#acotar modern au

[azsazz]

The Magic Number

Kinktober Day 28: Hockey Player!Azriel, Rhysand, & Cassian x Reader [Overstimulation]

Summary: Req from godsend @vellichor01 : For the hockey idea, I love the idea of Azris or poly!batboys using you 😏😏 as their good luck charm the night before the championship game

Warnings: Smut, oral (both f and m receiving), use of toys (vibrator), fingering, anal, double penetration, foursome.

Word Count: 5,258

Notes: I'm having one of those moments...

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“C’mon, you know how this goes,” Cassian drawls, stroking a thumb across your cheek. His words are soft, kind, but the heat swallowing the color of his eyes is anything but. It makes your cunt pulse. “Been our lucky charm all this season, can’t break the streak now, can we, baby?”

You hum, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. Excitement stirs your gut as you stare up at the three, large hockey players taking up the expanse of your tiny living room. Azriel leans against the door they’d just come through, his hazel gaze pinned on you. Rhys is perched on the edge of your desk, arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit as serious as the captain of the hockey team should be. And Cass stands before you, his stature demanding and hot. They make you ache to your very core. “What’s in it for me?” You tease, batting your lashes.

“I can promise you at least three earth-shattering orgasms,” Cassian responds, pointing from Rhys to Azriel, then to himself.

Your face contorts, nose scrunching at his words. “Only three?”

Cassian’s eyes glitter. “Think you can handle more?”

You tilt your chin up in defiance. You know you can handle more. Have spent weekends locked away with them, ripping orgasm after orgasm from you until you’d lost count, had been nothing but a sobbing, shaking, wet mess beneath their lips and fingertips.

“I just don’t know if that’s enough anymore, boys,” you sigh dramatically, pulling your chin from his grasp. “You get all of this luck and I get to be sore for days? How is that fair?” You’re lying, and they know you’re lying. You’re not just terrible at it, but you love being sore for days, feeling where their cocks have abused your cunt with each step you take. You love the marks that their needy, manhandling hands leave on your skin, the bruises from their teeth and lips. You bite your own, shoving that thought from your mind.

“What do you want then, darling?” Rhys purrs, pushing himself from the desk to make his way closer. Azriel follows on an unspoken command, until they flank Cassian’s sides. They loom over you like Gods, and you have to crane your neck back to peer up at them from your spot on the couch. Fuck, they look absolutely stunning. How you’ve managed to bag the three star players of the hockey team, you’ll never know. Rhys’ voice takes on a huskeir note, violet eyes simmering with molten desire as he continues, “Want to tie us up and take what’s yours? Want to watch us fuck each other? All we need from you is one orgasm each, darling, and we’ll win the championship game tomorrow, I know it.”

His words make you shiver. Is that what you want? To be in charge for the night? You’d been doing this with them for the entire season, but the thought had never crossed your mind. You’re usually too cock drunk to form a coherent thought.

But the way that they tower over you, looking down at you as if you’ve changed their entire world, makes your stomach flip. They’ve always taken care of you, all three of them, and it’s more than nice, being guided into positions that put your pleasure first. They know you better than you know yourself. Sexually, they know you inside and out. They are the epitome of men right now, burly and large and oh so fucking irresistible. It makes you want to open your mouth and part your legs, let them have your way with you.

You just might.

You look from Rhysand to Cassian, Cassian to Azriel. They’re fresh from practice, hair damp from showers at the rink, tight shirts stretched across broad shoulders with the exception of Cassian, he would never wear a piece of clothing again if he had the choice, and comfortable gray sweats hang low around their waists like they know what it does to you. 

Godsdamn what it does to you.

“Come on, baby,” Cassian all but whines when you don’t respond. “What can we do to convince you this is for the good of the team?”

Nothing. They don’t have to do a damn thing to convince you of this, because you know. Somehow, the three hockey players you’ve found yourself fucking this season decided that you were their lucky charm, having won each and every game after they’d shared you. It’s something of a pre-game tradition now.

But it’s still fun to tease.

“I don’t know,” you coo, leaning back in your seat. You slip your toes between Cassian’s wide stance and prop your feet on the coffee table behind him. “I think that Tarquin on the Sea Lion's is pretty goo—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Azriel growls, eyes so dark it makes your thighs quiver.

“What if, this time,” Rhysand leans down, planting his hands on either side of the couch, trapping you. His sultry voice awakens goosebumps on your skin, his breath hot in his ear as he leans down, lips brushing the shell. “We stuff you with our cum, then shove a little plug up that tight little cunt of yours to secure our luck. You’d like that darling, wouldn’t you? To be stuffed with us until after the game? Keeping you nice and full?”

You nearly bite through your lip holding in a moan. Your head threatens to teeter back on your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull as a full shiver wracks your body in the best way. Holy fuck do you love it when they talk dirty to you, planting new ideas in your head, things beyond your wildest dreams.

Cassian’s adding, watching you struggle with a smirk. “When we win, I’ll eat it out of you.”

“Isn't showing up to the game enough?” you ask innocently, thighs pressed so tightly together they’re shaking with effort. But you’re being strong. There’s still room to play with them.

“No,” they all answer in unison. 

It’s Azriel who takes a gentler approach. It’s a little surprising. He’s normally the quietest of the three, saving soft spoken endearments for when it’s just the both of you or when the other two have fallen into post-orgasm cat naps. 

He kneels before you, hands brushing up your bare legs in what is supposed to be a soothing manner, but the motion only makes you hotter. Wetter. He’s looking at you with sincerity, like he might actually believe that you’re going to refuse them.

As if that would ever happen.

“What do you want, love?” he asks, so gently it nearly makes your heart crack. The strokes of his thumbs on your skin match his tone, tender. 

“I want you to kiss me, Az.”

He can do that. He spreads your legs to slip between, using his grip on the meat of your thighs to pull you closer. You’re the same height as him, sitting on the couch as he is kneeling, and you don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck, fingers burying deep into those dark locks. His touch wanders to your face, caressing your jaw before pulling you into a slow, sensual kiss.

Your body bursts with pleasure. His tongue strokes softly against your own as he parts your lips. It’s a tentative motion, but becomes more sure when you whimper softly into his mouth. Azriel’s fingers grip loosely to the nape of your neck, pulling you even closer to him. So close, that you can feel the erratic pounding of his beating heart pressed against your own.

You can feel Cassian and Rhysand’s heated gazes on the both of you. It feels all too good, having their attention like this. Knowing that with the slightest of moves on your part, they’ll all be harder than stone. It eggs you on, kiss going from slow and steady, an exploration of each other’s mouths, to something hotter, rougher. Azriel sucks on your tongue and nips at your lips. Your fingers tug at his hair as your spine lengthens, pressing yourself closer to his chest.

Kissing Azriel is like being shrouded in shadow. He consumes you, body and soul. It’s the best kind of kiss, one that calms you when you’re anxious, a strong and steady presence. You can lose yourself for days in the taste of his lips, the feeling of his sure posture against yours.

Cassian takes hold of you quickly, inserting himself into the kiss you and Azriel find yourselves lost in. You make a noise of surprise. Having both of them licking into your mouth is no easy feat, but somehow, the men seem to know exactly what to do, as if they’re as in-synch now as they are on the ice.

Slowly, Azriel edges himself away from the kiss. He pries your fingertips from himself, no matter how much he loves the way you cling to him. He places them on Cassian’s shoulders, where you curl them harshly into his tanned skin and force him closer.

Kissing Cassian ignites a fire in your soul. It’s passionate, brash, and full of love. There is no doubt in your mind that this man was made for you, to walk through that fire for you, to reach your innermost self. He’s a warrior on and off the ice, in love and in life. He will fight for you no matter what, and you love him for it.

It’s always fun having Cassian like this, all needy and hot. His cock is swollen against the loose fabric of his sweatpants, and you can tell he’s not wearing underwear when you grind your hips against his, drawing a guttural moan from his lips. You drink it down greedily, keening in response. You’re getting just as desperate now, needing to feel their cocks in your cunt, filling you up with their cum until you’re so full you could burst.

But Rhysand is untangling you from Cassian with a look that leaves no room to argue. You’re panting, staring up at Cassian with a wildness that says this isn’t over. He grins, the sharps of his canines glinting in the lamp light. 

“Go, get ready,” Rhys orders the other two, and you cling to him as he lifts you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he strides towards the door. 

Instead of walking through it, he’s pressing you into the wall next to it, dipping down to devour your mouth in one fell swoop. 

Kissing Rhys makes you feel like a Queen. He’s demanding, showing you exactly what he wants. It makes you want to submit, fall to your knees and please him as he sees fit. It’s reassurance and confidence and pleasure in its finest form. He makes you feel like you’re on top of the world, like your soul belongs to something more. You would bow for him, and he for you.

He hooks his knee up, settling your weight onto it as his fingers find the hem of your shirt. His mouth is a distraction for his hands, gliding the fabric up and over your head, breaking the kiss for only a fleeting moment before he’s grabbing you again and plastering your front to his chest  as he strides towards your room.

You’re lost in the way his tongue dances with yours. You love to hear his words, silky and playful, skilled with years of business classes, his backup if hockey doesn’t work out someday.

Rhys places you on the bed, breaking the kiss, but before you can even whimper your displeasure, Cassian’s boxing you in, fitting himself between your legs as you slide backwards. He follows like a hungry lion, devouring you with his gaze.

“Enjoyed that, didn’t you, darling?” Rhys grins, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes are wide, but you can’t remove them from Cassian’s wolfish grin as he prowls towards you, backing you into the headboard. “But look what Cassian’s got for you.”

“First, you’ll cum on my toy, then on Az’s fingers, and then on Rhys’ tongue,” Cassian presses his words into your mouth, rolling his hips against yours. It makes you cling to him desperately, and he smirks against your lips. You lick over his straight teeth, tasting his tease. He parts himself from you, sucking at the sensitive skin between your jaw and ear. His tone is low, filled with desire and gravel that scratches the right parts of you when he continues. “And then, when you’re crying and begging, maybe we’ll give you our cocks. If you think you can handle it.”

Your body wracks with a shiver so violent Cassian’s façade falters. If it weren’t for your reassuring hand clawing across his bare shoulders, he would’ve asked you if you were alright. 

So the charade continues. You want to fight back, want to push them to the edge like they are you, because if they’re going to insist on fucking you for the good of their game, no matter how badly you want it, you’re going to make them work for it. You don’t hand out this kind of luck without some effort.

“Maybe I won’t give you my cunt at all,” you pant, chest rising and falling against Cassian’s. It feels like he’s crushing you, body pressed firmly to your own. You can hear Rhysand digging around in your drawer, looking for the pastel colored vibrator you have stuffed away. Azriel watches you with a heated gaze that sharpens at your words, pinning you to the bed just as effortless as Cassian is. “Maybe the sex after a loss is better than after a win.”

 Azriel all but growls, taking the chance to climb up on the bed with you and Cassian. You remove one of the hands you have buried in Cassian’s thick locks, reaching out to touch Azriel. You want them all, love when all of their attention is on you like this. Your thighs try to clench but Cassian’s hips pin them wide and he gently rocks into you, nipping at the skin around your bra strap before taking it between his teeth and pulling it from your shoulder. 

You rest your palm against Azriel’s cheek when he’s near enough, and though his serious gaze doesn’t soften, he leans into your touch, pressing kisses to your palm. “Baby, I think we both know that isn’t true.”

Gods, does he make you melt. They all do, stripping down and baring themselves to you. Each one of them is tall, tan, and muscular. They are Gods kneeling before you, worshiping you in every way.

You want that to start now.

As if reading your mind, Rhys places the pastel wand into Cassian’s awaiting grip. His grin turns into something feral as he rips your panties from your legs, fingers curling between you and the mattress to unhook your bra. 

Azriel takes over, hands palming at your breasts as he moves the clothing. Cassian clicks the vibrator on and your legs want to close in response. You’re so fucking wet you know that you’re glistening for them, and with the speed at which Cassian sets your little toy, you won’t last very long, especially when the other two crowd around you and all three men stare down at you like you’re something worth devouring.

“Is it true?” Cass asks, but he doesn’t wait for your answer, pressing the buzzing toy to your already throbbing clit when you begin to speak. Your words sizzle into a moan, your body arching into the vibrations, hips wriggling as you chase the feeling it’s stirring in your gut. Az and Rhys hold you down, and they all watch in pleasure as Cassian plays with you. “You think losing sex is better?”

Normally, he’s all fun and games, built for edging you until you take control and sit yourself on his cock, but today, with the taunts in the air and the looming game at the back of their minds, he’s more eager to draw as many orgasms from you as he can. He needs to stuff you so full of his cum, right down until the minute he dares step foot on the ice for the championship game. He needs to see you in the crowd, hardly able to sit because your cunt is that sore, cheering them on with their cum still leaking out of you.

“N—No,” you manage to get out, but you hardly know what you’re babbling about. You cling to Rhys and Az, who mouth at your breasts as you writhe, pinning your arms to the bed. Your back arches as Cass finds that spot, the vibrator stimulating your clit with such an intensity, heat rushes to your core like a dam breaking. “Cass, ah—please baby, yeah, yeah, right there!” 

“Right here?” He asks, and dread fills your body. You know that voice, and you chase the orgasm as fast as you can before he— “Or down here?” You cry out in frustration as he moves the wand lower, a buzz dulling as he slicks it against your opening. 

“Az,” you whine, because you need more than just the toy. They’ve fucked you relentless, ruined everything for you, and now it’s no longer enough, not even when they’re away from you. “Need your fingers. Please!” You cry out when Cassian returns the vibrator to your clit, holding you still as you writhe.

He doesn’t hesitate, cock straining away from his body. He’d been ready for you since he awoke this morning, but practice had taken precedence before he could find his way to your apartment to fuck the bones from your body. He’s the most superstitious of the three, and not even your teasing he takes lightly. 

But he’s conditioned to need you, more than he needs his shooting hand before game days. He doesn’t know how or when this started, but he’s not complaining. He loves it, in fact, thinking about you all wet like this when he’s in the thick of the game, when he’s thinking about starting a fight or stuck in the penalty box. He’s also the most worried about it all, taking many nights pulling you aside to talk about the arrangement. To make sure you feel loved instead of used. To show you how much you mean to him. 

So, he doesn’t play around when he puts those skilled hands to work, plunging one into your cunt, then two because the first slides in easily. You cry out when he curls them, the shadow of a smile curving his lips in the most beautiful way.

“Hey,” Cassian pouts, “It doesn’t count as three if you and I are both doing it.” 

Azriel doesn’t look away from you, watching as you come undone from the incessant buzzing and him stroking the bundle of nerves inside of you. He wants you to break his skin with your nails, burst his eardrums with your screams, drown him in your cum. “Then make it two.” 

Cassian’s hazel eyes glint and he’s turning the setting higher. 

“Rhys, down on the bed,” Azriel demands after your second, earth-shattering orgasm. The captain of the hockey team does just that. You shiver at Azriel’s words. He’s usually quiet, but when he takes over in the bedroom not one of you strays from his commands, his low voice making those words even sexier. He kisses you softly, helping mauver your body so you’re straddling Rhysand’s face. “Cass, head of the bed, legs open.” He turns back to you, hazel gaze pinning you in place as Rhysnad’s rough hands begging trailing patterns across your thighs. Your cunt nearly drools on him, and your muscles tremble with the effort to keep yourself from sinking down onto that tongue of his. “Baby, I want to see you suck Cassian off while you ride Rhys’ face. You can do that for me, can’t you, pretty girl?”

You keen, falling into his touch around your throat. You need to kiss him, need to sink yourself down and feel the ridges of Rhys’ tongue, his nose digging into your clit. You need to taste the precum beading at Cassian’s ruddy tip, taunting you. You need to feel Azriel’s mouth on yours first, though.

He allows you one kiss. It’s slow and sensual on his side, desperate on your part. He doesn’t allow you to turn up the heat, keeping you pinned in place as Rhys guides your hips down. You squeak against Azriel’s lips at the first touch of Rhysand’s tongue, already grinding your hips against his eager mouth. 

Azriel’s fingers slide from your throat, gathering the hair at the base of your skull. Slowly, he guides you down to Cassian’s cock. It’s wet, leaking against his tight abs as he pins his hands behind his head, watching you with fire in his eyes. 

You steady yourself with hands on his thick thighs. Your body is already convulsing with pleasure, three orgasms and a handful more to go is what you’d been promised, but as Rhysand grazes his teeth across your sensitive clit, you cry out, hot breath fanning across Cassian’s cock. It twitches as he flexes. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Azriel coos, fisting Cassian’s cock, helping you steady yourself so you can take it into your mouth. Rhys’ pace is unhurried, but it still makes pleasure blind your gaze, eyes prickling with sensitivity. “C’mon, be a good girl and take his cock.”

You feel nearly boneless already, hardly able to hold yourself up as Azriel escorts Cassian’s throbbing cock into your mouth. You lick his slit and he hisses, head banging against the headboard as you suckle at his tip. His musk bursts across your tongue, heady and strong and utterly Cassian. You can’t help but moan, licking around the head, dragging down the silken skin as Azriel presses you onto it. All the way until he’s hitting the back of your throat.

“Relax, baby,” Azriel whispers, planting soothing kisses to your shoulders. It’s almost overwhelming how all three of them can be so gentle right now, when they’re finally getting what they need. Your need for them is overwhelming. You can see it now how well they work as a team, impeccable both on and off the ice. 

You love it. 

Your jaw falls slack at his soft words, and he’s pushing your head down, Cassian’s cock stretching your throat. Both men groan at the sight, and Cassian’s fingers find your cheek, caressing your face.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that,” Cassian praises, and you whimper in pleasure. Rhysand swirls his tongue and nips at your clit and you’re seeing stars, body wracking hot with the onslaught of an orgasm.

Cassian bucks and you choke, but you love it. They make you feel so full, even though your cunt aches with the need. You know you’ll get it soon enough. 

Azriel leaves you in Cassian’s care while he settles himself behind you. You can no longer see him, but he dips down, spreading your cheeks to lap at your hole. You startle and moan languidly at the sensation, melting into the three of them further.

You can hear him spit, and then his finger is breaching your ass. 

“Relax,” he murmurs again, curling his body around your own. The heat of his chest to your back is comforting, and you try your best to uncurl your muscles. “That’s it, just like that baby. Gooood girl.” His finger drags against your walls and you shiver, rocking back against the sting until he’s three fingers in and you’re moaning wanton around Cassian’s cock. 

You cry when Azriel removes his fingers, but he’s pressing up to his knees and slicking his cock between your sopping wet cunt and Rhysand’s tongue. Oh, that feels fucking incredible, your sensitive clit burns at the heat of his cock, cunt quivering from the three orgasms already.

“I don’t know if I can,” you whimper sliding off of Cassian’s cock with a cry. Tears stream down your face and Cassian’s brushing them away softly, swiping his thumb across your lips to clear the string of saliva away. Azriel’s teasing your entrance, holding your hips steady as Rhysand shuffles up the bed, his own leaking cock brushing against your cunt. You’d collapse on top of him if it weren’t for Azriel holding you up.

Rhys takes your face in hand, kissing you firmly, proudly, sharing the taste of you with him. He’s showing you how wet you are for them, how good you’re being, but you still make a noise when the tip of his cock brushes against your throbbing clit. “You can do it, baby,” he reassures, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Want to fill our darling girl with our cum. You want that, too, don’t you?” 

Fuck, you do. You really, truly do. You want to taste it, feel it, bathe in it until there’s no question in their minds that you aren’t theirs. Some day, this lucky streak might end, but until then, you want to be stuffed with them, feel their heat inside of you, filling every part of you to the brim. You want to swim in them, and them in you. You need it like ice needs the cold, like the Velaris Bats need a championship. 

“Yes,” you find yourself clawing at his muscles, drawing Cassian nearer by his cock as Azriel’s head slips into your ass. You groan, body sucking him in as you stare into the depths of Rhysand’s violet eyes.

The three of them consume you, and you, them. Once Azriel works himself in with a grunt, hips settled against yours, Rhys is nudging his cock into your dripping cunt. Your breathing goes a little ragged, but his lips are on your neck and you use that and Cassian’s cock as a distraction from the stretch.

They give you as long as you need to adjust, hands all over your body you can hardly focus on one thing. Why do that when there are so many delicious things happening at once? Your hand wrapped around Cassian’s girth, jerking him up and down while you suck and spit on the head of his cock. He groans in approval. You begin rocking back on both Rhysand and Azriel, letting them know with your loud noises that you’re more than ready for their cocks. Rhys’ mouth is attached to your breasts while Azriel’s sticks his fingers around your torso to flick at your clit.

Rhys and Azriel go from moving in synch to fucking into you, opposite in pace. Rhys pulls out while Azriel pushes in, one of them always filling you. It’s great, both of their cocks hot and heavy inside of your tight, wet holes. You shiver when their heads bump into each other through your walls, moaning around Cassian’s cock.

“Fuck, baby,” Azriel says, brushing the hair back from your shoulder. His movements are quickening, and heat rushes through you once again, your body bucking between theirs, following that feeling off of the edge. “Just like that.”

They fuck you through it, until you can hear the wet slaps of their hips against yours again, until your blackened vision clears, your movements lazy and slow as you grip Cassian’s cock like it’s the only thing holding you to this existence. 

“I’m almost there,” Rhys hisses, and he and Azriel are moving in time again, both of them pressing into you so deeply you can’t even breathe. They’re filling you up, hitting all of the right spots, and you can’t help the stream of tears and cries that fall from your lips. You might cum again, you think, as Cassian slides down to comfort you with his soft lips against your skin. 

“I’m cumming baby, f-fuck, yeah, I’m cumming pretty girl,” Azriel groans, pistoning his hips faster. The grip he has on your cheeks is biting, spreading them wide for his viewing pleasure as his strokes turn jerky. “Godsdamn, baby, I’m a lucky man.”

You body clenches and Rhysand chokes, following his friend. He holds you tightly, eyes squeezed shut in bliss as he fucks him cum deep into your womb. “Holy fuck, darling. Fucking made for us,” he grunts. The erratic pressing of their cocks filling your holes has you cumming again, milking you of another orgasm. 

“Fuuuuck,” Cassian mutters in awe as you blink through tears to look up at him. His hand caresses your jaw and he looks utterly destroyed by you and he hasn’t even gotten his chance yet. “Four orgasms? What a good girl, giving us all that.” 

You whimper, nuzzling into his touch as Azriel pulls slowly out of your ass. You cry out, grip going firm where you clutch to Rhysand’s shoulders, missing the loss of him already. But Az is kissing up your spine, scooping the cum already leaking from your hole only to stuff it back inside of you, swirling his fingers through the thick, white cum. 

“One more baby,” Rhysand coos, pressing kisses to your wet cheeks. You don’t think you can move even, you can hardly even keep your eyes open right now or your breathing controlled, allowing the three of them to manhandle you onto Cassian’s broad chest. 

You collapse against him, cum leaking from both your cunt and your ass, getting his hips and thighs all messy with it. But he loves it, loves holding you to his chest like this, looking down at you as you snuggle into him like you could fall asleep in bliss in a matter of breaths.

“Let me give you my cum,” he whispers into your hair and your body trembles with his words. You’re utterly spent, but your body needs his cum mixing with the others just as badly as they need the win. 

You nod against his chest, stroking a lazy hand down his torso. “Be gentle with me.”

He is. Cassian holds you close, rocking his hips in a steady, soft motion while you cling to him. He seems to be in no rush, but your cunt aches with every drag of his large cock, and you start writhing against him, a little uncomfortable but not yet willing to force him to stop. 

The others’ cum helps slick the way, and Cassian’s soothing words kissed to your forehead keep you somewhat calm. He lets you dig your fingers into his skin as hard as you need to, especially when his grip spans across your hips, pinning you to him so he can fuck into you as he chases his orgasm.

“Doing so well for me, baby. Gonna fill you up and get you all cleaned up with the others,” he murmurs, and it’s then you notice he’s silently asked Rhys and Az to leave. The shower is going in the attached bathroom. You can hear the cap of the body wash opening. “We’re going to take such good care of you, baby, for all those orgasms you gave us.” 

You sigh in response, much too tired to muster words. You tilt Cassian’s head down for a soft kiss instead, and then he’s panting against your mouth and fucking into you as he cums, swallowing your tender whimpers and moans.

“There we go, baby,” he coos, keeping his cock shoved in that pretty cunt because he knows you like that. He strokes your hair, letting you loll with the rhythm of his chest. “Helping us win the championship. Our little lucky charm.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Kinktober Taglist:@bunnymallowo@jeannineee@icey–stars@hannzoaks@harrystylesfan2686@azriels-shadowsinger @alysena2 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @impossibelle @glitterypirateduck @reading-moongirl

#polybatboys #poly!batboys x reader #hockey!bat boys #acotar modern au #hockey au #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel x cassian x rhysand x reader #azsazz kinktober 2023

[highladyandromeda]

The Stolen Pen

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel inadvertently steals a pen from Y/n, his crush. His covert operations to rectify the situation spirals into a comedy of errors…will Azriel be able to return the pen and admit his feelings, or will he forever be labeled as a thief? 

Warnings: None, just fluff with stupid decisions, a sprinkle of jealousy, silly mistakes, and perhaps too many details about pens. 

A/N: So I was supposed to be writing my other fic, but I was a bit stumped on where to take that…So I started this with the intention of it being a cute, short, one-shot or blurb…but here we are…7k words later….this is a fluffy mess. 

“Ohhh there come the lover boy”, Cassian whisper-yells, as Azriel silently slides into the chair next to Nesta in their shared criminal justice elective. His attempt at stealth, however, is foiled by that not-so-subtle announcement. With a scowl aimed at Cassian, Azriel attempts to shrink further into his chair, hoping that their professor remains engrossed in her lecture and oblivious to his tardiness.

“Shhhhhh” Nesta whispered, smacking the back of Cass’s head, giving Azriel some support before she smirked, “He’s not lover boy yet. Have you even been able to say something beyond hello and goodbye?

The question hits Azriel with the force of a freight train, his cheeks burning with a flush that he prays is hidden by the shadow of his hoodie. He's saved from having to voice his defeat by the TA, who chooses that moment to distribute study guides for their impending exam. Grateful for the distraction, Azriel takes out his pen, only to catch the curious—and amused—gazes of Nesta and Cassian directed not at him, but at his hand.

Always self-conscious about his scars, he hunches further into his hoodie, but as he follows their stares back to his paper, Azriel's heart sinks. In his hand lies a distinctly feminine, pink pen adorned with a star or flower emblem at its tip, an object so glaringly out of place in his grip that it screams for attention. The realization hits him like a wave, leaving him momentarily speechless. Oh. Oh. 

“Please tell me that's whose I think it is," Nesta teases, barely containing her laughter as she observes Azriel's stunned silence.

At Azriel’s complete silence, Nesta waved a hand in front of his face, glancing at Cassian and mouthing did he stop functioning? To which she got a shoulder shrug in response.

Her attempts to elicit a response from him were futile; Azriel was lost in a haze of embarrassment, fixated on the damning piece of evidence in his hand. Nesta's playful pokes did nothing to snap him out of his daze, and in a moment of sheer mortification, Azriel let his forehead meet the desk with a thud loud enough to turn heads. If he thought he was invisible before, he's anything but now.

Azriel was mortified.

He was utterly and completely mortified. Azriel felt like he was living in a nightmare, one where embarrassment was the main theme, and there was no waking up. He wished for anything—a magic trapdoor beneath his feet, or maybe a sudden, convenient superpower to teleport himself out of this situation. But no, the reality was far less accommodating, especially since he was holding onto something that wasn't his. A pen. Not just any pen, but one that belonged to you, given in a moment of desperation.

Azriel let out a groan, which Cassian tried to cover with a cough that was more like a shout, and Nesta with the dramatic slam of her books. Their attempts were valiant but futile against the tidal wave of Azriel's mortification.

He thought back to earlier in the day, in the calculus class he shared with you, the one in which he always sat in the back corner and one day you came in late, and sat next to him. Somehow, since then, you kept coming back to that spot, and though he replied each time to your good mornings and goodbyes, he wanted to speak up. Maybe ask if you were new because he would've noticed you in the previous math classes. Or maybe inquire if you had transferred, under the guise of offering a tour of the campus. Yet, whenever he caught sight of your ebony hair and the spark in your eyes, words fled from him, leaving silence in their wake.

Just like today, where for once he was there after you…he had made it a bit of a habit to be early to that one class, mainly because it was a class that was important to his major. Of course, he couldn’t finish his computer science degree if he failed multivariable calculus, and the…added benefit of watching you walk into the building from the windows and then up the stairs, always giving him a smile before sitting down, was just that…a benefit. 

But yes, today he slept through his alarm, got trapped in a conversation with his elderly neighbor, the one he didn’t know how to escape without Cass or Rhys, was almost run over twice on his motorcycle, and arrived as a verifiable mess to class. After jumping into his seat, he patted himself down so rigorously and nearly up-ended his entire bag trying to find a pen, needing to copy down the partial derivatives he knew the professor would showcase on their next exam. 

His frantic search for a writing instrument ended when you noticed his plight and offered yours with a simple, "Do you need a pen?" Frozen, Azriel could only nod, accepting the lifeline you offered but cursing his inability to say anything more–Oh, caldron boil and fry me…

“You stole her pen?” 

“I–I didn’t steal her pen, Nesta”

“You stole her pen.”

“Her mount blank pen”, added Cassian, smiling cheekily behind his phone.

“Whose what–Cass, don’t smile at me with fries sticking out of your mouth.” Feyre joins them in their usual diner, sliding into the booth next to Az. 

“He stole his crush’s pen,” Cass continues, swallowing his food this time, after Nesta pinched his thigh.

“I didn’t steal her pen!”

“You stole someone’s pen?” Rhys joins, sliding next to Feyre and setting down a tray of milkshakes. 

Azriel's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, if that was even possible, under the relentless teasing of his friends. "I didn't steal it. She lent it to me," he mumbled, his voice barely rising over the din of the diner.

"Ah, but you've yet to return it," Rhys pointed out, a mischievous glint in his eye as he took a sip of his milkshake. "Sounds like a classic case of pen-napping to me."

"It's not like that," Azriel protested, but the laughter from his friends suggested they weren't buying his defense. He glanced down at the pen in question, its sleek design and the way it perfectly balanced in his hand making it all the more precious now that it was a symbol of his hapless affection.

Feyre, having quietly observed the exchange with a gentle smile, finally chimed in. "Maybe it's fate, Azriel. That pen could be your excuse to finally talk to her."

Azriel's heart skipped a beat at the thought. Talk to you. Use words this time instead of just nodding like a lovestruck fool. It sounded so simple when Feyre said it, but the mere idea sent his pulse racing.

His thoughts were interrupted by Feyre's voice again, pulling him back to the present. "Wait, Az, can I see it?" Her curiosity piqued, she leaned sideways, her gaze fixed on the pen he held so carefully.

With a hesitant motion, Azriel passed the pen to her, but before she could comment, Rhys's whistle sliced through the din of the diner.

"I take that back, this is definitely a case of pen thieving," he declared, an unusual seriousness lacing his tone that drew the eyes of the entire table.

Rhys sighed, muttering under his breath about uncultured friends, a comment cut short by Nesta's sharp look. "Azriel, that’s a Mont Blanc Pen."

"That’s what I said! A mount blank pen!" Cassian echoed, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and amusement.

Sitting up straight, a sense of urgency overtaking him, Azriel looked from one friend to another, their faces a blend of jest and genuine surprise. Rhys continued, "What that means is it’s quite an expensive pen, Az...I’m sure whoever you borrowed it from will want it back."

The words hit Azriel like a cold wave, his anxiety spiking anew. The fear that you might see him as a thief, as someone who took advantage of a moment of kindness, gnawed at him. 

Azriel's mind went back to this morning, the moment of leaving the classroom flashed vividly before his eyes—your parting words, something about the pen, but all he had managed in response was a series of nods, mesmerized by your smile. The possibility that you might have asked for it back, only for him to unwittingly refuse, twisted in his gut. Did your smile mask pity, or was it simply to avoid the brief intimacy of touch?

"Oh, cauldron, I am a thief. I did steal her pen," he muttered, the realization settling in with a weight that was hard to bear. The joke had turned into a confession, the humor of the situation evaporating as the reality of his inadvertent theft dawned on him. He had to make it right, to return the pen and clear the air, hoping beyond hope that you wouldn’t think less of him for this misunderstanding.

“Oh Az, I’m sure it’s not that bad” Feyre hands it back to him, trying to provide words of comfort. “It’ll be fine as long as you see her again.” 

This must have been the sixth stare Azriel received, as he shuffled in front of the large windows in the building’s hallway. He supposed he cut quite a figure, dressed entirely in black, complete with a mask and his hoodie covering his entire head. But he was here on a mission, no matter the next group of students he saw from the corner of his eye, whispering and pointing at him. He needed to keep watch and see when you would be walking up to the building. He could only think about your pen for the past 2 days, cursing whatever entity who’d assigned this calculus class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He needed to give it to you today because he wasn’t sure if he could handle the anxiety all weekend. 

At first, he just wanted to leave it on your regular seat and skip class today. Maybe leaving behind a cute note with the pen, asking to treat you to coffee in return for his unintentional theft. But, then he spiraled, what if you no longer went to the seat next to him, thinking of him as some ungrateful and lying douchebag. He couldn’t just leave it there for someone else to pick up, especially after Rhys mentioned its exclusivity. He didn’t want to accidentally lose your pen and ruin all chances of ever getting to talk to you. 

But as the minutes ticked by, the usual stream of students thinned…and the bell that marked the start of class echoed hollowly in the emptying hallway. You didn't appear. Confusion, then concern, wound its way through Azriel's thoughts. You didn’t appear. Confusion, then concern wound its way through Azriel’s thoughts. Had something happened? Or had you simply decided to skip class? The latter was a possibility that he simply hadn’t considered, having seen you in every class since the start of the semester last month. 

With a heavy heart, Azriel made his way to class, the pen still in his possession. The seat next to him, your seat, remained empty, a silent testament to the day's ruined intentions. As the lecture on derivatives and integrals droned on, Azriel couldn't help but feel the gap next to him acutely, an empty space filled with missed connections and unspoken words.

The clatter and chatter of the diner wrapped around Azriel like a familiar blanket as he sank further into the booth, an attempt to escape the scrutiny he knew was coming. The weekly Saturday breakfast with Rhys and Cassian was usually a highlight, a chance to decompress and share laughs over greasy food. Today, however, Azriel felt the weight of his unresolved dilemma like a lead apron around his chest.

Rhys slid into the booth, arching an eyebrow as he took in Azriel's disheveled appearance. "Looks like someone hasn't slept in days," he commented, his voice laced with concern and a hint of amusement.

Azriel could only groan in response, the word "sleep" feeling foreign and elusive. Cassian's next words did nothing to improve his mood. "He's still a thief," he joked, nudging Azriel with his elbow.

Rhys's surprise was evident. "You still haven't returned the pen?" He shook his head, disbelief and curiosity mingling in his expression.

Cassian leaned back, sipping his coffee. "He hasn’t been able to find her. She skipped class."

The conversation paused as a waiter delivered their usual array of milkshakes and waffles, a temporary distraction from the topic at hand. Rhys, ever the problem solver, wasted no time in offering a solution. "I can see if I can pull some strings, and find her contact information. Or at least her email."

Silence descended upon the table, thick and heavy. Both Cassian and Rhys turned to Azriel, expecting confirmation or at least a nod of approval. Instead, they were met with a profound silence that spoke volumes. The shock on their faces was almost comical.

Rhys was the first to break the silence, disbelief coloring his tone. "Don’t tell me…"

Cassian's eyes widened. "You don’t know her name??"

"Not even her first name???" Rhys added, his voice an octave higher in astonishment.

Azriel felt a flush creep up his neck, coloring his cheeks a deep shade of red. The truth of the matter, laid bare amidst the remnants of breakfast, felt absurd even to him. He had spent the week agonizing over a pen, over missed opportunities and unspoken words, without ever knowing your name.

“But you said she’s in your compsci class?” Rhys continued

Azriel shook his head, “No, we're in multivariable calculus together. But she’s definitely new.” 

At Cassian and Rhys's blank stares, Azriel elaborated, “It’s one the hardest math classes, I would have noticed her in the previous levels.”

“Wait Az, pull out the pen again.” Rhys reached his hand over. 

His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, flicking between Azriel and the pen before he floated an invitation his way. "Why don't you take and break and join Feyre and me tonight? We're catching up with my childhood friend—the one who introduced me to Feyre. Actually, Cass, join us and bring Nesta along. We’re meeting at Rita’s as usual so Mor will be there too. 

Azriel, however, wasn't so sure. "I don’t know…" he mumbled, lost in his whirlwind of thoughts, missing the significant glances Rhys shot towards Cassian.

As if on cue, Cassian's boisterous encouragement broke through his reverie. "Oh, come on, Az. It's not like the pen's going to grow legs and run off!"

 And with Rhys adding, "Give us some company, won't you, Azriel? My dear friend will feel left out among the couples." 

With a mix of encouragement and playful ribbing, Azriel found himself agreeing if only to escape the orbit of his own overthinking for a while.

Thus, Azriel found himself stepping into Rita's coffee shop, transformed at night into a cozy jazz club, clad in his finest casual attire. Gone was the hoodie, replaced by a crisp black shirt, his best jeans, and the leather jacket that felt like a second skin. The pen, its significance magnified beyond reason, was securely tucked inside his jacket, close to his heart.

Entering the cafe with Nesta and Cassian, who both looked effortlessly chic, Azriel couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement beneath his apprehension. Rita’s transformed at night from a quaint coffee shop into a vibrant jazz club, complete with dance floors and hidden alcoves, a favorite haunt for their group.

Curiosity about this mysterious friend of Rhys and Feyre nibbled at the edges of his thoughts. Described by Rhys as a "childhood companion" and by Feyre with glowing terms of talent and kindness, she seemed almost too good to be true. Feyre’s stories painted her as a guardian angel of the arts, guiding Feyre through her first year with museum visits and personal tutorials in art history, a beacon of support that enabled Feyre to pursue her dreams in Fine Arts.

Azriel couldn't deny the intrigue, a part of him eager to meet the person who had inadvertently brought both his brothers' such happiness and given him such close friends. 

Rita's was a place of warmth and music, where coffee aromas mingled with the sultry notes of jazz, and where the dance floor beckoned the brave. It was here, amidst the casual elegance of his friends, that Azriel hoped to find some semblance of peace.

His heart was already racing from the anticipation of the night, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he stepped into the semi-circle of his friends and saw her.

The back of a girl, her black tweed jacket adorned with intertwining threads of red and gold, caught his immediate attention. It was a unique piece, one he recognized because it hung over the chair next to him just days ago in calculus. As if on cue, Cassian nudged him forward, breaking his trance and thrusting him into the moment he had been both dreading and longing for.

Time seemed to stretch and bend, each step toward the table feeling like a journey in itself. Then, as Rhys and Feyre stood, pulling the girl up with them, the world snapped back to its rightful pace, but not for Azriel. For him, everything continued in slow motion, the ambient noise fading into a distant buzz, drowned out by the sudden pounding of his heart.

"This is my childhood friend," Rhys began, his voice cutting through the fog in Azriel's mind.

"And my first college friend, Y/n," Feyre added, her smile bright and welcoming. “She just came back from a year abroad, so everyone welcome her well!”

Rhys continued with the introductions, but Azriel heard none of it. His gaze locked with Y/n's, and in that moment, everything else fell away. Her eyes, a captivating mix of curiosity and warmth, seemed to hold him in place, rendering him utterly speechless.

"Oh hi, Azriel!" Y/n's voice, clear and cheerful, attempted to bridge the gap between them. But Azriel remained frozen, caught in the storm of his own emotions, unable to muster even the simplest of greetings.

Then, the silence was shattered by Cassian's laughter. "Sorry about that, Azriel is just too shy, isn't that right?" he joked, clapping Azriel on the back hard enough to jostle him from his stupor. With a friendly push, Cassian maneuvered him into the booth next to Y/n before sliding in next to Rhys and Nesta.

As Feyre drew Y/n back into the conversation, wanting to connect her with Nesta over their love for books, Azriel couldn't shake the feeling of the pen in his pocket. It was as if the object, a simple tool for writing, had become a symbol of all his unspoken words, his hidden desires, and his fear of reaching out. It burned against his thigh, a constant reminder of the words he had yet to say.

As the night wore on, and their friends' laughter filled the air, Azriel found his eyes constantly drifting to Y/n’s, wanting to capture every smile, every glance, every subtle expression that danced across her features. The ambient light of the club, dim and forgiving, cast a warm glow on her face, highlighting the contours and the genuine joy that seemed to radiate from her. 

When the girls got up to join the dance floor, a tidal wave of reality crashed over Azriel. Rhys and Cassian's sudden attention, their probing questions about his unusual quietness, felt like spotlights on a stage he wasn't prepared to stand on. "I'm just tired," he managed to say, the words feeling like sandpaper against his throat. "And a bit worried, you know." But his attempt to deflect only invited more scrutiny.

Rhys immediately saw through the facade. "She's the girl, isn't she? That's why she said your name before I introduced you." At Azriel's silence, Rhys elaborated further, “She’s also the one I assumed was the owner of that pen, Y/n has an entire collection of Mont Blanc, and she fits into your description, being technically new as she just returned from abroad. 

Azriel’s flush, heavy and telling, confirmed his friends' suspicions without a single word spoken.

“Then this the perfect moment!” Cassian continued. “When she comes back, give the pen and ask to buy her a drink as an apology for the delay”

Rhys perked up as well, hitting Azriel on the shoulder, “Cass is right! I know Y/n, and she’s not one to hold a grudge, especially if you apologize. In fact, get her a tequila daisy, she loves those.”

At his friend’s encouragement, Azriel felt his spirits being lifted. He could do this, he thought, the Mother blessing him with such good luck that he found the girl he was looking today. He should take this as a sign, telling him that this was his time to have courage. As Cass and Rhys shooed him up, spotting the girls returning, Azriel shot back his drink and stood up. With a slightly steadier step, he decided to take a little detour back to their table, positioning himself so he'd see Y/n first. It was a small thing, but it gave him a moment to steel himself, to prepare for her smile, her presence. "Alright, let's do this," he thought, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.

As Azriel navigated his way back to the table, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over him. The confidence he had just moments ago seemed to evaporate with each step he took. By the time he was close, he found himself unable to meet the gaze of his friends or even Y/n, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, a beacon of his newfound apprehension.

He made a beeline for the chair adorned with the distinctive tweed jacket, so caught up in his thoughts that he completely missed Cassian's worried glance. With a heart racing and a mind swirling with rehearsed apologies, Azriel reached out to tap the shoulder of the person he assumed was Y/n, all the while starting his practiced spiel. "Hey, I just wanted to give you this, I--uh--I'm so sorry couldn't before--let me buy you a drink to make it up—"

His words faltered, dying in his throat as he finally mustered the courage to look up, only to find Elain's familiar face smiling back at him. The confusion was immediate, his brain struggling to catch up with the reality in front of him as Elain, seizing the pen from his grasp, chimed, "Oh, Az, my birthday's still a week away...but thank you so much!" The affectionate kiss she planted on his cheek was meant to be a sweet gesture, yet it only served to heighten Azriel's horror as he watched her examine the pen.

“Oh, that’s so preetty Elain! Mor stumbled by, the alcohol clearly catching up to her by now. “But, why do you have a pen right now? Don’t work, come dance with us! She said laughing, grabbing Cassian on her way back. 

Azriel, now left alone with a blushing Elain, had no idea how this happened. One moment he thought he’d finally get to confess to Y/n and the next moment, he’s given perhaps her prized possession, which she lent him, to another girl. It turned out that he was incorrect before, it's clear that the Mother brought up the worst luck he could have.  

He needed to fix this. 

Now. 

And tell Elain that he did have something for her birthday…just not that. Yes, it had to break it to her now. 

“I know you said you’d be busy and couldn’t make it to my birthday, but you didn’t have to get me something, Az! This is just my color though…”

Azriel stood there, his mind racing with a mix of panic and disbelief. How had he managed to entangle himself in such an awkward situation? The irony of it all was that he had known about Elain's soft spot for him, a sentiment that had grown perhaps from the time he had escorted her back from class to keep her away from her troublesome ex. 

He had considered the possibility of returning her feelings, had even tried to envision something more between them, but his heart never quite made the leap. Elain was wonderful, truly, but the spark he was supposed to feel just wasn't there. And deep down, he knew she deserved someone who could put her at the center of their world, something Azriel couldn't do.

Before he could get a word out, the din of laughter and chatter signaled the return of Rhys and Feyre, their expressions shifting from amusement to confusion as they noticed Elain holding the pen.

Azriel's eyes pleaded for help, a silent, desperate appeal that Feyre caught instantly. She stepped in, her words a flurry of explanations aimed at untangling the misunderstanding. But the situation took another turn with the arrival of Y/n and Nesta, their approach cutting Feyre's explanations short. In a panic, Feyre grabbed Elain's arm, insisting it was late and they needed to leave, effectively dodging the impending awkwardness but leaving the air charged with unsaid words.

Y/n and Nesta returned to find the table enveloped in an unexpected gloom, Rhys and Azriel's expressions painted with unmistakable dismay. The contrast to their earlier mirth sparked immediate curiosity.

"Where did Feyre run off to?" Nesta inquired, her words slicing through the heavy air just as Y/n, with a mixture of concern and confusion, reached out to Rhys. Her fingers brushed his forehead gently, a silent question in her touch. "Are you sick, why do you look so pale?"

Azriel hated the jealousy that sprung up at her actions, especially after what he had done. He immediately chastised himself for the feeling, fully aware that the concern shown was purely platonic. Yet, he couldn't help but long for a similar connection, a moment of care directed towards him, especially from Y/n.

Nesta couldn't resist a teasing jab, her observation laced with humor yet not entirely devoid of truth. "Lovesick more like it," she scoffed, her comment hanging between them like a challenge, prompting a momentary flicker of amusement to dance across Rhys's otherwise somber features.

Nesta’s words, though teasing, unwittingly mirrored the turmoil swirling within Azriel, a turmoil stemming from his unvoiced feelings for Y/n.

Amid the group's subdued atmosphere, Y/n took the initiative, her concern for her friends sparking into action as she decided to fetch water and some food for the table. Once she was out of earshot, Rhys leaned in, his voice low, "Remember when I said she's very forgiving? Well, Y/n is a bit possessive over letting others use her things." Azriel paled considerably.

Upon returning, Y/n placed the food down with a gentle smile, announcing, "I'll find Mor to say goodbye before I have to leave."

Nesta's questioning gaze prompted Y/n to share a bit more about her plans, revealing her Sunday brunch with her father. It was a tradition, yet one that held mixed feelings for her. Rhys, catching the underlying sentiment, ventured cautiously, "First time since you're back...any welcome presents?"

Y/n's nod was accompanied by an eye roll, her voice tinged with a mix of amusement and resignation. "He'll probably gift me a pen, as always." Then, leaning closer to Rhys, she confided in a whisper, "He still thinks I don't know his assistant keeps buying them." Their shared laughter, though tinged with sadness, was a brief respite from the tension of the evening.

As Y/n waved goodbye and made her way through the diner, the weight of what had transpired settled heavily on Azriel's shoulders. Rhys’s earlier statement now mixed with what he had just heard father gets me a pen…hates sharing… 

The pen he had intended to return to Y/n, now in Elain's possession, wasn't just any pen; it was akin to a token of her father's affection…

He was so, so doomed. 

If Azriel thought he was mortified before, well, it couldn’t be compared to now. His current stakeout, crouched in the dense foliage outside Elain and Nesta’s apartment, felt like a scene straight out of a spy movie—only infinitely less glamorous and with higher stakes. 

After searching the entire night for the pen, he realized that you really were Rhys’s friend, the resell prices he found made him want to throw his computer out. But even if he could afford it or request Rhys for help, it seemed that the version you had was sold out. He didn’t even know they made limited-edition pens, let alone ones of this price, were they made of gold? he thought pulling up the product description….set with a pearl…Oh.

Well, that led to his current predicament, knee-deep in the bushes outside Elain and Nesta’s shared apartment. Given that he had borrowed Nesta’s key, which was carelessly strewn on the table of his and Cass’s apartment, he knew she wouldn’t be back for a while. The problem now was getting Elain and it seemed Feyre out…which was why he had texted Rhys an SOS. 

As he waited, hoping that no one noticed him acting like an absolute creep, he finally saw Feyre pulling Elain out, something about a project with Lucien? 

Whatever, that wasn’t important now. His phone buzzed in his pocket with an aggravated all-clear from Rhys. He knew he owed him and Feyre a lot…and technically Elain and Nesta too. The plan was simple: get in, find the pen, get out.

He had been to their apartment before, but always with the company of someone else, usually Cass when he went to pick up or drop off things for Nesta. It felt…eerie being here alone, and he tried to ignore how much of a creep he felt looking through their things. Yet, despite his efforts, the pen remained elusive, a realization that sent a wave of panic crashing over him.

Mother above, where would one keep a pen?? He checked the various surfaces in all the rooms, he checked Elain’s desk, her vanity, and even her bedside table….he looked at the bathroom counters and even scanned through Nesta’s room. As he debated how many more boundaries he’d cross by opening the drawers, his phone buzzed again, with a text from Rhys, feyre said it's with her *crying face emoji* *crying face emoji*...

It’s with her…it’s still with Elain?! The words echoed in his mind, a mantra of frustration and defeat.

Needing to escape the claustrophobia of his failure, Azriel abandoned his search, the apartment, and any pretense of dignity he had left. He found himself wandering aimlessly, feet leading him through the city's streets with no destination in mind. Hours passed, his thoughts a tangled mess, until the financial center's impersonal skyscrapers towered over him, indifferent to his turmoil.

It was there, amidst the steel and concrete, that a familiar voice pierced through his haze of self-reproach. "Azriel?" Y/n called out, her presence like a beacon in the dimming light. 

She emerged from a store, the elegance of her white lace blouse and black slacks contrasted sharply by the vivid red purse she carried. It was the bag she swung from behind, adorned with the same white flower symbol as the pen, that captured his attention, a silent testament to the reason for his current state.

Azriel was at a loss for words, his surprise at seeing her mirrored in the way she regarded him. “I’m surprised to see you here, what are you doing?”

Caught off guard and scrambling for an explanation, Azriel mumbled something about needing a walk, a half-hearted attempt to mask his real reasons for being there. 

Y/n's gaze held his, a hint of curiosity mixed with understanding flickering in her eyes. "A walk that led you all the way here?" she asked, her voice soft but pointed.

Azriel felt the inadequacy of his answer hang between them, an invisible barrier he wished he could dissolve. "Yeah, it's been one of those days," he admitted, his voice trailing off, the truth of his statement more profound than he cared to explore.

Y/n studied him for a moment, her intuitive eyes reading the layers of unsaid words. Then, breaking the tension with a smile that seemed to light up the dimming city around them, she said, "Well, in that case, I could use a bit of company. I was about to grab some coffee. Join me?"

Azriel hesitated, the weight of his earlier mission pressing down on him. Yet, there was something about Y/n's offer, an earnest simplicity, that cut through his reservations. "I...yeah, coffee sounds good," he finally said, not surprised at his own eagerness.

Seated in the cozy enclave of the coffee shop, with bookshelves brimming with tales and plants that whispered of care, Azriel found himself enveloped in a warmth that the stark lines of the financial district rarely offered. The glow of the setting sun, filtered through the tall windows, bathed Y/n in a soft light, casting her in an almost ethereal aura. Her laughter, light and easy, filled the space between them as she caught his look of pleasant surprise.

"This place isn't quite the corporate café you were expecting, is it?" Y/n teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Azriel chuckled, nodding. "I was expecting somewhere... more stiff. This is a nice surprise."

Leaning in, Y/n shared her secret with a whisper, "This café is my little escape. Not many know about it here. But trust me, the coffee’s unmatched, and you have to try the food."

As Azriel began to protest, not wanting her to treat him to even more, his stomach betrayed him with a timely growl. Y/n’s laughter rang out again, full and genuine, just as an older lady approached with their order. "Here you go, dear," she said to Y/n, then turned to Azriel with a warm smile. "First time I've seen her bring someone. You take good care of her, okay?"

Y/n’s protest that they were just friends, and really just classmates, did little to deter the lady's knowing look, leaving her a flustered shade of pink as the lady departed. Y/n then explained to a bewildered Azriel about the café's significance to her, a place discovered during times she'd rather forget waiting in her father's stark office, with the building being down the street. 

As they shared the meal—Y/n insisting Azriel try her favorite sandwich and a tart chosen especially for him—Azriel marveled at her attention to detail, at the fact that she'd noticed his fondness for blueberries. "How did you know?" he asked, his heart aflutter at the realization that she paid him such mind.

With a shy glance away and then back, Y/n admitted, "I noticed you always carrying around blueberry bars. It's the little things, you know?"

Azriel, moved by her attentiveness and kindness, found himself unworthy of her attention. How could he let her remain ignorant about his transgressions, and watch her smile and laugh with him? But he also couldn’t bear to let her go, not when she made him feel things he thought he’d never be able to. Azriel decided then and there that he would admit his faults and then he would beg, he would plead for her to forgive him, or at least continue to talk to him, after he returned the pen from Elain. And if she refused, then he would accept it, but he would grovel as much as she allowed, if only to not lose the smiles that she sent his way. 

"I... I don't deserve your kindness," he confessed, his voice a whisper of turmoil. "Because I'm a thief."

Y/n's eyes widened, confusion and concern mingling in her gaze, "A thief?" she echoed, her head tilting slightly, inviting him to explain.

Azriel's words tumbled out in a frantic cascade, a confession spilling forth about the pen, his failed attempts to return it, not knowing her name and the catastrophic mix-up at Rita's that saw Elain inadvertently receiving what he thought was Y/n's treasured possession. "I know it was a gift from your father... I'll get it back," he assured her, his heart sinking as he prepared for her to walk away, to maybe throw the coffee in his face, for the soft warmth of her smiles to vanish.

But instead of anger or disappointment, laughter bubbled up from Y/n, rich and unrestrained. Azriel lifted his gaze, bewildered, only to find her smiling, her eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine amusement. It was a moment Azriel wished he could freeze and live in forever, were it not for the fear of her next words.

From that dreaded black bag, she produced a sleek box, emblazoned with Mont Blanc, and Azriel's heart sank. This was it, the moment of reckoning. He half-expected her to reveal a price tag that would make his eyes water, a reminder of his foolishness. Instead, Y/n unveiled a pen, its body a dance of blue and white lacquer, sparkling with what he could only guess were jewels.

Y/n shared a piece of her past with him then, her voice soft and nostalgic. She spoke of her younger self, who found more joy in the worlds of books and art than in the dry texts of study. 

"I used to collect colored pens, fancy ones that made writing notes less of a chore," she explained, gentle laughter threading through her words. She revealed how her love for calligraphy had blossomed from there, a passion she had hoped would catch her parents' attention.

The story took a turn Azriel hadn't expected. "For every achievement, every missed event, every return home, I got a pen. I thought it was my father remembering my words, but," she chuckled, shaking the elegant pen in her hand, "it turns out it was his assistant who remembered. My father doesn't even use fountain pens."

She waved the decorative pen with a flourish, proclaiming it beautiful but utterly impractical. "They're more for show than anything else, the nibs aren’t even correct for the type of stylized calligraphy I enjoy. I still keep them, just locked in a drawer at my apartment. But for everyday use, I stick to the rollerballs from Mont Blanc. They're just easier."

Y/n paused, eyeing him with a playful curiosity. "The pen was pink, wasn't it?" At Azriel's nod, she continued, "I swapped that one with a friend. Not really my color, but she wanted to exchange it for a white version that wasn’t available abroad.” 

Azriel nods, still caught in the whirlwind of his own confessions and fears. 

She shrugs lightly, her gaze drifting down to the black box, "Mont Blanc treats me too well and sends me many extras because I’m on their VIP list due to my father’s assistant. I don’t mind, though. It’s nice to know they’re going to someone who appreciates them."

Azriel's mind races as he tries to process this. The pen, the source of so much turmoil, was just one of many to Y/n, an item of little consequence. Yet, feeling a sense of responsibility, he insists, "I’ll get it back for you. It was yours, after all."

Y/n's response is a gentle wave of dismissal. "You don’t need to worry about it, Azriel. You didn’t steal it. I told you to return it whenever you wanted. I just...hoped it would make you think of me." Her voice fades, a note of melancholy creeping in as she turns her face away slightly, hiding the vulnerability in her eyes. "I guess you didn’t, though. Do I bother you, sitting next to you in class?"

The earnestness in her question, the raw hint of insecurity, pierces through Azriel's defenses. He reacts instinctively, his words tumbling out in a rush to bridge the gap his silence had created.

"Bother me? Y/n, you’ve been...I’ve been trying to find the words to talk to you since you first sat next to me. You don’t bother me; you distract me because...because I think you’re beautiful."

The confession hangs in the air between them, a fragile truth that sends a blush creeping up Y/n's cheeks. Azriel's heart pounds in his chest, his earnest declaration laying bare his feelings.

"So, friends?" Y/n ventures after a moment, her voice steady but her eyes searching his for an answer.

"Friends," Azriel agrees quickly, too quickly, perhaps, because what he really wants to say is so much more. "But, I'm hoping for more than that," he added under his breath, a vow to himself as much as to her.

Y/n's smile in response is shy but hopeful, a silent agreement to the unspoken question hanging between them. In the quiet of the café, amidst the scattered pens and the remnants of their past misunderstandings, they find a new beginning.

A/N: The pen Y/n received above! So, I have no idea where this story was meant to go. I just had the idea to write about Azriel doing something silly because he was so distracted by a crush, which became him unintentionally stealing a pen. After all, I have an obsession with pens due to the same reason Y/n said...And then this spiraled a little too much into my own uhh grievances with pens, calligraphy…and uhh parents. ANYWAYS, I hope this made you all laugh and fyi Mont Blanc does make great pens, I highly recommend their roller balls and fountain pens, though some are so extravagant I can’t imagine ever using them. 

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #rhysand #morrigan #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #acotar modern au #silly aus #i rushed the ending #should i continue Azriel's silly antics?

[utterlyotterlyx]

Hiii <3 Could you do number 4 from the prompt list with Eris? It's my first time asking for a prompt or anything so i hope this isn't rude. 😅

Aw my loveeeee it isn't rude! Request your little heart out <3

I've already done 4 but I'll do it again for you with a different spin on it.

Can't Keep My Hands To Myself

Modern!Eris x Reader

Summary - It's no secret that Eris has always wanted you, and now he has the perfect excuse to get up close and personal.

Warnings - slight pining, some fluff, swearing, hand fetish

The sun bounced off of the hood of Cassian's car, and if you looked closer you could have sworn you could see wisps of steam rising from the matte black finish.

Folding your arms over your chest, you huffed, already knowing what was coming as soon as you'd point out a certain problem.

It had been Elain's idea to go to the coast that day, mainly so that you could all go to the theme park that ran along the beach, all being yourself, Elain and Lucien, Nesta and Cassian, and Eris. The latter of which was leaning against the hood of Cassian's vehicle with a sly grin written on his lips, sunglasses low on his nose, and hands bundled into his pockets.

Eris Vanserra was the bane of your existence, the cocky son of some noble lord in England who had moved to your state for college and had set an unfortunate eye on you. The heir could have anyone he wanted, but he was too busy chasing you to notice.

Eris had crashed one too many of your dates, and when you had made it clear that he needed to stop being an alphahole, he would slyly quip that none of the men you allowed into your life deserved you. He would always show his face at Elain and Lucien's apartment when you were there, which made you certain that one of them, probably Lucien, was sending him updates whenever you would show up. Eris stuck to your side when the entire circle decided to go out, whether that be bowling or dinner, or even clubbing, Eris was always reluctant to leave your side.

Possessive bastard.

You had lost count of how many times exactly you had denied his advances. It wasn't that you weren't attracted to him, you'd be foolish not to be, but you didn't really fancy ensuing a relationship with a future lord, you quite liked your life the way it was.

You majored in architecture, you had always appreciated the beauty of buildings and landscapes, you had travelled Europe and spent weeks in Paris where you sketched and redesigned buildings until your heart was full and bursting with inspiration. There was nothing you couldn't create.

Life as a lady didn't appeal to you, but life as an architect travelling the world and creating masterpieces very much did.

So, you made it your mission to deter the heir in whatever way you could, from cold shoulders to harsh quips, but it only seemed to spur him on more.

Eris stood before you, red hair perfectly styled into pushed back waves, looking far too good in his black jeans and open collared black shirt, a thin chain hung around his neck which matched the bracelet on his wrist, rings littered his fingers and you found your gaze drifting to his hands, hands you had thought about often when you were alone. You imagined them running through your hair and pulling at it, you imagined them around your throat, you imagined his fingers drifting along your thighs and gripping the skin there.

It was so sinful how much you thought of Eris' hands.

The door opened behind you and you rolled your eyes at the Archeron sisters who walked ahead of both Cassian and Lucien, who both looked exhausted from their bickering already.

Unfurling your arms from your chest, you pulled down the edge of your tennis skirt and tucked in a loose section of the deep green polo you adorned, "About time," you told them, "I'm baking out here."

"I know a place that could cool you down," Eris drawled from behind you, and you turned your head slightly to see him at your shoulder, looking down on you with his usual longingly seductive eye, "You, me, the Swiss alps on skis."

"Sounds positively awful," you smiled sickly sweet at him before moving your attention elsewhere, "I also hate to state the obvious but there are only five seats in Cass' car, and there's six of us," you motioned between the circle you had all formed and shrugged.

"What if you-"

You held your hand up in front of Eris' face, shushing him into silence, "If you're really about to suggest that I sit on your lap, I will kill you."

Cassian threw his head back and laughed, a howling one that filled you with pride as he walked to the driver side of his car, "Hate to break it to you Princess, but you don't have a choice."

"Why me?! Surely it makes more sense for Elain and Lucien to cuddle up?"

Elain ticked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, flinging the passenger door open, "It's my birthday so no, plus Lucien injured his knee at baseball practice so he needs to be able to stretch it out. Sorry, Y/N," Elain wiggled her eyebrows at you and dipped into the car, no doubt securing her spot in the middle seat.

Scowling, you turned to Eris who had never looked happier, fluttering your eyes in annoyance, you pointed at him, "Don't get any ideas, Vanserra."

Eris threw his hands up in mock surrender but the smirk didn't leave his lips as he spoke, "Wouldn't dream of it, y/l/n."

It took you a few moments to become settled in his lap, and you cursed yourself for allowing yourself to be friends with bright and shiny Elain, if you hadn't then you wouldn't be sat on some heirs lap, nestled on his thighs like some kind of trophy.

As soon as you were comfortable, you propped your feet on Elain's lap which she was happy to hold since you drew the short straw, and you leaned back onto the doorframe, half on the body of the interior and half on Eris.

His scent was earthy, wafts of pine and freshly blown out matches, you knew he smelled good, but you didn't realise how much.

Eris draped one of his arms over your legs and the other around your waist, and you couldn't exactly bark at him to fuck off when they were the only two places that his hands could go. His fingers delicately danged off of your thighs, his fingertips lightly brushing against your skin with every bump in the road, the coolness of his bracelet clashing against the warmth of your skin.

If only his fingers could go a little higher, and just grab the flesh of your thigh...

No, y/n.

Elain had convinced the car to play a game, a game that you and Eris had quickly denied, you were both quite happy with the silence. That is until you felt him frown and lean over slightly to peer at something, his fingers drifted along the hem of your skirt and he lifted it slightly to take a peek.

Your gaze found him, his russet eyes darkened with intrigue, "I didn't know you had a tattoo," he hummed, allowing his eyes to trace along the swirls of black ink that created an arrangement of delicately drawn roses and geometric shapes that encased your entire hip.

Cassian's car hit a bump and you jolted on Eris' lap, his arms instinctively wrapped around you to keep you in place as your head hit the roof of the car, "Sorry, y/n. These roads are awful," Cassian apologised, one hand on the wheel and the other gripping Nesta's jeaned thigh, rubbing soft circles into the fabric whilst she idly read her book in the front passenger seat.

If that were you, your soul would no doubt be going feral.

Then you felt it, you felt his had travel from your waist to your unbound hair, he ran his fingertips along your scalp and rested his palm on the top of your head, "Are you okay?"

It took you a moment to reply, trying to control the shivers that spread in your soul like wildfire at his touch in the place you had dreamt of, "Yeah, 'm good," your tone was relaxed as he worked his fingertips into the crown of your head, kissing away any pain from the jolting force that had pushed against it.

"Do you like that?" Eris purred, and luckily no one was paying attention to either of you, Nesta was reading, Cassian was driving, and Elain and Lucien were looking out of the window of the travelling car talking about whatever animals they saw in the clouds.

"It might feel nice," you admitted bashfully, knowing you couldn't lie to the sly fox whose eyes always found you no matter how far apart you were in a room.

Eris let out a low hum, tilting his head to the side as his fingers slid from your scalp and rested on the back of your neck, "You're a touch starved little thing, aren't you?"

"No," it came out a little harder than what you had intended it to, but he wasn't wrong, especially when he was the reason that you were so touch starved and basking in his affection.

Eris chuckled, seeing straight through you as always, as his hand ghosted down your spine whilst his other found your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, smirking as you wiggled on his lap, "Careful sweetheart, you have no idea how close I am to losing it," his voice was a rough whisper in your ear, he knew exactly what effect he had on you.

"I can't help it."

"I know, you have no idea the effect you have on me," his finger grazed down the earring that dangled against the curve of your jaw.

"Oh?"

Eris hummed, "One date, y/n. It's all I ask."

"Eris..."

His digits slipped between your thighs and he traced circles into the skin he found there, "Just one. Let me show you the life we can live together. Please?"

You weren't sure if it was his deep tone or his hands on your body that made your mind foggy, but he had convinced your head and heart to agree. Moving your head to meet his eye, you narrowed your own and pursed your lips, "Fine. One date. Make it worth my time, Vanserra."

Eris' whisky amber eyes glistened in the sunlight, "I think you forget how well I know you sweetheart. You're not a coffee date girl, or a movie date girl, you're not a hiker either. You're a dreamer, I see you all of the time looking at the stars, I see the heavens in your art, I see the sky in your eyes. I think I know the perfect way to make sure you never entertain anyone other than me."

The confidence he radiated made your thighs clench together, an act that didn't go unnoticed by him as his eyes darkened again with desire, he licked his lips, throwing his head back as you squirmed on his thighs again and did his best to suppress the moan bubbling in his throat.

"One chance, Vanserra. Make the most of it."

Eris straightened his posture and winked at you, letting his hands roam freely over your back and thighs, "One chance is all I need."

Authors Note

Just a short little drabble - I did a 13 hour shift today and your girl is TIRED.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #eris fluff #eris imagine #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vandaddy #cassian #nesta #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar oneshot #acotar drabble #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar modern au

[lyssasdrafts]

— FORMULA ONE RACER CASSIAN

cassian x reader smau, modern au, established relationship, azrides cameo because we love afterglow azriel (f1 cassian and motorcycle azriel are the best duo 👀👀)

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian au #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar au #acotar modern au #acotar fanfiction #acotar x you #acotar fanfic #cassian acotar #acotar cassian #bat boys x reader #bat boys x you #inner circle x reader #inner circle x you #night court #acotar smau #modern acotar #night court x reader #general cassian

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Three

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author’s Note: Hiii everyone. Here’s chapter three. I hope it makes sense. Things are beginning to occur. Let me know if you would like to be tagged!!

Masterlist

Three

Feyre got in the car.

There really didn’t seem to be another choice. Rhysand was staring at her through the crack in the window, an odd expression—possibly desperation—on his face. Cassian—Special Agent Claret—stood behind her, checking their surroundings with enough diligence that Feyre truly started to grow uneasy. Was she in danger?

What the hell was going on?

The car’s driver—Special Agent Azriel Lapis—introduced himself to Feyre after she settled into the back seat next to Rhysand. Azriel was “prettier” than both Rhysand and Cassian. In another life he could have been an actor or a poet. Feyre shook Azriel’s hand, stifling her alarm at the scars covering his surprisingly soft hands. Not because she didn’t want to touch them—but because the thought of what had caused them sent a shiver up her spine. What—or who—could possibly have done that to him?

Azriel gave her a swift nod, obviously not one to waste time on things as frivolous as words, before he exited the car in one smooth motion.

Leaving Feyre alone in the back with Rhysand.

The SAs outside took up positions in front of the windows, each facing away from the car, Cassian’s back to Rhys’s window, Azriel to Feyre’s.

“I’m sorry for . . all of this,” Rhysand began, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to do that a lot.

Feyre wasn’t complaining.

She shook her head. “Care to explain?”

Rhysand took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment before he sighed, the air rushing out of him in one swift exhale. Feyre was hardly familiar with Rhys’s expressions and mannerisms, but if forced to hazard a guess, she would say he looked ruffled.

And Rhysand didn’t seem like the type of man who was easily ruffled.

“Rhysand.”

“Please, call me Rhys,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw.

Feyre blinked. “Alright, Rhys,” she said, as he turned the full weight of his gaze upon her. Feyre grew suddenly aware of the state she was in—slightly sweaty, in a pair of old black leggings and an enormous grey and navy Prythian Law sweatshirt. She knew her hair was a wreck—stuck in the messy ponytail she had thrown it into after studying. No makeup.

She shook her head. It didn’t matter what she looked like, did it? Didn’t matter what Rhysand—Rhys—thought of her. She had a boyfriend, didn’t she? And she suspected that whatever Rhysand was about to tell her had nothing to do with the unspoken connection that had formed between them at the networking event. No, the creeping feeling in Feyre’s gut told her that after Rhys said his piece, nothing in her life would ever be the same.

Rhys sat up a little straighter. “As you know, I’m a federal prosecutor for the Eastern District of Erilea.”

“Yes. I do,” Feyre said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

Rhysand smirked, as if he could sense her irritation. “Right. I don’t think I mentioned that I specialize in white collar crime prosecution.”

“You didn’t.” Although Feyre had already discovered this thanks to the hours she had spent stalking Rhys’s LinkedIn page over the past week. She had paid particular attention to his profile picture.

Rhys swallowed. “For the past year, I’ve been investigating a particularly slippery local businessman.”

Feyre waited, one eyebrow raising as Rhys paused, his violet blue eyes watching her very closely.

Rhys continued. “This particular businessman has a sterling reputation. He’s incredibly successful, has excellent connections, and his company is only going to continue to prosper over the next decade at least.

“But I believe—no, I know—that everything he does, everything his company stands for, is a front for illegal activity."

Rhys looked at her, as if expecting some sort of reaction. Feyre pursed her lips.

Rhys continued. "But anytime I try to gather enough evidence to nail him for it, he slips through my fingers. Hours of surveillance, numerous informants, research. Everything I can think of, short of breaking the law myself.

“But I’ve never been able to prove that his business isn’t as innocuous as he would lead everyone to believe.”

Feyre’s brows creased, and she leaned forward. “I’m still waiting for the part where you tell me how this is relevant to me.”

Rhys sucked in a breath, his eyes straying from hers.

“Rhys?”

Rhys blew out the breath, and when he ran out of air, his eyes lifted to hers, pinning her in place.

“The company the businessman operates through is known as Spring Solutions.”

Feyre blinked.

Rhys continued. “And the businessman’s name is Tamlin Spring.”

Feyre began shaking her head, her hand scrabbling for the door handle behind her. “You’re crazy. Tamlin’s business is dedicated to protecting the environment. He travels all over the world advising large companies on how to comply with environmental regulations. And you’re telling me that somehow his business is a front for something … something criminal? You’re crazy,” Feyre said again, about to crack open the door and leave Rhys—and the FBI—far behind her.

Rhys winced. “Please. Just give me five minutes. I wouldn’t have orchestrated all of this if I didn’t truly believe in what I’m saying.”

Feyre hesitated, glancing out the window behind her. Azriel had shifted, now standing right in front of the door. If she tried to open it, she probably wouldn’t be able to get out anyway.

“Two minutes.”

Rhys nodded, launching into an explanation. “Spring Solutions does all of the things you just said. But we have reason to believe that Tamlin charges unusually high prices for his consultations. In return for those high prices, he does in fact bring companies into compliance with environmental laws and regulations… But not before he takes any evidence of their noncompliant material and dumps it somewhere--somewhere he's not supposed to."

Feyre blinked. Rhys was delusional. But still, she asked, “If you know all this, why don’t you just indict him?”

“Knowing something and being able to prove it in court are two entirely different things. You know that.”

Feyre merely raised an eyebrow. “So, you need evidence.”

Rhys gave her a weak smile. “Desperately.”

“So . . .” Feyre trailed off.

Rhys looked at her.

“No,” Feyre said slowly, giving Rhys an incredulous look. “No, no, no, and no.”

“Feyre. . .”

“We live together, Rhys. Tamlin is my boyfriend. You want me to turn on him? Become your confidential informant, or something?” Feyre bit the inside of her cheek when Rhys didn’t protest. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Rhys gave a swift nod.

“And how do you know I’m not complicit in all of this?” Feyre demanded.

Rhys rubbed his temples between two fingers. “We—uh. Well, not we. The FBI. Has been . . . Observing you.”

Feyre’s mouth fell open. “You had me tailed?”

Rhys winced again.

“I’m sorry, Feyre. I really am. But when his face flashed up on your phone screen at that networking event. . . I had to know. Had to learn more. And to answer your previous question, we know enough about Tamlin to be pretty certain that he plays things very close to the chest. After watching you this week, we had a feeling you were pretty clueless to the whole enterprise.”

Feyre folded her arms. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “You’re top 5% in your law school class, Feyre."

Feyre bristled when Rhys mentioned her class rank--that particular revelation revealing that he had clearly done his research on her.

Rhys continued. "Any complicity in any sort of criminal activity could prevent you from taking the Bar. Could land you in prison. And . . . I had a feeling about you.”

“You had a feeling?”

Rhys raised his hands. “You don’t get this far as a federal white collar crime prosecutor without learning to trust your gut. And something tells me you don’t know anything about Tamlin’s crimes.”

Feyre pursed her lips. She didn’t know, of course. She barely knew anything about the legal side of Tamlin’s business, much less the illegal side. If it did, in fact, exist.

“Of course I don’t know about anything,” Feyre hissed. “I have a career to think about.”

Rhys nodded. “Of course you do.”

Silence fell. Feyre began picking at the frayed material of the seat in front of her.

“Well?” Rhys finally said.

Feyre cleared her throat. “Well, what?”

“Will you do it?”

“Why do you care so much?”

When Rhys didn’t answer, Feyre inched closer to him. His eyes were unfocused, staring blankly out the front windshield, his jaw tight, brows creased.

“Rhys?”

“My sister used to work for Spring Solutions,” he said quietly.

“Used to?”

“She was around your age,” Rhys rasped. Feyre sucked in a breath at his choice of words. Was.

Rhys swallowed, his jaw tightening further. “She started working for Spring Solutions right out of college—as a low-level secretary. But Tamlin took a liking to her, and eventually, he promoted her to his personal assistant. Everything was fine, for a while. She was making great money, enjoyed her job, and seemed set up to only rise through the company’s rankings. Then, one Friday evening, she came rushing into our place, absolutely frantic. She shut herself in her room for two full days. Wouldn’t talk to me, to anyone. Came out the following Monday morning like nothing had happened, and announced that she was quitting her job.

“That was the last time I saw her alive.”

Feyre gasped.

“It took me weeks to begin to suspect—” Rhys’s voice cracked. He started again. “To suspect that the mugging-gone-wrong she had experienced in downtown Velaris wasn’t as random as the police concluded. It took me weeks to wonder if my sister had known something—something that Spring Solutions couldn’t afford to let her quit knowing. I thought I was going crazy—Cassian told me I was losing my mind. Dreaming up any possible reason that could possibly make her death make sense.”

Feyre couldn’t stop the hand that reached out, gripping Rhys’s forearm through his dark suit. “Rhys. . .”

“I read the last few pages of her diary eventually. And the things she wrote the day before she died. . . She suspected something. Somehow, she figured out what Tamlin was doing, on a very basic level. And she wrote it down.”

“But then, why don’t you just use the diary?” Feyre asked. “That must be enough to start some sort of investigation—something.”

Rhys shook his head. “The diary’s gone. A few days after I read it, someone broke into my apartment. Tore through my sister’s room, probably looking for any evidence that she might have left behind. So now, I have nothing but my own knowledge.”

Finally, he looked up at her. “And it’s eating me alive.”

Feyre drew her hand back. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll help. Say you’ll work as a confidential informant for the FBI. Help me.”

“I don’t know… I still don’t know whether to believe you.”

But Feyre had a sinking feeling that Rhys wasn’t lying. Or at least, that he believed he was telling the truth.

“We can offer you protection. Transportation. Immunity. A—a place to stay,” Rhys sputtered. “Whatever you need. Just please say you’ll consider it.”

Feyre perked up at Rhys’s words. “A place to stay?”

“Ye—” Rhys’s voice cracked again. “Yes.”

He really was desperate.

Feyre started speaking before she knew what she was going to say. “I’ve been planning on leaving Tamlin. But I can’t afford a place of my own without more loans. If you could help me with that. . . I might consider helping you. If I decide to believe you.”

Rhys nodded. “Maybe I’m full of shit. But looking couldn’t hurt. If you find nothing, if Tamlin really is the environmental philanthropist he holds himself out to be, then it’s no harm, no foul. And we’ll help you out with a place to stay either way.”

Feyre considered it. “Can I sleep on it?”

Rhys shook his head. “Absolutely.”

“Okay,” Feyre said. “I’ll think about it. How do I get in touch with you with my decision?”

“We’ll find you,” Rhys said. “How about we plan for a week from today?”

Feyre ignored this subtle hint that her actions would continue to be watched over the next week. Despite what Rhys had said, did he and the FBI still believe that there was any possibility she knew about Tamlin’s alleged crimes?

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Feyre turned to go, but Rhys spoke her name once more.

“Yes?” She asked, meeting Rhys’s eyes.

“I’m not sure how wise it would be to end your relationship with Tamlin without protection,” he said cautiously. “You might not know it yet, but he is a dangerous man, Feyre.” Feyre opened her mouth to retort, to accuse him of trying to turn her against him. But Rhys continued. “If you decide not to accept our help, please know that we--I--will still help you leave him if need be. In my line of work, I've seen and heard about too many of these types of things going horribly wrong. Promise me you'll seek out our help before doing anything drastic.”

Feyre swallowed. “I promise,” she said softly.

Feyre cracked open the door, Azriel whirling around to tug it open for her. Before she stepped out, she turned back to Rhys, his hands clasped between his knees in the spacious backseat, eyes shadowed, most likely with thoughts of his departed sister. “Rhys?” Feyre said softly.

He looked at her.

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

Rhys only nodded, and Feyre turned, letting Azriel shut the door behind her.

———

What was a girl to do when she was told her boyfriend was a high-profile, white collar criminal?

Feyre didn’t let herself process what had just happened to her until she was safely behind the walls of her apartment. Clothes off, blasting Norman Fucking Rockwell on shuffle over Tamlin’s apartment-wide speakers, and the shower water scalding against her back.

If what Rhys said was true . . .

Then not only was Tamlin breaking a slew of environmental regulations, and helping others cover up their own environmental crimes, but he was doing it under the guise of actually promoting sustainability. And the environmental pollution paled in comparison to Rhys’s suspicions that Tamlin—or at least, someone at his company—had orchestrated the death of Rhys’s sister. Then broken into Rhys’s apartment to destroy any evidence she may have left behind.

Feyre shivered, the water suddenly cold against her skin.

She shut off the water and threw on a robe, her hair dripping over the fabric as she made her way to Tamlin’s study.

Luckily, Tamlin wasn’t one of those people with security cameras inside his actual apartment. She slipped inside the room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She stood there for several long minutes, staring around the ultra-modern room. Sleek black desk, light wood floors. White walls with two minimalist white shelves on either side, meaningless knickknacks in neutral colors displayed atop them. Feyre knew Tamlin had hired a designer for this room—and obviously hadn’t cared to incorporate any personal touches. In fact, the lack of personal touch was a common theme throughout Tamlin’s apartment.

Feyre strode across the room, but bypassed Tamlin’s desk, instead aiming for the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that formed the far wall. She spent another few minutes staring out at the city beneath her, lights twinkling in the dark.

If she looked inside Tamlin’s desk . . . Logged onto his computer . . . What would she find?

Anything?

Nothing?

And if she did find something… If she somehow discovered that Tamlin was doing something at all similar to what Rhys suspected. . .

There would be no turning back.

Feyre was going to be a lawyer. They were not only bound by the law, but also a strict code of ethics. Any crime, big or small, had to be reported to the Bar before Feyre would even be allowed to sit for the exam that would allow her to become a practicing attorney. Remaining affiliated with Tamlin was a danger to the entirety of her career, and she hadn’t even started practicing yet.

But her career and the legal profession aside, there would be no turning back for another, much more important reason.

Feyre would never be able to live with herself if she sat back and allowed people like Rhys’s sister to lose their lives to cover up Tamlin’s crimes. Wouldn’t be able to look herself in the mirror if she turned a blind eye while Tamlin not only polluted the environment, but disposed of the people who tried to put a stop to it.

She turned swiftly on her heel, pulling out the black chair behind Tamlin’s desk and seating herself behind it. She knew all of Tamlin’s passwords—either he had nothing to hide or he never would have suspected Feyre would snoop.

Feyre clicked through all of Tamlin’s files. Nothing. Just a whole lot of numbers, client contact lists, invoice records.

She scrolled through his internet search history—completely wiped.

Then, she opened his emails.

Tamlin’s work email popped up first, and after scrolling through dozens of mind-numbingly boring exchanges between Tamlin and Lucien, Tamlin and his high profile clients, Tamlin and his assistant—Feyre thought of Rhys’s sister as she read through those—nothing.

Deciding she had done just about enough work for the night, Feyre clicked on the trash icon. Perhaps Tamlin had deleted some correspondence and forgotten to clear the trash.

Feyre blinked as a single email popped up, from the email [email protected]. Subject Line read: “new recommendation.”

Resort locations? Was Tamlin planning a vacation? Or investing in some sort of resort?

Feyre clicked on the email, and the only thing in the body of the email was a map. There were no labels on the map—it was just a green landscape with a trailing blue river cutting across the right corner of the page. A thin red circle was marked over a space next to the river.

Feyre pursed her lips. This could be nothing. To a judge, it would be nothing. But Tamlin hadn’t replied to this email—so why was it in the trash? Was it a random solicitation, from someone trying to pitch him an idea for building a resort somewhere?

Or was it a map to the next place Tamlin should dump the noncompliant materials that his clients relied on him to discreetly dispose of?

Feyre swallowed, then shut off the computer, being sure to log out of everything Tamlin hadn’t previously been logged into, erasing all traces of her presence from his computer.

Then she made sure that everything in the room was exactly as it had been when she entered, and trailed her way back through the apartment.

She needed more to go on—needed more than this vague suspicion that Rhys might be telling the truth.

But even if Rhys was wrong, it couldn't hurt to at least look into Tamlin's business dealings. Chances were she would find nothing. But whether she found anything or not. . . This could be her ticket out of her relationship with Tamlin. If Rhys and the FBI were somehow able to give her a place to stay. . .

Feyre shivered as she remembered Rhys's warning. He's a dangerous man, Feyre.

Would it really be so hard to extricate herself from her relationship?

Feyre shook her head, resolving to give herself a week to find something even potentially suspicious about her boyfriend's business.

But that would have to wait.

Because she had a date with a bottle of wine and her couch.

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

#acotar #feysand #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #acomaf #feyre archeron #rhysand #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #sjm #modern au #acotar modern au #fanfic

[dawneternal]

⊹ Gwyn x Azriel Modern college AU

⊹ Summary: Nesta has been trying to throw Azriel and Gwyn together for a while now. When a group project comes along, Nesta snags Az for their group so the pair are finally forced to interact.

To make matters more complicated, Gwyn accidentally sends the wrong document to the group, replacing the writing assignment with a smutty chapter of fanfiction.

Things only bloom from there, forcing Gwyn to either let down her walls or lose a friendship that has become important to her.

Prepare for fluff, angst, classic college tropes, and some cheesiness

⊹ Warnings: Gwyn struggles with social anxiety and PTSD. Talk of past hospitalizations due to mental health (no graphic details.) other characters have struggles with mental health. There will be talk of past trauma including assault. More warnings included before each chapter. <3

⊹ Word Count: 2.1k

⊹ AO3 Link

Gwyn was lost in her own world, silently tapping her foot to the song stuck in her head. She scribbled in the corner of her notebook with sweater sleeves pulled up over her chilly fingers. Nesta would let her know if she missed anything important. 

So she let the classroom fade into nothing as she thought of lines for her next fanfiction chapter. Fanfiction for Vow of Roses, her favorite half-fantasy, half-romance book series. Writing the next chapter would be her reward for surviving another week of school. Now she was just biding time until she could get back to her room and dissolve into a word document. 

Nesta gave Gwyn a gentle nudge just as the professor announced, “You’ll complete this next assignment in groups of four. If you really can’t manage to get into groups yourself, I’ll mediate. But at least try, first.” 

The moment the sentence had ended, Nesta turned and waved her hand. 

“Az!” She shouted, ignoring the disappointed sigh of a girl seated behind them. Azriel flashed Nesta a smile. 

Gwyn’s stomach sank as her mind struggled to return to reality. This was the boy Nesta was determined to set her up with. The boy that every other girl in the class seemed to be competing for. When Nesta straightened in her seat and caught Gwyn’s incredulous look, she only raised her eyebrows and shrugged. 

“What?” Nesta tossed her braid over her shoulder, “We don’t know anyone else in this class.”

The room was full of murmurs and shuffling as the class split up into groups. Azriel took the seat across from Nesta, gently setting his stack of books on the table. Gwyn dared to take a peak at him as he was busy searching his backpack for something or other. 

He was gorgeous, as always, only adding to her churning anxiety. 

His inky black hair was messy, forming perfect curls by his ears and neck. He had a variety of tattoos scattered over his tan skin, interspersed with freckles. And his eyes were, of course, beautiful. Glowing amber even in the gross classroom lighting, framed with long dark lashes. The earrings he wore caught the light and glittered, almost matching the flecks of gold that ringed his pupils.

Gwyn turned her gaze away before he could catch her looking.

He finally gave up his search, leaning forward to ask Nesta something, but he was interrupted by textbooks slamming down on the empty corner of the table. 

“No one else wants me,” A boy named Connor announced with a grin, slumping down in the last empty chair. 

Gwyn did not know him well, only enough to guess that she’d prefer just about anyone else to join this project. Including one of the girls who was constantly vying for Azriel's favor. Azriel didn’t look too happy about the prospect of Connor either, mouth spreading into a thin line. Nesta scowled, her eyes gleaming with a promise of cruelty. 

“No strays? Perfect,” The Professor proclaimed, and launched into the details of the group project. Solidifying their fate.

Gwyn only half-listened, distracted this time by anxiety and not daydreams. She did not know Azriel very well, either. He was Nesta’s friend, chosen-brother to her boytoy Cassian. 

He seemed nice enough, but social anxiety does not often seem to care about the niceness of people. He was still a stranger, and now he was in her space with his dizzying smell without proper time for her to adjust.

And as for Connor, he was a wildcard. He was the sort of unpredictable that was a nightmare for her anxiety. He could be decent one minute and make a disgusting misogynistic joke the next. Or decide to throw something at you as a “prank.” He also seemed desperate for any scrap of attention from any girl in the class and determined to get it in the most obnoxious ways possible.

This was a lot to handle in a short amount of time. Gwyn had her books shoved into her backpack before the class was dismissed, ready to bolt the second the big hand hit 3:30. As the professor recapped important information, Gwyn breezed out the door. She was out of the classroom before Nesta could stop her and tucked into the alcove by the water fountain before the stream of students could overtake her. Luckily, Connor did not pursue her. 

The hallway had mostly cleared by the time Nesta made her way to Gwyn, Azriel following behind her. Gwyn had not realized how tall he was. Nesta was on the shorter side, but Azriel towered over her.

“You good?” Nesta asked, eyebrows raised high. She recognized the signs of panic, but she would not say so in front of Azriel.

Gwyn nodded, wondering how silly she looked just then, hood up and knees to her chest. It had been a while since her anxiety had been triggered like that, but it was her own fault for letting her mind drift so far. If she’d looked at the syllabus and not her doodles, she would’ve been prepared. Maybe they could've scoped their fourth group member ahead of time.

“Good,” Nesta declared, “Because we’re getting ice cream. Come with us? Group project bonding time.” 

Gwyn’s gaze shifted to Azriel and she found that he was watching her, waiting for an answer. He gave her a soft smile that soothed her nerves just a touch. 

“I can’t,” She said, though she returned Azriel’s smile, “I have a couple of things to finish up before dinner. Text me the project details?” 

“Fine,” Nesta sighed, “But you’re coming next time.” 

Gwyn watched them go, chest tightening with the feeling of missing out. But she wasn’t up to it, today. She shook the self-deprecating thoughts from her head and hauled herself up from the ground. She went back to that song that had been stuck in her head, humming it aloud to block out the torrent of ‘just try harder’ as she began the trudge back to her dorm room. 

This was better than ice cream. Layered under fuzzy blankets, lights dimmed and some angry rock song blaring in her headphones. Gwyn shifted her focus back and forth between her latest fanfiction chapter and the assignment for the group project. On one tab of her computer she had pulled up moodboards and fan art for writing inspiration. A volume of Vow of Roses lay on her desk, pages full of underlines and sticky notes open for reference.

As for the project, she still did not like the group aspect but the writing was easy. She’d have it finished up and sent off in a little while and then she didn’t have to think about it for the rest of the weekend. The fanfiction flowed even easier, scenes and similes appearing on the page and erasing every qualm from the day.

Emerie, her roommate, lay in her own bed across the room, singing to the theme-song of her show in increasingly goofy voices.

“Hey!” She shouted, loud enough to be sure Gwyn could hear it through her music.

“What?” Gwyn lifted one ear of her headphones. 

“Hurry up with that chapter, I want to read it before my shower,” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. 

“You’re gross,” Gwyn laughed, swooping to pick up a dirty sock from the floor and toss it at her roommate's bed.

“You’re the one who writes it,” Emerie scoffed, flicking the sock off her bed. She pressed play on her laptop and continued singing along. 

Gwyn returned to her document, putting the finishing touches on the ending paragraph. Emerie was also a huge Vow of Roses fan, as was Nesta. But neither had managed to uncover Gwyn's secret blog yet, so they impatiently waited for updates via email.

Pleased with herself, Gwyn attached the file to the waiting email draft and pressed send.

“Just sent it,” Gwyn called. Emerie squealed and jumped from the bed, grabbing her phone and shower caddy. 

“See you later,” She sang, throwing a towel over her shoulder and heading for the showers. 

Not too long later, Gwyn was half-asleep watching a period drama on her computer, box of goldfish in her lap. She was done being productive for the day and ready to let her brain turn into mush. Maybe she'd even skip dinner and just eat snacks here in bed.

Then her phone rang, pulling her from her stupor. Nesta's contact photo popped up on the screen.

“Hello?” She sang into the phone, reaching into the box for another handful of crackers. 

“Hey babe, you sent the group the wrong file,” Nesta said the words in a rush.

“What?” Goldfish crackers scattered to the floor. 

“Yeah, you sent us the smut you wrote,” Nesta sighed, like it pained her to say it. Like she knew what it would mean to Gwyn. 

Shit. Fuck.

“No,” Gwyn whined, rushing to open her email and pull up her recently sent messages. 

Sure enough, Emerie had received the writing assignment, and the group had received her newly finished chapter. Complete with the subject line ‘here you go, pervert.’

“I’m going to die,” Gwyn whispered into the phone. 

“You can unsend it, right? That’s a feature they have now?” 

“In like, the first 30 seconds after you sent it,” Gwyn wailed, “I have to say something and apologize. This is so embarrassing.” 

“I'm sorry sweetheart. Connor may be a dick, but I know Azriel would never use it to tease you.”

“You're sure?” Gwyn chewed her lip and pressed her hand to her warm face. She already struggled to act normal in front of Azriel, between Nesta's schemes and his unearthly beauty. He did not need another reason to think she was strange.

“I'm sure. And if he does I'll kick his ass and so will his brothers.”

Then, Gwyn heard a stifled giggle through the phone. 

“Nesta, don't laugh!” She cried.

“I mean, it was really good smut at least,” Nesta soothed. 

“Goodbye,” Gwyn growled and hung up. Which was maybe too harsh, but she’d worry about it later. Nesta was not easily perturbed, anyways. Or she'd be too busy laughing to care. 

“This sucks this sucks this sucks,” Gwyn muttered, burying her head in the pile of fuzzy blankets. 

In her experience, there weren’t many people out there who understood what writing meant to her. In the past few years, it had become more than a pastime. It was a tool she utilized to ease her brain through a very painful healing process. It was catharsis. Even the smut was a part of that.

And she had just sent that chapter to two people who were among the least likely to get it. Or the least likely for her to ever share those vulnerable thoughts with. 

They would just tease her, probably. That would be all. But she was not ready to be teased. It was still too painful, like salt in fresh wounds. Not to mention that teasing was the enemy of her social anxiety. It never failed to rid her brain of all common sense. And when embarrassment guided her actions, she always did something stupid.

“Hey,” Emerie laughed as she entered their shared room, hair damp from the shower, “That was definitely not spicy. What happened?” 

She took in Gwyn’s miserable face and teary eyes and dropped her things to rush forward. “Oh no, honey, what’s wrong?” 

Gwyn explained her mistake, and Emerie listened intently. She held Gwyn’s head in her lap and fed her goldfish crackers as she cried. Emerie knew the depth of her struggles, some of which they had in common. She brushed strands of copper hair from her face and diligently watched episodes of the favored period drama until her friend felt a little better. 

“Azriel is the boy that Nesta’s been throwing at you?” Emerie asked, after a long silence. Gwyn hummed an affirmation. 

“He’s pretty,” Emerie said. Cautiously. 

“Suspiciously pretty,” Gwyn answered. Her opposition to Nesta’s set up was not so much about his looks, but her own apprehension towards strangers. And the burden of her mental health, bound to ruin any relationship. There were already too many burned bridges in her past. 

But also, Azriel was ethereally beautiful. There had to be a secret underneath it. 

“He could be the exception,” Emerie said, her voice soft. But Gwyn ignored it.

“I think I'd rather have sent that email to my parents by accident,” She grumbled. Emerie chuckled and shook her head, wisely saying nothing more about the beautiful hazel-eyed boy.

Before they went to sleep, Emerie typed a message to the group on Gwyn's behalf, apologizing and imploring them not to open the document if they hadn't already. The sting had eased up some, but Gwyn was still not looking forward to the consequences of this mistake. The thought of Azriel reading any number of the salacious lines she'd written had her blushing all over again. 

#gwyn #gwyn acotar #gwyneth berdara #gwyn berdara #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #azriel spymaster #gwyneth berdara fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel fanfiction #acotar au #modern acotar #acotar modern au #modern azriel #modern gwyn #a court of thorns and roses #nessian #feysand #emerie acotar

[acotars]

I always forget how beautiful she is...

modern!emorie for @morweekofficial

#acotaredit #acosfedit #litedit #nalitedit #romanceedit #romancelitedit #acotar #acosf #emerie #mor #emorie #morrigan #modern au #acotar modern au #mor week 2023 #had to chime in for my favorite wlws #edits* #all #wlwedit

[starcrossedreaders]

One More Time

Azriel x Reader

Warning: There is mature topics at the end (masturbation) as well as fighting

Authors note: Thank you sm for all of the support on the first part of Cold Kiss. So to heal your guy’s desires I wrote a part two. Enjoy <3

Part I

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

“YOU GUYS DID WHAT!” Mor could not believe the words coming out of my mouth, and I could not believe how loud she was being.

“Shut up Mor it was one kiss. One very long, and hot, and-,” 

“SEE! It’s so perfect I can literally see it right now, you guys dating is literally to good,” I rubbed my temples and wondered how the fuck I was back in the loud and cold stadium, watching this aggressive ass sport in the uncomfy seats. Except this time was worse, we were closer to the ice and my book was left at home, on my comfy bed, my ideal location in this very moment.

Both teams were warming up and I could not have been drooling anymore then I was in that moment. Their asses were formed by a god, their muscles, and flexibility, lord have mercy.  Their stretches made my mind wonder into places it should not go to. If they looked that good on the ice how good would they look in bed? 

                                                           Azriel

Gods she could not have looked anymore beautiful then she did in the moment. Her hair was braided perfectly, her leggings hugged her legs just right, her lips parted to talk to Mor and all I could think of was last week. Her cherry ChapStick clashing with my lips, gods they were so soft. I can only imagine how her mouth would feel in other places. 

“She is easy on the eye ain’t she,” The captain of the other team sild right next to me and leaned his arm on my shoulder. Before I could open my mouth to fight back the buzzer rang and everyone was heading back to the locker rooms.

“Good luck lover boy,” The captain winked as he skated off. His ass was mine, and I sure as hell don’t care if it caused our loss.

Cassian must’ve over heard the conversation because he grabbed my shoulder while I was seething.

“Come on, we have a whole game to beat his ass. Save it for the right time.” I shook my head as we headed into the locker room.

The game was down by 2 and we were truly racing the clock. The captain was getting on my nerves and I am getting ready to blow. He tripped, and held and didn’t get called for any of it. I skate up to the middle to get the puck drop. Crouching low the time goes, whistles blow, puck drops and before I could slide the puck I heard his nasally ass voice.

“I wonder what noise she’ll make when I make her cum tonight?”

Fuck no.

I throw my gloves and helmet on the ground and try to grab him in a choke hold.

“Come on bro, you fight like a girl. How are you supposed to pull them when you fight like them?” I skated back only to launch myself towards him and tackle him by the waist. I got a good few punches in before I was dragged off.

“Be careful how you speak about her.” Venom dripped from my words as I skated towards the penalty box.

                                                        Reader

Fuck that was hot. But holy shit I hope he’s okay. I was quick to stand when the fight broke out, hoping Az didn’t go far. Once I sat back down Mor began to speak.

“I wonder what caused him to fight. Normally it’s Cassian throwing the punches and Azriel  stopping him,” Mor sipped the drink in her hand.

The game seemed to end shortly after, Mor and I stood near the locker room waiting for them to emerge.  Soon, we heard the shuffle of steps and the door opened. The team was silent. Tonight’s loss was a big one, and I could only imagine how they feel. Their biggest competitor that they should have had an easy win on, and they fumbled and lost it. Rhysand and Cassian slightly smiled upon seeing their significant others. Mor leaned over to whisper in my ear, “Poor girls are going to have a long, long night tonight.” I turn to ask her but all she does is poke the side of her cheek and I quickly understood. Oh, I could feel the blush rush to my ears as I think about the night ahead of them.

Leaving the event stadium everyone went their separate ways. I finish hugging Nesta when someone tapped me on my shoulder. I was quick to whip my head around, I was soon met with whom I assumed was the captain of the other team.

“Hey, sweets,” his sad attempt at flattery failed immensely and it gave me second hand embarrassment.

“Hi,” short and sweet, works every time.

“So, I saw you at the game tonight and you made me instantly lose my breath. Soo, I was wondering if you were busy tonight? Maybe we can go out for a drink or two?” I batted my eyelashes as he fixed his posture to make him seem confident.

“This late at night? I shouldn’t really, I have work in the morning,” The lie slipped through my teeth. I truly wanted to make him work for it only to trip him in the end.

“Oh come on, it’s all for fun. You know I think we would really hit it off,” Who the fuck says that when first meeting someone? This poor poor soul. I let out a sigh as I said: “Boy if you want to go I would not mind,”

He smirks as he hands me his phone. “It’s a date then,” I put my number in his phone leaving it one digit off.

                                                          Azriel

Gods I was seething at the sight. There is no way she could have forgotten about the kiss, let alone allow this guy to even try to get into her pants after what he did tonight. One moment she was worried for me an the next she’s giving him her number. 

After she handed his phone he smirked at me and dipped down to kiss her. I am seeing red, there is no way he was going to taint her lips. I start my stride towards them when I stopped at the next sight. Right before his lips touched hers, a breath away she pushed his head to the side.

“Boy I’m not the kinda drum you play one time.” She laughs at his frazzled state and goes to walk off.

“You know my mother couldn’t warn me about girls like you when there was none like you around,” Y/N snorts before he grabbed her wrist. Her tough girl demeanor fell real quick when she realized what had just grabbed her.

                                                         Reader

Regret, regret and horror and fear filled my body. His grip around my wrist tighten as he pulled me near him. Before he could get his other hand on my body a large body filled the space to my left. His cedar and sweat scent filled my nose. His large hand wrapped around the captain’s wrist and Az gave him a soul crushing look. Az was quick to push me behind before his arm went through the air and slammed into the captains cheek.  Not this shit again. 

The hit Az got seemed to do the job as the poor boy was tumbling, while holding his gushing nose. Azriel went for another hit but I was quick to grab his elbow before he could.

“I think he gets the message, lets go,” I rub his arm with my thumb as I try to pull him away. Az let out a breath as he followed me to his car.

                                                           Azriel

“Thanks for being my knight in shining armor,” She let out the most precious laugh I have ever heard, I think my heart might melt right here.

“It’s not funny,” I was quick to turn my head so she couldn’t see me blushing. Her hand on my arm was sending tingles down my spine.

“Az I mean it, I didn’t realize how fucked I would have been if he did something else, so truly thank you, I owe you one,”  She gave my arm one last squeeze before she stepped back, crossed her arms and winked. Natural flirt.

Fuck, I did not believe Mor when she told us about her “innocent” roommate that could make a man go onto his knees. The way Mor had described her did not do her any justice. Her face was the pretties thing, her body is to make a man die for, her personality was heart warming. It made me want to get to know her more. I truly believed she was this innocent girl who has to read to get her fill of romance, and.... other things. Gods the thought of the other things is making my cock strain against my sweats. Thank god it is dark out.

“Are you okay?”  I gave her nod. She must’ve seen the strain on my face or else she would not have asked if I was okay in that  euphoric voice. I can’t stop the thinking of how her voice would sound when I-

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just peachy. Just tired. Let me walk you to your car.” Her tight lipped smile and slight nod gave me a pinch of regret. 

The walk to her car was short and sweet, bidding our farewells was even shorter. Now that I lay in my bed all I could think about is she would fell around me. The moans from Nesta and Cassian with the mix of thoughts about her only heightened my cock. I chased my release using only my imagination and hand.

Part III

#azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar modern au #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #modern azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel spymaster #azriel supremacy

[the-new-ribbon]

I've Been Loving You For Quite Some Time (and it's about time we do something about it)

synopsis: Gwyn Berdara and Azriel Night have been friends since their senior year of college. Years later they find themselves both working at Moonlight University. They've strictly stuck to being friends, but when they travel to Nesta and Cassian’s elopement, the last thing they ever expected was to wind up drunk and standing at the altar of a drive-thru wedding chapel.

word count: 1664

read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54767785

or below the cut.

Gwyn

The smell of luggage and coffee filled the Velaris airport. The chiming of the arrival and departure boards were white noise for Gwyn as she sat at Gate 30 with her nose in the latest Sellyn Drake novel. She knows she should be grading the essays for her Romantic Literature class, but she’s on vacation for the weekend and her best friend is getting married. The grades can wait.

Plus there’s Azriel sitting next to her and she knows she won’t be able to get any grading done with him there. His black button up shirt hugs his arms perfectly, the swirls of ink drawn on his arms and chest, even slightly on his neck drive her crazy. Especially when the whole ensemble is paired with those glasses. Round silver frames, rounder than glasses lots of other people in Velaris have. And they’re a thousand times sexier.

Flight 1456 with service to Adriata will be boarding in ten minutes. Again, Flight 1456 with service to Adriata will be boarding in ten minutes.

With that announcement, Gwyn tucks her bookmark (a white ribbon) into the spine of her book, luckily she just finished a chapter so it was the perfect stopping point. Though it wasn’t exactly like she was comprehending what she was reading, the thoughts of Azriel flooded her brain like a hurricane in the Summer Court side of Prythian.

“Az,” she whispers to the handsome man, one of her best friends, the best man in Nesta and Cassian’s wedding, and her crush. “You’re saving me a seat right?”

Unfortunately, Gwyn was in the middle of teaching about Pride and Prejudice and didn’t check into her flight soon enough and got stuck in the C boarding class while Az was in the A boarding class. And there’s a chance they won’t be sitting next to each other, even if Az tried to save her a seat.

Azriel looks up, “Actually, I upgraded both our tickets to first class.” he tells her, a small smile forming on his lips. “I thought it would be nice if we could sit together. Plus they have really good snacks.”

The flight was only a few hours but to see Azriel put in work to make sure she would be comfortable, it meant more to her than he would ever know. Warmth spreads across Gwyn’s face and she notices it on Azriel’s face too. Gwyn knows they’re just friends, but she also knows she has a giant crush on Az too. Could Az have a crush on her too?

No, no, why would he have a crush on her? There’s no reason or evidence that he would feel that way, at 

“You didn’t have to do that, Az. I would have been okay sitting by myself.” 

“Okay, that’s the key word, Berdara. You wouldn’t have been okay. Not only would you have gotten a middle seat, there would have been strange men on either side of you. Now, you get your own seat, fancy coffee, and a nice view.” of me, was something he chose not to say but Gwyn knew he was thinking it, she saw the glimmer in his eyes. It was always there when he said something that could be perceived as flirty. She also pretends not to notice the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. 

He takes a moment to push the glasses up his nose. The rings on his fingers glisten in the sunshine peeking through the floor to ceiling windows. She notices his throat bob as he swallows and he clears his throat when he turns to face her.

Did he catch her staring? But there’s no time to think about it because another chime rings through the gate drawing everyone’s attention.

Any first class passengers flying to Adriata, please line up at the desk, you’ll be boarding in just a moment.

“Alright, ready Berdara?” 

Azriel’s scarred hand slides across Gwyn’s back, goosebumps and sparks shoot across her body.  “Yeah, yeah.”

The weight of her teal bag weighs her shoulder down, a slight pain shooting down her arm. Azriel must have been able to tell because his ring covered fingers attached to those tattooed hands Gwyn stares at too much (though she’d never admit it outloud) reach out and grab the bag off her shoulder.

“Az, I can carry my bag.” Gwyn says, reaching to grab her bag away from him. “You already have yours, you don’t need to carry mine.”

“Gwyneth, let me be a gentleman and carry your bag. I know you have at least five books in there, plus all your clothes and toiletries.” there really wasn’t a reason to pack a huge suitcase for a two day trip, Gwyn thought, but now there’s a small tinge of regret bubbling in her chest.

Sparks fly in her chest at him saying her full name. She often hates when people call her Gwyneth, but there’s something about Azriel saying her name that makes butterflies take flight in her stomach and turns her knees wobbly. He also knows her way too well. She did in fact have five books in her bag. Though there was no way she would be able to read them all over the weekend, she liked that there was a variety in case she didn’t know what mood she’d be in – therefore affecting the genre or tropes she’ll want to read. 

“Azriel,” she says, mimicking the tone Az used just moments ago. “If I give you this, can I buy you a drink when we get to Adriata?”

There’s a spark in Azriel’s eye as he looks down at her, she crosses her arms over her chest, not backing down. She may not know it yet, but Azriel Singer would do anything for Gwyneth Berdara.

“Deal.” He holds out his right hand, waiting for her hand to grab his. A challenging look spreads across his face.

Gwyn’s hand slides into Az’s, and they try to ignore the glowing string they both feel, unaware the other feels it too.

She slides the bag off her shoulder, handing it over to him. The swirls of black ink poke out from the cuffs of his shirt. 

“Thank you,” she tells him. 

“Next!” the gate director says through the overhead speaker. Gwyn jumps and Az softly laughs as he places a hand on her lower back, and she leans in closer to him.

It’s romantic. Two friends in such close proximity, bodies brushing against one another and the warmth of Azriel’s hand on Gwyneth’s back. She wonders what the people around them are thinking. 

There’s a higher chance they’re minding their own business, the stress of a flight taking over their thoughts, and not the actions of two strangers in an airport on a Friday afternoon. But as Gwyn looks around as Azriel scans their tickets, she sees a few people looking at them.

Could it really be possible that they look like a couple to the outside world? Not just the imaginary life that constantly plays in Gwyn’s head.

The first class cabin has light blue, almost teal, lights illuminating the floor from under the seats which are separated by a small wall. Not like she would say it out loud or make any expression, but a small bit of disappointment hit her. What if she wanted to hold Az’s hand? There isn’t that option anymore. 

At least the flight was only a few hours.

*~~~*

Azriel

Azriel tapped a small beat on the table in front of him. He could have been grading assignments for his computer science and security courses but like Gwyn, he’s now on vacation and could torture his students a little while longer by making them wait for their grades. He was not nearly as fun as Professor Gwyneth Berdara. Or as beautiful, or as smart.

Looking over the barrier, Azriel caught a glimpse of Gwyn with her nose stuck in the bodice ripper of a novel, the latest of award-winning Sellyn Drake.

The smile on her face is small enough that others around her might not notice but he does. He notices the way her cheek bones are slightly raised and notices the light pink on her cheeks.

What are you reading, Gwyneth?

He thought about taking the book from her and reading it. He knows plenty of things about Gwyn but taking this book would give him insight on what she likes, ways to help him show her he has feelings for her. This could be what is needed to get her to fall in love with me, Az thinks.

“Hey Gwyn,” he whispers once.

No response.

“Gwyn,” he says again.

Once again, no response.

“Gwyneth.”

“Azriel, if you don’t stop saying my name, I’m going to hit you with this book.” Gwyn’s eyes don’t leave the pages of her book. 

“Can I have one of your books to read, please?” 

That gets Gwyn’s attention. The book closes, nothing marking the page or spot where she stopped reading. “You want to read one of my books? I didn’t think a broody, mysterious man like yourself would be interested in romance books.’’

“Today I am looking to broaden my horizons when it comes to reading. And you are one of my very best friends so I know I can trust you.”

Azriel trusts her with more than just books. He trusts her with everything, and one day he hopes that she’ll accept his heart because she’s the only one he trusts enough to give it to.

“Sure.” She reaches down to her bag and grabs one of her books. Their fingers brush as he grabs the book and he feels his stomach drop. “I’ve read this one before so there’s some annotations and post-its in it in case I ever want to go back and reread some of my favorite scenes. Feel free to ignore them.”

Her favorite scenes are highlighted. This is perfect. 

Operation: It’s Time We Do Something About Our Love begins now.

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel supremacy #pro gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #acotar modern au #acotar #au gwynriel #acotar fanfiction #i've been loving you for quite some time #it's here!!!!

[shakespearseclipse]

No one has to know what we do

Summary: Kinda just a prologue, there is not a lot happening, basically reader is Azriels sister and its a modern!au

A/N: Hi guys! My first acotar fanfic wow! I just NEEDED to write for our Highlord. There are not nearly enough fanfics about him and Im so seriously in love with him its not healthy. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated!

Anyone interested in me posting a part 2?

Being Azriel's slightly younger sister, you were not a stranger to his two best friends, well, they were more like brothers really. Cassian and you had always had a sibling-like relationship, but it has always been different between Rhys and you.

When all four of you were children, you would steal both Azriels and Cassians things without even thinking about asking them. When you wanted to borrow something from Rhys, however, you would put on your cutest face, eyes wide, lips slightly curved into a smile, and ask him nicely.



When the four of you were growing up, your three former best friends and you drifted apart slightly. You quickly found your own friends and didn't spend much time with the trio. But the separation did nothing to end your little crush. Quite the opposite happened, whenever you would see Rhys, you would become overly nervous and giggle.

The year you turned eightteen and the boys turned nineteen was horrible for your relationship with Azriel. It was the year you brought home your first official boyfriend. You had given up on your stupid fantasy of Rhys falling for you and decided to move on. Your parents weren't overly interested in your boyfriend and you were stupid enough to think that your brother wouldn't either.



One evening, not long after introducing him to your parents, thinking you were home alone, you invited your boyfriend, Tamlin, over. At first, everything seemed to be going well. The two of you ending up on the couch with him on top of you, kissing slowly.

"I still don't get how exactly you managed to tear down the building at the lake, Cass, but-"

Rhys deep voice was silented pretty quickly, when the trio entered the living room, taking in the scene before them, all of them seemingly in a trance. Their expression of utter shock would have been funny, had you not been in a compromising position underneath your boyfriend. You quickly pushed him off, standing up and clearing your throat.

"Hi", you croaked out.

"Hi? Hi? That's what you say after I find you with his tongue down your throat?", Azriel practically spat out, trying and horribly failing to stay calm.

"I think it's best if you leave", you quietly said to Tamlin, trying to get him out before your brother would do something he'd regret.

"Why should I leave? I'm not scared of your brother."

Idiot. Stupid Idiot with a death wish.

Before Azriel could react to the most stupid thing anyone has ever said, Rhysand stepped forward, radiating just as much rage as Az, but seemingly keeping it concealed beneath calm exterior.

"Maybe you should be. If you think you'll win this fight, be my guest. I won't be the one wearing a body cast.", he casually shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips as he imagined your boyfriend in a cast.

Apparently, Tamlin wasn't as fearless as he claimed to be. He swallowed heavily before looking to the floor and leaving without another glance in your direction.

The second Tamlin had left the room, three pairs of eyes strayed to you.

"Since when do you have a boyfriend?", Cassian asked in as nice a tone as he could manage. He didn't exactly love the image of you making out with someone, but he did wish to ease the horrible tension which had befallen the room.

Clearing your throat, you answered: "I've known him a few weeks now."

"Who cares? Why are you going around kissing people? When I was your age-", Azriel started

"Oh please, when you were my age you practically banged the whole neighborhood.", you said, getting slightly agitated with your older brother. The hypocrisy!

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other things to do."

You could feel three disbelieving stares on your back as you left the room. Just before closing your bedroom door, you could hear Cassians booming laughter.



"Oh she's definitely going to be a lot of trouble for you, Az. When did she become so feisty?", Cassian managed to get out before continuing to laugh.

"Shut up."

Rhysand stayed silent. His mind was jumping back and forth between being pissed about you kissing someone else and the way you just left the three of them standing there afterwards.

"You both have to promise me something.", Az said slowly.

Cassian had managed to stop laughing by then and both Rhys and him were looking at their brother with a question in their eyes.

"No matter what fucking happens, neither of you can ever start anything with my sister"

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #acotar fic #modern!au #acotar modern au

[acotrash]

Temporary tattoos - Cassian

Feyre and Rhys had Nyx young- like really young. You had only been with Cassian for a few months but had grown close to Feyre and you and Cassian and Azriel and Rhys were there to support her through it all. That was 5 years ago.

All of you had grown to be a little family of sorts, figuring everything out day by day. 

You and Cassian were known as the fun aunt and uncle to Nyx as he loved it when you and Cassian got to babysit him

Azriel was the only level headed one most days, calming down both Rhys and Feyre, that “yes that is normal, no you shouldn’t worry”, or the occasional “okay...that that is not normal I’d take him to the doctors” but luckily that only has happened twice. 

 Rhys and Feyre spoil Nyx to no end, as you constantly trip over new toys whenever you visit their townhouse 

You were always thinking of fun new things to do with Nyx, mainly to see Rhys’s reaction. That was the fun part of it all 

Like last time, when Rhys had planned some overnight trip with Feyre and Azriel was on a work trip and you and Cassian had to watch Nyx overnight. You stood there, listening to Rhys lecture about Nyx’s routine, Feyre had stood next to him, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at some of them, practically giving you the okay to break them You had broke every single rule the second Rhys’s car pulled out of the driveway

You had found some old hair chalk when cleaning your bathroom the day before, streaking Nyx’s hair with blue and green, before Rhys came to pick him up. Nyx absolutely loved his new hair style. Rhys not so much

So this time, when Rhys had asked you and Cassian to watch his son, he added a new rule “No hair chalk” since apparently it was a pain to get out, and got in his eyes when Feyre was washing his hair. You felt bad, and did agree to no hair chalk

You still allowed him to have a single piece of candy though. You had to stay the favorite aunt somehow, till he realizes how cool Nesta or Mor is

This time, you and Cassian took Nyx while you had to run some errands, the first stop being a store 

You were about to text Feyre to ask her if Nyx was allowed to have whatever sugary juice he currently had in his hand when he saw a package containing temporary tattoos, he picked up a package to ask Cassian if he could look like Cassian, his dad and Uncle Azzy 

Cassian immediately said yes when Nyx held the package out to him, already making plans to have matching ones with his nephew. You bought two packs because you didn’t want to be left out 

Cassian used the entire two packs on Nyx, putting them all over his arms

You, Cassian and Nyx had a spiderweb on the back of your hand to all match 

There was even a little heart with ‘Mom’ written in it that Cassian placed on Nyx’s bicep 

Nyx could not wait to show his mom and dad in a few hours when they picked him up 

You couldn’t wait to see Rhys’s reaction, having taken some pictures of all three of you with tattoos, Nyx sat between you and Cassian proudly holding up his hand to show off the matching tattoo 

Rhys’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at seeing his son, you and Cassian just smiled innocently at him, but Feyre thought it was hysterical 

Her favorite one was the heart with ‘Mom’ in it 

Eventually Rhys did calm down, his heart melted a bit when Nyx proudly said he looked like his dad and two uncles now 

The three of them left a little while later with Nyx proudly telling his parents he was never taking a bath again so his temporary tattoos could stay on forever. Rhys shot you and Cassian another look. Cassian and Feyre were trying to not laugh 

You turned to Cassian once they left “How much do you wanna bet next time Rhys drops Nyx off he adds ‘no temporary tattoos’ to the list?” “Oh 100%” 

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #a court of thorns and roses headcanon #acotar headcanon #acotar modern au #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x you #nyx acotar

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 4)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,556

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Notes: This story is so healing to me 😌

_________________________________________

A deep thrumming rattling the walls shakes you from your sleep. It vibrates through your chest, the ardent bass and pounding drums reverberating in your bones. The timber of the singer’s words swims in your head, throat and low, and you’re unable to pluck the words and make sense of them this early in the morning.

You blink once. Twice. Your eyelids feel like sandpaper and your head is stuffed with tiredness, a sharp pain settled behind your eyes despite the darkness of your room.

Night licks the walls, and you groan, rolling over. Shoving your pillow over your head, it does little to block the disruption coming from the other side of the wall. You don't know what time it is. If it is still night, it’s either too early, or too late.

Which means that the sounds on the other side of the wall have to be one of those rowdy boys.

After moving the vehicle when ‘Azzy’—as the final boy so lovingly said it—had finally moved that death-trap of a ride, you were beginning to think that things were starting to finally look up for the rest of your first night in your apartment. He had been gone and his roommates’ party seemed to be winding down, if the three giggling, drunk girls on the elevator ride down were any sign. They’d been gushing about one of the roommates, Cassian, she’d said. Some of her brunette hair was disheveled in her ponytail, as if someone had tried to run their fingers through their hair, or had wrapped said hairstyle around their fist. Gag.

“He kept calling me baby,” she gushed to her friends, who were both squealing with excitement. You could hardly contain the desperate urge to roll your eyes at their annoyance, how they were openly talking about the lines of muscle cording his body or the length of his cock with a complete stranger inside this tiny metal box with them. It’s not as if they were whispering, and you’d cut a glance at the girl swooning over one of your rude neighbor’s appendage. 

Her piercing green eyes were clouded and shiny with drink. Her cheeks pinkened with a blush that looked permanent. Her lush lips swollen and top button of her shirt still undone, she looked everything beautifully fucked. 

Your mouth turned into a sour line, wondering which of the boys had been the one to claim her tonight. 

With each passing day, the dilapidated elevator seemed to work slower and slower. As if it was your destiny to be stuck in the confines of this metal contraption with the worst possible people…or trapped outside of it, anyway.

Eventually, the doors had screeched open, but even the shrill noise didn’t deter the gossipping girls’ conversation. They stumbled out of the elevator with a cheerfulness only alcohol and dick could conjure, giggling their way down the quiet streets.

It was a miracle that you didn’t have a parking ticket clinging to the window of your rental. You’d moved it both easily and quickly, something you would’ve been able to do if that bastard Azzy had given you the damn space when you’d asked him to move his sleek motorcycle. 

And of course, as you cursed his name for the umpteenth time of the night, he’d appeared.

Cloaked in a worn leather jacket that clung to the curve of every muscle, he’d shown up. There was a tight line to his mouth, deep eyes reflectant of the nighttime sky, caressed by equally dark, thick lashes. He nearly looked as tired as you felt, slight rings around his eyes. His helmet, that, when he shucked off pulled his hair up in the most perfect directions, even more so when he ran his gloved fingers through it with that damned smirk on his face.  

He hadn’t let your gaze linger on the handsomeness of it as a streak of mischief streaking across his eyes like a star as he taunted you. Azzy’s tone was deep and dulcet, unexpected for the jeer falling from his lips. It took your tired mind to shear through the thoughts of that mouth and hook onto his words, and the asshole’s smile only widened when you scoffed and retaliated. 

Oh, how he had gotten on your nerves. 

Again.

And now this, music flowing through the wall at Mother knows what hour.

You’re so exhausted, you could cry. Your body is sore with the efforts of moving, mind a muddled mess. Tears prick the back of your eyes, tightening your sinuses as you grit your teeth, trying to contain them. If the fabric of your pillowcase wets with a drop, you would never admit it.

How has the day from hell somehow managed to turn into the night from hell too? What the fuck have you done to deserve this? 

Even more so, how do the other roommates deal with this? Are they all awake and listening to the music, long bored after the party has died down? Or do they delight in the fact, knowing you are their neighbor and have already complained about the noise once. Why not bother you again, when any normal person would be asleep?

Frustration courses through your veins like a lance, hot and unforgiving. The rush has those tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and you push to your knees, channeling every ounce of burning hot ire and rotting tiredness into your fists, pounding them against the thin wall. 

Your chest heaves, labored with irritation. You don’t smash your fists against the wall again, hoping that the once will have gotten your message across to the boy on the other side of the wall. There’s something that niggles at your brain, telling you that you know which one is fated to be on the other side of the plaster. 

There is no response for one breath, two. Then, a thump as loud as your own, answers. Just one, like you had done to him. The music rings a touch louder, and it sounds nearly clear as day, like you’re standing in the front row to a rock concert. 

Prick.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Sighing in frustration, you tear another sheet from your drawing pad, crumple it up with all of the pent up rage and annoyance, charging it with all of your ire. So much so, that you fear it might burst into flames. You want to tear it to shreds and stuff those tiny pieces of paper right up your douchebag of a neighbor's ass. 

Instead, you throw the paper over your shoulder and let your head collapse in your hands. 

Music pounds loudly through the earbuds you’d stuffed into your ears when it became clear that the raging music next door would not be turned down. You’d considered marching over there to give him a piece of your mind or punch a hole through this very wall, but instead opted to blare music so loudly you can’t make out the lyrics. 

Art had been your next attempt at blowing off some of the steam turning your cheeks red. You’d pulled out the well-worn sketchbook from your bag, along with the colored pencils you always had stuffed in there, and attempted to allow your mind to unleash whatever it wanted across the creamy pages.

Except, everything that came out was trash. Lines heavy with exhaustion and anger, deep and dark, nearly tearing through the pages. You’d broken the tips on four of your pencils and couldn’t find the sharpener you swore you’d put in the front pocket of your bag.

It’s as if your body didn’t know what to draw. The beginnings of sketches quickly turned into shapes of madness and sleep-deprivation, things you couldn’t even make out. A bat that had turned into a gruesome image, flesh tearing from its bones. A cloaked figure atop of a black stallion that made your stomach clench. A few soft strokes of a pair of lips with an incredible smirk. Your shoulders had begun to loosen as you worked through this, but once you realized what you had begun sketching subconsciously, you’d torn away that page too.

And that had been the last page in your sketchbook, the black of the back cover taunting you, laughing at you. 

It didn’t matter anyway, because your stomach had soured at the thought of your last attempt. You’d shoved yourself away from your desk, spine rigid and bones vibrating with tension. On one of the scrap papers you’d written a list of supplies to get while out shopping; pencil sharpener, new sketchbook, earplugs.

You’d even managed to unpack most of the boxes in your room before the sun had barely licked the sky. Terrible, you know, because you’ve only gotten a little more than an hour’s sleep since moving into this hell hole of an apartment. You curse Feyre’s sister, Nesta, who had claimed that this was her favorite place to live all the years she’d gone to school here. 

At least you have been productive in the hours since.

Now, you’re trailing down the roads in town, headed to the small art supply store. 

You’d waited until it was late enough for stores to be opening, and the town is quiet on this mildly sunny morning. You bask in it, shoving your earbuds into your pockets as you waltz, coffee in hand and fresh air coursing through your lungs.

You might’ve been able to fall asleep even with the sun peeking through your blinds, but you’d been determined to purchase the supplies you need for classes in a few days. Not even the sight of Azzy’s empty parking spot could turn you around. 

Something you will probably regret later.

Feyre had been dead asleep by the time you left, and you figure someone should be getting sleep even if you can’t. At least, that’s how your thoughts are now, who knows how you’ll feel if this shit is a nightly occurrence. You might just have to persuade her to switch rooms with you.

The bell at the shop rings when you enter, but there’s no one at the counter to greet you. This, you don’t mind, because you aren’t in the mood to pretend like your morning hasn’t been one of the shittiest ones you’ve had in a long time, and you’re not even hungover. Whoever is on duty is probably stocking the shelves or something anyway.

Your gaze wanders around the store, stuffed full of art supplies. It’s heaven. Painted lined up by color, a rainbow bursting with life. There’s an entire aisle dedicated to sketchbooks and papers of all sorts, canvases larger than your body stacked against the back walls, spray paints, pencils, ink, carving tools, clay—any and all supplies for most artists can be found here, and that is no easy feat.

The scent of the store draws the tension from your shoulders, settling you to your core. You can feel the recharging of your creative energy, your artistic inspiration opening her eyes to take in the view.

Maybe you can talk to the owner and convince them to let you move in here.

You take your time, shuffling up and down the aisles, taking everything in for all its glory. Pristine tubes of paint, swollen like plump berries, not yet crusted with colors. Pencils with graphite of all weights and strengths. You pluck a new HB pencil from its container and slip it into your basket. And maybe you grab a few more. 

A kneaded eraser is added after that, and ah-ha, the sharpener you need. A kit of watercolor pencils catches your eye, but you pass them up, instead heading to the sketchbook area, to linger in the scents of fresh paper.

There’s the shuffling of noise in another aisle, and you gather that it must be the associate on shift. Music begins playing through a speaker by the front, and it’s much less grating than the kind that had awoken you. The chill indie music fills the space with even more life, and combined with the streams of sunlight sliding in through the glass windows, you think your day may be starting to brighten. 

You end up with three sketchbooks in your basket—a feat in itself not to choose one of each—and continue trapezing through the store. You pass by the sculpting section and pause for a moment, wondering if you should take a class. Then, at the thought of clay thick against your skin, caked under your nails and embedded into your clothes, you decide against it. 

You grab a can of fixative for when you take your drawing class uses charcoals, another messy medium you don’t care for. You don’t like the feel of the dry chalk against your hands, sticking between the creases of your fingers. It takes forever to get out.

You may not know what type of art you want to stick with, but you know that those are out.

And there are so many different types of art to try that it’s almost overwhelming. Well, anything in your current state of fatigue is overwhelming, but you haven’t found the one thing that you can see yourself doing everyday. You don’t even have an artistic style yet, and you’re still fresh enough in college to take all of the classes you want to, weed out the areas of art you don’t care for and narrow down what you do like.

Surely, you’ll figure it all out. Someday.

You take the longest in the paint aisle. Tubes upon tubes of color scream at you, and you admire each one. From oils to acrylics, gouache to watercolors, it surely is the biggest section. Not to mention the plethora of brushes hanging above. You’d added a painting sketchbook to your cart, small enough for quick and simple paintings. You don’t want to put too much pressure on yourself yet, but you’ve always wanted to try it out.

Reds of all shades, ochres that remind you of autumn, phthalos and umbers and titanium white stare up at you, waiting for you to take them home, squeeze the life from them so their colors burst on your canvas. You gaze even snags on a unique color, and you lean closer to read the name: dioxazine purple. 

You forgo that, instead grabbing a tube of the most important colors, colors you can mix together to create any other color on the spectrum. It’s almost like a super power, being able to mix such colors from only a few, and you love it.

After adding a few brushes to your basket, you head towards the front of the store to check out, halting in your tracks when you see who is behind the counter.

No, thankfully it isn’t Azzy, but it is one of his roommates. 

He’s leaning against the counter, swiping through his phone. His dark hair looks surprisingly neat, brushed back with dampness still clinging to it from his morning shower. He’s clad in a black t-shirt that leaves a patchwork of tattoos on display. There’s an over-the-top cup of coffee on the counter that puts your simple one to shame. His posture exudes an effortless confidence, and when he looks up and catches sight of you, a dimple deepens in his cheek.

“Fancy seeing you here, neighbor.” 

You bite back the groan at the base of your throat, moving closer. All you have to do is pay for your things and leave. You don’t have to talk to him outside of the necessary cashier talk, and maybe he won’t even try to taunt you.

Yeah, right.

“Hi,” you grit, placing your basket on the counter. He peers into it and you tense, feeling judged. You have no idea what kind of art he’s into, if he even is at all, but you don’t like him knowing this part of you, not when he and his roommates have been nothing but rude to you. It feels too personal.

His eyes flicker back to your face, taking you in, and the color reminds you shockingly of that tube of paint you were just looking at. You don’t balk from his assessment of you, taking in your tired eyes and the downturn of your mouth. You want him to stop looking at you and ring up your things, but instead, he smirks.

There goes your lighter mood.

Surprisingly, the first thing out of this one’s mouth isn’t a taunt. “How are you this morning, darling?”

Darling? That thought makes you want to grimace, but you swallow it down in favor of trying to get out of here without your state of mind plummeting further.

“Lovely,” you try for a smile, but it feels forced. His lips twitch higher as he clocks it as well. “And yourself?”

“Fantastic.” 

You nod, pinning the sour remark to the roof of your mouth. Yes, I’m sure your party was just lovely, unlike my night of unrest.

Jerk.

“Right…” you trial off, eyes flicking down to your basket in an attempt to tell him to hurry the fuck up without so bluntly saying hurry the fuck up like you so devastatingly want to.

“First year here?”

“Second,” you answer flatly, praying he starts moving. The muscles of his arms flex where they’re on display, and he reaches into your basket, examining the first tube of paint he pulls out. Ochre. 

Not for anything specific, maybe say, eyes. 

“I’m a junior,” he replies, picking up the check out gun as slow as possible. 

“I didn’t really ask.”

That mirth-filled gaze sweeps over you again and you try not to duck your head, to fight off the fire of both a blush at his attention and your irritation at his slowness. 

“That’s right,” he muses, and the ring of the scanner going off makes you blink. “I’m Rhysand. I think we’ve met somewhere once.” 

It’s what you’ve been waiting for, the teasing. How he’d answered the door after sensitive Azzy had and slammed it again in your face. You remember him perfectly.

“Are all three of you always this insufferable?” You ask, cutting to the chase. It’s a rhetoric question, one you already know the answer to, but he’s responding anyway. 

“Most call it charm,” he shrugs, grinning. 

You don’t hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“So, your roommate is pretty cute,” Rhys drawls, scanning another tube of paint. That’s two in the span of a minute. He should be fired for such things. You glance at the door, praying that his roommate doesn’t waltz right in, because that, you think, would mean that you actually have the worst luck ever. “She got a name?”

Your gaze cuts back to him, eyes narrowing. “Don’t we all?”

“And yet, I didn’t catch yours.” He cocks his head and flips another paint tube out of the basket. 

You grit your name through clenched teeth, the grip on your coffee cup tightening. Your already thin patience is now threadbare. Only a few strings holding on to your sanity, but Rhysand is quickly sawing through.

“Nice name for a lovely girl, I’m sure,” he teases, but there’s nothing funny about it. These boys might be having their fun, but to you it was never something to laugh at, and the situation has only gotten worse. “And what’s your roommate's name?” 

“Sorry, she’s not the secret fuck type,” you bite. Though, she might be, after her breakup with long-term boyfriend, Tamlin this summer.

Thankfully, your basket is nearly empty. You set your coffee on the counter, pulling your wallet from your purse in haste. The quicker you can pay and leave, the quicker you can hole back up in your apartment. Maybe take a nap on the couch.

“Trust me, darling. It wouldn’t be a secret.”

You can’t help but splutter the laugh that bubbles up your throat. You stare at him, incredulous. “That usually works, doesn’t it?”

His façade falters and you lift your chin with pride. Clearly, you’ve caught him off guard. “What?”

“The whole ‘darling’ thing. You just expect women to swoon at that, huh?” His smile is hesitant, and he takes the card you hold out to him. “That’s what I thought. Can I have my supplies now, darling?” 

Rhysand takes your card without complaint, running your total. His mouth is set in a firm line now, shoulders tense. The aura in the entire shop has changed, but you don’t have the ability to care right now, itching to get away. 

He hands you your card back and nearly shoves your bag off of the counter with a grumbled, “Az was right.” 

It’s your turn to question him. “What?”

“You are grumpy.”

The hot sheath of ire is torn away. Your fingers curl into fists around the handle of your bag, the other around your coffee cup. The bite of heat only fuels the irritation sliding up your spine, and you are unable to keep the cadmium red staining your cheeks as you glare up at him.

“Tell me you’re shitting sunshine when you haven’t slept all night because of your roommate.” Rhys answering smirk is cutting, suggestive. It makes you blind with rage. Spinning on your heel, you shove yourself out the door before he can answer your anger with another sly remark.

Fucking assholes, all of them.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl

#azriel acotar #azriel au #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #art school au #acotar modern au #midnight muse

[ae-neon]

The Archeron Sisters.

#acotar #nesta archeron #elain archeron #feyre archeron #the archeron sisters #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #pro nesta #pro elain #pro feyre #poc acotar #poc edit #lit edit #acotar modern au #ae aesthetics

[lyssasdrafts]

— AFTERGLOW (azriel x reader)

018: “ i don’t wanna do this to you. ”

masterlist previous next

— NOTES

lucien crying at being accepted: 🥹🥹

feyre and rhys wedding means we get to see azriel in a suit again 👀👀

official afterglow playlist here <3

— TAGLIST

@ithan-holstroms-girl @strangelycami @fell-in-luvs @goldenmagnolias @glam-targaryen @acourtofdreamsandshadows @bloombb @mp-littlebit @gamarancianne @stqrgirlies-blog @peachcontour-blog @azriels-shadowsinger @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @chessebookgirl @fairywriter-oracle @thelov3lybookworm @corvusmorte @evergreenlark @marina468 @405rry @azrielsmate3 @that-one-little-soybean @emryb @lilah-asteria @c-dizzle99 taglist is open!! lmk if you want to be added

#— afterglow #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel au #azriel imagine #acotar au #acotar imagine #acotar modern au #modern acotar #acotar smau #azriel series #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #acotar azriel #inner circle x reader #acotar #inner circle

[achaotichuman]

*Slides in asks* okay but like Modern!AU but like Lucien as a Hot Motorcycle guy riding down the coast with his hot artist boyfriend Tamlin.

Sorry but I'm a motorcycle lover and imagining Lucien riding A Harley, wearing all those leather and gears is making me 🥴🥴🥴 and the gloves, don't get me started on the gloves 😭😭😭

Ngl I have never written a Modern!Au before, and I know nothing about motorcycles, but first time for everything right? One hot man with motorcycle and hot boyfriend coming right up!

"Do you need a ride home?" Tarquin asked. Tamlin looked up from his music sheets to see the younger man packing up his guitar, preparing to head back to his place.

Tamlin glanced around at the others, Kallias was sitting on the couch up against the wall with Viviane beside him. Both knee-deep in papers and books. Eris and Cresseida were sprawled over an armchair, practically covering each other as they jotted down notes. They were at the recording studio, today they were supposed to be recording some vocals for a song they had been working on for six months now. But it seemed most of Tamlin's friends were taking the opportunity to cram in extra study time. Considering exam seasons were coming up it was now wonder why everyone could only think about their courses.

It still made an irrational part of Tamlin angry. They had started this group to record and eventually put out music, not to study.

Tamlin himself was pursuing a bachelor's degree in environmental science. He desperately wanted to help with the protection of their natural world. It was dying, slowly but surely, dying. He was pursuing this path out a need to do something. To help. To do his part.

Still, he was trying to juggle what he really, truly wanted to make his life. Music called to him at every given opportunity. Never in a million years would he give up his hope to one day help restore at least some of the earth they had lost, but he still hated that his friends were just... seemingly no longer interested.

Even Tarquin who had picked up his things and was preparing to walk out the door, had only played a few chords today before burying himself in notes and studies.

"No, I'm fine, thanks for the offer though. I might take you up on it next week." Tamlin said, returning his eyes to his music sheets.

"You sure? Everyone's staying here for the night, you'll have to catch a taxi if you want to get home." Tarquin pressed.

Tamlin sucked in a breath. Everyone was staying here tonight, because their recording studio, was also technically classified as Eris' basement that he let them use from time to time. Eris mostly came down to listen and watch the show when they were using the studio. Every now and again Tamlin could convince him to play a melody, but those were rare occasions.

Their entire band wasn't here at the moment. Thesan and his soon-to-be husband were buried in their own life. Bron and Hart were on a back-packing trip around Europe. And the second eldest Vanserra brother Silas was on vacation with his girlfriend. So at least most of the time they were busy when they were at the studio.

Still, it felt like they had stopped playing for the most part. Maybe he was being a little dramatic, but he loved playing in this group. The idea of losing it broke him more than he cared to admit.

"Yeah, I've already got a ride, he'll be here in a couple of minutes." Tamlin snatched up his phone and quickly checked the time, already 5, he should start packing up his things as well.

"Who's picking you up?" Kallias asked, not looking up from his notes.

"Lucien." Tamlin said, beginning to pack up his sheets.

"Ooohhh" Cresseida whistled from her seat beside Eris, "Hear that Eris, Lucien's picking him up."

"Yes I heard Cress." Eris hummed, "Believe it or not they have been dating for some time now."

Viviane huffed, "Dating since they met more like it."

"Hey!" Tamlin said, "We were good friends, its just... recently it became more."

"As if," Kallias said, "I remember when I first saw you two at a party together. Lucie practically had his hands all over you, and you glared at anyone who dared to try and get his number."

Eris let out a loud 'hah'. And Tamlin's face couldn't have been hotter.

He couldn't deny the truth in their words though. Tamlin had always felt strangely possessive over Lucien, and Lucien had never held back from touching Tamlin like he owned him. That had just always been their relationship, they stuck so closely together one might think they were joined at the hip.

It was also Lucien who warned Tamlin against dating Rhysand. Tamlin hadn't listened, too charmed by Rhysand's flirtatious personality that he never saw how the man gaslighted and manipulated him. Nearly talking Tamlin out of thinking Rhysand had cheated on him.

Six months, that's how long it took for Tamlin to leave bed without sobbing every time he passed a place that reminded him of the bastard he once called his lover. A year it took for him to look at Lucien, the man who had stuck by him the entire time and finally realize what had been beside him all along.

And how he was teased for not realizing it sooner.

A message popped up on Tamlin's phone. Lucien. It read 'Outside, ready when you are.'

Tamlin quickly grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder, "Alright, I'm going now."

"Have fun with Lucie!" Viviane called out, the rest of his group laughed. Tamlin walked outside with Tarquin. The younger man knocked his shoulder against Tamlin as they headed out of Eris' house and out onto the street.

"You have to admit, it took you ten years to realize Lucien was right there, you're lucky he didn't get taken before you could have him.

"Yeah, I know, I don't deserve him." Tamlin hummed.

"No one does, its Lucien for the Gods sakes." Tarquin said, a wistful look appearing in his eyes, "You scored with him."

"Don't even think about him like that Tarquin." Tamlin snarled. Tarquin rolled his eyes, then turned towards his car parked on the curve.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Tam." He said as he unlocked and opened his car door, "You head off with your precious lover."

Tamlin rolled his eyes, but waved as Tarquin started his car and drove off.

What a prick. A what a bunch of pricks his friends were.

Well, they were his pricks so he couldn't really complain.

As Tamlin watched Tarquin drive off down the road. The sounds of another engine filled his ears, he turned to see Lucien heading down the road towards him. On that damned motorcycle.

Lucien stopped abruptly in front of him, sending dust flying in his wake. He swung his leg off the motorcycle as he pulled his helmet off.

Head to toe in leather, gloves covering his hands and red pouring out down his shoulders, Lucien stood before him. Tamlin felt his breath get caught in his throat as he watched Lucien's chest expand with his breathing, forcing that tight jacket to stretch around his ribs, accentuating every muscle he had.

"Hello beautiful." Lucien purred as he walked towards Tamlin and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Tamlin blushed so hard he felt dizzy. He bit his lip and pressed his forehead to Lucien's.

"You brought your motorcycle," Tamlin murmured, remembering one to many times Lucien had done terrifying tricks while Tamlin had watched, scared out of his mind.

"You love it." Lucien accused. Tamlin laughed.

"I like the leather." Tamlin whispered, tracing a circle over Lucien's sternum. Barely able to take his eyes off the gorgeous body before him.

"Everyone does." Lucien said as he pressed his lips to Tamlin's. Tamlin entertained his kiss for a second, before he pulled away with an eyebrow raised.

"Who is everyone?" Tamlin asked.

Lucien laughed and wrapped an arm around Tamlin's waist, holding him close, "Anyone that passes me."

Playfully, Tamlin shoved Lucien's shoulder, "You've got too big an ego for your own good."

"You say that like you don't."

"I deserve to be egotistical." Tamlin said.

"Whatever you say, my love." Lucien said, pulling him in for a proper kiss. Tamlin complied, pressing their bodies right up against each other.

After Tamlin finally remembered they were in fact, in public, he pulled away from Lucien and pulled out his helmet from his bag. Quickly strapping it on, he let Lucien get on the bike first before his slid in behind him.

Tamlin wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's middle. Tamlin wouldn't admit it aloud but being on the motorcycle tended to terrify him at times. Considering he had no clue how it worked, and Lucien often went faster than he should just to 'impress him'.

It was impressive, or it would be if Tamlin wasn't on the bike with him. At least Lucien always slowed down whenever Tamlin asked.

They took off. Speeding down the highway so fast everything in Tamlin's vision became a blur. He held tightly onto Lucien and laughed. Watching the blurry view beside them.

The wind whipped around him. A welcome coolness against the hot sun. They passed cars and sped through the city. Tamlin felt every part the girl on her bad boy boyfriend's bike from the Hollywood movies, and he loved it so much.

They eventually found the coastal road. Lucien slowed as they went through the scenic route. Passing the glorious sea spread out over miles and miles, glittering in what was now the sunset light. Oranges, red and purples danced on the horizon, a beautiful painting that adorned the sky.

Tamlin let out a content hum as he hugged his boyfriend a little tighter.

Eventually they slowed to a stop outside of their favorite restaurant. Tamlin furrowed his brow as Lucien shut off then engine. Taking off his helmet Tamlin asked, "What are we doing?"

"I'm taking you out to dinner of course." Lucien said, taking off his helmet, and pulling off his gloves. Tamlin nearly licked his lips as he watched those bronzed hands slowly be revealed.

Standing up, Tamlin placed his helmet on the bike, then turned to Lucien. He wrapped his arms around Lucien's neck, then stood up on the tips of his toes.

He pressed his lips to Lucien's. The Vanserra paused for amoment, seemingly surprised, but then he gripped Tamlin's waist and pulled him close. His tongue gently prying Tamlin's mouth open and slipping inside. Tamlin moaned and pulled him as close as he was physically allowed.

The sun set over their heads. A brilliant end to the day.

In Lucien's arms. Covered in that skintight leather. Kissing him senseless. Tamlin didn't think he could ever be happier.

I may add more to this at a later date, just because I really like it. Thanks for the prompt! I loved writing this!

#acotar #tamlin #lucien vanserra #pro tamlin #pro lucien vanserra #tamcien #tamlin/lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction #acotar headcanons #acotar modern au

[dawneternal]

Part 2

⊹ A modern Gwynriel College AU

⊹ Summary: Nesta has been trying to throw Azriel and Gwyn together for a while now. When a group project comes along, Nesta snags Az for their group so the pair are finally forced to interact.

To make matters more complicated, Gwyn accidentally sends the wrong document to the group, replacing the writing assignment with a smutty chapter of fanfiction.

Things only bloom from there, forcing Gwyn to either let down her walls or lose a friendship that has become important to her.

Prepare for fluff, angst, classic college tropes, and some cheesiness

⊹ Notes: Sorry this one is pretty short. But don't worry, the next chapter is like triple the length.

⊹ Warnings: Gwyn has a panic attack

⊹ Word Count: 1k

⊹ AO3 Link

Gwyn woke to no new notifications on her phone. That unsettled her more than any teasing responses would have. She wanted to stay in bed and hide from the world until the pain of her mistake faded. And avoid any inevitable interactions that would come from it. But she willed herself to get up and change, braid her hair, and head to her favorite campus cafe for breakfast. 

They only served their giant cinnamon rolls on Friday mornings and there was not many things that could keep her from getting one. This was her Friday ritual - spending a couple hours with whatever book she was obsessed with and one of her worn notebooks, complete with a hot mocha latte and a cinnamon roll. 

As she settled into her booth, she let out a happy sigh, glad she went out after all. It was chilly, overcast, and rainy. Perfect for a cozy breakfast and an afternoon nap. The fireplace in the far corner crackled, soft music playing throughout the room.

All of this pleasantness was interrupted by a booming voice calling her name.

“Berdara!” Connor called from across the cafe, “What the fuck was that email? You'll never hear the end of this!”

He was laughing hard at his own cleverness, at this gift that would supply him with months of material. He turned back to his friends, most likely explaining the joke, as they turned toward her a moment later and howled with laughter. The cashier snapped something in their direction and the group of them shuffled out into the cold. 

Gwyn sat still, frozen. This was exactly what she didn't want. Connor would make good on his promise and she knew it. Boys like him were not easily deterred, only spurred on by protests. She had handed him an opportunity on a silver platter and there was no way he wouldn't take it. 

This was feeling too familiar. This was feeling very, very bad.

“Hey,” A softer voice met her ears. Gwyn turned and found herself looking up into kind hazel eyes. 

“You saw that?” She asked, a lump forming in her throat. She willed herself to keep it together, but her body did not seem to be listening. Her heart hammered, fingers numbing as reality drifted away.

“Yeah, I thought I would check on you,” Azriel said, smile fading as he watched her struggle to get enough air. In spite of herself and her pleading, Gwyn's face crumpled.

“Oh, no, hey hey hey,” Azriel swiveled, dumping his things on the table. He gently picked up one of her hands and guided her from the seat. Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her out the side door of the cafe. 

Gwyn could barely see through the blur of tears, but she found herself sitting beside Azriel on a bench in some shaded corner. The world seemed a little bit quieter, here, and she could finally take a deep enough breath. 

“Don't listen to him,” Azriel said, his voice low and soft, “He's an idiot.”

“I'm guessing you opened the document,” Gwyn said between sniffles, keeping her gaze on the grass. Though when a tanned hand entered her field of vision holding a tissue, she took it. 

“I will say you had me hooked with that subject line,” Gwyn could hear the laughter in his voice, “I was curious. But I figured it out pretty fast and stopped reading.”

Gwyn groaned and buried her head in her hands. At least he didn't bring up any details. Like how the character she had written about was tall and muscled with dark curly hair.

“Hey, it's okay,” He said, so kindly it made her chest ache. “We've all done stuff like that before.”

She looked up to give him an incredulous look, and for a moment Azriel's breath caught in his throat. He was not often the sole subject of her gaze but it left him speechless every time. Even if she was scolding him with her teal eyes, telling him she didn't believe him. He blinked a few times and tried to pull himself back together.

“Seriously,” His lips spread into a crooked grin, “Once Cassian sent a nude to his aunt.”

“Oh,” Gwyn smiled at her lap, “Okay, that's pretty bad.”

“What if I do something embarrassing to make you feel better? Then it'll be even between us.”

Gwyn tilted her head at him, studying his face for any teasing, any spark of something non genuine. But his face was open and honest. And far more alluring than she wanted to admit. Perhaps that's why she pushed away the thoughts of wondering why he would bother to do that for her. It didn't matter why. She wanted to take the opportunity anyway. 

“This is worth more than one embarrassing thing. A hundred, maybe.” She shook her head, biting back a smile and trying to look solemn. It almost startled her how easy he was to talk to. This was not a trait she encountered often.

“What about three?” He said, matching her solemnity, gaze burning into her.

“You actually mean it?” 

“Of course I do,” He grinned, and Gwyn noticed his dimples for the first time. Of course he had dimples.

She thought for a moment, wondering what thing she could propose first that might make him squirm. 

“For the first one, can I put eyeliner on you before class?” She squinted, waiting to see if he'd scoff and protest. His grin only spread. 

“Sure,” He chuckled. “You intend to take my offer, then?”

“We'll see how the first one goes.”

She looked away, needing a break from the intensity of his stare. She had definitely not suggested eyeliner just to see if it would make his golden eyes pop even more. Certainly not. 

Instead of looking back at him and risking a blush, she took in the little corner he had brought her to, behind the cafe. They sat side by side on a worn wooden bench, facing the lawn that stretched between the cafe and the library. No sidewalk passed through here, shielding the spot from foot traffic. Two trees intertwined above them, showering the pair in jewel-toned foliage with every breeze. 

“How'd you know about this spot?” Gwyn asked. 

“I know all the best spots on campus to have panic attacks,” Azriel said, smiling softly. 

“You showed up at a good time.”

“You have Friday morning cinnamon rolls to thank for that.”

#acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar au #modern acotar #acotar college au #acotar modern au #gwyn berdara #gwyn acotar #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #gwyneth x azriel #azriel x gwyn #azriel x gwyneth #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #modern azriel #gwynriel #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel au #modern gywnriel