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annahxredaxted · 1 year

Text

High school AU

I am on a roll! Another au for the little munchkins that actually enjoy my writing for some god forsaken reason

Genre: all of them

Characters: David/angel Sam/darlin milo/sweetheart Asher/Baabe

Tw: cussing.

(Note: for the sake of this fic Sam is aged down to the rest of the pack and, no one is empowered.)

(1/?)

———

Ahh yes, dahlia high. The place of depression, bad grades and body Oder; for most people anyway. But not for the unstoppable group of eight friends who think their the main characters because they bought matcha once. Anyways,

Sweetheart and angel strolled through the corridors carrying their Algebra books and notebooks talking about the most recent home game and who won and who lost because their school always dominated no matter how trash everything else was.

“Yeah I can’t believe the quarterback got that.” Angel exclaimed smiling

“Yeah I was pleasantly surprised.” Sweetheart said back, adjusting their backpack to rest on both of their shoulders.

Angel nodded. Just then the school badass Clown busted through the door

“What up guys!” Asher exclaimed putting his arms around the two friends

“Hey Asher.” Angel said smiling

“Hi.” Sweetheart said as well. Asher then started pouting.

“Oh yeah you guys are in the smart people class.” He said.

They rolled their eyes

“Asher I know you don’t want to but your going to class with us. Your smart dude act like it, you just have to apply yourself and stop slacking off.” Sweetheart scolded nudging him in the side.

“Ughhhh applying yourself is so boring!” He exclaimed fake crying and groaning making sweetheart bitterly hold him in their arms

“I guess that means getting into a good college is also boring.” Sweetheart said shoving him off them, wiping themselves off as if they have dust on them.

“Germs.” They mumbled.

The friends walked into Mr. Daniels Algebra class nonchalantly Asher groaning his head off

“Good morning Asher.” He said raising an eyebrow

He immediately straightened up. Mr Daniel also happened to be the hockey coach so he was on his best behavior.

“Hah suck up.” Angel muttered, Asher flipped his head to glare dagger at them and then sat down at his designated desk.

Minutes after the bell rang milo waltzed in with a proud gait as if he was 20 minutes early

He took his seat next to sweetheart. The pair of “friends” weren’t dating quite yet but everyone could tell it was bound to happen. Everyone but them anyway.

“Thank you for joining us Mr. Greer. I presume you have a reason for not getting here on time?” Mr. Daniel asked raising an eyebrow

“Uh… no sir I don’t.” He said sighing. Daniels nodded and wrote a little something down and handed it to him

“Detention after school. Again.” He concluded, walking over to the white board to start writing;

as he went on to the lesson, milo was brainstorming any excuse he could tell his dad why he had detention again, colm would be outraged when he heard this. He might even make him quit lacrosse. Milo sighed once more and shoved the slip into his pocket

“Hey,” sweetheart leaned over and whispered to milo.

He leaned over raising his eyebrow.

“You okay?” They asked, sincerely.

“Yeah I’m good. My dads just gonna be pissed.” He said fumbling with his hands. A gesture that sweetheart absolutely noticed. They were observant and wise, with empathy. He was stressed.

‘Obviously. Great job wanna cookie?’ They mused.

“Oh. Lemme know if I can do anything to help.” They said before leaning back over and taking notes.

Milo nodded, feeling something pulling at his heartstrings.

If anything milo was an overthinker. He thought of everything, every merely possible scenario, every idea, every excuse, every thing. But he couldn’t pin point how one specific person could make his hands sweaty and heart pound like a drum in his chest. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he was in love..

—————

“Ughhhhhhhhh that class is so fucking boring.” Angel said enunciating O in boring.

David pulled his eyes and smiled lightly.

“It’s not that bad.” He said, even though he was two classes ahead of them.

“What-Ever!” They exclaimed flaring the dramatics like always.

Milo trudged alongside them, slight frown overtaking his face as the group of friends walked to join their friends in the cafeteria.

“Milo.” David boomed, he jolted up and looked him dead in the eye.

“W-whasup?” He asked confused at the sudden loudness.

“Are you okay?” He said gentler- much gentler.

Milo looked down once more. Sighing he shook his head, on the verge of actual tears.

“My dads gonna be so mad that I got detention again. I mean it’s not even my fault there was traffic but the school won’t take that excuse for some dumb fucked up reason.” He said in a single breath

“Oh.” Angel muttered, feeling sorry for their friend.

“Milo, if you need anything, anything at all your always welcome at my place we can drive to school together-“ angel cut him off

“Or you could ask sweetheart. Their a teachers kid so they have to be here early anyway. Plus their always down to carpool,” they dropped their voice “, and their cars really nice.” They smirked at the thought of riding in the car their friend bought with the money they’d been saving for a while. It was a nice car and angel treated it like a child.

Milo’s eyes widened.

“Wh-why’d you- where’d you ge-get that idea?” He asked worriedly that maybe he was easy to read.

“Idea?” They asked puzzled.

“Nothing.” He mumbled “,yeah I’ll ask them.” He finished. If he wasn’t easy to read before he most certainly is now.

——

Baabe walked into the loud cafeteria, searching for their friends, when they saw David’s tall head poking out from the crowd they walked in that direction.

“Hey guys.” They said with a soft smile.

“Hey baabe!” Asher said hugging them.

They tapped his shoulder twice as an initial sign for him to let go.

“A-ash c-can-t bre-th.” They said, before he let them go and scratched the back of his neck.

“Sorry baabe.” He said smiling awkwardly

“Ew oh my god this looks disgusting.” Sweetheart fake gagged looking at the school lunch. The kids nodded in agreement

“Cant wait for next year when we can leave campus for lunch.” David said pushing his tray to the middle of the table.

“Same.” Asher and angel said simultaneously grinning ear to ear.

David rolled his eyes “weirdos.” He mumbled at his partner and best friend in sync always.

“Do you guys just take turns with the same brain cell or something.” Sweetheart teased nonchalantly.

“Hey! That’s not nice!” Asher said

“Yeah be nice you jerk!” Angel added

The rest of the group chuckled; aside from Asher and angel.

——-

“English class. The best class. The best teacher. And it smells good.” Baabe said to David, who nodded in agreement.

“I agree, it’s also the easiest class.” He added pointing a finger to the door.

The bell rang and the class settled down and stopped talking.

“Hello class, glad to see everyone present today! I have a special announcement. We have a new student going us today. I trust in good conscience that you’ll make them feel welcome,” she said before clearing her throat

“Tanker? You can come in now.” She finished.

A kid walked in, wearing green cargo pants and Metallica tee, a tan zip up jacket, with piercings all over their face, ears, nose, and eyebrow. They had a severe case of RBF but aside from that they were the perfect person.

The kid in the back; who quite literally never talked, Sam is his name, rose his head in awe at the hot gorgeous person he saw with his own two eyes.

They nodded.

“You can take a seat next to baabe right there.” She pointed to an empty desk next to baabe.

“Kay.” They said with a huff of breath.

Everyone watched them as they walked over to the desk and then turned their attention back to the board.

Tanker slumped themselves in their desk, doodling in a little green notebook, not really paying much attention to the class.

‘This is going to be a long year..’

Sam thought.

—

Taglist:

@itsdaifuku @youisagayhooman @shellssstuff @verrverii @darlin-collins

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buttermynutter · 2 years

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Signed, Viktor | 9/18

Transcript:

My acquaintance who definitely didn’t have to wrangle a flower of all things,

Seeing how happy you were in the greenhouse really did make my day, but the scuffle you got yourself into made my week. I was laughing so hard it almost made me glad that I had a cane, it was the only thing keeping me from keeling over.

I apologize that I wasn’t much help in the moment, but you must admit that being embraced and pet by almost sentient vines makes quite the amusing image. Thank goodness a guard was there to help us (even if I did have to lie about us being first-time assistants; I suppose he can’t tell one from another).

When the key clicked in that gate, your eyes shined so brightly that I could swear the sun had competition. Though, I can see why it’s restricted now - the mortality rate of the academy would be much higher if it was open to all students. It does make me wonder why we require such plants, especially a flower whose only function is to grab others. I suppose most were just mistakes of mutation, making me all the more thankful that you are simply basing your designs off them, not transforming them.

On the topic of your work, as assistant to Heimerdinger, I naturally hear much of the council's chatter, and they - even Hoskel - are slowly but surely coming around to yours and Jayce’s pollution project!

However, I did notice that he had begun a separate project that he did not file an official record for - I am not asking if you have any knowledge of it or to share it with me, I merely hope he is not making any irrational decisions. Even with their approval, the council will be watching as closely as ever.

If I may, winter suits you well. The image of you wrapped up in a scarf and sweater makes me feel quite warm myself, and currant red complements you immensely.

I have attached the sketches that we did together in the greenhouse (more accurately, the sketches that I did and you doodled on).

Also, don't worry, I made sure to keep the drawing you did of us under the one purple tendril tree - it is pinned right above the very desk I am writing on.

A bit unrelated, but I hope you don’t mind that I have already planned our next escapade. I don’t believe I need to point out the hint of where, just make sure you are prepared after your afternoon classes.

To think that just a semester and a half ago, I was still writing you using academy stationary, my goodness. I still can't believe that because of you, I've had more fun these past months than all my years in Piltover combined.

I feel a little more alive each time I see you, and the past four years - including my time when I was still a student - that have been spent withering away at the academy are all worth it, because eventually, I’ve met you.

There is nobody else like you in Runeterra, much less just these two cities. I suppose what I'd like to say most of all is, well.

Thank you for being my friend.

Your partner in crime,

Viktor

━━━━━━━

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#signed viktor #arcane viktor #viktor/reader #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor x you #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fic #arcane fanfic #arcane league of legends #netflix arcane #league of legends x you #league of legends x reader #league of legends #league of legends fanfic #viktor the machine herald

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hannahssimblr · 5 months

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Chapter Twenty (Part 3)

It’s close to nine by the time the party actually starts. Loads of very fashionable, intimidating people come into the garden, all of them having some conversation they want to have with Jude, so he’s quickly occupied. I sit at the patio table with a group of girls whose names I forget the moment they introduce themselves to me and try to make all the right sounds as they discuss their college offers, acting like my attention isn’t being pulled towards him every time he moves.

“It’s got like, the most authentic college experience.” Says one of the girls who won’t stop going on about Trinity. “Like, even having that sort of Ivy League atmosphere you know? And you’re right in the heart of the city. Think of all the choices for lunch.”

“I heard everyone who goes there is up themselves.” Another says acridly, which causes an uneasiness to settle over the conversation. I have an acute sense for these kinds of microaggressions after having Kelly as a friend for over half my life, and whatever this is, the echo of a discord between these girls that I’ll never know the intricacies of, it drags up all sorts of wretched feelings from somewhere inside me, and I want to go and stand beside Jude instead. And where’s Jen?

“Where are you going to college?” One of them shoots a question at me before I can move, and it pins me to my seat.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m only after finishing fifth year.”

“Oh, tiny baby.” She comments in a not unkind way, but it makes me squirm. “So like, have you an idea of where you’ll go?”

“Not really, like I probably want to do art, but I don’t know which is the best college or anything. I haven’t really looked into it too much.”

“Oh, just go to NCAD. It’s the only acceptable choice.”

“Okay.”

“What’s it with all these people doing fine arts these days?” The dour one asks of nobody in particular. She’s smoking a cigarette and dropping the ashes right onto the table. “In this economy I actually think it’s bananas. Like, what are the jobs?”

“I dunno. Selling paintings in a gallery.” Someone suggests. “Or doing that street art thing that they do in Montmartre.” The way she says Montmartre in a really pretentious french accent irks me. It reminds me of how people insist on pronouncing croissant the authentic way, even when it’s just been made at some industrial bakery in Clondalkin.

“You can do loads.” I insist. “Like pottery, printmaking, graphic design, teaching… and actually you can do sculpture, which Jude is going to do.”

The Montmartre girl throws her eyes to the sky. “Yes, we know all about his odd choices.” She peers over her shoulder at him, down on the grass talking animatedly to some guy in chinos. “And I still can’t believe he was so determined to do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh. Like the way his parents kicked off about it. Imagine, a dental surgeon and an actuary having a son who wants to mould clay as a job.”

“I’d go mental if I worked hard to provide for my family and then had an artist for a child.” Says cigarette girl, who must have forgotten what I said about going to art college. Otherwise she’s being purposefully mean. “Like to the point that I’d stop them from playing with crayons in case they liked it too much.” A couple of the girls laugh darkly. Clearly she’s one of those people that gets a kick out of saying really crazed things just to get a reaction.

“Oh look who’s here.” One of them says, and they spin around to watch a skinny girl in a sequined top come out through the patio doors and do this bouncy little hop down the stone steps towards Jude. I don’t even have to ask who she is, because I already know. I’ve done a thorough investigation of her. I’ve scoured her social media, I’ve seen every picture of her that exists in the online sphere and I’ve read every status she’s ever written, in fact I’ve already compared myself to her in a thousand painful ways and tortured myself trying to figure out the things that made him want her but not me.

I watch him hug her tightly and give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi Michelle, so good to see you.” I lip read, and the look that he gives her makes my stomach twist. The chair makes a hideous scraping sound under me as I get up and go inside to the kitchen.

“Evie, oh my God! I didn’t know you were here!” Jen is there, pouring herself a vodka and coke at the counter. I go over to her and we hug, and I ask her how long she’s been here. “Like half an hour.” She tells me. “I didn’t see you.”

“I was at the table with those girls.”

“Oh lovely.” She says blandly and loops her arm into mine. “Have you had a drink?”

“Just a glass of wine.”

“Here.” She gives me her cup and then pours herself another. “We’re hardly going to get through the fabled Last Night without a few drinks.”

I nod in agreement. “How are you doing?”

“Ugh, it’s just weird. We’ve always been joined at the hip, and now he’s going. But on the other hand, it’s what he wants, so it makes me happy too. And Berlin is literally two hours away. I’ll just fly over there whenever I miss him too much.”

It’s actually a comforting thought, that he won’t be all that far away, at least physically. “Still though.” I can’t help but add. “Things change when people go away, there’ll be new friends and-”

“Please, I’m not thinking about this tonight. I already stumbled upon the harrowing mountain of suitcases outside his bedroom after I used the upstairs toilet. I need us to pretend it’s going to be normal for now. It’s all my heart can take.”

We take our drinks outside and sit down together on a rattan sofa near the group of girls I’d just been with. The mean one has all her features screwed up again and is presumably saying something unpleasant. She reminds me of Kelly.

“Are those girls from your school?” I ask Jen, and she nods. “Yeah. They’re alright, they’re just like, into the drama a bit. There’s always something going on with them.”

“And they’re Jude’s friends.”

“Yes. Kind of. I don’t really know, if I’m honest. They’re just always around.”

“Do you think they fancy him?”

She snorts. “Dunno. Probably.”

I try my best to sound really casual as I ask a question that a huge part of me doesn’t even want the answer to. “And what, did he like, have a thing with any of them?”

“Oh yeah, a few of them.”

I pause and look, really look at each of their faces. They’re all pretty. They’re all cool, and I feel threatened by every one of them. I’m filled with inadequacy once again, a feeling that just keeps coming back around like a malicious carousel to knock me down and remind me that I’m not effortless, individual, confident, artistic or beautiful enough, and unless I can turn back the clock and change every aspect of my life, all the things that have shaped me into the person I am, I will never be.

I let my gaze drift down the garden where Jude is still talking to Michelle. The sun is low in the sky, and it turns his skin the colour of toffee, his dark hair backlit in auburn. I watch him with her, his expressive eyes looking at her in ways I’d thought were just for me. His wide, incandescent grin illuminates on his face every time he laughs at something that she says and it makes my heart ache. Everything about him is perfect. His long fingered painterly hands are like something ornamented in gothic stained glass. He has this elfin, feline look to his face and eyes that so many times have made me feel pinned to the spot. I realise that I am entirely, earth-shatteringly in love with him.

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#sims 4 #sims #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #writing #sims story #romance #fiction #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 1

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ersatzpenguin · 2 months

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Something that I think gets lost in all the internet bluster from bigots is the fact that most bigots are quiet—some of them can even be polite. They won’t say the things they think about you or your loved-ones to your face. And that honestly bothers me more in some ways.

A short story:

When we moved into our current house, and met our neighbor across the alley for the first time, she seemed surprisingly cold and distant. But, try as we might, we couldn’t pin down why. We quickly learned that she was good friends with the couple that lived in the house before us, and figured she must have just been sad to lose her friends. So, we went out of our way to be friendly and good neighbors. We were new to the city, and if she wanted friends, we were certainly looking for them. But, nothing changed.

In fact, over time, we noticed that she’d started actively avoiding eye contact with us—sometimes going so far as to act like we were not even there. For example, on a couple occasions her dog ran across the alley into our garage to say hello. When this happened, she’d tell the dog, “Former Owner 1 and Former Owner 2 don’t live there anymore, you can’t go over there”—all while ignoring our assurances that it’s okay, and we love dogs. Like, not really even replying or acknowledging us.

By this time, the only reason I could think of for her apparent disdain for us is the fact that we’re queer. But, she’d never said anything along those lines to us, and we live in a very queer-friendly neighborhood (in some ways, the “young gayborhood” in Minneapolis). So, wanting to believe the best about people, I figured I was wrong, and maybe we had done something we weren’t aware of to upset her—maybe right as we were moving in.

But, it bugged me. I don’t need to be friends with my neighbors by any means, but some sort of friendly communication seems necessary—after all, you want your neighbors to know they can talk to you about turning your music down instead of just calling the cops, etc. So, after we got to know our other neighbors better, I asked them if they knew anything about what was going on or if there was something we had done we weren’t aware of. While one hinted at her having said some “weird things,” most of them just affirmed that she’s not worth being friends with, has literally called the cops on another neighbor for noise without saying anything to them first, and has generally been a bit of a pain to have as a neighbor. She’s also apparently bragged about how the plants in her front yard discourage loitering. Hearing this, I thought to myself, “Fair enough. She’s just an antisocial jerk. I can handle that.”

And that’s how I thought of the situation for the last year or so. I had honestly gotten to the point where I felt bad for her—living alone, not seeming to ever have friends over or anything resembling a social life, just her and her admittedly much more charismatic dog. C’est la vie.

That is, until yesterday—when my partner pointed out she has a new sticker on her trash can. One of these:

And… there was my answer. She’s just a bigot. I spent multiple years worried we had somehow offended her without knowing what we did, trying to be as friendly as possible—and all that time and energy was for nothing because she’s one of those “‘Adam and Eve,’ not ‘Amanda and Eve’” weirdos.

Don’t get me wrong, I kind of like that she doesn’t feel like she can actively spout her nonsense to others—it speaks to the sort of community we have that the best she can manage is a poorly designed and thought-out bumper sticker on her trash can. I’m just frustrated that I spent so much of my time and energy worrying about her feelings before realizing she wasn’t worth it.

#bigots #bigotry #homophobia #transphobia #queerphobia #bad bumper stickers #bumper stickers that scream i have an eight grade education and a lot of misplaced anger

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rotationalsymmetry · 2 years

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One Discourse to Rule Them All: Blood Libel, Pedophilia Accusations, and Abortion, or How To Take Advantage of People’s Hot Buttons For Fun and Profit.

Buckle up. Mostly the title functions as a trigger warning, but we’re also gonna get into transmisogyny (and homophobia, I just realized it’s not going to be obvious to everyone that the second list item up there is about homophobia.) Here goes!

Once upon a time, Europe was synonymous with Christendom, and antisemitic as fuck.

Jews were separated off into their own villages and neighborhoods (often ghettos) and didn’t necessarily interact with Christians that much, and Christians lied through their teeth about what Jews were like, even blatantly false things like what they looked like, in order to justify wholesale slaughtering them.

I say Christians did this, but what I mean is: there were Christians who told the lies and other Christians who believed them, and probably some who didn’t actually believe them but were willing to play along, but the point is it wouldn’t have worked unless there were some innocent dupes being pulled along for the ride, who wouldn’t have committed mob violence if they hadn’t been blatantly lied to.

The lie was “Jews murder your children and drink their blood.” This was based on nothing.

But it was very effective. Because one of people’s strongest, most fundamental drives is to protect their children. So saying “those people, they intend to harm your children, they have harmed children just like yours”, well, it’s very effective. Even when it’s based on absolutely nothing.

(I don’t want to oversell my case and that wasn’t the only lie, “the Jews are responsible for the death of the Savior”, which is I guess an interpretation you could have of the gospels but it’s a pretty odd one, was another, apparently highly motivating, justification for antisemitic violence.)

Once upon a time, a different time, parents didn’t trust the gays around their kids.

You couldn’t legally adopt if you were in a same-sex relationship. If you wanted to be a teacher, better keep in the closet. You want to be invited to family events? Should have thought of that before you became a fag.

This was based on the lie that the queers were more likely to be pedophiles. And of course it worked. What kind of parent would you be if you exposed your precious child to a known sexual deviant?

Once upon a time, someone decided to frame abortion as baby murder.

I don’t want to get into arguments for or against seeing abortion as intentional child death, so I’m just going to make an assertion and if you want to stick an “I’m not sure I agree with this pin in it, go ahead, it’s not like there’s a shortage of arguments about this right now. Let’s just assume, like we’re in a math class and this is an axiom, that abortion is not actually child murder, and see where that takes us.

Where that takes us is this pattern I’ve been pointing out: someone’s got an ulterior motive like “if we kick all the Jews out of the country, we can take their stuff” or “it’s easier to control people if there’s some designated outsiders that we can make them all hate”, or specifically "hey, what will get the Republican voting base to the polls? What enemy can we create this time that will generate maximum rage and disgust (and keep them from seeing how we're screwing our own voters over in terms of money and public services)?" and…they just lie through their teeth. But they don’t lie arbitrarily. They lie about a thing that will get the strongest possible emotional reaction out of people, a thing that packs such a powerful gut punch that they won’t stop and think “wait, do I actually trust this source of information?” and instead will just react.

I’m calling this the one discourse to rule them all because oh my goodness do you see this all over tumblr. Can’t come up with an actual reason why fic that squicks you out is bad? Wildly allege that it supports pedophilia. Can’t come up with an actual reason why you don’t like trans women (and of course this one is emphatically not a tumblr exclusive)? Maybe they’re predators who are trying to get into (“real”) women’s spaces to rape (“real”) women. You don’t need evidence if you can hit people’s stress response button hard enough.

And: “people who identify as bi lesbians contribute to corrective rape” (here let me trauma dump in your inbox) and “but you can’t have kink at Pride think of the children” and “hey here’s this specific person I don’t like, you should not interact with them and maybe harass them because, wait for it, they’re a pedophile.”

And as far as I can tell there’s an inverse correlation to how much someone’s likely to get caught up in BS (never mind how likely someone is to advance the lies knowingly) and how much they do about actual child abuse. The most common motifs I’ve heard in people talking about their actual experiences with child abuse are "I never told anyone" and "I told someone and wasn’t believed". Somehow for all the hate society is capable of leveling against alleged child abusers, society's ability to literally just believe children who say they're being abused, well, they're not actually connected. Outrage at child abusers does not protect children. Child abusers are always, perpetually, the feared and hated other. They're never the friendly neighbor, the coach who get the team to win, the respectable pillars of the community.

And the moral panics about child abuse never come attached to anything useful for fighting real child abuse — never coherent policies for screening for potential abusers, never lists of signs that a child may be experiencing abuse, never discussion about what to do if you suspect abuse but aren’t sure, never discussion about how to support a child who’s been harmed. The focus is 100% on identifying people you can safely hate, 0% on genuinely protecting anyone or helping them recover.

What I'm trying to say here is, there is a pattern, a pattern of people with ulterior motives saying whatever they think will get people reacting with their gut rather than thinking with their brains. This pattern can be disrupted by questioning the validity of the source. Is there really any connection between an identity and rape? Is there really any correlation between disturbing fiction and child molestation? Does framing the story of Jesus as one where the Jews killed him (and therfore it's good to hurt Jews now?) make any sense whatsoever?

Does framing abortion as child murder make any sense whatsoever? Or is it just really effective at punching people in the gut?

And is there a group of people getting away with something unsavory while people are doubled over and preparing to punch back?

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winterbrrrd · 3 months

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A final poem for the sad white rapper

I once fucked a sad boy rapper who

Came fast inside of me

And afterwards he got up frantic,

Post-alarm ignored by sleep.

He said knew I would be thick but

Not THIS thick -

He’s so discrete,

As if his minor league rap schtick

Gives him the credibility

To hand select just like a butcher

Choosing his best cut of meat,

A dozen corpses in the freezer

Dangling hooked, ready to eat.

He landed in the frayed pink chair that

My black cat scratches with glee

And then proceeded

To spit his autobiography at me,

Divulging stories of

Ex-girlfriend

And his vast humanity

In the lengths he went to heal her,

Steal her sick identity,

Make it his own,

Like he’s so selfless,

Like a nurse working for free.

He took her pain

And made it his

In place of personality.

And now he’s using me like her,

My sacred body as dumpster

To discard of pent up jizz,

Like I was blessed to touch this nerd.

“You’re so much better than a robot therapist

And much cheaper.”

“It’s my pleasure,”

I’m always lying, distant forecasts for weather

A week away, will always change,

Just like the clouds that I capture.

In the back of loose screw head,

Beyond the pinball of his lips,

I’m repeating,

“didn’t realize that you would be this thick.”

Didn’t realize that I would be this thick?

Or didn’t think

That a girl with stretch marked hips

Would steal your fragile self-conceit?

Yeah, I’m thick

Like an aged tree

In a clearing of the woods

Providing shelter with my limbs,

Providing homes for nesting squirrels.

And my healing isn’t free

To steal from me like writhing worms;

Violent extraction from the earth -

No, sir, I save it for the birds.

My healing isn’t free,

It’s not some manic pixie dream

Designed for men in dire need

Of holy soul awakening

From a girl with neon hair

That she cuts, though she can’t see

What the scissors take away

Beyond her brain’s

Periphery.

I’m not a manic pixie dream

And my healing isn’t free.

Only a healer cuz I’ve hurt in ways

A man wouldn’t believe.

Wouldn’t believe but would gaslight

Starting another screaming fight;

He throws a wrench at the oven

And shatters glass;

I watch and cry.

I am not manic,

No, the truth is that I’m trying to survive

By throwing my adrenaline into

A state of overdrive.

I’m not a pixie,

Only seem it,

For I’m oft in states of flight,

Running from men who suck my soul out

Like the marrow they can’t bite.

They hunt for food, they hunt for sport,

They pose with me,

Bloody delight -

Exquisite corpse in camera lens,

Spent bullets glimmering in light.

I am a healer,

But not yours,

And I’ll make it mirror clear,

Showing you your own damn self,

Refusing you the chance to steal

From me my life source or my energy,

This well of gasoline.

I’ll flick my yellow cigarette

If you approach me just to drink.

There were so many

So damn many

There were 40 in one season

And reflecting on that summer

Gives me 40 more good reasons

To stay sober,

Stay connected

To my gods,

The one I choose.

They are not men,

Men aren’t my friends

Unless they love beyond

My boobs,

Beyond my thrusts,

Beyond my touch,

Beyond the trauma they can taste

When I come round

And loosen up,

They see an easy ass to rape.

They see easy

They see vulnerability

They see a store

That they can loot

While the city is sleeping.

They steal TVs,

Leave fever dreams

That wake me up each night at 3,

No longer sleep,

No longer weep,

I just stare blankly at a screen

Marking my pins on Google Maps,

1,000 places I can flee

Sad white rappers who saw just saw trash,

Not my technicolor body.

So what, I’m chubby.

So I’m tattooed

With my own untrained right hand.

So what, I’m scarred,

So what, I’m childish,

So I can’t live off the land.

I see this universe in me,

The constellations so unique

That you wouldn’t recognize them

Lest I taught you to perceive.

And I reserve heavenly teachings

For the souls who do not seek

To wrap their tentacles around me,

Squeeze until I cannot breathe.

I reserve it for my ____

For the silence when we speak

Amidst the distance from

______ to Florence, Kentucky.

It feels like lightyears when we’re absent

From each other for two weeks,

Thank god sound travels fast as Flash

For children of technology.

And in the silence of the hours,

I can hear him piss and eat,

The little sounds of Stardew Valley,

Planting flowers on repeat.

So I pretend that I’m beside him,

Like there’s nowhere else to be,

And I relax within his grasp -

No nightmares,

Only reveries.

#sad boi hours #sad boy #confessional poetry #epic poetry #spilled poetry #my writing

0 notes

wandaspetal · 2 years

Text

Explorations in IKEA

𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: Explorations in IKEA

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: Marvel/ MCU

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬)/𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬): Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Wandanat x Reader, Platonic!Peter Parker x Reader, Platonic!Pietro Maximoffx Reader, Platonic!Carol Danvers x Reader

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pinning

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2656

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: N/A

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Wanda's a simp. Natasha’s a tease. And you? You're oblivious. Wanda can’t bring herself to say no to you. She would move heaven on earth to make you happy. Natasha adores you more than she lets on. She would carry an umbrella around for you the entire day to make sure you never get a cold in the rain.

No higher being or Avenger was capable of stopping Y/n from rushing into the entryway of IKEA. Their form vibrated with anticipation at the sight of the decorated showrooms. Y/n gasped and turned around, seeing their friends not too far behind. Their friends wore a mix of amused and bewildered expressions at Y/n’s excitement.

“Guys c’mon,” Y/n waved as if their hand motions alone would make everyone walk faster. “There’s a bunk bed with dinosaur decorations.” Y/n bounced on their feet rapidly.

Some of the Avengers had chosen to go out on this wonderful Saturday evening with the intention of spending time with one another. Which had been surprisingly successful and calm despite Bucky and Sam’s mustard chugging competition at the Auntie Anne’s station. The spring air was clear, with not a singular rain cloud in sight and soft winds blowing. They had been rotating from store to store around the mall. At some point they had to stop their shopping spree because of the amount of bags they had. If Y/n hadn’t seen the furniture store, the group would have been on the way home already, but it was one of the few stores they didn’t visit. Wanda unfortunately (fortunately) was the one that they turned to. With eyes so wide and a smile so large, it felt like saying no was not an option when Y/n asked if Wanda would go in with them. What else could she have done but lie? Her feet hurt but witnessing the smile falling on Y/n’s face would have hurt more.

“You just couldn’t say no,” Steve teased, his hands in his pockets and a teasing grin on his face.

Wanda glared up at him momentarily. “Shut up.”

“That’s like saying something mean to groot,” Natasha comments, bringing Wanda’s straw to her lips and sipping her drink.

“Exactly- hey!” Wanda rolled her eyes at the smirk on the redhead's face. “They asked so-”

“Dinosaurs guys!!” Y/n shouted with more emphasis than before.

“Dinosaurs?!” Peter, Carol, and Pietro exclaimed. With that, a portion of the Avengers quickly picked up the pace to get closer to Y/n’s side.

Tony, Sam, Bucky, Bruce, and Steve split off in the direction of desk chairs and other office furniture. Wanda, Nat, Carol, Pietro, Peter, and Y/n explored the showrooms that were used as inspiration for homeowners.

Y/n immediately intertwined their fingers with whoever was closest to them, which happened to be Wanda,whose cheeks were almost as bright as paprikash. Y/n had thought nothing of it. Wanda was always shy around them from time to time. Y/n genuinely believed that it would just take some time before the Sokovian fully got used to their presence. With that being in mind, they tried to pull their hand out of Wanda’s grasp. Key word: tried. Wanda narrowed her eyes the moment she noticed Y/n pulling away. She wrapped her arm around their waist and pulled them into her side, ignoring their questioning gaze.

The group walked around the showroom leisurely to examine all the different forms of interior design. Carol stopped at a dining room showroom and swiped her hand across the wooden table top.

“I like the color, but I cannot imagine having something like this in my house permanently.” The wood was light colored and the room lacked any color other than beige.

“For plain bitches,” Pietro said without hesitation, not even bothering to walk towards the room. He stood on the pathway between the rooms instead.

“Indeed,” Carol agreed with a chuckle.

Y/n stepped out of Wanda’s hold and walked over to the table to examine it beside Carol. “I think it’s good in theory, but to actually have it in my house would disturb my soul… it’s giving live laugh love.”

They all laughed at her comment. “It’s giving religious trauma,” Natasha added as she casually rested her hand on top of Y/n’s. Everyone began to laugh even harder than before at her comment.

“Natasha, no!” Carol exclaimed, one hand on her stomach as she attempted to catch her breath.

Peter shook his head. “We gotta go,” he said, prompting them all to laugh once more.

“Only, Karen’s enjoy this design,” Wanda sneered, walking up behind Y/n and glaring at the table. “It just called my accent foreign and sexy.”

“You’re done, you’re done,” Y/n said, knowing it was a TikTok reference everyone would understand. (Not because they tracked everyone on the team down and forced them to watch the video, definitely not that.)

“But is she wrong?” Carol questioned with a large smile on her face.

Y/n returned the gesture without hesitation and shook their head. “Not at all.” Their chorus of laughter could be heard from several showrooms over.

The Sokovian gazed up at them with a grin on her face, lightly brushing her hands against Y/n’s arm. She shuffled forward reaching upward to wrap her hand around it. Wanda felt all tension draining from her body the closer she got to making contact with your warm form.

“Enough.” Pietro laughed and nodded his head in the direction where more rooms were. “I see green walls down there.”

Wanda dropped her hand as you moved away to follow the group and scowled at her brother's retreating form. He was a pain in the ass even when he wasn’t trying to be. Natasha bumped her shoulder playfully into Wanda’s with mischief in her eyes. Everyone began to walk off, Y/n paused when an arm intertwined with their own. Natasha gazed at her with a neutral expression. “Let’s go.” Y/n grinned crookedly, causing Natasha to scoff, roll her eyes and turn her head before the smile on her face could be seen.

Wanda watched as the red head sauntered up behind Y/n, practically melding her entire body against their own. The brunette knows Natasha knows what she’s doing. She clenched her jaw and squeezed her fists watching the sweet exchange until Y/n turned and looked at her.

Y/n turned their head and held out an arm towards Wanda. “You coming?” Wanda, who looked like she wanted to shoot lasers out of her eyes and into Natasha’s head. She froze at the skeptical expressions both Y/n and Natasha gave her. Y/n’s laced with pure confusion and the former assassin smirking at her with mirth in her eyes.

Wanda nodded in response and stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets, rushing towards Y/n. She easily leaned into their side and unknowingly released a content sigh. Wanda’s cheeks flushed as she saw the teasing expressions Y/n and Natasha aimed in her direction. She huffed and burrowed further into Y/n’s side to hide her face. As Y/n shook with silent laughter they felt Wanda’s warm smile etched into their skin. Y/n’s heart overflowed with adoration for the two women they stood between. If Natasha were to say she was cold Y/n would rip off a blanket from one of the beds and wrap it around her body. Wanda decides she wants another drink? They’re already sprinting to the smoothie juice stand and back in 5 minutes with her favorite smoothie. Y/n wouldn’t need to move heaven closer to earth because heaven is in their arms.

As time went on, Y/n separated themselves from between the two to play with some of the kids' bedroom prop’s with Peter. Carol and Pietro stood in another showroom discussing (roasting) the bland minimalist kitchen. This left Natasha and Wanda standing in the walkway waiting for their friends to be done.

“Material Gworl!” Peter exclaimed, wrapping the dinosaur pattern blanket around his head. You threw your head back and began to laugh loudly.

“Peter put that down, we’re not buying it.” Wanda chuckled at the pout on the brunette’s face as he reluctantly placed the blanket back on the bed.

“Why is there a dinosaur lamp if there’s no light bulb in it?! This is false advertising.” You crossed your arms and stomped your foot.

Wanda and Peter laughed at your antics. Wanda laugh’s a bit harder than usual. You wink at her then turn to continue your chat with Peter. Natasha rose a brow, silently staring at the brunette. Her cheeks were as red as Natasha’s hair. She noticed how often Wanda’s moods switched around Y/n. From looking at Y/n when she believed no one was paying attention to affectionate gestures that were beyond the boundaries of friendship. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. However Y/n was either waiting on Wanda to make a move or an oblivious sweetheart- idiot.

“Shut up,” Wanda whispered.

“I didn’t say anything,” Natasha replied, snatching her drink out of her hand.

Wanda rolled her eyes, not even bothering to take it back. “I said shut up.”

“You like them,” She sang, grinning smugly.

“So do you!” Wanda whispered loudly, pointing an accusatory finger at her chest.

“So?” Natasha shrugged.

Wanda furrowed her brow and pursed her lips. “Oh, wow, lying to a mind reader? I can hear your panic whenever you’re alone in a room with them.”

Natasha’s bravado dropped for a split second before the nonchalant expression returned at full force. “Name one time you’ve had a full conversation with them without melting.”

”You melt too, how is that any different?!” She stomped her foot. “You’re infuriating.” Wanda whined, crossing her arms.

“And you’re not seeing the bigger picture.” Natasha shuffled into the Sokovian’s personal space, tilting the cup in her direction. “We can help each other.”

Wanda’s expression remained skeptical. “You want us both to date them?”

Natasha shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” She took a step toward her. “Don’t you find me attractive, Maximoff?” She asked, rubbing her thumb in circles on her arm.

Wanda stiffened leaning into Natasha’s touch without hesitation. “Of course I do Tasha.” Her words shocked them both. “I do…” Wanda shifted from one foot to the other.

“Oh…right back atcha.” Natasha finger gunned then squeezed her eyes shut as she realized what she just did. Wanda’s laugh made her cheeks burn like a raging inferno. She shoved the brunette's shoulder. “We can both date them is my point.”

“But how would that work, Tasha? We get along sure but would Y/n even want to date the both of us at the same time? What if they end up wanting one of us more than the other? The idea of our friendship being ruined because of this doesn’t sit right with me let alone our friendship with Y/n, what if-”

A hand gently covered Wanda’s mouth, silencing her anxious rambling. “You could ask me out and see how it turns out…just a suggestion,” Y/n offered, they removed their hand from Wanda’s mouth and stepped back.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Wanda questioned, looking in front of her to see Peter no longer in the dinosaur room. He stood further down the walkway standing between Pietro and Carol. One of his hands was on Pietro’s chest while the other was on Carol’s shoulder. Peter looked in genuine distress as the two were clearly fighting back laughter. They all could hear the fake argument in bits and pieces.

“…I’m an idiot?! Who puts black spoons and silver knives together?!” Carol shouts then curls her lips inward to prevent her laugh from escaping.

“Your mother, that's who!” Pietro responds almost breaking out into laughter at Carol’s dramatic gasp and Peter’s shock ridden face.

“Glow Stick and Speed Racer started ‘arguing’,” Y/n grinned using their fingers to quote and unquote the word. Natasha turned her neck to witness the exact thing Y/n was describing. “over cutlery, poor Peter has not caught on to the joke yet.” They reached forward and took the cup from Natasha’s hand.

“Why do we have to ask you out?” Natasha responded by maintaining eye contact while you drank the last bit in the styrofoam cup. She scanned her eyes over your form then smirked when you tensed up and began to avoid her gaze.

“Did you hear them walk up?” Wanda asked, looking at Natasha, who kept her eyes on Y/n while they kept their eyes on Wanda.

“It’s the shoes,” Natasha said, gesturing to the combat boots on their feet. “Too quiet.”

Y/n looked down at their shoes with a grin. “They’re Steve’s.”

Natasha rose a brow. “You two are the same shoe size?”

“No, Steve Madden.”

“Guys…”

“Ohhh, nice. I like how thick the laces are.”

“Guys.”

“Yeah, me too, they are very-”

“Guys!”

Y/n and Natasha turned and looked at Wanda, who stared at them both like they had suggested touching infinity stones with their bare hands. “The date?”

“I’m not asking them out on a date,” Natasha replied, swiveling her head to look them in the eye. “Why didn’t you ask us out first?”

Y/n pursed their lips at Nat’s question. Wanda let out an exasperated sigh. “Nat that’s not- wait why didn’t you ask us out first?”

The pair crossed their arms in unison and turned to them with accusatory yet playful glares. Y/n open then closed their mouth attempting to gather a rational and less embarrassing response.

Y/n huffed, frustrated with themselves for not confessing their emotions sooner. “I wasn’t sure if… Wanda had an actual crush on me and I… Tash flirts with everyone so I decided not to make any moves on either of you. I'm awkward when it comes to rejection, so I decided to wait until one of you made a move” Y/n gestured in no direction in particular. “I also didn’t want to choose because I like spending time with the both of you and more time with one means less time with the other so yeah…” They scratched the back of their neck at the unreadable faces they wore. “But! I do like the both of you, I know it’s cowardly for me to wait– I’ve just never experienced something like this before and the idea of both of you wanting to date me?” Y/n scoffed and shook their head in disbelief. “It sounded like something too good to be true.”

Their rambling was both endearing and heartwarming. Y/n has had relationships in the past, but when they were interested in one person not two. Both Wanda and Natasha are typically pursued but rarely the pursuer. The two women exchanged eye contact then gazed back at Y/n with unconstrained awe in their eyes. Y/n truly had no clue how much they meant to the two women.

“Детка I- we-”

“Oh моя любовь, you have no clue how cherished you are.”

Wanda intertwined her arm with Natasha’s. “Go on a date with us, детка?” “Please, моя любовь?” The Sokovian looked up at them with a small pout on her face.

Y/n looked from Wanda to Natasha to see the red-head making a similar expression.They chuckled and shuffled forward. “That sounds like more of a statement than a question.”

Wanda’s puppy-dog eyes were gone just as quickly as they appeared. “I’m going to hurtle you into the sun.”

Y/n threw their head back and laughed wholeheartedly, beaming at the adoration in the eyes of their dates. “If you did that then you wouldn’t be able to take me out on our date.” Their grin resembled that of an overly excited puppy. Natasha and Wanda returned the gesture with smiles of their own.

“Saturday at 8 work for you?” Natasha asked, tilting her head to look up at you.

“Sounds great babe.” You winked.

Without waiting for a response, they grabbed the duo’s hands and began to walk back towards the group. Maybe furniture stores weren’t so bad after all.

#wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #fluff #humor #mutual pining #idiots in love #reader is doing their best #natasha is a tease #wanda is a melting popsicle #platonic!carol danvers x reader #platonic! pietro maximoff x reader #platonic! peter parker x reader #avengers x reader #so many tik tok references good luck #<333

709 notes · View notes

sinner-as-saint · 3 years

Text

we can’t stop, we’re enemies.

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader AU

Run-through: After the events of the last battle against Thanos, you teamed up with Sam and Bucky to carry on your superhero duties. You got along with Sam just fine, he was a really good friend to you. Bucky however, was not. From constant banters, to unnecessary hand-to-hand combat, to purposely getting each other in trouble during risky missions, to being the main cause of Sam’s migraines; it was safe to say that you and Bucky considered yourselves to be each other’s nemesis. Although that soon changes when, courtesy of your silly banters, a certain mission goes slightly wrong - one which involves strong chemicals which, unbeknownst to you, were designed to mess with the brain and hormones, thus encouraging the need to breed and procreate amongst all those who inhale it...

Themes: enemies-to-lovers, smut, sex pollen trope, dirty talk, swear words, fluff

“How is it going up there Sam, talk to me.”

You spoke, waiting to hear from Sam through the ear piece.

The three of you were on a mission on unfamiliar lands. Rumor had it that some shady organization was conducting illegal experiments. The whole location was spooky, and you needed to be thorough and quick. So Sam decided to get an aerial view along with Red Wing, and see if there are any threats coming your way while you and Bucky decided to check out the underground laboratories.

The whole place was shadowy and old, it almost seemed like no one had been here in a long time. But still, these people were criminals so you had to gather every evidence you could which would lead you their way.

And so far, after exploring the place for the past half an hour, you found nothing major. Just weird laboratory glassware filled with liquids and what not.

“Sam?” you called out again into the ear piece, keeping your gun at the ready. “Say something damn it.”

His reply came. “There’s something sketchy about the building at the back, I’m gonna go check it out. But you have to promise me you won’t kill each other by the time I get back.”

You and Bucky sent death glares at each other in disgust. He was on the other side of the lab, flipping through files and papers, while you were searching the cabinets and drawers. The two of you were separated by a steel workstation. Dark leather jacket, metal arm exposed; you’d find him handsome if he wasn’t so annoying.

“Sure, whatever.” Bucky mumbled, being his grumpy self.

You frowned at him, “Dude, drop your fucking attitude.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Sam roared through the ear piece, “Enough! Focus, you two are in the labs and we don’t know what’s in there. Just, maybe look out for each other. Okay? I’m going in.”

“Be careful, Sam.” You spoke, sending another dirty look at Bucky.

“Yeah y-,”

Sam got cut off. All you could hear was some static noises and then complete silence.

“Sam? Can you hear us?” Bucky tried reaching out but neither of you could hear him. “This isn’t good.”

“Damn it!” You cursed. “Maybe he flew out of range. Or maybe we’re too deep under.”

For once in his life he nodded, agreeing with you. “Let’s just hurry up and see what we can find. We need to get out of here as fast as we can and get to the Jet.” He said, flipping through more and more files and papers, his metal arm glistening in the poorly lit room.

You sassed in the same tone he used before, “Don’t tell me what to do.” And you earned yourself another glare from him.

Fifteen minutes later and you two still had nothing to work with.

“This is useless. There’s nothing here, this is just bullshit.” Bucky complained, slamming down a file on the workstation so hard that it made you jump.

You were annoyed. You slammed a cabinet shut and turned to face him. “Oh I’m sorry princess, is work getting too tiring? Do you need a break? Hmm?”

“Shut up, you’re the one who keeps whining all the time.” He wasn’t wrong.

You stepped forward, grabbing the edge of the cold workstation. “Well maybe if you’d quit complaining and actually do your part of the job, then I wouldn’t have to whine about always doing everything on my own and you taking credit for it in front of Sam.”

He leaned forward, his metal arm already denting his side of the edge of the workstation. “Maybe if you’d stop bitching about everything and everyone all the time then maybe we’d get along and actually get shit done.”

You leaned in too. “Or maybe if just me and Sam teamed up, we’d work better. I still don’t know why he keeps you around. Take your metal arm away, what are you? Exactly, just a hundred year old, confused man.”

He smirked. “And what are you? Just a spoilt, whiny brat who knows how to use a gun?” He knew just what to say to get the reaction he wanted out of you.

In less than a few seconds you had your loaded gun out in front of you, aiming it at his forehead. “And guess what, she never misses a target.” You spat at him.

You had done this before; aiming guns at each other until Sam comes to break the tension. But Sam wasn’t here this time.

Bucky knew you would never pull the trigger on him so he gave you a handsome, arrogant smirk which only pissed you off even more. “Come on, shoot.” He provoked you.

“Stop pissing me off.” You warned.

“Or what? You’re gonna shoot me for calling you a whiny, spoilt brat? See, that’s exactly what brats do.”

“James, stop.” Oh he was getting on your nerves. You were agitated.

He just smirked and went on. “I actually believe that that might be your superpower, destroying people by annoying them to death with how much of a brat you can actually be.”

You glared at him, unmoving, furious. You placed your forefinger on the trigger. “Say brat one more time and I will blow your fucking head off and when Sam asks, I’ll make it seem like an accident.”

He leaned closer, aligning his forehead to the barrel of your gun. He stared at you with his stormy, ocean blue eyes; inciting you to just pull the damn trigger. He watched you with mischief in his eyes. “Brat.” He mouthed, smirking right after and waiting for your reaction.

You clenched your jaw and shifted your aim just a little so that the bullet misses him but still shoots right by his ear. You pulled the trigger without hesitation, shooting at the shelf filled with dark red and brown liquids behind Bucky.

Bucky maintained his calm and composure despite the loud sound of the shattering glass falling on the tiles right behind him. “Brat.” He said again, out loud this time.

“I hate you.” You lowered your gun but then noticed something behind Bucky. Smoke, or some sort of vapor oozing out of the broken flasks and test tubes. You froze for a second. “Bucky, look.” You walked around the workstation and joined him on the other side.

The vapor quickly filled the room like thick fog, reducing visibility and making your throat burn a little. You coughed; once, twice. You looked beside you and Bucky was standing there with a look of horror on his face.

The moment his supersoldier sense got a whiff of the vapor, something in him ignited. No…

“We have to get out of here. Now.” You heard his voice, then felt his cold fingers wrap around your wrists as he tugged you along, making his way out of the lab. He tried to hold his breath but he couldn’t hold it very long. He tried to find the door to exit the room but that was hard too because neither of you could see properly.

“This stuff,” you spoke in between coughs, “will probably kill us, won’t it?” You held on tightly to his arm. “You need to get us out of here now.” The vapor was reducing your visibility more and more.

He felt the side of the wall, looking for the metal handle of the door through which you entered the lab. “It won’t kill us.” He growled as he looked beside him. You were standing close to him, so close, holding on to his arm tightly, a thin layer of sweat covered your face.

It was almost funny how you had your gun aimed at him just a minute ago and now you were relying on him for protection.

“How can you be so sure? Do you know what this stuff is?” You asked.

He sighed. He knew. “I have a hunch, but let’s hope I’m wrong.” He felt warm. Deep inside something stirred in him. Animalistic, primal, feral. It was there, pressing and burning. Guess he wasn’t wrong.

He finally found the door and he pushed it open, letting the two of you out and you took off running at once. You tried to reach Sam. A couple tries later, he finally responded. “I got some names, I think we got what we’re looking for. Where are you guys?”

“We found…. uh, nothing. We’re on our way to the jet, meet us there.” Bucky responded, running beside you.

You were confused out of your mind, not to mention you felt feverish. Hot, and you were sweating more than usual in places you’d rather not think about. Something in you was yearning to break free. You felt chained, you needed release. You felt like something had awakened inside of you; a deep hunger. Aroused, you felt aroused. Or was it just the adrenaline rush?

By the time you tried to figure out what was actually going on with you, you both had made it to the Jet.

“I feel sick.” you mumbled, stumbling on your way inside the jet. “I think… I think that smoke poisoned me.” You placed your palm against the side of the plane to hold on so you don’t fall. You felt like gravity wasn’t pulling you down anymore. You were a little out of breath.

Then you felt a cold hand on your shoulder. You grimaced as it only ignited the fire which you just found out had been burning inside you since you left the lab.

“You’re not poisoned. You’re not sick, you’re gonna be okay. We just have to… we have to get home.” Bucky was worse than you were. His enhanced senses allowed him to feel everything you felt, times ten perhaps.

His heart raced as he got a whiff of your fading perfume, mixed with the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your natural, raw scent. He could feel your arousal from here, and it pulled him in so easily. All he wanted to do was to tear your suit off, pin you up against the side of the Jet and fuck the living hell out of you, stretch you out and just rail you until you could no longer take it.

Fuck.

You looked up at him; heart racing, palms sweating and even your mouth was salivating more than usual. “You know what that thing was, don’t you?” You asked, ignoring the way his cold hand upon your shoulder made you want to lean into his touch even more. “What was it?”

You saw the look in his hooded eyes. Bucky sighed, pulling his hand away from you and the loss of contact made you whimper ever so quietly. You felt warmer and more and more breathless with each second that passed by.

“They used to make those substances, long ago back when I was with HYDRA. I didn’t expect to find those here. They were used to… to try and see if they could get super soldiers to procreate naturally.” Bucky explained and waited for your reaction.

“Sex pollen. Correct?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

You were a little shaken, but relieved knowing that at least it wasn’t poison and you wouldn’t be dying a painful death. “That’s… I mean, it could have been poison.” You didn’t know how to react after you pieced it all together. “How long before it wears off?”

“Twenty-four hours unless...”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you fuck it out of your system well enough.”

That had you surprised. “Oh. Well that’s just great, isn’t it? Fucking perfect. I’m screwed.”

Bucky tried his hardest to refrain himself from leaning in and biting that sassy mouth of yours, shoving his tongue past your lips to shut you up, to hear you moan and gasp and cry out his name as he takes you however he wants to…

“We.” He corrected you. “It’ll get worse every hour.” He replied.

You sighed and moved away from him, unzipping your combat suit partly and removing the jacket because you couldn’t handle the heat. Bucky cursed as you stripped into just a tank top and tight pants, right in front of him. He felt his cock get harder.

“Can you not?” He sounded pissed off again; frustrated. “This is all your doing. The least you can do is make this a little bit easier for both of us.”

His words made you turn around and glare at him. “How is this my doing? I didn’t even know what was in that lab.”

He stepped forward, instinctively. The sight of your exposed neck and your soft skin was making him think of unspeakable things that he wanted to do to you. As he advanced, you tried not to look down at his cock, straining against his zipper. Your heart raced as you took in the size of his bulge. Enhanced super soldier indeed.

“Had you not been a spoiled brat who can’t take a joke, you wouldn’t have tried to shoot at me nor would you have shot those flasks!” He argued, feeling more and more warm as he got closer to you.

You took a step forward as well, fueled by annoyance, lust and anger. “Who was it who provoked me into doing that because they couldn’t keep their fucking mouth shut, huh? That’s right, your annoying ass!”

Bucky pushed you against the side of the Jet without a second thought. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with his hand while pressing his body into you, his metal arm circling around your waist and pressing you further into him.

He hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t thought about how your warm breath would feel against his skin, or how warm your body would be under his touch. You felt feverish, having him this close. His tall, large frame and his tight grip made your whimper under him. Your body reacted to him naturally.

All you felt was warm, his body heat, his scent. The feeling of his cold leather jacket against your flushed skin. You wanted him. Or rather, your body did.

“Don’t you provoke me now, you fucking whiny brat.” He whispered, menacingly into your ear.

You tried to ignore the shivers his voice sent down your entire body. But he saw it. And you could feel his erection press against your crotch. Just to mess with him, you discreetly moved your hips against his, making him hiss loudly.

“What are you gonna do about it, dipshit?” You sassed, knowing that given his intensified senses he must be feeling much worse than you.

He groaned as you kept grinding against him, your pulsating core rubbing against the bulge in his pants. And that only made it worse for both of you.

“Fuck…” Bucky swore, before quickly pulling away from you, but not releasing you yet. “You’re such a bitch.” His body was screaming for you, each nerve ending of his was on fire. A fire only you could douse.

You were just the same, on the edge and wanting to reach out for him; knowing he would satiate your hunger better than anyone could. Your body was throbbing as you stared into his eyes, your gaze lowering down to his dog tags. How you wanted those dangling right above your face…

You heard someone clear their throat. It wasn’t Bucky.

“Something you two need to tell me? Or is this just your new way of trying to kill each other?” A deep voice asked from behind Bucky.

“Sam! Are you okay?” You escaped Bucky’s grip and rushed to Sam.

He seemed alright to you. He nodded. “Yeah, we just need to get home. I need to notify the team and see what we should do next. What was in those labs?”

You glared at Bucky. His smug face alone was pissing you off, but God right now you wanted to ride that man until the sun came tomorrow morning.

“Just a bunch of useless experiments. Nothing major.” He glared at you as he said the last bit to Sam.

The ride back home was one of the most painful, annoying and frustrating situations you had ever undergone. Each time you felt like someone was watching you, you’d turn your head to the side and find Bucky staring; and his stares would make your body tremble in need.

Meanwhile he was having a hard time too, in more ways than one. He could feel his blood rush south even at the brief sound of your voice whenever you sighed in annoyance or talked to Sam. Luckily the latter could not pick up on the thick, sexual tension.

Once at the compound, you each hurried to your own rooms and that’s where you stayed until the evening. Sam found it weird that you both skipped dinner but he didn’t need another headache today so he went to bed, telling himself that he’d deal with you two tomorrow morning.

Bucky was a mess. Even after an hour under the cold shower his body was still calling out for you. He tried taking care of his business on his own, but that wasn’t working. He was still so hard it was painful. Nothing could make this better, nothing could soothe the pain - nothing but you. He needed you so badly it was driving him insane, like he was an animal in heat being asked to suppress his feral desires towards his mate. Being away from you was painful. He couldn’t help but hate you for no reason at all usually, but he’d do what it takes to be inside you and make you scream his name right now.

You were equally as troubled at the super soldier. You tried taking a warm bath and tried to think of other things you could focus on, but nothing worked. Your toys didn’t seem appealing tonight, you needed him, all of him. You shivered at the thought of his taut, virile body under yours, or above. His masculine scent, the sound of his moans, would he bite?… fuck. You could feel your arousal leak out of you every now and then, it was insane how aroused you were. You couldn’t look at him for long without getting unnecessarily annoyed, but you would do anything just to have him rearrange your guts right now.

What made it worse was that neither of you could stand each other at all. Enemies, you called yourselves. But right now you couldn’t help but crave each other in the most salacious way possible.

Fuck this. You couldn’t take this anymore. You decided to swallow your pride and make your way to his room and ask him if you two could come to an agreement on how to fight this thing because it would be impossible to go another twenty hours feeling like this. You were burning from the inside. This was unbearable.

Just as you opened your bedroom door, you were slightly surprised to find Bucky standing right outside your door. His metal hand up midair, as though he was to knock on your door and you happened to open the door just in time. You almost drooled at the sight of him; sweatpants and a tight, white t-shirt. You swallowed and cleared your throat.

“Hey.” You greeted him, not knowing how to deal with this situation. You felt so drawn to him in that moment, so damn restless and needy that it was hard to breathe right while looking at him.

“I was, uh, about to knock…” He didn’t know how he got here, he didn’t remember. Maybe it was the chemicals messing with his brain and turning him into a hungry beast. He didn’t care that he was knocking on your door in the middle of the night, he wanted you. He was craving you and that’s all he knew. Also the oversized t-shirt, the only you were wearing at the time, was not helping at all.

“Yeah, um…” you rambled then stopped talking the moment you found him staring into your eyes with a wild look in his eyes.

That was it.

You grabbed him by the waistband of his sweats and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him. Before Bucky could process anything, you had him pushed against your closed door and your mouth was on his, kissing him hungrily. Your hands slowly slipped under his tight t-shirt and you lazily trailed your hands up and down his toned abs.

His hands gripped your hips on either side as he kissed you back with just as much ardor as you did. His body ignited the moment he felt your lips and hands on him, yet the heat was weirdly satisfying; it stimulated him but calmed him down at the same time. It felt perfect. This was just what he needed, you.

Your movements were rapid and passionate, fiery. Hands roaming each other's body, touching and feeling and exploring; making each other moan like you were both touch-starved.

You let out a soft moan when you felt his tongue slip past your lips, stroking the top of your mouth while his metal hand slipped under your shirt. Your body was tingling wherever he touched you. His touch made you feel way better than you had felt in the past few hours and you were grateful. Your moans sent his mind straight to the gutter and he couldn’t wait to be inside you.

“I need you…” you whispered against his lips as you pulled away to catch your breath. “I need you to fuck me… right here, right now.” Your demands made him smirk as he looked down at you with lust in his eyes.

“Oh?” he managed to still find the energy to be an ass to you. “Why don’t you go on and beg for it, then?”

You scoffed, leaning in to lick his lips while you hand dipped into his pants. You grabbed his erected cock and gave it a little, gentle squeeze. He moaned like he hadn’t been touched in forever. Like he was desperate for one thing and one thing only; you. You whispered, “You need me too, Bucky. I’m not gonna beg you, I’m doing you a favor here.” You slid your closed fist up and down his length and made him moan some more before you let go and watched him groan and clench his jaw in annoyance.

He looked down at you, panting in need just as you were. His hand slid into your hair and he gripped it, tugging on it just enough to make you gasp in pleasure and pain. “Still a fucking brat with that annoying attitude I see?” He leaned in to bite your exposed neck, making your cry out in pain before he licked the spot, soothing it. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll fuck all that attitude out of you.”

He let go of your hair but tightened his grip around your waist as he placed his mouth back on yours. Kissing you like there’s no tomorrow; biting your lip and bruising your already swollen mouth. He was wild, and you needed it and more.

He pushed you down on your bed, and stood back to watch you for a moment. How did he never realize that you were so naturally beautiful? He looked down at you like a predator looking at his meal; fiercely, ready to ruin you and make you scream and beg and satiate his hunger. As well as yours.

“Well, if you’re done staring…” you knelt on your bed and reached out for him, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him closer. “I want you in me. Now.” Your demanding tone riled him up.

Bucky grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back again. “If you wanna get fucked, you’re gonna ask nicely. Understood?”

You glared at him, shooting death glares right at him while your hand palmed him through his sweatpants. “I fucking hate you.” You spat at him, whimpering as he pushed you back down on the bed, quickly climbing on top of you this time.

“I hate you too.” He knelt on your bed, straddling your waist as he tore your oversized shirt in half and off your body, throwing the pieces of fabric somewhere on your bedroom floor. You laid beneath him in just your underwear and he growled.

“That was my favorite shirt, you fucking idiot.” You whispered, breathless, shivers dancing down your spine as he traced your mouth with his two fingers, slipping them past your lips once, then twice then trailing his now wet fingers down your neck, till your belly button.

“You think I care?” he leaned down and took one of your breasts into his mouth, kneading the other with his metal hand. The contrast of his warm mouth around one and his cold hand around the other was driving you crazy. He bit, and tugged and licked; making your back arch off the bed as you purred in pleasure.

Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his erection again to try and alleviate the pain. You were desperate. Bucky pinched and rolled one of your nipples while he lightly grazed the other with his teeth, and you let out a loud moan.

“Please… please, I need you. Please…” You muttered under your breath, knowing he could hear you. Bucky smirked as he pulled away from your chest, ignoring the way his cock throbbed. “What’s so fucking funny?” You grabbed him by the throat, pulling his face closer to yours.

His metal arm reached down in between your legs and he ripped your underwear off. The fabric hurt just a little when it tore against your skin. “Just that it's the first time I heard you asking for something so politely. It’s not so hard after all, is it?”

Now he was pissing you off. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and flipped the two of you around. You got on top of him and straddled his waist, trapping him under you like he had you before. You had better control like this.

You grabbed him by the jaw and leaned in to kiss his lips, fiercely. “Stop fucking playing, Barnes.” You whispered against his lips, grinding against his hard cock again. He closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure as you kissed down to his neck, nibbling on his skin along his throat.

He moaned, hands gripping your hips and guiding you as you rubbed your bare core against his clothed erection. “No? I thought brats liked games?” He mumbled.

You pulled away from his neck and looked down at his smug face. “You are so fucking annoying.” You reached down in between your bodies and lowered his sweatpants all the way down until he kicked them off. You grabbed his cock and stroked him gently, agonizingly slow. He moaned shamelessly, and eventually caught on that you were just teasing him even more.

“Don’t tease me…” he sounded just as breathless as you were.

“Why? Not so fond of games anymore?” you sassed, rubbing your throbbing core against his thigh while you stroked him so gently that he felt like he was losing his mind.

He growled as he grabbed you by the waist and flipped the two of you around, him being on top again. “Enough,” he growled in your ear, “Spread those legs for me.” He ordered, settling in between them as you spread your legs to accommodate him. He grabbed your thighs and parted your legs even more as he aligned the tip of his cock to your opening. “Now stay still, don’t move.”

You braced yourself for him, but nothing could have prepared you for that. His length stretched you open until he was seated deep inside you, filling you up entirely to a point where you couldn’t even think of anything else other than him being balls deep inside you.

You moaned as he removed himself entirely and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear, “Fuck….” you heard him moan; panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you.

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. He kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you over and over again, making your eyes tear up. The burning need subsided a little bit as his cock brushed against all the right spots inside you. “Buck… faster, please,” You whimpered.

He chuckled into your ear, “Needy little brat…” he mumbled as he sped up into you, making you lose your ability to focus on anything else other than him and his body. He pulled away from your face to look down at you, his metal hand coming up to wrap itself around your throat. “This is what you wanted since we left that lab, huh? For me to fuck your greedy little cunt? Hmm?” He taunted as he stretched you out completely. You lifted your legs up and wrapped them around his waist; allowing him to thrust deeper into you.

You felt tears escaping your eyes as he pulled you closer and pressed his forehead to yours fucking deeper into you. He was relentless; each moan which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough.

You felt a pressure form in between your hips, your body begging for release. “Bucky… please.” You moaned, begging. For something, anything. You’d take anything at this point. But right when your walls started clenching around him and when you were just about to come undone; he pulled out.

“Please what?” He surprised himself with how he was able to tease you in this situation when all he wanted was to make both of you cum over and over again.

“I need to cum, Bucky please,” you cried, with tears in your eyes.

Bucky leaned in to kiss your swollen lips, not minding the tears. “Do you deserve it?” He asked, and you nodded immediately, your body shaking with how bad you needed to cum. “Oh you do, do you?”

You nodded again. “Please…please...”

“Well since you asked nicely…” Bucky flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his muscular body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up again.

He rocked into you from behind. His hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm against your lower abdomen. He liked how he could feel himself deep inside you with each thrust. And he liked how that drove you insane, he could by the way your walls gripped his cock.

“Feel that, little brat? That’s all you’re good for… to take my cock like a good little slut.” He whispered.

You groaned at the sound of his raspy voice, his words making you milk him even harder. “You wish, you dipshit.” You moaned as he sped up when you least expected it. You whimpered, and he chuckled now that he had you at his mercy.

His hand travelled all the way to your throat and he choked you gently as he bent down to whisper in your ear, “I can assure you that no one is ever gonna fuck you this good,” he boasted as he very gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind.

You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly. “Fuck… please....” you cried.

You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm. “Cum for me. Now.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. You came undone, hard and fast; moaning his name as you did. Bucky came right after you.

You collapsed onto your bed, sprawled unevenly and not even caring. Your eyes were shut in fatigue, your heart racing and you could feel Bucky’s body heat right next to you. He was catching his breath too, mumbling something under his breath which you couldn’t catch.

For the first time in hours, you felt at ease. Your body wasn’t yearning anymore, but the hunger was still there. So when Bucky got up to leave, you grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back into bed with you.

He smirked as he fell helplessly onto your bed again, right next to you. “You want more, you greedy little brat?”

You punched his arm before getting up and getting on top of him again, sliding your body down his cock. He hissed as you did.

“Just another round.” You whispered, loving the sight of him under you. His tan skin against your white sheets, him moaning as you slowly lifted up and sank back down on his cock. Oh fuck…

You placed your hands on his muscular chest to hold yourself up as you sped up, riding him like you’ve been dreaming of this whole time. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you up and down his cock until you both found a pleasurable pace.

You weren’t going to last too long, but you just needed to have him buried deep inside you again. His thick, girthy cock stretched you open as you took him as best you could, moaning and whimpering desperately as he groaned and gasped under you.

Your walls gripping him and milking him like they had earlier, not even a few minutes ago. You felt the pressure forming nicely in between your hips again. You let out a loud moan as you felt his cock reach places it hadn’t before, turning you into a mess.

His grip on your hips tightened as he brought you down on his cock with force each time and thrusting upwards to fuck you deeper. “Cum for me.” He threw his head back, growling. “Cum for me again…”

Your hand grabbed him by the jaw and you leaned in to press your lips against his, claiming his open mouth and muffling his animalistic growls as you came undone around him again. Your orgasm then triggered his.

You fell limp on top of him right after and he instinctively cradled your head. “You okay?”

You nodded, your sweaty bodies pressed against each other but neither of you minding it. “Yeah.”

Bucky gently rolled to his side, letting you down on your side of the bed. You tried your best to calm your racing heart. Not to mention you felt much, much better than earlier.

Bucky got up to leave again, and you grabbed his hand before he got completely out of your bed. He turned to face you with a smirk then groaned dramatically, “Woman please, I’m not a machine. The pain will subside now, I believe we’ve done pretty good at fucking it out of our systems. I can’t go all night, seriously.”

You were in a haze so his words made you giggle. “You’re really leaving?”

He looked down at you, sprawled on your bed. Your face was glowing, you looked ethereal. “You want me to stay?” He asked, wondering where the sassy brat in you went.

You nodded.

He smirked, getting back into bed next to you, “What, now you're obsessed with me?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Shut up. I’m just saying since I might need you again in the morning, you might as well just sleep here.”

He pretended to be hurt. “Wow.” He didn’t mind that at all. He got under the covers with you, “So… is it just the chemicals or are we…?”

You snuggled closer to his side, he wrapped his arm around you, tucking your head under his chin. “Shh, I still hate you.” Your tired, soft voice reminded him of a sleepy kitten.

He held you closer. “Of course.” He looked down at you and saw that you had already fallen asleep on his chest. He cracked a soft smile, whispering under his breath, “Brat.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #sex pollen #tfatws #marvel

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mercurytrinemoon · 3 years

Text

Another post on Moon signs you can drag me for

Before we get into the actual thing, I'd like to say this post initially started as something else but ultimately, what I tried to put across is, sometimes Moon signs aren’t that easy to decipher. It’s easy to grasp overall characteristics of the signs and then learn how to identify their specific traits. But what people seem to forget it that Moon represents the deepest side of us & our inner world - it’s uncommon to really see someone’s side of it unless you really pay attention. Sometimes I’m surprised to see what someone’s Moon sign is even if I know this person well. Meaning, people usually hide that part of them - or they just simply process it internally and others can’t see their emotional reactions. It’s also uncommon for folks these days to fully express their emotional needs so it gets even trickier to pin-point their Moon characteristics. I don't think I have to mention this but, of course, your entire chart should be taken into account, as well as house placement, aspects. Personally, I like to also look at Moon's dispositor.

Let’s start from my friends, Gemini Moons, who, I feel, get a bad rep for not showing their feelings and scanning every emotion like an AI. Nah-ah. I know this one Gemini Moon whose immediate emotional reactions aren’t very cerebral in the sense of processing everything in the mind and intellectualizing it aka, what people like to label as being un-emotional. Instead her reactions are often fast (air energy) but physically expressed through Mercury (Gemini Moon’s dispositor) and Sun (overall identity) – she has them both in Aries. She’s a crybaby who can burst into tears in a matter of seconds. So she’s not something that would stereotypically be assigned to a Gemini Moon. But what I did notice is that all Gemini Moons tend to have this weird look on their face when they’re processing stuff. As if they were about to have a brain malfunction; they stop and have that specific worried look. They also like to either gossip or tell stories (either real or made up lol); they’re great with words - they can talk for hours if they feel comfortable with you. They just crave interaction and mental stimulation. Their quick reactions tend to make them effortlessly witty. Even if they’re a withdrawn Gemini type, they make up for it through social media and technology or just a quiet exploration. My shy Cancer pal with Moon in Gemini is now a brand/website designer and an instagram queen who travels the world. This is great energy for content creators in general. And don’t forget that Geminis need to have their fingers in many pies. It’s because they always have a backup plan… and they get bored easily so they need that chaos around them to feel at home. They like to have options in everything, which is kind of funny cause it’s hard for them to make up their minds and actually choose something. And they store a lot of information in their brains… I feel like it must be exhausting, no?

On the other side of the axis, whenever I see someone with a Sagittarius Moon, I can immediately say “yup, a Sag Moon indeed” (probably thanks to my Sag stellium), meaning, they all seem the same to me. Sag Moons often find comfort in exploration - best if it’s literal travel. They always seem to need to free themselves from their surroundings, family, roots or their own culture to discover something new and exciting, even if it’s only in the imaginary words - through books, movies and other medias. Their happiness always lies somewhere else from where they currently are. Like, I think all Sagittarius Moons that I know have left their parents and went their own paths early on. And they have this yolo attitude. Just like Sagittarius Suns, they’re massive dorks, probably also obnoxious… sometimes in a REALLY annoying way. They’re either a) very wise and curious b) lil preachy and stuck up c) just plain dumb clowns with no filter. But they’re all funny. And they take things lightly, with a natural ease. This means sometimes they may offend other people just because they assume everyone’s as chill as they are; „relax! I was just kidding!” - that’s a phrase you’ll hear from them often… I mean, unless you’re a jokester yourself and you’re unmoved by their sarcastic or teasing words. They have somewhat spiritual or philosophical nature so besides making you laugh, be prepared for deep monologues. They want to believe everything will eventually fall into place. It’s also hard to bring them down - or I should say, it’s hard to make them acknowledge that they're feeling down - they always try to distract or cover it up with a joke, usually a self-depricating one. If Sagittarius Moon (or Sagittarius in general tbh) is telling you that they’re unhappy, then it’s serious.

I’ve noticed there comes a point in life for a Libra Moon where they just have enough. They’re too nice for everyone and one day they wake up and yell about how they have to do everything for everyone and everyone wants something from them and bLah bLah. Makes me think of when Bieber was this overly nice kid and then he was like “I’M NOT TAKING PICTURES WITH FANS ANYMOREEEE AAGhJFJFUWIUq”. Yup, a Libra Moon, everyone. They know how to charm and appeal to people, I think overall they’re easily liked by others. Sometimes it’s simply because they like to kiss people’s ass just to avoid being rejected. That’d be a Libra Moon’s nightmare. They like other people’s company too much. And they thrive in relationships and in a big circle of friends. What they hate is confrontations (like every other Libra placement omg). They may be good mediators when it comes to other people but if they’re involved in an argument they get sooooo passive aggressive. They just don’t know how to handle conflicts - it’s as if their nervous system wasn’t designed for emotional outbursts (because, you know, everything needs to be peaceful and harmonious Venus-style). A fussy or angry Libra Moon will suddenly get loud as they blame someone for something… and then they’ll leave the room cause they’re scared to even hear the other side of the argument. Or, alternatively, they’ll make a doormat out of themselves just to stay quiet and avoid causing any rift. And making decisions? I think it’s common for them to have two different romantic interests and feeling so dramatically torned between them *Alexa play Agony from Into the Woods*. Then when they decide, they have problems breaking the bad news to one of them.

On the other end we have Aries Moons. *deep breath* Listen, I think I’ve said enough about having Moon in Aries (or rather purely dissing it) but last time it made a bit of controversy so why not wreak even more havoc. I have a good description for this one: I will punch you but be gentle with me cause it’s easy to break my fragile heart. So basically, imagine putting Buttercup and Bubbles into one person. And honestly, I need to say this, women with this placement are just hot badasses, look at friggin Angelina Jolie. The queen of badass. The queen of hot. People say because Aries folks move quickly (literally and figuratively lol), they often get bored with whatever got them excited last week... or yesterday. Ha, yeah, right. You get their heart to open up and they’re going to have their eyes for you ONLY, like a lil puppy. Give us treats and we’ll build our world around you. But NOT in a clingy way by any means, we need our space and independence after all. My lil niece is an Aries Moon and ever since I started playing guitar with her, she became my #1 fan or something. That’s the energy. But we get easily bored with day-to-day stuff so yeah, there’s that. Innocent and clumsy yet raw in their emotions - so there’s potential to make mistakes sometimes (or a lot of times) or having this tunnel vision, like „I want this and I don’t care about anything else!”. And then excusing it with some „but the heart wants what it wants” crap (looking @ ya, Selena Gomez). They experience constant inner movement and turbulence that needs a physical outlet in order to feel satisfied. WE NEED PASSION IN OUR LIVES, OKAY?!?!?? now leave me alone

Aquarius Moons aren’t as cold as you might think. People like to describe them as if their Moons actually disappeared from their charts: dEtaCheD, uNeMotiOnaL, tHey fEeL nOtHinG. It’s just they don’t sit and dwell on things, they find solutions to the problems. If something doesn’t make them feel right, they just leave that situation. They do care about other people’s well-being, they’re very sensitive in that regard, they’re humanitarians after all. Yeah, they detach, but from their own emotions - in order to make sense of them. They may seem like snow queens sometimes (and this comes from an Aqua rising) but they’re really friendly and if you pique Aqua Moon’s interest, they’re going to be curious about you. They like new exciting things so if you’re cool enough, you have their attention. Usually they’re pretty progressive as well and can’t stand injustice. That’s why you’ll see them standing up for those who are in need. Uranian energy gives them a specific type of sharp intuition and wit. Idk they’re just cute in a quirky way. But this buzzing, fast energy is a great recipe for anxiety, over-thinking and frequent changes of heart. Similarly to Sadges, they need constant exploration and stimuli. Intelligent, people-oriented (but not people-pleasing! Look to Libras for that), individualistic. They definitely need their own space and independence. Their decision-making is fast and it’s easy for them to just say „screw it, I’m doing this”. My Aquarius Moon friend just casually decided that she’s moving to Turkey cause nothing in our city (or even country) seems interesting or helping her expand… So she was like, see ya suckers, I’m leaving.

Leo Moons shine from within. You’ll spot them from a mile away even if they’re on the shyer side. They’re all lil stars no matter their profession. Very expressive people & easily excitable. Art galleries, live shows, theater - they love a creative environment even if they don’t pursue that lifestyle themselves... One of my Leo Moon friends is an art junkie – suggest taking her to an obscure play at the local bar, a music festival, a weird museum – she’ll say yes in the blink of an eye. And she loves discussing these things. A Leo Moon may not see themselves as artistically inclined, but usually sooner or later they at least try dipping their toes in music, arts, acting, dancing... you name it. They’ll learn a simple 3-chord song on a ukulele and then play it to you in excitement. Imagine a lil kid making you a puff piece and being super proud of it. Sometimes they just need some encouragement. Remember, Leos feed off of praise, that’s their fuel. Doesn’t mean they’re all proud, egotistical people but what it does mean is that they need a lil assurance to gain their self-confidence. I lived with a Leo Sun/Moon for almost 15 years (who’s a musician btw so yeah, a classic creative Leo type) - he did have some issues lol but ego wasn’t one of them. Drama followed him everywhere but I’m pretty sure he disliked it himself. BUT, with that being said, I feel like Leo Moons tend to dramatize themselves internally. People say it’s something Virgos or Geminis would do - because of their tendency to overthink, but Leos can just go straight to a worst-case scenario in their heads simply because they exaggerate everything. So don’t be surprised to see a Leo Moon feeling down and anxious. On the bright side, be their cheerleader and they’ll give that to you in return. They need sparks and dullness kills their upbeat spirit. They need to feel their own heartbeat so the feeling of excitement is crucial for their well-being. Romantic, giving and kind. They’re fixed fire so once they’re set on something or someone, they give their all and are rather loyal.

I feel like my chart low-key tells me I should dislike Taurus Moons but I just want to melt in their arms and just stay there? Like, forever? Low maintenance but a bit slow-moving and stubborn. They won’t settle easily, at least not officially, so you need to have a lot of patience with them. They need 3 things to feel secure and at peace: physical stimuli, time and a stable place they know they can always come back to. And it’s not like all of them are total lazy homebodies, they may be active spirits & travellers but they are going to have a reallyyyyy nice cosy flat somewhere near their childhood place (gotta be be close to their moms, you know). Not necessary materialistic but they may have one thing that they collect throughout their entire life and they won’t. ever. get. rid. of. it. There needs to be at least one constant in their life - like you know when Elton John decided to go to therapy but one thing he stuck to was shopaholism? Very Taurus Moon of him. Also, they’re very affectionate. In fact, may have issues differentiating between affection and passion - this is actually something Taurus Moon and Aries Moon have in common. Pro tip - and this is in regard to all Taurus placements - don’t smell bad when you’re around them (I mean, don't smell bad in general, no one likes stinky people lol). They have a sensitive smell. Doesn’t help that they like to smell everything. EVERYTHING. I swear, Taurus, stop sticking your nose in every single thing!!! You don't need to know how that piece of utensil smells like. Jeez.

Scorpio Moon (shoutout to those who remember me accidentally calling them sporpio last time I made a post on Moons lol). I honestly don’t know what to tell you... I feel like all you hear about Scorpio Moon is 100% true, there’s nothing to debunk here. It’s the Moon of extremes. Prone to jealousy and surpressing emotions; severe trust issues; they’re instigators. I was low-key bullied by a few Scorpio Moons when I was in school so there’s that. Very secretive and private. Scorpio Moon will be like “I’m in control of the situation!!!!” and you’ll just look at them and think, yeah, right, looks like the situation is controlling you. But keep being in denial, sure. Like, don’t get me wrong, Scorpios in general can be TOTAL SWEETHEARTS OMG but ya’ll have issues. Even celebrities who have this placements... Think Beyonce or Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus... I feel like they have issues lol, especially with control and the need for everything to be perfectly the way they want it to be. To be fair, that’s probably why they’re all so influential and high status: it’s either their way or highway. They need constant reinvention; they’re the ones to wake up one day and decide they’re going through a spiritual awakening blah blah. They also like to talk about dark and shocking topics while having casual lunch with you... So like, be warned that you may end up with a depressed mood after talking to them for 10 minutes. And their mood swings... don’t even get me started on that.

I don't know where to start with Virgo Moons... I feel like they're very calculated and nit-picky but they're a lot warmer than Virgo Suns. I think I called them softies in my last Moon post. Very sweet people but prone to anxiety. You gotta experience seeing them having a heart attack over someone mixing bananas with milk or messing with their stuff that’s been put in a perfect arrangement. I saw a Virgo Moon once literally squealing shouting "YOU'RE GONNA RUIN YOUR LAPTOP WITH THAT SUPERGLUE!!!" Highly entertaining to watch, not gonna lie. Gordon Ramsay has his Moon in Virgo - it’s conjunct Uranus and Pluto so that’s an extreme but I think him being fed up with people over small inconsistencies in their food prep is a perfect example of this energy (btw his chart is hilarious, it literally explains EVERYTHING). They're VERY picky with their food as well, just as Virgo Suns tend to be. Like, they’ll only have a specific type of single origin coffee or they’ll be vegan or something. Self-critical over their work, which is a plus... except for when finishing a simple task takes them a few hours because they want to make it perfect. They take everything seriously. This of course doesn't mean they're total bores - on the contrary, Mercurial energy gives them witty approach and a talent for choosing the right words at the right time. Tho they can be a bit awkward or shy with it. Can be as bubbly as Gemini but the grounded earthy energy gives them more practical and almost nurturing nature - earth signs are providers after all and Virgo is the sign of service - helping others is like their second nature. I’ve noticed they often find comfort in devoting themselves to a choosen task - this is why if they pursue something, they’re really good at it. They’re also very likely to dissect their emotions.

I’m not a fan of water Moons in general but Pisces Moon is the best water Moon in my opinion. Maybe because I like Pisces overall. I think it’s like a tweaked Sagittarius Moon - just more internalized, withdrawn & gloomy. But unlike Sag, who has a tendency to be an adventurous optimist, Pisces likes to focus on the negatives instead. Obviously, they can be very upbeat, they’re Jupiter-ruled after all, but there’s somehing whiny about them lol. Just like Sadges, they dream big and have their standards put up sooo high but if there's not much active energy in their charts, they’re often too passive to actually fullfill any of that - or I should say, they’re stuck daydreaming about it, believing it’ll just magically manifest for them... OR they do everything with an apathetic approach. What I do like about them is that they’re funny. And really chill - sometimes to the point of coming off as confused or hazy. I feel like a lot of them would just love to sleep all day... or sit by the lake and just think about the world. Most of them are also compassionate folks - again, maybe a bit too much. Hey Pisces, you don’t have to take everything to heart, it’s okay. On the bright side, they have big imagination and the ability to disconnect and just create. I have a few Pisces Moons in the family: one’s that sleepy artistic type with grand visions, one is an asshole-ish but funny entrepreneur with a questionable work ethic and one is a witty IT guy who’s actually a workaholic and likes to shut in his own world of computers and numbers or whatever he does there... So there’s this factor of tunnel vision, escapism and, on the more negative side, being kinda iffy and almost addicted to the way they want things to be. Once they set their eyes on something it’s done deal…

My issue with Capricorn Moons is that they're often trying to be sooooo mature omg, like, loosen up a bit. It usually starts when they're in their later teens... They can be the most rebellious kid that likes to have fun and suddenly they'll be like "I'm too old for this ugh grow up" *judgmental stare*. My 18-year old niece once literally roasted my sister that she's in her 30s and still doesn't have her own place (well so do I so I guess she also indirectly roasted me as well???). And she was SO deadpan with it. Because she herself wants to be independent and start a family before turning 25. This is classic Capricorn Moon energy. They suck out joy out of everything lol. Of course, OF COURSE, it depends on the whole chart but I feel like worst-case scenario is that at one point in their life (or maybe even a few times throughout it) they go through a massive shake-up that makes them change their attitude and re-evaluate their structures. There's this multi-instrumentalist Yvette Young - she's a sweet, funny Cancer/Leo mix but her Moon is in Capricorn. She used to be a competitive pianist but the pressure that was put on her has led her to severe health issues. Like yes, she’s now an extremely talented musician - thanks to family’s expectations & a rigid schooling system (Saturn) but it did cost her a lot. She has recovered since then but I think it's a perfect example of this energy. It’s very ambitious and hardworking but emotionally demanding in the sense that you have to actually put your emotions aside in order to deal with the rest. Another thing, because Moon can be associated with family, there's often a weird dynamic surrounding this topic. I don't think I've met a Capricorn Moon that had a completely healthy and happy relationship with their fam or one of the family members. Or, alternatively, there can be a strong bond between one of them but usually created in the atmosphere of hardships.

Last but not least, Cancer Moons. I had three school friends with this placement and all of them made this sad, whiny face as they said „oh I don’t knoooow anymoreee” when they were feeling torned or frustrated. To be fair, two of them are water Suns so for them, it added to the mushyness. All Cancer Moons I know are family people or better yet, baby people. One of those school friends is now a guidance counsellor, working with kids; the other turned her instagram into a gallery of her own child after she gave birth. So much kid content, omg. There’s also something very indecisive about them… or I should say, hesitant. They’re not very fast at making decisions. Also, what’s interesting, they’re kind of like walking libraries, they remember a lot – so they store a lot of information in their brains just like air signs but they process it in a completely different way – emotional, obviously. I think this also makes them hold grudges a lot. For them it’s more of a question of „how does it make me feel?” rather than „how valid is it?”. There’s certain stubborness in them in that regard because they don’t keep their minds open. It’s also hard for them to walk away from people and situations, like a crab pinching you with its claws – it won’t let go. Sensitive but not easy to open up; very protective of themselves and their loved ones & they tend to shut down in their crab shells. But they may crave connection and the feeling of belonging. Also very caring and with a big imagination. They’re very receptive of their environment so mood swings are a thing for them.

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

Text

The Snowstorm. Yan Childe x F Reader

Word count: 5k. Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, forced marriage, minor not SFW implications, and minor character death. Note: i tried my hand at something i’m a little less used to! i felt like childe would be the perfect fit for a story like this.

“How familiar are you with Mondstadt folklore?”

“I can’t say I know much,” Alina, the estate’s head maid responds. She fastens another pin into place. “Lift your arms.”

You do as she bids and continue, “There was one story in particular that I was fond of.”

In front of you stands a large, ornate mirror, boasting a length that reflects your entire person. Delicate, pearly white fabric swallows everything from the waist down. Stretching and covering the expanse of the ground is the dress’ train, around four feet in length, an unnecessarily gaudy detail. Hand-stitched to order, no doubt. How much bad taste could one man boast? Childe impressed upon you his ability to reach new lows at every opportunity.

The design was meant to be eye-catching. To ensure that every soul in attendance to your matrimony would be bewitched by your beauty, like you were a star shining at its brightest, appearing deceptively close when you were worlds away. It sends the unspoken message that no one aside from the youngest Harbinger could ever lay a hand on you. He was extending the privilege of basking in your presence for a few hours, yet that was the limit of his benevolence. After that, you’d be little more than an afterimage in their minds, an unobtainable jewel already claimed.

Alina sighs and shakes her head, dryness bleeding into her tone. “I’d prefer silence while I work. Unlike you, I could be killed at any second for incompetence; the status of the master’s favorite plaything does not extend to me.”

“And what a shame that is,” you bite back a smile when she purposefully pricks you with a pin, ignoring the ingenuine apology that comes after. “Just as I’m an unwilling captive, wouldn’t you say the same goes for you now? It’s not like you can leave until this is finished. Might as well hear out what I’ve got to say.”

She pulls on the strings of your corset with a touch more force than necessary, momentarily taking your breath away.

“The ramblings of a country-dwelling harlot such as yourself do not pique my interest.”

“Right, like you’re a real catch yourself,” you spin around and lean over. “The story I had in mind was the tale of Amos and Decarabian, the old tyrant of Mondstadt’s past.”

She resigns herself to her fate of being lectured and studies you with an irate look. Why the servants of this manor treated you like this was a mystery, you didn’t want to be here anymore than they wanted you here. It was by the workings of an unforgiving third party that you ended up in this deplorable situation. Would it really hurt them to extend you the slightest compassion?

“It was said that Amos dearly loved Decarabian, despite the latter’s indifference and callous nature. Any connection that they once shared was thrown away when the rebellion stirred. Amos took up arms against him, and when confronted, claimed to be ready to strike him down.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she mumbles, “Are you finished—”

“It might be presumptuous of me to believe this, but I feel like Amos may have hesitated in those final seconds,” you pry a hefty pin from your bodice. “Faced with the man she once loved… she might have thought herself capable of ending him. Until he was right in front of her, that is. What sort of things went through her mind? Memories, I’d wager — the good, the bad, everything in between.”

The pin dances along your fingertips and you adjust to its weight. Finally, you prick your pointer finger, testing the sharp end and finding it adequate.

Alina’s lips part, ready to chastise you once more, clearly fed up with your inconvenient behavior.

That’s when you strike.

By the time she realizes what’s happening, it’s too late; you’ve plunged the pin into her esophagus aided by your full strength and gravity. Alina’s hands shoot up to wrestle the obtrusive instrument that is now lodged through her throat. As you hoped, you managed to puncture her vocal cords, preventing a shrill scream from alerting the nearby guards. Blood spurts and trickles down the open wound on her throat, a metallic scent wafting in the air. To prevent an incriminating thump sound, you cradle her weakened body in your arms, setting her sputtering form onto the floor.

“I decided to learn from Amos’ errors, so that history wouldn’t repeat itself,” you swat her hands away and apply more pressure to the pin. Then, you incline over to her ear, noting how the rosiness fades from her cheeks. “When faced with my enemies, I won’t hesitate.”

She’s dead within minutes.

The window is your next priority. Dragging the body into a less conspicuous area would just be a waste of precious time, the trail of blood would give it away without issue. There are locks on the windows, and luckily for you, you’ve had ample time to practice on these particular kinds. It’s the same type that kept your Anemo Vision locked away that you broke into hours prior. With enough patience and fiddling around, it clicks, and you’re met with a crisp Snezhnayan chill.

A wedding dress won’t be ideal for fleeing in this wintery hellscape.

As such, you remove your still unsecured dress, careful not to make any suspicious sounds while you do so. Alina’s already stiffening body is then removed of everything but its undergarments. It might not be a perfect fit, but the thick fur will do the job. You spare Alina, one of your many tormentors from the past few months a final look, her lifeless state causing you to frown. For a semblance of modesty, you drape the remains of your wedding gown over her body.

It’s unfortunate that it had to come to this. The real person to blame is Childe, you tell yourself, to keep the guilt from eating away at you. There’ll be time to reflect on your actions later. When you’re safe, or anything close to the word.

This jump from a two-story building would’ve been tricky without the aid of your Vision. Crunching snow would alert nearby guards, as this area rarely attracts foot traffic. It’s the southeast section of Childe’s sprawling estate. With the sun beginning to set, a shadow is cast over this area, another tool you’ll use to your full advantage. Months worth of meticulous planning are finally coming to fruition. The insincere smiles, pretending to play into your role, shoving your pride down as far as it could go; everything could now be worth it.

You’d be escaping from Childe a week before your wedding.

Setting aside a loose floorboard, you secure the sparse items you’d manage to steal from the kitchen. Dried meats and a waterskin. It would be ideal to have a map or compass of sorts — you’ll have to rely upon the stars to gauge your position. All you know for certain is that you’re far north in an isolated territory. Lonely woods dot the skyline as far as the eye can see, making it impossible to tell where the nearest civilization is. You reason that it can’t be too far away, as light supply wagons often come delivering letters and food throughout the day. Those wagons aren’t built for long, arduous trips. That must mean there’s an outpost nearby at the very least.

With the help of a wind current, you lower yourself onto the ground without so much as a sound. You apply a thin layer beneath the souls of your boots to prevent leaving tracks or making further noise. This is almost the limit of what you can do, as it’s been over half a year since your Vision was stolen from you and locked away by Childe. He kept it in his estate, and if you were to guess why, it was likely for this reason.

He wants to see how far you could make it, embedded deep within enemy territory.

Conniving bastard. So he wants a fun little game of cat and mouse, huh? You’ll give him a run for his money.

As you suspected, not many Fatui skulk around this area, but any number of them could present a challenge. You may have your Vision back, but your catalyst remained stubbornly elusive; he must have decided that giving you a shot at your elemental abilities was enough. Channeling Anemo without a catalyst, paired with being out of practice, is a fine setback. The shadows give you a modest amount of cover while you consider your situation. None of the sacrifices you made would matter if you get caught so soon.

Three, four… you count five Fatui soldiers in total. That’s more than what you’d normally expect. Though you suppose with the infamous wedding around the corner, he must have decided to bolster security. To keep you in and external threats out.

You force yourself to take deep breaths to calm your thundering heart. You’re going to survive, you’re going to go home, you’re going to get your life back. Now isn’t the time to be intimidated by unforeseen obstacles. From the looks of it, they’re just standing there idling about, not on particularly high alert. You’ll need to get moving before they figure out you’re missing and all hell breaks loose.

Barbatos, if you are willing, please hear my prayer. You close your eyes, wind brushing over your body, camouflaging you into the background. This technique is an exhausting one. You’ll end up needing to rest sooner than you would’ve liked, you can already feel your energy being sapped away. However, it works as you intended, allowing you to sneak past the watchmen with relative ease. They’re none the wiser to their lord’s fiancee escaping right under their noses. For a moment, you wonder what fate will befall them for this transgression; you doubt it’ll be pretty when he finds out.

They were all complicit in your capture and subjugation. Your heart does not bleed for them, as they never shared so much as an ounce of compassion for you. Childe’s sizable estate grows further and further into the background. Fading into nothingness, like it never existed, the special slice of purgatory designed for your imprisonment disappears. In its place are dense thickets and towering evergreen trees. Snow crunches beneath your heavy footsteps, making you wince each time. As you feared, using Anemo to obscure your appearance used up too much energy. You’re no longer able to cover up your tracks consistently.

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking.

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, giving an early end to the day, as is normal this far up north. Each step you take is more exhausting than the last. Mondstadt’s climate is far more forgiving than this bitter cold that eats through your layers of clothing and bites your skin. You hug your shivering body, wincing at how your breath materializes in front of you. What cruel irony. That your Anemo Vision aided the first steps of your escape, but couldn’t help in your current predicament.

Maybe the Pyro Archon will take pity on me, you joke to yourself. A person with two Visions, huh…? Is such a thing possible?

Branches snap to your left and your heart rate skyrockets.

Your Vision roars to life by your side. Raw, uncontrolled elemental energy materializes at your trembling fingertips, ready to slice through anyone who dares approach. There’s no way you were found out that fast. Childe wasn’t due home for another three days and you don’t believe non-Vision users could pick up your tracks that quick. Whatever the case, you won’t go down easy; you’ll fight tooth and nail for freedom. It’s just as you told Alina. When faced with your enemies, hesitation guarantees destruction.

Two pairs of footsteps surround you. You tighten your stance, narrowing your eyes in the direction of the person to your left. You’ll have to focus on one first and hope their partner doesn’t land a hit in the meantime. A breeze as sharp as a razor’s knife lifts up, as you prepare to splatter the surrounding snow crimson—

“Papa! It’s just a young lady.” A male voice calls from the direction you were about to strike.

“The hell is a girl doin’ this deep in the woods?” The person from behind you responds, emerging from a tree to get a better look at you. He’s a middle-aged man from what you can tell, wearing a similar thick ensemble as you, holding a hunting rifle in one hand and an oil lantern in the other.

More rustling comes from in front of you. “Are you alright, miss? You’re shaking. This isn’t a safe place to be.”

You accounted for the possibility of running into people when you escaped, but you never expected to find others so soon. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone familiar with the terrain guiding you. The main problem is whether or not you can trust them, or if it’d endanger them to get involved with you. Childe’s never discriminated when it came to punishing those who interacted with you.

“We were just about to head back to town,” the older of the two says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I can’t leave you out here in good conscience. The wolves get riled up the higher the moon gets, and there are coyotes too.”

“Are you hungry? I don’t doubt that my mom’s been cooking up a storm since we’ve left. You could join us if you’d like,” offers the youngest.

“I…” you trail off, your throat going dry. What is the best decision here? The mention of a town caught your interest, that must mean a definitive way out. You could hitch a ride on a caravan transporting cargo and go from there. The original plan was to find a cave to stay in until morning, so this would speed things up. If you didn’t stay with them too long, surely Childe won’t ever find out. This could be the answer to your earlier prayer.

“I’d hate to impose.”

“We’re the ones that invited you, young lady. Name’s Ivan. That there is my eldest boy, Jonathan. I don’t like to come out near these parts if I can help it, but the game’s real good. Fetches a fine price too.”

The two set out on a path with fewer trees. Moonlight breaches past the overhead tree’s canopies, serving as a guiding light. No matter what corner of the globe you find yourself on, the moon remains a constant, offering its solace. Your heart is comforted by the familiar sight.

You follow after them, assuming that they have a lay of the land memorized. “If it’s so dangerous, then why risk it?”

Jonathan pipes up in his father’s stead. “There’s a special event next week. Every family’s been invited to attend — I’m sure you’ve heard of it? The Eleventh Harbinger is getting married to that girl, [First], I think her name was. We could use the extra income to afford a suitable gift.”

You swallow thickly, your throat tightening and lips curling down.

“It’s unfair you have to go through all that,” you mutter. Jonathan shrugs like it isn’t a big deal, seemingly failing to catch onto your dampening mood.

“Anyway, ‘nough about us. What were you doing up here, miss? From your accent, I’d be hard-pressed to say you're from town. Where ya from?” Ivan glances at you from over his shoulder.

It wouldn’t be wise to give away your true identity. There’s no saying whether or not they’d turn you in for a reward, with how loyal these people are to the Fatui. Even if they took pity on you and kept it a secret, the Fatui would dispatch soldiers to interrogate nearby towns on your disappearance. The less they know the better. For your sake and theirs. You’ve prepared a cover story in advance for this very situation, all that’s left is to deliver it in a believable fashion.

“I suppose it’d be rude if I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Anya, an apprentice at an apothecary a few towns over. I was told to gather some herbs, and well, I got a little lost as you can see.”

“S-still, surely you must have heard that Lord Childe lives a little north from here? Try not to mix yourself up with him if you can avoid it,” Jonathan advises. You almost want to laugh. If only he knew.

“Whatever the case, you’ve got a warm bed at my house should you need it. Jonathan can show you some safer places to find herbs in the morning. I doubt he’d complain, what with how his face had gone red as a tomato when he laid eyes on Miss Anya here.”

“Papa!” He shrieks in retaliation.

Placing a gloved hand to your mouth, a lighthearted giggle leaves your lips. How long has it been since you’ve enjoyed a normal conversation like this? You forgot that human beings could be kind, selfless souls, after enduring innumerable trials. This is the start of your revenge against Childe. You’ll prove to him that he can’t torment you forever. You’ll leave this life, and him by extension, far into the past where it belongs. That would be the greatest insult to him. Overcoming your pain and forgetting him like he was nothing more than a bad dream.

Ivan inspects two trees that have fallen adjacent to one another and nods. “This means we’re about twenty minutes or so from town. You good to keep walking, Miss Anya?”

Truth be told, you’re exhausted, now that the adrenaline of escape has worn off. Sitting by a warm campfire and getting feeling back in your limbs sounds heavenly. You ward off the tempting thoughts by shaking your head. It’s thinking like that that would get you captured if you weren’t careful. Nothing about this escape was going to be easy, you’ll need to carry on, even if your body is crying out for rest.

“I’m fine, don’t mind me. Let’s continue.”

Jonathan frowns. “Are you sure? I’m sorry for being presumptuous, but you look like you can barely stand upright.”

You give your best, most convincing smile. “I’m sure. I’d feel bad for holding you up any longer than I already have.”

“See that, boy? All you’ve gotta do is mention a home-cooked meal and the rest is history,” Ivan laughs and gives a hearty smack to his flinching son’s back. “Try giving it a shot and maybe there’s hope that you’ll find a wife yet.”

Jonathan shakes his head in disbelief. “Again with this, papa?”

“What? Is it so wrong for your old man to look out for ya?”

“When it’s embarrassing to me, then yes!”

The pair reminds you of the drunken Knights that’d stumble their way back to barracks after drinking their fill. They’d always jest with one another, maybe even get into a brawl or two over a pretty lady, but everything was in good fun. You miss the City of Freedom dearly. The sights, the food, the people — everything was taken from you. How long ago was it since Childe kidnapped you? Your friends may have never learned what happened to you. Maybe, just maybe, you can return to Mondstadt one day. It’s the first place Childe would think to look, so you resigned yourself to lay low in another nation, but… surely he would give up someday. Then you’d have your old life back.

Seeing these two is a sliver of home. You’ll need to thank them in abundance once you’re in a better state of mind. Unfortunately, staying the night is too good to be true, you’ll ask for directions to the nearest port town and be on your way. That should keep them safe from any Fatui seeking you out. If they insist on you staying, you’ll slip out in the middle of the night. The last thing you want is good samaritans like them getting caught up in your business.

“Your legs still workin’ fine back there? We’re almost out of the forest.” Ivan calls over.

“Papa, stop pestering her already. She’s clearly exhausted.”

“Please, it’s fine. I’m still okay,” you reassure. The idea of putting this damned forest far behind is enough to keep you going. You’ll get to an easier spot to navigate, inform them of your intentions to continue traveling, and be on your way to a more advantageous town. What matters most is timing everything. You need to get to sea as soon as possible, lest the Fatui gain an advantage in stealing you back. Maybe you’d go to Liyue, you’ve heard that it has a respectable port. There’s got to be merchant ships you can sneak onto.

Everything is going to work out.

Ivan places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “A real man’s got to look out for others, even if it’s awkward at times. You understand—”

An unidentifiable blur whizzes by, connecting with Ivan’s head, the sheer force enough to send him flying back like a ragdoll. Neither you nor Jonathan can process what just happened, as it went down too fast to comprehend. Jonathan takes a shaky step toward his now limp father, his legs threatening to give out as he does so. The lantern Ivan was holding drops to the ground, the glass shattering, and fire going out with it. Darkness envelops you both in a matter of seconds.

“P… pa…?” Jonathan breathes out, sinking to the ground where his father lays, bleeding out onto the snow.

Your eyesight adjusts enough to decipher the foreign object lodged into Ivan’s head. An arrow, professionally crafted by the looks of it, perfectly in between his glazed-over eyes.

No way. No way, no way, no way, no way—

You sprint into action, grab a dazed Jonathan by the wrist, and pull him up with all your strength. Another arrow whirrs by with expert marksmanship. It would’ve pierced Jonathan’s skull from behind and killed him had you not intervened. Something seems to click in the young man’s mind as you tug him along, yelling for him to run, that you both need to get out of here now.

“What,” his voice is but a whisper as he sprints alongside you. “What… what is this? How… why…”

More arrows fire in his direction from behind. Now that you’ve identified which angle the attacker is firing from, you’re able to whip up a thin veil of wind, protecting him from any serious damage. The onslaught of arrows is sliced into oblivion from your technique.

What do you do? If you go back to the village they were speaking about earlier, would your pursuer still kill Jonathan? There’s no mistaking that arrow and marksmanship — it has to be no one other than Childe himself. He wasn’t due home for an additional three days, and according to his letters, was stationed in Fontaine. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to get back home so fast. It’d take an entire day’s travel, even if the weather was agreeable. So how…? How did he know? How is he here?

Nothing is making sense.

All that’s left for you to do is run and keep your barrier up, though that is proving to be too much. The howling winds that have kept Jonathan from meeting an untimely demise are quieting, becoming little more than a soft breeze. It’s a miracle you have any energy left in your body to keep stumbling forward. Another barrage of arrows will rip through the weakened shield without issue. You shoot Jonathan a terrified look, realizing he too will end up dead in a matter of seconds unless you do something.

“What good’s a wedding without a bride?” A goading voice presses from behind, ending with sinister laughter. That solidifies it. Childe somehow managed to find you hours after your escape and is now going to inflict unimaginable pain upon those who dared assist you. Whether they were cognizant of what they were doing or not didn’t matter to him. He was a madman in this bloodlust-driven state, wholly uncaring to the trail of bodies littered behind him during his rampage. You’ve committed the highest infringement in his eyes.

And this was the result.

“Come now [First], surely you can do better than that,” he mocks. “Whatever happened to your battle prowess, hm? I can’t say I’m impressed.”

Jonathan breaks himself from his stupor upon hearing your true name. “[First]...?”

“Focus! Keep running!” You shout, but it’s too late. Jonathan stops dead in his tracks. You’re jerked back by the unexpected pause, as you’d been holding his wrist to guide him forward while you ran. The two of you pant in unison, with you being the one in far worse shape. There’s nothing in Jonathan’s eyes as he lifts his head to inspect you. No signs of light or sympathy.

He pulls out his hunting knife before you can blink.

“Lord Childe!” Jonathan pulls you by your hair, exposing your neck, and presses his blade against your skin. “I will return your bride! In return, all I ask… I ask that you please spare my family. We didn’t know! She fooled us with her lies!”

You no longer have the strength to struggle. The last of your energy has dried up; you wonder how long you’ll manage to stay conscious. Everything feels so far away. You can’t register the stinging steel against your neck, the coarse brush of fur against your skin, or the aching of your entire body. Everything has gone numb. Tears sting your weary eyes and your body goes lax. This never would have happened if you stayed and behaved as he wanted. You wouldn’t have gotten two innocent bystanders mixed in a dangerous game of life and death. They showed you nothing but kindness — and this is what you have to give in return.

If this somehow would remedy the wrongdoings you’ve committed… then you’ll allow yourself to be used as a bargaining chip.

Steady, confident footsteps grow louder until Childe reveals himself. Jonathan stiffens at the intimidating sight, pulling you closer and steadying his hand on the knife.

“D-don’t get any closer! I’ll kill her, I’ll really kill her,” Jonathan threatens, his voice manic and shrill. “Just— just promise! Promise to leave my family alone!”

“Alright now, let’s calm down,” Childe slowly puts his bow down to appease the unsteady young man. You feel the weight of his gaze like it was tangible, weighing down on your chest and forcing the air out of your lungs. He’s got a calm, almost relaxed grin on his lips, exuding an aura of superiority even during this disadvantage.

“Step back!” Jonathan barks next. You feel his body relax ever so slightly when Childe obeys, both his hands up in surrender. What is he planning? The desire to plead for your life is nonexistent, and in its place, a suffocating root of guilt. It spreads throughout your body like a poison, wrapping its thorny vines around your heart and constricting. This is your fault. Everything that’s happening right now is your fault. Jonathan doesn’t know anything about Childe aside from hearsay. Could he actually manage to strike up a deal in this shell-shocked state? Should he manage to, you can’t imagine a world where Childe would simply let him walk off unharmed for touching you.

You catch the faintest of blues materializing in the palm of Childe’s hands.

“Ajax, no, don’t—”

He moves faster than Jonathan could ever hope to fathom, water daggers slicing through the still stunned man’s throat with the ease of an accomplished warrior. You’re released as he clutches the deep gash in his throat. Jonathan stumbles back, choking on his own bile and blood, fluids gushing from his throat like a geyser. He collapses onto the ground in an unintelligible fit. You watch in horror how his body spasms and convulses against the snow, a hand going over your mouth.

Childe begins a relentless assault against the dying man’s body, kicking him without ceasing, the crazed smile never leaving his inhuman face.

The plentiful tears that leave your eyes immediately freeze over your skin. You raise a shaky arm, pointing it in Childe’s direction, and pleading with your god once more. For one final ounce of strength. There has to be something left in you, anything, that could put an end to this cruelty. Could you summon a blast of wind to push him away? You focus everything into your hand, but next to nothing happens; you’re past your limits.

Childe stops mid-kick. “Still got fight in you, huh? It’s a good thing I decided to come home earlier. You’ve got a knack for getting into mischief when I’m not around.”

He abandons his previous mission in favor of stalking towards you. Your arms fall limp to your side, too heavy for your fatigued body to hold up any longer. Childe kneels to examine your crestfallen form in a prolonged bout of silence. There’s no telling what hell awaits you after this. You know better than to believe the indifferent visage he currently sports — there’s a storm hiding beneath the surface. The tight-lipped smile is enough to clue you in that he’s pissed. Whatever horrible fate awaits you past this point is known only to him.

“I’m disappointed, [First], I really am,” he sighs and shakes his head. “The week before our wedding, too… you’ll have to work hard to make it up to me.”

Childe lifts you up in his arms and you let him.

“Let’s start by getting you home. Then we’ll have a nice, long chat about what happened today, hm? How does that sound?”

You think back to the conversation you had with Alina before everything transpired. The theory you clung to for hope was that Amos confronted Decarabian on an even playing field, yet couldn’t bring herself to make the final attack. It’s what you told yourself after Childe used you for a long night, what you locked in your heart when he showed you your engagement ring, and what offered a final push when you stole your Vision back.

Now you can’t help but wonder if you were mistaken all along.

Perhaps the tyrant had just been too strong for Amos to defeat.

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #childe genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

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holy-hyuck · 3 years

Text

WayV Reaction: They See You Wearing Their Clothes

Kun

"Are you cold?" Kun asked as he took a seat next to you on the couch. You shrugged, half-wanting to say yes, but not wanting to trouble him. "Xiaojun, can you get (y/n) one of my hoodies?" he asked the younger male when he saw him going up the stairs.

Xiaojun nodded his head and motioned for you to follow him. In their room, he threw the three hoodies Kun owned on his bed and let you pick. One was a poop-coloured, oversized one, another a mix between red and pink, but you finally decided on a thick minty one, the one you gave him on his birthday this year. You pulled it over your head and made your way down the stairs once you realised Xiaojun went to take a shower.

You stopped in front of the TV, hands in the pockets of your boyfriend's attire, and it didn't take long before you felt his arms sneak around you. After giving you a kiss to your temple, he put his chin on your shoulder, breathing in his cologne mixed with your perfume.

"I'm so stupidly in love with you."

The words tumbled out of his lips simply, without much thought, but you both knew how sincere they were.

Ten

"Can I borrow your suit?" Your voice rang through the small apartment you shared with Ten. He made a face, looking away from his phone.

"Okay?" he yelled back, deciding that maybe not asking further questions was in his best interest.

Half an hour passed before he heard your footsteps coming into the living room. Looking up from his phone again, all he could mutter out was a 'wow'.

"I told you I'm going to that Halloween party with my coworkers! So, how do I look?"

With a stupid grin on his face, Ten stood up from the couch and walked around you twice, eventually back-hugging you.

"Stunning." He gave you a kiss on the temple. "As always," he whispered in your ear. "I'm kinda digging this, you know? Who knew Frankenstein could be so hot."

And then, he had to hold your laughing form before you managed to collapse to the ground, stuttering his words back to him, causing him to roll his eyes. Maybe he should have stuck to the 'wow'.

WinWin / Sicheng

WinWin never thought it would get to him as much as it did. Most of the times the two of you spent were with the other boys, the perfect opportunity to offer you his clothes being a movie night but he didn’t want to get teased by them.

The two of you were walking back from shopping, the weather not quite as nice as it was before. The wind picked up and you still had over twenty minutes to walk back to your house, and even more to the dorms.

Shivering involuntarily, you wrapped your arms around yourself to keep the cold away, but needless to say, haven’t succeeded.

With the wind blocking out some sounds, you didn’t hear the commotion next to you. Plus, Taeyong was trying to be subtle about it - that, however, wasn’t a problem with Donghyuck.

“Yah, Sicheng, aren’t you going to give (y/n) your jacket or something? You know, like a sweet boyfriend would,” he said, a hint of teasing present, as per usual.

Blushing, your boyfriend took off his hoodie, revealing a jumper underneath (so you knew he wouldn’t be that cold himself), and passed it over to you, without looking at you. You thanked him, putting it on, instantly feeling warmer. Sicheng wouldn’t look at you (besides the subtle glances) or speak to you until you arrived at your house, you promptly giving him his clothing back, and seeing how he reacted, you made a mental note to yourself to always try bringing a spare jacket with you when you two went out.

Lucas / Yukhei

You heard Yukhei before you saw him, sauntering into your apartment just as you finished up the dinner for your date.

"Look what I got you!" he exclaimed, fishing through all four of the shopping bags before digging up a bright pink jumper, at least two sizes too big for you.

You wanted to tell him that until he got a similar one out, only in your size.

"Matching jumpers! Well, kinda. I got them in the men's section because the material is thicker and I thought; why not? Try it on!"

He was so excited you couldn't make him wait, so you took off your shirt, leaving you only in a tank top, and scrambled to put the jumper on. It fit you perfectly, albeit the sleeves were puffed out slightly, but you reckoned that was just the design. You liked oversized things anyway.

Yukhei beamed, enveloping you in a hug that nearly made you suffocate.

"You're literally perfect. I can't believe how lucky I am."

Xiaojun / Dejun

You visited your boyfriend on the set for their new music video. He just finished getting his hair done when he saw you in the mirror, getting up to give you a hug and greet you. He scooped you up and spun you around.

"No need to rub it in!" You both laughed at Kun's words, who passed by and gave you a kiss on the cheek before leaving to film his solo scene. You watched his dark grey hair disappear, then came up to the clothing rack, fiddling with some clothes.

"So, do you like, get to keep any of these?" you asked, picking up a beret.

"Well, not exactly. But I do get to wear them on other sets and variety shows," he answered, giving you a back hug.

You hummed in response, spinning around and thus breaking yourself out of Dejun's hold. You put the beret on your head and posed for him.

"So, how do I look? Ready to debut in a group?"

Your boyfriend watched you, half with heart-eyes and half-amused.

"How do you look better in that than me?"

You laughed, taking the hat off and gently placing it back to its original place. "One of my many charms, Jun."

Hendery / Kunhang

"We're live in five!" You heard and fastened the button on your shirt. Well, Hendery's shirt, to be exact, but he stole your leftovers last week so you figured it was time for payback.

"(Y/n)!" You turned around and spotted the aforementioned running towards you.

"Hendery? What are you doing here? I'll be live in a few," you said in a hushed whisper.

"I wanted to bring you this." He lifted the small gold pin and grinned at you. It was your lucky charm. He pinned it to your blouse, then took the collar between his fingers with scrunched eyebrows. "Is that... Is that my shirt? I've been looking for it the whole weekend."

You grinned at him sheepishly. "But I look cute, don't I?"

He sighed, his mouth stretching into an involuntary smile. He planted a kiss on your forehead. "I guess you do."

YangYang

Along with some of your mutual friends, YangYang and you went to bonfire night. As the evening turned into night, and most of the people went home, you and your boyfriend decided to stay behind. The night was still, but the temperature has dropped significantly; thankfully, you came prepared.

Pulling a thick cardigan out of your bag, you were ready to be engulfed by its warmth, when YangYang stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait." He began digging in his backpack and pulled out a bright red sweatshirt, the same one he was wearing, and motioned for you to put your arms up. When you did, he pulled the piece of clothing over your head. "There."

Then, he snuggled up to you, leaving you confused as to what just happened.

"I've had that sweatshirt in my bag for two weeks now, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Apparently, you never get cold."

You snickered at his words, dropping the cardigan on the sand and placing your head on his shoulder, enjoying the night air, and the smell of YangYang's cologne on you.

#nct reactions #wayv reactions #nct fluff #wayv fluff #nct x reader #wayv x reader #kun reactions #ten reactions #winwin reactions #sicheng reactions #lucas reactions #yukhei reactions #xiaojun reactions #dejun reactions #hendery reactions #kunhang reactions #yangyang reactions

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

Note

Do you think you’ll continue with the lawyer Nessian fic. It was so amazingly written I’d love to read more! I love all your writing anyways I’ll be happy with anything❤️

Ok not *technically* a Drabble request BUT I’m not ready to commit to a full lawyer AU that happens in order however I did just drum up a part 2 that we’ll say is several years before the previous lawyer AU. Nessian teasing in a bar and Rhys being a dumbass.

FYI the lawyer Drabble I’m talking about can be found HERE.

“I’m in love,” Rhys slurred. Cassian, a decent bit bigger than his brother and two drinks behind him, had a gentle buzz so he could only surmise that his brother was well passed sober.

“Congratulations,” Cassian grinned, clapping his hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “May I lay eyes upon the future Mrs. Dumbass.”

Rhys stared at him flatly. Blew a laugh out of his nose. “She’s not marrying you, brother.”

Cassian snorted, casting his eyes around the elegantly decorated little lounge they’d stepped into for the night. Lounge, not bar. Because they were mature adults now looking to take the edge off after a long day of work, not college students looking to get fucked up.

It was different.

It was different because the cocktails cost $20 and were served in actual stemware instead of red solo cups. They were evolving. Growing. Cassian was a lawyer now and Rhys was supposed to be doing actual work for his dad’s company so… no more dive bars.

Now they frequented little lounges where accountants and lawyers and bankers sat in tailored suits and discussed… adult things.

It was all very civilized.

And yet here was his brother. Every bit the horny college student they were trying not to be. Oh well, old dogs and all that.

“End of the bar.” Rhys jerked his head to the left and Cassian grinned.

“Might be a little old for you, champ.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow and turned to look at the grandmother doing a crossword puzzle on the far left side of the bar. A martini glass in front of her. Good for grandma.

“Other end of the bar!”

Cassian smirked. He didn’t need to turn his head, since he’s noticed her the second she walked in, but he still did. Just so he could look some more.

“Ah, you mean the deliciously dishevelled leggy brunette with her suit jacket on the chair beside her who just ripped the pins out of her hair like they personally offended her and then laid them in a neat little pile beside her Kobo?

“Mmm,” Rhys grinned, “I’d like her to rip those fingers through my hair.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Go for it, brother.”

Rhys grinned wider. “I think I will.” He straightened up, ran a hair through his artfully mussed hair, and pulled on the lapels of his Gucci suit jacket until they were even again.

Cassian snickered into his Old Fashioned. Rhys could straighten his jacket all he wanted. He could pretend he wasn’t drunk all he wanted. It wouldn’t matter one bit.

Not with Nesta Archeron.

Nesta Archeron who hated men that stunk of trust funds and privilege more than anything else in this world.

This would be fun to watch.

Watch her try to ignore him at first. Eyes glued to the page of her book, hand reaching up to wave through the air like Rhys was an annoying fly she could swat away.

Rhys, to his credit, was a clever little bastard. He asked the bartender for a refill of her drink and set it down in front of her then sat himself one stool down from her.

He didn’t move her jacket to sit next to her, which would have had her going feral. He just sat there, waiting.

After a few moments Nesta let out an exacerbated sigh that Cassian could hear from across the room. There was his girl.

Well, not his girl. Not even a little bit his girl, but… someday.

Cassian decided that he was going to Marry Nesta Archeron the first time she kicked his ass up and down a negotiation meeting. It was a couple years ago now. He’d been young and new at his firm. She was young and new too, but the words learning curve were not in Nesta’s vocabulary. Everything she did, she did with perfection.

Including getting rid of men she didn’t want hitting on her.

She said something to his brother that made Rhys’ half drunk, cocky, smile fall halfway down his face.

Cassian would’ve given his left eye to know what she said in that moment. She had a knack for jumping at the jugular and Rhys… oh Rhys. So obvious.

After a few moments and the continual fall of Rhys’ face, Cassian decided it was time to intervene. He knocked his drink back and straightened out his own suit jacket. Armani, still overpriced and designer but not so obvious or try hard as Mr. Up On The Trends with his Gucci. Nesta appreciated classics.

Simple. Clean lines, solid colours, classic. Which was why it was so fun just how attracted she was to his half wild self.

Unlike Rhys, Cassian plucked Nesta’s light grey suit jacket up off the stool beside her and reached over her head to hang it on a coat hook at the end of the bar. Settling himself into the chair beside her like it was exactly where he belonged. Which it was.

She turned around with an indignant shriek and a fire-breathing snarl that narrowed into just a hard glare when she realized it was him. Touching.

“This guy giving you trouble, Nes?”

Rhys choked on his whiskey and Cassian fought his hardest to keep a straight face.

“I so don’t need your saviour complex right now, Cassian.” Nesta scoffed.

“No,” Rhys rolled his eyes. “She was doing perfectly well scaring off everyone in a 10 mile radius all on her own.”

Nesta smiled sweetly, “I was just playing your game.”

Rhys sputtered again. Looked up at his brother. “This devil woman that you apparently already know,” he glared, “is all yours. I’m going home.”

“Be sure to drink plenty of water!” Nesta sing songed after him. Rhys flipped them both off on his way out.

“What’d you say to him?”

Nesta smiled. A pretty, feline little thing. “He said he wanted to chat. Suggested 20 question, which is the lamest, oldest, crustiest line in the book. So I went first. Asked just how small his dick was that he felt the need to overcompensate with the swagger and the gratuitous displays of wealth. He thought he was quite clever to use his question to ask if I wanted to check for myself how not small his dick was and then I asked if his daddy never loved him and that’s where all of that machismo masking painfully obvious and deep seeded feelings of inadequacy and insecurity came from. I was going to offer him my friend’s number before you showed up. She’s an excellent therapist.”

Cassian laughed. Hard. For a very long time. He loved Rhys, but sometimes the kid could use a nice set down. It was always sweeter when delivered by a beautiful woman. Not to mention, Cassian himself had gotten the same ice cold rejection the first time he met Nesta. When he asked if she wanted to get a coffee and she looked at him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. That Rhys was chased off so easily just proved he couldn’t take the heat.

“You know the walking trust fund, I presume?” Nesta boredly sipped the drink Rhys had bought her. And even that was somehow amusing.

“Only for the last couple decades or so,” Cassian grinned. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Explains a lot.”

“Your insults are more impactful when you clarify which person is being insulted.”

“I was going for the two birds one stone method.”

“In that case, consider me wounded, sweetheart.”

Nesta scoffed, “Unfortunately not mortally.”

“Oh Nesta, if I weren’t here you’d die of boredom and you know it. No one else can run you up and down the courtroom like I can.” Now. Cassian grinned as he watched the word flash across her eyes. He’d never live that first blunder down.

Nesta rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you present any challenge whatsoever.”

Cassian signalled for another drink and leaned forward. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who in this entire city can give you more of a run for your money?”

“Vanserra.” Nesta looked him dead in the eye. And managed to keep a straight face. As if that wasn’t the funniest fucking thing he’d heard all day.

“Oh yes, Nepotism and Nepotism LLP certainly has us all shaking in our boots,” Cassian blew out a breath. “What are you working on now?”

“I’m working on upholding attorney-client privilege.”

“So, the Suncurser merger.”

Nesta looked up. “How did you-”

“Helion and I are old friends. I checked the zoning on the lots he was buying before the merger went ahead to make sure the expansion was even feasible. But, as you know, M&A isn’t my thing. So I may have… given him a referral.”

“Are there any rich playboys in this city that you aren’t friends with?” Nesta finished off her drink and pointedly didn’t signal for another. “And if you think I’m going to be grateful to you for sending this my way you’ve got another thing-“

“Helion is my friend.” Cassian repeated, cutting her off. “He believes in this merger and he wants it done right. You’re the best, Nesta. Why wouldn’t I send him to you?”

“It’s not just to get in my pants?” She narrowed her eyes.

Cassian laughed again. “Oh no, sweetheart. When you invite me into your bed it will have nothing to do with work. It’ll be because you’re tired of denying how much you want me.” Cassian leaned in closer, one hand resting on the back of her chair. “Tired of denying the thrill that shoots through your whole body when we lay into each other. In the court room or out.” His nose brushed against hers, just a little, and Cassian felt Nesta tense up. He smirked, mouth just inches away from hers. “Tired of denying how right this is.”

Nesta’s voice was rough, husky. “So your plan is to wear me down?”

Cassian smirked. “My plan,” his hand came up to stroke the silk covered expanse of her upper arm, “is to marry you, Nesta Archeron. But sure, we can start with wearing you down.”

***Feyre and Nesta look physically similar so you can’t tell me drunk Rhys wouldn’t hit on Nesta in a bar before realizing he’d made a terrible mistake and running away thank you***

Also tags yourself, I’m the grandma doing the crossword puzzle with a martini. She’s an icon and she is the moment.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #drabbles open #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

B is for Blindfolds

Summary: The BAU Christmas party is held at the office. Penelope is full of terrible ideas, but somehow Emily’s are worse.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, use of a blindfold (for a fun game, not anything sexy here), pining, idiots who don’t realise their love is reciprocated as HELL (they will, but not quite yet).

Word count: 3k

A/N: okay so i really had fun writing this one!!! i have a solid solid direction of where this is headed now and i’m EXCITED about it! as always, please let me know what you think :) this is technically Wednesday’s update, and there’ll be another on Friday!

This is the second chapter of the A-Z of Spencer Reid series, but can be read as a stand alone.

The team, yourself included, are more than ready to let off a little steam. There was no point trying to book anywhere in advance, not with the sporadic nature of festive serial killers, so you’d taken over the office. Penelope had, in eager anticipation of your return, decked it out like a winter wonderland.

“Seriously, it looks like someone robbed a grotto,” Emily had joked.

She wasn’t wrong. A seven-foot Christmas tree, God knows how she’d smuggled that into the building, obscured the hallway outside Hotch’s office. It was dripping in tinsel, baubles, you name it. It even had a nutcrucker man. Mistletoe was hung, obviously in a way she believed to be covert, and maybe it would have been if you weren’t all deeply familiar with the antics of Penelope I-Love-The-Holidays Garcia. You’re all careful to sidestep it as you walk in, knowing she’s a stickler for the rules. All equally reluctant to invoke her wrath before a glass of eggnog or two.

On the table, there’s a selection of alcohol laid out. Alongside a bunch of pink glittery cups.

“I got everything!” Penelope chirps.

“I can see that baby girl,” Morgan chimes in, greeting her with a hug.

She really has: there’s juice, fruit, almost every liquor you can think of (including the fancy whiskey that Rossi and Hotch like to get out at dinner), wine of varying colours, and what looks to be some fancy fruit cider. From the spread, and the mischevious twinkle in her eye, you’re sure she won’t be letting you escape unscathed.

At that thought, you can’t help but steal a glance to your right.

Spencer. The man is stood next to you with folded arms, surveying the options in a way that almost looks pensive.

Got to behave myself

I will behave myself

Will he be drinking?

That question is answered when he takes a step towards the table, stepping behind it. He picks up a plastic cup and, playing bartender, asks.

“So, what can I get you?”

***

“Mixology is pretty much the same as any other kind of chemistry,” Spencer explains, gesturing with the hand that’s holding his cup and swilling the liquid, “It’s about balancing the right components to get the combination you want. A lot of the recipes call for more alcohol than is strictly necessary for the flavour they provide. Usually the other elements of the drink are designed to bring out the flavour or mask it, depending on what alcohol you’re using. Almost always you want to mask the taste of vodka, but tequila you try to balance it out.”

Spencer is leant on the desk next to you, rambling, having been allowed to be in charge of making everybody’s drinks over the past couple of hours.

Sipping the concoction he’s made you, you have to admit he’s done a pretty good job.

He clearly agrees, since he’s consumed more than a couple himself. He’s just tipsy enough to push at the boundaries of affection, his shoulder pressing against yours, his happy eyes a little glassy. You listen, hanging on every word he says, watching him lick his lips before he continues speaking again.

“That’s why they serve tequila shots with lime and salt.”

“And here I was thinking they were just making it fun for body shots,” Emily cuts in, making Morgan and Penelope laugh.

You see the look on Penelope’s face and intercept her before she can start, “Don’t even think about it.”

“But!”

“No!” You shake your head, “You really think Hotch is going to go for body shots?”

Hotch laughs dryly, taking a sip of the whiskey he’s been nursing, “That’s one I think I’ll refrain from participating in.”

“Fine,” Penelope pouts, “But everybody’s doing pin the tail on the donkey!”

“Pin the tail on the donkey? What are we, 5 years old?” Emily laughs.

You lean in against Spencer, who has been quietly surveying the last few moments. Your fingers slip slightly beneath his buttoned sleeves, coming to rest on his forearm.

“Balance,” You whisper quietly.

He nods, shifting to allow you to lean more closely into him on the desk.

It’s hard not to get distracted by your proximity to him.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. If you squinted, you might just look like a couple. That’s certainly what it looks like to Dave, who gives you a cursory once over before training his gaze elsewhere. Your heads are almost touching, Spencer is slouching but keeps his neck just stiff enough to avoid resting atop of yours. You’re casually against his body, the two of you strewn across the desk. It looks comfortable, familiar.

It feels comfortable, familiar.

It’s only because you’re drunk.

***

After a singular round of pin the tail on the donkey, during which a blindfolded Emily decided to go rogue and try to pin the tail on the moving-very-quickly-out-of-dodge Hotch, it’s decided the blindfolds will be used for a different purpose.

Trust falls.

Well, not so much trust falls, as you’re each blindfolded and tasked with the challenge of walking across the bullpen without falling.

“We’ll pair up!” Penelope announces, rubbing her hands together with glee, “Hotch you’re with Rossi, Emily you’re with me, Derek you’re with ____, and Spencer you’re with J.J!”

You will away the tinge of disappointment that flares in your chest at not having been paired with Spencer. Although, when you look up at him, you swear you can see a similar feeling sitting behind his eyes.

Probably reading too much into it

“Reid has an unfair advantage,” J.J argues, interrupting your thoughts.

“How do I have an unfair advantage?” Spencer asks.

“Eidetic memory,” She replies.

There are murmers of dissent, then Rossi pipes up.

“If you can’t make it across the bullpen you walk everyday without falling, I think you seriously need to consider whether you should be out in the field with a gun.”

Everybody laughs. They laugh more, though, when Rossi falls on his first attempt, crashing into Hotch. The two decide to resign from the game after that. Hotch plays the health and safety card, but privately you think it’s the double whiskeys that have betrayed him.

“You think you can do it?” You ask Spencer.

He smirks, “I could do it in my sleep.”

You shake your head, “Your legs are too long. You’re like Bambi at the best of times, let alone three mai tais in.”

“Two,” He objects, you quirk a brow and he relents, “Fine, three. And a whiskey Rossi gave me which was awful. I drank it fast and then he told me that one glass I’d had would cost $40. Who would pay $40 to drink that voluntarily?”

“Rossi, Hotch, Emily,” You smile, nudging him with your elbow, “And don’t think you’ve distracted me Spence, I’m still betting you fall.”

“You’re betting?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re that confident in my ability to mess up,” He teases.

“Something like that.”

He grins, “You’ll see.”

He takes the blindfold when it’s his turn, smirking at you as he adjusts it onto his face. It’s with a great degree of annoyance that you watch him clear the bullpen in five easy, and somehow very elegant, steps.

“Go Spence!” J.J cheers, her previous displeasure completely forgotten.

“Pretty boy!” Morgan cheers.

Without taking the blindfold off, Spencer tilts his head to exactly where you’re standing, smirking, “You wanna go next, ____?”

It’s hard not to visibly react to what his cockiness does to you.

You swallow, “Fine. Give it here.”

***

You move your feet confidently one in front of the other. After almost a year of walking the bullpen, you’re pretty certain you can get across it unscathed. You even remember to swing your hip to the right to miss the Santa gnome gone fishing currently hanging off Derek’s desk. In doing so, however, you manage to get yourself all caught up.

With a single step, you feel yourself slipping, arms flailing and managing to catch on to absolutely nothing. You panic.

"Spencer!"

"Spencer?!"

Spencer.

You recognise the feeling of his hands steadying you at your waist. He pulls you against his body, tucking your outstretched arm into him to steady you. You vaguely register Derek’s amused chuckle from behind you.

“I got you,” Spencer says, “Stay still, I’ll take the blindfold off.”

His hands gently slide up your cheeks, lifting it with care to avoid yanking on your hair. He pulls it up and away from your head smoothly.

The lights are dizzyingly bright. You blink rapidly, allowing your eyes to adjust on the face of the slightly concerned, slightly amused looking Spencer hovering above you. His left hand lingering against your cheek. You forget yourself entirely, lost in the intimacy of his touch, barely daring to blink in case it’s gone.

“Mistletoe!” Penelope cackles with glee, breaking your reverie.

“What?” You ask.

Spencer looks up. You follow his gaze, seeing the strategically placed mistletoe. In guiding you to safety, Spencer had walked right into Penelope’s trap.

Oh.

Derek teases something, underscored by a quip from Emily that has them both in hysterics. Neither you or Spencer are really listening.

He’s already so close to you. The pressure of his hand on your cheek starting to make you flush with warmth. His thumb strokes downwards, over your cheekbone. You tilt yourself a little towards him. Trying desperately to act casual, but ultimately failing miserably. His breath fans over your face, smelling faintly of rum and lime.

“Not like this,” He whispers, so quiet that only you can possibly hear him.

He presses a kiss to your cheek instead.

Fuck.

“Very exciting stuff guys,” Emily chirps.

Vaguely, you’re aware of J.J admonishing her, Rossi’s eyes studying you, Derek’s laughter, Penelope’s squeal of delight that someone had finally fallen into her trap.

Your heart thumps in your chest, and you wonder if it’s loud enough for Spencer to hear. From the way he swallows thickly, stepping back with a degree of caution and a look of a deer caught in the headlines, you think it probably was.

Fuck.

What did he mean not like this?

***

After the mistletoe debaccle, the party starts to die down a little. Hotch makes an excuse to leave, shortly followed by Rossi.

You stick around for a little while longer, devoting most of your time to the decidedly tipsy Penelope who’s hanging off Derek’s arm. The mood is nice, actually, a welcome change from the tense atmosphere that often clouds the bullpen, and its occupants wherever in the US they may be.

It’s a little after 1am when you decide to make your exit.

“Do you want to share an Uber?” You ask Spencer, gripping onto his elbow as he walks past.

“Yeah! I was planning on taking the metro but you’ll be safer in an Uber.”

“Are you...sharing it with me?” You ask, feeling a little awkward at having to repeat the request for clarification. The tipsiness you’d initially felt has started to wear off; it leaves both tiredness and an odd shyness in its place.

“Oh no! Of course!” He smiles, grabbing his satchel from where it’s slung over the back of his chair, “We’ll get them to drop you off first, then me.”

***

The wait for the Uber is silent, but not uncomfortable. You loll against Spencer, comfortable in the quiet. The only sounds to be heard of keys as various other agents leave the building. It’s easy to tell which are coming from the grind of the paperwork and which are coming from their own parties. You’d like to attribute it to a years worth of profiling experience but the tinsel around Jerry from White Collar Crimes’ neck is a tad on the nose.

You don’t speak until it arrives, climbing in and closing the door. Clicking your seatbelt into place.

“Sorry about embarassing us before,” You say, purposely being ambiguous.

He squints at you for a moment before opening his mouth, “You mean calling for me when you fell?”

“Yeah,” You say,

“You didn’t embarass me,” He says, quiet, “It was nice actually. Nobody’s ever called for me when they’ve been in trouble before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I uh, I guess I’m not the most athletic. People usually go to Morgan if they need some kind of physical help. It was nice. That you wanted me. Even if you are drunk.”

“I’d have asked for you sober,” You admit.

He squints in response, and you continue, “I trust you Spence. I trust you to always have my back in the field, to protect me. I’d trust you with my life. I mean, of course I’d trust any one of the others, the team wouldn’t work otherwise. But,” You trail off, a little embarassed.

“But it’s different.”

“Yeah. Like you’re the person I’m closest to I guess. In the almost year I’ve been here, we’ve worked together the most. I think I have the best working relationship with you. If ever there was a crisis, I’d want you. Even if the crisis is me tripping on my own shoelaces while blindfolded.”

You both laugh at that. It’d be easy to succumb to a comfortable silence again, let the moment fizzle out.

“I think the same about you,” He says, his voice cracks a little with the sincerity, “Whenever anything goes wrong. You’re the person I want to talk to.”

You move your hand forward to close the gap between you two, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it, “I’m really glad we have each other Spence.”

“Even when I beat you?” The playful glint in his eye is back.

“Even when you beat me.”

“If I remember correctly, and I usually do, you actually owe me for losing the bet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you said ‘I’m still betting you fail.’“

You smile, “We never agreed what we were betting.”

“We didn’t.”

"So what do you want as your prize then, Rudolph?”

“Rudolph?” He laughs a little, incredulously.

“Well I called you Bambi before and obviously you’ve proved you’re more talented, I needed to pick a respectably agile deer.”

“Rudolph was known for his nose, not his agility.”

“The song says he guided the sleigh Spence, he couldn’t have done that if he wasn’t agile.”

He shakes his head at you, “He was just in charge of the lights.”

“Did they or did they not get around the world safely?”

“The song never clarifies that.”

“It’d be a little dark for them to kill off Rudolph.”

“Probably why they didn’t include it in the song.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes, “Well anytime you decide to stop nitpicking my compliments and decide what you want as your prize is fine by me, honestly.”

He smiles, obviously having decided to answer you sincerely. You study him as he, presumably weighs up his options, his teeth momentarily catching his plush lower lip. You swear you see his eyes flicker to your mouth. But then you blink, and he’s studying you thoughtfully.

Just wishful thinking

"Caramel,” He settles on.

"Caramel?”

“Last year I went to this coffee shop and I got their festive caramel coffee. It was amazing. But they only did it that one year, they gave me the recipe for the syrup but...” He trails off, looking embarassed, and when he speaks again his voice is quieter, “I kept burning it. I had a thermometer but I couldn’t get the temperature quite right.”

"You want me to make you caramel syrup for coffee? Mixologist skills don’t extend quite that far?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead pressing his lips together in a thin line. Almost as if he’s worried for your reaction.

You're quick to follow yourself up, “Well I’d be happy to give it a try, but I think I’ll need somebody to taste test it. Make sure I’m getting it right.”

He grins, “I’m probably a better taste taster than maker.”

“Well, we’re off for a few days, assuming we don’t get any cases. You’re at Ethan’s for Christmas, right? When are you back?”

“The 27th. But I’m going to visit my mom over new years, so I’m leaving again on the 30th.”

You nod, “Well, how about the 28th?”

“The 28th sounds good.”

It’s impossibly good (bad) timing that the Uber pulls up outside your building.

“Well I’ll look forward to it,” You say, undoing your seatbelt.

“Me too.”

There’s a silence. Not uncomfortable, but definitely not like the one earlier. Your eyes linger on one another, almost cautious. There’s a buzz in the air, one that can't quite be attributed to alcohol.

Ask him what he meant by not like this

Ask him

“This your place?” The Uber driver asks, clicking his tongue with a degree of impatience.

“Yeah,” You reply, nodding. Reluctantly, you push open the car door, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Spencer as you depart.

His mouth hangs open a little, words seeming to play across his lips. Not making them out of his mouth. The driver clears his throat, and you throw him an apologetic glance. Spencer’s Uber rating will be in the toilet after this.

Good job he takes the Metro.

"Have a good Christmas Spence,” You say, wondering if he can tell. Wondering if he can sense how badly you want to stay, to let this Uber drive you around the backstreets of Virginia. They’re not particularly pretty. But there isn’t much you wouldn’t do just to spend time with him. You’d even allow yourself to promise caramel syrup you know you’ll butcher.

If he knows, the wistful look in his eyes doesn’t betray it.

“Have a good Christmas, _____.”

---

Next part: C is for Caramel

Series tagslist: @altsvu @reidingmelodies @muffin-cup @reidscanehand @bvttercupbby @jessicarabbit09 @lukewearingbeanies @lady-anon-x @aperrywilliams @southsidemistress @a-broken-pact @jjongs-tae-and-biscuits @reidsnose

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