water and staining it.

"Well shit."

Dripping goat firmly leashed, Eskel stared at her. She watched him unrepentantly for a moment before trying to nibble at her leash. Eskel had learned the hard way that he needed a metal chain leash for her, nothing else survived her incessant chomping. There was no way he could take her home like that, and hosing her down wasn't going to be much good as she's just drip more water in the car and make it smell even more of wet goat.

Thankfully he always had a towel or two in the boot so Eskel could pat her mildly dry but the puddle hadn't been simple mud and water, only heightening the stench. Thinking about his poor tub, Eskel knew he wouldn't be able to give Bleats a bath. The one time he had tried, he'd needed to buy a new shower curtain and invest in some repairs to the tub. Little goat hooves were not compatible with his bathroom. Stashing her in her travel crate, Eskel pulled his phone out and searched for possible solutions. The most sensible was a pet groomer, alas the three numbers he tried all refused to deal with a goat. Some days Eskel cursed himself for not having a more traditional pet.

"You trying to get a groomer?" Cahir sidled up to him, eyes glinting with the promise of mischief.

"Yeah, but it's not like anyone wants to bathe a goat." Not that Eskel was bitter. He didn't expect Cahir to laugh.

"You just haven't asked the right one. Come on, I'll introduce you to someone who'll help. Just follow my bike."

It was easier said than done. While Eskel had heard stories from Lambert about the strange love affair Cahir had with his bike, it was a whole different thing to see it. Having witnessed it, Eskel had to wonder whether there were four in that relationship rather than three as he'd originally thought.

Hair of the Dog looked like a bit of a shithole if Eskel was honest. It was out in a small industrial park near a village, wooden cladding faded and looking in desperate need of a paint. Helmet under his arm, Cahir barged in without a care for the sign that declared the place closed.

"Scales!" He hollered, impatiently holding the door open for Eskel. "Got you a client."

Not quite knowing what to expect, Eskel's eyes widened when a man larger than him appeared, scowling at Cahir.

"What did I tell you about my opening hours? And fucking hell what is that stench?"

Cahir leaned against the wall with a shit eating grin and gestured towards Eskel and Lil Bleater knowingly.

"That's a goat." It was possibly the dumbest thing anyone could have said.

"No, I'm a human called Eskel," Eskel shot back, a little irked.

The laugh was warm and genuine as the owner of the grooming parlour caught on. "Letho. Who's your stinky companion?"

Somehow Eskel found himself charmed by the fact Letho didn't baulk at the fact he was being presented with a goat. He even invited Eskel to stay and watch the whole process of washing and drying his pet. What struck Eskel was how gentle he was through it all, talking to Bleats as much as he talked to Eskel.

"Wouldn't have clocked you as a dog groomer," Eskel admitted while Lil Bleater was enjoying her second rinse.

"Didn't peg you as a goat owner."

"Touche. You like dogs?" Which was a ridiculous thing to ask, given that Letho's work involved a lot of dogs and possibly a few cats. However, Letho shook his head.

"They're alright. But I wouldn't own one."

"Cats?"

"Guess again."

Eskel squinted at Letho. "I can't really say I can picture you with a parrot."

Another laugh and Eskel found himself quite fond of the raw honesty in it. He waited patiently for an answer though.

"Tell you what-" Letho suggested, "-let me finish up with my last client and then I can show you, if you're interested. It's a snake."

"I only inspect trouser snakes on third date," Eskel said, peering around. "If I had known you'd had other clients, I would have happily waited."

The spray of water was playfully turned on him, barely missing him. "It's you, you numpty. I'm closed on Tuesdays, that's admin day." A soft flush spread across Eskel's cheeks at that and Letho continued, "If I put Gully down my trousers, I don't think she'd ever forgive me. And I don't think she'd fit. She's a reticulated python."

"As long as she doesn't eat Bleats, I think we're good." Eskel had no idea about snakes but, given the size of Letho, he could imagine him with a large snake, no pun intended.

In the silence that fell on them, Eskel looked around again with a frown. "Did Cahir go?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, quite thrilled at the prospect of having a fluffy goat stepping out of the dryer soon, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.

"You owe me a drink. Maybe two. We told you you'll like him."

Groaning, Letho threw the note away but not before Eskel saw.

"That sounded ominous."

"The Three Fucketeers have been trying to set me up for a while. I resisted. Guess they win."

Grinning, Eskel shrugged. "They don't have to know that, do they?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.ion out no matter how hidden. Which led Eskel to the conclusion that if he couldn't beat them, they could join them. It was very unlikely they'd want graphic details so, with great confidence, Eskel met Letho's rather large snake. And he met Gully too.

#lethskel #letho/eskel #minor cahir/aiden/lambert #eskel #letho of gulet #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #tldr: letho the dog groomer meets lil bleater

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Her Reflection ||Marcus Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: Angst city central, descriptions of grief and depression

Words: 2741

Taglist: @royalvolturisblog @thelastemzy @ferb13 @raindancer2004 @a-avaunce @broskibowser @alecvolturiswifeforever @college-is-coming @perfectcolortreestudent @volturidoll13 @vamp-army

Summary:

A request for @like-rain-or-confetti

Marcus is resolute in his grief, so much so he has refused Corin’s gift many a time. When you show up, he can’t help but realise that perhaps his centuries of suffering were enough, that the contentment you offer is far more permanent than Corin’s. Maybe, just maybe...Didyme sent you to him to give him one last chance at the happiness she loved to spread about.

You were a wonderful find.

Aro had been delighted to see you in his thoughts. He had been forced to leave the safety of Volterra for a business trip, the accounts of their business front needing attention every few decades to keep up the ruse of a modern, evolving company with changing leadership and new blood in its crew. The journey to Rome had been uneventful until they found the rogue little newborn tearing holes in a small residential area they had had to pass through. Demetri had quickly found the little fiend and as Aro took his face in his grasp, the images had raced through his mind, the regret he hadn’t taken your offer to help him strongly resonating through his body as it was mercilessly torn apart.

“Oh…Demetri…find this one.” He had murmured. Demetri did, and you had been amongst the guard now for eleven months. It had been a surprise to Marcus when you showed up with his brother as you didn’t seem to fit the Guard’s image – he wasn’t sure you knew how to be intimidating. It was clear you hadn’t come of your own volition, you were far too intelligent to be deceived into thinking Aro’s offer to join was real and clearly saw you actually had no choice at all, but still you came with a gracious smile, like you’d rather be nowhere else. After so many centuries of living and travelling as nomad you had confessed to Marcus a place to settle was nice, and despite so much time on your own you had a warm and welcoming nature that just drew the others to you.

It was all too easy to find your place when your place seemed to be everywhere and anywhere. As bitter and cautious as they were, even the twins seemed to warm to you rapidly after a few discussions. Marcus was mildly intrigued at first, but he didn’t really see enough of you to form any solid opinion on you. He only knew what he had heard, and what he had heard was that you were helpful and kind, quick to soothe pain and anger in others even if it festered in yourself. It sounded so awfully familiar to him that the raw ache in his chest, one that had never really gone away, throbbed so badly he was forced to turn his face to avoid your visage when you entered the room. Still, your voice was sugar sweet, melodic and soothing, it was a balm somehow to that pain. Months later he couldn’t say he was rid of it, he never would be rid of the pain he was sure, but it had dimmed somewhat.

His intrigue had turned to infatuation quickly when he finally let himself cast a glance at you. You were attractive to him, very pleasing to the eye though not in an exaggerated way. What made you beautiful was your personality, and it was what brought so many to your side in their efforts to win themselves a chance at capturing your affections. You turned down one after the next, the bonds you chose to make with the rest of the Guard purely founded on friendship and nothing more. Even when you grew those you coveted most it never came close to anything romantic and he was somewhat glad of that. He didn’t want to be the reason you never knew happiness, but he couldn’t help but wish that perhaps you might find it in him. There were other complications with that of course, because how could you ever give yourself to someone so broken? Was he even capable of love? How did you find happiness in someone devoid of it? He had felt it once before and this was so similar…

You had shown up more and more in the throne room, guarding them as they read. If you ever noticed his stare you didn’t say or make it obvious, but you did catch his eye once or twice and the smile you gave him warmed him inside. It had felt awful the first few times because how could he betray Didyme like that? How was it right, how was it fair, that he might get to feel any semblance of joy after his mate had gone unavenged? Was it even possible to fall in love again? Perhaps the centuries had worn away that original bond, but even that felt like a disservice to Didyme’s love, her kindness. It was enduring in ways that nothing else was. Then it hit him, you reminded him of her. The bond he could form with you was not so different to the one he had shared with her, you were too similar for it not to be.

Didyme’s gift had been happiness, the aura so inviting she had infected everyone around her with it, and while you didn’t share that gift you shared that personality. Marcus understood then, why the colour had returned to the halls as he walked them, why the sunshine seemed warmer on his skin as he passed by windows. It was you. Yet more complications came with that revelation because he was growing ever more restless (in his own lethargic way) and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hide it. How did he tell you he had grown to love you for the very same reasons he had loved her? It was like looking at her reflection distorted in a mirror, a different face and different person but the same kind of heart. You had different passions and opinions and a slightly lethal edge to your physical prowess that he found gave him comfort, for it reminded him you were not her and you were able to defend yourself in ways she hadn’t been able to, but it also finally gave him the courage to admit that yes, he did love you, he did love you and he loved you because though you were like her you were not her.

Marcus didn’t want you to think about Didyme though when you spoke to him, he didn’t want you to see yourself as a replacement for a great, epic love. Unbeknownst to him, you had enquired about the sad king the moment you arrived. Marcus’s entire being radiated such grief and pain that it had been impossible not to ask about him, and given your easy to talk to nature (and the fear of what would happen to you if you unknowingly stuck your foot in your mouth) many a guard had happily told you the reasons for his depression.

“Didyme was beautiful.”

“Didyme was always so kind.”

“She made a whole room light up when she walked into it.”

“It was the greatest love story our kind have ever seen.”

Every statement had only made your heart hurt for the man more and more. His pain was so palpable, but his interest was also obvious. For a man so broken by the loss of such a momentous love it was surprising to say the least, but you also weren’t complaining. You had no desire to see anyone feel like he did, to be so trapped in darkness, and you had made it your mission to make the throne room feel a little lighter whenever you walked into it. Marcus was rather attractive in his own way, even with the corners of his mouth pulled down and his eyes so devoid of light. You were sure with a real smile he would look radiant as his eternal youth dictated he should. The day you got to see that first wisp of a smile was the day you became more determined to see it more often. Most people had gotten so used to overlooking Marcus unless he was called upon that you were able to share subtle looks and smiles from across the room with nobody really noticing – you smiled so often it wasn’t an unusual thing to see.

It was getting close to an important anniversary, important in Marcus’s mind anyway. You had been with the Guard for almost a year and people had started to notice the effects on the quiet King. Marcus had taken to wandering the halls more often than before, enjoying the library and the music room. The Gardens would be off-limits for a while yet, the tree planted in Didyme’s honour still blooming strong every year due to Aro’s careful upkeep and too much for his heart, his eyes. It was while admiring a painting in the hall that he came across you.

“Surely, after the length of your stay with us, you have seen this piece before?” his voice was soft, a slight rasp from the disuse and lack of satisfaction in his life that had lasted so long it was difficult to get rid of it. He felt like a schoolboy when you smiled at him, and for once he embraced the feeling rather than trying to shun it.

“I have, still it amazes me.” You confessed.

“There are larger pieces.” He mused.

“Size does not guarantee quality.” Your response was accompanied by a cheeky smile that made his own lips twitch upward, that ghost of a smile upon on his lips making you sigh contentedly. Twice in one day? It must have been vampire Christmas. For a while, you stood in silence and contemplated the painting before you. It was a simple piece of artwork, the Tuscan countryside interrupted by a quaint little cottage.

“What do you see?” Marcus asked you quietly. Head tilting, you hummed thoughtfully.

“I see peace.” You voice was decisive and he couldn’t help but frown. Peace? He had studied art a lot over the centuries and he had to admit, he had never once looked at this piece twice as something he could profoundly evaluate. It was a field, it was a cottage, it was…something that felt very literal in what it was.

“Peace?” he questioned.

You hummed. “The colours are so warm, and the hills just keep rolling. This landscape stretches forever, an endless path of golden light. There is always something to look forward to ahead but so much beauty around that cottage that you would be equally as happy to stay in that moment. To be able to see the beauty in what’s around us…that is the key to peace to me.”

Marcus could only stare at the painting, trying to see what you saw. He had seen nothing but grey for so long that the warm colours still felt faded. He couldn’t really remember what true peace felt like until he became brave enough to stand beside you. You radiated it. You were so content in life it was impossible not to feel the peace of mind you carried with you everywhere you went.

“What do you see?” you asked him. He didn’t dare stare into those wine-red eyes, sure his words would flee him. Marcus cleared his throat slightly, contemplating what to say. The truth was, he hadn’t seen anything in art ever since he began to study it. He had never seen metaphors or symbolism. Art had the potential to be beautiful and breath-taking but he had lost his ability to see it, until recently. There was…something, he realised, the more he stared at it.

“I see a cottage,” he said slowly, “But it is plain. Plain yet…surrounded by warmth. Isolated, and yet beautiful…it is…it feels as though, it could be home.” There was a deafening silence after he spoke, his words carrying more weight than he had first realised, weight you clearly felt. Marcus had lived in darkness, in agony and despair, in shadows, but with you there was light, joy, and beauty. He could live that way again if you allowed him the chance to. He could find that beautiful home in you. His hand was slow, reaching for yours. For a while the tip of his little finger touching the side of your hand was all he felt, not brave enough to go any further but so desperate to. When your fingers twitched, curling around his own to link your pinkies and hold his hand loosely, he knew instinctually that you wouldn’t let go. You would help him take that last step into the light. He didn’t need to be afraid.

“Master-“

“Marcus,” he amended softly, “I wish for you to call me Marcus.”

You nodded. “Marcus, then.”

A startled little laugh escaped him, because Didyme had once said the exact same thing to him. Unknowingly, you had replicated their very first exchange. Surprised red eyes stared up at him – you had never heard him laugh before. He seemed just as shocked since he wasn’t sure he was capable of such a sound anymore.

“You…you are so like her.” he sighed wistfully. In an ideal world she would be here, but…wasn’t this ideal? A second chance was unheard of amongst their kind and he was desperate to grasp it with both hands, but he feared holding too tight and shattering the hope he was unknowingly placing in you.

"Her? I...oh...Marcus..." you trailed off. Marcus finally met your eyes, the depth of sadness in his expression something you knew now you would never be able to fully alleviate, but you could meet him in the sea of his despair and keep him afloat, couldn’t you? This kind man deserved better.

“Forgive me. I had no wish to startle you, but you remind me so much of…of Didyme.” He whispered. Your expression softened, but there was no pity there, no sympathy, only gratitude. His honesty was applaudable and the courage it must have taken to say her name, that he felt safe enough to attempt such a feat with you of all people…you were grateful. Grateful to share this quiet moment with a man you had come to greatly admire, grateful to be held in such high esteem by him.

“That makes me truly happy to hear.” you confessed. Marcus frowned, looking confused.

“It does?” he questioned. You smiled, giving your interlocked fingers the slightest squeeze. Marcus slid his palm against your own, fully taking hold of your hand now he was more confident his affections were not about to be rejected.

“The day I arrived you looked so sad. I asked around, not wanting to say anything I shouldn’t and upset you further. The tales I heard, the descriptions I was given…it is an honour to think I might remind you of her in even the smallest of ways.” Your reassurance was like a warm blanket. Feeling cocooned and safe, he lifted your intertwined hands to brush the lightest of kisses against your knuckles. The tender gesture would have made you blush if you still had the ability.

“She was truly a miracle in my life, yet for all the ways you remind me of her, you seem to have just as many differences between you two,” he murmured, “I confess…I admire the reflection of her I see in you, but I love the little things that mark you as separate from her. It felt wrong to do so, yet I could not help it.” Pursing your lips, you tried to calm your racing thoughts as Marcus watched you for any hint of reaction. He had been open and honest, taken a brave step, and he needed you to meet him halfway lest he retreat back into the shadows. Living in hope was no foreign thing for you and you didn’t just meet him halfway, you anchored him in that hope so he might never retreat again.

“It would be a privilege to help you remember what it is like to be loved.” You assured him. Marcus gave you another small smile. Over time, those smiles grew and grew until they crinkled his eyes at the corners. Some days he laughed. On one rare occasion you had gotten him to dance with you in the music room to the record playing on the gramophone. Bit by bit the light returned to his eyes until he beamed so brightly when he saw you that it was obvious to everyone the Marcus they had once known had been partially revived. Grief was a constant companion but it no longer crippled him, and in the safety of your embrace Marcus felt so far from the shadows he was certain for the first time in centuries that he was finally free of them.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #the volturi #marcus volturi #x reader #marcus volturi x reader #aro volturi #angst #fluff #he has a whole wardrobe of business suits for the specific purpose of business trips in rome and you cannot tell me otherwise

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luminnara · 4 years ago

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It’s Been A Long, Long Time | ch 4

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Taglist: @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely

Amoretta swam in and out of sleep. Whenever she surfaced, she saw bright lights and strange faces, and, assuming that she was in a HYDRA lab, she decided it was better if she just kept on dreaming. After a while, though, she couldn’t manage it anymore, and she finally woke up enough to actually take in her surroundings.

She was in a hospital bed, and...a gown? She couldn’t remember the last time she had been given clothing. When she tried to move, she found that her arms ached, and she had an IV sticking out of her. Okay, so wherever she was, they were trying to take care of her. Maybe. That seemed like a good sign.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a man’s voice said. “How’re you feeling?”

A figure came into view, blurry at first, and as he got closer she was able to get him in focus. Amoretta immediately stiffened, feeling threatened by this stranger, but as the scent of omega wafted in, she relaxed slightly. She couldn’t smell any alphas nearby, and that was good.

Two good signs so far.

“Wh-who are you?” She asked, her voice wobbly and hoarse. Her throat was so sore that talking was painful.

“My name is Dr. Bruce Banner.” The man said, reaching towards a nearby table and grabbing a water bottle off of it. “I’m with the Avengers.”

Amoretta frowned. “The...who?”

He came near her slowly, twisting the cap off the bottle and offering it to her. “You’ve probably got a lot of questions. Mind if I ask a couple, though?”

She gave a little shrug as she raised the bottle to her lips. It felt strange to hold, the water tasting...different from what she was used to.

“Can you tell me your name?”

She thought for a moment, brows knitting together. “Subject 1096.”

It was Bruce’s turn to frown. “Did you ever have a...different name?”

After a moment, she nodded, trying to remember. It felt like it was on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach. Had it really been so long since she had gotten to say it?

“We can come back to that one.” Bruce said gently. “Do you know what year it is?”

She thought for a moment. “19...1986.”

The doctor pulled off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and mumbling something along the lines of “Christ, not another one…”

She got the feeling that she was off by a few years.

“Well, Ten...is it alright if I call you that?”

She shrugged.

“...alright. Ten, it seems like you were cryogenically frozen for a few decades.”

“...decades?”

He nodded. “Your body seems to have handled it well, though.”

“Did I puke?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Not that I saw.” He chuckled.

Well, that was a little surprising. She had a tendency to vomit after being wrenched out of unnaturally cold naps. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my lab, at Stark Tower.”

“What continent?”

“North America.”

She made a thoughtful noise. “What month is it?”

“June.”

“So Ursa Major is out?”

Bruce paused. “...well, it’s hard to see with all the light pollution in the city, but...yes, I suppose it should be…”

She let out a sigh. “I miss it.”

Her voice was already sounding tired again, and Bruce was quick to take the water bottle back before it slipped from her hand.

“You should get some more rest, Ten.” He suggested. “We’ve got plenty of time to get you caught up when you’re feeling more energetic.”

“Mhm.” her eyes fluttered closed. “Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“What city am I in?”

“New York.” He said, looking down at her curiously. “Manhattan, more specifically. Why?”

She smiled a little. “I wanna see...Brooklyn…”

As she drifted off to sleep again, Bruce rubbed his face. Well, that certainly was oddly specific of her to say. It was a good sign that she seemed lucid, though.

“Captain Rogers is outside, Dr. Banner.” FRIDAY’s AI voice said.

Bruce met him at the door, making his way out as quietly as possible. Steve looked anxious, standing with his hands on his hips as he waited for news. He hadn’t gotten a chance to find Bucky yet, his friend either working out or sleeping, and all he had managed so far was a quick debriefing and a shower.

“I ran down as soon as FRIDAY called,” he said. “How is she?”

“Sleeping again. Just missed her.” Bruce said wryly. “Walk with me, I’m starving.”

Steve fell into step beside him, heading towards the elevators. “Did she say anything?”

“She did. She seemed a bit out of it...couldn’t remember her name, hasn’t been awake since 1986.” He hit the UP button and stood back. “Seemed very interested in constellations, though. And Brooklyn.”

Steve stared at him. “Brooklyn?”

“Told her she was in New York, and the last thing she said before she fell asleep was something about Brooklyn.” Bruce shrugged. “Really interesting thing was her blood tests, though.”

“Blood tests?” Steve asked, stepping into the elevator and waiting for Bruce to join him before the doors closed again.

“Definitely an omega.” Banner said as they headed up several floors. “Her scent is so muted because they pumped her full of enough suppressants to kill a normal person. Pretty sure that’s why she’s so tired...her body is working overtime trying to process such a high dose. I think it was just pooling in her system while she was in cryo, not really going anywhere, so now her kidneys are doing everything they can to—“

“Banner.” Steve interrupted before he had to listen to an entire scientific explanation.

“Right. Sorry.” The scientist cleared his throat. “There was something else that I found already. She’s, uh…well, at some point, she was given super soldier serum.”

Steve froze. “HYDRA gave the serum...to an omega?”

“It’s confusing to me, too,” Bruce put his hands up in defeat. “Thanks to that, though, it’s hard to determine how old she is, or who she is, without her telling us. All I know is that she’s an unmarked omega super soldier with a hell of a dose of heat suppressants to work through.”

“Any idea when she’ll be up again?” Steve asked as the elevator dinged to signal their arrival.

“Hard to say.” Bruce said, following the alpha out towards the shared kitchen near the common area.

“I need to get to the bottom of this, Banner. FRIDAY, will you find Bucky? I need you to tell him—“

“Tell him what?” A voice asked.

Steve smiled in relief. Bucky was there, sitting on the couch with a plate of Alfredo balanced in his metal hand, looking mildly curious about whatever his friend was talking about.

“Oh, good,” Steve said, approaching him, Banner following behind. “You’re already here.”

“What is it, Stevie?” He asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, as you know, I visited an abandoned HYDRA base today.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I found...something.”

“...something. What kind of something?”

Steve suddenly wasn’t sure how to describe his discovery. “Well, it’s a...not an it, I mean, I found a…”

“Rogers here brought back an omega test subject.” Bruce interrupted. “She’s down in the lab right now sleeping off some nasty meds.”

Bucky’s posture hadn’t changed, despite how awkward and almost nervous Steve had gotten. He leaned back against the cushions, slurping down a few noodles while he regarded his friend with a mild expression.

“Alright, so?” He asked.

“So...I was wondering if you had any idea what HYDRA was doing experimenting on an omega.” Steve said, hands on his hips in a stance that was supposed to say I mean business, so listen to me.

Bucky wasn’t bothered by it. He was the biggest, toughest alpha in the tower, aside from the rare occasions Thor was roughing it down on Midgard with the rest of them. The others could puff up and posture all they wanted at him, but it never had any effect. He was always calm and cool, generally disinterested in their displays. He knew he was stronger, and he didn’t need to prove it, especially not when he didn’t have an omega to fight over.

He shrugged. “I want exactly privy to all their secrets. I know they kept cells full of omegas around for a while.”

“What did they do with them?” Steve asked.

“Whatever they wanted?” Bucky shook his head. “I really don’t know. If they were experimenting on ‘em, that never concerned me.”

“You’ve gotta know something, Buck.” Steve sounded exasperated.

“Why do you care so much?” He asked.

“Because something isn’t adding up.” Steve growled.

“They gave this omega enough heat suppressants to last a lifetime,” Bruce said. “Her system is all kinds of messed up.”

“Makes sense.” Bucky ate another mouthful. “HYDRA wouldn’t want to deal with hormones going crazy or any unplanned pups.”

Steve stared down at his friend. “Did they let you rut?”

“Stevie, at least take me out to dinner before you start asking about my sex life fifty years ago.” Bucky said dryly.

Steve just raised an eyebrow.

“...yeah. They did. Think they couldn’t stop my ruts.” He relented.

“So did they...you know…” Steve trailed off awkwardly.

“Were you ever given omegas to get you through them?” Bruce asked, proving once again how much more capable of having this conversation he was than Steve.

Bucky finally had to glance away from them in embarrassment. “Well…yeah. But I, uh...the Soldier, he would just kind of...well, they didn’t really last long, if you uh. Catch my drift.”

Steve paled.

Bruce gulped.

“...what? Look, I’m better now, I’m way past that. Besides, I never meant to hurt anyone, I wasn’t myself—“

“This omega is a super soldier.” Bruce said quietly.

Bucky’s face dropped, a flicker of something passing over his face. “...what?”

—

“Finally,” Bruce sighed happily, inhaling the smell of leftover pizza.

“Bucky, does the number 1096 mean anything to you?” Steve asked. He was sitting in a chair across from his friend, Bruce sitting at the kitchen island while he ate his dinner.

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t remember any numbers like that. They mostly just called ‘em all omega.”

He was trying to seem cool and collected, but his scent had shifted slightly. Steve could catch just the slightest hint of distress in it, and as he did so, he narrowed his eyes. He may have been separated from Bucky for almost 80 years, but he was still his best friend, and he could tell when he was hiding something.

“Why would they give the serum to an omega?” Steve asked.

“Branching out?” Bucky shook his head. “Why do they do anything? They’re HYDRA. They can do whatever they want.”

“So you don’t remember anything about an omega super soldier?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky sniffed defensively.

“Buck, it’s okay if you do.” Steve growled. “We’re not going to judge you for anything you did. We just want to help her and figure out who she is—“

“Well I don’t know,” Bucky snapped, big fangs bared in a warning.

Steve responded with a low growl.

“There’s a lot I don’t remember, or did you forget how many times they wiped my memory?”

“Seems like you’re hiding something, Buck, and I wanna know what it is.”

“Why do you care? You should just drop it,” Bucky snarled.

Steve regarded him carefully. Oh yeah. He was definitely hiding something.

“Hey, hey,” Bruce interrupted from the kitchen, intent on stopping their fight before it could start. “Relax, fellas. Don’t make me get the big guy out to shut you both up.”

Steve backed down. The threat of having the Hulk going after him was enough. Bucky didn’t seem to share the sentiment, though, his lips still pulled back in a blatant display of aggression. It was the first time in a while that Steve had seen him acting so defensively about something, and it was concerning, to say the least.

“Buck,” he said, voice low with warning. “Are you hiding something?”

Bucky’s nostrils flared angrily and the insinuation that he was keeping secrets, but he managed to reign himself back in, stifling another growl with a loud sigh.

“I dunno, Steve.” He admitted. “There’s...a lot I don’t remember. If I’m bein’ honest with you, I’m not even sure why I’m feelin’ so worked up about this.”

Steve nodded. It was a relief to hear that Bucky wasn’t acting this way entirely on purpose, at least.

“You feel okay?” Steve asked. “Not rutting soon, are you?”

“I’m fine, Steve.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Bucky snorted. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again. “Is the omega, uh...is she okay?”

“Physically, she doesn’t seem to be too worse for wear,” Bruce said from the kitchen. “The only abnormalities I found in our preliminary blood tests were evidence of the suppressants and the serum. Other than being exhausted and needing to adjust to consciousness again after decades of cryo, she’s fine.”

“Good.” Bucky said, a little too quickly. “I mean...that’s good.”

“She should be awake again by tomorrow. Hopefully, she’ll be up for a longer chat then.”

“You comfortable talking with her?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky. “It might be good for her to see someone else who used to be connected to HYDRA. Might help her ease into everything.”

Bucky gave a nod, already distracted by thoughts of this omega. Was it possible that the girl he saw in his dreams was real? It was hard for him to know what had actually happened to him and what he had imagined, what with HYDRA wiping his memory whenever they felt like it. Ever since he had gained his mental freedom, though, he had been plagued with nightmares, his sleep always filled with the faces of people he had killed.

As time went on, they were getting better, but they never really stopped. He just...didn’t always have to deal with the worst ones. Sometimes, he even got to have dreams that were...nice. Sometimes, he dreamt of a familiar scent, one he couldn’t really place and that he could never remember when he woke up. Sometimes, he dreamt of an omega, with long, dark hair, and the prettiest eyes he could ever imagine. He always saw her in flashes, a smile here, a sigh there, and with no idea as to who she was or where she came from, he had chalked it up to his mind trying to give him some relief from the nightmares. It had to be wishful thinking, and nothing more.

Unless it wasn’t.

He spent a while chatting with Steve and Bruce before retreating to his apartment. With Tony and Pepper gone for the night, spending it in some fancy hotel so that Stark could give a talk at some expo, and most of the others resting after missions, the tower was quiet. It left Bucky too much time to wander and think, and before he knew it, he was making a detour down to Banner’s lab.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he paused. What was he hoping to accomplish, exactly? He didn’t have the kind of clearance that Bruce did. He wouldn’t be able to sneak in, and even if he could, what would he do? Appearing at her bedside would just freak the poor omega out, and that wasn’t the kind of first impression he liked to leave these days.

He shook his head, pressing the button for his floor and leaning back against the elevator wall. He needed to be patient. Tomorrow, when she woke up, he would be able to see her for himself and decide if his weird dreams had any truth to them.

Not that he was getting his hopes up. He shouldn’t, after all. He would just set himself up for disappointment.

Just before the elevator doors slid shut, though, the tiniest, faintest hint of a scent wafted in, and Bucky’s eyes widened. He knew it. He knew that scent, or at least...he used to know it. Somewhere, in a part of his mind that he tried to forget about, he had memories of a peaceful, starry night sky, a hint of pine, and a touch of cinnamon.

Then, the doors closed, and it was gone again, leaving him confused as the elevator rushed upwards.

#alpha bucky barnes #alpha bucky #omegaverse #abo #it's been a long long time #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #winter solider x you #winter soldier smut #winter soldier x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

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