#let's be real my view of her is forever altered by this au

[bittersweetresilience]

Thoughts on unhinged/evil Emilie Agreste?

i don't personally read her as unhinged but i think the idea RULES. what do you do if your identity is defined on being loved but the love you get isn't enough! what do you do if your body is breaking into pieces! autumn made a fantastic unhinged émilie post for the unhinged émilie lovers just recently hehe

as for evil émilie, FUCK YEAH GIRL. émilie is characterized by three things for me, those being a desire for romance, a desire to look perfect, and a desire to be free. she's after ideas more than people. a happy family, a beautiful image, a pretty ending. and that means she is full of potential to do evil things. pulling the wool over adrien's eyes most of all. enforcing silence on her family, burying things. a different flavor of evil, but one that's much more compelling to me >:33

#miraculous ladybug #🌃 #emilie agreste #sentitwin soulmate au #let's be real my view of her is forever altered by this au #just to clarify i'm not particularly into unhinged characters or yandere or those tropes in general but GO YOU IF YOU ARE #nothing but love and support from meeeeeeee 🥰🥰🥰

[thenightmarerealms]

ABOUT THE MUN:

Bee. 21+. She/her. I’m a fandom old, and have been in and out of RP'ing for many years. Minors DNI.

--- I abide by the Three Laws of Fandom, and expect my followers to do the same. All ships, potential triggers, etc. are tagged. Please filter/blacklist according to your interests. Users who send and/or promote hate for ships will be immediately blocked without discussion.

THE MUSES:

The Corinthian - created as a nightmare three thousand years ago, the Corinthian was made to serve as the dark mirror to humanity. His primary function is to hunt and terrorize dreamers, before removing their eyes and consuming them with his own.

He is an old nightmare, one of the Dreaming’s major arcana, and his lust for blood and death makes him an ideal weapon. 

Subsequently uncreated during his century-long rampage through the waking world, he was recreated three years later after Lord Morpheus made several small alterations to his psyche.

*The Sandman show!canon is my primary characterization, with adapted comics canon beyond season 1. With mortal OCs, I generally write him appearing to them in their nightmares or during his escape in the waking world. If you’d like me to write him in another canon verse, kindly DM and we can plot.

Dream of the Endless - I write both Morpheus and Daniel, and use show!canon as my primary characterization, with adapted comics canon for storylines that go beyond season 1.

Morpheus - Though many view him as cold, Morpheus holds himself distant from most because he must bear the weight of the collective human sub-conscious. On the rare occasion that he allows someone in, he always holds part of himself back as an act of self-preservation.

Daniel - The polar opposite of Morpheus, the newest aspect of Dream is humble, kind, and affectionate. He gives freely of himself and cares deeply for his subjects, and is unafraid to show it. His main flaw lies in his naivety, and though he has all of Morpheus’ memories, he is somewhat detached from them, and often has to stop and sift through ten billion years worth of memories before deciding on a course of action.

While he was borne from Daniel Hall’s essence, he does not answer to that name and does not consider Lyta Hall his mother.

*I generally only write Dream in the Sandman universe. So much of his characterization is dependent on his function, so please keep this in mind. I am open to AUs/other canons as long as I can still write him as the Sandman/the king of dreams. 

STARTER TAG - open to all. No need to be a mutual to send; if you’re not sure of a plot, this is a great way to break the ice between our muses.

MEME TAG - open to all. No need to be a mutual to send.

GUIDELINES:

1) Semi-selective and Open - Semi-selective due to real life time constraints, but if you’d like to write with me, please feel free to ask! Being Open means you can send in starters and memes without being mutuals. I don’t always follow back, but don’t let that stop you from reaching out via DM’s. I’m always open to ice-breaker plots to try things out. :) You can find my starter tag here.

2) We do not have to be mutuals before you message me. If you’d like to plot, please  send an ask or a direct message, and I’ll be sure to follow back then!

Also, please note that this is a side-blog, and I follow back with my main blog: @exastrisad

3) I prefer plots that are both romantic and plot-heavy (give me angst, action, suspense and I will love you forever). I write nsfw*, but can also fade to black if my partner prefers.

*When it comes to nsfw scenes, I prefer to write my muses as the top/dominant partner, (yes, even Daniel!Dream) but I’m open to discussion.

4) I write adult threads with dark and/or mature themes. I will not write nsfw scenes with anyone below the age of 21. No exceptions.

5) I multi-ship, but in canon I enjoy Dream/The Corinthian and if the chemistry is right, Dream/Hob. I am happy to write with canons from other media, and I am very OC-friendly.

6) I only write para, multi-para, and novella threads. (Short para exchanges are completely fine, though!)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ALL canon-typical warnings apply. The Corinthian is his own warning, so please tread carefully.

#guidelines #about #muses

[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #childe #tartaglia #childe angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #this fic maybe took two years off my life

[onlyanidala]

onlyanidala fic archive

These are fics with titles E-I.

A-D     J-P     Q-T     U-Z

searchable desktop version available here

more anidala fics can also be found in our fic tag!

the link for each fic can be found by clicking the title!

Title: edges of the world Author: glompcat Status: WIP/Unupdated Rating: T Summary:  Leia Organa finds herself stuck in a strange alternate/parallel universe where the Empire never came to exist. Meanwhile, trying to navigate a galaxy ruled by the Sith weren’t exactly the Jedi Trials Leia Skywalker had expected. Or: Leia from a universe where Anakin never fell and canon Leia switch places. Now the two of them - and everyone else around them - have to deal with the consequences of their dimensional swap.

Title: eros turannos Author: emerald-leaves Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  Love the Tyrant. Oderint dum metuant- Let them hate as long as they fear. AU set in time around the Clone Wars. Note: This fic has unfortunately been removed from Fanfiction.net. However, a PDF is available upon request. 

Title: the exchange Author: misslearn Status: WIP Rating: T Summary: The Daughter has a bad day and it irrevocably changes the fate of the galaxy, twice over. Or: ROTS Obi-Wan and Anakin are swapped with their younger, TPM, selves. It changes things, in both parallels.

Title: five weddings and a funeral Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Padmé's feeling gloomy about her perpetual singleness, but everything changes when she meets an attractive stranger at her sister's wedding.

Title: flat tire Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary: Who knew something as simple as getting a flat tire could change the entire course of your life?

Title: for a moment Author: shelivesfree Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  And, just for a moment, all the worries and concerns that troubled the young couple cease to exist. Fade away to just this. Husband and wife. Asleep. Dreaming of the sweet little life they will soon bring into the world and into their hearts.

Title: for a sith to love a jedi Author: silverdaye Status: WIP Rating: R Summary:  Jedi Knight Padmé Amidala, the Heroine with No Fear, has crash landed on a moon after a starship fight with Darth Vader. Now the two enemies are stuck on a strange moon with strange rocks that prevents them from accessing the Force. They form an uneasy truce to leave the other alone. Yet after Vader sees Amidala bathing, she keeps coming back to him and he can't keep his mind off of her.

Title: for you, i’ll risk it all Author: estrangedlestrange Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  Darth Vader was certain he had killed Padmé Amidala on Mustafar, but when a rebel broadcast reveals she is alive, he will stop at nothing to free her from what he assumes is captivity. Former Senator Padmé Amidala was certain her husband had been killed on Mustafar, but after seeing Vader across the room during a mission, she is sure that she had been lied to. Knowing the truth, she seeks out her husband, either to bring him back to the light or kill him, which ever was necessary.

Title: friendly competition Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Playing Quidditch is awfully difficult when you’re in love with the rival Seeker. Snapshots of Anakin and Padmé’s 7 years at Hogwarts.

Title: fruits of malice Author: therealthing Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  In an alternate universe, Anakin Skywalker was taken from his mother at the age of four. He was raised as Darth Vader in a loveless, brutal environment. His life takes an interesting turn when he has an encounter with a certain senator from Naboo.

Title: future imperfect Author: therealthing Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  A time travel story in which Anakin Skywalker is sent to the future to witness the consequences of his actions.

Title: fundamental force carriers Author: tanarill Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  The Sith Lord Darth Vader lived his life. He probably didn't live it well, but he lived it as well as he knew how. At the end there, he'd even managed to woman up and kill Sidious. But he was dying, and at peace with the past. The past wasn't at peace with him.

Title: getting home to you Author: irnan Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Anakin always said it was Padme's fault, but he was the one who spotted that broom closet. Fluff.

Title: the girl from harvard Author: shelivesfree Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes it grow more paranoid. Padme is in her last year of Harvard. Anakin has just started at the University of Chicago. Though they won't admit it, their long-distance relationship is taking it's heavy toll. Will their love prevail or will the distance prove too much for both of them?

Title: give me a signal Author: stranestelle Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  When Padmé Amidala is unable to contact Coruscant while negotiating a loan on Scipio, the Senate suspects trouble, and sends Anakin Skywalker to go check on her. Of course, the resourceful senator isn’t really in any trouble – don't flatter yourself, Rush Clovis – but there’s definitely some brewing.

Title: hand in my hand and we promise to never let go Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  Anakin Skywalker was sent to build an elite Jedi team to help end the ten-year Clone Wars. Jedi Knight Naberrie trains hard to be selected and grows closer to the Jedi Master in the process. But with Jedi falling every day in battle, is it safe to follow your heart? Or will war take what's most precious to Padme?

Title: the hardest path Author:  catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  Padmé does what she has to for her family. Series: Three Paths Not Followed

Title: heart of a sith Author: therealthing Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Fourteen years have passed since the inception of the Empire. Darth Vader has been asked to go to Alderaan for an unusual reason, one that Vader soon discovers will change his life forever.

Title: heirs of light and darkness Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  After escaping the Jedi purge two years ago made him the most wanted fugitive in the galaxy, Anakin Skywalker has at last been captured by the Empire. He expects to be killed, but Lady Padmé Amidala, the imperial heir, has other ideas.

Title: heretic pride Author: fialleril Status: WIP/Unupdated Rating: G Summary:  Like most Republic citizens, the Naberries have never spent much time thinking about the Jedi. But that changes with the birth of their daughter Ilaré. (Or, the AU where the third Naberrie daughter is a Jedi, Padmé offers Naboo as a sanctuary for runaway slaves, Shmi is a conductor on the Tatooine freedom trail, and Anakin jump starts a reformation. Or maybe a heresy. It all depends on your point of view.)

Title: hidden Author: disco shop girl Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Anakin is woken from his dream before it can warn him of his fate. Without that fear hanging over him he feels a disturbance in the force, and chooses to leave before it can manifest itself.

Title:  high above the clouds, my love for you is eternal Author: rogue darth skywalker Status: WIP/Unupdated Rating: M Summary:  Modern Aviation AU. Anakin is a pilot, Padme is a flight attendant. When they meet for the first time he is captivated by her. But much to his surprise she has a young son. This is a story about how bonds are broken, how families are made, and how sacrifice is sometimes necessary to get people where they are meant to be.

Title: hold me in your arms and i’m home Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  It's the ten year reunion for students from Coruscant high and more importantly, a long awaited reunion for two former lovers.

Title: home Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  In which "Darth Vader" is no more than Anakin's playtime alter ego (happy Skywalker family AU)

Title: hypnotic takin’ over me Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  "By the Force… Just how many times had he seen her like this in his dreams? How many times had he run his fingers over her skin? Filled his hands with her perfect backside? Yet, when he was, by some mercy or a cruel joke, granted true sight of her, he was oblivious."

Title: i do take two Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Thirty years after their clandestine wedding on Naboo, Anakin and Padmé decide to finally do the proper wedding ceremony they never got to have, with all their friends and family present.

Title: i know your type Author: shelivesfree Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  "Am I dead?" It slips out, accidentally. She turns her head towards me, a confused look on her face and tips her head. "Excuse me?" Flashing her an impish grin, I lean casually against the wall. "I must have died and gone to heaven, because you look like an angel." The look she gives me is far from impressed. "Do you use that with all the girls, or am I just lucky?"

Title: i wish i could rewrite the stars Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  Suddenly, forever felt like something that could be real. They could make it real, the two of them together and out of nowhere, tears stung at Anakin's eyes. It just meant so much. Padme loving him too was the stuff of his dreams; something he'd only just dared to believe was possible. But she did.

Title: if blood be the price Author: cadesama Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Anakin promised to free all the slaves and it is a promise he intends to keep. Struck by visions of a slave uprising on Tatooine, he runs away to join the fight. Five years later, it his new alliance of former slave worlds that the Republic fears, rather than a Separatist threat. Enlisted to negotiate a peace treaty, Senator Amidala is dispatched to find Anakin, alongside Obi-Wan Kenobi, who only wishes to bring his former Padawan home.

Title: imperial obligations Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  Padmé's advisors suggest that she get rid of Vader and make a politically advantageous marriage. The Empress is less than pleased. One-shot.Series: The Empress and Her Sith Lord.

Title: in his very soul Author:  catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  Ten years ago, the effort to liberate Naboo from Trade Federation control failed. Chancellor Palpatine managed to rescue the young Queen Amidala and two of her handmaidens, formally adopting her as his own. The new father and daughter quickly manipulated the Senate into granting him emergency powers and creating the Grand Army of the Republic, letting the Clone Wars begin. Now, assassins are coming for Padmé Palpatine, and her father has entrusted her safety to his mysterious enforcer, Darth Vader. While neither bodyguard nor charge is happy about this arrangement, there is an attraction they cannot ignore.

Title: in search of absolution Author: rogue darth skywalker Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  Padme bit her lip as she placed one last post-it that had the name 'Shmi Skywalker' written on it. She didn't speak. She knew he needed a moment to think - to process what she was silently asking him. 'Are you ready to accept her forgiveness'"She'd want to come to her only son's wedding," She said. He shook his head, "I don't think so. After everything…"

Title: in the past Author: silverdaye Status: WIP Rating: T Summary:  It's been two months after Bespin, and Luke Skywalker is trying to come to terms with the events that happened there. During a dogfight with Darth Vader, both of their fighters crash. When they recover, they both find themselves on Coruscant at the end of the Clone Wars. Vader still aims to claim his son, but Luke has been taken to the Jedi Temple where he meets Anakin Skywalker.

Title: it’s a dangerous love affair Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  Lies, masks, blood and sex. The criminal underworld will swallow you up and spit you out again. One wants revenge and the other wants peace. Can their affair bring the downfall of the two biggest gangs of the underworld?

Title: it’s like deja vu all over again Author: shadowsong26 Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  Three days ago, Padme Amidala closed her eyes for the last time in a sterile white room on an asteroid at the edge of nowhere. Three days ago, she opened them again on a sleek, chrome starship, watching Dorme putting on the finishing touches to Corde's headdress, her own weighted braids a comforting blanket on her back. Padme decides to change things, decides she can save Anakin (and the Galaxy) this time. Except, as time passes, she starts to realize things aren't happening exactly the way she remembers...

Title: (it’s not so bad) being dead like me Author: estrangedlestrange Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Recently deceased Anakin Skywalker (killed in an taco truck explosion) finds himself not in the after life but recruited as the newest member of the undead, he’s become a grim reaper. He’s told that it’s his destiny but really he thinks it’s just rotten luck. Rotten except for the fact that one of his fellow reapers is Padmé Amidala, the most beautiful woman Anakin’s has seen, dead or alive. As he struggles to come to grips with his death and his new role in the universe, Anakin finds that taking souls isn’t the easiest job out there, he also finds himself falling in love. One-shot.

#anidala #fic rec #anidala fic recs #onlyanidala fic recs #star wars #sw #fanfic #sw fanfic

[chasingforeverandaday]

Can I ask for #23 from the fluff writing prompts please? “I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a mansion with some (boy/girl/person) I barely know.” I mean, it’s just screaming gendrya at me! Thank you!

Well, how does some Regency era AU sound? This one ended up a full on one shot, because I fell down a rabbit hole real fast. Also I got to write Robb, which was super fun because I never write Robb. He may be a bit out of character, but I feel like if any of the Stark siblings would understand Arya’s conflict of love and duty, it would absolutely be Robb.

half agony, half hope

There are times that Gendry Waters thinks his life would be so much simpler if he’d ever actually learned how to say no to Miss Arya Stark, sister to the Lord of Winterfell. He can stall her in her impulsivities yes, or can sometimes talk her around to his point of view on a matter, but straight up denying her when she looks up at him with those big grey eyes and the pout he always wishes to kiss from her lips?

Stronger men than him would capitulate without question.

Stronger men have.

So when she barges into his smithy one June morning, he steels himself for whatever new (potentially scandalous) misadventure she has in mind for them. But the stricken look on her face as she quietly requests that he close up early and meet her in his personal quarters ignites a panic in his belly, and he hustles the other customers out as quickly as he can after she leaves.

Door locked and forge cooled for the day, he hurries through washing up and finds her in his rooms, pacing back and forth in front of the hearth. He can see the exact moment she notices his presence, as her head whips around to his and her face crumples. Terror seizes in his veins and he crosses the room in two strides to pull her into his arms.

She doesn’t fight him, just lets herself be held for a moment before wrapping her arms around his waist so tightly he thinks she’ll never let go. A shudder passes through her slim frame, then one hand reaches up to bend his neck downwards, her mouth seeking his.

Gods know he’d be happy to kiss her forever, but something must have shaken Arya badly for her to show up unannounced and ask him to abandon his work. Pulling away to lean his forehead against hers, he asks, “Love, what’s wrong?

A tiny voice he’s never associated with Arya Stark whispers, “How quickly can you be ready to leave?”

“What?” Utterly bewildered, he pushes her back farther so he can read her face, but she just burrows her face into his neck, clinging onto him like a limpet. Cautiously, he moves them to his narrow bed, sitting on the edge as she falls into his lap, all the while never letting him go.

She looks up at him then, eyes a little harder, a little more sure as she takes his hands in hers. “Run away with me. Gendry, please, we need to go, and it needs to be as soon as possible.”

“I don’t understand, I thought we had more time, that I had more time to…” Prove myself worthy of you, let myself learn to let you go, something, anything but be forced to watch you choose between me and your family.

“My mother’s invited suitors from houses Frey, Dayne, and Arryn to Winterfell, and I heard her tell Robb earlier that she won’t be letting me reject all of them.” Turning away as she speaks, Arya curls into him more, making herself look even smaller if that were even possible. “She intends to have me wedded and bedded by the end of the summer, seems to think it will curb my more unladylike tendencies.”

“Arya, you’re only twenty two for gods’ sake. She can hardly be that desperate to be putting you on the shelf already!” Almost as an afterthought, he mumbles into her hair, “And I like your unladylike tendencies.”

A sad smile on her face, Arya cups his cheek with her palm as she stays seated in his lap. “I know you do. I think she just wants me to be someone else’s problem now. Besides, all my siblings but Rickon have made good matches and are married. But what my mother said isn’t the important part.”

There’s a subtle shift in her voice as she draws herself fully upright, the pain replaced by something a little more hopeful. She’s finally looking at him again, her grey eyes searching his.

“Because Robb…” she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders before looking him straight in the eye. “Robb told her he thought I should have more of a choice. He said that yes, I should marry, but that it didn’t have to be one of them. He told her that none of them would make me happy, and that I should marry a man who made me smile, not grimace every time I looked at him.”

Rubbing a hand up and down her back, Gendry cannot help but wonder, “That’s good, even I know that’s a good thing, but why…?”

“Because Robb walked out of his study and found me standing there, pale as a ghost I’m sure. He took me back to my room, and he told me that he thought I shouldn’t be forced to marry a man I didn’t love.” One of her hands comes to rest over his heart, fluttering rapidly at her touch. “Somehow, he knew about you and me, because then he told me he’d been thinking about commissioning you for some ironwork around the estate, and perhaps I could go to town to speak with you about it, since neither he nor Bran could do so today.”

The pieces fall together, and a little of Arya’s hope finds a home with Gendry. “So you think he’s giving us his blessing, and we’re running away.”

“I know he is, he just can’t come out and say it because of who he is.” Threading her fingers through his own, Arya holds their clasped hands together like a talisman, pressing a light kiss to the back of his before looking up with a smile. “We’re going to Gretna Green, and we’re going to get married like we’ve wanted to for three years, and then I’m going to actually learn how to keep a house and run your smithy, and we’re going to be happy, Gendry, so incredibly happy.”

“Aye, in our tiny little home with two rooms and no grand paintings or pianos or anything fancy like what you have up at Winterfell.” He knows that Arya says she has no care for those things, but he needs to remind her of the difference in their standing, just one last time before they make this choice that will alter their lives forever.

“Stupid boy,” she giggles, poking him in the nose with the first true grin he’s seen on her face this afternoon, “I’d rather live in the woods with you than in a manor with some person I barely know. I mean, ideally we live somewhere with a forge for you, but as long as you’re with me, I’m hardly going to be picky.”

Bending down, Gendry allows himself to brush a quick kiss to her lips, a promise made without words. “Give me a few days, so I can finish up my orders and get everything ready so I can leave. Just don’t say yes to any other proposals, and we’ll be saying our vows in a fortnight.”

-/-/-

A sennight later, as she prepares her horse for the journey as surreptitiously as she can, the stable door creaks open. Terrified that it will be that one stablehand who always tells her mother when she leaves the estate without asking permission, Arya hides in the shadows of Nymeria’s stall, peeking out into the center aisle into the hazy, pre-dawn light.

It’s Robb, carefully shutting the door behind him. He walks straight up to her hiding place and holds out his hand to her, a small smirk on his face. “Come out sister, we’ve not much time to waste.”

Slowly, she leads Nymeria out of the stall, fingers tightly gripping her reins. Her brother looks older than she’s ever seen him before. He looks like a lord in a way he never has before, one with the world weighing on his shoulders. But then her eyes meet his, and he smiles at her, and Robb is her big brother once more.

Dropping Nym’s reins, Arya throws herself into his arms, trusting that he will catch her implicitly. She’ll miss this, she thinks, having a brother she knows she can depend on.

When they finally pull away, Robb reaches up to wipe a tear she hadn’t even noticed from her eye. “There now, this won’t be the last time we see each other, little sister. Besides, one would think you’d be happier to be heading off on such a grand adventure with your blacksmith.”

Laughing wetly, she replied, “I am, trust me, I am anxious to start our lives together, I just…” here she shrugged, fidgeting her hands as she tried to gather the words to express herself. “This is the last time I’ll be in Winterfell as Arya Stark, or maybe ever if Mother reacts the way I think she will when she finds out. I’ll miss it here, even when Gendry and I have a new home. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“You’ll always have a home here, for as long as I’m the lord. Probably after too, as you and I both know you’re Little Ned’s favorite auntie. But I think you’ll be far happier living wherever you and your husband end up than you would locked up in a London townhouse with whatever ponce our Mother has handpicked for you.” The disgusted face he made at his own words made her smile again, which she knew was exactly why he’d done so in the first place.

Serious again, Robb placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze as he said, “I’ve grown to love Jeyne, I have, but I’ve never looked at her the way your Mr. Waters looks at you, or you look at him, and neither has Sansa’s husband. You’re incandescently happy whenever you’re near him, and I can always tell when you haven’t spoken to him in days because you’re so quiet, like you’re holding in all of your thoughts until you can share them with him.”

He sighed before continuing in a soft tone, “If you hadn’t found him, hadn’t fallen in love, then I would try to arrange a marriage for you that could lead to your overall happiness in life. But you did. You fell in love years ago, and I’m glad that at least one of us gets to experience that joy in this lifetime.”

Moving to hold her hand in his left, he reached with his right into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out an envelope. “This is the information for the accounts I’ve had set up in your name in London.” He placed it in her hand and looked her square in the eyes. “You may not be marrying with a proper trousseau, but this way you won’t be entering this marriage without your dowry. You don’t need to worry about Mother’s reaction either, I’ll take care of it. Jon will meet you in Scotland, I’ve already sent him an express explaining everything.”

Shocked at all the things he had thought of and put in place for her, Arya could only manage to sob, “Robby, I…” before hugging him again.

Her brother pulled her close once more, placing a kiss on her brow before pulling away. “I love you, and I’m sorry I cannot do more. Be happy, Arya. Be happy and one day when we’re old and grey, you’ll tell me stories of all your adventures with the man I know you love and the adorable little children I’m sure you’ll have. Now go, the tasks I set for James cannot take much longer, and you have quite the ride ahead of you.”

With that, Robb helped her onto her horse and led her outside as the sun rose. After he let her go, Arya pushed Nymeria into a trot, determined to make her way to the closed smithy before the people of Wintertown fully awoke. She only let herself look back once, barely able to see the figure of her brother as he waved her off into her future.

#gendrya #writing prompt #my writing #regency au

[butdidmarlenacomebackhome]

okay so I'm probably going to make an unpopular statement, above all considering the platform I'm sharing it on but I feel like Tumblr is one of the places on the net where one should raise awareness the most considering the popularity of this topic. frankly, I don' t care about the repercussions because this is a serious matter I'm really passionate about. I've already talked about it on Twitter, where a few days ago this was a hot topic & I collected a lot of data from various point of views. let me just repeat my own stand one more time:

please, do not romanticize the mafia in any way, shape or form

I think a lot of misconceptions have been spread all over the world about what the mafia is all about and let me tell you that as an Italian citizen well-studied on the matter, fancy lifestyles and hot-ass possessive mobsters ready to romance the fvck out of you is not it. it's quite disrespectful to picture this romanticized version of a real world-wide issue through media (official and unofficial) and I will proceed to explain why. a lot of people on Twitter think they have every right to treat the matter as something (and I quote) "meaningless" so I went ahead and made a thread about the "meaningless" crimes committed by the Italian mafias.

mind that the articles I've linked as well as their titles contain some pretty graphic descriptions and/or pictures, I recommend refraining from reading if those may trigger you

here are some of the most cruel and well-known atrocities that make up the mafious history (past and present) to better understand what we're talking about. I guarantee that everything you know about the mafia (from the concept of honor, to that of familial loyalty and union showcased into the media) is wrong:

The Forgotten Story Of Giuseppe Di Matteo, A Boy Dissolved In Acid By The Mafia

Three-Year-Old's Mafia Death Shocks Italy

Mafia in Naples is still going strong – and we must not forget how it affects everyday life in the city

Italian Prosecutor Fights the Mafia—and Fears for His Life

How the brutal murder of an anti-mafia hero altered Sicily

Italian politicians and police among 300 held in mafia bust

7 Major Mafia Murders [Warning: Gruesome Photos]

‘Migrants are more profitable than drugs’: how the mafia infiltrated Italy’s asylum system

Outrage as deadliest ever mafia boss, 86, who ordered 150 murders and a boy to be dissolved in ACID is set to be freed from jail so he can ‘die with dignity’

Paolo Borsellino: the massacre in via D’Amelio twenty-eight years ago

Lea Garofalo was killed by her Mafia family. Now she's the face of anti-mob protests (this one to show you mafia has no fvcking honor, kills men, women & children alike & if you get in their way not even family bonds can save you)

Italian mafia boss suspected of trying to buy a baby for €10,000

Meet the Sicilian Mafia Hitman Who Killed 80 People and Will Be Free in 5 Years

The shadowy world of Mafia boss Diabolik who strangled a pregnant woman and murdered 50 others

How the Mafia infiltrated Italy’s hospitals and laundered the profits globally

[ tw for graphic images ] 'My photos are just blood, blood, blood': Cosa Nostra's brutal murders in 1970s Sicily are revealed in images taken by female photographer who defied Mafia death threats to cover their crimes

[tw; graphic images] Children murdered by the Mafia as Italian mobsters sink to new low

Italian mafia groups are cashing in on COVID-19 by exploiting the social and economic crisis

Revealed: Mafia’s prime role in human-trafficking misery

Italy remembers general killed by mafia

How the mafia is causing cancer

adding this one too, which is a list of victims killed by the Sicilian Mafia ONLY, countless others have been brutally and unjustly murdered by the other Italian mafias too

in conclusion: people have died, people still grieve the losses of their siblings and friends and co-citizens, people are still fighting and people have died trying. to create fictional works or tiktok videos or whatever people are doing these days twisting the very cruel and very gruesome reality of the mafia is and will forever be disrespectful to its victims, past present and unfortunately future. this doesn't mean one shouldn't be free to create a fictional work based off the world of criminal organizations, but to do so while being unproblematic requires two possible solutions:

1. to respectfully treat the issue through a realistic depiction of the mafia, based on documented research and actual facts

and/or

2. to satisfy your need for a criminal/mobster love interest WITHOUT attributing the scenario to the mafia, for example by simply calling it a criminal!au instead than a mafia!au - this is really an easy and accessible solution, it costs literally nothing to change this habit

keep in mind that in no way am I intending to bring forward any sort of "cultural appropriation" speech as the mafia is in no way part of the Italian culture, nor should it be treated as any cultural asset: it is rather an on-going historical plague. I want to clarify (as many of the people who have spoken up about it have been accused of this) that I am not asking to attribute it to Italians, but rather to recognize the gravity of this deeply-rooted problem.

Mafias are not an aesthetic.

choosing to ignore this crucial fact is to serve as an accomplice & to debase its crimes against humanity.

"We need restless consciences in our country, we need citizens who will say they've had enough! We've been talking about mafia for ages."

— Father Luigi Ciotti, deeply involved in the fight against illegality and organized crime, as the Mafia

"I never asked to deal with the mafia. I got involved by accident. And then I stayed because of a moral issue: people kept dying all around me."

— Judge Paolo Borsellino, killed by the Mafia in the Via D'Amelio bombing because of his investigations against the mafia and his Antimafia Pool which brought to justice 475 mafiosi

"The fight against the mafia must become a cultural movement which accustoms people to appreciate the beauty of the fragrant perfume of freedom opposed to the stink of moral compromise, indifference and therefore of complicity"

— Judge Paolo Borsellino

p. s. one of the scariest parts about the post I've written has been searching for English quotes about the mafia: the only ones you'll find are some kind of inspirational phrases & other famous quotes by world-wide known mobsters which, by the way, are in no way truthful and/or realistic. the Italian testimony has practically been erased in foreign media & is only accessible to Italian speakers. therefore I need to specify that the quotes I've used in this post have been personally translated by me from the Italian source.

"Nobody will avenge us. Our pain has no witness."

— Peppino Impastato, Italian journalist and activist who spoke up his entire life about the mafias, denouncing their crimes, assassinated by Cosa Nostra

#mafia #mafia au #mafia aus are problematic #discourse #mafia aesthetic #organized crime #fanfiction #tiktok #mobster #italy #aot #ao3 fanfic #twitter #text post #articles #informative #weapons #graphic #tw #toxic romance #toxic romanticization #respect #narco #drugs #human trafficking #drug trafficking #stop romanticizing it #death #murder #italian mafia

[artistic-writer]

Sparking the Pavement :: CS Moto GP AU :: E :: Ch 4

Title: Sparking the Pavement by @artistic-writer Rating: E (it’s time!) Summary: Killian Jones has everything he has ever dreamed of.  He likes fast bikes and even faster women, that is until almost losing his brother makes him rethink his life choices.  And then a chance encounter with a blonde bombshell on the race track gives him the chance to change and find love, but as usual, team politics get in the way and for the first time in his life, Killian can’t just get what he wants.  Moto GP racing AU.

AO3 - FF - Ko-Fi

A/N: Ch 4! SMUT TIME!  Ahem. Contain your thirst, ladies. Wait, no, don’t.  This chapter is going to make you realise that you have a new fetish.  Just saying ;) Many thanks to @hollyethecurious who agreed to beta this, and to @doodlelolly0910 who regularly listens to me ranting about wanting to write when my fingers don’t want to work. And @darkcolinodonorgasm who understands how relevant real-life race rules are :D

Taglist: @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld​ @chinawoodfan  @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife @notoriouscs @killian-whump @darkcolinodonorgasm @mariakov81 @strangestarlighttree @effulgentcolors @shardminds​

——————————————————————————————

It was odd. When she had agreed to dinner, she was imagining something that had reflected his pay grade, maybe with a candle burning between them and a security guard at the door. She had known what it was like to date a racer and she was sure that they all thrived on the attention they got from fans. Killian Jones was not like Neal, she could tell that as soon as he had opened his mouth, but the picture the media had painted of him was flawed at best. There were women hanging off his arm in every photo, and she expected him to be a bit more confident.

What she didn’t expect was for Killian Jones to be a gentleman, in every sense of the word.

He had picked her up, just like he had promised too, on time and with a dashing smile that made her stomach flip into knots. All coherent thought had left her, and the only thing she could focus on was how blue Killian’s eyes were and how warm his hands were on the small of her back as he had led her to his car. He had opened the door for her, kept the conversation light and cheery, and totally ignored the look of confusion on her face when he had driven them to the race track where she has beat him not five hours earlier.

“May I show you to your table?” Killian offered her his hand after he had opened the passenger door of his car.

“You may,” Emma nodded, wrapping her fingers around his and allowing him to pull her out of the car. She frowned, looking around the deserted pit lane before turning to Killian once more. “Are we here for a reason? At the track. The track I beat you at.” She gave his hand a playful tug, stopping him from leading her down the pitlane anymore.

“Very funny,” Killian told her with a shake of his head. He turned, the tips of his ears that slight pink hue that Emma had noticed earlier and already enjoyed seeing.

“I can imagine it’s very painful,” Emma teased. “The memory of her, I mean.”

“Ah,” Killian rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on her hand. “Are you enjoying your new bike?”

“She’s not as fast, but she’s pretty to look at,” Emma stifled her laugh, letting him lead her further down the pit lane.

It was after dark and Emma felt the flutter of butterflies reappear in her stomach. Killian’s silence made her nervous, but when he turned to give her a quick, rakish grin, she relaxed a little. She was excited, more than she ever had been before, the smell of his aftershave wafting down wind and enticing her after him as he rounded the small corner that led out onto the track.

Killian stopped, turning to face her and blocking her view of the start line behind him. He let go of her hand, something Emma missed instantly, and dipped his head to catch her eye. He smiled, warm and inviting but laced with something Emma had never associated with the man stood before her. Killian Jones was nervous, all of his bravado gone, and she watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

“Your table,” Killian announced, stepping aside and motioning to what was behind him.

It took Emma’s breath. Lit by the floodlights over the start line was a small table, draped with a pristine white tablecloth and with two chairs placed opposite each other. There were two huge glass vases each with a deep red candle inside, both lit and casting a soft shadow over the table with their gently flickering flame. Two wine glasses accompanied the cutlery set out beside each plate and a huge bottle of what looked like champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice.

“Killian Jones, this is-,” Emma began, dumbfounded by the effort he had gone to.

“It’s nothing,” Killian assured her with a gentle grip on her bare elbow.

“I-,” Emma stuttered as she advanced on the table before her. It was more than she had ever dreamed of, from anyone, so small and intimate yet with such a personal touch, she almost forgot they were both standing at the start line of the raceway.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Killian offered softly, darting around her to pull out the chair for her.

Emma took his offered hand once more, letting him guide her to the dining table with a smile. She sat, all of the hairs on her arm standing on end when Killian lightly brushed his fingers over her shoulders and brought her back to reality.

“Are you alright, lass?” Killian asked, noticing the way her body shivered under his touch. “Are you cold?” Without waiting for her answer he pulled out a blanket that was hanging over the back of her chair, holding it by the edge and letting it unfold under its own weight. He gave it a shake before wrapping it around her, making sure to tuck it in down her back.

“I never expected this,” Emma said suddenly as she smoothed out a small wrinkle in the table cloth. The material was silky smooth under her fingertips and her eyes darted around, taking in everything set out before her.

“What did you expect?” Killian took his place in the seat opposite her and leaned forward until his elbows rested on the table.

“I don’t know,” Emma laughed, blinking in disbelief. “I thought-”

“That I was exactly the man portrayed by the media?” Killian surmised, reaching for the bottle of champagne and giving her a smile. “That I couldn’t win the heart of a pretty lady?”

Emma blushed, her lips ticking up at the corners. “Well, not to bring it up again, but you couldn’t win a race, so you know.” Emma licked her lips, her waterproof lipstick staying exactly where it was when she pouted her lips and rolled her eyes sideways.

Killian narrowed his eyes at her playful remark, loving the way her nose wrinkled just a little when she was smiling. He wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle, ignoring the ice cold glass against his palm, before he pushed the cork with his thumb. It popped, making Emma jump. “I didn’t let you win, you know,” he assured her, leaning forward to pour her some champagne. “That really was all you.”

“I know,” Emma smirked, watching the bubbles in her glass dance up and down. “I’m a great rider.”

“And yet, I’ve never heard of you,” Killian teased, lifting his gaze away from his own glass momentarily as he poured.

“How do you know?” Emma shrugged, reaching for her glass and lifting it to her lips. Her blanket slipped from her shoulders and she saw Killian’s eyes dart to her exposed skin before she took a sip of the alcohol and the tiny bubbles fizzled on her tongue. “You’ve raced Moto2,” she shrugged. “Maybe we crossed paths once.”

“No,” Killian said vehemently, shaking his head and swallowing the champagne in his mouth. “I would have remembered.”

“Well, you don’t even know my name,” Emma suggested sweetly. “So maybe you’re wrong. Maybe I’m not worth the effort of all this.”

Killian smirked and rested his glass back onto the table in front of him before leaning back in his chair. Emma watched, the impossibly handsome man getting even more good looking as he changed position and nervously licked his bottom lip before tracing the pink flesh with a single fingertip.

“I would have remembered,” Killian reiterated after a moment's thought. “Because when you see something so beautiful, you’re changed forever.” He stared at her, his eyes the bluest shade of a thousand seas Emma had ever seen, and she felt her throat go dry and her stomach drop. “Your world is altered in an instant, and you can’t go back to before, when it was dull and grey, because the light is where you want to be, with whatever took you there.” He paused, holding her gaze so intently Emma thought he might burn a hole right through her. “So, despite not knowing your name, love, I feel like this,” he stopped again, motioning to his start line dining table, “is worth the effort. You are worth the effort.”

Emma coughed a little, covering her mouth as she cleared the dryness in her throat. “Good line,” she rasped through another coy smirk. “How many women have fallen for that Killian Jones charm?”

Undeterred by her bristled response, Killian grinned. “None so far, but there is a first time for everything.”

“Ah,” Emma nodded, not believing him.

“What, love?” Killian read her instantly. “You think between races, parties, sponsors, testing, and my family I have time for dating?”

“You don’t?” Emma pried innocently.

“Did you? When you raced I mean?” Killian pried back.

“Stop deflecting my questions back at me,” Emma told him sternly, unable to tear her eyes away from his when he simply stared at her and raised his eyebrow to accompany his playful grin.

“Why don’t you want to talk about your race days?” Killian asked, reaching for his glass once more. Condensation covered his fingertips and he gripped it harder so as not to drop it.

“It’s not a first date kind of story,” Emma said with a sigh. “Maybe after a few more,” she said, downing what was left in her glass. “Maybe after some actual food.” She looked around but there didn’t seem to be any food of any sort nearby. She couldn’t even smell anything but the stench of burnt rubber and oil, so she looked back to Killian with a questioning expression. “Is there going to be any food here tonight?”

Killian smiled, again humoured by her. “This is a race track, love, not a restaurant.”

“So, where’s the food?” Emma asked him, pulling the blanket around her arms a little tighter. The sun had gone down hours ago, and if she had known she would be sitting out on a track she might have worn something a little less revealing.

“Oh, that’s back at my place,” Killian smirked.

Emma tilted her head to the side and gave him a narrow eyed stare. “Presumptuous much?”

“I don’t know what you are expecting, lass,” Killian said innocently, pushing himself to his feet and tucking the chair back under the table. The wooden legs scraped on the asphalt underneath them, but they both ignored it. “But I am a world class motorbike racer who couldn’t just invite anyone back to his home. I mean, what if you were some kind of crazed fan.”

“I’m not.”

“Or someone who had broken into this track compound just to see if they could beat me in a race,” he continued as he approached her with a wry grin.

“I didn’t and you’re forgetting I did beat you,” Emma reminded him, pushing herself to her feet. She wobbled slightly when the chair snagged on a rough patch of the track, but Killian was there to right her when she threatened to topple sideways.

“I’m sure I will never forget it, what with how many times you mention it,” Killian smiled at her.

“Had I mentioned it?” Emma frowned, pursing her lips. “I don’t remember.”

“Alright,” Killian huffed in mock annoyance as he grabbed her hand. “Let’s go, miss?” He prompted with a genuinely honest smile that turned her stomach over again.

“Swan,” Emma said softly as she mirrored his smile. “But my friends call me Emma.”

“And am I a friend yet, miss Swan?” Killian looked up at her, his face a picture of childlike innocence as he gave her his best puppy dog eyes and lifted their joined hands to his lips. The feel of his lips on the back of her hand were like a brand, emblazoning the feel of themselves forever onto her skin.

“You’re getting there,” she smirked as a ripple of excitement passed through her. “When you are, I’ll let you know.”

--

It took less than two hours for Emma to realise that Killian Jones was nothing like what she had heard through the race circuit and media. He had gone out of his way to make her feel special, despite his own reservations. Clearly, something had happened to him before and she understood it completely. There wasn’t a rider out there who hadn’t come across an over zealous fan, and as a female rider, Emma had encountered her fair share of weirdos and stalkers, and as she polished off her last glass of wine, she was sure she was turning into one herself.

Sat across from her on his huge, L-shaped couch, slouched back against the cushions with a mellow grin on his face, Killian was more appealing than ever. Under the buzz of drunkenness, Emma had begun to appreciate him much more than she had before. Killian was something, a real specimen, highly athletic with muscles that bulged underneath the luxurious material of his clearly expensive shirt and drew her gaze every time he moved.

Two shirt buttons undone was not enough for Emma to fully appreciate it, but the chest hair that she could see was thick, and black, and cried out to be touched, it’s silky texture shimmering in the light of his lounge. More wine, food and some beers had taken their toll on him and he had almost succumbed to the pull of sleep, only snapping himself awake when Emma had moved and plopped herself down on the cushion beside him.

“Miss Swan,” Killian had squeaked in mock surprise, his hand finding her bare thigh almost immediately. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Can you see me though?” Emma cocked her head to one side before flopping it to the opposite. “You have glassy eyes.”

“That’s because you made me drink more than I normally do when entertaining a woman,” he laughed.

“Oh really?” She leaned into him, her breasts pushing against his shoulder and her hand resting on his chest. “And how often do you entertain women?” She teased, her finger slipping beneath where the two sides of his shirt were buttoned together to finally feel his chest hair.

“As a matter of fact,” Killian began, lifting his hand to point an accusatory finger at her humoured expression.

“Yes?” Emma prompted, knowing his words had probably been stolen because her fingertips had brushed over his nipple.

“I haven’t,” Killian admitted, blinking his eyes closed. “I mean, I don’t-”

“Right,” Emma droned out with a grin.

“No, really,” Killian nodded, his head a little floppier than usual. He sat himself up as he cleared his throat, his fingers tightening their grip around her thigh. “It’s been a while.”

“Hmmm,” Emma hummed, resting her chin on his shoulder. “You’re telling me that a guy as smokin’ hot as you, hasn’t had a woman in a while.”

“You think I’m hot?” Killian giggled.

“Shut up,” Emma scolded, pulling her hand from his shirt and giving him a playful slap on the chest. “Seriously,” she urged. “Why no women?”

Killian took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks as he contemplated her question. Why hadn’t he? Race rules, team duties, the loss of his brother? None of those could explain the gaps of time between race seasons when he still chose not to entertain a woman. He liked the attention in front of the cameras when he was Killian Jones, World Champion. But when he was home, and he was just Killian Jones the man, what mattered most to him was finding the right someone to share his time with. Someone who cared about Killian Jones the man more than his title or wealth.

“Come on, tell me,” Emma nudged him with her elbow, shaking him from his reverie.

Killian turned to look at her, really look at the woman beside him. He had known her for less time that a working day, and yet, he felt like he had known her his entire life. She was gorgeous, there was no denying that, and any man would have been lucky to spend time with her. She was intriguing but also funny, witty beyond comprehension and she made his skin come alive with her little touches here and there. His body’s reaction to her was obvious and he would be a fool to ignore it.

“How about a tour first?” Killian suggested with a nudge of his head. “Come on,” he urged, standing up on wobbly bare feet and offering her his hand for the second time that evening. “I have something I think you’re going to really like.”

Emma took his hand, letting him pull her from the couch, their bodies crashing together unexpectedly. She blushed and he gasped a breath at the contact, his fingers gripping tightly at hers by their side like he wasn’t sure what to do. Emma looked up at him through her lashes, lips gently parted to help feed her starving lungs since her heart had sped up in her chest, with eyes that had darkened instantly with the desire that Killian fuelled inside of her. Emma could feel his rapid heartbeat against the palm of her hand pressed to his chest and she didn’t mistake the darkness in his own eyes when she caught his gaze.

“Where is it?” She almost whispered, her eyes flicking to his lips.

Words failed him and all Killian could do with his last vestiges of will power was step back, blinking himself back to reality. Emma missed the contact immediately and was reluctant to release her hold on his hand like it was the only thing tethering her to her own reality. Killian gave her a friendly smile, squeezing her fingers and tugging her arm gently until she decided to walk with him.

“This way, love,” he told her softly. He licked his lips and turned around so he could see where he was going, a relieved sigh escaping his mouth silently as he exhaled a steadying breath. He wasn’t lying. It had been a while and he wasn’t about to risk his career with a woman who insisted on name formalities. Even drunk he wasn’t that much of an idiot.

“What is it?” Emma asked excitedly, her bare feet padding across the warmed flooring as she almost skipped after him.

“You’ll see,” Killian smirked, reaching a door at the end of a darkened hallway. There was a lock on the door and before she had time to ask him what he was doing, Killian had released her hand and was going to work unbuttoning his shirt.

“Here?” Emma raised an eyebrow, shifting her weight a little to watch him.

“Stop objectifying me, woman,” Killian said with a grin. “I know it’s hard, but please try,” he added as he finished undoing the line of buttons on his shirt and pulled the edges open.

“I’ll give it my best shot,” Emma promised weakly, unable to stop her eyes roaming the thatch of glorious, dark chest hair that adorned his torso. Her hands itched to feel it, to trace the shape of his nipple as it pebbled under her touch, but she refrained, instead spying the small, silver blunted key hanging around his neck and giving him a confused look. “You wanted to show me a key?”

“No, love,” Killian grinned boyishly as he lifted the thin chain over his head and held the key in his palm. “This key opens this door,” he motioned behind him. “Behind which is something I think you are going to really appreciate.”

“Is it a sex dungeon?” Emma laughed.

“I’m not that exciting I’m afraid,” Killian laughed with her, feeling like it was the most natural thing he had ever done. “But I do want to share it with you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Emma mocked, swaying her hips a little as she circled him and leaned back against the white panelled door. The wood was cold against her body, the thin material of her skimpy red dress barely enough to keep her warm, but she didn't even notice as soon as Killian shortened the gap between them leaving barely an inch between their bodies.

“Turn around,” he rasped darkly with a coy smirk.

Emma complied without hesitation, rolling her body against the door until she was facing away from him. Her hands spread out beside her head and she pinched her eyes closed, the thrill of what was coming next causing the welcome flutter in her stomach once again. Her chest heaved up and down, the wooden door cold against her bosom, and when Killian stepped forward and pressed his body against hers, she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lips.

“Easy,” he whispered into the back of her ear, setting every hair on her neck on high alert as a prickle ran over her skin and they stood to attention. Killian slipped his hand between them, poking the key into the lock and twisting it slowly, enjoying the way Emma gasped when his bare chest pushed against the patches of skin her barely there dress revealed. “Ready?” Emma nodded, unable to form words. “Good.” Killian nuzzled his nose into the patch of skin behind her ear, inhaling her scent and letting the fog of his breath affect her even more. “Close your eyes.”

Emma couldn’t stop the giggle of excitement that tumbled from her mouth when she heard the door latch click open and then felt Killian’s hands covering her eyes. Her hands found his forearms, gripping on for dear life as he walked her into a room that she could tell was huge just by the way the sound of her laughter echoed off the walls. It smelled clean but not antiseptic, not a single chemical smell to be found but instead the familiar, metallic smell of engine cleaner and lubrication spray mechanics often used to clean parts with. Her enthusiasm heightened, Emma shuffled her feet forward on Killian’s tender instruction until he stopped her and she felt him smile against her neck.

“Alright,” he announced, pulling his hands away from her eyes and sliding them down her body until they rested on her hips. He let go of one briefly to flick a switch but it returned to the warmth of her body quickly. “Open your eyes.”

Emma peeled her eyes open, ignoring the blinding whiteness of the room and blinking to adjust her focus. It was nothing like what she had imagined would be behind such a mundane looking door and all she could do was gasp, her heart stopping dead in her chest.

“Wow,” she breathed, stepping from his embrace in shock.

The room was filled with motorcycles, each on its own dedicated display stand like they were in some sort of museum. The more Emma looked around, the more variety she saw, from some of the rarest antique classics to some of the most sleek looking modern constructions, her heart was a flutter with each and every one. But there was one, sitting alone in the middle of the collection like a giant black and yellow wasp, that caught her attention and well and truly held it.

Emma gave Killian a quick glance over her shoulder before stumbling forward on legs that were shaky from a combination of alcohol and disbelief. The centre piece to Killian’s collection was none other than one of the rarest motorcycles to ever exist, requiring even the most professional of riders to complete a two week course before even being able to own one. Killian followed her with a proud smile, simply watching her appreciate the bike like he knew she would.

“Is this?” Emma gasped in shock.

“Aye, love, it is,” Killian confirmed. He loved the way she reacted, a girlish giggle falling from her mouth as she reached out and hovered her hand over the cold, matt black and yellow finish of the bodywork.

“Killian,” she paused, wide eyed when she turned to look at him. “This is an Ecosse Spirit ES1.”

“Aye, I know,” Killian grinned in boyish glee.

“One of the best handling, lightest, most powerful F1 inspired motorcycles to ever exist.” Her rambling was cute and Killian took another step towards her with a nod.

“Aye,” he agreed with amusement.

“Don’t these cost like $3 Million?” Emma frowned, turning back to the bike one more time to make sure it was really there.

“$3.6 Million, actually,” Killian clarified, finally reaching her and grabbing her hand. Emma tried to resist but he pushed her, coaxing her that final step forward until her fingertips brushed over the yellow and black paintwork. Killian laid his hand over hers, flattening her palm to the machine’s huge fuel tank, watching her features turn from shock to satisfaction. “There are only ten in the world,” he told her, moving her hand over the curve of the tank and along the supple leather of the rider’s seat. “And only one in this colour.”

Emma was stunned to silence. The Ecosse ES1 was unattainable to most people, its huge price tag and strict purchase requirements putting most people off of anything more than photos. Emma had admired the concept since its inception, intrigued by the combination of a superbike and an F1 car in one package, something that would most likely never be affordable to many teams, let alone one person.

“Wow,” Emma repeated, moving around the bike deliberately, putting the machine between the two of them. “Can I see you on it?” She looked up to meet his gaze, the shock in her eyes evident but laced with something else Killian hadn’t noticed before.

“Is that a turn on for you?” Killian smirked, lifting his leg over the back of the bike and settling into the softness of the seat. His toes stretched out instinctively towards the floor, but the bike was firmly fixed in position on its stand and would not topple over.

Emma bit her bottom lip at the sight, her fingertips caressing the taught fabric over Killian’s thigh. “You know,” Emma began salaciously. “I’ve always wanted to fuck on a bike.”

“I don’t believe you haven’t,” Killian told her, patting his lap, unable to take his eyes off of her as she hitched up the skin tight dress she was wearing. When she was done, she set one foot on the peg of the footrest and lifted herself up and over the bike until she was sitting astride Killian’s lap, facing him.

Emma slid down the fuel tank, her open thighs on display to his hungry gaze as Killian smoothed his hands up them in an attempt to steady her. Her skin was soft under his roughened finger tips and he sucked in a steadying breath through his grin. When she was settled they were almost eye to eye, his breathing catching in his throat when she raked her nails over the definition of his chest and abs that were hidden under his chest hair.

“Never,” Emma rasped, her arms coming up and resting on his shoulders. She buried her fingers in his raven locks, cupping the back of his skull in her hands, her lips millimeters from his as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I’d like to,” she told him and felt his fingernails dig into the skin of her thighs in restraint.

“Love,” Killian said huskily, resting his forehead on hers. “I don’t even know if we are friends yet.” He let his lips skim over hers so softly they were almost not there, his attention focused more on searing the imprint of them into the beating pulse point of her neck. He wrapped his arms around her much smaller frame, hugging her to him as he ravaged her neck, following a path down the perfect column until he stopped, fogging the swell of her heaving breasts with his words. “Are we friends yet, Emma Swan?”

Emma felt her nipples harden at his words, her name on his breath laced with sweetness and a darkness that made her skin hum. She laughed, clutching his head harder so he couldn’t leave her skin alone for a second, torn between letting him continue his assault that was clearly heading south, or finally tasting his lips on hers. The latter won out and she pulled his head up, crashing her lips into his with a force that knocked him backwards for a second, his own feverish return delayed until he heard her moan down deep in her throat and his resolve snapped.

“Yes,” Emma panted between kisses, the feel of his lips on hers like a ray of sunshine in a rainstorm. They were soft and even though his kisses were forceful, they were like a caress on the exact right side of painful that made her flood her panties with a sudden wetness that she hadn’t felt for a long time. “Say my name,” she insisted through her haze, tearing her lips from his so that he could focus on her instruction.

“Emma,” Killian rasped in a gravelly voice, chasing her lips. “Gods, it’s Emma,” he sighed, almost wrenching his shoulders out of their sockets as he aided her in pushing his shirt from his back. “Such a beautiful name.”

His lips were back on hers in an instant, the hunger behind his kiss evidently taking its toll on his body. Emma smirked against his lips when she felt him harden, the already minute space between their bodies disappearing as his erection pressed up into the apex of her thighs and he rolled his hips, eager to feel her pressing down on him even more. Emma shifted forward, rolling her own hips forward and downward, letting his length press up into her folds even more, an action that had him growling out loud in frustration.

Without even asking, Emma knew exactly what he wanted. She reached down between their bodies, working on the button of his pants, fighting with the material that had been pulled taut by his erection. When the button finally popped open, Killian let out a sigh of relief, tearing his lips from hers and moving his mouth to her shoulder, nibbling at the flesh there as his hand tore the thin strap of her dress aside. He grazed his teeth over the joint, fingernails scraping down her upper arm in his attempt to get as close to her as possible, his lips finally finding the swell of a breast and peppering her chest with more aggressive kisses.

He held her as she involuntarily arched backwards, his hands splayed out over the expanse of her back as he rested her against the curve of the fuel tank. His lips never left her skin, hands tugging down the material of her dress to expose his prize and a satisfied groan escaping his throat when Emma’s nipples hardened even more as soon as the air hit them. She palmed them, grabbing the flesh roughly and sliding even further down the bike until she was sure Killian could feel the dampness between her thighs against his rock hard length.

“I don’t have-,” Killian began hoarsely, sliding his hands to his groin and finally freeing his hardness despite his mind’s protest. He pumped himself a few times to relieve the ache in his balls, the skin shifting over his sensitive head and making him hiss. “We should stop,” he ground out, his body fighting his own words.

“What? Why?” Emma asked in a daze, grabbing the sides of his scruffy face and lifting his chin so she could look in his eyes.

“We can’t be careful here,” Killian said, unable to stop himself from leaning forward and tasting her skin. He pushed out of her hold and latched onto one of her nipples, pulling the bud between his lips and humming against her flesh in content. He clawed down the side of her body, gently scraping his nails over her ribs and leaving her nipples for a second so he could kiss the sensitive skin underneath the swell, the faint lines of her bra still lingering on her skin.

“Where?” Emma barely managed, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Killian let her go with a growl, ignoring the mutter of protest as he lifted her off his lap and sat her back on the very top of the smooth, yellow fuel tank. She giggled as he grabbed her thighs, pawing the flesh in protest of his own idea, swinging his leg back and dismounting the bike all the while mindful of his raging erection rubbing against the fabric of his underwear as he moved. Emma watched him intently, worried for a second that he might leave her, before he moved to the side of the bike and hauled her up into his arms.

Her lips were on his before a second had passed, the urgency of her need for his return clear by the way she grabbed at his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist. His muscles rippled under her fingers as he moved in long, determined strides to somewhere else in the house that Emma had yet to see. Teeth clashed and tongues duelled, hot, sloppy kisses giving each of them a renewed sense of passion as they headed to Killian’s bedroom and he kicked open the door.

Emma giggled, squealing in joy as Killian reached his huge bed and as soon as his knees touched the frame, tossed her onto the mattress. Emma hit the comforter with a bounce, righting her half naked body just in time to brush her hair away from her face and feel Killian tugging on her ankle. She flopped back, hair fanning out around her head as Killian lifted her leg to his face and kissed her ankle, caressing her heel in both hands like it was a delicate egg. The scruff on his chin, with its small, ginger hairs glinting in his bedroom lamplight, tickled her skin and she yanked her foot from his grasp with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” Emma snorted a laugh, watching his dejected expression. “That tickles!”

“Oh,” Killian sang, kneeling between her legs as he climbed half way onto the bed and reached for her dress. The material was bunched up around her waist now, having been pulled down then upwards, but it was easily maneuvered back down over her hips with a forceful tug. “You shouldn’t have told me that,” he growled with glee, shedding the remains of his clothes at the bedside before diving naked onto the bed and rubbing his scruff over the silky smooth skin of her stomach.

“Killian!” Emma cried out, pulling her knees to her chest and trapping him against her body.

His name on her lips was enough for him to take pity on her, and as his teasing turned into kissing, he felt her body relax once more as she stretched out like a cat beneath him. Emma’s body felt heavy as she let all her limbs fall to the plush, cotton covered comforter and cast a quick glance down her body to where a very talented Mr. Jones was currently worshipping every inch of her naked body. Every kiss made her wetter, every brush of his fingers over the jut of her hip bone made her squirm and finally, as he dipped his tongue into her navel, Emma could take no more.

Hooking a crooked finger under his chin, she dragged his head upwards until he paused over her cleavage and their eyes met. His made her gasp, the previously bluebell spark almost totally gone and replaced by a stormy, lustful grey that made her nipples harden even more on each of her breasts. Emma pulled his head and he had no choice but to follow, climbing over her body like a tiger stalking prey and seizing her lips once more. Emma’s body reacted without a beat, her back arching up and off the bed until their bodies were pressed together, and her legs wrapped around his waist.

Killian broke the kiss to catch his breath, pushing himself up by his arms and looking down at the petite blonde beneath him. She was a marvel, curved in all of the right places and skin so soft to the touch it felt wrong to caress her with such race roughened hands. Not that Emma minded at all. She was loving the feel of him, any part of him, and he had come to realise, in this short extra curricular activity, that he would never be away from her for too long before she was changing things in her favour.

Emma, true to form, rolled them over in a move so smooth, it almost felt choreographed. Truth was, it wasn’t. They were just two people who fit well together, in any position they found themselves in, one always teasing the other, in the bedroom as well as the race track. Like right now, as Emma repositioned herself into a straddle and ground her wetness down onto Killian’s bare length in an attempt to really drive him insane.

“Emma, Gods,” Killian ground out through gritted teeth. He slammed his head into the mattress, the chorded muscles in his neck straining and his fingernails digging into her thighs spread eagled over his length.

Emma simply smirked at the pleading nature of her name on his lips, bracing her hands on his chest and sliding herself up and down, coating his cock with her essence. “This is what you did to me, Killian,” she rasped accusingly through a coy smile. She leaned forward until her lips were level with his ear, smirking against the shell of the pointed flesh. “You made me so wet,” she sang into his ear like a siren and Killian thought he was going to come there and then.

“You feel amazing,” he growled, kneading the flesh over her hip with a forceful grab.

Emma sat up a little, setting her weight down on his length, pinning it to his stomach. She could feel the throb of blood rushing to his erection and with a sly smirk, clenched her inner muscles knowing full well he would feel her. “Just wait until you feel the inside,” she added darkly.

Killian sat upright suddenly, hands holding her to him as he kissed her again. It was more ferocious than before, more needy, a silent plea for Emma to end his torment and fuck him until he saw stars. His hands buried themselves in her hair, cradling the curve of her skull and holding her mouth to his as his tongue explored. Emma moaned, the sound nothing more than a whimper that sent a fresh surge of blood to Killian’s erection and made it bob against the hardness of her clit between them.

It was too much, her grinding alone almost getting her off. Emma felt her arms tingle, her legs beginning to shake before she pushed her weight forward and Killian held her as they both fell back on the bed behind him. “Get it,” Emma commanded, sitting back upright and clawing lines into Killian’s chest. “Get it now.”

Killian didn’t need to be told again, half rolling himself sideways until he could reach the bedside table. There were three drawers but he went to the middle one, rummaging around behind his socks until he pulled out a small foil wrapper that Emma snatched from his grasp as soon as he rolled back into position underneath her. With a salacious grin she shuffled down over his thighs, trapping him in place and, for the first time, taking in the size of his member as it bobbed against his stomach.

“Don’t worry, love,” Killian smiled slyly, one eyebrow rising on his head. “It won’t hurt.”

“Pfft, please,” Emma dismissed, tearing open the wrapper and making sure the condom was fitted in the right way. She pinched the tip, seating it on the velvety smooth head of him before taking him in her grasp and rolling the latex slowly and deliberately down over his shaft. “You think this is the biggest thing I’ve ridden in my career?”

Killian couldn’t take her teasing any longer and grabbed her behind the knees, yanking her entire body up until she was seated back across his groin. She let out a small squeal of shock, before relaxing and letting him position his length at her entrance, just the tip of him enough to give her that burning stretch she hadn’t felt for so long. A gasp and a furrowed brow told Killian he had hit the right spot, inching into her a little further with a gentle pull down of her hips. When Emma was fully relaxed, his entire length inside of her, he bent his knees up behind her and let her recline against his thighs, content that her smug remark had been thoroughly seen to.

“No,” Killian ground out as Emma began to cant her hips, swiveling them forward and back, rocking on the hardness inside of her with a soft whimper. “But it’s going to be the best thing you’ve ever ridden, period.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Emma sighed with a nod of her head and a bite of her bottom lip. She changed her rhythm, rising up and then sinking back down onto him with a force that bumped her clit just right. She repeated it, only this time Killian met her half way, thrusting up into her and expelling all of the air from her lungs.

“Yeah, that’s it, Emma,” Killian grunted. “Ride me, there’s a good girl.”

She was so wet, slickness easing each of his thrusts, and Emma wasn’t sure she could even make any more lubrication until Killian had said those words. She felt the warmth pool in her stomach and the tingle inside of her walls that signalled her imminent orgasm. Normally she would have taken much longer to reach euphoria, but Killian was perfect, in all the right places, and she chased down her pleasure intending to firmly grasp a hold of it and never let go.

Again she switched it up, falling forward until her hair framed both of their faces and they were breathing in each others air. Emma clawed at his cheeks, the bristles of his beard soft under her fingertips as she began panting in a new rhythm of breaths that made Killian even harder inside of her. She was close. He could tell because of the muscles inside of her, contracting as she ground her clit against his pubic bone over and over, a thin sheen of sweat covering her entire body.

She let out a squeak, smashing her lips into his despite their need to breathe, and her movements became staggered, her hips moving erratically suddenly because she was about to come. The angle was right, the pressure on her clit was just perfect, and when Killian felt the muscles in her thighs tense up, her took it upon himself to extend Emma’s pleasure. She let out no protest when he wrapped his arms around her body and plowed himself into her core, the spongy walls there tightening with every thrust that prolonged her orgasm. She was numb, unable to do anything but cry out in ecstasy, her wails on the verge of crying because of the sensitivity following her release.

It wasn’t long after she had gone completely stiff on top of him and Killian slowed his movements to shorter, more forceful thrust, that he came, spilling his seed into the latex barrier between them. He kept thrusting, even as he began to soften, content to feel the pull of her inner muscles as ripples of euphoria still made her core flutter with activity. Finally, he let her go, softening his hold on her and brushing her hair aside so he could kiss her shoulder, his lips pecking tenderly at the sweaty flesh like a soothing balm on a burn.

“Oh yeah,” Emma panted, weakened but still able to lift herself to meet his gaze. Killian smiled expectantly, one hand drawing lazy circles over the base of her spine whilst the other divested himself of the spent condom, mindful not to let anything spill out as he discarded it on the nightstand.

“Yeah, what, love?” Killian pried, repositioning so that he had one arm behind his head and could take in the beauty of her straddled across his body.

Emma shook her hair away from her face, tucking some strands behind her ear before pressing her lips to Killian’s with a content hum. “Now we’re friends,” she chuckled, grabbing his face between her hands and pulling his smile to hers once more.

#stp #sparking the pavement #ch 4 #cs fic #cs au #cs ff #cs fanfic #moto gp au #Killian Jones #emma swan #smutty smut smut

[loftyexecutor]

somnium vidisse se dicat in extremis orbis terrarum - 2

Chapter; 2 Rating; T+ WC; 2060 TWs; none this chapter Pairing; AddElsAin [transform] AU; modern/dreamsharing scifi Summary; Being the best in the industry had its perks. Herrscher’s name was known far and wide, work offers coming in left and right, extort this, extort that. But that still didn’t stop his boyfriend from getting too tangled up in one of his dreams and switching places with the shade in his head. The shade that he had offered to extort ages ago. Fuck, this is a mess. Notes; i have a joke lined up but fuck i cant use it yet because i havent made anyone say it yet

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Dox opened his eyes with a grunt. He had fallen asleep again, and judging by the harsh glare of the sun above, his shoulders would get sunburnt. He rolled over, throwing a hand over his eyes and lounging on the picnic blanket for a few more moments.

"Hello."

He damn near jumped out of his skin, not expecting anyone to be here with him. Scrambling, he sat up and looked over to Immo sitting on the other side of the blanket, cross legged. The picnic basket sat untouched next to him.

With another grunt, Dox smiled at him, wiping the crust from his eyes with the back of his hand. The other hand reached into his pocket, to find his phone and see whether they had to leave soon. Sure, the sun was hot and the air humid, but it still felt nice next to the trees.

Instead of his phone, his fingers curled around something small in his pocket. Frowning, he pulls it out.

It turned out to be a small figure of a cat, one of those toy lines that kids had been all over when he was in middle school. It was scuffed, scratched and with peeling paint in some spots, and with a crudely drawn bow on its head in sharpie. Immo had thought it would be a good prank, and got an earful and then the silent treatment for a whole week after Dox learned it was him who did it.

He’d been so mad, his only keepsake of mo—

Wait.

He looked at Immo again, and his smiling face was no longer there, in his place sitting Conwell, with all his wrinkles and heavy eyes. Dox breathed a small breath of relief. He was dreaming.

He stood up, patting the invisible dust off his jacket, and stepped onto the grass. It turned to ash and heavy, dark stone under his soles, bleeding through the rest of the grass. It turned back as soon as he lifted the foot, and bled away when he put it down again.

Okay, so the dream wasn’t the stablest, but it would do for now.

Looking down at his hand, he wondered how he could even think it wasn’t a dream. His fingers were too short, the skin softer than it had been in years. The weight of his long hair was gone from his scalp.

Aware of not being real, the dream shaped itself around them. Trees blended away, replaced by glowing neon cubes, merrily making their slow way around them. If touched, Dox knew they would feel soft and malleable. The grass turned from vibrant green to a dull, dark blue. 

"That's more like it," Conwell said, looking up at the night sky. "I have not been in your dream in a long time. It is always a marvel."

Dox scoffed. "Well, that's good at least, because we'll be stuck here for a while." He never was the best dream architect. Sure, he could make a specific dreamscape if he put his mind to it, planned it out and all, but his dreams defaulted to this night plane with nothing but some cubes floating around. If they walked in a direction long enough, they’d find some broken down industrial complexes, but little more. The short glimpse at the beginning was all that was left of his original dreams, before Herrsch decided he was too dangerous to himself in dreamscapes with a shade in his head and offered to extract it.

He shook his head.

Not the time to delve so deep.

With a flick of a wrist, his phone materialized out of thin air. Looking at its screen made his head hurt, letters flying all over the place, illegible, but at the least the analog clock in the middle of the screen was always readable. It read 3:47 right now, but he knew if he looked at it in a second it could still say 3:47, or it could jump over to like 10:10. 

Such was the flow of time in dreams, always unpredictable, always janky, even with his powers over it, powers that came in handy more often than he was comfortable with.

He trained his eyes onto Conwell, watchful over the shade as he started to manifest blades, sticking each into the soil in a neat line, adding a new element to the dream. Dox looked at the phone screen again. 2:13.

He hoped Herrsch would figure something out before this dream collapsed on itself.

————————————————————————————————

Crack.

Herrsch suppressed his wince at the loud noise. This had been the fourth time Queen had punched the wall. Two of those punches had left indents in the plaster, but he refrained from commenting. When his call connected to naught but a voicemail again, he felt the very same urge.

He'd already gotten ahold of Centurion and Sariel, and Shakti came along with Queen, though she had remained out of the way until now, only deeming it unbothersome to come and try to calm her wife down.

He racked his brain for a plan, pushing all budding symptoms of a panic attack to the back of his mind.

Dox and Conwell were in the first layer right now. It was unlikely Immo had dreamed himself past layer two. To achieve a switch like Queen explained (like Conwell told her), they'd need to dream themselves to layer three. When Immo awoke and got himself trapped, believing he was awake, they must've been bumped up to layer two, and Conwell then up to layer one, knowing they were asleep. He knows Immo. He wouldn't mistake layer one for reality, surely. And when Immo's body awoke for real, it had been Conwell inside it, finding himself on the surface.

Sure, it sounded logical and neat when he broke it down like that, but it did little to quell any of his feelings. He could repeat it aloud, but he knew exactly with which inflection Queen would tell him to go fuck himself. So he didn't.

The fact that Nova was not picking up his calls was only making his panic worse. They'd need a bigger team to try and do an extraction on such a situation. A skilled physician, knowing the dosages for each layer and how to alter them on the fly, a technician to keep watch, at the very least two skilled architects to anchor on layer one and two, more of them to alter Immo's dream just enough for him to realize he was dreaming. Maybe another one to anchor layer three, just in case. He could act as the extractor himself, Dox could be the layering watcher, but they'd still need more people, to make sure the dream didn't collapse. 

God, they'd need at the very least ten people. But he didn't want to take any chances, this was Immo's mind on the line here, and he wasn't about to chance anything going wrong.

"Mm, hello?"

"Thank god, Centurion," he breathed, when the monotone beeping of his phone stopped. "Please, I need a favor."

"A favor? C'mon, buddy, do you really think I wouldn't help out? It's not like I'm gonna hold anything out for you, you know I don't mind—"

"Immo is trapped in a dream."

Centurion fell silent, his usual tirade of 'not doing favors. just helping out!' stopping in its tracks. "I… can be at your place in twenty, you can uh… tell me the details then," he said, when the silence started dragging on into the uncomfortable levels. 

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you, Chung."

He didn't mention the casual slip of his real name, but he didn't drop the call either. "Want me to bring my ADSSU? Actually, nevermind, I'll— I'll bring what's needed."

Herrsch nodded, shook his head, slapped himself because this wasn't a damn video call, and said a quiet "Thank you."

And just like that, he was back to being redirected to voicemails, until his phone rang and he eagerly picked up, pressing it against his shoulder. His hands were too preoccupied opening the door for Centurion, who had managed a record time of under ten minutes to pack up and drive down.

"Nova? I've been trying to reach you forever, I need you to come over, Immo has—"

"Mr. Herrscher? Good afternoon, this is—"

Herrsch's face fell. Centurion shot him a knowing look and placed a hand onto his shoulder for but a moment. Enough to convey his own feelings. I'm here. We're going to do this, and do it right. Don't worry. "I'm a little preoccupied at the moment. If you need anything, send a message through the website."

He didn't wait for a response, just swiped the call away in favor of dialing Nova again. Nothing but voicemail, over and over. He was really starting to panic now.

Sure, he believed in himself, knew he could pull Immo out on his own, but his emotions were all over the place at the moment and not having a backup was simply asking for trouble and there weren't many extractors Herrsch worked with and trusted as much as Nova. The thought of screwing this up, of losing Immo forever was making bile rise to the back of his throat.

When the doorbell rang, he damn near jumped three feet in the air, scrambling not to drop his phone and open the door simultaneously. This time it was Sariel, with Morphy in tow, looking as if they both walked off the cover of a magazine. And maybe they had. It wasn't unusual for Morphy to enlist Sariel as her co-architect, to stabilize her dreams for public viewings.

"Fuck," Herrsch said, a wobbly smile lifting his lips. "Thank you. And thank you for bringing Morphy."

"No point losing two of our best at once," Sariel said, completely ignoring him and squeezing past, sauntering in like she owned the place. Morphy, on the other hand, wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him with strength that her thin arms betrayed.

"Sariel doesn't mean it like that," she promised. "It'll be okay."

He nodded. "I know. It's good to have you. You're a great architect."

There was a slight dusting of pink across her cheeks, and she puffed up like a peacock when she let him go. "Excuse you. I'm the best architect, thank you very much."

And though he felt nothing like laughing, a chuckle bubbled up from his throat, half-hysterical. "Of course. My apologies."

"Accepted. Now, where is your fridge? I'm parched."

He led Morphy to the kitchen, where he let her help herself to juice and rummage the pantry, and then he wasn't paying attention because another van parked itself next to Centurion's in their rapidly shrinking driveway. With his heart hammering, he was just in time to open the door and see Nova, just the sight of him making Herrsch's insides settle the barest amount. 

"I thought—"

Nova held up his phone, showing off a notification for thirty-seven missed calls. God, Herrsch didn't even realize he'd called that many times. Fuck.

"Sariel called first. I was… too busy to pick up." He nodded his head at the van, and as if on cue, the other people inside spilled out, Iblis, Anular and Prime. Doing quick maths in his head, Herrsch realized they now had a viable team.

Unsure of what to say, he placed a hand onto Nova's prosthetic shoulder, hoping that he'd be able to read the gratitude on Herrsch's face. Nova pulled him into an actual hug instead; he'd lost track of how much physical contact he'd had today, already much more than the previous couple months combined, but he didn't care.

"No wallowing. Let's set up."

"Yes."

They piled in, Iblis' chatter background noise, only to find the rest of people, sans Centurion and Shakti, waiting in the living room. But now, with Laby sitting on the back of the couch and held in place by Twilight's hands securely on her ankles to prevent falls.

"Hi Herrsch!! Laby let herself in through the back!" she told him, a smile splitting her face, "I want to help! Pretty please?"

Herrsch could only nod, mind racing ninety in a fifty. He now had a team. A viable team. It was time to come up with a plan that wasn't a jumbled mess even in his own brain.

#elsword #addelsain #.elsword #.addelsain #.adssu

[ascottywrites]

Overwatch -- The Felicity Smoak List

In light of Emily Bett Rickards’ departure from Arrow here we are with a few of my favorite things. Happy Reading!! 

The Phoenix by SuperSillyAndDorky06 (Complete: 27/27| 126,939) --Bratva Oliver 

Felicity Smoak fell in love with the broody, intense Oliver Queen, Captain of the Russian Bratva, ages ago but he broke her heart. So, when the sudden marriage between them is arranged, she does not understand it and she does not want it. Except Oliver Queen is not only a harder man to live with than she realized, he also has no intention of letting her go. Mature content. Mild swearing. A lot of sexual tension. And you will want to punch Oliver at times. Kiss him at times ;)

A Code of Silence by OliversMuse (Complete: 34/34| 55,265) --Bratva Oliver  Oliver Queen is a boss of the Star City mafia when he meets and and falls in love with Star City socialite Felicity Smoak. While on their honeymoon their yacht goes down and they are presumed dead. Five years later they unexpectantly show back up alive and Oliver is now also a Captain in the Russian Bratva. As he fights to keep his territory he faces a resistance that will force him to show everyone just how far he will go to protect those he loves and Felicity to show what she will do to protect her family.

I Will Protect Her by beggsyboo (Complete: 22/22| 33,678) --Bratva Oliver  She required protection.

He needed a wife.

                                                  *** 

   So I’ve just got three Olicity stories and they’re all Bratva!Oliver meh. It’s probably because in fanfiction I ship Felicity with literally anyone other than Oliver (sorry Olicity die-hards). It could be because after a hint of it was introduced, the Arrow-verse canon made it a central piece of the storytelling. Or it could be a multitude of other reasons...let’s not look too deep into it. INSTEAD here are some alternate pair Felicity fics. Enjoy! 

+Batlicity 

Wait. What happened in Vegas?  by Ellabee15 (Complete: 30/30| 47,651)  Bruce and Felicity accidentally get married in Vegas.

A Bat Reaches for the Light by tdgal1 (wip: 13/?| 35,053) 

Oliver sleeps with Isabel and tells Felicity that nonsense. Felicity meets Bruce Wayne, Felicity decides that if Oliver wants no relationship that is what he will get. The first chapter is a summary but things will improve. This is for my good friend Vanessa.

Between a Bat and a Sharp Place by Ellabee15 (Complete: 28/28| 19,849) 

Beginning sometime after Oliver makes Felicity his EA this takes a different view of how season 2 might have gone. What if Felicity's family secrets were revealed? How will Oliver react to her being the daughter of a business rival. More importantly how does Tony Stark feel about the way the Arrow treats his daughter. Also Felicity has a history with...Batman?

Batlicity oneshots by  Ellabee15 (Complete: 20/20| 20,250) 

Felicity/Bruce Wayne one shots.

How Did We End Up Like This? by Wally_Birb (Complete: 15/15| 46,404) 

For half of a decade, Felicity's best friend was a billionaire vigilante with a dark past. No, not that one. What started out as what Felicity insists was a mistake resulted in one of the longest friendship Felicity had ever had. Long distance, of course, because Bruce Wayne wasn't exactly keen on Star City and Felicity wasn't a fan of smog.

When Felicity and Oliver break up, Felicity doesn't want to give up on making a difference. So, she turns to her best friend, looking for comfort (which he fails at giving spectacularly) and understanding (which he wouldn't be able to stop even if he wanted to). She quickly finds herself fitting in with the Batman and his little army of children.

+Clark Kent 

The Measure of a Hero by Ellabee15 (Complete: 22/22| 36,873) 

After the Glades fall strange things begin happening in Starling.

Man of Smoak, Man of Steel by Ellabee15 (Complete: 24/24| 24,604) 

After Felicity graduated from MIT she went to work for a while in Metropolis to set up the Daily Planet's new computer system...and got a little more than she bargained for. AU (Obviously) will feature Arrow story line later.

+Clint Barton 

Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune by Ellabee15 (Complete: 29/29| 44,465) 

Clint Barton gets tired of being compared to the Arrow and decides to set the record straight once and for all. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in the Arrow's mess. Felicity's struggling with Oliver's willingness to overlook Malcolm's past in order to defeat the League of Assassins. The last thing she needs is another stubborn archer in her life.

**This is followed by  Where We Stand 

Not Her Only Archer by Nartie327 (wip: 11/?| 11,844) 

What If Oliver wasn't the only archer Felicity knows? What if she had a whole secret life before she joined Team Arrow that no one knew about?

(Timeline: Arrow season 2 & The Avengers: Age of Ultron)

Maybe Next Time I can Buy You That Drink? by lailah (one-shot| 2,868)

“When the shirt was gone her eyes widened in surprise. His body was -- well amazing, it was all rock hard muscle and skin, so much glistening skin. Felicity couldn’t help but reach out and press her hands against him, feel what she was seeing to make sure it was real.”

**This is followed by  The Softer Side

Marry Me (buy me dinner first) by Wally_Birb (one-shot| 7,718) 

The one where Clint and Felicity sorta dive headfirst into this whole 'partners' thing and Clint realizes what the initials of Strike Team Delta spell out.

+Thorlicity 

When Lightning Strikes by Ellabee15 (Complete: 20/20| 48,473) 

After being banished from Asgard, Thor crash lands outside of Starling.

Smoak or Stark? by laxit21 (wip: 58/?| 76,002) 

Howard Stark was a known adulterer. Roughly a week after he and his wife are killed in a car accident, their son Tony becomes aware of his younger sister, Felicity Smoak. How will events for both the Arrow and the Avengers change as a result of their sibling relationship?

(Canon divergence for both Arrow and the MCU)

Always Be My Thunder by Ellabee15 (Complete: 27/27| 62,582) 

Felicity is recruited by SHIELD to help with an impending disaster. A life altering accident forces her to make an extremely important decision which will forever change the dynamics of Team Arrow and those of the Asgardian court.

Lightning in her blood by Millie 1985 (Complete: 3/3| 3,848) 

Felicity is not what she seems, sure she is a sweet, quirky, genius who can always be relied upon to help save the day but she is also more than that. She has lightning in her blood and more than one mighty protector in her corner. Takes place after both Heir to the Demon and the second avenger film. Now a collection of one shots.

 +Steve Rogers 

I'll be your Soldier by Ellabee15 (Complete: 31/31| 54,121) 

 Felicity Smoak is kidnapped by the league of Assassins. Over the next 2 years a new Winter Soldier comes to the attention of Captain America. (This story begins at the beginning of season 3 in the Arrow timeline and after Captain America: The winter soldier in the Marvel universe.)

Rising Above The Ashes by Wally_Birb (wip: 9/?| 20,494) 

When Felicity Smoak was 19, SHIELD forced her to join their ranks to work off the crimes that the people closest to her committed with her super virus. Also when she was 19, a kill order went out that forced three of SHIELD's top agents to defect so that she could escape with her life. No one knows why exactly the order went out, but years later the answer comes while Felicity is hacking investigating SHIELD.

Of course, knowing why it happened? Well that just puts more of a bounty on her head.

Some Good In This World (Worth Fighting For) by Wally_Birb (one-shot| 10,960) 

Felicity blames Cisco, honestly. It's always Cisco's fault, so she figured that when she woke up in the 1940's after interrupting one of his experiments, it was a safe bet to think that it was all Cisco's fault.

His Best Girl by iluvaqt (Complete: 22/22| 100,696) 

Felicity moves to New York after the Glades collapse. A chance run-in at the Buy More with Steve Rogers, changes her world and sets her on a path of discovery that has been kept secret since before she was born.

Because I'm Worth It by lateVMlover (Complete: 10/10| 34,455) 

This is a crossover story that is set after season 2's Arrow finale. Felicity is Pepper's cousin and decides to go to New York to get away from her heartbreak from Oliver. This is NOT an Olicity story. It focuses on her meeting and falling for Captain America.

**This is followed by a few more installations  Black Meets Green  Protecting the Family  The Wedding ...Ya know, just in case you’re in need of a deeper look. 

+Johnny Storm 

Where there's Smoak there's Fire by Ellabee15 (Complete: 11/11| 14,043)

In the wake of Oliver's death Felicity is sent by Palmer Tech to oversee a deal with the Fantastic Four.

+Aquaman 

Above | Beneath by Vixx2pointOh (Complete: 6/6|23,990)

He was from the lost world beneath.

She was from the dry land above.

Or at least that's what they thought...

Expectations by NellyHarrison (one-shot| 6,562) 

The first time Felicity Smoak meets Arthur Curry does not go well, but as they continue to work together, and she continues to believe in his potential, their relationship evolves into something neither of them had expected.

#felicity smoak #olicity #rare pair #rare ship #arrow #overwatch #comics #cw #felicity queen #green arrow #arrowverse #avengers #Crossovers #justice league #aquaman #captain america #thor #fantastic 4 #fanfiction #fic rec #recommendations #10/10 would reccomend #batlicity #batman #ironman #iron man #hawkeye #clint barton

[polar-stars]

I was a little inspired by Kana, to write something for @isshinene as well to make her feel a bit better on her recent anon spams ;w; 

So here, have a small insight into Nene in Star Wars AU (with some? some? IsshiNene? Because c’mon it’s for Asuka. And honestly everything can be canon in Star Wars AU ^^) 

It’s also rather angsty (I hope) but since Asuka tends to like it, I hope it won’t be that much of a problem.

Also I will get to the remaining asks in my inbox relating to the AU as soon as I can ;w; (I’ll get some writing done in my vacations)

Anyways, it’s a bit sloppy and all over the place but I hope you can find at least a little enjoyment in it:

Coruscant. The famous capital of the Galactic Republic and undoubtedly the center of the their world. When arriving in your ship, you were greeted by the imposant sight of the high skyscrapers of the city planet in their competition who could get nearer to the sky. Many ships then began to set their course on some of the most impressive buildings of the enormous city. Like the Opera house for example, or the Senate building or the Jedi Temple. Her home. As far as she heard from the Master who used to train her, she was originally from Naboo. However, as her force-sensitivity was recognised early on, she had been taken from her parents as a baby to learn the ways of the Jedi. And so she had been living on the booming city planet Coruscant for all her life. To others, it tended to sound shocking and frightening, having to think being taken away from their parents but to her it was a necessary step, as she couldn’t allow herself any strong emotional bonds as a Jedi. This was just simply how they operated. They committed their life to the force and the maintaining of peace in the Galaxis. This required a cool head and a full-on dedication to your duty. Jedi Master Nene Kinokuni. From the day her training begun on, she had always been one of the most diligent and hard-working Padawans among her fellow peers. Her precision, attention to detail and willingness to learn could only be rivaled by few and quickly she grew into one of the most talented Jedis the Order ever had, claiming the rang of Master at a rather young age. She earned great respect because of that and more than often her name was brought up to young Padawans to set an example. When she passed through the halls, she felt eyes following her and minds calculating if it would be appropriate to talk to the legend. She sensed that each and everyone of them, was trusting her with their life. Too bad, that they did not sense that she was not much of an reliable protector anymore. Nene was analyzing her fellow Jedis a lot and sometimes she would inspect their talks and their fighting. In all her observations, she noted how more and more Jedis became a lot more brash and recklesss. Focusing more on looking 'cool' than to keep the mind in balance. Nene lost count on how many Jedi customs she had already seen being abandoned. In the beginning she tried to tell herself that this was the fault of the currently ongoing Clone Wars and that it's circumstances where the reasons why some Jedi felt a need to alter their behavior a little. But after taking on a mission directly in the supposed heart of the Republic, her home, that lead her directly into the dark shadows of Coruscant....Nene had truly been able to witness just how much criminal activities and unjust where committed in their very area. Much was broken. And there needed to be a change. And as she was presented to a chance, she grasped it. --- As she left the council meeting today, she knew that it would be their last time together. As she bid her fellow council members goodbye, she knew it would be one forever. With the exception of Master Somei Saito, who shared her views on the Jedi abandoning their customs more and more. As she finally got into the great halls of the temple, she planned to make her way to one of the ships immediately. She had thought long and hard about this and believed it would be the right choice. But even if she did, there was still a part in her that couldn't deny the guilt that was building up in her. Her, the remarkable and heavily respected Jedi Master, would be nothing but a backstabber and traitor by the time this day would end and she knew it. Mentally she shook her head, telling herself to not let the guilt win over her and to keep rational. After all, being emotionless was the way of the Jedi. And change was necessary, even if it meant what it did. She had nearly reached the gate as she suddenly heard a familiar voice behind her, calling her name in such a jolly and happy way. "Nene!" She flinched immediately and for a moment considered just continue on walking. She didn't want to have this confrontation. She didn't want to. Out of sheer politeness, or so she told herself, she turned around in the end to face the brightly, smiling face of her childhood friend and fellow Jedi Council Member, Satoshi Isshiki. His Padawan, Shun Ibusaki, standing a bit farer away with an unreadable expression as always. "Isshiki." She greeted dryly, while her mind was in turmoil, having to look into these shining, blue eyes that had always been near her since birth, that she had often eyed them so darkly but at the same time she always found herself lost in them ever since. "Fantastic" didn't even begin to describe his talents. He was sheer wonder. Within the span of only a few minutes or hours he had mastered tasks that others needed weeks for from the day his training began on. No matter what the subject to learn was, he always exceeded perfectly. He invoked a feeling in her that no Jedi should ever feel for even a second, jealousy. Of course, she always denied it and suppressed it. After all, jealousy was considered a sufficient way to get lost on dark path, which would be a shame for a renowed Jedi like her. But whenever she saw him mastering a skill, she had sharpened over the course of weeks in just a hour, she felt the jealousy burning up. Did she hate him though? No absolutely not. It was possibly straight-up impossible to hate Satoshi Isshiki and his kind smiles, his care for the younger ones, his loyalty and his willpower to do the good deeds. And this rumbled up the emotions, she wasn't even supposed to have, even more. "What do you want?" She spoke, averting his gaze, not wanting to be directly pinned under the stare of a man, close to her, that she had already betrayed mentally. "I wanted to ask if you're not too busy." He responded. Before continuing. "I wanted to ask you if you could assist me in the training of Shun today?" Now she frowned and actually did turn to him. Was he trying to make fun of her? "Why?" She asked. "He's not my Padawan. Also..." Her tone got frosty. "I do not know what I am supposed to teach him that you can't." With that she was about to turn around. But his voice stopped her movement. "What are you talking about?" Again, she met his gaze, still frowning. But in return he looked at her so warmly and so...honest. "Don't talk yourself down like that. I know for a fact that you would make a great teacher. No one has spend as much time in the liberty as you, so your theoretical knowledge and information around the Jedi history and customs is outmatched. I saw you talk to children before and it was evident that you are a caring, patient and understanding person. Exactly what they need." This made her brain freeze for a second, as her eyes only widened and she stared at the man with a more than bewildered expression. He only continued. "Truth to be told, the real reason why I want you to assist me today is that you get a taste of what teaching Padawans is like. I do believe you should get your own one. You would be a fantastic one and a gold-catch for any Padawan considering your status and skills." Nene was at a lost of words. She felt a forbidden blush emerge on her cheeks and her heart furtively accelerating at the praise she had just heard. Suddenly the yells of the suppressed guilt in her got louder and she had to clutch her fist to restrain herself from spilling what was actually going on in her mind right now. Satoshi only continued to look at her expectingly. "Maybe, when you come back we can look at the current Padawans and search one for you." His smile got even brighter, making her heart form a knot. "What do you say?" She couldn't deny that her tongue was aching and that a piercing pain went through her chest when she gave her answer. "Alright, as soon as I come back we can do as you wish. But now I really have to leave." To strengthen her inner turmoil, he laughed. "Nice to hear! I'll be waiting. Have a good flight." Nene nearly choked when saying "Goodbye, Isshiki" in return before turning around to make her way to the ship that would get her to the meeting Azami Nakiri had requested, so that his plans could be finalized at last. And so she left the building she grew up in, knowing that she would never return. 

#Lea is writing #SW AU #Nene Kinokuni #Satoshi Isshiki #IsshiNene

[noodlecupcakes]

Sin Chapter 3 (Negan Writing Challenge, Priest AU)

Warnings: Sex in a church, sex on an alter, sex with a demon 

Shout at me if you want to be added to the taglist

Chapter 3

Negan’s P.O.V

 Every free moment I got to myself I prayed for forgiveness. I had to find the strength within myself to never let that happen again. I just had to hope she wouldn’t visit again. Of course, that was short lived, she sat through the daily service her eyes on me the whole time. Service ended and she approached me a devious smile on her face. I chose to ignore her, putting bibles back into place and making sure things were tidy.

“Oh Father you can’t ignore me forever,” she said in a sing song voice.

I could and I would.

 “Father I have something very important to tell you,” she tried.

Don’t fall for it. It’s just another trick. Do not give her what she wants. She turned me round to face her, frowning at me.

“Don’t be rude. The more you push me the less nice I’m going to be,” she hissed.

I didn’t care, I wanted her gone. I never wanted to see her again. I drew my hand back and slapped her hard. Roxy stood there as if the slap hadn’t affected her at all. Instead she glared at me and shook her head.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she spoke, something different in her voice.

I heard the church doors swing shut behind us, practically slamming closed. The candles all went out, the only light source now from the stained-glass windows. Roxy pushed me hard enough so that I fell to the floor on my back. She stepped closer to me, her legs either side of my shoulders this gave me a perfect view up the skirt of her black dress. She wasn’t wearing any panties again. I swallowed hard, meeting her gaze. She smiled, cocking her head to the side.

“Like what you see Father?” She smirked.

 She crouched down, sitting on my chest. I felt unable to move, no matter how hard I willed my limbs to work so I could push her off me they just wouldn’t move. Roxy’s smile grew at this. I still didn’t understand what was going on. She sighed and rolled her eyes, grabbing me by my collar.

“Still don’t get it, do you? I guess I’ll have to show you.” She spoke.

She let go of my collar and began to change before my eyes. It was subtle changes but her pupils were now a blood red. I felt fear building in the pit of my stomach as she continued to change. Her teeth were now more fang like and her nails more claw like. Atop her head were two grey horns that curled back on themselves.

 She was a fucking demon and I had fornicated with…that. No, it couldn’t be true, this was just some horrid nightmare. It had to be. I closed my eyes, praying when I opened my eyes I would wake up.

“Father, this is no dream. This is real,” she taunted.

I refused to open my eyes. I refused to look at her monstrous form. I had to get rid of her, cleanse this place and myself of her sin. The weight on my chest vanished and I could move once more. I opened my eyes, scanning the room. I found her sat upon the marble alter, watching me, waiting for me to do something.

 I swallowed hard and got to my feet. I clutched the cross that hung around my neck, silently praying for bravery and strength to banish her to where she belonged. I approached her, removing the cross from around my neck and holding it at arm’s length. Roxy threw her head back and laughed. It seemed to have no effect on her. Holy water. That would work. I rushed to the baptism bowl, pulling it out and dumping the contents over her. She looked at me, clearly unimpressed.

“Now you’ve just gotten me wet and not in the way I’d like,” she spat.

 I fell to my knees before her. I suppose it was time to start begging for my life. Roxy stepped closer and tutted.

“This is not how I expected today to go,” she sighed.

“Please spare me.” I pleaded.

“Oh Father I’m not going to hurt you, quite the opposite. Now get up!” She ordered.

I did as I was told, getting to my feet. I’m sure if I did everything she asked she would spare me.

“Undress me. No point in me staying in these wet clothes,” she spoke.

I shakily unzipped her dress, my lust for her returning at the sight of her pale flesh being revealed to me.

 I must not give in...no matter how good it felt. Roxy pulled her dress off and turned to face me.

“Kiss me,” she gave the next command.

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Sin for me Father.”

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, surrendering myself to her. I moaned as she kissed me harder, nipping at my bottom lip and tugging on my hair. She pushed herself up so she was now sat on the alter. I positioned myself between her legs, kissing her once more and starting a trail of kisses from her cheek down to her breasts.

 Roxy took the small slip of white from my collar and put it between her teeth. She then began to undress me, getting rid of the cassock quickly. Now we were both bare to each other. I could finally see her glorious naked form. Even with some of the more monstrous features she still had entranced me. I lined myself up and slowly pushed my way inside her tight, wet cavern. I moaned, my head falling forward. I watched as my cock slowly disappeared inside her, her walls hugging me tight. Roxy moaned, her hips bucking against mine.

 I started a fast pace, needing to feel that few seconds of bliss that only she could bring me once more. Roxy threw her head back, her back arching off the alter and her legs wrapping around my waist.

“Fuck me Father, fuck me in the presence of your God,” she moaned.

I glanced at the figure on the wall behind her, my scarified saviour. The Lord should strike me down now for what I was doing but I couldn’t stop. If he did not strike me down, then what did that mean? Had he forsaken me? Had he turned his gaze from me? Was he even there?

 Roxy tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me down for a kiss and pushing those thoughts from my head. She nipped at my bottom lip, her teeth sharp enough to draw blood. I could taste the coppery red substance and so could she. This seemed to fuel her lust as she let out a louder moan. Roxy dug her claws in to my back, dragging them down my skin hard enough to draw blood. I closed my eyes at the odd sensation of pain and pleasure mixing together as one.

 I was coming close already and she could tell. Roxy tangled her fingers in my hair and pulled hard.

“Cum Father, fill me with your sin,” she breathed.

I moaned, her words tipping me over the edge. I stood there for a few moments coming down from my high before pulling out of her. She sat up, her fingers in my hair once more.

“I’m not done yet. It’s only polite. Finish me off with that tongue of yours,” she ordered.

She forced me down on to my kneels, so I was kneeling before her, kneeling before the alter. I pulled her closer, desperate to taste her. Her sweet desire had mixed with my own, my tongue cleaning her of my own sin.

“Taste your own sin Father,” she moaned.

 Now I knew how Eve felt when she had eaten the apple, how good it felt, how sweet it was. I continued devouring the sweet honey between her legs as if it were Eve devouring the apple. I couldn’t get enough of her taste. I hoisted her legs over my shoulders so I could get at a better angle, this only made her moan louder. It didn’t take her long to finish, her fingers digging in to my scalp as she cried out my name. I felt my cock twitch at this. I wanted to hear her moan my name like that again.

 I stayed on my knees before her looking up and meeting her gaze, needing her praise and approval. Roxy smiled, cupping my cheek in an almost loving manner. Eventually we redressed and she parted ways. As if the moment she left I was overcome with guilt again. Guilt, shame, rage. They told me the devil would be beautiful but I thought I would be strong enough to resist. I needed to prove myself to the lord, prove my love and faith for him once more. I had to get rid of that she devil.

Taglist: @astrangegirlsmind, @mypapawinchester, @genevievedarcygranger, @xacejtx, @grungedaddykinks, @negandarylsatisfaction, @ladylorelitany, @mwesterfeld1985, @warriorqueen1991, @isayweallgetdrunk, @almostinwonderland, @jungle-feeveer, @negans-network, @slothdoll, @shadesofarrogance, @jessie-cake1994-blog, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @jml509, @hannibalssweaters, @glittered-unicorn-lava, @thewew, @prettyepiic, @eldritchmortician, @neganisking

#ash's negan writing challenge #negan #neganxoc #neganxroxy #priest au #negan smut #negan fanfiction #walking dead #walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan

[supernatural0224]

J2 fics

1. Mildred: A College AU It is a truth universally acknowledged that a Jared in possession of his heterosexuality will immediately switch teams upon enrollment in college and first contact with Jensen Ackles. [cute, adorable. Long, but really simple.] 2. Disclaimer  Jared and Jensen are willing to do almost anything to help their friends. Almost. But what Chris is asking of them this time? It's the one thing they both swore they'd never do: Grow up.  [I don't know about the individuals in here, but the relationship they have was ah-mazing.]

3.No Codename  Jared's got a brand new show, tons of things to keep him busy, and pretty much the most awesome costar he's ever met. Okay, so maybe he has some less than entirely pure thoughts about said costar sometimes, but he's, like, eighty-three percent sure Jensen thinks impure thoughts about him, too. Sometimes. Possibly. Now he just has to stop being so chicken-shit and actually make a move.   [oh my God! I can't remember when was the last time I had this much fun while reading something! And the best part is that I can imagine our Jared and Jensen being like this, in real life 😍] 4. Operation: Mistletoe  FBI Agent Jensen Ackles is a damn good agent, but his devil-may-care attitude, gut instinct, and sheer dumb luck have finally run out. With his job and reputation on the line, Jensen is assigned to a new partner: the overzealous and overachieving Agent Jared Padalecki.Their mission: Infiltrate a ring of drug dealers hiding out in Suburbia in the midst of the Holiday season.The only catch? They have to pretend to be head-over-heels in love with each other. [cuuute 😍] 5. Project Get Jared Banged Jared's had the best stepbrother in the world in Jensen since the age of five — growing up together and more attached than usual brothers would —, only realizing that he’s in love with Jensen by the time he hits thirteen.After five more years of Jared's impossible crush, he knows his life turns and spins around his brother. Luckily for Jared, he and Jensen have always been closer than other siblings, making his feelings seem a little less hopeless. Or that is until Jensen announces he’s moving to Austin to live with his girlfriend next year, leaving Jared's perfectly built Jensen-centric world crashing to the ground.That’s when Chad and Sandy decide to convince Jared that moving on and letting go of his feelings are the only way to get through his lost love for Jensen. Yet their plan to get Jared out of his shell and over his stepbrother doesn't sit well with one person: Jensen himself, who realizes that the more Jared tries to pull away, the more he wants to get him back closer. [The first time I read the summary, I squirmed away. But then, it turned out to be one of the sweetest, with angst served on side dish I have had in a while ;) ] 6.The Winchester Identity  A tall and handsome doctor is kidnapped by a mysterious green-eyed man who has no memory—but who definitely has a past. The J2 AU version of "The Bourne Identity".   [W-O-W!! This was so freaking amazing and absolutely amazingly written. It had been such a long time since I've read a good thriller - and since I hadn't read or watched the original, so I was totally unspoiled. I loved everything about it. Though it is freakishly long, but it is SO worth it.] 7. A Hole Straight up to the Sky   Captured by scientists determined to save the human race from impending extinction, two weres - seemingly strangers - are caged together in the hopes that they'll mate. What happens between them is unprecedented and changes the course of both their races forever. [I liked it. It was good. Worth a read.] 8. The Gloaming  gloam·ing ˈɡlō miNG/ - the part of the day after the sun has gone down and before the sky is completely dark: dusk Other popular connotations: gloam, glow, glowing, glomming, glommedJared always knew he would one day experience a gloaming and find his soulmate. No one told him, and in fact, no one else in his family that he knew of had ever glommed; but he just knew, and he was willing to wait, despite all the offers thrown his way and all the well-meaning advice by friends and family; Jared waited.After all the tragedy Jensen had endured recently, he was now content to live a simple life taking care of his family and working a job that he loved. He sure never thought he'd ever find love again, let alone a true love; if one were to believe in Gloamings, which Jensen never really did until it happened to him.Jared and Jensen - strangers from seemingly different worlds decide to give love a chance. But will outside forces and unforeseen enemies drive them apart or bring them together forever?They only have 60 days to consummate or the Gloaming will Fade... and they will both lose out on what could possibly be a love for the ages. [pure fluff. Like seriously, even the angst feels fluffy but um, yeah. Go ahead. It is fun. [Sequel awaiting]]

9. The Lost Big screen star Jensen Ackles was on his way to Brazil to continue filming his latest project. He was glad to lose himself in the role and bury the pain of his broken heart by slipping on a stranger’s skin. Because of his manager’s twisted attempt to help, he found himself on a private jet with a high-class rent boy. Before he could figure out what to do with that, a bolt of lightning sent them tumbling into the rain forest. With them believing there were no other survivors, Jensen has to figure how to get them back to civilization. It was a good thing he was as strong and capable as the leading men he portrayed on screen, because how much help could an expensive hooker really be in the middle of the Amazon? [okay? This? This is pretty amazing. (Apart from certain someone being over possessive and protective, but that’s probably just me) And I enjoyed this story more for, well, the story than the fact that I love to read about pairing. So, big kudos to the author. ] 10. Hope You Don't Mind   Jared has no problems being an introvert in a family of extroverted women. He enjoys his alone time as a freshman in high school... that is until signs for prom start showing up. With both his sisters going, he begins to wonder if maybe his time alone is a little lonely. [it is fluffy and funny and fantastical and a pretty decent one.] 11. When You Find Me [You'll Search No More] When Jared unexpectedly finds himself in possession of a stolen jewel that belongs to the mysterious and powerful sorceress who lives in the woods behind his castle, he feels compelled to return the stone right away. The witch surprises him by offering to grant him one wish, and the last thing he expects is to fall in love.  [i probably read an extra zero when I first read the word count so I was so surprised when it was coming to end :P But it is good, very cute :] ] 12. reinventing love 'verse   Coming out to your best friend isn’t easy. But then again, neither is falling in love with him. [okay. This is AMAZING and CUTE and I am a pile of mush which doesn't know what to do with her life anymore. *whispers very, very slowly* I want a love like that... ] 13. Bring Me to Life   Jared’s a shy young man, whose life has never been easy. His father hates him, his mother drinks her sorrows away and his husband Paul treats him like he is nothing more than a beautiful toy. When his husband has to go away on a business trip to Europe for two months, he sends Jared away to a ranch in the middle of nowhere to keep him under control. There, Jared meets people who show him what love, friendship and loyalty mean for the first time in his life. Can he escape his life and finally find some love and happiness for himself? [Oh, Jared! Come, babe. Let me wrap you up in blanket burrito.] 14. Refracted 1. To deflect (light, for example) from a straight path by refraction. 2. To alter by viewing through a medium. 3. BentJared knows exactly what he needs to do: earn a 4.0 grade point average, lead the basketball team to the state championship, nab a spot on the Homecoming Court, and be the best son two Catholic parents could ask for. He should know, this sort of stuff has been his life for the last 17 years, but this is when everything changes.Befriending Jensen Ackles, who everyone knows of but doesn’t really know, opens Jared’s eyes to an array of possibilities he’d never considered. With Jensen in his life, Jared finds the courage to to be his own person, recognize his real feelings, and make his own decisions when it comes to school, friends, and love. [this was nice. Sweet and simple. I liked it.] 15. There's a Hole in Me, Just About the Size of You  [I have already read and listed it, but seriously, it is just so angsty and inevitable and mushy - it is worth reading again] 16.The Doors of Time  About love and Fate and destiny. And Jensen being weird. And piano music. And finding the one person that's made for you in a world that isn't. Something like that. [AMAZING - seriously. There is no other word for this. Just, WOW!] 17. For All Your Days and Nights (I'm Gonna Be There)  Jared returns from a days-long hunting trip to learn that the chieftain of their tribe has passed away and Jensen, his best friend, is to succeed his father. As their new leader, he faces many challenges, including having to find a spouse. But before he settles down, Jensen asks for one night with Jared first. It turns into much more. [OMG this is super sweet! Loved it.] 18. Brand New Start  Jared Padalecki is one messed up kid, after his parent die he his tossed from Foster home to Foster home slowly losing everyone he loves. He's given one last chance with the Ackles. Can he come to peace with his past? Will he admit that he's attracted to Jensen? AU story of a hurt boy who's trying to find some peace and maybe, if he's lucky, love. [A little heartbreaking, a little painful but worth a read.] 19. [Won't Someone Come] Rescue Me   Big things are coming soon to The Wayward Heart Band; then lead singer and guitarist Jensen discovers a box of abandoned kittens, and his personal future starts to look just as bright as his professional one. [aw, so cute 😆] 20. You Came Smiling Softly, Shyly Moving, Into My World   Jensen wants more — wants to know what Jared tastes like in the morning, and after he's had his first cup of coffee of the day, and between takes, sheltered away in their trailers. He wants to explore Jared's body with his hands and mouth, get him to make every sweet noise there is; he wants to be inside him and all around him, until he's everywhere. [I ABSOLUTELY loved it. The author is probably my fav one.]  

#j2 #fic #j2-fics #fics