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tails-boogie-board · 2 years ago

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My Sonic Underground au, ft. Tails

Bc ofc it features Tails. Anyway this got away from me, like majorly, whoops. This is my attempt to squeeze it into the 'main' canon with the games 'n all but have it feel cohesive.

OKAY SO the rough summary is that in Sonic Underground, things were Bad and the war started even earlier, leaving the triplets at 10. They’re young and unprepared and things shift outside the original show.

Sonic ends up meeting the Oracle early and alone. He gives Sonic a choice: to keep fighting as is; or to win, but cease who is. Sonic asks if he can meet in the middle, but the Oracle just states that there is no victory without sacrifice. Sonic thinks of his family and the people hurt and their mother and the best way to win is a guaranteed win, even if he’s not here for it, and takes option B; and an unknown hedgehog wakes up on an unknown island with an unknown name. Miles away, a man wakes up without memories, but a lust for power.

Meanwhile, Sonic goes missing in the night and days after, they hear that Robotnik is dead –or missing, or gone, there is no distinction and every rumor Manic hears is different. Even with the timing, they refuse to think that Sonic is dead, even if it feels like lying.

Sonic and the Oracle made a deal, one the Oracle had seen times and times ago. Both Robotnik and Sonic would lose their memories, not just of the war Robotropolis and Mobotropolis, but of their own past and everything in between. Along with this, they would be compelled to never see the land again. If only one returned then the majority of the spell would remain intact, but if they both did, the magic would be broken and both sets of memories would return

To use the magic, Sonic sacrificed his amulet and as of the au, it acts as the direct connection linking Sonic and Robotnik’s memories to Robo/Mobotropolis.

And thus, neither of them remember this.

The hedgehog wakes up on what he learns is Christmas Island surrounded by birds and the softest grass he’s ever known. He doesn’t know the language and has very untreated trauma and PTSD. He hangs around for a bit and heals and he’s young and curious and it all feels so new and foreign and nature is so beautiful and he’s so fast!

One day, he sees a man attacking his friends and capturing the other animals on the island. Instinct kicks in and it overpowers the fear. He’s fast and he can fight and defend and anticipation runs up his quills and it all feels right. He wins, saves his friends, beats the man and in the chaos, Eggman flees and Sonic chases. He finds a plane and then a little brother and the rest is history.

Back with Sonia and Manic, as time passes, they meet their mother and slowly regain control over the kingdom. 5 years go by, and Mobotropolis isn’t what it was, and never will be; but their scientists have learned how to clean the tar-stained buildings and pull the toxins out of the soil and there are saplings scattered across the city. The city finally has the resources to connect with the outside world and imports are finally trickling in –exports are harder but steel and metal is abundant and they don’t care who they trade with.

And then one day, Manic sits in front of the TV and he’s been keeping track of the dates, he had ever since he was a little kid, and after strife and war he’s finally gonna see the EX World Grand Prix and the first fucking thing he sees is Sonic (who gets a dicey first place).

So everyone naturally starts going crazy and the monarchy sends out people to find him, but no dice. Sonic doesn’t stay anywhere and no one knows where he lives, he just appears when there is some event and then disappears after. Cut to Bartleby who takes it upon himself to bring the prince home and regain some of the respect his family, and Sonia, had for him. He has objectively worse luck and spends the majority of time on dead trails and unknowingly missing Sonic by minutes.

Meanwhile, the siblings are getting impatient and their mother seems ambivalent at best so they decide to go find him themselves. They’re drawn in the same direction and after looking at a map, they decide to head to Central City because it’s big and in the right direction and what other leads to they have. They sneak out in the night, but in the palace walls, their mother watches, but turns away when they look back.

Cut to Sonic, who is enjoying a lull between adventures and Eggman takeovers. Everything is peaceful and nice and past weird. After double-checking around, he and Tails determine that Eggman is MIA, and has been for about 2 weeks which isn’t much time to make anything other than maybe some low level bots…which honestly, not a bad time for a vacation!

Jump to Tails and Sonic running off on an old school adventure, no Tornado, no chaos emeralds, just their own feet and tails. They’re having a blast being tourists, stopping various Eggman atrocities, some are wandering robots and some seem like some half-baked scheme ‘still in beta’, as Tails puts it. Meanwhile, Sonic’s been having some weird thoughts lately and his dreams are full of people he can’t remember. But he sees the buildings and pollution and fire and assumes its stress dreams and pushes a little harder on their travels. He’s not sure where they’re going, but he always follows the wind.

Back to the triplets minus one, Sonia and Manic are in a random village and okay this traveling thing kinda sucks. They only transportation they have is some of Robotnik’s old machines and they’re cumbersome, fuel hungry, bulky, and are all-in-all, terrible. They do what they can to avoid them and walk on their own, and desperately miss their bus and even the palace; they’re not unused to hardships and hunger, but man it was nice to not have it.

By pure chance, during a break in a small town, and small was putting it lightly, they see a streak of blue. They chase after it and they don’t see the blur, but they do see a fox who somehow out runs them before they can stop him. The next day, they’re despondent, but they see the town has a hotdog stand and specializes in chilidogs. Much to their surprise, and not-surprise, they find that fox again, who is sitting on a table, waiting for his food.

They approach Tails, who gets suspicious when they ask about Sonic, but he doesn’t play dumb. Manic is nearly in tears and is babbling how he needs to take them to him and they’re family. Tails' food is called, 7 chilidogs and a chicken sandwich, but Sonia stops him from leaving like, “just pass him a message please.” Tails is sus but agrees, Sonis passes him a pre-written note and Tails leaves, and then promptly reads it on the way back to camp.

(Sonia and Manic talk about Tails and his mutation when he leaves. Due to the pollution on Robotropolis, they’re used to mutations but they’ve never seen one that severe. They’re sympathetic, but their language is demeaning, Sonia more than Manic.) Something to note is that they don’t know he can fly.

The note is flowery and written on weird paper. It’s not cryptic, but it’s assuming a lot of info Tails doesn’t know and doesn’t think Sonic knows either. He reaches camp, gives Sonic the chilidogs and the note. Sonic reads it and freezes, just staring off into the distance, dog half bitten, as those distant dreams become a bit clearer and he finally has names to put to those faces.

Tails is concerned when he snaps him out if it, and ravenous, Sonic devours the rest of his dinner. He tells Tails that they’re important to him, but he can’t remember why. They talk about what to do for the night and Sonic wants to meet them ASAP, but the note didn’t say how to. So they decide to figure it out in the morning. Right before they go to bed, Sonic snaps up, startling Tails, and tells him that they’re his siblings and tells him what he can remember, mostly vague, hazy things about siblings and a mom.

Sonic’s memories are fuzzy and he passes out quickly and while he doesn’t remember his dreams, he wakes up in a cold sweat with feeling of smoke in his lungs. It’s early day and Tails is gone. Sonic has about 60-70% his memory back.

Cut to Tails, who didn’t sleep great tbh, but the second it hit dawn, he was up. Sonic had family and Tails ignores the pit in his stomach and is determined to fix this! The note suddenly makes much more sense and if Sonic really does have parents and a mom, then Tails is gonna reunite them.

So he goes into town and after an hour of looking, he ends up back at the currently-closed chilidog stand where he finds them loitering and in hindsight that seems obvious. He tells them that he’s gonna bring them to Sonic and they’re elated and follow him down to the path to their camp.

But Sonic crashes into them first, having gone to look for Tails. There is a heartfelt reunion, though it’s clearly more on Sonia and Manic’s side that Sonic. “We’re your siblings!” and stuff. They get breakfast at another stand and talk. Sonic introduces Tails as the “coolest, nerdiest, smartest fox best friend anyone could have.”

Sonia and Manic tell Sonic about their home and mother and their relationship, but specifically omit info because they don’t want to scare him off. They convince him to come back home and shockingly, Sonic agrees. Privately, Tails asks him if he’s sure and Sonic says that he has a feeling that’s where they need to be.

Time skip!

They bring Sonic and Tails to their plane and take off towards Mobotropolis.

Tails is in awe of the plane and Manic and Sonia think it’s because it’s so big and advanced and like nothing on Mobius or that the kid has ever seen. However, dramatic irony, Tails is in awe because it’s so old and archaic. It’s hilariously outdated and it’s like being in a time capsule. He can see hints of Eggman and the rudimentary inspiration for his current designs, but he doesn’t consciously recognize it.

His awe plus his size plus his general kid-ness leads them to think that Tails is just some kid Sonic hangs out with and watches. Like some weird charity/ ‘babysitting your partner/besties kid brother’ thing, even if it doesn’t make sense with what they’ve seen.

Then Sonic calls Tails ‘Little Bro’ on habit and that won’t cause problems later at all; spoilers, Manic and Tails are both jealous, but it stems from different places. Manic thinks it’s because he subconsciously missed them and feels hurt at the replacement while Tails’ chronic insecurity pops up.

Now that they have them trapped on a plane, and not aware of Sonic’s escape room tricks or Tails’…everything, they start to let more secrets out. They imply that Tails shouldn’t be in the room to hear this and Sonic shuts them down and tells them that if want to tell him something, then they should just say it now –with the implication that Sonic will just tell Tails anyway.

So they tell Sonic that he’s actually a prince and that they’re all royalty and Sonic is, “No thank you, I don’t want it, take it back. I’m good, thanks.” Tails finds it hilarious.

They continue to treat Tails like a kid and it gets old fast and Tails is being thr bigger man and it sucks.

The flight lasts over a day and no one is happy. Tails wants to go to the cockpit and see if he can speed it up, but Sonia refuses and says its autopilot anyway –which is true to be fair. Eventually Tails ‘gives up’, but goes to the engine room to find a guide to the motherboard to to follow the wires to do it himself.

Meanwhile, Sonic and his siblings keep clashing in ways that are both equally familiar and new. Sonic may have memories of them, but they feel more like dreams and he’s not the person he remembers, or the brother they remember; and to him, their lives are, well not inconsequential, but feel less real than his 'current' one.

They have already gotten into the same fight twice: why Sonic left, despite Sonic not having any answers either. There is heaviness in the ship and this is fight number 3 in less than 2 hours. The tension builds, but shatters as Tails runs back onto the deck. He’s talking a mile a minute how this ship is Eggman’s but it’s not and it’s older, and Sonia and Manic are lost but Sonic is clearly worried. Sonia notices that the worried crease in his forehead is the same.

Tails gestures for them to follow him and takes off running, Sonic is on his heels and Sonia and Manic are left behind, even as they run –it is lampshaded.

Tails takes them to the cockpit and walks in, clearly having hacked it earlier. Sonia isn’t happy and they still see Tails as some kid and they’re frustrated he’s bothering them when they were busy. Tails flies up to interact with something up high, a series of pipes and a cryptic sigil which makes Sonic’s eyes widen. He’s suddenly balanced on the headrest of the pilots chair and... was he always that fast. Tails and Sonic are discussing something and Sonia and Manic are lost and holy shit the kid can fly??????

The rest of the trip remains awkward as they realize both sides are hiding secrets. Sonic tries to make peace and let bygones be bygones and start new. Sonia isn't about that and just wants everything like it used to be. But, unlike the Sonic that Sonia remembers, he doesn’t rise to the bait or join conflict, and deflects or shuts it down. No one knows how to communicate or what to say; it’s clearly an 'us versus them.'

They find a common ground in war and they talk about their adventures for a bit, but neither party realize Eggman and Robotnik are the same. To Sonia and Manic, Tails should be in a sanctuary or somewhere with other little kids to be protected and they don’t doubt he’s capable but he’s a little kid! Sonic casually defends him.

After this, Manic confronts Sonic about Tails as his brother and his jealously and Sonic tells him to grow up. Tails is his own person and so is Manic, neither are a replacement. Tails is younger and smart and techy, but he’s not Manic and Sonic doesn’t like the implication that he either picked Tails up as a replacement or that Sonic was desperate that he forced it on him. He bluntly tells Manic that Tails was a little kid that needed help and Manic didn’t, they’re the same age, and the situations are so contextually different that being jealous is insane. They’re different people and, “he needed me in ways that you don't.”

Manic doesn’t get over it, but he does try to be nicer to Tails and tries to work through his jealousy. Sonic does privately think that he got on so well with Amy because she subconsciously reminded him of Sonia.

As they get closer to the city, the pollution gets worse and Tails and Sonic feel awful and it’s harder for Tails to fly without clean air. The majority of the skyline is still bleak, but Sonia and Manic imply that Robotnik is fully in the past but neither Sonic nor Tails believe it; they’re used to Eggman, and while they still don’t know they’re one in the same, they’re used to this sort of game.

Eventually they reach the kingdom’s borders and Sonic passes out as the magic completely collapses and the Oracle’s spell snaps. He wakes up with both sets of memories just in time to land, and if Sonic has his memories, then Eggman does too.

So now they’re all in Mobotropolis and I’m not sure what happens next but oof.

Notes:

Alena knew about the deal, which is why she never tried to find Sonic or his 'body'.

Eggman going MIA was him going to Mobotropolis, but he didn’t get his memories back until Sonic reached the border

Yes, Bartleby is still looking for Sonic, no one told him - he is actively doing this about 90% of the story.

Sonia and Manic think Sonic is irresponsible with Tails because he lets him roam wherever with minimal supervision

#sonic #sonic underground #sonic the hedgehog #sonia the hedgehog #manic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #tails the fox #sonic hedgehog #bc i know my lore #my writing #this is...a lot and long #and nothing really happens #but thats my writing style tbh #ur boi loves their details #yes i take questions thank u for coming to my ted talk #Fanfic #Sonic underground au

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dinsbeskar · 25 days ago

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Wicked Game (Sauron/F!Reader)

He knows he shouldn't covet you, that he is above such earthy things as love. So why does he stalk you in the forests you call home? It's love at first sight, and the feeling is mutual; or:

Sauron engages in some light stalking and gets the girl somehow.

Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Wicked Game / Beautiful Stranger / Iris

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

Warnings: 18+! Smut, fluff, lil bit of angst, P in V sex, fingering, licking/biting. Sauron!! He's super creepy, sorry, idk what to say, there's some stalking, some creepy behaviour, he's a bit unhinged. Love at first sight!! Like babe it's been an afternoon, calm down. Anyway we move fast!!

A/N: bro is head empty, no thoughts, down bad in this, sorry!! in this house we subscribe to the 'elves fuck once and they're married for eternity' idea, so there's that tiny spoiler for you!

Word Count: 6.2k!

Mairon was already old when he met you, unfathomably ancient in fact, wandering Arda and beholding the power of creation, amongst other things. He was sure he had already experienced everything there was on the physical plain, but you would prove him wrong indeed. When the first Elves awoke, he felt a pull, like many of the Ainur, to see the new life that now roamed the forests and plains they had sung into being. He was not the first spirit to stumble across the peoples of Middle Earth, and he would not be the last. Watching your people dance and sing and create gave him new inspiration to take back to Aulë's forge, to bring order and balance to your lives as he saw fit, for who could know better than he?

Today was a feast day, when all of your people were out in the forest hunting and foraging, mirthful song filling the glades as you ran barefoot through the trees, breathless with laughter and exertion, carrying a basket of berries meant for the evening's festivities. Pale golden light streamed through the leafy canopy, dust motes floating in the rays and sparkling like the stars above. You looked around for your companions, a little far off beyond the thicket you had picked through for its fruit. Unperturbed, you continued, hearing the silvery sound of water flowing somewhere in the vicinity. A drink or a dip was almost certain, you thought, to refresh you and your companions before the feast, but you would find it first and save them from searching. Soft birdsong and rustling leaves accompanied by a warm breeze made for the perfect setting; how could you wish for more?

He makes a great effort to be silent, not wishing to frighten you, unsure of how his sudden appearance might affect you. After all, you hadn't heard him the countless times before, why should you now? He matches your footsteps, remaining in step with you behind the trees in the merciful shadow, careful not to disturb the undergrowth, picking carefully through the wildflowers that scent the air. Your pointed ears prick up at a rustle in the trees, and you snap your head round to investigate. He darts behind a gnarled oak tree, holding his breath and awaiting your discovery. You smile and shake your head softly; what could you possibly be afraid of in these forests, your home for decades? You continue following the sound of the stream up ahead, ignoring all other sounds in the forest now, much to his satisfaction. How innocent you are, how much you need his protection, for what would you do if there were forces that wished to subdue you or do you harm? The glint in his eye grows as he draws closer, still choosing to remain hidden from you. He could use his powers to disguise himself, to stalk you unnoticed almost hand in hand with you, and had done on a few occasions, close enough to smell your soft hair, even to take a few strands for himself, but somehow he likes this better, imagining you the innocent prey to his stealthy predator, a thrill at the though of catching you rushing through him as quickly as he pushes it away. He only wants to watch you, to know you, to observe, nothing more. What interest could you possibly have in one another beyond curiosity?

The first time he saw you, many moons ago, you'd been surrounded by your fellow Elves, dancing in harmony in a field of wildflowers, sweet music in the air. He hadn't thought much of you at first if truth be told, you were all very much alike; all fair and graceful, joyful and innocent. It was only when the music picked up, your dance became faster and more frenetic, that an Elf with long golden hair had tripped and fallen, disrupting the rhythm, leaving all your companions giggling at her misfortune. He too had laughed at her stumble, grateful that the music covered his sudden outburst, but then he noticed you, with your hand outstretched and a comforting smile to greet your fallen comrade, who shook herself off while you picked stray leaves from her hair. She seemed unhurt, and no one else was concerned, already having resumed their merriment, but you held back a moment to check she was well. He was instantly captivated, itching to reveal himself and carry you off, to protect the light within you, or consume it wholly. The tiny semblance of self-restraint he had left held him back, told him to wait and observe, to absorb all he could about you; the idea of you rejecting his advances was intolerable, triggering waves of nauseous anger throughout his being. No, patience would serve him, and so he had waited, oh so patiently. Your kindness had, and would, be your undoing.

Illuminated up ahead is the stream you've been chasing; it's small, barely a trickle, but you follow it regardless. The water is cool and clear and refreshes your worn feet, and you lift your dress to keep it clear as you pad down the river bed, feeling the sandy mud between your toes being washed away as you lift your feet into the current. The light is beginning to fade now, you know you should turn back, but you're sure there is a pool nearby, and it would feel so good to swim a little before getting back to the others. They could share in it tomorrow, but today you could bask in some sweet time alone.

He has been following your softly trodden path in the mossy forest floor, but when he reaches the water's edge, it vanishes. Cursing, he casts about, searching for a hint of your next steps. He had only stopped for a moment, distracted by the way your hair catches the light, your graceful smile, the way your dress flows over your frame. A fleeting thought of taking that same dress off you, the image of you pliant underneath him, all had left him breathless, frankly caught unawares, still unused to the urge to get close to you even after all this time, and the strange feelings that coursed through his fair form that he had never experienced before setting his gaze upon you. He had passed a few golden afternoons like this - perhaps many if he were ever honest - watching and waiting for you, but every occasion felt like a lifetime, which for Mairon was indeed no understatement.

Frustration coursed through him, filling the pit of his stomach with a strange churning at the thought of losing you; it was a feeling he couldn't quite place, nor come to terms with. These mortal forms were not for him, he decided, the lack of clarity in these feelings was suffering enough, and he turned to leave, embarrassed now that he had let it get this far. It was a foolish errand, carried out once too often, following you through the forest with no thought but to see what you would do if you only turned around, saw him, embraced him-

A sharp crack rang out through the trees as he snapped a branch under his feet in his haste, all thoughts of moving in the shadows abandoned as his self-admonishment moved him to run, to leave now before he could become entangled with you. But as he scolded himself for his lack of self control, he heard you call out.

"Who's there? Did you find me? And here I was, hoping for some peace," you laugh, expecting your friends to join you as you wade in the crystal clear waters.

Your eyes widen and you stare at the stranger who appears as if from the shadows themselves, a small smile gracing his face. He is ethereal, and frankly you have never beheld a being more beautiful, but for the first time in your life, a small voice deep in your mind advises caution.

"I didn't mean to startle you, young one," his smooth voice reaches your ears and sends tingles from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

"You didn't," you lie, after a long pause, not wanting to discomfort him any more than he seemed to be. Blood rushed to your face as he regards you intensely, as if you'd met before.

"Were you looking for something? The pool perhaps? It is a warm day, I couldn't be too surprised to find someone else had the same idea." You gesture to yourself with your skirts around your waist, legs submerged.

He steps closer, still regarding you, his smile widening. You had said something right apparently, and you couldn't shake the feeling of satisfaction that his lovely smile gave you; as long as he kept looking at you like that, you felt you might be content forever, such were the tender pangs your heart suddenly felt in his presence. You didn't even know his name, and so immediately you ask.

"I have many names," he articulates carefully, eyes on yours, unblinking.

"So what name should I use for you?" You ask teasingly, beginning to step out of the water, wringing the edges of your skirts out.

Unthinking he stretches out his hand, and as if on instinct, you take it, not needing the assistance but immediately grateful you took it. His hand is warm and strong, and encircles yours comfortingly, fitting perfectly. A wave of some strange feeling overtakes you, a heat beginning in your abdomen, flowing through you. You've never experienced it before, but from what you have heard from your married kin, it might be called lust.

Your face feeling hot now, you look away, anywhere but at this beautiful stranger, and notice a small dark stain blooming on his shoe. Your eyes widen and you drop to your knees to look closer, unheeding of the change in his stance as he takes you in from above. What magic could you wield over him in this position, he wonders.

"You're hurt, my lord," you motion to his foot, and he realises that in his trance, the branch had broken his sole and pierced his flesh. The pain had gone unnoticed until now, your spell over him seeming to soothe any ill in his body or soul, but now that you'd pointed it out, he winced and cursed this body of flesh and bone, so easily vulnerable to the perils of mortality, even if his fëa was not.

"Come, let me look at it, it might be serious," you beckon him to follow you to a fallen tree trunk, lying oh so conveniently on its side, as if waiting for two lovers to take their seats on its bark. He stands awkwardly, watching you, his brow furrowed as if he had no idea what you have planned, before you laugh and pull him to sit. Without ceremony, you strip him of his shoe and examine the wound.

"That is a lot of blood for such a small wound," you murmur, tracing the arch of his foot. You find yourself touching his skin a fraction too long, and without looking at him, you straighten and go back to the pool.

His eyes never leave you, even as you avoid his gaze, ripping a strip of gauzy fabric from your dress and wetting it, before hurrying back. Almost imperceptible to the average observer, your hands shake, but he is not the average observer, and he has observed you for quite a while now. You're nervous, he realises with a tiny smirk, and it thrills him, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. All these new feelings this body gave him, they don't appear to cease evolving while you're this close, close enough that he feels your breath on his skin and nearly gasps. He needs to pull himself together, but try as he might, alas, your kindness was intoxicating. He had known such goodness in Aman when he'd dwelt there with his kin, if you could call them that, but his recent company was somewhat lacking in that department.

You sit back on your haunches and look once more at the wound, now nearly clean and seemingly smaller than it had been. Shrugging to yourself, you carefully dab away the blood that still drips onto the ground beneath you, soaking into the moss and ferns; you don't notice how they seem to brown and wilt with each drop.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" He asks, quick to notice your confusion, eager to distract you from the plants at your knees.

His lady, that did sound delightful. You know it is a manner of speech, but for a moment it is rather blissful to imagine it, the lady to this gracious lord.

"I think I might have overestimated how badly you were injured, it seems to be only a scratch," you reply, still a little bemused as to the disproportionate amount of blood. How were you to know that he could heal himself with nary a thought.

You start to pull away, but he is reluctant to let you go so soon, wishing for a moment it had been a serious matter, that he would require all of your gentle care and undivided attention for the foreseeable future, kicking himself that he didn't allow the wound to fester and bloom. He casts about for any excuse and uncharacteristically lands on a weak one.

"Your dress, my lady, how can I make it up to you? After all, your efforts ought not be in vain." He knows how to ingratiate himself with most folk, and makes the most of his skills to do so, but there is a tiny part of him now that actually feels he owes a kindness in return. It's an alien notion, and he attempts to brush it aside, but as he lingers in your presence, he realises that he would sooner abduct you from this glade than let you leave him, and if a kindness is what it will take, then he will fulfil it.

A small crinkle appears in your brow, then you glance down at the torn hem and chuckle.

"It is nothing, my lord, easily fixed, and anyone would have done the same." You graciously reply.

The way you look up at him through your lashes, his heart skips a beat; he didn't even know it could do that.

Your small nervous smile becomes radiant, beaming even, as you bask in the glow of the dappled light illuminating his face. You realise you don't want him to leave just yet, inexplicably drawn to his presence, and you cast about for any reason at all that would keep him here.

"I'm afraid your shoe is a little wet." To your credit, it actually is wet, full of blood, but in an inexplicable act to scupper his departure, before he can react and you can elaborate, you find yourself holding it on the water's edge.

Your hands move faster than your brain, and you drop it into the shallows, looking him dead in the eye.

For a moment, all is still between you, and you bite your lip, your mischievous grin suddenly uneasy as your mind catches up with you and you consider what in all of Middle Earth you just did. This is a total stranger, an ethereallly beautiful one at that, and you have no idea how he will react to your escapade. You straighten and wring your hand a little behind your back, awaiting a wrath that would never come.

"It would appear it is very wet, my lady." And he throws back his head and laughs long and hard, a sound that you want to elicit from him again and again.

When you are lying entwined together, many years and hardships later, he will ask you what you were thinking, and as ever you answer him honestly: you only wanted him to stay, however you had to do it.

With a playful laugh, you retrieve the sodden shoe and shake it off, before holding it out to him. He can still leave, you think, but it will be mighty awkward.

He takes it, throws it behind him, kicks off his other shoe, and shrugs off his robe. Your mouth falls open a little and you lick your lips unconsciously, as his frame is revealed, taut and lean, through his thin shirt. He rucks up his trousers and joins you in the shallow water, shivering a little at the sensation.

Instinctively, you outstretch your hand to steady him, and he takes it without thinking. His touch soothes any nerves you had and sparks a fire that seems to trail up your arm and end in your aching chest. You hadn't noticed you were holding your breath and slowly exhaled, careful not to alert him to your sudden onslaught of sensation. He considers you for a moment, smile tugging at his lips, seemingly fascinated by where you are joined, fingers entwined. And then he has a mad idea.

The tension in the air is cut by a sudden splash of water on your face, and as you clear your eyes, you realise he was the one that had thrown it. He had seen many an elf play-fighting in the water all the time, throwing it at one another joyously, victory seemingly determined by who doused their opponents the most. He had never partaken, obviously, but now inspiration took him, and you had made the first move with his shoe, but now as he watched your face screw up with indignation, water in your eyes and hair, he wasn't so sure it was the right jest with which to entice you.

For a moment you are dumbfounded. This stranger, whose name you still didn't even know, whom you'd only met in the last hour, had started a water fight.

Seemingly affronted, you snatch your hand away and make to leave, turning your back to him. His face falls and he realises this was probably not the way to win your affections.

"My lady, I-" his apology is cut short by an armful of water to the face, as you reach down into the pool and swing as much as you can in his general direction in one fell swoop.

Cackling with triumphant laughter, you can't help but feel a little sorry for him as he stands there absolutely sopping wet, eyebrows in his hairline, looking positively flabbergasted. Unfortunately for you, his eyes narrow as he realises your subterfuge, and the game commences.

It is over soon enough, the two of you emerging soaked and giggling like children, having run rings around each other and giving as good as you got, both of you thoroughly avenged. As you both wade back to shore, he takes your hand and holds it in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, I present the victor of the battle-"

He is interrupted by the both of you breaking down into breathless laughter once again, two strangers no more.

On the sandy bank, he climbs out first, and awaits you, but you hold back.

"What should I call you then, my lord, unless that is what you prefer to be named?" You have to ask, needing introductions now you had so thoroughly beaten him in battle, never mind your fascination with him, the overwhelming urge to pull him close.

"I have many names, my lady, and you have not yet told me yours," he replies, almost but not quite frowning at you, confused as to why it really matters, why you would need to know who he is after having passed such a pleasurable afternoon together.

"You first, I asked you before and you avoided the question." Your expression is now serious; why would he want to conceal himself from you, after you had passed such a pleasurable afternoon together?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I have many names, but the one I prefer," he holds his breath a little, still unsure as to how you might receive him, "is Mairon."

After a long pause, in which he considers fleeing, or possibly burning the forest down, your expression brightens as you mull over his name, feel it in your mouth, wonder over the meaning.

"That is beautiful," you murmur, "the admirable? You must be something wonderful to have earned such a name, my lord."

Relief washes over him as he realises his true name must not yet be known in these parts; rumours and slander would not colour his attempts to woo you after all.

His gaze softens as he watches you taste his name on your tongue, and he has a sudden aching longing to know what it sounds like when you're on your back and breathless under him. Surely nothing could be sweeter.

"And you, love, what am I to call you?" He is so struck by you, he barely notices the crucial detail that slips from his lips, but you do, and you regard him with a strange look he can't place.

Love, he said, so casually and so delicious to hear, your breath hitches and for a second the world spins. You've only just met this man, if he is even a man, and he uses such pet names as if you've known each other a lifetime.

"Amarië, that's what everyone calls me." You had almost forgotten he had asked, and it was only the silence between you that reminded you to answer.

"Goodness. A fitting name for so virtuous a maiden." He steps closer, still on the bank, oh so tall above you, the light through the trees illuminating him from behind, leaving his features in shadow.

Of course, he already knew your name, and had always thought it fitting. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he had hesitated to approach you, for surely one so good could not possibly want nor need one such as him, despite the ache in his heart that told him you were his to take, the rest of Arda be damned. He knew his purpose in Arda was a valiant one; his methods, however, he was aware they were... contestable.

Your face grows hot at his compliment, and you look down and away, anywhere but at his gaze, currently fixed on you, intense and contemplative. He gently lifts your chin, seeming to study your every feature, every nuance in your expression until he sees what he desires.

A shadow passes over his face, before he tightens his grip and finally pulls you from the shallow water. You stumble a little, but he is right there to catch you, strong arms around you as your free hand is crushed between you, pressed against his chest. His eyes are dark, scaring you and thrilling you all at once, like a wolf studying its prey before their total annihilation. Then he takes your face in his hands and claims your lips, as if he's finally satisfying some dark long-held urge, and you cannot help but melt.

It is as if he has done this a thousand times before, teasing you with his tongue, demanding entrance to your mouth as if he wants to drown in you.

Electric tingles spread over your skin everywhere he touches, from your neck where he grips you softly, to your lips he has claimed for his own, to your waist that he refuses to yield from his embrace.

He is unrelenting, refusing to let you come up for air, even as you claw at his arms for release. Finally he seems to realise his mistake and pulls back, lips swollen and parted in pleasure. You take a deep breath, chuckling a little as you do so.

"You are no Elf, my lord Mairon," you remark, righting your dress and smoothing your hair where he had wound his fingers.

With a slightly apologetic smirk, he nods. "I am something far greater, my love, so from time to time, I might forget such... intricacies."

In this moment, you feel as though your heart might burst, wanting him close, touching you, encircling you. But a shiver travels down your spine as the little voice whispering warnings becomes a scream, beholding him not as an ethereal being sent to ravish you, but a danger to ruin you. It was all too brief and you shook it off, for how could this beautiful creature ever mean you harm?

Evening becomes night, and you migrate from the tree trunk to the forest floor. Nestled into him with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you share the basket of berries that will surely be missed at the feast of your kin, and talk for hours about everything and nothing. He tells you of his work, that he is a smith and loves nothing more than to create beautiful things, but he has never had more exquisite inspiration than you.

He seems to know just what to say, soft words whispered only to please you, and all you want is more. He traces his fingers up and down your arm, across your collarbone, into the shell of your ear, idly mapping every inch of you.

He doesn't press you further than gentle touches and tiny kisses peppering your skin. Perhaps though he is no Elf, he is aware of your people's customs, that to give yourself to him in body would be to make the two of you one forever, body and soul. You're not so sure that isn't what you want, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless; after all, you have only known him an afternoon.

It takes all of his self-restraint to suppress the urge to take you here and now, after all, who were you to stop him? But he wanted you when you were ready for him, mind, body, and soul, and he was willing to wait, even if it took an age. Admittedly it would be a difficult wait, he muses, as he realises the close proximity of your body to his is having an unexpected effect on him. He shifts position to avoid you noticing how hard he is just from touching you, and he prays to any of the Valar who might have an ear for him that his wait for you will be swift.

You twirl a tiny flower idly between your forefinger and thumb, gazing up at the heavens, your other hand wrapped in his. You are such exquisite inspiration, he muses, smirking as he realises he can have you after all. He sits up, making you groan, robbed of his warmth.

"What are you doing, love?" You complain, taking a slightly petulant tone that makes him chuckle.

"You'll see, patience is a virtue," he reaches out with his closest hand and smoothes your hair, gesturing for you to lie back down.

You kick your feet a little, suitably admonished but impatient still.

"Come back to me, I had just got comfortable, and you've ruined it now!" You laugh at him, his back turned to you so you can't make out what he is doing.

You sigh long and loud, earning an affectionate chuckle, before you lay back down and close your eyes. It is but a few moments later that he grasps your hand and pulls you up to face him. When you see what he has readied, you gasp, tears pricking your eyes.

Purple irises grow with literal wild abandon in these fields and you had always loved them, weaving them in your hair and stitching their image on your garb. In his hand, perched on his fingertips as if it is the most precious thing in creation, is a tiny iris in full bloom, its slender stem wound and plaited into a ring, with its gorgeous indigo flower crowning it like no diamond ever could.

He is on his knees in front of you, ring in hand, and for a second you cannot quite put the pieces together. You have known him a day, if that? It is a beautiful gift, but can you accept the deeper meaning behind it, that seems to lie in his expression, if not his words.

"It is beautiful, my lord," you sigh, "I think I shall require your aid in putting it on, it is so delicate after all."

Your heart aches at his wide smile, the crinkle of his eyes as he wordlessly slips it onto the fourth finger of your left hand, which surely he cannot know would mean-

"I would make you mine, my love, if you would have me," he murmurs, heart beating out of his chest, sentiment momentarily making him soft and weak for you.

So he does know the significance, and in an instant you feel as though you've been doused in liquid fire, nerves tying your stomach in knots, regarding his gift on your finger with equal parts trepidation and excitement.

You close the space between you and grasp his face with both hands, claiming his lips for your own, fingers travelling to his hair and over the pointed tips of his ears. He moans deep in his chest and pushes you backwards into your makeshift bed, peppering you with kisses until all your skin is ablaze.

"I am yours," you breathe, words so soft he might have missed them, had you not whispered directly into his ear, clutching his neck and whimpering as he maps every uncovered inch of you he can reach with his lips.

He groans, a noise so guttural it surprises you in the best way, sending a wave of arousal to between your legs. He rolls his hips against yours, and you feel something hard against your mound, through all the layers of fabric between you.

The stars blaze above you, hot and bright, but they have nothing on the way he makes you feel. You have heard of love at first sight, but never thought it might happen to you, that it was rare enough if it happened at all.

His hot breath trails down your neck to your collarbone, and his clever fingers work to unlace you from the fabric shielding you from his gaze. He stops a moment, breathing heavily.

"Tell me you want this -" his silver tongue licks your ear and sucks at your neck. "Tell me you need this."

His gaze is so heated, and his voice rough with arousal, that you clench your legs together to relieve that ache that has been building there since you met him. It seems like forever ago now, impossible that it has not even been a day.

"I need you," you hiss, desperate for any touch he'll bestow upon you. "...I'll always need you, now that I have you, I can't let you go."

Your words shatter the last remaining resolve he had not to ruin you, and he takes you as his own. Stripping every inch of you until you are bare before him, desperate for his skin on yours, he wraps you in his arms, legs entwined with yours. The violent urge to claim you was not satisfied, but he would have plenty of time to show you all of him; tonight was your wedding night, and you deserved what gentleness he could provide.

He runs his fingers through your slick, fascinated by how wet you are for him. Perhaps these mortal forms were not so bad after all.

You moan his name and beg for more, though you cannot possibly know what you are asking for. His lascivious grin sends tremors through you, a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you there is no going back now.

He loosens himself from his trousers, shucks them off almost clumsily in his haste to be inside you. He is beautiful, you reflect, as you take in his bare torso, his strong legs, and all the flesh in between. His size shocks you a little and you wonder how he plans to use it.

He sees your eyes widen and immediately covers you with his body, kissing softly at your neck so to better hear your tiny sounds of pleasure. In time he will make you scream, he vows.

"It's alright, love," he reassures you with a soft smile, "I've got you, I won't let it hurt."

His fingers move in comforting circles in the small of your back, at the apex of your thighs, across your mound. He gathers the slick from your entrance, readying himself with a stroke. He is already so painfully hard, but he has to come inside you, no way will he waste his seed on the forest floor.

He holds your gaze as he lowers himself to between your thighs, wrapping your legs around him.

"Pull me to you, love, make me yours," he pants, cock straining at your entrance, waiting for you to take the plunge.

It's like standing at a precipice; the fear of falling is so closely tied to the fear of jumping. But you bite your lip and dig your fingernails into his back, tighten your calves, and pull his lower body into yours.

You want to scream, the stretch is too much, he is too big and he's hitting somewhere delicious inside you that makes you see stars. He doesn't move, letting you feel all of him, relishing in you taking him like the good girl you are.

"Well done, love, so good for me, you feel so fucking good," he exhales, towering over you while the moon illuminates him from behind, leaving his expression inscrutable.

His fingers on your abdomen are so soothing, the stinging stretch you felt disappears, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. You begin to move your hips against him, aching for more friction, more skin on yours, you'd take anything he would give you.

At first his movements are slow and rhythmical, as if you are made of glass, but your impatient whines encourage him to release himself upon you, snapping his hips in time to your thrusts against him, endlessly surprised but thrilled at your eagerness to please him. He has chosen so well.

The intensity of the moment gets the better of both of you, and before long you are chanting his name in his ear, chasing your inevitable ruin on his cock.

He comes first, much to his eternal embarrassment, unable to prevent spilling inside you as your tight cunt clenches his flesh. You feel him pulse inside you and it tips you over the edge, a silent scream on your lips as fire overtakes your flesh and leaves you drowning in him.

For a second, you behold each other as you truly are, not in body but spirit, and it terrifies you; you see something black as the darkest night throwing off flames that lick at your being, triggering that sick swooping feeling in your abdomen again. He is enthralled by you, bright and radiant like the morning star, and he wants to coat himself in your light, drink it in and burn all of Arda until there is nothing but the two of you in the cosmos.

His attentions to your neck slow and he leans back to look at you in all your glory, radiant under him in body and soul, as you lazily trace his hips with your fingers, coming down from your high and needing nothing more than to be held.

"You did so well, my love, so good for me," he whispers as he releases you from his grasp, laying you down beside him and pressing himself against your back with his arm slung over your torso possessively.

Your eyes begin to droop with the lateness of the hour and the exertion of your wedding night, and while he murmurs in your ear how much he loves you, how proud he is of you, how much he needs you, you take his hand and sleepily press a kiss to his palm. You snuggle in closer as he draws his robe around the pair of you against the night's chill, and slowly drift off, a smile on your face even in sleep.

He gazes at you adoringly, murmuring sweet nothings as your body relaxes into his.

"Beautiful girl, only mine," his voice is so soft yet somehow it finds you even as you begin to slumber. "My sweet wife, we will know peace together, I swear it to you."

He wants to claw inside his own chest and pull his treacherous heart out with his bare hands, for surely that pain would be easier to bear than this. He curses himself for being so weak, and you for being so tempting, before closing his eyes to join you.

He thought by having you, possessing you, that these feelings might be assuaged, that the urgency he felt to be near you would fade, and he could move on from this unique torment. Alas they had increased a hundredfold, and he swore on his fëa itself that no harm would ever come to you, that he would cherish you all his days.

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

No, I don't wanna fall in love with you

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #the rings of power #my fic #i know the lore fairly well but tbh I've messed about with it bc it's my fic and i do what i want 😂#so there was no sex but i got into the hades/persephone vibes of him just doing it and marrying her the night of revealing himself #so now there's sex lmfao #its like playing with barbies and making them kiss 😅😂#it's a longer part than planned i kept adding to it smh #anyway enjoy!!

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