Maze Runner Boys ~ When They Finally Figured Out You Are The One ~

Imagine: Being in a Poly Relationship with Harley and Joker:

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐛. 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : the weather is bad and your dad, whose been picking you up after late shifts, is out of town so he’s sent his best friend bucky to take his little girl home. who is bucky to refuse?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : dad’s best friend!bucky barnes x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 4,215 words 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :  (  MINOR’S DO NOT INTERACT! 18+  )  teasing, age gap (bucky is late 30s, reader is 22-23?), undefined relationship, praise kink, thigh riding, fingering, oral (female receiving, male receiving mentioned), dirty talk, pet names (sweets/sweetheart, honey, baby/doll), unprotected sex  ( don’t risk it, wrap ya biscuit! ), creampie, cumplay.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 :  i really said to myself “hey why don’t u write something small abt this au!bucky” and then it took two days and made my brain melt out through my bad ear. anyway, please don’t reupload, repost or translate my work. i only post on tumblr, so if you see this elsewhere know that it isn’t me. once again, i ask that MINOR’S DO NOT INTERACT! 18+

“You better be careful, what with this weather” Your boss, Tom, calls as you pull on your jacket, having so graciously offered to finish closing up on his own so you could get a head start to try and beat the worst of the wind and rain. You’re babbling your thanks to him once again when the bell above the diner door gives a jingle, your ride home entering. Your boss is about to shoo him away, telling him that they’re closed but you cut in, “Don’t worry, this is just Bucky. My dad asked him to pick me up, cause he’s outta town”.

“Y’ready, doll?” Bucky calls out with his familiar drawl, opening the door back up and letting a large gust of wind and rain into the diner. You make a point to dart straight out, shouting your good nights and final thank you to Tom as you rush to Bucky’s car, earning a chuckle from the pair. The parking around the diner isn’t that expansive, but it’s dark and you find yourself halting as you look out for it, only for Bucky’s hand to find the small of your back and guide you instead.

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Stubborn | Minho

Pairing: Minho x Female Reader

Warnings: blood, near death, cursing??

WC; 2.5K

synopsis: yes, it does take a near death experience to finally admit your feelings

a/n: probably my last imagine before 2021 SO HAPPY NEW YEAR BYE 2020

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

“I’m just saying,” Newt said, arms crossed. “It would save everyone a lot of pain and headaches if one of you just said it.”

“I’m not a liar,” You replied.

“You’re lying to yourself right now,” Newt smirked, watching as your gaze hardened and you smacked his arm.

Thomas jogs up to the two of you, taking one glance at Newt rubbing his arm and you pursing your lips and looking the other way.

“Newt’s right.”

You spin around, mouth open, “How did you?—”

Thomas shrugs, “Call it a third sense, but whatever he said about Minho, you should listen.”

You scoff at the two boys, thoughts running around in your head.

You were in love with your best friend, it was plain as day.

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Could you possibly write about y/n calling Sebastian 'Daddy' for the first time and his reaction.

*clears throat*

OKAY

I'm thinking it'll be after a heated argument, which you took too far. And now you're trying to win back your grumpy boyfriend.

You follow him around the house, apologizing incessantly.

"Sebbyyyy, I'm so sorry. I know I overreacted, I trust you completely and I know you'd never cheat on me, just-"

He'd give you a glare which spoke volumes. And it'd shut you up.

But not for long

When he'd walk out of a room, you'd follow his footsteps like a lost puppy.

You knew he usually wouldn't be able to resist you for long. But today was a bit much.

He had managed to completely ignore you for almost 3 whole hours now.

And you were upset, and very, very ashamed of your behavior. And the silent treatment was killing you.

You walked lazily over to where Sebastian was; in his study, sat on a couch and going through a script.

You plopped down on the couch next to him.

You were wearing one of his hoodies, and he usually would not stop telling you how much they suited you better than they did him but today, he wouldn't even spare you a glance.

"Seb?"

Nothing.

"Sebby" you whined like a spoilt child.

Still nothing.

"Daddy come on! I said I was sorry" you whined again tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

And the words which left your mouth shocked both him and you.

But especially him

He raised an eyebrow at you, finally looking up from the script in his hands.

"What did you call me?" there was an unfamiliar tone lacing his words. Almost playful but stern at the same time.

He sounded like he was mocking you, and seemed to like every second of it.

"I- uh... Nothing. Are you done being mad at me now?" you asked, worried that he might think you were being too childish.

The stern look didn't leave his face as he pulled you onto his lap quite harshly.

"No. Not quite. Now answer me, what did you call me just now?" you had never heard him use this voice before.

He stared deep into your eyes as though daring you to defy him again.

You didn't answer him. You were too shy to repeat it again.

"Alright then, have it your way" he spoke and manhandled your body in such a way that he had you lay over his lap, with your ass in the air.

He moved the hoodie, exposing your butt and he very briefly caressed your skin before you felt him smack your ass cheek.

Hard.

You cried out. Not out of pain, but surprise.

A twisted part of you liked it, but you would never tell him that.

"I'm gonna ask you again, baby. What did you call me?" he sounded so dangerous but so hot...

Smack!

You simply whined again instead of replying.

Smack!

This time it hurt. And you finally spoke up.

"Daddy! I called you daddy. I'm sorry, Seb. I just-"

He cut you off by pulling you up and settling you on his lap; making you straddle his thighs.

He didn't seem to mind it one bit, in fact, he seemed rather intrigued.

"You've been bad today, baby. Daddy's upset that you'd even dare to think that he'll ever cheat on you" he spoke, while his hand caressed your red butt.

Something about how Seb referred to himself as "daddy" turned you on immensely.

You looked at him with curiosity; eager to find out where he'd take this.

He was much more dominant in bed that night. He had you begging, pleading him just to let you come

He liked how you surrendered completely.

He bloody loved it.

Many things changed after that day.

He wasn't weirded out by it or anything, in fact, he quite liked it.

He liked being your big, strong man who could care for you like no one else ever could.

Seb was quite a gentle lover, yet the moment you'd call him 'daddy', he'd switch immediately.

It could be anywhere; at home while you would be lounging around.

Or during sex

Or while on the phone when he was away.

He'd go into "daddy mode" whenever you'd like him to.

Or, whenever you were acting up and being a brat.

He'd use his hand to pin you down on the bed or against the wall.

"Why do I even put up with you, huh? Why are you being so fucking difficult today, baby?" he'd ask on days when you were being too bratty.

Then you'd smirk and tell him that all you wanted was his attention.

"Yeah? Well then, work for it"

He'd point to the ground, in between his legs where he'd want you to kneel and take his cock into your mouth and show him that you even deserved his full attention.

Seb would be the best daddy to you.

He'd know when to push your limits and when not to.

He'd know when he could edge you for hours.

And when he could fuck you to sleep.

On days when you were particularly good, he'd even let you sleep with his cock buried deep in you

"You've been a good girl today, baby. You get to keep daddy's cock warm all night. You'd like that?"

And you'd nod a bit too quickly.

Then the following morning you'd wake up feeling tingly because daddy would be slow fucking you until you woke up.

Daddy Seb had a way of making you feel filthy and special at the same time...

He'd look you dead in the eyes, with his hand wrapped around your throat, while he made you come over and over around his cock

He took immense pleasure in making you cum for him multiple times in one night.

He would flick his tongue over your clit until you were shaking under him.

He'd always have to touch you when he was in the mood.

Dirty talk with daddy Seb? YES

"You like being on your knees and showing daddy how much you deserve to be fucked all night long, don't you baby?"

"Here, suck on daddy's fingers while he eats you out, yeah? That'll keep you quiet"

"Look at you, always so fucking ready for my cock"

"Your body is fucking shaking, baby. Is it because of me?"

"Did you ask for permission before you cum?"

"Swallow it all, baby. Show me you're daddy's good girl"

Sure, you didn't need him to be in "Daddy mode" all the time.

But on some days, he needed it more than you did

You could tell when he needed to let off some steam. And you were more than happy to be his little girl whenever he needed you to.

OMG could you imagine him switching from Sebby to Daddy in the middle of a heated discussion?? Because i CAN?

You'd be telling him off for being too jealous or possessive for whatever reason

And he'd suddenly give you this very stern look

"...you need to get your shit under-"

He'd cut you off by gripping your jaw in his strong hand and forcing you to shut up and look up at him.

"I fucking dare you to complete that sentence, babygirl"

And you'd immediately forget what the fuck you were saying in the first place.

Spanks... When you were naughty. Or nice.

He didn't care, he simply liked seeing his handprint on your butt.

He'd grab your butt, and pinch it all while giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Ohh, aftercare with Daddy Seb?

He'd be the most gentle boyfriend after an intense play time

He'd run you a bath and would carry you to the tub and back to bed if you were too tired to walk

He'd kiss every inch of your body

And rub lotion on your sore skin

He'd tell you how good you had been and just how much he loves you

"I'm sorry baby, was it too much? Was I-"

Then you'd cut him off

"Shh, no. Hey, you were perfect. Thank you, I love you."

A/N: I'm sorry Anon, you were saying...

Mate

Hey guys!!! Thank you so much for the likes ❤️ they mean the wooorld :) Please hit me up with your requests, questions and positive criticism (or just a good conversation)

Here you go with another one, super fluffy + little angsty! 

• I don’t own any of Sarah J. Mass’ characters or any of her plots, I’m just a fan having fun. Also I do not own the images. This is story is mine though, so please do not copy •

WARNING! Nightmares, blood mentions.

Y/N P.O.V.

The sun warmed our backs. I glance to my side, to see my Azriel’s profile. The slightly crooked nose, the high cheekbones, the shadow of a stubble on his jaw. Turning fully, I move to sit in his lap and stare into his chocolate eyes.

“My mate.” — I say as I trace his beautiful features — “I love you, Az”.

 Happiness fills my heart as he smiles at me, but a black winged figure heads straight at us. I glance at it, and terror dampens my senses. Attor. A single one, in our direction baring two swords at his side and a murderous smile on his pale lips.

“There’s an Attor coming, we have to go.”

I stand up grabbing Azriel’s hand, but he stays motionless and gives me dazed grin. 

“Az? We have to go!” 

Nothing. The evil creature flies faster and faster.

“Az, let’s go! Please, get up we have to move!”

I grab his face, tugging on his arm, begging pleading praying for him to run. I grab his chin yelling at his face. My throat is raw and dry, and my voice breaks. I kneel before him, touching his forehead on mine.

“Please, my love. I can’t leave you. We must go —”

A spear pierced his stomach. The Attor, now behind him, raises his other sword, and abruptly, an invisible force holds me down. I can’t move. I trash inside my head, forcing my limbs to move but nothing happens. 

I find myself forced to watch the blade cut Azriel’s throat, his blood shining and dripping down. I scream again. Over and over and over. His limp body falls back, the Attor nowhere be seen. I try to stop the bleeding and my lips pray to the Mother for help, for a way out of this hell, for anything.

Grabbing his face, I beg even more.

“Az, Az Azriel don’t leave me. Stay awake, please. Don’t die on me, you won’t, you can’t.”

Tears stream down my eyes and it becomes hard to breathe. Air doesn’t come inside my lungs, and I scramble away from his still body. Panic drowns me, as I turn around running away from this hell… only to stumble into the Attors blade.

I look down to blade impaling me and —

Azriel’s P.O.V. 

I walk into the cozy apartment, dark from the night outside. Hearing Y/N’s  calm breathing from the room, I assume she’s asleep. Dropping Truth-Teller on the table and my jacket on the couch, I roll my shoulders, the muscles tense and stiff.  A few minutes later, I drink a cup of tea leaning against the kitchen’s counter, when a crie pierces the quiet night. I bolt towards her room, sword in hands, bursting through the door. I find her writhing in bed, tangled in the blankets. A nightmare. Leaving the blade on the floor, I slowly approach her figure. The cries worsen, turning to an almost screaming, and my heart breaks. 

“Please, my love. I can’t leave you. We must go —”

Touching her gently, she flinches away, scared and still asleep.

“ Y/N, you have to wake up.” I speak softly, but to no difference. 

Grabbing her shoulders, she trashes against my hold, and cries more. 

“ Az, Az Azriel don’t leave me. Stay awake, please. Don’t die on me, you won’t, you can’t.”

My eyes burn, and I speak louder.

“Y/N, you have to wake up. This is a nightmare, open your eyes. I’m here, my love.”

Suddenly, she stops moving and her pleading cries turn into broken sobs. Tears stream down her face, and I roar her name. 

Her eyes open, startled and scared, and meet mine. Her breathing falters, and a dam bursts in her. Flinging herself at me, holding me with desperate hands she cries loudly. I don’t ask what happened and we stay there with a strong hold around each other. 

“I’m your mate. I’m here.” 

I repeat it over and over, and after some time, her tears stop. Pulling back to meet my face, she lays her hands on my cheeks.

“You’re here.” 

“ I am.” 

She lets out a relived breath.

“ I had a nightmare. An attor was there, and he k-killed you and then h-he —

“Y/N. I’m here. I’m fine” 

Her hands slide to my throat, touching so lightly, and head towards my stomach. She stays quiet.

“Are you alright, mate?” 

A small smile tugs at lips.

“Do you want a hug, mate? Or perhaps some tea?”

She huffs a laugh.

“Aha! I know what you would like very much. Do you want a kiss, mate? I could give one, you know, but only with a price.”

“Oh really? You don’t say… making me pay for your kisses, that is just evil. I will go bankrupt because of that.”

“I do not have the intention of asking for money, mate. I want two very simple things. The first one is an answer. Are you alright?”

“A little better. Not much.”

“Okay… we can fix that, can’t we mate?”

I say with a reassuring smile.

“Now for the second. This is the hardest thing in the world. It will be a very big challenge, but you must try in order to get a kiss. Give me… a smile.”

Her eyes glint, and she assumes a serious face. 

“Well, mate, this is indeed a challenge unlike any other. But, for you, I must give a try.”

And then, she just smiles. And the world shines. 

Laying her down softly, our breaths mingling. I kiss her lips lightly. Lifting her head more, eyes closed, she seeks another one but I back away slightly.

She opens her eyes, and a playful gleam shines in her eyes.

“I am outraged, I bought a kiss! I only got a peck, you little liar.”

“You want a kiss, mate?”

“Of course, mate. I was promised one, after all”

“Well, I could give you one, you know, but only with a price.” 

“Oh my! — she says with a giggle — What would that price be?” 

- From A.

(make your requests!!!)

congrats on 1.5K! can i request a threesome with dadsbestfriend!bucky and dadsbestfriend!steve 🥵

JOIN MY 1.5k SLEEPOVER!🧚‍♀️

[dadsbestfriend!bucky x fem!reader x dadsbestfriend!steve]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* word count; 381 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[a/n; YOUR MIND!!! this will be 1940s AU, and i'm giving the dad a random name lol]

warnings; SMUT! MINORS DNI, +18, age gap (reader is in her 20s), dirty talk, insinuations to threesome, if uncomfortable please don't read. press keep reading for smut :)

fridays were your favorites.

and not because you'd have dessert with your girlfriends, or landed a date with a nice boy to drive up to the drive-in theater.

butterflies swarmed in your belly the second you stepped foot into your house, grinning at the sight of your father hosting a cook-out for all his buddies from the war.

"[y/n], come 'ere!"

you giggled at his calling, rushing over as he embraced you, introducing you to everyone, but your eyes were glued to a pair of ocean blue ones.

"that's the pretty little doll i prayed to come home to, steve, a fuckin' gem," bucky took a swig of his cold beer as his best friend chuckled, scanning you shamelessly, noticing the mischievious glint in your [e/c] orbs.

"gorgeous, but john wouldn't think twice to kill ya', that's his angel," the brunette scoffed with a following smirk as he saw you disappear back inside your home before nodding to him discretly.

"come on, punk, let me show you something,"

"sweetheart!" you squealed the moment bucky sneaked into your room, wrapping his thick arms around you as he inhaled your rose-scented locks.

"i missed you so much, jamie," you whimpered as he began nipping at your neck but you jolted away the second you caught a glimpse of another man in your room.

"baby, you know steve, right?" nodding shyly, your heart hammered against your chest as the masculine cologne invaded your sweet room tempestuously.

"you're gonna be a good girl for us, right? gonna show stevie how wet you get, how pretty you look stuffed with my cock," his lustful whispers were drowned out with his hand reaching beneath your modest dress, rubbing your slit through your panties, smearing your wetness.

"tell stevie to touch your pussy, doll," your eyes met with the blonde's wild ones, mesmerized by the way bucky shedded you of your clothing, shuddering at the sudden breeze rushing through your window.

"please, touch me, stevie," he stepped forward, gasping as you yanked his hand towards your slit and coated his fingers with your leaking juices, dragging whimpers from your gaping lips as steve instinctively toyed with your swelling clit.

"don't make a sound, kitten, we're not leavin' til we fill this pretty pussy with our cum.

Don’t Be Shy (Felix x Reader) || Part 2

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1243

Also posted on my A03

Felix’s POV

Felix had spent his day fixing weapons. It wasn’t a particularly hard task, considering that the weapons themselves weren’t intricately built, but it did however take time. The only time he’d moved from the flat slab of stone he’d sat on was to eat lunch, which he’d quickly finished in order to return to his task.

It wasn’t that he was eager to fix the weapons the Lost Boys had so carelessly broken, but that the task gave him an excuse to avoid Y/N. He had, in fact, been making a considerable effort to stay away from her ever since the archery incident. 

The shift in her training partners from himself over to Devin and some of the other boys made that easier for him. Unfortunately, weapons practice was only one of the few ways the Lost Ones spent their time (how he and Y/N had spent their time together) and so Felix had thrown himself into whatever small, menial tasks he could find to occupy himself and use as an excuse to avoid her.

This had been going on for days. 

Seven days, to be exact. He had counted. 

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"Oh, you haven't read the classics..." I'VE READ THE CLASSICS

✨Dramione edition✨

Manacled by senlinyu

Rights and Wrongs by LovesBitca8

Isolation by bexchan

The Fallout by everythursday

Breath Mints / Battle Scars by Onyx_and_Elm

Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love by isthisselfcare

Wait and Hope by mightbewriting

Meet Your Match by morriganmercy

Measure of a Man by inadaze22

Love In A Time Of The Zombie Apocalypse by rizzlewrites

Secrets and Masks by EmeraldSlytherin

Remain Nameless by HeyJude19

Bring Him To His Knees by musyc

The Eagle's Nest by HeartOfAspen

Dragon's Heartstrings by pinkinku

Damn right he owns me

You Can Be My Full Time Daddy.

Sugar daddy! Seb x Reader HC

Where to begin with sugar daddy! sebby…

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Umm hi I don’t know if you still take ACOTAR requests anymore but if you do can I request an azriel x reader where he’s in love with her and is afraid of rejection but he doesn’t know that she loves him too? 👉🏻👈🏻

hi nonnie, i’ll always accept an acotar request, hehe! did this in headcanon form, hope you don’t mind <3 it’s quite long and a little rough around the edges, but i hope you like it! ps. tumblr mucked up the formatting, some dot points don’t want to be indented. i hope it still makes sense x 

when your and azriel’s paths crossed, it was the mother at work again. after mor, azriel didn’t think he’d ever have the strength for love again. the aching and the pining had taken their toll, and the appeal of the mating bond had faded. to feel it all again, to risk his heart like that again - he couldn’t. and yet, the mother saw fit that he would. 

+++

he first met you in the palace of hoof and leaf, and it didn’t mean anything at the time; a stranger’s kindness, or if he indulged his cynicism, a hawker’s ploy. you were a commoner, a milkmaid who came to sell your products in the markets. he’d been at the neighbouring stall, waiting for the clerk to put together the only tea brew in prythian that could placate his migraines.

“sir, mr. shadowsinger, sir,” you called, “could i offer you a sample of my goat’s milk? maggie-may is very special, her milk can be just as good as a healer’s work, i swear it. try it, try it, sir.” 

azriel looked you over, glad that cassian wasn’t here to make that particular moniker stick. one brow raised in dubiety, he nodded and held out his hand - might as well, he thought, tired and getting ever more desperate for his tea. this didn’t show outwardly, of course; azriel’s face was as neutral as ever, his shadows coiling about his talons. your gaze was expectant as he tried the sample, and while it was a little too earthy for his taste, he nodded all the same. perhaps it had encouraged you too much, because then you asked: “could i perhaps persuade you to buy a pint?”

azriel had no interest at all, yet he couldn’t help but notice the detail: your fraying sleeves, the imperfect glass bottles, the beginnings of dark circles under your eyes. and yet you were smiling, you were sweet, being very generous for someone who had to presumably make a living selling fresh products. not for the first time, azriel made a purchase that only someone of the inner circle could afford, and one that didn’t really benefit him. “i’ll take several,” he said, looking at the handful of wooden caddies, mostly still filled with milk bottles. “i’ll take it all.” 

the clerk then handed azriel his brew while you stood there, wide-eyed and speechless, working through a range of emotions. at first you thought he was mocking you, but when he turned around again, fiddling with his coin pouch, you realised he was serious. “but, sir— maggie-may’s milk sure is delicious, but only in moderation— i couldn’t expect someone to buy it all—”

“as much as you’d let me, then,” he amended, being mindful not to impose or patronise. you bit your lip, trying to tally up the ultimate price, trying to gauge whether this man could even afford it. two gold, you said, trying your luck. azriel merely fingered his coins, placing the expected two and an additional three on the counter. he must’ve noticed your shock; you had frozen, after all, perhaps even stopped breathing. “since maggie-may is so special,” he drawled, earning a disbelieving laugh from you. 

that night, cerridwen, nuala, and elain were very confused at the sight of bottles and bottles of milk laying in wait on the kitchen counter in the house of wind. the note - clearly by azriel’s neat hand - read: use within five days.

+++

from then on, you always engaged azriel when you spotted him in the market. you could never forget his generous first purchase, and so while he waited for the tea master to finalise his special brew, you would entertain him with an endless supply of free samples of new products. over the years, azriel saw your business extend from milk to also include cheese and soap. he learned unnecessary things about your cattle, such as the supposed social dynamics and - mother forbid - adultery that mr. sweet pea the goat seemed prone to. over time, azriel grew comfortable enough to share some of his stories and observations, the things he’s seen in other courts. it took a while to realise you had become more than his mere acquaintance, and perhaps it was because you were outside his usual spheres of the inner circle and his spy network. to have someone outside was new, and a little jarring at times. the different experiences, the contrasting perspectives - it was refreshing, and reminded azriel how far he’d come since his miserable youth. when he was with you, the stakes weren’t so high, the conditions not so dire. you were a spot of calm, a reminder that life could be something other than the court’s defense. 

+++

one time when he visited - his tea no longer a requisite for him to make an effort to come in - you were noticeably subdued. “mr. sweet pea passed away,” you revealed, eyes wet and voice thick. something about that seized his heart, his shadows growing restless. “he was so special.” you actually said that about each of your cattle, something that azriel had started to find endearing, because he knew you really believed it.

social tact was not a strength of his - azriel knew he tended to be rigid and too formal - so he stumbled over some stilted condolences. it felt awkward and impersonal; azriel couldn’t empathise with the death of a pet, but he wanted to make it hurt less. he still remembered what the late goat had looked like the last time you had brought him in - an old thing, with a long beard and a mix of brown and black fur. strong, impressive horns, one which had a sizeable chip missing. 

so that night, he did what he could and sketched that image he had in his mind, of mr. sweet pea looking very wise and ponderous, if a little tired. azriel’s time as spymaster had bestowed him a keen eye and dexterous fingers, allowing him to make the necessary sketches to give his colleagues a clearer picture when necessary - of maps, of creatures, of profiles. they tended to be a little rough and raw, nothing particularly artistic. he thought the same of his current piece, and hesitated over whether it was good enough.

when he finally gave you the sketch the next day, you went very still. he started stumbling over some excuses, but you soon interrupted him with a shaky breath. “this is so thoughtful, azriel. thank you so much.” 

+++

azriel grew bolder, and interactions started to occur outside the markets. he’d invite you for tea, indirectly revealing one of his interests. he was a hard man to read, his expressions subtle when not stoic, but you learned. outside of professional matters, he was rarely straightforward, and tended to express his emotions in delicate, layered ways. his care for you was in the way he listened, how his attention never wavered when you were speaking with him. it was how he kept you close when you two navigated busy streets, how he lifted a wing over your head for cover when it rained, how he was content to spend time with you at your stall - sometimes for hours - despite his preference for quietude. 

+++

when work took him away, you two would exchange letters. azriel didn’t realise how dangerous a thing it was, because you quickly became a very intimate and constant part of his life. the act of writing tricked him, making it easier to truly express his thoughts - there was no pressure of navigating the immediate reaction, no incentive to keep his words short. you managed to draw so much out of him. he was mindful of each letter of yours he received, keeping them safe and tied together with an old ribbon of yours he’d saved before you could throw it away. he would never admit it, but work abroad tended to be overwhelming: while secure in his network’s quality of intelligence, being in another’s territory always meant having to deal with various variables and vulnerabilities, usually unknown. maybe your letters would have made it all a little more manageable if they didn’t elicit such longing within him. your words made him smile, yes, but they also made his heart ache. he missed you.

+++

after a lengthy assignment in the dawn court, azriel was relieved to be back in velaris. his shadows swirled and whispered around his shoulders, eager to feel your presence too. he knew they fascinated you, how playful they could be sometimes. yet, azriel couldn’t find you at your empty market stall. it was odd - you hadn’t mentioned moving in your recent letters, and he couldn’t find you in any of the other market squares either. soon his shadows grew restless, embodying the concern that was rising.

he employed his spy network to find your farm, hoping it wouldn’t be too intrusive to just show up unannounced. you had mentioned some details in passing before - it was a modest place, with a small house and a meagre hill of grass to feed a handful of goats and sheep. the door was answered by two worried faces, who took one look at azriel and grew even more distressed. “our son— it’s not our son, is it? it can’t be— he just—”

“i’m here to see your daughter,” azriel interrupted, too preoccupied to remember polite niceties. they were confused, guarded, but let him through. the hallways were narrow, his wings often knocking against the wall sconces. he listened as they explained your condition - an illness had befallen you, leaving you bedridden for days. apparently a healer had told them it’ll pass with rest and water, and with that reassurance, azriel forced himself to remember his place. right in front of your closed door, he willed his shadows away from his face, called upon his familiar impassiveness. turning around to face your parents, he amended, “may i see your daughter?” 

your room was dark, the curtains drawn. his heart raced as he heard your laboured breaths, and something pulled at him when he saw the small desk in the corner, an unfinished letter atop it. “azriel?” you whispered, voice sounding so small. “is it really you?” 

he neared, taking a cautious seat on the side of the bed. you were shivering, but the thin sheet covering you stuck to your skin with sweat. “yes, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment slipping out before he could stop it. his throat closed up immediately after, but your vague movements suggested you didn’t even realise, and that you weren’t all there. he could see the feverish blush high on your cheeks, even in the dim light.

“you’re too big for this room,” you mused softly, making azriel smile despite his worry. indeed, he had to bend down to avoid hitting his head, and keep his wings tucked in uncomfortably tight. he took your hand in his, and even in your feverish haze, you could register the roughness of his scarred hands, but they always handled you gently. “why didn’t you tell me in your letters?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. your discomfort was clear in your frown, in your downturned lips. noticing the basin on the bedside table, he took the damp rag on your forehead and dipped it into the cool water, wringing away the excess before gently placing it atop your head again. 

“i… didn’t want to trouble you with… with something trivial. a few more days and… and i’ll be back to work.” a weak smile pulled at your mouth, and azriel gathered both of your hands in his again. he shook his head at your line of thinking.

“your health isn’t a trivial matter to me,” he said, leaning close and cupping your cheek. in hindsight, it was so obvious that he had been in love with you far longer than he thought. it was all so rueful, the fact that he had let it happen again. despite it all, he pressed a kiss to your hand, trying to ignore how it trembled. your smile strengthened then, tracing a finger over his brow and down the bridge of his nose. azriel took a deep breath to savour the touch, and soon you two were merely watching each other, azriel wondering what thoughts were running through your slightly added mind. your lids eventually started to droop, however, but still he stayed even when you fell asleep, taking care to change the cool rag when necessary. his shoulders slumped when his head fell into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tight. with such a revelation, what was he to do from now on? 

+++

azriel didn’t think he could be a good lover to you - even if he so very much wanted to be. his job took up so much of time, and it required him to be secretive. azriel wouldn’t ever be able to share everything with you, for the sake of keeping you safe. even if he could, there was just something in his nature that kept him reserved and pushed others away. there were so many things he’d rather leave in the past, and so many more that he wished he hadn’t been part of. there was that, but also his loathsome scarred hands - a reminder of those darker days. no matter how gentle, his touch would always scratch and scrape. once you took notice of how neglected they were, left to dry out and sometimes even scab, you took to work to concoct a nourishing lotion. “you have to be gentle with yourself, azriel,” you had once told him, gently applying the salve to his hands. they were rough but warm against your skin. “you do so much.”

+++

and so, everything he did with you was tinged with a hint of sorrow. he couldn’t bring himself to confront you with the severity of his feelings, but he also couldn’t quite remove you from his life - you had become a friend. you eventually noticed that he started to let his touches linger: when he hugged you, he’d curl arms and wings around you, enveloping you wholly; when you were near, his shadows would stretch toward you, as if revealing a hidden desire. when you reached for his hand, he would always grip it firmly, and when you came very close for some unimportant reason, his gaze would always linger on your face, flicking so often to your lips. 

+++

one night you had invited him over to the farm, wanting to introduce him to the latest addition of your household: a baby goat, just over a week old. she was as white as snow, and kept nibbling at your hair as you held her in your arms. “what should we name her, azriel?” you had asked, too preoccupied to notice how tense he was, hands in his pockets. “i was thinking of marjorie, or maybe miss marjorie… hey, what’s wrong?” his face was unusually expressive, his shadows roiling about his talons as if in distress. putting down the goat, her legs still clumsy and gangly, you stepped closer to azriel, reaching out. he shook his head, trying to school his face but you knew him by now. your shoulders slumped, recalling his strange behaviour over the years - he was present in most ways, but avoidant in others. “i wish you’d talk to me, azriel,” you murmured, taking his hand and hoping he wouldn’t mind the dirt. “you mean so much to me.”

it all bubbled up then in that small barn, the light dim and the smell of earth pungent. you let out a rueful laugh, rubbing your eye. “i’m in love with you,” you said, very quietly at first. immediately you felt so naive to be doing this. the fact was that azriel came from a different life, one that saw him as a leader of the court, who worked with powerful and beautiful people, fae who were richer and stronger and vastly more interesting. azriel’s mere presence in your life was extraordinary enough. and yet, you had found yourself falling in love despite the impracticability of it, found yourself admiring his kindness, his quiet generosity, his strength and resilience and dry humour. you shifted, looking right into his eyes. even if your love was unrequited, he deserved to be told - if only to let him know that he indeed was loved by one more.  “i’m in love with you. i don’t— i don’t expect you to say it in return, but i can no longer keep it to myself. i love you.” 

that threw azriel. he had fantasised of course, indulged in the scenario. but now, as you waited for his response, his thoughts stuttered. what? he wanted to say, unable to believe what he actually so very desperately wanted to believe. you grew nervous as the silence lengthened, azriel’s face as stoic as ever. you shook your head, covering your mouth in regret. “i’m sorry, i— i shouldn’t have said anything—”

he gripped your shoulders tight, gaze intense and voice low. “i also love you.”

“why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?” the solemnity which had tinged your relationship for some time was subtle, but you had felt it, and it had bothered you. 

azriel’s hands came up to cup your face, and he quickly shook his head. “it’s not,” he said, he urged. “it’s not, it’s not.” and then his lips met yours, chapped and rough, kissing you slowly, thoroughly, firmly. the conviction made your heart melt, and you gripped his wrists, feeling his racing pulse and caressing it, kissing him back, standing on your toes, letting him steal your breath. “i love you so much, sweetheart,” he sighed against your lips, nose brushing against yours. you went to reply but then azriel had claimed your mouth again, one hand snaking around to your back and the other to the nape of your neck. the light shifted behind your closed eyes as his wings came down to envelope the both of you, and your fingers reached to tangle in his hair, to trace the shells of his ears.

when you two parted again, his grin was lopsided and a little wry. “i just couldn’t believe it,” he murmured, his eyes shining with emotion. why not? you wanted to ask, wondering what it was that had held him back for so long, but decided to delay it for another day. all you could do was hug him tighter, just glad for the sight of his smile and the feeling of his relief. glad for his happiness.