Maze Runner ~When The Boys Compete For You~

Promises Don’t Last Forever

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Summary: where stiles has a girlfriend he tries to keep out of all the werewolf stuff but one day she gets caught in the crossfire

Warnings: blood, attempted angst, sad stiles

_____

It seemed to happen in slow motion.

One second you were calling out to Stiles overtop the commotion going on, and the next you felt a red hot slash being ripped through the soft flesh of your side.

“Y/n!” Stiles screamed, the battle came to a standstill. He stumbled over to where you fell to the ground, dropping to his knees and hovering over you, quickly assessing the damage and immediately noticing the large blood stain pooling from your side. He slowly peeled up your shirt to reveal three long slashes that were cut deep.

“No, no, no, no,” he shed his flannel shirt off and pressed it into your abdomen with shaky hands, trying to halt the steady flow of blood that seeped from your wound. You hissed and tensed up at the contact, grabbing his wrist but trying to keep your expression calm and breathing steady.

The rival pack the fight was against had taken off at the first sign of a distraction. Not wanting to stick around to see how angry this rag tag group could really get when it came to someone hurting one of their own.

There was too much blood, his attempts not working as he cried out for the rest of the pack to call an ambulance, but deep down he knew you were surrounded by the dark woods out of the reach of immediate help. His heart was being torn in two and there was nothing he could do in his power to stop it.

You came to the slow realization of how this was going to end.

“Hey, hey Stiles look at me,” your hands reached up to cup his face. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as tears slipped down his cheeks. You wiped them away with your thumbs and gave him a small smile when his eyes fluttered back open. “It’s okay, I’m not in pain.” And it was true, the blood loss was making you tired along with the rush of adrenaline that was fading from the fight that happened moments before. Derek’s grip on your ankle and the black veins traveling up his arm could also be attributing to the lack of pain you felt, for that you sent him a weary half smile.

The other members of the pack either stood around still on guard or sat surrounding the couple in a protective loose circle.

“You can’t die now, you can’t leave me.” Stiles choked out through a torrent of sobs that wrecked his frame.

“You’ll be okay.” You promised as you used your remaining strength to press your lips to his. His body reacted quickly, pulling you closer and giving you a passionate kiss in return, knowing this could be your last.

“I love you, Stiles.” Your hands ran through his soft hair trying to provide any source of comfort.

“Yeah I mean who doesn’t.” His attempt at a joke only left more tears streaming down his face, you gave a short laugh then winced when it caused pain to stab into your side. “I love you, too. So, so, so much.”

He could tell you were struggling to hang on to whatever life was left running though you, “It’s okay, you can let go. I’ve got you.” He reassured, rocking you back and forth.

With his final words you nodded smiling and closed your eyes, feeling safe nestled into him, not even caring about the fading consciousness you were experiencing. All you knew was Stiles was there with you and that was all that mattered.

—

He watched your eyes close for the last time and felt the final breath leave you. “You should of taken me instead, do you hear me? Giver her back and take me instead!” Stiles cried out over your limp body. His face was completely broken as he gazed down upon you. His mind began to wonder to how he’d never hear you laugh at his smart remarks again, or have Friday movie nights where you tried your hardest to stay awake but without fail always ended up snuggled into him and out like a light, or how he’d sneak you out in his jeep in the middle of the night to stargaze while talking about anything that came to mind. Memories flashed through him while he held you flush against his body.

~

“I could stay like this forever.” He murmured into your hair while you stared up at the night sky.

You laughed at the feeling of his breath on your neck, “I wish we could, this night is perfect.” You rolled over to face him, you noticed he turned shy as you gazed into his eyes. “What is it?”

He mumbled something you couldn’t hear and then fumbled around in his pocket. He jerked his hand out of his jacket pocket and the small object he’d been digging for went flying into the field that was surrounding you.

“Smooth Stiles, smooth.” You both laughed as the two of you searched for the object. He found it quickly then made you close your eyes and hold out your hand. You did as told and felt a ring being slid into your finger.

Opening your eyes you saw the silver band Stiles had been so nervous over giving you.

“It’s a promise ring, you know cause like we can’t get married right now cause we’re too young, but I want you to know that I’d like to some day eventually. I’d like to get married to you, have some dogs maybe a couple of kids, then grow old together. I hope you don’t think it’s boring or stupid or whatev-“

You silenced his quick mumbling with a long kiss to his lips, your hand coming up to the back of his neck.

“Well then I’d say it’s safe to say you liked it.” He said after you pulled away breathless from the kiss.

“I love it Stiles, and I love you.”

The remainder of the night consisted of you two planning what kind of dog you would adopt and wondering if Scott would be mad if you named it after him.

In the end you decided it didn’t matter as long as you were all happy.

~

“Please, please,” were the only words that came out as he pressed his forehead to yours, begging for any sign of life to come back to the still warm body he now cradled against his chest.

The woods fell quiet.

“Hey,” Scott tried out gently, setting his hand on Stiles shoulder. He had tears threatening to burst over, but tried to stay strong for his best friend. Losing y/n was going to take a toll on the whole pack. “Stiles, we need to get her somewhere, can’t just let the two of you sit out here forever.”

The rest of the pack gathered around as Stiles nodded, sniffling. Reluctantly he stood up, bringing you with him and holding you bridal style in his arms. Derek offered to carry you back but Stiles refused, not wanting to let go of you for even a second.

They walked in silence back to the jeep. No one else dared ask Stiles if he needed help.

He laid you down in his lap in the back seat of his jeep. Your cheeks had the lightest bit of color left to them, but it was quickly fading. His hand brushed the wet and tangled hair back away from your face while he gazed down at you. His shirt that was wrapped around you was ruined as would be the back seat of his beloved Roscoe but he couldn’t find it in himself to care in the least. He held your hand that was adorned with a silver promise ring tightly, knowing that if he let go he’d break down again and have to accept that you were really gone. No, he could live in his little fantasy for a bit longer, you were sleeping and on your way to the hospital to be checked out after encountering a wild mountain lion. Nothing serious, just a scratch. He imagined you’d be up and better by the weekend. Maybe he could plan a nice dinner for the two of you or find a beach to go set out at for an afternoon. He could practically hear you fussing at him to put on sunscreen already and then complaining when he splashes you.

Yes, he decided, you were going to be alright.

_____

Well it’s something I guess. Still not good at titles.

behind enemy lines - k. brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader.

genre/warning: just fluff!

words: 1.3k.

summary: in which to anyone else, you are supposed to be enemies. however, behind closed doors, it is with you that he feels the safest.

“Fraternizing with the enemy, Brekker?” Per Haskell’s voice ran through the office as he stared down at Kaz. Somehow word had gotten out about the little visit he had paid you, and if there was one thing that moved quickly through Ketterdam, it was rumors. Well, that and stray bullets.

To be honest, Kaz hadn’t exactly been trying to hide, and he didn’t feel like he owed anyone an explanation, especially Per Haskell. However, the old man liked to feel like he could still control Kaz and he figured he could grant him one lecture to make him feel better about himself. He knew there wouldn’t be consequences for him, anyway.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but want to laugh every time someone referred to you as the enemy, or a target, or -his personal favorite- dangerous. Don’t get him wrong, he was well aware of the fact that you were one of the deadliest criminals currently roaming the city, but you weren’t a lost cause. Not like he was, anyway.

He hated it when people compared you to him, you weren't unhinged, you weren’t evil, you were just… self-serving. Yeah, he decided, that was the best way to describe you. You didn’t really follow a moral code, you just did what benefited you the most, and while sometimes you had to do things that most people would consider amoral, no one could blame you for trying to make a living in the hell hole that was Ketterdam.

“I wouldn’t call it fraternizing, I was just conversing.” he wasn't. He was definitely not just conversing.

“I don’t give a shit what you were doing, I want the threat gone.” Kaz almost snorted at that.

Sure, you could kill a man in less than five seconds using no more than just your bare hands, but he wouldn’t consider you a threat, not to his gang anyway. You were more of an annoyance, a rock stuck in one’s shoe that you couldn’t really shake and remained there the whole time you walked, but never a threat. You actually were the person he felt the safest around, and while that did make you a threat, it didn’t make you the kind of threat everyone thought you were.

Kaz didn’t say all this, for obvious reasons, and instead settled for a simple: “Of course, sir.”

The old man waves a hand at that, and Kaz took it as a sign of dismissal. Without wasting a single second, Kaz was out of there as quickly as his leg allowed him to, and as he slammed the door, he used a bit more force than he usually would.

The only person who had noticed he wasn’t spending as much time in his office anymore was Inej, and if anyone else had, they didn’t dare ask him why.

It hadn’t been that difficult to convince him to stay with you, the office held nothing but bad memories and it was rarely quiet. Kaz used to think he liked the noise, he liked hearing the screaming from downstairs and feeling like the city never slept, he thought it granted him a sense of comfort - until he met you. With you, he realized he didn’t need outside noise to distract him from the mess inside his head, he just needed your laugh and a smart comment that forced him to suppress a smile of his own right after. He didn’t need to keep up an act to make him feel like he was in control, he could let his guard down and he could share the control of the situation, knowing you wouldn’t take advantage of his vulnerability.

Most importantly, he felt like he could actually be himself around you, never on edge and actually relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.

He quickly came to realize he didn’t just like your apartment because of its location, it’s height or it’s view, he didn’t care about the building or where it was located, he liked it because he liked you, and he was sure any room you set foot in would immediately become his favorite room in the city.

As he stepped into the apartment, he couldn’t smell the scent of freshly baked cookies, he couldn’t hear the sound of music coming from any room, and he couldn’t find you reading on the couch like he had heard most people found their significant others when they stepped into their homes. Instead, Kaz could see dirty knives on top of the kitchen table, previously blood stained clothes that had been recently washed hanging from the closest window, and an old ripped vest of his disregarded on top of the couch.

The only light shining on the apartment was the soft glow of the moon that painted shadows on the walls, and the only sound that resonated through the house were his own words once he spoke them. “Honey, I'm home.” His words were laced with sarcasm and they received no response from you. At this, he checked the main room and there he found you, asleep with one of his old shirts on, sleeping on his side of his bed like you always did when he hadn’t been home in a while. Looking at you, he couldn’t believe anyone would ever consider you a threat. The thought almost made him laugh: the most dangerous criminal in Ketterdam, wearing his shirt to bed and hugging his pillow.

He went to the closet first and opened the drawer in which you had told him to put his clothes, and changed into something more comfortable than his armor before slipping into the bed beside you, still keeping a distance.

You felt the bed sink beside you, and spoke to him without opening your eyes. “You’re late.” you said.

“Sorry ma’am.” he replied and you smiled, opening only one eye to take a look at his handsome face framed by messy hair.

“Was it the visit you paid me at work last week?” you said knowingly, he nodded. “I warned you.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” he shrugged. “Missed you too much.” you actually opened your eyes fully at the sound of that

“You big softie. What would the city say if they knew the bastard of the barrel had such a soft side?” you smiled.

“Thankfully, they won’t find out.” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Maybe I'll tell them.” you teased.

“I won’t let you.”

“You can’t beat me in a fight.” you challenged, knowing that would get a rise out of him.

“Wanna bet?” He raised his eyebrows, almost smiling at you.

“I would, but you have nothing to offer me, I already have all I want.” you shrugged, as if what you said carried no real meaning behind it, but he knew better.

“Now who’s the one going soft" he said, as one of the corners of his mouth quirked upwards.

“Oh, shut up.” you say with a smile, closing your eyes and missing his own smile just by a second.

Moments later, he felt your pinky finger wrap around his own. Kaz’s aversion to touch hadn’t completely healed, for it was not something that would just go away overnight, no matter how much you meant to him. You didn’t mind, and you both had come up with ways of feeling close to each other without actually having to show physical affection.

However, one thing he found he was okay with, was you hooking one of your fingers around one of his own. In his mind, it was a child-like action, it made him feel like a little boy again and he hated that he couldn’t do more, but you loved the little tradition you had created, and you planned to carry on doing it until he was ready for more, not caring when that would be.

You had time, and you had each other. Everything else could wait.

a/n: requests are open for any soc character (and some s&b characters)!

Hiiii, how are you? 💙 Can I request something fluffy with the marauders? Maybe a sleepover party at Y/n's house? And they also meet her parents and they love the boys 😊 I chose these prompts: “Do you want food?” “It’s 3 am.” and “Tea or hot chocolate?” “Why not both?”. Also congrats, you deserve much more! Your fanfics are amazing and you seem a very nice and friendly person! 💕💕

“I hope you like back rubs then"

Summary: Remus, Sirius, and James show up at your door for a sleepover

A/N: This request was really cute, I kinda wrote it as they were all together and I genuinely love the concept! Thanks for sending it in! Also we were having one of those moments where we just weren’t feeling the love for the rat over here… aka I did not include peter <3

Word Count: 1057

Masterlist + Characters and ships I write for

Requests are always open <3

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“What is all this?”

You questioned James, Sirius, and Remus standing at your doorstep, holding pillows and blankets and bags slung across their shoulders.

It had only been a couple hours since you got back to your parents house, bidding your goodbyes to the boys off the Hogwarts Express, leaving behind a great seventh year.

You were going to stay with your parents for a little bit until you could find a little place of your own, maybe even with the people at your front door.

“A surprise sleepover,” James phrased more like a question, still looking for you to say it was okay.

You outstretched your arms, wrapping them all up in a hug just before your mother appeared behind you.

“Who’s at the door, y/n?”

“These are my favorite people,” you said in a daze, glancing between the boys.

While introducing themselves to your mother, you could see it in her eyes that she clearly loved them already. “Oh, why are we standing out here? Come on in,” your mom urged.

She led all of you into the living room where your dad was messing with a deck of playing cards. “Hello there,” he sat up awkwardly in chair.

After a mere ten minutes, your dad was aboard the train of absolutely loving them.

“Um, I was wondering if it’s alright if they sleepover,” you spoke quickly, wanting to get out of the room.

“You boys are welcome anytime,” your dad said.

“We trust you all completely,” your mother added.

“On one condition,” your dad eased. “Your mother and I need a hug as payment.”

“Payment?” you asked, laughing. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Your parents held their arms open wide, posing to be completely serious. “You’re always going to be our little kid.”

James and Sirius were biting back laughs. “Yeah, you’re always going to be their little kid, y/n,” Remus teased.

“Oh I think Remus should join the hug too,” your mother insisted. “And I didn’t forget about you two either, James and Sirius.”

The boys wasted no time in all bear hugging you and your parents, letting go laughing.

You went down to your room, shutting your door softly and bracing your back against it.

“I don’t know how you did it, but they literally love you already.”

“Well that makes the whole y/l/n family then, huh?”

“Oh shut up,” you said, collapsing on the bed next to Remus.

He absentmindedly started playing with your hair while the four of you talked about what you wanted to do.

“Can I play music?” Sirius asked, dragging his fingers along the vinyl sleeves.

“Mhm, pick whatever you’d like.”

James helped him pick out a Beatles song before laying down across the foot of your bed.

“Can I paint your nails, Remus?” you asked, sitting up with excitement.

And that’s how you all ended up, hours later, with your nails painted.

“Do you want food?” Sirius asked abruptly.

“It’s three am,” James stated, rubbing his eyes.

Remus yawned, passing it onto you.

You wiped the inevitable water in your eyes, speaking. “I could go snag some food— Oh! Tea or hot chocolate?”

Sirius giggled, something he only did around the four of you. “Why not both?”

Remus groaned, rolling over on his side, his fingers spread apart as he waited for them to dry. “Oh, poor Rem,” you fake sympathized with him, thumbing the side of his face playfully. He shook you off, squirming and laughing.

You and Sirius left the room, walking quietly through the hallway and downstairs, careful not to wake your sleeping parents.

Sirius looped his forefinger around your pinky as you led him to the kitchen. He flipped the light on, and started his search for a teapot. You started on the hot chocolate, pulling out eight mugs.

You sat up on the counter, tilting your head back against the cupboard. Sirius pressed himself next to you, shoulder to shoulder. “You couldn’t just choose, could you?” you asked, gesturing to the absurd amount of glasses on the other side of the kitchen.

“Shh,” he shushed you, holding a finger over his lips, laughing a little. “I obviously could not. Plus- it’s more fun,” he said mumbling against your hair, pulling you closer.

He kissed the top of your head, the both of you enjoying the quiet.

Remus and James appeared from the dark, handing in hand, looking to be clinging on for their lives. “Merlin, y/n, this house is ridiculously scary at night.”

“Don’t worry, the ghosts usually go away by now.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Remus humored you as they picked up where you and Sirius left off.

Twenty minutes later after having helped the boys bring snacks and drinks back to your room, you walked in for the final time, finding them all squished on top of your bed. “Y’know, we all don’t have to be smashed on the bed,” you started to drag an extra comforter on the carpet, laying it out.

You threw pillows on one end as Remus crawled off the bed, soon followed by James, and of course, who was followed by Sirius. “You guys,” you laughed.

They sat up, sipping from their cups when they pleased, admiring the beautifully painted nails now all present in this room.

You laid down first, resting your head against the first pillow you threw down and without a doubt, after finishing their drinks, they did the same. “Are we seriously all going to sleep on the floor when there’s an empty bed right there?”

“It’s more interesting down here,” Remus said playfully.

“Oh yes, because I love waking up with a sore back.”

“Don't worry, I’ll wake you up with a back rub.”

“Remus, I swear— Do not wake me up,”

James and Sirius made themselves comfortable next to each other, absentmindedly playing with one another’s hands as they watched you and Remus.

“What if I do?”

“I-” you stammered over your words, trying to come up with a lighthearted threat. “I’d kiss you angrily,” the four of you laughed as you laid down in defeat.

He leaned over you, grabbing your hands, pressing them into the side of your pillow. He connected his lips to yours before lying down with the rest of you..

“I hope you like back rubs then.”

Marauders Era Taglist(send me an ask to be removed): @violetrainbow412-blog @scorpiobaby22 @harrypotter0addict @siriusbarnesslut @talksoprettyjjx

I don’t actually care for anything unless it’s about Sebastian Stan.

My theory for Steve’s time travel in Endgame

So I’m pretty sure almost everyone that watched Avengers Endgame had a problem with Steve’s time travel back to his life with Peggy and then his appearance as an old man sitting on the bench. 

Here is my theory on how it worked: 

For anyone who has watched the movie Sliding Doors, this will make sense. For anyone who has not, let me try and explain. 

So in the movie Sliding Doors, this woman misses a train and then an alternate timeline gets created where she didn’t miss the train. You then proceed to watch these two timelines play out together and at the end, one timeline “ends” (in a way I won’t explain for spoiler reasons) and the two timelines merge into one. (Hopefully this will all make more sense as I continue)

So when Steve travels back in time (Ignoring the issue that Steve wouldn’t leave Bucky) he created a different timeline where he didn’t get frozen and he stayed and grew old with Peggy. And there were essentially two Steve’s at the same time, just in different timelines. So while one Steve was getting frozen, then found again and then becoming a part of the Avengers in the films we know and love, the other Steve was growing old with Peggy. 

Then when Steve went back in time in Endgame the two realities would merge so Steve would turn up on the bench old. And because of time travel shit in the movies even before Endgame, there would’ve been an alternate timeline where Steve was growing old with Peggy. And because of the super serum Steve would’ve been able to live to the age of over one hundred. 

And similarly, when everyone went back in time to get the Infinity Stones, when they did go back in time they created alternate time lines, BUT when they went forward in time to get back to their present, the alternate timelines got “destroyed” or just ‘sped up’ to merge with their current timeline. 

So Steve still would’ve gone through the movies just the same and Steve wouldn’t have been related to Sharon in the ‘original’ time line, aka the time line we were shown by Marvel (which was a big problem of mine). 

I hope this makes sense and if you’re still confused about the alternate timelines go watch Sliding Doors and hopefully it will make more sense. 

If you have any questions feel free to comment down below or if you find any holes in my theory (but keep in mind it took me 45 minutes with my mums help to come up with this and give me peace, so maybe don’t overthink it)

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.

Just a Scratch

Peter Pan x Reader x Felix Fandom: OUAT Summary/Prompt: could you do a poly imagine with peter pan and felix? Note: Oof, it has been so frickin long since I’ve written anything for this blog, but college has been killing me. I get out later this month, so expect more content then. I’ve also been working on a fantasy novel….so keep your eyes peeled for that. Warnings: Mentions of blood? Word Count: 586

“I am FINE.” You tried to convince Peter’s skeptical face. He wasn’t buying it, obviously. The sword fight with Hook and his crew hadn’t exactly been pretty, and you’d gotten perhaps the worst of it, leaving your boyfriends worried. Currently, Pan was carrying you against his chest while Felix tried to clear out the Lost Boys standing in front of the medic tent.

“Get out of the way! Move!” He was rougher with them than you would have liked, but you weren’t in any position to tell him how to treat the younger boys.

“You don’t look fine, love.” Peter whispered, setting you down on the cot in there. Once Felix had shut the curtains and kept out the onlookers, their true natures came to the surface, Pan’s features softening noticeably, as did Felix’s. Now that they didn’t have to worry about keeping up their reputations, they were back to being the boys that had stolen your heart instead the leaders of the lost boys.

“How bad does it hurt?” Felix asked, pushing a box closer to the cot so he could sit and hold your hand while Peter worked his magic.

“It’s just a scratch.” You grimaced as Peter lifted your shirt to reveal the gaping wound.

“Just a scratch my ass.” Peter shook his head, assessing the damage. In his years, he’d seen his fair share of injuries. He’d seen cuts shallower than this kill some of his dearest Lost Boys, crying to Felix behind closed doors. Now that you were here, though, now that they had another person in their lives that they cared about as much as each other, Peter was much more scared about what would happen if things went south.

He was lucky he’d found you when he did.

“You’re gonna need to hold still, alright?” Felix instructed quietly, brushing hair off of your blood-matted forehead. There was a scratch there, too, but it had already closed up, only leaving the dry blood in its place. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Peter held the bloody rags away from your body so he could get a clear shot at the wound. Magic, pure and golden, manifested in his palm. You stared at the golden light as your vision went fuzzy. Felix had told you once while Pan was out on a patrol of the island, that his magic had gotten so much lighter since you’d gotten there. Something about you triggered the happiness in him that he had kept buried away for so long.

“Hey, stay with me. Keep those eyes open, love.” Pan watched as his magic worked to mend you back together without so much as a single complication. Healing magic, as it was on the lighter side of the spectrum, had never been his strong suit. Never had he ever performed such a clean healing spell until now. When he was finished, all that was left was your exposed abdomen, a thin white scar etched across your smooth skin. He pulled your shirt back down and then pulled you into his arms, Felix enveloping the both of you with his long limbs.

“I’m sorry I got hurt…” You apologized softly. “I should have been quicker. Then I wouldn’t have–”

“Don’t you dare apologize. This isn’t your fault. It’s Hook’s.” Felix shook his head, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“We’ll get him back, love.” Peter stroked through your hair, a dark grin growing on his features. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.”

A/N: Let us kick off autumn season with everyone’s favourite pirate! This Imagine is based on requests from @manymanycupsoftea and two anons. This is probably not entirely historically accurate or more than a fluffy piece of even more fluff but… Have fun! 🎃😋

Words: 1913 Warnings: fluff, anxiety (fear of thunderstorms)

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Maze runner Reactions Badass Reader

Reader - A badass girl who can look after herself and doesn’t need anyone. Your skilled in combat and have exceptionally good reflex’s. You have spent about 3 months in the Maze and its your first time meeting actual people.

Glader’s Reactions

Gally: She can think what ever the shucking hell she likes but we have rules here and she will obey them just like everyone else. I don’t trust her, not a chance and i dont know if I believe this la la story about staying in the the maze for 3 months.

Newt: Well i honestly kinda like her..she’s very different from the rest of us kinda like Thomas but more mysterious and wild. I can see she’s quite hard to tame, she definitely doesn’t like being told what to do. Ha ha ha...we ultimately had to throw her in the Slammer for a month..but it was all worth it.

Minho: God that girl makes grievers easy to handle, it was bad enough when me and Ben had to drag her back into the glade by force. She kicked Ben right i the face and elbowed me to the ribs. I’m not gonna lie i like a challenge and I’m defiantly not backing down from this one. Neither is Gally.

Thomas: I really admire the girl..not that i want t be thrown in the slammer as well. But i just really like her drive and passion it makes her seem powerful, invincible almost. I wonder ho she lasted so long in the maze and if she’s willing to teach me. I don’t see her as the wild girl that she is, she just wants her freedom and wants to live by her own rules which is fair enough.

Chuck: I think Ably and Gally are a bit harsh on her. Sure she was very violent and quite aggressive but that’s cause Gally pushed her over the edge. I remember approaching her when she was in the slammer she was very kind to me, she had a soft voice and did not threaten me at all. She told me her stories about the outside world beyond the maze and the battles she fought with the Grievers. I really enjoy her company and I’m happy she’s not the psycho everyone sorta makes her out to be.

Alby: Where do I even start, she’s a lot to handle in more ways then one. I can’t let her out of my sight cause she will make a dash for the maze, she wont do the work I assign her and she wont obey pretty much any of our rules and there are only 3! I don’t now I still have hope for her but its running short, maybe she really does belong to the Maze. Or maybe I’m not looking at the bigger picture.

Frypan: Huh the only things that really seems to calm her down is my cook she loves the steaks i cook and always wants them. All the interactions I have had with her aren’t actually bad,she always thanks me for my efforts and acknowledges that she loves my food. One time she actually snuck into the homestead and helped me with the cooking and cleaning She really isn’t a bad sort. I think Ably and Gally need to just give the girls chance and loosen up, see the word through her perspective.