#and rita kicks him in the ankles

[waters-and-the-wilde]

EHEHEHEH GOT ANOTHER ONE FOR PETRUSHKA okay backstory i was on a War and Peace kick around the same time as the S3 hiatus and was thinking about. 'hey what did Nureyev's first love call him. if he was young enough that someone else knew his real name, probably didn't call him Nureyev, and definitely didn't call him Peter, what does that leave us with. pet names? gamely switching to whatever he was wearing in the moment while he was figuring himself out in the aftermath of giving up Peter Nureyev?' and 'well Nureyev has Eastern Slavic origins and Zolotovna invoked that style of naming conventions, wouldn't it be neat if the diminutives were also a thing and maybe his fella called him something like Petya or Petrushka' and that was a fun little headcanon just for me AND THEN STONE UNTURNED CAME OUT AND PETYA WAS CANON. AND I HAVE BEEN SCREAMING ABOUT IT EVER SINCE.

and then. i was CONVINCED in S4 that he was going to come out as Nureyev as part of freeing the others. maybe some kind of deal with Dark Matters where he has to make that choice to give his name up to free them. and could not stop thinking about him shucking the name Ransom and like. looked up Zolotovna's whole thing because he was curious and had quietly put 'Aurinkovich' in his back pocket in case he needs a middle name for formal occasions like *cough cough* maybe wedding vows or something (and/or that Buddy fullnames him when he's On His Behavior) and mostly I just really liked the symbolism of breaking the hold that Mag's memory has over him and taking on Buddy's name, going from a name that's a reminder of 'I am alone and I will not forget that again' to 'I AM a part of this family and i will carry that with me after we have parted'. and uh. I don't seem to be getting that lucky a second time around but it's okay we dreamed it etc.

bit of both with the floundering/dissociating? like you mentioned he's gonna have NO idea how to act, extremely comparable to Juno catching up with him and going 'ah shit didn't figure out what next,' it's gonna be his own 'dog that caught the car' moment, like he's just not even remotely equipped to deal with the long term quencies of 'Slip's alive, what the hell now'

(and it seems like a lot of his canon spacing out/losing time/overdeveloped sense of compartmentalization tips into dissociation territory. not sure i'm all that qualified to speak on it myself but I've gotten the sense that it's at the very least in the neighborhood). I'm definitely convinced that whatever it looks like he's going to Crash Hard. like everything's just going to feel so so bad because he's finally safe enough to actually feel it.

and even that's probably going to take a while because last time he thought he and Slip got away from the Executives it was a fake-out so the whole notion that he's free and has Slip and Juno is. making him want to stay in hypervigilance mode because he knows what happens when he actually thinks he's safe, right?

in some ways having Slip come back is the angstier version in the sense that there's absolutely no option for a cut and dried form of closure, for letting go and moving on. Nureyev's in no way the boy Slip knew anymore but he's also the only familiar thing Slip has in a completely new world. from Slip's perspective he just barely found his Petya again and had him yanked away and replaced by a man who has given up twenty years of his life on Slip's behalf. they've both gotta grieve while the other is still right there yknow??

Slip laying into Nureyev for the exact same reasons Nureyev's been telling Juno off, (Juno's in the corner like 'yeah not fun being on that end of it huh') and Nureyev's trying to hold it together and let Slip react however he needs to because it wasn't like he was doing it for gratitude or to be together again, it's enough that Slip's alive to be angry at him, alive to be something at him (and like that's what he tells himself and it's true but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt)

Slip's not even sure if he's actually upset that Petya's in love with someone else or relieved that Petya has somebody, found somebody (who also has somebody, who also seems like she's got a pretty good track record at being there for a self-destructive guilt-ridden dingus), like thank fuck Petya has two whole friends, this would be so much harder if they only had each other right now. (he can be both upset and relieved he knows he can be both he just physically hasn't had any feelings for twenty years and is having a hard enough time figuring out his own end of things let alone anybody else's)

he's probably really resistant to any of Nureyev's attempts to look after him because Nureyev's already done enough and too much and he isn't even looking after himself so dealing with Juno is just a lot less loaded. Slip's easily in a position to be like 'yes Steel was integral to getting us both free. and he cares about you. can't fault him for that. but also he's a grown-ass lady who does what he wants, and he's maaaybe a bit of a dick, and also seems like whatever I have to say probably won't be kicking him while he's down'

OH YEAH and also like you said about journal Slip vs whole person Slip, Nureyev had basically only just met the version who mouths off to faceless corporate dickheads. ("I don't get tongue-tied around everybody, just the man I love.") A Slip who's more resilient than he looks is probably going to take them both by surprise. It's not a massive leap for him to realize that he and Juno can recreationally heckle each other without jeopardizing the alliance. maybe Juno's like momentarily taken aback the first time or two and then 'oh that's how we're gonna play it huh?'

and then they move onto heckling their weird thief man and if Nureyev had so much as a moment to think about what it might look like for Juno and Slip to interact, he was probably not picturing 'OH STARS THEY'RE GANGING UP ON ME'

it's just. the lock, the fucking lock right? the stim toy lock where the combination changes as you try to pick it. like we actually saw them do it, the executives scrambling the parameters to force him to keep up (also WHOOP right in tandem with the impact of the 'making radiation treatments free' thing!) but also there's this sense of it almost doesn't matter because it's literally their game and they can make him play along, nothing's going to give until they show their hand

[danikamariewrites]

could i request one with rhys x reader where he is so incredibly in love with her it’s ridiculous. He is such a simp for her, she literally only has to ask and he gets her anything she wants. one day she jokes about him being very generous and says

” i’m sure if i ask for a golden pony, you’ll find a way”

next day he’s visiting Helion and asks for a golden pony.

The ic even makes fun of how much he simps for reader. One day they’re all walking in velaris to go to ritas and readers strap on her heel slips. Rhys gets on his knees to fix it with no hesitation. The inner circle looks at him with incredible shock and their jaws are dropped. Bc in acomaf it says that he has sacred tattoos on his knees and will never bow for no one and nothing but his crown. it’s the first time they ever see rhys on his knees for someone. Reader doesn’t know ab it and just says thank you and they continue walking. After a while he confesses to her and she feels the same and live happy forever 😁😁

Only For You

Rhys x reader

A/n: this is so freakin cute and writing this had me kicking my feet giggling

Warnings: none

You and Rhys had grown up together, so his kindness and generosity was nothing new to you. Whenever you needed or even just wanted something Rhys would get it for you. New shoes? Done, he knows what style you like. Need new clothes? He has your size and his tailor knows exactly what to make you.

You had always insisted on paying you back but he never let you. Rhys would always say, “Nonsense y/n. I like biting you things so please let me get this for you.” You’d breathe out a sigh of defeat and cup his cheek. “Thank you Rhys. I swear if I asked for a golden Pegasus you’d find me one.”

Rhys cherished your warm touch. He loved your soft skin and how gentle you are with him. The High Lord was so clearly in love with you but he was too afraid to admit it. If Rhys lost you as a friend because of his feelings he doesn’t know how he’d go on.

And he didn’t forget about that golden Pegasus. It was your 450th birthday present and you named her Sunny.

Tonight you were all headed to Rita’s to unwind after a busy work week. Mor had teased you about Rhys while you got ready together. “He’s completely and utterly in love with you! How can you not see he is wrapped around your finger.”

You had just rolled your eyes and laughed at your friend. “We’ve been friends for centuries Mor. Rhys would’ve said something by now. I just have to deal with that.” Deep down you were mad,y in love with Rhys. You just kept telling yourself he didn’t feel the same way. It made everything easier. You two were just friends after all.

Walking to Rita’s you and Cassian were hanging on each other crying laughing at something Mor said about Amren. Your heel caught in a crack of the cobblestone, causing the strap of your shoe to come undone. “Oops, hold on a second, my shoe.”

The group stopped as you lifted your dress a little to asses the damage. Before you could fix it, Rhys was on his knees looking up at you with a small smile. “I got it for you darling.”

His fingers gently grazed your ankle, sending a shiver up your body. You watched as Rhys carefully buckled the strap around your ankle again. Without thinking he caressed your calf and looked up at you. You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

You run your fingers through his soft raven locks, bringing your hand down to caress his face, holding his chin. Giving it a small squeeze you say, “Thanks Rhys.” Mor giggles and takes your arm, pulling you ahead of the boys.

Cassian and Azriel stare at their brother with their jaws on the ground. Rhys stands, brushing off his pants. “I thought you said-“ Cassian started. Rhys cut him off, “Only for my equal.” Cassian didn’t think it was possible but he felt his jaw unhinge more at Rhys’s confession.

Rhys started to follow you and Mor while Cassian stood frozen. Azriel came up next to him closing his mouth and patting him on the back. “I can’t believe I knew before you.” He said with a smug look on his face.

When you woke up the next morning something felt different. You felt a light in your chest, pulling you out of your room.

Getting ready you follow that pull down the hall all the way to Rhys’s office. You find him sitting in his armchair, seemingly contemplating something. You felt nervousness radiating off him. Not only could you hear his heartbeat, but you swore you felt it in your own chest.

Pausing, you place your hand over your heart. You slowly approach him. Resting a hand on his shoulder Rhys leans back into the cushioned seat, placing his hand over yours. Rhys looked up at you with a hope on his beautiful face. The light of the fire in the hearth before him highlighting his high cheekbones and perfect jawline.

Closing your eyes you took a chance and reached out down that new glowing bond. Towards Rhys. Towards unconditional love. Rhys gripped your hand tighter as he let out a shaky breath.

Opening your eyes you found Rhys’s line with silver. You blinked your own tears away as you looked at him with adoration. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispered. “I said I’d never bow before anyone or anything but my crown. That changed when I found you, my equal in every sense of the word.”

Rhys pulled you onto his lap. “I love you too Rhys,” you whispered back, “I’ll share that crown with you for the rest of our lives.”

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #27

A/N: Okay, so this is from an idea that I've had kicking around in my head for the last couple years. It's an X-Files AU. I don't know that I will ever get around to writing the full thing, but here is a little blurb from it!

xxx laboratory

"I had a dream about you last night." Juno's voice is raw, barely above a whisper. His features arrange themselves slowly into a frown. "Or maybe...maybe it was the night before. 've sorta lost track..."

"Hush, Juno," Nureyev says gently as he works on the second strap, his usually nimble fingers slipping as he wrestles with leather and buckles. Juno stirs, frown twisting into an uncomfortable grimace.

"Oh...god, how – how long--" His breaths begin to quicken, bare chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven movements, and his expression grows frantic. "'reyev?"

"You're alright," Nureyev soothes, finally undoing the strap around Juno's ankle. "You're alright, I'm going to get you out of here."

"What..." He's gasping now, his words rising in pitch and volume, and panicked. "Wha'd they do to me?"

Nureyev moves his hands to Juno's face, then, running his thumbs over Juno's cheekbones. "I'm here now, Juno. Look at me. Look at me. That's it. I know I--" He swallows, surprised at the sudden wave of emotions that washes over him. "I know I've hardly earned it, but I need you to trust me. I am getting you out of here, Juno, but you must calm down. Take a deep breath."

Juno stares at him, wide-eyed, and then he nods and takes a long, shaky inhale.

"Very good. Keep going," Nureyev says as he undoes the straps around Juno's wrists. There's an uncomfortable feeling settled deep in his stomach as he does so; Juno is barely moving – hardly the reaction Nureyev was expecting. Whatever they've given to Juno, whatever they've done to him, his usual fight is gone. And his usual brightness.

Nureyev can only hope that it's temporary.

"There," he says, releasing the final strap. "Let's get you sitting up."

Juno doesn't speak as Nureyev slides a hand under his back and levers him slowly into a sitting position, only grimaces slightly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Juno says shortly, shifting so that his legs are dangling over the side of the bed table. "Just stiff." He grips Nureyev's hand so tightly that it's almost painful as he slides forward and sets his bare feet on the floor.

And promptly falls.

"Juno!" Nureyev kneels in front of him, doing another quick scan for any sign of blood or injury. "Are you hurt?"

There's a dazed look in Juno's eyes and a moment passes before he slowly shakes his head.

"I...I don't know. I don't – I don't think so? I can't remember...'m dizzy."

Nureyev does his best not to let his worry show on his face. Whatever Rita had done to keep people away from this part of the lab, he suspects it's only temporary. Which means he and Juno have to move. A more thorough examination will have to wait until they're out of this place.

"I'll help you," Nureyev says, pulling Juno's arm around his shoulders. He stands slowly, giving Juno time to get his feet under him. Then, once Juno is (mostly) upright, he steers them both toward the door.

Juno's footsteps are sloppy and increasingly uncoordinated as they make their way down the corridor. Nureyev is practically dragging him by the time they get to the elevator that Rita had said she would keep open for them.

"Can't get out this way," Juno mumbles. "I tried...Need a code..."

"Rita gave me the code," Nureyev says, punching the eight-digit number into the keypad by the elevator doors and trying not to think too much about Juno, alone and trapped and trying to escape. Being unable to.

Not this time, though. This time, the doors slide open, and Nureyev guides both of them into the elevator, leaning Juno against the far wall so he can press the button for the ground floor. The doors shut again and the elevator car shudders before starting its ascent.

xxx

Juno was right about Rita; she's the best at her job. Nureyev had been able to get Juno out of the underground lab without setting off any alarms or encountering anyone. Juno had slept for most of the drive to the motel, and they're in the room now. Juno is sitting on the edge of one of the beds.

He looks awful. There are dark circles under his half-lidded eyes and a hollowness to his unshaven cheeks. He's leaning heavily against the wall and looks like he may collapse at any second. Nureyev reaches forward to take his pulse and he flinches violently.

"I'm sorry," Nureyev says, pulling his hand away, silently scolding himself. He has no idea what Juno has been subjected to this last week, but it's hardly any wonder he'd be nervous about any sudden physical contact. "Sorry, Juno. I just want to take a closer look at you, is that okay?"

Juno gives a slow nod.

"I'm going to take your heart rate," Nureyev says, lifting Juno's wrist and pressing two fingers to the inside of it. He silently counts each beat that pulses against his fingertips. It's slower than it should be, but that's not too unexpected given that Juno was almost certainly sedated. Whatever they'd given him will still be working its way out of his system.

His eyes trace up Juno's arm and his stomach twists at the sight of needle marks and slight bruising on the inside of Juno's elbow where they'd taken blood, or given him something through an IV or both. There's a small circular wound on his upper arm, as well, that Nureyev suspects is from a biopsy. He doesn't even want to know what they intend to do with the tissue sample.

Nureyev continues his examination, making sure to ask before he touches Juno, and explain what he does as he does it. Juno remains disconcertingly quiet through the whole process, and pliant in a way that Nureyev doesn't like.

"I don't see any obvious signs of injury," Nureyev says finally. "You'll need a more thorough work-up tomorrow, though – urinalysis and blood work."

A shudder runs through Juno at the words blood work, and Nureyev puts a hand on Juno's.

"I can go with you, if you'd like," he offers. Juno doesn't look at him. Nureyev can't blame him, really. Not after the way Nureyev had betrayed him. He takes a breath. "Let's get through tonight first, though, shall we? Would you like a shower?"

"I think I just want to sleep," Juno says. Nureyev nods.

"Sleep would be good, I think."

xxx

Nureyev is awakened by the sound of Juno being sick in the bathroom. Fear and worry spike through him as he bolts upright, immediately swinging his longs legs over the side of the bed. His heart pounds as he strides across the motel carpet.

"Juno?" he calls, rapping on the door with a knuckle. "Juno, are you alright in there?" There's no answer, just the continued sound of heaving. Nureyev carefully tries the doorknob, relieved when it turns. "I'm coming in."

Juno is sitting panting and wide-eyed on the bathroom floor, his tank top soaked through with sweat. His legs are splayed in front of him and one arm rests on the edge of the toilet. He's visibly shaking.

"Juno!" Nureyev kneels in front of his partner, taking one of Juno's hands gently in his own and pressing two fingers to the inside of his wrist. "Your heart is racing. Are you having any other symptoms? Pain or dizziness?"

Juno shakes his head. "No, no. I'm--" He swallows thickly, raising his eyes to meet Nureyev's. When he speaks his voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, and trembling. "I remember something."

Nureyev's heart jumps. He's been wondering if exactly what happened to him in that lab was going to remain a mystery forever. Looking at Juno now, he can't help but wonder if that would have been better.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks gently.

Juno's eyes fill with tears and he grips Nureyev's forearms.

"It's Ben," he whispers. "He's alive."

xxx

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 23: on cloud nine

Gan was never leaving Solution Nine. She’d decided; this was where she was going to live until Sphene literally kicked her out. There was just...just so much. Of everything. Lights, colors, sounds. Strange new food ans delicious drinks. Machines she could barely even fathom the use of, made of materials she hadn’t even known existed—materials which, for all she knew, didn’t exist anywhere but the shard Alexandria had once called home. She could bring Theo and West Wind! There was definitely enough space for a dog and a horse. And Sphene was so nice and welcoming!

Oh, Gan wasn’t stupid enough to trust the woman. But she was willing to forgive a lot if it meant she could get her hands on some electrope—even an onze—to work with. It really seemed to be a miracle stone, and then the Alexandrians had augmented it with arcane circuitry to create some sort of...further miracle. Miracle, squared. Rita was more interested in the circuitry, and was delivering a veritable barrage of questions at Genolt; Gan completely understood the enthusiasm, but there was only so much theorizing she could take. She wanted to get her hands on something’s metal guts.

She found it in True Vue, where an open flat space—Tiber called it a parking garage—was filled with Solution Nine air-wheelers and other vehicles. One of them was hovering two feet off the ground, the better for the mechanic to touch odd metal implements to the circuits on the undercarriage. An assistant stood next to her head, doing something to the handlebars.

Gan drifted closer. She attracted stares, of course—she’d seen no other Au Ra at all in Solution Nine, and the local population plainly had no idea what to make of her—but she ignored it. She just needed a closer look at that air-wheeler.

“Can I help you,” said the mechanic’s assistant.

It wasn’t a question, and was promptly answered by the mechanic sliding out from under the air-wheeler and smacking him in the ankle. “Idiot,” they hissed, “that’s one of the Queen’s guests!”

The assistant paled and stammered an apology, but Gan was too busy staring at the mechanic. She’d never seen this person—Hyune, pink buzzcut, golden skin, red eyes—in her life, but there was something bizarrely familiar about them. Before she could think what it was, though, they were waving at her. “Hey there, miss! What’s the matter?”

She scratched at the base of her horn before answering. Gods, what a time t’ have sent Al off with an order for more energy drinks. “Don’t wanna put you out, or anythin’, but...I’m somethin’ of a tinkerer back ‘ome, an’ when I saw these air-wheelers—well. I had t’ know more.”

“Oh! Is that all?” Now the mechanic was grinning, and even at an angle where she was looking more or less straight up their nose Gan had to admit they were looking really familiar. “Pull up a wheely board, this’s a fast repair and I’ve gotta fill time somehow. I’ll show you what’s what!”

It took a moment to sink in. Then her brain lit up, and she dropped to the mechanic’s side with a whoop.

By the time Alan swung by, bag of drink cans in hand, she was crackling faintly with leftover levin aether, her tail hurt from being in a weird position all that time, and she was grinning like an idiot. She’d found out the mechanic was Spinel and their assistant was Perspica—something, he’d said she could call him Percy—and they’d both been working at this tiny shop for years, fixing all sorts of passenger vehicles. And once Percy found out she was normal and not about to tell Sphene on him, he was actually pretty enthusiastic about showing her how the propulsion and phase shift mechanics worked.

Alan, of course, stopped when he saw them. “What’s going on?”

Gan beamed at him. “Wanna learn how an air-wheeler works?”

“...Gan, if I ever say no to that question, assume I’ve been possessed.”

They wound up going through a few of those energy drinks themselves. Gan never did figure out why her brain was insisting she knew Spinel so well, but it was so much less important than the air-wheeler. Spinel’s boss even came out to offer them both jobs for the day when he saw Alan fixing the sputtering exhaust port, which neither of them were about to turn down. They might be in Solution Nine for a while, after all. Credits wouldn’t hurt.

As they broke for snacks, she mused that, though she knew she wouldn’t really stay here—she knew she’d go mad with longing for grass under her feet soon enough—it was a wonderful place to visit.

[the-blathermouth]

Yogurt: Fight me!

Pizzano: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick at my ankles?

*Later*

Pizzelle: Why is Pizzano crying?

Rita: Yogurt kicked him really hard on the ankle.

[theostrophywife]

az x short reader??

shortcake.

a/n: listen it's 100% confirmed that azriel has a size kink i know because his shadows told me.

azriel is ridiculously tall. he's used to towering over everyone everywhere he goes, but for some reason, it's different with you. the shadowsinger thinks it's cute that you barely come up to his shoulders and that you have to practically crane your neck just to look up at him. he absolutely loves the height difference.

when you're out, he's constantly tucking you to his side, his arm around your waist while his wing brushes against your shoulder. he especially loves cocooning you from the world within the safety of his wings, knowing that you're his and his alone.

azriel uses any excuse to pull you behind him. whether it's to protect you from actual danger like when you visit the court of nightmares and someone speaks to you in a threatening manner or even when you're out with the inner circle at rita's and some random male tries to hit on you, the shadowsinger won't hesitate going full alphahole and securing you behind him while his shadows wreathe you in darkness.

you'd pretend to be annoyed, craning over his shoulder and reprimanding him for being so overprotective, but you'd secretly love it.

when you first move into the house of wind, azriel purposely moves all of your favorite coffee mugs on the top shelf so that you'd have to ask him for help. he'd watch you open the cupboards, that confused little frown on your face melting his heart, before you sheepishly turn around and ask him to grab a mug for you in your shy, sweet voice. he'd happily oblige and when you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek in thanks, azriel knows he's absolutely fucking done for.

he'd tease the absolute hell out of you, calling you little one, munchkin, and his personal favorite, shortcake. you'd huff and puff, crossing your arms and trying to look as intimidating as possible which just makes you look even cuter to the point where he's actually chuckling at the sight.

once he gets comfortable around you, he'd flirt endlessly. casually moving you aside, lifting you up, giving you piggyback rides. you'd catch on easily and use that age old trick of comparing hands. azriel would be self conscious about it at first. you noticed that he always liked to hide his hands behind him and one day while you're playing cards and drinking wine, you surprise him by grabbing his hands.

azriel half-expected you to pull away from his touch, but you only lay your palm against his, grinning as his large hand swallows up your much smaller one. he'd watch silently as you trace every swirl of scarred skin, every bump and ridge a reminder of his traumatic experience, every crack and crevice filled with blood and brutality, but you'd intertwine your fingers in his, never hesitating never faltering.

"it's like ripples of water. strong and swift and solid like the sidra. your hands are beautiful, az. just like every inch of you."

and gods, that exact moment is when his harmless little crush on you evolved into something bigger than he could've ever imagined. azriel knew then that he was falling in love with you.

the shadowsinger would surprise not only himself, but the rest of his friends—his family. for five centuries, they have always known him to be reserved and sensitive to touch, but now he couldn't even help himself. he'd seek you out in every room, constantly pulling you closer, wrapping his arm around the back of whatever chair you were sitting on, his wing curved protectively around you and his shadows swirling through your hair and wrists and ankles.

azriel is also a big fan of giving you hugs. he knows it makes you flustered when he picks you up and squeezes you into a bear hug, twirling you in the air while you kick your feet up. you’d feign embarrassment, demanding for azriel to put you down right this instant even though you can’t get enough of his addictive embraces and that night chilled mist and cedar scent that was so distinctly him that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze back despite your initial protests.

don't even get me started on the cuddling. azriel loves when you curl up against him, head tucked into his chest, arms and legs twisted together while he wraps you in his strong arms. you're so small compared to him especially when his wings cocoon you in completely and he'll hold you so gently, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he strokes your hair. it's warm and toasty and you're falling fast asleep in seconds murmuring dreamily.

sometimes you'll have nightmares and azriel would wake up in the middle of the night, reaching out for you and cradling you in his arms while reminding you that there's nothing to be afraid of because he's right beside you.

azriel would whisper in the darkness, "it's alright, my love. you're here. you're safe. i won't let anything bad happen to you. i've got you, sweet girl."

you believed every word. you knew this beautiful male meant it with every fiber of his being. "i feel so safe when i'm with you, az. like nothing bad could ever happen when you hold me."

his heart would soar. all his life, he'd been known as the feared spymaster. the ruthless illyrian warrior. the dark shadowsinger, but to you, he was azriel. the male that you fully trusted to protect you and keep you safe.

and gods, he'd be so careful with you. so gentle and restrained to keep from hurting you, but fuck one day you'd decide enough was enough.

things would get heated in the bedroom and you'd be in the middle of a particularly steamy makeout, lips and tongues and teeth clashing as you kiss and kiss like you're trying to crawl into each other's skin. you'd be straddling him in nothing but your bra and panties, the shadowsinger shirtless and panting as you finally bite down on his bottom lip and declare, "stop holding back, az. i want you. all of you."

this results in azriel absolutely losing his shit and manhanding you, flipping positions so that you're pinned down and helpless below him. he'd chuckle darkly, palming your breasts in his large hands, squeezing your thighs and hips and ass, reveling in the way his body covers yours while he hikes your legs over his shoulders.

the shadowsinger would watch your petite form writhing underneath him, delicate hands gripping his cock while you pump him eagerly. then you're guiding him between your legs and he nearly passes out from how fucking tight you are, how snug you feel around his cock as you take him in inch by inch. he'd press down on the bulge in your lower belly, swallowing your moans as his proud length stretches your walls. then he's moving and you're wrapping your delicate legs around his waist, trying to get more, more, more.

and when you guide his large hand over your throat, his fingers splayed out across your soft skin like a perfectly crafted necklace, azriel finds himself unable to hold back. he gives you everything he’s got, rough and hard, soft and sweet, caring and intimate.

from that day on, azriel would take you against the wall, outside the alley at rita’s, on a balcony in the house of wind and even in a coat closet at the river house. it’s so easy to pull you into a room and have his way with you. he absolutely loves getting you all flustered and he thinks it’s cute when you’re an absolute mess for him.

“what’s the matter, little one? did i make you all hot and bothered?”

as much as he loved to tease you, az would also treat you like a princess. aftercare with him is heaven. he’d run you both a bath, letting you sit in his lap while he scrubs your exhausted body, his hands gently shampooing your scalp and massaging all the tension out of your taut muscles. after you’re done he’d wrap you up in a soft, fluffy robe and set you on the counter, kissing your forehead while he gets you ready for bed.

azriel would help you into one of his shirts, smirking at how the fabric swallows your petite frame. there’s something so satisfying about seeing you wearing his clothes. he’s so possessive of you and he loves knowing that it’s his scent covering you while you sleep cuddled up beside him.

he’d chuckle as you greedily snuggle against him, burying your face in his neck and peppering him with kisses as you claim your place in his arms. azriel would kiss the top of your head, stroking your back.

“goodnight, az.”

“goodnight, shortcake.”

[azsazz]

Looking Back

Azriel x Reader

Summary: The Inner Circle recounting when they figured out you and Az liked each other.

Warnings: Fluffy af

Word Count: 1,642

Notes: Day 3 for the win!

_________________________________________

Rhysand knew the moment you and Azriel met, that you were meant to be.

It was like time slowed down. You, injured but still spewing insults at the enemies, struggling in Cassian’s arms as he brought you into the medical tents, trying to get back into the fight. Blood stained across your abdomen and it hurt like hell but your anger eased the pain somewhat.

You were a fiery spirit who lit up the room when he set you down, the healers swarming around you, their hands warm and gentle. They’d asked Rhysand to hold down your shoulders while the warlord trapped your ankles from kicking up as they fixed up your lacerated stomach.

The shadowsinger swept in through the flap of the tent on a breeze of midnight, needing desperately to talk to his brothers about the information one of his scouts had told him, when he saw you bucking up on the table, teeth gritted as you struggled against the two Illyrians holding you down.

He froze in his spot.

Azriel watches as you fight against his brothers, doing your damndest to get back into battle. You’re wasted here, you need to be out there defending the people that you care for the most, not inside the healers tent, for you knew that they wouldn’t let you back out onto the battlefield once they were done.

Rhysand watches as you turn to see who’s entered the medical tent, body going slack as you meet the eyes of the shadowsinger. He’s the most handsome male you’ve ever seen, clad in his onyx leathers with darker hair to match. His siphons gleam a bright blue and the hand that’s holding his sword goes slack at the sight of you.

That was when he knew.

__________

It was a wild Saturday night at Rita’s. It always was when Mor had convinced the Inner Circle to go out, shoving drink after drink into your hands. You could only slurp them down so fast and you didn’t even notice Azriel’s worried gaze on you as you took another shot but Mor did. She shared a knowing look with her cousin who tutted in response, calling foul play into her mind.

They’d had a bet going as soon as she realized that one of her longest friends had fallen for someone new. She knew that Azriel was much too shy to do something about it – knew it from experience – and she thought that she’d give the both of you a little hand.

She brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, sauntering up to the shadowsinger and shoving a shot into his hand, her bright red lips in a cutting smirk as she told him to drink.

He didn’t. Azriel didn’t have to wait long for her to leave because her favorite song started playing as the glass was passed to him and she grabbed your hand and shoved her way to the dancefloor with you close behind.

He stared down at the liquor, grimacing before setting the glass down on the table. He sat with his brothers, who were busy talking about something his shadows would fill him in on later. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of you, Mor noticed, as you and her danced together, the alcohol buzzing beneath your skin.

You threw your head back laughing and his heart stammered in his chest. The blonde watched secretly as a small smile crossed his lips, just from watching you have fun. Her heart warmed to see Azriel this way: sneaking glances over to where you were, keeping an eye on you and admiring you from a distance.

Her heart hurt for him, knowing that he didn’t think he deserved someone as good as you, who fought for what she wanted, who loved with her entire being. You were good for him, good for each other. If only he’d loosen up.

If watching the spymaster observing you wasn’t how she figured it out, it was when another male came up to dance with you when she knew for sure.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and you turned, peering up at the male with blurry eyes, grinning way too big from the drinks and the fun you were having with your friends, your cheeks would hurt in the morning.

You let him dance with you, wrapping an arm around his neck, your glass held out so as not to spill in the other, you were a single female afterall. Azriel watched, the smile thinning to a near frown, sharp hazel eyes glaring at the male who held you in his arms.

He wished that were him.

__________

Feyre and her nosy mate couldn’t help themselves at the murmuring coming from the library. She hadn’t believed Rhys when he’d told her that Azriel was definitely head over heels into you.

The High Lady hadn’t noticed anything different about Azriel, though her eyes were glued to her own mate everytime he was in the room.

It wasn’t like she couldn’t believe it, but Azriel had been so hopelessly in love with Mor for the past few centuries that she didn’t think his attention would be stolen away so quickly, and without her knowledge nonetheless.

But here the two of you were, Azriel scratching the back of his head nervously as you held the book he’d passed over to you in your hands, examining the cover of the worn book.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he admits, hands clasped together behind his back. It makes Feyre’s heart ache, for she knew that the shadowsinger tended to hide them as an anxious reflex.

He never shared his books with anyone, ever. So this was definitely a sign that the male was into you, as he watched you with soft eyes as you flipped slowly through the pages, only to avert his eyes when you looked up, a beaming smile all of your own that dimmed when you noticed he had looked away.

“Thank you, Azriel,” you respond, clutching the book to your chest, “I’m looking forward to reading it.”

“I could–” he cuts himself off, going stock still.

But you urge him on, brows furrowed, “What is it?”

The High Lord and Lady have already winnowed out of the library by the time the spymaster tells you that you hadn’t been alone.

Sneaky indeed.

__________

Amren notices as soon as she sees the two of you in a room together for the first time.

This mission was a big one, and it would be a nasty one too, she could tell.

The entire Inner Circle was gathered in Rhysand’s office, talking over strategy and plans for the upcoming war. Azriel had always been a silent shadow in the corner of the room, staring out the window at Mother knows what, but this time, he was at the table, staring you down as you offered yourself for a dangerous part of the mission.

“You shouldn’t be going alone,” he says, and Amren can hear the slight waver in his tone, “We should be teaming up at the very least.”

“Any more than one person could alert the enemy,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn’t understand why Azriel was acting like this all of a sudden, you’d been on missions like this before.

His glance is pleading for a fleeting moment before his walls are back up and he’s retreating towards the window, his shadows swirling around him, covering his clenched jaw and balled fists. He doesn’t want you to go, put yourself in the middle of harm's way, not if he wasn’t going to be there to protect you.

The short female hides her smirk behind her glass of blood as she watches you glance off to the brooding Illyrian, confused as to why he seemed so upset.

__________

He couldn’t sleep, he had too much on his mind, so Cassian decided to go up to the training ring where he could let off some steam, clear his mind, or if he was lucky, his brother would be up there to spar against him.

He rubbed his tired eyes as he made his way up the stairs to the training ring, but paused when he heard your laugh.

Cassian wasn’t sure why you’d still be awake this late, but even he wouldn’t turn down a practice match with you. Maybe he’d confide in you instead, wanting to tell someone of what was on his mind, but not wanting to talk to his brothers.

He was about to make himself known when he heard the low, husky voice of Azriel, murmuring something to you that had you giggling again. The busybody warlord peeked his head around the staircase and watched as you and Azriel stood closely, not enough to touch, but close enough that he knew what was going on.

He mentally cheered for his brother, who was never the joking type, but here he was, making you laugh like it was the easiest thing in the world. It wasn’t. Cassian knew.

It’s nice and his heart warms as he listens to his brother making you happy, each jab of banter has you leaning in a little further into the spymaster, who finally picks up the hint and goes for it, brushing a strand of hair from your face and behind your ear, staring down at you intently.

You can see the vulnerability in his eyes, can hear his erratic heartbeat as he studies you. You can’t wait, you’d waited long enough for this moment, so you take the chance, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down as you press up onto your toes, capturing his lips with your own.

Cassian grins to himself, retreating down the stairs.

And the rest is history.

__________

Taglist: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

[doctors-star]

2 for boycows

prompts

“Any fear, any memory will do; and if you’ve got a heart at all, someday it will kill you.” - Rita Dove, Primer for the Nuclear Age

Will doesn’t usually let Antonia play near the water.

It makes a kind of sense; she’s only small, and grown men have drowned in shallower waters than the little creek. But, on the other hand, he’s gone and created the lure of the forbidden, and she’ll never learn to swim if she isn’t allowed the risk some time. The water sparkles in the sunlight like so many diamonds, the breeze kicks up a pleasant coolness in comparison to the heat of the day, and it’s somewhere she simply hasn’t been. The newness of it calls to her.

He’s sitting a ways off anyway, down to his shirtsleeves even in the shade of the trees here at the divide of the woods and the prairie, and scribbling away in his notebook. He’d shown her the lines of marching ants like tree roots, drawing in food and resources to the great, shifting lump of dirt and twigs in the deeper forest. She had been heartily instructed to keep away from that, too, but in all honesty that had been unnecessary; Antonia sees the interest in the lines, all those little adventurers off on their explorations, but the nest itself is rather repellant. Besides, half the fun of looking at what Will is looking at is being tucked up in his lap, or standing between his legs, or carried on his shoulders, and informed in gentle and serious tones of various scientific concepts she doesn’t remotely understand, but as though she does. It makes her feel very grown-up and important, for all that it isn’t so fun as being held upside-down by Finn or galloping around the prairie with Johnny.

Antonia fidgets to make his jacket rustle; Will always gives it up as a sort of nest for her to sit in when his turn to look after her involves going outdoors for a few hours. He doesn’t look up at the noise, though, so she progresses to standing up and stepping out of the cloth bounds, digging her toes into the soft prairie grass. Still nothing. He remains wholly engrossed by the marching, tiny insects.

Antonia grins.

She loves the summertime; the sky is endlessly blue and huge, the grasses spring up nearly as tall as she is, and she could run forever amongst them playing at being an explorer, a coyote, the queen of an undiscovered wild people lost in the plains. She doesn’t have to wear shoes or a coat and can instead run as loose and free as she pleases, going brown in the sunshine. Her Aunt Noel doesn’t make her work on the ranch like a lot of the older children have to, either. The world is wide and warm, and wholly her own.

It’s cooler under the trees, the ground no longer covered in soft grasses but instead sandy and sometimes sharp with snapped twigs. She scrambles down a slight slope and reaches, at last, the water. This is, she thinks, probably the place that the town goes swimming sometimes - she certainly can’t see any better. It’s muddy where the water washes gently at the sides of the bank, all dark and gelatinous, but the mud doesn’t smell bad and the water flows quick and clear towards the east. Antonia takes a cautious step forward and sinks half an inch into the mud. It seeps up between her toes, cradling her bare feet all ticklish and cool, and she giggles at the sensation of it. She lifts a foot, watching the water pool into her little footprint and wash it away. She steps again, splashing water up the inside of her calf. Excellent! She stomps her feet, one at a time, sploshing about until her skirts are soaked and she has carved little hollows into the mud beneath her. The water now washes around her ankles, her feet fully submerged in mud, and this whole river thing is wonderful. She completely understands why Will spends all his time playing outside in the dust and the desert, the water and the woods.

A little rude of him to keep it to himself, though. A joy shared is a joy doubled, or didn’t Will go to Sunday school?

She steps out a little further, the water now washing around her knees and catching her skirts until they float out on the surface like a tablecloth. They move so peculiarly slowly in the river, like a dream, so she swivels her hips to make the fabric wash in one direction, then the other. It pulls slightly downstream on the current, the layers and layers of cloth getting heavier and dragging at her until she feels she might stumble. Frowning, she tries to step backwards, but the mud is deeper here, and she has settled into it. It’s hard to pick up her feet, and the effort of trying very nearly unbalances her; a sort of cool, absent panic settles in her chest. She can’t move her feet. The water is dragging at her. She can’t get out of the river, and there’s nothing she can do.

And then there’s a frantic yelling from behind her, a great crashing noise, and then water everywhere - but, crucially, there are hands wrapped around her ribs and hoisting her as easy as anything high into the air, well clear of the water even as Will splashes a little deeper with the force of his entry. Antonia stares, wide-eyed in bewilderment at the abruptness of it all, as Will wades back to the bank, his trousers wet to the knee and covered in mud to mid-shin. He’s holding her a little too tightly and it’s uncomfortable to be gripped under the arms like this - it’s not at all like how he usually props her on one hip or in the crook of his arm like a bag of flour so’s she feels all safe and cradled.

“You’re hurting,” she whines, but he doesn’t react. As soon his boots hit solid ground he’s running again, slipping on the uneven ground and jolting further words away from her. He’s not talking, either, just gripping too tightly and breathing too hard and running for the plains as fast as he can. He’s being scary like he never usually is, and Antonia doesn’t know if she’s scared of him, or what he’s scared of, but she never really stopped being frightened of the water and she can’t help the hot, fat tears that well up. Her breath is all shaken and rattled from the jolting run and her tears are giving her hiccups, but it’s like Will doesn’t even notice - he just runs, past his jacket and notebook and ant colony and out across the grass. He only stops when they reach a figure that Antonia hadn’t even seen for crying and shaking - but when they slow, she sees through thick tears that it’s her Pa, looking all shaken up and scared like she is and reaching out to take her from Will’s outstretched hands.

“Oh, darlin’,” Pa says, cradling her to his chest and letting her sob into his collar where everything smells like spices and sweat and home. “The hell happened?” he snaps at Will, and Antonia turns her head slightly so that she can stare reproachfully at him whilst still tucked up against her Pa and clinging to his tie.

Will’s chest is heaving, his eyes too wide and rolling in his head like a trapped horse that can smell smoke, and he seems to be having trouble focussing his gaze as though he isn’t really looking at them. “She was - the water,” he puffs, dragging his hands through his hair and clinging in great handfuls, tight enough to pull. “I told her, I told her not to go, I wasn’t watching, she-”

Pa turns to her, stroking a finger down her cheek so that she looks up, swallowing tears. “Did you go to the creek, where Will told you not to?” he asks, very sternly, and Antonia’s eyes well up again.

“I only wanted to look,” she protests thickly, lip wobbling in the face of her father’s disapproval.

“You know you’re only to play where Will can keep an eye on you,” he chides firmly, for all that she hiccups miserably in his arms. “He can’t keep you safe unless he can see you. You don’t go playin’ where he says you mustn’t, or else you can’t go play with him at all, understand?” She nods, and he strokes a palm over her head in comfort, looking all worried at her. “Baby,” he says gently, “the water’s dangerous. You could’ve been washed clean away.”

Antonia sniffs, and decides not to tell him about her dragging skirts. “I didn’t go deep,” she says quietly.

Pa sighs, feeling at the damp hems of her skirts which are already drying in the sun. “You shouldn’t’ve gone in at all,” he says, sounding like all that being scared has tired him out, “but yeah, baby, I see that. Look at all this mud, though,” he adds, squeezing her plump, sun-browned and mud-blackened calf and tutting until she manages a wet giggle. “Your Aunt Noel’ll never let you in the house lookin’ like this - we’ll have to stick you under the pump, find out if there’s any little girl under there or if you’re mud monster all the way down. Will?”

Antonia looks over, and for a moment she clean can’t find Will at all - he’s crumpled down to the ground, hands in his hair and ears between his knees, and he doesn’t look up at his name at all. She can only hear him breathing, too fast and too hard like he’s been running for hours, not minutes. Pa folds carefully, lowering them both down to sit next to Will’s ankles and reach out for his shoulder. Will releases one hand from its grip on his hair to gesture vaguely and incomprehensibly, but Pa just waits until his head comes up above his knees and his breathing steadies.

“Alright,” Pa says, all quiet and calm for all that the curiosity is eating Antonia up inside, “what was that about?”

Will tips his head back and sighs, hand shifting to rub at the back of his neck. “I get nervous of her near the creek,” he offers, voice flat and unhappy. “Max Wilder isn’t so bad, he can swim better’n I can, but I still watch him all the time. All the time. It - God.”

Pa eyes him a minute, seeing something there that she can’t. “What happened?” he says gently, and Will flinches.

“I told you,” he says cagily, “I wasn’t watching and she ran off. Found her in the creek, and-”

“No,” Pa says all quiet and firm, “what happened?”

Will sighs. “There was a big lake out behind the house. Froze every year,” he says, and Pa nods. Antonia knows this, too; he’s talked about swimming there in the summer with Thomas as a child, and when he came back from Canada after Christmas, he had told them about the skating. Antonia had thought it sounded magical, to glide about like that. Will hadn’t skated, though. “Thick ice, November to April. My brother, he loved the lake, used to go out and watch the birds. Thomas used to call him Heron, said he’d watched them so long he’d started to look like one.”

“I didn’t know you had another brother,” Pa says softly, and tugs Antonia a little tighter to his chest.

Will nods, not looking at them. “A little sister, too, for a few months.” Pa nods, a little sadly, but like that happens - that a person might have a little sister, but only for a few months. “David was older, though, halfway between me and Thomas. He took me to the lake with him, told me about the birds and plants and where I could look to find out the things he didn’t know. He probably just wanted to skate in the winter and watch the herons in the summer, but. He was good to me, let me trail around after him. But he was only a kid too, you know, maybe ten? I think I was about Antonia’s age, a year older. Thomas was at school, Father was working, Mother kept indoors after Ellen died. It was a warmer spring than usual, the ice wasn’t so thick.”

“He fell in?” Pa prompts gently, and for all that the sun is burning hot-bright on her back Antonia feels suddenly very small, and rather cold.

Will raises his eyebrows. “Oh, no, I did,” he says very casually. Like it’s nothing at all for the ground to drop away beneath you and leave you stuck in cold, dragging water. Antonia curls her toes up, hating the feeling of mud lingering between them. “He was telling me something about frogs, I wasn’t listening, walked out on the ice and went in. People do, you know, every year - they drive across cracked rivers, cut the ice with skates, go out too far too late in the year and end up in the water. Everyone has to come out and try to fetch everyone and everything out, or come back for what’s left in the summer after the thaw. You listen for the yelling when you live near the water. But David didn’t yell, he just crashed out after me - ended up swimming, ‘cause he was bigger than me and went in earlier. Carried me home, made our nanny scream, and caught pneumonia. I was fine, but he never really got better. Scarred his lungs, so he couldn’t breathe quite right. Took him two years to die of it, and my mother never did forgive me.”

Pa is silent for a long moment, his hands warm and comforting around Antonia. She’s not all sure if he’s holding her for her benefit, or his own. “I’m sorry,” he says in the end, and Will shrugs.

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t see as it was yours, either,” he says, nearly sharp with it, and Will tilts his head. “Your folks should’ve been keeping an eye on you both.”

“Oh, sure,” Will says easily, and Pa frowns as though he hadn’t expected any agreement. “We should’ve had a grown adult to keep us safe and out of the water, only we didn’t. Noel’d have my head on a spike for less than this.”

Pa sighs, shifting Antonia in his arms and getting river mud on his trousers. Antonia chews her fingertips nervously, looking from one to the other, until Pa’s hand hooks around hers and pulls it gently from her mouth. “Yeah, she would,” he says. “I’m forgiving you on account of everything shaking out in the end, but. This can’t happen again.”

Will nods sharply, gaze on the earth between his feet. He looks like he’s bracing to be shot. Antonia looks up at her Pa, worried - she doesn’t want to stop playing with Will, just ‘cause of how she was naughty once and got Will into trouble - but he’s just watching Will. “I understand, sir,” Will says, voice level and even. “I won’t-”

“Which is why we’ve got to teach her to swim,” Pa says firmly, and Will’s head snaps up to frown at him faster than a snake. “She’ll only be back there sometime, now she’s had a taste of it, an’ I’d sure rather know that she can get herself out of trouble well enough even if someone is minding her. Probably time she did learn, anyway; it’ll be easier when she’s small.”

Antonia beams up at her Pa, wriggling in his lap in delight. “...we?” Will queries after a moment, stunned like he’s been smacked with a tree branch.

“Sure,” Pa says, bracing and certain and leaving no room for disagreement. “Not sure as Noel knows how, and even if Tommy and Johnny do know the best places for it in these parts I don’t much want to supervise them while I’m supervising you, baby,” he says, poking her stomach to make her laugh. “I’m not much of a swimmer myself,” Pa goes on, tone still light but eyes ever so serious as he gazes placidly at Will, “but you grew up by a lake, so I hear. Reckon you’re my best shot.”

Will is silent for a beat. “And that’s all you hear about me and the lake, is it,” he says, all caustic snark, “that I grew up near one and probably went in it sometime?” His voice has gone sharp and drawn in on itself, like shoes that pinch, and it makes Antonia frown. He glances down at her and his face softens into something like an apology, but for what she’s not sure. “I don’t think I can,” he says quietly.

“I think you might have to,” Pa says, not unkindly. “You let a fear like that sit in you and it’ll rot you, inside out. You’ve been scared of Antonia since you came back after Christmas and realised we meant it about you watching her-” and Antonia hadn’t noticed that, but Will winces like it must be true, “-but she’s not going anywhere an’ you ain’t neither. So. You teach her to swim so’s she’ll be safe if she goes in the water, like your brothers taught you, an’ you let that memory go.” Pa reaches out and shakes Will gently by the shoulder; he sways with it loosely, untethered. “You don’t, an’ it’ll kill you. And you’re not taking my baby out with you.”

Will shakes his head. “No, sir,” he mumbles, and Pa nods as he pats Will’s shoulder.

There’s a call from behind them, and Antonia wriggles to escape her Pa’s lap and hurtle across the grass towards her Aunt Noel. “Aunt Noel! Will’s gonna teach me to swim!” she hollers, crashing into Noel’s legs and wrapping her arms around her knees.

Aunt Noel frowns down at her, and her mud-caked legs. “I see he’s started you on mud-bathing already,” she says tartly, collecting up Antonia’s hand to walk sedately over to Pa and Will. “What’s this about swimming, Charles?” she inquires sharply.

“Taking her somewhere you can’t follow, Noel,” Pa says, grinning up at his sister-in-law.

“Water is what boats were invented for,” Aunt Noel says, face flat.

Pa raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t think you could cross running water,” he says in mock surprise. Will catches Antonia’s eye and makes a face like he’d like to escape only he can’t think how, which makes her giggle.

“You’ll be careful, William Williams,” Aunt Noel says in a voice like a tombstone and Will shrinks slightly under the weight of it.

But Pa just reaches out and shoves Will’s shoulder affectionately. “No-one I’d rather trust,” he says easily, using Will’s shoulder to push himself to his feet - but not before they all get a good view of Will’s stunned little smile.

[snelbz]

Shot to the Heart {Rowaelin AU Fluff}

Tag Team with @tacmc aka the BDavis to myPSawyer.

Once a month, everyone took a night to spend time together, outside of a bar, and just have fun. Oftentimes, that meant a game night at someone’s house, a nice dinner or ice skating, in the winter. But sometimes, they liked to get out and do more fun things. They’d been zip lining, kayaking, played putt putt, you name it. There were times where things got a little competitive between them all, especially when they decided to compete between the sexes.

They were still banned from the Strike & Spare from the last boys and girls night.

So when it was Elide and Lorcan’s turn to choose, they decided to do something a little more conducive to their violent behavior.

“Where exactly are we going?” Aelin asked as she climbed into Rowan’s truck.

He glanced at his watch. “No clue, Lorcan just said to meet at Rita’s at eight.”

“That’s dangerous,” Aelin muttered, but her grin told him that she approved.

He pulled onto the road and began their drive, only the radio playing in the background. He kept trying not to stare, even though she looked beautiful and he wanted to tell her as much. They’d been best friends for years, always teasing that fine line between best friends and so much more.

Their friends constantly teased them about it, as they all began to settle down one by one.

You already spend as much time together as a couple does.

They’d always had reasons not to though. In high school, there was Sam and Lyria, though the four of them were always together. Makes sense that they ended up together, after they both went away to Fennharrow for college. Rowan and Aelin couldn’t be happier for them. The break ups had been amicable and they were going to Fennharrow together for their wedding next Spring.

In college, Aelin had met Chaol and Rowan had Remelle. Chaol was a permanent figure for a while, but Remelle was more of a time to time thing. They’d both been single for a while, but nothing had ever happened. There were many glances and accidental brushes between them, more so when the two of them had a movie night.

Then, the next time they saw one another, they pretended like nothing had happened.

Rowan didn’t mind it, though. He preferred to have Aelin as a best friend then not have her at all. Even if he did make a move one day, he didn’t know how she would take it.

When Rowan pulled into Rita’s, the others were already there, on the patio, drinks on their hands. Aelin was out before he was, hurrying over to throw her arms around Lysandra and Elide. Rowan watched her before grabbing his wallet, his phone, and his keys and joining them there.

Lorcan was watching him suspiciously.

He sat next to him, motioning to their regular server for his regular drink. He looked over and found Lorcan still looking at him.

“What?” He asked.

Lorcan raises his beer to his lips. “This a date?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “No, I offered to drive her because it was on the way and she can’t hold her liquor.”

The two looked up and found the trio of girls tossing back a shot of amber liquid.

Lorcan took his drink, setting the bottle on the table top and crossing his ankle over his knee. “It’s reasonable, as far as your excuses go. Both are valid and make sense.”

Two dark bottles appeared in front of them and their server slipped away like she’d never been there.

“It’s not an excuse,” Rowan muttered, taking a sip from his glass. “It’s a fact.”

“Whatever you say,” Lorcan mumbled, but it was blatantly obvious that he thought Rowan was full of shit. “But when you two get married, Elide has called Maid of Honor.”

It took everything in Rowan’s power not to roll his eyes. “Don’t you two have anything better to talk about when you’re alone?”

“We’ve been together for five years,” Lorcan said, as if it was an appropriate answer. “So...no. We talk about bills, who’s going to do the dishes, and when the hell the two of you are going to fuck.”

Rowan choked on his drink.

“I never thought I’d have to ask this, but please don’t discuss my sex life with your fiancée.”

“Excuse you?”

Rowan and Lorcan looked up and found Elide and Aelin standing at the end of the table.

Rowan stammered but Lorcan laughed quietly.

“Okay,” Aelin said, awkwardly, “Is everyone here?”

Elide sat down next to Lorcan and said, “Fenrys, Asterin, and Manon are meeting us at the...place. Dorian is already there.”

“So, that’s a yes?” Aelin laughed.

“That’s a yes,” Elide confirmed, snuggling up close to Lorcan’s massive frame. “So, let’s get tipsy and go get banned from yet another family-friendly establishment.”

Lorcan snorted and raised his glass.

Rowan raised his glass to Aelin’s and met it with a clink.

“Our friends are ridiculous,” Aelin said, underneath her breath.

“Sometimes I wonder why I keep coming back,” Rowan replied, before chugging half his glass and setting it down on the table. When he met her humored gaze, he was reminded exactly why he kept coming back.

They finished their drinks and Rowan and Aelin packed themselves back up into Rowan’s truck so that they could follow Lorcan and Elide to the surprise location. Aedion and Lysandra stayed to order food and would join them shortly.

“So what conversation did I walk in on back there?” Aelin asked once they were on the way.

Rowan cleared his throat and said, “What conversation?”

Without even looking, he knew she had an eyebrow raised. “Really, Rowan. The conversation about your sex life.”

“Just Lorcan being an asshole,” he said, trying to wave her off the conversation.

Aelin was looking at him, and he was trying so hard not to look back

“I have no sex life,” Rowan blurted, after her silence had gone on a few seconds too long. “Not that I’ve never had sex, or don’t have opportunities to...Gods. Nevermind.”

Aelin was laughing quietly. “Holy shit, you’re flustered.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, gripping the wheel a little bit tighter. “I’m just...very personal.”

“Even with me?” She asked, humored.

Especially with you, he thought. Instead, he said, “Yes.”

Her grin only widened. “When’s the last time you got laid, Ro?”

His cheeks were on fire. His ears were on fire. The back of his neck was on fire. Everything was on fire. He cleared his throat again. “That’s none of your business.”

“Just tell me if it was recent or not,” she turned in her seatbelt to face him.

“No,” he laughed. “I’m not telling you that.”

Aelin said, “Why not, we tell each other everything. I’ll tell you.”

“Please, please don’t,” he blurted.

She lifted a brow, then began to nod, slowly, recognition showing in her eyes. Rowan suddenly felt like an idiot, but then Aelin said, quietly, “It’s been a long ass time, if that makes you feel any better.”

“I don’t- it doesn’t-.” His words broke off as he sighed, and Aelin laughed quietly. “You go get some if you wanna get some… I just…don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

“How very kind of you,” Aelin crooned, but he was sure he ruined it all now, was certain she knew that he was full of bullshit.

“As your best friend, that’s my job,” Rowan said, trying to make himself sound convincing.

As he pulled up to a red light, she leaned over and patted his cheek. “And you’ve done a wonderful job.”

Unable to stop himself, he turned and pressed his lips to her palm, locking eyes with her. It was the ballsiest thing he’d ever done and he felt hot and cold all over as he waited for her to react. She swallowed hard, tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip and-.

A horn honked behind them, as the light had been green for longer than two seconds, and Rowan turned his head forward as quickly as Aelin withdrew her arm back to her own side of the cab. He hit the gas and they took off, and Aelin flipped the bird behind them.

“Ace,” he laughed, “you can’t do that. He had every right to honk at me.”

She crossed her arms and sat up a little higher. “Yeah, well he didn’t have to lay on his horn like an asshole. A simple beep beep would have sufficed. Stupid, impatient fucker.”

The truck got quiet for a second and then they both dissolved into laughter, the tension from the moment before fading into near obscurity.

Two minutes later they followed Lorcan’s car into the parking lot of a laser tag facility, and Rowan swore under his breath.

Aelin laughed. “What? You don’t like laser tag?”

“The last time I played laser tag, I was twelve and ate too much shitty pizza,” he muttered, parking and turning off the engine. “Let’s just say they had to stop the game, turn the lights on, and call for the janitor to come in with a mop.”

“Aw,” Aelin said, her grin suggesting that she felt no pity. “Well, it’s a decade later, and you’ve had no shitty pizza. So, get out and let me kick your ass.”

Before Rowan could reply, she was out of the truck and closing the door behind her.

He groaned and laughed quietly as he had a feeling he was in for a hell of a night.

He got out of the truck and slipped his hands in his pockets as he walked over to where everyone was grouping up.

“I want to be up front and say that I feel like the girls cheated,” Rowan said to Lorcan as he leaned against the rail next to him.

“And why is that?” Elide asked, outrage written across her face.

“Because every single one of you are wearing black.” Lorcan tossed a pointed glance at his fiancée.

Elide held up her hands. “I said nothing.”

Manon’s man-eating grin said otherwise.

Rowan looked down at his light gray t-shirt. At least it wouldn’t glow when they got inside, unlike Dorian’s pure white v-neck.

“If Aedion and Lys don’t get here soon, we’re starting without them,” Manon announced, already growing impatient.

“Agreed,” Lorcan said.

They waited thirty more seconds before the impatience grew unbearable, then their group of eight was walking in.

Girls vs. boys.

Rowan was unprepared. He needed another drink.

Thankfully, it seemed Lorcan was in agreement because the first place he went was to the snack bar and ordered two pitchers of beer. Rowan reached for one of the glasses but Lorcan pulled them back.

“Nope, these are part of the game.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow as Elide began to explain the rules.

For the most part, it was the regular run of the laser tag - hit your opponents’ targets with your point-and-shoot laser pointer and get the most points for your team. There was one caveat though.

“Both pitchers have to be empty by the end of the round,” Lorcan announced. “If your team doesn’t finish your pitcher, you automatically lose.”

“It doesn’t have to be drunk equally. If Aelin doesn’t feel like drinking,” Lorcan mumbled Like that would ever happen, and Aelin glared at him, “she doesn’t have to drink. Just as long as its empty at the end.”

They all voiced their agreement, put on their vests and gathered their guns, then they were tossed into the room.

Rowan was met with darkness and neon, glowing lights as he hurried into a tower. It was his go to. Get to the highest point, and see everyone. Then he paused, as he noticed a lock of his hair falling down in front of his face.

He had silver hair, in a room full of blacklights.

He was instantly a target.

After cursing his hair, he was on the move. He spotted Manon from the other side of the room, took aim, and hit her target.

She yelled a curse at him before he was moving, once more.

He headed for the predetermined boys base, and filled a cup with beer. It seemed he was the first to do so, but Fenrys soon jogged up, muttering about how it was unfair for a marksman like Manon to even be playing this game. His chest target was lit up red and he had a good ten seconds left before he could get back in the game. He saw Rowan and said, “That your first?”

He nodded and began drinking. “Drink two every time we stop?”

Fen nodded. “Quickest way to kill it.”

They both took a minute to chug before Rowan asked, “Seen Aelin?”

Fenrys shook his head. “She’s got a good spot, I’m sure. She has the mind for these things. Strategic.”

Rowan agreed. She was that.

After setting his plastic cup down, Rowan was back on the move.

He crept around a few different corners before he caught sight of her golden ponytail. He followed her, slowly, fully aware that he didn’t have the same graceful, quiet movements that she did. He knew there was straightaway up ahead and if he could stay back long enough, he could get a clean shot on her as she fled to the other side.

He crept along the final corner, pausing to peek behind him-.

He felt a hand on his chest and looked back to find Aelin gazing up at him. He didn’t even fumble for his gun as she pushed slightly and he backed up a few steps. His back hit the wall with a quiet thump and Aelin said, quietly, “Would you like to do what you did in the truck one more time?”

He hesitated, unsure if he was understanding her correctly. She took his bewildered look as acceptance, though, because her smile softened as she leaned up on her toes and pulled his face closer to hers with her hand on the back of his head.

Their lips met softly in the middle, once, twice, slowly, gently.

She tasted bitterly sweet, her peach chapstick mixed with the tequila shots she had earlier and the beer she was downing now. Rowan wanted the moment to last forever, but it was soon broken as Aelin leaned back, her eyes bright.

He smiled and leaned down, wanting to capture her lips against his one more time, closing his eyes.

There was a loud buzzing and then his best began to vibrate. His eyes shot open and Aelin was running away, a devilish glint in her eyes.

He blinked, watching her run away.

She had shot him.

She had kissed him.

Then she had shot him.

He stood, completely frozen, utterly dumbfounded.

Lorcan came around the corner, saw that he’d been shot, and shook his head. “You suck at this, Whitethorn.”

Rowan couldn’t even remember how to form words for a sarcastic reply. Instead, he just turned and walked back toward the pitcher of beer, where he downed two more glasses before deciding to hunt Aelin down as the alcohol warmed his body.

He knew the girls couldn’t be as close to finishing as they were, especially seeing Dorian heading back to their base with maybe one full cup and a half left in their pitcher. Rowan successfully snuck around to where the girls had named their base and found a perfect wall to crouch behind and lie in wait. The pitcher was directly in his line of sight, and it was still over half full.

Elide ran right past his hiding place without noticing him and he knew he could get a free shot out of it, but he’d give away his position. So he waited and he bided his time.

Rowan had just begun scoping out the alley behind his when a flash of white to his left distracted him. Manon ran by putting the pitcher directly to her lips and drinking. His eyebrows raised as she took down a sizable amount of their beer at once, but Aelin appeared beside her. They spoke animatedly and Aelin laughed as Manon ran back down the middle lane, hunting for another victim.

Holding his breath, he threw the empty plastic cup he’d been holding down the empty alley beside him.

Aelin heard it immediately, turning and staring in his direction. He was obscured by the half wall and as soon as she crept by, her gun aimed down the alley, he reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist, pinning it - and her gun - to the wall.

Her eyes were bright with excitement and he couldn’t stop his gaze from dipping down and watching intently as she bit her bottom lip.

He didn’t know why his voice had dropped so low, why it sounded like he’d been gargling nails, but he leaned down by her ear and breathed, “Was that just so you could distract me?”

He was almost worried for her reply, but then she asked, “Is this just so you can distract me?”

He glanced down, not even realizing he’d been using his body to press her into the wall, hadn’t realized how close their faces had gotten.

He shook his head, slowly, the tip of his nose brushing hers ever so lightly.

Aelin sucked in a breath as she whispered, “Good.”

He kissed her then, much harder than she had kissed him. He slowly dropped her arms that were pinned to the wall, only so he could drop his gun and cup her face. Those delicate, steady arms of hers wrapped around his waist and she held his body close up against hers.

Aelin brushed her tongue along the seam of Rowan’s lips, asking permission, not just taking as she’d done before. But there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman, nothing he wouldn’t give to her if it was in his power. He opened for her and let his tongue brush against hers softly. She groaned quietly.

Rowan pulled back, catching his breath, and rested his forehead against hers. He took the moment to gaze at her in the darkness. She was the most beautiful damn thing he’d ever seen.

She breathed, “I’ve wanted to do that for a really, really long time.”

“Me too,” he whispered, laughing quietly. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he kissed her, once again, damning the game and forgetting about their friends.

For a moment, it was just the two of them, and that was all he cared about.

[booksimp]

Begin Again - Azriel - Part One

Synopsis: Azriel and Alora broke up six months ago. Alora still isn’t sure exactly why Azriel shut her out, and she can’t stand to be in the same room as him. With Nesta’s help, Alora has been avoiding Azriel at group events since the breakup. Inspired by “Into You” by Julia Michaels. 

 “So he’s gonna be there then?” I whisper into the phone, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

“Actually, the asshole’s already here. I’m sorry, Alora. He was supposed to be away for work until next week.” 

Nesta’s voice is hushed, her irritation obvious. I sigh, my breath creating a cloud of ice in the air around me. I stop walking and turn on my heel, heading back the way I’d come. I had been walking to Feyre and Rhysand’s baby shower, gift for their little one in hand. But Azriel, my ex-fiancee, has decided to make an unscheduled appearance. I scowl to myself and shove the wrapped parcel into my coat pocket. Rhys and Feyre are some of my dearest friends, and I was really looking forward to being there today. 

“It’s okay, Nesta. I’ll just give Feyre her gift later. Can you tell them I’m sorry, something just… came up?”.” 

I sigh again, hating that I have to miss their big day and even worse, lie to them about it. Though I’m sure they see right through it, since Feyre knows every dirty detail about the breakup. 

Nesta has been acting as my personal Azriel detector since he and I broke up six months ago. I’m beyond grateful for her help, but I know the responsibility of it is starting to wear on her patience. 

“You know you’ll have to be in the same room as him eventually, right?  You guys have a lot of friends in common.” Nesta says frankly. I flinch slightly, but I know better than to take her words personally. Nesta is nothing if not painfully forthright. 

“I know. I just can’t be in the same room as him and Mor right now. I can’t see how he looks at her.” I pause to shudder, flashing back to the night I’d found them dancing at Rita’s,  a mere six weeks after Azriel and I ended. She was all over him, and he was grinning like a fool. I hadn’t seen him smile like that for quite awhile. I suppose I should be happy he found his smile again, even if it wasn’t with me. 

“I’ve been thinking of moving back home to San Diego.” I blurt, as if getting it out faster will make it easier. Nesta is one of my best friends, but she still scares the shit out of me. I know she’ll like the idea of me leaving about as much as a bull loves the color red. 

For a few beats, Nesta is entirely silent. I chew my lip nervously, bouncing on the balls of my feet as I wait for my turn to use the crosswalk. I’ve lived in Chicago for three years now, since I moved here to pursue a career in publishing. I met Nesta and her sisters almost immediately. Soon after, they introduced me to their friends, and we’ve all been inseparable ever since.

“You’re not actually fucking serious, are you? You can’t just run away because that idiot broke your heart. This is your home.”  Nesta growls, and I hear a door shut from her end of the line. Oh shit, she really has something to say if she felt the need to find a more private venue. Nesta isn’t one to hide her outbursts. Seeing as I’m not in the mood to get my ass chewed and spit back out, I retreat. Strategically, of course. 

“I’ll let you get back to the baby shower. I have to go anyway.” 

Nesta snorts, and I can hear the scowl in her voice. 

“Okay, coward. We’ll talk tomorrow, I’m coming over.” 

I roll my eyes and pocket my cell phone. If there was ever a way to describe Nesta, its ‘Tough love’. I walk the three blocks to my apartment in a huff, trudging through ankle deep snow all the while. I take my frustration out on fluffy piles of snow, kicking at them as I walk. By the time I’m locking the door behind me, my socks are soaked and I’m shivering despite my massive winter coat. You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take California out of the girl. 

I take a burning hot shower, dress in my warmest pajamas, and I’m curled up in bed in no time. I’m halfway through White Christmas when a text pings on my phone. 

Azriel: Nesta says you’re moving back to SD. Can we talk? 

Instantly, I’m cold as death beneath my plethora of fluffy Christmas blankets. That all too familiar pang in my chest returns in full force, so insistent that I can’t seem to catch my breath. Without meaning to, I’d read the text in his voice. I haven’t heard his voice in months, but it haunts me, a ghost I can never exorcise. I hear it in my dreams, in crowded rooms, in the harmony of some of our favorite songs. A second text pops up. 

Azriel: Please, Alora. I know that you’re seeing this. You can’t keep shutting me out. I’m sorry, okay?

I scoff indignantly, my vision going red. I can’t shut him out? Him? I spent months trying to get him to talk to me, to tell me what was so obviously eating him up inside. Instead of letting me in, he pushed me as far from him as possible.  And then, there was The Mor Incident. I knew he’d had a massive crush on her in college, but I thought it was long over. How naive of me. 

For weeks after I moved out, Azriel tried to contact me everyday. He would text and call constantly, and ask our friends to get me to talk to him. At first, I was too hurt to respond.I needed my own time and space for a while. And when I saw him with Mor, I decided he’d never get a response from me. I knew what I needed to know.  If anyone deserves to be iced out, it's the man who proposed to me and changed his mind about it like he was changing his order at starbucks. 

Azriel: Talk to me. What can I do? 

I grind my teeth and explode up out of my bed, too angry to even sit still. I pace my bedroom, my stomps probably heard by my downstairs neighbor. What can he do? For shit’s sake, if only he’d asked himself that question six months ago. A deluge of memories flood through my mind, dragging me beneath their frigid depths. Our one sided battles, where I begged and pleaded for him to let me in, and he refused. The nights he slept on the couch, or at Cassian’s. But the one that hurts the most, is the last one.

“Jesus christ, just talk to me! Please, Az. I just need you to talk to me.” I plead, tears running freely down my cheeks. 

Azriel keeps his back to me as he hurls clothes into a duffel bag, the muscles of his shoulders tensed to the point of breaking. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Lora.”

His voice, that deep, melodic voice I love so much, is empty. Devoid of all feeling, all the love that used to shine through in every word he spoke to me. My chest feels like he’s cracked it open, and scraped me empty. Stolen all the warmth, all the joy. The fireplace crackles nearby, and yet I don’t feel a lick of its flame.

“There’s everything to talk about! I don’t even know why you’re leaving. You’ve been in  pain, but you won’t tell me why. You won’t let me help.” I’m yelling now, but he still hasn’t so much as looked my way. A dark, heartrending thought creeps in.

“ Are-are you leaving me?” The question comes out in a broken whisper. I can hear the heartbreak in my own voice, and he curses under his breath. 

Finally, he turns to face me. His face is nearly as empty as his voice, save for the deep purple circles beneath his eyes. Those gorgeous, hazel eyes that are filled with a nameless agony he refuses to share with me. His hair is more tousled than usual, his shirt wrinkled, shoulders slumped. He looks like a man defeated. 

“Fuck baby, of course I’m not leaving you. I just- I need some time. To clear my head.” 

His eyes finally meet mine for a second, and he reaches for me. His fingers barely brush my cheek before he yanks them away, fisting them at his side.

I’m close on his heels as he storms into the living room, towards the front door. 

“But you are, Az. You’re choosing to leave instead of talk to me. We’re supposed to be partners, remember? We're getting married, Az .” I’m desperate now, my voice climbing an octave for every step he takes away from me. 

He stops with his hand on the doorknob, looking over his shoulder at me. But he refuses to meet my gaze again. Like he can’t bear to look at me. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t.” 

His words hit me like a punch to the stomach, and all the breath leaves my body. A trembling begins in my hands. I feel untethered, like a boat abandoned at sea. 

“You don’t want to get married?” I rasp, hugging my arms around myself. Cold is seeping into my bones, my chest. I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again. 

Azriel struggles for words a few moments longer, a battle raging in the eyes I love most. He turns to me again and I see the tears building in them. I search his face for an explanation, silently begging him. Stay. Please stay. His voice is thick with emotion when he speaks. 

“We can talk about it later. I’m gonna stay with Cassian tonight.” 

He turns towards the door once more, but I can’t stop myself from asking the question that's been buzzing in my head for weeks. 

“Is that really where you’re going, Az?”My voice is clipped, cold to my own ears. He pauses, confusion clear on his face. 

“Are you sure there’s not someone else you’re seeing when you ‘go to Cassian’s’ ?” I demand, placing a hand on the dining table to my right.

 If he gives me the answer I’m expecting, I may well need the support. Azriel’s face goes blank with shock, and he leans back against the door, not able to stand on his own. 

“Jesus, Lor. I’m not fucking cheating on you.” He spits out, as he hoists the duffel bag over his shoulder. 

My relief is short lived.

He wrenches the front door open, and the ancient thing groans like it might very well come off its hinges. In that moment, something snaps inside me. 

“If you walk out that door, you might as well be leaving me. If you walk out right now, we’re done.” 

I expect the words to finally wake him up, to reach where he’s hidden himself away, and bring my Azriel back. The Azriel that planned a picnic for our first date, or ran through the ER with me in his arms when my appendix burst. The Azriel that asked me to marry him, then made love to me under the stars. 

But wherever that Az is, he’s far, far away.  

“I need to go. I’m sorry, Lor” 

After a moment of hesitation, he walks out the door. The sound of it closing like that of the lid of a coffin, sealing me inside.  Alone.

 I stay up all night, waiting for him to come back. Praying that he comes back. I lay alone in our bed, the sheets suddenly frigid and too abundant. All the extra leg room is a slap in the face. I watch the flames in the fireplace dying as the sun rises. Until all that’s left of that once roaring fire are embers. I watch until those too burn out, and go cold. 

I blink, the sound of another message breaking me free of the torturous cycle of  memories. I wipe traitorous tears from my cheeks and retrieve my phone from where I discarded it. 

Nesta: Hey, I might’ve let slip to Elain that you were thinking of moving home. And of course she told Lucien, who told Azriel. Apparently, he wasn’t pleased. I’m sorry, Lor. 

I sigh, type a quick reply and check the time. 9:58pm. Jesus, today has felt like a lifetime. I look around my apartment, at how dark and empty it's become as night has fallen. When I moved in, a week after Az left, I couldn't bring myself to decorate it. Because that would mean that this is home now, and not the house Azriel and I bought together. It would mean that the beautiful victorian in the suburbs was as gone as the life we could’ve lived in it. So, six months later, boxes sit in the corners. The walls are bare, the fireplace unlit even on the coldest of nights. And every night since has been glacial. Suddenly, the loneliness is nearly suffocating. I can’t spend another night just staring at the solitary wasteland my life has become.

All of my friends are together already, and he’s there. So going out alone it is. 

I blast music as I get ready in a rush, effectively drowning out every unwanted thought. I go a little heavy on the eyeliner, hopefully concealing any evidence of tears. I slip into my newest dress, gifted to me by Feyre on my birthday. It's the perfect balance of elegant and sexy. A lovely slip of wine colored silk, skin tight and just the right amount of revealing. Looking at myself in the mirror, I smile for the first time all night. 

Half an hour later, I’m shooting whiskey at Rita’s, scouring the dance floor for my next conquest. Probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but I digress. The vast room is dark, the only lights being flashing rainbows of color timed to the music. Thick smoke snakes around the dancers, thanks to a mixture of incense and hidden fog machines. The scent of patchouli, sweat, and alcohol tickles my nose. Peculiarly enough, it's not a bad combination. 

As I’m scanning the crowd, nursing a glass of scotch, a pair of unusual green eyes catch my gaze. He’s easily six feet tall, dark haired, and moderately handsome. He’s sitting with his friends, but no longer paying attention to the conversation. Instead, his eyes are shamelessly undressing me, lingering on my exposed legs. When he eventually meets my eyes again, I give him a slow, inviting smile. It only takes him a few moments to cross the bar, and sit on the stool beside mine. 

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone on a saturday night?” 

I barely restrain an eye roll at his creative opening line. Instead, I lean closer and give him an obvious lookover. He’s definitely fit, his tight black shirt revealing a broad chest and toned abdomen. But I can’t help but note the lack of tattoos and scars. Once I’m done comparing him to Azriel, I meet his eager eyes again. 

“I’m not exactly alone now, am I?” 

The man smirks, and places a hand on my thigh. 

The next morning, I hurry my house guest out the door as soon as he wakes up. He tries to get my number, but I carefully maneuver my way out of that one. The sex was good, but not that good. 

I shower and dress, then scarf down a quick breakfast. As I’m drinking my second cup of coffee, I finally look around at my sad excuse of an apartment. It's not that the actual space isn’t nice. The hardwood floors are new and shiny looking, the walls a neutral gray, the countertops a gleaming marble. But like last night, it's overwhelmingly empty. 

I take a deep breath and decide today is the day. Hesitantly, I walk to the closest box and start cutting away the packing tape. Each stroke of the scissors is like another nail in the coffin of my old life. I ignore the tears that burn in my eyes and keep cutting. With my heart racing and eyes closed, I reach my hand in and grab the first object I touch. I take three deep breaths in an effort to center myself, and look down at what’s in my hand. 

“Oh for fucks sake.” I exclaim, my heart squeezing painfully. 

The cellophane wrapped bundle of blank wedding invitations glimmers in the morning sunlight, like the fangs of a poisonous snake. Beautiful, but deadly. With a cry, I hurl the invitations across the room. They land with a satisfying thunk against the far wall. I plop down next to the box, letting my head fall into my hands. The wound in my chest is raw and throbbing, an ever present pain. 

Of course it had to be the wedding invitations. It couldn’t be something easy, like a throw pillow or a bunch of CD’s. 

I lean my head back against the wall, and let my eyes fall closed. Would this ever stop hurting? Would there come a day where I wake up, and I don’t reach for him? 

 I’m staring at the box like the dangerous, wicked thing it is when a knock at the door rescues me from my own pity party. 

“Thank fuck.” I mutter to myself, eagerly jumping to my feet and practically running to the door. Nesta had said she’d be coming over today, and I thank my lucky stars at her timing. At least this way, I won’t have to unpack my old life alone. Nesta will help me. I’ll cry, she’ll make me laugh, and we’ll get drunk. Very drunk, knowing us. Maybe we’ll call Elain and Feyre. They’ll spend the night, and tomorrow will be easier. I’ll start looking at apartments in San Diego. As I’m opening the door, I take my first easy breath in days. 

“Thank god, Nes I need-” 

But it isn’t Nesta on the other side of the door. It's Azriel. 

“Hey, Lora. Can I come in?”

[plus-size-reader]

Just a Scary Story

Xavier Plympton x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1600 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader is scared because of the murderer is on the loose. Xavier comforts her, then starts flirting with her and she becomes a blushing mess.

(gif by codyfernsource.com)

———————————————————————————————————

You were freaking out, and of course you were.

There was a killer on the loose and you could hardly close your eyes without panicking that he was right around the corner.

A panic that only got worse when Brooke told you that she'd been attacked the night before by the night stalker.

How were you supposed to sleep when there was a killer on the loose?

"Will you chill Y/N? You're killing my buzz" Montana joked, hitting you lightly with the back of her hand to snap you out of whatever it was that had you so in your head.

You had hardly said anything the entire ride up to camp Redwood, and she honestly couldn't figure out what was wrong with you. It was bad enough that she had to convince the guys to bring you along, she didn't want to have to babysit you all summer too.

The two of you had been really close since you were kids but you would be the first to admit that her hobbies were not your own. Montana spent most of her time in the gym or partying and that just wasn't your scene.

She respected that, but that didn't mean she didn't wish you would just let it go for a little while.

This whole camp counselor thing was supposed to be a break from your boring lives back home.

"Sorry, just nervous" you allowed, deciding to just shove your worries to the back of your mind for a little while. Montana wasn't going to understand, no matter what you said.

She was so convinced that everything would work out that she almost floated through her life, and you only wished you could be that way.

Perhaps this summer would give you the chance to try it.

Nothing bad could happen right? Monty lived every single day that way and she was still here. What was the worst that could happen?

"It's okay Y/N, we're all friends here" Xavier called from the drivers seat, smiling back at you as if that would be enough to make your worries go away.

Admittedly, it helped a little bit but nothing could shake that feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You just had a feeling that something bad was going to happen to you.

However, in true Montana-esque fashion, you took a deep breath and nodded. If you chose not to acknowledge whatever it was that was bothering you, maybe it would just cease to exist.

And that technique worked for a little while, until you actually reached the camp.

Someone, namely the nurse Rita, had decided that she needed to let you all in on a pretty well-guarded secret. Apparently there had been a mass murder on these grounds, which was perfect for your nerves.

How in the hell were you supposed to stay here now?

Your new attitude toward life was pretty much hinging on the idea that you weren't going to be murdered in your sleep.

Luckily though, Xavier had been keeping an eye on you since you sat down and noticed there was something going on. You were clearly uncomfortable, and the longer she went on with her story, the more you fidgeted.

It was clear that you were trying to keep it hidden from everyone around, but he could see right through you. You were practically shaking.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" he whispered, leaning over to you as to keep what he was asking you a secret.

The last thing he wanted was for anyone to make fun of you for being afraid. Hell, even he was a little bothered by the story she was spinning, true or not.

You nodded, after taking a second to think about what he was asking.

In truth, all you could think about right now was getting away from here. You didn't like being out in the open, in the darkness.

You felt too exposed, it was terrifying so while you would have normally been nervous to talk to Xavier, you had to take his offer.

There was no way you would feel safe to walk back to the cabin all by yourself in the dark.

That nod was all he needed to whisk you away.

He made some excuse about needing his beauty sleep and took your hand in his own.

Neither of you spoke until you were nearly to the cabins. You had no idea what to say or do, especially not after acting like such a big baby in front of him earlier.

"I'm sure she was just making all that shit up, there's no way any of that happened" he assured, keeping you close to him as you walked down the path.

Someone really should have thought about lighting these walkways, they could be dangerous in the dark like this. If you'd tried to come back alone, you probably would have sprained an ankle.

"Yeah, probably" you hummed, keeping careful steps as you walked alongside him.

Thankfully, before anything else awkward could go down between the two of you, you were at the girl's cabin.

You both knew that there were rules, very strict rules but as your hand landed on the doorknob, you didn't want to be alone. You weren't quite ready to separate from Xavier quite yet, you weren't ready to be alone.

You weren't a hundred percent sure what you were doing, but before you could even utter a word, Xavier seemed to know what you were thinking.

"I could stay with you, at least until you fall asleep" he offered, his own hand falling on top of yours on the doorknob.

This was a bad idea.

Arguably, this was the worst Idea that you'd had in a long time, but that didn't stop you from opening the door.

As terrified as you'd been earlier, there was a whole new reason for the butterflies in your stomach right now.

It was almost as if the horrors of the outside world had been locked out as soon as the door closed.

Inside the cabin was peaceful and quiet.

"Thank you for doing that, I don't think I could have heard anymore of that terrible story" you smiled, kicking off your shoes as he looked around the girl's cabin.

Since you got there, the group had been exclusively in the boy's cabin, but yours was nice as well.

That made him feel good, to know that at least you were living somewhere that was just as cozy as their own cabin. While he would have, admittedly, preferred to be able to keep an eye on you himself.

It was still nice to know that you'd be safe.

"It's no problem, I didn't like it either" he shrugged, trying to make you feel better about it. He didn't want to make you embarrassed about it.

He had seen how much you shut down when Montana and the others made fun of you for the fear in your eyes when talking about the night stalker.

You were only human, he couldn't blame you for being bothered by the things that had been happening recently.

"Really? So it wasn't just me?" you asked, shocked that he would admit such a thing. You had almost assumed that Xavier didn't have any fears at all.

He always played it so cool whenever talking about things like that.

"Of course not, nobody likes thinking about things like that" he assured, joining you on your bed.

The close proximity of his body and your own made you a little nervous but it was clear that Xavier wasn't trying to pull anything or be a creep about it. He was sweet, looking after you.

It was getting pretty late, and you would likely need to be getting to bed soon but you didn't know what to do about Xavier. He had promised not to leave until you had fallen asleep but was he just going to sit there and stare at you as you tried to relax.

That didn't sound comfortable for either of you.

"Xavier? Do you want to lay with me for a while?" you offered, crawling under the blanket and holding it open for him in the space beside you.

There was more than enough room for your two bodies, it was just a matter of what he would be comfortable with.

The second you asked, he was shocked more than anything.

He hadn't really thought about you being interested in something like that but he wasn't opposed to it.

In fact, if you were offering, he would be more than happy to cuddle you. He just didn't want to be the one to initiate it in case you weren't his biggest fan.

The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable.

"I think I can do that" he shrugged, fully understanding how awkward he was being. Normally, Xavier was completely confident in everything that he did, but when it came to you, he didn't want to mess it up.

However, as soon as he was beside you in bed, all that nervous energy disappeared.

It was as if everything else that had happened before this moment melted away completely and all that was left were the two of you under the blankets. "This is nice" he smiled, pulling you into his chest gingerly.

You couldn't help but agree, humming against his body and starting to drift off. As soon as you knew that you were safe and comfortable, you calmed. You knew that as long as Xavier was by your side, nothing could touch you.

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 9)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 1447

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rossi’s wedding was tomorrow and you had a flight to catch tonight to meet Spencer tomorrow morning. You were sure this was fine with Dexter, hell he probably wanted to be alone with Rita or have a night to himself anyway. The two of you had been in constant contact. 

“So I’m flying home for the weekend,” you sent in a text after your class. 

“Why?” 

“I’ve got a wedding to attend.” 

“We’re in the middle of something,” he reminded.

“It will have to wait. If I don’t go, it’ll look bad. You can wait three days to pursue this.” 

“Fine. Text me when you get back.” 

“Will do.” 

After your last class, you got in a cab and went to the airport straight from campus. When you arrived, Spence was actually on a case, leaving you to have your home all to yourself. This was a great time to get some laundry done, find your outfit for the wedding, and get prepared for tomorrow. 

The following morning, the door clicked open. 

“Y/N, are you here?” Spencer called out. 

At the sound of his voice, your heart leapt with joy as you raced to the foyer from the kitchen. You wrapped your arms around him, throwing your legs around his waist as he caught you, laughing. 

“It’s good to see you too,” he said through laughter. 

You immediately pulled back and started to kiss him fervently. 

“When did you get in?” he asked as you continued to pepper his cheeks and neck with kisses. 

“Last night.” 

“Well welcome home,” he said warmly before finally kissing you back. “So we’ve got to be at the wedding by 2--”

“Right, and it’s 8 am. We’ve got time.” You jumped down and grabbed him by the tie, pulling him up to the bedroom. 

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

You and Spencer laid in bed as he held you. 

“Guess you really did miss me,” he mused before kissing the top of your head. 

“More than you know,” you said dreamily. 

He sighed. “As much as I hate to end this, we do need to get showers and get going to the venue.” 

“I know, I know,” you said with chagrin. “Can’t we just blow it off? Stay here in bed.” 

He chuckled before kissing you. “I’d love that, but we have friends and responsibilities.” 

“Ugh,” you groaned as you rolled your eyes and laughed. 

The two of you showered together quickly and then got out and began getting ready. You put on a silver glittering dress while Spence got into one of his very best tuxedos.

“Wow, I know you look good in a suit, but damn.”

“Well I think round two will have to wait until after the wedding,” he said with a grin. “Ready to go?” 

You nodded. “Absolutely.” 

With your hair curled into a nice updo, your jewelry settled on you nicely, and your clutch packed and ready to go, you two exited the house and made way for the wedding.

“There she is!” Garcia said as soon as you entered. She made haste to get over to you and hug you tightly. 

“Hey, good to see you,” Matt said kindly as you two embraced before hugging Kristy, his wife. 

“Good to be back, at least for now.” 

“There’s my favorite professor,” Rossi said happily when he found you. 

“Hey,” Spencer said, as if he were offended.

“Oh come on, kid, you know I like ya, but Y/N here looks a hell of a lot better in a dress,” he said with a wink. 

“So you excited? Finally the big day!” you commented.

“Yes, it is. Wasn’t sure we were going to make it here on time.”

“Oh?” 

“It was crazy,” Tara suddenly said, piping in. “Reid and JJ were locked in a jewelry store with a guy that was playing some sick game of truth or dare. Had them tied up and everything.” 

You turned to your husband who had his arm around you. “You didn’t tell me that,” you accused, a little miffed. You two always told each other when you were in danger. 

“I hadn’t had a chance yet. I was so happy you were home and then we got ready for the wedding…” he said, trailing off.

“Well it was absolutely nuts,” Tara continued. “Reid shot the guy though. Saved JJ’s life and a judge’s. He’s a true hero, Y/N.” 

“I know he is,” you said sweetly. 

“Well we better get to our places,” Rossi said, glancing at the time. Everyone parted and made way to their assigned areas when you turned to Spence.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in a situation?” you whispered, the anger apparent in your voice.

“There hasn’t been time. You just got home. I didn’t want the first thing we did to be for you to worry about me. I’m fine. I got a cut on my hand, that’s all.” 

“You better tell me everything that happened when we get home.” 

Then the ceremony started. It was short and sweet. The reception began and everyone was having a great time. Spence danced with you, one of your absolute favorite things to do with your husband. You danced with Rossi and Luke. Garcia, Emily, you, and Tara ended up having a hilarious four way sort of dance going. At one point, Garcia tried to get a conga line going. At that point, you were convinced everyone was tipsy. 

Emily’s speech was fantastic, and you glanced towards Spence a couple times, and at one point you found him looking at JJ. You tried to think nothing of it, but something about the fact that Tara said they were held hostage together on a case, and the fact that they were looking at each other during a sappy love speech bothered you. JJ’s expression seemed… overly sweet, and in a sense, secretive. Like when two people share something no one else knows, and they give each other a knowing glance.

You let the thought go and continued to enjoy the event. At one point, Spence went to get you a refresher on your drink while you talked to Will and Matt. However, while you engaged in conversation, JJ and Spencer seemed to be acting strangely. 

JJ got entirely too close to Spence then when she put her hand on his chest, she nervously pulled away. Red flags and alarms went off in your head but you decided to keep your composure. 

The rest of the night went rather smoothly, but you backed off the alcohol so you and Spencer could talk about the situation he was in before you got there. 

The two of you went home and you made your way up to your bedroom to start disrobing and doing your nightly beauty routine. 

“So, you wanna tell me what happened while I was gone?” you inquired lightly. 

“There’s not much to tell really,” he said nonchalantly. “We were following the unsub, his next target was the judge. We located him at a jewelry store. He put it on lockdown. We had our guns on him, but he had his gun on the retail clerk, we couldn’t get a clear shot. He told us to lower our weapons, so we did. We kicked them over to him.”

At this point you were in your bra and panties, your jewelry still on, listening. He was down to his boxers, grabbing his pajamas and getting ready for a shower.

“Spence,” you sighed. “That’s exactly the sort of thing you tell me about when you get done with the case.”

“I know,” he said, apology in his tone. “But it was already so late. I knew you’d be flying in, and I was flying. I just wanted us to relax and try to enjoy this.”

You nodded, understanding, motioning for him to continue while you got your jewelry off. 

“So he gave our gun to the judge and dared her to shoot one of us. JJ tried to distract him or talk him down. In that time, I got a piece of broken glass off the ground, cut myself loose, and shot him.”

“Ankle holster?”

A proud smile spread on his face. 

“Yes.”

“I’m glad it came in handy.”

“Me too.”

“So you saved JJ’s life and the judge’s. Wow. I’m so glad you’re okay.” You crossed the room and gave him a tight hug, thanking your lucky stars he was still here. “So how did JJ keep him distracted?”

“She played his game. Truth or dare.”

“Huh,” you mused. “Well I’m glad it all worked out.”

“Me too.” He kissed your forehead and went into the bathroom to jump into the shower. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[singaporeluststoriescollection]

How I managed to bang my GF's family and friends (Part 10)

The 3 seconds of silence was an ordeal. Rita stared at me with a look of disbelief on her face. Alright, brain. Now will be a very, very good time to tell her that it was all a joke.

 "I-" as soon as I opened my mouth, Rita gave my right shoulder a slap.

 A really, really hard slap.

 "Oh my god I can't believe you just said that! Aren't you a 'charming' one!" Rita mocked, bursting into uncontrollable laughter right after.

 Ouch, now I am a little insulted. But at least she didn't slap me across the cheek and kick me outta the house.

 "Haha... now you know why all the ladies fall for me..." the lackluster reply I gave was drowned out by Rita's laughter.

 "Okay, now you have to tell me how your cheesy ass even managed to get a girlfriend in the first place!"

 At that very moment, I knew she'll be making fun of me every chance she gets in the future. Looking on the bright side, at least I've made myself a pretty cool friend. Even though I didn't get the chance to 'go further' with her today, I can't say that today's developments were a bad thing.

 Rita and I eventually became pretty close over the course of two months, getting to the point where we can joke about almost anything. To be honest, I was glad my future mother in law forced me to meet her. As for why- I'll go into details when the time comes. But know that my misadventures with Rita are so epic I think I could start a new thread about them.

 (Sorry about the lack of sexy time this time round, but please remember that these are based on the events of my life and I would like to stay true to the sequence of events. If it's any comfort, there will be more about Rita in the future)

  Anyway, another uneventful week went by and I was back to my usual routine. It was as if nothing had happened between my future mother in law and me. To be honest, it was because of Rita's advice. She told me to play it cool so as to ease the tension in the air, and it's been working really well so far.

 Then came a relatively interesting weekday night.

 If my memory serves me well, it was a Thursday and I was on my way home. The MRT was packed like a can of sardine, and I was standing below the sweat-stained armpit of a really tall man. While I was contemplating my existence, my hand phone started vibrating non-stop.

 Given the intensity of the vibration, there could only be two possibilities.

 1) Someone's trying to call me (duh)

 2) A certain worst best friend is texting me incessantly

 As soon as I was given some breathing room, I escaped from beneath the armpits of doom and leaned against one of the train doors. Sure enough, Ah Tan was sending me messages faster than I could reply. The gist of it was that Ah Tan had just received his bonus from his workplace and he was damn excited. You see, Ah Tan was working a 9 to 7 shitty job with an even shittier pay. Recently, due to a change in management, there was a vast improvement in Ah Tan's working conditions.

 And the best part of it all- he was given two months' worth of bonus. Naturally, I was happy for him. However, like all people with poor financial management skills, Ah Tan has decided to treat the other three (Me, Royce and Jeremy) to a holiday trip.

 While we are really good friends, having him pay for the trip would be ridiculous no matter what.

 Just as I was about to turn down his offer, Jeremy replied to Ah Tan's messages in the group chat...

 "Eh bro, cannot lah, if you really want, just treat us to a good meal there. Plane and hotel we pay ourselves can already" Jeremy replied, suggesting an alternative which made more sense.

 Royce and I both agreed unanimously- agreeing that Ah Tan shouldn't splurge his hard-earned money like this.

 To cut a long story short, we've decided to go on a short getaway trip to Thailand in 2 weeks' time.

 And I was really excited. It's been close to a year since our last group trip, and I really missed travelling with this bunch of assholes. I told Evelynn about our plans during dinner and she gave me a thumbs up. Within the next couple of days, the four of us bought our tickets to Thailand, and we could hardly contain our excitement like a group of adolescent boys.

 The weekend before my trip, Eyvon came knocking on our door one Sunday afternoon. Evelynn was out with her friends, and Eyvon pretty much barged into the room before I could finish saying "come in".

 "Guys, I need help!" Eyvon came in, her face twisted by her emotions. Sensing something amiss, I jumped off the bed and followed her into her room.

 What greeted us was a disaster scene from a movie. The floor of her room was flooded by dark coloured liquid, and it was slowly journeying across the room. One corner of her bed had also been dirtied by the disgusting liquid

 "What the fuck...?" I raised my head, looking at the black liquid oozing from the air conditioner.

 I've seen an air conditioner leak before, but not one that's leaking black liquid. This is like a scene from a certain horror film.

 "I just woke up from my nap to this... and I could really use a hand with the situation..." Eyvon whined, obviously still groggy from her nap.

 ...Well, don't think I have a choice in the matter.

 For the next hour, I helped Eyvon mop the floor and clean out her air conditioner while she washed the filters. Apparently, the last time they had someone clean the unit was close to 4 years ago. Really makes me worry about the air I've been breathing in all this time...

 As I slotted the filters back into the unit, Eyvon whistled at me playfully. Turning around, I see Eyvon sitting on her bed, her legs partially apart. As I was busy with the air conditioner, I hadn't notice that Eyvon's grey singlet had gotten wet from her washing the filters.

 Her shapely breasts and perky nipples were sticking to the wet singlet, which is now slightly translucent due to the water.

 "...would you like to help me change the sheets?" Eyvon teased, tugging on her singlet lightly.

 Would I?

 Find me a straight man who would say no to this spectacle and I'll gladly award him a million bucks.

 I walked off the chair I was standing on, stepping onto her bed. Eyvon sat up straight and got on her knees, tying the bottom of her singlet into a knot, showing her soft and white belly.

 By the time she was done with her singlet, my shorts were already around my ankle, and my manhood was right before her nose. Honestly, it didn't take much for me to achieve full erection. With a couple of licks from her drippin' wet tongue, I was at full power...

(Original thread: http://tiny.cc/td3x6y) (To be continued…)

[rising-heroes]

@lilacproductions

Jump City was a far cry from the smaller Angel Grove Tommy had spent the last few months living in- truthfully, he had no idea where he was going. The tournament wasn’t until tomorrow, so he was out exploring the new surroundings... that is, until he’d heard a loud explosion behind him. 

Rita’s monsters...? He quickly takes note of the scene... multiple civilians in the wreckage, and a crew of what looked like... ninjas? Well. Those weren’t the putties he’d been expecting. Either way... he needed to get into action. He takes a quick leap off a nearby car, kicking down the first of the attackers and taking up a fighting stance.

“You must all feel so tough, beating up innocent people. Why don’t you try someone who can fight back!?!” As soon as the criminals turned their focus on him, the civilians started fleeing... good. He couldn’t morph until it was clear. Until then... one on six. Not the best odds, but he’d survived worse.

They attacked two at a time- any more and they’d risk getting in each other’s way. That should balance things a bit better. Tommy ducks the first blow, delivering a quick series of jabs to the attacker’s chest before kicking him at the other. Two more are on him immediately, landing a blow to the back of his head that left him seeing stars.

Tommy recovers fast, kicking at the ankle of the enemy standing above him before leaping to his feet. Dodge, strike, dodge, throw- the rhythm of the fight goes on for a few moments longer, but... without his suit, he was starting to feel it, meanwhile his enemies were getting back up. Lightning-quick, one of them darts forward, the tell-tale -snickt- of a blade leaving its sheath the only warning he had before he felt cold steel at his throat.

“You’re making a mistake. Back off before you get hurt.” Bold words for someone with a sword at his neck. The criminals laughed at that, but... they didn’t see what was coming up behind them.

[hillywooddestiel]

Low Swings

Characters: Peter Parker x reader (platonic), Tony (briefly)

Warnings: there aren’t really any, just Peter feeling a little down I guess and lots of sarcasm

Word count: 1.6k

Description: When you work with a partner, it’s hard to prevent things from getting competitive. Things are no different in the world of superheroes. It may start as a silly race to see who is the best for the purposes of bragging rights but sometimes, the race can overtake your judgement.

A/N: Hello again! This is for two different challenges (@until-theend-oftheline Kari’s 1k MCU writing challenge and @hollandroos Soph’s 12k writing challenge). Congratulations to you both on the milestones and my prompts are in bold below. Little disclaimer, I wrote a Peter Parker fic a while ago and stole the reader character from that for her powers and personality. You can read it as a prequel, sequel whatever but the two stories are not linked. Enjoy xx Marvel Masterlist

Story:

“I got him!” Y/N speaks seemingly to no one while keeping her eyes locked on the man in the balaclava sprinting below her in the alley. She jumps gracefully from building to building with practiced ease, managing the large gaps like a child hopping across a small puddle. Her movement is reminiscent of a cat leaping from one climbing post to another.

“I thought you said I could get this one! I have to be able to tell Mr Stark I’m doing my job!” Peter whines into her earpiece, swinging from his webs a few blocks away. He was busy chasing down yet another bike thief across town when Karen informed him of a man armed with a gun escaping the scene of a robbery and that Y/N was on her way. No way was he going to let her get the guy first.

“And so do I! I can’t help it that I’m better than you.” She rolls her eyes, not that he can see but he should be used to it by now, before glancing back to see the red and blue clad hero getting closer. Immediately she picks up the pace in response, increasing the strain on her muscles and lungs. The pain she’ll feel tomorrow is worth it though, to get a ‘well done kiddo’ from Stark and rights to rub it in Parker’s smug face until the next time. The conviction tally currently stands 27:26 to Y/N. Not that anyone’s counting or anything like that.

“Please! I’ll do your homework for a week.” He pleads, the thwip of his web shooters audible in the background through the earpiece.

“Sure, cos I want lower grades than I’m currently getting.” Y/N taunts. Spotting a chance to get closer, she leaps down to a rusty fire escape and swiftly descends the ladder. Upon hearing her footsteps clanging on the metal, the criminal’s eyes widen in fear and he speeds up. Somebody wasn’t expecting super heroes to be in the area.

“I’ll buy you a pizza!”

“Tempting but no.”

“I’ll stop calling you Frazzles!”

“No! You’re not having this one!”

“Aw come on Frazzles!” Peter takes a break on top of a satellite tower to watch the chase and plan his next move. Y/N is quickly gaining on the guy despite not having the same enhanced capabilities as Peter (such as his stamina and speed) and she hasn’t even had to zap him yet with one of her self-produced lasers- show off! Amazingly, this thief is still going after running from the scene of the robbery nearly twenty minutes ago (most people get tired after five or make a mistake with a wrong turn that lands them in the arms of the police or a sticky web). Perhaps they’re one of the various people with powers emerging across the city.

Peter spies an opportunity coming up ahead on the next turn to land him the capture and immediately swings in it’s direction. Y/N notices his change of course straight away in her peripheral vision.

“Spidey, what are you doing?” she asks, mentally kicking herself for not being suspicious of the radio silence. Silence often- scratch that- always means he’s up to something.

“My job!” He grunts with the effort, swinging feet first into Y/N and knocking her flying sideways. She lands inside an open locker unceremoniously on her ass with a crash. Only Peter misjudged the strength needed to sabotage his partner and flies in after her, landing on top of her in fact, with the metal door hinges whining shut. The lock clicks, trapping them inside.

“Ah my ankle!” He hisses into the pitch black.

“Oh boo hoo! At least you didn’t have a 200 pound spider kick you in the chest and land on top of you!” Y/N huffs aggressively, smacking him over the head to get him to move.

“I can’t see.”

“Great detective work genius! Hang on…” Y/N scowls, producing light from her hands as easy and taking a breath. The locker is very small leaving little to no room for personal space and it stinks like an unattended public toilet.

“Mr Stark is not gonna be happy with us…”

“Us? I’m sorry, how did we end up locked in here? Oh that’s right; you attacked me!”

“I was just trying to get you out of the way so I could get the guy first. I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, you didn’t think. You didn’t focus on the mission, you focused on beating me. Not everything is a contest Parker.” Y/N’s voice softens. She looks to Peter noticing his downtrodden attitude.

“I just… I really want to impress Mr Stark. If I do really well, he might actually make me an Avenger for real.”

“Peter…” she starts, feeling guilty for snapping at him earlier.

Peter always says he wants to be an Avenger, ever since he came back from Germany, it’s a constant thing. Y/N was offered the chance to go as well but she was so close to busting a drug ring in the city that she had to turn it down (she also didn’t want to join in the fight for Tony’s sake since she actually sided with Steve). Once they returned home, Stark introduced her to Peter as someone to work with but also as someone to keep a close eye on. Things soon inevitably became competitive between the pair.

“Okay, I can’t believe I’m about to say this… you can get the next one.” Peter’s head perks up from where it was rested in his hands.

“Wait really?”

“Really. Now let’s get out of here.” Y/N turns to face the door again. She takes a deep breath, focusing her energy on her outstretched palm and feeling the warmth concentrating in the center. The soft light becomes a streamlined beam and slices through the metal door like a hot knife through butter. Her line is shaky but eventually she cuts out a small doorway allowing herself and Peter to escape their dank prison.

Avoiding the burning white melted metal, the duo step out into the alley again, the criminal they were chasing nowhere to be seen. Typical- they never stick around for their local crime fighters and wait to be caught. The only life in the shady corner is a stray black and white kitten.

“Where do you think he went?” Peter asks, scanning the nearby area for heat signatures with the help of his suit.

“I dunno! I’ll interrogate the cat.” Y/N kneels down and coaxes the kitty over by clicking her tongue, stroking it’s fluffy fur gingerly with her outstretched hand, “Hey buddy, are you lost? Can we help you find your home?”

“It’s a stray Frazzles. Keep stroking it and it’ll follow us home.” Peter rolls his eyes behind his mask.

“Do you need a home? You can come with me if you want.” She smiles as the kitten purrs in her hand, her voice becoming increasingly more babyish.

“Y/N! Let’s go!”

“Hold on!” She scoops up the ball of fur, “Consider this mission a success, we saved Catasha Meowmanoff from a life on the streets.”

“Your mom isn’t going to let you keep it ya know?”

“That’s why she’s not going to find out. And you’re not going to tell her!” Y/N warns Peter, a threatening tone detectable in her voice as she lowers the kitten to the floor. She prowls around the bedroom floor and sniffs the hanging bed sheets with uncertainty, tiny claws catching on the soft carpet. A flash of red catches her eye and she pounces on it, swatting at the light with her little paws in the hopes of capturing it. The said light originates from Peter’s suit and he grins like a child as Catasha almost climbs the wall to get at the laser.

“Ok, I’ll admit she’s pretty cute.”

“See!” Y/N grins victorious, ”… But it goes without saying, no one is to find out about the name. Especially Natasha. I’d like to keep my head attached to my shoulders.” Y/N absentmindedly rubs her hand over the back of her head, right over the spot when Nat last swatted her with a magazine (she set Nat’s ringtone to ‘Black Widow’ by Rita Ora and the world class assassin heard it go off when they both happened to be at the compound at the same time).

“I think she’d probably kill me too so yeah, deal.” Peter scratches Catasha behind her ears, knowing very well of Natasha’s capabilities. But, as much as he would love to play with a ball of fur, there are people to save and crimes to stop so he has to leave. Mask on, Peter steps out onto the fire escape outside Y/N’s bedroom window just as he gets an incoming call alert for Tony Stark.

“Peter! I trust you and Sunshine are playing nicely. I have a new job for you two, organised gang fights in condemned buildings near you. You are still interested in helping out the ‘neighborhood’ as a ‘friendly’ crime fighter, right?” He can tell there were some air quotes made on Tony’s end of the line.

“Yeah yeah y-yeah I’m-I- we’ll get on it right away Mr Stark, sir.”

“Mrrow!”

“What was that?”

“A cat. Stray cat. Not a house cat, a stray cat. Stray, not a pet.” Peter fumbles with his words while Y/N glares at him with eyes begging him to shut up.

“Right… keep up the good work kid.” Tony hangs up; he’s a busy man after all. Looking to Y/N through the mask, his white spider eyes widen.

“We’ve got another job to do.”

[orbemnews]

Paul Van Doren, 90, Dies; Built an Empire With Skateboard Shoes Paul Van Doren, a founder of Vans, the Southern California sneaker company that became synonymous with skateboarding almost by chance and then grew into a multibillion-dollar business, died on May 6 in Fullerton, Calif. He was 90. His death, at the home of one of his children, was confirmed by a representative for VF Corporation, which now owns Vans. He lived in Las Vegas. Mr. Van Doren founded the Van Doren Rubber Company in 1966 with the investor Serge D’Elia and soon brought on his younger brother James and Gordon Lee, a colleague from his years working for another sneaker manufacturer. The idea was straightforward: sell high-quality but inexpensive sneakers from a store adjacent to a factory in Anaheim. The company handled production on-site, making it easy to fill orders of different sizes and allowing buyers to customize their shoes in a rainbow of colors and patterns. The first Vans sneaker adopted by skateboarders was a canvas boat shoe, now called the Authentic. It was set apart by its unusual sole, a diamond waffle pattern that gave way to star shapes on the ball of the foot. A vulcanization process made the rubber especially grippy, helping skateboarders stay on their boards and control them better as they whipped down a sidewalk or an embankment. Mr. Van Doren recognized an opportunity in the burgeoning sport, and skateboarding became Vans’ focus. “Until the skateboarders came along, Vans had no real direction, no specific purpose as a business other than to make the best shoes possible,” he said in his memoir, “Authentic,” published this year. “When skateboarders adopted Vans, ultimately, they gave us an outward culture and an inward purpose.” Tending to be young and impecunious, skateboarders were allowed to buy one shoe at a time if one wore out through incessant dragging and scuffing. By the 1970s the company had made a point of consulting directly with skateboarders and designing shoes with their needs in mind as the sport gravitated toward increasingly complicated terrain, like drained pools and half pipes. Tony Alva and Stacy Peralta, two local skateboarders who became famous, helped design the Era, a skate shoe with a padded collar around the heel for added comfort. “Everybody else was kicking these kids out of the park, kicking them out of pools,” Mr. Van Doren told Los Angeles magazine this year. “And here’s a company listening to them, backing them and making shoes for them.” Vans provided Mr. Alva and Mr. Peralta with free shoes and sponsored them as part of a team of professional skateboarders, an arrangement that became a model in the skateboard shoe business. The company went on to develop new styles, like the Old Skool, which has leather panels on the toe and heel for increased durability; the Sk8-Hi, an Old Skool with a padded high-top collar to protect ankles from errant boards; and a laceless canvas slip-on equipped with the signature Vans sole. By the early 1980s the shoes were available in about 70 Vans stores, mostly in Southern California, and in outlets around the country. The shoes had earned a following among skateboarders, surfers and BMX bicyclists but were not widely known outside of those core markets. That changed in 1982, when Sean Penn wore the company’s black-and-white checkerboard slip-ons in playing a stoner surfer in the California teen comedy “Fast Times at Ridgemont High.” The shoes became a nationwide sensation, and Vans soon grew from a $20 million to a $45 million company, Mr. Van Doren wrote. Today in Business Updated  May 20, 2021, 4:26 p.m. ET Since then Vans have gone from the skate park to the red carpet, worn by celebrities like Kendrick Lamar, A$AP Rocky, Justin Bieber and Gwen Stefani. Kristen Stewart cemented the familiar waffle sole into the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2011, and five years later Frank Ocean wore checkerboard slip-ons to the White House to meet President Barack Obama. Vans has collaborated on custom shoes with the labels Kenzo and Supreme, companies like Disney, the music makers Public Enemy and Odd Future and the contemporary artist Takashi Murakami. Customers can design their own shoes on the company’s website. But Vans remains tied to its original demographic, continuing to sponsor skateboarders, snowboarders, surfers and other athletes and run surfing and skateboarding contests around the world. For nearly 25 years it funded the Warped Tour music festival, which featured skateboarding demonstrations. “We lost our founding father, but his roots run deep with us,” Mr. Alva wrote on Instagram after Mr. Van Doren’s death. Paul Joseph Van Doren was born on June 12, 1930, to John and Rita (Caparelli) Van Doren and grew up in Braintree, Mass., south of Boston. His father was an inventor who designed fireworks and clothespins, and Mr. Van Doren learned valuable business lessons working alongside him. He wrote that he dropped out of high school at 16 and for a time made a living at the horse track and in pool halls, work his mother could not abide. She helped him get a job at the Randolph Rubber Manufacturing Company, a Massachusetts concern that made canvas sneakers. Soon afterward, he met a co-worker, Mary Doline MacLellan, who was known as Dolly, and they married in 1950. The marriage ended in divorce in 1974. Mr. Van Doren married Andrena Aitkenhead in 1981. She died in 2014. Mr. Van Doren is survived by two sons, Paul Jr. and Steve; three daughters, Taffy Blake and Janie and Cheryl Van Doren; a brother, Robert; a sister, Bernice Chute; 10 grandchildren; and 10 great-grandchildren. His brother James died in 2011 at 72. His son Steve, daughter Cheryl and some of his grandchildren continue to work for the company he built. Mr. Van Doren spent more than 15 years at Randolph Rubber. In 1964 he moved to Southern California to run a factory for Randolph there but left two years later to start Vans, having had disagreements with Randolph management. He retired in the early 1980s, and his brother James took control of the company. James Van Doren tried to compete with companies like Nike and Adidas by expanding into different sports — running, basketball, wrestling and break dancing among them — only to bankrupt the company by 1984, Mr. Van Doren wrote. Mr. Van Doren returned to lead Vans back to solvency. He refocused the company on its core offerings, and in a few years Vans paid back about $12 million in debt, he wrote. He and Mr. D’Elia sold the business to McCown De Leeuw and Company, a venture banking firm, for $75 million 1988. Mr. Van Doren stayed on as chairman before stepping down in 1991. VF Corporation, which owns other major brands like The North Face, Dickies, Timberland and Supreme, bought Vans for nearly $400 million in 2004. Vans now brings in about $4 billion in annual revenue, a representative for VF said, reaping profits from devoted customers like Michael Lorenzen, a relief pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds, who has taken the mound wearing a pair of Sk8-Hi shoes customized with spikes, Mr. Van Doren wrote. “The company doesn’t pay people to do these things; they happen organically,” he added. “Our customers, famous or not, just like the shoes.” Alain Delaquérière contributed research. Source link Orbem News #built #Dies #Doren #empire #Paul #shoes #Skateboard #Van