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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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The One Thing You Can't Have

Pairing: Spencer Reid × Female Reader (DBF! Spencer × Hotchner! Reader)

Summary: After five years away, you move back to your hometown. Reconnecting with many of your father's friends and coworkers, you start to get suspicious when you lose multiple pairs of panties. Or; Spencer risks it all by stealing Hotch's adult daughter's underwear. And maybe her heart, too.

Warnings: Day 15 of Kinktober - panties, mentions canon character death, age difference (ten years), panties, underwear kink, underwear stealing, masturbation, sexual fantasies discussed, PinV Sex, clitoral stimulation, partial creampie, mentions of emergency contraception

A/N: It is done! I shit you not the writing time on this is longer than most of the fics I've ever written, it took me so long that I don't have any other fics prewritten for Kinktober now and have to spend the day hastily writing them... But it was worth it. As always, you can find all my work in my masterlist and all my kinktober fics here. My requests are open until the end of the month, so if there's a specific fic you want, don't hesitate to let me know!

With your family the way it was, you'd dealt with a lot over the years. Aaron Hotchner loved his wife and kids, but that hadn't been enough to protect you from George Foyet. When your mom and kid brother had gone into protective custody, you'd been away at college, and apart from a protective detail, they'd not seen fit to move you anywhere special at all. Foyet was so caught up on your mom that he'd forgotten you existed.

When you got the call from your dad that Foyet was resurfacing, you'd known in your gut that you had to go back. You'd ditched your handlers and driven through the night but when you arrived at the house you'd grown up in, all you could see was police lights and caution tape.

You'd run as fast as you could into the house, but a pair of strong arms grabbed you and lifted you away as you screamed and sobbed. Derek Morgan held you firm as he tried to calm you, but you barely registered his words.

"My mom is in there, my dad too, and Jack, let me fucking go, Derek." You'd only stopped raging when they'd bought out the first body bag. And then the second.

The anguish that filled your lungs stole your breath and you didn't know it was you screaming until your throat was red and completely sore. Another set of hands led you away and into an ambulance, skillfully anticipating your needs.

"Y/N, look at me. Look at my eyes, we're going to breathe together, okay?" Staring up into his dark eyes you suddenly remembered that you needed the air to breathe, his calm voice bringing you back to life.

He was wearing an FBI vest but you'd never seen him before. Not a surprise since you'd avoided everything to do with your father's job for the last five years. You only really knew Derek from when he'd been sent to deliver the news to you about Foyet's initial targeting of you.

The Man in front of you was young, but still older than you. He was tall, but he'd shrunk himself down into the space, leaning over you so that he was the only thing you could see. He looked tired, but he was the only thing for miles around keeping you grounded and you clung to him in desperation.

"My Name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I work with your dad. You're Y/N, right?" His voice was soft and even, like he was taming a temperamental animal. Even though you knew what he was doing, trying to calm you so he could deliver a devastating blow, you let him do it, drinking in each word as total calm swept over you. You nodded at him and waited for him to continue.

"Your brother is fine, he's at your aunt's house, he didn't touch him. Your dad is in the hospital and they think he's going to pull through, but he was stabbed a few times so he's going to be weak for a while." You searched his eyes for the words he wasn't saying as panic rose in your body.

"My mom, where is my mom? Haley Hotchner, she's… She should have been with Jack, where is she?" The look in his eyes was enough to tell you what in your heart you already knew. Your mom was in that bag and your family was broken, again.

You don't know what happened next, but you knew you were bundled up in Spencer Reid's arms and clinging to him for dear life. You knew he'd somehow got you to your aunt's house, and you knew he'd stayed until you were ready to let him go. Even years later you don't know how long he'd held you. Maybe only minutes, maybe hours. He had let you sit and grieve, finding small comfort in the contours of his body.

After that, college wasn't a priority for you. Your brother was only a baby, and he needed you around, so even the three-hour drive upstate seemed too far to be away from him. You stuck around, taking your courses as remotely as they'd let you for the semester and struggling for it.

Your dad felt guilty, of course. For your mom, for the derailing of your life, and for the way he had to keep leaving because that was the job. In all honesty, you didn't mind being home more at that time.

There was Jack, who was great, and your Aunt was so much like your mom that sometimes it was like she was still with you, even a little bit. And there was Spencer, too.

After it had become evident that you were going to fail the only required course you were taking that semester (algebra was your enemy), your dad had sought out the only person he knew with a good grasp of mathematics and no weekend plans and roped them into tutoring you. Which meant that your weekends were suddenly fully booked by him.

He seemed a little different from the first time you’d met him, but that was a given considering the circumstances. He held himself a little taller, and more relaxed as he talked about the kinds of equations you were supposed to use and formulas you were supposed to memorize. He was attentive but not too close, and he’d shown up with shorter hair and now that you could see more of his face, more of his neck, you found yourself getting distracted by the oddest things. The stubborn but small stubble on his neck, the way sweat trailed down his face, the movement of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, the way the breeze from your open window tousled his hair.

It took you a distractingly long time to realize that you were physically attracted to him, but when you did realize, it was suddenly all you could think about. You spent most of your days working on math so you’d have some excuse to call or text him. The mornings before your lessons together you’d taken to hogging the bathroom long enough to shave, wash and dry your hair and apply a natural but still skilled amount of make-up. You were surprised that neither of the big bad profilers had caught onto the stench of your puppy love, because you were dripping with desperation.

He never budged of course, too oblivious or too noble to lay a hand on an eighteen-year-old. Or just smart enough to know not to lay a hand on his boss's daughter.

You certainly weren’t making it easy for him though.

“Spencer, what do you think of my outfit today? I’m going out with some friends from high school tonight for a meal, do I look okay?” You’d twirled for him innocently, knowing full well the speed of your spin would throw your already short skirt up past your panties for a split second.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about clothes, Y/N. Maybe ask your dad.” His flush was evident enough that you knew it had worked but his hands were rigid by his sides and he carefully guided you back to the topic at hand.

It turned out that after a semester of tutoring, you’d become such a whizz at mathematics that you’d passed with flying colors. You’d been so excited to tell Spencer that you drove straight to Quantico, using the family pass your father had given you for emergencies to gain access. Spencer didn’t know what hit him when you launched yourself into his arms and wrapped your legs around him, but he’d somehow stayed upright as you buried your face once again in his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Spencer! I got an A, the Professor was so shocked by my improvement that he asked me if I’d cheated. When I dropped your name, he freaked.” Spencer’s eyes were wide and blinking frantically as his hands struggled to find a place to hold you. You’d worn another scandalously low skirt and it seemed the only way to pry you off of him was to put a hand on or dangerously close to your ass.

You enjoyed watching his internal struggle, and so did quite the number of FBI agents, until your father spoiled the fun by walking out of his office to check the commotion.

“Y/N Hotchner, get down from there, now.” Your father rarely raised his voice at you, choosing a softer approach to parenting than many would expect. That meant that on the rare occasion that he did feel the need to speak up, you shut your mouth and listened. Detangling yourself from Spencer’s arms with an awkward smile, you tried your best to nonchalantly bounce over to your father and explain why you were there.

He motioned for you to follow him to his office, and you complied, letting one ear stay clear to focus on the sound of Reid being teased by all of his coworkers about the scene you’d just caused.

Your dad didn’t exactly scold you for the incident, so much as he tried to insinuate that you should head back home, and then head back to college, too. With months between you and the Foyet incident, he’d been hinting at letting you get back to your life for a while, but your stunt with Reid had him suddenly addressing it more overtly.

To say that your family dinner that night was a pain in the ass was an understatement.

“Y/N, Daddy said you went to his work today!” Jack had started the conversation, and you knew the tactical warfare was beginning.

“That’s right, buddy! I had to thank Spencer for helping me with my schoolwork.” You smiled at your brother before turning a suspicious glance toward your dad, who sat peacefully eating his dinner. The fact that you were even all eating together should’ve alerted you to something going on behind the scenes.

“Uncle Spencer is the best!” It wasn’t Jack’s fault he’d just given your father the best ammunition he could’ve asked for.

“Do you agree, Y/N? Do you think your Uncle Spencer is the best?” He was using his calm interrogation voice and you hated it.

“Dad, please, he’s not that much older than me, it’s weird for me to call him Uncle.”

“He’s ten years your senior, Y/N. You know that right?” You didn’t move as your eyes locked together with his, as he seemingly asked a more serious question in the subtext. You weren’t ready to answer it though, and so you buckled under the pressure, looking away first and eating the rest of your meal in silence.

Without saying much of a goodbye to any member of your father’s teammates, you decided that it was about time you continued with your life, not letting the actions of George Foyet hold you in a standstill any longer. You went back to college full-time, got your degree, and got a job in a city near your college town. You came back home regularly, but in the five years since your mother's death, you hadn’t talked to or heard from Spencer Reid.

Job opportunities were better in D.C. though, so after growing up and having some time away, you came right back to your childhood home, ready to start over. It was only temporary, of course, and you had a job lined up, but apartments were so hard to come by, especially ones that were actually livable, that you needed to do a lot of searching to find one that felt right.

So your dad’s home it was. With Jack a bit older and constantly away at school or clubs or friend’s houses, and your dad’s schedule the way it was, you’d practically got the house to yourself. And after living alone and with female roommates for half a decade, you’d almost grown too comfortable in your own skin. The summer between your move and the start of your new job was hot and sticky, and you found yourself taking more and more cold showers after your morning workouts.

Normally at 11 a.m., you had the house to yourself, and you’d happily stroll around in a small towel and dry yourself off. If your father or brother were home, you’d cover yourself up a bit more, sure, or just head to your room quicker, obviously.

So emerging from your shower, the last thing you expected was coming face to face with Doctor Spencer Reid sitting on your couch, the one that was directly on your path between the bathroom you’d just emerged from and the room you needed to be in. You cursed your father and his practically-sized apartment as you floundered your way through a greeting of the man you hadn’t seen in five years.

“Spencer, hi. What... What are you doing on my dad’s couch?” You clutched the towel close to your body, trying not to shiver as he trailed his eyes over your body, eyes just as big and wide as the last time you’d seen him.

“We were on our way to a local crime scene, he went to grab something from…” His voice trailed off as he pointed towards the master suite where you could now faintly hear the sound of your dad on the phone to someone.

“Right. Great. I should probably…” You gestured to the room and quickly started making your way toward it, trying not to visibly cringe at the most awkward post-shower interaction you’d ever had.

“What are you doing here?” His voice shot out quickly, and you whipped around so fast, that you almost panicked and dropped the towel completely.

“Oh, I… Did my dad not mention? I got a job at a company nearby, so I moved back. I’m staying here with Dad and Jack until I can find a decent apartment.”

“Oh, wow. Well, it’s nice to have you back. It’s been like five years since you left, right?” His tone was bright and he was nodding his head, but the words set fire to your nerve endings as you remembered that you’d practically run away from him. Even after half a decade, he was having a physical impact on you.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You have a good memory.”

“You know, I get that a lot.” His grin ignited something in your chest, and you gathered the laundry you’d left on the sofa and quickly excused yourself before you could prove yourself more of a idiot than you could already make a case for.

Spencer watched you go, wondering just when Hotchner was going to emerge from his hiding place to attack him for so openly ogling his half-naked daughter. He stood on the spot staring at your door for a moment too long before dragging his eyes away. Unluckily for him, what he found on the floor had him panicking all over again.

“Y/N, your forgot…” He grabbed the lacy material in his fingers and went to open the door before stopping, realizing that you were probably completely bare behind that door now. The thought sent him into a tailspin, and he once again stood clueless for a beat too long with a pair of your freshly laundered panties in his hands.

He considered dropping them back on the floor, but he didn’t want them to get dirty again after you’d washed them so nicely. He should’ve just left them on the sofa for you to find later, but when Hotch’s voice grew louder and clearer behind him, fear took over and he shoved them into the closest hiding space he could find. His pocket.

“Callahan found something for us at the ME’s office, she’s meeting us at the precinct, let’s go.”

And just like that he was out the door, and he had officially signed his own death warrant.

You never noticed that the first pair went missing. When it became a pattern though, you did become suspicious. Three pairs of underwear in thirty days seemed a bit much, and unless your building's laundry machines were eating them, you had no clue where they could've been.

It's not that Spencer even meant to do it any of the times he did. But when he'd returned home that first day, overwhelmed with the caseload he'd been handed and found the offending item still right there in his coat pocket, the blood had rushed straight to his head.

He'd spent a half hour in agony staring at them, trying to smooth them out so they wouldn't get crumpled, his dick twitching at every slight movement he made. It had been quite a few months since he'd had sex, never really one for casual hook-ups. But if the result of several months of celibacy was stealing underwear then he thought maybe it would be best to have sex sooner rather than later.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Popping the button of his pants, he'd taken his cock in his hand and worked his way up and down his shaft imagining you dropping that towel. He imagined you wearing the panties and nothing else as you replaced his hand with your mouth, desperate to please. Taking the panties in his hand, he began directly masturbating into them, wishing so needily that you were still inside them.

When he shot his load, he soaked them through, and the shame that overcame him was intense and swift.

You never realized that he'd somewhat avoided you after that, doing his best to stay away for fear he'd let his perversions rule his actions. You had somehow made yourself unavoidable though.

The first time he saw you again it was at one of Rossi's family get-togethers. It had been years since you'd seen some of the members of the team, so you were really looking forward to it. Plus, Rossi had boasted of a recently installed pool and jacuzzi within his invitation, and you were excited to check them out with the fine summer weather actually staying fine.

You'd brought your bikini with you and changed in one of the ground-floor bathrooms, wrapping another towel around yourself before you finally made your way to the pool. But once again, wrapped in a towel, you'd come face to face with Spencer Reid.

"Y/N, I didn't know you were coming." He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and this time worked especially hard to not let his gaze travel all over your skin. He regretted his entire existence as he realized he'd have to hide his micro-expressions around countless profilers, some of whom were present and accounted for when you'd last been seen together.

Derek was going to give him hell.

"Yeah, Uncle David invited me! I'm so excited for the jacuzzi, I haven't been in one since college."

"You call Rossi 'Uncle David?'" The thought had tickled him, humor sparkling in his eyes as he finally smiled at you.

"Why yes I do, and if you're not careful, my dad is going to make me start calling you Uncle Spencer again." You skipped off merrily after that, leaving your spare clothes and your discarded ones in the bathroom Reid had obviously been waiting for.

His smile soured as he realized the impact of your words. Uncle Spencer. Huh. Some fucking "Uncle" he was. He washed his hands thoroughly, having spilled some kind of drink down himself before greeting you, as his eyes fell to the pile of clothes you'd left neatly in the corner.

He tried to tell himself he couldn't do it again, but curiosity and arousal lit up his entire body and carried him forward. Jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and shoes were left tidily discarded, but he couldn't obviously see any underwear. There was a second pile of neat clothes and he looked at that one thoroughly as well, but after a minute it was evident that you'd hidden your unmentionables from clear sight.

He heard the happy cheers and smiles from outside, and painstakingly attempted to pull away, but he couldn't. Rooting through your things, he found them. He found two of them, really. The used underwear you'd likely just taken off, and the fresh pair you were going to change into. Spoiled for choice he sat in a stasis, mentally cursing himself for being so stupidly horny.

It would be wrong to take another pair. And certainly wrong of him to take the clean pair which you'd instantly noticed were missing when you tried to put them on to wear them.

The used pair though. He held them delicately in both hands, the slip of material not as fancy as the ones he'd used before, but somehow more enticing.

Letting his cock rule his thoughts he brought them up to his face and inhaled deeply, and it was like a bomb going off in the back of his head. He had to have them.

Organizing the bathroom into the exact layout as he'd found it, making sure not even a hair was out of place. The panties were safely in his pocket, and he took a minute to get his body physically and mentally under control before exiting the bathroom and rejoining his friends.

The next time he'd taken some, they'd really been handed to him like a gift. One month back at home, and you felt slightly stifled by the overbearing presence of your father. You needed a nice, messy night out, and you sure got it.

The friends you'd reconnected with had taken you out to a slew of clubs, and by the end of the night, you were tripping and stumbling into anything and anyone in your path. It was as if you were magnetically drawn to every object in your way, unfortunately, one just happened to be tall and lean and caught you before you could tumble off again.

"Y/N?" He looked down at you, confused as he took in your intoxicated state.

"Uncle Spencie!" You relaunched yourself into his arms, reminiscent of that day in the bullpen. "Uncle Spencie I can't believe you're here!" You giggled into his neck as you buried yourself there, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as you pulled away to grin at him again.

"Y/N, how drunk are you?"

"How you are drunk, huh? Why don't we ever ask that question?" You sent yourself into a fit of giggles as your friends watched the scene play out behind you.

"Girls, this is Doctor Spencer Reid. My daddy is his boss. Isn't he cute?" Your arms still wrapped territorially around Spencer, you introduced your friends who cackled approvingly at your drunk shenanigans.

"Y/N, you need to let me go, the others…"

"Others? Is daddy here? AARON!! AAAAROOOOOO-" He clamped a hand over your mouth and moved you to the side of the road to hail a taxi as fast as possible. Apologizing to your friends, he quickly stuffed you into the cab and gave the driver your address.

"Uncle Spencer, I just wanted to see my daddy and his other friends. Why are you being so mean?" The exaggerated pout on your face had him dragging a hand down over his face as he struggled to pull a seatbelt over you.

"If your dad had seen you wrapped around me like that, he'd have killed one of us."

"Both of us," you nodded and giggled. Your short dress was riding up your thighs, the leather seats of the car feeling unbearably hot and sticky under your skin. You shifted uncomfortably a few times, your underwear eating into your skin in an uncomfortable manner.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" He sternly whispered the words into your ears as he grabbed your wrists. It was too late though, you'd already worked your underwear down your thighs enough that they'd reached your knees and then fallen around your ankles.

"It felt bad, I didn't like it." You leaned your head back and let your legs hang open slightly, just enough that Spencer could see the taxi driver angling for a look.

He snapped a hand between your legs, closing off the view before snatching up the underwear from the floor and pocketing it. You didn't know nor care though, the motion of the car rocking you off into a deep sleep. He'd ended up having to carry you up to your apartment, getting you ready for bed, and leaving just fast enough for Hotch to not catch him hanging over his unconscious daughter.

And he had a third pair of your underwear.

He spent his days wondering just what the fuck was wrong with him, and his nights jerking off to your scent, wondering just how willing he'd be to climb into bed with you and if he'd have the strength to say no.

He was normal enough in your interactions with one another. You'd seen each other at various case celebrations, at parties hosted by the team members, which that summer were high in total. You couldn't resist the temptation to flirt with him, but it was only when the two of you were well out of earshot of anyone who might frown upon it. You didn't think he even noticed that's what you were doing anyway.

Spencer did notice. And he kept noticing and was disgusted by how much he wanted you. You were Hotch’s daughter. He’d seen pictures of you as a child, he’d held you while you cried over your mom and the stress of having to be a responsible adult after everything happened with Foyet, he’d known how much you hated having to grow up quickly when you had Hotch for a dad, and he felt gross that despite all of that he wanted to fuck you so badly that he’d resorted to petty thievery and letting you flirt with him under your father's nose.

It was towards the end of your summer at home when you finally noticed the missing pieces. You'd even almost mentioned it to your dad before thinking it through a bit more. If it wasn't some laundry mix-up, he was going to go full FBI on every man who came close to you, and that was a risk you weren't willing to take.

In the end, you were thankful you said nothing.

The BAU team had been out on a case for ten days, the largest amount of time they'd been away since you'd moved home, and you'd decided to greet them as soon as they returned, congratulate them on a job well done.

You knew they were already heading to their regular bar after they finished their paperwork, but you had some morale to boost in the meantime, so a donut delivery plus enough coffee to stay awake for hours was in order.

They'd practically thrown themselves off the jet and into the box of donuts, each of them thanking you for the happy greeting after what had to have been a hard time away.

"Y/N, you didn't have to do this, but thank you. The team really appreciates it." Your dad had looked at you with a proud look before showing you up to his office, letting you wait on his couch until everyone was finished.

You got bored quickly and asked if you could help with anything, which is how you became your dad's errand-runner. He sent you to the printer to pick up papers, you'd run to get him more coffee from the pot twice and he sent you to ask the others about their progress. Which was totally fine had they not looked like paperwork-writing zombies on the verge of collapse.

"Y/N, head down to Spencer's desk, he should have a file on the geographical profile I need." He hadn't even glanced up to ask you that, but he did shout a thank you out the door, so you suppose he could be forgiven for now.

Bouncing down the stairs you noticed Spencer was deep in the middle of reading some files, doing that speed reading thing you'd heard him talk about but never witnessed.

"Spencer." He didn't look up, too focused on the words in front of him. "Spencer, my dad needs a file."

"Go-bag. Reading, give me a minute." He still hadn't even glanced at you so you pulled yourself around his desk to search for his go-bag yourself. It was on the floor, and you pulled it towards you, settling down on the floor to open it up and look for the files you needed.

You probably should have had more reservations about rooting through Spencer's things because just as you pulled the zip fully open, it seemed like his eyes shot wide and he threw his head in your direction, finally distracted from his work.

"Wait, don't look in-" He whisper-screamed the words at you frantically, but it was too late. The first thing your hand had closed around in the bag was small and delicate and somewhat rumpled, and your hand had a mind of its own pulling it out into your lap so the two of you could see it.

Your panties. One of your missing pairs of panties was in Spencer Reid's go-bag.

Both of you sat there for a few moments, neither of you moving, the eye contact not breaking one second as you both stared at each other in fear and surprise.

He cleared his throat quietly and whispered down at you, "I can explain…" but he didn't get a chance as you swiftly grabbed the file you'd come for - helpfully pulled into plain view by your rustling about - hid your panties back in your own pocket, zipped his bag up and swiftly ran all the way back to your dad's office.

You sat on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, no longer eager to do chores. Spencer had your underwear. He'd stolen it. He'd taken it across the country with him. He'd…You didn't know what he was doing with it, really, but you knew that every image of him with them had the most dirty, exciting, disgusting thoughts running through your head.

You grabbed your things and quickly headed out after that. Penelope caught you by the elevator as you made to leave.

"No, sweetie, where are you going? I thought you were coming to celebrate with us after this, I was so looking forward to having the fun Hotchner around, not the grumpy, serious one."

"I'm just going home to freshen up. I smell like coffee and Quantico, which when you're not nose blind to it isn't the most optimal scent." You promised her you'd see her there, and with a quick glance back at the office, where Spencer was sat tense, looking like he wanted to either run after you or shout something across the room, you left.

By the time you'd arrived home, there were ten missed calls on your cell, and you didn't have to even speculate about who they might be from because there were texts too.

Spencer: I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, call me when you get this.

Spencer: I know it's weird and I'll understand if you hate me, but please talk to me.

Spencer: Please don't tell your dad.

You'd scoffed at that last one as if you'd ever have been that stupid. But you didn't reply or call him, letting him suffer in silence.

This entire time, you'd been operating on the basis that Spencer Reid didn't see you the way you saw him. That he didn't think of you as an adult but as your father's daughter. And now you were confronted with the truth that he was just as fucking lustful and horny as you'd been since you met him at 18? You weren't letting this opportunity pass you by.

Taking the panties out, you stared at them again, trying to figure out just what he'd been doing with them. You recognized them as the pair you'd lost on your night out, bright red and lacy, eye-catching, and definitely yours. He hadn't even tried to lie to you about that, but how willing would you have been to accept the fact that Spencer had stolen someone else's panties? Or been gifted them? Probably not very.

You'd assumed you'd left this pair in the taxi, not entirely sure how you'd ended up in the car in the first place or why you would decide they were uncomfortable right there. Now you had sudden recollections of Spencer also being there, and suddenly your actions made sense.

He'd not only taken your panties, he'd taken your used panties, and it looked as though he'd used them even more. You decided not to think too closely about how he had used them.

But he'd also got you home safe, making sure your things were stored neatly and tucked you into bed nice and tight. And then he'd stolen your panties.

Thinking about it was frustrating but there was nothing else in your mind at that moment. Spencer taking them out secretly to look at. Spencer smelling them. Spencer wrapping them around his big cock and stroking himself to the thought of you.

You wanted to know precisely what he'd done, and you intended to find out.

Penelope called you as soon as they'd left work, and sent you the location, too, and you decided it was time to get ready to mess with Spencer.

The dress you'd worn on the night he'd stolen your panties was freshly laundered. Usually, you wouldn't wear anything so risky in front of your father, but he'd likely only be there for an hour or two before leaving you be. You pulled out a fresh pair of red panties as well, hoping to jog Spencer's memory a little bit to entice him to talk.

With a quick make-up retouch, you climbed into your car, and within twenty minutes you were walking into O'Keefe's.

Miserably, Spencer couldn't come up with an excuse to stay home quick enough and was tumbled into the car by Derek and Penelope. He had a feeling, too, that he wouldn't be able to leave early, either, which was only confirmed when you walked in wearing that dress.

His hopes to sit and nurse his non-alcoholic cocktail peacefully at the edge of the booth are shattered as he watches you saunter over. It clings tight to your skin, twisting around every peak on your body, revealing every part that he'd spent the last few weeks dreaming about.

He was screwed.

"Hi, Dad! Hi everyone!" You smiled innocently enough, but your sickly sweet smile turned on Spencer was an omen, and he suddenly wanted to be down on his knees begging for forgiveness. Or something else.

Instead of sticking by your dad's side, you make your way to Spencer and force him to shuffle further into the booth so you can sit next to him. It's cramped and you're on the edge still, so you let your hand rest on his thigh for a beat too long as you join the conversation.

"What did I miss?"

"Just talking about the craziest things that have happened to us on cases."

"Reid was propositioned by a prostitute once," Derek chuckled.

"Please, Reid has been propositioned by multiple prostitutes, multiple times." Penelope and Derek continued to joke and giggle about the younger man's apparent cluelessness to flirting.

"I guess they just assumed you were a pervert, Spence. I wonder why they'd think that?" His eyes shot wide as you snuck your hand into his pocket under the table, watching to see if anyone else had noticed the bold actions.

But you looked away from him quickly and didn't let your hand spend too long there, sliding it out slowly, feeling up his leg as you went. He took another sip of his drink before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His cock had been rudely awoken, and he didn't want it to stay awake, so he attempted to let it fall into a less obvious position.

But as he shifted he felt something else in his pants, and curiously he put his own hand into his pocket. You'd returned your stolen underwear to the thief.

He took in a shaky breath and held them inside his pants while he willed himself to calm down. Partly because you were in public and partly because your dad was present. He almost had himself under control when you decided it was time for your next move.

"I need to go get a drink, I'll be back soon." You stood and pushed away from the table, bouncing away swiftly. He watched you go from the corner of his eye and then had to do a double take as you pushed yourself up against the bar ordering your drink.

You stuck your ass out, not enough to make it look intentional to anybody but him, but just enough so he could see the red underwear you had on underneath your dress.

He downed his drink and made his excuses before making his way right to the bar where you stood.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, so close behind you that you felt his breath in you before you heard his voice.

"Buying a drink, what does it look like I'm doing?" You scooted your ass back until it was pressed up against his crotch and he groaned, hard and loud in your ear.

"Y/N, you can't do that, your dad is right fucking there."

"I sure hope my dad isn't fucking over there, that'd really be a sight I didn't want to see." He shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he put his hands on you. Grabbing your hips, he walked you closer to the bar so that your ass was no longer on display, nor touching him in any way, then he moved to your side and left only one hand firmly touching your back so you knew not to immediately try something else again.

"This is your last warning. Now, you're going to order that drink and then you're going to walk back to that table like a good fucking girl, or so help me god, I will show your dad just how much of a slut you're being." His voice was a dark growl and you felt your panties growing more wet with each syllable, nodding instantly as the bartender came over.

For a minute, he'd genuinely thought that had worked. You'd ordered your drink without another word and then turned back to the table and walked nicely, having pulled your skirt back down a little bit. He'd thought he'd won until the second he'd sat down when Aaron Hotchner had grabbed his coat and stood up.

"Spencer, you're not drinking? Can you drive Y/N home tonight? I’m leaving now, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave so early.” You watched as his jaw twitched, taking only a second to compose himself before he agreed.

“Great, have a fun night sweetheart,” he said, kissing your head, before turning out and leaving with Rossi.

“Now, Spencer, what was that you were saying about good behavior at the bar? It was really so very interesting to me and I’d love to hear more.”

You spent the next half hour draining your drink and his self-control, stroking a hand down his chest as the others comfortably ignored your purring at him. He answered all your questions coldly, but every time your hand trailed a little bit too low he stopped it with a heavy hand and a warning look, letting you know that you were still getting to him.

Once you’d finished the first drink, you got up and moved to the bar once again, making sure that his eyes were on you completely as you swayed your hips on the way over. You pulled exactly the same move as you had earlier and made sure he knew you were going to be hard to handle the entire night.

When you returned, he was the only one left at the table, the others having scattered to the dance floor, the bathroom, and the bar. Taking the chance you climb directly into his lap.

“What’s wrong, Spence, you’re looking so lonely over here?” You rest your hands on his shoulders and let your ass fall to his lap, grinding down gently to feel him underneath you.

“How could I be lonely when you’re out here throwing yourself at me like a cheap whore?”

“Oh, we’ve already established how much cheap whores love you today, Spencer. Why would you be so surprised that I’m having the same reaction?”

The others slowly started returning so you pushed away from him for a second, straightening your clothes before they noticed anything amiss.

“Y/N, I need some youthful arm candy, come to the dancefloor with us!” Penelope pulled you from your seat and you laughed as you followed her, sending a wink back over your shoulder to Spencer.

He sat grinding his teeth as you continue your games on the dancefloor, swaying your hips suggestively, not sparing him a single glance as you practically exposed yourself on a dancefloor. He decided he’d let you have your fun and then march you out quickly. He moved his timeline up exponentially the minute he saw a man saunter up behind you, whispering in your ear before walking you over to the bar.

Downing his drink, he made his way to your side, pulling you away from the man quickly.

“We’re leaving now.” He said, leaning down to your ear as he grabbed your coat and pulled it around you.

“Man, what do you think you’re doing?” The man who had pulled you away was visually drunk, looking rough and dangerous as he leered down at you.

“She’s not interested and she’s too young for you anyway.” He said, very close to flashing his badge to get him to back off.

“What, you her dad or something?” He scoffed, but you turned on him with a wide smile as you leaned your head back against Spencer’s chest.

“He’s my daddy, actually.” With a wink, you left the bar, letting Spencer chase after you as you walked directly over to your car. Throwing him the keys, you jumped into the passenger seat.

“I’m taking you home now, you’re being reckless, you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Reckless how? It’s not like I’m the one who has been stealing my boss' daughter's panties for the last month.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You jacked off into my panties and now you’re pissed I caught you…wow.”

“Can you just shut up? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like me to tell him how you put them back in my pocket tonight, right?”

“Was that a threat, Spencer?”

“If I was going to threaten you, Y/N, you’d know.”

“You’ve changed, you know. Since I was a teenager. You’re different now.”

“No, I’m not. I’m very much the same.”

“You’re hotter now. I don’t know how that is possible because fuck did I want you back then, but now…” You let your eyes trail down his face as he continues to drive, jaw tense. His side profile had always been pretty, but with the bags under his eyes now more pronounced, you thought about what it’d be like to trail your mouth down his neck, what you would give to sit prettily on those lips of his.

Your tongue darts out to wet your own lips, as the fantasies grow to fill the car. Suddenly it’s his hands between your legs, making you moan like the whore he’d accused you of being earlier, it’s his tongue down your throat as he fucks his fingers into you, completely ruining you.

When you pull over, you’re certain that he’d heard your thoughts, because you didn’t recognize where you were at all.

“Spencer, this isn’t my dad’s house.”

“No, it’s mine. Get out of the car.” Suddenly obedient, you do exactly as he tells you, jumping out of the car as swiftly as you can and letting him march you up the stairs, right through his door and all the way to his bedroom. He pushes you forward gently but with a firm enough hand that you know he wants you on the bed. He doesn’t touch you any further as you prop yourself up on your elbows, but moves to another part of the room, grabbing something from a drawer before throwing it at you. Throwing them at you, you supposed, because when you looked down, you found your other pairs of missing underwear on your lap.

“I’m sorry for being so fucking dirty and disgusting, but you need to stop saying those things to me before I do something we both regret.”

You don’t reply, sitting and breathing heavily for a second before pushing your body further up the bed and reaching down. His eyes drink you in as he watches you hook two fingers underneath the underwear you’re wearing and drag them down your legs, not caring that he can see everything. You let go of them as soon as they’re hanging off your leg, holding them out to him.

“Peace offering?”

He’s on you in an instant, crawling on top of you so he can shut you up with his mouth, his hands, his whole being. You welcome him greedily, letting him take control as he pins your hips down underneath his.

“Little slut, you want me to fuck you so bad?” He says, a hand at your chest, pinching your nipple hard through your dress as you moan and writh underneath him. “Throwing yourself at your father’s friend like this, huh? Must be a little whore.”

He doesn’t let you respond, shoving two fingers into your mouth as you obediently wrap your lips around them and start sucking. Pushing your dress up, he groans at how wet you already are for him, swiping a finger over your clit carefully as you moan around his fingers, the vibrations shooting straight to his cock.

Lifting his hips, he unzips his pants in a second, not stopping to contemplate the consequences of his actions. His cock is pressed against you, gripped in his hand, but it’s hot and it’s heavy and fuck do you need it inside of you. He teases you with it as you whine around his fingers, trying to top from the bottom and grinding your hips up into him. He removes his fingers from your mouth reluctantly so he can hold your hips down.

“Spencer, don’t fucking tease me. Please just fuck me now.”

“Are all of you Hotchner’s this fucking bossy?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his question as you move to grab ahold of his cock, lining it up with your cunt and pushing it in slowly. A hand over yours stops you before it can get any deeper.

“Wait, I haven’t put a condom on yet.”

“Then you better make sure you pull out before I have to tell my dad exactly who it is that made him a grandaddy.” His hips snap up into yours then and with a few shallow pumps he’s fully sheathed inside of you as you scream at the feeling. You’d spent years thinking about this moment, but you’d never imagined he’d fill you so perfectly, stretching you out in all the best places.

His fingers return to your clit, working you up into a frenzy as you arch up into him, wrapping your legs around him to allow him better access. He growls into your ear with each thrust, before grabbing fistfuls of your ass and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He pulls out quickly, repositioning you and holding your legs open wide as he stands between your legs, lining his cock up and pushing into you once again, immediately regaining his pace. He lifts one knee onto the bed, again pushing your legs down into the bed and opening you up further to him. The new angle hits deeper inside of you than you were sure anyone had ever been, momentarily leaving you breathless and soundless, listening only to the noises coming from your cunt.

Wet slaps of skin against skin, the arousal trickling down your leg to stain his sheets.

You regain your breath just as he knocks it out of you again, pushing you over the edge as you cum, hard, on his cock. Your head goes dizzy as you struggle to come down from the bliss he’d pulled you up into, legs twitching as he continues pounding into him.

You’re vaguely aware of some loud moans and screams, and it takes you an entire minute to realize the sinful noises are coming straight from your mouth.

“Fuck, Spencer, so fucking good for me, you made me feel so good, thank you.” His hips stutter inside you then, and you feel a heat flood you.

“Shit,” he pulls out quickly and sprays the rest of his load over your pretty black dress, falling down on top of you and reclaiming your lips passionately. You stay locked together in that embrace for god knows how long, rolling around back and forth in his bed until he finally detaches himself, pulling your clothes off and throwing a large old t-shirt over your head before grabbing you like an oversized stuffed toy and leading you into the depths of oblivion.

When you wake up in the morning, the pounding in your head is exaggerated considering you hadn’t really drank that much the night before. It takes you a shocking amount of time to realize that the pounding wasn’t in your head though, but instead a loud banging against Spencer’s door, ordering him to open up

You’re so comfortable though, you try to ignore it. Until your father’s voice is pouring through the paper-thin walls.

“Spencer, open the door, right now, or I’m kicking it down. You have five seconds.” The Spencer in question shoots out of bed immediately from beside you, scrambling to pull on pants and make his hair look like you hadn’t been tangled in it all night before running to the door.

You similarly panic around the room for a second, searching for a hiding place and grabbing your phone before settling on the absolutely genius position of under the bed.

You hear the confrontation like it’s happening right over you.

“Aaron, I really think you’re going to regret this.” David Rossi’s voice is calm, trying to talk some sense into your father, but he isn’t having any of it.

“Where is she? I told you to drop her off at home when she was finished drinking, but she wasn’t there when I woke up.”

“I can explain…” Spencer trailed off, and you cursed the man for being such a bad liar. That line hadn’t worked on you, either, so you doubted it’d work on your dad. Opening your phone, you check the time. 11:47. You quietly cursed yourself as you opened the multiple messages from your father.

You decide to help Spencer out by replying to one of them now.

“Hey, Dad. I ran into an old friend last night, and Spencer made sure we both got back to her’s safely. I’m still at her apartment, but I guess I forgot to text last night because I was so tired, sorry for worrying you!”

You heard his phone ping with the message, heard the tense silence as he read the message slowly, and heard the incredibly loud ping of your own phone, screaming from inside Spencer’s room as he replied.

Unfortunately, your dad hears it, too.

Pushing past Spencer, who in his defense is doing a great job of taking a stand by slowing down your father momentarily, Aaron Hotchner bursts into the room just as you poke your head up from the side of the bed.

“Morning, Daddy.” You try, hoping to sweet talk your way out of this whole situation.

“Living room, now.” He says, hesitating for only a moment. “You’re dressed, right?” You almost laugh at his pathetic tone before considering the situation, just nodding and walking out behind him as you try to make Spencer’s shirt cover more of your body than it originally did.

There’s a gleam in Rossi’s eye as you walk past him, head hung in embarrassment. You sit guiltily on the couch, and Spencer finds his way next to you, and you suddenly feel like two children about to get the scolding of a lifetime.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, and you grow suddenly angry at the indignant tone of his voice.

“Dad, I am 23 years old, I do not need a lecture for spending the night out.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, sit down. Spencer? Anything to say.” You slump back into your seat and wait for the answer just the same as your dad is, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, you feel a blanket being thrown over your legs, and it isn’t until then that you notice how cold you’ve been. He takes the time to wrap the material around your body, making sure you’re comfortable before he even thinks about looking up at your dad.

“Hotch, what is it that you want to know?” He levels his stare with your father, and it seems to dampen his anger a little bit. They’re having a silent war right now, in some kind of expressive language that you’ve never been able to decode, and somehow, it seems that Spencer is winning.

“Did you use protection?” Your sharp intake of breath is about all the answers your father needs, and you realize how majorly you’d fucked up by letting the conversation get this far.

“Dad!” you shout indignantly. “That is frankly none of your business.” He doesn’t look at you though, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes stay focused on Spencer, trying to figure out something you’re not even sure of yourself.

“For god’s sake, Dad, I’ve been in love with him for five years.” All the eyes in the room snap to you then, and if you hadn’t been feeling shy before, you certainly were now.

“Y/N, you’re barely an adult.”

“I’m sorry that’s entirely rich coming from the guy who had a child straight out of high school. I’m an adult, which is why I’m allowed to make my own mistakes and decisions, and I’d really prefer your support instead of your judgment.” Your father tries to speak again, to protest some part of what you just said, but unlistening, you groan in frustration and just climb directly into Spencer’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer panics below you for a second, before resting comfortably on your legs, far enough down that he is spared your father’s dirty looks.

“Aaron, I think you’d better hear the girl out. She reminds me a lot of someone I know, so hard-headed these youths of today are.” You are intensely thankful for Rossi’s presence then and you send a thankful smile his way, just as your dad grumbles.

“Uncle David is right, you should listen to Uncle David.”

“Until a few days ago, you were calling Spencer “Uncle Spencer” so I’d be quiet if I were you, Y/N.”

“Heard.” He pauses for a second to think, the years finally etching into his skin as he breathes out a sigh of relief. You suddenly feel bad for not being home when he woke up, and you can only imagine how it must’ve felt to not know where you were, or if you were safe after everything that he’d already been through.

“I’m not against this, I suppose. But I swear to god if you ever go missing on me again, I will have an entire agency out for you.”

“You know where I’ll be, Dad.” He nods then turns to Spencer.

“You’re going to take her to a pharmacy in the next three hours to get emergency contraception, and then the both of you are going to come - fully clothed - to my house. It’s been a while since we had a family dinner.” You smile brightly up at him, and within another minute, it is just you and Spencer in the apartment alone.

You looked back up at him shyly and tried to awkwardly climb out of his lap, but he pulled you right back into him.

“For the record, I think I’ve only been in love with you for 37 days. Is that okay with you?” All of the confidence drains from your body as you struggle to find the words.

“In my defense, it’s not that I didn’t love you back then, it’s just that you were so young, I think I never considered it. And when I realized that you had those feelings, I felt so guilty about it, I never stopped to let myself think about what else I was feeling. And then you were gone and I didn’t have to think about it again, and then you came back, and I’ve been doing a lot more thinking now, and I think that-”

“I think that you should shut up and kiss me, Spencer Reid.” You said.

“Heard.” You giggled as he pressed his lips up into your own, pulling you further down into him as he held you tight. You didn’t come up for air for a long while, drinking as much of him in as you could as he gave you his heart.

“You know what this means?” You said, finally pulling away with a gasp.

“What?”

“You don’t have to steal my panties anymore. I can just give them to you now.” He lit up red underneath you and groaned as you laughed at his pained expression.

“As long as you never mention that to your father, I think we’ll escape this job and lives intact.” He said, a faraway look telling you he was likely running probability on those ideas right at that second.

“Just remember, my dad has two weapons and the ability to move you halfway across the country should he choose to.” You pressed your forehead against his, chuckling once again at his pained expression. “But also remember, that I’d happily follow you anywhere, Reid.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Hotchner. Oh, no, that was weird. We’re going to have to get you a new name sooner rather than later.” You gasped as he lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you back to the bedroom.

“Spencer! What are you doing?”

“We need to go brainstorm some new names, too weird to call you Hotchner. And I do all of my best thinking in bed.”

“Really? I do mine in the shower,” you teased, holding tight to his shoulders as he continued forward.

“We can definitely try that next.” He said, carrying you through the door, and closing it shut behind him, hoarding your attentions for the rest of the morning.

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delicrieux · 4 months ago

Text

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. you did this to yourself.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing (i think) wc. 3.5k author’s note. and with this, we end our lil pre-relationship arc! and what's prewritten, so now y'all will have to wait. but not for too long since i'm very generous and also the best. it's almost time for a kiss xx

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CHAPTER 7: the missionTM (3)

right, so. a few things need to be established before facing the present moment.

first, once you were thoroughly exhausted by utahime, you returned to the room. her persistence to wrangle you into her and mei’s shared bedroom, which, in fact, had two nice, large beds, enough to share and not have anyone breathe down your neck, was indeed very tempting, and you almost succumbed. you didn’t for a reason you’re not yet sure of; all you know that each time she looked at you, pleading eyes and hands clasped close to her chest, an image of gojo left alone among the festival goers flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t force out a confirmation.

by all means, you have shared a bed with utahime. it had been nice and comfortable, and the two of you giggled under the covers, discussing the crushes on the tv show actors you had at the time. it was your first year at jujutsu tech, and you were sent on a mission with kyoto to establish rapport between the schools (no one else was willing, and yaga-sensei deemed you pleasant enough to be successful), and to say you were fast friends was an understatement – you clicked instantly, upon first glance, maybe. there was something about utahime’s tenacity and honesty you admired, and there was something about your openness and thick-skin she liked. kindness didn’t sabotage your backbone, and thus, you found a lot of things in common.

mei you like as well, though not as much. you feel she is quite cold underneath that clement smile, gaze curious but never attentive. however, it’s not mei’s presence that dissuaded you from joining them. you wish it was. god, what a mess.

it all sort of accumulated. fleetingly, you thought that gojo had returned to tokyo. you didn’t meet him once during the festival, which left you oddly desolate, as it was prime time for him to ruin your reunion with your dear friends – no trying to trip you up, no swiping at your ice cream, no public declarations of “hey! she stole that!,” no covering your eyes with his hands once the fireworks began so you’d miss the whole display. it was a bit unnerving, and you kept glancing over your shoulder enough for mei to ask, “are you expecting someone?”

the answer was, of course, a startled and incriminating, “no!”

when you did decline utahime’s fifth try to lure you into bed, she became suspicious. brows pinched and a displeased look, “how come, huh? you’d rather stay in a room with him?” she didn’t even say his name; utahime tried to avoid forming the syllables because she said it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

you held up your hands, like a thief caught red-handed, “no, no, i’d rather be with you two, really,” and you meant it, despite the something clattering in your brain, back and forth, back and forth, distant and strange and completely incomprehensible, “just that we need to wake up early tomorrow, and we’d hardly get any sleep if it was the three of us.”

for the first and likely only time, mei came to your rescue, “hmmm, she’s right,” she was already changing into her pajama’s, languid and elegant with the expensive, gleaming material hiding her body, “i am a bit tired after today. those curses…”

utahime shuddered, “don’t remind me, please.” a sigh followed, and you knew you’d won, “you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

“course. we got separate beds, and it’s not like he would actually try anything.”

“he better not,” she grumbled, “scream and i’ll actually rip him to pieces. i will do it with my bare hands—no, i’ll put on gloves first. i don’t want to actually touch him.”

“or better yet,” mei hummed, “send him here.”

the implication left you weirdly discontent. a pinch in your stomach where his hand had rested, so real that you had half the mind to look behind you to make sure he hadn’t manifested to defend himself. he didn’t. somehow, that was worse.

“absolutely not,” utahime stated, and you fought the urge to nod in agreement. she plopped down on her bed, exhausted, “no man is ruining this sanctuary.”

you exited with that. a bit confused and nervous, like some parts of you were rearranged perfectly but in the wrong manner. the door at the end of the dim hallway was suddenly intimidating, because finding a vacant room would make you extremely happy…right?

right. and that’s where you are now, palms clammy from sweat that surely accumulated from the dreaded heat plaguing the whole day. the night had cooled, rising harsh winds and bringing heavy clouds that obscured the stars as soon as the fireworks ended. maybe if he didn’t leave, he locked the door. then, at least, you’d feel vindicated, which is much better than that flutter pulling at your nerves. was this a part of his plan, too? set you on edge? it was, no doubt about that.

the room is, in fact, not locked, nor is it vacant. light spills from behind you, dousing the inky dark in vague silhouettes and shadows. gojo is here, and he’s sleeping, breathing soundly in the bed made for one. there’s a spot left for you beside him, a small space fit for another body. he could’ve easily taken up the whole mattress and then some, but he didn’t.

you’re not very good with deep contemplations – getou, you think, is, because he has the patience to untangle carefully. you don’t. all those neurons snapping just leave you angry.

still, you shut the door quietly, and still, you weigh the pros and cons of playing into this game. the lonely matt by the door is not exactly inviting, and you’re in too deep anyway. so, as silent as you can manage, you collect your pajamas and toiletries and lock yourself in the bathroom for a quick bed routine.

this is so silly. you want to giggle into a pillow because of how fucking ridiculous it is, but, when you leave the bathroom, changed, teeth cleaned, and face fed generously with skincare, his shadow in bed doesn't look silly. more so daunting, almost threatening, like he has more power over the situation than you want to give him credit for.

the first splatters of rain hit the closed windows. it's very dark, dark enough for you to have trouble discerning where's what, and you grapple for surfaces, afraid to trip over. the floorboard squeak and groan under your stealthy steps, and you can imagine him, sprawled there, twisting in annoyance until you plop down beside him.

you find your way there eventually, lower yourself carefully. no purchase, as a sudden movement would have you falling off the bed, which would hurt. it's very warm for your shower-cooled skin. and then... then. you don't really know. the raindrops pelt, and a flash of lightning cuts the world in half.

...a hand clasps at your thigh and pulls you close to a body, "mmh... where've ya been?"

the room fills with a thunderous, yet not exactly grating, noise. your breath hitches when his forehead bumps against the nape of your neck and you get a whiff of the floral bath soap he uses. so weirdly intimate.

"how are you not asleep?" you complain.

"was, until you opened the door," his voice is quiet. slurred, almost, like he's drunk, but gojo doesn't drink.

"..."

he has the audacity to press his chest close to your back, almost hugging you. the palm at your thigh makes no move to grope or linger, resting peacefully as another would, and you almost feel like it's innocent. or was that his goal the whole time? to tease, and nothing more?

warm. too warm. why does it make you flush?

"don't worry," gojo mutters, words pressed against the dip of your spine, "i promise i'm a gentleman," he gives a little squeeze, "mostly."

"most is not all," you snip, but don't shove him off.

he chuckles and the tremors buzz down to your toes, "too true," his palm flattens over your stomach, and he burrows deeper, "still. get some sleep."

something about his calm voice and warmth, and the thunder-rain-light show outside makes you sleepy, the type where you struggle against your eyes drooping and shutting for good. gojo isn't being very accommodating, the fingers playing with your shirt like they're making a decision. you'll hear him sigh and you'll be tugging your clothes into a semblance of respectability. he'll hum and you'll try to move away from the pleasant vibration. he'll curl even tighter and you'll want to lie there for eternity.

suguru: you awake? 3:49am

you: morning! sorry, i was already sleeping. what’s up? (o´ ▽ `o*)ﾉ 8:25am

you: i got you a souvenir ☆ i hope you’ll like it. gojo said you wouldn’t, but he’s a useless liar so 9:01am

you: i was thinking that we could all go to the arcade once we get back from the mission. have a nice weekend all to ourselves. i asked shoko, she said it’s ok as long as we go for a beer later. haibara-kun and nanami-kun also agreed. will you be free? 10:30am

at exactly 12:59pm, you are almost pressing the dial button, but gojo snaps your phone shut before you manage.

“hey!” you bristle, turning to your discontent seatmate.

his expression is shrouded by the lenses, but you see the tilt of his mouth, and he hasn't once left you alone for more than 30 seconds. he snatches the cell phone and slips it into his pocket, "that's theft."

he shrugs, "so sue me. i'll win in court, obviously."

"obviously," you seethe.

a clear, childish snort and the grin brightens considerably, and for a second, your gut churns – just for a moment, as fast as a breeze whipping the treetops and disappearing again. the train ride back to tokyo has so far gone in a similar fashion: him trying to annoy you and you somehow managing to refrain from clocking him in the jaw.

he is, however, not as irritating as he usually is, which is a feat in itself. it's... normal. nothing too special, nothing too bad. the gojo of 5 hours ago, waking you gently and shaking you and talking to your sleepy, bleary, barely conscious mind was different, kind, almost pleasant. and now he is like he always is, and it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as you wish it did.

right now, there is no reprieve, but, thankfully, you're used to his behavior.

"’sides," he leans his cheek on a fist, elbow on the armrest, "am i not entertaining enough for you?"

"seriously? begging for attention? are you that desperate?" you reach into his pockets, and, honestly, gojo could prevent this easily. you could tell; his technique is flexible in the physical department, too. so, letting you get too close is, in fact, quite voluntary on his end.

maybe he wanted to fluster you. it's not working. you're just irate as per usual, which must disappoint him.

"woah!" he stops you suddenly, hand on wrist, "at least buy me dinner first."

your anger fizzles into irritation when you notice you've garnered more than a few spectators. several pairs of curious, judging eyes glare at you from over the rims of magazines and newspapers and even laptops, and, yes, gojo's existence commands a lot of attention. he's always in the peripheries of every person within a mile radius without even trying.

so, the anger rears up again, because his antics have definitely ruined your chances of a peaceful, uneventful ride home, "gimmie my phone."

his grip is quite strong, holding you at an arm's length, "nah."

"you're an asshole, you know that?"

"stop thinking 'bout my ass, gosh, you'll make me blush," he takes that same hand and fans himself playfully, "but fine! since i'm the sweetest, nicest, and the kindest."

he fishes out your phone, lays it in your waiting palm, and then just looks at you like he's expecting something in return.

"what?"

a few seconds pass, his head tilts to a side, and you're left befuddled when his tongue darts out to wet his lips, "my thank you?'"

the first instinct, the correct one, is to say "go to hell" and forget this conversation even happened. the second, which you voice, is, "you expect gratitude for stealing my phone and then caving under zero pressure to return it?" your eyebrows must be all the way to your forehead. he is astounding.

he looks away, displeased, "not zero. you basically tried to fondle me. in public. in a train, even, how shameless of you."

"i did not."

"you did."

"not."

"did."

"oh god," you rub at your temples. a headache is oncoming.

gojo laughs. it's pretty, rich in pitch and loud, and more than a few people crane their heads, but now the stares are full-blown wonder. a bit sickening. you wouldn't be surprised if someone came up begging for a picture.

"could you please stop drawing attention to yourself?" you hiss.

"me?" he points at himself, glasses riding down. a flutter his pale eyelashes, "impossible," and a charming smirk. his pupils dart to your mouth, a full 1.5-second pause that makes your neck heat up. and, after what seems like a break for a wink and an allure, the spectacles are back.

what.

you open and close your mouth, unsure whether you saw correctly. the light must have been playing tricks on you, because whatever the hell that was, it was too honest for gojo. and all too out of character, too, because he's been calling you ugly for three years now. his first words to you might've been, "ew, what the hell is wrong with your face?"

what a bunch of shit, actually. now that you remember.

he's definitely just being his usual self, trying to rile you up, and to prove some point about being irresistible. typical, predictable, and so normal you relax instantly, letting go of any concern or interest in that strange glimpse.

once back at tokyo, you grab him by the sleeve. it's an involuntary reaction, but to be fair, you don't exactly even see gojo. he is simply the nearest person, and thus, subjected to your weird whims.

he stops, looks down at you, and he must see something he doesn't like because his placid expression crumbles, "...what?"

"neeeee!" you tug and tug and tug, and there might be stars in your eyes, and maybe a dopey smile, too, as you stare at the figure getting swallowed by the people rushing to their platforms, "i think i just saw ueda-san!"

"who?"

"ueda tatsuya-san. from kat-tun!" you finally, after a lot of effort and some seriously heavy panting, arrive at a secluded corner, "he was there, i swear!" you glance back. there's no one even remotely resembling the idol and a part of you is disappointed, the fan in you crying out to at least see an outstretched hand in a peace sign, "isn't that exciting?!"

the distaste only increases tenfold, but he hides it by shoving his hands into his pockets, a bored slouch, "so?"

your world freezes, a full 5 seconds before, "what?! what do you mean ‘so’?! this is such a cool coincidence! like...it's..." you inhale sharply, "fate!"

"haaaaaaaah?!" he stares down at you like you've gone insane, mouth open, a glimpse of teeth, "fate?"

"yes!" you respond enthusiastically, "do you think he saw me? this is my chance!"

"to die?"

"what?" you squint, confused, "why would i die? i want an autograph—"

"how'd you even know him, huh?" gojo pokes your forehead, pushing you back slightly, "have you ever talked to him in your life? he doesn't even know who you are," and, yeah, you'll admit, you don't have any arguments for that, and you hadn't really expected gojo to be the respectable, thoughtful adult in this situation.

still. surely fate has placed you and ueda-san in the same, massive tokyo train station so you could have a meet-cute like in the movies and fall deeply in love. you would quit your sorcerer job on the spot, travel with his band, gosh, the songs he'd write about you. this is all too much. you clasp hands on your cheeks. your head is spinning.

and all while gojo, a fan as well, or so you'd assumed, stands and watches you break down into a puddle of lovesick nonsense.

"oh god," he breathes, "stop," the distress leaks, "woman, snap out of it," his voice is strained.

"gosh, i dunno, gosh," you shake your head, "i don't think i'm ready to marry, i'm only 20. this is crazy,"

"the hell are you acting like he proposed to you? you maybe just saw the back of his head," gojo's agitation rises steadily, a tick in his jaw.

you clutch the material of his shirt, "no, it was really him. maybe i should go check?"

"no!" he puts his hands around your elbows, half-pulling and half-guiding you, "what’s gotten into you? snap out of it."

"but i gotta run after him," you jerk and struggle. the hallways, the other people are mere smears to the focus of your tunnel vision. ueda was just in sight, and he'll soon be slipping between crowds you could never catch in a million years, "this is my only chance!"

"like hell!" gojo grits, "quit it! be a normal fucking person."

"w-wait a minute—"

gojo places two large palms on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, and the fog clears as your eyes meet. the calm, composed, and serious glower shuts you up on its own merit and, shamefully, all you can think is how striking his features are.

he's breathtaking.

"breathe."

it comes as an order, though soft.

"and think."

your gaze lingers on the slope of his nose and how he holds himself, his entire posture radiating a fierce and all-consuming type of pride. his chin, his jaw, his cheekbones, the tilt of his lips, and you become overwhelmed. the need to shrink in and hide away has you clenching your teeth.

his grip tightens, "no. look at me."

and so you do. you have a mountain of complaints: to yourself, to the unfairness of this moment, because those fingers holding you up shouldn't exist, not around you. he shouldn't hold your face like this, tender, almost comforting, a thumb stroking your cheek absent-mindedly.

"good."

and, yes, a spark goes through you, and no, it is not that kind. it's panic, full-blown terror and the epiphany of what the fuck are you even doing?

"okay?" he asks.

"mmh," you nod quickly, "yeah, mhmm,"

his hands lower, come to rest atop your shoulders, and they're just as hot as a branding iron, "do you see why you're an embarrassment?"

and the magic ends as soon as it came, and he is repulsive again.

"buzzkill," you mutter, defeated.

“shoooko!” you barge into her room unannounced and uninvited, like it was your very own, and it might as well be by the amount of time you usually spend here. holding up a small gift bag, you present it with flourish, “i come with gifts!”

“welcome back,” she says dully, lounging on her messy bed and flipping through her fashion magazine, “how was the mission?”

you hum, tactfully avoiding the question by plopping down beside her, “i think i saw ueda-san at the train station!”

“ehhhhh?” now that gets her attention, and she’s all interest, “did you get a picture?”

“no, no,” you sigh, “was stopped by a lanky loser. gojo really is good for nothing.”

you miss the small smirk and the slight narrow of her eyes, “stopped you, huh? now why would he do that, i wonder..."

"because he's an asshole that wants to see me miserable?" you provide helpfully, getting more comfortable.

she flicks your forehead, and you wince, "you two are so silly."

"haibara-kun! nanami-kun!" you find them training in the dojo, and you barely manage to take off your shoes before you're sprinting full force to greet them, a gift in each hand, "i got you souvenirs from hitoyoshi!"

"mah, aren't you excited?" nanami stares with slight distaste when the box of sweets is literally shoved into his unsuspecting hand.

haibara, on the other hand, looks like he might grow a tail and start waggling it, "thank you so much, kawakami-sempai! these are so thoughtful, i appreciate them!" he immediately tears the packaging off, takes a hearty bite.

he sighs, content.

you wave off their praise like it's nothing. well, haibara's praise, but you’re used to nanami’s polite demeanor and quiet nature, so it must mean he is beyond ecstatic to receive such a thoughtful gift, "of course, of course! i gotta take care of my juniors,"

nanami grunts and examines the chocolate-coated cakes and cookies with an air of someone that is reluctantly pleased, "mmm, thanks."

you flash him an exaggerated smile, and he averts his gaze. got him, ha! you are the best sempai on this entire planet.

once you distributed the souvenirs, you swung by getou's dorm room. knocked, waited, only to realize he's not there. you left the gift bag by his door.

later, you find out that he’s gone on a mission, and that he likely won’t be back soon.

tags (couldn’t tag the marked). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @alygator77 , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy

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randxmthxughts · 2 years ago

Text

Chosen by Eywa - The Dream Hunt - Chapter 1

chapter 2 →

summary: eywa makes no mistakes... in the midst of his preparation to become the future olo'eyktan, neteyam is told to be with a chosen mate. guided by the signs of eywa, tsahik picks y/n, a woman orphaned by the war, whose heart already belongs to another

contains: arranged marriage, mentions of war and grief, angst, one-sided enemies to lovers

wc: 4.6k

a/n: i just wanted to say a major THANK YOU for 4k and for the support you have shown for this series before i even posted anything 😭 i hope this meets your expectations, and i am very excited for the next chapters

chosen by eywa masterlist | general avatar masterlist

Eywa makes no mistakes. Y/N had clung to these words her whole life, since the day her parents were taken by the merciless war against the sky people. She found comfort in knowing that her journey was already prewritten, destined for a greater purpose. But she had never expected for Eywa to turn her world upside down, forcing her to question everything she believed in, and lead her to a love that she never imagined possible…

The scent of smoldering herbs filled the air, mingling with the soft groans and hushed whispers of the healers attending to the small party of warriors. Y/N's deft hands worked quickly, spreading the last thick layer of healing poultice over the gash on his arm. He winced at the searing pain, then let out a weak chuckle at his own reaction.

"Mawey," she murmured to the injured warrior, her voice sweet with warmth that she failed to conceal, “We are done.” Their eyes met briefly, and a blush crept up Y/N's cheeks.

She turned away, to hide a small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips, and stepped closer to Kiri to search for another remedy in their shared basket. Neteyam, sitting beneath his sister's tender ministrations, winced slightly. His eyes then spotted Y/N, who was rifling through the herbs and ointments, though her thoughts seemed to drift somewhere else.

“What are you looking for?” Kiri asked, poking her head out from behind her brother.

“Oh,” Y/N turned, flashing the siblings a sheepish smile, “Was just making sure that we had enough eanean.”

Kiri nodded, though she was hardly convinced. Having worked with Y/N side by side for years now, she had grown to read her subtle moods. Over the past few months especially, with the increased work, the two women had become closer, and Kiri had suspected that there was something going on between Y/N and Kaye, the warrior she was just tending to. But she ultimately decided not to intervene.

“I still don’t understand how you even crossed paths with those skxawngs at the Eastern border,” Kiri returned to the conversation she was having with her brother.

"They were lying in wait," Neteyam answered, his gaze still fixated on Y/N, "I don't know how they figured out we'd be there today, but they attacked us from above."

"That's very bad," Kiri sighed, applying fresh bandages to his back, “What if there were more of them?”

She circled to stand in front of her brother, while her eyes darted around the spacious tent. The healing tent had been expanded due to Mo’at’s request, who had decided that the old one was too cramped. Mo’at also took on more students because of the attacks from the sky people, and the clan now boasted a larger number of healers than ever before.

"We probably wouldn't have made it out alive," Neteyam sighed, disappointed.

The future Olo’yektan saw no point in hiding the intensity of the day’s event; he had barely escaped his own death earlier. He was assigned to lead the party, and the weight of bringing his warriors to safety was heavy on his shoulders. How could he ensure they would never end up in the same situation again? Getting trapped by the sky people, almost facing death. He couldn’t help but feel insecure in his own ability as the future chief, maybe he wasn’t ready to pass his Dream Hunt yet.

Kiri's shoulders slumped in response, though the answer wasn't difficult to guess. She stole a quick glance at Y/N, who seemed to be frozen in place, listening to the conversation. If anything happened to Kaye, if she lost another person she loved to the war, would she be able to bear it?

The familiar touch of Kaye's hand on her back broke Y/N out of her thoughts. As he passed by, uttering a grateful "thank you," she blushed deeply, but the worry in her eyes was not lost on Neteyam.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Y/N dipped her feet into the cold water, feeling the soreness starting to slip away from her body. The river was serene, calming her, as she had been on her feet all day, working under the watchful eyes of Mo’at and tending to the injured warriors. Kaye, who sat next to her, nudged her thigh with his. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers, his canines peeking out with a small smirk.

“You know I don’t like it when you are upset with me,” he said, nudging her again playfully, “Y/N.”

Her ears twitched, as she turned to look at him with a hint of annoyance at how unserious he was being. He had accidentally blabbered about his stupid idea to take on two geared up sky people at once and almost lost his arm during the encounter.

“The Great Mother may have looked after you today, but it won’t always be so,” she said firmly, “I lost my parents to a slip-up like this. Eywa does not intervene in these matters.”

“I know,” Kaye cupped her cheek tenderly, recognizing the reminiscing in her eyes, “I will be more careful.”

She leaned into his touch, eyes closing for a moment with a small sigh. Her mind wandered back to the memories of her parents. It was a pain that never fully went away, a constant ache that still kept her up at nights.

“I worry about you, Kaye,” she murmured.

“And I worry about you,” he replied softly, his thumb rubbing circles on her cheekbone, “Which is why I think it is time to tell my family about us.”

Y/N blinked at him, feeling the familiar spark of hope ignite within her, but she quickly pushed it aside. She had heard these words from Kaye before, a promise that he had broken time and time again. His family held importance in the clan, his parents were strict, determined to arrange a mate for Kaye, just like they did for the rest of their children. And she was never worthy of their attention. She had nothing to offer to them. Kaye knew that too well, but he continued to give both of them false hopes of a bright future together.

“You don’t have to, it is no rush,” she mumbled, wondering if her devotion to him would ever be matched, “I don’t want you to fight with your parents.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Like in the womb of Pandora, surrounded by the elders and the Tsahik, Neteyam proudly wore the white paint on his body as he silently took a seat in the middle of the circle. His mother lingered behind with a mixture of worry and pride on her face; she had looked forward to the day her firstborn passed the Dream Hunt, but the earlier encounter with the sky people had shaken her slightly. What if Neteyam was too tired and wouldn’t survive his uniltaron? Jake threw an assurring arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest, and she gratefully complied, peeking at her son with a smile. Jake was grinning, confident that Neteyam, who had already accomplished so much at his age, would pass his trial with ease. He had prepared for it for months, what’s one more rite?

The chanting began to pick up with the beginning of the ritual, and knowing his role too well, Neteyam opened his mouth willingly when Mo'at approached him with a glowing worm hanging from her fingers. The worm wiggled around as Neteyam closed his lips around it and chewed it down. The smoke from burning herbs filled his nose and eyes, burning all the way to his lungs.

The chant grew louder and more hypnotic, and the taste of the worm on his tongue numbed his buds like a torch. Neteyam felt his body vibrate involuntarily, and as his father placed an arachnoid on his neck, he felt it stung him twice mercilessly. Neteyam squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the noise and the pain, as his mind began to slip into a trance. He could feel his lungs give out with a sharp pain and as he desperately gasped for air, it seemed like he was falling, spiraling down with nothing to grab onto. His heartbeat suddenly was louder, faster in his ears, thumping in a rhythm as he plummeted it down. The world went dark, and when he opened his eyes, Neteyam saw himself in the forest, surrounded by mist.

His body went limp for a moment, bright sunlight blinding his vision. He gathered his energy and barely moved to his feet, when with a sudden gust of wind, a banshee flew right above him, so close to the ground that it almost threw him off. Instinctively, Neteyam reached to cover his eyes with his hand, and then he was no longer himself.

His body ached, as it began to stretch out. His hands were growing, transforming into wings, as venom flowed through his blood, he was suddenly floating above the forest. It was like he was on the back of his ikran but the feeling was more intense. Unmistakably, his mind was no longer his own, Neteyam saw and felt through the banshee.

A rush of adrenaline burst through him, and Neteyam, for the first time in his life, was free, as he soared through the sky. He couldn’t express it, but he could feel it somewhere in his heart that this is what he was meant to be. One with Eywa.

As he flew over the trees, he spotted and neared closer to himself. His own Na’vi body stood small and fragile from the new point of view. But there was also somebody else standing next to him. A woman holding his hand. She was laughing, her voice vibrantly filled his ears with a pleasant sound. A long necklace wrapped around her neck and hung all the way down to her stomach, adorned with big beads, glistening under the sun, and blue feathers. Her hair was let down in soft waves, and her face… When Neteyam tried tracing her features, he realized he couldn’t. The image began to slip away from him, and he felt his body betray him once again…

Suddenly, his eyes flew open, the darkness of the cave enveloping him. His trembling body was arched, palms digging into the soil beneath him, sweat rolling down his face in big drops. Neteyam took a moment to regain his breath, heart pounding.

“It is finished,” Mo’at’s voice broke the silence, words echoing through the cave.

Neteyam winced slightly at the loudness and rubbed his eyes to regain his vision. He could feel the eyes of elderly on him, then the relief in his mother’s voice, as she rushed to his side. Her hands reached for his face, massaging his temples.

“Did you see your spirit animal?” Neytiri asked with a smile, her eyes brimming with curiosity.

Neteyam nodded weakly, a small smile of his own stretching across his lips.

“I saw an ikran… I was the ikran!” he exclaimed, his laughter filling the cave.

Jake and Neytiri joined in his giddy laughter, the rest of the circle smiling in approval. Neytiri pulled her son into a tight embrace.

“We are very proud of you, son,” Jake said, crouching down next to them and patting Neteyam’s head, knowing exactly what he went through.

“Thank you,” Neteyam smiled, then as if he remembered another vision from his Dream Hunt, continued, “But I saw something else too!”

Mo’at approached him hastily, making a room for herself, as she splayed her fingers against Neteyam’s face. She peered into his amber eyes with curiosity, urging him to continue.

“I saw a woman,” he smiled, the memory returning to him, “She was holding my hand… well, the hand of my Na’vi body.”

Neytiri gasped softly, her eyes widening with shock. Mo’at’s expression remained stoic, though she gripped Neteyam’s shoulder.

“Did you recognize her, child?” she questioned, concealing her surprise.

“No, I couldn’t see her face,” Neteyam shook his head with a slight disappointment, “She was a Na’vi woman. But I couldn’t see her clearly.” He looked to his father, seeking answers, but found only confusion there.

Neytiri and Mo’at shared a knowing glance before rising to their feet. Neytiri brought her hands to her chest, anxiety etched onto her features. Jake registered it immediately, now alerted too by their reactions.

“Is something wrong?” he whispered to her.

She looked back at him, confusion marring her expression. She wasn’t really sure what it meant, only knew that Eywa very rarely sent a vision during the uniltaron. Mo’at circled around Neteyam, the air thick with tension. He waited patiently, his eyes trained on his grandmother, though he was already a little worried by how long she waited to speak. She took a step back and motioned for him to stand up. He complied, his body still weak.

“The Great Mother had blessed you with another vision, a peek into your destiny,” Mo’at’s tone was serious.

Jake’s ears perked up, unsure if it should excite him or scare him. He looked around the cave, seeking for a similar reaction, but everyone except him and Neteyam seemed to have an idea of what it meant.

“What does it mean, grandmother?” Neteyam asked carefully.

“It is time, Neteyam,” Mo’at spoke with a glimmer of pride in her eyes, “The Great Mother thinks you are ready to take a mate. Your journey begins now.”

Neytiri wrapped her arms around her son once more with a bittersweet smile. She seemed relieved by the explanation. Neteyam, like the perfect son, had passed every rite on his own. Now it was time for him to face the rest of his challenges with a woman by his side, someone he would love and cherish. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. Jake watched with the same confused expression on his face, ever so often glancing at Neytiri to try and understand how he should react.

“If you have already chosen a mate in secret from the clan, you must reveal it now, child,” Mo’at spoke again.

“No, grandmother, I have not chosen,” Neteyam shook his head firmly, “I am not mated with anyone.”

“Very well,” Mo’at heaved a sigh, then tilted her head slightly, “Do you have anyone in mind for the role?”

“No,” he shook his head again, this time slightly embarrassed by his own answer. It was the only thing he lacked so far, “I didn’t have time for that.”

The words brought a pang of guilt to his parents. They both lowered their ears immediately, feeling fully responsible for raising their son with such a weighty burden on his shoulders.

“Good. Then the search begins,” Mo’at announced, “You will hear the answer soon.”

Neteyam felt his heart sink. His mouth hung open, as he looked around the cave for support but the elderly only seemed content with the decision and began to disperse. He would hear the answer? Were they going to decide for him? Of course, arranging bonds was quite common and successful in his clan, especially within the line of Olo’eyktans. Their mates were chosen carefully, keeping in mind that the couples had to be strong enough to lead their people through thick and thin. But he was content with his life as of now, exploring the forests and working on his skills. Neteyam didn’t feel ready, despite his vision. He glanced at his father, who was now frowning and clearly holding himself back from speaking, biding his time until they were left alone to discuss the matter further.

“Neteyam, you should go to the celebration, your brother and sisters have been waiting for you this whole time," Neytiri spoke softly.

"But mother -" Neteyam tried to protest.

"No buts, boy," his father interjected, “You did well. Go celebrate."

“Fine,” Neteyam nodded, his voice falling to a whisper.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It has been a few days since Neteyam passed his Dream Hunt, but he was already impatient for his grandmother’s decision. It could take her months to make it, yet he couldn’t help the anxiousness. Was he too late to choose a mate for himself? What made it worse was the conversations he overheard between his parents. He tiptoed around the corner of his family tent, his mind already racing with conflicting thoughts. He had gathered every argument and piled it into a high tower, ready to unravel it onto his parents, but as their voices grew louder, he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"I can’t believe you’re going along with this, Neytiri," Jake's voice echoed, his tone growing more exasperated by the second. "He should have a choice in who he wants to spend his life with."

"He didn’t make a choice in time," Neytiri replied, her voice firm, "But the Great Mother has. A mate has already been chosen by Eywa.”

“And what if he doesn’t like this arrangement? You were in his place once,” Jake was upset. He had never expected Neytiri to agree with Mo’at’s decision.

“Ma’Jake,” Neytiri sighed, “Eywa makes no mistakes. Neteyam received a clear sign, it would be foolish to ignore it.”

Neteyam's heart skipped a beat at her words. His mother seemed determined that it was the right step to take, and deep down, he thought he agreed with her. He had to trust in the wisdom of Eywa. Yet, Neteyam was scared because of his own helplessness.

“I don’t know…” Jake trailed off.

It wasn't fair play, arguing with Tsahik’s decision, with Eywa’s signs. Jake may have lived on Pandora for over 20 years, having been reborn as a Na’vi, but he still felt like an outsider when it came to the traditions of the clan. He wasn’t going to enforce his opinions with his position as Toruk Makto and go against everyone. But he also didn’t want to see his son suffer.

Neteyam sighed before stepping into the tent and revealing himself. Both of his parents stiffened, having suspected that he overheard their conversation. He felt caught between two and he had no other choice but to put a stop to it.

“‘Itan,” Neytiri’s expression softened, sensing the uncertainty in his eyes. She walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “I know that you might feel confused but I believe that accepting Eywa’s sign will lead you to being a strong leader someday. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices, but ultimately the Great Mother looks after us. Our fate is already written.”

“Whatever your grandmother decides, you don’t have to go along with it, if you don’t want to, Neteyam,” Jake added with a strained voice, “Trust your heart.”

Neytiri nodded with a small sigh. She too was conflicted, torn between her trust and her love for her son. The vision during the Dream Hunt was a rare blessing, and Neytiri didn't want Neteyam to miss out on it.

“You have been destined for greatness, ‘itan,” her expression softened, “We will be with you every step of your journey.”

“Thank you,” Neteyam looked between his parents, “But I decided to accept the sign. And I want to make you proud,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jake and Neytiri exchanged a glance. Neteyam could feel the weight of his clan's expectations heavy on his shoulders, like he couldn’t refuse, no matter how much his parents expressed they would support him. Now, as he looked at their worried faces, he knew he had to put his own desires aside for the sake of his people.

“Grandmother sent me over to get you. She has her answer,” Kiri’s voice trembled slightly as she delivered the news, interrupting their moment.

Her ears were flat against her skull, face etched with worry for the burden placed upon her brother. She could only hope that he would be happy and at peace with whatever will be decided.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

One man's joy is another man's sorrow.

Becoming the future Olo’eyktan’s mate, getting accepted into his family, being his family, filling the hole left by the death of her parents. To be granted the ultimate praise and be chosen by Tsahik, be approved, be enough. After losing everything, it all seemed too good to be true to Y/N.

Her heart sunk deep in her chest, voice hitching in her throat before words of protest could even escape. How could she agree to being with Neteyam? Sure, he was handsome, skillful, he was respected and would be sweet to her. But he wasn’t Kaye, wasn’t the one she wanted. Not the one who promised to be hers. No. It was going to be Neteyam, the future Olo’eyktan. The guy who had grown up with the eyes of the whole clan on him. Who was performing all the time, concealed his true feelings. Someone whom she didn’t know well, whom she never saw that way.

“Y/N, do you accept?” Mo’at asked, her voice louder this time.

Y/N’s thoughts raced faster at the gravity of the question. Mating with Neteyam would fulfill her duty to her people, a duty to carry on the traditions, an opportunity to belong, to be part of something bigger, greater. To finally feel useful, be able to give back to her clan. She glanced at Tsahik and could see the disapproval etched on the older woman’s features.

Any girl would kill to be in her position. It felt like a slap to even consider rejecting Neteyam, Mo’at was convinced that her grandson was going to be everything and more. She had seen him in her visions since even before he was born. He had a strong heart, was destined to be a leader, guide his clan to a better future, make a happy one for himself too.

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, each breath Y/N took felt like a burden on her chest. Jake and Neytiri, who stood nearby, waited patiently, hoping for the answer they wanted to hear but also expecting the one they feared. It was hard to tell apart which was which. Y/N stole another glance at Neteyam, whom she had greeted only a few minutes ago, just before his grandmother revealed her vision of Y/N being mated with him. He looked guilty, chewing on his bottom lip, muscles tense, as he desperately seeked for a reaction from her, anything. He felt the guilt eating away at him, he wasn’t blind, Neteyam had seen they way she was around Kaye. He just couldn’t understand why they had never announced it to the clan. Maybe things wouldn’t be so difficult now…

“I-I,” she stuttered, “I don’t know what to say, it is a great honor but…”

“But you deny?” Mo’at raised her eyebrows in disbelief, completely baffled with her answer.

“No - yes,” Y/N stammered, shaking her head, “I am only saying that there are many women in the clan who are worthy of becoming the mate of the future Olo’eyktan. Women better than me, who would know how to lead a clan.”

Mo’at pursed her lips together, clearly dissatisfied. Y/N wanted to scream, to run away, to hide from the responsibility that was thrust upon her so unexpectedly. Neteyam's eyes bore into hers, pleading silently for a chance. But she didn't know him, not really. How could she possibly agree to mate with someone her heart didn’t long for? Neytiri shifted uncomfortably, nudging Jake to do something, anything to ease the situation. He sighed, stepping forward to Y/N.

“I know it can be hard to let people take care of you, kid, but sometimes it is okay to let yourself just be,” he placed a hand over her shoulder, his features etched with sincerity, “Your parents were great people. I thought very highly of them, I truly mean it.”

“I know, Olo’eyktan, they respected you too,” Y/N nodded weakly.

Ever since their passing, Y/N could feel Jake’s protective gaze on her. He had been looking out for her for years now, making sure that people in the clan treated her well. It was him who had asked Mo’at to take Y/N as a student because he saw the potential in her to help others. But now, it was time for him to be taking all that back, and the realization made her heart clench painfully.

“I’ve never told you this but before your mother passed away, I was there with her,” he paused for a moment, “She asked me to take care of you, to make sure you had a place in the clan. And I know of no better way to fulfill that wish than this.”

As he spoke, Y/N's felt like shrinking under the weight of his arm still resting on her shoulder. She couldn’t tell him that her heart belonged to someone else, someone she could never have because she had nothing to offer. Nothing to give, nothing to make his family think she was worthy of him.

“The sign of Eywa was clear,” Neytiri chimed in, drawing attention back to her, “Neteyam had a vision during his Dream Hunt. He saw his mate.”

“But that’s… that never happens during Dream Hunts!” Y/N seemed baffled too.

She looked at Neteyam, hoping for a further explanation, but he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Shame and pressure showed on his face, as if the argument made by his mother put him into an even deeper pit of despair.

“It happens rarely,” Neytiri continued, then smiled softly, as if catching up on with her own thoughts, “Very rarely, Eywa sends these signs to exceptional Na’vi. It must be her way of saying that it is time to let somebody else help him on the rest of his journey.”

Useful. It was the precise word Y/N used, whenever she asked for Tsahik’s help during the lessons. When her eyes would go red from the amount of tears she shed when she felt unwanted. When she hid herself from the man she loved because his parents would never accept her. Y/N had always been a hard worker, eager to prove herself in the clan, but no matter how much she did, it never felt enough.

Neteyam watched her with fear and desperation. Now the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to make things work. The pressure of being the perfect son, the future leader, was a weight that he needed to share with someone strong.

Then they saw it. A single atokirina’, a sacred seed that had last appeared to Y/N on the day her parents were killed, floated around her, casting a soft glow over her features. For a moment, nobody spoke, watching the seed with adoring smiles. Y/N's expression softened too, feeling as if the Great Mother herself had blessed her. Eywa had spoken.

“It seems like Eywa tries hard to convince you, my child,” Mo’at's words were soothing, her voice softening as she spoke with adoration for her world.

"To be chosen by Eywa is a wondrous thing,” Neytiri added with a grin.

Y/N’s gaze met Neteyam's, his eyes searching for any sign of what she was thinking. Did he feel the same pressure as her? Did he want this, or was he as trapped as she was?

“Is this really how it works?” Y/N asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Eywa speaks to us in many ways, my child,” Mo’at nodded.

chapter 2 →

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 1 year ago

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𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: Car Sex w/ Dean Winchester

a/n: for the first time in the last six days this day was not prewritten! that kind of worries me because i've been doing so good being on time but never fear, i'll make it work!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

The way you ended up here was a total accident – at least, that’s what you like to tell yourself, that is.

You weren’t attracted to Dean by any means, no no, don’t get it twisted; yes, you may think he’s handsome. Yes, you sometimes fantasize about what it would be like if you were the one that he was taking home that night, but it was totally normal to think those thoughts about your friends… right?

It was like everything that you had ever known, that you had ever told yourself had melted away into nothing as you found yourself in the backseat of the Impala, nails digging into Dean’s broad, naked shoulders as he bounced you up and down on his thick cock. He buried his face in your neck, heavy pants brushing against the sensitive skin that sent a shiver down your spine, a whimper escaping your throat when his tip brushed your g-spot.

It was kind of hard to remember how you may have ended up in this predicament, especially since Dean was too busy fucking you into next week. Maybe it was the sexual innuendos that were rather consistent these last couple of weeks, or maybe the quick glances and secret shared moments when you’d knock into each other in the middle of the night, eyes devouring one another from the inside out as you’d bid lustful goodnights – even though you noticed the way Dean’s hands were tensed, flexing as he walked away.

You thought that maybe being away from the bunker would help with the fact that you often found yourself falling asleep after rubbing furiously at your needy clit, Dean’s name always on the tip of your tongue but never daring to slip past your lips.

It was obvious that being locked up in a stuffy hotel room was going to be the death of you, even after the hunt was over. All it took was suggesting you, Sam, and Dean take a trip to the local dive bar to end up losing a game you hadn’t even had a chance at winning.

The windows were fogged and the car was sweltering, but that didn’t deter either of you. Months upon months of swelling tension had bubbled to the surface which was portrayed in Dean’s hard thrusts and your harsh bouncing.

“‘You feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart.” He grunted, moving his head so that his lips brushed the shell of your ear. His stubble burned at your skin.

There was no gentleness in the way he fucked you, just pure depravity fueling your needy gripping. You took advantage of your position to caress and stroke as you pleased, just in case this was a one time thing.

“Can’t believe I finally get to fuck you,” He grunted, lifting you up to then slam you down on his cock. If the car wasn’t rocking before, it definitely was now. “Shit!” You cried out, throwing your head back.

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to feel this sweet pussy? God,” He cursed when you squeezed him. “Fuckin’ years.” He finished with a slap on your ass, sending you jolting in his lap.

‘Years?’ You would have asked, but all of your words died in your throat when you felt his cock jab at your g-spot once again.

“Me too.” Was all you were able to whimper out. “Yeah?” He questioned through a smirk. “Mhm!” You confirmed through curled lips. “‘Would always wish I was those girls that you took home.” A hand descended from your hip up your chest to cup your breast, his finger pinching a nipple. “Ah! And I- and I would always wonder about what you would do to them, how it would feel.”

“Do you know now, sweetheart? Huh?” He cooed.

“Yeah! Yes, yes I do!” You quickly corrected yourself.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @alixwriter

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fairytale-poll · 1 year ago

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ROUND 1D, MATCH 1 OUT OF 16!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Dimension 20:

Knight in invisible glass armor who turned the heel of her slipper into a spear and impaled the Fairy Grandmother with it to escape her false happy ending. Part of a team of princesses who want to destroy the entire fairy tale world to spare themselves and everyone else from eternally suffering. Gives weirdly good life advice.

A badass warrior in glass armor who stabs her fairy godmother with the heel of her glass slipper

Neverafter sweep!!!! Also, she is cool. Wears glass armor, tried to kill her fairy godmother with a spear, also tried to kill her stepmother.

She wears armour of glass and fights against a prewritten destiny

This Cinderella's story takes place in a world where all the fairytale characters exist but their stories have all gone wrong. It's a horror Dnd campaign, and there's also a multivariate concept where if people die, they're basically just reborn in a worse version of the story. Cinderella here is an NPC and is part of a faction called the Daughters of the Crown, which is a group of rebel nialaistic princesses who want to destroy the Neverafter to be free. She stabbed her fairy godmother in the chest with a glass shard from her shoe and she's a crazy powerful fighter. She wears full plate armor made of reflective glass so that she's essentially invisible when standing still. She's super badass but still is caring and funny. In the final battle when the PCs are fighting the Daughters of the Crown and other bad guys, she turns to their side after the other princesses are defeated and other giant villains come in, including her step mother, who became an eldritch horror. She stabs her stepmother through the heart with a shard of glass after dismissing the stepmother statement that she hurt her because it was destiny, saying that it doesn't matter if it was free will or destiny, she didn't like it. TLDR: She's a badass black woman/princess/knight

This woman has been through so much Shit. She has to go through the usual suffering of Cinderella (dead parents, abusive step-family) and then find out her entire life is a lie, just a story where she has no agency over her life? Her suffering is for someone else's amusement? So she's doing bad. Her stepmother also tries to destroy the ENTIRE universe after snapping. And okay. Maybeeee Cinderella tried to kill some people (mainly the campaign's party) but after she lost everything I can't help but feel a little bad for her. Thank you for your time.

shes ANGRY shes a WARRIOR she has GLASS ARMOR THAT SHE NEVER TAKES OFF she’s trying to END THE WORLD AND KILL EVERYONE she’s EVERYTHING to me

Once Upon a Time (in Space):

She spent decades searching every moon and planet trying to find her wife (Rose), who was kidnapped on their wedding day. Eventually, she found Rose, and they embraced, only for Rose to die in Cinder's arms. And so Cinder killed the king who had kidnapped Rose by punching through his chest and into his heart.

And then Cinder got a somewhat happy ending, in which she met Rose's clone who had Rose's memories.

What if Cinderella was a Sci-Fi lesbian? Well here she is. She has a whole love song about searching the stars for her girlfriend after their wedding was interrupted and she was taken away. She spends years searching only to when she finally finds and embraces her watch her be shot. Cinders is so devastated by this that she plunges her wedding ring into the heart of the man who shot her love killing him.

Lesbian space princess who elopes with the terrifying soldier who was previously conquering her planet and spends decades searching for her when they're separated. Listen to her song https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6w9V-gMgBF4

I think the way she punches the evil king through the heart as revenge for her wife is pretty neat.

She’s a revolutionary married to a woman, what’s not to love? From Cinders’ Song: “ When I was a little girl, my mother always told me / "Someday your prince will come, my love" / But as I grew, I knew it was a princess who would hold me”.

her girlfriend got cloned and most of said clones were brutally slaughtered in war and she searched for her girlfriend all throughout the galaxy and when they were finally reunited on the battlefield her girlfriend died. and a clone of her girlfriend who due to technical errors retained her memories, so does that count as the same girlfriend? theseus's girlfriend? anyway vote for cinders she's been through hell

Lesbian!! Has to search for her lost love Rose with her glass wedding ring that changes color when its near its partner!! Gets to embrace Rose once again for one final moment before the villain kills Rose right in front of her!! So Cinders kills him in return!! And she's left as (almost) the only surviving main character from her own album but!! She is eventually reunited with a clone of Rose, and while they cannot have a truly 'happy ever after' together they are the ones graced with the closest thing to it

SPACE LESBIANS (she's in love with Rose Red, who gets kidnapped on their wedding day and Cinders searches the galaxy to find her, waiting for her white ring to turn crimson, indicating that its twin was near) She took her name from the ashes of her burning planet <3 She also killed Old King Cole >:)

shes a tragic lesbian and killed a violent dictator shes literally the best

shes gay shes traumatized she dates both rose red and sleeping beauty. badass space wanderer looking for her wife

Her wife Rose gets kidnapped on their wedding day and Cinders spend the next thirty years looking for her. She finds her (:D) and then Rose dies (D:) and then Cinders kills the guy who killed Rose (girlboss).

shes a lesbian. she lost her wife, Rose (yes, as in sleeping beauty) the day they got married bc she was kidnapped. she spent 20 YEARS looking for her. as soon as she found her wife, Rose DIED IN HER ARMS. Cinders has gone through Too Much to lose this poll

(Her info from the wiki) the Princess of a planet burnt by King Cole's army, after it is ceded by her stepmother. She is imprisoned, meets Rose and plans to marry her. She is released by her godmother for the wedding, then flees when the attack happens, spending thirty years looking for Rose. Her half of the wedding ring will light up when she finds Rose.

"When I was a little girl, my mother always told me 'Someday your prince will come, my love' But as I grew, I knew it was a princess who would hold me I looked to the stars for you, my love" She's lesbian Cinderella IN SPACE. She fell in love with her wife in prison and they ran away to have a secret marriage but the empire kidnapped Rose on their wedding night and Cinders had to leave her behind. She searches for Rose for decades with the glass ring that guides her to its twin on her wife's finger. She finally reunites with her love after Rose rips three supersoldiers to pieces with her bare hands (hot) but then then the evil king kills Rose so Cinders fucking punches through his heart. And then a clone of Rose (who is also lesbian Sleeping Beauty IN SPACE) finds her cradling her wife's body and they have a happy reunion(?) and maybe they didn't have a happy ending BUT WHAT IF THEY HAD EACH OTHER? HUH? AAAAAH

she’s everything. she’s a princess from a long since conquered planet. she was imprisoned to make a statement of the brutal reign of old king cole. she met her wife while she was in prison, a beautiful brutal soldier covered in scars from battles. cinders and rose fell in love, so cinders’ godmother in white broke her out of jail so rose and cinders could be together. they were going to be married, except that OLD KING COLE intervened and kidnapped rose to make her the genetic base of his unholy army. so cinders spends THIRTY YEARS searching the galaxies for her love (and sings a really cool song about it called “Cinders’ Song”) until finally she arrives during the final battle just in time to see old king cole SHOOT ROSE DEAD. so cinders punches the king so hard (with her wedding ring) that he just Crumples Into Dust. the end! (no we do not talk about the fiction.)

lesbian, for one, and for two i don't really care i just think it'd be cool if she got in/if she made it past the first round

#this match is going to be incredibly intense and chaotic #cinderpoll #round 1 #round 1d #cinderella #dimension 20 #dimension 20: neverafter #dimension 20 neverafter #neverafter #d20 #dropout #cinders #once upon a time in space #the mechanisms #fairytale #poll tournament #poll bracket #character polls #polls

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weirdmageddon · 1 month ago

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(originally written 8/21/24 on cohost)

there are actually a lot of things that john and aradia share beyond the bing crosbytop and fedora that are pretty intriguing to me like narratively. i was on the road and it sorta came to me as i was listening to music and i had to write it down when i got to my lab

both are the actual leaders of their session even though neither of them claim to be.

both are involved in the larger narrative of their story, on the “outside” or “above everything” with regard to paradox space. aradia’s leads with strategic understanding, watching how it unfolds, and john leads with a methodical one, putting the narrative into action. both of these end up leaving them feeling detached from everything in the end.

from andrew hussie commentary:

But even then, Aradia's only using him, too. She's playing everyone. She has a very advanced and pragmatic view of leadership when it comes to a Sburb session. She understands there's no such thing as a leader, just a bunch of sad kids getting played by Paradox Space. In a way, she's the most honest type of leader any session has. A leader by absentia, a cold orchestrator of preordained, controlled chaos, who creates the spaces for all the pieces to fall into place, and then just sits back and lets them fall. As Aradia's arc progresses and the ghostly freeze on her emotions and desires begins to thaw, one of the themes that starts emerging is the struggle over the nature of what is random in a universe where any appearance of randomness is prewritten as an essential result, and any act of destruction, no matter how violent or disruptive, only serves as a preconditional pillar for any foretold series of outcomes. As a robot, when she gets her emotional legs back under her somewhat, she gets more aggressive and starts lashing out, using acts of chaos, violence, impulsiveness, and randomness as a kind of protest against the bondage that existing in Paradox Space represents. In other words, there's no random act that reality hasn't accounted for, but aggressively enacting them is still kind of a Fuck You statement to the master. It's an attitude borne by a defiant slave, which she knows herself to be, just like her ancestor.

these evoke such similar feelings to me

(john art by @monteruu. lovely work by the way.)

john has an unconscious draw towards this information, his existence is a consequence of it, but is unable to weave it together into a framework. he doesn’t have the internal framework but he has the words so he’s confused. there was one post i once saw that had me clawing at the bars of my mental cage that's still somehow tangentially related to this general idea im trying to communicate.

(source)

and plato was.....LII. john expects reality to conform with the mental products of that guy, similar ideas that i have seen repeated throughout many other LII works, including carl jung and his idea of the collective unconscious and archetypes. and my own mind too.

“john expects reality to conform with his symbol language." that's literally how we could define the SUPER-ID block in socionics. the SUPER-ID block is the block where one is shaped by their most primitive impressions of what the world is, from the world.

for an ESE, john's type, their SUPER-ID contains -Ti → -Ne. erm...symbol language anyone? the ESE themself is the one spontaneously affected by that information, in contrast to LII, who can consciously follow this information and verbally deconstruct it.

(for description about these information elements and what they represent, refer to this. details about the meaning of the information element charges +/- can be read here.)

for me—and aradia, (and plato and jung too. also dipper pines. if you ever thought john and dipper have similar vibes youre not alone. someone pointed that out the other day i saw a tweet that said "John is kind of like dipper if he gave zero fucks what anyone else thinks of him" and i was like "im fucking telling you dude")— the SUPER-ID block of LII receives the aesthetic/sensory impressions that objects with certain energies give off (SUPER-ID block +Fe → +Si). to me the best i can describe this is receiving the dynamic, embodied expression of an individual object’s 'character' in motion and the impression it makes on me. many LIIs are musicians, or music is a big part of their life for this reason, because of this tonal + sensory impressionistic discernment.

+Fe -> +Si is the information i require from the world that i use to consciously classify things or compare them using my EGO block -Ti → -Ne. i classify things by their actual embodied characteristics, which makes me able to compare things in nuanced ways. since i have these energy-sensory impressions as a sort of backlog to compare things to, i can creatively describe something's essence in a million ways, from a million different angles. i’m even doing that in this post right now.

john is doing that in reverse. he takes the raw essence / potential itself (including himself) and can physically embody that potential in a million creative ways. think of how quickly he figured out what was available to him with punch card alchemy.

aradia knows her position in paradox space, whereas john does not. john doesn't make this distinction himself. like any introvert aradia is able to plot herself on a “map” to identify her placement / relationships among other objects (be it interpersonal, logical, within a space, and—most demonstratively for her—throughout time). i guess it allows her to cope better, but for john, this causes his depression and anguish to find meaning in his life once the narrative of homestuck ends.

theyre some of the most narratively involved characters in the chain of events of the story, but just from opposite sides. aradia exerts this as a hidden force causing consequential ripples over events in time (and she is aware of this, which is where a core theme was for her as a character and trying to rebel against the inevitable that she has to do anyway because paradox space is cruel), while being quite modest and unassuming as an individual. i think this is why ive seen people "forgot about her" because she wasn't in the spotlight and wasn't well understood, the weight of the role she played. i've likened this to her (4/2) demonstrative +Ni and (2/1) vulnerable -Se pole in the socionics framework. we see her story told mainly through the past and how she came to be in this state. a huge part of her arc that people take away is how much transformation she has been through. changes and relationships things hold to each other over time is a Ni concept. aradia constantly demonstrates this as an individual. i guess why it's called the demonstrative function. haha? i have the same information element placements as aradia, so i can draw comparisons to flesh this idea out further. my friend told once me something very pertinent: "Honestly I think a lot of your bigger influence is subconscious and something that most people have to circle around to appreciate. Like they have to live a little to appreciate your wisdom"

john is the opposite — we follow him. we see his role as it unfolds, we're along for the ride with him. his impact in the story gets more spotlight, he is the main character after all. and it's so interesting how john spontaneously adopts these roles to live up to through his actions. it's like he subconsciously knows he's the main character in some way, and acts accordingly: he serves as a more active presence in the present moment of the narrative than aradia whose primary effects are a result of that which stretches back to the beginning of these chain of events. john's actual presence in major events are crucial. (e.g. getting the code for Quills of Echidna to scratch the beat mesa, sticking his hand in the house juju). this is his (4/2) demonstrative -Se. we see him involved in these things, right here, right now. not in the past, but his presence right now. but there's a shadow side to this. as jung says, "No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to hell". so given all of this, being an action hero constantly involved in the present, at the same time builds up as an inner experience of the self over time — (2/1) vulnerable +Ni, which we cannot see from the outside, but is a consequence of that presence that simultaneously evolves with every action john takes in the story. what do the collection of these experiences represent over time? who john is as an individual being in a narrative sense is something important to analyzing him as a character. what myth does he embody? what myth or idea is it that is essentially forced upon him by the world against his will, given his position among other objects? (1/2) suggestive -Ti → (2/2) mobilizing -Ne. this 1000% relates back to that symbolic language post. by the way.

when it comes down to it, it seems like outside world's mission for john's existence is because he is someone necessary. who else is going to do these things? john exudes optimism, capability, kinetic energy. this is why we see him spontaneously latch onto the positions (suggestive -Ti) that he finds himself in.

EB: but now they don't have dream selves left! EB: who ever goes will be risking their life for good, won't they? CG: THAT WOULD BE THE LOGICAL EXTENSION OF THOSE FACTS, YES. EB: this is unacceptable! EB: couldn't i do it? EB: i am apparently immortal, because of this god tier business, so the bomb probably would not kill me! CG: OK, BUT DON'T YOU THINK THERE'S A REMOTE POSSIBILITY THAT GOING ON A SUICIDE MISSION TO SAVE ALL OF REALITY WOULD COUNT AS A HEROIC DEATH? EB: hmm... EB: maybe i could try to be not all that brave while i do it? CG: YOU ASSHOLE, OF COURSE YOU'D BE BRAVE. THAT TENDS TO BE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DO SOMETHING REALLY FUCKING COURAGEOUS. EB: ok, well what about this. EB: since she is mortal, and i am not (sort of), and i don't need to do the scratch for a while, can i go help her? EB: maybe she could use some protection? maybe that is what dave was just trying to do, when he temporarily died. EB: remember, jack is still on the loose! he has killed rose and dave once, and me twice. CG: NO NO NO NO NO NO. CG: SWEET BLEEDING JEGUS, EGBERT, YOU KEEP BRAGGING ABOUT YOUR IMMORTALITY, AND THEN BRAINLESSLY ANNOUNCE PLANS TO GO OFF AND DO SOMETHING HEROIC! YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE THE SHORTEST LIFESPAN OF ANY IMMORTAL IN HISTORY. EB: sorry. :(

aradia’s trollian handle is apocalypeArisen. the final book in the new testament describing the apocalypse (book of revelations) is authored by a person named john. that’s all he refers to himself as, and nobody knows his actual identity. many iconic mythological figures come from there, like the four horsemen of the apocalypse and the biblically accurate angels covered in eyes from front to back and shit. like that’s the blueprint of the ‘apocalypse’ myths that pervade culture. apparently the book was written from his visions in patmos, greece. the only reason i made this connection was because of the amazing musical adaptation of it into the album 666 by aphrodite’s child (1972) that has be absolutely hooked, but still it made me do some reading since i wanted to know what was up since i'm secular, and that's where i found intriguing links to my thoughts about them.

because etymologically.... apocalypse (ἀποκάλυψις) is a greek word meaning "revelation", "an unveiling or unfolding of things not previously known and which could not be known apart from the unveiling.” sounds familiar to things i have been describing in this post, particularly from john (egbert)'s perspective. my friend said "john is like a guy lost in a desert without a map with random landmarks that don’t make sense and aradia is like watching him from a helicopter with a map".

one more thing. i read that the johnannine works took a more gnostic approach than other parts of the canon.

The origins of Gnosticism are obscure and still disputed. Gnosticism is largely influenced by platonism and its theory of forms. Many Gnostic texts deal not in concepts of sin and repentance, but with illusion and enlightenment.

and oh god and so much of homestuck has roots in gnostic thought AND plato's theory of forms. keep in mind that homestuck is a creation myth itself. like, yaldabaoth the denizen IS the demiurge. no wonder theory of forms is such a vital idea to homestuck's mythology. and that's why john seems to fit so well into that world, because he expects reality to conform with his symbolic language.

#aradia megido #john egbert #homestuck #homestuck analysis #homestuck meta #socionics #mine

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heliza24 · 5 months ago

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No Children, etc in ep 2.6 of IWTV

This episode is all about children and women, isn’t it? And how difficult and painful having a child as a vampire is.

Misogyny is big theme in the episode: way the plot moves around Claudia and Madeline, Madeline’s almost rape, her abuse at the hands of the mob. The women are cut out of waiting for Godot; if Godot is hope, and never arrived for the pair on stage, it never arrives for Claudia and Madeline either.

It also makes Armand exposed because it lets the coven plot around him. His kind of feminized role and his trauma leaves him exposed too, torn between Louis and the coven. Armand is the wife being asked to reproduce here. The way he reacts to Louis asking him to turn Madeline is so interesting. He doesn’t even want to watch Madeline’s turning, and the only way he would have conceded to that was if Louis had stepped into the dom role (the “masculine” role, if you will indulge outdated gender roles in order for me to make thematic point) to make him. This is likely based on his own trauma of his turning and his relationship with Marius, but maybe also because he’s already torn between loyalties to the coven and Louis by then.

The way his refusal to turn someone plays in Dubai is so fascinating. In some ways Daniel reacts to Armand like some people react to women without kids. He’s just totally shocked about how it could be possible that Armand has never made a fledgling. (of course this whole interaction is complicated and given layers by any history Armand and Daniel had together, including times that Daniel may have asked to be turned. I am sure that is playing on Armand’s mind; he’s delivering everything in that scene directly to Daniel. Daniel used to know, extremely intimately, all of Armand’s hang ups about creating a fledgling. And there’s still grief and bitterness tied up in that conversation for Armand.)

The fact that the magnolia tree in the Dubai penthouse could have been propagated from a cutting taken by Armand in Paris is so interesting. I think that can symbolize a lot of things: the hope that Louis feels in their relationship, the intertwining of New Orleans and Paris, Armand’s own sentimental attachments (to Louis and the world) that he rarely lets himself vocalize. It’s even in some ways a painful reminder of Armand’s betrayal of Louis and Claudia, a monument to his false promises. There’s also the fact that he was intentionally growing the tree in Paris, giving it new life in a way he won’t give a fledgling life, and that if the tree in Dubai is related it was propagated, artificially replicated, and not grown from a seed. But I also think it’s fascinating that we find this out in the same episode that Armand is inserted into a scene that has strong Adam and Eve symbolism. In his interaction with Madeline, Armand is the unwilling serpent, trying to scare Eve out of eating the apple she’s taken from the sacred tree of knowledge. So his connection to the tree feels important! And here’s that theme of misogyny again. Even though the roles are somewhat inverted here, Eve still gets punished for her acceptance of vampirism and of Claudia.

I do love that Madeline is the first person to make Armand question- even just for a second- his certainty that he knows exactly how Claudia will end. Nothing is prewritten according to her, and of course she’s right. But it’s not enough to shake Armand out of his other biblical role this episode. He still plays Judas, and self fulfills the prophecy he created for Claudia, and all child vampires, in the process.

I think it’s so fascinating that Louis’s one fledgling is not his child, but a partner for his child. Turning Madeline is like walking Claudia down the aisle at her wedding. It simultaneously reinforces how distant he is from Claudia (they didn’t have this turning experience together) and how much he would do for her. And there’s something so painful about how deadened he is to everything afterwards. Something about seeing the true love between the women and of letting go of Claudia takes the last pieces of feeling out of him. It’s what makes it so uncomfortable for him when Madeline still senses the love he has for Armand/Lestat (I do think she was feeling both in that scene, in a complicated way).

In this episode that’s all about children and the characters’ complicated relationship to them, it feels significant that Claudia is seen, really and truly, as an adult for the first time. As much as Louis has claimed to be thinking of her as a sister, he can never really let go of her as a daughter. I think it’s really beautiful the way that Madeline sees her. Claudia’s younger body isn’t a forbidden subject between them; they discuss it in one of the earlier episodes. But Madeline sees her agency and her joy and her hard won wisdom before anything else. I’m so glad we got to see Claudia through Madeline’s eyes, as she would like to be seen, at least once before next weeks’s episode.

@bluedalahorse and I have talked a lot about the queer phenomenon that sometimes happens, when someone’s lover also becomes their mentor and maybe even parental figure, guiding them into queer culture and making up for nuclear family that may have rejected them. I think this is hard coded into the concept of makers and fledglings, and is a big part of why vampirism works so well as a metaphor for queerness, amongst other things. I think this episode did a really good job of exploring the complications of those type of relationships.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #my meta

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estrellami-1 · 8 months ago

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Pay the Price

Here you go, you insatiable little shits. Love ya. I’m gonna try to update every Sunday, at least until I run out of prewritten parts. Taglist is CLOSED (bc y’all are feral ❤️) so if you’re new and want to follow along, “#pay the price fic” is the fic tag and “#starambles” is my writing tag. Subscribe to whichever you want!

Part 2

“Ed, phone!” Wayne calls, and he scrambles from where he’s on his bed, writing lyrics.

“Coming!” He yelps, barely not running into a wall.

He takes the phone and vaguely recognizes the voice on the other end. He figures it’s someone at school, but can’t quite place it until the end of their conversation.

“Y’know Loch Nora?”

He scoffs. “Doesn’t everybody?” He asks, derision clear in his voice. Only the richest of the rich for their little podunk town, the who’s-who of Bumfuck, Indiana, live in Loch Nora.

“Last house on the right. Twenty minutes. See you then, Munson.”

Then the absolute asshole—because of course Eddie knows who it is now—hangs up.

Steve Harrington. The golden boy of Hawkins High.

Except that’s not the case anymore, is it? He thinks about the past year. He fell from the top of the totem pole like a rock, doing a perfect fucking swan dive all the way to the bottom, then standing up and brushing off his shoulders like it didn’t even matter to him.

And what had he said- babysit? The Hellfire freshmen? Yeah; Eddie definitely needs more context.

He grabs his keys, jams his feet into his shoes, and takes off.

He gets to the Harrington house (can it be called a house if it fits five of Eddie’s trailers? Or would that be classified as a mansion?) not much later, bounds up the steps, and knocks confidently on the door.

Steve Harrington—the man, the myth, the legend, the enigma—has some explaining to do.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @mischivarien @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @inadequatecowboy @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

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#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual steddie #wayne munson #do I have a plan for this?#no #fuck it we ball #I work off Vibes Only #pay the price fic #starambles

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raineandsky · 2 months ago

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#127

The lock on the door is an easy pick, and with one final touch the door clicks open and allows the villain inside.

Now, the villain is usually well above petty crime. He’s done his fair share of thieving. He’s pick-pocketed, he’s robbed, and yeah, sure, he’s broken into places here and there. But his life is actually fun now, thanks to a villainous promotion and some less of the dirty work, and so stealing ended up rather low on his list of fun weekend activities.

It’s not a weekend, though, and it sure as hell isn’t fun either. This is business, and goddamn if the villain isn’t a professional.

He glances at the screen of the phone in his hand, checking and rechecking the picture he took of the supervillain’s instructions. If only the supervillain wasn’t trained to be a doctor, his handwriting might be somewhat legible. He is though, unfortunately, and the villain is wishing he’d just typed up the words when he had the time before.

I’ve had a ‘tip’ on [Hero]’s address. The villain can just about make the words out. It’s like a word puzzle, which he is notoriously bad at already. I have reason to believe she’s got some important documents in there. Infiltrate, find her stash of secrets, and bring it in.

Easy enough. The fun part of stealing was usually finding the most expensive object, though, and the villain has an inkling that some paperwork won’t exactly make him a millionaire. He tucks the phone into his pocket, taking a moment to adjust his eyes to the darkness before shutting the door behind him and exploring.

He finds a living room, a bathroom, a kitchen, the fridge, ooh she has good taste. The villain plucks a punnet of grapes from the fridge and tosses one into his mouth. The supervillain has him on late nights—he doesn’t have time for dinner at the moment. The hero will have to survive without her grapes.

The office feels like stumbling across a mine of incredibly boring, inexpensive gold. The villain takes to rooting through the piles of papers mounting on the desk. All plain, civilian problems—bills, taxes, a newsletter from the mayor. Nothing exactly incriminating.

“What are you doing in my house?”

Who the hell is awake at three in the morning? The villain wasn’t that loud coming in. He turns dramatically, expecting to make his first introduction to the hero, but he isn’t faced with the hero. He isn’t faced with a hero at all.

An old lady is standing in the doorway, her glasses perched wonkily on her nose and a baseball bat in her hands. The bat is kind of menacing, at first, but then she has to awkwardly adjust her glasses and the illusion is gone.

The villain’s mind is short-circuiting. That’s not a goddamn hero. What the hell has the superhero gotten him into? What the hell is he meant to do with a bat-wielding civilian?

“You’re deaf as well as unlawful,” she adds drily.

“No, no.” The villain's cool demeanour is slipping too fast. “No, I can hear just fine, thank you.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?”

The bat taps pointedly against the woman’s palm. She’d probably injure herself trying to swing it at him. That thought alone is vaguely comforting. Only vaguely, though—she’s still wielding a baseball bat.

“What are you doing in my house?”

“I am here,” the villain starts slowly, “to rob you blind.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. He didn’t expect to run into anyone, much less a civilian, much much less a little old lady. He’s running on a bank of prewritten sentences he used in his thieving days, and for some reason the least helpful one is the one that wants to be said.

The woman’s face scrunches up in an emotion the villain can’t read. At first he thinks it might be distress, or perhaps fear, but then she raises the bat and he realises that, oh, no, that’s actually unbridled rage.

She brings it down in an arc and the villain just about dodges to the side. She doesn’t seem to mind the fact the bat absolutely annihilates her desk in his stead. Jesus Christ, is that thing made of steel?

He may be a villain, and villainy may require a certain amount of balls, but this is where he draws the line. The old lady swings again, crashing into the glass cabinet a hair’s width away from the villain’s face, and he decides that no, he’s not dealing with this shit tonight.

He scrambles for the window, throwing himself out onto the fire escape stairs with his new nemesis in tow. She makes one last swipe at him as he takes the stairs down two at a time.

“I’ll bash your head in next time!” she shrieks after him.

It’s only when the villain is safely on the other side of the building that he slows down. He pulls his phone out, sucking in a deep breath, and unlocks it to look at the superhero’s note again. Really scrutinises it. Then it clicks. He sees the problem.

That’s not a 6. It’s an 8. He was on the wrong goddamn floor.

He stares blankly at the screen for a moment. He’s too old to be putting up with this shit.

He shoves his phone back in his pocket, heaves a age-old sigh, and lets himself back into the building for round two.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #(most of) the betas have come back to me so ive edited all my new bits and im really happy with how my books lookin #is it almost......... done? is it almost ready for agents? oh god..........#the mortifying ordeal of being known etc etc

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anim-ttrpgs · 27 days ago

Note

Eureka seems like it could be a cool game to drop players into with some hooks and let them do what they want. Will there be a pre-made setting or something along those lines in Eureka when it's complete?

Sorta but it’ll work a little differently from what you might be used to if you’re used to epic fantasy campaign games like D&D5e and Pathfinder.

Eureka won’t exactly have big setting books the same way that something like D&D does, it just has the one setting as described in the rulebook itself, which is primarily 21st century but can span all the way back to the late 1800s. I can dig up a post about that to link here

As for hooks, we recommend you use adventure modules. Eureka supports a LOT of things, it’s a “toolbox game,” which means that if there’s a situation that can come up during the adventure, the rulebook probably has some advice for what to roll (That’s also why it’s such a long rulebook.) - however, all of these situational considerations are in service to the one main thing: Investigation. Eureka does mystery Investigation really well, which means it does it pretty differently compared to most other games, and the way it does it means that the GM will run into trouble if they try to make everything up on the fly based on whatever random hook the PCs decide to follow up on. They’re going to investigate and find evidence, and if the GM isn’t prepared with cohesive information to give them based on that evidence, then it won’t all come together in the end.

This is not to say that Eureka adventures need to be pre-plotted or railroaded, far from it. What it means is that that hook has to have a whole line attached to it.

A good “campaign” for Eureka will probably last 2-10 sessions at most, and have one or multiple hooks, all of which are related to the same event.

That event will be something the GM has written out in detail and set in stone, which has already happened (or in more advanced cases, is actively happening). Lady Violet killed Colonel Mustard in the study with the candle stick. With that set in stone, you can start sprinkling clues around that they can find that either point to Lady Violet, or help rule out other suspects. You gotta stick with that no matter what crackpot theories about aliens or ex wives the players or PCs might come up with, because if you change it on a whim based on what the players want to be the truth, then previous clues will quickly stop making sense.

To this end, we recommend using prewritten adventure modules, because we know from experience that it’s a lot of work for a GM to make up an event to be investigated that has enough detail for every eventuality. (That’s why they pay people to write adventure modules after all, it’s work, even if it can be fun work.)

Our team plans to support Eureka for as long as is feasibly possible with continual releases of new adventure modules, and we already have four in the works to release with the full game. The beta version of one of them (Horror Harry’s Haunted House) comes free with the name-your-price beta of Eureka on itchio, and two more (The Eye of Neptune and FORIVA: The Angel Game) are available on our patreon.

You can also listen to an Actual Play playthrough of FORIVA: The Angel Game on @tinytablerpg's podcast!

And finally, Eureka is compatible with most other already-existing adventure modules about mystery Investigation, which we have a post about right here

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intothegenshinworld · 9 months ago

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Fate’s Destiny ~ Chapter 10 || New goals

You somehow, not being able to explain it, had fallen into the Genshin world you know oh-so-well. You were no new player and had explored most of the nooks and crannies of the world. When you first had woken up in Windrise you wondered; it might be a dream, after all, you were behind your screen usually, and now- here? It made no sense, and the world was keen on keeping it that way.

Warnings: Spoilers for main story.

Word count: 3.5k+

Auteurs note: My health is worsening. This chapter has been prewritten and queued in advance because of it. I hope you can enjoy it

↺ PREVIOUS CHAPTER || ↻ NEXT CHAPTER || MASTERLIST

Almost half an hour ago, Ningguang had walked into the room to inform you of Lumine and Paimon’s whereabouts. Thankfully, they hadn’t been in trouble and were still in Liyue harbor, searching for a way to find either a member of the Qixing, Rex Lapis, or you, until they were approached by one of Ningguang’s closest confidantes.

It was also Ningguang who informed you that you were currently in the infamous Jade Chamber, which floated at a nearly impossibly high altitude in the sky. Despite their vow to keep your identity a secret, you chose to stay hidden from the workers and remained inside. This meant that you hadn’t witnessed the vast distance with your own eyes. However, the safety of the walls surrounding you gave little comfort after Ningguang revealed your location.

Neither Zhongli's reassurance nor hers would make you feel more at ease during your stay above the clouds.

While awaiting Lumine and Paimon's arrival in the Jade Chamber, Zhongli kept his promise by having you sit down and focus on the stories depicted on the silk tapestries.

Battles and friendships from long ago do not return your memories, but you now know why Zhongli and Xiao validate you so. In the stories, it sounds like you were close friends before you lost your memories. It must be saddening for them to realise that these moments no longer remain with you.

Ningguang interrupts the comfortable silence once more, “Creator, Rex Lapis.”

When you look up at her, you see your beloved friends by her side. Without a second to waste, you jump out of your chair. You practically stumble forward as you race across the room.

“Y/n.” Lumine wraps her arms around you once you’re close enough, followed by Paimon wrapping her smaller ones over hers. In this short time, you had become close with both of them. If fate would be kind to you, it’d keep the three of you connected till the end of time.

After a short moment, you remove your hands from Lumine’s back and flash her an apologetic look, saying, “I’m sorry.” You glance away with a feeling of guilt. “I wanted to come back for you but a lot happened. And by the time I could do something, Lady Ningguang had already sent someone to get you up here.”

Lumine’s lips curve upwards, “There’s nothing to forgive, so don’t apologise. Xiao ended up helping us a great deal.”

Paimon nods her head vigorously. “Paimon admits Paimon was scared when Xiao suddenly showed up and told us we were followed. Paimon thought we were going to have to fight another dragon or something, but it ended up being a simple misunderstanding.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Dragon?”

A chair scrapes against the wooden floor. When you look over your shoulder towards the source, you see Zhongli has risen to his full height. His expression is calm and unrevealing of his emotions, as usual. It’s a look that radiates power—yet is devoid of intimidation and threat.

He takes a step forward. “It is a pleasure to see you again, traveller.”

Lumine nods her head in acknowledgment, but it’s Paimon who responds. “Paimon is really happy too. Maybe after all this walking around, y/n is finally able to return their memories.” She turns to you with an encouraging smile and puts her thumbs up.

“We… talked quite a lot already,” You point at the silk tapestries hanging from the ceiling. “I haven’t been able to recall anything yet, but I understand my position better after a little history lesson.”

Paimon awes at the pieces of art you pointed out. She floats further into the room without much care of intrusion. “Is that you?”

You walk up to Paimon with Lumine following from behind. The little pixie had stopped in front of a silk tapestry that depicts Zhongli and some stone frog-dragon-thing that you’ve come to know as ‘Azdaha’. On the tapestry, you hold out your hand to ‘Azdaha’, a golden glow falling onto the skull of the beast and depicting you as a saviour of sorts. Zhongli, or Rex Lapis, or Morax—the names are a lot—is illustrated to stand behind you with his arms crossed. The tapestries aren’t detailed enough to show expressions, but the resemblance is certain.

Similar to Paimon, Lumine looks at it with interest and curiosity. Her awe is less evident as her eyes glide over the picture, always carefully hiding her emotions. She seems a bit more hesitant for some reason, slowly taking in any detail and new information.

And while you and your companions stand in front of the tapestry, Zhongli seems to have made his way over as well because he stands next to you when he starts to explain the history behind the art,

“Mortals have always had a fascination with the Creator. This specific tapestry demonstrates a power we used to call; ‘light energy’. It’s unlike any other elemental energy—something only the Creator is capable of.”

You look at the picture with yearning. Could this truly be you? Did you belong in such a timeline once upon a time?

All of the stories Zhongli had told you were magnificent, almost in a dramatic soap series kind of way. It makes it hard to wrap your head around everything. It’s surreal to have history depict you as such a powerful being, especially when you’re unable to deny nor confirm the facts yourself.

You catch Paimon staring at you. A nervous laugh escapes your lips. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m also unable to believe that’s me.”

Zhongli follows your laugh with a warm chuckle. “All in due time. For now, let’s take a seat. I would be delighted to answer any inquiries you may have.”

Uncertainty builds up in your stomach as you move in one of the four chairs surrounding the square table which is boldly placed in the middle of the room. Because of its square shape, it has four equal sides, and thus no head. A design choice for a meeting table, a place where all participants would be equal, you suspect.

Lumine’s eyes are already fixed on you when you turn to her. She gives you a small nod as she settles in the chair on your left while Paimon takes the one on your right. Zhongli takes the only seat left and comfortably settles across from you.

Once everyone is settled, you clear your mind. The small gnosis groans as if protesting, and you clutch it tightly in the hope of suffocating the reverberating rumbles it releases.

Then, you start, “Up until now, I've worked hard to regain my memories with the gnosis, but without success.” It trembles in your hand. “It isn’t enough. And while I’m eternally grateful for your help and willingness to tell me all of these memories that I should remember, I know I’m running out of time.”

The room falls silent as you finish your story, “—every moment I waste trying to figure out how to unlock my memories with a gnosis that wasn’t meant for me, is another moment where my memories slip from me. I need to know why you thought the gnosis would help me, and why it isn’t.”

Zhongli brings the teacup from the table to his mouth. It’s a calculated action, as if he’s trying to extend this moment, which brings a newfound anxiety for the answer he’s withholding.

Once he lowers the teacup onto the table, he answers. “The gnoses were gifted by Celestia, but created from you. In its rawest form, the gnoses should be part of your lifeforce—your aura.”

The gnosis in your hands vibrates weakly when you look at it. Aside from the occasional surge of elemental power it seems to release, you haven’t felt a personal connection to the object ever since receiving it.

Why could that be?

“If I may be so bold,” Zhongli folds his hands over each other. “Your memories should have returned by now. The energy should have recognised its Creator. It is a similar concept to the ley lines, if that helps your understanding.”

Lumine frowns. “But…?”

“But if your memories are yet to return, perhaps the problem lies elsewhere.”

You think about Zhongli’s words. Previously, you had assumed all of your problems to disappear if you were to remember everything. But what if there was another problem? Could you have missed the bigger picture that caused your fading memories?

While you were more than displeased at this revelation, his statement seemed highly likely.

“You believe this because of my aura? Since only a few seem to recognise it?” You look from Zhongli, to Lumine and Paimon, over to Xiao—who remains standing upright behind his Archon.

Zhongli hesitates. “This is a possibility we should consider, yes.”

Xiao clears his throat. “Creator. Perhaps this could be because mortals aren’t able to comprehend weaker amounts of your energy. The traveller is an outlander, maybe they’re more sensitive to it as we are.”

“No.” You reject his idea. “I’ve met ordinary people who have been able to recognise my aura. Even if it was one, it’s unlikely to be an anomaly.”

Paimon puts her hands on her head. “Wait. Paimon is confused. Doesn’t this make the problem much bigger?”

You look over to the little pixie who is visibly distressed with the new information. The corners of your lips lift despite the gloomy situation. She cares about you—as do the others in this room.

Your conversation with Kaeya from the day before flashes through your mind.

“Why don’t you ask Rex Lapis himself? After all, he is the best person to seek answers from. As much as I love Mondstadt, I fear our Archon is as free as its people, so I can’t advise you to come back with me onto a journey to find the lost Barbatos.”

Kaeya's eyes had been fixated on the gnosis moments prior. You had wondered why he seemed so uninterested in it. After all, getting to know that gnoses exist and seeing one right in front of him should stir some feelings in him. Regardless of those being positive or negative.

Perhaps in the grand scheme of things, it no longer seemed as potent as before.

In the past weeks you’ve been trying to unlock your memories through the geo gnosis without prevailing. Then, you spent a few hours listening to—what should be—your memories, without ever recalling them.

If the geo Archon can’t help you, maybe you should seek an audience with another one.

While it seems like a good next step in your mission to recover your memories, you realise how hard this information will be for Zhongli. He’d been more than willing to spend the next century reciting all of his memories in the hopes of your own returning. Unfortunately, you need more than stories to fix this problem.

“What about the other Archons?” You ask carefully.

Zhongli furrows his eyebrows for a split second. Then he purses his lips, carefully thinking about his next words. “You wish to send a message to the Tsaritsa?”

You blink. Had he assumed you wanted to reach out to the cryo Archon after your prior interaction with La Signora? While you hadn’t been too opposed to it, Lumine and Paimon had warned you about the Fatui.

Could you trust the cryo Archon?

“I was thinking about someone closer. A neighbouring nation, if preferable. Do you think Sumeru could help us?”

Paimon gasps. Before she can speak, Lumine interjects. “We have met the anemo Archon in the past. We could return to Mondstadt. It’s closer than Sumeru and we’re already acquainted, making it easier to find him.”

With your trusty cloak and the traveller as your aid, you will be able to explore the city without an uproar. In the worst scenario, not only Lumine would have your back, but Kaeya and Albedo too. Surely people would be more trusting of you with them by your side.

But…

Why would you cause an uproar?

Paimon continues, “If anyone recognises you, we can simply explain the situation to Acting Head Master Jean. After all, we saved Mondstadt with her. She’ll likely trust us if we tell her what’s been going on.”

Right. The aura problem.

What is wrong with you? How could you forget something you were just talking about?

You nod to yourself. “I suppose we now know our next move.”

Slowly, your eyes move up and shift over your companions in the room. Xiao and Lumine keep their emotions hidden behind a mask of neutrality, while Paimon wears hers visible with pride. Zhongli though…

The geo Archon remains silent for a moment longer. Then he speaks in a low voice. “What more can he offer compared to me? Barbatos isn’t—.” His tone shifts, but he quickly regains himself. He looks you directly in the eyes. “I know I would be able to offer more guidance. Liyue might not offer a vast abundance of knowledge on ley lines, but we have more than enough Adepti ready to aid you. Ones with centuries of experience, and centuries of memories with you.”

You look over to Lumine for her advice.

“In such a short time frame actions are better than stories. If you aren’t able to remember your past life now, who says you will after hearing more? If you feel like you’re running out of time, more Archons on your side might be better.” Lumine turns from you to Zhongli. “And while Liyue seems like a good place to stay, won’t it take a while before the Adepti can find out what is wrong with the Creator’s aura?”

Zhongli eyes her down like a god would to a defiant follower. Greed and envy fill his eyes, and the gnosis seems to groan in response. “And what do you think Barbatos has to offer over me?”

“A new perspective.” Lumine holds her ground. After a moment longer, she turns her head to you, ignoring the Archon in her presence. “In Mondstadt we will meet new possibilities. Maybe the Abyss order is involved like they were with Dvalin. If so, we will find more answers there.”

Paimon seems to agree with that possibility as she nods her head furiously in response. Xiao keeps his views to himself. The only tell he shows are his pursed lips and the words he keeps locked behind.

Mondstadt, or Liyue.

Or you’ll be putting your faith into an Archon with nearly no influence over his own lands, or you can test your time by waiting and hoping the Adepti will find an answer.

Both options sound like too much of a gamble, and yet—

“Can’t we do both?” You look up at your companions. “I mean, there’s no need for me to stay here and wait. I can go to Mondstadt while the Adepti try to help me from a distance.”

No more counterarguments are presented. It is the perfect middle ground for a less-than-perfect situation.

“Okay,” Zhongli answers in a flat tone. He forces a small silence into the room as he formulates a plan in his mind. Then he speaks again, “The Adepti will be gathered, and we will aid you.”

His doubt hides behind under his stiff and business formed composure, yet you’re able to recognise his true feelings without much effort.

He does not approve of your decision.

On the other hand, both Paimon and Lumine seem visibly relieved at your choice of heading to Mondstadt. Lumine has a visible smile on her face and her eyes are filled with newfound hope.

She leans closer to you, making her hair fall in her face when she tilts her head playfully. “Let’s go to Mondstadt.” She gives you her brightest smile. “Together.”Her joy is enough to overshadow Zhongli’s doubt, and so your own eyes start to shimmer with hope—Forgetting the consequences of your choices altogether.

You’re quick at gathering your possessions once you return to the inn. The few belongings you own are all gathered in your hands. You realise you own very little to your name. The book gifted to you by Lumine and Paimon, pyjamas and underwear that had been bought on your travels, and a toothbrush. Everything else you used on a daily basis, was shared with Lumine.

In an attempt to fill the silence in the room, you ask a question that has been stuck in your mind for a while now,

“Lumine, Paimon?” Both halt their movements in favour of awaiting what comes next. “I never got to ask this in the Jade Chamber, but what happened after Xiao teleported me away?”

Paimon is immediately captivated by your question. Her eyes widen as if she’s recalling the events. “Yeah! Remember Childe? He suddenly got really mad at Lumine for no reason!”

Her tone is a bit too excited for her words to be alarming to you. You await her explanation.

“He started to pick a fight with the traveller, and because she already had her sword out, he immediately attacked. It caused a big commotion in the harbor and Childe only ran away once the Millelith intervened.”

Lumine adds to Paimon’s story while she continues to pack her stuff. “He had been keeping a close eye on me ever since I entered Liyue. No doubt, every meeting with me had been in his favour. But in all honesty, I think the Fatui has been keeping close tabs on me ever since Mondstadt. It didn’t feel like a personal thing.”

You hum. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

“Pfft? Hurt?” Paimon snickers. “If anyone was hurt, it was Childe.”

Lumine disagrees, “If we weren’t in public, I’m not sure what would’ve happened. As a Harbinger, he has a reputation to uphold. Childe never used his full powers during the fight.”

Lumine continues. “But enough about that.” She puts her hands on her hips and turns to you. “You also mentioned meeting a Harbinger on our way back. I’m curious how your confrontation went.”

You avert your eyes. “I’d compare it to a forced diplomatic conversation instead of a confrontation—but yes.”

You cross your arms. It takes no effort to remember your conversation with La Signora. The deal between the geo Archon and the cryo Archon was truly peculiar. If you had chosen to stay in Liyue, you might’ve been able to figure out what this deal was about.

“There isn’t much to note, except that she was the mediator between the cryo and geo archon for a contract. I’m unsure of whether she felt my aura or not because she saw my face.” You hum, recalling the way she addressed you. “She did not seem to like me but she had no bad intentions either.”

Paimon perks up, “Paimon is just glad Rex Lapis was there to clear up any possible confusion about your identity. If it was Childe he might’ve tried to fight you as well.”

“Mhm,” You nod your head as you look over at the pixie. “And with La Signora returning to the cryo Archon, she might be able to help me. Who knows? Maybe that’s exactly what I needed.”

Lumine shakes her head, “Not possible.”

Paimon seems to agree with her. She crosses her arms and huffs once. “Paimon doesn’t trust the Fatui. They only ever fight!”

“Oh?”

“That woman took the gnosis from Venti–” She screeches, “And turned Paimon into an ice cube.”

Lumine carefully adds, “The Fatui seem to be after the gnoses. What guarantee do you have of the Tsaritsa accepting you in your current form when she won’t try to respect her other Archons?”

You frown. Your lack of information on the cryo Archon and the Fatui was making the situation difficult. Could you be making the wrong choices? And if you were, how could you trust your previous judgement of leaving Liyue?

”Do you truly believe that the Fatui has bad intentions even if Zhongli, the geo Archon, had willingly signed a contract with La Signora?”

”Oh.” Paimon rubs her head. ”Paimon forgot about that.”

”Surely he’d have the right reasons to do this, no?”

Lumine pats her travel bag a few times, making sure it’s secure before she slings it over her shoulder. ”While I understand your confusion and need for answers, I’m not sure if we’ll ever get the truth of that question. Despite Rex Lapis’ willingness to share anything with you, he didn’t seem thrilled to explain certain things in detail. At least, not with us in the room.”

She gestures to Paimon with her head. The pixie seems to visibly deflate. ”Paimon also felt like that.”

”For now,–” Lumine puts a hand on your shoulder in a comforting way, ”–let’s head to Mondstadt. It’s still early, and I’ve got a feeling it’s best to depart as soon as possible.”

You nod and place your belongings in the bag Lumine had prepared for you. ”I’m ready.”

”Paimon is too!” The pixie throws her hand in the air and races outside. ”C’mon! Paimon really wants to stop by some food stalls on the way.”

Lumine sighs and heads out of the door, trying to stop the small companion from leaving without you.

Your hand clamps around the gnosis. It is silent for the first time since you received it. No energy, no faint humming, no vibrations.

…

Nothing.

You pull your cloak over your head and take the first step towards Mondstadt.

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#this post has been queued #sagau x reader #lumine x reader #zhongli x reader #sagau #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #sagau isekai #isegau #zhongli #lumine

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