inlovewithdob

[inlovewithdob]

As Different as Night and Day

pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel, the feared and disciplined Spymaster of the Night Court, has spent centuries longing for a mate. When the Cauldron finally grants him one, it is not the gentle, soft-hearted Elain, the female he has chosen to love, but you—Helion’s wild, untamed, and fiercely independent daughter.

A renowned singer, vibrant, and utterly untouchable, you have spent your life knowing that men only ever want something from you. When the bond snaps between you and Azriel, you want nothing to do with it—or him. He is dark, lethal, and bound to another, while you are free-spirited, full of fire, and unwilling to let fate dictate your choices.

Rejecting the bond could break him. Could destroy him.

And if he walks away from you now, he may never recover.

But is it too late to stop himself?

Or has he already fallen into the fire?

___________________________________________________

content warnings: angst, injuries, smut (18+), fluff

word count: 15.3k

Permanent taglist: @motheroffae @tele86 @demon-master-zero @thegoddessofnothingness @rosecobollway @sillyfreakfanparty @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @plants-w0rld @frietiemeloen @the-hidey-hole

Azriel permanent taglist: @kathren1sky-blog @phoenix666stuff @breathingstarlight

Taglist: @melmo567 @ashduv @myfatbottomedgirls @batboyslutt @thalia-as-blog

Image owned by Soluna Artworks.

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

********

Chapter 11

The moment Lucien winnowed into the House of Wind library where the Inner Circle was gathered, the tension in the room became suffocating.

Rhys, Cassian, Mor, and Feyre immediately turned toward him, their expressions shifting from surprise to concern.

"Lucien?" Rhys asked, stepping forward. "What’s wrong?"

Lucien’s breathing was ragged, frantic. His golden eyes blazed with urgency.

"It’s Y/n," he said, voice tight with emotion. "She’s dying."

The words sent shockwaves through the room.

"What?" Feyre gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

"She was cut with a poisoned blade during the war," Lucien gritted out. "We thought she had healed, but the poison has been spreading through her body for the last eight days. Helion has tried everything, but it’s killing her." He turned to Rhys, his jaw clenched. "We need Madja. Now."

Feyre didn’t hesitate. She disappeared in a winnow to retrieve the healer.

Mor, however, had already spun on her heel, her face grim, her body tense.

"I’ll get Azriel."

And then she was gone.

*****

The door to the library whipped open violently, sending papers flying across the room.

Azriel stormed inside, his shadows flaring wildly, his chest heaving as his sharp eyes immediately locked on Lucien.

"Why the fuck," he snarled, "am I just now hearing about this?"

Lucien was waiting for it.

Waiting for Azriel’s anger.

Waiting for his guilt.

And he gave him none of it.

Instead, Lucien stepped forward, fury radiating off him.

"Why the fuck," Lucien growled back, "has it been eight gods-damned days and you haven’t come to see her?"

Azriel stilled.

Lucien’s eyes burned with rage.

"You—her mate—haven’t sent word, haven’t come to check on her, haven’t even asked about her! After everything she did for you!"

Azriel’s throat worked as he swallowed.

"Lucien—" Rhys started, but Lucien cut him off.

"No," he snapped. "I want to hear his fucking excuse." He turned back to Azriel, clenching his fists.

"She rode all night across the damn country just to see you before battle, to tell you she loved you, to give you that fucking sunstone around your neck, and you just—" Lucien’s voice broke, his anger trembling on the edge of devastation. "And you just stomped all over her heart. I should fucking end you for what you’ve done to her."

Azriel looked like he had been struck.

His hands curled into fists. His shadows coiled violently, frenzied with his turmoil.

"I—" He took a ragged breath, his face pale. "I didn’t know… I thought she was healing—"

"She was healing!" Lucien barked. "Until she wasn’t! Until she couldn’t even fucking get out of bed! Until she stopped responding! She is slipping away and you weren’t fucking there, Shadowsinger!"

Azriel’s knees nearly buckled.

Lucien wasn’t finished.

"And don’t you fucking dare tell me you didn’t come because you didn’t want to. I know how you look at her. So why, Azriel? Why did you stay away?"

Azriel’s eyes flashed to Rhys.

Rhys sighed heavily.

"Because I wouldn’t let him."

Lucien’s head snapped toward Rhys.

"What?"

"Azriel still isn’t fully healed," Rhys said, his expression exhausted, remorseful. "Madja said if he traveled through the shadows, it could weaken him to the point of collapse or death. He couldn’t fly, and I—" He hesitated. "I told him he couldn’t go."

Lucien’s jaw locked. His nostrils flared, but he took a long, slow breath, shaking with fury.

"If you want to see her before she dies, you best come now," Lucien finally said, voice deadly quiet. "Because she has had poison inside of her for eight days and even Helion with all his power cannot heal her."

Azriel’s heart stopped beating.

She’s dying.

He staggered back a step, his entire world tilting.

"No," he breathed. His chest heaved, panic crashing into him. "No, no—"

"Yes." Lucien’s voice was harsh. "And you could have been there. You could have went back with her to Day Court, but instead, you were too busy holding my mate."

Azriel froze.

Lucien’s expression darkened.

"What the hell was that, Azriel?" Lucien hissed, eyes blazing. "On the battlefield—after Hybern was dead—when my baby sister was standing right there, bleeding, looking at you, and you just sat there. Holding Elain in your lap."

Azriel’s stomach dropped.

Lucien’s hands curled into fists.

"Why?"

Azriel’s breathing was ragged.

He wanted to lie.

He wanted to say it meant nothing.

He wanted to say he had only been comforting Elain, that it had been instinct, guilt, duty.

But as he stood there, every single memory of Y/n slammed into him.

The way she had challenged him, fought with him, defied him. The way she had touched him, worshipped him, kissed him. The way she had looked at him like he was her whole world.

She had ridden across the battlefield for him.

And he had held another female in his arms.

His mate had been standing right there, and he had let her go.

"I fucked up." The words were barely a whisper.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

Azriel exhaled shakily.

"I held her because I felt responsible. I held her because I almost got her killed." He dragged his hands down his face. "But you’re right. I should have gone to Y/n. I should have—" He broke off, his voice cracking.

Lucien’s jaw clenched.

"You may be too late."

Azriel stilled.

"No." His voice shook. He looked at Rhys, at Cassian, at Mor. "I have to go to her—now."

Lucien’s expression softened for just a moment.

"Then let’s go."

Lucien’s hand clenched around Azriel’s arm, his winnowing magic already surging as the room pulsed with tension. But before they could vanish, a gust of wind tore through the room��and then Feyre reappeared, breathless, with Madja at her side.

"We need to leave now," Feyre panted, her eyes wide with worry.

Madja, the most revered healer in all of Prythian, looked at them with a grim expression.

"Is she still responsive?" she asked Lucien.

Lucien shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "No. She stopped responding last night. She’s slipping away."

Azriel felt his heart shatter.

Madja nodded, already preparing her magic.

"Then take me to her."

No one hesitated.

Lucien gripped Azriel’s arm tighter, Feyre grabbed onto Madja, and Rhys placed a hand on Feyre’s shoulder—

And then they winnowed.

*****

The moment they winnowed into your chambers in Day Court, a heavy, suffocating silence met them. The scent of death and magic was thick in the air.

Azriel’s heart stopped.

Helion was seated at your bedside, his usual golden radiance dulled, grief etched into every line of his face. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks as he clutched your cold, lifeless hand.

"Please come back to me, my little sunbeam," Helion whispered, his voice breaking. His grip on your hand tightened as if he could tether you to life through sheer will alone. "Papa needs you here."

Feyre let out a quiet sob, gripping her chest as silent tears slipped down her face.

Azriel felt like he couldn’t breathe.

"This can’t be happening," he whispered, his body frozen in place.

From the corner of the room, a figure shot up from a chair, striding forward with fury radiating off him in waves.

Ryder.

His face was drawn tight with exhaustion, but his ice-blue eyes were blazing with rage.

And then, he was on Azriel.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Ryder roared, his voice shaking with rage.

Azriel barely had time to react before Ryder was right in front of him, shoving him backward.

Rhys stepped forward, but Azriel didn’t move to retaliate. He just stood there, absorbing the impact, absorbing Ryder’s fury as if he deserved it.

“Eight fucking days,” Ryder seethed, fists clenched at his sides. “Eight days she’s been like this. Poisoned. Dying. And you - ” he jabbed a finger at Azriel’s chest, “You, her godsdamned mate, were nowhere to be found.”

Azriel’s throat tightened, his wings flaring slightly behind him.

“I didn’t know - ”

“Bullshit!” Ryder spat. “You saw she was injured and exhausted after Hybern was killed before her father winnowed her away. And yet all you could see was Elain and you made no move to comfort Y/n, your mate for fuck’s sake!”

Azriel’s entire body tensed, his shadows twisting violently around his boots.

Ryder didn’t let up.

“She rode across a battlefield for you. She put her heart in your fucking hands,” Ryder growled. “And you let her slip through your fingers like she meant nothing.”

“She is not nothing to me,” Azriel snarled, shadows curling around his body.

Ryder scoffed, stepping closer. “Then where were you?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, but it was Rhys who answered.

“That was my fault,” Rhys admitted, his voice grim.

Ryder turned to him, his eyes blazing. “Explain.”

“Madja told me he was in no condition to fly,” Rhys said. “And traveling by shadows could have made his injuries worse. I ordered him to stay.”

Ryder’s lip curled in disgust. “And you listened?” he spat at Azriel. “You—who would rather crawl through hell than be kept away from what’s yours?”

Azriel’s stomach twisted.

"I gave Rhys grief every single day," he rasped. "Begging to come here."

Ryder scoffed, shaking his head. “Not good enough.”

Azriel exhaled sharply, his hands shaking as he pushed past Ryder, falling to his knees at your bedside.

"Madja," Rhys’s voice was strained, urgent. "Do something. Please."

Madja was already moving, rushing to your side, her power flaring to life.

"Show me the wound," she ordered, her voice sharp, unwavering.

Helion hesitated, his fingers trembling as he lifted the fabric of your gown.

The sight stole the breath from the room.

A once-healed wound stretched across your abdomen, black-purple veins spidering out from it - poison.

The infection had spread too far, too deep.

Madja’s face turned to stone.

"Gods-damned poison," she hissed.

Azriel’s stomach twisted painfully.

"You said it was a wound from the war?" Madja asked, examining the damage.

Helion nodded tightly. "A blade. We thought she healed, but…"

"Not fully," Madja muttered. Her hands hovered over the wound, her magic glowing dimly as she tested the extent of the poison’s spread. "It’s everywhere. It’s been festering inside her for days."

Azriel’s lungs seized.

"No," he growled, his hands clenching into fists. "She’s strong. She’ll fight."

Madja lifted a sharp brow. "She’s not fighting, Shadowsinger. She has been barely holding on as it is. I will do everything I can, but if she does not wake up soon -"

Azriel snapped.

"She will wake up!" His shadows coiled and writhed around him, dark tendrils lashing out as his panic turned into something feral.

His hands, those scarred, trembling hands, smoothed your hair back, his fingers shaking as he cupped your face.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please fight. Please."

Nothing.

No response.

No flicker of recognition.

Only the ragged, uneven rise and fall of your chest.

Helion’s voice cut through the silence, sharp as a blade.

Helion’s eyes burned with rage and anguish. "Have you chosen Elain after everything my daughter did to find you before the war? After she laid her heart bare to you?"

Azriel flinched. "I didn’t choose Elain." His voice was hoarse, raw. "Before the war, I told Elain - I told her I love Y/n. I want to be with Y/n."

Helion let out a bitter laugh.

"And yet after Hybern was dead, I saw Elain throw herself at you, and you pulled her into your lap and held her." His voice trembled with fury.

"When you should have been holding my daughter instead." He pointed at you, his grip tightening on your limp hand. "My daughter saw the whole damn thing.” Helion’s voice cracked. "I had to stand there and tell my little sunbeam not to let you see her cry before I winnowed her out of there." His golden eyes burned into Azriel. "Tell me, Shadowsinger—tell me how that is choosing my daughter?"

Azriel felt like he had been gutted.

Lucien took a step forward, his fury barely restrained. "You had my sister’s heart in your hands, and you shattered it."

"I—" Azriel’s voice failed him. His chest heaved.

"Why?" Helion demanded.

Azriel closed his eyes, shame tightening around his throat like a noose.

"I felt so guilty for Elain being captured," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Silence.

"She isn’t a warrior. She isn’t trained. But she wanted to fight anyway," Azriel rasped. "She wanted to use her abilities to help swing the war in our favor. I -" he swallowed, "I was so scared for her safety that I gave her my dagger. My Truth-Teller. Because she couldn’t hold a sword properly. And then - "

He exhaled shakily.

"She was taken anyway."

The room was so quiet it hurt.

"I promised Feyre I’d watch over her. I failed. She was taken, and I felt like it was my fault." He glanced at Feyre, who shook her head, eyes shining with guilt.

"Az, it wasn’t your fault," Feyre said gently.

"It feels like it was," he admitted, his throat tight. "After Hybern fell, she broke. She was shaking, crying. She had never killed before." His voice cracked. "So I held her while she cried. It felt like my duty."

Helion���s face was cold. "And my daughter? What about her?"

Azriel’s gaze snapped to you.

"My heart lies with her."

Lucien let out a sharp breath.

"I don’t want to reject the bond," Azriel confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "She is everything I have hoped for, everything I have dreamed of for centuries."

Helion’s golden eyes softened just a fraction.

Azriel’s shaking hands curled around yours.

"But I’m here now and I’m not letting her go, not now, not ever." he whispered, his voice breaking.

He leaned down, his forehead nearly touching yours.

"Please, Y/n," he pleaded. "Please come back to me."

Silence.

Azriel closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, then your forehead.

"I choose you." His voice shook. "And bond or no bond, I would still choose you.  I love you."

As Madja's healing power surged, Helion pushed his healing magic into you alongside her.

And suddenly a soft, shuddering gasp filled the room.

Your fingers twitched.

Your eyelids fluttered.

Azriel nearly collapsed.

"That’s it, baby," he whispered. He kissed your knuckles, your forehead, your cheek. Anything he could reach.

"Come back to me, feisty little thing."

A gentle, trembling hand brushing against your cheek. Lips pressing softly to your forehead. A voice, deep, familiar, and filled with emotion.

"Sunshine," the voice cracked. "My little sunbeam…"

You blinked, the golden glow of the Day Court filtering into your vision. The first thing you saw was Helion’s face, his usually bright eyes rimmed red, his golden skin paler than normal.

You had never seen him look so broken.

"Papa…" you whispered, voice hoarse, weak.

A choked sound tore from him as he cupped your face between his hands, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that slipped from your eye.

"You scared me, sunshine," he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead, then one to your cheek. "You scared me so godsdamned much."

You tried to give him a weak smile. "I'm sorry."

Helion shook his head, laughing through his tears. "Don’t apologize, just - just rest, my love." He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing you in like he still couldn’t believe you were here. "I love you so much, little sunbeam. More than anything."

Your chest ached at the raw emotion in his voice.

Then another voice, softer but equally choked with relief.

"Finally awake, are we?"

Lucien.

Your eyes flickered to him, and he gave you a soft, lopsided grin as he took your other hand, pressing a warm kiss to your knuckles.

"You had us worried, baby sister." His voice wavered slightly. "You don’t get to scare us like that again, you hear me?"

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

"I hear you," you murmured.

Lucien squeezed your hand.

Helion turned to Madja, his face still tight with worry. "Will she be alright?"

The healer gave a small, approving nod. "She will make a full recovery, but she needs rest. No stress, no strain. And no overexerting herself, High Lord." She eyed him knowingly.

Helion sighed. "Well if you knew my daughter, you would understand when I say I make no promises."

Madja rolled her eyes but smiled, gathering her things before giving you one last look. "You're stronger than most, but even the strong need time to heal. Take care of yourself, child."

You nodded weakly, and she gave a final glance to Helion before leaving.

Then, slowly, you turned your head and your heart nearly stopped.

Azriel.

He was right beside you, gripping your hand as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. His scarred knuckles were white from how tightly he held you, his wings limp, his face tired, drawn, utterly wrecked.

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

"You’re here," you rasped, shock and exhaustion laced in your voice.

His hazel eyes met yours, dark and shining with something you couldn’t quite name.

"Of course I’m here," he whispered.

Your brows furrowed. "Why?"

Before he could answer, Helion exhaled, giving you one last squeeze before rising. "I think we should give you two some time to talk."

Lucien nodded, following suit.

As the others began to file out, another presence stepped to the side of your bed.

Ryder.

You blinked in surprise. "You’re here too?"

He gave you a small, bittersweet smile before leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I had to see you," he murmured.

Your chest tightened. "Ryder, I - "

"Shh," he whispered. "We’ll talk later. Right now, you need to rest."

You nodded, still too weak to argue.

Ryder straightened, his expression shifting as he turned to Azriel, who was still sitting beside you.

A muscle ticked in Ryder’s jaw before he leaned in slightly, voice low, dangerous.

"You ever hurt her or break her heart again," he growled, "I will fucking end you."

Azriel didn’t even flinch.

He just gave a small nod, as if he fully accepted the consequences of ever failing you again.

With one last lingering glance at you, Ryder turned and left the room.

And then, it was just you and Azriel.

Alone.

The silence stretched between you.

Azriel’s grip on your hand never loosened. If anything, it tightened.

You swallowed thickly.

Azriel sat beside you, his scarred hands gripping yours as if he was afraid you would slip through his fingers again. His hazel eyes were raw, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, shadows coiling around him like restless whispers of the storm raging inside him.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper as you asked him again, “Why are you here, Azriel?”

He inhaled sharply, his grip on your hands tightening. “Because I had to be,” he murmured, his voice rough, thick with emotion. “Because when Lucien came to the House of Wind and told us what was happening to you, I -” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I nearly lost my godsdamned mind.”

Your breath hitched.

“I’ve been trying to get to you for days, but Rhys - Rhys ordered me to stay put until I was healed enough to travel,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you before I got the chance to say what I should have said a long time ago.”

You blinked back the tears forming in your eyes. “And what is that?”

Azriel took another deep breath, as if steadying himself before he bared his soul to you. “Before the war, I told Elain that I loved you. That I wanted to be with you. That I wanted to accept the bond, to choose you.”

Your heart clenched painfully, and your lips parted in a silent breath of shock.

“I burn for you, Y/n,” he rasped, his thumb tracing slow, reverent circles over your knuckles. “I have never longed for someone the way I long for you. I have never loved someone the way I love you.”

A lump formed in your throat, your body trembling as the weight of his words settled over you.

“But I saw you, Azriel,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the pain from that day came crashing down all over again. “After you rescued her. After she killed Hybern. You just - held her. You looked at me once and then buried your face in her hair.” You swallowed, your voice shaking. “I was hoping - praying you’d come to me. That you’d make a move towards me, show me that I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of my life by giving you everything. But you didn’t. You just held her like she was your whole world. And it gutted me, Azriel. It destroyed me.”

A shattered look crossed his face, pain twisting his features, but you weren’t done.

“So I figured you had made your choice.” You exhaled shakily. “And it wasn’t me.”

Azriel let out a sharp, pained breath, shaking his head fiercely. “No,” he growled, his voice thick with desperation. “It was never about choosing her over you. It was guilt, godsdamned guilt. She was taken, tortured. I promised Feyre I’d protect her, and I failed. I blamed myself. So when she broke down, when she needed comfort, I gave it. But I was never choosing her.” His fingers tightened on your hands. “I should have come to you first. I should have held you instead. I should have told you that I loved you before you ever walked away.”

Your heart ached, torn between the pain of what had been and the love still pulsing between you both. But there was still something else gnawing at you.

“But you gave her Truth Teller,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You never let anyone touch that dagger. Not even Cassian or Rhys. And yet, you gave it to her.”

Azriel inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “Because she can’t fight, Y/n,” he admitted. “Because she couldn’t even hold a sword. Truth Teller was the only thing I could think of to give her a chance to defend herself. That’s all it was.”

You searched his face, but his expression was resolute, raw, honest.

“But the moment you rode away,” he continued, his voice breaking, “I realized I should have told you I loved you. I should have told you I burned for you. That I have been yours since the first moment I saw you on that stage at Rita’s.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He ran his hand down your arm, as if grounding himself in the feel of you. “I kicked myself after you left for letting you ride away without telling you how much you meant to me. How much your words, your actions, your love meant to me. How much it meant to me that you rode across the battlefield just to see me one last time. And when we made love… gods, Y/n, it meant everything to me. You gave me your heart, your body, your soul.” He exhaled shakily. “And I should have told you that I gave you mine in return.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you forced yourself to ask, “And now?”

Azriel took your face in his hands, his eyes burning into yours. “And now,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper, “I am begging you to believe me when I say that I love you. That I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, proving it to you, if you’ll let me.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and he wiped it away with a featherlight touch.

Your fingers tightened around Azriel’s hand, anchoring yourself to him as you took a steadying breath. His eyes—those beautiful hazel eyes, rimmed with red, glistening with unshed tears—never wavered from your face, waiting, hoping, bracing for whatever you were about to say.

"I want to accept the bond," you whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I want you, Azriel. Not just for tonight, not just for a moment. I want forever with you."

A strangled sound escaped him, something between a laugh and a sob as his grip on you tightened. His shadows curled around the bedposts like they were barely holding him together.

"I love you, Azriel," you continued, tears slipping down your cheeks. "Gods, I love you so much that I can hardly breathe when I think about you. I don’t want to fight it anymore. I don’t want to fight you. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine." You gave a wry smile. "And as soon as I can get out of this godsdamned bed, I want to go back to the cabin in Vallahan and cook you a proper meal. I want to finish the week you promised to stay with me. Hiking, exploring, making love - just the two of us, away from everything."

Azriel let out a broken laugh, shaking his head in disbelief as a single tear traced its way down his scarred cheek. He wiped it away before cupping your face, his thumb stroking along your jaw, reverence shining in his gaze. "There is nothing I would rather do than go back to that cabin with you," he murmured. "Just you and me, no war, no obligations - just us." His voice cracked, and he let out another watery laugh. "Fuck, you have no idea how badly I want that."

You huffed, frustrated as you tried to sit up, only for Azriel to gently push you back down. He was still laughing, his lips quirking up at your irritation. "You need to stay in bed," he teased. "Madja’s orders."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I hate being told what to do."

"Oh, I know," he smirked, his voice dropping to that low, dark rasp that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned closer, his lips brushing over yours as he whispered, "Maybe not other people’s orders, but you will obey mine." His fingers traced along your collarbone before drifting lower, pressing into your skin possessively. "And if you stay put, as I tell you to, you’ll be rewarded for being a good girl."

Your breath hitched, your body instantly reacting to his words. "Hmmm," you mused, raising a brow. "And what exactly will I get as a reward?"

He chuckled, his lips ghosting over your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. "You’ll have to be a good girl first to find out."

You pretended to think about it before smirking. "Alright, I’ll make a deal with you."

Azriel arched a brow, intrigued. "I’m listening."

"I’ll stay in this bed and do exactly as you say, but only if you stay with me while I recover. That means staying in this bed with me."

His smirk turned downright wicked. "I think that can be arranged."

Before you could respond, he was climbing into bed, settling between your legs, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips claimed yours. The kiss was long, deep, and possessive, his tongue sweeping into your mouth in a slow, tantalizing dance that made your toes curl. His hands caressed your sides, his fingers tracing every inch of your body with reverence.

His lips began to trail downward, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. When he reached the spot where your shoulder met your neck, he paused, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.

He pressed his lips to the permanent mating mark, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin before he murmured, "I like seeing my mark on you."

You shivered, your hands threading into his thick, dark hair. "I wondered if you meant to do that."

His gaze darkened, his fingers gripping your hips possessively. "Absolutely. I want every male alive to know you belong to me."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "I belong to no one. That alpha male shit doesn’t work on me, Shadowsinger."

His lips curved into a devious grin against your neck. "Really, Princess? Because we both know you want me to go all alpha male on you."

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, he nipped at your mating mark—hard enough to make you yelp. The sound only made him chuckle, a deep, rumbling sound that sent heat pooling between your legs.

"Good girls get rewards," he reminded you, dragging his teeth along your pulse. "And the work for that reward is always worth it."

His thumb brushed across your lower lip, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief and heat as he murmured, "So behave."

Then he captured your lips again, kissing you long and deep, unraveling you entirely, piece by piece, until all you could feel was him.

And gods, you never wanted to feel anything else.

*****

Azriel was relentless.

He barely let you move from the bed without his assistance, ensuring that you followed Madja’s orders to the letter.

It was infuriating, really, how devoted, how unwaveringly protective he was over your well-being.

But you had to admit, if there was any male in the world who could get away with telling you what to do, it was him and ONLY him.

And only because of the way he looked at you -like you were the most precious thing he had ever held in his hands.

He made sure you ate, made sure you drank enough water, made sure you slept, despite your protests.

He held you through the night, whispering words of comfort when you startled awake in the dark, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

And maybe he was.

Every morning and evening, he would carry you out onto the balcony of your chambers in Day Court, where the sunrises and sunsets painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson.

You would sit between his legs, wrapped in his strong arms as the wind played with your hair, his chin resting on your shoulder. He never rushed you, never spoke unless you did first. He simply held you, content just to be near you, just to breathe you in as you healed.

During the afternoons, he would read to you - one of those romance novels you loved so much. The ones he used to roll his eyes at but now read to you without hesitation, his deep voice lulling you into a sense of peace, even as he muttered about how the male characters in these stories had nothing on him.

"I don’t understand how you read this filth," he grumbled one afternoon, turning the page of a particularly scandalous scene.

You smirked and challenged him. "Oh please, Spymaster. I happen to like a good alpha male in my books. You should take notes."

Azriel narrowed his eyes at you over the top of the book. "Should I, now?"

You bit your lip, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Mhm."

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned in, voice dropping to that lethal, wicked rasp. "You’ll regret saying that later, feisty little thing."

And gods, the way he said it, the way his lips brushed your ear with the promise of what was to come - it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

But he never let things progress too far.

Each night, he curled around you in bed, keeping you pressed against him like he was terrified that if he let go, you would slip away. His hand splayed over your stomach, right above where your wound had been, as if he could shield you from any further harm just by keeping you close.

And every day, he ran you a bath, lifting you into the warm water with ease, settling behind you as you leaned back against his chest. His strong hands would glide over your body, washing away the aches of battle, the memories of pain, the shadows of what could have been.

When he washed your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp in slow, reverent strokes, you sighed in contentment. "You’re spoiling me, Shadowsinger."

"You deserve to be spoiled," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You tilted your head back against his shoulder, your bare body molding against his. "Then spoil me properly."

You reached for him under the water, but before you could touch him, he caught your wrist, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your palm.

"No, baby," he murmured. "Not yet. You’re not fully healed." His gaze was heavy with restraint, with longing.

You pouted. "Az, I feel fine."

He chuckled, brushing his nose against your cheek. "Patience, my feisty little thing."

You were about to argue - about to tell him that you were more than ready, that you needed him, but then his lips descended on yours, kissing you slow, deep, and thorough, until you forgot what you were even about to say.

And by the time he pulled away, leaving you breathless and dazed, he smirked. "Good girls get rewards, remember?"

And as much as you hated to admit it, you were beginning to think the wait might just be worth it.

*****

Azriel had barely made it out of your chambers before you pouted at him.

"I don’t want you to go," you whined, crossing your arms over your chest, bottom lip jutted out in the most adorable, bratty expression he’d ever seen.

Azriel chuckled, shaking his head. "You are impossibly cute when you do that."

Before you could reply, his large hand came down on your ass with a light, playful smack, making you yelp. Heat shot straight to your core at the feeling of his palm against your skin. His shadows swirled around you, teasing, whispering secrets only he could hear.

"Behave," he murmured in that devastatingly deep, dark voice, pulling you into his arms. His nose brushed yours, lips just a breath away. "I’ll be back in a few hours, baby. Try not to miss me too much."

You rolled your eyes. "No promises."

His smirk was lethal. And then his lips were on yours, soft but lingering, as if he hated the thought of leaving you, even for a little while. He pulled away just enough to whisper, "I love you," before he winnowed away into the shadows, leaving you breathless.

With a sigh, you flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

You already missed him.

Gods, you had it bad.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts.

Madja stepped in, giving you a once-over before nodding approvingly. "You look much better."

"I feel much better," you admitted, pushing yourself to sit up. "Thanks to you."

She hummed, coming to check your vitals, her hands glowing softly as she pressed them against your skin. After a moment, she leaned back, satisfied. "You’re officially cleared for all activities. Just try not to overdo it for a few more days."

You smirked. "Define overdo it."

Madja gave you a knowing look, one brow arched. "Your mate is a formidable male, but I doubt even he will push you too far before you’re fully ready."

You tried to fight the blush creeping up your cheeks and failed miserably.

Helion walked in just as Madja was finishing up. "Good news, I take it?"

Madja smiled. "Your daughter is fully healed."

Helion exhaled in relief, his shoulders dropping slightly. "Thank you, Madja. For everything. I am forever indebted to you for saving my little sunbeam."

She inclined her head before leaving, and as soon as the door shut behind her, you turned to your father.

"Papa, I want to go back to the cabin with Azriel. I want to finish the week we didn’t get to have."

Helion’s golden eyes softened as he smiled, his expression full of warmth. "I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that." He cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb along your skin. "I think that’s a good idea."

You let out a breath, relieved that he wasn’t going to fight you on it.

He tilted his head, studying you. "How has your week been under the Shadowsinger’s watch?"

You groaned, throwing your head back. "He made me follow Madja’s orders to the letter."

Helion let out a deep, genuine laugh. "I bet you loved that."

You scowled. "I don’t let anyone tell me what to do."

Helion merely raised an eyebrow. "But you let him."

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the truth in his words.

Your father’s eyes softened further. "You really love him." It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. "And he really loves you."

He pulled you into a warm, tight embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I’m so happy for you, sunshine."

Tears burned in your eyes as you hugged him back. "Thank you, Papa."

After a few more minutes of talking, you started packing up your things as anticipation built in your chest.

As you were finishing the last of your packing, a soft knock at your chamber door made you pause. Before you could call out, the door cracked open, and Ryder stepped inside.

He looked the same as always.

Strong, steady, the embodiment of quiet confidence, but there was something different in his eyes.

A softness, a sadness that made your heart ache just a little.

"Hey," he said, offering a small smile.

You smiled back. "Hey yourself."

He took a step closer, his sharp blue eyes scanning you, assessing. "You look great."

You chuckled. "I feel great."

His lips twitched. "That’s good." He hesitated for a second before continuing, "I wanted to stop by before I left."

That caught your attention. "Before you left?"

Ryder nodded. "I think it’s time for me to find my own path. I’ve been here for a long time, and… I don’t know. I feel like there’s something else out there for me. Something I need to do."

Your throat tightened. You knew this moment would come, but it didn’t make it any easier.

"Ryder…" you stepped forward, reaching for his hand, but he shook his head gently.

"I know," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles before he let go. "I know you love him." His voice was soft, but full of acceptance. "And I can see that he loves you too. I just hope…" He trailed off, taking a breath. "I hope he makes you happy, because gods know you deserve that."

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. "Thank you. For everything. For being there when I needed you most."

He gave a small chuckle. "There was nowhere else I would have been but by your side."

Silence stretched between you, filled with so many unspoken words, so many memories.

After a moment, Ryder cleared his throat and said, "Maybe one day our paths will cross again. Maybe by then, I’ll have found my mate too."

Emotion welled in your chest as you stepped forward, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes flickered shut for a brief second, and when they opened again, you saw nothing but warmth and sincerity there.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a moment before pulling back.

"I hope so too," you whispered.

He smiled, his hands squeezing your waist one last time before he stepped away. "Take care of yourself, Y/n."

"You too, Ryder."

And with one final glance, he turned and walked out of the room.

You let out a breath, blinking against the moisture in your eyes as you looked around, grounding yourself. After a long moment, you picked up your bag and resumed packing.

Your past was now behind you.

And your future with Azriel was waiting.

You were ready.

Ready to start this next chapter with Azriel, to be alone with him again, away from the war, the courts, the expectations.

And then, as if summoned by your thoughts, the shadows darkened in the corner of your room.

Azriel stepped through them, his sweater and pants snug against his powerful frame, his wings tucked neatly behind him. His golden-brown eyes found yours immediately, his lips tugging into that sexy, devastating grin that made your knees weak.

"Ready to go, baby?"

You smirked, closing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

"Always."

*****

The cold night air had barely settled in your bones before Azriel winnowed you both to the cabin in Vallahan. The crisp scent of the mountain air surrounded you, the stars above gleaming bright against the inky black sky, but none of it compared to the warmth of his body against yours as you both landed at the doorstep of the cabin—the place where everything between you had truly begun.

Azriel carried your bags inside as you made your way toward the kitchen. He immediately set about loading firewood into the hearth, stacking the logs with practiced ease before setting them ablaze. The warm glow filled the cabin, chasing away the lingering chill as the flames crackled and licked at the dry wood.

Meanwhile, you stood at the stove, stirring a thick, rich stew, the scent of herbs and roasted meat filling the cozy space. You were so lost in your task that you didn’t hear Azriel approach—not until his warm hands slipped around your waist, his chest pressing firmly against your back.

A slow shiver ran down your spine as he swept your hair to one side, his nose running along the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Mmm," he murmured, inhaling your scent like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever known.

His lips brushed against your pulse, his tongue flicking out to taste you before he began pressing soft, teasing kisses down the side of your throat.

Your hands gripped the spoon tighter, your breath hitching as his lips traveled lower—until he reached the tender flesh of your mating mark. He nipped at it, hard enough to make you gasp, his tongue soothing over the bite as he hummed in satisfaction.

"Azriel," you moaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

"Yes, baby?" he rasped, his voice rough with desire.

"If you don’t stop, neither of us will be eating dinner tonight," you warned breathlessly.

A low, dark chuckle rumbled against your back. "That’s fine," he purred, his teeth grazing your skin again. "I could just eat you instead."

You snorted, amusement flickering through the haze of arousal. "Really? Is that the best line you could come up with, Shadowsinger?"

Without warning, his palm landed on your ass with a sharp smack, making you yelp and swat at him with your spoon. He only grinned, pressing a teasing kiss to your shoulder.

"Behave, feisty little thing," he chastised, his tone dripping with playful arrogance.

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip to keep from smiling. "If you want to be useful, you can pour us some wine while I finish this."

"Happy to oblige," he mused, stepping away with one last lingering kiss to your neck.

You exhaled, steadying yourself as you stirred the stew, trying to ignore the heat still pooling in your stomach from his touch. Azriel returned a few moments later with two glasses of deep red wine, handing you one as he leaned against the counter, watching you with those piercing hazel eyes.

You took a sip, savoring the warmth that spread through you before setting the glass down. "I’d let you help, but you can’t," you told him, turning back to the stove.

Azriel arched a brow. "And why’s that?"

"Because I have to prepare this meal and present it to you. That’s how the bond is accepted."

Azriel scoffed. "You could hand me a blade of grass from outside and tell me you cooked it, and I’d still eat it and accept the bond."

His voice softened, turning utterly sincere. "It doesn’t matter to me what’s on the table. I already know what my answer is."

Warmth spread through your chest at his words, but you merely smirked at him over your shoulder. "Well, lucky for you, I don’t plan on serving you grass."

Azriel chuckled, sipping his wine as he watched you finish the stew, the flickering firelight casting a golden glow across his sharp features. When you pulled a loaf of warm bread from the oven, he had already set the table, the space illuminated by soft candlelight.

Your breath caught at the sight of it—so simple, yet so thoughtful. The flames danced between the two of you, their glow reflecting in his hazel eyes as he met your gaze, waiting for your reaction.

You stepped toward him, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Thank you," you whispered against his mouth.

"For what?" he murmured, his hands settling on your waist.

"For this." You gestured toward the table. "For making this special."

He brushed his nose against yours. "You make everything special, baby."

A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, turning to grab the food. You set the stew and bread on the table, taking your seat across from him as he poured another round of wine.

As you both dug into your meal, a comfortable silence settled between you, filled only by the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain and the steady crackle of the fire.

It wasn’t just a meal—it was a promise.

A beginning.

As you both finished the meal, Azriel leaned back in his chair, sipping the last of his wine, his hazel eyes never leaving you as a smirk curled at his lips.

He set his glass down and ran a hand through his tousled hair before saying, "Be sure to give the chef my compliments. That was delicious."

You rolled your eyes, setting your own glass down and smirking back at him. "Oh? You think so? Maybe I should send my praises to the great Illyrian warrior who so expertly set the table and lit some candles."

Azriel chuckled, his wings twitching slightly behind him as he leaned forward, his fingers toying with the stem of his wine glass. "I take my duties very seriously, Princess. I only accept the finest dining experiences when I’m accepting a bond."

You scoffed, pretending to be unimpressed, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to be an excellent cook."

"Lucky, indeed," he murmured, his smirk widening as he took your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles.

The simple, intimate gesture sent warmth coursing through you, and you let out a content sigh. "Well, Shadowsinger," you teased, tilting your head as you gazed at him across the candlelit table. "Does this mean the bond is officially accepted?"

Azriel's smirk softened into something more reverent, more sincere as he nodded. "Yes, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "It is. I accept 100%."

Your heart swelled at the words, at the weight behind them, and you couldn't resist leaning over the table to press a lingering, heartfelt kiss to his lips. He hummed into it, his hand cupping your jaw as he deepened it just enough to leave you breathless before pulling back.

"You, my little sunbeam, are the best thing that has ever happened to me," he whispered against your lips, brushing his nose against yours, using his best impression of Helion’s voice.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Oh, not you too. I refuse to let you call me by my father’s nickname for me that started when I was two years old.”

Azriel laughed, deep and rich, tilting his head as his shadows curled possessively around your wrist like a teasing caress. “Hmmm. The Princess is displeased,” he mused, voice low and sinful. “Looks like I’ll have to come up with something new.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your napkin, tossing it playfully across the table. It smacked against his chest, but the smirk that formed on his lips only grew wider.

“Well,” he murmured, voice dropping into that deliciously dark rasp that sent shivers down your spine, “I guess since this bond is accepted, I believe custom calls for celebrating properly.”

His shadows slithered toward you across the table, curling around your ankle, your wrist, teasing with soft tendrils of cool night air. You arched a brow, a slow, teasing smile forming as you challenged him back. “Oh? And how do you propose we do that? Because if it involves any more terrible one-liners like earlier, you are going to have to step up your game, Spymaster.”

His smirk darkened into something else entirely—something feral, something dangerous.

In a blur of movement, Azriel rose from his chair, rounded the table, and pulled you up into his arms, his grip firm, demanding. You barely had time to let out a surprised gasp before he pressed you against him, his strong hands gripping your waist as heat flared between you.

“Trust me, Princess,” he whispered, lips hovering over yours, “I think you’ll like my ideas for celebrating.”

A delicious shiver rolled down your spine as his nose brushed against yours. The air between you crackled, molten, and before you could form a retort, his lips captured yours in a kiss that was soft at first—sweet, lingering—but quickly grew deeper, more desperate.

His tongue swept against yours in a slow, teasing glide, coaxing, demanding. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like he would devour you piece by piece, like he would unravel you with nothing but the wicked, deliberate slide of his mouth on yours.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, nails biting into his shoulders as he pressed his body flush to yours. His scent—night-chilled wind and cedar and something entirely him—wrapped around you, intoxicating, drugging. His hands slid down your back, gripping your hips, and he pulled you even closer, grinding his hardness against you.

You moaned into his mouth, and he groaned in response, swallowing the sound like he was starving for it. His grip tightened, possessive, as if he never wanted to let you go.

You could drown in his kisses, in his touch, in the feel of his body against yours. The fire between you was burning hotter, faster, all-consuming.

Azriel broke away just enough to whisper against your lips, his voice husky with need. “Fuck, baby, the way you taste. I could kiss you forever.”

You smirked against his mouth, breathless. “Then why don’t you?”

His golden eyes darkened with hunger. “Oh, I plan to.”

Azriel’s mouth continued to claim yours, his kisses deep, hungry, consuming. You felt the heat of his body pressing against you, his strength effortless as he lifted you into his arms. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the way his hands gripped you with possession, with purpose. His fingers dug into your thighs as he carried you through the cabin, his lips never once leaving yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a battle for dominance that you willingly surrendered.

By the time he reached the bedroom, your body was burning, aching for him. He set you down on your feet for only a moment, just long enough to pull the sweater over your head, tossing it aside before his hands found the hem of your leggings. His calloused fingers slid down your hips, taking the fabric with them in one swift motion, leaving you in only your lace panties. His heated gaze darkened further as he took in your nearly bare form.

"Gods above, you are perfect," he murmured, voice rough, guttural, full of reverence and something deeper—something darker.

Before you could respond, he hooked his fingers into your panties and, with one sharp tug, tore them clean in half. You gasped, staring up at him in shock. “Azriel!”

He smirked, completely unapologetic as he let the ruined scrap of lace fall to the floor. "I'll buy you more," he promised, his voice a dark caress against your skin. "But right now, all I want is for you to be naked in my arms, writhing under my touch, begging me for more."

A shiver ran through you—not of fear, but of anticipation.

Any other male's dominance in the bedroom would have unnerved you, would have made you hesitate.

But with him, it didn’t.

It excited you.

It thrilled you.

And gods help you, you wanted more.

He stepped back just enough to strip himself of his own clothes, never once breaking eye contact.

The moment the last piece of fabric fell away, he was on you again, pushing you back onto the bed with an ease that sent a rush of exhilaration through you.

His weight settled over you, his body pressing you into the mattress as his hands roamed your skin, exploring, memorizing, claiming. His mouth trailed down your neck, pressing kisses, licks, nips along the sensitive skin, marking a path of ownership down to where your shoulder met your neck.

When he reached your mating mark, he bit down hard – just enough to sting, kissing and licking the patch of skin to soothe it, and to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

A moan tore from your lips, and you felt him smirk against your skin.

"You like that, don’t you, Princess?" he murmured against your throat, his hands pinning your wrists above your head as his body caged yours in.

You swallowed, arching beneath him, wanting, needing. "Azriel..."

He hummed, pressing his lips to your ear. "Say it," he commanded softly, the dominance in his tone sending a rush of fire through you.

You exhaled shakily. "I love it."

"Good girl," he praised, his teeth grazing your skin once more.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling beneath him.

You had never willingly submitted to any man before. You had always fought, always pushed back, always refused to let anyone take control.

But with Azriel, it was different.

He didn’t demand submission.

He inspired it.

He drew it out of you in a way that made you crave it.

And gods, you craved him.

Azriel’s weight pressed into you, his body a firm, unrelenting force against your own. The way he hovered over you, how his scarred hands pinned your wrists above your head, the way his voice dipped into something dark and wicked—it sent a delicious thrill through your veins.

His dominance, the raw control he exuded in the bedroom, was intoxicating.

And you wanted more.

You wanted all of him—every ounce of that restrained power, every sliver of darkness he kept locked away.

You wanted to match it.

Challenge it.

Push him to his limits and see what happened when he finally unraveled.

You arched beneath him, your breath ragged as his lips brushed over your mating mark again, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

He was testing you, teasing you, waiting for you to break first.

Not tonight.

You tilted your chin up, baring your throat in a silent invitation, daring him to take what he wanted. His hands tightened around your wrists, a growl vibrating through his chest as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"You don’t know what you're asking for, Princess," he rasped, his voice thick with warning.

Your lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. "Oh, I think I do, Shadowsinger."

His pupils blew wide, the darkness in him surging forward, barely restrained.

His shadows curled around your ankles, your thighs, wrapping around your wrists as if they, too, were eager to hold you down, to worship you in the only way they knew how.

He exhaled sharply, his lips brushing over yours. "You want all of me?" he asked, his tone a dangerous promise.

You nodded, licking your lips, your body already trembling with anticipation. "Every last bit of you."

Something inside him snapped.

His mouth crashed onto yours, his kiss searing, claiming, devouring.

His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling with yours in a battle for dominance you both knew he would win.

He kissed you like he was staking his claim, like he was branding himself onto your soul, ensuring that no other male would ever be able to touch you without you thinking of him.

You gasped against his lips as his hands finally released your wrists, only for them to trail down your body, setting fire to every inch of skin they touched. He gripped your hips roughly, pulling you flush against him, letting you feel just how much he wanted you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, dragging down the hard planes of his back, leaving red marks in your wake, drawing blood in places.

His responding growl was pure sin.

“You like leaving your mark on me, don’t you, Princess?” he murmured, his lips brushing over your jaw, down your throat.

You smirked, your fingers weaving into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. “I’m just making sure every female in all the realms know you belong to me and me only.”

His chest rumbled in approval, his teeth nipping at your collarbone, his fingers sliding between your thighs, teasing, taunting. His shadows coiled around your body, holding you open for him, and you moaned at the sensation.

"Fuck, I love this side of you," he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to your stomach as he worked his way lower. "So eager, so fucking perfect."

You arched off the bed, already desperate for more. But you weren’t going to be the only one losing control tonight.

You wanted to pull every bit of that darkness out of him, let it consume you both.

You reached for him, dragging him back up so you were nose to nose, your breaths mingling. "Then show me," you challenged, voice thick with need. "Show me how much you love it."

A wicked grin spread across his face, and his voice dipped into something lethal and intoxicating. "Oh, Princess," he murmured darkly. "You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed. You won’t be leaving the bed for at least the next 48 hours."

Azriel’s mouth moved down your body as he settle at the apex of your thighs. His tongue made one long swipe up your center and he groaned against your core, his hot breath sending a shiver straight up your spine as his tongue flicked over your most sensitive spot. His grip tightened on your thighs, spreading you wider as he buried his face deeper, consuming you with slow, deliberate strokes.

Every flick of his tongue was precise, every movement a calculated torment, unraveling you bit by bit until you were gasping his name like a prayer.

“You taste like fucking sin,” he rasped between long, slow drags of his tongue, voice thick with arousal. His shadows curled around your wrists, pinning them against the bed as if he needed you completely at his mercy.

Your back arched, hips instinctively pressing against his mouth, but he pressed you back down with an iron grip.

"No, baby. Stay still. Let me take my time with you.” His voice was dark, commanding, yet laced with something dangerously tender.

You whimpered, half-pleading, half-defying him, your body burning with the need for more.

But Azriel wasn’t going to give you more until he was damn good and ready.

He wanted to savor this, to savor you.

And you wanted to bring out all of him—the dominance, the darkness, the raw, unrestrained hunger you knew he kept locked away.

And he was giving it to you now, piece by piece.

His lips found your clit again, wrapping around the sensitive bundle of nerves as he sucked, slow at first, then harder, his tongue flicking over it in devastatingly perfect strokes. You gasped, your thighs trembling against his hold, but he only tightened his grip, his fingers digging possessively into your flesh.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against you, his voice reverberating over your aching center. "Take what I give you. Feel what I do to you."

Your fingers clawed at the sheets, your body on the verge of unraveling, but still, he didn’t let up. His hands slid up your torso, tracing the curve of your waist before moving to cup your breasts, squeezing, rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Azriel,” you moaned, his name breaking off into a cry as he latched onto your clit once more, sucking it deep into his mouth.

He growled low in his throat, the vibrations sending another shockwave through you. "Fuck," he cursed, pulling back just enough to look up at you, his lips wet with your slick, his pupils blown wide.

His voice was raw, almost feral. "I could live between these thighs, could worship this perfect pussy every damn day and still never get enough of you."

His words sent another bolt of desire straight to your core, and you clenched around nothing, desperate for him, desperate for more.

"Please," you whispered, and he smirked, his hands gripping your hips to hold you still.

“Not yet,” he murmured darkly, licking another slow, teasing stripe up your slit. "I'm not done tasting you."

Azriel barely gave you a moment to catch your breath before he flipped you onto his chest, his strong arms pulling you up, guiding you over him.

His shadows slithered around your thighs, urging you higher, until you were straddling his face.

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as they fisted into his hair, feeling the heat of his mouth just beneath you.

“Cauldron, baby look at you. You are fucking soaked for me,” he rasped, his fingers running through your slick, gathering it up, spreading it all over your swollen clit.

And then his tongue made one long swipe up through the wet folds of your pussy as his shadows wrapped around your ankles to hold you in place.

He groaned, the sound dark, guttural, full of sinful hunger.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips, holding you exactly where he wanted you. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good.”

His tongue licked a long, devastating stroke through your slick folds again, this time slower and deeper, savoring you, humming in pleasure as he devoured you like he was starving.

Your head fell back, a choked moan escaping your lips.

Azriel tightened his grip on you, pulling you even closer, forcing you to grind against his mouth.

“I could eat you all fucking day and night,” he groaned, his tongue flicking over your swollen clit, circling, teasing before sucking it into his mouth.

You whimpered, rocking your hips instinctively, unable to hold still as his tongue fucked into you, lapping at your slick, drinking you down like you were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

And you were.

Your fingers tugged at his hair, your eyes dropping down to meet his gaze—

And fuck.

The sight of him between your legs—his hazel eyes dark and wild, his face buried in you, licking, sucking, devouring—was too much.

“Az, your mouth -fuck - your tongue feels so fucking good –“

His answering growl vibrated through you, sending a shudder down your spine.

His arms wrapped tighter around your thighs, locking you in place, refusing to let you move away.

“You love seeing my face buried between your legs, don’t you Princess?” he murmured against your soaked core, his voice hoarse, wrecked, full of desperate need.

“Yes, Gods, yes Az,” you moaned breathlessly as you continued to roll your hips.

He moaned, deep and broken, as if he had just tasted the rarest, sweetest pleasure in existence.

“I’ve been dreaming about this—about tasting you again, feeling you shake for me.”

His tongue was relentless, hungry, merciless. He sucked at your clit, licked inside you, dragged his teeth over your swollen flesh, pulling the filthiest sounds from your lips.

Your knees buckled, your body trembling, but his hands gripped your hips hard, leaving bruises in their wake to mark you, to remind you whose face you ride, whose face you come on.

He licked into you again, faster, hungrier, relentless.

And you couldn’t take it.

Your body tensed, your thighs squeezing around his head, your fingers yanking at his hair as your orgasm slammed into you.

You cried out his name, gasping, shuddering as pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave of white-hot bliss.

Azriel groaned, his tongue lapping at you even as you trembled above him, licking you through the aftershocks, never letting up.

His hands held you still, forcing you to take every last flick of his tongue, every slow, agonizing stroke as he cleaned up every drop of you.

You sobbed, your body too sensitive, too overstimulated, but Azriel just chuckled darkly against you, licking one last, deep, teasing stroke through your folds.

You tried to pull away, too sensitive, too overstimulated, but Azriel just growled, gripping your hips, dragging you back onto his mouth.

“Oh, no, Princess.” His voice was pure filth, wrecked with need. “You’re not done. Not until I say so.”

He licked you again, drank you down, groaning as more of your slick flooded his tongue.

And he didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow.

Didn’t give you a moment to breathe, to recover, to do anything but surrender completely to the pure, unrelenting pleasure he was dragging out of you.

His tongue was relentless, his mouth devouring you again and again, lapping up everything you gave him.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned against you, his tongue flicking over your swollen clit, his fingers moving down to your thighs, digging into them, forcing you to stay open for him.

You cried out, your body already trembling, your core aching, throbbing, pulsing with the need for release.

His voice was hoarse, rough, dripping with absolute possession.

“You are mine, baby. You fucking hear me? Mine. I’m going to make you come over and over until all you can do is sob my name.”

You cried out, shaking, begging, but he did not let up.

Did not stop licking, sucking, drinking every fucking drop of you.

Your head fell back, your fingers tugging at his hair, your hips rolling against his mouth as he took what he wanted, devoured you whole.

“Az, please—” you whimpered, your body burning, oversensitive, on the edge for what felt like the hundredth time.

But he just chuckled darkly, licking into you deeper, hungrier, completely lost in you.

“I can’t fucking stop, Princess,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Now that I have you, I can’t get enough. I don’t think I ever will.”

You gasped, thighs trembling as his tongue worked you over again, dragging another orgasm from you, making you scream his name, sob for him.

Azriel moaned as you came, his mouth latching onto your clit, licking you through the aftershocks, as he flipped you back over onto your back and kept his face between your thighs.

And even as you lay there, ruined, shaking, panting, barely able to think, he still didn’t stop.

Didn’t move away.

Didn’t even give you a second of reprieve.

Instead, he growled, gripping your thighs tighter, pulling you impossibly closer, his tongue slipping inside you again, fucking into you with slow, devastating strokes.

You screamed, back arching, your body completely helpless under his relentless need.

His body was tense, shaking, his cock bobbing against his stomach, hard and throbbing, leaking at the tip as he feasted on you like a male possessed.

Your slick coated his lips, his chin, running down his throat, and he just groaned, filthy and desperate, his mouth never leaving you.

He licked into you again, lapping up the wetness that spilled out of you, dragging his tongue through your folds, his nose brushing against your swollen clit.

And he moaned.

Loudly.

Like he was the one being pleasured, like he was the one falling apart.

His hands gripped your thighs, keeping them spread wide, refusing to let you move, refusing to let you escape his mouth.

Your fingers yanked at his hair, your back arching, your breath coming in sharp, broken gasps.

His tongue curled inside you, his lips sucking at your clit, his shadows holding you still as he feasted on you for what felt like hours.

And you could do nothing but take it.

Nothing but fall apart over and over again for him, screaming his name, completely lost to the male who had been craving you since he first laid eyes on you, and was now making sure you never left his bed again.

*****

Azriel lifted his head from between your trembling thighs, his lips glistening with your arousal, his breath ragged as he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.

His hazel eyes were molten gold in the dim candlelight, darkened with hunger, with possession.

With something deeper, something that burned just for you.

His shadows curled around your wrists, teasing and featherlight now, as if even they were too drunk on your pleasure to be anything but gentle.

He hovered over you, his scarred hands sliding up the insides of your thighs, spreading you wider beneath him as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your hipbone.

“You were such a good girl this week,” he murmured, voice husky and dripping with dark amusement, his tongue flicking over the mating mark on your shoulder, making you shudder.

“You followed orders - mostly. You let me take care of you. And good girls…” He nipped at your jaw, his fingers teasing the slick folds of your sex, making you whimper as your hips lifted off the bed, seeking more.

“Good girls get rewards.”

You moaned, desperate, your body aching for the completion he kept teasing just out of reach.

"Azriel," you breathed, tugging at the shadows still wrapped loosely around your wrists. "Please. I need you inside me."

He groaned at your plea, at the way you begged for him so sweetly, so desperately. His hand trailed up your stomach, his fingers grazing over your peaked nipples, tweaking them just enough to make you gasp.

He leaned down, his lips brushing over your ear as he whispered,

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg for me."

Heat pooled in your core, your body responding to every wicked word he uttered.

"Do you want your reward now, baby?" he murmured, his free hand stroking the inside of your thigh in slow, torturous circles.

"Yes," you whimpered, arching into him, shameless in your need. "Please, Azriel."

Azriel’s smirk deepened as he hovered over you, his body caging yours against the mattress, his cock teasing your entrance but never pushing in.

His fingers trailed down your torso, featherlight and torturous, until they reached your aching core, parting your slick folds and just barely brushing your clit.

A teasing stroke.

A promise of pleasure that was just out of reach.

You whined, your back arching, trying to get more friction, but he pulled his hand away, making you gasp in frustration.

His other hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, grounding you, dominating you.

His golden-hazel eyes bore into yours, his expression wicked, controlled, powerful.

“Use your words, baby,” he rasped, his thumb stroking over your rapid pulse. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You swallowed hard, your breath coming in pants, desire coiling in your belly like a storm ready to break.

He was going to make you say it.

Make you admit just how wrecked you were for him.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathed, voice hoarse with need.

His lips quirked, but he remained still. “Not good enough, Princess. I want details.”

Your core clenched at his demand, at how effortlessly he controlled the moment, controlled you.

And you loved it.

You wanted it.

“I want you to ruin me, Azriel,” you said, your voice shaking as you met his eyes. “I want you to stretch me with your cock. I want you to fuck me so deep that I’ll still feel you inside me tomorrow.”

You shivered beneath him, feeling his grip on your throat tighten just the slightest bit, his chest rising and falling heavily. “I want you to make me scream your name. Make me yours.” A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, and then he was on you.

His lips crashed against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs as he rocked his hips forward, sheathing himself inside you in one deep, punishing thrust. You cried out into his mouth, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he stretched you, filled you, just like you begged him to.

His voice was dark and raw as he pulled back, just enough to whisper against your lips, “Good girl.”

He had you right where he wanted you—writhing, begging, desperate.

His cock dragged in and out of you with slow, deliberate strokes, stretching you so perfectly, but never giving you the pace you needed to push you over the edge. You whimpered, grinding your hips against him, trying to get him to move faster, but he only gripped your hips harder, stilling you beneath him.

“Azriel,” you moaned, your voice breathless, laced with frustration.

He smirked, rolling his hips in a deep, agonizing thrust that had you arching, gasping. “What is it, Princess?” His voice was dark, teasing, full of sinful amusement.

“Please,” you whimpered, trying again to move against him. “I need – you to move faster - ”

But he pulled almost all the way out of you, leaving you aching, empty.

You whined at the loss, but he only chuckled, dragging his cock back in achingly slow, making sure you felt every inch of him.

“You’re not listening, Princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing over your jaw, down your throat, as he kept that maddening, torturous pace. “You take what I give you. Nothing more.”

Your body clenched around him at his words, and he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. You tried again, canting your hips up, chasing that friction, that pleasure.

But he immediately pulled back, a warning glint in his golden-hazel eyes.

His hand wrapped around your throat again, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

“I said slow,” he growled, dragging his tongue along your pulse point before sucking the mating mark into his mouth. “And that’s how you’ll take it.”

A shudder racked through your body at the command, at his control.

“Az,” you whimpered, your legs trembling around his waist.

He hummed, thrusting again, deep and slow, driving you insane with pleasure that never quite reached its peak.

“I love hearing you beg,” he whispered against your skin. “But have patience pretty girl.”

Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened as he slowly rolled his hips, pushing his cock impossibly deeper inside you.

A guttural groan escaped him as he looked down between your bodies, watching the way you stretched around him so perfectly, how your slick coated every inch of him.

“Look at your body, baby,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust and reverence.

His fingers trailed down your stomach, his calloused thumb tracing over the outline of his cock pressing against your lower abdomen.

He let out a shaky breath, his jaw tightening at the sight. “Such a good girl, taking every inch of me.”

The praise sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, making your walls flutter around him.

He hissed, his hips stuttering for the briefest moment before he steadied himself, forcing himself to keep that devastating, torturous pace.

“You feel that?” he murmured, pressing down lightly on the bulge in your stomach, making you gasp.

“That’s me. That’s how deep I am inside you.” He pressed another kiss against your throat, his tongue flicking over your pulse.

“And I’m not stopping until you scream my name, Princess.”

You whimpered, arching against him, the pleasure unbearable, overwhelming. “Azriel, please,” you begged, your hands fisting the sheets, your body desperate for more, for everything. “You’re driving me crazy.”

But he just smirked, dragging his thumb over that spot again. “Not yet, baby. You’ll come when I tell you to.” His golden-hazel eyes met yours, dark and molten with possessive hunger.

Azriel growled as he felt your walls start to tighten around him, the desperate way your body clenched, trying to pull him deeper.

Something inside him snapped.

The control he had been holding onto so tightly unraveled in an instant, and suddenly, he was moving—no longer slow, no longer torturous, but raw, primal, desperate.

His grip on your hips became bruising as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a relentless pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your moans and cries mingling with his deep, guttural groans.

“Fuck, baby,” he gritted out, his jaw clenched as he pounded into you. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me. So fucking tight.”

Your back arched off the mattress, fingers clawing at his shoulders, at his back, searching for something, anything to anchor yourself to as he fucked you like he was trying to claim every single part of you.

You were dizzy with pleasure, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

Azriel felt it too.

He could feel your walls fluttering, squeezing him, trying to milk him for everything he had. And he was right there with you—on the edge of something devastating, something soul-shattering.

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice rough, commanding. “Come on my cock, Princess.”

That was all it took.

A scream tore from your throat as you shattered, your entire body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Your walls pulsed around him, dragging him deeper, squeezing him so fucking tight that he had no choice but to follow.

With a deep, feral roar, Azriel buried himself to the hilt and spilled into you, filling you with everything he had.

His body shook as he pulsed inside you, pressing his forehead against yours, his breaths ragged, his body still moving in slow, rolling thrusts, drawing out every last bit of pleasure for both of you.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your heavy breathing, your bodies still locked together, unwilling to separate just yet.

Azriel hovered over you, still buried deep inside, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release. His heart pounded against his ribs, his breath still uneven, but his focus shifted entirely when he looked down at you.

Tears.

Tears were slipping from the corners of your eyes, glistening in the firelight, trailing down your temples. His stomach clenched in immediate concern. His thumb gently wiped one away as he cupped your face, tilting your chin slightly so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Baby," his voice was soft, but urgent. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Panic flickered in his hazel eyes, the idea of causing you any pain making his chest constrict. His grip on you softened, but he didn’t pull away—he just needed to know that you were okay.

You shook your head quickly, wrapping your arms tighter around his back, pressing yourself closer, as if you could melt into him.

“No,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Relief flooded his expression, but he stayed quiet, waiting, needing to hear the rest.

You took a shaky breath, your fingers running through his damp, tousled hair as you searched for the right words.

“I’ve never…” you swallowed, emotion swelling in your throat. “I’ve never had someone make love to me like that before. No one has ever claimed me, marked me—” You bit your lip as your fingers traced the fresh mating bite on your neck. “No one has ever made me feel like I was something precious.”

His jaw clenched, and his wings twitched slightly at your words.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hunt down every male who had ever been with you and make them suffer for failing to worship you the way you deserved, or if he just wanted to hold you so tight that you never questioned your worth again.

You continued, your voice trembling slightly. “And I’ve never known a physical connection like this with anyone before. Gods, Azriel, I loved it. I loved every minute of it.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his grip on you tightening slightly.

“You let me see all of you,” you murmured. “You let me see the parts you’ve kept hidden, the rawest, most primal pieces of yourself. And you—” you breathed out, tilting your chin up. “You match me, Az. You match my fire, my stubbornness, my need to be claimed. I want that. I want to be claimed by you. I want to be owned by you—so that no other male will ever touch me again.”

Azriel’s pupils dilated at your confession, and for a moment, he was speechless, just staring down at you like you had utterly unraveled him. He let out a slow, shaky breath, pressing his forehead against yours as his fingers traced your jaw, reverent, gentle, completely in awe.

His gaze burned with emotion, with something so intense it made your stomach flip.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Forever. And should any other male think otherwise—” His fingers tightened ever so slightly at your waist. “I will fucking kill them.”

A shiver ran through you at the possessiveness in his tone, at the sheer depth of his devotion, and you didn’t doubt for a second that he meant every word.

Then, he softened, brushing a lock of hair away from your face as he searched your expression. “Gods, Y/n,” he murmured. “I love you. I love you so fucking much. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your lips trembled, and before you could respond, he kissed you.

This kiss wasn’t desperate or needy.

It was slow, deep, filled with so much love and promise that it made your heart ache.

He kissed you like he had all the time in the world to show you just how much you meant to him.

Azriel rolled to his back, tucking you into his side as he pulled the blankets up over you both, still taking care of you as he had when you were healing. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your bare skin, as if he needed to remind himself that you were here, that this was real.

He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair, the scent of you, now laced with him—his mark permanently on you, branding you as his.

“Sleep, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and something deeper, something tender.

As your breathing evened out against his chest, he stared up at the ceiling, unable to stop the thoughts running through his mind.

The journey to find you, to get to this moment, had been long.

The Mother had taken her time, weaving fate’s threads with careful precision, waiting until the right moment to bring you to him.

And gods, it had been worth it.

Every failed relationship, every one-night stand that left him feeling empty, every heartbreak, every quiet night spent alone wondering if he would ever have what Cassian and Rhys had—it had all been leading him to you.

Every triumph, every mistake, every painful decision that had shaped him into the male he was today—it had all been worth it, because it brought him here, to you.

His Princess.

His feisty little thing.

The one who had challenged him, pushed him, seen the darkest parts of him and met them with fire instead of fear.

The one who had ridden across battlefields just to tell him she loved him.

The one who had given him everything—her body, her heart, her soul.

And as sleep finally tugged at his consciousness, Azriel tightened his grip on you, pressing one last kiss to your forehead, a silent promise against your skin.

You were finally his.

And he was never letting you go.

______________________________________________________________

EPILOGUE

Months had passed since the war, since the moment Azriel had chosen you—since you had chosen each other. Life had settled into something beautiful, something neither of you ever thought you’d have.

You had started singing again, your voice filling bars across different courts, captivating High Lords and their exclusive parties. The thrill of the stage, the way the crowd was hypnotized by your voice, it was a part of you, and you had missed it.

But now, there was one major difference—Azriel was always there.

Your home was in Velaris now, nestled within the warmth and safety of the city of starlight. The townhouse you shared was cozy and filled with laughter, with love.

Every now and then, when life in Velaris got too busy, when the city hummed with too much noise and the world demanded too much from both of you, you and Azriel would escape to the cabin in Vallahan. It had become your sanctuary, your place to breathe, to just be.

And those nights, those slow, quiet nights wrapped up in each other, were some of your favorites.

Azriel had developed a new habit, one that you found both endearing and utterly amusing. He would read to you from your romance novels—the ones you had been devouring long before you ever met him. You had caught him once, thumbing through one of your books with a furrowed brow, his shadows flickering around him as if they were equally curious.

When you had smirked and asked if he was enjoying it, he had only raised an unimpressed brow. "These males have nothing on me," he had muttered, flipping the page as if to prove a point. "In fact, they could learn a thing or two."

That had sent you into a fit of laughter, only for him to glance up at you with that wicked, knowing smirk and say, “Go ahead, laugh it up, Princess. But let’s be honest—I’ve ruined you for anyone else. These fictional males wouldn’t last five minutes with you.”

And gods help you, he was right.

So when you were curled up by the fire on the couch, legs tangled together, his wings lazily draped across the back of the couch, he would pull you closer and pick up one of your books. His deep, smooth voice would fill the space as he read aloud, sometimes stopping to scoff at the male protagonist’s actions, shaking his head.

"Pathetic," he would mutter. "This idiot thinks he can win her over with a few flowery words? That’s all he’s got?"

You would giggle, resting your head against his shoulder. "And what would you do, oh great and powerful Spymaster? Sweep her off her feet, pin her to a wall, and make her beg for you?"

He would smirk, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your temple. "Something like that."

And then he would go back to reading, only for you to realize he had barely made it through a few pages before his voice would drop, dark and husky, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, "But we both know you prefer real-life demonstrations over fiction."

And just like that, your book would be forgotten.

Because Azriel always, always proved his point.

He still worked for Rhys as his spymaster, still disappeared into the night on missions that you didn’t ask about—though he had softened, telling you what he could, knowing that you worried for him just as he worried for you.

But the biggest change?

He had taken over as your personal bodyguard.

The first time you had mentioned traveling alone for performances, he had nearly lost his mind. “Absolutely not,” he had said, his wings flaring slightly, his hazel eyes dark with irritation. “You are not traveling alone, dressed in some scrap of a dress, singing sultry songs for males who think they can put their hands on you.”

You had rolled your eyes, teasing him about his possessiveness, but secretly, you had loved it.

You loved the way he cared, the way he protected you—not because he didn’t think you could protect yourself, but because he wouldn’t risk losing you.

And so, an arrangement had been worked out with Rhys. Your travel schedule was adjusted to ensure that Azriel was always there, watching from the shadows, standing guard in the back of the room, his presence a silent warning to anyone who thought they could get too close.

He still grumbled about the outfits you wore every night before you stepped on stage, shaking his head as you spun in front of him, grinning wickedly. “You call this a dress?” he would mutter, his jaw tight as his eyes devoured you. “It’s a piece of fabric, that’s what it is.”

And you would smirk, stepping closer, sliding your hands up his chest. “You love it.”

“I tolerate it,” he would correct, though his hands would already be on you, gripping your hips, dragging you closer. “As long as I’m there. As long as I can watch every single male look at you and know they can’t have you.”

“As if I would ever want anyone else,” you would whisper, pressing a kiss to his jaw. And it was the truth—no one else could ever compare to him, no one else could ever make you feel the way he did.

At every performance, he was there. Sometimes hidden in the crowd, sometimes standing openly by the bar, his wings tucked behind him, his shadows slithering in warning around his boots. The mere sight of him kept most males at bay. But every now and then, someone would be foolish enough to try.

And they never made the mistake twice.

Azriel had a way of making his presence known without ever having to lift a finger. A cold, lethal glare was often enough to have hands retracting before they ever touched you. But on the rare occasion that someone ignored the warning, well… they learned very quickly that the Shadowsinger did not take kindly to anyone thinking they could lay claim to what was his.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your life was no longer just yours—it was his, too. And his life, once filled with loneliness, with longing, was now intertwined with yours. You were his mate, his love, his equal. And every single day, he proved that to you, over and over again.

One night, as you finished a performance, stepping off the stage with the lingering energy of the crowd still buzzing in your veins, Azriel was there waiting for you. His hand reached for yours, pulling you against him, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You were incredible,” he murmured.

“You say that every night,” you teased, resting your hands against his chest.

He smirked, tracing a finger along the edge of the dress you wore. “And every night, I mean it.” His voice dropped lower. “Now, let’s go home, Princess.”

Home.

You smiled, pressing your lips to his, knowing that wherever he was, that was where you belonged.

The end.

[inlovewithdob]

Comprehensive Updated Masterlist

REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN - https://forms.gle/1euPHKfRTaC97JSeA

Last Updated: 2/24/2025

Total Works: 148

These are all my accounts, I just prefer to keep all my fandoms separate. Happy reading!

───────

ACOTAR - @batboysanonymous - 69

Rhysand High Lord of the Night Court Masterlist

Cassian Lord of Bloodshed Masterlist

Azriel Spymaster Shadowsinger Masterlist

Eris Vanserra Masterlist

Short N' Sweet: by Sabrina Carpenter

HIT ME HARD AND SOFT  by Billie Eilish.

───────

Marvel - @billionairebratenergy - 25

Tony Stark Masterlist

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Loki Laufeyson Masterlist

Stephen Strange Masterlist

Pietro Maximoff Masterlist

Remy Lebeau Masterlist

Logan Howlett Masterlist

───────

Wizarding World - @malfoysanctuary

Draco Malfoy Masterlist

Mattheo Riddle Masterlist

Theodore Nott Masterlist

Tom Riddle Masterlist

Fred Weasley Masterlist

Sirius Black Masterlist

Remus Lupin Masterlist

───────

Twilight - @letterstoalonewolf

Jacob Black Masterlist

Carlisle Cullen Masterlist

Jasper Hale Masterlist

Emmett Cullen Masterlist

[inlovewithdob]

I made a “the alchemy” cai bot a while back and was the thinking of turning it into a full fic, but would anyone want that?

[inlovewithdob]

Masterlist

A masterlist of my fics on ao3 and headcanons I might be sharing here soon, all linked and sorted in chronological order with tags. Most multi-chaptered fics are on-going unless stated otherwise.

Death and the Lovely Fawn

With You, Over and Over Again - Words: 9,866

Reincarnation, multiple lifetimes, angst, bittersweet feels, tragic romance, character death, implied death, romantic fluff, sad with a happy ending. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/62416135)

Cashmere, Cologne - Words: 17,838

Modern setting, wedding planner Elain, lawyer Azriel, sexual tension, developing relationship, drama, angst, hurt/comfort, past violence, past abuse, childhood trauma. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/61979026/chapters/158490418) Multi-chapters - Incomplete

Hushed Lullabies - Words: 2,879

Canon divergence, family fluff, Archeron sisters bonding, parents Elriel with newborn. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/61962121)

Coincidences - Words: 4,700

Modern setting, established relationship, romantic comedy, triple date, fluff, side Feysand and Nessian. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/61598320)

Solstice Magic - Words: 3,828

Canon divergence, domestic fluff, pregnancy, expecting parents. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/61534510)

Only The Flowers Know - Words: 8,840

Canon divergence, character study, hurt/comfort, healing, yearning, developing relationship, slow romance. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/61400251/chapters/156946882) Multi-chapters - Incomplete

Headcanons

Here is the compilation of my headcanons about Elriel, Elain and Azriel. And here is a compilation of my Elriel thoughts.

[inlovewithdob]

NEWTMAS FANFICS RECOMMENDATIONS

instead of studying for my upcoming exam, i made a list of my favourite newtmas fics..

🫧i only included fics that i’ve read and really enjoyed, with more than around 10k+ words, along with links, word counts, ratings, and some important tags. i didn’t add summaries because the post would be too long

this post will be updated as i read more newtmas fics (feel free to recommend me some🌼) and soon (i hope), i’ll make another part with newtmas one-shots instead🫶

here’s the list: enjoy!!!

The Blood Culmination - persnickett or @persnickett

Words:250,000 R:Explicit

fix-it, post the death cure, hurt/comfort, newt lives

🩵

Call My Name series - KathSilver or @kathsilver

Words:170,992 R:Explicit

fix-it, time travel, tmr rewrite, newt lives

🩵

can't turn back [I'm haunted] - beardyswrites

Words:49,713 R:Teen

canon divergence au, the scorch trials, evil!thomas (!!!!), work in progress

🩵

Look After You - draronoliver

Words:141,772 R:Explicit

fix-it, post the death cure, hurt/comfort, newt lives but…

🩵

All Too Well - Sanctum_Sanctorum

Words:70,522 R:Mature

fix-it, post the death cure, canon divergence au, Newt lives and Thomas not (or so everyone thinks), happy ending

🩵

Iridescence - FilisMaze or @fili-is-gone

Words:34,942 R:Explicit

canon divergence au, happyhead au, post the maze trails, hurt/comfort, work in progress

🩵

I Don't Want to Watch the World End With Someone Else - FilisMaze or @fili-is-gone

Words:12,837 R:Mature

the last of us au, protective!newt, a lot of hurt, crank!newt

🩵

Good Luck, Babe! - ssseashell or @ssseashell

Words:46,366

college au, roommates, thomas is painfully oblivious, but that’s okay, beautifully written, they’re so cute it hurts, newt is in love

🩵

Fuck You But Also Fuck Me - Mad__Lad or @sadgalwrites

Words:13,455 R:Teen

college au, academic rivals, unresolved sexual tension, they’re dumb, work in progress

🩵

We're just young, dumb and broke, but we still got love to give. - hexxed

Words:8,127 R:General

chat-fic, Newt is an exchange student, work in progress

🩵

all we do is drive. - newtedison or @newtedison

Words:49,008 R:Teen

college au, road trip au, pining, painfully in love and painfully oblivious

🩵

a reason to bleed. - katified or @koolwhipped

Words:48,710 R:Teen

college au, Thomas loves Newt, writer!Newt, hurt/comfort

🩵

Fireworks & Team Spirit - sesquipedalia

Words:65,907 R:Mature

high school au, Thomas is popular, nerd!newt, a lot of fluff

🩵

The Diary of a Broken Kid - FreckledDragon or @freckleddragon

Words:68,143 R:Mature

high school au, thomas finds newt’s diary, then falls in love, hurt/comfort, newt needs a hug

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Therapy Dogs and Comic Books - newtedison or @newtedison

Words:85,028 R:General

modern setting au, high school au, falling in love, newt needs a hug, fluff

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Take My Left With Your Right. - ermdotorg or @ermdotorg

Words:39,220 R:Teen

modern setting au, newt needs a hug right now, thomas is a sunshine, they’re very cute, hurt/comfort

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What is it about you that has commandeered my brain? - stilessstilinskii or @newtsmas

Words:20,297 R:Mature

coffee shop au, barista!thomas, minor brenda/teresa

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Staying Up - lokidiabolus or @lokidiabolus

Words:60,115 R:Teen

Modern setting au, writer!Thomas, editor!Newt, Thomas is IN LOVE, Newt is sassy

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i was the only one who was looking at you - astralpenguin or @astralpenguin

Words:137,896 R:Teen

modern setting au, time travel, slow burn, thomas wants to save everyone (as always), murder and kidnapping, serial killer

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Misplaced Mistakes (You’re the Best Kind) - draronoliver

Words:53,438 R:Mature

modern setting au, FLUFF!, they’re so in love, newt needs a hug, sonya and newt are twins

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No Better Version of Me Than When I'm With You - Introvertedintellect350 or @book-and-music-lover

Words:60,230 R:Explicit

modern setting au, fake marriage, or so they think, Marriage of Convenience, fluff, domestic fluff

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Five Days Until Christmas - ssseashell or @ssseashell

Words:9,175 R:General

modern setting au, christmas time, they’re both in love, beautifully written

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Groundhog Day - lemonjelloarts or @lemonjelloarts

Words:14,496 R:Teen

Soulmates au, they’re so cute

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Nicknames and Coffee Cups

Words:54,073 R:Teen

modern setting au, office au, Thomas is dumb

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break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored - ava_kay

Words:24,723 R:Mature

modern setting au, thomas cheats with newt, newt is stupid, thomas is a mess

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"thanks, hope to see you again" - newtedison or @newtedison

Words:16,890 R:General

modern setting au, pizza and fast food place au, + teresa/brenda, very cute!!

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Seems to Be Our Only Way - RurouniHime or @thegertie

Words:22,368 R:Explicit

modern setting au, second chance, they’re both architects, post-break up, friends with benefits

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Fame, Glory and Baked goods of all kind. - Kestis_21 or @kestis-advent

Words:23,638 R:Teen

bakery au, moviestar!newt, baker!thomas, Thomas is adorable, fluff

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Bitter Yet Bound - ermdotorg or @ermdotorg

Words:198,975 R:Mature

modern setting au, everyone needs a hug (literally), Thomas is crazy in love, angst

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west side - ava_kay

Words:97,511

modern setting au, actor!newt, student!thomas, newt needs a hug (like, really), Thomas is in love, angst

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Are Those Your Webs, Or Are You Just Excited To See Me? - stilessstilinskii or @newtsmas

Words:97,482 R:Mature

spideypool au, deadpool!thomas spiderman!newt, a lot of humour, work in progress

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Trust me one more time - wannabe_holmes

Words:113,088 R:Teen

assassin au, assassin!thomas, wicked is not good, newt needs a hug (now)

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Hangover - IydenKnight

Words:122,282 R:Explicit

hangover au, bachelor!thomas, stripper!newt, janson hate club, a lot of fluff

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Hard Rock - singtome

Words:80,034 R:Mature

Sci Fi au, they’re young and in love, magic rocks

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to our happily ever after - indiffrntnewt

Words:93,346 R:Mature

Royalty au, Prince!Thomas, Newt teaches him sword fighting, very cute!!!

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An Unsinkable Love - beardyswrites

Words:63,287 R:Mature

Titanic au, Thomas is like Rose, Newt is like Jack - but he lives, Teresa is amazing, hurt/comfort

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Love for Blood and Metal - yetanothersimp or @zennedy

Words:10,384 R:Teen

detroit: become human au, android!thomas, detective!newt, + minho and teresa POV, + gally/minho, work in progress

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The Maze Games. - mcfwright1

Words:199,168 R:Explicit

the hunger games crossover, Newt is from one, Thomas is from twelve, jealous!Newt, work in progress 

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[inlovewithdob]

The Light Between Sin & Salvation: Chapter 15

This is partially more silliness- I'm so sorry but it's too fun to write. Important plot coming soon.

Chapter 15: His

Summary: The house is getting sick of their tight quarters. Elain discovers that it is indeed the quiet ones who may have the dirtiest mouths behind closed doors. Az loses his goddamn senses over his sweet thing.

CW: heavy drinking, mention of medical gore, mention of murd3r

Preview:

Elain’s cheeks flushed. “Maybe I'm depraved too,” she breathed, her gaze burning into his. Az’s grip on her throat tightened, her chin lifting further with the pressure. 

“Maybe you are,” he said in a near-growl. Already fucking hard again. 

He groaned, looking down at his tented towel. Elain followed his gaze, and then looked up at him with a raised brow. 

“I didn’t satisfy you enough?” She asked lightly. Az released her throat, only to step into her space and force her backwards until her back hit the sink, her breath catching. 

“Elain,” he said, his voice low and smooth as evening mist. He reached down and slipped a hand under the hem of the towel on her thigh. She sucked in a little breath at the contact.

“You more than satisfied me.” He bent and nipped at her neck while allowing his hand to drift upwards on her thigh, eliciting a thrilled little breath from her. 

Continue on AO3

@elrielobsessed @julesvanslutta @lesolehabitantdelalune

[inlovewithdob]

“You were dead,” Thomas speaks after a pregnant pause, his voice scratchy and raw from what he can only assume was his own screams.

It hurts.

“I had– I had pulled the trigger and it didn’t- it hadn’t missed, this time, Newt. It didn’t miss and you- fuck, ” He chokes out, a sob high up in his throat, the barbed wire digging further and further into his skin. The sobs come out harder, now, violent and unforgiving as they shake Thomas’ broad frame. And Newt— Newt can feel nothing else except for the anger making itself at home in his bones at the fact that Thomas, brave, and stupid, and so very beautiful Thomas was being terrorized by his own mind; its claws digging and forcing themselves into his head, and placing down roots unable to be weeded up.

“Breathe, Tommy.”

Ba-bump

“Listen, there you go. Listen to my voice. I’m right here.”

Bump-ba-bump

“Just feel Tommy, that’s it. Feel my heart. ‘S just the same as yours. Good that, huh?”

Ba-bump.

“That’s it, love.”

#newtmas hurt comfort

[inlovewithdob]

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Be Thankful I Don't Take It All

Canon AU | Rated E | 😈 Dub-Con 😈 | 1,487 words

Azriel thinks he deserves to do whatever he wants to his spoil of war. As a treat. Eris realizes that he’s actually into that.

Read Here

Blood at the Roots

Modern AU/Fantasy | Rated M | 1,129 words

Azriel feeds bad people to his bloodthirsty dryad girlfriend. 

Read Here

Across the Universe

Canon AU | Rated T | 2,144 words

Feyre dies of old age. Rhys becomes a god to get her back. 

Read Here

・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・

Like Wine On Your Lips

Canon | Rated E | 569 words

Rhys and Feyre get drunk and bang. That’s it. That’s the fic.

Read Here

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Stuffed

Canon | Rated E | 1,388 words

Shortly after Feyre and Rhys start trying for a baby, Feyre discovers a new kink that her mate is all too happy to help her indulge in.

Read Here | Deleted Scenes

A Hunting We Will Go

AU | Rated E | Feyre x Bryaxis | 🐙 Monsterfucking 🐙 | 😈 Non-Con 😈 | 927 words

Feyre meets something terrifying in the woods. 

Read Here

・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・

I Saw Her Standing There

Canon | Rated E | Rhys's Dad x Rhys's Mom | 2,471 words

The story of how the High Lord of the Night Court saved Rhysand's mother and gave her the one thing no one else could.

Read Here

・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・✷・

Wicked Games

Canon AU | Rated E | Feyre x Bryaxis | 🐙 Monsterfucking 🐙 | 2,408 words

Bryaxis asks for a much different boon in its bargain with Feyre. 

Read Here

The Hungry House

Canon AU | Rated T | 1,984 words

What if the House of Wind decided it didn’t want Nesta to leave?

Read Here

[inlovewithdob]

Perfectly Aligned Playlist

(Banner art by @sncinder, who is also my wonderful beta and sounding board for this fic. Go check out the full piece on her Tumblr or Instagram 💕)

Perfectly Aligned Chapter Masterlist

Here’s the playlist of songs to go along with each chapter of Perfectly Aligned, whether they inspired chapters, were something I listened to while writing the chapter itself, or some combo of the two.

Spotify doesn’t have all the soundtracks I used, so I’m linking everything to YouTube here below the cut, but the incomplete Spotify playlist can be found here. Enjoy!

Keep reading

[inlovewithdob]

Has anybody written or know where I can find a blurb where they go into detail of Elain giving Azriel back truth teller and it’s like from his pov? Please🙏

[inlovewithdob]

My favourite scene in scorch trials is when the weird bald guy who tried to sell Thomas and his friend's out to WICKED, and he aims a gun at thomas, then we hear a gunshot. Before Thomas holds his stomach dramatically with minho, looking down horrified at the non-existent gun wound, and a few seconds later, they look up and realise Thomas DIDN'T get shot and It was actually bald guy. Like they were so ready to start a soap opera drama.

This scene is from 1:06:13- 1:06:06 if you're like me and can never remember what scene people are talking about, even if it's my favourite movie

[inlovewithdob]

Elain deserves to have the full set of the Flower Knows Valentine’s Day Collection. She deserves to have every collection from Flower Knows. And Azriel agrees.

[inlovewithdob]

ITS MY BIRTHDAY!

[inlovewithdob]

Trouble Is...

Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Fem!Reader

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,

Funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way.

You’re part of me.

Trouble Is - you’re part of me.

Summary:

Now out of The Maze, everyone is enjoying their newfound sense of safety. Everyone except for Thomas.

He can’t enjoy the soft beds or the clean clothes or the food, because he’s too worried about you. You’re quarantined off somewhere else (presumably with other girls), and he hasn't seen you in days.

When he finally sees you, he’s too thankful to question why the two of you are put in a room alone together. Too thankful to question the mysterious smoke that’s pumped into the room. Too thankful to question why the door is locked.

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials. 

Word Count: 7,900

The Maze Runner Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warning that any and all TMR fics I write will be based on the movies and not the books, so any lore inaccuracies can be blamed on that; also this is a YA series, but DoB was in his 20s when he played Thomas, so for our purpose, these characters are aged up to at least 19 or 20; often sex pollen comes with a dubcon warning, but I’m not sure that applies here - these characters have a great deal of pre-existing affection for each other (I might even go so far as to say that they are in love), and they would have intensely enthusiastic consent, even without chemical enhancement; the reader does have some mental hesitation when she feels the pollen taking effect, but it’s not because she doesn’t want to have sex with Thomas, it’s because of PTSD from WCKD and feeling suspicious towards them (and when Thomas assures her that he will ‘take care of her’, she enthusiastically consents to having sex); warnings for unethical science because our characters do not know that they are part of a science experiment and have not consented to have these chemicals used on them (but that is just the canon of WCKD); the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this fic DOES USE Y/N; this fic uses the beautiful age old trope that the reader character was the only girl in The Maze; mentions of the mental and emotional effects of isolation - the reader has been isolated from everyone else since leaving The Maze and Thomas is the first of her friends that she sees in days; this is mostly just smut with very little plot; because of the canon, both characters have had their memories erased and theoretically might be virgins or might not be virgins (yes, in the book, they were put into the Maze as ‘children’, but as I said, for my purposes, everyone is aged up) - so I am not explicitly stating if this is their first sexual experience or not, but this is their first sexual experience as a couple/first sexual experience with each other; as mentioned before, the main point of this is sex pollen - in the form of a mysterious sci-fi chemical compound that is injected into a locked room by WCKD as a part of a random experiment; scent kink - Thomas loves the way Reader smells (and has since long before being dosed with sex pollen); orgasm from clit stimulation through clothing; oral sex - reader receiving; hair pulling - Thomas receiving; unprotected penis in vagina sex; there is NO breeding kink here (the characters aren’t motivated or turned on by the idea of having a baby); there is creampie kink - Thomas does not pull out, and the characters are turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her; Thomas is very possessive in this fic (but it’s almost unconscious, as a need to keep the reader safe, not in a jealous or romantic way); cockwarming - they fall sleeping while Thomas’s cock is still inside of the reader; the ending is slightly bittersweet (it’s implied that the reader is kidnapped/hurt by WCKD, but not explicitly stated). I believe that’s all for this short fic.

A/N: I am genuinely surprised that it took me this long to write and post a sex pollen fic, because it's absolutely one of my favourite tropes ever to read. WCKD is such a perfect backdrop for a sex pollen fic - shady unethical company that does weird science experiments - it's just too fitting. I have a few more sex pollen fics in my drafts that are yet to be finished, but I can definitely see myself writing a lot more of this trope because it was so much damn fun lmao. I will squeeze it into any fic universe that I possibly can. I love tropes that make things hornier than they should be - sex pollen, fuck or die, hate sex. All of it. Anyway - I hope you enjoy the fic, especially those of you who have been waiting for this fic in particular!!

...

Thomas was going insane. 

At least - that’s what it felt like. Sure, escaping The Maze had been a victory. Being rescued by the military and being taken to a (supposedly) safe place was, for all intents and purposes - a victory. 

But there was one detail that Thomas was hung up on that nobody else seemed to care about. While everybody else seemed content to go about their ‘new’ everyday lives - sleeping in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria, going through the barrage of medical tests without question - you were missing. And apparently, Thomas was the only one who seemed to care. 

Perhaps that was an exaggeration, seeing as the other boys from the Glade had known you longer, and they were likely worried about you silently because you were a dear friend to them. But it certainly felt like Thomas was the only one who was anxiously awaiting your return. 

When Thomas had come out of the Box, terrified, clueless, panicked - you had been the first person to be truly kind to him, rather than laughing at his blundering confusion. Every single time there had been an argument, you had stepped between him and Gally, making yourself known as a calm, motherly force that the other boys listened to - more out of habit than fear. 

You were a kind leader in the Glade that everyone respected, because you had earned their respect. Not because you bullied them into following you or even because you wielded some kind of natural seniority over them like Alby had. You were kind and sweet, and all the boys responded to that. 

Thomas had been surprised to learn that you had been one of the first people ever to come out of the Box. The second ever, according to Alby. You had such a strong, long-standing friendship with Alby, such a close bond with him. When Thomas saw the tears that streaked your face when you thought that Minho and Alby weren’t going to make it back before the doors closed was likely the number one thing that motivated Thomas to go dashing inside. He had wanted to rescue your closest friend for you. Some signal, some blaring siren inside him that screamed that he would do anything for you, that he needed to protect you. 

It was the same thing that caused him to hold you tight when you saw Alby slowly dying from the poison of the Griever’s sting, letting you cry on his shoulder. The same thing that drove him back into The Maze, looking for a way out. A deep longing to escape, to find a better home for you. 

And now, he was going more insane with each passing minute that you weren’t in front of his eyes. He was being driven out of his mind with each moment that your hand wasn’t grasped tightly within his own. Each moment that he couldn’t see you, feel you, hear your voice and know for certain that you were okay - it was slowly driving him mad. 

When the group had first arrived at this facility, this supposedly safe place - you had been ushered away from the rest of the group, viciously torn out of Thomas’s arms. His grasp on your hand the whole time had been bordering on melting his flesh into your own, and he was surprised when you had been the one to relax your hand out of that grip and give him that same soothing voice you did when he got into fights with Gally - telling him that it would be okay, that you would ‘catch up with them’ later. 

Thomas had wanted to kick and scream - he had wanted to yell, complain, protest about you being separated from everyone. He wanted to put up a fight about you being separated from him. But Minho clamped a hand on his shoulder and advised him to ‘shut the hell up’, clearly not wanting to upset the fragile peace they had established. Not wanting to disrupt the safety they had so freshly claimed. 

So Thomas kept his mouth shut - for now. It was for the greater good of the group. Everyone was bathed, clothed, fed, sleeping in warm beds. But he couldn’t help but to feel strange that he was the only one worried about you when they hadn’t seen you in days now. 

Minho simply assumed that girls weren’t allowed to co-mingle with guys in this new facility - and maybe he was right about that. But something about the whole thing just felt off to Thomas. It kept him on edge and kept him from sleeping more than an hour or so most nights while the other boys slumbered peacefully around him. 

On this particular day, Thomas was in the middle of picking at his meal, scoping out the area, theorizing if he could sneak past the guards somehow. If he could get past them, he could venture down any number of the hallways that they hadn’t been to before in order to look for you. He had all this romping through his mind at a break-rate pace when someone came up behind him - tapping on his shoulder and breaking him from these thoughts in a way that utterly startled him. 

Thomas whipped his head around to find one of those anonymous masked soldiers standing behind him. 

“Thomas?” 

He nodded in response.  

“Come with me.” 

Thomas wanted to question it, and when he looked back across the table, he saw Minho, Newt, and Fry looking at him with concern - but he gave them a gentle nod and rose from his seat to follow the man. Something in his gut told him that this might finally lead him to you - that his patience would finally pay off. And he wouldn’t risk that by throwing an emotional fit now. 

He followed the man through a door he had never been allowed to touch before, down a long hallway, through another set of doors, and down several more long hallways - Thomas memorized the twists and turns as he had done with The Maze. First left, then right, then another left. It felt like they had been walking for too long, and Thomas had to wonder just how large this building was. 

Just as Thomas was starting to feel truly on edge, the man came to a stop in front of a seemingly random door - one with a number on it. 708. He reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door. Then he nodded toward it. 

“In.” He said, giving Thomas a simple, brute instruction to get inside. 

Thomas was anxious and hesitant, but he pushed back those feelings - and he ended up being so glad that he did. 

When he stepped inside, he was overjoyed to see you. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed (it was a room that, upon closer inspection was more like a one room prison cell - with a single bed, a single a toilet in the corner, and a small metal desk with a chair in the other corner) - you looked up when you saw movement in the doorway, having no clue what was coming next. 

Your entire face lit up with intense joy when you saw Thomas. 

“Thomas!” You cried out his name with intense relief, emotional tears quickly springing up in the corners of your eyes as you jumped off the bed and rushed to greet him.

“Y/N,” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his arms opening wide for you as they had been many times before. 

You were quick to fall into the hug, tightly wrapping your arms around his strong torso, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. You had just been escorted back from your daily shower and your fresh clothes were still clinging to you with wetness, but he definitely didn’t mind the feeling of your damp skin under his hands. He didn’t care if you were getting his clothes wet because it was you. 

It only truly hit you now how utterly terrifying the past few days had been. Going from your home in the Glade to such a strange new place, being ripped away from everything you had ever known. Alby’s death, Chuck’s death, Gally’s death - your friends dropping like flies. Being brought here and being ripped away from the safety of your friends, ripped away from the last people you knew and being completely isolated from them, not knowing when you would get to see them again. 

Thomas’s tight hold around you - the familiarity of his body surrounding you, making you feel safe, it was something that made you realize how truly alone and scared you had been over the past few days. It made you realize that you had been swallowing down all of your emotions in an effort to protect yourself. It made you realize how much you truly cherished his hugs. How much you truly cherished him. 

“I was so worried about you.” Thomas breathed out, clearly making a heaving effort not to cry himself. 

You let out a gentle sob into his chest and he rubbed your back, trying his best to comfort you. 

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “It’s okay - I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you go ever again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N - I swear.” 

Unconsciously, he was promising these things more to himself. He felt like a failure for letting you out of his sight in the first place. He had no clue what they had done to you that had made you so upset, and he cursed himself for not being with you in order to protect you from it. Even though he didn’t know what ‘it’ was, it was stupid for letting anything bad happen to you. 

If either of you had been paying more attention, less caught up in the heightened emotions of the reunion, then you would have noticed the door sealing shut behind Thomas. You would have noticed the heavy ‘click’ of the lock as both of you became trapped there. But you had each other back now, and you couldn’t exactly care where you were in those moments - as long as you were in each others’ arms. 

“What happened?” Thomas demanded sharply, pulling away from the hug slightly in order to put a hand on your chin, forcing your tear-streaked gaze toward his, hoping to get the truth out of you. “What did they do? What did they do to you?” 

His energy increased in franticness the longer he went without an answer, staring at the sadness in your eyes with a knot forming in his stomach. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied, feeling as though this was the truth. 

They hadn’t done anything to you. At least not anything that was outwardly malicious. 

They had let you shower, given you fresh clothes, fed you three healthy meals a day. And other than the medical appointments that you didn’t fully understand the point of (some of which were slightly more invasive than you would have liked), none of it was dangerous or painful. You had simply been kept in this room the whole time. You had been scared from being under-informed and lonely from not being allowed to see your friends. 

But none of that seemed like a crime. Especially compared to the treacherous deadly Grievers in The Maze. 

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas said quietly, his throat choked off by the intensity of the emotions - the grief he felt for your sadness, the anger he was holding back toward whoever had hurt you. (And towards himself for not better protecting you.) 

“Look, it’s nothing.” 

You assured him, reaching up and grabbing his hand, soothingly petting your fingers over his knuckles in a gesture almost too affectionate for someone you called ‘friend’. 

“Just - I was lonely. And I was scared because they wouldn’t let me see you. I was probably stuck in here, feeling all the same things you felt-” 

Thomas cut off your words by pulling you back into another crushing hug, which you eagerly leaned into, cuddling your cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the safety you felt from having his arms around you again. 

“Yeah.” He easily agreed to this sentiment. And then he wondered: “Where have you been the whole time?” 

“Just here.” You told him honestly. 

You didn’t feel the need to tell him about the doctor’s appointments - even the unpleasant ones. Especially because you assumed that he and the other boys had been through the same, likely with a different doctor. 

This caused another knot in Thomas’s gut. They had been keeping you in the same tiny room, not letting you see any other people? So - Minho’s theory about you being off in some other dorm making friends with a bunch of girls had been completely wrong. 

It wasn’t outright cruel, but it made alarms go off in Thomas’s head. It made his protective instincts toward you act up again. 

“I won’t let that happen to you again.” Thomas said firmly, trying his best to be assuring, even though he knew that he had no real authority over the decision. 

He cradled your head soothingly, petting a hand over your hair in a sweet, protective way. 

“Thomas-” 

You were about to remind him of the fact that he held no power over this when a very strange sound caused your voice to shrink back into your throat as you became distracted. 

You and Thomas both became drawn to the sound, both of your heads whipping up to look at it. Immediately, you saw that some of the tiles lining the ceiling had shrunk back, making way for small metal tubes that protruded out of the walls all around the room, creating a high-pitched hissing noise as they sprayed some kind of white mist into the air. This went on for about twenty seconds before it stopped, and then the tubes retracted back into the walls and the tiles slid back into their usual place. 

… 

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?” 

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.” 

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.” 

… 

“What - what the hell was that?” Thomas wondered aloud, frantically looking around the room where the tubes had disappeared into the walls. 

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. “I mean - that’s never happened before. It - it was probably a disinfectant or something,” You shrugged, trying to rationalize it, trying not to jump to the conclusion that it was something poisonous or harmful. 

Thomas let go of you and whipped around to the door - panic flooded him when he turned the handle and found it locked. 

“Hello?!” He screamed, banging on the door and fruitlessly jiggling the handle. “Hello?! Assholes! You can let us out now!” 

“Thomas,” You scolded him gently - his panic naturally unsettling to you. 

You wanted him to calm down - his nervous energy was making you nervous. And you had spent far too much time over the past few days cramped up inside of this room being nervous. You wanted to simply be able to enjoy the pleasant fact of his presence after missing him for what felt like decades of loneliness. But Thomas wasn’t going to lay down and make that easy on you. 

He rushed to the other end of the room, stepping up onto the desk chair and then the desk, peering into the vent as though he would be able to find a way out through there. 

“Thomas, please - just calm down. I’m sure it was nothing.” You continued, trying to get him to calm down. 

“Nothing?” He scoffed. “It’s never just ‘nothing’ with these people.” 

This was the last thing he said to you before his mind locked in on the task, and he focused on trying to find a way out of the small room. 

He spent a few minutes trying to loosen the bolts on the vent (which wouldn’t have been large enough for either of you to crawl out even if he did get the vent cover off). So all he did was make his fingers sore fighting against the welded metal. And then he moved on to brute force - he picked up the chair and tried to simply beat the doorknob clean off. 

But again, it was something that was very well made, seemingly bulletproof. And by the time he had taken a few good swings, he was heaving with sweat, breathless, and he found it to be way too hot in the small space. 

Surely his body was boiling over from the efforts of swinging the chair around in such a small, closed space. So he placed it down and moved to take off his shirt, surprised by just how damp the fabric was, seeped with sweat already in such a short time. He balled up the fabric and began patting himself down with it, trying to get some relief on his overly heated skin. 

And then, his entire system became utterly distracted by a single, tiny sound. 

A whimper. 

He whipped his head around at lightning speed, realizing that it had been you who had made that sound - it had been your whimper. And suddenly, everything in Thomas’s body, every single one of his senses became utterly overwhelmed by you. 

The sight of you on the bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to fetter away at whatever plan he came up with next - you looked so stunning, so breath-taking. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, obviously warmer than before - so it wasn’t just Thomas. It wasn’t just because of his exertion in trying to break out of here. 

Were they turning up the temperature in the room? Were they planning to cook the two of you as some kind of punishment? 

Yet - that thought quickly dissolved off into Thomas’s mind as a distant worry the more he looked at you; the more he drank in your slightly parted, bitten lips - so pretty, so kissable. The more he looked at the way stray hairs stuck to your flushed, sticky skin, wanting to gently wipe them out of the way. The more he admired your breasts gently heaving with each breath, your nipples sticking off through your shirt and thin bra. 

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air. 

Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air, something so perfect he could suffocate in tight in the small space. Shamefully, that scent was something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories of life had still been so few and his head had still been so empty. 

Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy. Even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect to him. 

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you. 

This time that wonderful scent that he knew as yours had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. Your arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. Feeling like he needed to save you from some big, unseen danger. 

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He wasn’t close enough to you. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet. 

Thomas had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do. 

“Thomas - you-your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud. 

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste. The fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you. 

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him. 

Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him. From the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved, to the veins protruding in his forearms, to the trail of delicious dark hair down from his belly button that disappeared into his pants. It was a way you had never looked at him before. You had never truly noticed how Thomas - your strong, comforting Thomas - was so utterly, carnally sexy. 

He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before. He had done it while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed). And you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then. 

At least, he thought you hadn’t. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here, too warm, it’s hot - do you find it hot?” 

He had to ask, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the pleasantly warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling up from his very core, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like. 

Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off. 

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.” 

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you. 

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, putting distance between himself and you. But he kept his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was. 

“It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a shaky, pained whine. 

Shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal. 

Fuck. 

The way you looked up at him with glassy-eyes, tears barely edging your waterline, clearly hot and overwhelmed yourself, squirming against the bed - trying to get some friction against your… oh. Oh wow. That realization rocked him like a ton of bricks to the head, and even more heat swelled up inside of his gut. 

You must have been feeling all the same things that he was. 

Dizzy, hot, overwhelmed - having an intense need to hold you and to be held. Brain thumping with nothing but thoughts of you, mind littered with nothing but your smell, nothing but thoughts of your skin. Willing to do anything for you at a moment’s notice. 

Thomas finally let himself flex to those needs, and raced across the room toward you - literally falling on his knees in front of you. 

If you had pain, he would fix it. He would do anything for you. 

“What hurts?” He asked, realizing that the desperation throttling his throat made it sound more like he was begging. But he was too far gone to care. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me. Please.” 

You were almost too incoherent to put the feeling into words so quickly, as quickly as he needed you too. You were too distracted by the sight of his big soft brown eyes staring up at you with utter worship in them - along with his pink cheeks and bits of his dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, that softness contrasted by the broad hardness of his shoulders spread across your lap. 

“Thomas-” You gasped out, cut off by his next action. 

“Y/N, please.” 

He grabbed up both of your hands, clutching them tightly in his own - and that, the first skin-to-skin contact you had felt since becoming this overwhelmed with the heat and the need - it set something off inside of you. It sent sharp shocks up your spine and made your pussy clench around nothing, sending a flood of wetness soaking into your underwear. And it made you feel too weak for your own good in that moment. 

If you lingered there for too long, you would tumble into the abyss. You would simply give into every instinct screaming inside of your body and beg for him to fuck you until you didn’t know your own name. 

And even though that was everything you had ever wanted, all you could remember wanting right then and there, especially from Thomas, the small remaining sense in your brain said that it was a bad idea. 

You let out a sharp gasp, and raced to escape the touch - you knocked your hands out of his and squirmed away from him, jumping up off the bed. Thomas let out a whine of disappointment and crumbled tighter onto his knees, wondering what he could have done to disappoint you. Knowing that he needed to do anything he could to make up for disappointing you. 

But something inside of his skull was chanting: 

She’s in pain. Make it stop. Make her pain go away. 

You know the answer. 

And while you panicked, hoping to fight against what your body wanted, hoping to delay the inevitable, the thing that Thomas already knew he wanted, Thomas picked himself up off the floor. 

All too soon, he crowded into your personal space from behind. You let out another shocked gasp as he pressed his body into yours from behind, the firm, intensely heated muscle like wall of lava engulfing you. 

This time, not letting you get away, he secured you there with a hand around your chest that was oddly comforting, making sure to pull you close and keep you close. He forced you to feel every single inch of his boiling hot body pressed right up against yours. Sweat gently sticking against you through your clothes, his hot breath huffing against your neck, and what must have been the hard bulge of his cock pressing against the roundness of your ass. 

It was all too perfect. And still, something nagged in the back of your mind that you couldn’t have that perfection all to yourself. Something must have been wrong in order for this to be happening to you. 

“Thomas,” You whined out - unsure if you wanted to tell him to get off or wanted to beg him for more. 

Instinctively, you reached up and gripped at his forearm, sinking into the security of his touch. It was soothing, in a sense, and at the same time - it drove your body mad and made the pain in your cunt so much worse. 

Any mental clarity you previously had was quickly fading. 

So much so that neither of you had the mind to piece together that this was happening to you because of the chemicals that had been sprayed into the room earlier. Not that you could do much about it now. 

Thomas leaned over your shoulder, stuffing his nose into your neck, taking in a purposeful, thick whiff of your scent. He drank you in so shamelessly now, so happy to have you in his arms, right where he wanted you - right where he needed you. He held your body so tight to his, almost crushing you in his grip in the most perfect way - as if worried you might escape if he let you move even an inch. 

Between desperate pants, he laid slick, open-mouthed kisses along your forehead, down the side of your face - lavishing you with affection, grateful and greedy now that he had you in his arms, now that he had caught you. Grateful that he had taken you from those bastards who had stolen you from him. Grateful that he had won. 

His actions left you panting wildly into the air as the heat surged within your body - this attention on your skin not being enough, but yet, your mind was too muddled with the overwhelming heat to ask for more. 

He continued kissing your skin, even nosing along your cheek before he finally gathered enough of his mind to speak. 

“I’ll help. I’ll help you, Y/N.” 

He huffed out, heaving more of his dense beautiful breath across your skin, making you whine again in return. 

“I’ll fix it. Just tell me. Just tell me what hurts. Please, tell me. I promise I’ll fix it. I can fix it.” 

His utter dedication to you was sewn into every word, clutching you tighter across the chest in a way that almost crushed your windpipe - something that made you gasp for air and nearly thank him for it, wanting to dissolve back into his hot muscles and live there, somehow still not close enough. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, I will. I’ll help you. Just tell me, please.” 

You found the fire of that dedication more enlightening than the one slowly boiling you to death from inside, and it was that - that sacred promise that had you finally giving in. It was Thomas’s sacred affection for you that finally made you feel safe to give into your body’s needs. 

You reached out and grabbed Thomas’s hand - the one hovering by his side that wasn’t keeping you trapped tightly against his chest. His fingers locked tightly in a fist without the fabric of his shirt to keep his knuckles from popping under the fury of his own grip this time. You rubbed soothingly on the back of his palm, loosening the muscles there before you guided that hand between your thighs, guiding him to touch you on your still clothed pussy, through your pants. 

“Here, Tommy.” You breathed out, your tongue feeling so fat and useless in your mouth. “It hurts here. Need your help. Need you.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, instantly understanding what you needed, sparked with even more desperation by the nickname on your lips, Thomas sprung into action. 

He began frantically rubbing your pussy through your pants - inadvertently pushing the zipper at the front of your trousers right up against your clit with the heavy weight of his palm. A sensation that made you keen out and arch back into him as though you had been possessed, harsh, amazing tingles zapping through your body from that tiny point. You threw your head back against his shoulder and relied even more on the strength of his body and the will of his grip across your shoulders not to fall down as ravenous pleasure overtook you. 

“I’ll fix it.” He huffed into your ear. 

His voice barely registered to you past the shocking beautiful pleasure he was causing between your thighs as he continued to rub your clothed clit. 

“I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all better.” 

He laid more hot, sloppy kisses against your neck and your cheek, and you could do little more than moan out loudly and squirm against him, becoming utterly lost in the sensations. You accidentally humped your ass against his cock in a way that made him growl and rub your clit even harder, even faster. It made you absolutely alight with pleasure, filling all of your senses with nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his strong arm working between your thighs, nothing but the scent of his sweat in the air, nothing but his quiet growls against your ear. 

“Oh, Tommy!” You moaned out. “I’m gonna-” 

Before you knew it, your body had been overtaken by the intense wave of an orgasm, something that had you crying out loudly and shaking in his arms, your body beautifully dizzy in seconds. You reached out to grip his forearm, leaving claw marks in his skin while you let out a stream of incoherent sounds as the sensations rocked you. 

“Hey, shh. I got you. I got you,” He was nothing but a sweet assurance in your ear - his dick still throbbing and utterly needy in his pants, but forgotten in favor of pleasing you. For now. 

After a few moments, he lifted his hand from between your thighs, causing a sharp whine of disappointment from you. He used this touch to force your jaw toward him, twisting your neck awkwardly to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder. It caused an ache in your neck, but you delighted in the feeling of his lips desperately clinging to your own, the chance to steal his breath.

You had thought about kissing Thomas many times before - but you had never imagined that it would be like this. 

When it was over, there was one thing that both of you knew for certain: you both needed more.

“Please, Tommy.” You breathed against his mouth as you pulled away from the kiss. “I need more. Please.” 

Every single instinct inside of him screamed to follow this order - that this was the divine answer to his existence. This was everything his life had been leading up to from the moment he had seen your sweet face after he had been pulled out of that fucking Box. 

“I got you.” He assured you. 

He then guided you back to the bed and - very hesitantly - separated his grip from you in order to make sure that you could comfortably lay down on your back. Within seconds, he was on you again, absorbing your mouth into a hot, desperate kiss while he laid flush on top of you. 

You couldn’t help but to moan into that kiss, fisting your hands into his hair, holding him tightly to you as though he was your only source of oxygen - welcoming it when his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You sucked on it and moaned around him, becoming dizzier with the heat. 

When you felt his hard cock against your thigh, feeling him jutting his hips forward to try and find some relief against you - it caused a deeper pain in your pussy, a distinct feeling of emptiness and you knew that you needed more. You knew exactly what you needed - what that ‘more’ was. 

You pulled back from the kiss to whimper against his lips. 

“More.” You pleaded gently. “Please, Tommy.” 

“Yes.” He huffed back in return. “Anything - anything for you.” 

Naturally, his hands went back between your legs, and you guided him up to the button of your pants, both of you working frantically in tandem to get your pants off this time. That nagging heat only building inside of you, something telling you that you would go insane if you didn’t get your clothes off soon. While Thomas ripped your pants down over your thighs, pulling your underwear with them, you sat up slightly and ditched your shirt, leaving you wearing only the thin cotton bra that had come with this set of new clothes. 

Thomas let out a growl when more of your delicious scent hit him. With your pants around your ankles, it was more pungent now, ripe in the air, smacking him in the face in the most perfect way. And he felt another wave of crippling heat punch him in the gut as it fogged his brain over. It was so pungent that it was ripe on his tongue and he needed more. Something in his brain was chanting at him that he needed to taste it - he needed to devour that delicious scent, the essence of you, right from the fucking source. 

With his tongue lapping at the air like a fucking dog, Thomas let out more thick, heavy breaths while he desperately tried to untangle the fabric from your ankles, trying to free you so that he could have better access to you. After a moment too long of struggle for both of your liking, he was finally able to toss it all carelessly behind him, leaving you almost naked beneath him. 

But he didn’t have a moment to marvel at the beauty of your bare body. A sight that he had imagined so many times before in his mind’s eye, snuck away into the privacy of the woods with a hand tight around his cock thinking about this exact sight - no, he couldn’t sit back and simply drink it in. 

He was a man on a mission - a man living through a years long drought and finally met with the glorious fountain that would eternally quench his thirst. 

He didn’t even question the need to put his mouth on your pussy, didn’t wonder why the thought was so prominently at the forefront of his mind. Instead, he simply pinned your legs open against the bed with his palms flat on your inner thighs and did it, chased the urge that rang through his mind so damn clearly. 

“Oh, Thomas!” 

In seconds, it was the most divine thing he had ever experienced. 

With you moaning above his head, gasping out his name, with your taste so pungent on his tongue, with your heat beating under his mouth - it was too fucking perfect to let go of. 

Thomas moaned into your pussy, pure fuzzy pleasure melting his brain between his ears, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you. His mind filled with nothing but feed me, feed me, keep me alive, you are my life. 

The thick taste of your wetness on his tongue was all he needed, all he needed to live from now on, nothing more. He could feel you squirming and fighting against him; he could feel your thighs jolting and jumping under his hands as your nerves were overstimulated. He could feel your hips bucking up into his face, smearing more of that perfect wetness across his chin and cheeks, smothering him in it - perfect, how perfect. 

He could feel the sting of you tugging on his hair but it only added to the perfect sensation of dumb dizziness that pumped through him, that made him so fucking ravenous for you. It only made him moan into your cunt louder and shove his tongue into you deeper, looking for more. 

“Oh, ugh! Tommy! Tommy!” 

You felt like you were burning alive. 

His tongue against you was horrible and perfect - doing nothing to relieve the ache deep inside of you, one that demanded to be filled. 

His tongue lapping at you so hungrily only added more terrible, sweltering heat, causing more shocks of pleasure stinging up your body with each deep pass of his tongue that he swept over you, trying to devour you whole. 

The more he moaned against you, the more he vibrated your already sore clit, making you cry out, the more he caused your body to be consumed by that deep, uncomfortable he. The more he made it near impossible for you to breathe past the moans fighting out of your lungs. 

You desperately tugged on his hair, but only got his attention when you finally fought hard enough to get words out. 

“Tommy, please!” You begged, tears spilling out of your eyes now. “Please, stop! It hurts!” 

Those words - those painful words shocked Thomas back to reality. 

Had he been selfish, drinking from your essence to satisfy his thirst without considering your own? 

He pulled back from your pussy with a wet smack that made you whimper, taking his hands off your thighs, finally freeing your legs from the tight, stretched out position. Somehow, he looked even better staring you down with those needy, wide eyes while his face was covered in your juices. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Please, just - I need you.” You choked out in reply, reaching a shaking hand toward his pants. “I need you inside me, Tommy. I need you to fix it.” 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas replied, chanting to you as though answering a prayer in a place of worship, fully prepared to worship you as the goddess you were to him. “Yes, I’ll fix it.” 

He rushed to get his pants and underwear off with just as much frantic struggle, and soon he was naked on top of you. Meanwhile, you ripped off the stupid bra in order to feel the satisfying press of his bare skin on yours, something impossibly boiling hot. A feeling that had you moaning into his shoulder while you hooked your leg around his hip, urgent to get closer to him. 

Without a second of hesitation, Thomas sunk his cock inside of you. 

His cock was a searing hot rod pressing into your well-slicked entrance, making both of you white-out with the feeling for a few moments while the need and satisfaction rattled through your insides. It was what you had both been waiting for, desperately needing from the moment that mystery chemical had hit your systems. And now that you had it - Thomas’s cock deep inside of you, the perfect satisfaction of being joined, being as close as possible, your body sang with perfect relief. 

But there was still that nagging for something more. 

Neither of you would be satisfied - it wouldn’t fully be out of your systems until you both came from this. 

It was that nagging that had him gripping onto your hips, holding you still so that he could begin hammering into you, desperate to answer that nagging in the back of his skull: fuck her, take her, fill her up - she’s yours. She is yours. 

It was a feeling so utterly perfect that you instantly relaxed against him - all of your muscles melting into the feeling of his cock fucking into you so rapidly, filling you up so well. You gripped tightly at his back, determined to hold him close, just as he had done to you before. You needed to keep him absolutely close, so tight to your body while his cock filled you up so perfectly. 

“Tommy, please. Oh, oh, Tommy!” You moaned into his neck, your pussy fluttering around him as his hips stuttered. 

Overwhelmed and dizzy with the heat, from the tips of his ears to the space where his cock sunk deep into your warm pussy, drowning in wetness, he could only focus on one thing. One single mission rattling between his ears. 

Fill her up. Make her yours. 

“Gonna fill you up.” He growled back, not even entirely realizing that he was speaking these words aloud - a sacred promise to him now, the only driving force of his entire life, the thing that his entire existence hinged on. “Gonna make you so full of me. So perfect, so full of me.” 

Getting lost in your warm pussy, filling you up, making your pain go away, worshiping you. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he was going to keep you safe. He was going to keep you in his arms forever, was going to keep you safe, wrapped around his cock - forever. He fucked his hips forward harder, making a loud, wet smack continually resonate throughout the room as he tried his hardest to deliver on these promises. 

“Gonna make you mine,” He growled, his voice reaching a deep tone that you had only ever heard when he had argued with Gally - ticked off, full of rage. “Gonna keep you safe. Forever.” 

But somehow - this was different. It was a rage that was twinged with passion. 

With love. 

It was a sound that made all the hair on your body stand on end, forced a sharp gasp from your lips as it utterly rocked your body. 

You dug your nails into his back, possessively gripping the flesh, holding him tightly, trying to keep him close. Forcing him to keep his promises. 

“Yours.” You echoed back, your voice half-breath, half pure need. 

“You are mine.” He groaned in return. “Mine, mine, mine, mine-” 

He chanted this as a mantra, fucking into you harder with each utterance of the sacred word before he cut himself off with a harsh gasp, his hips stilling suddenly. 

And then - perfection. 

He pressed into you as deeply as possible, filling you up with perfect warmth, delivering on his promise. Your gut curled with a nearly painful orgasm in response, causing you to bite down tightly on the flesh of his shoulder as you moaned wildly against him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you were nearly blinded with euphoria. 

“Mine.” Thomas hummed again, almost quietly to himself, leaving a small peak on the side of your neck to compliment his point. 

Once again, just as he had done when he first entered the room, he cradled your head so softly, petting your hair soothingly. It was a deep contrast to the near rabid man who had been fucking you only a minute ago. And he gently humped his hips against you, something unconscious telling him to make sure that he fucked his cum deeper into you - nice and deep. 

The two of you stayed tangled like this, instinctively not wanting to pull away from each other, an intense need to stay locked so close. Needing to be close to the person you needed most. In an effort not to crush you with his body weight, Thomas rolled onto his side, with you still holding him tightly, with your leg still hooked over his hip, with his softening cock slightly falling out of your now messy cunt - much to the disappointment of both of you. 

(Thomas surprised himself when he shoved his hips forward, trying to get closer, trying to get back inside of you.) 

But you both felt much more at ease now. And tangled together like that, with your arms wrapped around each other, with Thomas gently kissing over your forehead and your shoulders - you both dozed off into a gentle sleep. 

… 

Thomas woke up cold and alone. 

He dressed frantically, and surprisingly, he found the door unlocked. 

He had too many questions, and had one singular mission on his mind: 

Find you, and kill anybody who had laid their hands on you without his permission.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you liked this fic, please consider showing me that by reblogging or commenting, but if you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more fics from this fandom, I will be posting more in the future, and if you want to see more things that I have already posted, I have over one million words worth of work between my AO3 (linked in my pinned post) and my Masterlist for you to enjoy. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!!

[inlovewithdob]

It’s so funny whenever I remember just HOW short amren is, like they said the Cauldron is the size of a bathtub but when amren was next to it, it said that she was barely taller than it. And it it’s even funnier knowing that the faeries are these tall creatures and longer limbs and such

[inlovewithdob]

I hate elucien more than I gywnriel for some reason

[inlovewithdob]

Trouble Is...

Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Fem!Reader

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,

Funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way.

You’re part of me.

Trouble Is - you’re part of me.

Summary:

Now out of The Maze, everyone is enjoying their newfound sense of safety. Everyone except for Thomas.

He can’t enjoy the soft beds or the clean clothes or the food, because he’s too worried about you. You’re quarantined off somewhere else (presumably with other girls), and he hasn't seen you in days.

When he finally sees you, he’s too thankful to question why the two of you are put in a room alone together. Too thankful to question the mysterious smoke that’s pumped into the room. Too thankful to question why the door is locked.

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials. 

Word Count: 7,900

The Maze Runner Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warning that any and all TMR fics I write will be based on the movies and not the books, so any lore inaccuracies can be blamed on that; also this is a YA series, but DoB was in his 20s when he played Thomas, so for our purpose, these characters are aged up to at least 19 or 20; often sex pollen comes with a dubcon warning, but I’m not sure that applies here - these characters have a great deal of pre-existing affection for each other (I might even go so far as to say that they are in love), and they would have intensely enthusiastic consent, even without chemical enhancement; the reader does have some mental hesitation when she feels the pollen taking effect, but it’s not because she doesn’t want to have sex with Thomas, it’s because of PTSD from WCKD and feeling suspicious towards them (and when Thomas assures her that he will ‘take care of her’, she enthusiastically consents to having sex); warnings for unethical science because our characters do not know that they are part of a science experiment and have not consented to have these chemicals used on them (but that is just the canon of WCKD); the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this fic DOES USE Y/N; this fic uses the beautiful age old trope that the reader character was the only girl in The Maze; mentions of the mental and emotional effects of isolation - the reader has been isolated from everyone else since leaving The Maze and Thomas is the first of her friends that she sees in days; this is mostly just smut with very little plot; because of the canon, both characters have had their memories erased and theoretically might be virgins or might not be virgins (yes, in the book, they were put into the Maze as ‘children’, but as I said, for my purposes, everyone is aged up) - so I am not explicitly stating if this is their first sexual experience or not, but this is their first sexual experience as a couple/first sexual experience with each other; as mentioned before, the main point of this is sex pollen - in the form of a mysterious sci-fi chemical compound that is injected into a locked room by WCKD as a part of a random experiment; scent kink - Thomas loves the way Reader smells (and has since long before being dosed with sex pollen); orgasm from clit stimulation through clothing; oral sex - reader receiving; hair pulling - Thomas receiving; unprotected penis in vagina sex; there is NO breeding kink here (the characters aren’t motivated or turned on by the idea of having a baby); there is creampie kink - Thomas does not pull out, and the characters are turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her; Thomas is very possessive in this fic (but it’s almost unconscious, as a need to keep the reader safe, not in a jealous or romantic way); cockwarming - they fall sleeping while Thomas’s cock is still inside of the reader; the ending is slightly bittersweet (it’s implied that the reader is kidnapped/hurt by WCKD, but not explicitly stated). I believe that’s all for this short fic.

A/N: I am genuinely surprised that it took me this long to write and post a sex pollen fic, because it's absolutely one of my favourite tropes ever to read. WCKD is such a perfect backdrop for a sex pollen fic - shady unethical company that does weird science experiments - it's just too fitting. I have a few more sex pollen fics in my drafts that are yet to be finished, but I can definitely see myself writing a lot more of this trope because it was so much damn fun lmao. I will squeeze it into any fic universe that I possibly can. I love tropes that make things hornier than they should be - sex pollen, fuck or die, hate sex. All of it. Anyway - I hope you enjoy the fic, especially those of you who have been waiting for this fic in particular!!

...

Thomas was going insane. 

At least - that’s what it felt like. Sure, escaping The Maze had been a victory. Being rescued by the military and being taken to a (supposedly) safe place was, for all intents and purposes - a victory. 

But there was one detail that Thomas was hung up on that nobody else seemed to care about. While everybody else seemed content to go about their ‘new’ everyday lives - sleeping in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria, going through the barrage of medical tests without question - you were missing. And apparently, Thomas was the only one who seemed to care. 

Perhaps that was an exaggeration, seeing as the other boys from the Glade had known you longer, and they were likely worried about you silently because you were a dear friend to them. But it certainly felt like Thomas was the only one who was anxiously awaiting your return. 

When Thomas had come out of the Box, terrified, clueless, panicked - you had been the first person to be truly kind to him, rather than laughing at his blundering confusion. Every single time there had been an argument, you had stepped between him and Gally, making yourself known as a calm, motherly force that the other boys listened to - more out of habit than fear. 

You were a kind leader in the Glade that everyone respected, because you had earned their respect. Not because you bullied them into following you or even because you wielded some kind of natural seniority over them like Alby had. You were kind and sweet, and all the boys responded to that. 

Thomas had been surprised to learn that you had been one of the first people ever to come out of the Box. The second ever, according to Alby. You had such a strong, long-standing friendship with Alby, such a close bond with him. When Thomas saw the tears that streaked your face when you thought that Minho and Alby weren’t going to make it back before the doors closed was likely the number one thing that motivated Thomas to go dashing inside. He had wanted to rescue your closest friend for you. Some signal, some blaring siren inside him that screamed that he would do anything for you, that he needed to protect you. 

It was the same thing that caused him to hold you tight when you saw Alby slowly dying from the poison of the Griever’s sting, letting you cry on his shoulder. The same thing that drove him back into The Maze, looking for a way out. A deep longing to escape, to find a better home for you. 

And now, he was going more insane with each passing minute that you weren’t in front of his eyes. He was being driven out of his mind with each moment that your hand wasn’t grasped tightly within his own. Each moment that he couldn’t see you, feel you, hear your voice and know for certain that you were okay - it was slowly driving him mad. 

When the group had first arrived at this facility, this supposedly safe place - you had been ushered away from the rest of the group, viciously torn out of Thomas’s arms. His grasp on your hand the whole time had been bordering on melting his flesh into your own, and he was surprised when you had been the one to relax your hand out of that grip and give him that same soothing voice you did when he got into fights with Gally - telling him that it would be okay, that you would ‘catch up with them’ later. 

Thomas had wanted to kick and scream - he had wanted to yell, complain, protest about you being separated from everyone. He wanted to put up a fight about you being separated from him. But Minho clamped a hand on his shoulder and advised him to ‘shut the hell up’, clearly not wanting to upset the fragile peace they had established. Not wanting to disrupt the safety they had so freshly claimed. 

So Thomas kept his mouth shut - for now. It was for the greater good of the group. Everyone was bathed, clothed, fed, sleeping in warm beds. But he couldn’t help but to feel strange that he was the only one worried about you when they hadn’t seen you in days now. 

Minho simply assumed that girls weren’t allowed to co-mingle with guys in this new facility - and maybe he was right about that. But something about the whole thing just felt off to Thomas. It kept him on edge and kept him from sleeping more than an hour or so most nights while the other boys slumbered peacefully around him. 

On this particular day, Thomas was in the middle of picking at his meal, scoping out the area, theorizing if he could sneak past the guards somehow. If he could get past them, he could venture down any number of the hallways that they hadn’t been to before in order to look for you. He had all this romping through his mind at a break-rate pace when someone came up behind him - tapping on his shoulder and breaking him from these thoughts in a way that utterly startled him. 

Thomas whipped his head around to find one of those anonymous masked soldiers standing behind him. 

“Thomas?” 

He nodded in response.  

“Come with me.” 

Thomas wanted to question it, and when he looked back across the table, he saw Minho, Newt, and Fry looking at him with concern - but he gave them a gentle nod and rose from his seat to follow the man. Something in his gut told him that this might finally lead him to you - that his patience would finally pay off. And he wouldn’t risk that by throwing an emotional fit now. 

He followed the man through a door he had never been allowed to touch before, down a long hallway, through another set of doors, and down several more long hallways - Thomas memorized the twists and turns as he had done with The Maze. First left, then right, then another left. It felt like they had been walking for too long, and Thomas had to wonder just how large this building was. 

Just as Thomas was starting to feel truly on edge, the man came to a stop in front of a seemingly random door - one with a number on it. 708. He reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door. Then he nodded toward it. 

“In.” He said, giving Thomas a simple, brute instruction to get inside. 

Thomas was anxious and hesitant, but he pushed back those feelings - and he ended up being so glad that he did. 

When he stepped inside, he was overjoyed to see you. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed (it was a room that, upon closer inspection was more like a one room prison cell - with a single bed, a single a toilet in the corner, and a small metal desk with a chair in the other corner) - you looked up when you saw movement in the doorway, having no clue what was coming next. 

Your entire face lit up with intense joy when you saw Thomas. 

“Thomas!” You cried out his name with intense relief, emotional tears quickly springing up in the corners of your eyes as you jumped off the bed and rushed to greet him.

“Y/N,” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his arms opening wide for you as they had been many times before. 

You were quick to fall into the hug, tightly wrapping your arms around his strong torso, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. You had just been escorted back from your daily shower and your fresh clothes were still clinging to you with wetness, but he definitely didn’t mind the feeling of your damp skin under his hands. He didn’t care if you were getting his clothes wet because it was you. 

It only truly hit you now how utterly terrifying the past few days had been. Going from your home in the Glade to such a strange new place, being ripped away from everything you had ever known. Alby’s death, Chuck’s death, Gally’s death - your friends dropping like flies. Being brought here and being ripped away from the safety of your friends, ripped away from the last people you knew and being completely isolated from them, not knowing when you would get to see them again. 

Thomas’s tight hold around you - the familiarity of his body surrounding you, making you feel safe, it was something that made you realize how truly alone and scared you had been over the past few days. It made you realize that you had been swallowing down all of your emotions in an effort to protect yourself. It made you realize how much you truly cherished his hugs. How much you truly cherished him. 

“I was so worried about you.” Thomas breathed out, clearly making a heaving effort not to cry himself. 

You let out a gentle sob into his chest and he rubbed your back, trying his best to comfort you. 

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “It’s okay - I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you go ever again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N - I swear.” 

Unconsciously, he was promising these things more to himself. He felt like a failure for letting you out of his sight in the first place. He had no clue what they had done to you that had made you so upset, and he cursed himself for not being with you in order to protect you from it. Even though he didn’t know what ‘it’ was, it was stupid for letting anything bad happen to you. 

If either of you had been paying more attention, less caught up in the heightened emotions of the reunion, then you would have noticed the door sealing shut behind Thomas. You would have noticed the heavy ‘click’ of the lock as both of you became trapped there. But you had each other back now, and you couldn’t exactly care where you were in those moments - as long as you were in each others’ arms. 

“What happened?” Thomas demanded sharply, pulling away from the hug slightly in order to put a hand on your chin, forcing your tear-streaked gaze toward his, hoping to get the truth out of you. “What did they do? What did they do to you?” 

His energy increased in franticness the longer he went without an answer, staring at the sadness in your eyes with a knot forming in his stomach. 

“Nothing.” You quickly replied, feeling as though this was the truth. 

They hadn’t done anything to you. At least not anything that was outwardly malicious. 

They had let you shower, given you fresh clothes, fed you three healthy meals a day. And other than the medical appointments that you didn’t fully understand the point of (some of which were slightly more invasive than you would have liked), none of it was dangerous or painful. You had simply been kept in this room the whole time. You had been scared from being under-informed and lonely from not being allowed to see your friends. 

But none of that seemed like a crime. Especially compared to the treacherous deadly Grievers in The Maze. 

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas said quietly, his throat choked off by the intensity of the emotions - the grief he felt for your sadness, the anger he was holding back toward whoever had hurt you. (And towards himself for not better protecting you.) 

“Look, it’s nothing.” 

You assured him, reaching up and grabbing his hand, soothingly petting your fingers over his knuckles in a gesture almost too affectionate for someone you called ‘friend’. 

“Just - I was lonely. And I was scared because they wouldn’t let me see you. I was probably stuck in here, feeling all the same things you felt-” 

Thomas cut off your words by pulling you back into another crushing hug, which you eagerly leaned into, cuddling your cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the safety you felt from having his arms around you again. 

“Yeah.” He easily agreed to this sentiment. And then he wondered: “Where have you been the whole time?” 

“Just here.” You told him honestly. 

You didn’t feel the need to tell him about the doctor’s appointments - even the unpleasant ones. Especially because you assumed that he and the other boys had been through the same, likely with a different doctor. 

This caused another knot in Thomas’s gut. They had been keeping you in the same tiny room, not letting you see any other people? So - Minho’s theory about you being off in some other dorm making friends with a bunch of girls had been completely wrong. 

It wasn’t outright cruel, but it made alarms go off in Thomas’s head. It made his protective instincts toward you act up again. 

“I won’t let that happen to you again.” Thomas said firmly, trying his best to be assuring, even though he knew that he had no real authority over the decision. 

He cradled your head soothingly, petting a hand over your hair in a sweet, protective way. 

“Thomas-” 

You were about to remind him of the fact that he held no power over this when a very strange sound caused your voice to shrink back into your throat as you became distracted. 

You and Thomas both became drawn to the sound, both of your heads whipping up to look at it. Immediately, you saw that some of the tiles lining the ceiling had shrunk back, making way for small metal tubes that protruded out of the walls all around the room, creating a high-pitched hissing noise as they sprayed some kind of white mist into the air. This went on for about twenty seconds before it stopped, and then the tubes retracted back into the walls and the tiles slid back into their usual place. 

… 

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?” 

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.” 

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.” 

… 

“What - what the hell was that?” Thomas wondered aloud, frantically looking around the room where the tubes had disappeared into the walls. 

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. “I mean - that’s never happened before. It - it was probably a disinfectant or something,” You shrugged, trying to rationalize it, trying not to jump to the conclusion that it was something poisonous or harmful. 

Thomas let go of you and whipped around to the door - panic flooded him when he turned the handle and found it locked. 

“Hello?!” He screamed, banging on the door and fruitlessly jiggling the handle. “Hello?! Assholes! You can let us out now!” 

“Thomas,” You scolded him gently - his panic naturally unsettling to you. 

You wanted him to calm down - his nervous energy was making you nervous. And you had spent far too much time over the past few days cramped up inside of this room being nervous. You wanted to simply be able to enjoy the pleasant fact of his presence after missing him for what felt like decades of loneliness. But Thomas wasn’t going to lay down and make that easy on you. 

He rushed to the other end of the room, stepping up onto the desk chair and then the desk, peering into the vent as though he would be able to find a way out through there. 

“Thomas, please - just calm down. I’m sure it was nothing.” You continued, trying to get him to calm down. 

“Nothing?” He scoffed. “It’s never just ‘nothing’ with these people.” 

This was the last thing he said to you before his mind locked in on the task, and he focused on trying to find a way out of the small room. 

He spent a few minutes trying to loosen the bolts on the vent (which wouldn’t have been large enough for either of you to crawl out even if he did get the vent cover off). So all he did was make his fingers sore fighting against the welded metal. And then he moved on to brute force - he picked up the chair and tried to simply beat the doorknob clean off. 

But again, it was something that was very well made, seemingly bulletproof. And by the time he had taken a few good swings, he was heaving with sweat, breathless, and he found it to be way too hot in the small space. 

Surely his body was boiling over from the efforts of swinging the chair around in such a small, closed space. So he placed it down and moved to take off his shirt, surprised by just how damp the fabric was, seeped with sweat already in such a short time. He balled up the fabric and began patting himself down with it, trying to get some relief on his overly heated skin. 

And then, his entire system became utterly distracted by a single, tiny sound. 

A whimper. 

He whipped his head around at lightning speed, realizing that it had been you who had made that sound - it had been your whimper. And suddenly, everything in Thomas’s body, every single one of his senses became utterly overwhelmed by you. 

The sight of you on the bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to fetter away at whatever plan he came up with next - you looked so stunning, so breath-taking. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, obviously warmer than before - so it wasn’t just Thomas. It wasn’t just because of his exertion in trying to break out of here. 

Were they turning up the temperature in the room? Were they planning to cook the two of you as some kind of punishment? 

Yet - that thought quickly dissolved off into Thomas’s mind as a distant worry the more he looked at you; the more he drank in your slightly parted, bitten lips - so pretty, so kissable. The more he looked at the way stray hairs stuck to your flushed, sticky skin, wanting to gently wipe them out of the way. The more he admired your breasts gently heaving with each breath, your nipples sticking off through your shirt and thin bra. 

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air. 

Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air, something so perfect he could suffocate in tight in the small space. Shamefully, that scent was something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories of life had still been so few and his head had still been so empty. 

Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy. Even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect to him. 

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you. 

This time that wonderful scent that he knew as yours had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. Your arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. Feeling like he needed to save you from some big, unseen danger. 

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He wasn’t close enough to you. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet. 

Thomas had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do. 

“Thomas - you-your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud. 

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste. The fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you. 

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him. 

Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him. From the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved, to the veins protruding in his forearms, to the trail of delicious dark hair down from his belly button that disappeared into his pants. It was a way you had never looked at him before. You had never truly noticed how Thomas - your strong, comforting Thomas - was so utterly, carnally sexy. 

He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before. He had done it while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed). And you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then. 

At least, he thought you hadn’t. 

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here, too warm, it’s hot - do you find it hot?” 

He had to ask, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the pleasantly warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling up from his very core, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like. 

Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off. 

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.” 

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you. 

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, putting distance between himself and you. But he kept his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was. 

“It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a shaky, pained whine. 

Shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal. 

Fuck. 

The way you looked up at him with glassy-eyes, tears barely edging your waterline, clearly hot and overwhelmed yourself, squirming against the bed - trying to get some friction against your… oh. Oh wow. That realization rocked him like a ton of bricks to the head, and even more heat swelled up inside of his gut. 

You must have been feeling all the same things that he was. 

Dizzy, hot, overwhelmed - having an intense need to hold you and to be held. Brain thumping with nothing but thoughts of you, mind littered with nothing but your smell, nothing but thoughts of your skin. Willing to do anything for you at a moment’s notice. 

Thomas finally let himself flex to those needs, and raced across the room toward you - literally falling on his knees in front of you. 

If you had pain, he would fix it. He would do anything for you. 

“What hurts?” He asked, realizing that the desperation throttling his throat made it sound more like he was begging. But he was too far gone to care. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me. Please.” 

You were almost too incoherent to put the feeling into words so quickly, as quickly as he needed you too. You were too distracted by the sight of his big soft brown eyes staring up at you with utter worship in them - along with his pink cheeks and bits of his dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, that softness contrasted by the broad hardness of his shoulders spread across your lap. 

“Thomas-” You gasped out, cut off by his next action. 

“Y/N, please.” 

He grabbed up both of your hands, clutching them tightly in his own - and that, the first skin-to-skin contact you had felt since becoming this overwhelmed with the heat and the need - it set something off inside of you. It sent sharp shocks up your spine and made your pussy clench around nothing, sending a flood of wetness soaking into your underwear. And it made you feel too weak for your own good in that moment. 

If you lingered there for too long, you would tumble into the abyss. You would simply give into every instinct screaming inside of your body and beg for him to fuck you until you didn’t know your own name. 

And even though that was everything you had ever wanted, all you could remember wanting right then and there, especially from Thomas, the small remaining sense in your brain said that it was a bad idea. 

You let out a sharp gasp, and raced to escape the touch - you knocked your hands out of his and squirmed away from him, jumping up off the bed. Thomas let out a whine of disappointment and crumbled tighter onto his knees, wondering what he could have done to disappoint you. Knowing that he needed to do anything he could to make up for disappointing you. 

But something inside of his skull was chanting: 

She’s in pain. Make it stop. Make her pain go away. 

You know the answer. 

And while you panicked, hoping to fight against what your body wanted, hoping to delay the inevitable, the thing that Thomas already knew he wanted, Thomas picked himself up off the floor. 

All too soon, he crowded into your personal space from behind. You let out another shocked gasp as he pressed his body into yours from behind, the firm, intensely heated muscle like wall of lava engulfing you. 

This time, not letting you get away, he secured you there with a hand around your chest that was oddly comforting, making sure to pull you close and keep you close. He forced you to feel every single inch of his boiling hot body pressed right up against yours. Sweat gently sticking against you through your clothes, his hot breath huffing against your neck, and what must have been the hard bulge of his cock pressing against the roundness of your ass. 

It was all too perfect. And still, something nagged in the back of your mind that you couldn’t have that perfection all to yourself. Something must have been wrong in order for this to be happening to you. 

“Thomas,” You whined out - unsure if you wanted to tell him to get off or wanted to beg him for more. 

Instinctively, you reached up and gripped at his forearm, sinking into the security of his touch. It was soothing, in a sense, and at the same time - it drove your body mad and made the pain in your cunt so much worse. 

Any mental clarity you previously had was quickly fading. 

So much so that neither of you had the mind to piece together that this was happening to you because of the chemicals that had been sprayed into the room earlier. Not that you could do much about it now. 

Thomas leaned over your shoulder, stuffing his nose into your neck, taking in a purposeful, thick whiff of your scent. He drank you in so shamelessly now, so happy to have you in his arms, right where he wanted you - right where he needed you. He held your body so tight to his, almost crushing you in his grip in the most perfect way - as if worried you might escape if he let you move even an inch. 

Between desperate pants, he laid slick, open-mouthed kisses along your forehead, down the side of your face - lavishing you with affection, grateful and greedy now that he had you in his arms, now that he had caught you. Grateful that he had taken you from those bastards who had stolen you from him. Grateful that he had won. 

His actions left you panting wildly into the air as the heat surged within your body - this attention on your skin not being enough, but yet, your mind was too muddled with the overwhelming heat to ask for more. 

He continued kissing your skin, even nosing along your cheek before he finally gathered enough of his mind to speak. 

“I’ll help. I’ll help you, Y/N.” 

He huffed out, heaving more of his dense beautiful breath across your skin, making you whine again in return. 

“I’ll fix it. Just tell me. Just tell me what hurts. Please, tell me. I promise I’ll fix it. I can fix it.” 

His utter dedication to you was sewn into every word, clutching you tighter across the chest in a way that almost crushed your windpipe - something that made you gasp for air and nearly thank him for it, wanting to dissolve back into his hot muscles and live there, somehow still not close enough. 

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, I will. I’ll help you. Just tell me, please.” 

You found the fire of that dedication more enlightening than the one slowly boiling you to death from inside, and it was that - that sacred promise that had you finally giving in. It was Thomas’s sacred affection for you that finally made you feel safe to give into your body’s needs. 

You reached out and grabbed Thomas’s hand - the one hovering by his side that wasn’t keeping you trapped tightly against his chest. His fingers locked tightly in a fist without the fabric of his shirt to keep his knuckles from popping under the fury of his own grip this time. You rubbed soothingly on the back of his palm, loosening the muscles there before you guided that hand between your thighs, guiding him to touch you on your still clothed pussy, through your pants. 

“Here, Tommy.” You breathed out, your tongue feeling so fat and useless in your mouth. “It hurts here. Need your help. Need you.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, instantly understanding what you needed, sparked with even more desperation by the nickname on your lips, Thomas sprung into action. 

He began frantically rubbing your pussy through your pants - inadvertently pushing the zipper at the front of your trousers right up against your clit with the heavy weight of his palm. A sensation that made you keen out and arch back into him as though you had been possessed, harsh, amazing tingles zapping through your body from that tiny point. You threw your head back against his shoulder and relied even more on the strength of his body and the will of his grip across your shoulders not to fall down as ravenous pleasure overtook you. 

“I’ll fix it.” He huffed into your ear. 

His voice barely registered to you past the shocking beautiful pleasure he was causing between your thighs as he continued to rub your clothed clit. 

“I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all better.” 

He laid more hot, sloppy kisses against your neck and your cheek, and you could do little more than moan out loudly and squirm against him, becoming utterly lost in the sensations. You accidentally humped your ass against his cock in a way that made him growl and rub your clit even harder, even faster. It made you absolutely alight with pleasure, filling all of your senses with nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his strong arm working between your thighs, nothing but the scent of his sweat in the air, nothing but his quiet growls against your ear. 

“Oh, Tommy!” You moaned out. “I’m gonna-” 

Before you knew it, your body had been overtaken by the intense wave of an orgasm, something that had you crying out loudly and shaking in his arms, your body beautifully dizzy in seconds. You reached out to grip his forearm, leaving claw marks in his skin while you let out a stream of incoherent sounds as the sensations rocked you. 

“Hey, shh. I got you. I got you,” He was nothing but a sweet assurance in your ear - his dick still throbbing and utterly needy in his pants, but forgotten in favor of pleasing you. For now. 

After a few moments, he lifted his hand from between your thighs, causing a sharp whine of disappointment from you. He used this touch to force your jaw toward him, twisting your neck awkwardly to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder. It caused an ache in your neck, but you delighted in the feeling of his lips desperately clinging to your own, the chance to steal his breath.

You had thought about kissing Thomas many times before - but you had never imagined that it would be like this. 

When it was over, there was one thing that both of you knew for certain: you both needed more.

“Please, Tommy.” You breathed against his mouth as you pulled away from the kiss. “I need more. Please.” 

Every single instinct inside of him screamed to follow this order - that this was the divine answer to his existence. This was everything his life had been leading up to from the moment he had seen your sweet face after he had been pulled out of that fucking Box. 

“I got you.” He assured you. 

He then guided you back to the bed and - very hesitantly - separated his grip from you in order to make sure that you could comfortably lay down on your back. Within seconds, he was on you again, absorbing your mouth into a hot, desperate kiss while he laid flush on top of you. 

You couldn’t help but to moan into that kiss, fisting your hands into his hair, holding him tightly to you as though he was your only source of oxygen - welcoming it when his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You sucked on it and moaned around him, becoming dizzier with the heat. 

When you felt his hard cock against your thigh, feeling him jutting his hips forward to try and find some relief against you - it caused a deeper pain in your pussy, a distinct feeling of emptiness and you knew that you needed more. You knew exactly what you needed - what that ‘more’ was. 

You pulled back from the kiss to whimper against his lips. 

“More.” You pleaded gently. “Please, Tommy.” 

“Yes.” He huffed back in return. “Anything - anything for you.” 

Naturally, his hands went back between your legs, and you guided him up to the button of your pants, both of you working frantically in tandem to get your pants off this time. That nagging heat only building inside of you, something telling you that you would go insane if you didn’t get your clothes off soon. While Thomas ripped your pants down over your thighs, pulling your underwear with them, you sat up slightly and ditched your shirt, leaving you wearing only the thin cotton bra that had come with this set of new clothes. 

Thomas let out a growl when more of your delicious scent hit him. With your pants around your ankles, it was more pungent now, ripe in the air, smacking him in the face in the most perfect way. And he felt another wave of crippling heat punch him in the gut as it fogged his brain over. It was so pungent that it was ripe on his tongue and he needed more. Something in his brain was chanting at him that he needed to taste it - he needed to devour that delicious scent, the essence of you, right from the fucking source. 

With his tongue lapping at the air like a fucking dog, Thomas let out more thick, heavy breaths while he desperately tried to untangle the fabric from your ankles, trying to free you so that he could have better access to you. After a moment too long of struggle for both of your liking, he was finally able to toss it all carelessly behind him, leaving you almost naked beneath him. 

But he didn’t have a moment to marvel at the beauty of your bare body. A sight that he had imagined so many times before in his mind’s eye, snuck away into the privacy of the woods with a hand tight around his cock thinking about this exact sight - no, he couldn’t sit back and simply drink it in. 

He was a man on a mission - a man living through a years long drought and finally met with the glorious fountain that would eternally quench his thirst. 

He didn’t even question the need to put his mouth on your pussy, didn’t wonder why the thought was so prominently at the forefront of his mind. Instead, he simply pinned your legs open against the bed with his palms flat on your inner thighs and did it, chased the urge that rang through his mind so damn clearly. 

“Oh, Thomas!” 

In seconds, it was the most divine thing he had ever experienced. 

With you moaning above his head, gasping out his name, with your taste so pungent on his tongue, with your heat beating under his mouth - it was too fucking perfect to let go of. 

Thomas moaned into your pussy, pure fuzzy pleasure melting his brain between his ears, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you. His mind filled with nothing but feed me, feed me, keep me alive, you are my life. 

The thick taste of your wetness on his tongue was all he needed, all he needed to live from now on, nothing more. He could feel you squirming and fighting against him; he could feel your thighs jolting and jumping under his hands as your nerves were overstimulated. He could feel your hips bucking up into his face, smearing more of that perfect wetness across his chin and cheeks, smothering him in it - perfect, how perfect. 

He could feel the sting of you tugging on his hair but it only added to the perfect sensation of dumb dizziness that pumped through him, that made him so fucking ravenous for you. It only made him moan into your cunt louder and shove his tongue into you deeper, looking for more. 

“Oh, ugh! Tommy! Tommy!” 

You felt like you were burning alive. 

His tongue against you was horrible and perfect - doing nothing to relieve the ache deep inside of you, one that demanded to be filled. 

His tongue lapping at you so hungrily only added more terrible, sweltering heat, causing more shocks of pleasure stinging up your body with each deep pass of his tongue that he swept over you, trying to devour you whole. 

The more he moaned against you, the more he vibrated your already sore clit, making you cry out, the more he caused your body to be consumed by that deep, uncomfortable he. The more he made it near impossible for you to breathe past the moans fighting out of your lungs. 

You desperately tugged on his hair, but only got his attention when you finally fought hard enough to get words out. 

“Tommy, please!” You begged, tears spilling out of your eyes now. “Please, stop! It hurts!” 

Those words - those painful words shocked Thomas back to reality. 

Had he been selfish, drinking from your essence to satisfy his thirst without considering your own? 

He pulled back from your pussy with a wet smack that made you whimper, taking his hands off your thighs, finally freeing your legs from the tight, stretched out position. Somehow, he looked even better staring you down with those needy, wide eyes while his face was covered in your juices. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Please, just - I need you.” You choked out in reply, reaching a shaking hand toward his pants. “I need you inside me, Tommy. I need you to fix it.” 

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas replied, chanting to you as though answering a prayer in a place of worship, fully prepared to worship you as the goddess you were to him. “Yes, I’ll fix it.” 

He rushed to get his pants and underwear off with just as much frantic struggle, and soon he was naked on top of you. Meanwhile, you ripped off the stupid bra in order to feel the satisfying press of his bare skin on yours, something impossibly boiling hot. A feeling that had you moaning into his shoulder while you hooked your leg around his hip, urgent to get closer to him. 

Without a second of hesitation, Thomas sunk his cock inside of you. 

His cock was a searing hot rod pressing into your well-slicked entrance, making both of you white-out with the feeling for a few moments while the need and satisfaction rattled through your insides. It was what you had both been waiting for, desperately needing from the moment that mystery chemical had hit your systems. And now that you had it - Thomas’s cock deep inside of you, the perfect satisfaction of being joined, being as close as possible, your body sang with perfect relief. 

But there was still that nagging for something more. 

Neither of you would be satisfied - it wouldn’t fully be out of your systems until you both came from this. 

It was that nagging that had him gripping onto your hips, holding you still so that he could begin hammering into you, desperate to answer that nagging in the back of his skull: fuck her, take her, fill her up - she’s yours. She is yours. 

It was a feeling so utterly perfect that you instantly relaxed against him - all of your muscles melting into the feeling of his cock fucking into you so rapidly, filling you up so well. You gripped tightly at his back, determined to hold him close, just as he had done to you before. You needed to keep him absolutely close, so tight to your body while his cock filled you up so perfectly. 

“Tommy, please. Oh, oh, Tommy!” You moaned into his neck, your pussy fluttering around him as his hips stuttered. 

Overwhelmed and dizzy with the heat, from the tips of his ears to the space where his cock sunk deep into your warm pussy, drowning in wetness, he could only focus on one thing. One single mission rattling between his ears. 

Fill her up. Make her yours. 

“Gonna fill you up.” He growled back, not even entirely realizing that he was speaking these words aloud - a sacred promise to him now, the only driving force of his entire life, the thing that his entire existence hinged on. “Gonna make you so full of me. So perfect, so full of me.” 

Getting lost in your warm pussy, filling you up, making your pain go away, worshiping you. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he was going to keep you safe. He was going to keep you in his arms forever, was going to keep you safe, wrapped around his cock - forever. He fucked his hips forward harder, making a loud, wet smack continually resonate throughout the room as he tried his hardest to deliver on these promises. 

“Gonna make you mine,” He growled, his voice reaching a deep tone that you had only ever heard when he had argued with Gally - ticked off, full of rage. “Gonna keep you safe. Forever.” 

But somehow - this was different. It was a rage that was twinged with passion. 

With love. 

It was a sound that made all the hair on your body stand on end, forced a sharp gasp from your lips as it utterly rocked your body. 

You dug your nails into his back, possessively gripping the flesh, holding him tightly, trying to keep him close. Forcing him to keep his promises. 

“Yours.” You echoed back, your voice half-breath, half pure need. 

“You are mine.” He groaned in return. “Mine, mine, mine, mine-” 

He chanted this as a mantra, fucking into you harder with each utterance of the sacred word before he cut himself off with a harsh gasp, his hips stilling suddenly. 

And then - perfection. 

He pressed into you as deeply as possible, filling you up with perfect warmth, delivering on his promise. Your gut curled with a nearly painful orgasm in response, causing you to bite down tightly on the flesh of his shoulder as you moaned wildly against him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you were nearly blinded with euphoria. 

“Mine.” Thomas hummed again, almost quietly to himself, leaving a small peak on the side of your neck to compliment his point. 

Once again, just as he had done when he first entered the room, he cradled your head so softly, petting your hair soothingly. It was a deep contrast to the near rabid man who had been fucking you only a minute ago. And he gently humped his hips against you, something unconscious telling him to make sure that he fucked his cum deeper into you - nice and deep. 

The two of you stayed tangled like this, instinctively not wanting to pull away from each other, an intense need to stay locked so close. Needing to be close to the person you needed most. In an effort not to crush you with his body weight, Thomas rolled onto his side, with you still holding him tightly, with your leg still hooked over his hip, with his softening cock slightly falling out of your now messy cunt - much to the disappointment of both of you. 

(Thomas surprised himself when he shoved his hips forward, trying to get closer, trying to get back inside of you.) 

But you both felt much more at ease now. And tangled together like that, with your arms wrapped around each other, with Thomas gently kissing over your forehead and your shoulders - you both dozed off into a gentle sleep. 

… 

Thomas woke up cold and alone. 

He dressed frantically, and surprisingly, he found the door unlocked. 

He had too many questions, and had one singular mission on his mind: 

Find you, and kill anybody who had laid their hands on you without his permission.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you liked this fic, please consider showing me that by reblogging or commenting, but if you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more fics from this fandom, I will be posting more in the future, and if you want to see more things that I have already posted, I have over one million words worth of work between my AO3 (linked in my pinned post) and my Masterlist for you to enjoy. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!!