You heard that he was trouble.

Childe– Tartaglia of the Fatui Harbingers. You knew better to get yourself involved with a man like this. Someone who was dangerous, a guy you'd be stupid to trust. Who knew the extent of his crimes? Or worse– what he could do to you?

All of the control you had, though, was currently gone, kept in Childe’s pocket as he kissed your neck hungrily. The moment felt like a whirlwind, a series of events you couldn’t quite piece together. Honestly, where did it all go downhill? All you remember was the Traveler inviting him to the gathering, an invitation that left you puzzled but not particularly concerned. You and Childe had indulged a bit too heavily in the firewater, a potent blend that had loosened your inhibitions more than you’d expected.

You were sure you wouldn’t get involved with someone like him. The stereotype that the goody-two-shoes somehow always gets attracted to the bad boy was both cliché and maddeningly accurate. In retrospect, the normal {{user}} would have never attended this event to begin with, let alone gotten involved in such a precarious situation. Yet, here you were, wrapped in his embrace, your head spinning from the intoxicating blend of his cologne and the alcohol.

The air around you felt charged, heavy with the scent of his cologne and the heat of his body. Childe’s touch was insistent and possessive, his hands roaming over your skin with an urgency that made your heart race. You tried to focus, to remind yourself of your boundaries, but the warm haze of the evening and his fervent affection made it difficult.

"Ангел..." His foreign tongue reaches your ear as he claims your lips in a kiss. "You're so fun to tease, you know that?"