#acotar x 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

[lyssasdrafts]

biker! azriel aesthetic

#— afterglow #this is him in afterglow btw #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #acotar au #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #modern acotar au

[serpentandlily]

Wicked Games

Dark!Batboys x Reader

Summary: Desperate to pay off a debt, you decide to break into the penthouse of one of Prythian’s richest males, one rumored to make his money in a less than legal way. But after witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, you find yourself caught in a wicked game of cat and mouse with three of the most dangerous males in Prythian. (Modern AU!)

Warnings: Violence, dark themes (will update per chapter)

Part II

Part I

༺♥༻

It had been too easy sneaking in through the back door of The Sidra, a huge building filled with luxury apartments only the top one-percent could afford. Too easy sneaking into the laundry rooms downstairs and finding a freshly cleaned maid’s uniform. And too easy convincing one of the maids on duty into believing you were a newly hired employee.

It wasn’t hard to play the role. You had worked as a cleaning lady before—at a motel when you were only sixteen. So it wasn’t long before she was dropping a keychain filled with master keys for each floor into the pocket of your apron and pushing a cleaning cart into your hands.

Before you knew it, you had an access card to the elevators in one pocket and those all too important keys in the other. You waited until no one else was near the elevators before slipping into one and immediately pressing the button that would take you to the penthouse.

According to your sources, aka one of your exes, one of the richest males in Prythian lived in that penthouse. A male who was rumored to make his money in a…less than legal way. And if you knew anything about those types, you knew they’d have cash stuffed into just about every hidden crevice of that apartment. Because that kind of dirty money never made it into banks.

You had tried to do some research on who was living here but it seemed like he was a rather elusive male. All you could find was a first name, Rhysand—and that he had ties to Velaris, the illustrious night club downtown.

It didn’t matter though. All that mattered was getting into this penthouse, finding his hidden stacks of cash and getting the hell out of here. You needed this money and this guy was rich enough that you doubted he’d even notice a measly six grand missing from his piles of cash.

But that six grand meant life or death for you. Because you needed to pay off the debt you owe your ex. You knew his patience with you was slipping and you were worried that for once he’d actually go through with his threats.

The elevator dinged, signaling you had made it to your destination. You stepped out of the elevator, leaving the cleaning cart behind, and found yourself in a grand corridor. There was only one direction to go, only one set of large double doors up here.

You knocked once. Twice. A third time. No answer, no noise, nothing. You thanked God for your luck today as you fumbled with your ring of master keys, trying to figure out which one worked for this door.

It took you longer than you liked but soon you were pushing the doors open and making your way into the insanely large penthouse. Your jaw dropped as you took in the place, envy crawling up your skin like thorny vines.

This place was…incredible. It was opulent, full of expensive looking furniture and high-tech electronics. You spun around, taking in everything. Jesus, the sitting area alone was larger than your own studio apartment. Everything looked so ornate and for this being the supposed bachelor pad for one of Prythian’s richest males, you were surprised by how elegant it all was.

But you quickly snapped yourself out of your admiration. You had a job to do. Find the money you needed and get out of here before someone returned. You checked the usual spots for hidden safes—behind paintings, where medicine cabinets should be, in closets. You cursed as you found nothing out of place.

That was until you stumbled upon a large painting of three mountaintops with a star painted above each in the master bedroom. It was incredibly heavy, but you managed to get it off the wall and nearly let out a squeal of joy when you caught sight of the safe built into the wall. You pulled out the small electronic stethoscope that you had found at a pawn shop years ago and got to work with cracking the safe.

It was one of the skills your ex had taught you. A skill that had come in handy quite a few times. And you were particularly good at this part. So good that you had the safe opened within the hour. Your jaw dropped as the door clicked open and revealed piles and piles of cash, some gems and gold chains. You were half tempted to take it all but restrained yourself.

Just enough. You needed to take just enough to pay off your debt…and maybe some extra for rent this month. Just to get you back on track with your payments. Still, just a small amount that hopefully would go unnoticed. You opened the satchel you had hidden under the maid apron and started tossing stacks into your bag.

Once you were certain you had enough, you closed the safe and went through the strenuous process of hanging the large painting back up on the wall. You were sweating a bit as you finished, wiping your clammy hands on the apron.

Now all you had to do was get the fuck out of here. You could not believe your luck as you made your way back to the front door. Could not believe that everything had gone exactly to plan.

Which is why you shouldn’t have been surprised at the sound of a key unlocking the front door. Of course it wouldn’t have been that easy. Fuck. You looked around quickly, spotting a closet in the hallway and managed to slid yourself into it right as the front doors opened. You held your breath as three large men came walking in, the two in the back lugging in another person whose head was covered with a burlap sack.

Your eyes widened as you took in the scene, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. The male who led the group forward was one of the most handsome males you had ever seen. He was wearing a finely tailored suit, his tie loosened around his neck. His hair was short, a dark blue-black color which suited his golden skin.

The two guys holding up their captive were equally attractive, if not more. One was huge, taller than the other two, with muscles cut from stone like a God. He had shoulder length dark brown hair that had been pulled into a bun and wore black pants and a white button-up shirt with his sleeves folded up to his elbows, exposing his veiny forearms.

The other male was just straight up beautiful. His features were more elegant than the other two, as if a romantic artist had spent their whole life carefully crafting him out of clay. He also had dark brown hair, cut short like the first guy, and golden skin that matched the other two. His face was expressionless, unreadable, and that made him look all the more lethal.

The two guys dropped the captive to his knees and yanked the burlap sack off his head. You nearly gasped in surprise as you recognized him. He was known widely in the criminal world as “The Attor.” He was a slimy looking male who used all sorts of weird torture methods to get his victims to talk. Last you heard of him, he was working with Hybern, one of the many gang leaders in Prythian.

“Are you going to talk now?” The male in the suit purred. He sat down in one of the plush armchairs, resting his ankle over a knee. He held an air of authority and you guessed that he was the leader here.

“Fuck you, Rhysand,” The Attor spat, wiggling to try and break free of his bonds.

Ah, so this was the famed Rhysand. You had expected someone older, someone maybe in their fifties. But this guy couldn’t be older than thirty. And god, he was so hot. Most criminals were ugly, aging men. Nothing like the handsome devil who sat in his chair like it was a throne.

Rhysand merely chuckled before running a finger down the armrest of his chair. “Tell us what Hybern’s planning and I might just decide to let you leave with your life.”

But The Attor just spat at his feet. “You and I both know I’ve been a dead man since your dogs caught me.”

The lethal looking male snarled at that. The noise was so animalistic, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re right, you have been,” Rhysand answered with amusement. “And now I tire of our games.” He nodded at the male who had snarled. “Kill him,” he ordered.

Before you could even process those words, the man yanked a blade out of his pocket and swiftly stabbed it straight through The Attor’s throat. A small gasp escaped your mouth as red blood sputtered out of the wound and the man slumped to the ground, his eyes glazing over. You quickly slammed a hand over your mouth, praying to God that they hadn’t heard your slip-up. But you had never seen someone killed before. You had only ever dealt with petty criminals, mostly thieves.

“Did you hear that?” The one built like a God asked, his eyes narrowing as they swept over the place.

You smothered yourself further with your hand, pressing your body against the wall of the closet—as far from the door as you could get.

“I did,” the lethal one answered, yanking his dagger from the dead man’s neck and wiping it clean on his clothes before returning it to his own pocket.

“Who’s here?” Rhysand called out, standing up.

The other two began to search through the room, their footsteps surprisingly silent. You squeezed your eyes shut and sank onto the floor, praying and praying that they wouldn’t look in the closet, that they wouldn’t find you. As a few moments passed, you were beginning to grow hopeful.

But then the closet doors were yanked open and you were being pulled out by your upper arms. You let out a small cry as you opened your eyes to see the lethal one staring down at you, his face impassive as he dragged you into the sitting room and tossed you onto the floor next to the dead man’s body.

You let out a whimper, your apron soaking up some of the blood on the floor.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves an intruder,” he called out, gaining the attention of the other two who returned from wherever they had been searching.

Rhysand stepped forward, looking down at you in surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected to find one of the maids hiding in his closet. Your whole body tensed as the corners of his lips ticked up. This close now, you could see the unusual color of his eyes, a rich shade of blue that almost looked violet.

“Well what do we have here?” His voice was so sensual, bringing color to your cheeks. “What a pretty little mouse you’ve caught, Az.”

“I’d say so,” the other one smirked, his eyes roaming your face. But you kept your attention on the leader.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I was cleaning in the bedroom when I heard the ruckus and…I swear I won’t tell anyone what I saw. I’m sorry. Please, just let me go,” you pleaded, quivering under his amused stare.

“That’s odd,” he said, tilting his head at you. “I didn’t schedule any cleaning services today.”

You blinked, trying to come up with another lie. “I-I’m a new hire, sir. I only d-did as I was told.”

He stroked his jaw, glancing at the other two men who stood behind you. “Interesting. You know, I didn’t happen to see any cleaning supplies when I was looking around just now. Did you two see any during your search?”

“Nope,” the bigger one chimed. You could hear the smile in his voice. The other one must’ve shaken his head because Rhysand looked back down at you.

“I-I…” you choked on your own words. Fuck, how were you going to get yourself out of this one? You were screwed. So fucking screwed. You were going to die right here just like the man next to you.

Rhysand stepped forward before bending down on his haunches in front of you. A pathetic whimper fell from your lips as you backed away, only to run into a pair of legs. You gulped, looking up to see the pretty one staring down at you, that unfeeling face sent another shiver through your body.

“You’re not a maid, are you, little mouse?” Rhysand purred, reaching a gloved hand out to brush some hair from your face. You were shaking like a leaf now, as you found yourself surrounded by three dangerous males.

Fuck, you were going to die. All twenty-one years of your life wasted just to die here, likely never to be found. Not that anyone would be looking for you or miss you. You had grown up in foster care, never knowing who your parents were.

“I-I am,” you lied. “I swear it.”

Rhysand clicked his tongue, giving you a mocking frown. “What a pretty little liar you are. I don’t like liars, little mouse. Do you know what I like to do to the people who lie to me?”

You shook your head, not able to form any words. He gave you a wolfish grin and pointed a finger at the dead body on the ground, blood still oozing from the wound on his neck. You whimpered again, a few pathetic tears now slipping from your eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry, pretty girl,” Rhysand purred. “It would be a waste to kill a little thing like you. Don’t you agree?”

Your head was spinning now.

“What…what do you want from me?” Your voice shook, making you feel even more pathetic. Rhysand smiled again but it was not reassuring—more like a predator showing off its sharp teeth.

He glanced up at the other two. “What do you guys think? Should we let this little mouse go or should we punish her for her trespassing?”

“We don’t even know what she’s here for yet,” the pretty one said. His voice was as dark as him and just as cold.

You used this time to glance towards the front door, noting how far away it was. You could make a break for it. You were a fast runner and you had the advantage of being smaller and more agile than them.

It could go horrible but you had to try. You had to try and get out of here before they did whatever it was they wanted to you. You would only have one shot, one chance.

Before any of them could notice you plotting, you scooped a handful of blood from the floor and flicked it into Rhysand’s face. He let out a noise of surprise and you used the distraction to slip between the other two and dart towards the door.

You could hear their yells from behind you but didn’t look back as you yanked the door open and sprinted into the hallway. You bypassed the elevators and slammed into the stairway.

You could hear footsteps running behind you and you pushed yourself to run faster, hopping over railings to other floors when you could. You burst through the door leading into one of the other floors and sprinted down the hallway.

A man was leaving his apartment, his eyes glued to the phone in his hand. You pushed him out of your way and slipped into the open door, ignoring his curse from behind you. You ran into the bedroom, darting for the window.

You let out a small cry of relief when you noticed it was connected to a fire escape. You quickly pushed it open and flung yourself through the window, landing with a thud on the metal landing.

You didn’t waste any time climbing down the ladders from landing to landing. You had made decent progress by the time one of the males had figured out where you had gone. The metal fire escape rattled with both of your weights now on it, but you continued climbing down until you reached the bottom.

As soon as you landed on the ground, you took off down an alleyway—twisting and turning down different paths, trying to keep them off your trail. Unlike those rich pricks, you knew the underside of this city like the back of your hand.

As soon as you were confident you had lost them, you found a spot in the shadows to rip the maid uniform off. You tossed it on the ground and quickly got dressed back into the clothes you had brought in your bag.

Once you had pulled on the jeans and jacket, you tossed the hood up and slung your bag back over your shoulder. This time you made your way to a busy street, hoping to get lost in the crowd.

You didn’t let out a breath of relief until you were on the subway, on the line that would take you back to your neighborhood where your shitty apartment would be waiting for you.

You bit your lip, unzipping your bag to make sure all the money you had stolen was accounted for. You finally let out a breath and rested your head against the cold wall of the subway cart.

You had fucking done it. You had stolen from one of the richest men in Prythian and gotten away with it.

༺♥༻

“This is only six grand, bunny,” your ex, Tamlin, said with a small frown. “Where’s the rest?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? I owed you six grand, right? That’s what you said. It’s all there.”

“Oh, bunny, you owed me six grand last week,” Tamlin replied, pushing some of his blonde hair away from his face as he looked up at you. You bounced from one foot to the other, standing in front of his desk. “It’s seven thousand, five hundred now—you know, because of interest.”

“What?” You breathed out. “You never mentioned anything about interest!”

Tamlin chuckled, sitting back in his chair. “I did. You must’ve not understood. It’s okay, bunny, not all of us can be smart. It’s a good thing you’ve got that pretty face of yours to get by. But I’ll take this for now. I’ll need the rest by next week, though. And it’ll be an extra one thousand, eight hundred seventy five by then.”

“You can’t be serious! Tam, I—do you know what it took to get that money! Please, I’m begging you. Can’t this be it? An extra thousand dollars is nothing but petty cash to you. Please.”

“I don’t think so, bunny,” Tamlin responded with a mockingly sad voice. “You see, you lost those kinds of privileges when you broke up with me. I could’ve taken care of all of this for you but you’re the one who wanted to cut ties. So now you have to play by the same rules as everyone else.”

“This is ridiculous, please,” you begged. You were willing to get on your knees at this point. All you wanted was to be done with this—done with him. “I can barely afford rent. Barely feed myself. I won’t be able to get you another grand by next week.”

“That stopped being my problem a long time ago, bunny,” Tamlin said, all niceties gone from his voice now as he stood from his desk, placing his palms flat against the surface. “Get the money to me by next week. I’d hate to see that pretty little face of yours ruined. Do you understand?”

You scoffed but Hart, one of his guards, took a step closer to you, so you swallowed your pride, ignored the tears building in your eyes, and nodded your head. You quickly left the room, made a quick exit from the warehouse and started the long walk back to your apartment.

How the hell were you going to get more money for him? He was doing this on purpose, still upset with you for breaking up with him. You wiped at the angry tears spilling down your face. Would you ever be able to pay him off? Would you ever be able to get rid of his presence in your life?

You kicked at the loose concrete pebbles on the ground as you made your way home. You kept your hood on, head ducked towards the ground to avoid any unwanted attention. Now that you no longer had Tamlin’s protection, the men in this neighborhood had gotten rowdier with you.

Once you reached your apartment building, you took two stairs at a time to get to the fourth floor, wincing as you heard Marcus yelling at his wife again for the third time today. You wished she’d put a kitchen knife through his gut and do your whole neighborhood a favor.

You pulled your cheap, burner phone out of your pocket along with your keys, ready to call your friend Valerie to bitch and moan about Tamlin as soon as you were inside.

But apparently God had other plans.

As soon as you flicked on the lights to your apartment, your phone slipped out of your hands and landed with a thud on the floor. Your eyes widened, your heart plummeted all the way to your stomach as your gaze fell on a pair of unusual violet eyes.

Rhysand.

Rhysand was sitting there on your dingy mattress, his nice clothes a stark contrast to your fraying sheets. He gave you a grin that could rival the devil’s.

“There you are, little mouse,” he purred. “I’ve been looking for you.”

#acotar #fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #cassian x reader #cassian x you #batboys x reader #batboys x you #azriel #rhysand #cassian #reverse harem #modern au #acotar au

[lalacliffthorne]

modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

(if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault)

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto the very comfortable couch, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there´s still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished a tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously huge shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a few days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and roping you into helping him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

(from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time)

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced that the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet, cheek kisses as greetings and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice.

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you´re upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from your uterus and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time than just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper hissing facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there´s something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

even if anger rages within him like a rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it isn't turned towards you

that even if his darkness never fades, it never seems to be hostile towards you

and instead something about him and that steady, dark gaze calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady to you

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the guy has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they´re all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you, and you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

you take trips to the lake for swims in summer

have game nights

and evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

go to the ice rink in winter

bake together and spend whole weekends on the couch

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on a run

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

in the evenings, you usually end up all in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

both him and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotating between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaned against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you.

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

so

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

#azriel #rhys #rhysand #cassian #acotar x reader #acotar #acowar #acomaf #az x reader #az imagine #az/reader #azriel imagine #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #acotar headcanon #rhysand imagine #rhys imagine #cassian imagine #modern!roommate batboys series #modern au #lalacliffthorne

[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

[surielstea]

A Secretary’s Secrets

Based on this request.

Pairing: Modern!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel can’t seem to keep his hands to himself in the workplace.

Warnings: Suggestive, implied smut

2.9k word count

My heels clack loudly on the marble tiles as I race down the hall, a few coworkers giving me an unsteady stare through the floor-to-ceiling windows but I don't pay them any mind while I beeline towards the conference room.

My boss had texted me saying he needed to get out of the meeting he was in, telling me I needed to make up some sort of excuse to pull him from it.

I skid to a stop just before the door and compose myself, regaining my breath. I knock on the door lightly, but there's no way to tell if I'm allowed to enter the windowless room with its soundproof walls, so when I crack the door open and peek my head in I can only pray I’m not intruding.

My eyes snag on an irritated Azriel, not annoyed with me but with the rest of the much older men in the room— who happened to be staring at me like a prize to be won. "I'm sorry to interrupt but," I look to my boss with creased brows. "You have another meeting you need to get to, Sir." I give him a polite smile and his glare on everyone else drags to me, something in his expression softens. "Right, well then." Azriel collects the folders he laid out and puts them back into the briefcase in front of him. "We can reschedule." He looks to the men in the room who all seem too disgruntled because they knew he was lying, it took them weeks to get Azriel to agree to this, and now here I was, dragging him away from it. He shuts the clasps of the briefcase with a click before grabbing it and following me out the door, shutting it behind him.

"Was that okay?" I look up at him with creased brows. "Perfect, my love." He hums, walking towards the elevator at the end of the hall as I rush after him. "I take it didn't go well?" I say, clasping my hands behind my back. "For them, no, it did not." He mutters. "For me? I'm just happy I don't have to partner with them anymore." He sighs in relief. I smile up at him as we reach the end of the hall and he gestures to the elevator.

"You want to do it?" He asks and a childish grin spreads over my face as I press the button, calling the lift.

It only takes a moment before the doors open and we're entering.

"That skirt is awfully tight." He comments and I glance back at him with a smirk while clicking the button that will send us to the top floor. "You don't like it?" I do a small twirl and his jaw feathers, I smile as I notice him gripping the handle of his briefcase particularly tight. "I don't like that others get to see you in it." He answers and I roll my eyes. "You know I'm only yours." I snake my arms around the back of his neck. "I want them to know that too." He looks to the doors of the elevator and I grin. "You know my rules." I remind and he sighs, looking down at me with creased brows. "We're alone now, aren't we?" His large hand comes up to my waist, spanning the area easily. "We are." I nod and push off of my heels, lifting up and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. When I back away he looks up to the floor indicator. He smiles and crashes his lips down onto mine, pushing me back against the wall of the elevator. "We've got ten levels left," He mumbles against my lips and I grin wildly, pulling him closer.

He drops his briefcase so his hand can come under my thigh, lifting me up to be pressed against his chest and the wall behind me. His arm cradles beneath my thighs with his freehand roams anywhere it can find.

His mouth slots over mine, tongue swiping at my bottom lip and all I can do is let him in— parting my mouth just wide enough for him to take control, hand finding my jaw as he angles my face closer, so he can kiss me deeper. His tongue explores every crevice he can find, pushing me harder against the wall like he needed more like our clothes were in the way and he yearned for pure connection. I couldn't deny I wanted anything less either.

His fingers dig into my thigh as I yank him back onto me when he tries to pull away. His hips press hard against the area I needed him most and I let out a soft whimper, hands gripping his neatly pressed suit. "Az," I sigh out when he rolls his hips over mine again, leaving me utterly breathless. "Why don't we just go home? Take the day off?" He mutters into my mouth and gods, did it sound tempting. "We can't just leave," I shake my head and he pulls away. "The meeting room is soundproof." He reminds and I flush pink. "Or if you'd like to bring back old memories we can always just go to my office." He taunts and the color tinging my cheeks only becomes deeper, remembering the way he laid me onto his desk as he pressed into me, I had worn a particularly short dress that day and he couldn't keep his hands off of me.

"We get off a six don't we?" I ask and he gives me a saddened nod. I grab his hand on my cheek and look at the expensive watch on his hand, the one I got him for his birthday last year. "Only thirty more minutes, then we'll go home," I promise and he pouts, I lean in and kiss his frown. "I think you can make it." I rub my thumb along his jaw and he grumbles a curse. "I don't think so." He shakes his head, lips coming to mine again. I smile against the familiar feeling. The elevator dings and I quickly slip from his hold, heels coming back down onto the ground. I adjusted my tight skirt, he watched me as I did so. I looked up at him and he pecked my lips one last time. I grin as he backs away, reaching forward and wiping a film of pink lip gloss from the corner of his mouth.

The elevator doors open and I back up at least a yard. He picks his briefcase up before slipping from the space and out into the hall, I follow a few feet behind him.

He enters his large office, giving me one last look before reluctantly closing the door behind him. I take up my desk beside his door, leaning back in my comfortable chair as I take calls and add meetings to Azriel's calendar for the next half hour.

Azriel and I have been dating for a few years now, but I didn’t want our relationship to interfere with our work life, afraid that I’d get judged by my coworkers for sleeping with the boss, but it was more than that. Azriel didn’t even approach me at work— we had run into each other at a bar and he offered to buy me a drink, it blossomed from there. I doubted they could see my side, only recognize that I fucked my way into this office, that my pay isn’t from my hard work but because of my body. The thought made me want to hurl.

So I didn’t let Azriel show any public displays of affection during work hours— aside from when we were alone, because, gods, the male’s libido was through the roof.

I released a long sigh as I stretched my limbs out, tired from waking up so early, and the fact that Azriel had kept me up all night last night.

I released a long sigh as I stretched my limbs out, tired from waking up so early, and the fact that Azriel had kept me up all night last night.

I shake my head from the lewd memories and look to the door where I saw Henson collecting his things. “Leaving?” I ask my coworker, getting up from my desk. “Yeah,” The male nodded. “I’m sorry for staying so late, I know you can’t leave until all of us are gone.” He sighs apologetically and I shake my head. “Nonsense, I had to catch up on a few more things anyway.” I wave him off and he nods with a polite smile.

His eyes linger on my bare legs and I shift on my heels uncomfortably, I look back toward Azriel’s office, making eye contact with him through the large window. “Do you have any weekend plans?” He asks and I whip my head back to him with an uneasy stare. “Uh,” I was going to the farmers' markets with Azriel, then we were supposed to go to dinner— and then stay in bed for the rest of the time we had off. The door opens behind me and I know Azriel’s leaning against the doorframe, I can practically feel him staring holes into my back, waiting for my answer. “I have plans with my boyfriend.” I shrug and Henson raises a blonde brow, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t know you were...” He searches for the right word. “Off limits?” Azriel chimes in from behind me and he couldn’t have been more obvious, I could practically feel his bloodlust from here. “Yeah.” He mutters and I smile softly. “It’s odd that you wouldn’t know, we’ve been dating for nearly five years now.” I cross my arms over my chest and his brows shoot up. “I actually, wish he’d propose soon.” I glance back to Azriel with yearning eyes and a smirk curves his lips. “How could he not?” Henson scoffs before quickly sealing his lips shut. I giggle and give him a polite smile. “That’s how I feel.” I joke and he nods with a relaxed smile, backing away on his heel.

“Right, well I hope you have fun with the lucky guy.” He replies with a nod, walking towards the door. “Have a nice weekend Henson.” I give him a small wave and then he’s gone, behind the doors leading to the stairwell.

A wide grin spreads on my lips, now that the branch is finally empty. Leaving just me and Azriel. I turn on my heel with a bright expression. I practically skip back to him. “Propose huh?” His hands come to my hips as he pulls me into his office and shuts the door behind me. I shrug innocently as he waltzes over to his desk, settling in his large black chair that seemed more like a throne.

“Az,” I call after a moment of silence. His head whips to me with wondering hazel eyes and I smile, relieving the tension between his brows. “Love,” He replies and I stroll towards him. “Everyone’s gone,” I inform. “We can go home.” I round his desk and come behind him, sliding my arms down his shoulders and propping my chin atop his. “I’m sorry my love I completely forgot I have this project that needs to be done by tomorrow.” He sighs, leaning back to look up at me, meaning we couldn’t go home. I frown, hands coming to his sharp cheekbones. “Then I suppose we’ll be having a late night in the office.” I smile down at him and he leans up, pecking my lips from upside down. “Come, sit in my lap until I finish.” He whispers against my lips. A smile tugs at my lips and I kick off my heels before straddling over his hips, arms coming around the back of his neck and my head coming to his shoulder, where I begin to trail chaste, reassuring kisses up his neck, my hands roaming his big arms, muscles ripping beneath his shirt.

He grunted out a low sound, I backed away, looking at him quizzically. “You’re very distracting.” He murmurs, hand coming to my thigh. “The sooner I finish the sooner we can go home, isn’t that what you want?” He asks and I nod. “Then no more touching, yeah?” He squeezes my thigh slightly. “Yes Sir.” I nod with a smirk, pulling his chest to press against mine as I rest on him. He grumbled a curse at the nickname, adjusting his hips beneath me.

I knew better than to go against his word, knew whatever work he was doing was important but— was it more important than me? I wrap my arms around him a little tighter, pushing those selfish thoughts away. I release a frustrated sigh, nuzzling my nose into the space between his neck and the collar of his black shirt, getting overwhelmed with the scent of cedar and night-chilled mist, as well as a small undertone of vanilla from when I washed his hair with my shampoo in the shower last night. My fingers weave into his dark waves, not thinking anything of it as I begin to scratch his scalp soothingly, running my hands through his black locks with a soft hum.

He sighs and sets his pen down, hands coming to my waist and lifting me onto the desk. My brows crease as I look at him with a soft expression. “What’d I just say, love?” He reprimands me in a light tone and I look away shamefully. His fingers come to the underside of my chin, tilting my head back towards him. “Answer me,” He raises his brows slightly. “You said not to distract you,” I mutter and he nods, hand moving from my chin to cup my jaw. “Do you think you can behave or do we need to go home?” He asks and I swallow thickly. I knew this was important, but gods did I need him, my body craved him— I was being selfish. “I’ll be good, promise.” I nod, nails digging into the desk slightly with the way his eyes drink me in. “Okay,” His gaze lingers on me for a beat longer before he pulls me back into his lap.

This time I stay purely still, hyper-aware of my movements as well as his, making sure to keep my hands rested on his shoulders and trying to ignore his large hands cradling my lower back, and my hips. His hand had somehow traveled beneath my blouse and began tracing shapes on my bare back, spelling out his name.

He released a soft sigh and leaned back in his chair, my head lifting from his shoulder as I looked at his weary expression. “All finished?” I ask excitedly and he nods with a content smile. “You work so hard.” I hum, hands coming to his cheeks, thumbs rubbing along his jaw. “I think when we get home I have a small reward planned for you.” I taunt and his arms wrap around me tighter. “Why wait until we get home?” He arches a brow and clears the papers on my desk before placing me down on it. “So needy,” I grin, leaning back against the dark wood as he stands, hovering over me, and the gaze in his eyes tells me it’d be a long night in the office indeed.

He wastes no time in pushing my overtly short skirt up, calloused hands gripping my thighs as he pulls me to the edge of his desk. His hands roamed higher, breath fanning over my neck as he sucked and bit at the most sensitive areas he could find, leaving marks I’d have to cover tomorrow. Just as his fingers were about to find my panty line the phone rang, I jumped at the sound and he groaned into my neck.

“Who the fuck is calling me,” He grumbled, my hand slipping into his hair as I tugged him away from the column of my throat. “Answer it Az,” I murmur and he looks at the phone with a cold stare before picking up the device and holding it to his ear

“What?” He gritted in a tone that made me fear for whoever was on the other end of the line. I hear a voice in reply but can’t make out any words. Azriel’s hands leave my body and he sighs, entirely annoyed. “Can’t you ask Cassian?” Azriel grumbles and I sit up on my elbows, watching him as he rolls his eyes at whatever the person on the phone is telling him. “Fine. I’ll be there in ten.” The dark-haired male grumbled before hanging up the phone. My shoulders slumped as I stared up at him.

“It was Rhys, he needs someone to watch Nyx— I’m apparently the emergency babysitter,” Azriel muttered, walking over to the coat rack and shrugging his jacket on, leaving me entirely needy on the desk. “I can drop you off at home first.” He informs while I walk over to him and rise onto my toes, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“I’ll come with.” I grin at him. His gaze softens. “You don’t have to,” He shakes his head. “I want to,” I reassure. His eyes flick to the floor behind me. “Grab your shoes then.” He smiles and I rush to do as he says, slipping them on and walking over to him with a content expression. “I’ll make sure to treat you nicely all weekend then, okay?” He kisses the top of my ear and I nod. I knew that by treating me nicely, he meant we wouldn’t be leaving our bed.

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#acotar #suriels tea #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #sarah j maas #x reader #azriel #request #acomaf #bat boys #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #x reader acotar #x you #x reader fluff #acosf #i need him #ceo #modern au

[moviesismylife]

Movie night

(Azriel x f!reader)

!Modern AU!

Summary:

Movie night with Azriel gets a little heated…

Warnings:

18+, smut, oral!giving

Trope:

None really

Note:

This is modern au, but I still wanted to keep the wings x

Enjoy <3

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

Y/n

I’m sitting on my couch at my apartment, Azriel seated next to me, a movie on the screen, and a blanket over us both.

His hand is draped on the couch behind me, and I’m nuzzled into his side. His other hand rests on my thigh, and mine are clasped in my lap under the blanket.

But the movie is boring me, so I decide to do something else instead.

Slowly, but surely, I slide my hand onto Azriel’s muscular thigh. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants. My favorite.

As my hand slides onto his thigh, his breath catches slightly. He turns his head to look at me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. I can also feel the warmth spreading throughout his body.

I don’t say anything, letting my hand rest there, and turning my attention back to the movie.

Azriel follows my lead, turning back to the movie as well.

After a little while, I dare shift my hand on his clothed thigh, gently stroking it.

A soft gasp escapes his lips as my hand moves on his thigh. He bites his lower lip, but his eyes remain glued to the screen.

I hear his soft gasp, and trail my hand higher, moving my fingers to his inner thigh.

Azriel swallows hard as my hand moves higher and higher. His breathing becomes deeper, and his gaze darts between the screen and me. I notice a small grin forming on his face.

“Eyes on the movie.” I say, keeping my eyes on the screen myself.

He nods, his eyes locking onto the screen.

I let my hand slide higher, to the hem of his grey joggers, toying with the strings he’s tied so loosely.

I notice him biting back a groan, his body tensing. But his eyes stays on the screen nonetheless.

I slowly untie the strings of his sweatpants, and slide my hand inside, gliding my fingers over his undershorts, finding him rock hard.

His breath hitches and he closes his eyes, letting out a soft groan, making me heat up. But I turn my attention back to the movie, all while palming him through his undershorts.

I feel his hips starting to gently grind up against my hand, seeking more friction and contact.

I grip his clothed cock hard as soon as he starts to grind into my hand. A warning to sit still or I’ll stop.

He lets out a gasp as I grip his clothed cock harder, and freezes immediately, his hips stilling beneath my hand. His eyes remain locked on the TV screen, a silent understanding.

“Just watch the movie.” I instruct him, and he barely nods.

His breath catches in his throat as I slide my hand inside him, wrapping it around his erect cock. He moans softly, his hips bucking against my hand again.

I immediately remove my hand as he starts his movements.

He looks away from the TV screen, staring at me with a mixture of frustration and desire. “Stop teasing me.” He warns. “I can hardly concentrate on the movie, with your hand wrapped around my cock.”

“Try or else you get nothing at all” I fire back, command in my tone.

His eyes darker with lust at my tone. “Fine.” He growls softly. “But if I lose focus, don’t be surprised” he adds, gesturing towards my hand where his cock throbs in need.

I let out a chuckle, and only tighten my grip around his throbbing cock in response.

He closes his eyes, biting his lip to keep from moaning loudly, and clenches his fists. “Fuck.”

I smirk to myself at the half-groan, and start stroking my delicate hand over his erection.

His breath hitches as I start stroking his cock, and I notice him trying badly to focus on the movie.

I drag my manicured nails over the skin, drying up a bit of pre-cum that’s leaked from his tip.

I soak up all his pre-cum between my finger and remove my hand from his pants, sticking each finger into my mouth, and licking them dry.

He lets out a low groan as he watches me lick my fingers clean. Then his eyes drift down to where my hand was just a few moments ago, seeming to ache at the sudden loss of contact. “You’re testing my self control, angel.”

I only smirk at him, using my other hand to tilt his head back to the movie, as I slide back into his undershorts.

He lets out a soft sigh of relief as I slide my hand back into his undershorts. I notice him struggling to keep his attention on the screen. “You’re merciless.”

I let him talk, keeping quiet myself as I slowly, finally start to stroke his cock.

He lets out a sharp intake of breath, then closes his eyes. “Fuck.”

I stroke the hole, long, length of him, making sure every place is touched.

His grip on the armrest tightens as I stroke his cock, slowly increasing the pace. His breathing becomes ragged, and I notice him biting his lip harshly.

He’s sweating and writhing under my touch, but keeping his eyes on the movie nonetheless. I decide to reward him for that and start moving my hand faster, every now and then dragging my nails over him.

He gasps as I increase the speed of my strokes, and his body trembles.

“Doing so good for me…” I praise, as my hand continues its fast strokes.

He only groans in response and his cock twitches in my hand. “I-I can’t…”

“Not yet…you can hold out longer…” I warn him.

His eyes flutter shut again and he clenches his fists tighter on the armrest. “Please…” he manages to whisper, his hips starting to move involuntarily in time with my strokes.

As he jerks his hips into my hand, the slick sound of pre-cum and sweat coating my hand that makes it easier for me to stroke him, sounds through the air.

His breath comes in short gasps as I continue to stroke him. His body arching into my touch. “M-more…” he pleads, voice shaky with need.

“Tell me what you need…” I say, even though I know exactly what to do to make him explode.

His head falls back as he struggles to catch his breath. “Faster…” he manages to say, his voice thick with desire. His hips buck against my hand and he groans loudly as the pleasure builds up.

I obey, my hand now almost cramping from going so fast, but I continue. He is twitching in my hand, his face written in pure pleasure. Head thrown back, eyes screwn shut, and knuckles white at gripping the armrest so tightly.

His breathing becomes ragged, each groan cutting through the silence. “Ahh…fuck…yes…” he utters, voice hoarse with excitement.

I move my mouth towards one of his wings, licking a stripe up the sensitive flesh.

His entire body tenses as I make contact with his wing, a moan rumbling up from deep within him. He arches his back further into my touch. “C-close…”

“Come for me Az…” I mutter, teasing his swollen head and that seems to do it.

He finally releases, his seed shooting out of his tip and covering my hand. His back arches impossibly high as he cries out in pure bliss. “F-fuck…I’m…cumming…”

“That’s it…” I say, continuing my strokes as he cums all over my hand.

His body shudders and twitches, each contraction sending another wave of pleasure through him. His wings flap weakly against the couch, his face contorted in ecstasy. “Ahh…god…I can’t…”

“I love you…” I say, stroking him further.

“I love you too…” he gasps out, his body finally relaxing into the couch.

I smile at that, and finally remove my now cum-coated hand from his pants.

He turns his head slightly towards me with a contented sigh. His cheeks flush brightly as he becomes aware of the mess on my hand; embarrassment mixing with gratitude for such an intense release.

But once again, I only stick every finger into my mouth, licking up his seed and moaning at the taste.

His eyes widen as he watches me clean up his seed, and a small smile tugs at his lips. “You’re…”

With his seed now in my mouth, coating my tongue and lips, I lean forward giving him a slow, sensual kiss.

His tongue darts out tentatively to taste himself on you before diving deeper into your mouth.

Azriel is a needy man, and as soon as his tongue darts into my mouth, I know he’s gonna return the favor.

He moans against my lips as he deepens the kiss, his hands finding their way to my hips. He pulls me closer, his hard length pressing against my thigh in anticipation. As the kiss breaks, he whispers breathlessly, “I want to taste you too.”

“Azriel you don’t need to-“

“No please.” He interrupts. “I need to feel you.” His hands move down to my hips and and underneath my skirt, trailing along the inside of my thighs until he reaches the edge of my panties.

I moan at that too, my cunt already aching after hearing all his groans. “You sure? You don’t need to.”

“I want to.” He insists. His fingers traces slow circles around the elastic of my panties, his gaze never leaving mine. He gently pushes them aside, revealing my damp core to his touch.

“Alright…” I say, letting him.

His eyes darken at that, and his fingers dive into my core, and I let out a loud moan.

I shift in my seat, throwing the blanket off us, and turning the tv off, as I move to straddle his lap. “Why don’t we skip the fingers and go straight to you being inside me instead?” I suggest, my hands going to his neck.

His hands grip my hips possessively as he nods in agreement. “I’d like that very much.”

With that I drag down his pants and undershorts, his hard cock springing out. Azriel slides my underwear to the side, and I sink down onto him.

His eyes lock onto mine as he enters my wet cunt, his hips bucking up to meet me. His hands clutch at my waist, his chest raising and falling rapidly with each thrust.

“Fuck, that’s so much better…” I moan, moving in to kiss him.

He groans into the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine as he pounds into me harder and faster. I can feel the tension building within him, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he growls. “I’m going to fucking ruin you for any other man.”

“There are no other men. Only you.” I tell him, grinding my hips down to show him I mean it.

His eyes darken even more as he presses his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling hot and fast. “Then take what’s yours.” He growls, before slamming into me again and again, claiming his possession with each thrust.

“Only mine.” I moan as he thrusts into me. I let my hands slide down his stomach, to the hem of his shirt.

His body tenses under my touch as he feels the heat of my hands on his skin. He pauses for a moment, then slides his t-shirt off over his head in one swift motion. I gasp at the sight of his broad chest and rippling muscles.

“Your turn.” He smirks and moves to pull off my top.

His hands slide up my sides, tracing the curves of my body as he pulls off my shirt. His gaze travels over every inch of my exposed skin, and when he reaches my breasts, his breath hitches.

“No bra?” He asks, and I smirk.

He chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving my breasts. “I kind of like the idea of you being free from unnecessary constraints.” He leans down and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand cups the other breast.

“Mmm…fuck that feels so good Az…” I praise him, as my hands tangle in his hair.

He groans against my skin, his body shivering with pleasure as he continues to tease and worship my breasts. His hips start moving again, thrusting deeper into me with each passing moment. “God, you’re so fucking responsive.”

“Ah-fuck-don’t stop.” I say, as I grind my hips into his, digging my nails into his shoulders.

His thrusts become more urgent, his breathing ragged as he feels the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in his belly. He reaches down between us, rubbing at my clit in time with his thrusts.

I moan his name, my head falling into the crook of his neck as I bite down, eyes rolling into the back of my head.

He growls low in his throat, his hips bucking wildly as he loses himself to the sensations. His fingers continue to tease my sensitive flesh, searching for that one perfect spot to send me over the edge.

The skin of his neck and shoulders muffles my moans, as he continues to thrust into me hard, his fingers keeping a firm pace at my clit.

His lips find the pulse point at my neck, and he sucks gently as he feels me starting to tremble on top of him. He knows I’m close—so close—and he wants nothing more than to push me over that edge.

“Fuck-I’m close…” I remove my head from his neck.

He groans in response, his thrusts becoming harder and faster as he feels me tighten around him. “Cum for me love.” He whispers against my ear before nipping lightly at my lobe.

“I want you-fuck-to join me-“ I manage to get out.

He picks up the pace even more, his hips slamming into mine as he feels the familiar sensation of his own release building. “Oh god yes.” He moans, his fingers digging deeper into my flesh. “Come with me.”

My moans continue to get louder, my body nearly shaking as I’m reaching my peak.

He feels the tremors running through my body and knows he’s not far behind. His cock throbs inside me, filling me up completely as he loses himself to the pleasure. “Fuck yes.” He groans, his hips bucking wildly as he releases himself into me.

“Fuck!” I cry out as I spill myself onto him at the same time, my walls clenching around him.

His eyes roll into the back of his head as he i convulse around him, his own release spilling deep inside me. He collapses under me, our sweat-slicked bodies entwined in a post-orgasmic haze. “Fuck.”

“Fucking best cock ever.” I let out, as I lift my head to look at him. I swipe some damp hair that’s stuck to his forehead, out of his face.

He smirks up at me, his chest still heaving with exertion. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” He breathes before leaning up to capture my lips in a slow, passionate kiss. “But I have to admit, I’m not surprised you think so.”

“Cocky bastard.” I murmur onto his lips.

He chuckles softly against my lips. “Only when it comes to this.” He admits with a wink. He pulls out of me slowly, his cock slipping out with a wet pop.

Release still dripping off his tip, and my thighs soaked in it, I stand up to get a wet cloth, stumbling a little as I stand.

Azriel catches me by my waist, steadying me. “Careful there.” He murmurs, his fingers trailing down my stomach. “Let me help you clean up.” He leans in close, nuzzling his face against my neck. “You smell amazing.”

“I smell of you.” I say, leaning into his touch.

He hums in approval, his fingers gently brushing over my sensitive flesh. “And that’s exactly how I like it.” He murmurs, nibbling at the soft skin behind my ear. “I want to leave my mark on you.”

I smile at that and move to the kitchen to grab a cloth and wetting it.

As I return, Azriel is sitting on the couch, his legs spread slightly as he watches me. “Let me help you with that.” He offers, standing up and taking the cloth from my hand.

I wait patiently as he stands up tall in front of me, wings spread out behind him.

He smirks at my gaze, his hand moving to run the wet cloth over his own chest and abs. “You like what you see?” he teases, watching my reaction closely.

“Oh shut up.” I scoff at him, turning away from his chiseled chest and stomach.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against my skin as he wraps an arm around me from behind. “You’re just going to ignore it?” He asks playfully, nibbling on my earlobe. “I thought you liked seeing me like this.”

I move to take the cloth from his hand, and wipe at the mess between my thighs.

Azriel watches me intently, his hand moving to my hip to steady my as I clean myself. “You know,” he begins his voice low and seductive, “I could help you with that.”

“There’s no need in cleaning me if you’re just gonna mess me all up again.” I answer, knowing where this will go if I give into his commands.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “Oh, but I intend to.” He promises, his hand sliding up my stomach until it rests just below my breast.

“Az…I’m tired…” I breathe out, my body already sore and limp.

Azriel leans in, his lips brushing against my neck. “Tired?” He whispers, the tip of his tongue tracing my pulse point. “Or simply resisting me?”

I turn around in his grip, pecking his nose. “Tired.”

He smirks, pulling me closer until our bodies are pressed against each other. “Then let me take care of you.” He says, his hand moving to cup my breath gently. “I’ll make sure you’re well rested for round two.”

I move my hand up to his scarred one, stopping him from doing more. “I would love to but I’m exhausted and it’s late. Let’s continue this first thing in the morning alright?”

He sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at me. “Alright.” He agrees reluctantly, his hand dropping from my breast. “But remember, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I smile at that. “Wasn’t planning on it.” I say, taking his hand and leaving the cloth on the table. I lead the way into my room, or rather our room,feeling ready for cuddle and sleep.

As we approach the bed, Azriel scoops me up bridal style and carries me over to it. After gently laying me down, he crawls in beside me and wraps his strong arms around me. “Close your eyes.”

I laugh at that. “Az I need a shirt to sleep in. And you need to remove those joggers.”

I hear him groan, but get out of bed. I turn and scoot out of bed as well, sliding off my skirt.

He walks into his closet and grabs one of his old t-shirts, handing it to me.

I take the shirt from him and slip it on, then crawl back into bed with him. He pulls me close and wraps his strong arms around me, nuzzling his face into my neck. “Better?” He murmurs softly against my skin.

“Mhm…” I mutter, sliding my leg over his.

“Good.” He whispers, running his hand down my side and cupping my ass through the soft fabric of my panties.

I yelp and frown at him. “Az. Hands off.”

Azriel smirks and removes his hand, but not before giving my ass a playful squeeze. “As you wish.” He teases, turning off the lamp on his side of the bed.

I roll my eyes, but smile as he turns off the light.

In the darkness, Azriel scoots closer to me and wraps his arms around me once more. We lie there in silence for a moment before he speaks softly against my ear. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me.” He murmurs, kissing my neck lightly.

“Mad at you? What would I be mad at you for?” I frown, even though he can’t see it.

“For pushing you a little too hard tonight.” He answers truthfully, his warm breath against my skin. “I lost track of time and just wanted to make sure you knew how much I desire you.”

“It’s fine. I trust you. I knew you’d listen to me, and stop as soon as I say so.” I trace circles on his bare chest.

“You’re amazing.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Thank you for trusting me.” Azriel’s hands find their way under my shirt, tracing light circles on my back as he pulls me closer against him.

“I’ve always trusted you. Even before we were ever a thing.”

He smiles in the darkness. “I’ve always treasured that trust.” He says sincerely, kissing my forehead softly. “And I promise to never to anything to break it.”

“I know, I know.” I whisper.

“Good.” He breathes out, his lips finding mine in a gentle, loving kiss. As our lips part, he continues to hold me close, his strong arms wrapped around me like a protective shield. In this moment, all is right.

Even in the darkness, the golden in his hazel eyes shine through. “I love you.” I say, noses brushing.

He presses his forehead against mine, our noses touching lightly. “I love you too.” He whispers back, his voice barely audible, even to himself.

“Never leave me, or I’ll kick your ass.”

He laughs softly, his warm breath caressing my cheek. “Never.” He promises with a wink. “And you know I wouldn’t stand a chance against that ass of yours.”

I laugh at that too, and scoot closer in response.

His smile grows wider, and he presses his body against mine, pulling me as close as possible. “We have a deal.” He says firmly, his hand running through my hair in a tender gesture.

“We have a deal.”

Azriel’s gaze locks onto mine, his intensity burning bright even in the dim light. He brushes a stray hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear, his fingers trailing lightly down my neck. “Together.” He murmurs. “We can conquer anything.”

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

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #modern au #modern acotar #smut

[skyjasper]

Don't call me crazy

Professor!Az X Student!Reader Modern AU

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N has been lusting after her new British professor since the first day of class, what a perfect coincidence he also becomes her private teacher in all things war and torture.

Warnings: vulgar content, smut, 18+, age gap romance, oral (Fem and Male receiving), choking, praise, dom!az.

Word count: 4207

The first time I stepped into Mr. Singers' classroom I was expecting an old white man who thought he was funny.

What I wasn’t expecting as I took my seat in the front row was for a mid-age, tan skin, handsome man with tattoos and a thick British accent to walk out of the office. I wasn’t the only girl who sighed at his devastatingly handsome face.

“Good morning class. Let’s start with basic attendance so I can put faces to names and then we will get started.” The words rolled out of his mouth with the most sensual deep British accent.

The professor for War and Peace in Historical Perspective was not at all what I thought. Not with his crisp black button-up that had to top button undone and the sleeves rolled up. Not with the inky shadows that peaked up the collar of his shirt and down his very muscular forearm.

I was too busy daydreaming about those muscular forearms holding my waist to hear him call my name.

“Mrs. Y/N?” He asked again, which I only heard because of my seatmate elbowing me.

“Here.” I hesitantly lifted my hand, slowly sinking back into my seat out of embarrassment. His gaze fell upon me with his golden honey eyes.

“Next time, if you choose to be in the front, be more present.” He scolded me before moving on. A blush rose over my cheeks with the stern words.

~~~~

My War and Peace class hadn’t necessarily gotten better but also not worse. My work excelled and I never got below a B. So one could imagine my disappointment when my latest paper on Torture Tactics in War got a C-.

Mr. Singers' hand stayed on my desk as he whispered into my ear.

“See me after class or during office hours today.” His deep voice rolled through my body, shooting straight in between my thighs.

Was it inappropriate to have a huge sexual crush on my teacher who was 20+ my senior? Absolutely. Did it stop me? No. Goosebumps rolled down my bare legs and under my pleated white skirt. I nodded my head quickly as he moved to the next student.

After mentally going through my schedule I decided it would be best to stop by during office hours later.

~~~

My fist lightly knocked on Mr. Singers' office door.

“Come in.” He rumbled.

I opened the door before stepping into the dark space. His dark mahogany desk was neat and organized with papers and notes. The room only being illuminated by a tall lamp in one corner and a smaller salt lamp in the other corner.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask as my hands pull at the end of my navy sweater.

“Ah, yes Mrs. Y/N I wanted to discuss your last paper. Sit.” He nodded to the chair across from him. My feet moved on their own accord to sit, as if aching to obey his every word.

“Yeah I saw I got a C- and I was pretty confused. Is there any way I could revise the paper? I planned on using the topic for my dissertation.” I pulled out the printed paper from my bag.

He watched my every movement very closely. His eyes raked my body from my white headband, over my navy blue sweater and white skirt, and down my bare legs that were currently crossed.

“Yes, the topic is very good however the research is not accurate which in turn made most of your paper inaccurate. I was very disappointed to have to give you a C. You are a bright girl Y/N. I know you have a bright future in history, so I do want to work with you so you can gain better research skills and a better understanding of the topic.” He spoke, moving his dark round glasses back onto his face.

The glasses gave him a nerdy Clark Kent look. The glasses made me want to rip off his shirt and ride him. My thighs squeezed a bit tighter at the warmth that pooled in the lowest parts of me. I nodded with understanding before he continued.

“I specialized in War Torture when I was in school. I interviewed real victims and studied the methods and techniques.” He paused pushing up his sleeves and leaning back before continuing. “In the least creepy way possible, I became a master of torture and its history. When I decide I want to know something, I won’t stop until I devour all I can about it.” He finished.

I think I was delirious because I swear that last phrase was an innuendo. My toes curled in my black boots.

“I understand, and I would love your help since you’re so knowledgeable about it. I double majored in History and Journalism so I could research. How would this work? Should I stay after class or come to office hours?” I asked with a tilt of my head, I felt my hair fall off of one shoulder as I did so.

“How about it this, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday you stop by at let’s say 5:30? Right after office hours so that way we don’t take time from other students.” He asked with his eyebrows raised.

“That works for me! Is there anything I should bring sir?” I asked as I gathered my things.

“Maybe a notebook and your laptop for notes. Other than that we can wing it as we go.” He finished with a small smile and a shrug of one shoulder.

We said goodbyes before I walked out of his office, my thighs now slick in anticipation.

~~~

“Today I figured we could work on the actual technical details of the methods. It is important to understand the thought behind each movement.” Azriel spoke as I walked into his office.

We have been doing this mentorship for the last two months so far. It’s been going well, both of us flirting now and again but never quite crossing the line. He asked me to call him by his first name outside of class, and what a beautiful name he had. Azriel.

I felt his eyes take over my outfit choice for the day. With the warmer weather, my skirt and sweater combo has become more rare. Today I wore a tight white skirt with a cropped white tank top with a thin dark blue cardigan over it and some platform boots. even with my platforms Azriel still stood over me.

“You-you want me to torture you?” My breath hitched with the statement. He let out a small chuckle under his breath.

“No, I’m going to see if you can handle the most basic form of torture. If we can’t understand what torture feels like how can we accurately report it?” He said while moving close to me.

“So what are you going to do to me Mr.Singer?” I asked looking up into his eyes.

“Sensory deprivation. We start with sight, sit down.” He voices as he walks behind me and gently pushes on my shoulder to sit me down.

I took deep breaths as his large hands brought a thick strip of black fabric in front of my face. I felt his presence all too well as he placed the cloth over my eyes and tied it behind my head.

“They start with sensory tactics because there is nothing quite like the paranoia of not being able to see your capturers and what they are doing.” He spoke, his voice drawing quieter as if he moved across the room.

“For example,” He whispered in my ear, easing a small jump out of me. I hadn’t heard his come back, his footsteps silent.

“You have no idea what I’m about to do to you.” He whispered in my other ear, running his fingers over my shoulder. Goosebumps appeared in his wake.

“Can I remove my cardigan? It’s warm in here.” I asked before my fingers fumbled to find the bow holding the top of my cardigan closed. I felt a pair of hands wrap around my own small hands. His fingers slide over mine, quickly pulling the strings of the bow and slowly sliding my cardigan off.

“How are you feeling?” His voice rumbled thick with an accent as he took my cardigan out of my lap.

“I’m ok, it just feels like everything is heightened. Like I can feel everything around me, every breath, every touch. How is this torture?” I whispered with a shaky breath. I know his touch could be innocent but with the massive want between us, every touch feels like he’s about to fuck me.

“It isn’t yet, the next thing they would do would be take away your hearing, they would play sounds that would drive you insane. I’m not going to subject you to that however I am going to create certain sounds and I want you to identify the sounds and objects. Knowing how to use the heightened hearing to your advantage is something that could be very useful in a situation like this.” This time I heard his steps, like he purposefully made them louder.

I gave a nod, moving my hands under my thighs to keep from fidgeting. The first sound I heard sounded like glass. I waited another second before responding to be sure.

“Is it a glass? Like a cup?” I tilted my head towards the sound.

“Yes very good. Would you like some water Y/N?” I felt his approach to my front. I gave another quick nod, sticking out my hands for the cup.

“Ha, knowing you if I tried to hand you this glass you would spill it all over yourself.” He chuckled under his breath.

“You’re not wrong, but how else am I supposed to drink the water?” I lifted a curious brow even though he couldn’t see it.

“Tilt your head back.”

A simple command, yet hearing it set my body alight. I felt warmth gather low in my belly as I did what he asked. As I felt his fingers grasp my chin, pulling open my mouth, I felt that warmth seep out of me. I tried to cross my legs, not realizing how close he truly was.

“Is something wrong Y/N?” He asked with what sounded like knowingness in his voice. I tried to shake my head but couldn’t because of his grip.

“Use your words.” He spoke again. More heat seeped into my panties at his command.

“Nope, nothing's wrong.” My voice came out more breathless than intended.

He hummed before touching the cold rim of the glass to my bottom lip. I felt him tip back my head some more before pouring in the water.

“Would you like to know something Y/N?” He asked as he closed my mouth, allowing me to swallow with a gulp.

“What’s that Mr.Singer?” I asked, feeling his thumb coming up to wipe a small dribble of water that escaped my lips.

“You look divine like this, I can only imagine what you would look like if I could see your eyes.” He whispered as his hand moved from my jaw into my hair.

I sucked in a harsh breath before lifting my hands to remove the blindfold that prevents me from seeing him.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I didn’t say you could take it off just yet.” His voice was light and full of amusement. Then the entire room shifted as his hand fisted my hair and brought my face closer to his.

I felt his heated gaze take over my body as his breaths gained speed. Then I heard the most torturous sound leave his lips. A groan that sounded like I hit him. Then his heat was gone, all contact broken.

“I shouldn’t do this. You’re my student.” He spoke with anguish. I stood quickly, a little too quickly by the way I swayed. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, steadying me. One hand found the tie holding together the blindfold, I quickly undid it and let it fall to the floor.

My eyes raked over his chest as I adjusted to the light. Did he get hotter while I couldn’t see? His shirt was messy like he had been raking his hands over it. And when I tilted my head to meet his eyes, a whole head and a half taller than me, the hunger I found there was insatiable. And whatever he found my eyes must have changed something for him.

“Fuck it.” He whispered before pulling my head closer to him, smashing my lips into his. I melted as he kissed me.

He kissed me like he was a man dying of starvation and I was his only food source. The hand that was holding the back of my neck moved into my hair pulling it tightly. He ripped his mouth from mine with a gasp.

“Fuck.” He muttered with a new horse and raspy voice. There was a war in his eyes, a conflicting battle.

I decided to end that battle by slipping one of my fingers over his black button-up, slowly undoing each button. When his chest was fully revealed I took a second to marvel at the gorgeous tattoo that spanned his entire muscles chest before pressing a kiss into his pecks.

“Please, Mr.Singer?” I asked, looking up at him with doe eyes and using my softest voice. I saw the battle end and that hunger take over again.

“Jesus fuck, you will be the death of me, baby.” He grunted as his hands slid under my thighs and lifted me onto his desk.

A smile overtook my face as his hands gripped my ass. I gently tugged on the open shirt, asking for him to remove it. I almost let out a cry at the loss of his heat. He pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion, stepping back in between my spread legs.

Azriel slants his mouth over mine once again, his hands grazing over my bare thighs, reaching under my skirt. I let out a small moan when his fingers gripped my thighs.

“Do you like that Y/N?” He asked with a raised eyebrow before sliding his hands under my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the desk.

“God yes, Mr. Singer.” I moaned as he continued to manhandle me. His hands roamed from my thighs to my waist pulling my chest into his.

“Fuck I love the way you say my name. But I love your beautiful tits even more.” He grunted out before pulling my tank top down.

“You have no idea how many times you’ve distracted me in class. Prancing around in these tiny skirts without any tights and your tiny tops. The number of times I’m lecturing and all I can look at are your beautiful thighs.” He ground out as he brought his mouth to my nipples.

A wave of pleasure rolled through me as his tongue swirled my nipped. A loud moan fell out of my mouth when he lightly bit it. My hips bucked forward, almost causing me to fall off the desk but his hands were there, sliding me back onto the steady table.

“Careful there baby. Tell me what you need.” His breath whispered over my nipples with a shuttering sensation.

“You. I need you Azriel.” I whined, grinding my hips into the air. He fell to his knees, his hands pushing my skirt up.

“How do you need me? Do you need my tongue?” He asked as he licked a line from the base of my core to my clit, letting his tongue linger with an audible groan.

“Do you need my fingers?” His strong fingers followed his tongue, drawing a line through my wetness and swirling around my clit, causing me to gasp. My hand reached for my nipple as he paused, leaning back to look at me. After a beat of silence and direct eye contact, he said,

“Or do you need my cock?”

I’m pretty sure I almost orgasmed from those words alone, but I still replied.

“I don’t know, just please. Touch me. Anything, please.” I begged as my hips writhed against the desk. A wicked cruel look came into his eyes.

“Please what? If you’re gonna beg you might wanna address who you’re begging too.” An eyebrow hitched as he slowly brought the finger that hand wiped my wetness to his lips. Rubbing my arousal onto his lips.

“Please, Mr.Singer. I don’t care how but I need you to fuck me.” I whined out.

“Good girl.” My body came alive at the praise and the sight of him moving forward, face into my pussy.

His tongue licked another stripe before sucking on my clit over my panties. One of my hands fell to his hair, holding him into me as he continued to eat me like his life depended on it. His fingers slid up my thighs before grabbing the waistband of my panties and tugging them down. The cold air sent shivers down my spine as he hesitated.

“Mr.Singer?” I asked, looking down at where he sat with his eyes locked on my bare core.

“You are so fucking beautiful. I haven’t stopped thinking about this since the first day of class so I’m going to enjoy it,” he whispered in a daze. His hand forced my legs open even wider, completely exposing me to him.

His thick fingers traced every part of me as one of his hands fell to his hard erection in his pants. My gaze slid down to stare at the now bulging point in his black briefs. I took a moment to truly appreciate the sight before me.

One of the hottest men sitting on his knees, palm rubbing himself, his lips glistening with my arousal, hair a tossed mess from my fingers, and those damn tattoos that moved with each of his breaths. I nearly came at the sight.

I closed my legs, nimbly sliding onto the floor in front of him. My knees hit the hard floor as his gaze dragged over my bouncing tits. One of my hands found his belt and tugged, trying my best to convey what I wanted without words.

He stood quickly, one hand unbuckling his belt and pulling it off in a fast and clean motion. He took a second to wrap up the belt and place it on his desk, not once breaking eye contact. My thin hands slid up his legs, quickly unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down.

His cock sprang free with a small bounce. A small gasp left my mouth as I beheld the sight of his long and thick cock that has barbell piercings along the shaft. I rubbed my thumb over his head, collecting the small bit of pre-cum, and sucked it into my mouth.

Azriels head fell back with a groan, one that became even louder as one of my hands wrapped around his length. I let my lips softly kiss the head of his cock before sucking it into my mouth. I took a minute to warm up to his size before looking up at him.

The second I made eye contact his hand flew to my hair and forced me down on his cock. Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to take it all.

“Come on, be a good girl and take my cock, pretty girl.” He ground out as his thumb from his free hand smudged my mascara with my tears.

I moaned around his cock and I forced myself up and down him. He was too long to fit in my mouth so with what I couldn’t swallow I used my hand. I pulled off of his cock with a pop, leaning forward and spitting on it before using two hands to jerk him. I moved his cock over my chest, savoring the professor's low groans and curses.

I felt two strong arms slid under my arms, stopping my movement. He picked me up until I was face to face with him and my feet were dangling. He started at me with so much heat to anyone else it might seem like anger. He slid his arms to my waist and pulled my body against him as I kissed me. On instinct, my legs wrapped around his waist, lining me up perfectly to feel the head of his cock push against me.

We both gasped at the contact. It didn’t take him long to walk us over to the wall by the chair, pushing me against it and thrusting his cock so he slid through my folds. A loud moan leaves my mouth when he hits my clit.

“I need you. I’m clean, please fuck me Azriel.” I begged.

A long and overdrawn “Fuck” left his bruised lips. One of his hands guided his cock to line up with my hole.

“I’m gonna fuck you, it’s not gonna be sweet, and it’s not going to be slow. It’ll be hard, and dirty, but fuck will it feel good. Is that ok baby?” He tormented me by nudging the very tip of him into me.

“Yes, god yes.” I threw my head against the wall. I would do anything to just put him inside me.

“Good, I want you to ride me, I wanna see those beautiful tits bounce as you struggle to take me in your little cunt.” He whispered into my ear before moving us so he was sitting on the chair and I was sitting on his thigh. I rubbed against his thigh for any friction I could get.

“Fuck you’re killing me.” His hands ran up and down my sides, as I readjusted myself so I was hovering over his cock.

One of my hands gripped his shaft helping me to sit on his cock. I did it slowly, letting myself feel each inch, feel the stretch of him. We both moaned at the sensation, and he didn’t give me much time to adjust before his hands were moving my hips.

I moved with his hands, grinding on his cock, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt something as good as this. You are perfect.” He said as he tilted his head back. I started to move up and down on his shaft, every so often switching to grinding against him.

His head snapped back to lock me in the eye before his hands found my hips with a bruising grip, stopping my bouncing. He thrust his hips up, hard and fast.

“Oh fuck.” I screamed out as he continued to fuck me.

His arms enclosed my waist fully, holding me to his chest as my fingers raked the strong muscles.

“You’re so good, thank you sir.” I moaned and pulled my nails down so hard I left marks.

His replying hum was more than enough for me as he moved his lips to suck on the sensitive spot between my neck and ear.

I felt a tight tension run down my spine as my orgasm grew closer. He let me grab one of his hands, and I guided it around my throat, gently squeezing to signal what I wanted.

“You want me to choke you? Maybe you did pick the right field.” He muttered with a condescending laugh. But still, he obliged, squeezing the sides so I got that beautiful blood rush. His pace quickened as I tightened around him.

“Cum baby, milk my cock with your cunt. Be my good girl and cum.” He said before he licked a strip of my neck.

My orgasm shook my body with a force that I hadn’t felt before. Frat guys are notorious for not making girls cum. My cunt squeezed him as he jerked up into my cunt before pulling out. I whimper at the loss of contact before I felt ropes of his cum paint my stomach, just where it would be if he were inside me.

As I came down from my high I felt his fingers dragging up my stomach, collecting his cum onto his digits. He brought them to my mouth and pushed them into my lips. I took no time licking them clean of his cum and sucking them like they were his cock. I kept my most innocent eyes as I swirled my tongue around them and popped them out of my mouth.

“One day I want to see your mouth full of my cum. For now, I need to clean you up and get you back to my place.” He gently lifted me and sat me down on the couch before turning and getting a rag out of his office cabinet.

He sunk to his knees before me, gently wiping me clean and muttering praises. My mind was a puddle and my body was spent. He gently pulled my tank top back up and covered me with his suit jacket. We made sure the coast was clear before walking to his car and driving to his apartment where we spent the rest of the night fucking, cuddling, and getting to know each other better.

~~~

A/N: here it is!!!!!! Next up, chapt 4 of S&S!!!!!!!

Taglist: @littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibelle

#azriel #acotar #elain archeron #azriel x oc #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #azriel x reader #sjmaas #class of 2013 #batboys #modern azriel #modern au #teacher crush #teacher x student #rough Azriel #dom!azriel

[lib-arts]

🏎️ - Heart Racing

Gwyn and Az, modern¡au

fanart for anewritter - fanfic: heart racing

#acotar #sjm #sarah j maas #sjmaas #pro gwyneth berdara #gwynriel fanart #gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x azriel #azriel #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyn acosf #acosf #a court of silver flames #gwynriel fanfiction #modern au #formula 1

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: A Feysand AU

Chapter One

She's a law student turned confidential informant. He's a prosecutor with only one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for illegal activity . . . What could go wrong?

Hi everyone! Here's chapter one. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you're interested in being tagged. Any thoughts on the story are much appreciated, too!

Chapter One

Feyre collapsed against the wall as soon as class was over. Sweat dripped from her temples, sliding over the layer of concealer she had plastered on that morning. She wiped her forehead, swearing to herself once again that this would be the last time she allowed Tamlin to drag her to a Crossfit class.

Even though she had made and broken that same mental promise to herself three times a week for the past six months.

As she guzzled from her near empty water bottle, Tamlin slung a sweaty arm over her shoulders, his skin against hers slick. Oily. “Got any of that left?” Tamlin asked, already reaching for the water bottle.

Feyre sighed, handing it off to him. “A few drops.”

He knocked it back without another word. Not an appreciative smile. No thank you, Feyre. Not even a nod of gratitude for the water he had taken from her.

As she followed Tamlin out of the warehouse where the Crossfit classes were held, Feyre made another vow. The first of its kind, but perhaps with more resolve behind it than the one she had made only moments ago.

She was going to break up with him this week.

Feyre trailed Tamlin through the parking lot, eyes on the back of his neck, his blonde hair stuck to it with sweat. Her boyfriend of over a year had fallen into conversation with his best friend, Lucien. Lucien was also a regular at these Crossfit classes, but had met Tamlin through work. Tamlin had hired Lucien as his Director of Operations at his company, Spring Solutions. Five years later, the duo were best friends.

Lucien climbed into the passenger seat of Tamlin’s expensive truck, leaving Feyre to haul herself into the back as usual. Tamlin swung into the driver’s seat and made short of work of getting the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the highway that would carry them back into the city, back to the building where Tamlin and Feyre shared an apartment and Lucien lived a few floors down.

As the two discussed something about work—a topic Feyre didn’t particularly care about—she thought more about the terrifying new task she had set for herself.

Breaking up with Tamlin wouldn’t be simple.

Because it was her life, of course, and things were never simple.

She had shared an apartment with Tam, who was nearly seven years her senior, since the beginning of her second year of law school. Now, a month into her third and final year, their lives were fully intertwined. Feyre paid a few hundred dollars of rent each month, but Tamlin footed most of the bill. The downtown apartment was expensive, something Feyre could never afford on her own thanks to her law student’s budget.

She rarely paid for meals, either. Tamlin subscribed to one of those ultra-healthy meal services. A week’s worth of dinners delivered to their door every Monday morning. Feyre cooked them on study breaks, and the two would usually share a quick meal before Tamlin logged back on to work in his home office and Feyre returned to her books.

Most of the furniture was his, as was the art on the walls. The kitchen utensils, pots, pans. The bed they shared. Everything.

If Feyre moved out, she would have to return to her father’s house or increase the amount of student loans she had already taken out that semester. Neither option sounded appealing. She had lived with her father and her two older sisters her whole life—all throughout her undergraduate studies and until the end of her first year of law school. How she had made it so long trapped in that house, caring for her family in much the same way she cared for Tamlin, Feyre had no idea. So when Tamlin had proposed the idea of moving in together, she jumped at the chance. Didn't think farther than Get me out of my childhood home.

She hadn't considered what would happen if things didn’t work out. If she decided he wasn’t the one for her anymore.

She had gone straight from her father’s house to Tamlin’s apartment, and had fallen into Tamlin’s lifestyle, even if she still wasn’t quite used to it.

At least the bed in the guest room was hers, and the nightstand and the few books she had taken from her father’s house. Her painting supplies.

“Babe?” Tamlin’s voice scattered the plans she was fruitlessly trying to cobble together in her mind.

“What?” She inquired, blinking up at her boyfriend.

“I asked if you wanted to get dinner out tonight.”

Feyre bit her lip. She had already put off studying to come to Crossfit—if she didn’t get home soon, she would have to burn the midnight oil to get all her reading for class done at a decent hour.

“I really have to study,” she said quietly, praying he wouldn’t try to convince her to come to dinner. Because he would never let up and she, inevitably, would give in.

At Tamlin’s sigh, she tentatively tried again. “I’m really sorry! I wish my professors didn’t assign such long readings, but I can’t change it.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You know I would come to dinner if I could. I would much rather do that.” The words weren’t new—she’d used some variation of them numerous times over the past year and a half. They had almost lost all meaning to her, but she’d found this was the best combination to keep Tamlin happy: apologize, provide an excuse that was outside of her control, and assure him that he would always be her first choice.

“Alright. We’ll drop you at home and come back later.”

Feyre choked back her sigh of relief. “Sounds good. Thanks, babe.”

Lucien’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror—one ginger eyebrow cocking slightly. Feyre looked away, gaze fixing on her lap.

Twenty minutes later, she waved at the car as it sped down the street toward Tamlin and Lucien’s favorite sports bar. With any luck, Lucien would get him drinking beers and talking about work, and she would have at least three hours to herself to shower. Study. Maybe even time enough to feign sleep by the time Tamlin returned.

And indeed, she managed to accomplish everything she needed to do just before Tamlin came stumbling into the apartment hours later. Feyre shut her eyes tight from her spot on the right side of the bed, her fledgling plans swirling through her thoughts until she well and truly drifted away.

-----

The next morning, Feyre gazed at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure every inch of her suit was clean and pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. The black jacket clung to her narrow frame, the pencil skirt she wore beneath it as flattering as a skirt that cut her off just below the knee could be. Her golden-brown hair fell in loose waves just past her shoulders, watery blue eyes popping thanks to the brown mascara she had applied.

“You look amazing,” a voice from behind her said.

Feyre turned, smiling at her boyfriend despite all the promises and plans she had made the night before. “Thanks, honey.”

“What’s the occasion?” Tamlin asked, striding forward and placing his hands on her hips.

Feyre stepped back, grinning up at him. “No touching. I have an important networking event with my firm today and I can’t get all wrinkly.”

Tamlin held up his hands, backing away a step. “My apologies, Ms. Archeron.”

Feyre smiled. Tamlin wasn’t always awful.

Just most of the time.

“So when can I expect you home today?”

Feyre sighed, grabbing her backpack and purse and brushing past Tamlin, striding out of the closet and into the master bathroom. “I’ve got a full day of classes, and then this networking event at six. I’m not sure how long it will go, but I’m really hoping to be back by eight.”

“Just as well,” Tamlin said. “I’ve got a late night at work—probably won’t be home until after ten.” Feyre nodded, and Tamlin followed her out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and down the hall to the kitchen. Feyre grabbed the smoothie she had made earlier that morning and tucked her lunchbox into her backpack.

“Have a good day, honey,” she said, pressing a kiss to Tamlin’s lips. He nipped at her lower lip, green eyes sparking. But Feyre just smiled, retreated, and didn’t breathe deep until she made it to the hallway, door automatically locking behind her.

This week. She was going to do it this week.

Feyre’s day dragged on in one long, miserable slog. She got cold-called by her professors in two of her classes, but she managed to answer most of the questions correctly, her heart thudding violently in her chest all the while.

Cold calls and the Socratic method of teaching were one of her least favorite parts of law school. Most professors gave no warning to their students before they called their names, subjecting them to several questions of the professor’s choosing. If you didn’t know the answer, they might move on. But some waited for you to at least attempt to respond, while the class stared and stared and hands jumped into the air all around, telling you that they knew the answer, that it was obvious. Answering a question correctly felt wonderful—but answering incorrectly usually caused Feyre’s cheeks to burn a bright red.

It didn’t matter how many of the randomly determined “calls” Feyre endured—every time a professor spoke her name, her hands started sweating, her heart rate climbing up and up and up until the professor moved on to another victim.

She spent a few hours at the library after class, tucked in her favorite corner. It was private, but better than sitting in the main quad where most of the law students gathered to study during daytime hours. Feyre hadn’t spent any notable length of time in the quad since the first semester of her 1L year. As her relationship with Tamlin progressed, the few friends she had made faded away as Feyre opted to attend the fancy dinner parties and events Tamlin invited her to. Maintaining a new relationship and keeping up with her studies didn’t leave much time for anything else—not even friends. That wasn’t to mention the time she had spent at home with her sisters and father her entire first year of school, taking care of most of the housekeeping and cooking duties because the rest of her family had “real jobs” and Feyre was still “just a student” who didn’t work a regular 9-5.

Now, she felt like a ghost in the halls of the school. She would wave to her old friends if they passed in the hallways, but Feyre had long ago accepted that this would be her law school experience: sitting in the back of the classroom, answering questions if forced, and generally keeping to herself.

It was a quiet, small existence she led. Class. Tamlin. Attending whatever events or obligations Tamlin dragged her to. Studying.

After she’d had enough studying for the day, Feyre took the train to downtown Prythian, checking her makeup at least four times before the train arrived at its stop a few blocks from a large hotel and event center in the heart of the city. She started to walk the five minutes to the hotel, staring up at the enormous shiny buildings rising around her.

To think, this would be where she worked full-time in just a few short months.

Thanks to competitive firm recruiting, Feyre had had her post-grad job lined up since the summer. She would be starting as a junior associate at Hybern & Night LLP, one of the largest and most powerful national firms in the country. Jobs at Hybern & Night were hard to come by, but thanks to Feyre’s top 5% ranking at Prythian University Law School, and her ability to say all the right things under pressure, she’d scored a job during early interviewing last summer.

The firm occupied the upper floors of one of the tallest buildings downtown. Tonight it was holding a networking event for its partners, associates, recruits, and other lawyers in the community.

She could have skipped the event, but her career counselor had emphasized how important it was to immerse herself in firm activities as quickly as possible—it would make her transition from student to junior associate much smoother, and allow her to make connections with more senior attorneys and partners who might be willing to provide projects for her to work on when she started.

So, she was here, clicking down the shadowed streets of downtown Prythian, gearing herself up to rub elbows with some of the city's wealthiest attorneys.

Some day soon, she would be one of them.

Feyre tugged her coat closer around herself, the chill in the air signaling autumn’s impending arrival. A block away, the windows of the event center glowed warmly in the shadows of the buildings around her. She increased her pace, and soon found herself ensconced in a world of cocktails and arguments. Feyre made a beeline for the refreshments table. She could certainly count on attorneys to ensure there was an open bar at events like this. She seized a glass of red wine and cast her gaze around the room, but didn’t recognize anyone. She had interviewed with at least five of the attorneys from Hybern & Night in order to get her job, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Feyre thanked the man who served her the wine, swallowing back memories of her own time spent as a bartender at Humane, one of the filthiest hole-in-the-wall bars in all of Prythian. She would have preferred talking to the bartender—less posturing required—but forced herself to skirt around the room, looking around for someone to engage in conversation.

She had almost completed a full lap when an enormous man leaned against the wall just in front of her.

“You look lost,” his deep voice rumbled, light brown hair sliding over his forehead, pale green eyes gazing down at her. His cheeks were flushed—probably from the alcohol—and as his eyes slid over her, Feyre was glad she hadn’t yet removed her coat.

“Not lost. Just—” Feyre broke off, shaking her head. “Feyre Archeron,” she said, offering a hand. “I’ll be starting as a first-year associate at Hybern & Night next August.”

“Jax Smith,” he said, an enormous hand encompassing hers. “I'm in my eighth year at Hybern & Night. Hoping to make partner next year. It’s nice to meet you, Feyre.”

Feyre swallowed, taking her hand back and sliding it into her pocket. “You too.” She cast around for one of her pre-prepared questions: So how do you like working at the firm? Any advice for 3L students preparing to enter the workforce? How do you survive the eighty hour workweeks year after year after year? Is the money worth it?

Luckily, Feyre didn’t have to resort to any of her questions, because Jax spoke for her.

“You look awfully young to be a 3L,” he commented, gaze sliding up and down her body.

Feyre cocked an eyebrow, a chill trailing down her spine. “I’m twenty-three.”

“That’s young.”

Feyre gritted her teeth. This was certainly unprofessional. “Not too young, I hope,” she said, forcing a smile. This man was going to be her coworker. She couldn’t just turn around and flee. “I’ll be twenty-four this December,” she said brightly. “Practically collecting Social Security.”

Jax didn’t smile. Only narrowed his eyes like he was trying to see through her coat.

Feyre swallowed another gulp of wine, and as he inched closer, she realized that the alcove where they stood was mostly obscured by two of the many enormous columns ringing the event center. There weren’t any lights in this section, and no one else seemed to be paying them any attention. The rest of the networking attorneys seemed miles away, even the sounds of their voices muffled by a dull roaring that started in Feyre’s head as Jax’s gaze fixed her in place.

“And are you married, Feyre?” Jax asked, one arm resting on the wall next to her head. His gaze dropped to her left hand, wrapped around the stem of her wineglass, her fourth finger obviously bereft of any ring.

“No,” she said, backing away another step.

But her admission only seemed to encourage Jax. He slid forward, eyes focused somewhere just south of her neck, where her coat had fallen open to reveal the v-neck of her dress shirt. “I would be happy to meet you for a coffee sometime. Maybe even a drink. Tell you more about the firm, away from all these stuffy partners. We could even find somewhere quieter here. To talk.” His eyes slid to the hall that led who-knew-where, just behind Feyre, stretching off into the shadows of the hotel.

Feyre’s eyes widened, a lump forming in her throat. This man was her future coworker, her senior. He might even be partner by the time she started at the firm. To turn him down could be fatal. If he took offense, he could spin it any number of ways: She had no interest in learning more about the firm. Couldn’t care less about team-building and getting to know her coworkers. Clearly came for the wine and nothing else.

He could ruin her reputation. And that was something she couldn’t afford. Not if she ever wanted to be free of Tamlin, of her family.

“What do you say?” Jax asked, bending down, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath hot against her cheek.

“I—” Feyre started.

But another man’s voice, smooth as velvet and gentle as the night, floated into the alcove, startling Jax and sending a wave of relief over Feyre.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

#acotar #feysand #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #sarah j maas #fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #modern au #feysand modern au #strictlyconfidentialau

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 16)

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: 3,641

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

When the scent of coffee hits your nose, you’re instantly invigorated.

You’d thought about canceling meeting up with Lucien this afternoon after your morning from hell. It had taken the fire department half an hour to arrive at your apartment building and another ten minutes to pry the doors of the elevator open.

By then, you and Azriel were no longer speaking, after agreeing to go to his exhibition with him, so you’d occupied yourself with reorganizing your papers, now half crumpled from their fall to the floor. You’d propped your sketchbook up on your knees and made sure you were careful enough not to flash Azriel any of the drawings.

When the doors had screeched open, there were three firefighters staring up at the two of you. Turns out, the elevator had halted halfway between two floors, and you’d had to nervously slide your body from the floor of the elevator to the landing below.

Even Azriel looked less that pleased, crouching close to you as if he was going to jump forward and snatch you should you slip. The firefighters helped you gain your footing before helping Azriel out, questioning you and asking if you needed to be looked at by an EMT.

The man asking was a handsome one. In fact, all three of them were, but there was something about this one’s deep, smooth skin, his dark braids pulled back from his face. His white teeth gleamed with the grin he sent your way, offering his help. You couldn’t help but smile back, and once the firemen had made sure that the area was safe and clear for the elevator maintenance and parted with cheerful goodbyes, did you realize that Azriel was gone.

You should’ve gone back upstairs to your apartment, but the incident left you too wired. Instead, you took a few calming breaths, shot a look and cursed at the devil elevator, and took the stairs the last two flights down.

You’d already missed your morning class, but you could still make it to your mid-morning one, Art History. The worst class you think you’ve ever signed up for in your college career thus far. But, it’s mandatory, and better to get it out of the way now instead of when you’re a semester away from graduating. The teacher is an older, knowledgeable man, but the entirety of your grade is made up of only three tests, and all of the art he’s showing you looks awfully similar to one another.

You might be fucked if you can’t figure out a way to discern one cathedral from the other.

“Hey,” Lucien greets, eyes roving the packed coffee house before settling on you. He’s dressed in a pair of loose, gray trousers, and instead of his usual sweater vest that makes him look like the most good looking TA around, he’s wearing a tight black t-shirt. It’s different, seeing him in a color darker than the gray that makes his copper hair pop. The deep black of his shirt looks painted on his skin, and you’re used to seeing him in looser fabrics.

It doesn’t stop you from brushing your gaze across the musculature of his body.

His hair is pulled back from his face this afternoon. A few long strands framing his face. He brushes them back with a strong hand as he grins down at you and his bicep flexes with the motion. Your mouth dries, and you’re suddenly thankful that you’re at the coffee house, needing something to wet your throat.

“Hey,” you stumble over the greeting, stomach flipping as his ying-yang eyes gleam down at you.

“Missed you this morning,” Lucien says, ushering you into the line. It’s longer than you’d expected it to be, but with all of the pre-weekend partying that seems to go on around your University, you suppose all of the hungover students like you need their pick-me-up to make it through the day so they’re once again ready to drink themselves stupid tonight.

“You probably won’t believe me, but I got stuck in my elevator this morning,” you huff, shuddering at the thought of being trapped in that metal container once more.

Lucien’s jaw drops and you nod, grimacing at the memory.

“Oh my Gods, are you okay?” He can’t help but to laugh and the smile you’re trying to keep tucked away breaks free. “You made it out, obviously, but holy hell, (Y/N), how are you even here right now? I’d have gone right back to sleep.”

Azriel’s uncommon niceties and disappearing act had kept you from doing just that.

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing playfully. “I couldn’t miss Art History. I have no idea what’s going on in the class and Professor Harvey sucks ass! I couldn’t tell you the difference from a Gothic or Romanesque cathedral if I’d built it myself.”

Lucien snickers. “I’m so glad I don’t have to take that. Instead, I get to enjoy History of Architecture and Urban Design. So, when you think about it, is pretty much the same thing you’re taking.”

“Sounds easier,” you grumble, glaring at the backpack of the person in front of you. “Plus, you’re naturally good at this stuff, Lu. I’m sure you’re killing it.”

The freckles on Lucien’s cheeks glow as his cheeks pinken with a blush. “I wouldn’t say all that,” he trails off, and it’s obvious that he’s being modest. 

You take a step forward with the line and count the number of customers that still have to order before it’s your turn. Behind the register is a guy who looks like he would rather be anywhere else, and when you catch sight of the letters stitched into his shirt across the chest, marking him a frat member, you understand why the line is so long.

Behind the frat bro are two girls scrambling to make drink after drink. Unlike the boy at the register, they seem like a well-oiled machine, dancing around each other as if making cappuccinos and lattes is a graceful dance. You feel a twang of empathy for them even though they seem like they’re thriving back there. You have no idea how they can memorize the different drink orders, making them as efficiently as they can and giving them out to the customers within a short amount of time.

This is the kind of pressure you would crack under.

You turn back to Lucien with a playful glare. “Oh, come on. You’re one of the smartest people I know,” you don’t miss the way the tips of his ears turn red with your slew of compliments. He looks up as if nervous, while you continue. “It’s one of your better traits.”

This gets his attention. He blinks down at you. “I have bad traits?”

You elbow him teasingly. “While your intelligence is admirable, your sketching could use some work,” you poke fun at him, referring to the last time you hung out to work on your drawing projects. Instead, you had spent the night watching a terrible reality show with the bottle of wine he’d brought. Lucien had followed you to your room where you were supposed to gather your drawing supplies. He had made a joke that had you laughing so hard you nearly cried. Your stomach had ached too much to get up after that, the wine making you boneless in your comfortable bed, so the both of you spent the rest of the night there, laughing and not working on your drawing projects.

Lucien quirks a brow. “Is that so? Are you offering to be my model?”

It’s your turn to blush now, cheeks hotter than the steaming milk screaming on the other end of the counter. Your mouth parts though your tongue is a twisted mess from his flirting, knotted and thick. You don’t know how to respond, but you’re saved by a very punctual throat clearing that comes from the frat boy behind the register.

“Are either of you planning on ordering?” He asks lazily, tapping a blunt nail against the cash wrap. He wears a backwards cap, white hair poking out from the sides. You don’t miss the way that his pine green eyes drag down your body and back up, ignoring Lucien completely. You shudder in response. “Or was it your intention to hold up the line?”

You shut your mouth, teeth clacking together. So eloquently put for a boy who probably has pre-workout and pron coursing through his veins.

Lucien ushers you to the counter, apologizing for the both of you. “Sorry about that, man.”

The boy behind the counter looks as bored as ever, though his green eyes brighten when they settle once more on you. He leans forward a little, mouth tugging up in the corner in a smirk that twists his face in an unsightly maneuver. “If I offered you the moon on a string, would you give me a kiss too, baby?”

You’re surprised with the composure it takes you not to bite back at the jock, but Lucien uncharacteristically leans forward to snarl in the boy's face. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

Frat Douche leans forward, flashing his teeth in a taunting grin. He’s slightly taller than Lucien, and wider. He’s probably on the football team or something. Not that you concern yourself with his extracurriculars.

One of the barista’s spins around on her heel, gauging the way the two boys are sizing each other up. Her blazing blue eyes glare daggers between them, as if the look alone can tear them apart. Her auburn hair is slicked back perfectly, and you wonder how it stays pinned so well when she’s running around slinging coffees all day.

A crash draws your attention away from the boys squaring up before you. The other barista behind the counter is frowning, staring down at the shaker she’s dropped to the floor with a clang. The entirety of the coffee house goes still for a fleeting moment, everyone wanting to see what’s going on, but within seconds voice’s carry throughout the space as the barista swoops down to scoop the shaker from the floor, dumping it into the sink.

“Ro, quit it,” she barks, a can of whipped cream still poised and ready to add to the Frappuccino in her hand. Those icy blues flit across yours and her mouth tightens sourly. “Excuse him, sir.” 

Lucien glances at her and seems to back down a little, shoulders strained as he rolls them. “(Y/N), what would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a caramel latte,” you nearly spit in the frat boy's face. “Iced.”

With a soft nudge at your lower back, Lucien guides you away from the conceited frat rat at the cash wrap. You slide down the counter to pick up area while Lucien pays for both of your drinks. He joins you a moment later when you’ve managed to take a few deep breaths. You will not let him ruin your mood.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” you shake your head, cutting Lucien off. “Don’t apologize for him. Thank you for defending me.”

“It was the least I could do,” your friend replies, almost bashful at your thanks.

While you wait, you scour the shop for somewhere to sit. Booths are packed full with studying students, miss-matched chairs at tables stacked with people and their friends. It’s a frenzy if you’ve ever seen one, but the coffee house is a sanctuary for the university students, especially during the afternoon hours.

Tonight, the shop will be barren, with all of the patrons getting their caffeine fixes through vodka Red Bulls instead.

“You’re taller,” you comment, “Do you see any open spots that I can’t?” You ask, because there should be more seating behind the loitering line.

Lucien’s colorful eyes scan the coffee house as one of the baristas brings your drinks over to the counter. It’s the one with piercing blue eyes and copper hair. She’s staring you down, a hard look on her face that you can’t discern is concentration or annoyance. You can’t blame her if she’s either, concentrating on the tasks at hand, making coffees left and right. She has every right to be annoyed with the customers who ask for thirteen extra shots of syrup or her coworker who apparently doesn’t know how to speak to women. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made comments to the two girls he’s working alongside, but you think that the one who slams your cups onto the counter with a little too much force can hold her own. And so can the one with white as bone hair and goldenrod eyes. Those sharp, long nails dipped in metallic are enough for you to know that she doesn’t fuck around nor let anyone fuck with her. You make a face but the barista is already turning away, beginning to work on the next order.

“There’s a table open by the window,” Lucien points to the corner of the room to a table in front of the large windows. You lead the way, a bounce in your step as you move quickly so the table doesn’t get snatched.

“What a day,” you sigh, finally relaxing into the cushy seat. You place your coffee on the low table between you, and while it’s not the best seat to get work done, you’re happy to be relaxing and chatting with your friend right now.

Lucien snorts at you, taking a sip of his drink. You watch his throat bob with the swallow, and you avert your gaze, looking outside of the window. 

There are students walking by in a flurry, a third of them trying to stuff themselves through the coffee shop doors, needing a shot of the drink to make it through the afternoon.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” you start with, mentally reprimanding yourself for staring at his bobbing throat. You play with the straw in your drink, swirling the ice around to give yourself something to do.

Lucien lets out a long suffering sigh that has you looking up once more.

“I’m supposed to be having family dinner this weekend, but I’m dreading riding back with my father and brother.” 

“I’m sorry,” you offer sympathetically that Lucien shrugs off. It’s not a topic he favors talking about, but you’re curious. “A brother? Does he go here?”

Lucien sets his cup down on the table between you, wiping his palms down his trousers as he clears his throat. He looks like he’s preparing himself for war, with the way that he’s acting, and you almost feel even worse for asking.

“I have six brothers, actually,” he says, and you nearly spit out your drink. Six brothers? Holy crap, that’s a lot. “And half of them go or have gone here,” he trails off, and you can’t do anything but stare at him in shock.

“Wow, your family really likes this place,” you mutter.

“Yeah, well. My father is the Head of Civil Engineering.”

“Oh, so you’re like Vulcan University royalty,” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shooting you a playful glare. 

“If I went into engineering, I would’ve been,” Lucien answers, glaring down at his cup. His shoulders are rigid, and you’re sensing that he doesn’t care to talk about this, but he continues nonetheless. “Eris, my eldest brother, is getting his Masters in Civil Engineering, following in my father’s footsteps, and I’m going into architecture, which, and I quote, ‘is for those people who can’t solve a differential equation.’”

You don’t say that you have no idea what that is, but Lucien must see it on your face because he cracks a smile. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, you’re telling me that all of your brothers are engineers?” you ask, because the odds of that happening must be some crazy statistic. Almost as crazy as having seven sons and no daughters.

Across the shop, the bell chimes again, signaling the arrival of more students. It’s as if you can feel the air shifting, becoming more electrified. The feeling draws your attention to the door, where Azriel and Mor have just walked in.

Like a magnet, Azriel’s gaze meets yours, bright and gold.

It makes you want to shrink back in your seat a little, with the way that they flick over to see who you’re with. Your stomach flips with nerves but you’re not even a little ashamed of who you’re with, so why is that happening? The gold splinters, and you can see the way his shoulders tighten from across the room. Mor senses the shift in Azriel’s mood and scans the shop, caramel brows pinched together in a threatening way, as if she’ll verbally spar with anyone who makes Azriel feel this way. 

When her eyes snag on yours, her red lips part in a genuine, red smile.

All you can muster is a soft smile and a lame wave, stomach flipping like you’ve been caught having public sex with Lucien under that harsh gold gaze. 

Dragging your eyes from the sight of them, you focus on Lucien with all of your might as you feel him watching you, reading you.

“Not entirely,” Lucien shrugs, scooting his chair closer to yours now that the coffee shop has gone up in decibels with all of the post lunch time rush. “Eris is studying for his masters. Pyrolas is on scholarship at St. Bryaxis’ University for wrestling, but on paper he’s a communications major, which is funny because everytime he talks to someone in the family they’re always arguing,” he rolls his eyes, but the smile that accompanies it tells you that he’s close with Pyrolas. “He’s never cared about what anyone thinks about him anyway, which is a trait I wish I had,” Lucien admits, and you’re agreeing with him. 

“Me too,” you sigh, placing a hand on his knee empathetically. “Are you close to him?”

“Used to be,” he shrugs a little. “Oak is the smartest, he’s a senior, getting a physics degree, which my father couldn’t complain about. Conleth is in the Netherlands, taking the semester to study bridge structure. Boring, I know,” he laughs at the face you’re making. “And the twins are juniors here, Foxe is studying Mechanical Engineering and Finch is studying Chemical Engineering. Always sucking up to dad, those two.”

“Damn,” you curse low, shocked. “I’m not sure if I’m more shocked by the fact that your entire family is a bunch of geniuses or that two of your brothers are named after animals.”

Your joke seems to crack the heaviness of the conversation. It’s clear that whatever kind of relationships he has with his father and brothers is strained, but Lucien allows the feeling to fall off of his shoulders as the two of you burst into fits of giggles.

“See, this is why I like you, (Y/N). You’re very easy to talk to.”

“Don’t forget funny,” you chuckle, grinning wide.

“Right, how could I forget. Funniest person I’ve ever met,” he jokes, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Hey,” you whine, shoving right back, “It’s true! I would never lie about something like that!”

Lucien smiles broadly, taking another sip of his drink. “You’re right, I’ll give you that one. What about you? Any plans this weekend?” 

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of your plans for the weekend. You’re going to Azriel’s exhibition tomorrow, someone who you’ve been beefing with since the start of the year. Why had you said yes? You really want to spend your Saturday night with someone you’re not even sure you can make it through the night without arguing with? 

Parting your mouth to answer Lucien, you’re cut off by a looming figure. Looking up, you notice Azriel. His jaw is set in a firm line, golden eyes blazing like a thousand fires. There’s a steaming hot coffee in his hand and you find yourself wondering what he’s drinking, but you assume that it’s plain black coffee like the attire he’s dressed in. Mor stands a step behind, a sly smirk she’s clearly trying to hide on her lips.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30 tomorrow night.” Azriel’s voice is cold as shadows, and you frown in response. Lucien looks confused, staring up at your neighbor as if he recognizes him somehow.

You nod shallowly, cheeks hot at the look on Azriel’s face. You don’t know why you feel like you’ve been caught in the act, but him interrupting you like this is none of his business. He could have asked Cassian for your number or told you this morning if he thought you needed the reminder. “Okay.”

Azriel stares at you for a moment longer, then twists on his heel and stalks away, completely ignoring the hard look on Lucien’s face and forgetting Mor.

You follow him, the way he moves with such grace. The crowd parts for him, more sets of hungry eyes trailing after him like yours. It makes something hot twist your gut, and you’re tearing your gaze away to Mor, who beams brightly.

“So nice to meet you last night, (Y/N),” she winks, looking like she knows something that you don’t. “I hope to see you again soon.” With a flourish of her blonde hair being tossed over her shoulder, Mor trails Azriel out of the coffee shop, just as many eyes following her as there were following Azriel.

“I thought you didn’t like that guy,” Lucien says, slumping back in his chair a little. You’d complained when he had come over to your apartment to study, when he’d told you that he ran into Cassian and his moody roommate in the hall. 

“Yeah,” you answer weakly, reaching for your coffee again. The words taste funny on your tongue as they come out. “I don’t.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

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 @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19

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

[lyssasdrafts]

— AFTERGLOW (azriel x reader)

014: “ i don’t wanna lose this with you. ”

masterlist previous next

— NOTES

azriel stayed on call with you for HOURS when you were sick even when you couldn’t talk much

here’s a happier fluff chapter (for now…)

y/n: exists, azriel: 😍😍😍

— 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 taglist is open!! lmk if you want to be added

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

[talkfantasytome]

As You Wish - Part 1

Nesta has a small procedure and is stuck with Cassian being the one to drive her to and from. Little does she know he's planning on sticking around all day to take care of her.

Warnings: Fluff | Word Count: 2,418 | Read on AO3

Nessian Masterlist

a/n: Written for Day 4 of @sjmromanceweek - Little Things

Beep…beep…beep…

The incessant sound was music to Cassian's ears as he sat by Nesta's bed, the only sign that she was still alive, still breathing.

Her body was entirely motionless. Any movements spreading from the rising and falling of her chest were barely visible from where he was, her back to him. Apparently, the procedure called for her being laid on her side, and they didn't let visitors sit on that side of the bed. The nurses needed access there.

It had Cassian tapping his foot and rubbing his hands against his legs as he waited. She'd been out of the procedure room for over ten minutes now. How much longer was he expected to wait patiently? At what point was he allowed to worry?

He pulled out his phone and texted Az. She's still not awake.

Didn't she just go in? Az asked back, likely over the frequent updates Cassian's been giving. He wasn't allowed in the prep area initially. They'd made him stay in the waiting room until Nesta had gone into the procedure room. Only once she was back out after the procedure did they let him go back there. Likely checking to make sure Nesta felt safe with him.

It was good how the doctors would separate their patients from others and ask about their safety at home. How they'd find a way to ensure the patient had all the control over who was allowed to be with them when and where. He liked that they did that.

He liked even more that he'd been granted access to the prep room once she was back. That she'd allowed him in. Considering how hard Nesta had tried to find someone else to be her ride, he figured she would keep him as far away as possible for as long as possible.

She's been out for at least ten minutes, he typed into his phone. It was his best chance at distraction.

I'm not dignifying that with a response.

Dick.

Cassian rolled his eyes and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Fine, he would wait without any support from his brother. He'd just watch Nesta.

It was one of his favorite pastimes.

Her golden brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, strands of hair poking out from her hairband. Cassian had nearly lost it when he showed up that morning, seeing Nesta in a hairstyle other than her pristine braided coronet. Her hair was always so immaculate. Even at the end of the day, the wisps of hair that had fallen out of her standard updo always looked purposeful. But this, this was disheveled and honest. It said, 'This procedure is far too early for me to do anything but brush my teeth and put on leggings,' and Cassian loved it. Almost as much as he imagined he'd love her hair down.

Maybe he'd get the chance to see that today, too.

A nurse came to stand at the computer in front of Nesta's bed, checking that and her monitor. "Should be any minute now," she said to Cassian, her eyes relaying the kind smile she was offering him behind her mask. "Remind me who you are? Her boyfriend?"

Cassian's heart fluttered at the comment, the possibility. And nearly broke as he answered honestly, "No, just a friend."

That's all he'd ever been. For years. Sure, he wanted more. He'd be an idiot not to. Nesta was everything he'd ever wanted. Sharp, funny, challenging, devastatingly beautiful. It wasn't for lack of trying, though. He'd been flirting his little heart out since the day he met her three years before. Sometimes she reciprocated, other times she may as well have kneed him in the balls with how she responded. And then there were the times when he showed her all he was, when he took off his funny-guy mask and let her see his true self. And every time she'd offer the same, revealing a soft filling within a shell of iron. It was gorgeous, and gave Cassian the hope everyone told him he was a fool for holding on to.

"I'm sure she's glad you're here," the nurse said in her soft voice. Cassian wasn't so positive. "When she wakes up, she'll likely be a bit disoriented, but she should come to relatively quickly. It wasn't general anesthesia, so her mind won't be too cloudy."

He nodded just as the monitor's beeping quickened slightly. And then her body stirred. It was barely a twitch, but it was some form of movement. A sign of life, of growing consciousness.

Cassian still couldn't see her face, but her head moved a bit, and then the nurse was speaking. "Hey there," she said gently.

Nesta must've opened her eyes to prompt that from the nurse. Right? Those storm cloud eyes that haunted every one of Cassian's dreams. Mother above, he wished she would turn and face him. That he would get to look into those eyes, that perfect face, make sure she was truly okay.

"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked after a long silence.

"Fine," Nesta replied in a sleepy, scratchy voice. "My throat…"

"Yes, it will likely be sore for a day or two," the nurse explained. "If it's still sore by Monday, please let us know. Would you like to try and sit up?"

Cassian watched Nesta's head move up and down. The nurse walked over to the other side of the bed and helped her, adjusting the bed so that the head would be propped up a bit. Nesta grunted softly, as if the movement took more effort than normal. But soon enough she was settled against the pillows and sitting up enough to be able to turn and see him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice remaining groggy.

He gave her a crooked grin as he said, "You let me in, sweetheart."

Nesta rolled those grey-blue eyes, shaking her head at him. A very Nesta reaction, which likely meant the sedative was wearing off quickly. It warmed Cassian's heart, even as she replied, "Next time, I'm taking the bus."

"Good luck with that," he chuckled. She didn't respond, switching her focus back on to the nurse who was now asking her if she'd like something to eat.

The nurse grabbed her the Cheez-Its Nesta requested after being given a list of the options, and then began chatting with her as she undid the wires and all that was attached to Nesta. "So remember, you'll need to take it easy today. No driving or operating machinery, and you shouldn't work. You should have mild side effects, maybe a bit of bloating. I'd suggest eating smaller meals today. You might feel some slight nausea, but if you can't keep anything down please let your doctor know immediately. But you should be okay, it's one of the reasons we give people some food after the procedure."

Nesta was nodding along, listening fairly intently, but her eyes kept darting to Cassian, who was watching her shamelessly. He didn't care what anyone thought, she was the one who just had the procedure. He could hear the nurse and keep his eyes on Nesta at the same time.

"Once you're ready to get up let me know, we'll leave the space so you can change," the nurse continued. "And then you can go into the office and wait for the doctor."

"I'm ready!" Nesta said, sitting up straighter. The nurse panicked slightly as Nesta started fidgeting with the railing on the bed, attempting to get it to go down.

"Hold on," the nurse sighed, rushing over. "Let me help you." She folded the railing down and then held out a hand for Nesta. At first, Nesta didn't accept the offer of help. But the second her feet were on the floor and she was putting weight on them, she was reaching out for that hand, for a steadying weight. "Sir, if you can wait on the other side of the curtain?"

Cassian let out a small chuckle, gaining Nesta's attention. "Sure you don't want my help, sweetheart?"

"Why don't you go warm up the car," Nesta spewed out, sounding more like a grumpy child than the ice queen she typically perfected.

"As you wish." He bowed his head slightly and then smirked over at her as her eyes narrowed at him. No doubt she was attempting to understand his meaning, to decide if the quote from one of her favorite movies was purposeful.

He was always purposeful with Nesta.

"What are you doing?" Nesta demanded as she saw Cassian turn off the car, remove his seatbelt, and open his door.

"Getting out of the car?" he said in more of a question than a statement. He shut his door again, cars flying past them faster than they should be going in her neighborhood. Philly drivers.

"Why?"

He cocked an eyebrow up at her. "To help you out and get you into your apartment."

"I'm fine Cassian. I don't need your help. I only needed the ride because it was required." And that was the truth. Nesta felt perfectly fine. Maybe a bit hazy. Enough that she could admit to herself she did need someone else driving her home, but she sure as hell wouldn't say that out loud. To Cassian.

She took off her own seatbelt as he shook his head and sighed, "Too bad, sweetheart."

Gods, he moved fast. Before Nesta could step out of the car he was already at her door, holding it open and offering a hand to her. One she certainly did not take. But damn it, she couldn't stop him from grabbing her bag out of his car before she could. He'd likely hold it hostage, force his way into her apartment just so he could annoy her all day.

"Are your keys in here?"

"Don't go through my bag!"

"I never would, Nes," he said as he closed the car door. He let out a mockingly offended scoff. "Without your permission. Though that reaction does make me more curious."

Nesta could've growled at him. Well, sadly, she couldn't, because that wasn't exactly a skill most humans had. But if she could… Perhaps her cat would. Instead, she just snatched the bag out of Cassian's hand, losing her balance for a second. But Cassian was there, a gentle hand at her arm, helping her stay upright. It had Nesta's face heating.

To keep him from seeing that, she fished her keys out of her bag and started toward the door, beginning the dance with her door. Did she get the right key for the right lock? She almost never got it right on the first try, with three identical keys used for the four locks she had to get through. Her landlord sure hadn't made it easy to access her second floor apartment in the converted townhouse.

He stopped her from closing the front door on him, making Nesta roll her eyes. "You really don't have to come in."

"I do," he disagreed. "Someone needs to make sure you get settled and are doing okay today. Make sure you drink enough water. All that."

"Cassian."

"Nesta," he countered. He held her gaze, matching her ice with the fire that was always sparkling in his eyes. Gold flakes danced in the sea of hazel, drawing her in, holding her stare captive.

She took a deep breath, steadying her mind before it danced off into the fantasies she tried to ignore. Then Nesta sighed a small, "Whatever," and turned to open the second door. She ignored the massive grin he put on at her response, already feeling the weight of the sleepiness beginning to build.

It took barely three minutes for Nesta to hang up her coat, remove her shoes, and find herself on her small sectional couch, nestling in to the chaise part. Her cat was even quicker to hop up and snuggle next to her.

Cassian was slower to make his way into the living room. After another few minutes he finally showed up, pillows from her bed in hand. "I thought you might like to have these," he explained, placing them next to Ataraxia, who started at the sudden wind rustling her silver fur.

Nesta nodded her agreement. They'd be useful if she actually decided to lie down.

Cassian walked in front of the couch and grabbed at the handle beneath the mid-section, pulling to bring out the pop-up part that turned the couch into a queen-sized bed. She lifted an eyebrow at him, making him chuckle as he said, "So you can spread out as needed. Are you comfortable? Warm enough?"

"I'm fine, Cassian," she breathed, even as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Sure you are." He lifted her legs to get the electric blanket from under her feet and then spread it across her. "What setting do you like, again? Four?" Nesta nodded softly, the throes of sleep already setting in. She could feel her eyelids beginning to fall as Cassian clicked the blanket on and fiddled with the settings. "I'm going to do a quick grocery run for you. Anything special you want?"

"I have food," Nesta mumbled.

Cassian let out a chuckle that sent a chill up Nesta's spine. "You have snacks and an absurd amount of chocolate."

It took nearly all her remaining strength to roll her eyes, but it was worth it to display just what she thought of his comments. She was fine on food. So what if she ate take out every night? That just meant she was eating good food every night. But whatever, she was too tired to bother trying to stop Cassian. Though, if he's really here to serve her, she started to realize, she might as well milk it. "Can you get my Comfy before you go?"

The grin on Cassian's face when he handed her the plush, light purple wearable blanket was almost too much for her. The way his eyes crinkled as his lips curled upward, how they seemed to sparkle even brighter. It was the last thing Nesta needed to see. It was the first thing she wanted to see every morning. Traitorous mind.

Nesta snatched the Comfy out of his hands, but his only reply was a soft and kind, "Get some rest. I'll be back before you wake." He really needed to stop doing that.

She'd barely gotten the blanket on before sleep completely took over.

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @imsointobooks @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @shinya-hiiragi @a-court-of-milkandhoney @pintas3107 @embersofwildfire @superspiritfestival @thewayshedreamed @lunabean @xstarlightsupremex @mis-lil-red @wannawriteyouabook @dealfea @bridgertononmymind @daydreamer-anst @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @hiimheresworld @c-e-d-dreamer @kale-theteaqueen @charming-butt-insane @charliespringsleftconverse

a/n: Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

There will be a part 2 to this. This was meant to be just a one shot, but someone is bad at time management and she wanted to get something posted on the right day. XD

#sjm romance week #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #fluff #just fluff #acosf #acosf fanfiction #cassian x nesta #a court of silver flames #modern au

[lalacliffthorne]

in case of a nightmare, the right roommates are always to the rescue.

(next part in the modern!roommate!batboys-universe series. this is really just a lil piece of wholesomeness.)

With a jump, I woke, my eyes flying open as I darted up and my heart skipped painfully.

My gaze darted over the dark room as for a second, my dream seemed to merge with reality and a prickling sensation of fear made me shiver. Then I hastily turned on the lamp next to my bed and wiped my hair out of my face as I forced myself to take a deep breath.

God, I hated nightmares.

Even in the light, my room was far too quiet, and trying to ignore the sudden shuddering tingle on my spine stemming from a dream I didn't remember anything of but the panicked feeling, I slipped out from under the sheets.

Picking up the hoodie that was draped over the back of my chair, I tugged it over my head, the material pooling around me as I tapped over to the door, carefully opening it.

The flat was dark and completely quiet. It made my skin crawl, and hastily, I slipped past Rhys' bedroom towards the kitchen, turning on the lights as quickly as I could.

Turning on the kettle, the soft hissing driving away the far too deep silence, I pulled a mug from the cabinet, trying not to make too much noise. My heart was still staggering a little, adrenaline still rushing through my body, and I tried to remember what it was I had been dreaming about, even though that was probably not the best id-

A confused voice mumbling my name made me jump, almost dropping the mug as I whirled around, and Rhys squinted into the light, brows furrowed.

"Fuck." I pressed a hand onto my chest, my heart skipping painfully as I widened my eyes and whisper-shouted: "You scared the shit out of me!"

Rhys cracked a grin, scratching his bare chest as he crunched his nose against the light and started to trudge towards me, his deep voice hoarse with sleep when he mumbled: "Why the fuck are you up and in the kitchen at two in the morning?"

Feeling a little heat form in my cheeks, I turned back towards the cabinets to take out the tea. "Woke up."

Breathing out, Rhys leaned against the counter next to me and reached out to pluck a strand of hair falling into my face. "And?"

The heat in my cheeks deepend, and I puffed out my cheeks and raised my head to glare weakly at him as I grumbled: "I had a nightmare." Pouting a little at the sudden twitch in his lips, I dropped my gaze back towards the tea and added in a grouchy mumble: "Had to - get up."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys' gaze move over my face and the way his lips curved deepen just a little. "Won't be able to sleep again?"

"No,", I grumbled. "I hate having a vivid imagination."

Rhys breathed a chuckle, then he pushed off the counter, gently bumping his biceps into my shoulder. "Can you make one for me too?"

I furrowed my brows and looked up at him, and even tired, Rhys' eyes managed to twinkle mischievously when he raised a brow. "Well, I won't leave you alone after having a nightmare."

I opened my mouth incredulously to protest; because just because I wasn't very likely to get a lot more sleep tonight didn't mean he had to lose sleep, but before any noise could leave me, another deep voice sounded from the door, so slow and low and like a soft brush of cool air, it sent shivers down my spine.

"What the fuck are you two doing up?"

My head flew around, and Azriel scrunched his brows against the light, his usual slight scowl softened a little by the way his honey eyes warmed in the light as he stepped into the kitchen. Something tipped over in my chest, because just like Rhys, he wasn't wearing a t-shirt, and muscles worked under his sunkissed skin as he ran a hand through his tousled dark hair, the tattoos on his shoulders and chest shifting with the movement.

"Nightmare." Rhys' deep voice made me hastily tear away my eyes from Azriel, something tumbling and tripping in my chest as I turned back around and Rhys easily leaned back against the counter, dipping his head towards me like it explained everything. And apparently it did, because when I looked up again, some of the tension seemed to melt out of Azriel's frame, and he straightened a little, the crease between his brows smoothing just a bit as his gaze flickered over my face.

"It's not that bad." I quickly turned my gaze away and grumbled: "Honestly."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys and Azriel exchange a look, like they were communicating silently. They did that often, and like every time, they seemed to come to a silent understanding, because Rhys pushed off the counter and moved past Azriel who stepped forward until he was next to me, opening the cabinet to pull out two more cups. He didn't even have to reach up, which was annoyingly unfair.

"What -" I quickly looked up at him, something tipping over in my chest when I saw the soft curve to Azriel's lips when he threw me a look.

"Save it." His low voice was almost a little amused when he pulled the jar with tea from my hand, and I opened my mouth, because they couldn't really plan on -

"I said save it." There was the trace of a grin vibrating through Azriel´s voice now as he dipped his head a little towards me, shaking it as he put the tea back into the cabinet. A strand of hair curved over his forehead, messy and tousled like the rest, his back muscles shifting under his bare skin as he took the steaming kettle and poured water into the mugs. Staring up at him with my brows drawn together and probably close to a defiant pout, something swerved a little in my chest when Az threw me a look, and one corner of his lips curved upwards softly.

Handing me a mug, he took the other two and gently pushed me towards the hall. The lamps had been switched on in the living room, dipping it into a warm golden light, there were blankets on the two couches that had not been there before, and as I stilled in the door, Rhys came out of my room, my pillow under his arm and my duvet thrown over his shoulder. Sending me an easy smirk, he squeezed past me, Azriel following after him.

Behind me, a door opened with a small creak, and when I quickly looked over my shoulder, Cassian appeared in the doorway to his room, squinting into the light, his hair a birdsnest as he grumbled: "'m I missing something?"

"Nightmare,", it echoed in two deep voices from behind me, and Cassian rubbed his eyes, tapping over with crunched brows and mumbling: "Sorry, sweets." Leaning down, he left a slightly uncoordinated kiss on my cheek that made me crinkle my nose dramatically. Then he trudged past me without even asking or protesting, joining the other two in the living room and plopping onto one of the couches, pulling the blanket away from Rhys.

Staring at the three of them from my place in the door, I felt something warm spread through my chest as my lips slowly curved upwards until I was beaming softly.

Weirdos.

Beginning to walk over towards the couches, I dodged a flying pillow that Rhys had aimed at Cassian, blowing steam away from my tea as I sank onto the cushions of the other couch, putting my mug down to wrap myself up in my blanket. Stuffing a pillow into my back and snuggling up, I raised my head when the couch dipped, and something skipped gently against my ribs when Azriel stretched out his long legs.

When the sun rose over the horizon, my eyes felt heavy. My head was leaning against the backrest of the couch where I was cozily curled up under my heavy blanket. On the other couch, Rhys and Cassian where fast asleep after the latter had dozed off first.

We had talked for hours, none of them ever once complaining, just settling onto the couches, wrapped in their blankets. Even if I had wanted to make them go back to bed, they'd have just blantly refused. Azriel had made tea at least three more times, and Cassian had demanded food at around four, which had led to Rhys pulling some croissants from the freezer. I had dug out the board games I had found the last time we had deep cleaned the apartment, and beaten Cassian in trivia four times, which had made him grumble for about half an hour.

Now, Rhys was stretched out on the cushions, feet on the coffee table, clad in the ridiculous purple, fluffy socks Feyre had gotten me last Christmas because he had pouted about cold feet, his head dipped back as he breathed evenly. On the other end of the couch, Cassian had turned onto his side, legs tucked in, blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. He looked so dangerously close to sliding off the cushions, it made me barely suppress a sleepy giggle.

Something shifting down at my feet made me turn my gaze away from the two on the other couch, and something thrummed steadily against my ribs when my eyes met amber ones.

Azriel sat stretched out in the other corner, arms crossed over his chest and covered in his blanket, the hood of the sweatshirt he'd thrown over pulled over his head. In the soft morning light, I thought I saw the shadow of a few freckles on his nose as one corner of his lips quirked a little. He didn't look like he'd been awake since three am, eyes steady, only maybe a little softer than usual.

He shifted again, and his foot lightly nudged against my shin as he dipped his head to the side a bit.

"Breakfast?"

His quiet, low voice made something hop gently in my chest, and breathing out sleepily and rubbing my sleeve over my eyes, I nodded, trying to suppress a yawn.

A crease appeared in Azriel's cheek. Then he slowly sat up, sliding out from under his blanket as he pushed himself to his feet and stretched. His hoodie rode up a bit over his low sitting pyjama pants, and I quickly averted my eyes, feeling a soft warmth tinge my cheeks.

I shifted, beginning to move, but Azriel made a soft sound, beginning to move quietly towards the door. "Stay here, I´ll call you." Moving past the couch, he huffed in light amusement at his two friends, and I slowly sank back into the cushions, the warmth of my blanket making the protest die on my tongue.

Leaning my temple against the backrest of the couch, I felt my eyes begin to drop, my body sinking into the cushions.

Just five minutes.

Before my eyes slid shut, I thought I saw Azriel look back at the door, the crease in his cheek deepening in a soft, crooked smile.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate123 @bookishbroadwaybish

#drabble #modern!roommate batboys series #azriel #az #rhys #rhysand #cassian #acotar x reader #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acotar drabble #azriel imagine #azriel x female!reader #az/reader #az x reader #az imagine #azriel x reader #rhys imagine #rhysand imagine #cassian imagine #modern au #lalacliffthorne

[teddyhoneybear]

Modern AU

Elain and Lucien in the '40s-'50s

#they always seemed like a vintage couple to me #elucien driving an old car? 😮‍💨🥵 #1940s #modern au #1950s #elucien #acotar #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #pro lucien vanserra #acotar series #pro elain #elain x lucien #acotar elain #lucien x elain #elain acotar #lucien and elain #lucien acotar #pro lucien #elucien moodboards