#sunseeker all the way

[moonysbestfriend]

i could go into heavy detail (AND I WILL) about 'sunseeker' being a better ship name than 'jegulus' or 'starchaser'

[fiasco95]

James: Ooh here’s a story I like to tell people before we started dating. Even Regulus doesn’t know it—

Regulus: I know it.

James: Wait what-

Regulus: Yeah, the time you stole my zippo and didn’t give it back until we officially started dating?

James, appalled:

Regulus: James. Did you really think I wouldn’t have noticed? I smoked a lot. It was a personalised zippo as well.

James: What, so you just let me have it?

Regulus: Yes, my love. I knew you’d give it back eventually.

James, muttering under his breath but holds Regulus’ hand tighter:

[courfee]

it's been exactly a year since the last chapter of Operation Walburga's Arbitrary No Kissing Ever Rule and I still miss it. This scene is probably one of my favourite things I've ever written and I've wanted to draw it for forever, so now seemed like an appropriate time

[ultravioletbrit]

“mess” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 445 words

Regulus is pacing in the courtyard alternating between wringing his hands and nervously running them through his hair.

“Why are you so nervous all of a sudden?” Pandora asks him.

“I… I just… I just really don’t want to mess this up.” Regulus sighs.

“Reg, I’m pretty sure you could walk up to him and punch him in the face, and he would still say ‘yes’ to you.” Evan tells him.

“I’m pretty sure he would enjoy that. Throw away the plan, do that instead.” Barty chimes in unhelpfully and Regulus stops his pacing to glare at him.

“Not funny right now, Bartemius.” Regulus scowls.

“Well, you need to calm the fuck down, Reginald.” Barty fires back.

Regulus takes a step towards Barty, but Pandora intercepts him putting both her hands on his shoulders. She takes a deep breath and gestures for him to do the same, which he does.

“You’ll be fine. You know what you want to say. You already know that he likes you.” Regulus opens his mouth to argue but Pandora holds up her finger. “No. You do. We all know he’s going to say ‘yes’. And honestly, I think James is going to love that you asked him first.”

“Ask me what?” James walks up beside him.

Regulus freezes just staring at James and his mind goes completely blank. He opens and closes his mouth, but he’s forgotten everything he wanted to say. So instead, Regulus… punches James in the face.

James stumbles backwards, a little shocked, and brings his hand up to his cheek. Regulus stares at him completely shocked and panicked, then he takes a few quick steps to stand in front of James again.

“Oh my God! James, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay? Fuck! Why did I do that? I am so sorry. Are you alright?” Regulus rambles rapid fire.  

“Err… yeah.” James says rubbing his cheek. “Any particular reason you needed to punch me?”

“I’m so sorry, I just got nervous and panicked. But I didn’t–”

“Nervous about what?” James cuts him off.

“I wanted to invite you to Hogsmeade. But I–”

“Are you going to punch me again?” James asks with an amused smile and Regulus closes his eyes and shakes his head, completely embarrassed. “Then, sure, I’ll go to Hogsmeade with you.” James shrugs.

“What?!” Regulus’ eyes fly open.

“I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you.” James smiles and chuckles a little at Regulus’ stunned expression. “I’m going to go get some ice first. Do you want to walk with me?” James holds out his hand.

“Err… su-sure?” Regulus says and awkwardly takes James’ hand and walks with him to the hospital wing.       

[perfect-snaccccccc]

urgh people are being mean about fics again. can’t we all just be nice to eachother. can’t we all just eat a cake of rainbows and sunshine’s and be happy? y’all feeling the need to tell the whole internet ur negative opinions about stuff is getting super tiring :(

[wordsofwilderness]

Fic authors self rec

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love!

Thank you so much for the tag @futurequibblerjournalist, this was so much fun :D

Spotlight on me (and I'm ready to break) ☆ E ☼ Fame AU, Secret relationship, Switching ☆ 3/16 (11.6k) ☼

Regulus got few opportunities like this, away from the prying eye of the public. Able to fade enough into the background, to appreciate so openly. Always the picture-perfect son. Squeaky clean image and not a gossip headline in sight. Who didn’t date, only because of his time-consuming dedication to his craft. Or that was the official story anyway. Reality told another one.

buy me your world ☼ E ☆ Business AU, Texting, Daddy Kink ☼ 3/3 (17.2k) ☆

There, standing to the side in the lobby, was the most beautiful man James had ever seen. Black, tousled curls effortlessly framed his face, standing in perfect contrast to his ivory skin and rose-coloured lips. Like everyone else in the entire building, he was wearing a suit, but no one else made it look that good—like they’d been plucked straight from a runway instead of a heap of coffee-fuelled paperwork.

Locked Away ☆ E ☼ University AU, Forced Proximity, Omegaverse ☆ one-shot (4.7k) ☼

“Could you not?” “What?” “This is hard enough as it is. Without you…” James trailed off, scrunching his nose as he gestured in Regulus’ direction. Regulus frowned, resting his head back on top of his knees again. Looking away, he scoffed, “This is my dorm, you know? If I smell so awful, then maybe you should’ve stayed away.”

Be Patient with My Frozen Heart ☼ G ☆ Autistic Regulus Black, Relationship Problems, Making Up ☼ one-shot (6.9k) ☆

Maybe Regulus should have known by now that denial never served him well. By some point, the illusion would break and shatter, its jagged shards hurting more than facing the truth ever would. It was early one Monday morning, it finally happened—the final straw on the camel’s back. Maybe Regulus could’ve blamed it on not sleeping well, how he lashed out at something that was seemingly only a minor inconvenience. Maybe it was bound to happen either way.

Closet Talk ☆ G ☼ Gay Panic, Coming Out, Pining ☆ one-shot (1k) ☼

“I wanted to kiss him. I nearly did kiss him.” James froze in place as it dawned upon him what he had just said out loud. The few people occupying the sofas luckily looked soundly asleep. Lily gripped his shoulders, tearing his gaze back to her. Searching his eyes, she echoed back with a hushed tone, “Him?”

np tags: @emlovessid @thebibutterflyao3 @my-castles-crumbling @veryinnovative @jaylienpotter

[vynaura]

[starchasersunseeker]

From Reggie throwing a snowball at Jamie and saying "don't ignore me" to him YEARS later throwing it at him again, at his husband, saying "dont ignore us", to not ignore him and their kids

*"You walked by like we weren't even here," Regulus calls out, eyebrows raised. "Don't ignore us."*

Crimson rivers did in fact shatter my heart and stich it back together several times

The snowball reference coming back in the last chapter is just>>>>>>

[murderoushagthesequel]

Maybe It Isn't

from @jegulus-microfic's prompt, smoke (525 words)

hmmmm, what to say, what to say. idk i'm proud of the story but not too proud of the writing here. we shall see how it holds up. i basically never write anything even remotely close to canon lol so. anyway CW: death, implied murder

“Avada Kedavra!” he hears. And no, no it can’t be. There were only two Order members fighting him and Bellatrix. The chances that he’s still alive are slim. Regulus pulls off his mask, coughing as the surrounding smoke fills his lungs. He looks around but he can’t see another person anywhere, the air too thick. Then he hears the maniacal laughter. No. No, absolutely not.

Regulus tears off through the smoke, tripping over stones here and there and catching himself. The tripping and the smoke don’t even register to his senses anymore. He’s consumed with sheer terror. As the shrieking laughter grows louder, Regulus sees two figures emerge. One is crumpled on the ground, lifeless. Regulus freezes. If it’s him… 

He can’t even bear the thought. His wand falls to the ground and his skin goes white. Then the figure turns around. The laughter cuts off instantly. 

“Fuck,” the voice says, looking at Regulus staring at the lifeless body. “Reg, I’m so sorry I-” All the air rushes back into Regulus’ lungs as he recognizes the voice of James Potter talking to him. The body on the ground is Bellatrix. He immediately falls to the ground sobbing. He’s okay. His James is okay. And he just killed his cousin. Regulus could not give less of a fuck about Bellatrix’s death. Not when James is right here.

“Reg, oh my god. She just came at me and-”

“Shut the fuck up, idiot,” Regulus hiccups through his crying. And James shuts his mouth. Regulus pushes himself up to stand, rushing forward and throwing himself into James’ arms. James seems startled at first, but he quickly wraps his arms around Regulus and holds him tight. This is where he was meant to be, how could he ever forget? “You’re alive,” he chokes. James moves his hands to Regulus’ cheeks and pulls his face back so their eyes meet.

“Merlin, I’ve missed you,” he says. The scrutiny of James’ eyes scanning his face makes Regulus squirm, but James doesn’t seem displeased in the slightest by whatever he finds. 

“I rather fucked everything up didn’t I?” Regulus asks, looking away. James pulls him right back to look at him.

“It’s never too late, Regulus.”

“It isn’t?” Regulus asks, searching James’ face for the lie, but there is none. And oh, how he missed looking at James’ face. How he missed being here, in his arms, and just being close to him.

“No,” James smiles. He presses a light kiss to Regulus’ forehead. “And I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for a second.” Those simple words reignite the spark in Regulus he thought had died long ago. That of passion, of love, of all the things that made him him before they were stripped away. Maybe James is right. Maybe it isn’t too late.

He takes a chance, and kisses James. And the way James can’t stop smiling into it, and the way he picks Regulus up to twirl him around makes him believe that he still has a chance to make things right.

The smoke still surrounds them, but Regulus can’t even see it in the presence of James’ light.

[darknight3904]

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘖𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘋𝘢𝘬𝘰𝘵𝘢, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 (2017). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦. 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 18+

𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥/ 𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 30𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.8𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Laura is kind of cute. In her own feral, mannerless way. You watch as she downs her second slice of pizza.

"She's just like you." You grin and nudge Logan's side

"No, she's not." Logan shook his head

The two of you turn to watch her take a large bite of her third slice. Charles lets out a joy-filled laugh at whatever is on the TV behind you and Logan.

"How many have you had again?" You tease, you're pretty sure he's eaten at least five now. Logan had always had a big appetite. You presumed it had to do with his healing factor.

"Shut up."

Pizza devoured and stomachs full, you make Laura brush her teeth and teach her how to floss properly while Logan and Charles argue on the other side of the bathroom door. Logan is trying to get the old man ready for bed, but out of context the voices coming through the door would be considered rather concerning.

"No! I can pull my own pants off, Logan!" Charles' voice yells

"Do it then!" Logan growls back

"Not with you looking at me!"

"M' not looking!"

Laura looks up at you, concerned for the two men with quite the dynamic.

"They're fine. Don't worry bout' it." You assure her with a thin smile, "Now, it's time for the mouthwash."

You tuck Laura into bed. Initially, you weren't going to but the memories of the video you had watched with Logan invaded your mind again. Images of an even younger Laura on the operating table so adamantium could be fused to her bones. Empathy got the better of you as you brought the covers up to her chin and whispered goodnight.

You returned to the bathroom, intent on showering to see Logan staring at himself in the mirror.

"You okay?" You ask him

"Charles told me I looked like Eeyore," Logan says staring at his face

"Like...from Winnie the Pooh? The depressed donkey?" You ask, slapping your hand over your mouth to keep him from seeing your smile

"Yes. The depressed donkey." Logan huffs

An unlady-like snort escapes your mouth and your eyes widen when Logan's head snaps to look at you.

"S' not funny." He says a scowl on his handsome face.

"No, no it's not...." You take in his appearance, and for a split second, you see the faintest blush on his face.

"She in bed?" Logan asks

"Tucked her in and everything." You confirm

Logan raises a brow at that statement. He must not approve of your actions. It's not your fault your maternal instincts kicked in, after all, Laura was cute, in her own way.

Logan leaves the bathroom after lecturing you on not getting attached to her. That the Sunseeker was the end goal, not playing house with a kid made from his genes. You nodded your head and pushed him out of the way to get to the shower, tired of smelling like sweat and who knows what else.

The endless hot water felt amazing on your tired body as you indulged in the low-quality soap, shampoo, and conditioner that the hotel had bolted to the wall in plastic pump bottles. A heavy sigh left your lips as your eyes fluttered shut in the steam-filled room. Logan was going to drive you mad one day.

Logan closed his eyes and let the night breeze clear his mind. Sitting here on the balcony would be more relaxing without all the passing traffic, but it was good enough for now. Nearly 34 stories up he could still hear the honking of horns and chattering of people. He cursed his enhanced senses. Despite the late hour, the city didn't want to sleep.

He sipped at the bottle of Jack Daniels he had found in the limo under a seat. Miraculously no bullets had punctured it in their getaway. He knew he should be in bed, he needed sleep for the long drive that awaited him tomorrow. Yet, he found himself unable to crawl into bed. And not just because Charles mumbled in his sleep.

The idea of you was plaguing him like it often did. He wasn't blind, he knew about your little crush. He had clocked it a month after settling in Mexico. The way you'd wait at the front door, the hot meals, the questions, the way you'd agreeably become a human pillow and give him the best scalp massage in the world.

He'd be lying to himself if he didn't feel it as well. At first, he thought it was because he was so isolated from the rest of the world. But, he never found himself noticing another woman, not in the Casino today and certainly not in any of the rides he fulfilled for people. Even the stupid bachelorette parties when girls much younger than you flashed their chests to him. No matter how he tried to forget it all, his mind was filled with nothing but you.

Even now, he was sure you were the cause for his lack of sleep. After you pushed him out of the bathroom saying you needed a shower, all he could picture was you. He thought of the way the soap was probably sliding down your body, dripping down your chest that drove him mad and slinking its way between your thighs.

He ran a heavy hand across his face, cursing his mind. Perhaps if he hadn't lost his cool a year ago he might be in the shower with you right now.

Logan wasn't quite sure why he did that. He chalked it up to fear. Fear of accepting your feelings, fear of his own, fear of losing you one day to one of Charles' seizures. You had spent the last year being so curt with him, with short conversations and stolen glances, it was nothing like what he was used to nor what he really wanted. Despite the past 24 hours being shit, he was glad you were warming up to him again. You'd let him comfort you earlier and laughed at the Eeyore comment, something he'd made up in hopes you'd like it.

After all, he couldn't tell you Charles really said that he looked like a dog's ball sack...that would've just been embarrassing.

Logan wondered what he looked like in your eyes. he knew what you looked like in his. And though he'd never admit it, Logan knew what he looked like when he saw you. Charles once coined it after spending twenty minutes talking about Sketchers.

"You look at her like she's hung the moon and the stars, Logan."

He wondered that if he were able to man up one of these days and tell you how he felt. Logan wondered if he'd be able to keep you forever.

The soft sound of the sliding balcony door roused him from his thoughts.

"Hope you're not too drunk yet." You teased motioning to the big bottle of whisky in his hand.

"Barely had two sips." He says

"Yeah, okay old man. And I'm not gonna blow up like some blood balloon one day from my own damn mutation."

It was a joke, he knew that, but it was also reality. One day your mutation would kill you, as would his.

"You ever wonder how it came to this?" Logan asks as you sit beside him

"Like what?" You hum, taking the bottle from him so you can have a sip.

"Sitting around while our own bodies try to kill us," Logan says

Logan watches you let out a soft sigh and examine your hands which are more bruises that actual normal skin.

"I've always thought they tainted the food, or maybe the water with some chemical." You theorize, "Used something that would suppress the x-gene in us."

"Makes sense." He nods, glancing down and wondering if this very bottle of whiskey would make things even worse for the two of you.

Logan's eyes drift to your form. A long white T-shirt, one of his sits on your frame, you must've found it in the limo, he always carried extra clothes with him. He can't tell if you're wearing shorts, hell, he can't even tell if you've got underwear on. He does know it's making his hotel-issued pajama pants a bit tighter than normal. Your hair is dripping onto the shirt, slowly making it a bit see-through even in the dim light. He wants to-

"Laura crawled into bed with Charles. She must've gotten scared while I was showering." You say, pulling him from his thoughts before he could become too perverted.

"I'll sleep on the floor." He finds himself declaring getting up to go make a nest of pillows and blankets for himself

"What?" You question, following him into your room

Logan grabs a couple of pillows and the extra blanket from the closet and tosses them to the floor. No way in hell was he going to be able to sleep next to you with what was running through his mind right now.

"Logan it's a king-size bed, we can share." You groan

"M' fine on the floor." He said

You glance at him, and then the bed, and then his pillows and blankets.

"Do you really hate me that much?" You breathily ask

Fuck.

Logan is unsure of himself as you climb under the covers next to him and flick the lights off. He's 200 years old and he's never felt this nervous around a woman. Jesus, he was going soft.

"Are you breathing over there?" You ask

"What? Oh. Yeah, I'm uh fine." He stutters.

Silence follows for a minute or two and Logan thinks you've fallen asleep.

"Goodnight, Logan." You quietly say

"Goodnight." He whispers back, turning on his side to pretend you're not there.

Twenty minutes pass from Logan bidding you goodnight and you almost think that he's asleep until he calls your name into the darkness.

"Thought you were asleep." You murmur turning to look at his broad back that's turned to you.

"Can't." Logan sighs

"Me either." You say, bolding reaching out and running a hand down where his spine would be under his shirt.

Logan lets out a deep groan and shifts beside you so he's laying on his back.

"Logan...can I-"

As if he's a mind reader, Logan's big arm reaches over and pulls you into his side. You rest your head on his chest as his hand comes to rest on the curve of your hip.

"Don't wait to ask next time, bub."

"Sorry." You whisper into the darkness, hoping he can't hear the smile on your face.

You awake hours later to a deep grunt from Logan filling your ears, the sun slowly rose, peaking through the curtains. His arms are tight around your waist as he holds you from behind. You rub the sleep from your eyes, it had been nearly 8 hours since you had fallen asleep in Logan's arms.

Another grunt fills your ears. At first, you think he might be having a nightmare, as he often did. But, the sudden press of his hips to your ass said differently. Your face grew hot as he pulled you even tighter to him, hips slowly rocking into your body.

"Logan." You whisper, hoping to wake him before something embarrassing happens, "Logan."

It's when you begin to wiggle out of his iron-clad grip that he stirs.

"S' wrong?" He murmurs looking up at you with sleep-filled eyes

"Nothing...it's just." You glance down, trying not to mention the large bulge that tents the soft hotel logo embroidered pajama pants.

"Fuck." Logan curses, pulling the covers up to hide himself, "Sorry."

"It's alright." You say you're sure your face is a million degrees right now. You had always wondered what he might be like in the bedroom yet here you were flustered like some virgin.

You watch as Logan stirs, you expect him to brush past you and into the bathroom to take care of himself. Yet, you find him standing in front of you, lips pressed to yours for the first time in your life.

You whisper his name like a prayer when he pulls away.

"Tell me you don't want me. Say it, and I'll never try again." He says eyes fixed on yours

You answer his question by pressing your lips to his again, weaving your hands through the greying hair you've come to love over the past year.

You break away and trail gentle kisses up his jawline and to his ear.

"I want you."

Logan lets out a deep groan that has your lower stomach tightening with need.

"You got me."

Logan gently pushes you back into bed, your back meets the soft sheets as he climbs on top of you. His lips meet yours again and this time his tongue swipes along your bottom lip. You let him in and arch your hips up, grinding into his bulge that somehow grows even harder.

You smile when he pulls away from the kiss, a breathy moan stuck on his lips as he glares down at you.

"What're you smiling at?"

"Mmm, nothing." You lie

Logan's hands find the bottom of your, his, shirt, and he tugs gently, asking permission.

"It's alright." You confirm

The soft fabric leaves you and the cooler air meets your bare skin. The first rays of sunshine illuminate you as you shyly cross your arms across your chest. His eyes are so intense, you can't help the shyness that bubbles into your throat.

"Knew you weren't wearing any panties." Logan smirks, his bigger hands coming to pulls yours down "Don't need to hide from me, hon."

You nod and drop your arms, hoping he likes what he sees. You wish it were darker out. Your skin has been marred by your mutation. You wouldn't blame him if he left right now.

"Beautiful." Logan murmurs, a hand coming up to gently squeeze at your breast, thumb gently teasing the nipple.

"You don't have to lie." You scoff

"You really think I'm lying?" Logan shakes his head. He takes your hand in his free one and presses it to his crotch, " Does that feel like a lie?"

You blush hotly, not expecting him to be so bold.

"No." You whisper

"Exactly."

His lips press into your skin, and his beard tickles your skin as he kisses a path down your body, stopping to press a gentle kiss to the top of your mound where a soft tuft of hair sits. Suddenly you wished you had shaved last night in the shower.

"Logan...: You gasp when he slips his tongue further south.

His tongue works like magic as it circles your clit and dips inside you. A loud moan tumbles from your lips when he brings his lips up to suck your clit into his mouth.

"Logan please..." You whimper when he breaks away suddenly

"Gotta be quiet, hon. Don't wanna wake anyone up. " He reminds you

You nod and he dips back down. You bite at the back of your hand, praying that your companions are deep sleepers.

Logan's nose bumps your clit as his tongue works its way inside you. Your hips fly off the bed and his strong arms come up to circle your thighs and lock you in place.

Utterly trapped, you're at his mercy now. Completely.

A small whimper passes through your hand and Logan speaks into your cunt.

"C'mon, hon. I got ya...let go"

The mixture of his deep voice and the way his tongue went back to working its magic has you losing your mind. Your hips thrash against his grip as the dam breaks and your eyes slam shut.

Logan presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh before coming back up to you.

"You okay?" He asks

"Okay?" You laugh, "I've never cum that hard before."

"200 years of experience can be helpful." He brags

You roll your eyes and pull at his shirt, wanting to see him.

Scared skin and ripping muscle become visible to you and you have to keep yourself from staring too much as he also sheds his pants.

"Oh." You gulp as you finally get to see him in all his glory.

"Oh." He parrots with a smirk

A big hand comes up to your face and gently runs along your cheek.

"You still okay with this? I'll stop right now, just say the word." Logan says gently

You shake your head, the prospect of stopping would kill you.

"Words. I wanna hear it" He says

His dominant tone has a fresh wave of arousal wetting your thighs as you look up at him.

"I want to keep going." You say

"Good." He smiled pushing you back down to the bed

A gasp escapes your lips when he enters you. He was big, you knew it, you had seen it just seconds ago, yet it still surprised you as he pushed forward.

"Fuck..." Logan gasped above you, his hands gripping the pillows beside you

"Logan." You sigh

"You alright?" He asks softly

You nod enthusiastically. His hips pull backward and your jaw drops into a silent moan as he enters again. His chest hair tickles your own chest as he pumps in and out. Your eyes are wide and you're certain a bit of drool is on your chin as his hand jumps down to rub at your clit.

He's worked up you can tell, his thrusts become rougher as his hand rubs at your clit.

"Where?" Logan rasps

You weigh your options, you truly do. The chances of you getting pregnant were low, your body was so torn to shit it probably couldn't even carry a kid at this point.

"inside." You whisper "Inside me, Logan"

Logan lets out another quiet groan as he speeds up, the prospect of filling you has his hips losing it.

You cry out as you feel yourself cum again. Logan presses his lips to yours swallowing your moans and his own as he fills you. His hips stutter against yours as you run a hand through his hair.

He gently pulls out and before you know it, he's grabbing you by the waist and hauling you on top of him, your chest pressed to his as you lay directly on him.

"Fuck." He sighs

You smile into his chest, fully content despite how sticky you feel.

"You alright?" You ask him, listening to the way his heart races beneath his.

"Should be the one askin' you that." He says, running a hand down your sweaty back.

"I'm alright." You say pressing your cheek into his skin

"You sure? I didn't hurt you?" Logan asks

You sit up slightly to look at him.

"No, you didn't hurt me, Logan." You smile, pressing an assuring kiss to his lips, "I don't think I've ever had sex that amazing before"

Logan lets out a small snort of laughter.

"Good cuz' we can't do that again for a little bit."

You feel disappointment flood your system but you know what he means. You have a long road trip ahead of you, not to mention you're sure he feels exhausted after all that. You yourself feel boneless after all that. If only the two of you were younger.

"Get some rest," Logan murmurs into your hair "Three hours and we gotta go trade that piece of shit limo for something that will make it to North Dakota."

Much to your disappointment, he stays true to his word and wakes you up around nine. Logan tosses a soft towel toward you which lands directly on your face

"Take a quick shower. M' going to find us a ride. " He says

You nod and watch as he moves to get dressed. The towel he has wrapped around his waist soaks up the drops of water that fall from his hair and run down his tanned skin. Tantalizing body hair lines his skin and disappears under the towel, teasing what is hidden underneath.

"Less ogling, more showering." He huffs, dropping the towel to slip into a clean pair of underwear.

You rise to your feet, wrapped in the towel he gave you, and pad over to the bathroom, pretending not to look. Logan lets out a loud grumble when he catches you staring at his ass.

"Nice ass." You compliment, a smirk dancing on your lips.

"I'll drown you in the toilet."

You let out a bark of laughter and close the door. His jokes remind you of the young man you met at the school so many years ago. It seemed like an entirely different universe sometimes, thinking of who he used to be.

You help Charles with a bath after your own shower. It's embarrassing and difficult but you do it. He curses you out at least twenty times but at least he smells better by the end of it all. Then, you set your sights on Laura who avoids eye contact when you tell her to get in the bathroom.

"There is...a huge knot in your hair." You sigh, staring at the girl's head

Laura remains silent of course and picks at the sleeves of the fluffy bathrobe she put on as you try to blow dry her hair. It takes nearly twenty minutes but you're able to work most of it out with your fingers.

"You've gotta use more conditioner next time." You remind her as you flex your fingers.

Laura nods before climbing back into the bed with Charles to watch the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with Charles.

Logan would be back soon. You somehow manage to get Charles into his chair so you could get on the road quicker, you knew Logan was getting antsy. Laura munches on a bag of pretzel sticks that you bought from the vending machine a few floors down.

It's all so domestic. You smile to yourself as Laura mimics Charles who sticks a pretzel between his lips and pretends to smoke it for her entertainment.

"Alright, that's enough." You say, "We're gonna wait for Logan down at the valet."

You were getting nervous, he had been gone for nearly two hours now. You were sure he was perfectly fine but that didn't stop you from worrying.

"Laura grab the stuff from the other room."

You shake two pills out into your hands for Charles.

"Take them," You say

"Do I have to?" He asks sadly looking up at you

"You know what happens when you don't." You sigh, not interested in arguing with him

Charles' hand brushes yours just as the door is kicked down. You hear Laura's loud shout before you see them.

"Don't move." You order Charles as you turn to face the men.

"That blood manipulator is here, boss," One says into his radio on his shoulder

For once you thank Logan for his constant drinking. Miniature whiskey bottles litter the room. Lucky for you, they're glass and will work nicely for what you have planned. You thank the Lord for Johnnie Walker and smash one end of it off the bed frame. The sharp edge glints in the sunlight as you tighten your grip determined not to make the first move on these assholes.

A voice on the radio crackles back, "Transigen wants her DNA. Put er' to sleep."

The sharp buzz of something that sounds very painful and full of enough volts to fry a horse hits your ears.

Three men on your left, two on the right. Where's Laura?

One of the ones on your left makes the first move, he's the one with the overkill taser, that looks more like a cattle prod. You easily grab one end, careful to avoid the volts that light up electric blue. All the gear this man is wearing is making him slow. Johnnie Walker finds a home in this mystery man's neck and he lets out a low gurgle.

Five more men enter the room and you focus in on the blood that's flowing down this man's body and into your hands. A sharp pain dances across your brain but you ignore it.

The radio crackles from this dead man's shoulder, "What the fuck are you doing?! Move!"

Your hands come up and you focus on the blood, sharpening it into the form of a knife, sending one into the closest man's neck. He falls to the ground clutching an open wound that will never close.

You're ready to drop the rest of them, the man on the other end of the radio is still shouting at them all.

"Forget them, Where's the kid?" One man asks

The mention of Laura has your eyes scanning for her, she's nowhere to be found but before you can kill the rest of them, Charles acts first.

An unbelievable surge of energy goes through you. The blood you were controlling slips from your grasp and splatters onto the ground. White hot pain flashes in your brain as you try to turn towards Charles. It's like you've been superglued in place. You watch helplessly as Laura inches towards you, dragging herself across the floor towards you.

The appearance of Logan has you relieved as he makes his way towards you, killing each of your assailants one by one with his claws. Laura hands the syringe off to Logan and almost as quickly as it started, it's over.

You fall backward to the ground, and your lungs heave as they welcome the oxygen they were deprived of. Logan's above you, checking you for any injuries as he barks an order at Laura. And then Logan's scooping you up, bridal style, and carrying you out of the room, whispering that everything was fine. Your hand throbs as Logan rushes to the car, Laura pushing Charles hot on his heels. Your own blood, a rare sight is trickling down your arm, staining the sweatshirt you had demanded yesterday.

Logan places you in the front seat and shoves a wad of napkins at you.

"Get it to clot."

He slams the door shut and goes to help Laura with Charles. You focus on your hand, willing the blood to stop. Your head sends a sharp pain down your spine but it eventually tapers off. The cut, becoming pink and sensitive, it'll be healed in the next day or so.

You spend the next hours in silence on the road. At some point Logan's hand had found a way to your thigh, resting there as he drove.

You twisted around to check on Laura and Charles, both of them were asleep. The car clock read 10:30 PM.

"You gonna let me drive?" You ask Logan

"I'm fine." He says

You sigh, of course, he was planning to drive through the night you truly didn't know how he survived on so little sleep.

"The men back at the hotel today, they were planning on taking me alive." You say to him

"They want your genetic code. Probably want to grow more mutants with it, that's what they did with mine." Logan says, glancing in his mirror at a sleeping Laura.

"Living weapons." You sigh, thinking of all the children in that video.

"What they'd do with your power? Can you imagine some full-powered, mindless zombie, controlling people's blood?" Logan shakes his head.

It's not a pretty picture, what his words conjure in your mind. Some nameless child raised up with the idea that their power is invincible.

"Shit, they'd be able to pop the head off the president's shoulders without even blinking," Logan says

"I get it." You glare at him

You're a long way from full strength. You wonder if you'd even be able to, in Logan's words, "Pop someone's head off". Perhaps the effort would kill you and you'd blow a hole in your own mind. Just earlier today you had struggled, there was once a time you would've been able to cut every one of those men down in less than three seconds.

"Nothing's gonna happen to you. Transigen isn't getting one drop of that blood." Logan assures you, "We're gonna drop her in North Dakota and then buy the Sunseeker."

"I want to be able to drive it every once in awhile." You say

"Yeah?" Logan smiles over at you, "You're not gonna crash it into something?"

"We'll be in the middle of the ocean how would I crash?" You roll your eyes

"Remember that time we went Go-Karting as a team and you jumped a barrier and hit Scott so hard he had whiplash for a week?"

"That was once!" You groan, "Is that why you won't let me drive now?"

Logan's deep laugh fills your ears as he shakes his head.

"That's part of the reason. The other half is that it makes me feel useful. Feel like I'm doing something for you."

You sit up, looking over at him.

"Logan, you are useful. You do things for me all the time."

The headlights of a car passing by on the other side of the road illuminate his tired face.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Just today you carried me out of the hotel and to the car. Two weeks ago you bought my favorite candy for movie night even though you hate it."

You glance to the backseat making sure Laura and Charles are still asleep.

You lower your voice just in case they wake up, "You literally gave me two of the best orgasms I've ever had this morning."

Even though it was true, you meant it as a joke, but it caught Logan off guard as his laugh turned into a fit of coughs.

"Logan!" You exclaim when his hands let go of the wheel and one of those damn auto trucks nearly runs you off the road.

"What's going on?" Charles and Laura are awake in the backseat again

Logan slows the car down so you're cruising at 45mph. He turns to you, face serious and brows slightly pinched together in anger.

"No more sex jokes."

Part Three

Whenever I write smut, I feel like it doesn't flow as well as my other normal writing. Oh well. Hope you enjoyed this part.

Tags:

@gigabitemyass @1cam8 @personofsinterest @corruptedcruiser @flamingbisexual08

@arrozconpepitoria

@e-ak

@nikos-a-clown

@evanpetersmood

@loganhowlettsboyfriend

@persiar9

@khaylin27

@veggie-eggrolls

[florencemtrash]

The Artificer: Part II - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Torture, violence, death

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

“She is my mate.” The male’s eyes flashed with horror and understanding, and that feeling chased him towards his death, “And your High Lord will burn for what he’s done.”

Five months later…

“Where is she?” The Shadowsinger stalked forward, silent as the dead and just as unfeeling.

The Autumn Court warrior at least had the sense to tremble when The Shadowsinger came near. But he kept his red-cracked lips shut, golden eyes shining with hatred. 

“Bastard.” He sneered, spitting on Azriel’s polished boot. 

“I said.” A shadow darted out from his side, grabbing a fistful of matted tawny hair and wrenching it back. His skin was thin, so translucent that Azriel traced the flow of his blood in his purple veins with dead eyes. “Where. Is. She?” Every word was emphasized with a violent jerk.

He’d gone to visit you last week, carrying your favorite chocolates from Velaris and hoping for a far sweeter kiss in return. Instead your workshop had been in ruins. Swords shattered and the fire burnt out. For the first time, the room had been cold and unlit. 

Azriel had only found the pathetic male in front of him, kneeling on the ground and uselessly tugging at the sword which refused to move - Sunseeker. 

Azriel held it now in his hands, the pale, yellow glow sharpening the shadows beneath his eyes and the elegantly cruel cut of his jaw. 

It had been a risk trying to pick up the sword, but the weapon had sung to him and his shadows, calling out for him to wield it instead of the unworthy Autumn Court male. Azriel was no replacement for its real master - he was no replacement for you - but Sunseeker willed it and he obeyed. 

“Is there truly no one else capable of wielding it?” Azriel asked, sitting so close to you that your knees and elbows brushed against one another. He didn’t have the courage to kiss you just yet, but gods did he want to. And with the hours he’d spent looking at and dreaming about your lips, he was certain he had a good idea what you tasted like.

“Her.” You corrected, holding the sword up to the steady stream of sunlight that spilled through the slats in the ceiling. Pressed against the light, the sword appeared almost transparent - as if made of glass. 

Azriel smiled. You liked to name and personify every tool, weapon, and piece of equipment you owned, as if you had a secret third eye that allowed you to see into the lives of inanimate objects. He wanted to believe it was true - it was the only way he could explain the wonders you produced with your bare hands.

“There is one other person capable of such a thing,” You hesitated to tell him, but ultimately finished. “My mate.” 

All at once Azriel’s heart fell into free fall, prepared to crash through the cradle of his bones and into the floor. His face, marvelously, betrayed nothing.

“Your mate.” He stole his gaze away, focusing on a very interesting speck of dust on the counter, “They’re lucky.” He murmured, drawing away. 

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not lucky enough.” You sheathed the blade, returning it to its new place on the wall, “They haven’t found me yet.” 

“Oh.” A flicker of hope filled his chest - dangerous and unwieldy. “Is that… is that something you want? A mate? ” Azriel wondered aloud before his mind could trap the words. He cringed, shaking his head in self-disappointment. 

What a stupid question. Everyone wanted to find their mate. Everyone. He himself had been obsessed with the concept for hundreds of years. He had thought he’d find his mate in Mor, and then Elain, he had even thought he felt something more than friendship for Gwyn. 

But more recently the idea had faded into the recesses of his mind. More recently the worst of his thoughts had fallen silent, and it was all thanks to you.

“Maybe,” You considered it, “Maybe not.” You sighed, sinking back into your seat. You rubbed at a metal coin on the benchtop, feeling the oil gather on its surface and taint your fingers grey, “My parents were mates. They didn’t love each other though. Not really.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You shook your head and shook off his sympathy.

“I don’t know if I want a mate…”

You pulled your chair closer and reached out, delicately beginning to drag your fingertips over the ridges and valleys of Azriel’s scars. His heart stopped when you picked up his hands and gently kissed them, your calloused fingertips rolling over his ruined skin. 

“But there is something I definitely want.” You revealed, looking at him with more feeling than you ever had before. 

You’d been scraping by on lingering touches and reserved smiles and momentary glances that spoke of more than friendship. But it wasn’t enough. It had never been enough, not since the moment he’d walked into your workroom. You felt like a woman starved, deprived of something that you hadn’t even tasted yet. It was a terrible pain to want something you didn’t even understand the nature of. 

Azriel wasn’t everything. He wasn’t the air you needed to breathe. He wasn’t every piece of joy that life could bring. But he was the bright touch of color in the world that made everything that came before seem dull. And you didn’t want to live in greyscale anymore.

Azriel swallowed thickly, his hands instinctively falling to your waist and pulling you into his lap. “Whatever it is you want, Y/n - anything at all - I’ll give it to you.” He whispered reverently, closing his eyes when you pressed your forehead against his, “I swear it on my life.” 

It was such sweet torture feeling you pressed against him with your hands caressing his throat. You smelled like woodsmoke and citrus. Heady, sweet, and clean all at the same time. 

“Just you, Az. I just want you.” 

He couldn’t handle it anymore. He tightened his grip on you, swallowing your little gasp of surprise with his lips. 

Time was molten metal. Cooling, slowing, and warping around your hands as you molded it to your liking, so you could savor this moment for as long as possible.

Little did you know, your mate had found you. And he would find you again. Nothing but the crashing of the stars and the splitting of the earth would keep him from fulfilling this promise.

Azriel’s eyes darkened. 

“Three of you were sent to take Y/n.” Azriel stalked around the male, slipping in and out of eyesight without warning. The male pulled at his chains and the ring of his futile efforts echoed throughout the dungeon. 

“She put up a fight.” Azriel emerged from the male’s left, shooting out an arm so quickly that the pain followed after the fall of blood down his freckled cheeks. 

Azriel cleaned Truth-Teller on his forearm nonchalantly, continuing his ambiguous path. If it weren’t for the hard cruelty in his eyes and the knife in his hands, he would look… normal. As if he were doing the grocery instead of slowly butchering a fae alive. He’d already taken three fingers and four toes. 

The male began to shake. 

“I saw the blood in the shop. It wasn’t yours, and it wasn’t hers.”

Another arm shot out, followed by a scream. The male grappled for an ear that was no longer there, feeling the blood drip down his arms from the stump. 

“I DON’T KNOW!” The male cried out, curling in on himself, “I don’t know.” He repeated miserably.

“What don’t you know?” Azriel asked. His countenance said he was bored, but inside he was barely holding on by a thread. His shadows begged to be released and scattered across all of Prythian until you were returned home. They wanted chaos and pain - anything to distract from your aching absence.

Let us handle this. They hissed. We can take him. We’ll get the information. We’ll get everything. Let us-

Azriel shushed them, and they obeyed, falling to the edges of his consciousness and the edges of his body. 

“What don’t you know?” Azriel leaned forward, some sick, twisted part of him relishing in the way the male flinched. 

“I-I don’t know where she is. I don’t even know why he wanted her. Just some no-name artificer from-”

“Who wanted her?” 

The male paled further until his skin was as pallid as moonlight on lakewater. 

“WHO?!” 

“THE HIGH LORD!” He whimpered, shuffling away from Azriel’s encroaching footsteps. The chains scuffed the ground and then clanged when he reached the end of his length, trailing blood. “Ber-Beron wanted her.”

Azriel stilled, his insides turning cold. 

There were dozens of reasons why Beron might want you as his prisoner. Your talents alone made you worth a thousand men. But if Beron had any awareness of what you meant to him? 

Azriel gritted his teeth. “For what purpose?” He growled.

The male’s dull eyes closed in defeat. He was as good as dead. He could only hope the rumours were true and that the Night Court were not the devils they pretended to be. Then, and only then, might he be offered the option of a violently quick end. 

“He heard rumours of an artificer - a female artificer - capable of crafting weapons that could be bonded to a single wielder. He’s been searching for years now.” He shook his bloodied locks, “We thought…We thought it would be another dead end. Another body to bury. We didn’t think-” He choked on his words, trailing off into silence. 

Azriel crouched down, dragging the Truth-Teller down the male’s face like a sculptor ready to carve a piece of marble down. 

One wrong breath, one flinch, and he’d draw blood. 

“Finish what you were going to say.” His hazel eyes cut deep. 

He swallowed, “We didn’t think… we didn’t think she was anyone important.” 

Azriel’s eyes were swallowed up by shadows until they hardened into two marble stones.

The male held his breath, feeling an oppressive power start to press down on him. Suffocating. Cold. Lethal. Darkness shoved him to the floor, crushing his ribs until they splintered and snapped. 

“That was your mistake,” Azriel growled, “She is someone important. More important than you will ever be.” With a flash of blue and black, he buried Truth-Teller into the male’s chest all the way down to the hilt. 

A shock of surprise and pain flooded the male’s face, and before the expression could dissipate, Azriel leaned in close enough to smell the blood pooling on his tongue and dripping down his chin.

“She is my mate.” The male’s eyes flashed with horror and understanding, and that feeling chased him towards his death, “And your High Lord will burn for what he’s done.”

___________

His shadows roiled in frustration, climbing up his legs and arms like fire greedily chasing after oxygen. They weren’t happy about being denied a kill, and every moment Azriel kept them on a leash, the more irritable they became. Their devotion to you was second only to Azriel. Even then, they would hesitate to disappoint you, even if it meant going against their master. 

Soon. He promised them. Soon.

Azriel’s silhouette was carved out of the fabric of the night sky, shadows curling around his arms and wings as he stayed low, pooling his power to keep them all hidden. Cassian and Eris lay on the ground beside him, arms and wings tucked in close. 

Autumn lay like a sleeping giant all around them, sighing with a breath that had mist floating up from slick, damp earth covered in leaves. Azriel was grateful for the weather, the rain disguised the curling of their breath in the air and masked their footsteps when they crossed over from Spring. Night and mist were a Shadowsinger’s dream. 

The ground rose steadily in front of them, trees only daring to inch halfway up the hill as if they too could taste the magic in the air. All the trees - save for the godstree that marked the crest of the hill and snaked its thundering hand towards the sky in a knobby, clenched fist. 

Icaryon Hill was one of Autumn’s most highly guarded secrets, and like the Forest House, it hid all its treasures and prisoners underground. 

Azriel leaned down, pressing his ear to the ground and straining his ears for anything. Anything at all. 

Eris smirked at him, reveling in the way Azriel bristled and bared his teeth. He would never let the Shadowsinger forget how he’d become desperate enough to swallow his pride and ask him for help.  

Cassian looked equally displeased at the Lordling’s presence. “I hope your information isn’t as useless as the rest of you.” 

“Careful who you call useless, Bastard,” Eris drawled, choosing his words very carefully, “Or else I might have to leave you and your pretty little artificer for the dogs.”

Cassian had to stop himself from wringing his pale, slender neck, but Azriel - for once in his life - didn’t have that much self control. 

He shot forward, wrapping one scarred hand around Eris’s throat and slamming his head back into the ground, pushing down until he sank six inches into the damp soil. 

Eris’s eyes flashed with something like triumph and curiosity. Nevermind that the Shadowsinger was currently crushing his ribs with his knee, or that Truth Teller was starting to leave a thin line of blood on his neck. 

Azriel hated him, and the piece he hated most was that even when Eris was down, he had a way of making himself out to be the biggest person in the room. 

“Az, that’s enough,” Cassian hissed. His eyes kept swiveling back up to the hill, “Let him go.” 

Eris had warned them there would be a narrow window of time between the changing of the guards. The belly of Icaryon Hill was so expertly warded that no one - not even the High Lord - was capable of winnowing in. At some unknown time three guards would slip out and three guards would slip in, all winnowing to the gate hidden in the base of the godstree. One - and only one - of the males would have the key necessary to enter and exit and they’d have to unlock the gate in twenty seconds or risk triggering an alarm. If any blood was spilled on the earth, internal alarms within the Forest House would trigger the arrival of a squadron of gorgons capable of turning flesh to rock with a single touch. 

That meant in order to evade the wards they’d have to winnow up the hill, kill six highly-trained males without bloodshed, and find the key in less than twenty seconds if they wanted even the smallest chance of getting you out. 

Cassian knew this and it made his stomach turn. 

Eris knew this and it made him cocky. 

“Interesting.” Eris said, tilting his head with a smug smile on his face, “The Artificer, huh? Was that doe-eyed seer not enough for you?” 

Azriel began to heave with rage, eyes turning pure black. It was enough to scare even Cas. Azriel had been on edge for weeks since you’d gone missing, but Cass had never seen him so… so unhinged. 

Azriel had traded in his icy rage for a darker, more visceral variety capable of driving him to madness.

And Eris was not making things better.

He continued to goad him, “Maybe she ran away? I wouldn’t blame her.” 

“Eris, shut the fuck up.” Cassian growled, “When are the guards changing?” 

Eris ignored him, concentrating on the Shadowsinger. Azriel may have been the one to approach him for help, but that didn’t mean he was going to waste an opportunity to advance his own agenda. 

It was funny. Everyone said The Shadowsinger was near unreadable - cold as a statue and as unfeeling as steel. But deep down, Eris knew he was still the same little Illyrian bastard that had been shoved into a cellar and convinced he didn’t matter. And more than making him insecure or thoughtful, it had made him angry. 

Eris switched tactics, focusing on you instead, “Maybe, when this is all said and done, your precious whore will run away too.” Azriel stilled, shadows pouring off of him to the ground where they turned into claws and sank in deep, “And just maybe, I’ll be there to fuck her the way she likes. I’d pay her good money too.” 

“Eris!” Cassian’s warning came too late. Azriel raised his arm, Truth Teller glinting in the darkness.

Something in the earth shifted, thin rays of light spilling out of the gate atop the hill. 

Eris smiled. 

Just on time.

The guards were changing.

“Fuck!” Cassian groaned, grabbing at his swords but not daring to unsheath them. 

Azriel was roiling with panic and rage, every muscle in his body feeling ready to split in two. And Eris… Eris was smiling. 

“Go on Shadowsinger.” He said, pointing to the hill, “Tick tock.” 

Azriel clawed the front of his shirt, hauling him to his feet at the same time he clutched Cassian’s arm hard enough to bruise. They winnowed up to the gate in a whirlwind of death and shadow. 

Six guards. 15 seconds.

Eris slammed his fist into two of the males’ throats, cutting off their roars of alarm. Two swift kicks to their knees and they exploded out with a sickening snap. Sharp cracks followed and they fell to the ground, their necks sticking out at a harsh angle. 

Four.

Eris dropped to his knees, ripping at amour in search of the key. 

Cassian rolled to the ground, narrowly missing the downward swing of a sword that buried itself in the ground. He bounced onto his feet, as lithe and limber as a fae a quarter of his size. He grabbed a fistful of blood-red hair, swiftly bringing the other elbow down. He made perfect contact at the base of the skull, severing the connection between the spinal cord and the brain. 

Three.

This was taking too long. They would never make it in time. 

But… but how was it still so quiet? Cassian dared to look up from his search for the key and his blood ran cold. 

Azriel…

Azriel was death and decay given form. The moment they reached the gate, for the first time in his life, he relinquished full control of his shadows. 

They swarmed around him until he was nothing more than a dark, blurry cloud of destruction. He grabbed the male closest to him, digging his hands into his throat and registering the horror in his eyes before shadows poured into his eyes, mouth, nose, ears. They flooded every sense, screaming in Azriel’s ears of a power that he had never been desperate or angry enough to unleash… until now. 

The shadows filled the male’s body, wrecking bones and ripping apart tendons with a force that transformed them into razor sharp talons. The male gurgled, body jerking around in pain. Azriel finished him off by snapping his neck with a clean, sharp jerk. The body fell to the ground with a hollow thud.

Two. 

The remaining guards similarly dropped to their knees, empty eyes and hands left to ghost over their throats before they fell forward. Dead.

Shadows leaked out of their eyes and mouth, slipping over their cooling bodies like the rain that pitter pattered against their backs. But no blood. Not even a drop.

One tendril of night slid up Azriel’s leg and washed over his hands, depositing a glittering bronze key that burned with warmth. 

He should have felt more. More surprise and some semblance of disgust at what he’d just done. What he’d been capable of. But those feelings remained hidden, sullen and silent behind walls of obsidian willpower and adamant. 

Cassian and Eris stared at him, wasting a few precious seconds to gape at the littering of bodies around them, raindrops pattering onto their backs and slowly absorbing into leather and skin. 

Cassian swallowed, daring to break the silence, “I never knew you could do that.” He admitted blandly. Cassian wasn’t afraid of his brother - he never could be. He’d survived too many battles by his side to ever fear being on the wrong end of his blade… but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be unnerved by the powers that thrived within him, and how little anyone knew about them. 

“Neither did I,” Azriel said without emotion, closing his fist around the key. “Let’s go.”

He stalked to the gate where it hummed in the ground like a dropped coin, fluttering with life, beckoning him to enter. 

Just a little longer, Y/n. I’m coming.

He used the key and the gate opened.

You crouched in the darkness, cradling your ruined hands and trying not to cry. 

The first few weeks Beron had let you out of your cell during the day, bringing you to the forge hidden beneath the hill so you could set about building him a weapon of his own. You’d leaned into his desires, working the metal until it sang a song of promise to the cruel High Lord. 

He wanted power, and you’d promised it to him, proving your worth long enough for Azriel to come find you. But it had been almost two months, Azriel was nowhere to be found, and Beron was losing patience. 

He traded empty compliments for threats, and when those failed to do anything, he turned to outright cruelty. Just this morning, he’d had one of his men whip your hands until they bled. Then, as a personal touch, he’d torn your shirt to pieces and trailed his fingers down your back. His touch had been light. You could’ve mistaken them for the kisses of a lover if it weren’t for the fact that he’d set the tips of his fingers on fire so they burned the whole way down. 

They smarted and burned, the pain seeping in now that the shock was ebbing away.

“He’s coming. He’s coming.” You murmured to yourself, curling in on yourself with your arms pressed close to your exposed chest. “Just stay strong. Stay strong.” 

“He’s not coming for you, dear.” A phantom hand, cold and bony as death, caressed your back. You looked up, eyes shining like two shards of glass in the darkness. 

The High Lord was as handsome as he was deadly, the smooth and elegant planes of his face and his honey-sweet voice in stark contrast to the light of his eyes - or rather lack thereof. 

They held no warmth, no pity, no fear. 

“He’s not coming for you.” He repeated.

“Liar.”

He clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head. His blood-red robes trailed along the grate of your prison cell, blocking out the meager light that trickled down. The gold-trim embroidery winked deceptively, flashing sultry looks of wealth and opulence in your direction. 

Your stomach growled painfully and you wrapped yourself up as best you could. You’d spent most of your life time by the forge. Cold was not a familiar experience. 

“I don’t know what that Illyrian bastard, Azriel, promised you. Wealth. Prestige. Love.” 

You growled, kicking the wall hard enough for a shower of dirt to rain down on your head. You tried not to flinch when debris landed on sensitive skin, “Keep his name out of your mouth.”

Beron smirked, amused, “So much anger. So much defensiveness for a male who won’t care about you the next time a pretty female with doe eyes wanders into his path.” 

You bared your teeth at him. 

“Ahhhhh,” he clicked his tongue happily, “So perhaps you’re already aware he holds a certain reputation. Pity.” There was another swoosh of his velvet robes, “I’m promising you safety, enough gold and silks to make an empress jealous, and in return I just ask for you to do what you’ve always done.” He held up his hands, “I don’t understand where the difficulty lies”

“In return you’d want to make me your bitch.” You spit out, “To give you the tools to kill whomever you pleased.”

“I already have the tools to kill whomever I please.”

“No. No you don’t.” He narrowed his eyes in displeasure. You limped forward, holding your hands close to your chest. Your body may have been weak, but your heart and your mind were still strong. Not even Beron was capable of taking that from you. You looked up at the High Lord unflinchingly, “When Azriel comes for me - and he will - I’ll ask him for your head on a pike.” 

Beron sneered, “If he and his half-breed Lord decide you’re worth the trouble, I’ll kill your little Shadowsinger first and reduce him to ash.”

You set your jaw, refusing to look away as the High Lord turned on his heels and left the room. Only then did you sink to your knees exhausted and breathed in the scent of damp, rotting earth.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Taglist: @dr4g0ngirl @glitterypirateduck @i-am-infinite @brujitafantomatico @woodland-mist @coureurs-de-bois9 @aetherl0l @gorlillaglue25 @onlyangellh

[starlittragedies]

some people in this fandom really need to get their posting privileges taken away cause every post i see is all about TRAGIC JEGULUS

LIKE I GET IT, THEY’RE THE POSTER CHILDREN FOR TRAGIC SHIPS BUT I DON’T NEED A CONSTANT REMINDER

cause wdym james is a starchaser, chasing a star that is much too far away from where he is standing, trying to get close to it but only being forced to admire from afar because whatever he does isn’t enough. that the cosmos, the fates, destiny is what gets in way???

wdym regulus is a sunseeker because he seeks for the warmth and comfort the sun emits as all he’d known in his life was the cold… how he seeks the sun even though it could burn him, damage him, engulf him in burning flames which he would never recover from???

[dramaticallycryingblood]

Things I don’t get about the marauders fandom as someone who’s been obsessed with them for literal years

1. How we let so many characters be only children?? like I get that people don’t necessarily want to make OCs but HOW did it get to this? James, Marlene, Peter, Remus, Mary, Barty, Dorcas, Alice, Frank and so many others! Idk maybe it’s just where I’m from but look me in the eyes and tell me you know that many people who don’t have siblings ALSO the ratio is so off and barely any of them have only child energy. It’s just not right.

2. How sooo many of you aren’t multi shippers. Like what do you MEAN you can only see James with Regulus and Regulus with James?? What about bartylus? what about sunrose? what about draksun/sunkiller? what about moonwater? what about jily? what about prongstail? WHAT do you read?? Aren’t you bored??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN you only have ONE ship for each character???? As a multi shipper, I can be convinced of any ship with anything ranging from a real good fic or a pretty edit to an enthusiastic rant from a random person on TikTok and it just makes things interesting. Maybe my adhd brain just needs more ships to focus on or maybe some of you just lack flexibility ( or imagination), but we need to fix this cause there aren’t enough fics with the ships I like 😭😭

3. THE SHIP NAMES. I can’t be the only one who thinks some of these suck right? Like why are we saying jegulus when starchaser and sunseeker are RIGHT THERE?? Same with jily and flowerpot, and bartylus and starkiller. ALSO some names make me wonder if some of you just haven’t grasped the concept of ship names or if I just got it all wrong cause marylily and jegulily are just annoying, why are we keeping the L in Lily? The point is to merge the names together not stick them one beside the other, I just say marily and jeguily because it rolls off the tongue so much more easily

4. The Peter erasure. I just don’t get it, it’s so easy to include him in things, you don’t have to make him a main character, but just mention him every once in awhile. Sometimes I’m reading an important scene in a fic and everyone is mentioned EXCEPT for Peter! It’s so easy, just make him roll his eyes at his friends being idiots or something. And it’s not like you’ll get his personality wrong, ALL THESE CHARACTERS PERSONALITIES WERE MADE UP BY FANS but I understand that some people lack imagination so here’s some things about Peter I like to imagine: he’s a HUGE gossip, like my man sees and hears everything and he takes notes!! He likes to randomly turn into a rat and take a nap in one of the other marauders’ pocket, he does it so much that they had to tell the girls that they had a pet rat cause they were asking too many questions. He’s really perceptive and his friends are all oblivious so it leads to funny scenarios like:

Remus & Sirius after YEARS of pining: we’re dating

Peter: I thought you guys had been together since third year?

Sirius: I’ve literally introduced you to people I was dating?!

Peter, shrugging: look mate I don’t question you lot anymore, you do whatever you want, I don’t care what you’re into, I just don’t wanna know about it

He also pulls people, like he’s really nice and will gossip to anyone who’s in his vicinity so he’s friends with basically everyone and he’s funny and pretty and he’s got charisma so he just charms everyone and when I say everyone, I mean everyone, even the slytherins have a soft spot for him (that’s how he gets accepted among the death eaters during the war actually). In pranks he’s the lookout so he often has to distract the teachers so he asks them random things and spits out half-made up facts about anything so he’s besties with most of the teachers which means he doesn’t get many detentions.

5. The Black brothers, more specifically the way the speak to each other in most fics, like they call each other “brother” so often and as someone who has a brother I’ve never called him that. Is it an anglophone thing? Like do people who speak English at home all do that or are fic writers only children?? (That would explain my first point actually) Or is it more a rich people thin?? Cause I know it’s not a francophone thing that’s for sure (also special mention to people who don’t know anything about French writing Sirius and Regulus as French speakers, I can tell you don’t know what you’re writing about but I eat it up everytime anyway)

6. This is actually just about ao3 but I WANNA BE ABLE TO LEAVE MORE KUDOS!!! I just loooooove fics but I can’t leave kudos at every single chapter and I’m bad at writing comments so I can’t show the author how much I love their work, I hate itttt 😭

7. Why there aren’t more fics about the Black family, and not just Sirius and Regulus, but Andromeda, Bellatrix and Narcissa as well like that would be so interesting and maybe like a deep dive into the Black family ideals and all that (if you have fic recs I’m all ears!!)

8. How jegulily is a pretty popular ship (which I LOVE) yet SO FEW people ship Regulus and Lily outside of it! They are a power couple and I love them and they don’t need James to work!!!

9. Why there isn’t more background Minnie x Poppy cause they are my mothers and I wanna see them moooooreeee

If you read all of this I love you 🥰 have an amazing day/night

[bowlofsoob]

O4 thank you, next — awkward fancalls

notes; all of soobin’s accounts are yn and all of yns accounts are soobin until the end of their birthday

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The call went through and you were soon faced with your two best friends staring right at you, or in this case Soobin, through your phone. For a split second you thought they were frozen from the way they weren’t moving until Hueningkai let out a screech of surprise and threw the phone.

“Hello?” You called out in a voice that wasn’t your own as you now had a view of their ceiling. A few seconds later Taehyun picked up the phone and slowly turned it to face them once again, but now both of their mouths were wide open.

“I can’t believe you’re Soobin,” Taehyun slowly murmurs, taking about a hundred screenshots, “Can you say my name?”

“Shut the fuck up and help me, Taehyun,” you deadpan, annoyed they weren’t seeing the severity of the situation.

“Don’t use his pretty mouth to curse!” Taehyun reprimands, “Now please make a cheek heart, I need a new profile photo for my stan twitter account.”

“I hate you guys,” you sigh, but you oblige.

“This feels like a fancall!” Hueningkai says as he claps, “Can you do aegyo?”

You’re about ready to hang up after that.

“Do you two believe me now?” You ask, nervously rubbing at your face, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Live life as Soobin I suppose?” Taehyun suggests, still intently staring at you, “Wow, his skin is beautiful up close.”

“I guess so,” you murder defeatedly, “Wait.”

You squint as the phone lights up with a notification. You tilt down the phone as it vibrates and you see your twitter username flashing across the top of your screen.

“Oh my god, I think Soobin’s texting me!” you gasp, “I’ll text you guys later.”

“Wait! How big is—,”

Thankfully, you end the call before Hueningkai can finish his sentence.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

ᝰ✧ — masterlist — prev | next

the reason the group chats/contact names are different is cus they’re on each others phones so hope it makes sense

comment on this post if i can use ur username in future chapters as a fan account!

୨୧✧ — author notes; sorry y’all my macbook fucking broke and i didn’t wanna type this up on my ipad 😭 GOT A NEW ONE THO SO FINALLY AN UPDATE FOR YALL

୨୧✧ — synopsis; in a universe where you and your soulmate swap bodies on your twenty-first birthday and every birthday after that. world renowned soloist soobin is set to have a concert on the day of your guys’ shared birthday, a firm believer he doesn’t have a soulmate and wants nothing to do with them. you, a college student who hasn’t listened to a single one of his songs, swap bodies with him on the day of your final exam and his big concert. you’re now under the public eye for ruining his career and soobin has to deal with your wrath since he failed your exams. he must also process the fact that he does in fact have a soulmate, one he couldn’t care less about.

ᝰ✧ — [1/3] taglist is open! @cartierfiles @lunavixia @jungwonderz @bubblytaetae @goldennika @zzzavid @astrozuya @odisdad @destairea @iwaplant @itssaturdaytoday @hoodiebangtan @sunseeking-cryptid @outerspace02a @buttersmama @luvtyun @vianna99 @matcha-binz @doumachi @pinghyuka @soobsdior @binluvsu @tyussday @xavi-in-kpopland @bervaose @birdie-vhs @hearts4huening @reyarain @gyubatuu @tridentgumfreshy @rjsmochii @ckline35 @mochiixsstuff @bluuswanrina @beomnioa @bluxjun @yelsuki @gugggu6gvai @thesassy-mia @222brainrot @itswinteress @cindywasneverhere @kimgyuuu @fatoompie @haohyo @jongseongslvr @soobinsman @wolfytae-exe @ener-energy @malarign @tocupid @phtogravi

[littjara-mirrorlake]

NPC Stat Block: Glissa Sunslayer (D&D 5e)

The elven warrior Glissa Sunseeker was once an exemplar of her people, named by Mirrodin's creator as a guardian of the plane. She defeated Memnarch but returned to a people that scorned her, believing she had betrayed them and caused the vanishing of their elders. Short of options, Glissa retreated into Mirrodin's core and was compleated by the praetor Vorinclex, who would become her closest companion. In the years before Phyrexia's emergence, Glissa founded the Vicious Swarm and covertly established a foothold in the Tangle. She is praetor of the Swarm in everything but name, and brutally drives forward its ideal of survival of the fittest.

Glissa's Traits

Ideal: "To forget thought and obey one's instincts is the only true way to live."

Bond: "Together with Vorinclex, I will bring about a new Phyrexia where strength is all that matters."

Flaw: "I scorn the nurturing of the weak. Anything less than savage predation is soft-hearted coddling."

One of Glissa's spells, corrosive gale, is new in Plane Shift: Mirrodin/New Phyrexia.

This is the first of the NPC stat blocks in my homebrew D&D 5e supplement, Plane Shift: Mirrodin/New Phyrexia, that I'm willing to call finished--though as with everything PS:MNP that I post, no wording is final and it is all subject to adjustment.

[padfootscoldleathers]

ladies, gents, bents, non-conformants!

welcome welcome one and all to me posting about my fic and welcome to my mailbox if you want to send me stuff you'd like to see in the fic (i will consider them even if they dont make it to the fic)

this is a band au for the marauders era BUT the original marauders are not the band. let me explain.

Band: Sirius, Peter, Marlene, Dorcas (no band name yet so shoot your shot if you want to)

the marauders era characters have a LOT of different roles here. Regulus and Pandora are dancers, Mary and Peter grew up together & met Remus in highschool in America and did music but now Mary and Remus are somewhat duo singers. (i made Remus southern you'll get why in the fic) Alice is kind of an enigma but we'll get to know her. I'll show you all her colours i promise. Evan manages Mary and Remus and has such a goofy big brother personality. MINERVA the queen that she is, is basically the band's mother/manager. fluffy black brothers!! oh, and andromeda is dead.

i know what you're thinking "where the fuck is james?? lily?? barty??" hehe WELL you're not gonna like this. lily is the villain here and not in a good way. it was a VERY toxic marylily and lily is the Casual girl (chappell roan) ANYWAAAY you're gonna see a LOT of that BUT she does have her redemption arc. i think. maybe.

barty broke up with sirius 2 months before the beginning of the fic (which starts on their american tour at the last couple concerts) they grew up together, its very bittersweet, might give you heartburn. AGAIN redemption arc, they do have a heart-to-heart.

and uhh james is a very happy very sudden very scandalous surprise

ch. 1

this fic in short is the band through their last leg of the american tour when mary flies out early and sirius asks her to join them for the rest of the tour and the european tour in a couple months. mary and sirius hold each other up through harsh breakups and slowly find new love. the marauders era do a lot of dumb shit make a lot of memories. exes come back and get dragged out, maybe-soulmates enter their lives and life happens all at once. but theyre still just kids and they have a lot of laughs

don't worry guys, every couple shall get their minute of fame

basically the journey (and reflective of a couple of characters) of their life together. they find love, they find FRIENDSHIP, they find beauty in the little things, they find laughter and peace and passion. this entire fic for me was to discover all the little things, the day to day things that makes life what it is: beautiful. it's filled with jokes and family and bittersweet memories. its those moments you want to remember when you're old in your rocking chair or young on a porch swing. its all the little bright places.

ships & sexualities (let me cook)

alice - aroace bi

peter - aroace bi

mary - bisexual

pandora - pansexual

remus - bisexual

sirius - the gayest man to ever gay

regulus - transmasc gay

james - demispec pansexual

dorcas - lesbian

marlene - demisexual lesbian

lily - "not a lesbian"

barty - aroallo, gay

evan - transmasc aceallo

mary x pandora = bitterhope/pandamary/ rosemary (my roman empire)

peter x alice = palice (most beautiful qpr to ever qpr in the marauders era)

sirius x remus = wolfstar

regulus x james = sunseeker

dorcas x marlene = dorlene (they need something cooler)

evan x barty = rosekiller (gonna happen eventually though i kinda just dunno how)

i'm going to post in snips on this blog until i figure out the ao3 tags etc. main blog: @morallyundefined

@moonyswarmsweaters @sspadfoot @thingthatoncewastruee @babygirlsteddie @probs-reading

@labyrinthhofmymind @percabeth-trash @drunktayloratthevmas @cheekyboybeth

@starving-marauder-lover @yourlocalbadgerscales @taleofapart-timepoet @mirrs-ball

@tea-blankets-andstars @where-is-vivian @amberlink @wastingawayinmyroom @ashes-to-ashesxx

@equippedtolove @moon-girl88 @starregulus @siriusly-insane @jamespotterbbg