#silver and knuckles and tangle all appear once..

[littleaipom]

more misc Sonic stuff, including OCs

[donelywell]

My interpretation of how Chaos Energy and Super Powers work in the Sonic Universe.

Enough people asked for it, so here's my ramble! This is all completely headcanon, I just wanted to make Chaos Energy more integrated into the world than it actually is in the games. It's been cooking in my brain ever since I got back into Sonic, and it's only been growing as I've continued. I don't believe this is how it actually works in canon, but this is how it works in my Headcanon Shatterverse Headscape Place (tm).

Chaos Emeralds can be used by anyone once they are properly judged, filling the user with insane amounts of clean Chaos Energy. Since having that much Chaos Energy inside you is a health risk, that's why you lose rings over time when you're Super. When a user runs out of rings, they become exhausted, passing out on the spot. But as a user gets more and more adjusted to the Emeralds, they can drop their super form before losing all of their rings, thus not over exerting themselves.

I haven't fully ironed out how the Chaos Emeralds (or the Master Emerald) work here yet, so I'll have to come back to this some other time.

But being able to use Chaos Energy is different from harnessing the Chaos Emeralds.

Example: Sonic is able to go Super with the Emeralds, but he has a Chaos Ability: His speed.

The way I show if a character has a Chaos Ability is with colored markings on them.

(This is a recent thing I started implementing, so I gotta redesign some characters like Shadow, Sonic, and Knuckles)

Example of characters with Chaos Abilities: Tangle, Blaze, Kit, and Silver.

They have a color wrapped around their ear and iris, and most of their beans have the color too. Plus they got patterns on them with said color.

Characters without Chaos Abilities for example are Whisper, Tails, and Amy.

They all have extraordinary abilities, but those are either because of a weapon, or they're gifted in that skill (like a Guinness book of world records person).

Chaos Abilities are not too common, but not enough Mobians have them to call it a 50/50 split.

A Mobian can have their Chaos Ability appear when they are 5 years old. The child often has a huge celebration to see if they will get an ability or not.

When the user has their Chaos Ability develop, it doesn't take too much for them to get tired, but as they continue to use it, they can use their abilities longer and do more daunting stunts with them. 

In the future, when a user starts out, they normally need to wear Chaos Energy Inhibitor Rings (which looks a lot like Silvers cuffs wink wink nudge nudge) to suppress their inner Chaos Energy until they can get a hold of it. The more powerful the Natural Chaos Energy is, the more Inhibitor Rings you gotta wear. A user can survive without them, it’s just safer for everyone if they do wear them when they get started.

The ability's difficulty is based purely on how much Chaos Energy the user naturally has. It also affects what the ability a user will get by how much energy they have, sort of as their body's way of figuring out how to use it properly. (Mobians without Chaos Abilities have Chaos Energy too, it's just not enough to give them an ability)

If they are a Low-Level Natural Chaos Energy User: it's stupid easy for them to master it. Because their body doesn't need to do as much work. Pyrokinesis and Stretching Limbs are fairly easy to master because of that.

High-Level Natural Chaos Energy Users have a hard time grasping how to use their abilities at first, some even needing training from people with similar abilities to get out of Chaos Energy Ring Inhibitors. Super Speed and Telekinesis are a few difficult abilities to master.

You can tell if someone has too much Chaos Energy or not enough by looking at their markings. Too much will have the already glowy patterns light up BRIGHT, while if the user doesn't have much left, it becomes a dull light.

Like a lightbulb, if there’s a lot of power in it, it’ll shine REALLY BRIGHT, but too much and it’ll pop. If there’s little to no power in it, it’ll flicker and fade into a dim light until it eventually turns off.

Chaos Abilities have 2 branches: a sort of projection ability or a physical one.

Projection is like your stereotypical 'this guy has powers!' ability. Pyrokinesis, Aquakinesis, and Telekinesis are a few examples. The user well... uses the Chaos Energy inside them to bend the Chaos Energy that flows freely around them to do what their Ability is.

The Chaos Energy in the air is different from the Chaos Energy inside the user. It's like water. The energy inside of the user is some sort of food dye and the Chaos Energy in the air is like water, when the 2 mix, the water (chaos energy) outside changes into what your dye (users chaos energy) is and spreads it to wherever you choose.

Projection Chaos Abilities are fairly common.

Projection Chaos Users get drained physically if they use their abilities for too long, since they are technically spewing their Chaos Energy out into the world.

Physical are rarer (I’m talking 1/1,000 chance). Since it physically enhances or changes the user. The ability to stretch your tail to comical lengths, super speed, and changing your size at will are a few examples. The user is like a sponge, they soak up the Chaos Energy around them and the energy inside of them guides it to do what it needs to do.

Physical Chaos Users feel worn out if they over exert themselves because they have to hold so much Chaos Energy inside of them.

There are legitimate health risks if either over exert themselves.

Projection Chaos Users can actually put their life at risk if they lose all of their Chaos Energy, since every living being needs at least some to survive. If a user uses everything, they better have a Chaos rich thing nearby or they'll pass out. At worst, they could be in a coma (well, aside from death, but that's very hard to do) as their body is forcibly trying to recover. The user recovers Chaos Energy naturally by eating or resting, so a good way to replenish the energy used in a fight is to eat a quick snack or take a nap.

Physical Chaos Users can overcharge if they absorb too much, since they're taking in so much Chaos Energy. Too much energy could potentially lead to a person to literally catch on fire as their body is trying to burn the energy away. The user typically runs a higher temperature (and steam if it's a lot) when they naturally release the energy they built up inside them, basically giving them a fever. This is their body trying to safely burn away the excess energy. If the user wants to recover faster, you should give them a heated blanket or something to warm them up.

Shadow is a special case because he literally lives off the Natural Chaos Energy that the Chaos Emeralds and Master Emerald release into the world. Where a normal Chaos User can live perfectly fine if there isn't any Natural Chaos Energy outside because of the stored Chaos Energy inside of them, Shadow will be seriously ill if there isn't any Natural Chaos Energy outside since he doesn't have any inside of him.

And that's all, I hope my ramblings made even an ounce of sense.

[idw-sonic-fan-blog]

Sonic Frontiers sold 3 million copies.

For comparison’s sake, Sonic 06 sold 800k, Sonic Unleashed sold under 2.5 million copies, Sonic Colors sold 2.1 million copies, and Sonic Generations sold 1.8 million copies. Sonic Lost World sold 700k and is one of the lowest selling main games in the Franchise and yet the Zeti are prominent in the comic. Sonic Forces sold a pitiful in its first week and we may never know exactly how much Sonic Forces actually sold(and it having 5 million plus on players on PSN+ is not any indication of a sale since it was free.) Yet somehow the comic takes place directly after Forces. Sonic Mania sold just over a million in case those hardcore Sonic classic fans want to open their mouths. While I’m at it, Sonic Adventure sold 1.3 million and SA2 sold 1.7 million. Sonic Rush sold 1.3 million and its sequel,which suffered after 06 tarnished Sonic’s reputation, sold 300k. The first Sonic game sold 15 million copies and before Retro fans start talking shit, note that is the only game in the franchise that sold that amount and it was in the golden age of gaming. You could sell a wet fart in an Nintendo cartridge and it would have made a million easy. Sonic 2? 6 million. Sonic 3? 1.03 million. Sonic and Knuckles? 1.3 million. Sonic CD? 1.5 million. Shadow the Hedgehog? 2 million. And Sonic Heroes and probably the biggest offender as to why Sonic Team stopped giving a shit about quality or effort and more about that Christmas grind? 3.41 million in 2 years.

Sonic Frontiers sold like gang busters in the couple of months it’s been out.

If you think Sage or any Frontiers elements won’t be referenced or be in the comic, you are bugging. Especially given that one of the main writers of the game writes for the comic. If that’s what is keeping you from saying IDW Sonic is on the same canon as the games and not what Iizuka says or what Flynn has stated several times, you are bugging. You are kidding yourselves if you think IDW can’t possibly put in those elements from the game in their comic.

If you don’t consider Tangle or Whisper to be game character in spite of them appearing in two mobile games that have been downloaded and played more than any Sonic game and have been created with the help of Sonic Team’s own character designer, fling yourself into the Nile River and cope and seethe. Tangle and Whisper have merchandise in the Sega Shop.

TailsTube shorts? Written by Flynn. That little Amy Rose Tarot Card set that is coming out soon? Written by Flynn with art created by one of the many IDW comic artists. This comic series has well over 50 issues including 4 different 4 part miniseries. It sold out in Japan! It’s consistently IDW’s top selling comic beating both the Transformers and Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles. It has sold over 10,000 copies an issue in a world where comics aren’t widely recognized unless it’s in the Marvel or DC. What they said in the beginning about it being diverged from canon no longer applies. Shit changed. It’s a new goddamn world. IDW Sonic is the only medium that actually uses your beloved obscure characters like Silver and Blaze. Like Cream. I don’t know what Flynn has done to make you turn up your nose at him but get over it. And the days of Sega pimping out Sonic to whatever Western media content creator and not caring what they churn out are over. The only exception to this is the movie verse(and because Iizuka has explicitly said it’s in a different canon)and honestly I have a tougher time trying to grasp how Sonic Prime is canon than I am with IDW. But regardless, it’s a new day. You are in a renaissance of Sonic and for once Sega gives enough of a shit about lore to want to make it all gel together and avoiding SATAM or Sonic Underground or Sonic the Comic or Archie Sonic the Hedgehog. Get the fuck over it.

[vipier]

forbidden lovers sharing a kiss in the shadows.

THE SENATE BUILDING IS A VAST PLACE FULL OF IDIOSYNCRASIES AND CREVICES THAT HAD ONCE OVERWHELMED THE PADAWAN. but that was long ago, when he was thirteen and afraid, forcing a brave face of stone each time he entered at the heels of his master. now, he is over twenty, grown into a man, albeit a rather compact one, speaking rarely and yet well known by the senators by sight alone in his gray and crimson robes and the lightsaber hanging on his hip. still, he must wear his padawan braid, tucked over his right shoulder, entangled in a wealth of thick, dark hair which falls to the nape of his neck. handsome, some say, while others call him unsettling. neither would be an incorrect assessment and tristan happily claims both designations with some pride, so long as the members of the senate by and large leave him in peace. he prefers to remain untouchable, unthinkable, at least as it pertains to most people.

every rule has its exception.

he stands alone in the lift, hands folded in front of him, feet spaced to his shoulders and back straight as an arrow. not much in his life can be qualified as coincidence - he doesn't much care to be taken by surprise - but as the lift door slides open on the next floor up, he blinks, momentarily thrown by the appearance of senator vex and his aide in the doorway. unexpected, but certainly not unpleasant, at least not when it comes to the latter. tris releases a breath through his lips, stepping back to allow them room, dropping his arms to this sides, nodding his head toward vex with a tight, " senator, " as limited a sign of respect as he can manage - and not unexpected, given his known demeanor. the bigger struggle is avoiding the younger man's eyes - if only to avoid giving anything away - as they settle in the lift, the aide slightly in front of tris to his left and the senator on @k4ssa's other side. they don't touch, but they stand close enough that tristan can feel the heat radiating off cassian's body, such that he can't help the soft flush that creeps to the apples of his cheeks. it's a familiar warmth, one that brings to mind the last time he'd felt it, tangled in fine sheets, lit by the glow of coruscant's moons.

while he's aware of the senator's voice drawling away about something, the padawan certainly isn't listening, not only because he has little regard for the politics of the senate but because he's utterly focused upon keeping his mind on anything but his desire to reach out and touch the man beside him. his jaw tightens, fingers twitching almost imperceptibly at his sides, as he stares straight ahead at the sanitized silver door of the lift as it slips closed and they begin again to ascend again. all his self control, however, proves to be for naught. he barely bites back a sharp intake of breath when he feels the gentle brush of familiar fingers against his knuckles, finally chancing a glance just out of the corner of his eye. cassian isn't looking at him, but tris can see the slight tilt of his mouth - signaling perfectly well that he knows what he's doing. he must see the padawan looking ; his fingers grasp against tristan's, light but intentional. after a moment, tris grasps back, their pointer and middle fingers twined loosely, cass's thumb brushing lightly against the back of his hand. as though the senator were far further away, tris hears him comment about getting off on the next floor, along with vague instructions to his aide about tonight's diplomatic dinner, but he's too busy to pay much attention either to the words, nor to andor's response, not as he holds his breath in some unspoken anticipation that he doesn't fully understand. with their hands hidden behind cass's leg, the other man bids the senator a polite farewell and they watch the doors slide closed behind him.

tristan isn't sure those doors are even fully closed before cassian is upon him, pressing his smaller frame against the cool metal side of the lift, one arm looped around his torso and the other lifting to cup tris's jaw as he pulls him into a kiss deep enough to steal the padawan's breath from him. tristan responds in kind, lifting his arms around the other man's shoulders, one hand disappearing into cass's hair, open, inviting, yet somehow brutal, biting down on his lip, gasping on cassian's name as though it's been in his mouth all day, simply waiting to be said. they have but moments of indulgence, they are both aware, as the lift quickly ascends, and they seize each with desperate, grasping hands against clothes, hair, skin, until tristan feels half-mad with a desire he's only ever recognized in himself when in cassian's company. time slows as though they're suspended, and tris seeks to disappear into the taste of him, head swimming, fingers tingling as they trail along the nape of his lover's neck. he's half panting by the time the lift begins to slow, practically swaying when they quickly disengage from one another, smoothing the rumples in each other's clothing even as they take two steps away, just in time for the lift to open. despite his own dizziness, the padawan manages to stay upright, something for which he silently thanks his years of training.

somehow, they manage to both look presentable as cass moves toward the exit of the lift. senate personnel mill back and forth in the corridor, barely sparing them a glance, and the other man pauses only a moment in the entrance, as if considering whether to cast tristan a final glance. " enjoy the banquet, " tristan tells him, relieved at how steady he manages to keep his voice as he folds his hands back in front of him. " I hear the dessert is meant to be particularly exceptional. " he hasn't the first idea what the planned dessert is for the banquet, but the implication is clear ; tristan swears he hears a chuckle beneath cassian's breath as he departs the lift, such that it brings a faint smile to the padawan's own lips.

as the lift doors close again, tris is already daydreaming about which the route up the side of the building will most effectively deliver him to cassian's balcony when the festivities conclude.

[romirola]

Looks like Vincent and lovely are a fan favourite- lmao. If its alright with you can i get a "will you stop crying so i can kiss you already?" with them? Thank you

Hi, at Riathepinkie and Anon! Yes, Vincent/Lovely have been appearing in my inbox often lately! Second only (I think) to David/Angel. Thank you both for your requests. Hope you enjoy!

Inversion Spoilers Below!

Rating: , WC: ~1K, Prompts: “I can’t say no to you, and it’s just not fair,” “Will you stop crying so I can kiss you already?”, and Vincent/Lovely

“No, no!” Vincent shouted, twisting himself up in the sheets of the bed. “Lovely?” he mumbled into the pillow. “Do it, just do it!” He made a move to launch himself upwards, but the sheets prevented him from getting very far. Vincent kicked out, panicked and desperate, which only served to tangle him up more. “No, Lovely, no! Get off of them!”

Something grabbed at his shoulders and he instinctively fought. “No, no, no!” he called out. “Lovely!”

His silver eyes flew open to reveal Lovely’s face inches away from his own. He panted, still half-entrenched in that awful stadium, fighting a gang of shades who had attacked him only to turn onto his partner once they intervened. Everything had happened so fast, too fast even for Vincent’s vampire-reflexes. One minute he was trapped by a shade, calling to Lovely for help and the next, the shade had nearly finished draining Lovely of their life force.

They saved him, and in return, he turned them.

“Vincent?” Lovely asked again, though it was only the first time Vincent heard them. “It’s alright now. That was just a nightmare,” they soothed, strong and steady. “You with me Vincent?” They worked methodically to free Vincent’s arms and legs from the white sheets.

As soon as he was able, Vincent reached out to touch their face, the warmth he had gotten used to feeling after their years together suddenly absent. “Always,” he breathed. And it was true. They were his light in the darkness. His treasure that made immortal life worth living. His anchor, his rock, his partner.

And now, his progeny.

The thought slammed into him like a gust of wind that knocked him down and stole his breath.

Lovely gently hummed, kissing him where his eyebrows pushed together into a divot along his forehead. “There you are,” Lovely praised. “It wasn’t real, Vincent. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

Vincent was taken back when he felt a few tears drop along his pointed cheek. “I… I…” Instead of starving off the crying like he thought speaking would do, it fueled them. Vincent began sobbing unabashedly. “Lovely,” he mumbled sadly. “It was… I…” His chin dipped low, like he was embarrassed to admit what he was about to say. “You died. I couldn’t stop them. You died. And I watched.” He gasped for more air. “You saved me and you died.”

“Oh, Vincent, Vincent,” Lovely shushed, curling around Vincent to keep him in the present. “That was a nightmare. Your mind’s playing tricks on you,” they assured him. “I’m right here, see?” For good measure, they lightly tapped two knuckles onto Vincent’s skull. “You saved me that day.”

“No,” he protested through tears. “You saved me. And I turned you.”

Lovely shrugged. “Same diff,” they smirked, though they knew what Vincent was getting at. He had regretted that their turning had to happen under pressure, without the dialogue and discussion that he always imagined would have taken place sometime in the future. There was supposed to be time. Space. Growth. Maybe he wouldn’t have even been their maker, if they had the chance to plan.

But he and Lovely had all that possibility stolen away from them in an instant. And now, they were left to deal with the consequences as best they could, together. Lovely was dealing well with the bloodlust, though they still had their share of understandable fits. And while they grieved the loss of their latent, energetic powers they had only just begun to perfect, they know they would’ve missed Vincent more if they hadn’t intervened with that shade they way they did. They understand that a generous, sensitive man such as Vincent would feel guilty over why they had been turned, but they made a vow to themselves never to allow him to stew in that guilt for long.

“You turned me, which saved me,” they corrected, wiping away the tears that ran like rivers along Vincent’s face.

“I know, I know,” Vincent sighed. “At least, I know that in my head. But my heart…” A smile cracked through Vincent’s deep frown. “There are so many ways I’ve imagined it happening, Lovely, but that was never one of them. I feel like I stole your powers from you. I feel like I stole your life from you. Was it selfish of me to ask you to do that in those circumstances? Was it selfish of me to put off that conversation?” He swiped at his eyes as his vision blurred. “I spend hours thinking about those questions, and a million other questions.” He spoke the confession softly. “And then, after I exhaust myself with those thoughts, I close my eyes and see you die!” A sob tore at his throat as a residual image of Lovely’s attack flashed in his mind. “And in my nightmares, I can’t help you! I just watch as they drain you away.

Lovely hushed Vincent, hopeful that the rhythm of their hand running along his spine would help quiet him. “Hear that?” they encouraged. “You said it yourself, Vincent. You helped me by turning me. I said I wanted to be with you forever, and I meant it. Yeah, maybe the turning didn’t happen under perfect circumstances, but…” They shrugged. “Few do, according to you. But never, ever think you took advantage of the situation or pushed me into a life I didn’t want.” They framed his face with their fingers splayed out around his face and neck. “I love you, Vincent. I want to be with you. I, I need to be with you,” they said honestly. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted, because you gave me an eternal life with you.”

“I love you, too,” Vincent squeaked out through tears. The smile that spread across his face signalled to Lovely that those tears were now from happiness and relief, rather than fear and guilt.

“Vincent,” they crooned into his ear. “Vincent, ummm…” They giggled, their own lashes becoming a little bit wet. “Will you stop crying so I can kiss you already?”

Vincent sucked in a shaky breath, trying to do as Lovely asked. “I might be your maker, but I can’t say no to you,” he grinned flirtatiously. “And it’s just not fair. Use that power wisely, Lovely.”

Once Vincent did as Lovely asked, they kissed him deeply. Both of them fell back to a dreamless, restful sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms and secure in the knowledge that the eternity that lay before them was something they both wanted and needed just as they both wanted and needed the blood their bodies shared.

[americxn]

Make Me Feel Again

⬩James helps the reader adjust to their new state as a ghost⬩ wordcount: 3.8k warnings: ice play, fingering, cunnilingus

The hard wood of the door was cold beneath the knuckles you rapped on its surface, the overly ornate neckline of the gown you wore prickling at your skin. Tipping back your head, you let out a prolonged exhale, forcing the tears that attempted to build in your eyes to dry. The air shifted as the door before you was pulled open, James’ face appearing before you. “Darling, you look ravishing.” He held out his hand expectantly and you gave him a tight smile, noting the slightly wary look on his own face.  “Come in. Take my hand.” He spoke softer than you had ever heard him speak before, his gentle tone almost coaxing those tears to form once more. Accepting the hand he offered you, James walked you into the room, his pace slow and considerate as he steered you for the large dining table in the centre of the space. “It will take some time for you to acclimate yourself to your new state.” He offered in attempted comfort. You hummed in response, if only to notify him that you had heard his words.   The chair that James pulled out for you was cold against the backs of your exposed legs as you sat, Miss Evers hurrying over to pour some deep red wine into the crystal goblet sitting before your empty plate. You couldn’t even muster the energy to thank her, opting for a gentle smile instead. She gave an understanding dip of her chin.

“How do you feel?” James asked sincerely, easing himself into a crouch before your chair. The hand he placed on your shoulder was cold. Hesitating, you pushed away the sarcastic answer you wanted to give him, instead sorting through your thoughts in order to find a somewhat coherent answer. “I don’t.” You finally answered with a shallow shrug. James peered up at you with a small frown. “It all just feels... empty. Cold, I guess.” You mumbled the last part, pulling your gaze from his and taking the glass of wine laid out before you, drinking deeply. “Ah, yes.” James pondered, pushing himself to his feet and pressing a casual kiss to your temple before meandering to his seat at the other side of the table. “You get accustomed to that feeling. And by the time you do, all of your other emotions will have returned. You will learn to feel again, granted not as passionately as before, but that isn’t necessarily a terrible thing, dearest.” You flicked your eyes up to his across the table, clearing your throat as you beheld the intensity in his dark gaze. The room fell into silence as James continued to survey you from across the space. You drank again, Miss Evers swooping in to furnish your empty plate with steaming food.  You thanked her, but had no intention of actually eating. Your stomach felt hollow but the thought of eating had a bundle of nausea unfurling in your gut. “You don’t have to eat.” James said quietly, understanding softening his usually hard features.  “Thank you.” You murmured. James began eating, his silence an offering of space for personal thought as you brooded from your spot on the other side of the table. “I never thought that I’d miss pain.” You eventually mused, reaching out to pull the closest candle holder to you. The heavy metal scraped against the table as you did so. James looked up once more, one of his eyebrows quirking up slightly as you held your hand over the flame, bringing the burning wick closer and closer to your skin. The pain didn’t register, causing your heart to sink. “Pain becomes...neutralised.” James tried. “What hurts will hurt, just to a much smaller extent.” Pulling your hand away from the candle, you sighed once more, pushing it back to its original place on the table. James shot Miss Evers a look as your shoulders curved inwards, your elbows coming to rest on the table before you, a perfect portrait of numb sorrow. Miss Evers moved quickly, taking away both yours and James’ plates before hurrying from the room. Your chin wobbled slightly as James stood, his face falling into deep thought as he pulled a cigarette out of his engraved silver case, pausing briefly to reach over and light it on one of the candles on the table before hurriedly sucking on it to ignite it fully. “Darling...” He drawled, the undertones of empathy hidden in the word causing you to look at him. You swiped at your cheek with the back of your hand as a single tear fell, brushing it away before it was given the chance to track down your face. Perching before you on the corner of the table, James offered you his cigarette, holding it to your lips. You accepted, taking a deep drag before leaning back into your chair. “I know that it means very little to you now. But eventually you’ll begin to forget what living emotions feel like. They’re replaced by easier ones in death, just give them time to develop.” You smiled tearily at him, appreciating his words and taking comfort in them. Your smile quickly faded. How long would that take? You had only been dead for a day, and the utter emptiness within your chest was suffocating. You felt as if you had been reduced to a hollow husk, a shell of your former self. The thought devoured any hope that James had just ignited within you at his words. “Help me feel again.” You blurted, desperate for any solution to the abysmal fate that you now had to endure. James puffed on his cigarette in thought. “And how am I to do that?” He ventured. “I don’t know, I just... I want your comfort.”  It was true, and the words seemed to settled in the space between the two of you. You and James had known each other for a long time and had often displayed your affection towards one another: stolen kisses in dimly lit corridors, his hand brushing against yours beneath the bar as Liz served the two of you drinks. You liked James, and his own affection for you was undeniable. Amidst all of this, now seemed like the perfect opportunity to become closer with James. What else was there really to do in this retched hotel for all of eternity? With another drag of his cigarette, James surveyed you with curiosity, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned your confession over in his mind.  “You said that you felt cold?” He enquired, pushing off the table and walking slowly for the low counter he had pushed against the wall, its surface covered with large crystal decanters filled with various alcohols. “Yes.” You confirmed, watching him as he poured a glass of bourbon, pausing to drop some ice cubes in it before turning to you. “Feeling cold isn’t necessarily a terrible thing, dearest.” You huffed half-heartedly at his words, your eyes drifting to the surface of the dark wood table before you.  James’ pace was lingering as he slowly meandered back to where you sat, alternating between taking sips of his drink and pulling on his cigarette, his brow creased with the potency of his own thoughts.  “I’ll show you.” He went on, pausing by the table and reaching over to snub out the butt of his cigarette on the small ashtray that resided in the centre. You raised your chin, frowning slightly in question. “Come here.” He said, glancing to you before taking another drink. You stood slowly, confused, but did as he asked and walked to stand before him. “You want to feel?” He asked, taking a step closer to you, the scent of alcohol stark on his soft breath that settled over your face “Yes.” You breathed.  He smirked slowly, draining the last of his drink, the empty glass clutched in his pale grasp.  Leaning down, he caught your lips with his in a kiss so brief that were unsure that it actually happened. Your breath caught as he pulled away, stepping around your body so that you stood between him and the table, pressing his body against yours, the backs of your legs hitting the edge of the table as he herded you towards it. Your stomach fluttered, your pulse quickening. He seemed to sense the physical change of your body as his hand reached up, his head cocking slightly as he trailed his thumb from your collarbone up to the side of your neck, pressing the pad of his thumb into your pulse point and letting out a small sigh through his nose. You were frozen under his touch, trying to anticipate his next move as he leaned closer, placing his empty glass by your thigh before moving his hand from your neck to your chest, pushing slightly. You fulfilled his unspoken request, pushing yourself onto the edge of the table and parting your legs slightly, pleased when James followed your invitation by placing himself between your open thighs. “How -”  “Hush now. You want to feel don’t you?” He cut you off, his face once again coming so close to yours that you could taste his breath. You swallowed but nodded, James’ lips turning upwards slightly as he tracked the movement in your throat, pleased at your responsiveness. “Then let me tend to you.”  You fell silent, your eyes never straying from his as he reached around your body, his fingertips cold as they hooked into the low-cut back of your dress. The sound of the material tearing filled the room as James, with one swift, effortless tug, ripped your dress apart, the material falling open and pooling around your hips.  The front of the dress collapsed, It’s strapless bodice flopping forwards to reveal your bare chest to him. Your eyes were wide, but you couldn’t bring yourself to cover your modesty, not as James’ dark eyes turned positively feral at the sight of your tits that were already becoming heavy with lust under his scrutiny.  One of his hands moved from where it hovered at your back, up to the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling into the bottom of your hair. Pulling back, James tugged his tight hold on your scalp, forcing you to follow his pull off the table. The rest of the ruined dress fell to the floor before James tugged again, harder this time. You reigned in your gasp of surprise at his sudden roughness, meeting his stare with confidence.  James smiled easily as he used his grip on your hair to seat you back onto the table before untangling his fingers from your hair and pushing you by the shoulders so that you lay flat on the table. You shuddered, all predictions of what James’ next move would be evading you. The ice in his empty crystalline glass clinked against each other as James picked it up from the table, leaning down over your body. The fabric of his clothes was soft against your exposed skin and you braced your hands on his shoulders as his face came into view above yours. The next kiss that he planted on your lips was soft, exploratory and idle. There was nothing that you could do but lay still under James, allowing him to brush his lips against yours over and over again, the pace with which he ever so slowly deepened the kiss intoxicating, lost in his curious inspection of your mouth. In truth, James truly was lost in the warmth of your lips as they pressed against his. It had been years since he had first fantasied about how you would feel, how you would taste, against his lips and he’d be damned if he let the opportunity to divulge in the reality go to waste. Eventually, when you arched up slightly into him, your naked chest pressing into his, James pried your lips open with his tongue, pushing into your awaiting warmth and taking his time in exploring you there, too. You kissed him back, feverish under the gently stroking ministrations of his tongue as is swept against yours again and again. When he pulled away, a low groan worked itself up from the back of your throat, much to James’ pleasure, whose cock stiffened ever so slightly at the sound you produced due to his touch. “James, please do something.” His cock shot up fully at that, his brain recording your words and storing the memory of your breathless tone in a dark pocket of his mind to replay whenever he pleased. “Patience, dearest, is something that you will need a lot of in the afterlife.” You huffed at his avoiding statement, allowing your back to fall fully onto the cold surface of the table once more. You lifted your head when the sound of the ice cubes in James’ glass once again rang through the room, watching as he reached in, plucking up a single half-melted piece of ice from the glass with his fingertips. James glanced at you, ensuring that were watching before placing the ice on the base of your throat. You gasped, the coldness of the ice numbing your skin almost instantly and seeping into you. Placing the glass back down, James leaned over you one more, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to your lower lip, then your chin and then another on the column of your throat. Trailing his lips down even further, his teeth closed on the ice and your pussy flooded with wetness when, using his mouth, James traced the ice to your collarbone, drawing a line of wetness along the length of it before slowly trailing it to your other collarbone. Your breathing became more and more laboured as James dragged the ice across your chest, painting your skin pleasantly numb. His hands found your hips as he pressed himself further in between your legs, undeniably aroused by your gasped reactions and gripping onto your flesh. Any coherent thought faded from your brain as James slowly moved up the slope of one of your tits, every nerve of your being zoning into the coldness of the ice as he pushed it up, up, to the peaked mound of your nipple. You bowed into his touch, refrained from allowing your fingers to settle into his carefully groomed hair as he circled the ice around your areola, taking care not to allow the cold wetness to touch the sensitive bud of your nipple. “God, James.” You whined, luxuriating in his bodily warmth that settled into your skin from his close proximity a top you, an invigorating contrast to the frigid touch of the ice. James let out a small groan of his own as he moved over to your other tit, pushing the ice in looping circles at the base of your breast and slowly moving them inwards, his circles getting tighter and tighter until you could feel the coldness radiating off the ice on your nipple. You hadn’t noticed when one of his hands lifted from your hip, too lost in the sensations your sensitive skin was pleasurably subjected to, the loss of his large hand not registering. It was only when he moved the sparse material of your panties to one side, placing another shard of ice directly on your clit, when you gasped in surprise. He held it there for several moments, allowing the ice to thoroughly cool the glistening bud before trailing it down to your opening. You groaned loudly when he pressed the ice against your entrance, inserting it into you and pushing it deep with a single finger. “Fuck.” You hissed, James withdrawing his finger and replacing the material of your panties back in their proper position, ensuring that the ice was held into you by the close fit of your underwear. You squirmed under him, your nails digging into his jacket-clad shoulders, much to James’ delight, who continued to swirl the ice cube caught between his teeth across your skin, goosebumps raising across every inch of your chest in lieu of his ministrations.  Pulling away, James looked at you, your eyes flicking down to meet his as he moved slowly up to your face. You shuddered when he lifted a hand to your chest, running his rough fingertip through the trails of wetness he had made. Your eyes flicked to his wet lips, the soft flesh glittering in the candle light as he lowered his mouth to yours, depositing the ice cube between your own lips. The coldness settled onto your tongue as you accepted his offering, pushing it up with your tongue to catch it between your own teeth. “Keep that there until it melts.” You groaned in response to his lowly spoken words, his touches on you so erotic that your pussy clenched around the ice in your cunt, which had started to burn pleasantly between your legs. Reaching down, his cool fingers hooked into the waist line of your panties, James’ eyes flicking to yours once more he pulled them down your legs in one smooth motion. The tip of your tongue nudged against the ice between your teeth, wishing that it was James’ mouth or cock you were tasting as the steadily melting water dripped slowly down the length of your tongue, settling in the back of your throat. The thought pulled a low rumble from deep within you. It was matched by James kneeling between your legs as he pulled apart your cool lips, surveying the mixture of ice water and your own juices that glimmered there. “Magnificent.” He breathed, the war, exhaled air making you whimper quietly as it settled onto your cold skin. He hummed lowly, reaching out his tongue and nudging at your clit. You tensed at the tiny touch, letting out a breathy sigh when he pulled away once more. “Please.” You moaned, the ice in your mouth muffling the word slightly. James chuckled. “Like I said, darling, patience is detrimental.” You groaned, wiggling your hips in the hopes of inviting him to touch you with his tongue again. “But look at how pretty your cunt is.” Your mind emptied at his crooned words, what was left of the ice cube slipping from your opening and falling to the floor as your pussy pulsated in response to the growled appraisal. “I wonder if its as delicious as I’ve dreamt it to be.” His words settled over you, causing even more wetness to leak from your slit. James purred at the sight, closing the inch of space between your cunt and his nose and finally drawing a long, slow sweep of his cold tongue up your centre.  “Yes.” You groaned, your back lifting of the table as his hand settled onto your lower abdomen, holding your hips still as he buried his face into you, unleashing himself with ravenous intent on your clit. You mewled with pleasure, the sudden barrage of his tongue on your clit sending strong jolts of satisfaction through the entirety of your body.  “Oh god.” You moaned, breathless as James continued to lap at your cunt, sucking and nipping at your clit. His fingertips nudged at your entrance and you attempted to push your hips up into them in encouragement, James’ chuckle at your efforts causing you to gasp and fall limp under him as it rumbled through your pussy. He pushed two fingers in, curling them instantly and expertly brushing the rough pads of his fingertips against the spot hidden within you that had your toes curling. The ice in your mouth continued to melt as a result of your heavy, warm pants, the water dripping down your throat as James continued to work you with his tongue and fingers, his tongue still cold on your pussy from the ice and his fingers warm in dizzying contrast. You moaned his name. James’ cock twitched in response, his name falling from your lips fuelling him to push another finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out of you at a steady pace whilst his tongue worked tirelessly on your clit, each stroke, circle and carefully calculated nudge of his tongue ripping away a layer of the ball of pleasure in your gut, the orgasm hidden at its centre his goal. The ice fell from your teeth, its body too small now to hold onto and settling into the pocket of your cheek where it quickly melted away into nothingness. “James. Yes, yes, yes. James.” A wave of heat rolled through you as your release neared, James’ fingers quickening their pace in your pussy as his tongue maintained its steady lapping at your wetness. “I’m - James...” He detached his tongue from you at the desperation of your words.  “Yes, darling?” He purred, slowing the pace of his fingers, waiting for you to say the words that he had waited years for you to say to him. “I’m gonna cum.” A feral grin spread across James’ wet lips, his fingers once again quickening their pace, curling and twisting within you. Lowering his lips back to your cunt, he listened as a string of continuous moans fell from your lips, knowing that you would come undone as soon as he began licking at you again. James savoured the feeling of his tongue running across your clit and he finished you off, your body bowing entirely off the table as your hands flew to his hair, gripping the dark strands as a wave of considerable pleasure slammed into you. His name was a drawn out moan on your lips as he licked you several more times, helping you through the orgasm that had your eyes rolling and your toes curling. Your thighs clenched deliciously around his head, James’ own moan of satisfaction vibrating through the electrified surface of your pussy. When your body collapsed back onto the table, the pupils of your eyes re-emerging with a gasp, James gripped onto your thighs, pulling his head from your heat and gazing upon your sated body, the scent of your arousal drifting up to meet him from between your thighs. You glanced down, the sight of his swollen lips coated with your cum causing a ball of fresh need to form in your lower abdomen. “Fuck me, James. Please.” You blurted, having recovered quickly from your previous orgasm and craving more of the glorious man before you. He laughed darkly, releasing his grip on your thighs and stepping back to survey your body splayed out before him, your cum running from your slit down to the exposed bud of your asshole.  His full erection strained from within the confines of his pants and you groaned at the sight of it, your mouth watering for the feeling of his cock in your mouth. “No, not yet, my dear. Can’t have you feeling too much all at once now can we? You’ll have to wait. We have all of eternity as our disposal, why rush?”  taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler (if you wanna be added or removed just let me know <3)

[hlizr50]

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 8 (It's a long one, y'all)

A choice, a conversation, and a question

Read on AO3

Azriel’s body was perfect.

Anyone who disagreed was surely blind.

Gwyn had been watching him for the better part of half an hour, choosing to sit in silence when he hadn’t acknowledged her presence. There was no possible way he didn’t know she was there – he would have scented her at the very least. Azriel was one of the most accomplished warriors in the history of Prythian, after all, and no-one could ever enter his sphere without notice. She had only managed a handful of times, and she had a sneaking suspicion that his shadows had been responsible.

Those shadows were coiled tightly to their master tonight, looking like they might snap from even the slightest brush of a finger. They mirrored the tension that rippled over the shadowsinger’s bare back. Gwyn smirked to herself as she silently cursed the Illyrian for focusing his frustration solely on the post in front of him, facing away from her and cruelly limiting her ogling. He’d opted for punches and kicks, no doubt requiring impact and pain to relieve whatever it was that had weighed on him today. She would have quite enjoyed the sight of that gloriously elaborate eight-pointed star, appreciating how the sweat would bead and trickle down his spine or between the muscled ridges of his stomach.

Mother above, he was beautiful.

Both of the Illyrians in her life were impossibly tall and built of solid muscle. They were the definition of power. But Cassian and Azriel were so utterly different. The general was brute force, hulking muscle, arrogant. The spymaster, though… He was leaner, strength hidden underneath an unfair amount of grace for a male of his stature. Gwyn had seen him shirtless many times, but rarely did she have the chance to appreciate the vision that he truly was. She wanted to memorize the tangled strokes of the tattoos that waterfalled down his neck and over his shoulders. She marveled at the ease with which he moved, even with his long legs and arms. His wings were magnificent, even as silver ribbons of scars streamed over the thin skin. She’d heard Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie talk about wingspan and how it related to other parts. That wasn’t particularly important to her, but it had still made her blush.

And his hands.

She knew Azriel was determined to hide and hate them, just as much as she was to love them and prove to him how special they were. She nearly crumpled in tears every time she recalled the cruelty that had marked them, fire and torment melting the flesh as quickly as it could be woven back together. The story of his childhood had shattered her heart, and she was even more awed that he had somehow grown into someone so considerate, noble, and kind. Gwyn longed to hold those hands, to trace her thumbs over the mottled flesh and make him feel her adoration for them. But she wanted them to adore her, as well. To feel those graceful calloused fingers gliding over her skin…

She felt warmth coil deep in her belly as it crept into her cheeks. Gwyn blinked away the haze in her eyes and chided herself. There was no reason to think things like that – she shouldn’t get ahead of herself.

The priestess scowled as she saw blotches of red blossoming over the strips of cloth wrapped around his hands. Enough was enough. She pushed herself up off the stone and strode over to where the Illyrian continued to batter the post, shadows still taut around his rippling shoulders and incredible wings.

“What’s wrong?” she called, making sure he could hear her over the echoing thunder of his fists against the padded wood. Azriel paused but didn’t turn to face her.

“Nothing.” He squared his shoulders again, but she would not have it.

“You’re a liar, Shadowsinger.” He straightened but didn’t respond. So Gwyn continued. “You were tense during training this morning and you skipped dinner. And I can only assume you were here instead because, violent and powerful as you are, it would take you longer than the last half hour or so to beat your hands to a bloody pulp.” She crossed her arms, the billowing blue of her robes tucking under her wrists. Gwyn bore into his back with her eyes, willing him to turn around and face her. She’d be damned if she let him shut her out, not after things had been going so well. She could feel her heart beating in time with his measured breaths, those toned shoulders shimmering as they rose and fell in the moonlight. She was so entranced by his breathing that she jumped when he flared his wings.

He finally turned around. His shadows had loosened, if only slightly. But it was a start. Gwyn shot him a grin, daring him to tell her that she was wrong – to deny that something was eating at him.

“It appears I’m caught, then.” Azriel’s voice was quiet and measured. Most wouldn’t understand how it differed from his usual tone, but it set the priestess on edge. She looked into the dark gaze of the spymaster, and somehow the angles of his face had sharpened. “Interesting training attire.” Gwyn ignored the lightning that seared through her as his eyes swept over her body, even though she knew there wasn’t much to see thanks to those robes.

“I didn’t come here to train.” She rolled her eyes. The shadowsinger’s cold stare flickered for a moment, a crack in that practiced stoic expression.

“Then why –“

“I came out here to make sure you were alright, Azriel.” Cauldron, he could be so dense. She cocked her head, watching his face relax as her words sank into him. And she might have heaved a relieved sigh as his shadows started twirling like candle smoke and hazel gleamed back at her in his widened eyes. Satisfied that she had been able to reach through his veil of detachment she strode toward him. Gwyn did not move her eyes from his, even as she stopped in front of him and pulled at one of his battered hands. She cradled it in both of hers, allowing her fingertips to caress the whorls of skin and blood-soaked rags. “Why don’t we go inside. I’ll take care of these and you can tell me what’s bothering you.” She kept her hold on him gentle, though she couldn’t help but tighten her fingers around his for fear that he might pull away. The priestess studied his tanned face, trying desperately to read any hint of where his silence was leading them. The spymaster mask had slipped, but aside from the pooling light in his hazel gaze and the easy wafting of the shadows there was no breath of what he was thinking.

Gwyn lowered her gaze, frustrated that he was still so reserved. But she would not give up – that was not her way. So she sighed as contentedly as she could muster and focused on his hand. She drew her fingers softly over his knuckles, surely cracked and stinging under the crimson stains she traced. Her fingers followed the paler lines of scars to the end of one finger, then the next, until she had attended to every piece of exposed skin she could find. Then she folded his fingers into his palm and raised his hand to her chest. She dared a glance up at him and found it difficult not to cower away from the intensity in his visage – burning liquid pools of hazel seemed to pierce straight into her soul. But she gathered her courage – from where she did not know – and stared back, lowering her chin and brushing her lips over his knuckles. Gwyn felt his intake of breath, even though his lips barely parted and his face betrayed nothing. The air around them grew thin and taut and she waited, once again, for him to pull away.

When his hand squeezed one of hers, she knew her cheeks had flushed a deep crimson. Mother, she was sure her face looked giddy with child-like hope, but she smiled up at that perfect face when she squeezed back. She earned a soft crooked grin in return.

“Lead the way, priestess.”

~~~

Azriel kept his wings tucked close as he was silently led through the house. It had not gone unnoticed by him that Gwyn had not released his mangled hand, choosing to keep those long fingers of moonlight tangled loosely with his own. He couldn’t quell the warmth that spread through him, and he couldn’t stop shadowy tendrils from circling down his arm and looping around the contact. If the priestess noticed she didn’t show it as she pushed open the door to the library.

“The library?” He raised his eyebrows, but his question was soft. He had assumed she would guide him to his room, but realized as soon as he’d voiced his surprise that it was a ridiculous assumption to make. Being alone together in his room would feel extremely intimate, and she was likely not ready for that.

“Is that alright?” Gwyn asked him as she turned to him with that lovely hand still grasping his own. “We could have gone to your room, but I know your privacy and space are important to you. I didn’t want to intrude on that.” Her head cocked as she blinked toward the ceiling, freckled nose scrunching in thought. Azriel felt the corner of his mouth quirk, unable to suppress his fondness for how expressive her features were. The warmth inside him took root as her words registered. She’d been thinking of him. Of his comfort and not her own. Irreverent and spontaneous as she was, her consideration for those she cared for was thorough and thoughtful. As surprising as she always was with her candor, Azriel was floored by the depth of her compassion.

“Actually, I’m not even sure I know where your room is so,” she shrugged and tugged him over to the settee, “the library will have to do. Now sit.” The spymaster dropped onto the cushions as if his body were unable to resist her command for even a moment, though she let go of him when he did so. The absence of her gentle touch left him aching and he looked up at her gleaming teal eyes. “I need some things to tend to your hands. Promise you won’t leave?” His heart pinched at the earnest plea as he tried to understand the emotions churning in that ocean-deep gaze.

“You have my word, Gwyn.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to be so rough, thick with other promises he wanted the priestess to ask of him. But he was inwardly smug as he watched the blush stain her freckle-painted cheeks.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered and scurried out into the hallway.

Azriel allowed himself a chuckle at her reaction, running a hand through his dark locks. Then his mirth settled, a weight in his gut replacing the contentment he had felt only seconds before. He didn’t want to talk to anyone about his distaste for Illyria, least of all Gwyn. He didn’t want to see her eyes darken from his own sorrow, and he couldn’t bear for her to realize that just by being Illyrian he was a potential danger to her – a monster.

But, Mother above, this was Gwyn. He’d promised that he wouldn’t pull away, that he wouldn’t decide how she would react instead of giving her a chance. And somehow that beautiful warrior would not see the same things he did. Something inside him just felt it. So he would be brave and he would lay himself bare to her. Again. And he knew, terrifying as it was, that he would do it over and over – she need only pin him with that hopeful, caring gaze.

A clinkinterrupted his reverie, and he saw a porcelain bowl sitting on the coffee table, the water still rippling from its sudden appearance – no doubt a request to the house from Gwyn. As if on cue Azriel shifted his attention to the door and found the lovely copper-haired priestess pulling it closed behind her, a basket in her hands. He allowed himself a grin and let his gaze follow her as she crossed the room and placed the basket next to the bowl of water. Then she hiked up the waterfalls of blue robes and sat – somewhat unceremoniously – facing him on the couch. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, surveying her supplies and formulating her strategy, and the shadowsinger could feel the heat coil low in his stomach at the sight. It was a small mercy that she gestured for his hand and released that lip from her teeth.

With less trepidation than he expected, Azriel placed his scarred hand in Gwyn’s alabaster grip, but kept his focus planted on where they touched. Her long fingers were nimble as they worked against knots to unwrap the crimson-stained rags. As he might have expected, the wounds had already closed, his Illyrian blood providing swift healing. When the priestess scowled playfully, nose scrunched, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“I suspect I might not have required your medical expertise, Berdara.” But the priestess just shrugged a shoulder, unaffected by the turn of events.

“It was only an excuse to get you to stop and talk to me,” Gwyn admitted before looking up at him, beaming that her ruse had succeeded. “So I’ll wash off the blood and make sure everything is fine. And you’ll start talking.”

Azriel just stared at her for a moment, shadows flaring in his periphery at her unabashed statement. Her hair shone like flames in the fae light as it fell over her shoulders, her focus firmly on his hand. She had dipped a cloth in the water bowl and started dragging it gently across his knuckles, cleaning the red stains from his mottled skin.

“I’m waiting, Shadowsinger,” she cooed.

“I have to go to Illyria. Tomorrow. With Cassian and Rhys,” Azriel sighed, and had his hand been free he might have flopped dramatically into the back of the settee. When the priestess remained silent he whispered venomously. “I hate it there.” Gwyn still didn’t look back up at him, and he wondered if she did that purposefully, as well, so as not to make him feel more pressure than the anxiety that already gnawed into his chest.

“You don’t lead the armies. Why do you have to go?”

Cauldron, if she only knew how many times he’d asked the same damned question.

“For… status checks such as these my primary purpose is intimidation.” He let his eyes wander over the rainbows of book spines filling the shelves on the end wall, once-vibrant hues dulled by time and dust. “We present a united front, the leadership of the Night Court and their forces.” Azriel felt the warm cloth on his hand pause and he turned his attention back to the Valkyrie who now looked up at him, head tilted in curiosity.

“So you, Cassian, and the High Lord?”

Azriel nodded. “I believe the High Lady will be joining us, as well. Sometimes Mor accompanies us, as a representative of the Hewn City. We’ve tried a few different strategies regarding who makes these visits.” He couldn’t hide the contempt in his words. “But we’ve found a strong female presence is… rarely helpful. Even though it is proof of the point that Rhys and Cassian are trying to make.”

“Rhys and Cassian, but not you?” The shadowsinger inwardly cringed at the implication that he may not share his brothers’ beliefs about the value and potential of Illyrian females, but the priestess before him held no judgment in the depth of those teal pools. Azriel ran his free hand through his hair.

“My brothers have been quite insistent that Illyrian females have the opportunity to train, should they choose, as well as putting a stop to some of their more barbaric traditions and practices.” He stifled a gasp as Gwyn’s fingers traced over his now-clean knuckles, examining them for any remaining injury. Apparently satisfied, she set that hand in his lap before lifting her gaze.

“But you don’t include yourself in that effort?” Her eyes narrowed, but her lips lifted in a wry grin. “I know firsthand that you also believe that females should be trained and can be capable in battle –“

“More than capable, priestess, as you have proven.”

Gwyn’s smile widened. “So why is it that you separate yourself from them?”

“Of course I share their beliefs, and I would love nothing more for wing clipping to be a figment of a dead past and for camp leaders to stop insisting that weapons must be buried once females touch them. I just don’t have faith that the Illyrians will ever change.” He loved his brothers. They were the best males he’d ever known, their hearts and minds full of so much hope. But Illyria would always be a cesspool of brutality and carnage.

“You believe so little in their potential?” Gwyn’s face had softened, no lines crinkling her nose or the corners of her eyes, swirling orbs of concern. His shadows held tight to him, unmoving with his bitterness. Not a single tendril reached for the warrior who gingerly grasped his other hand and pulled it into her lap. “You and Cassian and the High Lord are all Illyrian, and the three of you have grown into quite exemplary males.” After that soft statement she turned her attention to the bloody wraps, sighing contentedly. He watched the top of her copper-tressed head.

“Cassian and Rhysand are the best of us. I’m not –“

“Azriel.”

His throat bobbed at the quiet reprimand in her voice. Gwyn’s grip on his hand had tightened considerably and the rest of her body had tensed. Silence thickened the air and it fell over him like a blanket, urging the shadows closer to him, to safety. When she looked up at him again his mouth nearly fell open at the intensity of her expression.

“Why do you do that?” He was taken aback by the roughness in her voice, usually a sweet, soothing song. “You are one of them. You are. Their hearts and souls are no more pure and precious than yours. And even if we spoke only of you, what about being Illyrian would damn you so?”

The shadowsinger gaped, and Gwyn’s bright eyes challenged him to prove her wrong. Just like he knew she would. But, no matter how many times she proved to him the depth of her empathy and understanding, he still felt the pang of shock simmer through him. His fingers tingled in her grasp.

“Tell me, Azriel,” she whispered her near-silent plea.

“Gwyn, you know how the Illyrians are. You’ve seen it with your own eyes and experienced it.” Azriel took a breath and shifted his gaze to their hands, still entwined in her lap. “Illyrians are bred to be brutal in all areas of their lives, violent and entitled and possessive and selfish. They take what they want without thought or regret. They… indulge themselves freely, taking females for their own pleasure with or without consent. And that is the heritage I share. I was created there, just like the other brutes, to be a monster. Powerful, yes, and lucky as fuck to have found myself under the care of Rhysand’s mother. But a monster, nonetheless.”

The spymaster kept his lidded attention on his bloodied hand and Gwyn’s delicate pale fingers tightened impossibly further around it. He focused on the contrasts – his darkened, ruined skin under the freckle-spattered moonstone of hers; her two hands unable to wrap completely around his much larger one.

“You’re not a monster. You’re not a brute. And no matter what happens, I will always be here to remind you of that.” Azriel closed his eyes, shuddering at her conviction. He felt her hands moving again but kept his eyes closed, unsure of how to continue. He felt the wet cloth against his skin and knew his priestess had resumed her ministrations, washing away the stains of his frustration and contempt.

Minutes passed in silence as he focused on the dampness against his skin and the soft, comforting breaths of the incredible female in front of him. Then the cloth was gone, his fingers guided to fold around her hand, and then he felt two fingers lifting his chin. Azriel took a breath to gather his courage and lifted his gaze, finding full lips in a soft smile, constellations of freckles dusting pink cheeks, and the most incredible, impossibly expressive teal eyes shining with emotion. The fingers left his chin but he barely noticed, lost in that ocean.

“When you go to Illyria, I want you to remember what I’m about to say.” He gave a nod when she paused, waiting for him. “Nobody is just one thing, Azriel. Being Illyrian does not doom you to a life of committing atrocities and causing pain. There is hope there. Remember Balthazar? He aided Nesta and Emerie during the Blood Rite. I know there aren’t many, but they are there. Think of Cassian and Rhysand, who you say are the best of males. They have far outshone the picture of damnation that you’ve painted.” Gwyn squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him, as he swore he saw a fine line of silver on her lower lashes.

“But what I really want you to think about is you. You’ve shared your history with me, Azriel. You have experienced pain and loneliness and darkness greater than most can even imagine, and your power is some of the greatest that Prythian has ever known. You had every reason and every opportunity to become a monster. If anyone could have become the most fearsome, brutal male it could have easily been you. But you didn’t.” Azriel felt pinpricks in his eyes, and the way the priestess smiled at him… that light seemed to breach his very soul. “You are here, a dedicated servant to your court. You do the things you must, to protect your family and your home. You are thoughtful and kind and more generous than you probably realize. You are not a monster, but you areIllyrian. And you are sitting here with me, holding my hand. Being Illyrian has not defined who you are. And there are likely others out there who are the same. Try to remember that.”

Azriel let out a disbelieving huff, but he felt his lips curl into the slightest grin. This warrior priestess was going to be the death of him – a certain death of broken-down walls and encouragement and fierce rebuttal of the self-loathing that had been with him far longer than he could truly remember. It was uncomfortable, and he almost didn’t know who he would be without it. But the way Gwyn looked at him, the way she saw him. Maybe he could find himself there.

“Well,” she patted his hand and gave it back to him. “Your wounds are healed, the blood is gone, and hopefully now you can get some rest.” She hopped up and began cleaning up her rags and water, only to give a soft ‘squeak’ as the house vanished them away. He snickered, earning a withering glare, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’m going to bed,” she huffed, sticking out her tongue at him before stalking to the door. Azriel rose quickly to stop her.

“Gwyn,” he called, halting her at the door. She turned to look at him, an expectant eyebrow raised. He reached for the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “Thank you. For listening. And… and for your encouraging words.” Watching her expression change was like magic, like watching the sun transform the sky as it breached the horizon. The irreverence and playfulness fell away, replaced with that delicate gentle smile and burning compassion in her ocean depths.

“Thank you, Azriel. For trusting me. I am so grateful that you didn’t pull away from me.” She paused before turning back to the door. “Be safe, Shadowsinger.” And then she was gone.

Azriel just stared at the empty doorway, confounded and delighted and… awestruck. And there was nobody to hear his quiet vow when he finally spoke.

“Anything for you, Berdara.”

~~~

He was all but running down the ramp to one of the lower levels of the library. His long legs loped, carrying him closer to his goal – the sweet voice echoing a lilting melody through the stacks. Azriel kept his wings tucked close, knowing that if he unfurled them even a little he may be tempted to fly.

He was sure Clotho and the other priestesses would not appreciate such brazenness.

He didn’t think he would ever describe a visit to Illyria as pleasant, but even he couldn’t deny the optimism that had somehow permeated his soul. It had helped him open his eyes beyond his own bitterness. She had helped him. Of course he had been every bit the feared spymaster that he was required to be, but he had surprised Rhys and Cassian when he had joined them for every meeting and observation, choosing to utilize those few moments of downtime to execute his more covert tasks. They were to debrief immediately with the rest of the Inner Circle – given only enough time to wash before they were required at the River House. But as soon as he had smelled the air of Velaris all he could think about was the lovely Valkyrie priestess who seemed to be a balm to his scars.

He was breathing hard when he spotted her, shadows flitting at the enchanting picture before him.

“Gwyn.”

Her singing stopped as her head whipped to face him, face splitting into the brightest smile. “Shadowsinger! Welcome home!” If their relationship were different – if it were further along – he might have run to her, gathered her up and swung her around in his arms. Gods knew he wanted to. But he had to keep himself in check, at least for now. So he settled for a grin and walked briskly toward her. Her eyes darkened in question. “Do you need something? When did you get back?”

“A few minutes ago. I don’t have much time – we’re supposed to go debrief at the River House with Amren and Mor. But I do need something.” Gwyn’s smile had softened but she giggled.

“Alright, well I’ll do whatever I can –“

Her voice halted when she noticed that Azriel had extended his hands to her in silent question. He could never just grab her, but he prayed to the Cauldron, the Mother, to all the gods above that she would take his scarred hands in hers. Confusion fluttered over her features, but he grinned, hoping she was encouraged. He released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when she cautiously lifted those robed arms, placing her palms in his open ones.

“Az?”

“I do need something. I need to ask you… if you would join me for dinner tomorrow?” For once he could be smug, seeing the surprise light in her eyes and knowing this wasn’t what she expected. He was emboldened. By her. So he brushed his thumbs over her knuckles as he continued. “I know it’s only been a few weeks. And I’m sure I haven’t done nearly enough to prove myself, but I just –“

“Yes.”

His eyes had to be wide as saucers, and his breath seemed to have escaped his chest. But he didn’t need it. Not when Gwyneth Berdara, hands still safe in his own, smiled at him that way – corners of her eyes crinkling above flushing cheeks.

“You came straight here – knowing you were needed immediately by the High Lord – just to ask me to dinner?” Gwyn snickered but it caught in her throat, betraying emotions that stormed in her beautiful eyes. He released one of her hands, only to grasp the other with his scarred fingers.

“Yes,” he breathed, lifting that pale hand and brushing his lips lightly over the soft skin of her fingers. A shadow twirled down his arm and danced where they touched, but Azriel’s focus was pinned to her face. He was relieved to see no sign of discomfort, but a furious blush had painted her cheeks and the points of her ears. And he chuckled. She could not be more lovely. “I want to see what comes next, Berdara.” She shook her head.

“We need to work on your priorities, Shadowsinger.” She scrunched her nose and then gave him an easy shove with their tangled hands. “Go, you’re going to be late.” He kept ahold of her, jerking her forward lightly. Smirking, he kissed her knuckles again before letting her go.

“I’ll see you in the morning, priestess. I hope you haven’t been slacking in my absence.” Azriel winked at her – Mother above the things she made him do – and turned on his heel, moving much more slowly to leave than he had to find her.

“You’re going to wish we had!” she threatened. And he laughed, throwing his head back, reveling in the joy he felt. Whatever was next, he was ready to face it. And he wanted to face it with Gwyneth Berdara.

Tag List: @trashforazriel @tealnymph24 @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @katiebellf @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430

[lea-andres]

Sonic Headcanons - The Girls' Nights

The amount of girls and who's hosting significantly varies, but you can see any combo of Amy, Rouge, Wave, Tangle, Whisper, Jewel, Mina, Tiara (when she eventually appears in my lore), Honey (when she eventually appears in my lore), and, of course, Infinite. Obviously the more girls I add to my lore, the more could be added to this list. Blaze doesn't really attend these because they're too much for her.

Infinite is the most consistent attendee, Whisper is the most infrequent. Sometimes these get togethers are too much for her and she stays home. Everyone's chill with it (and is always ecstatic whenever she does appear)

Infinite, Silver, and Bean are the ONLY guys with immunity to the girls' craziness. Infinite shows up willingly, and Silver and Bean are just either too clueless (Silver) or too confident in themselves (Bean) to really be properly embarrassed by the girls if they get dragged into their shenanigans. All the other guys collectively understand if the girls catch them ANYWHERE NEAR the place of whoever's hosting, they're getting dragged into the activities and they're in for a bad night of teasing and humiliation. Like, Wave's hosting on the Rogues' airship? Jet and Storm go barging in on Sonic and Tails for the next 48+ hours (to ensure they're giving the girls plenty of time to fuck off, LOL). Rouge is hosting in one of her many penthouses? Shadow and Knuckles are scarce. Mina's hosting in hers? Fang who? he doesn't live here. 😂 You are in extra danger if you're either dating and/or live with one of the girls in attendance. Each guy has at least one story they can tell about getting caught by the girls and having something embarrassing done to them. (Fang's got five, poor guy has the worst luck in my lore, I swear. 😂)

Each night always has the same formula: The girls all get together to do an activity together (catch a musical/Rocky Horror shadow cast, see a fashion show, go drinking/gambling somewhere, Wave took them to see WWE wrestling once and that was a HUGE hit, etc.) Then they all go back to the place of whoever's hosting for makeovers, movies, some Jackbox, and lots of drinking and gossiping.

Infinite's usually the one getting the makeover. He's got long hair, he's taller than a lot of the girls, AND he's got that nice hourglass figure, he's pretty perfect for it. But the girls will make over each other too.

A consistent makeover always seems to happen is the girls trying to figure out how to make Jewel even shinier than usual, a la that time Jenna Marbles glued all those rhinestones to her face. 😂 Bark's phone usually ends up exploding in the middle of the night with all of the girls texting him pictures and video of the results of whatever the latest attempt was. The messiest was probably the time Mina and Wave teamed up to rig a t-shirt cannon to blast body glitter. Jewel was getting glitter on EVERYTHING for TWO WEEKS straight. 😂

Considering there's no such thing as a straight Sonic girl, these nights always take a sharp dive into gay territory real fast, especially after the alcohol's been busted out. At least one make out session will occur, and to quote Lucahjin: "Underwear happens."

There's lots of karaoke too, and it varies significantly in quality. Sometimes the girls are busting out stellar performances, sometimes there seems to be an unspoken agreement to "sing as loud and as off key as you possibly can"

Remember how I said Jet and Storm will vanish for 48+ hours? Sometimes the girls get no sleep ever during these sleepovers, and the next 24 hours AFTER the sleepover is spent sleeping off hangovers and just lounging around watching dumb crap on television. (Say Yes to the Dress is a frequent choice, especially as the girls eventually start getting engaged/married to people.) You're still in danger of being humiliated if you show your face during that time, Jet and Storm made that mistake ONCE.

[justfangirlthingies]

How about another one? (Sunday Nights) (Dad! Draco Malfoy)

Welcome to part 4, the final part of Sundays at the Malfoy's! If I can find more ideas I might do a little thing for Saturdays as well, but for the Sundays, this is it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word count: 3585 words

Warnings: This part includes smut! (it's probably really bad because I've never written smut before) I will mark it in the story, so minors and people who don't feel comfortable reading smut can just skip it!, now with that being said, breeding kink? maybe but not really, I think that's it, if I forgot anything please lmk

Even more soft and caring Draco!

I wish you a wonderful Sunday night!

What did the couple do on Sunday nights when the rest of the house slept, leaving only the two of them?

▪︎

▪︎

▪︎ Now that Scorpius was asleep, Draco and (Y/n) had some time for themselves. Time, which was usually spent with affectionate cuddle sessions on the large living room sofa. A sense of calm and comfort wafted over the young parents as they laid in one another's embrace, twinkling pools of (e/c) gazing into a pair of shimmering grey eyes. "I want every day to be a Sunday" you would say, causing a chuckle to escape Draco's lips as he shook his head slightly in amusement "You say that every week darling." At that you'd just smile and pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his silky hair "I know and I'll repeat it every week until it actually comes true"

▪︎

▪︎

▪︎

On this particular Sunday night, you felt happy and content when you climbed into bed with your husband and skidded closer to him underneath the covers. Well almost. There was something that you seemed to miss. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet. You didn't really understand this feeling, you had everything you could ever want after all. A loving and caring husband, a kindhearted and healthy son, a beautiful home... You had it all. The perfect family. The perfect life. Even so, you somehow felt incomplete. Draco had noticed how your once relaxed posture changed to a more thoughtful one, your eyebrows scrunched together as you were deep in thought. "What's got you all worked up love?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm not sure..." you replied, getting a hum back from him in return. He'd just wait for a bit and give you a chance to collect your thoughts, he had been with you long enough to know that you'd talk when you felt ready.

"It's just-" a sigh passed your lips "I don't know Draco, I mean we have the perfect life. You gave me everything I could ever wish for, yet I- I still feel like-" Your husband was listening attentively, never breaking eye contact. The back of his hand made contact with your cheek as he gently caressed the soft skin there "like there's something missing?" he asked, finishing your sentence. You bit your lower lip and gave a slow hesitant nod, your eyes casting downward. Your gaze stopped at your intertwined hands and the shining wedding bands that graced your fingers. Absentmindedly you began playing with Draco's wedding ring. This action made him smile, especially when he felt your small hands twisting and turning the ring on his finger. You spoke up again after a few minutes of silence "I'm sorry Dray, I don't know why i feel this way, after all I have no reason to-" "There's nothing to be sorry for (Y/n). Besides, I've had this feeling for a little while as well" at that statement your eyes widened and you looked back up at him "In fact," he continued "I might actually know why- well, I mean I know why I feel this way." You were unsure what expression you expected to see on his face, but you certainly didn't foresee it to be a bright grin that reached his eyes. Now you were confused "I'm sorry what? Why are you smiling like that" The perplexed face you made, had him holding back a snicker. "Well, you see darling," he smirked "we've got everything we could ever want don't we? Or more like, nearly everything" His little riddles didn't help soothe you at all and you knew that he was aware of that fact if his signature smirk was anything to go by. "Something's missing in this perfect little family isn't it love?" he teased.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, if you don't get straight to the point, I will wipe that smirk straight off your handsome face" you growled, yet there was some kind of amusement in your voice. It calmed you a bit to see that he wasn't worried or as serious as you thought he would be. "Is that so?" he chuckled and pulled your face closer to his, his hand buried in your (h/c) hair "and how exactly do you plan on doing that, my love?~" At this point you could feel his breath on your face as he practically purred at you, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. After all this time, he still managed to make you feel like a giddy teenager.

"Like this" you exhaled and pressed your lips against his soft velvety ones. The blonde wasted no time, eagerly kissing you back and nipping at your bottom lip. Soon enough, his tongue had claimed your mouth as his territory like he had done so many times before. As soon as you broke the kiss and pulled apart, you were left practically gasping for air. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he leaned back in, in an attempt to capture your lips once more, but instead he was met with your pointer finger against his lips. "Ah-ah-ah, first you tell me what it is that's missing in our lives" Now you were the one with the smug expression, leaving Draco groaning in frustration. However, he soon regained his wits and confidence "How about I show you?~" the man whispered against the shell of your ear in a sultry voice, his teeth gracing against the skin of your ear lightly. After hearing that you immediately pushed him off of you and stared at him in confusion again, an eyebrow raised "What?" At this, the male laughed "I said let me show you." he repeated as if what he was implying in combination with the conversation topic made perfect sense, his fingertips trailing up and down your sides.

After seeing your quizzical look turn to frustration he had to stop himself. You were absolutely serious and as amused as he was, he knew not to mess with you in that state. "I think we need an addition" he stated simply. "An addition?" you asked "an addition to what exactl- oh!" One could practically see the gears turning and working in your head, before realization hit you. You looked at your husband with wide eyes, a hue of pink tinting your cheeks "You want another child?" His features softened as he took your hands in his, his thumbs found their way to the back of your hands and started rubbing soothing circles onto your knuckles. He gave a small nod, all the while keeping his eyes fixated on you "But only if you want another one as well of course." he whispered, blushing slightly.

You sat there for a while, pondering if this really was what you were missing. This was an important decision. Had you thought about having another child with Draco before? Oh yes,countless times. You even imagined different scenarios. The thought of Scorpius as a big brother made you smile and so did the thought of spending your Sundays or any day really, with another child in your little family. When Draco noticed the smile creeping onto your face it ignited a spark of hope inside of him. He had always wanted at least two children, not that he wasn't happy with his son. On the contrary, he wanted another human being that he could love with all his heart without being scared of the consequences, he wanted Scorpius to have a sibling to play with, so the boy didn't end up like himself. Alone, broken, scared, unlovable and lost. He would still be that way if it wasn't for you, he thought. You had been his light, his rock, his everything. He had completely lucked out with you. Sometimes he still couldn't believe his luck. Hence why he treated you like a goddess, never taking you for granted. The moment you snapped out of your trance was also the moment you found piercing silver irises search your eyes for an answer. You didn't really know what to say though, so you just grinned and pulled him into a deep, loving and passionate kiss that left both of you breathless. "yes" you whispered, your voice getting louder with every word "yes Draco, let's have another baby!" You could feel your head being lifted up by his fingers that were placed just underneath your chin, before he pulled you in for another kiss. A smile appeared on the platinum blonde's face as he kissed you, pouring all his love into said kiss. "I love you (Y/n)" he exhaled after you broke the kiss. "I love you too Draco"

A mischievous grin made itself prominent on your face "Now, how about you show me how to get what we're missing, like you suggested before?" You implied and used your best, most innocent looking doe eyes as you gazed up at him, your fingers gently slid up one of his arms. Your husband's breath hitched slightly at watching your actions and feeling your fingers trailing up and down his arm. He didn't expect that you'd want to go for it right away, seeing as you had just made the decision and you were usually the kind of person to overthink every choice you made, the only choice you never thought twice about was loving Draco, but he was not one to complain about that. "Gladly~" the male purred, before pulling you into yet another kiss.

Alright my lovely minors and people who don't feel comfortable reading smut, this is where the smut begins, so please just scroll until you see the same marking as here. Okay? Okay.

To anyone else, sorry for interrupting your reading flow, you may continue :)

Smut starts here

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The kiss was full of passion and had Draco groaning against your lips as he dominated your mouth and pulled you impossibly close. Soon enough, you found yourself a panting mess underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair while his roamed your body, loosening the robe you were still wearing in the process. You watched his steely eyes wander over your body, unintentionally biting your lip as your gaze was fixated on him. The way his fingers traced over your soft skin and skillfully unlaced your robe, completely slipping it off your body and the way he drank you all in with his eyes as his tongue moved over his lips in an attempt to wet them. You could feel your cheeks heating up slightly as you just laid there admiring him marveling at you. "Beautiful" he breathed out before he made eye-contact with you again and smiled softly at you. His eyes held so much love and adoration for you, yet you did not miss the glint in his eyes and the way they darkened with lust and to be honest, you probably mirrored his expression perfectly. This time though, it was you pulling him into another heated kiss, the way you tugged at his hair had a low groan emitting from his throat. You grinned into the kiss when you felt him shudder underneath your fingertips which by now, had untied his robe and were gracing along his chest, every once in a while you would drag your fingernails across his delicate skin. When your hands moved to his shoulders to push the robe down his arms and off of him he smirked and helped you by shrugging it off "Eager, are we?" he teased as he pulled himself from the kiss. "Very" you smirked "Especially with a husband like mine"

"Oh? Please do tell me more about this husband of yours." there it was. The cocky smirk he loved to show. You grinned, rolling your eyes and you were about to playfully flick his head, but before you could do so, his lips had found your neck, sucking and biting on the skin there and eliciting a breathy moan from you in the process. "Does he please you?" he asked, by now tracing open mouthed kisses from your neck to your collarbone. "mmm~ Oh yes he does" your voice sounded sultry "In a way no one else can." By now, Draco had one hand on your breasts, fondling them softly. His mouth hovering over one of your nipples before sucking on it and when he released it again he started to blow on it. At this, your nipple perked up immediately and by the time you felt the fingers of his previously unoccupied hand ghosting over your clit you were a moaning mess.

"Would you look at that, you're already a complete mess and I have barely even touched you, my darling" the platinum blonde crawled back up to you, his breath fanning over your face. Gently he swiped a strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and giving you his sweetest, most loving smile. Even after countless years of marriage, this man could still make butterflies swarm your stomach with ease. You were like putty in his hands and he knew it. Oh he definitely knew. You flashed a bright smile back at him and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck again, pulling him closer to you in the process. Your breath hitched when the hand that had been toying and gently tracing figure eights on your bundle of nerves moved through your folds and stopped in front of your opening, tracing circles there now in order to tease you. You were unconsciously rolling your hips against his hand when he pressed his lips against yours again. The feeling of his hard-on pressing against your thigh became more prominent with each passing second. One hand left your husbands back and instead wandered downwards, lightly stroking his shaft, leaving Draco moaning into the kiss and soon you were gasping into the kiss as well, as you felt two of his fingers slowly enter you. "You are soaked, my love" he purred into your ear as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at an intense speed "all this, for me?" His voice turned you on even more as you laid panting and moaning underneath him "Uh-huh. All of it for you Draco" was all you could mange in your state.

"I need you" you whined, pushing his hand away and leaving your husband groaning in the process. "If that's what you desire my dear wife, then I shall not deny you your wish" More moans tumbled from your lips as you felt him aligning his cock with your entrance. He was peppering your face with kisses as he teased you with his tip, sliding it through your wet, glistening folds and lightly bumping against your clit. "Draco" you groaned and practically begged him "please"

"Please what (Y/n)?" he questioned as he slowly started pressing into you. A gasp left your mouth at the familiar and very pleasurable feeling of him stretching you out and you arched your back, trying to thrust your hips upwards "please fill me up and plant a baby in me." With that he kissed you and fully thrusted into you, all your moans swallowed by the kiss. Draco's thrusts were long, slow and deep, reaching spots within you that no one else could ever reach, not in the same way he did. Within minutes, he had you seeing stars as you laid sprawled out for him, your head thrown back onto the mattress of your shared, king sized bed. You were stunning to him and he could always watch you in this state. Your hair spread over the pillow, delicious moans, his name and some curse words, leaving your throat and the thin layer of sweat that covered both of you had you glistening and he was starstruck by the sight before his eyes. The love of his life, vulnerable, fully under his control and falling apart underneath him and all the while, completely trusting him. "Draco! mmm right there!" you called out and he followed your command, the speed of his rhythm picking up slightly, as he kept pounding into you with the same strength, repeatedly hitting the spot that made your sight go fuzzy "like that?"

Another moan "YES! Draco, I'm-I'm about to" you wrapped your legs around his hips and locked them there, allowing Draco to go even deeper as your walls fluttered around him seeing as you were on the brink of your orgasm "go on then, cum all over me" he moaned and pressed more open mouthed kisses against the skin of your neck. "Fuck (Y/n) I'm close" he groaned. You felt his breath hot against your neck as his thrusts became sloppier "Please Draco, fill me up all the way" you practically screamed as you came around him. Your words and the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him, had him toppling over the edge as well "(Y/n)!" he moaned your name out loudly as he came hard inside of you, coating your insides with his sperm.

There you laid together, trying to catch your breath, Draco still hovering over you. When he pulled out he made sure to push the overflowing remains of your mixed juices back inside of you. The feeling had you shuddering and squirming due to how sensitive you were. "Don't want any of this to go to waste, now do we?" he grinned.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Smut ends here

Your husband flopped down next to you and pulled you into his arms, where you immediately settled and snuggled into his side, your head on his shoulder. His fingers traced along your stomach gently as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head and just as he was about to speak up, the door to the bedroom burst open, leaving a distressed looking Scorpius in the middle of the room. The boy looked terrified as he tried to take in his surroundings "Scorpius? What's wrong, love?" You questioned in a soothing voice, while it did sound soothing you also sounded tired and completely exhausted. When your son finally looked up at you he ran to the bed and climbed onto it. He was looking for comfort in your arms and immediately clung onto you "shh. shh mommy and daddy are here" you hummed, wiping the fallen tears off his face "I thought you were hurt" the child spoke up, trying to calm down in your embrace. "Us? Hurt?" Your husband questioned. "uh-huh there were so many noises and then mommy screamed and-and then you shouted mummy's name and I-I thought you were attacked"

Draco's pale cheeks tinted pink and you felt heat rising to your face as well, while you desperately tried to hold back a laugh and judging by the other adult's face, he was holding one back as well. "Well as you can see, all is well. We're perfectly fine, but thank you for worrying so much about us" The four-year-old, seemed extremely relieved after hearing those news, but then he asked the question you were dreading to hear "What were you doing then?" "oh, um...well-" The platinum man cut you right off "We were playing a game, we didn't realize we were that loud buddy, sorry for waking you up" A breath of relief passed your lips. It was moments like these that you were thankful you married someone who could come up with excuses on the spot and sell them really well. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" the boy asked innocently. You giggled and ruffled his hair "well you're already here aren't you honey? I'll just get my nightgown first, okay darling? Then we can cuddle" A bright smile appeared on your son's face and he nodded his head in excitement. You got out of bed quickly to get dressed, your legs still a little shaky, your husband also joined in on getting dressed.

▪︎

▪︎

▪︎ When the three of you got situated in the bed again you smiled. Yes on the one hand, you would've liked a little more alone time with Draco, but on the other hand, you were lucky you had finished before the door burst open, it's not like that hadn't happened before.

It was nice to cuddle with your family and the thought of hopefully having another baby cuddling in bed with you some day, filled you with joy. You kissed the two goodnight and enjoyed the warmth and comfort you all shared. It had been an exhausting day and you would probably fall asleep as soon as your eyes closed.

▪︎

▪︎

▪︎

You were about to drift off to the world of dreams when you heard the youngest one speak up again "Can we play that game together next Sunday?"

At that your eyes shot open again. "NO!" the two of you exclaimed simultaneously. "Why no-" you cut him off right away "It's late Scorpius try to sleep okay?"

▪︎

▪︎

▪︎

Generally, Sunday nights were filled with cuddles and love. They were peaceful nights spent together. Nights where the world was quiet and calm. Nights where you often reflected on how far you've come already and where the future would take you. It had been a hard and long journey to reach this point of happiness in your life, you won't deny that, but it was absolutely worth it.

▪︎

▪︎

▪︎

Sundays at the Malfoy's were always nice and full of quality family time because Sundays were reserved solely for family.

Taglist: @dracomalfoys-wh0re @ateez-star @littlemissnoname13 @gwlvr @paulina1998

[stachehand]

Sonic Forces Positives Appreciation - Top 5

Okay, so, it's been 4 years since the PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Nintendo Switch and PC saw the release of what is, as of this writing, the latest mainline entry in the Sonic the Hedgehog video game series. A little mess of a game that couldn't named Sonic Forces.

We've all heard the complaints to death by now, i'm pretty sure. It's too short and light on content, the controls and level design are sloppy compared to the previous Boost-centric games, Unleashed, Colours and Generations, the story takes little advantage of the "Eggman rules the world" premise, which should've been treated like the huge deal it is, Infinite is an underwhelming new antagonist, Classic Sonic is just there to be sale bait, nothing more, and the extended cast of Sonic characters, while they do provide some radio chatter, don't really contribute much to the plot or the experience. Not to mention the horrendously deceptive advertising we got in it's pre-release period, and Eggman's boring portrayal.

In lieu of more detailed complaining and critiquing about this disappointing title, I can make a big post where we sit back, chill out and take some time to appreciate the Lights of Hope that also came with the package; the good among the bad that I believe is worth mentioning and remembering for years to come. Feel free to disagree, but hopefully you can enjoy this on some level anyway.

Here be Stache Hand the Clutcher, presenting 5 shining spots about Sonic Forces for Post #600!

1.

IDW Publishing's Sonic the Hedgehog comic book series!

This is what this post was originally going to be dedicated to, before I decided that it'd fit easily into a single entry here. I know, some of you may laugh at this because you think this comic utterly butchered the Sonic universe and has highly cringe-worthy dialogue. The way I see it, though, there's enough good with the bad that IDW Sonic does it for me personally. To get the blemishes out of the way quickly: Sonic's compassion to exaggerated to unreasonable lenience, Eggman's lunacy is misconstrued as idiocy, the Metal Virus arc has a painfully weak final act thanks to a hijacking scenario, the original villains, barring Doctor Starline and (currently) his Imposter creations, aren't very interesting, if i'm being honest, supporting characters act in ways that don't make sense sometimes, and they did Blaze's world dirty.

For all of those questionable qualities, there's plenty of bits in this comic line that i'm afraid are being overlooked nowadays. Early on, the entire Mr. Tinker thing was a pretty surprising development in more ways in one. Not only was it a preview of a world where the never-ending fight between Sonic and Eggman was finally over, but also one where the doctor lived a new life using his talents to benefit anthrokind. And it was legitimate, which made the status quo enforcement hit harder than it normally would in this franchise. While it was, of course, super rash of Sonic to let Metal Sonic go free, which only gave him the opportunity to complete his search for the doctor, just this once it felt like a natural end result, because as far as the situation seemed, a giant step to a new age of peace was within reach.

As far as character portrayals are concerned, most act as you'd expect. Tails, Amy, the Chaotix, Gemerl, Omega, Blaze, Silver and the Babylon Rogues are spot-on. Rouge's fondness of jewelery has gotten kind of bad, but otherwise she's fine, and Knuckles is okay aside from his apathy about consulting with his Resistance partners. And then we have the original heroes. Tangle the Lemur has such a sunny presence, taking in everything as a fun video game with an inevitable positive conclusion, you can't dislike her no matter how much trouble she winds up in. Belle the Tinkerer's not too bad, either. The idea of a Badnik with a warm, near-lifelike appearance to use to their advantage is adorable, and it's compelling to read about this lost child wanting to make friends and escape her association with a tyrannical supergenius.

And then, there's her. Whisper the Wolf. I love this gal so much. Not only is her design beautiful and her gimmick a clever expansion on the Wispon concept from Sonic Forces, but she's also a literal lone wolf with a pleasant personality and a very interesting backstory, with heavy drama to boot. While her archenemy is rather plain (and his appearance has "of course i'm a traitorus butthole" written all over it), he left a significant effect on the girl, and that truama, in my opinion, has been handled tactfully. She has ways of handling it going forward, but it's going to influence her decisions for a long, long time. She's been consistently smart and lovable through all of the directions the comic has taken. Yes, even with all the turmoil.

What else is there to mention? Continuity nods that show how the heroes have adapted to reocurring encounters with previously defeated enemies? The engaging teamwork action? The way the comic becomes more well-paced once Evan Stanley comes in and we get more small arcs? The way they recycle old ideas from the past games and make new challenges out of them? The small bits of symbolism here and there? Doctor Starline suddenly becoming a hilarious (though perhaps unintentional) representation of the rise of Sonic fandom material one-upping Sega's output?

Well, I don't want this entry to go on for too long. In short, Sonic Forces was a launch pad for a comic book with much to digest and enjoy (or pick apart relentlessly: because clown nose).

2.

Character customization!

Sonic Forces was the game that introduced the neat idea of adding a custom look to the player character. Well, in this case, the actual character avatar with a name of the player's choosing. It was such a neat idea that it carried over to Sonic the Hedgehog himself in the Sonic Colours remaster. You can choose from just about anything. Your headgear, your shirt, your gloves, your colours, your species, your voice, the works.

Even better, there was a selection of costumes based on other characters, as limited as they were. This is definitely the most notable inclusion in the entire game, because it feels like a natural addition that should be included in every future installment, original or remake. It may just be the biggest source of replay value.

Personally, I like a female magenta dog with purple gloves and boots and a blue bodysuit.

3.

Noice music!

Some folks may say this is one of the weaker OSTS in the Sonic series, but you never know when you may find a diamond in the rough. I don't think Forces' musical selection is devoid of gems worth listening to. I mean, Sunset Heights, Mortar Canyon, Metropolitan Highway, Egg Gate, the remixes of Zavok's battle theme and U.S. Stardust Speedway - Bad Future, the game's main theme, the tune accompanying the final boss' final form, the remixes in Episode Shadow, and the vocal songs, Fist Bump, Light of Hope and Infinite's theme are a flavourful set of ear candy that help this OST stand out amongst the rest spectacularly.

The Avatar stage themes also accomplish their job to telling the story of the Avatar's rise to glory. The Classic Sonic stage themes, while they could've benefitted from not going far into Genesis soundchip replication, the melodies are well constructed and fit with the desolate setting of the game.

If only the soundtrack didn't leave sour first impressions back in 2017, but what can you do?

4.

Metropolis reinterpreted!

Ah, Metropolis. The capital city of the Eggman Empire, if Eggmanland isn't standing proudly at the moment. Besides the character customization, this may be my favourite thing they added to the Sonic world through Forces. Even with the rest of the game having a brown and grey, apocalyptic aesthetic, they made this place a futuristic, chrome, bustling robot paradise armed to the teeth with weaponry and traps. This is just the kind of urban settlement I would expect Eggman to build and station his factories in. The guy's got an eye for design.

Looking at images of Forces' Metropolis, I just want Sonic and company to break the boundaries of the game design and explore this bright, busy, metal hellscape. It looks far more interesting than the dark, gloomy cities we've seen in past media, like SatAM and the OVA. Best of all, no sign of Asterons, Shellcrackers or Slicers.

Here's hoping we get another Eggman dystopia like this in a future game.

5.

Character justice!

Yeah yeah, we have Eggman being shockingly boring in a game about his global takeover, Infinite being so much less than what he could've been, and Tails cowering and crying out for Sonic, but for all of those, the character writing for the cast is quite spot-on, even with the odd localization decisions here and there by Ken Pontac and Warren Graff. Eitaro Toyoda and this Makoto Goya person, for the most part, have a grasp on who Sonic and company are supposed to be. The former has proven his understanding strong enough to write cover stories for the Japanese Sonic Channel website. Sonic, Amy, Knuckles, the Chaotix, Rouge, Silver and Shadow stay in-character and don't get caught up in pointless comedian routines.

I'll even admit, at least, that as subdued as Eggman's personality is in this game, he does show an intimidating amount of savviness and awareness that helps him pose a legitimate challenge to Sonic, so his ultimate defeat and humiliation feels all the more earned. You get the sense the years of rivalry have been paying off in spades.

Toyoda-san, I think you have the potential to do some more great character work in franchise entries yet to come, restoring the cast to it's former glory.

And that'll be all for this big post. I hope you've had a fun ride reminiscing of the good things that came out of this otherwise 'meh' game. If there are others I should also list, tell me what I missed, folks. Here be Stache Hand the Clutcher, i'm out and about!

[hopeamarsu]

Of potions and myths - Chapter 5

William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader

Word count 3,1k

Warnings: Some insecurities, some angst, a lot of talking, mention of child abandonment

A/N: It’s decision making time!

Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

The man leaves the living room after he’s given you the news, promising to return once you have had time to talk. He stresses that you don’t need to make the decision now, but the sooner you come to the conclusion, the sooner preparations can be made.

You sit next to Will when you are finally alone. The air is heavy and suffocating around you as you turn the words spoken to you in your mind. A lifetime of heartbreak or a lifetime with someone you barely know but are inexplicably drawn to? 

“It’s your decision.”

Will’s words, spoken again in a flat tone, cuts through the haze and you whip your head up to gape at him. He remains as he is, shoulders set and his whole body tight, eyes set forward and his mouth in a grim line. He looks like a soldier headed for war, his feelings and thoughts hidden behind an iron wall and it makes you ache for him. You draw strength from inside of yourself and grasp his hand into yours. 

“Our decision. This needs to come from us both, not just one of us. It’s both our souls, both our lives and both of us here, together.” You emphasize but don’t look at him as you speak, instead focusing on his hands and fingers, tracing them with your own. The pads of your fingers discover callouses, smooth spots and rough skin as you watch the tendrils appear, complimenting his skin tone and bathing it in golden and silver light. 

You want to explore all his skin this way, you realize. Spend hours upon hours just mapping it all out, discover all his wounds and kiss them better. Trace the scars and heal as many as you can, if only through kisses and caresses. All his sweet spots and points that make him tick. But to get there you’ll need to agree on this. 

“Sweetheart, if our views don’t match, I can never ask you to change your mind. So in the end, it is your decision.” He tries to be gentle, tries to not influence you, but it only makes you more agitated. 

“So you decide that for the both of us? You don’t even want to talk about it, just resign yourself to whatever fate I choose? How is that fair?” You can’t help it, your voice raises as anger bleeds into it. You drop his hand abruptly and rise to your feet, forcing Will to look at you alarmed. You start to pace the living room, your arms flailing around you as you vent.  

“If I choose the option you don’t want, it’s going to cause so much pain in either case. If you want this and I don’t, we’ll have to spend our lives looking over our shoulders so as not to see each other again and you’ll hate me because I have forced us into it. If I want this and you don’t, I will force you to be bound into me and it will cause so much heartbreak and it’s not fair. You’ll hate me and I don’t want that.” 

Your voice dwindles as does your anger, just as quickly as it rose. There’s no use in being angry, you just need to figure out how to move forward now. You stop your movements and sigh. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to gather your thoughts and leave all your confused emotions out of the equation.

“There is so much I don’t understand…” You mumble to yourself. Why did he growl at the elder, but not at Ben? What do the colors mean? What does a werewolf bond even mean, will you turn into one? Will the bite hurt? 

You shake your head to rid yourself of the rambling thoughts; those can be answered later, if needed. There is only one important question on the tip of your tongue, wanting to come out. 

“If you had to make the choice, which option would you get?” You ask, focusing your eyes into the wall behind the loveseat where Will sits. The rigid body of the soldier stays completely still as he ponders his words and you wait for him to answer. The hum of the connection jumps with every breath you take, your chests rising and falling in sync.

“I would choose you.”

The words come out slow, calculated and in an undertone, but you hear them clear as day. You chance a look at his blue eyes, the iron wall still high up behind them, so you cannot discern anything from them so you are left guessing. You feel like you are spinning as they buzz in your ear. His conviction in his words sounds ludacris after only a day of knowing one another. But also so right at the same time.  

“How do you know? Are you sure this isn’t just the connection talking?” You need to be sure.  

“Maybe it’s my wolf, maybe it’s the connection, I don’t know.” Will offers, holding out his hand for you to take. A beat passes and he starts to withdraw his hand, defeated. Quickly you spring into action and grasp it tight. You share a small smile as skin touches skin, feeling better and more calm already. He pulls you next to him again, but this time he turns so that your knees touch on the small couch and he keeps holding your hand, ignoring the tendrils for now. 

“But I do know this; when I’m with you, near you, I don’t want to leave. I want to be here with you, do all this with you. I don’t know if that’s love yet, but I do want to explore it and I want you to be mine. I felt it the second our eyes met at the pub.”

“Will, this is crazy! We’ve known each other for A DAY!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But I can’t help it and I don’t want to either. My wolf feels the same.” He takes your hand and places it on top of his heart. The thump-thump of his heart is rapid, so fast under your fingertips and you have the sudden urge to make it calm, soothe it out and make sure it doesn’t feel like this erratic ever again. 

“Do you feel that? I feel this way as I’m close to you and I wouldn’t change this feeling for anything. You make me feel alive and it's why I don’t think you are nothing. To me, you are everything. My wolf agrees and that’s why he wants to reach for you, be with you. Because of all this, I will always choose you.”    

He lifts your hand away from his chest and brings it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand softly. His lips feel soft and plump against your knuckles and you let out a happy sigh. As he releases it, your hand twitches because you want it back where it was, against the warmth and affection you felt. You refuse to call it love yet, but deep down you know it’s only a matter of time. 

You look at the man in front of you, taking in the beautiful eyes, the single second they flash into red and back to blue again. The lips you have felt on your own, the coarse hairs above them that tickles when he kisses you but causes shivers down your spine, and the sharpness of his nose, the regality it offers him. 

You glance at his forehead and mussed up blond hair, aching to mess it up further before venturing lower, cataloging the strong jaw and cropped beard, remembering how it felt on your skin as he kissed you in your kitchen and in here. How you think it would feel when he kisses you lower. 

You take in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder and it looks delectable. You would love to kiss him there, nibble and lick and suck until he’s a puddle of goo under you. 

You keep studying him, his words echoing in your mind as you try to come into a conclusion. As you do, you realize it was the only choice there ever really was. Your heart had been made up long before, your mind just needed to get there too.  

He waits patiently for your answer, though Will feels his nerves ramp up. This is it, this will determine his fate and he has just laid out all his cards and his heart at your feet. As the ticking clock provides the only soundtrack, he takes a deep breath through his nose, willing whatever deity is out there that you won’t crush it. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… He counts the seconds ticking by, growing more nervous as the number grows higher and you remain silent. Just as Will is about to speak, crush his own heart, your words come out. 

“Yes. Let’s do it. Let’s complete the bond and see where it takes us,” You say and Will cannot hold himself still any longer. He surges forward and claims your lips in a passionate kiss, pouring all his happiness and his desire into it. 

One of his hands grips the back of your head and neck, flattening his palm to keep you grounded to him and the other finds its place on your hip, kneading the flesh gently as he deepens the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

You quickly lose the sense of place and time as he kisses you, the power in it devouring you completely as you surrender to it. His mustache tickles your upper lip as he molds your mouths together and your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping it where you can and scratching your nails across his scalp.

 A deep rumble, a purr almost, leaves his chest as you hit a particularly good spot and he tugs you in closer, your legs slotting on either side of his legs when he pulls you into his lap. 

Will is nearly fully gone now, his mind fully focused on pulling sweet moans from your lips as he abandons your lips in favor of nibbling you jaw and neck, trailing an inferno behind him as he moves up and down, aiming higher until he kisses the spot just behind your ear that makes you shake in his arms. With a low chuckle, he comes up for air, murmuring sweet nothings onto your lips. 

“Will - gah, Will, we need to…” You tug on his hair, relishing the rumble that leaves his chest. As much as you wish to disappear into him and into this, the nagging feeling that you are in his brother's house keeps you somewhat coherent. 

“We need to do what, sweetheart?” The man has a voice made of honey and sin as he traces your collarbones with his tongue. You really do want to throw caution to the wind and complete the bond here and now, on this small loveseat that barely fits you both. “Pope…” You manage to gasp out, his teeth grazing on your shoulder makes you nearly black out. 

The single word seems to sober him up quickly and Will rips himself off your body, the red eyes wide and predatory as a reminder of just how far he had gone. “You’re right,” he pants, eyes tracking the saliva on your skin with hunger. 

He can feel the desire to bite just under the surface and as he touches his teeth with his tongue, he feels them already changed a little, becoming more pointed and sharp. It takes him a second to pull himself back before he winks at you.  

“Can’t have you thinking of other men while I have you on top of me.” The grin on his face is playful and wolfish. You match his grin and place your palm against his cheek, stroking it gently. He barely avoids nuzzling into it and purring, but only barely. It feels too good and his heart is elated that you want this as much as he does. 

“I can assure you, he was not in my mind because what you were doing wasn’t enough.”

“Mhmmm, but I wasn’t doing a good enough job if you can still think.”

“Behave,” You tease him gently as you untangle yourself, rising up from the couch and he follows eagerly, his huge paw finding the sliver of skin that has appeared with your wonky shirt. 

He traces his forefinger on it, teasing the waistband of your pants as he watches mesmerized the golden swirls that appear. He tries to follow one, but it seems to swirl away from him as others appear to mix in on the joyous dance.  

“Will?”

“Hmm?” 

“We still need to talk with the elders on how to move forward. And I suspect your brothers are anxiously waiting just outside,” you nod towards the front door, something he hasn’t even realized was closed firmly. He agrees but not before pulling you tight into his chest as he buries his face on the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent he’s already addicted to to ground himself. 

“Let’s do this.” He finally releases you, but keeps you tucked in as you step outside the house together. Will’s eyes immediately hone in on brothers; Benny sitting on the porch swing, Frankie leaning over the railing and Santi with his back against the wall. 

They all jump up when the door closes behind both of you and turn to face you. The two older men remain neutral but Will can see a grin trying to break its way free on Benny’s face as he looks at how close Will is keeping you. His little brother always did have a romantic streak in him. 

“We are going to try and complete the bond,” he tells them bluntly, not wanting to hide anything from them. Benny lets out a small ‘whoop’ and barrels into him, making Will lose his hold on you as he hugs him tight. You step away discreetly, allowing them to have their moment as Frankie sides up with you.

“Are congratulations in order then?” The tall man mumbles as he settles into an easy stance, arms crossed loosely and feet planted wide. His tone is mild but you can sense the underlying curiosity and slight worry over this.  

“Mhmm, we are going to try. We still don’t know all the details or even how hard it will be, so…” You let your voice die down, he’ll catch the drift you hope. He nods, keeping his eyes forward at the two brothers.

“We are brothers and a family, but those two are related by blood, so their bond runs a bit deeper. Benny is younger and Will’s always been the one he’s looked up to. Their mother, Mrs Miller, she - uuuuhhh - she left when the boys were young, I don’t think Benny was even three. Their father came to us and asked to join our pack, since their previous one kicked them out because of the sins of the mother.” 

Frankie takes a small pause, warmth in his eyes as he looks at the two blond men together. “My grandfather, who was one of the elders then, was the one to welcome them in and we’ve been tight ever since. Santi, Pope, joined not soon after and we all trickled into the military and Delta one after the other as we grew up. It’s always been us and always will be us together.”

“So that’s why he didn’t growl at Benny,” You murmur, mostly to yourself. Frankie nods, having heard your words and goes on to explain that a wolf will growl and snap at anyone who they deem a threat to family and loved ones, ultimately attacking to protect if needed. Within a family though, touching and closeness is encouraged. That’s why they are so physical with one another, he tells you. Actually, having the pack scent mark you at some point might be beneficial, the older man muses.

All this pack business thrusted against your brain produces a lot of good images and fantasies that your mind is spinning. It feels a little too much too fast, so you steer the conversation back into safer ground by looking fondly at Will nudging Benny on the shoulder in a playful manner. 

“He's very lucky to have all of you.” 

“We are lucky to have him. And all their family in fact, a lot of Millers joined our pack after them and expanded it. Hence why it’s called Miller-Morales pack now, even if it was originally just Morales pack. There are other families also, like the Garcia’s,” Frankie nods towards Pope, who has now joined his two brothers on the porch and the men are talking amongst themselves. 

“The name is because we are the two biggest families around and Morales being the founding family, but the duties and responsibilities are divided equally among everyone. Each family chooses an elder and all elders form the council to guarantee fairness and voice for all.” You did wonder about that and it makes so much sense as Frankie explains it all. It also gives you a sense of just how big the pack is, since there are six elders.

He startles you then by grasping your arm into his warm one for a second. He looks you deep in the eyes, keeping the connection as he speaks. “He might not say it, but I can already tell that this bond means everything to Will. He’s been through a lot, too much in fact, and we all want only the best for him. The man deserves nothing more than happiness. I hope you realize that.”

“I do.” You whisper softly, your heart beating harder in your chest at Frankie’s confession and slight challenge. It makes you grin that they are looking out for Will and while you didn’t expect to have the talk with one of his brothers, having Frankie do it makes perfect sense. With a soft smile, the man tips his ball cap in your direction and steps to slap Will in the back softly, joining the conversation.

You take the moment of silence and begin thumping through your phone, adding things into your notes so you can keep track of the questions still swirling in your mind. You need to get to your workstation, you decide, after the list grows in length. Who knows how long it will take the elders to gather all the needed information? And you can’t just sit tight and wait, you decide, your inner researcher excited about the prospect of digging into a mystery. 

“Will?” You hate to interrupt the boys talking animatedly with one another, but you know you have to. “How good are you with books?”

*

Of potions and myths taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess​ @luxmundee​ @innerpaperexpertcloud​

Everything taglist (I fully understand if you want to skip this one, please let me know and I’ll remove you!) @clydesducktape​ @wayward-rose​ @themuseic​ @miraclesabound​ @clydesfavoritegirl​ @a-true-janian-reply​  @10blurredsmoke10​  @caillea​ @mariesackler​ @princessxkenobi​

[wtfjd95]

Together As One; Part 3

If you wanna be tagged Inbox Me

@xxxtwilightaxelxxx @imnotasuperhero @rooskaya-yelena @swords-are-cool @drpepperobsessed @natasha-danvers @coollemonsaresour @moonlagh @the-camilucha @hello-mtf @darkangelxoxo @ledollarbean-em @username23345 @marvels-writings​ 

Part One | Masterlist | Part Two

A/N: SURPRISE UPDATE!!!! 

Sorry if it seems so crap towards the end. I was trying to get it as close to a decent end as possible for this part but with work consuming my time now that the lockdown in England is easing, I have less time to write and writers block is slowly appearing once more. I’m not too sure if i’ll have a part 4 & if I do, it probably won’t be for a long while.

I hope you all enjoy this either way. 

2 months. 2 long months you had been unconscious and Wanda was terrified. She’d spent several months looking for you, never giving up hope that she’d see you again and once she had, she vowed that she’d never leave your side only to have you blackout on the ride back with yet to wake. So here she sat by your bedside, day in and day out as she waited for you to wake.

“Someone should talk to her,” Steve said. He, Natasha & Clint stood outside your hospital room.

Through the small glass window of the door, the three could see the dried tear tracks on Wanda’s face. The young woman had barely left your side, only leaving at the start to shower and change her clothes before she returned to your side, your hand clasped tightly in both of hers, pressing a kiss there every so often as she hummed a quiet tune. Whether it was to keep herself calm or hoping to rouse you from your slumber, no one knew.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “Someone should.” Both men turned to face Natasha, who just sighed and ran a hand over her face.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” Natasha grunted moving towards the door. “Men,” she mumbled as she walked in. 

“Hey, any news?”

“None since yesterday.” Wanda answered, her voice huskier than normal from lack of use.

“Wanda, why don’t you go and get changed?” Natasha suggested, looking over the well-worn sweatpants and hoodie the younger woman wore. “Or maybe check in on Silver? I’m sure he misses you.”

“I’m not leaving Y/N alone,” Wanda mumbled against the skin of your hand. “I promised her I’m not leaving her side again once I found her and I won’t break that promise.” ‘Not now, not ever.’ She thought to herself.

“Wanda, I’ll stay and watch over her while you go and clean up.” The Russian suggested. “I promise to call you if anything changes.”

Looking up at your peaceful face, Wanda exhaled shakily, green eyes shining with tears before laying your hand back at your side and standing from her seat, knowing there was no chance in fighting the redhead. Quietly, she shuffled towards the head of the bed and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“I will be back soon, my love.” She uttered lovingly. “I promise you.” She pressed one final kiss to your lips before turning to Natasha. “You call me if she wakes up.”

“I promise.” Natasha vowed, looking at you before moving back to Wanda with a firm nod.

------------------------------------

Stepping out of the elevator and onto her- your shared floor of the compound, Wanda was greeted by a soft meow and the light patter of feet. 

“Hello, Silver.” She smiled, moving forward and picking the small animal up. “I’m sorry for leaving you with the team for a while,” the kitten revelled in the affection that Wanda gave him, purring softly as she ran her hand over his head. 

Once she’d felt that she gave the cat enough attention, she allowed him to settle on her shoulder as she made her way toward the bedroom.

Entering your room, Wanda sighed. She hasn’t been inside since your disappearance, opting to sleep in her old room or even on the couch at times when she was too in her thoughts. 

The thought of sleeping alone in your shared bed was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Something she’d found out within the first week of you missing. She wasn’t able to sleep without you beside her for her nightmares returned full force with a few new ones featuring you. 

She cast a glance over the framed pictures that lined the top of your dresser, a small smile appearing on her face as she recalled the memories that came with them.

Various team photos played in a slideshow on a fancy digital frame that Tony gifted you a while back; another held a pic of you, Nat & Clint, you had Clint in a headlock while Nat just stood off to the side with her head in her hands.

The last picture, however, Wanda adored. It was at the engagement party that Tony had ‘offered’ to throw you. It had been a fairly fancy party, she might point out.

You had dressed in a pair of your nicest slacks, a button-up white shirt with a charcoal grey waistcoat while she wore a figure-hugging deep red dress. Her fingers delicately tangled in the baby hairs at the base of your neck while yours rested on her waist, foreheads pressed against one another as you swayed softly to the music. Neither of you cared about the world around you as you did.

With a shuddering breath, she set Silver on the bed and wiped the tears from her face, before stepping into the bathroom.

--------------------

30 minutes later, Wanda was back at your bedside, freshly showered and changed with Silver curled up on her lap, a book levitating in red mist allowing her to run one hand along the kitten’s back, while the other held your hand, thumb running gentle circles on your knuckles. Besides the situation & beeping of the monitors attached to you, it was an almost peaceful silence.

“Y’know pets aren’t allowed in the medical wing, right?” Tony’s voice pulled Wanda from her thoughts, the young woman jumping slightly in response.

“He keeps me calm, you know that.” She told the billionaire, running a hand over Silver’s head, the kitten purring in content.

Tony was about to respond when the heart rate monitor you were connected to began to beep incessantly, Wanda’s grip on your hand tightening in fright. She listened to the rapidly increasing beep of your heart monitor with watery eyes. As Tony headed to the door calling for a doctor, when you suddenly shot up into a seated position, eyes snapping open and gasped for air.

“Y/N?” “Hey, kid?” Tony and Wanda chorused, trying to catch your attention.

Your eyes darted around the overly bright white room as your vision cleared, eventually landing on the two blurry figures at your bedside.

“Tony?” You wondered, lifting a hand to wipe at your face. “Wanda?” You blinked a few more times to make sure you weren’t seeing things.

“Detka? (baby?)” Wanda squeezed your hand cautiously, trying to get your attention.

“Wanda,” You mused. “Hi love. Is that my jumper?” She shrugged in response, tears falling from her eyes. “And who’s cat is that?”

-----------------------------

An hour later, the doctor in charge of your care had filled you in on all you needed to know medically. Tony had left to inform the team and Wanda had stayed to inform you on what had happened while you were unconscious.

“And this is Silver,” she told you. The small siamese purred contentedly as he lay curled in your lap, your hand running along his back. “He was a gift from Tony. Not long after…” As she trailed off, you knew that she was referring to your initial disappearance.

“Silver, huh?” You pondered, a soft smile on your face as your fingers scratched Silver’s chin. “Does that have any reference toward a certain blue-eyed, silver-haired speedster we know?” You questioned trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. “I mean, I can definitely see the resemblance.”

The pair of you continued catching up until the door to your private room (courtesy of Tony) opened and Nat, Steve, Clint & Sam all filed in. Natasha being the first to approach, pressing a kiss to your head before each of the guys gave you a careful side hug. 

You were catching up with Steve when you spotted the bag slung over Clint’s shoulder.

“We pull you in from the school run there, Clint?” You joked, the archer scoffing in response. “What’s with the backpack?”

Clint just scoffed in return and threw the backpack into your lap. “Very funny,” He said. “I stopped off with Nat and we grabbed your backup bag you keep ready for this kinda situation.”

“Thanks you guys” you nodded as you reached for the bag, pulling out a fresh shirt.

You moved to stand from the bed, only for you to fall into Wanda when you collapsed. A surprised gasp coming from Wanda as you ended up in her lap.

“I mean you already knew I fell for you but it doesn’t hurt to tell you again” You smirked, arms snaking around her neck, hers around your waist. The both of you leaned in, lips barely touching when the sound of someone clearing their throat caused you to pull away.

“Almost forgot we had company” Wanda mumbled hiding her face in your neck, colour creeping up her own from embarrassment.

“Right, out you guys please.” You waved your arm at them. “I need to get dressed and would like some time alone with my fiance.”

“Oh that reminds me,” Wanda said, removing her hands from your waist and up to the back of her neck.

You watched as she pulled a chain from under the neckline of the jumper, a brief sparkle catching your eyes as the fluorescent lights overhead caused the gem on your ring to sparkle.

“I thought I lost it” You mumbled. “How?” Wanda just smiled as you held your hand out for her to place the ring back on your finger, where the both of you wanted it to stay.

“Let’s just say Fury has his ways” The young redhead told you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

[author-morgan]

Hello, dear! Best wishes to you, I hope you are doing well. If you take any requests about m!Eivor, could you please write the story about how he saw in his dream (or Valka trip) a reader and fell inlove with them, but then met them in real life? A bit of magic never disturbs. ;D Thank you, I love your writing!

here you are! hope you enjoy and apologies for the wait! guest appearance by Havi!

m!Eivor x fem!Reader 

IT IS A rare thing when King of the Æsir comes to Fensalir of his own volition —leaving behind the golden hall and his score of warriors. He walks at the edge of the water through the tall grasses with Huginn resting on his shoulder and Muninn flying overhead. His gaze lingers ahead to a figure clothed in white, picking flowers and herbs. Frigg —a smile pulls at his lips— my queen. Huginn leaps into the sky when he pushes back his dark hood, stepping closer to where his heart and troubled mind have led him. 

“Havi,” you greet, having foreseen his arrival and the reason for it. Rising from the patch of white blooms —Baldr’s brow, you named them, after your beloved son— you brush the dirt from your hands and smooth down the front of your white gown. He stands before you as few have seen him, vulnerable and seeking guidance for a storm brews in the depths of his mind. The clouds gather, shadowing his clear blue gaze and giving him the countenance of a man walking the path to self-destruction. It is a look you do not like to see in any man, especially your husband. 

He does not explain his coming —long has the giant, Vafþrúðnir, dwelled in your husband’s mind for no other reason save the claim he is the wisest being in the nine realms. Taking Havi’s hand, you lead him to a bench at the edge of the fen-water, thinking of ways to dissuade him from a needless battle of strength or wit. You peer up at him from beneath your lashes, thumb running across his knuckles. “You are ever wise, husband–” Havi’s lips kink into a half-smile at the praise though it falters a moment later as you continue “–but Vafþrúðnir is the all the wiser.”

Two ravens with dark feathers shining like an oil slick in the pale sun come to perch —Huginn sits proudly on Havi’s shoulder, Muninn on yours. If it is only concern Havi has for the movement and dealings of the mighty Jötunn, then his ravens would suffice, but the look he wears is not one of mere concern. Muninn croaks at your ear as though he agrees with your thoughts. You reach up, stroking the feathers of Muninn’s underbelly. “Send Huginn or Muninn in your stead,” you supplicate, watching the crooked smile creep up onto his lips.

“Sweet Frigg,” Havi says, bemused by what he considers your concern, “you doubt me still.”

“Only because you do not see what is more than ten steps ahead of you until you arrive,” you admonish. Havi is wise in his own right, though at times, his temper tried to outweigh wisdom and reason. “You have your doubts,” you tell him with a soft smile, no other knew Havi as you did —sometimes he wonders if you know him better than he knows himself, and oft times the answer is yes, “else you would not visit my dwellings.” He looks away, shaking his head with a soft smile, unable to deny his wife and queen knew him well. You raise your hand to his scarred cheek, bringing his gaze back to you. “Go, dear Havi,” you breathe, “yet know I will not soothe your wounded pride.”

He rises from the bench, and you follow —both ravens leaping back into the watercolor sky. “When has my queen ever done so?” Havi steps closer, his rough hands cradling your face. You tilt your chin up, accepting a kiss as payment for your counsel. 

THE GOD OF Thunder and your step-son comes to Fensalir asking you to tend his father. Havi has been distraught for days after visiting with the Nornir, and Thor believes his beloved step-mother and queen are the only balm for such distress. You go to him in the twilight hours, finding him sitting atop the world with a distant and troubled look. He pays no mind to your approach, save moving to the left on his great throne to make room for you to sit. “What ails your mind, dear Havi?” You ask, sitting at his side —fingertips following the scar on his cheek, brushing through his close-cropped golden beard now tinged with the first kiss of silver. 

Havi turns his head, looking upon you in despair, but there is something else in his solemn gaze too —defeat. He pulls your hand from his cheek, thumb stroking the back of your palm. “Have you foreseen what the Nornir have?” 

Thor had not dispelled the reason behind the storm brewing within his father, but upon his question, you know what is troubling him —for the doom of the Æsir has plagued your thoughts and waking dreams. Though perhaps a worse fate lay ahead should you beget what visions fate had bestowed upon you. Havi is not one to accept his foretold ruin without first attempting to thwart the threads of fate. Information could be a dangerous thing. The difference between poison and medicine often lay within the dose. Sighing softly, you slip your hand free of his gentle grasp. 

“I cannot reveal what I have seen, nor am I privy what others have foreseen.” You lay your hand on his scarred cheek, bringing his gaze to you. The spark in your eyes gives him hope and eases his mind. Sweet Frigg, he thinks, ever the cure for my madness, my rock in a tempestuous sea. Havi covers your hand with his and leans toward you. The rough hair of his beard tickling your cheek before his lips brush against yours. “Have faith,” you breathe upon parting, resting your forehead against his. “Ragnarök shall not be our end.” It is a promise. 

“EIVOR!” WALLACE CRIES, helping his sister bring an injured woman into the longhouse of Ravensthorpe on a stormy night. He rouses from sleep and hastily puts on his tunic, greeting the hunters while rubbing his heavy eyes as they adjust to the dying firelight from the cook-fire and braziers. Eivor does not expect to see a woman supported between the siblings —head lolled forward with blood dripping from her arm and side. It takes him a moment to spur into action, but he takes Petra’s place and leads the injured woman to his chambers, helping her to the straw-and-rag stuffed mattress. 

Kneeling, he brushes aside the hair clinging her to face and freezes, eyes wide. “Frigg.” He breathes the name without a second thought and feels his heart clench. This woman is but a stranger, and yet a part of him has always known her. He is sure of it. Eivor presses his hand against the gash at her side and looks over his shoulder to Petra. It will take more than a cautery iron to heal this affliction. “Find Valka,” he tells the huntress. She nods, bolting from the longhouse as Wallace brings a basin of water and torn pieces of an old tunic. 

Valka comes with her poultices and cordials, kneeling bedside. As soon as she looks between Eivor and the injured woman, the Seer knows. Eivor Wolfsmal may be attempting to escape one knot in the tangled threads of fate, but he cannot run from them all. A bloody hour passes, but when the Seer takes her leave, she tells Eivor the woman will live, for the gods have smiled upon her, just as they smiled upon him. 

GROANING, YOU BEGIN to wake with a pang of hunger and thirst —the dull throbbing in your ribs is only a distant pain. The bed beneath you is soft, the wool and pelt blankets warm. The scent of cloudberries and honey linger in the air, reminders of a home no longer standing and a place you frequent in dreams. A rough hand curls around your wrist, jarring you into alertness, suddenly aware of the unfamiliar surroundings and the man sitting bedside in a disheveled tunic with partially unbound golden hair, hardly awake in the morning hours. “Havi?” You whisper. His is a face you know well —from his kind blue gaze to the scar on his cheek and the curve in a once-broken nose. 

He stares at you. He knows you. Eivor knows the curve of your lips, the gleam in your eyes, even the whisper of your voice. Sweet Frigg, his mind murmurs again and a strange feeling of relief overcomes him —as though a lifetime search has finally come to a close. “Eivor,” he corrects, ripping himself from the dream. Petra told him how they found you in the forest, stumbling away from the largest wolf either hunter ever seen. “They say you fended off a wolf on your own.” Spoken like that, it sounds a heroic deed —you left the beast for dead near a ravine, but the wolf had almost done the same to you. “What were you doing out in such a storm?” He asks, raising a tired brow. 

“Searching–” you sit up with a groan, holding onto your linen-bound side “–for home.” One of his hands covers yours, the other pressing against your lower back. Beholding Eivor, though, you realize your search has ended —you do not know him, but the feeling in your gut and the lightness of your heart in his presence tells you this is home. Dear Havi. Dreams and fate have led you here for a purpose. 

Eyes darting over Eivor’s features, you smile, offering your name. He repeats it, lips kinked. Your name is just as sweet on his lips as Frigg’s, if not sweeter. A moment passes, the silence hanging in the early morning air broken by the low croak of a raven perched in the rafters above your resting bed. Eivor glances up at Sýnin —the raven can sense something too. “You can stay here,” he notes, softly and without hesitance. “Ravensthorpe can be your home.” 

The generous offer makes your heart clench and brings tears welling up in your eyes. He smiles, and now you are certain your searches have finally ended. You pull your hand away from your side and Eivor’s hand, lifting it to his scarred cheek as you’ve done hundreds of times in dreams. Unwittingly, he leans into the touch —he’s done this before, and he recognizes the gentle caress of your thumb as it runs over the jagged scar. Eivor sighs  —all of this and you are familiar. 

Driven by memory, he rises to his knees, seeking your lips with his own. The tickle of his beard on your jaw and cheek is a warning, but you do not shy away —you’ve known him for a hundred lifetimes, and this is only a reunion. Eivor’s lips move against yours, both his arms loosely sliding around your waist. You smile against his lips, fingers combing through his golden beard. There are no sparks, for there is already a deep flame kindled between you both —one that cannot be extinguished in this life or the next. The threads of fate come together, and two halves are made whole. 

[taglist:  @kvitravn @vanillabeanlattes @nemo-my-name-forevermore  @withered-poppies @ananriel @britishhotassassin @maximalblaze @khaoskrossed @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelaen @dynamicorbit @itseivwhore ] if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[valleyfthdolls]

What were the others doing during the 6 months that Sonic was being tortured?

That was during Sonic Forces, when Eggman used the power of an artificially created reality-bending gem affixed to the subject of an experiment he’d performed to try to take over the world. Sonic tried to stop Eggman and Infinite- the one with the gem affixed to him- early on, but due to Infinite’s reality-bending powers, he was utterly helpless and got his ass handed to him before being taken as a prisoner of war. (<- all of this is main series canon btw. I just rewrote it to be more interesting from this point on.)

As I’ve covered G.U.N is utterly shit, and they really only worsen the violence and turn this attempt at gaining power into a full-blown war, because they’re fucking GUN and of course they do. But I guess I dunno what the fuck else they would’ve done.

Anyways, as for the others, they’re just trying to make it through. They honest to god have no idea what Sonic is going through, they’re just trying to hold out.

Their small resistance consists of Knuckles, Amy, Rouge, Silver, the Chaotix, Blaze, Marine, Tangle and Whisper, and a few others. It’s a small team just trying to survive and protect the Earth in the midst of the war. Tails is completely MIA, no one knows where he is. He reappears three months in at the town square where Sonic was captured, and something about his presence and Infinite’s reality bending causes a rift in the fabric of reality, causing the appearance of a younger Sonic, the age Tails had met him, and the age Tails has still seen him as even as they’ve grown up. This also happens when the small group trying to make it through decides they’re going to take action and stop Eggman, forming a small resistance whose symbol- an emblem of a sort of shooting star- becomes a sort of punk symbol of rebellion and fighting for freedom.

Shadow has separated himself from the resistance and is acting on his own, driven by a desperation to destroy Infinite and Eggman and rescue Sonic. He knows that Infinite is trying to prove his superiority over Shadow and get under his skin by taking Sonic, and the most infuriating part is that it’s fucking working. Shadow wouldn’t ever admit it, but he’s genuinely terrified for Sonic and would never forgive himself if something happened to him.

Shadow is in contact with Rouge, who’s working for the resistance as a spy like she used to be for GUN, and she helps infiltrate the security system at Eggman’s base to figure out if Sonic is alive and what’s going on, and she’s the one who finds out Sonic is being tortured, and has been for the past six months.

Rouge tells Knuckles, the leader of the resistance, what’s happening to Sonic, and Knuckles tells the rest of the resistance do that someone can go rescue him. I imagine it would be the Chaotix for some reason- or at least Vector and Espio given that Charmy is literally 6 years old.

Only once Sonic is safe do Shadow and Tails reappear, plus the space-time-rift younger Sonic, but this is actually what causes Shadow and Sonic’s relationship to become so difficult. Despite the emotional wall he puts up to ensure he doesn’t get attached and hurt again, Shadow is in love with Sonic, and getting attached and hurt is exactly what happened. Sonic, refusing to let down his own walls, pretends he’s fine and refuses to admit any semblance of vulnerability or weakness, which infuriates Shadow, who wants to make sure Sonic is safe no matter the cost. Shadow gets angry and berates him for his recklessness often, unable to just admit that he cares and feels like this is his fault.

The thing is, Rouge omitted most of the details of Sonic’s torture to Knuckles, who said nothing more to the resistance than that Sonic was tortured. But Shadow actively sought out the recordings from Eggman’s surveillance system that Rouge had seen, despite her warnings. He knows better than almost all of the resistance combined what Sonic went through while they were focused on just trying to make it through the war-torn mess that had become their daily life with no idea that he was still alive, let alone being put through this.

[legolaslovely]

A Dwarf and His Fairy

A/N: Here it is! The Fíli x Fairy piece I've been working on! This piece taught me a LOT! About editing, plotting, character work, etc., and though it's not perfect, I'm still really proud of it and happy with it. Thanks to all who supported me with this one. I hope you enjoy it :)

Pairing: Fíli x Ivy (my fairy OC)

Word Count: 3,780

Warnings: None!

Summary: Even Fíli needs someone to remind him that self-care is a requirement, and not a reward. Good thing he has a somewhat relentless, but very loving fairy friend to remind him.

Fíli slid the book away in defeat. It was as heavy as stone and full of numbers and dates and plans and problems. Even as the wicked pages turned by, they let out a nasty hiss and the scratchy old leather cover whipped around with a solid, successful splat, fighting Fíli until it’s last breath.

Once it was done, his surrender official, Fíli’s head fell into his hands and he groaned, making one of the last candles in his chambers flicker in his breath. Truthfully, the nub of wax, short wick, and tiny flame was barely a candle at all. It hardly resembled the tall, radiant torch it had previously been. But it wasn’t alone. Similarly, as the night went on, Fíli’s resolve had melted away and his shoulders warped and rounded like hot wax until there was very little light to give.

All because of that damned book.

       “I need a break,” he said to no one but the silver platter of untouched goodies sitting on the corner of his desk. There was a small, shining jug of sweet milk, a tiny jar of honey with a miniscule spoon to match and a delicate bowl of crumbling honey cakes. It was all left waiting, as was Fíli.

He stared at the treats and swore he saw them move. But he dismissed it, ascribing it to fatigue, and closed his eyes, leaning his heavy chin on his wrist.

Then something struck him.

It was a scent he’d long been familiar with. Despite its peculiarity, he could always pinpoint its source from the first time he witnessed it and matched it with its meaning. This was the smell of magic- frozen as fresh winter frost and balmy as sun bathed flower petals- and it effortlessly roused him from his near nap and provoked him to sit up straight and search the room.

At first, he saw nothing, though he did recognize the swishing sound of her clothes rushing through the air. Every spent candle in his chambers now roared to life with new flame and an endless wick. The room glowed as if it was midday, not only with candlelight, but with the hope and warmth of company.

       “Oh, my friend,” Fíli said. “Make yourself known to me. I’ve longed to see you again.”

She stopped, showing herself just below the ceiling in front of the desk. With a smile, she gracefully and silently descended, relaxing her wings and letting them sway through the air rather than furiously flap. When she found her place before Fíli’s eyes, however, the four little wings revolved again in a blur of speed in her otherwise still, hovering flight.

       “Hello, my dear,” he said, holding out a horizontal finger for her to perch on if by chance she was tired from her journey, or simply wanted to be near him.

She only smiled and took his hospitality. Even when her bare feet landed on his knuckle, Fíli barely felt her touch. Though he hadn’t seen her in some weeks and though they’d met decades ago, she still looked the same to him, as if time would never disturb her.

His fairy’s name was Ivy. She was almost as tall as his hand from wrist to fingertip, and she had long waving hair as dark as a winter night’s sky. The dress she wore was sturdy despite its fabric of light leaves and soft petals. Fíli had no doubt her clothing was made of the same flower whence she came. It was the legend, after all, though she herself never told him so. Instead, it was his fascination and, one could even say infatuation, that spurred on his research.

No matter where she was or what she was doing, his little fairy friend always appeared to glow. Fíli didn’t believe it to be magic or the pollen on her dress or the shine on her wings. He thought it was simply her essence that glowed and shone like a piece of a star drifting from its flight for his own sake and pleasure.

She was a pleasure. And she had been missed.

       “Where have you been?” Fíli asked. It wasn’t accusatory or disappointed or cruel. He just wondered. “Tell me of your travels.”

She sat down on him and squeezed his finger with hers, like tangled blades of grass, as if she knew how much he missed traveling himself. Like she knew of that feeling deep down in his bones that defied his kind and his duties, begging and pulling at him to wander and explore.

Still, the bundle of joy that she was, she didn’t dwell or dawdle, but showed him where she’d been, using pictures in lieu of words so he could see these places himself.

The visions flew up behind her head and revealed scenes that were so clear, it was as if Fíli was simply looking through a window and out into the most mystifying bits of the world. He could smell the warm wind that blew through tall grass on the hills and could hear the gurgling of stream water. He recognized the soft, wet, moss-ridden floor of Fangorn Forest and when he asked his fairy what she’d been doing there, she showed him the fresh green leaves of saplings. Her memories unveiled the fairies’ gifts of hardy seeds and fresh water, along with magic, but not artificial sunlight.

       “You helped them grow,” Fíli said, astonished at the ability and yet, not surprised at his friend’s generous deeds.

Ivy smiled and another scene flashed above her head. This one sent real spray into Fíli’s face that knocked him back into his chair with an indignant cry.

Her feet kicked through the air as she laid back and laughed, making the sound of a small bell ringing in the distance. It was the only sound Fíli ever heard from her and upon hearing it, he instantly forgave her antics.

       “What was that?” he asked, voice left high from his surprised yelp.

It only made her giggle more and even louder, like the bell was soaring closer to Fíli’s ears. With a hand over her belly, she leaned back again and in her entertainment, slid right off Fíli’s finger.

       “Hey there, careful!” Fíli chided, grinning all the way. He caught her, sitting her in his palm to avoid another slip. When she calmed and settled in the cushiony pillow of his hand, he said, “I should have let you tumble for that trick!” He winked. “But then again, you would have flapped your wings before you hit the ground, hm?” She narrowed her eyes at him, but it was fruitless. She giggled again and pointed at him with a shaking finger.

       “You’re right,” he said. “I would never let you fall.”

At that, she turned fully pink. Not just the round of her cheeks or the tips of her pointed ears, but completely pink- wings and all. Fíli loved it when she did that, especially when he was the reason for it.

The bright shade only lasted for a moment, however, and she quickly brushed her hair off her shoulder, pushing the locks down her back, and brought Fíli’s attention back to the scene that had splashed him. With a flick of her finger, she showed him more, uncovering a waterfall that was so tall, it could have reached the parapets of the mountain of Erebor. The water that flowed off the cliff and into the serene lake was as blue as the summer sky and framed with the deep green clouds of the hanging trees and stout bushes near its edges. The bright sunlight left specks of glitter in the fall’s foam and a radiant ribbon through the water’s center that was so blinding, Fíli had to squint hard until the vision moved and gave him a new, less glaring view.

       “It’s so beautiful,” he said.

She let him admire the scene for a long, generous moment before taking him along the trails hidden in the connecting forest to show him its exact location. The exploration was all done through the window of the vision.

       “I know where that is,” he said. “It’s not too far from here, close enough where you and I could sneak away. It seems I’m not the only one who could use a break from my duties.”

The fairy smiled and nodded, hair waving against Fíli’s palm and tickling him. In her eagerness, the shining curtain parted and one stubborn lock fell in her eyes. That rogue twist of hair was something that teased her often, but if it was an imperfection, it was one that only endeared her to Fíli all the more.

Before she could right the tendril herself, Fíli lifted his hand, brushing his fingertip very carefully over her small cheek and pushing her feather soft hair over her shoulder. He let his finger settle against her neck, but she grabbed him in a hurry, pulling him off of her skin, yet still keeping him close to her.

Before he could answer, her entire body shivered and shook and she pouted at him. Then she turned away. As if shaking water from her fingers, her hand flicked to the dark fireplace in the corner of Fíli’s chambers and she built him a fire flame by flame.

She felt that he was cold.

He laughed, immeasurably relieved that was all. He immediately stopped her waving arm.

       “I’ll make a fire. Don’t tire yourself over me, I’ll do it myself.”

She frowned at him, gravely shaking her head as he crossed the room.

       “Don’t give me that look! You know dwarves don’t feel the cold as you do. It’s not like I would let myself freeze over.”

She flew around him, waving over the stone cold bricks to warm them. Then she stopped in front of his eyes with a very unimpressed glare.

       “All right, all right. Thank you for the reminder.”

Then she smiled, wriggled, and flew back to where he’d been sitting.

As he took the firewood from its rack and stacked the logs just so, he checked over his shoulder to assure himself that she hadn’t left in a flurry. But there she was, legs dangling and swinging from her spot on the right arm of his chair.

After singeing a part of his sleeve on the flame she’d ignited for him, he turned back to his work and said, “I’ve missed you, you know,” throwing out the confession before he lost his nerve. “But I knew you must have been busy. Fairies never seem to stop and rest, especially you. Not even for the honey cakes I’ve set out for you every night for the past weeks.”

He finally peeked over his shoulder and chuckled at her wide eyes.

She pointed to herself in question.

       “Yes, they’re for you! I don’t know anyone else who garnishes their honey cakes with even more honey and then finishes them off with sweet milk. Do you?”

He expected a funny little glare from her, but didn’t receive any such thing. She was too grateful, too excited about her treats. She flew around them, as if deciding which one she wanted to indulge in first.

Once the fire was crackling, Fíli returned to his desk chair. He poured the small jug of milk into an even tinier cup for her- one that he’d had made special by the potter at the market. He’d felt the looks burning his back when he purchased it at the stall, but those and the extra work had all been worth it when his fairy first saw it. Specially made for her. And her sweet milk.

       “There’s more where those came from so go ahead and enjoy,” Fíli said.

With two straining hands and trembling arms, she held out an entire honey cake and offered it to him. Only to save her strength, Fíli took it with thanks, and so as not to offend her, he took a bite when she did. As her small piece left her eyes rolling closed as only a delicious delicacy would, the other half of Fíli’s cake crumbled in his fingers as the sweetness dissolved on his tongue.

       “Do you like them?” Fíli asked after a gulp.

In answer, Ivy burst into the air, twirling and spinning, sparkles and glowing fragments of pure joy following her flight. She flew in front of him and nodded.

Then suddenly, she laughed at him.

Before Fíli could lift a finger, she came close to him and her cool hands, like little raindrops, cleaned the mess of cake crumbles from his chin. He was amazed, she didn’t seem to mind the coarse hair of his beard on her delicate fingers. Not at all. In fact, if he could hazard a guess, he would have thought she lingered closeby, touching him, for longer than necessary. Unfortunately, she caught herself. Giving a funny salute, she flew back to her spot on the edge of the silver treat tray. Even when she dipped the next small chunk of cake into the jar of honey, her bite stayed intact all the way from the platter to her mouth. It must have been magic, Fíli thought.

       “I think these are extra tasty tonight,” he said, popping the rest of his piece past his lips. Then he leaned down to her. “But very short. Care to help me with these crumbs?” he asked, wriggling his scrunched mouth.

In a blink, she flushed pink from her tiny toes to her forehead. But she laughed and tugged on the braided mustache that swung closest to her.

       “Fine! I’ll do it myself,” he joked, enjoying her ringing giggle.

After a neat little swig of sweet milk, Ivy rose from her seat, holding her belly.

       “All finished?”

She shook her head violently.

       “Just a break then? Good. They’d call for a medic if we sent even a crumb back down to the kitchens. They all know no tray of sweets has ever survived the two of us.”

She glowed and left her spot next to the cakes. As always, she effortlessly identified the most recent bane of Fíli’s existence. It made him wonder if it was Ivy’s magic that helped her do it, or if it was simply a freakish skill. Either way, the moment she left the platter, she headed for the leather bound book Fíli had discarded before her arrival. She tapped the binding with her toe, questioning. But Fíli knew she’d seen it before and the little thing was fishing for a confession.

He also knew he’d been caught.

       “I was just putting it away for the night.”

She sent a glare his way whose meaning was as clear as if the letters were written across her round little nose: Liar.

In truth, Fíli had forgotten all about the book and its contents the moment his fairy made her presence known. It was mystical how quickly his mind moved from hopelessness and exhaustion to joy and wonder whenever Ivy was near. He often asked himself if he had the same effect on her, but had yet to gather the courage to ask.

Her peculiar movement pulled him from his thoughts. She’d squatted down like a dwarf about to lift a cart brimming with stone and with all her might, lifted the book’s heavy leather cover. Then with silent, bare feet, she walked over the title page until she’d flipped the book open.

       “Excuse me,” Fíli said with mock offense. “There are trade secrets in this book, you know. For no one’s view but my own.”

She rolled her eyes at him and lifted her finger, pointing to the end of the ribbon bookmark. She twirled her wrist and the light shooting out from under her tidy fingernails sent the pages whipping by as if caught in a windstorm. A moment later, the pages fell flat.

The place left open was riddled with smear marks and ink blotches, scrawled notes and words that had been crossed out with enough force to scratch the next few pages.

Her eyebrow crooked like the roof of a village house, accusing Fíli of the mess.

       “Ruling a kingdom isn’t easy,” he explained with a shrug. “Things get a little… untidy.”

Ivy’s lip quirked and she leaned down to skim her hand across the page under her feet. A rippling wave of fresh magic traveled across the paper from Ivy’s toes out to the corner edges, continuing through the air until it hit Fíli’s nose- that light, unique scent he’d always associated with his fairy. It immediately relaxed him, giving him peace wherever the information hidden in that book stole it away.

When the wave cleared, Fíli saw that his entries were organized anew. The spills and blots had vanished, leaving only what he’d intended in their place. Even his notes were left in the margins, now neat and crisp, with not a thought lost. But Ivy’s work hadn’t stopped at one page. Every section was free of crimps or bends, the cover was dusted and the binding was flawlessly refinished all in one singular moment.

It was astonishing.

       “Oh, Ive,” Fíli said, sighing out the rarely used nickname he had for her. From where he stood, he could see the pages were now smooth and soft as silk and he couldn’t help but touch them, running his comparatively rough fingertips over the center of the open book where the pages met. He took a corner and flipped through the last sheets, listening to the soft flaps that rang through the room- a noise that reminded him of the sound of Ivy’s rustling wings flying toward him. This torturous book was now bright and clean with a fairy’s mark.

The best part, however, was the scent left behind, pooling in its pores- that of magic, of his friend, of her belief in him.

Fíli held out his hand and Ivy flew to it.

       “I don’t think I’ll mind this work as much anymore. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

She bowed, flashing her petal skirt with a flourish.

Just as Fíli reached for the neatened pages again, Ivy snapped the book closed with a turn of her wrist, almost trapping his hand inside.

       “Hey!” he laughed, startled from his daze. “I wanted to admire your handiwork!”

Once over her giggles, she planted her fists on her hips and with a demanding stare, pointed to the empty spot in the shelf where the hardcover belonged overnight. A stomp of her foot practically shouted: NOW.

       “All right! I’m putting it away.” He let Ivy dismount onto the silver cake platter and did as he was told, with a dwarfling’s grin wide on his lips. When he’d tucked the book into place, Fíli ran a finger down the soft, faultless binding with a whistle.

       “A craft any dwarf would be proud of.”

When he looked over his shoulder Ivy was watching him- carefully and contently admiring him. Even romantically, if Fíli was brave enough to use the word.

While he had her undivided attention, he winked at her, just as a tease to make her flood that pretty shade of pink. As a retort, she stole a sweet cake from his side of the platter and took a violent bite.

With a chuckle, Fíli plopped into his chair and watched her as he felt the exhaustion sneak into his stubborn muscles and his overstretched mind. He still had a sliver of energy, however, to wonder if his fairy’s glow had grown more intense after this time spent together. He could see it in her eyes. Though they were as dark as fertile soil, they were round and shining in the tireless candlelight she brought to the chambers. And now as she watched him, they were fearless in their gaze and brimming with affection in their softness.

Yet, despite it all, Fíli knew they were both aware that their visit couldn’t last much longer.

She rose and brushed the non existent crumbs from the purple petals of her dress, letting her wings flutter to life.

Fíli straightened in a rush at her movement, saying exactly what had been on his mind in a soft, sleepy voice. “I will never know how you always find a way to comfort me. Somehow, you’ve done it again, my friend. Thank you.”

She beamed, her smile like a crescent moon flipped on its side in the night.

       “Will you visit me again?” Fíli asked.

She nodded.

He leaned to her, taking her tiny hand between his thumb and forefinger. “Please don’t let too much time pass before you do.”

Her beating wings stuttered for a moment and her luminous aureola dimmed. Her twinge of sadness squeezed Fíli’s heart, strangling it like a thirsty vine, and he wished he’d never spoken so selfishly. But before he could take his words back, she fluttered up to his face and placed a feather light kiss on his cheek as her goodbye. Then she smiled, eyes brimming with clear sparkle and so many words unspoken.

With a wave of her hand, she beckoned him to follow her lead across the room. As she did at the end of every visit, she flew in neat ringlets through the air above his bed, dropping warmth, rest, and peace into the furs in the form of glistening sparkles like fresh pollen from her own flora. This ritual of theirs left magic on Fíli’s pillow for days to come. It would give him restful sleep, even with the weight of his kingdom on his shoulders. Her magic even seemed to quell the loneliness that often pulled at his heart. She always left a piece of herself with him.

       “You are far too kind to me, Ive,” Fíli said to her, standing next to the bed, close to her one last time before her departure. “Too generous-”

The blankets below him flew up and covered his head in a magical swoop. A fairy’s doing.

       “Fine! No more compliments!” Fíli cried, untangling himself. “But how am I not to, when you-”

With the covers back where they belonged, he was free to look around the room. The empty room. She’d gone.

In his defeated search for her, he found a gift left for him on his bedside table. A billowing purple flower with feather-like petals reminiscent of her dress sat in the now dim candle light. Curled around the deep green stem was a note that he fumbled to open with his round fingertips. When he pulled it flat, that same scent- the scent of magic, of his fairy- flew to his nose in a flurry and a message was illuminated.

Soon.

***

Taglist: @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics  @fire-flv @nerdbirdsworld @dashesofink @winchesterandpie @tumblinglringlring  @specialagentsnark  @karlthecat15722 @sagabriar @marymegger @aidan-kili-mitchell-forever  @cassiabaggins @guardianofrivendell @lathalea @laurfilijames  @moniamoure @dark-angel-is-back @burningcoffeetimetravel @justfollowtheroad @vem-vem-writes @animallover81 @luckyluckyjesse

[romirola]

Um hi can I get “I can’t say no to you, and it’s just not fair” for Vincent and Lovely?

Hi, at @riathepinkie and Anon! Yes, Vincent/Lovely have been appearing in my inbox often lately! Second only (I think) to David/Angel. Thank you both for your requests. Hope you enjoy!

Inversion Spoilers Below!

Rating: , WC: ~1K, Prompts: “I can’t say no to you, and it’s just not fair,” “Will you stop crying so I can kiss you already?”, and Vincent/Lovely

“No, no!” Vincent shouted, twisting himself up in the sheets of the bed. “Lovely?” he mumbled into the pillow. “Do it, just do it!” He made a move to launch himself upwards, but the sheets prevented him from getting very far. Vincent kicked out, panicked and desperate, which only served to tangle him up more. “No, Lovely, no! Get off of them!”

Something grabbed at his shoulders and he instinctively fought. “No, no, no!” he called out. “Lovely!”

His silver eyes flew open to reveal Lovely’s face inches away from his own. He panted, still half-entrenched in that awful stadium, fighting a gang of shades who had attacked him only to turn onto his partner once they intervened. Everything had happened so fast, too fast even for Vincent’s vampire-reflexes. One minute he was trapped by a shade, calling to Lovely for help and the next, the shade had nearly finished draining Lovely of their life force.

They saved him, and in return, he turned them.

“Vincent?” Lovely asked again, though it was only the first time Vincent heard them. “It’s alright now. That was just a nightmare,” they soothed, strong and steady. “You with me Vincent?” They worked methodically to free Vincent’s arms and legs from the white sheets.

As soon as he was able, Vincent reached out to touch their face, the warmth he had gotten used to feeling after their years together suddenly absent. “Always,” he breathed. And it was true. They were his light in the darkness. His treasure that made immortal life worth living. His anchor, his rock, his partner.

And now, his progeny.

The thought slammed into him like a gust of wind that knocked him down and stole his breath.

Lovely gently hummed, kissing him where his eyebrows pushed together into a divot along his forehead. “There you are,” Lovely praised. “It wasn’t real, Vincent. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

Vincent was taken back when he felt a few tears drop along his pointed cheek. “I… I…” Instead of starving off the crying like he thought speaking would do, it fueled them. Vincent began sobbing unabashedly. “Lovely,” he mumbled sadly. “It was… I…” His chin dipped low, like he was embarrassed to admit what he was about to say. “You died. I couldn’t stop them. You died. And I watched.” He gasped for more air. “You saved me and you died.”

“Oh, Vincent, Vincent,” Lovely shushed, curling around Vincent to keep him in the present. “That was a nightmare. Your mind’s playing tricks on you,” they assured him. “I’m right here, see?” For good measure, they lightly tapped two knuckles onto Vincent’s skull. “You saved me that day.”

“No,” he protested through tears. “You saved me. And I turned you.”

Lovely shrugged. “Same diff,” they smirked, though they knew what Vincent was getting at. He had regretted that their turning had to happen under pressure, without the dialogue and discussion that he always imagined would have taken place sometime in the future. There was supposed to be time. Space. Growth. Maybe he wouldn’t have even been their maker, if they had the chance to plan.

But he and Lovely had all that possibility stolen away from them in an instant. And now, they were left to deal with the consequences as best they could, together. Lovely was dealing well with the bloodlust, though they still had their share of understandable fits. And while they grieved the loss of their latent, energetic powers they had only just begun to perfect, they know they would’ve missed Vincent more if they hadn’t intervened with that shade they way they did. They understand that a generous, sensitive man such as Vincent would feel guilty over why they had been turned, but they made a vow to themselves never to allow him to stew in that guilt for long.

“You turned me, which saved me,” they corrected, wiping away the tears that ran like rivers along Vincent’s face.

“I know, I know,” Vincent sighed. “At least, I know that in my head. But my heart…” A smile cracked through Vincent’s deep frown. “There are so many ways I’ve imagined it happening, Lovely, but that was never one of them. I feel like I stole your powers from you. I feel like I stole your life from you. Was it selfish of me to ask you to do that in those circumstances? Was it selfish of me to put off that conversation?” He swiped at his eyes as his vision blurred. “I spend hours thinking about those questions, and a million other questions.” He spoke the confession softly. “And then, after I exhaust myself with those thoughts, I close my eyes and see you die!” A sob tore at his throat as a residual image of Lovely’s attack flashed in his mind. “And in my nightmares, I can’t help you! I just watch as they drain you away.

Lovely hushed Vincent, hopeful that the rhythm of their hand running along his spine would help quiet him. “Hear that?” they encouraged. “You said it yourself, Vincent. You helped me by turning me. I said I wanted to be with you forever, and I meant it. Yeah, maybe the turning didn’t happen under perfect circumstances, but…” They shrugged. “Few do, according to you. But never, ever think you took advantage of the situation or pushed me into a life I didn’t want.” They framed his face with their fingers splayed out around his face and neck. “I love you, Vincent. I want to be with you. I, I need to be with you,” they said honestly. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted, because you gave me an eternal life with you.”

“I love you, too,” Vincent squeaked out through tears. The smile that spread across his face signalled to Lovely that those tears were now from happiness and relief, rather than fear and guilt.

“Vincent,” they crooned into his ear. “Vincent, ummm…” They giggled, their own lashes becoming a little bit wet. “Will you stop crying so I can kiss you already?”

Vincent sucked in a shaky breath, trying to do as Lovely asked. “I might be your maker, but I can’t say no to you,” he grinned flirtatiously. “And it’s just not fair. Use that power wisely, Lovely.”

Once Vincent did as Lovely asked, they kissed him deeply. Both of them fell back to a dreamless, restful sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms and secure in the knowledge that the eternity that lay before them was something they both wanted and needed just as they both wanted and needed the blood their bodies shared.