#and decide that he was gonna weave his own fate

[seulgishaku]

Everyday I think about the loss of what we could've had if we had gotten anti hero Jason.

[minisugakoobies]

Hideaway | KHJ

Pairing: Hongjoong x Gender Neutral Reader (AFAB) Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Frat Bro!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: smoking/edibles, stoner!hongjoong agenda, woosan side pairing, oral fixation (as in the author reader is obsessed with joong's mouth), to be fair it's a very filthy mouth, dry humping, biting/marking, tit pinching/sucking, fingering, hongjoong goes downtown & eats it like a vulture, aka cunnilingus, wet & messy, cum eating, a tiny bit of exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Word Count: 7.1K Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: When your friend keeps dragging you to frat parties, all you want to do is find a place to hide and get high. You definitely don't expect to meet a man with a devilish smile and an even more wicked tongue.

A/N: Hello I'm back with more Ateez! This one's a very self-indulgent fic about getting high with Hongjoong. It all stemmed from discussions with @kiestrokes about what a gorgeous mouth Joong has 🥴 Lokie, I hope you enjoy what you've wrought 😜💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Like this fic? Want me to keep writing Ateez? Please let me know!

ATZ Masterlist 🍃 Main Masterlist

One hour. That’s all San asked of you. Go to a party with him for one hour, because his crush was going to be there, and he needed your support. As his best friend and roommate, how could you say no? 

Two hours into the party, you’re wishing you’d put your foot down. You’re worn out from art studio this week, where it had been your turn to face group critique. Honestly, after that experience, you really don’t want to be around other people for a while. You long to crash on your couch with a stash of junk food and video games and not move until class on Monday. Instead, you’re holding up a wall in a frat house, watching your best friend dance with Wooyoung, the Alpha Tau Zeta brother who’d caught San’s eye. 

You’re happy for San, truly, but a bit surprised at how quickly things escalated from “OMG he’s so cute, do you think he’d dance with me?” to Wooyoung climbing your friend like the mountain he is. San looks completely lovestruck as the other man wraps his arms around his shoulders, and you sigh, resigned to your fate. 

San had promised that you’d leave together, saying he’d treat you to your favorite waffles at your favorite diner after the party, and you’d agreed, but now that means you’re stuck here for god knows how much longer. You could find him and tell him you changed your mind and you’re gonna go. He’d say okay, but he’d say it with that pout of his, and as long as you’ve known San, that pout has owned your weak ass, so there’s really no point. You’ll just wait.

However, hovering like a third wheel isn’t your idea of a good time, so you decide to find somewhere else to hang out. The room is packed with couples grinding, and you weave around them carefully, trying to avoid the beer sloshing about as a girl beside you really puts her back into it. The kitchen is just as cramped as the living room, a beer pong match taking up most of the space, so you keep wandering, until you come to the foyer, where there’s a staircase to the second floor. Wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the loud music, you start to climb. 

It’s much less crowded upstairs. There are a few people scattered along the hallway, talking in small groups, or heading into the bedrooms, all of which have closed doors. You’re a little afraid of what you might walk in on if you open one, so you keep moving, hoping to find a quiet spot to sit and hide. 

Instead, as you round a corner, you come to a dead end. But to your left, there’s a window that’s cracked ajar, night breeze just teasing you with enticing coolness after the rank humidity of the dance floor. You press your palms to the glass, peeking out. It looks like the window opens onto the roof of the back porch. 

Gently, you lift the sash until you can stick your head out. The roof is flat, not sloped. It’s fairly dark, with only the moon above and the string lights crisscrossing the yard providing a pale glow. And, most blessedly, it is devoid of other people.

As quickly as you can, you shimmy out the window.

The backyard is dotted with kiddie pools still full of jello from the last wrestling tournament. In between the pools, the ground is a squishy mess of colorful gelatin and disgusting mud, which means that there are very few partygoers outside right now, besides a handful that you can hear beneath you, hanging out on the porch. But they can’t see you, so you can live with that. 

Settling with your back pressed to the brick wall, you take a deep breath, relaxing. Even though it’s so late in the fall that the weather is already flirting with winter, it’s a nice night to be outside. The air is crisp, but you’re plenty warm in your sweater and jeans, toes tapping idly inside your boots. The moon plays hide and seek behind some passing clouds while you observe contentedly.

“No one’s supposed to be out here.” 

“Fuck!” You jump, so surprised to hear someone address you. The voice came from the shadows of the opposite corner of the roof, where another window mirrors the one you came through. 

There’s a short burst of laughter, and then someone leans into the light. 

Reddish-orange hair hangs over a dark brow, above eyes scrunched nearly closed in glee, further expressed by a full bottom lip twisting upwards in a smirk. As you will your racing heart to ease off, a guy you’ve never seen before carefully steps across the roof. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt over a long-sleeved striped shirt and jeans. His shirt doesn’t have any letters on it, but he must be a brother here if he’s trying to tell you what to do. 

He’s almost unfairly gorgeous, this stranger who scared you nearly to death, and he’s laughing at you.

You attempt to recover your cool, leaning back against the wall again. “I didn’t see a sign.”

“It’s kind of unsaid.”

“Well, it kind of needs to be said,” you shoot back a little snappily, annoyed that your peace has been shattered. “You’re out here, too, you know.” 

“I live here.” 

“So that’s fine, then?” 

He grins, a wicked thing that has your neck flaming with sudden heat, and slides further out of the darkness, until he’s about an arms-length away. “Ok if I sit here?” 

“I mean, if unspoken rules don’t stop you, what’s me literally saying ‘no’ gonna do?” 

Another quick ratatat of laughter. “You’re funny.” He drops down beside you, tipping his head back to rest against the wall. 

You don’t say anything to his comment, waiting for him to say something else. Like explain why he’s out here or who he is to tell you where you can’t be or anything. A minute passes, then another. You hear the people on the porch heading back into the party and then there’s only the dull thumping of the music inside and the sound of the crickets chirping in the yard. 

You wonder if you should say something to the stranger, maybe explain why you’re out here, but he seems pretty content to sit quietly, and if he’s happy to remain silent, so are you. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to actually kick you off the roof, so you release the tension in your shoulders, inhaling deeply again, and match his pose, staring up at the sky. 

The wind stirs, brushing your cheek with gentle fingers.

“Not into parties?” 

You glance over when he finally speaks. His profile is striking - sharp jawline, straight nose with just the slightest upturn. It makes you wish you had your sketchbook with you. He’d make a lovely model right now, pretty face lit by the soft luminescence of the moon. 

“It’s not that. Just been a long week. I was planning on a quiet night in. But my roommate had other ideas.” 

“And now you’re stuck here, waiting for them?” 

You nod. The stranger hums. 

“Yeah, I can sympathize. Kinda hard to have a quiet night here, like… all the time.” 

It’s your turn to hum. “But… did you not know what you were signing up for when you joined a fraternity?” 

He laughs again. You’re starting to really like the sound. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not supposed to be out here?”

“Do I need to remind you?” 

“Fair.” 

Another comfortable silence. This is your type of stranger - one who respects the sanctity of quiet moments. After a few more minutes, you decide, fuck it, and reach into your crossbody, pulling out your vape pen. You’re not going to get high high while you wait for San, not the way you had planned to do if you were at home melding with the couch, but you can at least take the edge off. 

But before you do, you hold the pen out to the stranger. “Want a hit?” 

He raises an eyebrow, nods.  

Your gaze lingers maybe a few seconds too long as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into his lungs and holding it there for a few seconds. He hands the pen back with an exhaled thanks. 

You take your turn, tipping your face up to momentarily blot out the stars with smoke. The light cherry flavor hangs on your tongue while you hand the pen back over without asking. The stranger takes another lungful.

“So… do you have a name?” 

“Of course I do,” you reply. Dumb questions get dumb answers. “Do you?”

His lips curl into a bright smile. “I do.” 

Another pass. You check your phone, just to make sure San hasn’t sent you any messages. He hasn’t. He’s probably affixed to Wooyoung’s gorgeous face by now.

“Hongjoong,” the stranger says after another inhale. “I’m Hongjoong.” 

“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong. Thanks for not throwing me off your roof.” 

“Thanks for the tokes.” 

He grins at you again, full teeth, and you can’t help but beam back. He really is rather cute - 

“Hongjoong! Are you out here again?”

One of the brothers you’d seen playing pong earlier has his head out the window behind Hongjoong. 

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up, ‘Hwa?” 

The other man looks past Hongjoong, squinting into the darkness. “Is someone out there with you? You know no one’s suppo-”

“Seonghwa. What do you need?” Hongjoong’s tone shifts, becoming a little authoritative. 

“You better get in here. Mingi’s trying to get everyone to go streaking again.” 

“So?” Your pen is still in Hongjoong’s hand, heading to his lips as he takes another puff. “He’s always trying to do that. No one ever agrees.” 

“So, I guess he thought the best way to convince everyone was by going first. He’s currently doing naked laps around the beer pong table.” Seonghwa frowns. “It’s really throwing off my game.” 

Hongjoong sighs, an exceptionally weary sound. Rising to his feet, he brushes off his jeans. “I better go put a stop to that.” He glances down at you. “If anyone tries to kick you off here, just tell them I said you have my permission.” 

“And I need that?” 

The smirk returns. And then he has the audacity to wink. Before you can catch your breath, he’s climbing back through the window. 

Silence envelops you again. You lift your pen to your lips one more time before tucking it away. 

The minutes tick by.

When the clouds drifting across the stars start to look like tantalizing wisps of cotton candy, seemingly close enough that you could reach out and grab some, your stomach lets out a growl. Maybe you should go grab San away and tell him it’s time to bounce. You’ve done your time. There’s a perfectly golden waffle just waiting for you to drown with syrup at the diner. 

Besides, you can’t wait out here all night for cute boys who may or may not return. As much as you might want to. 

“Again?” 

Two weeks have come and gone since San dragged you to ATZ. And now here he is, knocking on your bedroom door and giving you his best puppy dog eyes as he informs you that Wooyoung’s invited him to another party tonight. 

“Do you really need me to go? I thought you guys were hitting it off.” The two of them had been exchanging texts like crazy, and had gone on a date last weekend. You hadn’t seen your best friend this giddy in ages. 

“We are. He’s amazing,” San sighs, a faraway look in his eyes. “But I need you there so I have a reason to leave. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.” 

You try, you really, really do, but you can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of you. San has proudly called himself a slut on more than one occasion. In the three years you’ve been besties, you’ve never known him to deny himself some dick. 

“Stop laughing!” San puffs his bottom lip. “I’m serious. I really like him, and I want to take it slow.”

“That’s so sweet,” you coo, pinching his cheeks. He ducks his head with a tiny “aish,” but you know he’s not mad. “But why can’t you just make up a reason not to stay?”

The pout returns. “Because he’s hot and I’m weak. Please, help me out?” 

Sighing, you cross your arms. He’s not the only one without a backbone. “Maybe. What’s in it for me?” 

“I knew you’d ask that.” With a grin, he holds out a small ziploc baggie. “Here.” He tosses it your way. 

It’s a brownie. You grin. “Oh honey, you baked!” 

San returns your smile. “The batch came out a bit stronger than usual, so that’s why it’s just a little square. Half of that is probably enough for you. But if you go with me tonight, I’ll let you have the rest of the pan.” 

And just like that, you find yourself at another party packed full of people. This time, the beer pong table has been replaced with a giant ice luge, with coeds lining up to take their turns slurping jungle juice off the frozen display. You give the luge a wide berth, not wanting the sticky liquid to splash the boots you’re wearing. All the seats in the living room are occupied, and dancers are taking up all the open space left, so again you head upstairs.

Unlike the last time you were here, the roof does not provide you an escape, thanks to the chilly autumn rain that simply won’t let up tonight. It’s like the universe doesn’t want you pulling a Houdini this time. At least you have your brownie with you. You just need to find somewhere to enjoy it while you wait for San. 

The doors to all the rooms on the second floor are closed, so you keep moving, climbing up to the third floor. No one’s in the hallway up here, and there’s a room with the door wide open, so you peek your head in. 

Rows of books line shelves built into the two of the walls, The third has a fireplace, unlit, with photos of the fraternity brothers hanging above the mantle. There’s a rather nice overstuffed couch and a pair of high-backed chairs facing the fireplace. 

“These frat boys live like kings,” you murmur to yourself, creeping forward to examine the portraits. Your eye is immediately drawn to one in particular, a redheaded man with a bright smile, whose photo bears the title “President.” 

“I’m having the strangest sense of déjà vu,” a voice suddenly declares. 

Whirling, you find the same man watching you from the doorway. Tonight, he’s wearing a white shirt decorated with big red hearts, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and a pair of tight jeans. And that sexy smirk of his. 

You frown, clutching your racing heart. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on people like that?”

“Only when they’re somewhere they shouldn’t be.” Hongjoong taps a sign on the door, which declares in extremely big, bold font: ATZ ONLY - KEEP OUT. “It’s clearly stated that this room is off limits. So what’s your excuse tonight?” Though his words are sharp, the gleam in his eye is playful.

Your lips twitch. “That sign probably would’ve worked better if the door had been closed.” You give him an appraising look. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs making sure your brothers keep their clothes on or whatever?” 

While he huffs in amusement, you wander over to one of the walls of books, running your fingers along their spines. They’re all labeled with a year. Grabbing last year’s, you let it fall open to a random page of photos. Wow, some of the brothers appear to be really allergic to shirts - 

Hongjoong snatches the album from your hands, closing it with a snap. “That’s private,” he informs you, slipping the book back into its slot. “And don’t try to change the subject. No one’s allowed in here but myself and my brothers. So come on.” He jerks his head towards the door. 

“Counteroffer,” you say, producing your brownie from your bag. 

Hongjoong pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “What is that?” 

“A brownie.” 

His eyes narrow a little. “Would you say there’s anything special about that brownie?” 

You nod. Hongjoong glances out into the hallway. Then he closes the door. 

“You’re awfully easy to bribe,” you inform him as the two of you settle on the couch, you in one corner, him taking the spot next to you. Carefully, you pull the brownie apart, handing him half. 

“Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my reputation getting ruined.” He holds his half up. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” you giggle, tapping your half against his before taking a bite. 

Hongjoong devours his brownie in mere seconds. A bit of chocolate clings to his lower lip, his tongue flicking out to capture it, and you force yourself to focus on the remainder of your half, so you’re not just sitting there staring openly at his pretty mouth, as much as you’d like to. 

“So, is this your thing? Going to parties just to hide and get high?” 

“Ha, no. Not normally. But my roommate keeps insisting that I come with him.” 

“And where is your roommate now?”

You snort, licking crumbs from your fingertips. “Probably suctioned to Wooyoung’s face.” 

Hongjoong laughs. “Ah, you’re friends with San? He seems like a great guy, from what Woo’s told us.” 

“Woo talks about him?” You can’t wait to tell San. You can hear his bashful giggles now. 

“Yeah. He won’t shut up about him, actually. It’s nice, but it’s also annoying as fuck.” Hongjoong winces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so blunt.” 

“No, it’s fine, I get it. I love San, but I can only take so much puppy love before I get nauseous.” 

“Exactly.” Hongjoong grins. He sinks down further into the couch, legs spreading open as he gets more comfortable. 

The two of you are quiet for a moment, long enough for your brain to start asking questions. Is he planning on staying here with you? You’d kinda figured he’d eat the brownie and then go. Shouldn’t he be down at the party, if he’s the president of the frat? 

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not gonna do anything in here but melt into the couch for a little while.” 

Hongjoong shrugs. His left hand plays in the rip above the knee in his jeans. “It’s not that I’m afraid you’re gonna do something. It’s just…” he trails off for a few seconds, lost in thought. “I’m not in a party mood tonight. You might not have been trying to hide, but I was.”  

“Oh. Shit. Do you - would you rather that I leave, so you can be alone?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can stay. If you want to. I don’t mind your company.” 

“Oh,” you say again, in surprise. Something flutters in your chest when he looks at you. “Okay.” 

Hongjoong’s fingers return to the tear in his jeans, picking at the strings. “So… do I get to learn your name tonight?”

Oh, right. You’d never actually introduced yourself on the roof. 

He peers at you, clearly waiting for your answer, and the flutter gets stronger. What is it about his gaze that makes you want to tease him? 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, tilting your head as you look at him. “Have you earned it?” 

His eyebrow quirks slightly. “Didn’t know I had to.” 

You merely shrug, biting back a grin. He focuses on the wall opposite the couch, mulling over your words, while you sit beside him, primly arranging your skirt over your tights-covered thighs. The couch is ridiculously cushy and you’re already starting to relax into it. 

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll just go downstairs and find San,” he says after a moment. 

“That’s cheating!”

“Oh, does that upset the rule breaker?” He clutches his chest in mock horror, grinning when you laugh. “Excuse the fuck out of me.” 

“I’m not a rule breaker. I just…” you falter for an explanation.

“Don’t care for parties and prefer pot over people.” 

Hongjoong cracks up at the face you make in response to his too correct reading of you. 

“You’re doing a terrible job of earning my name, just for your information,” you sniff, but when he laughs harder, bumping his shoulder into yours, you cave, giggling. He doesn’t move away when the laughter tapers off.

You make a little small talk. The usual stuff - what’s your major, where are you from, etc. He’s a music production major and apparently spends all his time in the studio, on the opposite side of campus from where your art studio is located. No wonder you’ve never seen him around before. 

Eventually the room falls silent again. If it weren’t for the thumping coming through the floor, you could almost forget there are other people in the house. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, ears straining to make out the music drifting from the first floor. It’s only the drums and bass that you can catch, something pulsating and rhythmic. Hypnotic, lulling you further into relaxation. 

That’s when you feel it. That telltale body buzz that starts in your feet and spreads all over. Your thoughts become a little floaty, each one drifting away before you can really grasp them, and you turn to Hongjoong. 

“I think I found the drugs,” you giggle. 

Hongjoong lets out a single “ha” from deep in his chest, and then he hums. You let your head fall back against the couch and close your eyes.

“Oh shit, there they are,” you hear Hongjoong say, with another laugh, and you start to giggle again, and when you look at him, he’s watching you, and you wonder what it would be like to kiss him right now, with his face so close to yours. His lips look very kissable, meant to be nibbled and sucked. You long to, biting your own lip as you fantasize about his taste.  

Hongjoong sighs. “Damn, I feel good. Thank you. You’re officially my favorite trespasser.”

“Is that a long list?” 

His grin widens. “Longer than you’d think.” His eyelids lower a little as he leans closer. The air feels like it’s heating up around you now. Your skin tingles from your high, and it only increases when Hongjoong’s fingers cup your chin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” is what flies out of your mouth in surprise, even though you’re dying to feel his lips on yours.

“Because I like kissing pretty people when I’m high.” 

Heat pools in your belly, and you shift on the couch, reaching for him. As your fingers twist in his shirt, your mouths connect. It’s a slow, wet kiss, tongues warm against each other, rolling over and around. Messy, but neither of you care, both lost in the sensation. 

When his arms wrap around your back, you slip into his lap, straddling his thighs. His head tilts up to greedily chase your mouth, and you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, shivering at the way he groans. His fingers dig into your shoulder blades as he pulls you down on top of him, so there’s no distance between you, just clothing and heat between you.  

Hongjoong nudges your face with his, getting you to turn your head so he can nibble on your earlobe. His hands fondle your ass beneath your skirt, grabbing and pinching the ample flesh through your tights, while his mouth ripples down your cheek and neck, covering your skin in soft kisses, before finding your lips again. 

It’s been too long since you’ve made out with someone like this. The last few people you kissed with all treated it like an annoying chore, something perfunctory that had to be performed in order to get what they really wanted. Hongjoong holds you like you’re something to be slowly explored, something to be savored, not just used. 

“Feeling good?” He leans back for a second, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he peers at you. His face is flushed, lips darkened from your nipping, and the rather fucked out sight of him has you clutching at his shoulders, desperately pulling his mouth back onto yours.

“So good,” you moan when you come up for air, rolling your hips. He feels so amazing underneath you, hard cock bulging obscenely in his jeans, that you can’t help yourself, humping away mindlessly while you kiss, whining slightly when you can’t quite find the right angle to ease the aching in your clit. 

Hongjoong laughs into your mouth, fingers sliding up to grab your hips. “Slow it down, baby,” he whispers, pressing more kisses along your jawline. With his strong grip, he takes control, guiding you back and forth, slower, but more forcefully, his own hips moving to grind himself up into you. “‘M not going anywhere. Take your time.” 

Your whole body shudders at his words. With another pitiful whimper, you snake your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair as your mouth dives for his again. 

Take your time. If he insists. With his encouragement, you lose yourself in the languorous pace he’s set, soaking panties rubbing on the rough denim below, friction building, a wave that never crests, just rolls on and on. You know you could do this for hours, make out and dry hump like this, without coming. It takes you much longer to come when you’re stoned, but the orgasms are so intense that it’s always worth it. 

Your fingers brush over his neck and he shudders beneath you. Intrigued, you lower your mouth to his collarbones, picking a spot exposed by his open shirt, and gently bite down. He groans brokenly, hips jerking upwards, and you lick at the same spot a few times, lazy, slow strokes, before sucking, painting his skin with a love mark. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, bucking again, with renewed urgency. Giggling, you sign your work with a light nuzzle before he grabs your chin, frantically bringing your face to his for more kisses, wet and filthy and so sensual that you feel like you’re nearly going feral with desire. 

“Hongjoong,” you whine, needing more of him, greedy hands lacing into his hair. Your sense of touch is so heightened right now that the strands feel like silk wrapping around your fingertips. 

As you moan again, Hongjoong’s hand travels to your neck, fingers playing there, curling and uncurling. “When you say my name like that, you know what it makes me wanna do?” 

“Wha-what?” Your thighs are starting to get damp, covered in slickness from the sound of his husky voice. You grind down harder, gasping in pleasure when he meets your movements with a powerful thrust of his own.

“Sit you on my cock and fuck you stupid.” He bites his lip, looking down at your chest as it jiggles under your sweater. “Let you ride it. Could you do that for me? Ride it real good?”

“Fuck yes!” There’s no hesitation in your answer. It’s all you want right now, to feel him all over you and inside you. Yes, of course you’d be so good for him, because you know he’d be good to you. Even though you’ve only really just met him, you feel it in your soul. 

“I bet you would. Ride it like a fuckin’ champ. Make it bouncy.” His right hand squeezes your ass, making you squeal into his kiss. 

A dreamlike haze hangs over everything now. You stare open-mouthed while his left hand fondles your breast over your sweater. Then he tugs your top up and your bra down, far enough for the cool air to kiss your exposed skin. His deft fingers pinch your nipple sharply for a few painfully pleasurable seconds before his hot tongue replaces them, and your drug-and-lust-addled brain wonders dumbly for a moment who let out such a shameless mewl before you recognize that it was you.  

Time stretches in that surreal way that it does when you’re high, making every minute feel like an eternity. Hongjoong laves his tongue over your other nipple, sucking the pert bud into his mouth, and you keen, head lolling back while pleasure ripples through you. His tongue is magic. You bet he gives good head. You hope you find out. 

Unfortunately, though, while you’re wondering what his mouth would feel like on your cunt, time has not actually stopped, and there is still a party going on. Which you are rudely reminded of when it suddenly spills over into the room, popping the little bubble that you and Hongjoong have been hiding in.

“Don’t worry, no one’s ever in- oh, shit!” 

A loud curse draws your attention away from Hongjoong’s tongue and to the tall brother standing in the doorway, frozen like a deer. There’s a cute coed holding his hand, peeking around him to see what made him yell. 

“Yunho, what the fuck, man?” Hongjoong groans, a scowl twisting his kiss-swollen lips. “Get out!”

You’re moving sluggishly, brain lagging with arousal and what you’re recognizing is a lot of THC for such a small brownie, but Hongjoong seems to have more of his wits about him, as he carefully lets go of your sweater so you’re covered again. He doesn’t try to slide you from his lap, just places his hands on your waist to keep you steady. 

Tall guy’s sputtering now. “I-I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, and - “

“It’s fine, Yun, just go, all right?” Hongjoong glances at you. “You okay?”

If you were sober, you’d probably be horrifically embarrassed to be caught tits-out. Might even run for the door so you could go home and hide for the rest of the weekend or month or year. But between the brownie and the man currently checking in with you, you’re feeling too good right now to really give a shit what anyone else thinks. 

You nod at Hongjoong’s question, beaming happily. A crooked smile spreads across Hongjoong’s face, his thumbs etching tiny circles into your sides. 

“Hongjoong?” Yunho’s basically a statue at this point, completely immovable in the doorway. “I know we’re not supposed to let anyone else in here, but seeing as how you have someone else in here, uh… am I gonna get in trouble for this?”  

“If I say no, will you fuckin’ leave already?” Hongjoong glares at the other man, and it does not escape your attention how sexy he looks when he’s mad. 

“I don’t know. I mean, we’ll leave, but I don’t know if you’re just saying that to get me t-”

“Get out!” 

Your sudden shout snaps Yunho into action. He slams the door shut, leaving you alone with Hongjoong, who is gawking at you with his mouth hanging open. Oops. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.

“Sorry,” you apologize, cringing. “I didn’t mean to shout.” 

“No, that was so hot,” Hongjoong declares, leaning forward to kiss you eagerly. 

“Yeah?” you pant against his lips in surprise.  

He nods, nose jostling yours, and kisses you again, and again, until you’re dizzy, needing oxygen, but you’re unwilling to tear yourself away from his mouth. All you want is to lose yourself in him again, crawl back into that heat from before. 

Just as you feel it starting to happen, he pulls away. 

“We should probably lock the door,” he says, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are studying your face carefully, you realize, looking for any signs of objection. For some reason, that just makes your answer even more affirmative. 

“Good idea,” you reply, slipping off his lap and crossing the room in three quick steps. You shoot him a glance over your shoulder as you twist the lock. Either the pot is slowing his reactions as much as it’s slown yours, or he doesn’t care that you catch him openly staring at your ass. He grips his cock through his jeans, hand flexing as he squeezes slightly. 

His gaze is too intense even from across the room. It makes you shy, has you lowering your head as you return to the couch. His fingers slide under your chin, tilt your face up to meet his ravenous lips as he guides you onto your back. 

Your boots hit the floor one after the other, followed by his sneakers. One of his arms props him up over you. His other hand grips your thigh, spreading your legs apart, allowing him to slot himself in between. He swallows your sigh when his fingers roam inwards, slipping against your core. 

“Damn, baby, did I do all this?” he asks, rubbing at the dampness seeping through the layers of your panties and tights. 

You pluck at the buttons on his shirt, palms skimming over the warm skin that’s revealed beneath. He hisses quietly when you brush over his stomach. Seems it’s not just his neck that’s sensitive. Good to know. 

“Yes,” you nod, squirming slightly when he drops his hand to cup you. His thumb applies a bit of pressure so achingly near your clit that you whine, almost as loudly as you’d yelled before. “Please tell me you’re gonna do something about it.” 

He smirks then, that maddeningly taunting smile of his. The one that tells you not to be fooled by his quiet demeanor. The one that tells you he’s trouble.  “As soon as you tell me your name.” 

His hand drags frustratingly slowly upwards, spreading your slickness as it goes, making you whimper. “Hongjoong!” 

“No, that’s my name.” His fingertips are crawling now, moving closer and closer to the waistband of your tights, one millimeter at a time. 

The anticipation is driving you insane. And it seems you’re not the only one enjoying it, judging by the way he’s rutting his bulge into your thigh.

“Don’t tease,” you complain, pouting. 

“But that’s my favorite part,” he shoots back, grinning madly. Fuck. He’s trouble for sure. 

His fingers trace shapes over your hips, back and forth, long lines that have you huffing in frustration. Then he curls them under the waistband, pulling them down, just the tiniest fraction of an inch, then another, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as he looks at you, and then - 

He stops. 

You groan, head tossing back to bounce against the arm of the couch. 

“YN, my name is YN, fuck, I yield!” 

“That didn’t take long,” he gloats. “So desperate for me. I love it.” 

If you weren’t still high, you might be embarrassed. Instead, you’re brazen, whimpering in agreement. You want him, just like he wants you, why bother to hide it? 

He finally releases you from your misery by rolling down all that annoying clothing that separates you from him, tossing it onto the floor. A gentle scrape of his fingernails on your bare skin has you trembling, begging for more of his touch. He obliges, lowering his mouth to leave hot-breathed kisses on your thighs. 

“Y’know what else I like to do when I’m high?” he asks, watching you with hooded eyes. His hands haven’t stopped moving, are languidly pushing your skirt up to your waist. 

“What?”

“Eat pussy.” He licks his lips. “Wanna eat you, baby. Can I?” 

“Please,” you groan, reaching for your skirt, pulling it up as far as you can, baring yourself to him. He grins, fingers spreading you open, and you twitch as the little puffs of his delighted laughter swirl over your sensitive skin. 

Hongjoong flattens his tongue, dragging it up and down a few times. You keen, fingers digging into the wool of your skirt, clutching the material tightly, when he keeps moving up, circling your clit, before he undulates his tongue, making the tiny nub bounce. Then he switches back to licking stripes, pressing the taut muscle more firmly against you with each pass.

You feel like your entire body is pulsating in time with your clit. “Oh my god.” 

“You’re so wet,” he groans happily, lapping without restraint at your pussy, sloppy and loud. “Could fuckin’ drown down here.” 

His mouth. It’s sinful, how good he is with it, the way he kisses your folds and sucks on your clit. Uses it to say the filthiest things, keeping up a running commentary: 

Look at you, dripping all over the place. Such a mess, baby. Let’s see how much wetter you can get.

Could eat this pretty pussy for hours and never get my fill. Got me so greedy.

Mmmph, love the way you taste. Bet you’re even sweeter when you come.

You don’t catch every word, given the way he mumbles them into your cunt, but you hear enough to have you babbling in response, chanting his name and praising his skills over and over. 

When your words dissolve into moans, Hongjoong changes it up, adding his fingers to the mix. His mouth seals around your clit while he strokes inside you, warm walls spreading to allow his lithe digits to plunge in and out. Then he thrusts his tongue into your clenching hole, using his fingertips to roll your thrumming nub around, lightly squeezing as he fucks you with his mouth. 

“Hongjoong!” You’re losing your mind, your entire body vibrating with pleasure. “Holy shit, please!” Can’t even finish your sentence, your foggy brain too busy focusing on holding your head up so you can watch him. Drool runs from the corner of your mouth, lips slack as you pant wildly. 

He laughs, popping off your clit with a loud slurp. “Please what?” He nuzzles his face against your thigh, kissing it gently. “What do you need?”

“I - I need…” You break off with a sudden mewl as he presses insistently into that soft spot on your inner walls, like he’s trying to leave an impression of his fingertip. “Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!” 

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he vows, catching your eye. His face is a mess, hair damp with sweat, a shiny layer of your arousal smeared all over his mouth and chin. His hips keep rolling into the couch beneath him, and his voice wobbles a little as he speaks, but his gaze is unwavering. “Just lie back and let me do my thing. I’ll get you there.” 

He drops his mouth to your cunt again, and keeps his word. 

Time expands again as the tension inside you snaps. Your orgasm pulsates through you, flowing like a wave through your tingling body, wiping away all coherent thought, even turning your vision white for a few long seconds. Hongjoong’s fingers continue to massage your g-spot while his tongue still flutters over your clit, and you slowly come back to yourself, inhaling deeply before sobbing his name. 

He lifts his head momentarily to observe the results of his hard work. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he murmurs, tongue skimming down to lap at your release. Lost in ecstasy, you thread your hand through his hair, tugging his face closer to your cunt, and ride out your high on his tongue, hips bucking erratically. He voices his approval with a guttural moan. 

Like any other time you’re high, you come for several minutes, shaking and twitching, panting and moaning. When your pelvis finally ceases moving and your fingers release their grip on his hair, Hongjoong pulls away. He doesn’t sit up, just lays his cheek on your hip, dark eyes scanning your face. 

“I was right. You taste sweet when you cum.” 

Jesus. That mouth. You start to giggle, flustered by his statement, both embarrassed and pleased, and he joins you, head bouncing slightly on your shaking stomach. Suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the need to feel him on top of you, to let his weight press you down, anchor you to reality, so with frantic hands you guide him back up to your waiting mouth. 

His kisses are slower now, softer. He’s still hard beneath his jeans, grinding into you, but it’s not as desperate as it was when he was humping the couch. You slide your hands down his chest, down his stomach, down to where the buttons on this waistband lay.

Hongjoong ignores your little cry of protest when he suddenly draws away, sitting back on his heels and peering down, glimmering eyes merrily taking in the state of you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you, and you believe him. “I’m glad you broke in here tonight.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “I didn’t break - you know what? Not important.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring pointedly at his crotch. “Don’t you need help with that? I’m more than happy to return the favor.” 

He smirks. “The party’s not over yet. We’ll get there.” Your stomach somersaults at the promise laced into his voice. “But speaking of parties…”

Right. Holy shit, there’s still an entire frat partying right outside these walls. Hongjoong’s unbelievable tongue managed to make you forget that for a while. 

“I should probably go downstairs and check on things,” he finishes with a sigh, buttoning his shirt up halfway.

It’s strange, you’re still basking in the afterglow of your climax, and yet you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. 

It’s just like when you get really high and then eat an entire convenience store’s worth of snacks. Weed makes you insatiable. Hongjoong just gave you an earth-shattering orgasm and you’re already dying for more. 

Maybe you should thank him and let the moment be what it was. 

“Right. Of course.” Begrudgingly, you let him go of him. He rises slowly, stretching and rolling his neck. “Um. That was great. I guess… I guess I’ll see you around?” 

Hongjoong laughs, gesturing for you to stand. “Come on, you’re coming with me.” 

Your heart pounds a quick beat at his smile. 

“Why?” you inquire. “Worried I’ll learn all of Alpha Tau’s deepest darkest secrets if I stay here alone? Think you need to keep an eye on me?” 

“Nah,” he replies, grabbing your hand. You let him tug you to your feet, let him pull hard enough that you crash into him, your palms landing on his chest while he slings his arm around your back to catch you. “I just want to keep my hands on you.”

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

[fumifooms]

Firefly wedding chapter 42 - 43 : Together - With you forever

How are we feeling broskis. These two chapters were an evil rollercoaster I need to talk about them. Thing are looking up…??? But also things are so transparently going to get worse. The outcome is happy in the moment but it’s setting up for failure by promising things that are still too up in the air. Will the red string of fate truly keep them together and for how long. The story’s been ramping up both references to her sickness and future death and to their happy ever after, which! Is very thematic and also terrible for my heart.

We go from sad about the backstory to soothed by the kind gesture to euphoric in the dreamlike flower field scene to scared and dreading to tentatively pleasantly surprised to paranoid "how can this go wrong" to indulging in the happiness of the moment to having sadness like a stone in your stomach.

It starts with some more setting up of their upbringings and weaves some pretty explicit parallels and causal links, and so when Shinpei talks about "only seeing Satoko", we know that his reflex to cling onto one thing hard, as if it’s the only thing he needs for happiness, was born from never having had anything. Going from having nothing to having one something is enough in his mind, but of course that’s not true, we know that, and that wouldn’t go as well as we’d like to think. And this is exactly what the leap between chapter 42 and 43 illustrates, from a high to a low in a blink of an eye, because Satoko couldn’t sate his hunger if he were to only feed on her to fuel his life.

This far he’d been fighting for scraps of attention and hints of affection, even illustrated in how he says "being asked so many questions by you makes me happy" even when the questions are about such sad things.

And then it doubles down with the possessivity and oh we see where this is going. Isolation and jealousy and violence. But this is where the supreme yandere writing enters!! They get to healthily confront it and deal with it, they are able to de-escalate!!! THEY DE-ESCALATED!!!

Firefly Wedding is a lot about balance, about hope vs facing reality, about obsession being bad vs care still being good, about running away from things while confronting others, about it being okay even if it’s a little bad or dishonorable, living in the past vs overthinking the future, leaving the past behind vs giving up on having a future, about compromising your health if it’s for the sake of living fully. About who gets to decide what you should do when and for what, and that counts your family, your lover and yourself too. Who gets to decide if you should die when and how and for what or who, if you’re allowed to cut your own finger for an oath or allowed to marry into a loveless political marriage like shackles, or marry into misery?

Satoko’s expressed it before too, sometimes Shinpei scares her, especially when he gets intense like this. But Satoko’s also had these very same thoughts, even if she has to abandon everything, maybe living on the island with Shinpei for the rest of her life would be better than to fight to get back home. Maybe a little wonderland of just the two of them, like the flower field, like the firefly lake, those unfiltered moments of the world’s beauty and inner peace, forevermore is what she wants. Maybe Shinpei is saying what she craves inside of her but knows herself is unattainable and based on unhealthy grounds, but what she craves nonetheless. The tension is high, how will she react? Push him away? Fold the knee?

But she sees herself reflected in his eye then. And she loves him. She loves him, and that’s why she knows she can’t let this go on. Because she cares about him.

Satoko refuses and we think it’s gonna get even worse. We think oh, the confession plans are so over. It’s gonna become a life or death chase or something now, like the fake-out when Shinpei felt "betrayed" by her and said he’d kill her except now the emotional dams are truly burst open.

LADIES GENTS AND PALS, EVERY ROMANCE’S LAST BOSS!!! COMMUNICATION!!! SUCCESS!!

And in her words you can hear how she’s already planning for her death, caring about how he’ll live after she’s gone. We’ve already had a very harsh wake up call with the mirror scene and it haunts us while reading just as much as it haunts Satoko, it haunts the whole narrative, it haunts the love. She’s doing Shinpei an ultimate selfless kindness with this consideration, reflected again and again in dialogue, also worried when she mentions how he has no attachment to life.

This is the beauty of Firefly Wedding as a yandere story, it’s about an obsessive lover who can’t handle the thought of their significant other not being there and the inevitability of that happening even in the best case scenario. About not delaying the inevitable but basking in the value of it while it’s there regardless, even if flawed even if fleeting. Both of them resigned to their own deaths and finding little worth in their lives, yet still making something out of them and fighting to have them be theirs. Their life, their death.

IT’S! THEM! BOTH!

Living as a zombie vs dying having felt alive.

It’s similar to the "If you don’t have a future then give it to me" -> "Live a good life, if not for yourself then for me" the story has played with before, but reframed once again as we grow one step closer to "if you can’t take care of yourself because you value your life, then maybe take care of yourself because you value your life with me".

So she tells him she loves him and everything is so great for a second before we go oh no. Oh no. Of course. How could I have forgotten. The abandonment issues!! The insecurities and paranoia mixing together into the possessivity soup!! The need for something to be material for it to be real, for it to be externalized to be able to trust it, and oh god he wants her pinky finger-

But the worst is avoided once again. Unlike many other stories of the like, this would have been a moment of full character regression for Shinpei, where all progress is lost and he becomes uncontrollably violent again, but no, there’s a key difference between Shinpei and those others, he cares. He has grown, and every turn for the worst was easily countered by openly talking.

How? It’s all only possible because he’s grown to truly value her words. To trust her. These chapters set up several times the conflict of "I don’t trust you saying good things about me", but that’s a him issue, that’s self-sabotage and self-defense jumping out when his trauma makes him hang onto her words like they’re life or death to him. The conflict is that he doesn’t trust her, but the resolution is that he does tust her.

He’s pitting his faith in her words against his instinctive lifelong fears and worldview beliefs, and her words are winning, because he’s allowing them to. Because he loves and trusts and values and cares about her. Having Satoko in his mind was supposed to make up for all the bad that could and would ever happen to him, the one shred of happiness that made it all worth it. It’d make up for all his past pain and fill the void his trauma left, but instead he fights it head on by himself, it’s his own strength from loving Satoko that fills that void, for his own sake. Love! Wins!

It’s so beautiful to see them learning how to love moment by moment throughout the story.

That’s definitely one of Firefly Wedding’s biggest strength and appeal I think. You can pinpoint in the character’s reaction the moment something clicks in them, the moment they realize something or when an emotion or fear kicks in, when a lesson is learned, all in just expression, body language and composition framing…

And this is our reward.

It is! It is healthier and happier than anything what Shinpei had asked for would have given! It’s getting better, beyond all of our wildest hopes!

Satoko got wet here to protect mere doodles representing her life plans with Shinpei, which isn’t exactly great for her health. Ultimately, on a small scale, risking herself for a very unimportant thing that however symbolizes something very important to her. I’ve had this thought before but it’s interesting to think of how Shinpei is literally bad for Satoko’s heart.

Besides the general stress of her situation or the time she chased after him out in the rain, I wonder if the jumpscares he regularly gives her by being naturally stealthy are physically bad for her… This might be something that won’t happen anymore, now that she has confessed and she isn’t as conscious around him anymore, but in the confession arc let’s call it, it was a very recurring gag. Stress is a natural part of life and can’t be avoided, and trying to extend your lifespan to the theoretical maximum is a risky unsatisfying game, so I’m wondering if that’s true in some ways… It’d go well with the manga’s themes I mentioned earlier, about how even if it isn’t the safest best bet you should embrace and pursue true love, and you should live your life fully and lively without overthinking. Sometimes knowingly potentially shortening your life for things that matter to you is worth it. He makes her heart beat, and is that truly such a bad thing?

Just before this we saw Shinpei give her his hand to help so her feet wouldn’t get wet. He wants to protect her fully, but we’ve seen several times how Satoko is ready to endanger herself for Shinpei, even jumping into the fray to shield him. He wants to protect her, sometimes from himself, because he loves her, but because she loves him she’ll always take the more dangerous path for the chance of him being alive and happy. The both of them lovingly selfless, and their wishes incompatible because of this. To marry or not to marry, how to marry, who to marry, for whose sake? What way to go about it would maximize the other’s happiness and the fullness of their life?

The red string of fate tying their pinkies together forevermore… Something doomed to be undone sooner or later, by circumstance or inadvertance or accident.

Reality crashes back in. Her health, her health, her health.

Reality crashes back in in ripples through the scene, and then one final wave when other characters walk into the new scene with something serious and ominous to discuss. Satoko and Shinpei are in a little make believe world of euphoria right now but the audience dreads for the reality of things. Satoko’s words talk of both living together forever, and of death, of living together forever until the end. Contradictory and irreconcilable you romanticize it into making sense.

The name of the chapter, "with you forever", is an impossible pipe dream of a lie. But that’s what Shinpei is hanging onto, and it’s all that Satoko wants.

And so they fantasize about the future and talk their daydreams into reality, making each other promises about eternal love and house plans, children and celebrations and domestic routines, about a life together they very might never get to have.

[mrhyde-mrseek]

Little bit of Hyacinth posting; I’ve decided to show y’all the lyrics to some of the songs I’ve written for the musical!

“Our Own String of Fate”

[APOLLO] (spoken)

Come with me. I know where we’ll be safe.

[HYACINTHUS] (spoken)

What do you mean?

[APOLLO] (spoken)

I’m taking you to Delphi.

[HYACINTHUS] (spoken)

To Delphi? But it’s your sanctuary, the center of the world, what makes you think I’m worthy of stepping foot inside?

[APOLLO]

My love, I feel your fear

But I’m afraid we’re not safe here

So now it’s time to disappear

Doesn’t make a difference where or how but if we’re gonna go, we have to leave right now

(Spoken) When was the last time you left Sparta for any reason other than princely duties?

[HYACINTHUS] (spoken)

Um . . .

[APOLLO] (spoken)

Traveled more than a mile along the River Eurotas?

[HYACINTHUS] (spoken)

I—I don’t know.

[APOLLO]

See? That’s my point.

(Sung) You need to get out of this city

A life wasted indoors isn’t pretty

A future together awaits us in Delphi

If Zephyrus wants me dead, well then, he can kiss my ass goodbye!

Take a leap of faith

Don’t fear the fall, embrace the pain

The wind may be strong but it can’t blow the sun and his flower away

Like Eros and Psyche

Or Iphis and Ianthe

We’ll show that green-eyed ball of hot air we weave our own string of fate!

(Spoken) We’ll take my sun chariot. I’m usually very picky about who gets to sit in it—Artemis only gets that privilege once in a blue moon. (He laughs for a minute at his own joke.) But I’d like you to ride right next to me.

[HYACINTHUS] (spoken)

Really?

[APOLLO] (spoken)

Of course! That is, if you want to go with me . . . ?

[HYACINTHUS]

My life has been turned upside down

It’s too late to turn back now

Zeph’rus is coming with the hunters and hounds

Father will understand

I’ll be back as soon as I can

But now I have to take my fate into my own hands!

Time to take a leap of faith

The fall may be scary but it’s worth the pain

The wind’s howling now but all it can do is blow the clouds away

Like Eros and Psyche

Or Iphis and Ianthe

We’ll show Zephyrus together we weave our own string of fate!

(APOLLO’s chariot takes off. HYACINTHUS grabs onto APOLLO. Slowly, however, his fear turns into glee, and he leans out over the edge.)

[HYACINTHUS]

I’m ready for something new

A hint of danger, a taste of romance

With the wind in my hair and the sun by my side

My whole life has been planned out for me

Conferences, war tactics, learning to lead

A spot by my father’s throne

Waiting for one of my own

Waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting

Everyday waiting, everyday hating

A destiny I can’t decide

Don’t fear the road ahead

No matter what omens the storm portends

I don’t care if I wind up dead

Right now, I’m alive!

(Key change!)

[BOTH]

Take a leap of faith

Don’t fear the fall, embrace the pain

The wind may be strong but it can’t blow the sun and his flower away

[APOLLO]

Like Eros and Psyche

[HYACINTHUS]

Or Iphis and Ianthe

[BOTH]

We’ll show that green-eyed ball of hot air we weave our own string of fate!

[APOLLO] (riff)

Our own string of fate!

[BOTH]

We weave our own string of fate!

[flutteringfable]

hi everypony!! i finally finished that arin and sora thing ive been working on, here it is! i love writing cuddles so so much; i hope reading this makes you feel as cozy as i did writing it hehe. there’s no spoilers as this takes place in like early-mid dr season 1!

crossposted to my ao3, as per usual :3 it’s only visible to registered users to keep yucky ai scrapers off my work.

if you’d like to listen to the song i used for the title, you can find it here!

the moon had already fully risen by the time arin trudged back inside from training. he yawned, and almost tripped over riyu as the little dragon weaved between his legs in an almost catlike fashion. he smiled, crouching down to pat riyu’s head, but almost immediately regretted it as the ache of his muscles roared in protest.

“hey, arin,” sora chirped as she sauntered over from the living room. “i was wondering when you were gonna turn in for the night.”

arin groaned as he slowly stood back up. “sorry i was out for so long; i got so focused on training that i lost track of time.”

“why am i not surprised?” chuckled sora. “i left you some food on the counter; you might wanna heat it back up.”

riyu perked up at the mention of food. sora shot him a look of disapproval, which did little to reduce the thump-thump-thumping of the little dragon’s tail agaist the wooden floor.

“thanks,” arin replied. as he walked to the kitchen, riyu followed eagerly.

after reheating the leftovers sora left for him, arin slumped onto the sofa. sora joined him and leaned casually against his side, as she often did. riyu sniffed a few times at arin’s plate, but eventually realized he wasn’t going to get any and instead hopped up to lie with his head in sora’s lap.

“you should start setting reminders or something; this is like, the fourth time this has happened? if you overwork yourself this often, it’ll be harder to recover and improve your skills.” sora sighed.

arin nodded sheepishly. “i know, but i just get so focused on perfecting a move or improving my stamina that i just kinda… forget? like, i’ll register the sun going down, but then i’ll practice for another few hours until i finally realize how late it is.”

even riyu let out a soft grumble at that. sora smiled, patting his head.

“i know, buddy. what are we gonna do with this guy?” she teased.

arin chuckled. he and sora sat in comfortable silence for a bit, and riyu dozed off as he was pet. arin couldn’t help but be reminded of their time before lloyd had rescued them, when they were both still living in the crossroads with little to worry about besides winning races and pie baking competitions.

in the span of just a few days, the course of his and sora’s lives had changed drastically, mostly for the better. there was still the fate of the world to worry about, of course, but putting that aside, arin had decided he was incredibly lucky to have met his hero. he sighed, slouching further against sora.

“you good?” asked sora, patting his shoulder.

“mhm,” arin nodded. “just thinking about everything that’s happened. it still feels so surreal to me that we’re training under the green ninja.”

“yeah. i didn’t even know the guy that well and i’m still kind of in awe.”

arin grinned. “so…. you’re saying think he’s cool?”

“…yeah, i guess i am,” sora sighed, smiling exasperatedly at her friend. “i still think you’re a nerd for knowing so much about him, though.”

she grinned, poking his head teasingly. arin pouted back before setting his plate on the coffee table. he leaned back against sora and reached over to pat riyu’s head.

footsteps came from down the hall, and lloyd poked his head into the room. riyu slowly raised his head, letting out a small yawn as he looked in lloyd’s direction.

“hey, you two. it’s getting kinda late, you should probably head to bed soon.”

sora shot a thumbs up at lloyd. “will do.”

“i mean it,” lloyd insisted, a knowing look on his face. “no sneaking out. you guys need as much rest as you can get.”

arin glanced away sheepishly as he rubbed his eyes, replying, “we won’t. honestly, i don’t even have the energy to do anything else tonight.”

“yeah, i’ve noticed you training a lot more recently.” lloyd looked concerned. “you’re doing just fine, arin. you should let yourself rest more.”

“i’ll try and remember to. thanks, lloyd,” arin yawned.

lloyd smiled gently. “alright. go get some rest; i’ll see you both in the morning.”

when lloyd left, arin shifted and sat up. he turned and hugged sora, nosing into her hair sleepily. she returned the hug and patted his back.

“‘night, sora,” he mumbled.

“‘night. goodnight to you too, riyu,” sora added, giving riyu a chin scratch.

“‘night, riyu..!” arin echoed softly as he sat back up.

he slowly stood up and stretched with a groan before heading to his room.

[avid-adoxography]

🍎, 🥭, 🍈, and 🫛 for any f/o of your choosing!! 🩷🩷

Hi bestieee! 💜 I think I'm gonna do these for Lord Kardok, it's been a hot minute since I've talked about my warlord husband <3c

🍎 - what’s your f/o’s favorite drink? any drink, alcoholic or non alcoholic!

Scottish wee heavy ale, hands down.

He loves a full body, strong beer at any time of the day (and night), especially on the few occasions when he can sit by the fire to whittle.

It reminds him of home. The only rare good parts of it, at least.

🥭 - did your f/o have stuffed animals growing up? do they still have stuffed animals? do they have a favorite?

No, simply because playing with them was seen as something weak and feminine, absolutely unfit for a future warrior.

He did, however, had a small wooden sea serpent figurine with runes carved along its body that his grandmother gave his mother (and later passed to him) as Nafnfest (name-fastening gift) for his Ausa Vatni (“sprinkling of water", a naming and accepted right after birth ceremony).

🍈 - does your f/o believe in fate? do they think everything is preplanned out by the universe or a higher power, or do they think that the idea of fate is bogus? why?

Fate is the highest power in the universe according to Lord Kardok's Viking faith. Men’s lives were shaped by Fate, the gods are subject to Fate, even the world itself has a fate which it could not escape.

Yet his strong belief in Fate in no way suggests that he believes men possess no free will, or could not in some ways affect their own destinies. As the Norne weave the Fate of all, Bhaltair believes life is an evolving, ever changing pattern that is constantly in the process of creation.

Unfortunately, he also thinks each individual’s place in the overall weaving of Fate is determined by the placement in the evolving pattern of the threads of the lives of his parents and ancestors who preceded him, which puts him in quite a bad space considering his father, who has exiled him calling him a Nithing, one who was not even considered a man because he so lacked honor, because of his supposed betrayal against his family and swore to kill him if he ever dared to return home.

Alas, acceptance of whatever unexpected twists and turns of Fate might bring to one’s life, courage in the face of adversity and even death, and conducting oneself with loyalty and integrity is something he has been taught and which he respects despite it all.

So the cycle continues...

🫛 - how does your f/o feel about pet names or nicknames? do they like them? hate them? what are their favorites and least favorites to be called and to use?

Lord Kardok isn’t exactly the type to come up with pet names, for he's a man of action rather than words.

Given the above, he’d rather just call [undone] with some more usual terms of endearment, like Mo ghaol (my love) or Mo leannan (my sweetheart). He might call her Elskan/Elskan m��n (my love) too if he's particularly in the mood to be romantic, but that's about it.

On the receiving hand, however... He's mostly fine with whatever [undone] decides to call him, the only exception being the "Angry Pony" thing she sometimes hits him with when he's acting particularly insufferable.

Also, one might also expect him to loathe the whole "I could eat a horse" joke, but with your wife being able to turn into a dragon and all, well... It actually makes him lose his composure in a way he would never admit even under torture (if you get what I mean *wink wink*), but don't tell him I've said it teehee~.

infodumping ask game

[blackjackkent]

HOLY SHIT STOP THE PRESSES THERE'S A CAT IN THE CAMP

Oh, and a kid I guess.

This is the orphan kid that we had a brief chat with when we first arrived in Rivington. Hector isn't averse to offering her a place in camp but he and I are both just a little surprised.

"Erm. Hi. It's me, Yenna. You remember me, right? You were really nice to me before. And, erm. My mum hasn't come back yet. She might come later..." A pause and her face falls. "I don't think she's coming."

She screws up her shoulders bravely and looks up at him. "Could we maybe stay here?"

Before Hector can respond, Karlach is there, and she's super excited about the new arrival.

"Yes! We can play one-a-cup!"

Karlach is, as always, such a good. Hector was already going to let the kid stay but now he's even more so inclined. (I think all of them got used to having Arabella around, but she disappeared in the night sometime during their journey out of the shadow-cursed lands.)

"Of course you can stay, Yenna. Pick a spot and settle in."

"YES! You've got a fire and everything. I can cook really good! Whatever you want! Thankyouthankyou!"

Aw. c:

Actually, speaking of Arabella, I went over to where Yenna decided to hang out long-term, and there's actually a letter from Arabella on the table!

<3

Hector comments, "Arabella's gone to the city, then. We may yet see her again."

I hope he's right. I'm very curious about everything Withers was saying about her and her "destiny" with the Weave.

Talking to Yenna again:

"I brought my own paring knife. Now I just need some ingredients and... I'm gonna make something really good, I promise!"

:D

Honestly I suspect that no one currently in the camp knows how to cook anything. They have all been subsisting on pawing through the camp supplies bag every night and hoping for the best. So if this kid wants to whip up something, I think everyone would be appreciative.

The cat is also cute.

"Greetings, cat."

"*HISS*"

Why are all the cats mad at Hector. :(

[ANIMAL HANDLING] Peer into the cat's eyes. Does it know anything about Yenna's mother's fate?

Narrator: The cat peers back. You read something in its eyes: doubt. Resignation, perhaps.

Guess that answers that. But we will take care of them now. <3

[liladydarkwolf]

We all know being a teenager can be tough, but did you know that it’s particularly hard for some birds? Unfortunately this lack of awareness is responsible for a large portion of avian surrenders; If your looking at getting a bird is important to remember that, unless you’ve adopted an adult, you will experience puberty.. bird style. Not gonna lie, it can suck but they do grow out of it! Learn about hormonal shifts, work on redirection, environmental management and behavior modification… Be patient and you’ll get through it! There’s support and assistance, find an avian vet, reach out to experienced bird owners, find a pet bird club. Submit things here or YouTube, bird people are usually pretty open to lending a hand. That being said, let’s jump from the serious to the hilarious with a snippet of my own novice bird days!

So I got a cockatiel…

They are so sweet they said…

So quiet and docile they said…

So cuddly they said…

So easy to work with they said….

I’m repeating this in my head as I duck and weave, trying to avoid being shanked by my 1 year old, Tawarri, as he indulges in a little territorial rage brought on by the onset of adolescence. The cat has unknowingly shown some serious balls by daring to dart past me into HIS room…Oh make no mistake, it’s his… He just lets me lurk at the edges occasionally. I, as a conscientious bird owner (read justifiably paronoid) darted after her; Only to find myself standing where she is supposed to be as she yowels, drops to her stomach and shimmies across the floor for the very dubious safety of under the bed.

He… It’s just he at this moment, that’s not Tawarri, it’s some blood thirsty ballistic missile with feathers… has dropped onto the poor cat’s back and is apparently attempting to recreate the blood eagle in real time. I have realized that the cat has teleported and launch myself after her, just in time to fall flat on my face and be treated to the sight of a 8 r oz bird chasing the cat out from under the bed and out of his room.

Vaguely… as he flaps and struts in front of the door with all the jubilation of a Roman emperor celebrating a public triumph… I recall that I had started chasing the cat out of concern for my tiny, floofy cuddle bug; yet somehow I’ve face planted while trying to rescue the 10 pound cat from this ungodly creature of darkness intert on reviving a mythic fate worse than death.

None of which seems all that important after about 3 seconds of Tawarri’s victory dance when he suddenly makes eye contact with me still partially lodged beneath HIS bed…. My philosophical daze brought on by suddenly shifting neural connections processing this absurd reality immediately turns into a desperate scramble to make my face less accessible to the monster barreling toward me at speeds I didn’t even think the awkward bird body could reach! Pure instinct has kicked in and suddenly I’m feeling very vulnerable, much like prey.

Fun fact about me, I never really wanted a lip piercing, even in my rebellious teen years; I guess fate was not particularly interested in my opinions about holes in my face that weren’t stock.. Because I face planted again in my panic and failed to make a clean getaway. To Tawarri’s credit, his aim was immaculate! Perfect center of my lower lip and I really could have put a ring through that hole. If you’re going to have unplanned body modification, it does help if it’s symmetrically aligned. And because the Gods have a sense of humor in line with your average serial killer, I got about 4 months before his younger flock mate, Bella, decided to get in on the fun. Of course, as with many species who are sexually dimorphic, being the female of the species meant a whole new range of teenage shenanigans! You learn quick! But a warning would have been nice, just saying … And yeah, it stocked for awhile…

But hey, this is what I got when I pushed through…

[jewvian]

Wait. Hold on. So when Ellie said she had killed before, was she.... was she referring to Riley? Like fuck, she had that look on her face when Joel tried asking more about it, like she gave him the look/attitude he usually gives her whenever Tess is brought up, yknow?

Also we never really saw what went down at the mall after both Ellie and Riley decided to "lose their minds together", like we obviously know the outcome: Ellie survived because she's somehow immune and Riley... Riley most likely turned. But now, like after Ellie said the random dude wasn't her first kill, my mind goes straight to the mall and the aftermath of that one fateful night.

We know we're gonna get that flashback, it was briefly shown in the trailers. Maybe it'll even weave itself with the narrative of the game (Ellie taking care of injured Joel at the abandoned, snowy mall), but fuck me the fuck up, if we get the missing scene between what happened to Riley and how Ellie ended up being tied to a pipe at the fireflies place..... I'll lose my shit.

Because that was the catalyst for Ellie, like it's her own Tess moment. Joel went on that journey for Tess because she believed Ellie is the answer to how to stop the fungus, she's the cure they've been dreaming of in secret for 20 years. That's what Tess died for and she made sure Joel will take that responsibility for her sake.

And that's exactly what Riley is for Ellie, her death had a bigger meaning, a revelation of sorts. Every person that died around her became a part of that surviour's guilt, a reason why she needs to get to the fireflies' hospital and sacrifice herself for a cure. Riley was the first name on that list, arguably the most important name there, because it was her that made it possible. She took Ellie to the mall, she got the power on, she played around with her, put on the loud music that attracted the infected and... it was her that suggested they'll be poetic and wait it out. Her presence made it all possible! Like I'm not blaming Riley for what happened at the mall, but she was the one who initiated the plot in the game. But again, it's bigger than that. She could have killed Ellie, they both could have ended their lives right there and then. Maybe Riley dragged Ellie's ass to the mall and it's her fault they both got bitten, but y'all she also saved Ellie's life! She's the reason Ellie got to live and realize she's different, that she's immune.

Now imagine all of that guilt that was already presented to us in the game and add the possibility Ellie had to grab Riley's gun and shoot her herself after she turned.

"Back in Boston, back when I was bitten, I wasn't alone. My best friend was there and she got bit too. We didn't know what to do, so she says, 'let's just wait it out. Y'know, we can be all poetic and just lose our minds together.' I'm still waiting for my turn."

That is the catalyst that started the journey way before Joel even knew what was heading in his way, and if that's the direction the show is going, like letting us actually see Ellie's guilt is as big as Joel's... I'm already strapped in and waiting to launch myself to the sun.

[auntie-venom]

Will of Fate

Chapter Six

Fandom: Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Story Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Characters: Din Djarin x Original Female Character

Summary: There hasn’t been an unidentified spacecraft in the stratosphere of Arkadia in over two decades, let alone three in one day. Those skilled or mad enough to venture into the Chaos unguided were few and far between. That means no one has ever made it to Arkadia who wasn’t intending to be here.

Until today.

or

Din Djarin finds an unmapped planet filled with beings who have the same powers as the Child, but know nothing of the force or the Jedi.

Chapter Summary: Din, Eziriel, and the Child finally arrive at Helix.

Word Count - 4,297

Chapter Warnings: None

Will of Fate Masterlist

Read on Ao3

A/N: Sorry for the wait, real life hit me hard with family visiting from our home country, potential job leads, and social gatherings. While I have up until chapter ten written, I am trying to stay at least five chapters ahead while I post just in case I want to change stuff.

Also, have we decided as a community to just continue to use Din as his first name? Cause I can change it if we are gonna start going with Djarin.

Feedback and critique is welcome, I am trying to get better. Reminder this is unbeta-ed (Position Available :D). I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter six

Their impromptu stop set their arrival time back, according to Eziriel. She insists they stay longer until the treefolk completely clear out so she did not have to worry about crashing into one. So they end up spending nearly three hours chatting. She answers all his questions on Arkadia and the abilities of Wills as best as she can; Din tells her of some of the planets he’s been to and the more entertaining bounties he’s chased. He debates on telling her the story of how he and the child found each other, but she never asks.

After lunch, Eziriel spends the time teaching the impatient child how to weave crowns out of the treefolk flowers while they converse. Creating enough for all of them and then some. She uses her Will to place one to rest upon Din’s helmet and he almost shakes it off until the child reaches up to be lifted into Din’s arms and once he is there the child smiles at him and pats his helmet with his tiny hand. He then touches his own crown that was twisted around his ears to prevent it from falling off and chats up at Din expectantly. It made his heart twist in affection.

“Yeah, we match,” he says to the child, causing him to grin and give his helmet another pat, pat, pat. Din lets loose a soft chuckle at the childish joy.

He sees Eziriel, an identical crown of blue flowers resting atop her head and individual flowers woven throughout her copper braid, grin at them and activate her visor. She makes a gesture with her hand, smiles wider, and activates her bracer interface. She types away at something and suddenly a holo-image of perfect clarity showing Din and the child smiling up at him with their matching floral headpieces projects over her bracer’s interface. He’s never seen a holo-image that was this lifelike before. There were no rendering lines and he felt like he could almost reach out and touch the image itself. His awe over the advanced technology causes him to almost miss her predictable tease.

“You think your guild can use this as your bounty hunter profile image?” She asks with a shit-eating grin. “I’d hire you.”

That’s not how the guild works, but Din is learning it’s useless to use facts against her jests. She mentioned a brother and he wonders if she is the younger sibling. Her air of mischief and her pestering behavior is similar to some of the children he was raised with in the Tribe. They were always seeking to get reactions or attention from the older ones they bonded to which would always ultimately end up with the older child being reprimanded by an elder.

“I hope you have a lot of work, because you’d be the only one,” he says.

She snorts and she falls back into their previous discussion of her explaining Arkadia’s elective monarchy and the councils that make up the leaders of the planet. They never venture into any personal topics, keeping to just the light fact gathering between the two of them.

It’s an odd feeling to Din to have such normal interaction with another person where they aren’t looking at him like he is other. Usually the lore of the fierceness of Mandalorians keeps most people at a distance, and if that isn’t enough then his reputation as a ruthless bounty hunter will chase off the rest. He knows the image he strikes and the armor he wears puts a barrier, a separation, between him and the galaxy, it is the way. But it was sort of refreshing to see someone look at him so normally: no hesitation in looking at his eyeline, making lighthearted teases, a casual touch here and there, and just no cowering reaction to his intimidating presence.

Eziriel has no reservations at the mention of him being a bounty hunter. In his experience civilians were terrified or hated bounty hunters, but she asked questions like it was the most interesting job in the galaxy. Either she is very ignorant to the reality and perception of bounty hunters or she is just a morbidly curious person, Din doesn’t know which would be worse.

“Mother dearest,” the pretentious voice rang out from her bracer interrupting Din’s story of a Trandoshan who tried to hide from him by stripping naked and joining a livestock of adolescent varactyls in an attempt to blend in. The story had her giggling with mirth at the ridiculousness of it all and he watched as that joy morph into a dramatic eye roll.

“Yes, darling?” Viscous sarcasm rolls off her tongue.

“King Amarian would like to know if you intend to join him for dinner. He wishes to meet the Mandalorian.”

Din felt a spike of dread at the thought of the ruler of Arkadia wanting to see him. He isn’t technically supposed to be on this planet and he isn’t sure if his being here will be a problem. Eziriel has been so kind, but she could easily be manipulating him just to lead him to an easy slaughter.

Eziriel looks at him with concern before reaching out and patting him on the unarmored part of his inner elbow. She feels my emotions, kriff.

“We should be in Helix around nightfall. I plan to stay at The Pinnacle. Can’t really hide from him there,” she finishes with a shrug.

“You’d find a way, I’m sure,” the voice says before silence falls on them.

“Why does that person call you mother?” Din asks, remembering she claimed she wasn’t a parent.

“Not a person, they are an artificial intelligence,” she explains, engaging her bracer to bring up a holographic fractal cloud. “This is Central Helix Intelligence or CHI. I built them and they’ve shockingly developed a taste for sarcasm, hence the mother digs. Say ‘hello’ CHI.”

“Greetings, Mandalorian,” the fractals bobbed and spiked as the AI spoke. “I hope your stay is pleasant.”

Din stared at the hologram before giving a reluctant thanks after catching Eziriel’s encouraging eyes. After dismissing the AI she began repacking their stuff. Din slides his floral crown off his helmet, and at the whimpering pout of the child places it in one of his belt satchels instead of tossing it.

With the child securely back in his new favorite spot in her cloak they take off a final time towards the city Helix, while blue treefolk blooms dislodging from her hair trail in their wake.

════════════════════════════════════

The city of Helix sprawls across a valley sandwiched between wooded mountains and a glimmering lake. The outskirts are filled with farmlands and simple homesteads while a starport was placed far in the distance on the opposite end of the lake. The city itself consisted of overflowing nature juxtaposing with the modern buildings of towering rounded spires that were inlaid with gleaming silver metal. At the center is a spiraling building made up of three twisting spires with a beacon of light at the top where the points meet.

Din watches as the three moons rise in the dusky sky between the three twining spires of the central building and he realizes how much this city reminded him of old images of Alderaan. He had never been to the planet, most bounties don’t choose to hide in peaceful populations because that usually meant the security was tight, but the images always gave off the closest thing to a utopia the galaxy had. At least he thought so.

They make their way through the vivacious city towards that central triple spired building passing all sorts of sentient species enjoying the city. There were a few instances he saw those powers being used: a Twi’lek floating their shopping haul next to them while they wrangled their child, a shopkeeper packing his stand onto a cart while speaking to a customer, children playing some sort of game that involved launching soft balls at each other. It was already sort of unbelievable enough to see Eziriel use it so casually, but seeing a whole society do it makes Din feel like he is in a magical world surrounded by sorcerers. He tries his best to keep the overwhelming feeling deep in his chest.

Once close enough to the central building he feels her speak and a descending passageway opens up at the base of one of the spires. They glide down a ramp of a well lit underground speeder port and Eziriel parks against a wall opposite of a bank of turbolifts that lay against a curved wall in the center of the garage. She kills the engine and he watches as two armored figures carrying some sort of spear step out from a glass room from the opposite end of the garage. Din grips his blaster in anticipation, but Eziriel turns and waves at them with a smile, they stop and wave back with a yell of good-natured greeting before heading back into their room.

Before even dismounting the speeder he sees her take the child and gently floats him to the ground causing him to giggle all the way down. She kicks off and Din follows her lead in unloading the speeder bike. He tethers this child’s pram back to his vambrace and places the kid into it while she gathers one of her bags onto her back. She takes the larger duffel bag where she kept her tools and hooks the strap over him without warning.

“What am I, your personal bantha?” Din is almost amused at her audacity as he adjusts his hold on it, placing the strap across his chest so he can still draw his blaster. Eziriel has been kind and he wants to trust her, but she openly told him her people could manipulate others with powers and he doesn’t want to be caught unawares.

“You’re the prettiest bantha in all of Helix, Lori,” she says with a smile while she grabs the speeder’s two saddle bags. He tries not to sigh or bring attention to the obnoxious nickname she has chosen for him. She seems the type to use the name more if she knows how much it annoys him. Best to remain unaffected in hopes she gets bored with it.

“CHI-CHI, would you kindly?” She asks the AI as she leads them to one of the turbolifts that doesn’t have a call button. He watches as a light clicks on above the lift indicating its incoming arrival.

“It has control of the building?” Din asks.

“Mmmm,” she hums with a pinched face. “So not technically speaking.” The lift opens and they shuffle in before she continues, “Officially, CHI is only in our section of The Pinnacle. Which does include this elevator…” She pauses uncharacteristically and looks like she is debating with herself. She gives a deep breath before glancing up at Din under her lashes, almost bashfully.

“…but they have access to basically anything if it is connected to some sort of network.” He stares at her for a moment, taking in what she revealed and why she seems guilty.

“You created an infiltrating AI?” He asks, flabbergasted. This explains why she so easily got into his comms.

“Technically,” she starts with a pointed finger in the air. “I created an algorithm to speed up my codebreaking process. I just gave the algorithm a helpful personality and machine learning capabilities.” She shrugs and he gives her a head tilt of judgment. “They’ve got failsafes! CHI is family, has been for nearly fifteen years.”

“So it was the clever one slicing its way into my ship,” he can’t help the easy dig and she gives him a look of aghast.

“I am the clever one, thank you for the recognition, Mandalorian,” the voice of the AI rings from the speakers of the turbolift.

“You wouldn’t be clever if it weren’t for me,” she snarks. “All of your cleverness derived from me!”

“I think we hit a nerve, Mandalorian,” CHI says and Din lets out a chuckle and Eziriel whips her head at him with a grouchy face, but he sees a twinkle of amusement in her eye and he feels the corner of his mouth lift.

“Both of you can piss right off,” she mumbles with a dramatic pout.

The turbolift doors open to a modern foyer shaped into a crescent shape that curves with the wall they exit from. There is a set of double doors ahead of them and two single doors on either end of the arching foyer. He feels the large duffle bag he holds lift and he maneuvers it off of him as he watches it, along with one of the speeder’s saddle bags from her hand, float over to the door to the left and drop against it.

“That’s my workshop,” she gestures with her hand before doing the same to the other side. “That is the media-slash-recreation room.”

The doors in front of the turbolift slide open with a pneumatic hiss as she strides in. The room is minimalistic and almost sterile, which is not a style Din expected from her. The room focuses around a sunken conversation pit that features floor to ceiling windows that look out onto Helix and the forested mountains that were starting to emit their soft bioluminescent glow. She points out a refresher and a small office at the left of the room and the open modern kitchen to the right. Closer to the glass wall are two sets of doors on either side of the conversation pit.

She leads him to the one on the left and opens it, throwing her remaining bag onto the bed. The room is somewhat different from the rest of the space. It was decorated in warm jewel tones but still rather minimalistic.

“Your room is across the living room, come on.” She tilts her head in a command to follow. She shows him the opposite room from hers and it’s decorated in that sterile minimalistic style of the rest of the apartment. A large private refresher filled with both a shower and a large tub that could be switched between sonic or water. There is a balcony outside his room that seems to wrap around the entire floor that descends onto a well maintained high-rise garden.

“There are blackout shutters here,” she says pointing to a button. “Or you can ask CHI to do it. He isn’t listening all the time, so you have to catch his attention by saying ‘CHI-CHI’ before making your request. Feel free to anything in the apartment.”

He will not be interacting with this AI any more than he has to. It is too much like a droid and it unnerves him how much access it has to things.

“King Amarian says dinner is in an hour and a half,” the AI says over the apartment’s speaker system. “You both should probably wash up. You look a right mess, mother.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says in a nasally mocking tone and gives Din and the child a soft smile before departing for her room.

As soon as he engages his room’s lock he breathes a sigh of relief at the familiarity of the silent atmosphere of just him and the kid. The child sighs sadly at her leaving and sends him a questioning gurgle. Din might not have whatever power that lets her read his emotions but he doesn’t need it to understand him.

“She’ll be back. Let's get you a bath while we wait, sound good?” He asks the child picking him up from the pram and makes their way to the refresher.

════════════════════════════════════

After washing the child, Din is able to run both of their clothes through the sonic shower before taking the luxurious opportunity of a hot water shower. The kid plays on the bed while he washes the wilderness off of him. He checks on the purple bruising from the crash along his head and ribs, but is pleased that all the surface level abrasions were completely gone thanks to the bacta injection.

This is by far the nicest accommodations Din has ever stayed in. He’s worked a few jobs that have taken him to luxurious places like this, but he was always housed in a room meant for the help, never in a guestroom of this caliber. He wants to appreciate it, but a lifetime of being around the scum of the galaxy makes him wary of nice things. In Din’s experience there is always a caveat to niceties.

Thirty minutes before they are expected for dinner he is finishing placing his armor on in the refresher when there is a knock at their door. He hears the kid make an inquisitive noise before he hears the lock disengage and the door open.

“Hey—what? Oh no, little laddie. You should not open the door without your papa’s permission. It isn’t just your space you are inviting me into,” she says with a gentle chastising voice, muffled from the door. His heart lightens, as it always does, at being called the boy’s father.

“That is a wise lesson, kid,” he says as he opens the refresher door and steps out to see her squatting at the threshold of the doorway talking to the kid with a covered tray in her arms. She looks at him and stands up with a smile.

Din is somewhat taken aback at seeing her cleaned and in better fitting clothing. Her copper hair was out of the warrior braid and lay freely around her in thick locks of curls that frame her face and make her warm blue eyes stand out brightly. She wears a mint green jumpsuit with delicate gold beading and fluttering sleeves that almost gives her the illusion of being taller than she actually is, but the illusion is shattered when she moves towards him and has to tilt her head up to look at him.

“I had the chef send down a meal early so you can eat in privacy but still join us for dinner,” she says, setting the tray on a dresser. His chest warms at the thoughtfulness of this woman and he has a fleeting urge to reach out and touch her in gratitude.

But he doesn’t.

“That is very kind. Thank you,” he says with a respectful dip of his head.

“I brought some of my niece’s toys from the recreation room. I can have CHI patch the audio of your room and the living room so you can make sure he and I don’t get into any shenanigans,” she offers with a smirk and reaching down to tickle the boy. He giggles and tries to dodge her as he runs out into the living room. Eziriel waits there waiting for Din’s approval.

“Are shenanigans something I should worry about?” He asks after giving her a nod of approval.

“Always,” she says with that mischievous smirk and gives CHI the command before backing out of the room.

Once the door’s lock was engaged he lifted the lid off the platter to reveal a spiced roasted avian in a bed of colorful leafy vegetables with a slice of crispy bread on the edge of the plate. There was even a bottle of an ale and a dessert that appeared to be a tartlet made of some sort of violet berry. It had been a long time since Din had a warm well-cooked meal and this smells delicious.

Instead of his usually fast paced eating habits, Din takes his time savoring the flavors of the meal. While he enjoys his meal he listens to Eziriel and the child giggling while playing some sort of game that involves making something crash noisily to the floor followed by cheering. There is a feeling in his chest he doesn’t want to acknowledge at the peaceful scene he is taking part in, so he buries it and cleans up his mess when he finishes.

Stepping into the living space he watches as Eziriel uses her Will to stack colorful cylinders into a pyramid on the floor before holding out a small ball to the child. The kid takes the ball and throws it with all his might into the pyramid and then celebrates as it crumbles to the floor. The child looks up at Din and points at what he did.

“I see that. I hope this destructive game doesn’t make an unsanctioned appearance on the Crest,” he says at the smiling kid before meeting Eziriel’s eyes. “Thank you for the meal, it was good.”

“I didn’t make it, that is all Malka,” she says standing up. “But I’m glad you liked it.”

“So what should I expect from dining with royalty? Are there specific customs I need to adhere to?” Din asks.

She looks up at him with wide eyes and a tight serious mouth and nods. “You have to bow. The lower the more reverence, usually.”

Din gives her a nod and gathers the kid to make their way to the turbolift. He’s met important figures before: lords, politicians, and even royalty, but it always put him in a better relationship with them if he followed their customs as closely as his creed allowed. Respect earns respect, he’s found.

The turbolift only takes them one floor up and when the doors open they are greeted by an older half-robed half-armored muscular Twi’lek man. His red eyes surrounded by violet skin scans Din’s form, stalling at the holstered blaster before tilting his head at Eziriel with a raised brow.

“Don’t look so happy to see me, Rajesh,” she says sarcastically.

“It’s been so peaceful these last few weeks and here you come walking in with an armed offworlder Mandalorian you found in the woods?” The man responds flatly.

“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow Raj,” she explains with a grin.

“King Amarian says you vetted him?”

“Yup, he’s been completely truthful with everything he has told me.” Din can tell that she words that intentionally and he is reminded of the questions he would only answer with silence and her respecting the privacy of it. She never prodded verbally, but he now knows that she has read his emotions since the beginning and he can’t necessarily blame her.

“We will still be stationed outside,” Rajesh says, looking at Din directly before stepping out of the way for Eziriel to lead them to the next room.

These rooms were similar in her modern quarters, but with the added flair of royal presentation. Lots of art and family emblems were draped on the walls. Eziriel leads them down the hallway and enters a formal dining hall where a figure was waiting.

The tall man has warm black skin and stands with hands clasped behind him in regal wait. The shorn sides of his head have swirling designs shaved into it and the longer dreadlocks on top were pulled into a knot with golden beads donning the ends. He has the same pointed ears that Eziriel has and Din notes to himself that this could be a native Arkadian trait. A scar through his eyebrow doesn’t take away from his kind face, but draws attention to his honey brown eyes. Billowing blue robes wrap around his body leaving the deep v of his chest exposed where a golden emblem rests from the end of a necklace. The only other jewelry he wears is a single teardrop blue gem hanging from his left ear.

“May I present His Majesty, almighty King Amarian, protector of the Soul of the Galaxy,” Eziriel says with a powerful voice before spreading her arms out wide and lowering herself into a lunging curtsey.

Din follows her lead and bows at his hips just enough to show respect with the kid tucked under his arms. With his head bowed he sees out of the corner of his eye Eziriel’s foot be pulled by an invisible force into the air and she goes crashing to her side onto the floor with a yelp. Din catches himself before he goes to the blaster instinctively, not wanting to anger royalty further.

Then he hears Eziriel’s mirthful cackle from the ground.

“No, please Mandalorian, do not bow. That is not something we do in Arkadia,” a bassy voice says as he sees the man’s dark hand reach out to him almost like he is trying to pull Din out of his bow. Din straightens up and can feel his neck heat in embarrassment. He sees King Amarian smile gently at him before a look of annoyance comes across his face as he looks at the still giggling Eziriel. “You have not been missed, Ziri.''

“That is a lie and you know it, Amar,” she says with a bright smile of fondness. She pushes herself up and King Amarian pulls her into a hug. She looks at Din when she pulls away and gives him a shit-eating grin. “Mando, this is my brother Amarian. Amarian, this is Mando”

Younger sibling behavior, indeed, Din thinks.

“Thank you for allowing us here despite the circumstances, King Amarian,” Din says respectfully.

“Olarom,“ he greets in Mando’a, to Din’s surprise. “And please, I am Amarian when we are not in court,” he says with an offered hand that meets in a firm shake. “Come, I am looking forward to hearing what brought you to Arkadia.”

Amarian moves towards the dining room table with a tilt of his head as a request to join him. Eziriel goes to join him at the table but Din grabs her arm. She looks up at him with a smile and Din reaches out and points at Eziriel’s face.

“You are a menace,” he growls with a light level of annoyance.

Her smile only grows wider.

Translations:

Olarom = Welcome

<<  Chapter Five

Chapter Seven >>

[sketchyelvenasss]

7, 15, 18, and 21 for Aerika or 2, 5, and 10 for Rexander for the Tav ask game please!!

Thank you for the ask ❤️! I don’t get very many so I’ll just do both. Also I read “or” as “and” first time round anyways lol (Rexander’s answers have near endgame Durge spoilers)

Aerika

7. Did your Tav travel a lot pre-tadpole?

He did! Specifically to the Underdark in search of magic items that were either lost in the dark or in the hands of those that meant to harm others with them. If he can he brings them back to the monastery where he became a cleric on the surface. Thanks to him they have a collection and have opened a museum of sorts to the public.

After the events of bg3 he will eventually return to his expeditions, despite some protesting from Gale. Even though his view of Mystra had been somewhat tarnished he still felt the passion to find, protect, and preserve magic.

15. Do they have any sentimental items?

-Aerika has a few. The first are his parents’ wedding rings. When he was still under a century old— he’s mid 200s now for reference—they were murdered by lolth-sworn raiders, he was captured and probably fated to become a slave when a cleric saved him by killing his captors. Before retreating to the surface with her they buried his parents and he took their rings as momentos.

-His wedding/ engagement band from Gale. They get engaged sometime before the reunion party bc they both knew they’d eventually be married. But Gale really wanted to take the time to do the proper things now that it was far less likely that either of them would die anytime soon.

-When Aerika starts adventuring again Gale gifts him with a smooth and polished amethyst sending stone so they could still communicate.

18. What did they want to be when they were younger? 21. What kind of education did your Tav have?

I’m gonna put these two together bc they work together.

Aerika wanted to be a wizard! But his parents were farmers with little disposable income. Still they loved him and did their best to nurture his passion with books. He didn’t receive any formal training or study until he decided to become a cleric of Mystra.

He believes it was fate to be saved by one of her clerics, and felt it would honor her and still allow him to channel the weave albeit in a different way than he originally thought he would.

The story below kinda covers these with how Aerika feels about them + Galemance fluff

Rexander

2. Does your Tav have any siblings? Are they close?

That is one of the things he still can’t remember. He can’t even remember who his mother was or if he even had one.

The closest you could call family for him were Sarevok and Orin and they are both dead by his hand so…

Rexander is a little grateful that Orin usurped him because he appreciates who he has become since escaping the nautaloid. His brain may be in shambles but at least it is all his own now.

5. Is your Tav religious? Were they raised that way?

Not anymore! As time went on after the tadpole died his memories began to steadily return. And he hates them, hates who he was. Rex, King of Murder was a devout follower of Bhaal leading the cult by example of heinous blood soaked murder—striving to be his father’s chosen and deliver Faerun to him in offering.

Now he doesn’t care who someone lights a candle for unless they come after him or his loved ones.

10. Was your Tav in a relationship? How did it end?

Pre-tadpole he did have a relationship with Gortash, but to him it wasn’t as important as his devotion to Bhaal and Rex had plans to murder him after they had conquered the world together— a revelation that comes to Rexander only as he’s standing over his corpse, but with the intent to save faerun.

I totally think it was a bit awkward to slowly remember their past relationship with Astarion standing right next to him. Although the elf means so much more to him than Gortash ever did. Astarion definitely says something to the effect of “glad to see you’ve upped your standards.”

[silenthowls]

sowon ,

( ... ) sowon only perks up once yohan declares his intention. crossing her arms she stands up straight and smiles in an incredulous way. "how do you suppose you're going to stop it?" she asks carefully, genuinely curious to hear his plan. "like do you plan to put a stop to the whole ritual? because between yoojin, sunyoung, and wonbin who honestly is probably waiting for this ritual to turn sideways just to fuck over sunyoung i think you're in for an uphill battle, sisyphus."

"I don't know. I'll think of something," the lighter clicks closed a final time before he decides to pocket it. "I always do, don't I? Just like how I'm always right, huh?" Among the sarcasm is a clear hint of uncertainty.

Yohan had always been a man among gods. He is, perhaps, too aware of the muddied blood weaving around the sinew beneath his skin; that would never match the highly sought after pedigree of his peers. Fool's gold to a shimmering, pure bar would never quite compare.

However, when it came to proving himself otherwise, he could often not see over the ledge of his own hubris. True enough, he would be fated to push a bolder up an impossible hill and never see the tip of Tartarus to climb his way out. Herein lies the true measure of his determination. He always was meant to prove himself, even to those who held a better understanding than most.

His head hangs low enough to touch chin to sternum. Tired — he often grows so tired of needing to correct, to fix, to fight his way out of things. A sigh falls from him once more, and he feels compelled to do so a dozen more times coupled with low growls of frustration. Instead, his eyes briefly close in an attempt to calm the tendrils from coiling around his head.

Yohan rises to his feet, fists clenched within the depths of his pockets. He can hear a fuss inside the building, voices that indicate it is time for them to gather soon. "Looks like we're gonna be heading down in a bit. Better get the stuff you need before they leave without you, huh?" He steps past toward the door, stopping only to glance her way once more.

"Sowon. You trust my judgement, right? You trust me?"

[the-broken-truth]

So I read a lot about Pandora and some Greek myths and I got very curious.

Can I have yandere yandere Greek gods (arse Poseidon Zeus Hades Hera Aphrodite and Athena) x human child Reader please

Like how they found a human child and how they take care of her and take her as ther own

Broken Truth (Laying on the sofa with swirls on her eyes): Why so many...?

Mask: Just relax, I'll do this one.

Broken Truth: Thanks, Mask.

Mask: Let the words weave together.

Zeus + Hera (King and Queen of Olympus)

Having you was Hera's Idea, she was sick of looking at her husband and his bastards that she decided to venture into the mortal world to see what she could see and she stumbled upon a small house where a single mother lived with her child - the most lovely and kind child she had ever see; she knew that she had to have them for herself and she wasn't gonna let anyone or anything keep her away from them. Every day, Hera would hide in plain sight to watch the child work in the fields with their mother and she wasn't pleased with how close the child was to their mother, it was going to be hard to separate them and bring them to Olympus. When Zeus got curious about his wife's actions, he offered to get rid of the mother and deliver the child the Hera in exchange for her forgiveness and she agreed. One day, the child's mother was attacked and killed by a lion and Zeus came down to collect the child and delivered them to Hera, who hugged the child and shushed their cries for their mother, saying that she was going to be their new mother and everything was going to be alright.

Poseidon (Gods of the Seas)

Poseidon and Amphitrite were upset that the fates haven't blessed them with a child yet and this caused the king of the seas to take the form of a dolphin and explore the land above; there upon the beach of a child with eyes as blue as his own and sun-kissed skin just like his wife's - this child was the perfect blend of both of them. That's when Poseidon knew the fates had answered their prayers - this mortal child was meant to be theirs. First, they took the father - he was a fisherman and they created a massive storm that swept the father away in the seas, never to be seen again. Then, the mother followed him - without her husband, she ventured into the wilds to find herself and was torn apart by the beasts of the forest; leaving the child all alone. Posiedon came before the child and introduced himself before taking the child to the undersea kingdom where the child met the queen and their new mother and father. The child wasn't for it but they didn't have a choice - Poseidon and Amphitrite weren't going to lose their child.

Hades (God of the Underworld)

While he and his wife - Persephone - had a child, they wanted something more - a new child that they could groom and make not a Prince or Princess of the Underworld. Hades was looking through the orb before him to see if he could find a child with his characteristics and Persephone's heart but he couldn't find them in the city, so he looked in the countryside and found the one he was looking for - a child with back hair and fair skin but there was no sight of parents; was this child living alone? Hades went to the world of mortals in the form of a hound and befriended the child, listening to the grief and anger towards the parents that abandoned them; Hades wiped the tears away and slept with the child in his canine body and he would move his plan forward. While the child was sleeping, Hades dragged the child's soul to the Underworld after giving them poisoned water, allowing them to die in their sleep for that was the only way to bring them to the underworld. When the child awoke in the underworld before the King and Queen, they announced they were going to be their new family and nothing would take them away from them.

Aphrodite (Goddess of Love)

Being the Goddess of Love made Aphrodite feel powerful but she felt like she was missing something - something that her mate, Ares, or her husband, Hephaestus, could give her - a beautiful child. She looked in the mortal realm and found a child with [hair length] golden hair and [eye color] eyes praying at the shrine for love and acceptance; this child was lovely, their voice was heavenly, and their looks...they were beautiful/handsome. Everything about this child was perfect and she was going to have them. During the prayer, the goddess herself appeared before the child and offered them the love and acceptance they wished for in exchange for their loyalty as her child; considering they had no family that loved them, they accepted her offer. Aphrodite walked them to the realm of the gods and raised them as her own - to be an image of beauty and love, just like their momma.

Athena (Goddess of 'War')

Athena was known as the Goddess of War - a rival to her brother Ares, the official God of War - because some people approved of her tactics rather than Ares but she was the Goddess of Wisdom and she knew what she wanted and how to get it - and she wanted a child, an heir to raise and possibly take her mantle if they proved to be strong enough. She looked for an orphan that had no ties to the mortal realm and found one that had the spirit of a warrior, surviving on everything they had and the wits. When Athena appeared before them, the child refused her offer to take them up as her child and that made Athena want them even more. She tampered with their hunts, with their training, with their crafts, and everything until the child called upon her and agreed with her terms. Athena took them to her realm and raised them to be a warrior to rival Ares himself. Her warrior. Her heir. Her CHILD.

[annabelle--cane]

I mentioned wanting to make a post like this a few weeks ago and then forgot, so have this absolute behemoth to make up for lost time: let's talk martin and defensive rejection of choice.

the short of it is that while martin obviously wants control and agency over his life, the first few times he makes big moves to actively take that control, they blow up in his face by either doing nothing or leading to something worse, and that makes him afraid of being responsible for doing anything wrong in the future. it doesn't quite scare him away from taking any control of his life at all, it's a bit more complicated than that, but much of his arc in s5 involves him progressing from trying to influence jon's decision making while rejecting any choice given directly to him to making three big choices in the last half dozen episodes that seal his (and everyone else's) fate.

the long of it is, uh. Long. without counting transcript exerpts this is about 1.3k, so if you want to hear my reasoning for saying the above you might wanna strap in.

for most of the first three seasons, we don't see martin making a lot of choices, he mainly just tries to keep things stable. he gets displaced from his flat? okay, cool, move into the archives and carry on like normal. the archives get attacked and everyone deteriorates afterwards? okay, cool, try and keep jon from burning himself out, listen to tim vent so he doesn't start running himself ragged either, don't shake things up too much by forcing anything. elias is a magic murderer and everyone's trapped? okay, cool, just read statements, keep an eye out for the others, keep everything together.

we can extrapolate where this tendency towards maintaining stability comes from; he's had a very precarious life where a lot of his options have been taken away by poverty and abuse, it's probably always been too dangerous for him to try and make big leaps to change his situations. this is in contrast to jon, whose gut reaction to most problems is to take the option that lets him (often literally) throw himself at it as soon as possible.

as a turning point in mag 117, we get martin talking about his plan to trick elias and get him arrested.

I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be safe, like my plan’s not dangerous, but it’s, it’s mine. This last couple of years, I’ve always been running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but, but now it’s my trap, and, well, I think it’ll work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but it felt good, weaving my own little web.

[...]

Anyway, I guess I’m just sick of sitting on my hands drinking tea and hoping everyone’s okay. This way, I finally get to do something. It’s gonna hurt, but I’m ready. And I want to. Also, I get to burn some stuff, so that’s cool! I just really hope everyone makes it back.

he's sick of not being an active agent. maintaining stability hasn't gotten him anywhere, he knows how he wants things to change and how he can make it happen, and he's now willing to do it. it's a similar moment to one basira has in this same episode, she also talks about having previously been resigning herself to the situation and now being ready to push back against it, but where her arc continues on from this point of deciding to make choices to eventually being about what kind of choices she makes, martin's stalls a bit and never quite gets to that stage.

he goes through with his plan for elias, and it works without a hitch. it deals him quite a lot of hurt, but he planned for and expected that. elias goes right off to prison, sent down by the evidence martin and melanie stole.

and it doesn't do anything to help anyone.

tim, jon, and daisy die. one monster boss is replaced with a new monster boss. melanie gets more volatile. basira gets more paranoid. his mother dies. the archives get attacked. martin played his hand, got hurt in the process, and got absolutely nothing from it.

here we see another pattern starting to form. in mag 158, when he talks about why he joined with peter, he says that he told himself it was just to protect the others and didn't confront his real, personal motivations. in mag 154, he at first tries refusing jon by saying he wants to see through his plan with peter, but when jon presses it he switches to saying "I won't because you don't really mean it, this is a bluff so you have a reason to not do it and you wouldn't even if I agreed." here, martin starts taking decisions he wants to make, acting on them, and coming up with reasons for why it was never actually his choice to go with them, taking the responsibility for his choices off of himself and putting it on to others.

but we then get mag 158 and his big heel turn of rejecting peter's plan! and it works! and then the world ends as a direct result of that choice! luckily, we don't have to wonder how he felt about this, 'cause he talks about it directly in mag 186:

ALSO MARTIN: You feel guilty about everything. [...] The end of the entire world?

MARTIN: If I’d done what Peter had asked… If I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…

ALSO MARTIN: Really? Really? That’s how you’re choosing to remember it? Chickening out?

MARTIN: I remember it was the wrong choice.

the big ritual happens and he feels like his choice, the first "proper choice" he made in a while, was wrong enough that the the end of the world is on his shoulders. as a result, we then see him defaulting back to some old habits of trying to be a comforting, stable presence while jon's having a time of it in the cabin, with any decisions of what they do still ultimately up to jon. after this, though, things start to get a bit weirder.

he pushes for jon to start killing avatars; he pushes for jon to specifically kill oliver banks; when jon gives him the choice between walking into the burning building to kill jude perry or going around, martin outright rejects choosing either; he pleads with jon to do something in callum brodie's domain; he goes silent when jon directly asks him what he should do.

because martin doesn't like not actually having any agency, because of course not, no one likes that, especially no one in this kind of environment. what he said in mag 117 still holds true, he's long since had enough of being reactive and neutral. what martin really doesn't like is feeling responsible for anything. if the choice is jon's, then he'll make his thoughts crystal clear and try to guide him towards an decision, but the second it's put on him, he'll outright reject it. at this point, martin's ideal way of functioning would be never having to personally put anything into action while jon makes every decision in the way he wants.

he chills on this after jon stops the murder spree, but he still doesn't have much cause to make choices for a while until he's told his domain's coming up. he watches the whole thing with jon and jordan kennedy, and that seems to strike something in him, because the next time there's a choice to be made, he makes it. when the time comes for them to save or doom another victim in a domain, martin decides that if the inspector would like being a torturer, then they should leave him, and that is exactly the bit of development that lets him into his domain. the main point of mag 186 is letting martin get used to the idea that his avoiding decisions is a problem and something that he can't keep up.

MARTIN: I don’t know, all right? I don’t know.

ALSO MARTIN: And that’s okay for now, but I just want us to have thought about this stuff properly before it comes up. Because even if that’s not it, chances are it’ll be something else you don’t want to do, and we need to make a proper choice. We can’t just react out of shame or fear or whatever.

MARTIN: What, like with Peter and Elias?

ALSO MARTIN: Yes.

MARTIN: That was a proper choice?! I chose wrong!

ALSO MARTIN: But you made a decision. Your own decision. Regardless of the outcome.

it's a big turning point for him in a lot of ways, this is also the first time he actually considers the idea that he might have to kill jon, but it also sets him up to close this last part of his arc. in the final stretch of episodes, he makes three big choices:

he follows annabelle when she turns up and says she has a way to turn the world back.

he agrees with melanie, georgie, and basira over jon and decides to go with the plan of passing on the fears.

he believes in that decision enough that he predicts and plans around jon's lying and sends the others to light the gas main early.

all of which contribute to sealing the events of the finale. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[mercy-burning]

Heatwave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: The air conditioning is out at the BAU, so things get very hot—in more ways than one. Category: Smut 18+ (penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie / minor breeding kink, sex in an elevator) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST

***

"Oh, fuck, that's it!"

The exclamation nearly knocked Spencer off his feet. He would know her voice anywhere, so he didn't have to look to know that it was Y/N, but he looked anyway, sure enough spotting her on the opposite end of the bullpen, sorting through files at her desk.

If Hotch was any closer, he would have given her a warning look to signal his distaste for her swearing in the office, but his door was shut while he talked with someone so it never came.

"Wha—what did you find?" Spencer got out after clearing his throat to compose himself. It was bad enough he had already been distracted by her before, thinking about what it would be like to feel her hands weaved through his hair as she kissed him, but then she had to say that sentence of all things, slightly enhancing the fantasy.

It also didn't help that the air conditioning in the building was currently out, and in the middle of August. So when he looked up, he saw a low-cut, baby pink tank top with lace detailing on the hem, and a pulled-up hairdo that perfectly exposed her neck, which was currently glistening in a thin sheen of sweat. The way she leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed under a loose, knee-length floral skirt as she mulled over her file was giving him too many bad ideas, and it was a wonder he hadn't been caught or called out yet—everyone could always tell when he was thinking or off in his own world.

"Oh," Y/N said, briefly craning her head to meet his eyes. It took everything he had not to shudder when their gazes finally met. "I just misplaced one of my files, that's all. I was afraid I'd lost it. But it's right here," she said with a nervous laugh. "I didn't... bother you did I?"

"Oh! N—no, you didn't bother me at all, I... I was just wondering, that's all. I—I'm glad you found your file." He hated that he stumbled over his words, but when she looked at him like that, that sickeningly sweet kindness in her eyes that never wavered when she talked to him, he couldn't help it. She was easily the most intimidatingly angelic presence he'd ever met, in every capacity possible.

Even as she quickly frowned and shifted slightly in her chair, her eyes didn't lose that sparkle. But it was still evident that she was uncomfortable, so Spencer spoke again. "Are you okay?"

She set the file down on her desk and sat up straighter, bringing her back up off the chair as she uncrossed her legs. "Yeah, I'm fine, it's just the heat. I hate it. I'm definitely more of a cold, rainy day-type of girl, I guess."

Odd, considering you're just about the warmest soul I've ever met, he thought. Even as she talked about her distaste for the heat, she kept her voice light and her eyes kind.

"Hmm," is all he said, shortly and barely loud enough for her to hear.

The rest of the day seemed to pass by rather quickly, which Spencer was thankful for; the longer the day moved forward, the hotter it got, and it proved to be more distracting than he wanted to admit.

But soon he would be able to go home and take a cold shower, for one thing to cool off, but for another to relieve some of this feeling Y/N had been making him feel. He tried really hard throughout the day not to look at her, but he always found himself drawn to her anyway, and each time it happened he thought of dirtier and dirtier things, scenarios that he was positive could only happen in his wildest dreams.

But as usual, things didn't seem to work in his favor today. Just as he and Y/N were about to get onto the elevator, Hotch walked by, calling to them. "Sorry to ask you guys of this, but could you stay another hour or two? There are more files I need to get sorted, and I know it's hot, so I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it would be helpful if I had an extra set of hands."

Two more hours at most, he could manage that, right? And at least he'd have more files to keep him occupied, something to focus on.

Hotch sent them to the file room with a list of the files he needed, and then it was just the two of them, stepping onto the elevator and sealing their fate.

It wasn't four seconds after the elevator started moving that it stopped and the lights inside dimmed red.

"Wait, what's happening?" Y/N asked, slightly panicked.

Spencer was just as puzzled. "I... I'm not sure. Maybe it has something to do with the heat?"

About a minute passed before she sighed, shoving her phone in her bag. "Yeah. Just got a text from Garcia, the power in the building shut down so they could fix the air conditioning. It's gonna take like a half hour."

"A—A half hour? Really?" He tried not to show how nervous it made him, but truthfully he didn't think it would work.

Y/N sighed. "Yeah... It's... fine, though, I mean, maybe someone will try to get us out."

"But we're in between two floors..."

Another sigh. "And it's hot as hell in here. Great... So much for going home early."

Spencer snuck a glance over at her, almost immediately regretting it when he looked her over. Under the deep red glow of the emergency lights, she looked absolutely sinful. Her bag was dropped on the ground and she leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and pushing up her breasts. Her head was leaned back and her eyes closed as she took deep breaths, no doubt trying to stay as calm as one could be in this situation. He noticed every breath she took, her chest rising and falling and her skin glowing. And in that moment he embarrassingly felt something stir in his lower stomach, only made worse by the fact that it was, as she'd phrased it, 'hot as hell' in the elevator. He was hot and practically squirming as he stood there, ogling Y/N like she was the only woman he'd ever seen before.

As if it couldn't get any worse, she opened her eyes quickly and caught him staring at her chest. He didn't seem to notice because, well, his eyes were elsewhere, so she closed them once more and smirked to herself for the briefest of seconds, an idea striking her brain like a match.

She brought her arms to slowly un-cross and stretch outwards to her sides, arching her back and puffing out her chest as she gripped the rail of the elevator. The moment she opened her eyes, she saw that Spencer's head was directed pointedly to the floor. She smiled a little, keeping her arms stretched out across the rail as she took him in.

The first thing she took notice of was how his hair stuck to his face, wavy and damp with sweat. His fingers tapped against his legs, and that's what she looked at the longest. Every time his middle finger tapped the outside of his thigh, she imagined that he was doing it to her clit, and she could practically feel it throb to the slow, steady beat of his finger. Her hands gripped the rail tighter and she crossed her legs, contemplating whether or not she should take advantage of this moment to finally do something about this tension she'd been feeling between them for the past year and a half.

The truth is, she'd always had a crush on him since they started working together. But when she started her job at the BAU, he was... a little odd. Every time she would join in conversation, he'd made it a point to look almost inconvenienced by her presence. At first she had to wonder if maybe he just didn't like her. And if that was the case, she didn't want to make it worse by asking him about it, so she left it alone. But then she noticed how he was like that with everyone, and then over time he seemed to get better. Eventually he warmed up to her and the two of them became fast friends. He'd quickly transformed from a guy who always seemed annoyed with everyone and into the adorably shy, brilliant man everyone had told her he was when she first got the job.

Now there had been almost two years' worth of a different kind of tension between them, and in this moment in the elevator, Y/N wanted to do something about it. Or at least try.

She thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to bring it up. Should she be straightforward? You know, flat-out tell him that she's liked him for a long time and wanted to kiss his face off? Or did she want to have more fun with it? Because she admittedly loved seeing him get flustered every time he noticed her noticing him staring at her, but if he really didn't feel the same way, she didn't want to come on too strong and ruin this thing they'd built.

Ultimately, Y/N decided to try a little of both.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention. "Hey, Spence?"

When he looked up at her, his stomach flipped again. Fuck, she was just so breathtaking, her arms spread and her legs crossed like she was the queen of the elevator and he was trespassing just by being there. Her chin was tilted upwards, exposing more of her neck, and it almost made him fall over. "Y—Yeah?" he stammered quietly, trying and failing to sound calm.

"What should we do to pass the time? I'm bored."

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn he she was suggesting they— No. There was no way. He'd been a total jerk to her when they first met, and even though they were much friendlier now, Spencer wasn't sure she could ever want to do anything like that with him.

Right?

"Um... I—I don't know. Your phone works, doesn't it? Do you, um... Do you have anything you could do there?"

She shrugged, tilting her head to the side. "Battery's almost dead, and I want to save it in case something happens and we get stuck in here for longer than thirty minutes... I was thinking, actually... We haven't really gotten to know each other that well, and maybe would play... like 20 Questions or something."

"Oh..." He swallowed, shifting on his feet and blinking. "Well, um... W—what do you want to know?"

"Hmm... Favorite color?" She knew it was purple, but she wanted to hear him talk. Get him comfortable.

"Purple. What's yours?"

She leaned forward off the rail a little, and Spencer swallowed again, suddenly feeling a burst of warmth through his body.

"Light pink," Y/N said softly, "like so light that it's almost white."

He glanced down at her chest again, only for a moment to take in her shirt, which he'd remembered was the same color.

She continued. "What's your favorite snack food?"

"Pretzels."

"Me, too. Hmm... Favorite candle scent?"

"Peppermint."

"Spearmint. Favorite Star Wars movie?"

"Return of the Jedi."

"A New Hope. Favorite sex position?"

"Doggy."

She didn't say another word.

He wasn't even aware of the situation until about five seconds later, when she raised an eyebrow at him and his whole world came crumbling down.

As he visibly struggled to find words, Y/N only continued in conversation. "That surprises me. I would have thought you'd be more of a cowgirl guy."

If the way her voice sounded when she talked to him was the handle, then the way her eyes bore into his own was the blade, both of them coming together to create the weapon that would be his ultimate demise. The only thing missing was that twist of the blade, the one that would make sure he was gone for good, and the moment she leaned completely off the railing and took a small step towards him, he realized that final ingredient was her touch. If she touched him, he was done for.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what mine is? That's how the game works."

There's no way she wasn't flirting with him... Right? He was never good at picking up on those kinds of things, but she was being so obvious about it, stepping closer and closer to him with her chest puffed out and her head tilted to the side to reveal her neck. She was inviting him in, right? Especially after asking him to ask her that question.

That question...

Right.

"Um..." Spencer swallowed before speaking, his voice barely discernible. "What's... y—your favorite sex position?"

"Doggy. Especially standing up," she said with what was most definitely a flirty smile. "Looks like you and I have quite a bit in common."

"Y—yeah, I guess we... do..."

By now she had him backed against the other side of the elevator, and as soon as he felt his back hit the rail, he swallowed again, bringing his hand up to the collar of his shirt to relieve some of the heat he was feeling.

It didn't work, unsurprisingly.

"Look, if... If I'm overstepping, you should tell me. But I've liked you for a long time, and I feel like I'd be dumb to waste the perfect opportunity to tell you... So... The elevator probably won't be fixed for another twenty minutes at least, and since we're already on the subject... Maybe we should find another way to pass the time?"

Spencer noticed that she was careful not to actually touch him unless he gave her the go-ahead, and if anything it made him want her even more. She was giving him an out, and he knew that if he told her 'no', she wouldn't push it.

But here she was, in all her beautiful, radiant glory, practically inviting him to indulge in some of his biggest fantasies, and he would have to be brain-dead to pass that up. Even if he was a little nervous.

He tried to give her permission in a way that didn't make himself come off as some obsessed admirer, a shaky, breathy laugh exhaling from his throat before he spoke. "Well, it's already hot as hell in here, so... What's a little more heat?"

At first he regretted saying it, scared it was stupid and most definitely a mood-killer, but the way she practically lunged at him completely washed away all the worries written in the sand. And when her body pressed firmly against his, her lips coming to capture his in the most burning kiss he'd ever had, the waves crashed even stronger, loud with searing desire as warm as the August sun.

Immediately he brought his hands to cradle her face, loving the way he almost engulfed her with their size. He moved his lips against hers eagerly as her hands worked at unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. She only got the first few done before pulling away, and despite the heat, Spencer felt cold without her pressed up against him.

It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, but when she suddenly turned them both around and bent forward, leaning out to grab the rail, he felt warm again.

She turned her head around to look at him with a smile through a bit bottom lip as she reached one of her hands under her skirt and slowly pulled her panties down. Almost as soon as they hit the floor, pooling around her ankles, she lifted the skirt up and revealed herself to him, slowly running her fingers through her pussy.

"It's all yours, Doctor Reid," she said lowly, spreading her legs as far as they could go with her panties still confining her ankles.

He hadn't even realized he'd undone his pants until they were at his feet and his dick was in his hand. How had she managed to have that great of an affect on him?

He promptly decided he didn't care how, as he stepped forward and brought himself up to her ass and ran the head of his cock through her pussy, briefly meeting her fingers as he did so. "Are you sure?" he asked. Because once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. He already lost his mind just being in her presence, but being this close to her, fucking her in a broken elevator would surely hinder his ability to think about anything rationally, let alone at all.

"Fuck me, please," she all but begged, pushing herself back a little to encourage him. Either that or she was just desperate, though there was a good chance it was both.

In any case, that was all he needed, the trigger that set him off, and within seconds he was plunged deep inside her, the both of them softly moaning out at how it felt.

Spencer set a steady pace, his hands firmly gripping her waist as she pushed back to meet his every move. Each thrust forward was another twist of the blade that sealed his fate, only made more brutal by the pure filth that dripped from Y/N's lips, a symphony of long, drawn out moans and curses that sounded just as loving as they did pornographic.

When she bent forward even more, so much that he could see her hands outstretched on the rail, it gave him the deepest angle he could possibly be at, and she clenched herself around him, calling out his name.

"Fuck, Y/N, keep doing that," Spencer breathed out, shutting his eyes at the sensation.

He could hear her laugh a little. "That feel good, baby? Huh, you like when my pussy clings to you?"

Each word was fuel that quickened his pace inside of her, and joined with the way his hands were wrapped around her, the very tips of his fingers felt her stomach bulge at every snap of his hips. He spread his right hand across her lower stomach to feel it, groaning out as he did.

He didn't even realize he'd said his next words out loud, but after she groaned out and clenched around him tighter, he knew she'd heard and liked what he was saying.

"God, I wanna cum inside you so fucking bad..."

She turned her head again to see him as best as she could, doing the most to come off as desperate as she felt. "Fuck, Spence, do it, please, I want your cum inside me, please..."

A few more quick thrusts inside of her was enough to make her cum, her mouth open in a silent scream as she stopped moving back against him and just let him pound into her. He followed closely behind, brokenly moaning out her name as he stilled and pulsated inside of her.

"Ohh, that's it," she said to him with wonder as she stayed clamped tightly around him, trying to get every last drop. "Fuck, that feels so fucking good..."

In a moment of blind lust at her words, Spencer pulled out just until only the tip was inside, before quickly and deeply fucking into her once more, holding himself inside for about five seconds as she cried out. He repeated that so many times he couldn't keep count. Or maybe it was only two times, and he was just to drunk on her to notice. However long he did it for, they both relished in the feeling before they were both overstimulated and out of breath.

While any other time he would have loved to see his cum drip down her legs, since they were at work he decided to lift her panties up instead, relishing in the way she whimpered when they were on all the way. He made sure to pull them up tight, so she could feel his cum soak them as she stood upwards.

He scrambled to put his pants back on as she caught her breath, leaning against the wall of the elevator with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. He watched her intently as her hand drifted under her skirt and rubbed herself through her underwear, letting out whimpers and ragged breaths upon feeling what he'd done to her. The sweat that had just started to form on her body earlier due to the heat was now dripping down her neck and over her chest, and he was once again mesmerized by her.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered aloud. Of course he'd meant to say it to himself in his head, but he wasn't thinking straight. She'd utterly wrecked him.

Y/N opened her eyes and smiled, taking him in as well. His hair was wild, all over the place and just as sexy as she'd found it before. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, no thanks to her, revealing a glistening chest and making her pussy throb once more, knowing what they'd just done and how... hot the whole situation was, for lack of a better term.

As if she needed a reminder, more of his cum seeped into the fabric of her underwear, warm and ever present, which made her bite her lip and sigh. "Yep... Doggy is definitely my favorite position."

"Especially standing up," he added, a small smile adorning his lips.

They laughed as the elevator lights came back on, and the weight of what they'd just done came crashing down as with it.

Y/N shuffled to the other side of the elevator to grab her back, almost gasping at the way his cum felt in her panties when she moved. She was afraid it would come out, but there was nothing she could do to stop it except for hope.

The two of them were quiet when the door opened and Garcia met them in the lobby.

"Oh, thank God! I feel so bad I didn't warn you in time before you got stuck in th— Your faces are all red, geez! Was it really that hot in there?"

Thankfully the heatwave gave them both an alibi.

"Y—Yeah," Spencer said with a nod, stepping out of the elevator. "That's twice now I've been stuck in an elevator, and I really wish it would stop happening."

The girls laughed as the three of them made their way to cooler air.

Spencer and Y/N fell in step behind their friend and shared a knowing look as the approached the file room.

[cheelduh]

How to strike your way into someone’s heart (Highschool AU)

Part 2 to this. Can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing I mean what do you expect they’re all teenagers. Lots of brick slapping. Childe clowns Scaramouche. OH YES this isn’t edited at all lmfao have fun.

Synopsis: It’s your big date with Childe after you lost the bet miserably. You decide to pay the occult club a visit in hopes of finding something that can...ease your concerns. Childe on the other hand has Signora give him a friendly piece of advice, believe it or not. 

Note: SRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH

For as long as you can remember, you've never believed in ghosts, demons, or souls that lose their way in the endless void, forced to roam the earth in repentance.

Believing in the unknown takes creativity, adventure, maybe even a little sense of fear. Scratch that—a shitton of fear, because humans love to weave in their insecurities and inability to explain something into something of a phenomenon.

Bad luck lies in this category. Bad luck is simply a way to justify the catastrophe that one cannot admit they have fabricated themselves. Everyone wants a reason as to why shit hits the fan, and it can be anything but their own fault.

Bad luck is nothing but a load of bull to you. That's totally why you're standing outside the calculus classroom during lunch break, which happens to be the official meet spot for the occult club.

You raise a fist to knock, but then falter, thinking over your options once again. Is this what it has come to? Putting your faith into the weird kids that once tried to summon Schrödinger's cat for the physics final.

Fischl kicks the door wide open, a smirk playing at her lips once she spots you. "One cannot refrain from the song of your cogitation. The feline for which thou dwell on—"

A squeak leaves your throat and you flinch back, cutting her off. "You can read my mind?"

"Fischl," An icy eyed boy shows up from behind her and points a thumb back. "Mona needs your help."

Fischl squints at you for a brief moment, and then spins onto her heel to go back into the room.

The blue haired lower class man, Chongyun you guess, narrows his eyes at you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Finally you manage to speak, palms all sweaty. "Yeah uh, I need your help. You know, with occulty things." You use your hands to articulate your thoughts, but ultimately give up.

You're not sure if it's pity towards your pathetic explanation or simply annoyance, but Chongyun widens the opening. He silently gestures for you to follow.

Stumbling on your feet and putting on your big girl pants, you hurry inside of the room, hoping you aren't seen by Beidou. She wouldn't let you hear the end of this.

The temperature instantly drops, and you have to adjust your sight to navigate. There's heavy incense in the air as well as a a few lighted candles from the dollar store, you guess.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of all the demonic markings is Mona, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Chongyun has made his way next to her, crossing his arms with a sigh, and Fischl is busy cooing at her bird.

"Well well well..." Mona's amused, eyes almost twinkling as she gets up from the poor desk that had to suffer the wrath of her ass. "If it isn't Y/N."

Mona is a glorified dick wiper in your books. One time, she partnered up with you in chemistry last year and refused to do any work because apparently her "star sign" said she was incompatible with science. You haven't forgiven her since.

"I need your help." You barely manage to choke out the words, reigning yourself in by clenching your fists instead. It'll be unethical to claw her face, especially since you're the one who's come to her.

"Oh?" She smiles wickedly, revelling in every moment of this no doubt. "Why would the high and mighty Y/N need help from the 'Whoroscope whore'?"

Fischl nearly slips out a laugh, trying with her upmost ability to refrain from rolling all over the floor.

You blink away your tears of almost-laughter, casually sliding in twenty mora across the table dividing you two. If she's a whoroscope whore like you say she is, she'll definitely put it in her bra.

Mona raises a brow, but her eyes linger on the bill for a second too much. "What makes you think I'll do it for money?"

"That's simple," You say, rolling your eyes. "When you see mora, you cling to it like a baby clings to a tit. Now just take it and solve my issues."

She fumes a litany of curses but snatches the money up anyways.

"What do you want?"

You breathe in, then out. "I need a talisman."

Mona raises a brow, hand on her hip. "I'm sorry. Did I get that right?"

How dare she. You will your eye into not twitching, the beginnings of fire thrumming through your veins, scalding hot. How dare she make me repeat myself.

"You know, the thing to fend off evil spirits," Your statement hangs heavy in the air as the cogs in their brains click into place. "I need one that can remove the most evilest thing times ten to the power of twenty five on this planet."

Everyone immediately thinks of Hu Tao.

Chongyun is the first to speak from an area of expertise, seemingly shocked at your words. "Are you sure you want a talisman that powerful? How bad is the evil spirit you've come across?"

You glance out the window, through the semi-open blinds. The apprehension curls in your stomach once you spot Childe chasing Aether with safety scissors, and you've never been more sure of than anything in your life.

Gulping, you turn back to the exorcist. "I'm 110% sure."

He doesn't ask any more questions and goes to fetch the talisman.

Mona clears her throat. "So I hear you have a date with Childe today. Quite the character you've taken to."

"Oh please," You hiss through your teeth, your blood pressure going up tenfold, "you're the one that told him our star signs were intertwined and that we're fated lovers."

She shrugs innocently, stance casual unlike your own that is ready to lunge an attack.

"Here you are," Chongyun hands you a talisman, a colourful mix of some charms, some kind of liquid in a bottle, and about a shitton of other things. "You'll need these if you're going to face the most demonic of all evils."

You think of Childe's stupidly handsome smirk, the playful life of his eyes, and how gentle and considerate he is with you. You think about how cruel he is to others, but how loving he can be to you.

"Oh, I will be."

—

Childe is getting his ass handed to him by Scaramouche on the switch. It's just that he can't seem to focus, not with the forthcoming date all over his mind.

He hasn't experienced these kind of jitters in a long time. Has to endure that foolish smile that's about to plaster all over his face.

Scaramouche may be a son of a bitch with an agenda, but he doesn't appreciate his acquaintances safeguarding their personal crap when it starts to leak onto him. Especially when it comes to video games.

"Okay," The short boy sighs, stretching over the staff room sofa to drop his controller on the cushions. "Let's hear it." He can't even properly enjoy his victories when Childe isn't giving it his all.

"Hear what?" Childe lays his head back, relaxing from all the strain of endless gaming during the lunch hour. He seems too relaxed for someone who's broken into the teacher's lounge.

"Why you're so distracted." Scaramouche points out. "Not that I care—hey! I'm serious here!"

Childe's cracking up for absolutely no reason, rudely cutting him off. "I'm sorry—sorry it's just so hard to take you seriously when you're wearing that stupid fucking hat."

"Don't question the drip." The older moves his head to glare at him, but the thin stripe of silk on his hat swooshes with him, and it's enough to have Childe clutching his stomach in pain as he barks out in laughter.

"Grow the fuck up." Scaramouche says, no doubt exasperated from the constant shit he gets.

"Ok—ok I'm sorry."

There's a knock on the door before Scaramouche gets the chance to intimidate him again.

"Fuck shit fuck who is that? Wasn't there a staff meeting?" Childe whisper yells, panic clear in the ocean of his eyes.

Scaramouche shrugs and downs a can of soda with no care in the world.

Childe would be nonchalant too. If it were a normal day, he wouldn't give two shits about getting caught.

However, he's looking forward to that date he has with you today. Detention is going foil all his lecherous plans.

"It's me." The feminine sound of a threat calls out from the other side. "Open the door." The clicks and clacks of her toes tapping the floor indicating her impatience.

The two sigh in relief, Childe getting up to open the door. It's way too early in the afternoon to deal with this crap.

"Surprised to see me?" Signora greets sweetly, and if not for the murderous glint in her eyes, he would smile back.

"Yeah, I didn't say Bloody Mary three times." The ginger replies, keeping a steady eye on the upperclassman in case she pulls a fast one.

The blonde shoves him aside in offence, and prances in like she owns the goddamn place. Scaramouche greets her with the bird.

"There's this rumour going around—I'm sure you've heard..."

"Oh?" Childe pockets his keys, ready for an attack, not even remotely interested in the topic.

"Something about how Y/N gave Mona a visit today" Signora muses, elegantly taking a seat on the arm of the couch, "with your date and all, I just thought you should know."

"Hah!" Scaramouche bursts out in laughter, tears in the corner of his eyes. "I can't believe she went to get a horoscope reading on how shitty your date's gonna be."

"Get castrated." Childe growls, flipping him off on both hands.

"Now now boys," Signora's lips curl, and she clasps both manicured hands together, prepared to break the fight if it ever reaches its peak. "Settle down. You two are comrades."

"As if I'm comrades with this SIMP!" Scaramouche has to wheeze out the words.

The youngest clenches his fists, unclenches, and then lets a smirk grow. "Oh? I'm the simp? What about that time Mona pantsed you in-front of all the freshmen and you fell in love with her."

Scaramouche glares at him, a glare strong enough to have anyone shaking in their shoes. "I'm attracted at her sheer audacity of trying to fuck I, Scaramouche, the 8th harbinger, over. It takes balls."

"Mad respect." Signora leans forward to place her phone on the coffee table, then approaches Childe. "Moving on, the reason I've decided to bestow my precious intel on you is because I have a favour to ask of you."

"What?" He says blankly, confused that she has a request for him out of all people.

"I need you to let me get you ready for this date of yours." She gives him a gaze that is enough to wither away any arguments.

Childe shares a look with Scaramouche as if to say "am I fucking deaf because I sure as shit didn't just hear that."

"You sure as hell did, boys." Signora intercepts the connection of their two brainwaves with a dreaded sigh. "I hate Y/N. This is the only way I can get back at her."

"Hey!" Childe exclaims loudly, waving his hands in the air incessantly. "What makes you think I'll let you shit on my future girlfriend."

"I'll be doing nothing of the sorts." She points out, giving him a sly smile. "I just know she's terrified of what's coming. The better the date is, the more she's gonna hate herself. What more do I need but to sprinkle some inner conflict within her airtight resolve?"

As favorable as the proposal is, Childe  contemplates for a second. Signora...helping him? This could work to his advantage if he plays his cards right.

His inner turmoil takes him into the future, where you two are happily married with eight and a half kids. If you ever managed to find out Signora was the culprit that was finally able to set you two up, you'd never forgive him.

"Nah I'll take a hard pass." He doesn't want to think about divorce and custody battles this early on. He'd rather face the brunt of Signora's wrath.

Scaramouche chooses right then to make a tactical withdrawal out through the window since he doesn't want to be a witness to a murder he hasn't caused.

Surprisingly— "Fine then." Signora shrugs, unbothered when summoning out a minty juul from no where. She's disappointed nonetheless.

Childe tilts his head, perplexed, but decides against mulling over it for too long. Instead, he strides off to the door, wanting to get the last two periods over with so he can run home and freshen up for this date.

"Oh and Childe?" Signora calls out to him, but he barely acknowledges her, only pausing momentarily without looking back. "A piece of friendly advice. A diligent student like Y/N, there's no way she'd be into rash things like fighting. So try and control yourself, hmm?"

He flashes the senior a sheepish smile, the front row tickets to the illegal underground fight-club burning in the back pocket of his pants.

—

Childe conceals near the bushes by the gate, expertly hiding his shaking hands by pretending to look for something in his back. His goal isn't to seem desperate, even though he's raced out here at the speed of light after Havria's dismissal.

It's not like he's trying to eavesdrop or anything. He just wants a little insight on how you're feeling about this, in case the rumors of you visiting the occult club wasn't a farce.

From his peripheral, he spots you and a familiar figure that is Lisa, leisurely walking side by side as you approach the main side walk.

"Ready for your date, Y/N? You've been daydreaming all afternoon." Lisa winks, and dodges the shove you send her way with experience like no other.

"Yes, daydreaming about punching you in the face." Your left eye twitches in annoyance as you fix your hold on your skateboard.

"Well then, I'll be off—ah!"

The gorilla grip you have on her sleeve takes away all the time she has to get on the last bus she's about to miss.

Your utter strength is enough to make Childe's knees weak. How pathetic he thinks.

"Oh no you don't," You say in a sing-song voice, "you got me into this, so you're going to help."

"Help with what?" Lisa fakes a hard pout as she bats her lashes, trying to collect pity points.

"I—" You inhale, loosening your grip on her and averting your eyes nervously to see if anyone's watching. "Don't make me say it."

The older girl motions for you to continue, and you're sure you've suffered more for less at this point.

"I've never...been on a..." The sentence ends in a trailed murmur.

Childe doesn't think he's ever seen you so flustered. He's about to snap a picture for later, but decides against it. They'll be plenty of moments later on to see your cute expressions.

Lisa's grin is both seductive and terrifying, Childe notices. "You've never been on a date?"

"Shut up!" You hiss, dropping your board so you can cover her lips with your palm, eyes darting around your surroundings frantically. "Not so loud."

He has to bite at his fist to hide his amusement.

As if she has a sixth sense, Lisa's eyes somehow find Childe's through the abundance of leaves, and there's a glint in her eyes that nearly makes him shart his pants.

"Of course Y/N," She replies sweetly to you, who is currently unaware of the staring match going on. "I'll teach you everything you need to know...and more."

Childe doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. Nor does he want to find out.

—

You ponder on what's taking him so long, more on edge than you usually are. Thankfully, Lisa basically pried your hair down from its usual up-do. Said something about how you can hide your lack of shits given as to not offend him.

Except you think you're giving more shits that you expected to. Why else would your heart be pounding so hard?

"What took you so long?" You sense him creeping up on you, ceasing his chance to pounce.

Childe groans playfully and slaps a hand over his face as he comes into view. "How'd you know?"

"You have a douche-styled gait." You reply as you remove your gaze off your phone to approach him.

He's prepared to shoot a witty reply, but it dies halfway through his throat when he procures a good look at you. Your hair frames your face elegantly, eyes shining despite the tiredness that's so clear, all complete with a cooling spring dress that hugs you just right.

Mouth going dry, he forgets how to speak the common tongue, unable to tear his gaze off your form.

You shift in place awkwardly. "Uh are you okay? Looking a little...blank."

"Sorry—sorry just thinking." Childe stumbles over his words like the complete idiot and a half he is, berating himself countlessly on the inside. He regains his confidence once he spots the light dust on your cheeks. "You ready for the best date ever?"

"The best date huh?" It's the first time you smile today, and he swears his heart leaps in his rib cage. You're the prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on. "I'm ready. I better not be disappointed."

"I wouldn't dare disappoint, girlie." He feigns mock offence as dramatically as possible. "I'll show you how to have some real fun. Cool keychain by the way, for good luck?"

It's one of the charms Chongyun urged you to carry with you at all times to keep all forms of evil away.

"Yeah...something like that."

The two of you ease into the walk in a relatively comfortable fashion, contributing with lively chatter and a few jabs here and there. It's not awkward at all, not like you thought it would be. Your nerves loosen up, mind diverting from the roots of the stress of high school.

"—And you won't believe what Kaeya did the other day. I'm telling you there's something wrong with him because that SoundCloud rapper wannabe Venti goaded him into birdboxing through the hallways at lunch."

"And the son of a bitch did it?"

"The son of a bitch did it." Childe confirmed, gasping through his laughs as the two of you converse in psychobabble. "And guess who he bumped into?"

You're choking in laughter, tears in your eyes as you hunch over and shake. "He didn't. Childe—no he didn't."

"Straightttt into Diluc. And he had the balls to feel him up because he thought he bumped into a hot bab—"

Childe crashes into a sturdy chest and stumbles backwards towards you, but manages to catch his balance midway. Both of you freeze when faced with a buff guy from another school, bandages on his fist and a crooked smirk on his face.

Fuck. You think. Classic high school cliché.

Realizing he can't risk the remainder of this date when it hasn't even begun, Childe raises a hand in apology, aiming to be the bigger person instead of socking the kid in the face.

"Sorry. I wasn't looking." He offers to the guy, but you can tell he isn't buying any of it. There are about four more kids who group, a setup that isn't going to end in your favour.

"Hey punk. You don't remember me?" The upperclassmen barks out, glaring holes into your date.

You deadpan towards Childe, but he's too is racking his brain to remember. Ends up shrugging with no recollection.

"I have a list of names but they're in my other pants." Shit, what an a-grade reply. Now you know you're done for. "Listen dude, I'm kind of on a date and the vibe is going great. Don't ruin it."

"It's a good thing she's here to watch then!" The guy yells, stomping so that he's right in-front of Childe, ready to pounce. "You humiliated me in front of my gang last week. I'm here to rip you a new one."

Childe blinks, tries to remember, and when he doesn't, he grabs a wad full of cash from the his Fanny pack and throws it at the guy's feet.

Everyone's eyes bulge out of their sockets, including yours at the amount of money placed there casually on the crack of the dirty sidewalk.

"Hopefully this is enough for the damages." Childe offers, aiming to not further escalate the situation albeit how pissed he is right now. If you weren't here...well that would be another, much more violent story.

With a soft tug, Childe brings you close and begins to pass the guy, until he's abruptly stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

"I don't think so!" The guys barks, and his lackeys move to surround you two. "You gotta pay taxes too buddy." Oh he's getting way too comfortable now.

A feral smile grows on Childe's face as he looks over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Yeah shithead." The guy seethes, puffing out his chest to size him up.

Childe itches for a fight. He can no longer keep in the urge and is just about ready to raise a heavy fist, but is beaten by the sound of a loud thwack, and then a painful groan following.

There you are, standing in front of the trembling asshole, spinning your crossbody bag in circles like it's a nunchuck in all it's glory. There's a deadly glint in your eyes, pure, unadulterated vexation in your features.

If Childe could fall for you any harder, it's probably happening now. In that exact moment, his heart beats in his ears uncontrollably, and there's nothing but raw adoration that piles up all at once.

You're an angel of destruction, a force not to be reckoned with, and shit, you're the eye of the fucking storm.

Fire courses through your veins as you pulverize the guy with your bag, swinging with such expertise it has Childe in awe. "He may be an absolute idiot for not remembering—"

"Hey girlie you're killing me here!" Your date snaps out of his astonishment temporarily.

"—but you don't get to call him a shithead, you asshole!" You snarl angrily, gripping the handle of your bag tightly, decking everyone that lunges at you, letting out strings of curses with every hit. Every hit sends a flock of them either stumbling back in pain, or knocked out completely.

Childe doesn't even get a chance to lift a finger by the time you're done violating them with your heavy ass pink bag. Stands there like an absolute loser.

"Apologize." You pant, prepared to send another flurry of attacks at the leader, who is crawling away with a battered face. "Apologize or I'll—I'll fucking Russian neck tie your ass."

"S-sorry!" The guy whimpers out and tries not to piss his pants at the threat.

Childe is still in too much shock at the whole ordeal to reply, short circuiting.

Another thirty seconds pass until he registers the smaller hand waving in front of his face. He catches your cold hand through his haze, brings it closer.

Running a free hand through his locks, he doesn't hide his astonishment. "You're fucking gorgeous, girlie." He whistles lowly, eyeing you with a new kind of regard.

"I-I uh." Your face is all shades of red by now, the adrenaline from kicking ass wearing down. "Let's go."

"How is that bag so heavy?" One of the fallen gasps out in pain, clutching his ribs as he trembles on the floor. "Like a buh-brick."

A part of your zipper in open, and Childe briefly peeks out of morbid curiosity. His jaw slackens. "Is that a...no, it can't be."

"It's a brick." You murmur guiltily, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Just in case." Fingers tentatively play with the straps.

Childe is head over heels by now, all smitten as a foreign warmth bubbles up in his throat, and he's just about sure he'll puke his heart out.

His next words are picked out carefully. "There's an underground fight club going on—"

You lock and aim for his right kidney.

Worth a try, Childe thinks.

"SIKE. Joking—joking. Just a joke." He insists, gloved hands raised by his ears in defence.

Clicking your tongue, you scowl and rush past him.

It hasn't even been an hour and it's been the most exciting date Childe's ever experienced. When he sees your lips twitch, he knows it's the same for you as well.

"Are we going or not?" You mumble, avoiding eye contact, a tinge of red still decorating your cheeks.

Childe crumbles into his hands at your deadly duality. One that comes for his enemies and one that comes straight for his heart.