#just because he recognised loneliness and tried to share it to make it a little less lonely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stxrvel · 2 years

Text

the part where it gets weird (3)

summary: you find yourself in a complicated situation that involved your feelings and a weird neighbor who seems to be avoiding you

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

words: i have absolutely no idea

warnings: none? I think, maybe some descriptions of the feelings of loneliness and fear.

note: I have decided to go with the flow. on Wednesday I'll have the last exam of my semester and it is the most important one and I'm so freaking afraid of mess it up, but still I'm just gonna fill my mind with these two, and try to get good scenarios so that I can really be completely centered on these two. still, don't think that gonna happen. anyways, I hope you enjoy this part, and the Tumblr maybe lets it grow before deciding to let it die in the shadows. thank u for giving me the chance if you decide to read, I hope you have a great day and wonderful weekend! Also, English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!

(part 3 of how to break a routine in one year!)

Before you moved in and met Bucky Barnes, you felt you had fallen into a routine that was too monotonous.

Emmet disappeared during the blip. For a long time, you reminisced about that day, the two of you in your shared flat making dinner. There was a soft jazz tune playing that you liked to listen to when you cooked, especially on a date as special as your birthday, and even though your boyfriend wasn't that big a jazz fan, he always leaned against the doorframe leading to the kitchen to watch you move sideways, serene and happy. Really happy. You were very happy at that time, you were sure. You had the life you wanted, a partner who you loved and loved you and a great place to live with an amazing view of the city.

But then your nightmare began.

From one moment to the next, you were completely alone. You thought he had gone to the bathroom or to check his mobile phone, so you decided to continue cooking. It took you a while to react to the environment because the music didn't let you hear what was going on outside.

As time passed, you began to repress the memories you had of the moment when the mass hysteria started. There was screaming all over the building, and when you went outside, most of your neighbours were either crying their eyes out or just as static as you were. You didn't even really understand what was going on; one moment you were cooking and then you start hearing screams over the music. Your search for your boyfriend in the flat was fruitless and you decided to go out in case he had heard everything before you and had gone out first. But there was nothing for you out there.

What happened next when you returned to the flat you no longer remembered, nor the days, weeks or months that followed. You lived to work and only ordered food from home. You hadn't cooked since that fateful day and you tried to spend as little time as possible in that flat. It was considerably big, like a studio, once full of life and hope, but after a while you were unable to recognise it and the person you used to be before what happened. Most of the time you were only in the flat in the evenings, a plate of Chinese food on your lap or some foreign food while watching TV. The rest of the time, if you weren't at work, you paid for a room in a nearby hotel.

Sometimes you watched the news, but they always talked about the same thing: the collapse and recovery of the economy, investigations into the disappearance of half the population and how to bring them back, and a whole section devoted to people calling in to tell their experiences and share their feelings on national television. At other exceptional times, you went shopping. It was too sad and depressing to go out on the streets during the first few months, because everything was desolate and the few people you saw looked dead inside. When you came home with your shopping and took everything out to organise it, you realised that, time and again, you kept buying Emmet's shampoo and talcum powder. It took you a while to get out of the habit, and it was harder than you thought.

But there wasn't something there that sparked something in you and, after almost four years, you decided to sell the flat. You had already made up your mind, like everyone else, that Emmet was never coming back. That no one was coming back. And being in that place was making you wither, recently you didn't even know why you were still trying to get better. So you packed your bags and left the country. Your family and your closest friends were gone too. What better than to spend all your savings and start from scratch in another country?

You spent a year and a half in Italy when a person appeared in your living room. As confused as you were, neither of you said anything for several seconds. Then it happened again. You heard the shouting, the crying and some bad language, much more clearly than the first time, and reliving that traumatic situation didn't sit too well with you. The rest happened too quickly. You talked to the man, turned on the news, saw a whole shot of some city in the United States destroyed and as a caption: "the Avengers give us back hope".

You threw the remote control at the TV. A crack spread across the screen, you watched it furiously as the man stared at you in confusion. The faces of the Avengers who had died were flashing across the screen. You felt a ringing in your ears, too loud to hear what the reporter or the man in the room with you was saying. You moved on automatic to your room, in a matter of seconds you packed your bag and left the place. The next thing you knew, you were on a plane to the United States. You hadn't even processed what was happening, it was as if someone else was moving your body for you.

When you got to the block where you used to live, it was like a reality check. You spent the last year trying to pretend that you were fine, that you had really gotten better and moved on, but going back to that place struck a chord inside you, like a freshly opened wound. You could barely make it up the stairs to the fourth floor, your body heavy as if you were carrying a sack full of stones. Your heart was beating extremely fast when you reached the door and rang the bell.

An elderly lady opened the door for you. And though you tried, you couldn't speak. You felt suffocated and suddenly you didn't even know what you were doing there. The lady was talking, you knew she was saying something, maybe asking what you were doing there, but you couldn't even move your lips to say something.

Suddenly, you were inside the flat, but you didn't react. The lady had sat you down in her big armchair and put a cup of tea in front of you. You could see the smoke, through the air from the window it reached your face, but you couldn't feel anything. You felt numb.

The lady touched your arm and brought the cup close to your hands. It was hot. Too hot. You hissed and grabbed it by the rim. A deep silence soon came to an end. You began to think, ramble and remember. You looked at the lady as if she had all the answers, but all she told you was to drink your tea and try to calm down. It was hard, but after a few minutes you looked a bit more relaxed.

At that point, the lady told you that, if you were looking for the man who had appeared in the flat, he had left several hours ago. She told you that he hadn't said where he was going, but that he was probably in one of the makeshift shelters they had set up in the city to keep track of people who had turned up, or that he might be in a hotel or at an acquaintance's house.

You spent hours searching. You knew that Emmet had no one in this country besides you and, at this point, leaving the country for him would be complicated. It was almost two days since you started looking, in every hotel and every shelter. By the end of the second day, you finally found him. And you felt at peace, yes, you were glad that he was safe and sound, but you were not at peace yet. That same day, you were also able to communicate with your family living in Ohio; luckily, everyone was fine.

Soon after, you began to think that maybe Emmet should try to get back into the rhythm of his life on his own, because you were both living in a hotel without doing much of anything; however, when you suggested it, he suddenly seemed very scared and asked you not to leave him alone. You decided to stay and try to understand what he was going through, but after two months things were not getting any better. You were able to go back to your old job, but he was still locked in the room. You tried to help him get his life back on track, but he shut down every time you suggested going out, or trying something different. He just didn't want to.

When you realised that this was no longer healthy for him, you took his mobile phone. You knew he had been ignoring his mum's calls since he got back and you decided to call her and ask her to come over. The poor woman didn't hesitate to agree, desperate to hear from her son. She too had been missing for five years.

Needless to say, Emmet was angry with you, but only at first and, days later, he quietly accepted the fact that you wanted to move out on your own to a place closer to your work.

Emmet was left with his parents living in one of the houses they had in town and you arrived at the building where you met Bucky. It had only been a day since you had moved in and, after unpacking and organizing everything, you decided to turn on the TV. A Tony Stark news report came on in the foreground. Then you remembered what you'd been through and felt like throwing the remote at the TV again. You didn't think you would ever feel so much hatred against one person, or several people at the same time. You wanted to convince yourself that it wasn't really their fault that other intergalactic beings had problems with their planet, but with so much pent-up pain and suffering, you needed to take it out on someone or something. You never in your life thought you would say you hated the Avengers, but there you were, thinking just that.

That same night, sitting on your little balcony, you decided to have a peaceful night to yourself. You had organised the whole house with your posters, you had also called your parents again, you had prepared a dinner for yourself after so long and you had spent some time in the bathtub. Then you went out on the balcony with a cup of hot chocolate, just to watch the night.

You had been sitting in your long-overdue peace and quiet for some time when you heard the window of the balcony next door being opened. You noticed a short-haired man leaning against the railing, just looking out over the city. You guessed that this was your neighbour. You both stood there for a while before entering your respective houses, the man first before you. You thought a bit about what he looked like, you could tell he hadn't had a good night.

And well, it had been four months since that night. You still didn't feel in full control of your life, but you knew you were on the right track.

And Bucky… well, you felt he'd been avoiding you for a few days. Normally, during the week you'd run into him at least four times when you left your flat, but since what you'd talked about the day of the celebration in the building, you'd only seen him about three times in all that time. Maybe you shouldn't have been so insistent that he talk to you about his life - after all, he doesn't have to, right?

Arriving at your flat felt different with each passing day. You were getting used to the presence of the man who was silent 90% of the time, but who you knew always listened and kept in mind everything you told him. Bucky is one of billions, you were sure. He was a very honest and dedicated man, respectful, but slightly jocular, always lending a hand, even if he was hanging off the cliff. Moving to that place was one of the best things you could have done, and now you felt you could ruin a part of it by not knowing how to respect the boundaries of a person you cared about very much. Sometimes you were really surprised by that, how Bucky had become so important to you in such a short period of time.

What difference did it make if you didn't know his birthday? You mentally scolded yourself, riding up the building's lift with two bags full of freshly bought groceries and toiletries. That day officially marked four months since you had arrived. And it was also the day of your monthly shopping.

You had left in the morning (without meeting Bucky by any chance) straight to work, where you spent most of the morning busy finishing deliveries that were due the following week. At noon you finally left, walked to one of the supermarkets near the building and did your respective shopping. With a bit of hope, you bought some extra vegetables and meats to prepare something for Bucky that night, if you could see him after all this time.

The metal lift doors opened and you came face to face with a dark-haired man leaning against the door of Bucky's flat. You frowned. He glanced at you, nodded his head in greeting and said “good afternoon”. Politely, you returned the greeting and walked to the right in the direction of your flat. When you reached the door, you put your bags on the floor and started looking for your keys with more haste than usual. You wanted to get in quickly because you knew that if you stayed outside any longer, you would turn around and start a very embarrassing interrogation of this man who must definitely know Bucky. Because if not, what reason does he have to be sitting right outside his door?

As you pulled out your keys, tangled with your headphones, they fell out making a thunderous sound. It probably wasn't that loud, but within the emptiness of your head and the tension in your body, it had really sounded like a racket.

Why am I making such a fuss? He's just a friend of Bucky's… a friend… someone else who knows him… who knows things about him… who might know… where he is, or if he's okay…

“You know Bucky?” your body turned around, the keys in your hand that were about to open the door to your flat.

The man raised his head in your direction, watching you in a very peculiar way. You didn't know whether suspicious or intrigued.

“Do you know Bucky?” the man replied with another question, looking more intrigued than suspicious.

“We're neighbours,” you pointed to your flat.

“Yeah, but I mean, have you talked to him?”

“Have I talked to Bucky?” you frowned, your brain starting to work a mile a minute trying to decipher and process so many things at once, “You mean this week? Have I talked to Bucky this week? Because I haven't spoken to him this week. In fact, I think he's been ignoring me pretty much flat out and I understand that he's angry, but avoiding me isn't going to make anything go away and I've really wanted to see him so I could tell him I'm sorry for trying to meddle in his life, but I've hardly ever seen him these past two weeks, and the only times he's practically run off and I couldn't…”

At some point in your monologue, the man stood up and approached you. He tried to talk to you, but you didn't hear him because you were rambling, until you felt his hands on your shoulders.

“Calm down, kiddo. Breathe.”

You followed his instruction, but two seconds later you frowned, “I'm not a child.”

You shook your shoulders and backed away from the man, who raised his hands and took a few steps away to give you space.

“I just want to know if he's okay,” you demanded, your gaze on the wood of the floor and your heart racing, about to burst out of your throat.

“This morning he wrote to me,” the man began to tell you, and you looked up to hear his account carefully, “He told me he had some things to discuss and to come by. I hardly ever really know much about Bucky, I only find out what he wants me to know.”

You nodded in his direction, your head scheming again.

“Okay, I get it, I get it. If you're here right now, does that mean he's supposed to be coming?”

“Supposed to,” he gestured affirmatively, “I'm Sam, by the way. Sam Wilson.”

“Y/N, just Y/N,” you frowned at him, “Do I know you? Your name sounds familiar…”

“I don't think we've met, but maybe you've seen me on TV.”

“Oh, you're an actor?”

“Not exactly, I'm…”

“Sam.”

There it was. Imposing and rigorous in a way you'd never heard it before. The voice you hadn't heard for almost two weeks.

Sam turned around, and allowed you to watch Bucky stand in front of his flat door, barely inserting the key. You felt a kind of peace fill your chest, as your mind got rid of all the fog, and suddenly all you could see was the man. He was fine, he was healthy and definitely alive.

Suddenly, Bucky's friend Sam moved in his direction as he pointed at you, “You didn't tell me you had a friend.”

Bucky turned to look at you. He gave you a look that froze your chest. He had never looked at you in such a cold and ruthless and cutting way. You felt your throat close up with nervousness and you began to breathe faster.

“She's not my friend.”

Ouch. A stab to the heart would have hurt less. You stared at the man, who was struggling with the door to open it. Whatever you wanted to say to him to say hello, to let him know you were happy to see him, or that he was okay, disappeared from your mind in a matter of seconds. You felt that ringing in your ear that made you feel like you were losing oxygen. Why did Bucky Barnes make you feel so horrible and disposable?

“But you're neighbours,” Sam added, puzzled.

“So what? We're barely even acquaintances.”

“Bucky,” you spoke, your voice hanging on a thread. You didn't even know how you had found the strength to speak, but the look the man gave you when you said his name froze you from head to toe.

Finally, his door opened, and he turned to look at Sam, “Are you coming in or not?”

Sam turned to look at you, your gaze still focused on the man who ignored you like you were a crumpled piece of paper.

“Bucky,” you called back, and when he looked back at you, he didn't look as hard as before. His features had contracted a little, but he still felt reluctant to your presence, “Can we talk for a moment?”

The aforementioned looked at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders and took a few steps to the side. Bucky rolled his eyes, and focused on you once more.

“Now… now I really can't do this.”

“Please,” you leaned closer, “I know you're angry that I pushed you and made you talk about things you didn't want to, and I'm really sorry, I really am…”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky interrupted you, his brow furrowed in confusion.

His question puzzled you. You watched him, your face mimicking his in hodgepodge.

“From-from the time of the building celebration. When we were outside…”

“Ah,” Bucky seemed to remember, his head bobbing in assent, “What about it?”

“Well you-you left,” you stammered, not quite understanding the turn the conversation had taken. Bucky nodded at your words and, with a glare, urged you to continue, “And-and then, y-you've been ignoring me ever since.”

“I haven't been ignoring you,” he denied.

“What?” you blurted out between half whisper and half shout, “What do you mean, you haven't? I've barely seen you three times in the last two weeks. You sneak all over the place and you're doing that thing again of changing your departure schedule so you won't run into me!”

Bucky sighed. You noticed his shoulders slacken as he lowered his gaze.

“I haven't been ignoring you, remember I have a job? I've just been busier.”

“And my messages?”

“Ah, no,” Sam interjected, “Don't worry about that, he ignores everyone's messages.”

You shook your head, “Everyone's but mine. You always reply to me, or at least leave me in the dark. But these last few days I haven't had anything…”

“What?” Sam's voice was drowned out in a whisper.

“Y/N, we can talk about this more later. Right now I have something important to talk to Sam about.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, but said nothing. You stood watching the man who seemed to have completely softened his expression, too drastic a change to what you had seen when he arrived.

Sam approached the door, leaning out just to say goodbye, “See you later, Y/N, I hope we can all meet, another day. Preferably under different circumstances.”

“Just come on in,” Bucky nudged him with a shoulder and you couldn't help but notice his trademark black gloves.

The aforementioned stood in the doorway, his gaze focused on yours, just as you had your eyes fixed on his. He seemed to have a storm of thoughts and feelings going through his head.

“I wasn't really ignoring you, okay? It was just work. You'll be seeing more of me in a few days, okay?”

If he was trying to get an answer out of you, he definitely wasn't getting it. And you didn't really know what to say to him either. So had the last two weeks been a figment of your imagination? Was he really not ignoring you and you were just getting ideas?

Bucky clicked his tongue and looked at his watch.

“I'll write you later, okay? And we'll talk about it.”

And he gave you one last look before entering his flat and closing the door.

Needless to say, that “later” turned into several days of waiting. Within those days, you realised several things.

First. You didn't know how to handle your friendly relationship with Bucky going forward. You mean, you felt you had a good relationship before the recent events, even if you were the more talkative of the two of you, but lately you felt that distance had changed a lot of things about how you really saw Bucky. It's fine that Bucky doesn't want to talk about his life, but you felt you were in limbo just giving things away without getting anything in return. Was that selfish? Did it really make you a bad person? Sometimes you thought he was just trying to keep you out of his life, and that wasn't the best thought of all.

Second. That you had never questioned not knowing too much about his life, arguing that it was his decision when to share it with you. And yes, indeed it was, but what kind of things could be behind that curtain? Doing a short but effective investigation, you discovered that Sam Wilson was Falcon, one of the many heroes who helped fight Thanos and his army. That made you wonder too many things about Bucky: How did he meet Sam? What kind of relationship do they have? You'd come to the conclusion that they must work together, because you'd seen him a couple of other times on the floor since the first time. But what did it entail that Bucky was working with Sam Wilson? What was Bucky's real job?

And third, that maybe Bucky's recent behaviour had influenced the way you felt about him too much. In what way? You were still trying to figure that out. You hadn't felt this worried about not knowing about someone since Emmet disappeared into the blip over five years ago, and that was a lot to say. What was it, then, given that, that you really felt for Bucky? Brotherly love? Familiarity? Probably.

Yes, probably.

Day eight had arrived, after you'd gone into your flat and helped yourself to a nice plate of pasta, ready to marathon your favourite series of the moment, when you heard a soft knock on your door. You grunted under your breath, setting your plate down on the table in front of the couch you were sitting in. The mirror on the left side of the room, right where you were standing, facing the balcony, showed the full moon at its highest point. It was probably almost eleven p.m. What does anyone want at this hour?

You shuffled towards the door. You had a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and your plushest stockings brushed the floor. Your hand moved to the door handle, moving it almost lazily to open the door to see who was behind it.

“Emmet,” you muttered, your brow furrowing in time. The man in front of you gave you a half smile, almost forced, and waved back, “What are you doing here at this hour? You didn't write me that you were coming.”

“I didn't plan it, it was spontaneous. I went to do some shopping for the house and was passing by to come back, so I decided to stop for a moment,” he told you, his hands moving all over the place until they were inside the pockets of his jacket, and his body moving back and forth, from side to side, on the tips of his toes. He was terribly nervous, you knew. It was obvious. But why?

“Okay, I understand. And do you want to come in for a drink?”

“No,” he said quickly, his face suddenly getting serrated, “I'll be quick. Y/N, I think we should broke up.”

You stared into his eyes, staring into yours. You didn't say anything for several seconds. You repeated the words in your head a couple of times, thinking about what to say in response, but your mind was empty. Your mind was empty. And what was in your chest? Nothing. A strange emptiness. For a while you thought that, if the day ever came when Emmet told you he was done with you, that would be the day you would lose part of your soul and go with him; for those times when you felt he was so intrinsic to your life that the slightest thought of separation was unbearable.

Nevertheless, you just looked at him. Your expression didn't mutate for a moment, and the man in front of you frowned.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied quickly, “I mean, I understand why you say that. We also didn't spend much time together since… you came back, and when we are together, we don't have good communication either. Five years was too long.”

“I know. And I can tell you could have left me behind, tried to move on with your life… and I don't blame you,” he quickly added the last when he noticed you were about to refute him, “a lot of people thought half the people on the planet would never come back, and probably if it had been the other way around I would have thought the same thing. I don't want you to feel you have a responsibility to me. You don't talk to me directly, but my mother is incapable of not telling me something, especially if it has to do with you. You call her almost every day.”

“Is that bad? I just want to know how you're doing.”

“I'm going to be fine, Y/N, just like you. But I'm not going to keep you with me when I know you don't feel the same way you used to.”

Mmm, so that was it.

Your lips moved, you wanted to say something to him but you didn't know what. The whole time you had been separated from Emmet since the blip, at no point did you ever think about how you really felt about your boyfriend. All you thought about was that Emmet was back, and he was your boyfriend, so you had to make sure he was okay. Because you had to, it was your obligation as his partner, wasn't it?

“You don't have to answer me, but I want you to know that we'll be fine.”

“I'm sorry,” was the only thing that came out of your mouth.

“We'll be fine,” he repeated, and with a half-smile he turned and started walking towards the stairs.

And you stood there, standing in the doorframe watching the lift. Well, it had finally happened. The relationship that had become one-sided was over and you really didn't know how to react. Until that day, Emmet was your reason for keeping your feet on the ground. When he left, you wandered all over the place without a purpose: in the flat, in the supermarkets and in your job. If you didn't have your port to land, what were you going to do?

You never thought you would become emotionally dependent on one person. But, after everything that had happened, not having something to remind you of normality made you think you were going to go crazy. If you couldn't remember who you were before those five years, how are you going to know that you're doing well? That you're on the right track?

How are you going to know that you're okay, in this new world where there's a threat around every corner, and where the chance of dying from aliens was higher than winning the lottery? You weren't ready. You really didn't feel ready to face this new world alone.

If Emmet wasn't there, then what was your normality? What was going to remind you how happy you were before it all happened and that you could be happy again with hard work and dedication? What?

That wasn't the way you planned to spend the night.

“Y/N?” you heard someone say.

Bucky.

You looked up, focusing on the man standing in front of you with a puzzled frown.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied quickly, without much thought, “Yeah, I'm fine. Why?”

“You look like you've been standing there for a while.”

“Ah… yeah. I was just going to lie down.”

“Before that,” Bucky spoke up, as you moved to close the door, “can we talk for a few minutes? About what you said the other day.”

“You already told me you've been busy with your work, what else do you have to tell me?”

“You don't know what my job is.”

“And why do I need to know?” You replied curtly, defensively, which caused a confused expression on the man's face, “I'm sorry, it's just… you didn't really pick the best night for this. Can't it be tomorrow?”

Bucky shook his head in assent, “Yeah, sure, I've got tomorrow off.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow then, Buck. Go get some rest.”

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ggukkiereads · 3 years

Note

Hello!! Just a few days ago I stumble upon your blog and I'm wondering if you have some recommendations for Hybrid AUs, much appreciated if it is an OT7 and completed, but if so I will still be so thankful. (I just need some cure from the stress that modules brings) Thank You in Advance (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

🌷 Hello! welcome to my mini fic-reading land. I’ve actually received asks for Hybrid AUs (I pinned the requests in the navi) but I just have a very messy draft.

But to help you with your stress, I think I can share a few of my ongoing reads (sorry they won’t be complete but they’re OT7). But, I added completed ones I could remember too (●'◡'●)

*note: will edit this later and organize this per member - maybe add other fics I’ll remember*

Fic Recs | BTS Hybrid AUs

→ A Place Called Home @agustdakasuga - OT7 x Reader

series [27/27] | 88k | Hybrid AU, Poly AU, Soulmate AU, Romance Humor | Fluff

Having saved your own injured hybrid, you were determined to try and help any other hybrid that crossed your path who needed saving. But being a vet in a small hospital wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to do more, you wanted to make a difference. You wanted to give them a home.

→ If I Can Never Give You Peace @candlewaxandp0lar0ids - Jungkook x Reader

series [3/?] | 17.6k+ | Mafia AU, Enemies to Lovers | A (so far)

It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and her father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

🌷ggukkienote: I am so hooked on this (because I am a sucker for Mafia AUs too). This is such a great story and the OC is really different from the usual OCs. Very interesting.

→ Eunoia @wishesunderthestars - OT7 x Reader

series [15/?] | 100k+ (I just assumed this, masterpost doesn’t have wc but it’s 6k per chapter or more?) | Director!Reader, hurt/comfort | fluff, eventual smut

You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job. You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

→ Restitution @cloudteawrites - OT7 x Reader

series [7/?] | 48k+ | slow burn, poly, mystery, romance

when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is.

→ Lacuna @barbika1508 - Jungkook x Reader

series [42/42] | 324.3k | Hybrid AU, check for TW | Fluff, Angst, Smut

Lacuna - (n.) a blank space, a missing part

Y/N just wanted to go back home, to enjoy her peace and quiet away from problems and people. But typically, her luck strikes as she stumbles upon a horrific scene of two guys mistreating an already beaten down hybrid. Will she take matters into her own hands and help him? Or let someone else help along the way???

🌷 This is on AO3 and I got a recent ask about author’s tumblr. So if you prefer AO3 you can check their profile

→ A Hundred Percent Human by wrienne- OT7 x Reader

series [12/?] | 88k+ | Hybrid AU, fluff, angst, smut |

In which you (reader) are forced to take care of seven hybrids in a twist of fate. Drunk and down on life, you finally decide to deal with the house and the unsavory business your mother left behind. However, to your shock, you find that seven very different hybrids are included with both the house - and the business. Seven hybrids you never even met before - even less agreed to take care of.

🌷 This is on AO3. I don’t normally reco AO3 since my blog is focused on tumblr fics but someone sent an ask about this so I’m including it

→ Inferiority Complex @starlightauroras-writes - Jimin x Reader

series [10/?] | 88k+ | political themes, themes of abuse (hybrids) | A, S

You had never liked hybrids. You disagreed with their very existence, and you never wanted to have anything to do with them. And then one day, you discovered a hybrid who was more scared of you than you were of him, and everything changed as you realised you were the only hope he had…

→ Sanctuary @chimchimsauce - Jimin x Reader

series [16/16] | 20k | Wolf Hybrid!Jimin, Barista!OC, feat sanctuary staff Taehyung, hurt/comfort | F, A

YN is a young girl, bright and ambitious, but due to her busy schedule, she's been unable to make any real friends. When an ad for Saint Mary's Sanctuary catches her attention, she never expected her life to be changed by a certain hybrid named Jimin.

→ Summer Nights @marginalmadness - Jungkook x Reader

series [4/4] | 23k | Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance | F, S

A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

→ Risk it All @/httpjeon - Jungkook x Reader

series [5/5] | 8.3k | hybrid au, alpha wolf!jungkook | A, F, S

ripped from your family, you find yourself in a warehouse filled with predators. just your luck, you’re right across from a caged alpha wolf.

🌷 (I linked Chapter 5 because for some reason others couldn’t find this chapter so they thought it’s still incomplete)

→ Outro Love is Not Over @kiirokero - Hoseok x Reader

series [12/?] | Daycare Teacher!Hoseok x Single Mom!Reader

You are the single mother of a beautiful 6-year-old golden retriever hybrid who you named Yunho. But you’re a human. You can’t show him the ropes of being a hybrid, and you can’t teach him things the other moms can. So, when a handsome German Shepard hybrid comes into your life, helping you and guiding Yunho in a way you can’t, you can’t help the cozy home he sets up in your heart.

→ It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right @imaginethisbts - TaeKook x Reader

two shot [2/2] | 11k | dom/sub themes, heat cycles | S

What’s better than one dogboy lover? Two dogboy lovers. But when Tae and Jungkook seem unusually clingy, it can only mean one thing. That time of the month has snuck up on you and your dogboy lovers do not want to share.

🌷 Also try their other Jungkook hybrid series Out of the Blue

→ Peculiar Park @daydreamindollie - OT7 x Reader

series [9/?] | 38k+ | imagines, slice of life | Writer!Reader, Psychologist!Reader, imagines | fluff

you’re a successful hybrid writer and psychologist who takes in seven hybrids on one stormy night after finding one of their pack stealing from your garden

→ Yeouiju @nomseok - Namjoon x Reader

one shot | 33.7k | Mythical AU, Hybrid AU (if you squint), suspense | A, F, S

you find an ancient stone in the middle of the mountains and bring it home with you, oblivious to the consequences of taking a dragon’s yeouiju.

→ Beautiful Stranger @/nomseok - Taehyung x Reader

one shot | 19k | circus AU | A, S, F

your dream is to take care of animals for the rest of your life in the big city, making sure that they’re cared for. but you stumble upon a malnourished, rare tiger in your local circus, and you can’t help but want to take care of him.

→ Evolution of You and I @readyplayerhobi - Jimin x Reader

one shot | 10.2k | kind of epistolary (letters), chat, childhood friends | F

For 15 years, Park Jimin has been in your life in some form. From childhood penpal’s to the closest of friends now, you can’t imagine your life without him even if you’ve never actually met him in person. It doesn’t help that you’ve fallen for him, even across the distance that separates you. But what happens when you finally meet up and you discover he’s been keeping something secret?

→ Fish are Friends @httpjeon - Taehyung x Reader

one shot | 10.2k | seahorse hybrid!taehyung | A, S, F

after moving to the seaside, there is a dreadful storm. when all is clear, a man washes up on shore…only he isn’t quite human.

🌷 you know seahorses mate for life and it’s the male that gets pregnant? Interesting huh

→ Pink Panther @gimmesumsuga - Seokjin x Reader

one shot | 13k | boss-employee | F, S

The one where your boss, Kim Seokjin, tries to show you how beautiful you are.

→ Ragdoll @ausblack - Jimin x Reader

series [17/17] | Hybrid AU, College AU | F, A

As you were studying to obtain your medical & veterinary degree, your professor came up with the idea of organizing an internship - where you found yourself side by side with a sick hybrid that needed nothing other that complete care.

→ Jagged + Catnap @opaljm - Jimin x Reader

one shot + sequel | 18k | jaguar/black panther!jimin, sand dune cat!reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers, established relationship (sequel)| S, F, slight A

The pretty little sand cat hybrid Jimin has been in love with for the past year experiences her first heat and Jimin would love nothing more than to be the one to guide her through it and breed her with his kittens.

🌷 there’s also a possible spin-off for Taehyung (Eye of the Tiger)

→ Owner @jessikahathaway - Jungkook x Reader

series [6/?] | 17.4k | Fake Dating AU, Hybrid AU, based on Kimi Wa Petto (Japanese anime) | F, S, A

With your mother hounding on you (no pun intended), you decided to get a little help from a hybrid, who was also in need of assistance.

→ Loving Him Was Red + Somewhere Only We Know @userseok - Jungkook x Reader

series [3/?] | 12.8k+ | enemies to lovers, childhood friends (sorta), college au, jock!jungkook, unrequited love (for OC) | S, F, A

you’ve been chasing after jungkook for years. after a harsh verbal altercation between both of you, you decide to leave him alone and pursue a relationship with someone who seems genuinely interested in you, thinking he would never return your feelings.

I would like to recommend the catalog of these writers:

@ditttiii - so I realize I’m following them on AO3 when I realized the fics looked familiar 🤭. They have an ongoing series called Enchanted to Meet You which you might want to check out if you like Soulmate AUs too! I recently reblogged a Jungkook two-shot comfort fic (hybrid au too) so I recommend going through their masterlist!

@aroseforyoongi - who I discovered because of Gossamer (KTH). It was completed but I think it’s up for re-write/re-post? You can try the others:

Navy Blue - Jungkook [completed]

Forever Yours - Yoongi [one shot, prequel to Navy Blue]

Let Me Love You- Jungkook [one shot]

@magicalsalamander - another favorite author of mine I just feel like I’m reading a great tale every time I start on a series or one shot. They have great fics with supernatural themes too

Rabbit on the Moon - Jungkook | if you’re in the mood for police officer Jungkook [6/6]

The Act of Persuasion - Seokjin | if you are in the mood for Single Dad AU x Arranged Marriage too [one shot]

Firefly that Guards the Fox - Taehyung | if you are in the mood for mystery [11/12 - just epilogue left]

Kitten’s Little Flame - Yoongi | if you like BF to Lovers between dragon and a cat [6/6]

There’s more so please check their Masterlist

@hollyhomburg - I just love Of Fire and Love (hello dragon!yoongi and baby!jungkook? 🥺) But you can check:

their masterlist of all their hybrid fics

Dance to This series which I’ve added to fic recs based on an ask about stories that include members/readers with disability.

Don’t care if it Hurts - Jimin | this is probably my favorite (again I’m a sucker for Mafia AUs) , guard dog hybrid!jimin [12/13, just epilogue]

@angelicyoongie - I got hooked after reading their stories on AO3 but they have tumblr too! Check their masterlist for ongoing hybrid fic (Abundance - OT7) but these are completed ones:

Desolate - Yoongi, grumypy cat hybrid [14/14]

Out of the Woods - Namjoon, wolf hybrid, strangers to lovers [3/3]

@worldwidebt7 - if you like webtoons! I read parts of Jungkook’s webtoon and I think currently we’re on Yoongi’s story. Access it here

@jincherie - One of the first hybrid fics I remember encountering is Inheritance (MYG). Other fics:

Perihelion - Hoseok, college, roommate, enemies [2/?]

Butterfingers - Namjoon, teacher au, this is cuuuute READ IT if you’re looking for something fluffy [one shot]

4 o’ clock - Taehyung, single dad au (I included this in the singel dad fic recs too) [3/?]

Under the Bridge - Jungkook, found jungkook under the bridge [one shot]

@whitesparrows97 - a writer I discovered because of a Yoongi soulmate fic but I found that they also have other hybrid fics:

Cat’s Cradle - Yoongi, bestfriend [5/5]

Underdog - Taehyung, shifter, brought home what she thought a stray dog [5/5]

@foxymoxynoona - and what would my reco be without foxymoxy? So they have tumblr but their works are on AO3. I’ve listed their current works here but I didn’t include their completed works which are must-reads:

Sugar Fairy - Jungkook, mating, adopted hybrids [48/48]

A Sea of Indigo - Jungkook, ex-fighter [48/48] ⭐⭐⭐

@therealmintedmango - They have a whole masterlist of their hybrid!au fics. I recently finished Kingdom Come and I always remember Jimin from King (for some reason)

@joonbird - check their Zodiac Hybrid Masterlist of one shot per member

There are more (usually one shot per member) but I’ll probably put them in another Fic Rec List for Hybrid AUs. Sorry this list is kind of all over the place (not even organized per member 🤭). But good luck with your modules and I hope these help!

(❁´◡`❁)

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kmikaelsonimagines · 3 years

Text

Epiphany: A Kol Mikaelson Imagine

Request from @nervousfandom: May i please get epiphany from folklore for Kol

Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

Epiphany

Keep your helmet, keep your life, son Just a flesh wound, here's your rifle Crawling up the beaches now

Christmas Eve, 1914.

It was supposed to be perfect. A night of celebration. Only a few hours earlier, Kol had asked you to marry him, and you had accepted, before kissing him passionately and lovingly, practicing for the big day when he would kiss you for the first time as your husband.

No-one knew yet, no-one had noticed the new ring on your finger, sitting among other items of jewellery that Kol had treated you to over the years. Tonight, it would just be you and Kol in the know, an intimate little secret for you to share.

It felt like the start of something amazing. Kol had saved you, bandaged you back up when you were wounded, reached out a hand when you were crawling along the floor in need of help.

He had been your saviour, your fellow soldier in the battle that was life, your weapon against the darkness that threatened to harm you. He had promised to be by your side forever, and now you had the ring to confirm it.

But, of course, there was still the issue of the diamond and the dagger that would incapacitate the hybrid Mikaelson, his sister having caught you two rifling around in Klaus’s things.

You pushed away any worries, focusing only on tonight.

"Sir, I think he's bleeding out" And some things you just can't speak about

You didn’t trust Rebekah, didn’t have the faith in her that Kol did. Which may have been why you weren’t overly surprised when Klaus started speaking, when Kol looked at you with fear in his eyes.

This was supposed to the perfect night and it was falling into disrepair.

You’d made a deal, one that you would never break. If Klaus decided to dagger his younger brother, you wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t complain, wouldn’t try to save him. Kol had made you promise not to try to save him, knowing that it would only end up with you getting hurt.

In sacrificing himself, Kol would be saving you again, staunching the bleeding that came every time you were parted from him.

Kol looked at you, and you knew, knew it was time for you to make good on your promise, knew that the ring on your finger was a symbol of that. There was so much you wanted to say, but words escaped you. So instead, you briefly squeezed his hand, hoping he would hear the words left unspoken.

I’ll wait for you. I love you.

He smiled, sadness coating his features. I love you too.

And then he turned and tried to run.

With you I serve, with you I fall down, down Watch you breathe in, watch you breathing out, out

You stood, frozen, your promise not to interfere etched into your skin as you watched Kol get cornered by his two brothers. Every part of you was screaming to climb the stairs, to run to his aid, but you had made a promise and the ring on your finger was a reminder of that.

You would always keep your promises to him, no matter how much it hurt.

You had always been by his side, his partner in crime, and surely you deserved punishment too. But Klaus wouldn’t hurt you, at least not physically. He would make you wait, knowing that being without Kol for an unknowable amount of time would be enough for you to remember your place in the hierarchy of the Mikaelson family.

You felt yourself falling as you watched Elijah grab Kol, as his chest was bared, ready for Klaus to plunge a dagger into it. You watched as Kol threw you one final glance, one final goodbye for only the hybrid knew how long.

You smiled at him, a reminder that he would carry with him in his sleep. A reminder that when he woke up, you would be there, waiting for him.

Ready to marry him.

You let go of the breath you had been holding as Kol was forced into that unbearable sleep.

Only twenty minutes to sleep But you dream of some epiphany

You stared at Kol in the coffin. He looked so peaceful, sleeping like that. You envied him almost, knowing that without him, you wouldn’t sleep properly for the next century. Rebekah had tried to make peace with you, but you had only glared at her, voiceless in this whole charade.

Elijah had noticed the ring on your finger and nodded at it, a question in the gesture. You looked down at it, then at him, nodding back. Elijah smiled a sad smile, and for a moment, you had thought that maybe he would go to Klaus, convince the hybrid to wake Kol up.

But that was only a dream.

Year after year passed. You moved out of the Mikaelson mansion, only visiting from time to time. But always waiting, waiting for the moment when Kol would greet you at last.

There were times when you wondered why you had stayed, but then all you had to do was look at the ring on your finger and you were reminded of the promises you had made.

Year after year after year.

And then came the moment you had been waiting for.

Just one single glimpse of relief To make some sense of what you've seen

Almost a century had passed since that fateful night. You were living on your own now, far away from Klaus Mikaelson, far away from Kol’s lifeless form.

Always waiting.

So much had changed in that time, technology having evolved beyond your wildest dreams. You were out when your phone rang, a number you didn’t recognise. You answered it with a curious hello.

The reply, your name, came in a familiar voice, one that had you breathing a sigh of relief. Kol’s voice at the other end of the line had put an end to your waiting, and years of self-loathing, of loneliness, were finally starting to make sense.

It had all been for this moment, this reunion, the question he asked after you uttered his name, voice breaking as you held in the tears. Fancy marrying me now?

I thought you’d never ask.

I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.

I love you too, Kol Mikaelson.

All those years of waiting, all those promises that broke your heart, all of the hurt seemed worth it. You looked at the ring on your finger, an antique now, and you knew that whatever happened, you and Kol would get through it.

You always did.

Because you loved each other.

Masterlist

Folklore Masterlist

#the vampire diaries #TVD #tvd imagine #tvd imagines #the originals #the originals imagines #the originals imagine #to #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagines #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x reader #nate buzolic #nate buzz #Nathaniel Buzolic

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redrose-arrow · 3 years

Note

hi Duncan x halt anon here and you have NO IDEA what you’ve just unleashed (IVE BEEN WANTING TO TALK ABOUT THESE TWO FOR SO LONGN) but you said to go ahead and I will until it gets annoying!!!

ANYWAY so these two are...pretty different, right. But in the books Duncan lets Halt get away with a LOT and genuinely values him & Halt does have at minimum SOME respect for Duncan, bc I don’t think Duncan would tolerate just straight-up disrespect, but their dynamic is “very good friends friends who’ll tease/bully each other” more so than “loyal follower & royal leader”. SO what I’m thinking: after Crowley & Halt rescue him from the castle & they’re on their way to the tournament, Duncan realizes Halt is That Guy From The Ball That Duncan Totally Wasn’t Crushing On From Afar, and he’s like....BUT THEY SAID YOU WERE DEAD so Halt yanks him aside while Crowley’s distracted and is like “SHUT UP ILL TELL YOU LATER.” Duncan won’t tell Crowley or the others even if Halt doesn’t wanna explain but he IS very confused & Halt knows he won’t stop pestering him for an explanation...So he tells Duncan the story, late one night by the campfire, when Crowley is fast asleep. Halt keeps his voice low and he’s kinda reluctant to tell it at first but he gets through it, tells Duncan all about how his own brother resented him for being heir to a throne he never wanted in the first place, how he saw Ferris change and become more distant and manipulative over the years, how he witnessed firsthand how power could corrupt a man (and has the scars to prove it). Duncan asks about his parents, because surely they would’ve recognized the attempts on his life? “They fought too much to notice,” Halt says dismissively. “Even if they didn’t, I was hardly the son they would’ve wanted on the throne—Ferris was more charismatic, more amiable. I was the firstborn but he was their favourite, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to ruin that for them.” And he talks, eventually, about his little sister Caitlyn; the only one who saw what was going on and believed him when he told her, fever-ridden and delirious from a batch of “spoiled shrimp”, that Ferris was trying to kill him. The words come easier when Halt talks about Caitlyn and there’s something like a smile curled on his lips, and Duncan’s heart sorta skips a beat in his chest because Oh Right, I Used To Have A Crush On This Guy And It Turns Out I Still Kinda Do!!!! And then Halt talks about how Pritchard found him and how his mentor is the only one besides his terrible family who knows the truth about him & why he left, and maybe he doesn’t say it outright but he 100% implies that Pritchard is just so important to him. Like “father that I’ve never had, except I did have a father but he sucked and Pritchard was just so much kinder & better” kind of important

I took the liberty of copy-pasting your second ask so that no one else has to wait for the rest :)

"part 2 bc that was getting long,,,, ANYWAY, so Duncan and Halt stay up a bit longer talking—they move away from Ferris’ assassination attempts and just chat about other stuff for a bit. Duncan enjoys having another person to relate to abt the tediousness & honestly? the loneliness of royal life, and Halt honestly doesn’t expect to enjoy talking to someone else this much. The only other person he’s really connected to since coming to Araluen is Crowley, but Crowley is just enough of a bastard for Halt to tolerate (and maybe even like), so it’s a surprise that the other person he can connect with is a straight-laced prince. Also Duncan’s basically like “okay so this guy is an (ex?) crown prince, he’s INSANELY skilled & actually very funny in a deadpan, sarcastic way, AND he’s helping me take back my kingdom from an evil baron....yeah I can get behind this”. So yadda yadda they get through the confrontation with Morgarath at the tournament, and, true to his word, Duncan doesn’t tell any of the others about Halt’s background. At the end of the book when Pritchard is murdered, Duncan hears about it from Baron Arald and he’s like....oh, shit. He tracks down Halt and Crowley, both of whom are appropriately enraged and grieving, and makes proper funeral arrangements for Pritchard & allows them some time off to process their grief. Afterwards he goes to Halt privately, bc now he’s the only one who knows abt Halt’s childhood & he knows Halt lost more than a dear mentor—and Halt’s in his cabin being very short-tempered and snappy with him but Duncan just sits and waits. And eventually the anger kinda drains out of Halt, and he sits down at the table w Duncan and over ale they share stories about man who’d been like a father to Halt; Duncan didn’t know him all that well, but Pritchard had been around the castle enough when Duncan was a child for him to remember some of the chaos the man had caused. Halt tells a tale or two of his own and explains, a lottttt later when he’s drunker than he should be in front of the almost-king, that Pritchard had saved his life—they’d met while Halt was still at the castle and Pritchard had taught him how to swim some months before Ferris tried to drown him. But it was more than that, Halt tells him, it was so much more than that. Pritchard had been a safe haven, had given him refuge, had given him hope when he needed it most. And now he was gone and Halt was just..... he doesn’t finish the sentence but Duncan nods and says “I know”. Because yeah, he does know. And they sit in silence for a while longer, not as an (almost) King and Ranger but as two men who know what it’s like to be alone.

And now they don’t have to be!!! AND THIS ONLY COVERED THE FIRST TEY BOOK I have,,,, so many more things to say about these two but I THINK this has gotten long enough so 💀 I’ll leave this here. Ty for listening to my rant abt medieval middle-aged gays :D (also disclaimer: at this point, I think Duncan would be more or less the only one with some developing romantic feelings. But then again this only covers the first book, so Halt’s own revelation would come later)"

ANON YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING.

Their dynamic is indeed just that. Duncan recognising him out of the blue and Halt having to physically shut him up? Legendary. Duncan feeling his crush return? Amazing.

I never thought about Duncan and Halt relating about royal life but it makes so much sense??? especially just talking about the lessons and the trouble having friends etc etc. The resulting whole no-longer-alone thing has me *this* close to tears. Duncan then tracking down Halt -- he 11/10 w o u l d. Halt being angry and then just almost sobbing while Duncan has no idea wtf he should do but the fact that he's there and he's listening means everything to Halt.

Anon, I have absolute 0 regrets unleashing this. Awfully bold of you to assume that it'll get annoying. You fully got me now, I'm shipping them hard. I'm invested. Please do elaborate whenever you wish. I will gladly listen to more rants about medieval middle-aged gays. Go ahead.

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ninaahelvar · 3 years

Text

Touch Me

Summary: Since leaving Ketterdam, Nina just wants Matthias to initiate and take control of his passions. So, she teaches him how.

AO3

A/N: I binged the entire S&B and Six of Crows series in like 2 weeks in prep for the show and lemme tell you...matthias was my favourite boi….and the audacity - so, i wrote a fic that’s basically just smut cause i said so and because i cried in my room for the last hour of Crooked Kingdom and i think that’s very sexy of me. Anyway. Enjoy this fic??? Its my first time writing nina and matthias so i’m still fairly new to their character voices and such, so if anything is a little OOC to you, i’m very sorry, i tried very hard.ALSO I USUALLY HAVE THINGS BETA READ, BUT NO SUCH LUCK WITH THIS ONE, SO THERE'S PROBABLY A MILLION MISTAKES, VERY SORRY!

Nina knew that Matthias was somewhat bashful when it came to being intimate - he’d blush up a storm when she’d kiss him, and practically swayed when she held her hands in his - but the fact that they had been living in Ravka for nearly a month since their success in Ketterdam and he still refused to touch her was getting a bit unsettling. Matthias had always been a hard man to understand, his Fjerdan ways so ingrained that it was like flirting with a brick wall, but Nina had persisted, knowing there was a man worth having under all that muscle - she just wished he’d take his passion when it overcame him.

After yet another night of unsuccessful wooing, Nina was beginning to doubt Matthias had any real intentions of staying with her. Sure, she was aware that Matthias wanted to court her like a good Drüskelle, but they weren’t in Fjerda anymore, he could have his way with her. If he ever took a moment to look at her. Matthias spent most of his days helping out the town with the horses and wildlife - mainly, he was big and burly and most of the women liked to ask him to do things just so they could stare - or he was learning Ravkan a little at a time.

There were times where Nina thought Matthias was adapting well in Ravka, his only failing was the fact that he didn’t speak much of the language. He gathered a few bits and pieces from other members of the town, but he spent most dinner conversations asking what words meant and scouring through literature to try to learn it with her. He was putting in an effort, even if the land they were in felt foreign and hostile to him; Matthias never had to tell her as such, he was still getting used to things, and it was always going to take him time.

Matthias returned home, shrugged off his coat and fell into the chair at their dining table, Nina sighed as she looked at him. His hair had finally started to grow again, almost falling into his eyes, even as his head lulled back from exhaustion. Nina walked over to him, dropping her lips down to meet his and he smiled as they touched.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to trim this?” Nina asked in Kerch - a language they shared and both felt comfortable conversing in. She tilted his head from side to side and combing her hand through his hair. Matthias snarled back at her. She giggled as she kissed him again, settling herself down in his lap. “I was joking, Matthias. But you look too Fjerdan as it is, some people in town might get worried and start asking questions if you look like a full Drüskelle.”

“I will not have my hair cut again,” he huffed.

“I know, Matthias. But true to learn how to smile. I may love your scowl, but it frightens other people,”

“I will, little red bird.” He gave a half hearted smile, as though it were still foriegn to do so.

“Now, eat dinner and we’ll sit and drink kvas while you tell me about your day.”

As she had said, they ate dinner, and once done, they sat by the fireplace on the rug, Nina’s head on Matthias shoulder, sharing a bottle of kvas as he told her about his day helping where he could around town. He wanted a real occupation, and it was beginning to show.

Nina had assignments from time to time - she wasn’t willing to be a soldier anymore, but Matthias encouraged her to learn her new Grisha powers in practical use, and the only way of doing that with the second army. Sometimes it was limited things like translation mistakes to foreign leaders, or things as disturbing as bringing a person back to ask how they died. Even if it were her new power, Nina didn’t like dead things - it felt wrong to urge the dead from their rest to ask them mundane questions. Nina was beginning to suspect that Matthias would want to join the first army if it didn’t mean betraying his home country. Part of Nina wanted to ask Zoya and King Nikolai if it were at all possible, but it was still an unrealistic idea in anyway case.

“What does koja mean?” Matthias asked, sipping at his kvas, a drink he still sneered out, regardless of how much he drank it. Nina sat up and stared at him. She knew he was learning Ravkan, but she knew she hadn’t taught him that word yet.

“Why?” Nina asked skeptically. How did he hear it?

“Anatasia keeps calling it out to me when I chop wood for her and her mother.” Nina huffed, folding her arms over her chest and sulking. She felt like a child as she did it, but she hadn’t recognised how jealous she truly was until he said it.

“That little -”

“What does it mean?” he persisted, and Nina huffed, standing up and patting down her skirts.

“Handsome.” Matthias cleared his throat and blushed.

“If I could speak Ravkan, I’d tell her to stop, you know that.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “No point. She’d just keep saying it when you couldn’t hear.” Stalking off to their room, she shut the door and threw herself down on the bed, trying not to grumble in her loneliness.

Nina didn’t know why she was sulking - well, she knew, but she wasn’t sure why she was angry with Anastasia. It was clear that Matthias was handsome, but maybe because Nina couldn’t claim him how she wanted, it felt unnatural to call him hers. She felt foolish and stupid for having walked out on him, leaving Matthias to clear up messes she had made throughout the house.

It took Matthias less than twenty minutes to make it to their room - a simple bed and nightstand and nothing else furnished the room, a lamp lit beside Nina. She looked up and met his wary gaze, Matthias closing the door behind him and staying by the door.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice rough like everything else about him. Nina sighed, standing and combing her hair from her face.

“I want to be more intimate with you, Matthias,” she finally admitted.

“We are intimate,” he said, frowning back at her.

“Yes, to your Fjerdan sensibilities, but I meant sex, Matthias. I want to have sex with you.” To finally say it felt like a rush of adrenaline going through her - and Matthias reacted the way she thought he would, with bright pink cheeks and avoiding her gaze at all costs.

“You’re aware I have no real experience with...this?” he said and Nina realised that all the time that had passed between them, she would have to be the one to do things - to say what needed to be said, because Matthias didn’t know how. She took careful steps towards him and smiled.

“The waiting gave me some indication.”

“Nina,” he said, almost as though he were warning her, but he didn’t step away, and even reached for her when she was within his space.

“Matthias,” she replied, “start with kissing me. I can take us from there,” she instructed, and Matthias didn’t need much prompting, tugging her the last few inches before crashing his lips down to hers. He was always a clumsy kisser, but it was as if as soon as he stared, he found his rhythm easier and became a master, making her weak in his arms.

There were many things that Matthias was good at, and one of them was messing up her hair. Any chance he could when they kissed, his hand would go into her hair and tangle in it to make it fall everywhere and there was no way to look put together. Nina didn’t mind, but she always wanted it to go somewhere - this was the only time it was. And it seemed to be putting him in the right mood as she could feel the press of his crotch against her thigh and she mewled in desperation, god how she wanted him. Then, as he tugged away, her eyes fluttered open, gazing up at his flustered face.

“I...I…” he stuttered, leaning his forehead against hers as he caught his breath.

“Matthias,” she said, “what do you need?” He looked at her curiously, as though he hadn’t expected her to even ask. If she could, Nina would make this perfect for them both.

“I want to be...in charge,” he grunted, the furrow in his brow telling her that he wasn’t quite sure how to phrase the things he said. Nina would teach him later.

“Would you like to be rough?” she asked teasingly, only to watch his head nod warily. Nina shuffled him back towards the bed, shrugging him out of his shirt as she unbuttoned her blouse. He watched in fascination as she left herself completely nude from the waist up. Matthias’ face was almost completely red as he swallowed hard, but he wasn’t even at the good part and Nina smirked back at him. Unbuttoning his trousers, and letting free his cock that had been straining in his pants as they kissed.

Nina bit her lip, her fingers tentatively taking his length in her palm, hearing his stuttering intake of breath. She felt powerful in a way that no grisha power could give her.

“What are you doing?” he asked in surprise and Nina shook her head, sinking down to the floor and spreading his thighs wide.

“Shh,” she silenced him as her “you’re a bit bigger than some of my last partners. I just need to get you ready for me,” she said slyly, her fingers lightly grazing over his shaft as she began gliding over it in soft strokes.

Nina knew she shouldn’t have talked about her previous exploits, but just looking at the size of Matthias, she had to give him some confidence - she knew she was bucking herself up to take him.

As her mouth descended on his length Matthias clutched hard into the sheets of the bed, her eyes wandering over his form as his breathing was harsh even in the pit of his stomach and her efforts became hard for him to bear if the furrow in his brow was anything to go by. Rising and falling, taking him to the back of her throat, she felt like she was salivating all over it, but knew she had to use his distraction to her advantage. She fiddled with the buttons of her skirt until it came loose around her waist and fell against her lap.

“Nina!” he hissed. Nina came free, gasping for air as she smoothed her hands over his thighs, tugging down his trousers until they were discarded over her shoulder.

“Shh, baby,” she purred, rising from the floor and kicking off her skirt and leaving herself completely bare before him. “Would you like me on my back or on top?” she asked, gracing her hand from her thigh and fingers dancing over her skin as it rose over the slopes of her body, drawing his gaze over her body.

“B-back,” he admitted.

Nina sat on the bed, crawling until she was laid up against the pillows and Matthias was looking over his shoulder to see at her. Nina took his hand, making him shift in place before he took his cue and began to move over her. Matthias paused, his adam’s apple bobbing and Nina thought he was going to back down again. She opened her mouth to protest, but he simply sank down and pressed his mouth against her thigh. Nina couldn’t help but have her eyes shut; it had been a long time since she was appreciated the way Matthias was doing just then.

Matthias kissed at her hips, his lips trailing over lines that had stretched over her skin until he was making his way up her sternum and pressing his lips into her exposed skin.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, eyes focused on hers even as his tongue ran over her breast. Nina wanted to whine, wanted to cry for him to stop teasing and get on with it, but she wanted Matthias to enjoy this as much as she did. Instead, she gripped his shaft, positioning him at her entrance. Matthias sighed as they touched, and he let himself sink into her. Nina gripped into his shoulders, sighing as he stretched her a little more than she was used to, but she was ready for him all the same; her body had been aching for him since she had him in her mouth.

As he sank all the way to the base, Matthias groaned into her shoulder. For a moment, Nina feared that he had spilled himself inside at first contact, but as he sighed, he moved again, almost leaving her completely before slamming their hips together. Nina gasped and Matthias found whatever rhythm he was craving. He was fast, almost brutal with the way his hips slammed to hers and he continued to grunt as if he were fighting for something. In other moments, where lust was all that had overcome her, she would have enjoyed this type of thing, but with Matthias - his first time - she didn’t want him to waste it.

“Shh,” she soothed, her fingertips running over the hard lines of his brow until he relaxed, took a moment to breathe, “we don’t need to go fast. Savour it, Matthias. Don’t you want to remember what it’s like?” she asked, her breath shaking as he looked down at her. He gave a stiff nod of agreement and took a softer thrust inside her. Nina hummed, nodding back to him, her hands roaming down to his hips, guiding them in their effort to find a pace that was suitable.

Eventually, Matthias evened out, finding his rhythm and panted along with her as their bodies moved together, gaining the pleasures that had been denied to them for so many years. Nina was moaning hard now, with every thrust from Matthias coming a little harder.

“My love,” he grunted, and Nina hummed, trying to keep herself from crying out.

“Oh, Matthias!” she said, throwing her head back, “keep going. Oh saints, keep going,” she pleaded, bucking up to meet every thrust that came faster, both chasing an end that was so within reach that they were fighting to see who could get there first.

“Nina, I’m going -”

“Keep going,” she begged, her nails fixed into the skin on his shoulders as their bodies came together in heated thrusts and as the coil that had been building within the pit of her stomach came undone in a beautiful release, her body rose to his and she cried out his name. Matthias whispered her name over and over as he pumped into her until he was finally spilling himself inside her. Nina almost bit into his shoulder, instead only gasping until Matthias shivering had ceased. As his head rose, he bent down to kiss her, stealing her lips with his breath coming in ragged through his nose, flopping to his back once they were done. They were both left panting, staring up at the ceiling in bliss.

“Can we do that again?” Matthias asked suddenly and Nina couldn’t help the giggle that erupted up from within her. “Why are you laughing at me?” he grumbled, rolling back on top of her as though he were gaining the upper hand again. Nina shook her head, her hands running over his shoulders.

“Yes we can do it again. You’re kidding yourself if you think I’ll only want you once,”

“I want you everyday, my love,” he said in Fjerdan. Nina smiled, tugging him down to plant his lips to hers.

“I love you everyday,” she replied back, kissing at his cheek and brow. “My beautiful Fjerdan.”

#my fics #helnik #nina x matthias #matthias helvar #nina zenik #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse fic

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readerinsertfanfiction · 3 years

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Hi! I was wondering if you can do Kakeru Manabe dating Momiji’s twin sister. She was also born with the zodiac curse, and like they tell everyone and are ready to tell Akito and he doesn’t improve, how would everyone react? Including Manabe. Would they defend her and try to make him agree to them dating? Thank you if you read this have a good day or night sjsnsnsj 😅 ALSO IM SORRY IF ITS TOO MUCH DJDKWNDK

Heya! While I do write for Fruits Basket (thank heavens for another fandom in my inbox for once lol) I write reader!inserts not the story of your OC that you don’t feel like writing out yourself. So what I will do is write a Kakeru Manabe x reader story with a character that has the zodiac curse, but otherwise there will be no Momiji’s twin, because I sure hope that the OC has more of an identity than just being a copy of Momiji.

A/N: Of course I write a Fruits Basket piece on the eve of Lunar New Year. 😅😅😅 HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE. 🐮🐮🐮

Fandom: Fruits Basket

Character: Kakeru Manabe

Prompt: Sohmacursed!reader

He slept in the flowerbeds without a care. Earning complaints from many. The school council president dared to roughen him up in public, earning a surprised look as the image of prince charming broke. He did everything differently and earned no ire, only more fans for the actions he took. Kakeru Manabe was a strange individual that went against the grain and that had your attention. Someone who was capable of pulling out a different side out of everyone.

Affable was a word that would suit him. Along with attentive, for he always thought and minded the rest first, even while he slept in flower beds, or did something silly that earned Yuki’s fist once more. Kakeru Manabe was, by all accounts a charming young male that had deserved his spot in popularity despite his ditzy outer appearance, if only because of something dark hidden beneath. It was attractive, for a Sohma at least. For they often lived under a façade as well, for they often craved the genuine attention of those surrounding them.

And here was the danger for you, for a Sohma was not supposed to interact with those from the outside. For they were not allowed to be with those uninitiated and you were very much not an exception. In fact, you were a reason even.

“We can’t be together,” you had stated, and Yuki had solemnly nodded, understanding the why but not willing to accept it just like that. However, as a fellow Sohma what was he to suggest else? The outsiders wouldn’t understand and as much as Kakeru was someone of great understanding and acceptance he was just another outsider. After all, it wasn’t unheard of from their own mothers to abandon their children once they found the curse, what obligation had he not to do the same?

“Ahaha, please don’t be like that,” Kakeru had responded, first thinking that you were jesting. Your humour had always been rather outlandish, it was why the two of you got along so well. Just last week you had been the one confessing to him, albeit covertly, but now it was him who returned the words to you, openly. Surely feelings couldn’t have changed that quickly?

“Oooh, is it because you’re actually the heir of a throne in a foreign country? It is fine, I will be your Prince Charming!” the male had exclaimed, thinking that you truly were playing a game with him, but at your stern expression Kakeru’s bright shimmering light dimmed a little as he eyed you and then Yuki and then you again.

“Is it because of my family?” he questions, a pensive look on his face as he recalls the complications his own family came with. The difficulties Machi had to suffer from. The things he fought so hard to break away from. Was it all fruitless in the end?

You shook your head once more, a soft smile on your lips as you took a step away from the male, creating distance between the two of you. It was regrettable that Yuki was here, when it was supposed to be a private moment, but also fortunate, for you were sure that he was needed to pick up the pieces of his friend that you were to leave behind.

“It is mine,” you answered honestly, remembering the way Akito had reacted to Rin and Hatsuharu, recalling the story of why Hatori’s fiance had suddenly left him, the heartbreak, the pain, the inevitable tragedy that was to come, but above all the lack of what you wanted to give him the most; the curse holding you back. And that was all you had been willing to say as you turned away, leaving him with only your rejection.

But Kakeru was amongst the many traits of affableness and charm also determined, unwilling to let go once he had understood that this went against yourself as much as it went against him to let you go.

Kakeru knew himself not to be as kind and as empathetic as he would like to be, often needing others to explain to him what the perspective of the other was. But he understood family and especially complicated families as a member of one himself. Or so he had believed when he tried to dive into yours and tried to figure out what it was that had made you say what you had.

“Have you tried to embrace a Sohma? Have you ever pressed their body against yours and felt its true form?”

The mysterious head of the Sohma family had left Kakeru with even more questions as he wondered what it was that Akito had meant. Kakeru had, without a fear, approached the head to put the hierarchy of the Sohma into question. An inquiry that had earned him a cold and callous ire in which he was challenged to do the one thing you had always avoided. Was it in there that your secret laid?

He had considered it, Kakeru had, but the thought disturbed him as he realised the implications that Akito had so carefully suggested. Was he able to disturb your boundaries as such, to force out your secrets to him so casually all for the sake of starting a relationship?

“You will destroy it before you have it,” were Yuki’s words when he tried to seek counsel from his friend. Yuki’s grey eyes had been so sad, back to that gloomy cold prince he had been before they became friends. It was a loneliness that Kakeru had come to recognise in all members of the Sohma, which he sometimes saw in you as well.

“Whatever it is,” the male decided to tell you instead, “I hope one day you will come to see me as someone that you trust enough to share your secret with,” he had told you after relaying the story of his meeting with Akito. He regretted his own noisiness, lamented his curiosity, but had satisfied himself with patience. Patience that he was willing to use to wait for you to be ready, or for his feelings to die out, though Kakeru had a feeling that was going to be another long while. He was after all, quite stubborn.

#fruits basket #fruits basket x reader #fruits basket Kakeru #Kakeru Manabe #It is the cow's year!#goodbye rat

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imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Hiding in Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 11

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

“Loki?” Frigga looked worriedly at her son who burst into his parents’ shared rooms. “Is everything…?”

“You conspired with that elf against me?” He snapped.

Sighing, Frigga gave a slight wave to her maids who all left the room. “Conspired is a strong word for it,” Her voice was calm and steady as she rose from her seat. “She wrote, asking of your character and I suggested she get to know you. Tatianna needed time with family and thus, I realised she could get to meet you without you being guarded as I knew you were unsure of the situation and were not likely to open up to her.”

Loki gasped in shock. “So you planned this? You were the one to actually suggest it?” He became more hurt at that revelation.

“You treat that maid with nothing but kindness, I thought if Raven saw that side of you also, she would see how caring you are. I knew that you would not open yourself as willingly to her otherwise.” “I…” he could not explain his anger, such was its intensity.

“Loki, I am truly sorry for doing this, clearly, it was a mistake on my behalf. I am genuinely sorry for hurting you so, my son.” She tried to have him look at her so that he would see she was being genuine. “In turn, I also hurt Raven.” Loki scoffed at the mention of the elf. “She is a lovely woman. Bright, kind, a good partner for you but instead, it appears my little idea has hurt you both so.” “Even after what you have done to me, the two of you, you care about her?” “Loki, Raven has had a very restricted life, she only wanted to know if she would be forced to endure the same here. I know you will not believe this but she simply wishes to be happy and knowing I am integral to the suffering of more unhappiness for her is upsetting for me. It does not take for my upset at the hurt I caused you.”

Loki scowled. Raven’s words came back to him again, of her loneliness and the life she was forced to lead thus far. He didn’t want to feel pity for her. He wanted to loathe her, something quite easy to do with her actions but it still played on his mind. Without saying another word to his mother, he turned to leave.

“I genuinely believe that given the time, you will see you are well suited, Loki,” Frigga stated.

“Perhaps we could have been.” Loki acknowledged. “But you scuppered our chances significantly with your idea.” With that, he left the room.

* Raven sat in her room, the door between her bed chambers and front chambers locked and with a sofa in front of it in case any thought to try and open it. She had been ready for Loki’s ire and remarks, she had long built a thick skin being the youngest of five and with four older brothers, what she had not been ready for was her own words. The idea of sitting alone in her rooms for days on end was nothing new to her, what was new was the knowledge that it would not come to an end. Growing up, she had hoped the day would come that she would have a happier existence. Even as a Ljósáfar wife to a Ljósáfar husband, she could not possibly be forced to remain as she had been growing up. On hearing she was marrying an Aesir, she knew life would be far different and on knowing it was Prince Loki, though she knew little of his demeanour, she knew the Aesir way of life would allow her far greater freedom and she also knew him to be very intelligent, allowing her to fantasise of the many conversations and discussions they could share. The debates they could muster in private in the evenings after court was complete for the day. She had been excited about that. Even if they did not see eye to eye, she had dreamed of debate and conversation where she was not required to remain silent. Instead, now she had ruined any such an idea and would be forced to look at the walls that currently surrounded her for considerable years yet to come and that felt far more daunting than she could ever fathom. It filled her with a dread that made her feel like she would begin to hyperventilate at any moment. She felt entirely trapped.

Questions swirled around in her mind. Would Loki take a mistress? Would he take many over the years? Would she have to endure dark-haired offspring he sired outside of wedlock to mistresses being recognised unofficially? Would she go to empty rooms every night while his were filled with love, passion and the giggles of a lover? Would she remain alone? Would people whisper how she was not a fit spouse? That she was not up to the task of securing the line of her husband. Or, just as heart-wrenching, would she be forgotten about, again. Only recognised and remembered when she stood in the shadow of the important male she was tied to.

Thoughts of her perhaps finding love, feeling unconditional love could not come to her, after all, such was preposterous to her current state. She remembered the affections she felt before with Lord Arden. The stolen kisses, the sneaking around and indeed, the illicit actions of it. When it was made clear that she was to wed Loki, he left immediately with no thorough explanation. She always wondered if it was because it hurt too much to see her being wed elsewhere and he wanted a clean break, or after a while, she suspected it was because he realised he would not achieve his goal of a respectable dowry from her and decided to try other women. She was unsure if she had come to that second conclusion in her own mind to placate her feelings or not but that was going to be her excuse to make her feel better, factual or otherwise.

Curled up with her head on her knees and her arms wrapped around them, she did nothing but think sadly of the situation at hand.

* “You insulted the Ljósáfar.”

Thor had Mjolnir ready for what was to come and chuckled to himself as he deflected several knives that Loki tossed his way.

“You’re never able to aim properly when you are overly angered.” “You said nothing.” Loki’s voice was barely over a hiss. “I was sworn to secrecy.” “By someone you don’t even know?” “By our mother, a being I know even longer than you do,” Thor stated, avoided a blast of magic by using Mjolnir’s own version of such. “Raven only agreed because she wanted to get to know you.” “And that was how she decided to do so?” Loki spat. “Not by engaging me in any manner that would signify any attempt of an honest and healthy introduction?” “Since you failed to answer her three written attempts at such, I cannot imagine she felt she had many other options.”

Loki froze. “What?” “Raven wrote to you. On three separate occasions, and you ignored all three.”

“No, she did not.” Loki shook his head. “Indeed, she did.” Thor reiterated. “This was confirmed, not only by her but when I asked the Postmaster, he confirmed it. I asked him so I could confirm it because you are not one to ignore a letter and I suspected you would call her a liar to save yourself. Three separate letters, dated months apart so to allow for time to receive and reply should you be otherwise busy, giving you time to do so. All three remained unanswered.” “I received no such letters,” Loki repeated.

“Well, three were sent from Alfheim, sorted by the Postmaster himself and delivered to your rooms,” Thor informed him. “She tried before now. It is why she had to try and find reports on your personality elsewhere.” Thor slapped his shoulder. “I wanted to warn you. Well, I mostly wanted to warn you. Part of me also wanted to see the look of shock on your face when you realised who she was. That was until I realised what you were saying about her. I told you many times, Loki, this is very hard on her.”

Loki had been bothered by the supposed letters he had not received until Thor mentioned Raven’s ‘struggle’. “Norns, if I have to hear this again.” He threw his brother’s hand from his shoulder. “Poor Raven, how lonely she has had it. How she had to remain seen and never heard. The Elf I have borne witness to is no such shrinking violet. She literally feels like she has to have the last word, come Helfheim or high water.”

“Because that is who she is. She feels here like she does not have to be a statue any longer.” Thor argued. “Do not lie for one second and tell me that you want a silent and boring wife because you and I both know you rather lose your life than being forced to wed someone without their tongue. How else could you ever have someone at your beck and call to argue with day and night? I would have thought an opinionated and in your belief, an argumentative wife would have suited you to the ground. I doubt you want a wife that would agree with everything you say without question. Where would be the fun in that?”

Loki could not argue that point. Nothing would disgust him more. “That does not negate her actions.”

“She felt she had no choice. Was it something I would suggest? No, but it was for a good reason. She just wanted a good partner.”

Loki scowled. “And in doing so, ensured she would not get one.”

“Loki, please. This is going ahead whether or not you are happy about it, so you have two choices, be angry with her for this, accept any and all apologies, learn about her and try and form a healthy and fulfilling marriage with her or continue this animosity and live an unfulfilled marriage. I will soon have to court my betrothed and if the options of both were on the table, I know I would not wish to remain arguing.” “She already made it clear, the hope is to perform some sacred ritual, ensure you and your wife spawn multiple times and stay as far away from me as is physically possible.”

“Loki, the woman I have spoken to multiple times wants entirely the opposite of that and I know you don’t want to believe it but to her, coming here, having a husband such as you was something she wanted. Sadly, things have gone slightly awry.” Loki began to scoff at his words before pausing. “When has all this conversing been taking place?” “Through her stay here.” Thor kept his answers broad so as to not have Loki sense any dishonesty.

Loki studied his brother closer. “Like when?” “Do you honestly think I can recall days and times off the top of my head?”

“Do you know where in the palace she is?” Thor tried to think of something to say to argue that but silence or a no would immediately be sensed as a lie. “Why?” “I deserve to know, as her betrothed, surely?” “Not if you are going to add to her loneliness with it.” “Loneli…If I wanted to add to her loneliness, the last thing I would do is ask where to find her, Thor.” Loki scoffed. “Where is she?”

“I am not going to tell you if you are going to use it to add to this farce.” Thor’s declared.

Loki knew he was telling the truth, much to his own annoyance. “Then leave.” “This is the royal hallway, I don’t have to leave. I live here, same as you.” Thor reminded him. “In your time speaking with Raven, what have you learnt of her?” “That she’s a conniving wench.”

“No, Loki. In all seriousness, what have you learnt of her? What did it reveal of her knowledge of you?”

“Nothing, she knows nothing of me. Made clear by how she thought to get to know me.” He snapped. “Her way of speaking to me was not to introduce herself but to act like a maid, to scrub toilets and rummage through my belongings. That’s how little she thinks of me.” Loki paused. He had not thought of that previously. She had been privy to all of his belongings. Letters of private matters, items of personal value that he would not have wanted her to see. It annoyed him greatly that she had touched and rummaged through such things.

Seeing his brother getting irritated, Thor decided to alter his train of thought before he focused too greatly on what was annoying him. “So in that time, she got nothing right about your personality? I refuse to believe that because when I discussed the issue with her, I think she got your personality to perfection. The anger, the silent treatment, she even apologised to me for the aggression you would show me, both physical and otherwise.” “That, she did ascertain correctly. That is hardly surprising as it would be considered a normal reaction by most.” Loki dismissed. “I will not repeat myself, where is she?” “You’re repeating yourself saying that to me again.” Thor pointed out. “Until you are willing to speak with her like an adult, I will not tell you.” “You owe me.” “You owe her, considering you never even wrote back when she tried to engage you herself.” Loki said nothing as Thor walked off, leaving him to his thoughts. He walked back to his room and looked at the platter his letters always were placed when delivered to him. There were three there at that time. He walked over and looked around, noting there was nowhere any letter could have fallen for him to not have seen it.

The Aesir Postmaster was a man of set ways. He was practically devout in how he viewed his role. If a letter went missing in his office, Norns have mercy on the being that moved it. He took the role as seriously as Odin took the role of Allfather. If he genuinely told Thor that there had been three letters from the Ljósáfar palace for him, then there had been. So where were they?

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #chapter 11 #hiding in plain sitght #wolfpawn

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.1

this arid world has turned my deep heart dry

This is the first chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Chapter Summary: follows S5E1 and Spencer's depression and disordered thinking is introduced.

TW: depression, disordered thinking, loneliness, the events of s5e1 (guns and knives)

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

"She simply said this arid world has turned her deep heart dry, there was just one way she knew of to finally feel like she was free, and it was 1400 feet beneath the cold and stormy sea." — Erin Hanson

Spencer’s entire body feels heavy as he drags himself into work, and it’s not exactly a good sign when he can’t even find the energy to press the button for the right floor; he just stares pitifully at the array of numbers as if the elevator will read his mind and resolve the issue for him. Eventually, he brings himself to move his finger the short distance, cold metal colliding with cold flesh, and the doors shudder close, catapulting him up several storeys towards his fate.

Some might call the emotions Spencer’s experience typical burnout, far too common in the FBI and even more so in units that deal directly with horrific crime on the regular, but he knows it’s more than that. His entire life is operating in a minor key, he’s functioning entirely on auto-pilot, and chunks of his day are a blur, almost impossible to recall. He knows he’s depressed. Knowing such a fact, however, does little to cure the actual problem. He has no idea what to do with information like this except bottle it up and shove it as far down as possible while pretending as much as possible that absolutely everything is fine.

Emily and Derek are laughing about something as he approaches their group of desks. Only weeks ago he would’ve been crushed when they don’t so much as look over to say hello, but now he’s glad to not have to fake a smile, invent a story to tell about his weekend, pretend he’s not currently being held together with slowly peeling sellotape.

Instead, he focuses on feeling grateful that no one’s commented on him arriving a whole hour later than he used to as he unpacks his messenger bag. It’s not like it’s his fault he can’t pull his exhausted body out of bed in the morning, but since he’d rather not disclose such sorry information and finding an excuse is way too much effort, spending the morning in solitude seems the only option.

He doesn’t really understand how he’s gone from being a genuinely happy person, thick as thieves with everybody on the team, to this. It’s almost as though somebody’s cut the rope tying him to the others and now he’s drifting away, sinking without everyone else’s buoyancy to keep him afloat. He can see them all still tied together, barely seeming to notice their drowning team member, clearly not missing his presence.

This misery over his inevitable isolation, though, is his own fault: he can’t believe he let himself forget his place. He’s useful, good to keep around for his intelligence, his reading speed, his problem-solving skills, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Spencer is not friendship material. And he certainly isn’t relationship material.

The day starts off slow, everyone burying themselves in their paperwork, but Spencer finishes it far too quickly for it to really serve as much of a distraction. Depressingly, it’s still miles slower than he’s used to. Since his pile of consults seems too exhausting to even look at, he decides another coffee is very much in order.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ says happily as soon as he pushes his way into the breakroom. She’s leaning casually against the counter as she drinks her coffee, reading through what looks like case notes at the same time.

“Hi,” he says, trying for a smile but he knows there’s no way he could possibly match her relaxed grin. Instead of trying to converse, he just heads straight for the coffee machine, fixing his eyes on the steady stream of coffee pouring into his mug already piled high with sugar.

“You alright?” JJ asks, sounding a little suspicious. Not concerned, Spencer notes, just suspicious.

“Hmm?” He looks up and catches her eye before deciding he should probably answer verbally. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a bit off the past few weeks.”

Spencer sighs. Maybe this is an opportunity to actually communicate his feelings. He doubts JJ will be able to help but really he’d just like a bit of comfort: he’s in so much pain that a hug would feel really nice right now. And besides Penelope, she’s probably the team member he’s most comfortable with. If he’s going to share with anybody, it should be JJ.

“I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, I guess,” he admits, looking up as his left-hand fidgets on the hot ceramic side of his coffee mug. He resents how vulnerable his voice sounds, he’s giving far too much of himself over to hands he’s not sure he can trust, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

“Really?” JJ sounds surprised. Spencer recognises the tone as that of anyone who has a certain perspective on him realising that he also has feelings alongside his intelligence, and it hurts. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer just presses his lips into a thin line and nods awkwardly in thanks.

“I mean… at least you’re not going through what Hotch is,” she offers, completely unhelpfully. “He’s still trying to cope with his divorce and isn’t seeing Jack as much as he used to. Derek was almost killed by the Reaper just a few months ago, Emily only recently lost a childhood friend — I mean, the whole team has been through a lot. Keep your chin up.”

She smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder, before leaving the break room and heading back to her office, leaving Spencer standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. He wants to shout that he was literally poisoned with anthrax only a month ago, if they’re tallying bad things happening as a method of tracking who has the right to be miserable. The others might be going through a lot, that’s true, but it doesn’t lessen any of the pain thudding in his chest and stirring in his stomach.

As he walks back to his desk, he realises he’s learned one thing: opening up = not a good idea.

As completely fucking miserable as he might be, there’s exactly one person in this world who doesn’t deserve to be burdened with any of it, so he carefully tucks it away in his pockets and plasters on the mask he’d perfected so many years ago. It might be a little rusty, after all, it’s been little used in recent years, but it works just as well as it used to do when he pushes the door open to Penelope’s office.

“I bring blueberry muffins,” he says as cheerfully as he can muster, and something inside him does warm as Penelope’s face lights up, squealing a little as she reaches her arms out eagerly, making grabby hands at the paper bag he’s holding.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I love you,” she moans, keen to rip the bag open as he pulls up a chair next to hers.

“I think I do,” Spencer chuckles, and it’s one of the only genuine reactions he’s given in months, “mostly because you tell me every day.”

“Mm, that’s right,” she concedes through a mouthful of warm muffin, pointing a finger at his chest. “I love you even more than I love coding.”

“That’s a lot,” Spencer says, trying for serious but he can’t stop a fond smile slipping across his face.

Penelope swallows her rather large bite of blueberry muffin and passes him his one. “It is,” she says. “How are you, anyway? You look tired, poor baby.”

Spencer looks down for a moment, schooling his expression for a second before he forces himself to look back up at her. “Yeah, I didn’t… didn’t sleep well last night, I guess.” He tries for a reassuring smile but he knows it’s more of a grimace.

Penelope’s face immediately morphs into one of grave concern. Spencer knows that that’s just the way she is, melodrama and fierce protectiveness is virtually her brand at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t any less agonising to see, or the anxiety of being found out any less paralysing. He decides not to give her any room to actually address it.

“I’ll be fine, Penelope, don’t worry,” he says, turning away to brush some muffin crumbs off the desk and into his hand, purely so he doesn’t have to attempt another pathetic smile. “A good night’s sleep tonight will fix me right up.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still looking far too worried for Spencer’s liking.

“Of course, Pen.” He feels sick at lying to her, but he has no idea how to broach any of the tumultuous emotions raging inside of him, especially after JJ shut him down so brutally. “It’s only a bad nights’ sleep.”

He’s saved from her inevitable continued line of questioning by Emily poking her head round the door and asking for Spencer’s opinion on a consult.

While getting out of bed in the morning might be an almost impossible task at the moment, the idea of getting into it at night seems rather depressing, really. That’s probably the reason he’s still at the office, despite the time nearing 8 o’clock and exhaustion settling into every muscle fibre of his being. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s just a little more time in close proximity to one Aaron Hotchner.

Of course, he’d had to accept the fact that he was maybe, just a little bit in love with his boss a long time ago. He just refuses to admit that he’s this embarrassing about it. Perhaps staying late to spend more time with someone you like this much wouldn’t be so weird if there was a reasonable chance of conversation — if he ever even saw him — but there isn’t even that: Spencer sits and works quietly at his desk, Aaron sits and works quietly in his office.

Today, though, today his lingering finally pays off.

Aaron is on his way back from the photocopier when he stops by Spencer’s desk. He doesn’t see him coming, though, is the thing: he has no time to try and make himself look even a smidge less miserable or to school his surprised yet utterly lovesick expression.

“Won’t you want to be heading off soon, Reid?” he asks, clearly curious as to why Spencer remains at his desk when there’s no real work to be doing, but he cleverly paints it in a light-hearted tone. Even though Spencer is completely aware of what Aaron’s doing, he doesn’t feel attacked or under pressure.

“Oh,” Spencer says unintelligently, stammering a little as he scrambles desperately at a somewhat coherent reply, “yes, yeah, I’ll get going soon.” He doesn’t want to lie when he doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t try and offer an explanation for his staying late, and he knows Aaron won’t push. He manages an almost entirely genuine smile, though, which must count for something, even if it’s only because he’s hopelessly in love with the man leaning casually against his desk.

“Right then,” Aaron says, offering a small smile in response, letting his hard exterior drop in the nearly empty office, and even though it’s nothing special, not really, Spencer carefully files it away as his heart pitter-patters against his ribcage and his stomach pools with warmth. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

Spencer just nods in response and gathers his things, placing them carefully in his messenger bag and shrugging his jacket on before walking out of the building. When he glances back, just as he pulls the glass door open, Aaron is watching him carefully. He doesn’t turn away but instead offers a small wave, which Spencer returns bashfully, blushing scarlet in the elevator and on the walk out of the HQ and during the whole trek down the street and sat on the metro train and on the final stretch home. He fumbles with his keys and curses himself for being so goddamn pathetic.

He doesn’t consider it for long, though, because he’s utterly exhausted and his tired bones collapse on the sofa, and who is he to try and get them to move again? Sleep is a mercy.

🌧

The case is gruelling and stressful enough without the endless and constant worry about where on earth Aaron is. He never turns his phone off and Spencer can’t think of a time he’s worked a case without him, not properly; he’s always the first one at the office, the first one on the plane, the first to jump out of bed towards the chance to make a real difference in the world. It’s so out of character for him and it’s utterly distressing.

Nevertheless, he focuses all his attention on the job; on protecting Jeffrey and Tom Barton, on bringing justice to the perpetrator when they inevitably find them. He offers lame and desperate excuses for Aaron not being there, all the while knowing full well that none of them are likely. Something is wrong and he’s powerless to help.

Emily tells him why. He sort of forgets how to breathe.

Getting shot in the leg while simultaneously petrified for the livelihood of the person you’re in love with is inconvenient at best when trying to talk down an unsub and protect a victim and eventually fatal at worst, but somehow he half-manages and Tom escapes unscathed, though he isn’t quite as lucky with the unsub.

That’s what matters, really, isn’t it? That others are safe, even if it means he’s in danger? After all, Tom Barton has lives to save and a son to raise, a wide social circle, and a loving family. What does Spencer have? No, it’s much better that he’s the one hurt than anyone else.

Of course, once the adrenaline of the situation starts to wear off and medics arrive on scene, he realises quite how badly he’s hurt. Already feeling woozy, energy seems to seep out of him as roaring, raging agony takes its place. It’s the first time he’s ever been shot and it’s worse than he could have imagined: no amount of studying literature and anecdotal evidence could prepare him for the feeling of a small metal ball tearing through the flesh and muscle and tendons — though, hopefully, and judging by the amount of blood he’s lost, no arteries or large blood vessels — of his thigh.

His team arrives, minus Emily and minus Hotch, and they’re concerned, of course they are. That is, until he presents them with someone they see as much more important, someone whose life is worth something, someone they care about deeply being hurt. And they leave.

He doesn’t get a chance to tell the medics that he doesn’t want narcotics, so the ride to the hospital is a blur of morphine and voices talking to him, though he can’t quite piece together what they’re saying. He wonders vaguely where everybody is, whether Hotch is alright, whether he’s about to die, but no real emotion is attached to any of these thoughts, they just… are.

He’s rushed into surgery almost immediately after he arrives at the hospital, and the next thing he’s aware of is a dull, ever-present, agonising ache in his upper thigh and exhaustion settled into his bones like his body is pain’s home, fatigue’s resting place. The last time he’d blinked himself awake in a hospital bed, blinding pain burning in one part of his body or another, Derek had been sat by his bed, eating jello.

There’s nobody by his bed this time.

A PCA pump is resting by his right hand but he doesn’t touch it. Clearly, nobody from his team has informed the hospital staff of his previous addiction; he doesn’t even know if they’re at the hospital; if they know what’s going on. The morphine he’s already had is going to be hard enough to deal with, he can feel the future cravings itching beneath his skin already, scarred-over track marks simmering away.

It’s over twenty-five minutes of lying helplessly on a hospital bed in a cool, impersonal room, feeling a certain kind of emptiness sitting in his stomach, before a nurse comes by. She looks pleased enough to see him awake, but he doesn’t care about her satisfaction, he cares about his team, about Penelope, about Aaron, and he’s too exhausted to do anything about it.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says cheerily and for once, he doesn’t try and conceal his despondency. It’s oddly freeing. “I’ll get the doctor to come and explain the situation.”

She bumbles out of the room, clearly not fazed by Spencer’s expression, so he resumes staring at the wall, allowing his thoughts to wander, still not managing to attach much emotion to them other than a miserable sort of emptiness.

The doctor is nice enough, making sure he understands his injury and the procedures he’s had done, as well as the recovery ahead of him, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s as though this is the last straw; this is the proof, the evidence to win the case he’s been fighting in the court of his mind. His team doesn't care. His life is worthless. He will always, always be alone.

JJ stops by briefly. This feels like it should be a consolation, but it isn’t. He learns of what’s happened to Aaron, what his family is going through, and suddenly he feels selfish: how dare he demand and crave attention when Aaron is far more hurt and injured than he is? When he’s far more important and far more deserving of the team’s attention? Self-loathing creeps up his throat and settles into grey cotton wool that won’t melt in his mouth.

Spencer doesn’t know how to react to the incredibly overwhelming events of the day, and JJ doesn’t seem to have time for this. “Right, Spencer,” she says, visibly impatient with his emotional floundering, his lack of verbal response, “I need to go. We need to sort this out for Hotch. We owe it to him.”

She leaves, and all Spencer can think is how much more worthless not being able to work on his case makes him. If he can’t even work to save the man he loves; if he can’t strive effortlessly to protect him and make him happy, then what is he doing here? Aaron will be furious when he finds out Spencer laid in bed lazily instead of diving headfirst into the case.

No. That’s not true. He’ll be sickeningly nice about it, while on the inside suppressing his disappointment, and Spencer will feel even more guilty, he’ll be even more irate with himself, and life will seem just a little bit bleaker.

He’s discharged a few days later, and nobody has visited, barring JJ’s fleeting, impatient stop by. He goes home in a taxi and struggles up the stairs on his crutches, almost glad he didn’t have many personal items at the hospital. Then again, that was because he was completely isolated. And if he did have people to bring him things in the hospital, then he’d probably have someone to help him up the stairs too.

It’s a moot point, really. He dives straight for the non-narcotic painkillers he’d been prescribed as soon as he sits down on his dusty couch in his messy apartment, desperate to relieve at least some of the agony throbbing in his leg still. Clearly, the universe decided he wasn’t in enough pain already; that the unrequited love and the growing depression and the recurring stomach cramps and clenches in his chest weren’t quite sufficient.

He knows the team is working flat out on the Foyet case. But even Penelope, who probably works the hardest of all of them, has had time to send him an encouraging text message promising to pop round as soon as she can. Other than that, his phone is dry and his heart slowly freezing over.

Truthfully, he’s not sure how much more of this he can stand. He’s feeling the same way he did as a child: isolated, othered, hurt, and utterly, utterly alone. When he’d joined the BAU and was welcomed immediately into the arms of a family, he promised himself he’d never feel like that again. He would never, ever allow himself to sink so low; not when he was surrounded by so many people who proved day in day out how much they loved him. Surely, feeling like this would simply be impossible.

For once, Doctor Spencer Reid is proved wrong. And it burns, festers, and screams like nothing else.

Chapter Two

taglist:@criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

(I'm tagging my usual hotchreid taglist but let me know if you would not like to be tagged in this fic OR if you'd only like to be tagged once it's complete! Either fill in the taglist form again or DM me.)

#hotchreid #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #hurt spencer reid #spencer reid whump #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #spencer reid/aaron hotchner #hotch x reid #spencer reid x aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #my writing #RCT #RCT 1

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vampiresuns · 3 years

Text

🍋 Two Is A Crowd, Three Is A Party | Amparo x Rodrigo x Jacqui

Written or the @midsummer-masquerade, Day 5, using the prompt ‘degradation’ and a little bit of ‘lingerie’, if you squint. In which Amparo has no patience for Rodrigo, and Jacqui gets to know her a little better. 1.9k words.

Posting this one day late, because it got too late yesterday.

Rodrigo and Jacqui belong to @apprenticealec, my beloved. You can read the rest of City of Delights here.

CW: Light degradation, oral sex, anal fingering, penetration, spitroasting.

After she had ran into him after her opening performance, Rodrigo lost no time suggesting they found their own little corner to fuck. Amparo snorted inelegantly, an incredulous and amused look on her face, while Rodrigo called Jacqui over, who excused himself to the people he was talking to and began making their way towards Rodrigo and Amparo.

“What?” He said, annoyance palpable.

“I do not fuck in little corners, I’m not you. I have a room, you inelegant thot. Oh, hi Jacqui, long time no see!”

Jacqui kissed her knuckles to say hello to her, congratulating her on her performance.

“Why, thank you! You don’t suppose you’d like to join us, would you?”

She began running patterns over his chest with her finger, ignoring Rodrigo who complained about not being given attention. Jacqui swallowed as Amparo’s tone became sweeter.

“You wouldn’t leave me all alone with him, would you?”

“I’m right here.”

Amparo rolled her eyes. “You’ll take what you’re given, and you know I don’t like brats, honey. A valid quest, just not my cup of tea. So are you going to keep complaining, or do you want me to suck your dick while Jacqui fucks me?”

Rodrigo and her bickered almost the entire way to her room. Like Rodrigo she didn’t mind not wearing a mask, though when Jacqui asked, she shot him a witty: “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask personal questions here?”

He was about to apologise when she smiled at him — she had a wide, beaming smile that was very charming. She explained her reasons with ease, the same presence and poise he remembered from the time Rodrigo insisted into a theatre to rob someone rich who had something he wanted. It was petty, but he was determined. Rodrigo never found it. Instead he found Amparo.

Or rather, Amparo found him.

He didn’t know much about her, other than what she did for a living and the fact she was a Cassano. In that way, he knew more of her family than he did of her; whether she knew or not she didn’t say. From what Jacqui remembered she was not very prone to explaining herself. Ever.

He had no chance to take the room in, because the moment they were inside, Rodrigo was already on it. He had waited long enough for his standards, so he was already kissing Amparo, rough and fast and a lot. Amparo still made him wait a little, solely so she could give Jacqui some attention of her own, but she still was going straight to the point. As soon as she could, she handed Jacqui a bottle of oil, telling him to make her feel good.

She began fingering while the three of them exchanged kisses and Amparo took both Jacqui’s and Rodrigo’s dicks in her hands, sandwiched between them. As soon as she was ready, she told Rodrigo to lie back, as she moved to get on her hands and knees between them — she leant against Jacqui first, her lips parting as his cock sunk into her ass slowly. Once she felt comfortable, she got fully on all fours. However, Rodrigo was kneeling back on his heels, talking some talk about doing what he wanted.

Jacqui couldn’t see Amparo but he could feel her roll her eyes.

Before he agreed to get into this, Jacqui would’ve never thought the hottest part was going to be Amparo taking none of Rodrigo’s bullshit. First, he tried to pull her hair, which she didn’t like so she pinched his inner thigh very unpleasantly, picking at the soft skin there with her fingernails. Rodrigo whimpered, which he denied. Jacqui almost stopped moving but Amparo told him not to.

“Oh no, handsome, I think he’ll like it best if I chew him out while he doesn’t just see you fucking me, but also when he can hear it in my voice.”

Lo and behold, she was correct. Every time Rodrigo got too cocky, or too comfortable running his mouth, Amparo pinched him. She never just pinched him too, for every thing, she had a witty turn of phra. Some were witty, some were meaner, but all of them bothered Rodrigo one way or another in a way that was both really arousing and really funny.

At some point Rodrigo threatened to leave. Jacqui knew him enough to know he didn’t mean it.

“Leave them, you know brat aren’t my thing.”

“I’m not a brat.”

“Oh, my mistake — you preferred ‘loser’, didn’t you? The door’s wide then, because I don’t fuck losers. I’m keeping Jacqui, though.”

“Nuh-huh you’re not.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

Amparo wasn’t even touching Rodrigo any more, and yet Jacqui didn’t miss how his cock twitched. Neither did Amparo, who sounded incredibly unimpressed.

“Seriously?” She sighed, though with how Jacqui was fucking her, it sounded more like a moan. “Do you want your dick sucked or not, Drigo?”

To Jacqui’s surprise, Rodrigo gave in. Amparo told him to remember: no more hair grabbing, which he didn’t, and to not get too frisky — which he did anyway, gaining him more thigh pinches, but at this point, Jacqui suspected Rodrigo was into it. Still, Amparo didn’t stop sucking him off now. Instead she swayed between them, the wet moans coming from her against Rodrigo’s dick as Jacqui began pressing against her prostate.

The longer he thrust into her, the more her hands gripped Rodrigo’s thighs. Proper grabs this time, not the retaliation pinches she was giving him before. Rodrigo came first, Amparo swallowing around him and then whipping her mouth with the back of her hand. It didn’t take him long to leave afterwards, Amparo patting his cheek and telling him to “not be too unbearable” around the party.

Once they were alone, Amparo asked Jacqui if there was anything he wanted, her demeanour changing from contrary, to the same stuff her beaming smile was made of. Jacqui took it slower, spooning her as they fucked, changing the position. Amparo took his hand to her chest, and turned her head to share indulgent, deep kisses with him.

She came before him, but Jacqui followed soon after, kissing her neck gently as they both caught their breaths, enjoying each other’s company.

“Do you mind if—?”

“You get up?” She said, finishing her sentence for him. “Not at all! Let me move.”

She did so swiftly but stayed on the bed, stretching with a pleased whine and lying there for a while. She told him to feel free to take a bath if he wasn’t ready to leave yet, she didn’t mind if he wanted to wind down. As always, she didn’t elaborate if that was politeness or an educated, albeit correct, guess. Jacqui wanted to ask, but didn’t, settling for getting in the bath instead, enjoying the water and the flowers floating in it.

He could hear Amparo move in the background, shuffling around as she hummed a song Jacqui couldn’t recognise. She was an odd woman, Jacqui determined once they were alone. Even in loneliness she carried a presence to her, something he couldn’t quite place. Pizzazz was the closest word for it. Yet, despite her fiery personality and charming frankness, Amparo was not a talker. The moment the extrovert (Rodrigo) was removed from the room, she felt no need to talk. If Jacqui was being honest with his own observations, she didn’t even do so when Rodrigo was with them.

To his embarrassment, she caught him staring. Amparo smiled at him again.

“I don’t bite unless you ask, or you earn it.”

“Like Rodrigo earned his pinches?”

She shrugged. “That depends entirely on you.”

She asked him if he minded if she joined him in the bath. He didn’t. Without prompting, she let him know he didn’t mind him watching — a good look was just as powerful a form of flirting than any other. She was now wearing a deep red robe that was completely sheer, and that was casted aside before she sunk into the bath, giving out a little sigh of pleasure with the temperature.

Keeping her hair out of the way, she lied into the water as much as she could, her piercing green eyes closed, and a placid expression on her face.

After a while, she spoke again. “You have questions.”

“Which I’m sure you won’t answer,” Jacqui said, amused.

“Smart man… but I like you, you’ve always been the nice one. So ask if you want, I promise to at least answer one.”

If that was how it was going to be, then Jacqui better think his question thoroughly. After some moments of consideration, he fired away: “I remember, I remember from when we met you with Rodrigo that someone asked you about your family. I don’t think they noticed you never answered their question, because you sounded really excited to talk about how much you appreciate them, but Rodrigo asked you about your cousin on our way here and you simply didn’t answer. Do you never talk about them?”

Amparo sat up, turning to face Jacqui, her green eyes looking directly at him. They were dark green, like a very lush forest after the spring rains, and very, very piercing.

“You were a scholar, weren’t you not?”

Jacqui froze.

“As I suspected. You don’t resemble them, in the slightest, I wouldn’t let you near me if you did. You’re too good for them, clearly… but I can tell that you were,” her tone was heavy, almost sad. It didn’t sound like pity, Jacqui felt like she wouldn’t be the type, but it felt like something else he couldn’t tell. Jacqui didn’t even want to ask what it was.

“How can you—?”

“Do you really think the Valerian Cassano didn’t teach us how to spot you? Even before the Valperga joined us, the Scholars and my family have not gotten along.”

Jacqui had to admit she had a point. He knew this.

“I assume you do not speak of them.”

“Your family cannot be anything like them—”

Amparo interrupted him in a snap. “Of course they’re not. The Scholars do not deserve to walk the same soil as my family, but that wasn’t why I said it. You don’t speak of them because it is safer, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So, what do you think Jacqui? I am very protective of my loved ones. I will not be one to bring harm to them.”

“Is all your family like this?”

“Take a guess.”

Jacqui let out a snort, but he let the topic go, Amparo sinking back into the water and looking as if she had no intention to continue that line of talk. Eventually, Jacqui got up to leave the bath, but Amparo stopped him, peaking one eye open and smiling at him once again.

“You know, if you’d like, I would not mind another round, if you’d like one too.”

She paused to move towards him, the water moving around her with gentle sounds. She put her hand on Jacqui’s thigh, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t have anywhere to be in a while, but the call is yours.”

She began retreating, but Jacqui took her hand, softly pulling her back to him and kissing her. She immediately deepened the kiss; it had the same fire than before, but it lacked the rush — it was more like a constant flame, a steady movement.

Naturally, Jacqui said yes.

#the arcana #the arcana lemon #minors dni #vesuviaafterdark #my writing #city of delights #midsummer masquerade #amparo cassano #captain rodrigo #loser boy i love you so #jacqui #the janiverse

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lairofsentinel · 4 years

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Talking about the smidgens we saw of Gale, the wizard of Waterdeep.

[Baldur’s Gate 3 Early Access Spoilers]

Updated, AGAIN, because the hell of new aspects we saw when some bugs were sorted out. Warning: all this analysis was done for game versions 4.1.83 and 4.1.84

Well, I had to rewrite all this because the explorations of dialogue options and the bugs being, somehow, solved, allowed me to see small details from Gale that stand out or end up being more than curious to me. I'll list his main features to make things short (hopefully), and useful for... eventual fics:

Gale is a char who approves any good treatment to animals (and creatures in general). He has a cat, a Library, and writes poetry sometimes.

He doesn't like gratuitous murdering which is implied in the anecdote he told us about how he stopped a massacre in a Waterdeep city inn just by buying a round to everyone. It is also implied in his approval in most situations; even in the one with the ogres having sex.

He gives you disapproval most of the time if you use violence and intimidation as your first approach in solving a situation. He prefers eloquence, diplomacy, and negotiation. However, he is flexible enough to approve a performance-intimidation in front of goblins to avoid bloodshed. Point (2) is primary. So... he truly is a pragmatic char. It's not white and black: “never use intimidation/lie” or that kind of over-simplistic view.

He likes logical and reasonable conversations. An action that earned his disapproval can be undone if the main char (MC) talks to him and explains their reasons. You can disagree with him without having approval penalties most of the time. You can question many situations and, as long as it remains a mental exercise, there are no penalties. That surprised me a lot. Most characters disapprove you if you wonder about a potential situation, but Gale no. He is the scholar, he will allow a safe space to think around things without being too judgemental. We will see if this attitude lasts in the full game. No wonder some players see in him “the Teacher” archetype. Quite so.

He was an Arch wizard while being Mystra's Chosen One, and fell from grace when she put him aside. What is hard for me to grasp is if he remained Chosen One and therefore able to cast silver-fire during that intermediate period when he stopped having Mystra's whispers and his folly with the netherese taint. We know that in that moment Mystra removed herself from his life completely. But before, she has only stopped whispering and sleeping with him. So far I understand, being her Chosen One doesn't imply sleeping with her, most of the time.

He was a teacher (not surprising, since his over-explanation vices and details such as the pronunciation of “Trashj” make us suspect it), and had some students that he could not keep longer since their ineptitudes irked him.

Unlike the stereotypical “scholar” type, he knows how to cook, since he has been doing stews for the party in the camp. He also loves baths. A bit siding with the stereotypical “scholar” type, but a nice change for a “standard adventurer” type, in which most of the time it is implied that they are stinky with “animalistic” scents and uglier descriptors. No, Gale likes his lavender-scented baths. Good.

He is an over-thinker strategist. And also a char who takes responsibility for his own mistakes to the point that, when he dies for the first time, a programmed image is activated to help anyone to revive him. Despite the fact that he is dead and can give a shit about that, he is still responsible of the catastrophe that may happen if that weird magic orb stuck in his chest erupts.

He is also forcing me to check the dictionary like no other game has done in a while... the fucker uses uncommon words a lot of the time. Smidges? really? Gale is a hard char for a non native English speaker.

We can assume that during his teenage time, he was a pretty prideful peacock to the point to be blind at the reality (well, yeah, he romanced a goddess; if that doesn't give you a hell of a ego boost...) He remembers his young self's pride with a thick level of regret. He is now a mature scholar that, for a change, does not patronise you or thinks of himself better than anyone. Sure, he over-explains a lot, but that's something that most scholars/teachers do when they are worried that, maybe, they won't be understood.

He is confident in his years of study (for that reason he is a capable wizard despite having lost Mystra's favours), but he acknowledges his limits. Which is a nice change to see in the “scholar” archetype, the typical know-it-all. He knows a lot, he knows that he knows (it would be ridiculous to hide his knowledge), but he is human, and like he says: “humans are fallible”. However, it’s more than obvious that he has a big ego for everything he does, which makes sense since he follows a motto in his life: “try to excel at everything”. High accomplished scholar lifestyle, indeed.

If you don't share the Weave with him, he will state that nights are lonesome. It seems he truly is looking for some connection with a keen fellow mind. Probably it's this loneliness which triggers his urge to see Mystra's face during the night. We also know he, in general, lives in constant fear due to the Netherese taint in his chest. So, very lonely, and very scared.

I don't know if this is his poet side unable to be switched-off or it's another implication of how he sees sexual encounters: he never says sex (at least in my many runs, he never did it). He always gets around the word: love-making, art of the body, intimacy. For a scholar who is so prone to use the technical word for everything, and has already stated he is not coy at all, the use of these metaphors make me wonder if it's because he always conceives sex as something more than mere physical pleasure. For him, it seems to come with a more emotional connection (which makes sense if we think he will only sleep with those who connected to him through the Weave). Another small detail that may confirm this is when he asks the MC if the “other night” was wonderful. If MC claims it was “fun”, Gale shows a certain degree of uneasiness by that word choice, making us infer that he certainly doesn’t see sex as “fun” but as something else, deeper.

His tadpole dreams are about Mystra (rather obvious). His most desperate desire is forgiveness. Mystra's forgiveness.

Mystra was his first love. The affair did not last long. And since soon after her abandonment he looked for the Primal Weave book and was infested by it; one could assume he has been focused on solving his problem for the rest of his life than putting some energy in romance, especially if we think about (13). It's hard to say with certainty (especially with banters like these), but since he is a char that you can only sleep with if you share a mind-connection through the Weave, it seems less plausible that he could encourage into casual relationships during all this period of his life looking for a solution to the Netherese orb. If he got previous relationships, they may have been meaningful, but clearly not enough to win over the goddess’ and his urges to see her, lol.

He did not mind Mystra having many other lovers besides him. It seems to be the same with the MC, since he will insist in sleeping with them even after the party and even after the MC slept with someone else (however, that only occurs if the romantic connection through the Weave happened.) This fact combined with (13) and (15) make me wonder if he certainly wants to be with the MC too badly, even in an open relationship. We need to see the rest of his romance to be sure.

Since he looks for forgiveness so desperately, he is a char who will forgive most mistakes made by the MC if they acknowledge them.

He is a char who knows how grey and complex situations can be. This is inferred by the way he speaks of the tiefling girl who tried to steal the idol in the Grove: “She is not innocent, but that doesn't mean she is guilty.” (of course there is a lot of self projection there). This is also implied in his (surprising) approval of raising Mayrina's husband and giving her the control wand to search for a solution in Neverwinter. That shows that he can accept the fuckest weirdest situations, recognising that “sometimes we can’t choose situations but we can try to do our best, not always having the best results”. Also self-projection.

He appreciates his privacy to the point to leave the MC if the abuse of the tadpole power continues. However, and honouring (4), you can abuse of these powers and convince him with reasons: if you don't lie to him and explain that you have a responsibility with the group to know what happens with his secret, he will understand, and despite disapproving the MC actions, will remain without major troubles.

Certainly, as long as you give him reasons and logical concepts, he can almost understand everything with no disapproval or at least little one.

Consent and negotiation are vital to him, apparently. However, this aspect reaches a flaw. He was too angry with Nettie when she almost killed the MC, and he made a short speech about how nobody has the right to decide your options for you. Yet, in his romance scene, we see that he deliberately hid his true relationship with Mystra and his bomb-condition in order to sleep with the MC. In fact, during the party, if the MC tells him that doubts if he is the one they want, Gale will drop a curious argument: “That’s because you’ve yet to find out what your’re missing” (implying that he himself is what you need), followed by his most curious “Doubt is a spoilsport. Cast it aside”. That coming from a scholar is rotten, lol. He tries every convincing argument to sleep with the MC (if they shared the moment of the Weave, of course)

This happens in every variation of the path: whether the MC sleeps with him in the party, or afterwards, Gale will always wait for sharing a night with the MC before speaking the truth. It's hard to read this aspect since, he is a char who, apparently, needs a mind-connection with his partner for intimacy (see (12) and (13)); so this terrible strategy is like his way of trying to guarantee that the MC will not abandon him. I guess there is something along those line, specially if we keep in mind the book he explained: a book which is not only about the art of the body and the night and sex, but of other things such as conversation, exploration, and acceptance of oneself and the other. He is expecting with this night to reach the MC to a certain degree of intimacy in which, despite the raw truth, the acceptance will prevail. Remembering (16), he truly wants to sleep with the MC, baaaadly. And somehow everything feels like he wants to push things in a subtle way to a certain degree of commitment. Following the concept in (12), I think he has been alone for too long, and desperately needs someone in his lonesome nights and in helping him to deal with his burden. Finding someone who connected to him through the Weave (such a personal experience for him as it is) made him a bit desperate or eager. We know his emotion for the MC may have grown over those days since the connection with the Weave. In two occasions he or the MC can ask if both of them think about that moment. Gale says yes with such enthusiasm, that it may imply...that maybe, he has been thinking about that more times than he truly wants to tell the MC. The Weave moment had such a strong effect on Gale that, if the MC spent the night with another companion and rejects Gale’s proposition later, he will trail off a sentence that implies he was convinced that the MC and he were heading into something serious and deep.

Of course, once he sleeps with the MC, he confesses the truth right afterwards, accepting--without approval penalties--the harshest responses that the MC can give. He clearly knows that such manoeuvre was truly disloyal, especially contrasting it with all his speech of consent and rights to know about the true situation one is in. In the next morning, he acknowledges it was a rotten thing to do and apologies. But this shows that his principles can be bend and even be broken when it comes to emotions. I'm still a bit wary of his emotional stability, what can I say.

Mystra is more than an ex-lover for him, it’s magic. And Magic is everything for him, even more than life. I wonder if, given the opportunity, Mystra forgives him and asks him to return to her side, would he accept it without second thoughts leaving the romanced MC? It's true he also acknowledges that all that fascination he had with the goddess was a product of his youth; he knows he was a plaything in her hands. But I don't see he got over with it. He still idealises her, as such a good poet does. Idealisation, especially when a Goddess is involved, is a terrible thing to fight against for the next partner. No matter what speech of loyalties and consent he states during the whole game, the MC knows that magic and Mystra are Gale's Achilles’ heel, and factors in which they can’t predict his behaviour.

We also know that, because his bomb-condition, he tries to take all the opportunities to enjoy the little things of life that make him human.

Gale is a straightforward and honest (mostly, let's say) char. But we can see that he prefers to be honest in most situations, except in his Achille’s heel. Even when he wanted to hide all the stuff about the bomb in his chest, he did it by explicitly warning us that he was hiding something he did not want to talk about. Which is an honest approach considering the hardcore burden he carries and the immediate rejection it can mean if the truth unfolds too quickly among strangers.

When it comes to concepts, Gale has the symbol of the storm attached to him. So far, we see he talks comparing things with storms or storm elements: his lack of knowledge to explain why they are not Mind Flayers yet: the silence before the storm; the fear that rushes into his body when the Weave orb asks him for magic to consume: the thunder of a storm reverberating in his soul, the day it will erupt: the lightning striking, the consumption of magic: water running through a sore throat, Life itself: a tempest. When he asked the player if they were a wizard, he explains that he needs an Arch wizard and compares them with a Tempest. If we see the main image of Baldur's gate 3, it's clear that his main element is electricity/storm... so... full witch-bolt-guy here.

[updated later] The Weave moment is important to romance Gale. Leaving the moment in ambiguity will give the MC another opportunity to make their intentions clear during the scene of the Loss. However, remaining vague will lock Gale into a friendship path. What happens during this scene may suggest that the ambiguity in the Weave was enough to keep Gale thinking about the romantic possibility, but he will not engage into it by his own, which confirms (15). Unless the opportunity presents itself clearly before him, he will not pursue the MC. Further details [here].

Last moment detail: Gale says “I cherish you” when he explains he will await death alone if the Netherese orb goes out of control. I was not sure if that meant something more or less than love or like (I can’t not overlook the subtle meaning of the words coming from Gale’s mouth, he is a poet and his word choices matter). Checking the dictionary I found that “cherish” (in a relationship) is defined as to hold or to treat as dear, to feel love for and to care for someone deeply and tenderly. This man went straight into a commitment relationship without thinking it twice, and without (I believe) the MC knowing it either xD.

Let's see how these characteristics shift or develop deeper once the full game is out there. Now we have to wait a lot :(

To see videos where all this stuff is inferred or explicitly said, you can check [here]

More videos added later [here] and [here]

More content of bg3 in general [here]

#baldurs gate 3 #gale #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate

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cryhardanddanceharder · 3 years

Text

Happy holidays Abby @moonlightandromache I’m your andromaquynh secret santa and this next one shot is my gift for you. I tried mixing what i know you like, soulmate and mermaid combo. I hope you like it ♥

Also, thank you @lilolilyr for being my beta in this and helping me with my english ☺ And thank you @thirst-teenth for organizing this!

_____

An ocean between our love (it won’t keep us apart)

All mermaids, mermen and tritons are immortal and have a soulmate.

Yes, mer folks are not just a myth, they are real. Quynh knows this because she is a mermaid.

Since she was little she had been hearing stories about soulmates. How you would feel your soulmate’s injuries like they were your own and how you would dream of each other.

She started dreaming of her soulmate when she was fourteen years old.

But, the thing about her soulmate it’s that she’s different. She is a human, a mortal. Because of this, many of the other mers often made fun of her. How would it be possible for a human and a mermaid to be together?

“How does it feel to know your soulmate?” She asks her friends.

“It’s the best thing that can happen to you” Nicky tells her honestly.

“There’s no one who could understand you or love you more, you just connect” Joe says, looking at Nicky with heart eyes.

“Look at us” Nicky says proudly. “We came for families who hated each other, and still our love prevailed” He explains.

She doesn’t need the explanation though, she had heard the story too many times. They are lucky, they’ve been together since forever. Just like Nile, Dizzy and Jay.

All her friends had met their soulmate already and that kinda hurts. She knows it’s probably impossible for her to ever meet her own soulmate. She likes dreaming about her, but feeling her injuries not so much, because it worries her. Her soulmate is a warrior, so she always has something in her body that it’s hurting. And she could use a lot of words to describe her, like beautiful, brave and kind. And also loyal, smart and strong.

“You know there’s the story of this merman who had a human soulmate just like you?” Nile asks her, bringing her attention back to the present.

“Yes, I think I heard about him, but I thought it was just a legend” She answers thoughtfully.

“Well Jay knows him, I can take you to meet him so you can talk and share your feelings” Nile suggests.

“That would be great” She accepts.

No one had ever told her that Booker’s story was real. So, she’s excited that she is going to meet him. Maybe he could tell her how to find her soulmate. Her family never helped her with that topic, not since she told them that her soulmate is a human. It’s like most mers think that she must be cursed or something similar, because isn’t a mermaid like them.

Booker it’s bitter and he is drunk. But he let’s her speak and he tells her stories about Lykon, his soulmate.

“So you never met him?” She asks, feeling heartbroken.

“No, he died many years ago” Booker answers sadly.

“But, you only have one soulmate in your life” She expresses her agony.

“I know” He nods.

“How do you keep living without it?” She asks, her voice breaking.

“I’m not sure I do” He says, using his cup to toast for him.

After that conversation, Quynh is left feeling entirely wrecked. How is she supposed to live her immortal life knowing her soulmate is going to die someday?

She tries to hang on to the dreams of her soulmate, to pay attention to where she is so she can look for her. But she’s always on land and there’s never a beach near her.

And then, the day she has been fearing comes. Her soulmate dies. She’s been betrayed by her own people and they killed her with spears in battle.

“Are you okay?” Joe asks her, very worried because she has been in agony, shouting and sobbing for long minutes.

“My soulmate, she died” She answers with tears in her eyes, unable to say anything else.

She starts feeling the heartbreak of reality hit her as the worst pain she ever felt in her life.

She’s devastated and suddenly breaks down crying in full force.

Joe hugs her and holds her in his arms until she falls asleep.

But, something she hasn’t been expecting happens. Her soulmate comes back to life. Her injuries are gone and there’s no more pain. At first she thinks she might be imagining it, but then she dreams about her again. And she is alright, she is alive and she is as strong as ever.

After that, Quynh dares to hope again. If her soulmate is immortal, then maybe they can finally meet someday. And now the injuries are temporary. She only feels pain for a short time. Still, feeling her die is the most painful thing she has ever felt... and her soulmate dies a lot of times.

Quynh starts traveling all the oceans, trying to find her. Joe, Nicky, Nile, Dizzy, Jay and Booker decide to go with her, to help her in her search.

But years and years keep passing by, and they still never find her soulmate.

All she learns in her search is that her soulmate's name is Andromache and she is the best human warrior that has ever existed. Even mer folks start telling stories about her at some point, because they like telling human stories. All the stories about Andromache are about her battles, about how she’s special because of her immortality, how she’s always fighting for what she thinks it’s right and trying to help people.

She wonders if her soulmate dreams of her too, if she ever thinks of her and if she ever tries looking for her.

But hundreds of years keep passing and they never meet each other. All Quynh feels is emptiness and loneliness. Yes, her soulmate is alive and is immortal, but she’s still human and they don’t have any chance of being together. And that hurts.

She starts feeling that her family is right. To have a human soulmate it’s a curse.

So, she decides to give up. She stops the search.

And then, suddenly, another unexpected thing happens that changes everything once again. Her soulmate is drowning. And not just for once, it’s constantly. Quynh is in permanent agony for her. Feeling her dying all the time is exhausting. How is it possible? And then, she dreams of her again and she finally understands. Andromache is trapped in an iron coffin at the bottom of the ocean. How the hell did that happen?

“Quynh, we heard the stories about Andromache” Nicky informs her.

“What stories?” She requests to know.

“The new ones” Nicky answers.

“How can there be new stories when she’s constantly drowning?” She asks, confused.

“Because they are about that” Joe replies. “Apparently she was in England, saving women from witch hunts. Finally the people from church trapped her and sentenced her to die, so they hanged her.” He explains calmly.

“Because she couldn’t die, they took it as proof of her being a witch” Nicky intervenes, feeling that it’s an important fact.

“Yes” Joe agrees with him. “So, they locked her in an iron coffin and threw her to the sea” He ends the tale.

“I need to find her. She’s drowning and suffering constantly, I can’t take it” She expresses her feelings, she always feels safe doing so with them.

“We should start with the North Sea, the Celtic Sea and the Atlantic Ocean; those are the ones that surround England” Nicky suggests.

So, that’s what they do. They travel those seas, looking for her.

It takes them almost one hundred years, but they finally do. They find the iron coffin in a part of the Norway Sea and all she can feel is relief. They prey open the coffin and, finally, Andromache is free and right in front of Quynh.

When she comes alive she looks scared and ready to fight. She starts hitting them until she drowns again.

Quynh grabs her and takes her to the superface. In the time it takes her to get her to superface, Andromache drowns three more times. But those times she doesn’t fight her. It is as she recognises Quynh, her presence helping her to relax even when she dies again.

“Hey” She greets her, once their faces are above the ocean and the other has revived.

“You’re the mermaid of my dreams” Andromache says, looking at her with an astonished expression.

“I am” She agrees. “My name is Quynh” She introduces herself.

“I thought mermaids were a myth” Andromache says, still staring at her, like she can’t believe she’s real.

“I thought immortal humans were a myth, too” She bites back and Andromache laughs. Damm, her laugh sounds so beautiful.

“Touche” Andromache accepts. “I’m Andromache the Scythian” She finally introduces herself.

“I know” Quynh nods with a knowing smile.

Andromache suddenly starts coughing and spitting salt water from her mouth, and that scares her. Quyn realises in that moment that she should have tried giving her mouth to mouth breathing like she heard in some tales about humans, instead of letting her die.

“I should have given you mouth-to-mouth breathing” She says, thinking out loud.

“What?” Andromache asks, confused.

“While I brought you to the superface, I should have given you mouth-to-mouth instead of letting you drown” She explains, in an apologizing way.

“Don’t worry about it” Andromache dismisses it, like it is not a big deal. “Don’t feel bad, it was just what? Three more deaths? You did save after all” She expresses her opinion.

It seems like her humor is a little dark and Quynh finds it endearing.

Andromache coughs again. She probably needs clean water and food after spending so many years without having anything.

“Come on, you must be exhausted, I’ll take you to shore” She proposes.

So Andromache climbs on her back and Quynh starts to swims. Quynh does it carefully, making sure to never dive deep so Andromache can keep breathing. It’s a hard and tiring task, it takes her a long time of the day, but the effort it’s worth it if it means her soulmate is safe. She takes her to the nearest desert beach. She leaves her on the shore, and then gets ready to go back to the depth of the ocean.

“Wait, please wait” Andromache calls her, when she realizes the other is starting to move away.

“What?” Quynh asks.

“Can I see you again?” Andromache requests.

“Why?” She asks, surprised about the request.

“Well, we dream about each other. I think that must mean something” Andromache tries to explain her point of view. “Don’t you want to figure it out?” She asks.

“Are you sure you want to see me again? Aren’t you scared of mermaids? l thought humans tell stories about us hypnotizing people with our singing and drowning them” She says, a little unsure about the situation.

“That’s sirens, not mermaids” Andromache corrects her. “What about you? Aren’t you scared of me? I’m the eternal warrior. There was a time I even was worshiped as god, you know?” She questions, in some kind of teasing way.

“No, I’m not scared” She denies.

“Then prove it” Andromache challenges her.

“Fine, we can try” She accepts.

So they try…

Andromache builds herself a house on the beach. They see each other on every sunrise and every sunset. The rest of the day they continue with their normal lives.

Quynh hadn’t thought it was possible to love Andromache more than she already did… But she starts realising she was very wrong. Spending time with Andromache is the best thing that has ever happened to her and she starts falling deeply in love with her, certain that she would love her even if they hadn’t been soulmates. She loves her with every fiber of her being, in every possible way.

Every moment they spend together is magical.

Like when Andromache teached her arching.

“What is this?” She asks, looking at the objects the other is holding in her hands with wonder. She knows them, she has seen humans using them before, but she doesn’t remember their names.

“Bows and arrows, I'm going to teach you archery” Andromache answers her.

“You are?” She asks, surprised.

“Well you said you didn’t find sword fighting that much fun, so i thought maybe you would like to try something new” Andromache explains her idea.

“How am I supposed to do this when I can’t stand up like you?” She requests to know, still unsure about the idea.

“You do it sitting down” Andromache says with confidence.

Andromache spends all morning teaching her, until she can hit a target. She has to admit it was really fun. And some days, after practicing a lot, she learns to love it.

Another magical but unexpected moment, it’s when Andromache asks her to cut her hair.

“Are you sure?” Quynh asks, picking up the scissors nervously.

“I am” Andromache nods.

“Why do you want to cut it?” She needs to know, because she doesn’t want to do something the other may regret later.

“I’m tired of it, it’s so heavy and impractical. I want a change” Andromache expresses the reason for her choice.

“Fine” She finally agrees. “But if you don’t like it, I won't take complains” She warns.

Quynh cuts her hair in the way the other has requests. When she finishes she’s astounded by how the hairstyle looks on the other. She’s so breathtakingly beautiful. She encourages herself and plays with it a little.

Another wonderful moment is their first kiss.

“I have a gift for you” Andromache tells her, with a smile on her face.

“What? Why?” Quynh asks, confused.

“Because you said that today it’s your birthday” Andromache reminds her.

“Ohhh…” She has forgotten humans have the habit of giving each other presents for birthdays, when for mer folks the habit was the other way around.

“Close your eyes” Andromache requests. “Do you trust me?” She asks, after they spend a long minute staring at each other.

“Yes” She nods.

“Then close your eyes” She repeats.

Quynh closes her eyes and waits for her present. Suddenly she can feel Andromache very near, invading her personal space. She takes a moment caressing her shoulders, her neck and her cheeks. And then, she is kissing her.

Kissing Andromache is incredibly magnificent. It’s as if their lips were made just to be kissed by each other. It’s like they already know their moves, their tastes and what they like. It’s like breathing air for the first time.

Another splendid moment is when she calls her “Andy” for the first time.

“What?” She asks a little annoyed, the other has been staring at her for like a whole minute and never continues the conversation they were having.

“You called me Andy” Andromache finally says.

“Ohh, it’s just a nickname, like in a affectionate way” She tries to explain. “If you don’t like it…”

“No” Andromache interrupts her very quickly. “I like it, you can call me Andy wherever you want” She assures.

So she starts calling her Andy after that.

And so time goes by. And before they know they have spent decade after decade doing this, being together and apart in this way.

But, of course one day it has to come to an end. She should have known, she should have been ready… After all, how could it be possible for a human and a mermaid to be together forever?

“Have you ever heard of a goddess called Atargatis?” Andromache asks her.

“Her name seems familiar, but I don’t think so” Quynh denies.

“Well, legends say she was the first mermaid. She’s a goddess of love and female fertility. They said that there’s an oasis in the middle of Sham desert where there is a temple for her and whoever is brave enough to sacrifice themselves in the search of it, the goddess would grant them a wish” Andromache relates her the story.

“I thought you didn’t believe in gods or goddesses” She says, surprised about the type of conversation.

“Well maybe it’s time I do, so we can be together” Andromache tells her.

“What do you mean?” She asks, confused.

“I can go there, I can sacrifice myself in the search because I’m immortal, I can wish for us to have a way to be really together” Andromache explains to her what she has been planning.

“I don’t think that’s smart, for you to go there alone” She expresses her disapproval. “What if you got hurt, or the goddess wants to remove your immortality as payment or is just not real?” She asks, not wanting to get excited about what it could mean.

“But what if it’s real? Don’t you think we are worth trying it?” Andromache questions her.

“I don’t know” She says sadly. “Don’t you think we are already good as we are?” She asks, fearing the negative possibility.

“We are good” Andromache assures her. “But we could be better, we could be together forever, every time of the day, with nothing keeping us apart” She insists.

“I…” She doesn’t know what to say. The idea of not seeing Andromache for the time it takes her to do the quest hurts too much. “Andy don’t go” She asks.

“I have to. You may not believe our love is strong enough to survive this, but i do.” Andromache argues, very stubbornly. “Once I finish the quest, I’ll come back here.” She promises her.

Andromache gives her a kiss and then she’s gone.

Quynh is scared she won’t ever see her again and doesn’t know what to do without her. But at sunrise, Andromache is there, at the beach, once again.

“I thought you had left” Quynh tells her.

“I packed my things, but I wanted to say goodbye first” Andromache explains to her.

“Do you really have to go?” She asks, sadly.

“I do, this may be our only chance” Andromache answers. “I need you to trust me” She requests.

“I do trust you” She assures her. “But, I don’t want to be apart from you” She expresses what troubles her.

“I don’t want to be apart from you either, that’s why I have to do this” Andromache insists, believing her decision is the best option they have. “I’m gonna be back as quick as I can” She promises her.

Andromache gives her a long kiss goodbye. One that tastes like salt because of their tears. Is bittersweet and leaves her wanting more, but she lets her go.

All Quynh can do is wait. She waits and goes to their beach on every sunrise and every sunset, waiting for Andromache to come back.

While she waits she realises she’s scared. She fears Andy would find a mortal who would love her in all the ways she can’t. She fears Andy would die a lot of times and would suffer alone. She fears Andy could lose her immortality.

Another thought creeping into her mind is that Andy might not really accept her the way she is and will try to take away her mermaid form... she knows that Andy might want to join her in the sea instead, and she doesn’t believe that her love would change her without asking her first, but she can’t silence the thoughts entirely.

She dreams of her and with every dream her fears turn off a little. Andy is really strong and she is trying to do this for them.

She dies five times in the desert. But like she sayed, it doesn’t totally matter. Not when she comes back to life again every time.

It takes a year… And then, finally, Andy is back, at sunset time. She jumps directly into the sea and greets her with a passionate kiss.

“Hey” Andromache says quietly, pressing soft kisses to her neck.

“Hey” Quynh says back.

“I love you Quynh” Andromache confesses, looking right to her eyes.

Andy loves her and knowing it makes her the happiest she’s ever been in her long life.

“I love you too Andy” She says, exploding with happiness and love. “I’m glad you are back” She admits, feeling relieved to be in the arms of the other woman again.

“Did you ever doubt I would?” Andromache asks, kinda teasing her.

“Maybe a little” She answers honestly. “So? How did the quest go?” She finally asks the important topic.

“Well, I found the oasis, and the goddess conceived my wish” Andromache answers her, looking her intensely in her eyes. “You know why?” She asks.

“Because you gave your life founding the oasis” She answers, remembering the tale Andy had told her before going on the quest.

“Yes” Andromache nods. “And because apparently we are soulmates” She adds, looking at her intensely as she was trying to read her.

“Ah, that...” She trails off.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Andromache asks curiously, without judging her.

“Because I didn’t want you to feel obligated to love me just because we’re soulmates” She answers genuinely, thinking it sounds a little silly now that she’s saying it out loud.

“It would be impossible for me not to love you” Andromache tells her with so much confidence, that she believes her in every part of herself.

“So… how does the wish work?” She asks, bringing the conversation to that topic because she doesn’t want to get emotional.

Andromache looks at her with a tender smile, and then removes the pendant she’s wearing around her neck and gives it to her.

“What does it mean?” She asks confused, checking the pendant.

“It’s a magic amulet, it’s made from cintamani and it grants a wish to whoever wears it” Andromache explains to her.

“What the wish would be?” She requests to know, still a little unsure.

“Well, I think it obvious, for the one of us who is wearing it at the moment to have legs on land and mermaid form on sea” Andromache tells her with confidence.

“You don’t want me to stop being a mermaid?” She asks, really surprised.

“No, of courte not, I love everything about you” Andromache assures her. “I just want the chance for us to be together” She adds, caressing her cheeks.

Quynh kisses her. She hasn't thought it would be possible for her to love this woman more, but every time she thinks that, she is quickly proven wrong. It feels like everything Andromache does, it just makes her love her more and more.

She feels so happy. She doesn’t know how to contain all those feelings in her body, so she just shows them. She kisses and caresses every part of Andromache’s body.

When she feels satisfied, she puts the pendant around her neck. Then she grabs Andromache’s hand, so they can get out of the water.

The first time she feels her legs is very strange, and she would have fallen if it wasn't for Andromache’s grip on her.

Andromache teaches her to walk, takes her to all her favorite places and shows her everything about the mortal human world. Then they travel around the world together, meeting new places and sharing their love.

In return, Quynh shows her all the magical places and fantastic treasures the ocean hides in its depths. She teaches her to swim in her mermaid form and do different pirouettes. Also she introduces her to her friends and family.

Andromache has been right. To be together this way is even more wonderful. Thanks to the amulet Quynh can have human form at land and Andromache can have mermaid form at sea. This way they can share both of their worlds and always be together.

So, yes. Maybe it is hard for someone like her, a mermaid, to have a human soulmate. But it is not impossible. They had found their way to be together and now they will be for all their eternal lives.

You can read it in ao3 too: here

#AndromaquynhSecretSanta #andromaquynh secret santa #andromaquynh #andy x quynh #immortal wives #tog one shot #the old guard #soulmate au #mermaid au #long post #my writing #tog fanfic

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outer-bnks · 4 years

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Two Burning Hearts Are Dared To Break (JJ x OC) Ch. 5

In which Elle finds a drunk Rafe on the beach after her fight with JJ and turns to him for comfort.

Warning: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of being drunk/intoxicated

A/N: this gif is something else!!! Drew Starkey deserves more scenes in s2, just saying!! Was really fun to write Rafe as a big softie and explore their history together. Elle doesn’t know that Rafe killed the Sheriff. This chapter gives a little bit more info on Elle’s background and her relationships with the other characters. Also this chapter kind of made me wonder whether Rafe would be a good match for Elle.

Who should she end up with, JJ, Rafe or Topper? Let me know.

Word count: 2k

She had ended up at the beach at the bottom of her house. It wasn’t a surprise that this is where she’d end up, the water glowing in the moonlight, the waves calmly washing onto the shore. It had been a few hours since she had left JJ’s house, her mind still reeling over what had happened between them. The tears had long gone, but the churning in her stomach felt like it wasn’t ever going to end. Watching her feet as she walked along the water's edge, she heard quiet muttering coming from the beneath the tree line.

Walking towards the sound cautiously, she caught sight of a figure moving up into a sitting position, “Hello?”, the mystery person sounded. She recognised that voice, sighing at the realisation.

“Rafe? What’re you doing here?” Elle questioned as she moved to inspect the situation more, his face coming into focus.

“What does it look like?” he responded, arms out wide. Elle remained silent, taking note of his tear-stained face and the slight vulnerability that came through in his voice.

“Want some?” he offered, outstretching his hand holding up an almost empty bottle of whiskey. She shook her head, taking a seat next to him, holding her bent legs close to her chest. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“What’s up with you?” he asked confusedly.

Keeping her eyes on the water so as to not give her emotions away, she asked “What do you mean?”

“Well aren’t you supposed to be with your Pogue friends in The Cut, instead of sitting here with a kook, drinking Whiskey on Wednesday night?”. He was right. She should be with her friends right now, grieving, sharing memories, eating, Elle would’ve been happy doing anything with them right now.

She remained quiet, moving her gaze away from the water to her feet in the sand, not able to find the courage to open up to Rafe of all people yet.

“Did something happen?” he asked softly, wary of pressing too hard, after picking up on her defeated body language.

She scoffed, “You could say that”.

He studied her side profile for a minute, “Do you wanna talk about it?”.

Elle let out a short chuckle. Never would she have imagined that she would be sitting next to a drunk Rafe considering telling him about her feelings.

So instead of doing just that, she put her defences up, sarcasm seeping into her tone “As if you care Rafe”.

He sighed, “I know I’ve been a dick-”

“You could say that again”

“but… things are different now”

“So what, I’m just supposed to forgive and forget all the times you’ve come after us? You, Kelce and Topper have nearly killed us, on more than one occasion”, she snapped, her eyes narrowing to finally look at him.

Rafe swallowed, his throat working at the seriousness in Elle’s tone. And although he was drunk and couldn’t form coherent thoughts, he felt himself sobering up at her words.

“No. You’re not. You shouldn’t forgive me at all. But you’re one of the only people who would actually understand how I feel right now, and it seems to me that you need someone just as much as I do”, his voice quieting at the last part of his sentence.

Elle searched his eyes, for the smallest glimmer of insincerity, silence falling upon them once again.

“It’s just that. Usually when I need someone to talk to, I go to John B. And now that he’s, um, gone, I don’t know who to turn to” she blurted out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Rafe masked his surprise at her outburst with sympathy, “Can you not talk to the others?”

“Hard to talk to them about the issue when they’re apart of it”, she sighed, twirling with the rings on her right hand. It was one of her nervous habits that she did without realising, along with playing with her earrings.

His eyebrows raised, finally understanding what she was upset about, “Oh”.

He paused for a minute, trying to gather his sober words amongst his drunk thoughts, “Maybe just give it some time? From what I’ve seen, you guys are like...real friends. That doesn’t just disappear after one fight”.

Elle nodded, his words somewhat comforting her.

They both looked back out to the water, a calmness washing over the both of them.

“Do you ever think that they might still be alive?”, he mumbled, taking another swig from the whiskey bottle.

She sucked in a breath, surprised at his question. Everyone was still too sensitive to talk about John B and Sarah, which made it hard for Elle to process her thoughts and emotions about the whole situation.

It was her turn to study his side profile, watching for any emotions to arise, “Yeah, sometimes. But holding on to that slim possibility, I don’t think it will do us too much good”, she confessed.

He nodded, looking at her quickly before turning back to the water, not wanting to see her reaction when he admitted this. “It was my fault”.

“What?” Elle questioned, her eyebrows furrowing.

“She’s my little sister. I was supposed to protect her. I’m supposed to protect my family”, his tone was rising, his frustration shining through.

She held a calm and steady voice, “Rafe, it’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is Elle! I’m the reason they got on that damn boat and drove into the storm.”

“Rafe you can’t think like that. You’ll tear yourself apart!”

“A little too late for that”, he scoffed. He ran both hands through his hair before resting his arms back onto the top of his bent knees.

Elle felt an urge to open up to him. To tell him about everything that she was feeling, about her grief and her anger and her loneliness.

She shifted in her position, moving into a crossed legged position. “JJ and I had a fight”.

Rafe waited for her to continue.

“He does this thing, when things become too much for him, he pulls away and tries to shut himself off. Usually you just need to give him time to cool off and he comes back to you. But I don’t know-” Elle shook her head “this time felt different.”

The words that came next didn’t need much preparation, “Well these circumstances are different Elle, he probably just doesn’t know how to cope. I’m sure he’ll come back to you. I doubt he’d ever give you up by choice, that kid’s like in love with you”, he finished, laughing lightly.

Elle laughed, stunned by his response, “What? No he’s not!”.

He shook his head, knowing she’d deny it. “Come on Elle, you’d have to blind- or just stupid, to not be able to see that he is head over heels for you”, he turned, watching as a glimmer of hope flickered in her eyes.

“Nah Rafe, you’re being dramatic”.

“Whatever you wanna believe Elle, but trust me on this,” he paused, maintaining eye contact with for, “if I had someone who cared about me the way that you care about him, I’d never let that go”.

Elle felt her heart swell slightly. Rafe hadn’t been this kind or honest to her, in a long time. She gave him a close-lipped smile, grateful for his words.

Elle watched as the wheels in his head turned, waiting for what question was coming next. Her and Rafe used to be good at this, at sitting and talking and asking each other questions about their lives.

When Rafe landed on the one he wanted to ask, he turned to her again, his eyes glazed over from his intoxicated state. “Is it fun being a Pogue?”

She took a minute to think about his question,“When you’re a Kook who doesn’t have to worry about money it’s fun. Why do you ask?”

He broke his gaze from her, looking down to the sand, drawing shapes into it with his index finger, “You guys just seem so… carefree?”. His statement came out more like a question.

“I guess. It’s easy for me to be carefree because I come from a privileged background, but uh, for the boys, there’s definitely a lot more to it. Can’t be all that carefree when you have to work 24/7 just to feed yourself and keep a roof over your head”. Her mind flashed back to JJ, the way it always seems to.

He brushed the sand off from his hand, “You know, if I was sober I definitely wouldn’t be saying this but” Elle’s heart quickened for a moment, worried about where this confession was going- “I have a lot of respect for you.”

She couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Respect? Ever since I left the Kook Academy you’ve bullied the shit out of me”. Although what she had said was of a usually serious topic, Elle kept the smile on her face, amused by this conversation.

Rafe nodded, “I know I know. But leaving this lifestyle to be with people who you actually love, that makes you a far better person than I’ll ever be.” He hoped she wouldn’t question him further, he wasn’t ready to hurt her more than she already seemed to be.

Thankfully, she didn’t, “Never too late to be a good person Rafe”

Moments of silence passed before Rafe sighed addressing the elephant in the room, “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too,” she responded, sincerity in her tone.

Rafe’s face contorted out of confusion, “What are you sorry for?”

“Well, after everything that happened with Archer, I kind of just... got up and left you guys” she said, bowing her head to look down at the sand.

He understood what she meant. Her departure from their friendship group had been abrupt, but for a good reason. He let out a soft laugh,“I don’t blame you, he was a piece of shit”.

“Yeah he was, but we were friends.”

“How do you trust people again after what happened with him?’’ he questioned quietly, afraid to open old wounds.

“Rafe we had a shitty relationship, it’s not like he ruined my life entirely” she laughed.

“It was more than a shitty relationship Elle. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. And I should’ve told you about her as soon as I found out about it all”. Elle detected regret in his words, but the usual anger that she felt when thinking about Archer and her was absent. Even though it was an emotionally draining time for Elle, life seemed so much lighter back then compared to now.

“Can’t argue with that one.” she shot back, adding in a laugh to let him know that she wasn’t angry.

“Rafe-” she paused, unsure if she wanted to know the answer, “how long did you know about them before I found out?”.

“Uhm,” he hesitated, “maybe like 5 months?” he confessed regrettably.

Elle nodded her head slowly, processing his answer.

“If it’s any consolation, I beat the shit out of him for you”

Elle broke out into laughter. “Yeah I don’t doubt that, but thanks, I guess?”

His face broke out into a full smile, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him smile like that, let alone be the reason for it.

“You’re welcome.”

A cool breeze washed over Elle making her shiver, deciding that now was probably a good time to get drunk Rafe home. “Hey, we should probably get out of here”.

“Yeah you’re right, I can feel my hangover coming already”.

Elle got out her phone, unlocking it and searching for one of the numbers she never thought she’d have to call again after leaving the Academy- Topper Thornton.

-----

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filmista · 4 years

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Gilda (1946): An uncoventional femme fatale

-Isn't it wonderful? Nobody has to apologize, because we were both stinkers, weren't we? Isn't it wonderful? -Wonderful.

Gilda could be the ultimate example of a film in which a single scene transcends the entire film, making the viewer forget about everything. Some may not have even seen it yet, but they do know of that iconic striptease.

What is film noir without the relationship between the protagonists? What is left in a film noir when we strip it of this element, of those murky and sickly as well as fascinating relationships?

Make no mistake: the sophistication that characterizes film noir would be meaningless without the protagonists. And in this sense, Gilda has its own characteristics, something of a film noir, but with a development in its characters very different from the genre.

Here, the femme fatale doesn’t need a man to lead "to perdition." Her reason for being isn’t that, far from it. Therefore, Gilda breaks with that film noir rule; here the protagonists drag each other in that whirlpool that only brings misfortunes, which is resolved in a totally different way in this film.

One of the characteristics of film noir is that of the love triangle although, in this case, we could speak of two love triangles, one of them very particular. At the beginning of the film, we see Ballin rescue Farrell from the street, from the underworld of Buenos Aires.

He has saved his life; one feels indebted and the other responsible for the act. Next we see the third component of this triangle, the cane. A cane that hides a a deadly weapon.

Ballin: It is a most faithful and obedient friend: it is silent when I want it to be silent, but talks when I want it to talk.

Farrell: Is that your idea of a friend?

Ballin: That is my idea of a friend.

It’s not trivial to consider that cane as another member of the relationship between the two men; in fact, when Ballin introduces Gilda, Farrell says: "I thought we were three already”, referring to the cane.

That strange triangle is agreed upon and closed with the following words by Ballin: “This I must be sure of, that there is no woman anywhere. Gambling and women do not mix.” Farrell becomes Ballin's right-hand, his best friend and confidant.

And there it is, the second triangle, and this time, the real one. Ballin appears with his new wife, Gilda, Farrell's old love. As they walk up the stairs, guided by Gilda's siren song, Farrell mumbles an "I hope everything is as before", which sounds more like a wish that he knows won’t be fullfiled; his relationship with Ballin isn’t going to be the same as before. He stands at the bedroom door while we see on his face that he recognises the voice, that voice that he has heard sing so many times in the past.

Ballin tells him that "he seems stunned" listening from the doorway. When Farrell reminds him of the "no women" pact, Ballin replies "my wife is not a woman.” And it is then when Ballin asks Gilda the question:

-Ballin: Are you decent? -Gilda: Sure I’m decent.

The tension between Gilda and Farrell is evident. We don't know what happened between them (that could be another movie), but the wound there is palpable; Ballin is no stranger to that, he realises it perfectly. The Casino workers notice too, in fact they joke about it. When Ballin asks Gilda not to call him "Mr. Farrell", but Johnny, she says "Johnny is a very difficult name to remember and very easy to forget."

And here that obsessive triangle unfolds, so obsessive that, despite Ballin's suspicions that Johnny and his wife knew each other from before, he asks him to stay near her, to take care of her. It seems to be a game that Ballin enjoy. That macabre game reaches its height during a dinner in which the three share a table, in which they toast the misfortune of the woman who made Johnny suffer:

Ballin Mundson : Now then, before we were interrupted, I believe we were about to drink a toast. So: disaster to the wench who did wrong by our Johnny. No, Gilda? You won't drink to that?

Gilda : Why not? Disaster to the wench!

When Farrell admits to Ballin that they knew each other from before, he says, "I taught her what she knows." Up to that point we can imagine what Johnny has meant in Gilda's life. Thinking that Ballin is dead, Gilda and Johnny get married in a wedding that could predict what comes next: we only see her through a window, through the rain that falls outside.

Johnny begins to punish her by leaving her alone, humiliating her, to such an extent that she has to go see him at the office: “Hello. Do you remember me? I am Gilda, your wife ”. Farrell enjoys humiliating her; He lights her cigarette by placing the lighter at waist height, so she has to "bow" to light the cigarette.

She married Ballin out of revenge on Johnny, and he marries her to humiliate her. So much so, that their new home is dominated by a huge portrait of Ballin. She is a prey to her past. She tries to run away from Johnny, but wherever she tries to go, he torments her.

When everything is over, Gilda surrenders and decides to leave the country; He returns to ask her to leave together, while apologizing for his behavior: “We were both scoundrels. Isn’t it wounderful". That obsessive triangle becomes a couple of neurotics, in which with their strange relationship of emotional dependence., they feed each other until they reach the point of recognising that it’s wonderful that they don’t have to ask for forgiveness or that anyone is guilty of anything, the two have been just as awful.

But Ballin returns from the shadows to claim what is his: his wife.

But prophetically it’s a member of the previous triangle, the knife hidden in the cane, that is going to solve this triangle, and this time forever. Ballin dies at the hand of his best friend,

The tagline for the film announced that "there is no woman like Gilda". There may not be a more iconic female character in film history. She has such strength on screen that perhaps because of that the viewer may not have been able to judge her in depth. She has nothing to do with the rebellious woman we all thought her to, nor is she a man-eater; Gilda is simply different. She is a woman with an apparent happiness, that hides an immense sadness and melancholia.

A woman who complains about "so many people and so much loneliness.” Her need for attention and love is palpable. From the moment she meets Johnny Farrell, The expression on her face changes: the past has returned. When Johnny first goes to the ballroom run by Ballin, he meets a beautiful woman and, when he asks about her they tell him: she is a harpy.

Harpies, fantastic beings with the face of a woman and the body of a bird of prey. In Greek mythology, they were the beings in charge to enforce the punishment of Zeus to Fineo, stealing his food. Later on, various traditions gave them malevolent connotations, carriers of catastrophes.

When Ballin appears to be dead, Farrell finds himself between two harpies reading Ballin's will and instructions.

Gilda can’t be considered the classic film noir femme fatale. She seeks to torment Johnny, but in order to make him jealous, her end goal is not money, as is often the case with the film noir woman; She is in love with him, she marries Ballin for money, yes, but it’s a question that Ballin was not oblivious to when he married her; for him she is a beautiful and hungry little girl.

He feels like a man, he realises himself as such by feeding her. But Gilda's wound is very deep; referring to Farrell, she says: "I was once loyal to a man, and look what happened." Ballin justifies her marriage to him: “She said she was born the day she met me. The three of us have no past, only future. Interesting, right?". Those same words are the ones Johnny used when he met Ballin, who had been born the day he met him.

There are two very important themes in Gilda: hatred, hatred that’s been shaped by Gilda’s pain. She reiterates many times how much she hates Johnny, but it’s a simple excuse; She loves him so much that she has had to turn the feeling into hate as a barrier against pain: “Hate can be a very intense emotion (…). Hate is the only thing that warms me. ”

And Farrell in turn thinks about her: “I hated her so much that I couldn't forget her. I was in the air I breathed.” The reunion with Johnny makes her want to plunge into a self-destructive spiral that, that would destroy everything she knows. Her words to Johnny are very significant: "I hate you so much that I would destroy myself to drag you down with me."

But the love game she plays with Johnny reveals something else: She doesn’t hesitate to be seen with other men to arouse his jealousy, a game into which she falls very easily. At the Carnival, with another identity, with a mask, they dance as it seems they did before. She’s mischievous: “I can help you regain practice. I mean dancing. "

He asks her to throw her hat back. He shoves her away violently while she laughs amused. The love-hate game between them is very powerful. We can’t forget the famous slap that he gives her ... although he doesn’t escape a few himself. The game of erotic power play and violence often present in film noir is very noticeable here.

When he takes Gilda home, she does’t hesitate to stress again and again that they are alone. He can’t avoid the temptation and goes up to the bedroom. She has removed her disguise, she is Gilda again, a Gilda in the shadows. They hesitate whether to approach each other or not: "I hate you so much that I think I'm going to die from it ... darling." Their neurotic behaviour could be summed up in this phrase, in that kiss during which the two explode when they say that they hate each other to death.

Gilda’s death drive leads her to an obsessive superstition, another important theme in this film, in which she leaves her life and actions in the hands of that belief, she sees signs everywhere and subjects her life to that destiny. The night the three of them toast to the misfortune that Johnny suffered (herself), she is afraid to drink the glass, as if consuming the champagne closes a pact with the devil.

But after a moment of doubt, she drinks without hesitation, as if that liquid were a poison and she wanted to die right there. She doesn’t care that she’s toasting to her own misfortunes. She’s so superstitious that when she tells the maid, she asks her not to repeat it. Whilst being in luck at roulette someone says "lucky in the game, unlucky in love", and she stops playing to avoid tempting luck. On her wedding day with Johnny, a lonely, sad and glamorousness wedding, a wedding that we as spectators only see through a window, she says: “The rain has stopped. Maybe it means something. ”

Of course Gilda is not the typical film noir woman. She is a tremendously sad woman, sadness caused by love, and who seeks to flee from herself, from everything inside herself.

A woman afraid of her husband and destiny, fearful of life, in a word. In the end, feeling cornered by everyone, the only thing left for her to do is a farewell worthy of her, an iconic dance: She knows she’s being observed by everyone, especially by Johnny. A song in which she asks to blame someone else, "Put the blame on me."

Don't blame Gilda; she’s already fleeing Buenos Aires. But Johnny asks her to go with her. What was Gilda looking for? To be loved. Nothing more, nothing less. Gilda represents the “whore” who wants to emancipate herself to become a mother. Almost no woman in film noir is a mother, a femme fatale is not a mother, she’s a temporary distraction and obstacle to the hero.

But Gilda wants to escape such a condition, and we could really see her as a loving mother and living together with Johnny. In Gilda the woman could be seen as a symptom of the man, Gilda comes to substitute those other symptoms that these men have (sadistic in the case of Ballin, vengeful in the case of Farrell), and take them out on her.

Film noir always plays with appearances: nothing is what it seems to be. But in Gilda, this premise turns to "but in the end everything was what it seemed to be." That game of appearances, like at the Carnival, ends when the participants remove their mask, this time, in a violent way. Neither is Ballin the good Samaritan who saves lives altruistically, nor is his Casino his main activity, not even his death is true. We are shown his shadow on different occasions, in profile; we never see him fully.

Gilda and Johnny’s life is also a lie, to bear their pain. The Casino is itself a lie, a place that Ballin uses to hide his work, and that he has arranged to be able to see without being seen. His office is upstairs, from where, thanks to a set of lights, blinds and windows, he can see everything, like an omniscient God.

It’s the only way out of the suffocating atmosphere of the game room. Gilda is no stranger to what that game of points of view can provide to her, on two occasions she knows she’s being observed by Johnny, she seeks to be observed by him, but she doesn’t see him watching her, as if he doesn't want to see her face and guess what she’s thinking at the moment. The final moment, Gilda’s iconic dance, seems meticulously prepared for him to observe her, but also for him to see how others look at her. What does Farrell do? He stops her. He can’t stand what’s happening.

Doesn't that moment remind us of this one from Paris, Texas?

Or this one?

Two absolutely different women, but in a sense mirrors of each Gilda is the whore who wants to emancipate herself to become a mother; Jane is the mother who emancipates herself and becomes a whore, once Travis appears, she takes the path back to that role of mother. Could that moment that game of points of view, be the beginning of that emancipation, of that path?

That claustrophobic environment and that game of viewpoints is exemplified in Gilda and Johnny's wedding: We only see her through a window, through a rain curtain, we don't even hear what is being said inside the room. We are spectators. But aren’t we during the entire film?

Gilda’s iconic phrase: If I'd been a ranch, they would have named me "The Bar Nothing.", is now more ironic than ever. No, she is not the free woman we were made to believe; she has an owner, Johnny. The mare is back with the stallion.

@purecinema @idasessions @missdubois @mad-prophet-of-the-airwaves

#fave #took me ages to write #gilda #gilda 1946 #charles vidor #rita hayworth #glenn ford #film noir #40’s cinema #cinema #movies #films #film review #movie review #movie analysis #film analysis #filmista

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seavoice · 3 years

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Horse Trading

(link to ao3 on title, or continue reading after the read more)

“Octavian was an asshole,” Reyna said, a contemplative look on her face as she laid on the floor of Hazel’s Praetor Villa, “but sometimes I think, can you really blame him?”

“Yes,” Hazel said, from her position on the floor next to her, where she was trying to sketch Reyna, a task made inordinately difficult by the older girl’s constant moving around. “I really can.”

Reyna sighed. It was a long and contemplative sigh. It wasn’t unusual to see Reyna with a brooding, thinking look on her face, but the relaxed and content expression added a new dimension to it. It was something structural; it somehow made her look younger yet more self-assured at the same time. “Octavian,” Reyna repeated, “was an asshole. But this Villa, Hazel. This Villa. I can see why Octavian was so desperate for praetorship. This house almost makes up for the stress of leading a child army.”

“It does not,” Hazel said. “It really does not, Reyna. Distance has just made your heart grow fonder. And delusional.” She sighed as Reyna shifted her position yet again. Reyna winced as a wordless apology. “Also,” Hazel said, reaching for her eraser, “Octavian didn’t want the praetorship for the house. He wanted it because he was a power hungry and blood thirsty politician.”

“At least you agree the bed is worth it?”

The bed was very nice, Hazel had to admit. Californian King, which seemed excessive, but was appreciated, and the fluffiest pillows Hazel had ever laid her head on. “Maybe. But I’m not agreeing with you when you literally opted for laying on the floor instead of the bed.”

“Fair enough,” Reyna said. She stretched on the floor, some complicated starburst. Hazel decided to give up her endeavour at drawing Reyna and flipped to the previous page in her sketchbook where she had been working on a drawing of Arion. It was half completed, and it was an attempt at drawing purely from memory, but Hazel enjoyed the challenge. “But it’s good for your back, believe me.”

“You’re an immortal Huntress now. Does that really matter?”

“Also fair enough,” Reyna agreed. Reyna rolled over to prop herself up on her elbows and peeked at Hazel’s sketchbook. She raised a single eyebrow. “Oh, that’s certainly more...horse-y than I usually look.”

“I gave up. You move too much.”

Reyna inclined her head in acceptance. Still on her belly, she folded her arms and laid her head down on them.

It was weird to see Reyna so carefree. Weird in an undoubtedly good way, but weird nonetheless. Immortality had, perhaps ironically, taken years off her shoulders.

Hazel hadn’t invited Reyna to New Rome to draw her, but inevitably, that was what the visit had come to. She had written to her asking for advice — advice on running an entire city, advice on leading a quote unquote “child army” in times of peace, advice on not going crazy with stress — and Reyna had accepted so readily that a ventus spirit had brought her letter the very day Hazel had sent hers. Hazel had prepared for the visit with a single minded focus; she had brought a notebook for note taking, three different colours of pens, a highlighter, and her firmest handshake.

But then they had skipped the firm handshake and instead had hugged, tight, and Reyna had snagged a bowl of jelly beans from the Praetor office, and for the next few hours they had done nothing but lay on the floor of Hazel’s newly acquired Praetor Villa, swapping stories after stories, lazing around and sketching. Reyna had told her about the Hunt’s newest undertaking, some mythological boar or the other, and also about Thalia’s new obsession with 80’s rock. Hazel had told her about Lavinia’s latest shenanigans, and Gwen’s new job as a much valued mental health counsellor for the Legion. No notetaking had taken place. No praetor advice had been shared.

“It’s very good,” Reyna said, gesturing to Hazel’s drawing of Arion. “The likeness is stunning.”

Hazel beamed. “Really?”

“Of course!” Reyna scrambled to sit up. “It’s uncanny. This is really, really good, Hazel. It’s like…” Reyna made a hand gesture like she was pulling something; Hazel recognised it as an unconscious tick that Reyna had, one usually employed in Town Hall meetings when she was struggling to find the correct words to use for convincing reluctant denizens. “It’s like make a career out of it good,” she finished.

It was a warming compliment. Hazel’s smile grew wider; this was a pride unlike any other, something simple and easy and painless. Hazel had convinced herself to take pride in the smaller things more often. It made a dreary life just a little bit happier and easier when she could take pride in mastering her mist magic, in baking a sweet cupcake to perfection, in a good sparring session, in making a friend smile. But this pride in her artwork was somehow—brighter. It was something she’d dedicated long hours to.

“Horse artist?” Hazel said. “You think there’s a market out there for that?”

“Are you kidding me? Pet artist! Lucrative as they come.” Reyna laughed, an easy, lovely sound, and this too was unusual, this too was good, this too warmed Hazel. “People go crazy when they get pets. Put them in all cute little kinds of outfits and hire professional photographers, artists...I’m serious, Hazel. Business idea.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Hazel said, with a laugh of her own. Then she sighed and set down her pencil. “I appreciate the business advice, though honestly, what I need more is Praetor advice. I feel I’m going insane.”

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Reyna said. “You don’t need my advice, Hazel. You’re a force of nature.”

This was a sweet sentiment, and Reyna probably meant it, but it didn’t help Hazel’s case. “Thanks,” she said. “Like—genuinely. But I do feel...I do feel like I’m going insane. It’s—it’s a lot.”

Reyna’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked older at once, older in all senses of the word. Like the Reyna of before the Hunt, and the break from her duties—Reyna in charge, Praetor Reyna, sixteen year old Reyna with the world on her shoulders. She sat up straighter. “Is someone giving you trouble?” Reyna asked. “I was joking about Octavian earlier, but gods, if someone’s coming up to take his spot as Asshole of the Year—“

“No,” Hazel said quickly. “It’s nothing like that. That’s nothing. I could deal with someone like that no problem. It’s just—like you said...child army.”

Reyna exhaled softly and closed her eyes. “Yeah.”

Hazel hated bringing the mood down, hated evaporating Reyna’s good cheer, but she set that uncomfortableness aside for the time being. She pulled up her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. And there was solidarity in this too, acknowledgment. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Everything’s—okay, now, for the time being. Doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way forever.”

“That’s not really ever in your control,” Reyna said with a rueful smile. “But I do...I do get what you mean. I understand.”

“I thought you would,” Hazel said. “That’s why I wrote to you.” She’d thought of going to Frank with these thoughts too, and she was sure he’d give good advice, and be kind about it, but a part of her—a stubborn part, maybe, a conscious part, sure, but a valid part, nonetheless—hadn’t wanted to show a weakness to her co-Praetor, even one as familiar as Frank.

“I don’t know if I can give you any great advice,” Reyna said at last. “I don’t know if I can tell you anything you don’t already know, and you are doing a great job.”

Hazel tried to keep the sadness out of her smile. “Hm.”

“What I needed?” Reyna said. “What I needed when I was a praetor was...gods, just a ear. Just someone to bear it with me. Someone to understand. Jas—he was gone, and it was just me. For the longest time. But then with Frank, it wasn’t as hard again, because we could...we could switch off. We could share. That’s the only thing I can really tell you, Hazel. Only advice I can give you. Share. Share it with me, always. With Frank. Lavinia. Nico. Your friends. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re alone. You don’t have to be.”

“I know,” Hazel said. She’d been alone for so long in Asphodel she had thought she could survive loneliness, if she had to. But she didn’t have to. And she didn’t want to. “And you sold yourself short Reyna—you do give great advice.”

“Sounds like I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.”

“But I think I needed to hear that from you,” Hazel said. “From someone else. You said it yourself—I just needed to know someone else understood. Otherwise it gets...it gets lonely.”

Reyna’s smile was soft. “You’ve got good instincts, Hazel. You’ll be just fine.”

Gods, she hoped. “Thanks for coming out here on such short notice. You probably were busy with the hunt.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Reyna said, and there was that strange new lightness to her again, a relaxed happiness. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve got time now.”

Hazel picked her pencil back up. “You know, if you try sitting still, maybe I can still do a quick sketch. Before you leave.”

“Actually,” Reyna said, and was Hazel imagining things or did she actually look self-conscious? “I have a sketch request, if you’d accept.”

Hazel was intrigued. “Oh. Oh. Sure. Who?”

Reyna smiled a little sheepishly. “Don’t laugh okay? I miss him. Scipio.”

Pet artist...Hazel let out a small giggle. “Oh, so when you said people go crazy when they get pets, you meant—“

“I told you not to laugh!” But Reyna was laughing herself. It wasn’t sad, but it was sort of wistful. “I never dressed him up or whatever, but he’s been on my mind lately; I’ve been wondering when he’ll reform. Pegasi reform slow, apparently. I thought I’d never see him again in this life, but now that I’m a Hunter—holy Pluto, I can. And you drew Arion so well—“

“I think it’s sweet,” Hazel said. It was, exceedingly so. Hazel was trying to recall Skippy in her memories, and she felt a pang of sadness as she remembered him soaring above them during the War Games. It had been a long time since she had seen him, but she thought she remembered enough to manage a sketch for Reyna. “It might not be a perfect likeness—“

“I’ve got a photo.”

Now, Hazel absolutely couldn’t control herself. She smiled wide, a fond laugh bubbling in her chest. “Oh, Reyna—“

“Will it, or will it not make it easier to draw him?” Reyna asked, tips of her ears a faint pink.

“It’ll be perfect,” Hazel promised. “Where have you got it? In the Praetor office?”

Reyna reached into her pocket and brought out a worn out photograph. As much as it was hilarious, it was also heart-warmingly sweet, a touch melancholy. Hazel sympathised with her—she couldn’t imagine losing Arion. She probably would start carrying a picture of him everywhere too; it wasn’t a bad idea.

“Sure,” Hazel said, studying the picture. “I can do a drawing for you no problem. You can carry it everywhere along with the picture. A horse drawing in exchange for solid advice. My first political quid pro quo as Praetor.”

“That’s a terrible deal, Hazel. I can literally commission you, if you want.”

“I’ll settle for a refill of my jelly beans,” Hazel said, gesturing at the now empty bowl of jelly beans. They’d made fast work of it. It hadn’t survived the first hour.

Reyna sighed and stretched out on the floor. “Oh, I forgot,” she said glumly. “One more piece of advice, Praetor to Praetor.”

Hazel looked up. “Yeah?”

“Stock up on those beans,” Reyna said mournfully. “And never let anyone break into your stash. You’ll need them.”

#hazel levesque #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna ramirez arellano #pjo #heroes of olympus #voop fic #eh this is kind of choppy but i do really love these two and think they should be friends #also not relevant to this story at all but frank and hazel are very much NOT a couple here. just co praetors and good friends #goodnight I’m going to bed

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