#modern!azriel

[azsazz]

In Safe Arms

Bodyguard!Azriel x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hey ! Ik u are hella busy and I am so proud of ur for ur publication , but if u ever get time could u do a Celebrity reader x bodyguard az?

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2390

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“I said back the fuck off!” Azriel growls, and you know for a fact that the paparazzi who’s been steadily inching closer and closer throughout the night has landed himself on your bodyguards shit list.

Azriel’s hand doesn’t leave the small of your back, no matter how much he wants to lunge across the sidewalk and knock the fucking camera out of this goon’s hands. The man’s been harassing you all week, from the moment you stepped off the plane in New York, getting testier and testier with his shots, following you from your hotel to your shoots, to parties and bars and back to your hotel late into the evening hours. He doesn’t know how the man finds the time to sleep, honestly.

And he knows it’s the same one following you around, not only because it’s his job to remember people that might prove to be a threat to you, but because he’d never forget this fucking scumbag’s face.

You duck your head lower, pressing Azriel’s handkerchief tightly to your eyebrow. There’s blood dripping into your eye from whatever it was a fan tossed your way as soon as you’d stepped foot out of your SUV. Azriel had been turned toward you, lending you a helping hand from the vehicle when it struck. He whirled around, but it was too late, the coward had slunk off into the crowd before he could sniff them out like a bloodhound.

And Azriel was livid.

If your father had just hired two bodyguards to protect you instead of one, this wouldn’t have happened.

Not that Azriel isn’t qualified to keep you safe by himself. With six years of training with the Royal Marines under his belt, he’s more than capable. He’s carried injured men across his back for miles when there was no hope of getting out for fuck’s sake. But this is a new playing field entirely. You’re the most well-known celebrity he’s had the pleasure of working with, and when your father didn’t heed his advice that one bodyguard was not enough, he knew he was going to be in for a challenge.

A challenge that he’s failed tonight.

You let him lead you blindly, trying your best to block out your surroundings: the screaming fans begging for a picture or autograph, the stream of liquid you’re desperately trying to blink from your eye and soak up with the rag. Your heart is pounding loudly in your chest, breathing shallow pants, and the only thing keeping you from collapsing right onto the concrete outside of your hotel is Azriel’s strong hand at your back, guiding you to safety.  

“Almost there,” he murmurs at your back, and your shoulders slacken slightly at the familiarity of his voice cutting through all the other noises that pierce your ears. “Only a few more steps and we’ll be in the lobby.”

He’s right, the concierge is holding the door open just enough for the both of you to slip through, and when it shuts tightly behind you, muffling off the loud wails and camera flashes, you release a shaky breath.

“Miss, are you okay?” The man asks, concern lacing his tone, like his job is on the line because someone decided to toss something at your face. “Do you need me to call the polic—”

“No, no,” you blurt frantically, waving him off. “That’s not necessary.”

“(Y/N)—” Azriel tries to cut in, and you know that this is something he’s going to have to report to his boss. Concern laces his tone, not for his job, but for you, because you’re injured and shaking in the middle of the lobby, looking like an abandoned puppy left to wilt in the rain. “I think you should—”

“No, Az,” you choke out, finally lifting your gaze from the floor to meet his. The look he wears makes your breath catch in your throat, but looking at him always does. He’s beautiful. And completely off limits.

His thick, straight brows are the only thing that gives his concern away. There’s a wrinkle between them that you want to reach out and smooth with the pad of your finger. His mouth is set in a firm line, not unusual for the stoic man. And his eyes, well his eyes are roiling with anger, hot coals ready to combust.

You don’t even care that you’ve called him the name you shouldn’t. You’re not supposed to address him by his name at all, let alone the nickname you’ve secretly become fond of. Right now, though, you’re much to shaken to realize your slip up, and he’s too worried about your wound to correct you.

“Please,” you beg, tears brimming your eyes. His tall, built frame conceals you from the people still lingering outside, and he spots that fucking paparazzi from the corner of his eye, smirking in the window as he cranes as far as he can to be the first to get a shot at your injury. “I want to go to my room.”

You’re already pulling the cloth from your face, and he’s quick to reach out and press it back, all too aware of the people around. Any one of them could spill the beans, could secretly be listening or recording, ready to make a quick buck off your horrendous night. Fucking assholes, all of them.

“Okay,” he consoles, glaring harshly at the concierge when he opens his mouth to protest. The man’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click, and he scurries away. Returning his attention to you, one hand pinning yours and the cloth you’re clutching to your face, he urges you toward the elevator. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

The doors chime open, and after getting you on safely and pushing the button to the suite on the top floor of the building, Azriel shoots one last menacing look to the paparazzi that’s still standing out front. He’s going to have a few phone calls tonight, with the hotel security and the local police, because he doesn’t want that fuck anywhere near you ever again.

The sleazy pap has the gall to wink at Azriel before the doors shut between you and the man he knows will be standing in that exact spot come the morning when it’s time for you to leave again.

The ride is long, and with the adrenaline draining from your system, you’re exhausted. Azriel lets you sag against him, and you trust him so fully that you let your eyes drift shut, allowing him to guide you through your room and straight into the bathroom so that he can take care of your wound.

You crack your eyes open when he lifts you to rest on the counter before dropping to his knees and helping you out of your heels. Your feet scream happily, and your body ignites at the sight of him on his knees before you.

Standing, he shoves the sleeves of his thick, black shirt up over his elbows, exposing those strong forearms you’d had the pleasure of peeking at for the last few months. That’s not the only thing you’ve noticed about Azriel. There are scars on his hands, bad ones. You don’t know what they’re from, but you’re aching to know. To learn anything about the man who’s been your bodyguard for the better part of this year.

“I think you should go home,” Azriel says softly. Or, as softly as someone like him can. It sounds harsh, gruff, but you know he doesn’t mean it like a demand. He’s concerned in his own way.

“I can’t pull out of my appearances, that’ll only make me look worse,” you argue, sliding back onto the counter he guides you to. People already hate you enough for the rift that Azriel has caused in your relationship with superstar Tamlin Oleander. Having an attractive man protecting you has not only made the man your team is paying to be with you insecure, but he’s been twisting this story for too long already. Pulling out of your appearances now will only give the fans another reason to pick and tear at you.

He scrubs his hands hard with the bar of soap in the sink before toweling them off and looking at your injury.

There’s a split above your eyebrow. Face wounds bleed a lot, he tells himself, smothering the memory that rises at the sight. Except that that injury was about an inch lower, and his comrade didn’t make it out alive.

“Who cares about looking worse,” Azriel scoffs. This time, he speaks harsher, but his movements against your face are still soft. The sting is barely there because you’re focusing on the buzz his fingertips brushing your skin provide. You’re focusing on the soft spot in his hazel eyes as he examines your wound, his breath against your skin. It’s dizzying. And not from the blood loss. “You should care about being safe.”

Neither of you brings up that it’s his job to do just that, but it sits heavily in the room anyway, sucking all the air from the expansive bathroom.

He swallows harshly, refusing to look at you. He busies himself with plucking a few butterfly bandages from the first aid kit beside him. The split skin above your eyebrow aches when he pinches the slice together to apply the bandage. “I’ll call down to the lobby to see if there’s someplace more private we can meet the car to take you to the hospital. You’re going to need a stitch or two.”

“Azriel, wait,” you call, grabbing for his hand when he turns to leave the room. You know exactly what’s going to happen when he crosses over that threshold. “Please don’t call him.”

He allows you to stop him, but he doesn’t turn to face you. He can’t. Can’t bear to look at you when his failure is staring right back at him. He let you get hurt, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.

Azriel’s body is too still, and his tone is too even when he answers. “I have to.”

“You don’t,” you plead, clutching him tighter. If he calls your father and tells him about what happened tonight you know you’ll never see him again, and if you never see him again, you’ll be fucking miserable. You’ve found comfort in Azriel’s presence throughout the time you’ve been working together, and he’s the only one who’s been able to see through the façade you put on, the personality you’ve spent so long pretending to be. He sees you.

“I do.”

“Why?” You don’t care that you’re getting worked up, that you voice is becoming louder with your desperation. That your nails are biting into the skin of his arm because you refuse to let him walk away from you.

Azriel whirls, and you startle back a step. But you don’t let him go, you never want to let him go. You take him with you, and he goes tripping forward with how you’ve caught him off guard.

He stumbles into you and his hands find your waist, steadying you against the counter. His grip on you is tight. His eyes defeated.

“I couldn’t protect you tonight,” he admits, and you can hear the heartbreak in his voice, you can almost see the memories that resurface, threatening to drag him under. “You need someone who can.”

“You can, Azriel! It’s an isolated incident!” You’re desperately trying to get him to see reason, scrabbling your fingers at his shirt, dragging him even further into you. Tears slide down your face, and for the first time of the night, you’re afraid. You weren’t scared when Azriel was the one there, jumping into action, but now, thinking that he might leave you, you’re terrified.

“It won’t be,” he sighs, brushing his fingers softly over yours, trying to calm you down lest you reopen your wound. “Now that it’s happened, other will try, and I can’t have you getting hurt, sweetheart. I can’t protect you like I thought I could.”

Neither of you catch his slip of the tongue, too caught up in the emotions for it to register.

You can’t swallow back the sob. You try to bury your face in his shirt, but Azriel catches you gently around the shoulders, keeping you from hurting yourself.

His hands are calloused and strong, you can feel the ridges of the scarring that paints them. So tender, so cruel, so soft.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” you admit, blinking your tears away to meet his gaze. You don’t care that your makeup is probably a mess with your tears and whatever’s left of the blood, and Azriel doesn’t care because he still thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Azriel presses his forehead against yours, swiping your tears with his thumbs. “I won’t,” he promises, “I can’t.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and just like that, you’re staring up and him and he’s staring back at you like you’re the most prized possession in this hotel, in this world.

He doesn’t know when he fell for you, if it was the way you tried to find the cracks in his stoic exterior between photoshoots and interviews, or if it’s the way you opened yourself up for him only, showed him the real you.

You’re nothing like the way you’re portrayed in the media. None of those fucking people know how big your heart is, how much you’ve been hurt, how much you care.

And he’d lie down his life to keep you safe and whole.

“Promise me.” You breathe. Your lips brush his as you speak, and the gentle touch sends shockwaves up your spine. You follow their current, lengthening your spine, pushing closer to Azriel. His hands tighten on your hips, and you spread your legs wider for him so slot himself between.

He does with a jagged breath, like he’s trying to hold himself back but is unable. His hazel eyes bore into yours and you see the war there, how he wants to go against everything he vowed not to do with you. He shouldn’t be anywhere near you like this…but he can’t help himself.

“I promise,” he says, along with ‘fuck it’ in his head, and leans down to capture your lips against his.

[imaginesmai]

Your name on my body - modern!Azriel

Beautiful and amazing @thehighladywrites posted this INCREDIBLE idea and I had to try it. I've never written a modern!acotar AU, a college!acotar AU or nerdy-tattooed!Azriel. I haven't written bimbo!reader, and since English is not my first language, I don't know if I have done it right. I enjoyed this sooooo much, let me know if you want more or have some requests!

Extra points for whoever gets the crescent city saga reference!

Plot: nerd-tattooed!Azriel gets a tattoo with your name and it leads to smutty time.

Warnings: porn and porn and Azriel being freaky and porn with just an inch of plot. This is dirty.

The door of the apartment closed behind your back and you were met with an empty living room. You usually didn’t come in unannounced, because Azriel’s shared apartment always had some type of surprise. But your boyfriend had asked you to do so, and to use the spare key he had given you a while ago.

Azriel had been studying for his finals for weeks, and had finally finished them. Instead of going out to celebrate like you had, he had stayed in with his friends. You hadn’t seen each other too much, apart from the long hours in the library where he tried to help you with your exams – and you didn’t count those hours, since you did nothing more than stare at him.

The apartment, as expected, was trashed. There were beer bottles in the ground, suspicious stains in the carpet and a very naked Cassian sleeping in the couch. You had just barely gotten out of your hangover, and Azriel’s roommate was about to start his.

Through all the chaos, you were certain none of it belonged to Azriel. He liked to party, sure, but not hard and long as you. He preferred to stay quiet and observe, with a drink that lasted him the whole night. You were trying to remember if the heel that poked through the back of the couch was from your friend when you heard him coming.

“This way, princess”

His deep, morning voice made you turn around and stumble to his presence. Like a serpent caught in a sweet melody, you were always pulled towards him. Azriel was wearing a grey t-shirt and black shorts, that fit him like a globe. Dark glasses and disheveled hair. And lots of tattoos that you had traced previously with your fingers and tongue.

“Hey, handsome” you greeted him, not hiding your bright smile. “Got your text this morning. What were you doing up so early?”

“Hit the gym before breakfast. Not all of us are hangover”

“Tell that to the other half of the campus or your roommates. Rhysand spent the night with Feyre in the rooftop”

Your roommate hadn’t appeared last night, and you had found a very cryptic text that morning that led you to the rooftop – where both her and Rhysand were fast asleep with the bottle still uncorked.

As soon as you were within reach, Azriel pulled you closer by your waist and smashed his lips against yours. He tasted like coffee and mint, and erased any trace of drunkenness from last night. You tangled your manicured fingers between his locks, shamefully scratching the nape of his neck with your long nails.

They differed from Azriel’s bitten ones. Your short dress from his baggy clothes, and your dyed hair from his untamed ones. While you liked to shine in the public, to dress up and party, Azriel preferred to be quiet, thrift clothes and study. To the campus, you were the bimbo, and he was the nerd.

But you were his bimbo and he was your nerd.

“How was the party?” Azriel asked between kisses, his lips not staying for too long on yours.

“Good. Missed you” you almost whined when he pulled back too soon, and he chuckled.

“Missed you too. Did you have fun?”

You hummed as his hands lowered until they cupped the edge of your ass. The dress was short enough he could pull it up until anyone could see your panties, but neither of you cared. He had to lean down to do so, and you took advantage to deepen the kiss.

On the outside, Azriel might have looked like the shy, nerdy student, but he was freaky. You had been surprised when a hook-up with your assigned tutor turned out in the best night of your life, and there was nothing that could unhook you from him.

His hands were big enough to squeeze most of your ass, kneading it just like you loved it. Roughly, you were pushed into his body. Azriel was always semi-hard when you came to view, and you always took care of choosing the shortest and most provocative dress in his presence.

Few things were better than a good night out and a good morning fucking.

“I’ve got a surprise for you. Can I take you to my room?”

“You don’t have to ask”

But he did, breaking away your heated kiss. Azriel pushed the bridge of his glasses up and gave you a crooked smile, offering you his hand. You gladly took it and let him guide you to his room. The farthest, the darkest, but also the neatest. Azriel spent a good part of his time in there, and you loved it. He had incorporated you slowly in it, from the spare clothes in his closet for you to the stupid crafts you did together when you were bored.

“And what did you do last night? Started studying for the next semester?” you teased him, and he gave you a sideway look.

“I could, but I was busy with Mor”

“What were you doing with Mor?”

Your frown was instant, as the jealousy that rose to your chest. Morrighan was his friend, and you respected that, but you knew he had liked her in the past. That the woman was gorgeous, brilliant and smart in ways you didn’t complement Azriel. You liked her enough to be kind and maybe envious, but the notice of her with Azriel left you with a sour taste in the mouth.

Azriel chuckled at the edge of your tone and didn’t answer. If anyone had reasons to be jealous, was him, yet he never was. You had quite the reputation in college, and dressed to impress. More than once, you had been walking with Azriel and received not so subtle glances. You had even gotten the barista’s number when you asked for his order. And through all of that, Azriel had just shrugged and told you he trusted you.

So, for his sake, you tried to do the same.

During the longest seconds in your life, you were quiet. You sat on his bed and crossed your arms across your chest. Azriel closed the door behind him, just as you heard the first groan from his roommate, and turned around so he could face you.

The height difference, the size difference, warmed you in every place of your body. Azriel loved the gym just as he loved his books, and there was not a part of his body that he didn’t work. You liked the difference, liked his big form and how it towered over you even standing. As you sat in silence, you bit the inside of your cheek to control yourself.

“We went to the tattoo parlor, since she knows the owner. I wanted something done” he watched your frown with diversion, and continued when you said nothing. “So, you can be jealous of her, who has a girlfriend now, but I’m supposed to be fine with guys drooling over you last night?”

“I didn’t look at them”

“I didn’t look at her” he answered back, and took off his tee.

The sleeveless piece of cloth didn’t hide much, but you still lost your breath when it hit the ground. His muscled, tattooed chest came to view, and that was enough to make you get up. It wasn’t Mor’s lips that had left marks two nights ago on his left shoulder, or who had bitten his pierced nipple until he had come into his pants in the library’s bathroom.

It was you who had caused the tent in his pant, that caused his eyes to darken when you stepped closer. You placed your hand over his right thigh, the muscles tightening underneath. His boner hit your stomach and you pushed yourself against it, opening your mouth to apologize, or maybe to suck the life out of him.

“Don’t you want to know what I got?” he asked, sounding on edge.

“I don’t understand half of your tattoos. Whatever you got is hot and perfect, just like you”

“Look down, princess” Azriel groaned when your nail touched his dick.

“On my knees?”

You were ready to do so, or let him bend you over the table. He could do with your body as he pleased, but you were caught off guard when you noticed the reddish, new ink wrapped in invisible paper. It looked delicate against the rest of his tattoos, new and beautiful. Right between his hips, where the dark trail of dark hair had just been removed, was a new tattoo.

In his v-line, that you licked and adored and stared at so much. With the nickname he had gifted you since he met you and the stupid, childless heart you drew on every notebook of his.

Princess ♡

Your breath came out shaky as you traced the letters with your finger. If it wasn’t for the make-up, you had so carefully put on that morning with a killing headache, you would have burst into tears. His own hand covered yours and helped you trace the missing letters, and the heart.

It should have been distracting to look at it while his dick demanded your attention inches lower, but you couldn’t look away. Not when you felt a hard clench on your heart that left you lightheaded.

“Do you like it?” it was a whisper in the dark room, a spark of doubt that made you look up.

How could you not like it, not like anything about such a perfect man? You nodded enthusiastically, your other hand searching blindly for his.

“Why did you get that?”

“Because I love you, and I want to carry you with me always” Azriel’s eyes were kind, and soft, and loving – and they were making you dizzy with desire.

“Did it hurt too much?” you asked, looking down again at the tattoo. You, who had smooth and unmarked skin, couldn’t phantom the pain of a nursing needle to draw blood. “It must have”

“Worth every second. Lay in bed, princess. I need to be between your legs”

He didn’t let you take the initiative and threw you on his bed with a quick move. Azriel towered over you for a second before kneeling between your already open, wide legs, and leaving his glasses on the. He smirked with no doubts as he pulled the hem of your dress over your panties. His fingers were rough, pressing hard enough to leave red marks on its way.

You only bit your lower lip when he rose your dress to your waist and sneaked his hand beneath, the edge of his fingers pressing over your breasts.

With the idea of that outcome, you hadn’t bothered with a bra, and his eyes darkened even more at the discovery. You watched his throat work around the new information as he rose his body higher, now covering your breasts with his hands. He squeezed them, keeping them trapped in his palms as he lowered where you needed him.

“I’m gonna erase all those looks from last night” he promised, hands retreating following your curved. “Whose got you this wet, hm?”

“Azzie, don’t be mean”

Azriel was in your hands the moment his nickname fell from your lips, and at your mercy when you used that whiney, flirty tone. He didn’t even bother taking off your panties – he tore them off. Like a sheet of paper, like a piece of cake. You moaned his name, and it came out like a yelp when he dug in without reservations.

His tongue was feral as he licked a long stripe between your entrance to your clit. He pressed it against your clit and actually trapped it between his teeth for a moment. The barrier between pain and pleasure was hard to tell when he snuck his hands under your ass and lifted you a few inches for him to devour.

“Love this so much” you spoke with a content smile, as he massaged your ass in silent appreciation. “Love you”

One of your hands reached to his hair, pushing his face closer to your center. He agreed and pushed one finger inside you. Your mind emptied when he began pumping it in and out, curling it just in the right spot before pulling out and replacing it with his tongue.

Cassian pounded on the wall and yelled at you to be quiet, and Azriel pounded back harder as a fuck you response. You didn’t have it in you to care about him as Azriel pulled you closer by the ass, your legs laying boneless against his wide back.

His nose brushed your clit, up and down, and you weren’t sure he could breathe from how passionate and hard he was eating you out. You called his name wordlessly, your mouth emitting only broken noises.

“So good for me, princess. My beautiful princess” his voice was guttural, so primal it made you lock his head between your legs. “Give me one, come on. Give me the first one so I can wreck you from behind”

“That sounds clinically dangerous!”

Azriel growled against your clit and parted your folds with his chin. He ran his lips through all of them, and by the time he pushed his finger back in, you were cumming on his face and screaming so loud his name you could have woken up the rest of the campus. He caressed your lower regions as you came down from your high, accompanying your orgasm with lazy, long stripes through your folds.

When Azriel came back up, his chin and mouth bright from your juices and his hair sticking in every direction, you were already ready for round two. He didn’t need to be told, and he rose leaving a trail of bites up your body.

He briefly stopped to leave two twin marks between your breasts, so round and perfect and purple you were squirming under him again.

“Azzie” it had been the only word you were capable of saying, and your mind cleared down for a second

“Was that good? Worthy princess treatment after a night out?” Azriel asked, leaving wet kisses on your neck.

“Perfect”

You hugged his back as he pulled himself above you, and your nails left angry, red marks across his lower waist. You pulled the band of his sport shorts and underwear down, and squeezed his hard ass just like he had been doing to yours. His dick sprung free with little effort, and he rubbed himself against your side as you caught your breath.

It wasn’t a one-time thing with Azriel, and you heard Cassian muttering about calling 911 before turning on the music. It took Azriel at least three of your orgasm to be content, and he could cum another three before he let you go. He always stopped, for your sake, when your legs couldn’t hold you up anymore and you had tears ruining your perfect make-up.

Few things turned him more on than being the cause of that ruined make-up.

Before he could empty your mind again, you quickly brought up the only coherent thought that kept pounding your head.

“I want your name too. On me”

“A tattoo?” he raised a brow.

Azriel didn’t stop rubbing himself slowly but tightly against your thigh. His hand was over your sore cunt, in a possessive manor he only showed inside the bedroom. At your petition, he pressed his finger tighter.

“Here. Between my breasts, with your name” you quickly explained. “I want Azzie between my breasts, so each time someone looks at me, he knows these are yours”

“You are mine”

None of your relationships had lasted as long or had been as deep. You were the type of girl who would have his ex-name tattooed, but truth was you were wary of tattoos, and Azriel knew that. He had tried to get you into a simple one, something he could draw for you and hold your hand through it.

His body was a map of ink and drawings, some of them goofy and some of them deep. He liked your innocent, smooth skin, but he found himself breathing harder at the thought of his name on your chest. Thinking of how many kisses, how many marks he would leave there every given moment.

Azriel recalled not a month ago pulling down your cleavage between classes to kiss your nipples sore, the hand he always sneaked to unclasp your bra and touch you beneath the lace. His name, the nickname that brought him to his knees, decorating that skin.

“Are you sure?” he didn’t want to get his hopes up, not when he was ready to tattoo you himself right then and there. With Cassian playing loud classical music in the next room.

“And a crown drawn by you on the top” you rose a teasing eyebrow at his lack of movement, given the discussion for finished. “Are you going to wreck me from behind or do I have to ask Cassian for help?”

Azriel broke into a loud laugh before smacking your cunt loudly, then manhandling you around. With his left arm holding you by your waist, he pressed himself against your back. His dick brushed all the right spots between your bodies, but your hands were trapped under you and you couldn’t touch him.

Complaining would only make him take out those beautiful handcuffs you knew he owned so you only bit your lip and whined like the good girl you were for him.

“I’m gonna tattoo my name between your breasts, if that’s what you want” he whispered against your ear, his other hand appearing around your throat. “I love you so much, princess. So fucking much”

Azriel squeezed your throat at the same time he entered you with a rough, only thrust. It avoided the moan that died in your chest, that had you rolling back your eyes in pleasure. It didn’t stop Azriel from moaning your name out loud, loud enough for Cassian to turn up the stupid music.

The headboard banged against the wall and his glasses fell to the ground, as he left you no room to breathe, to recover. Maybe he had managed to shut you down, but he was doing nothing about his own sounds. You were vaguely aware of Cassian slamming the door of the apartment after screaming some profanities, but you didn’t acknowledge him.

Not when Azriel seemed to be trying to tattoo his name deep into your body and soul.

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Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes

[siriuslystyle1989]

Hard Liquor Mixed With a Bit of Intellect (Part 4)

Modern!Azriel x reader

Warning: Angst, Cheating, Elain bashing

series masterlist main masterlist

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As days faded into weeks, and weeks faded into months, Y/n and Azriel's relationship became a well known fact within their inner circle.

Fortunately for Y/n, after that dinner, her and Feyre's sister Nesta had sparked up an unbreakable bond that was only strengthened by Nesta and Cassian's unlikely relationship.

As an autumnal breeze swayed its way through her apartment, Y/n breathed in a sigh. This was her favourite weather, sweater weather. Days got shorter and evenings drew long, allowing for the perfect ambiance when she lit a few scented candles.

Taking a long drag of her cigarette, Y/n began to reminisce on the way her life had changed. She never thought she would have so many friends. The hours of gossip her and Mor would share was incomparable to anything she had ever experienced before, smutty book shopping with Nesta had become a favourite pastime, visiting Feyre to see her and baby Nyx was also incredibly enjoyable. Y/n had even seemingly cracked Amren who appeared to have a soft spot for the girl.

The only one she had never properly spoken to was Elain.

Elain seemed to veer away from conversation with Y/n. She had brushed it off as shyness but she saw the animated way she talked to Azriel and couldn't help but wonder what her intentions were.

Y/n took another drag of her cigarette, these thoughts swimming through her mind as the doorbell rang.

Hastily, she put the stick of nicotine out, moving towards the door.

As the block of oak swung open, she was met with the face of Mor. However, not gracing her usual giddy smile but rather laced with worry and remorse.

"Y/n, I..." she spoke, hesitating.

"Oh my god what's wrong?" Y/n replied placing her arms around Mor to try and ease the distain on her face.

"Can... can I come in?" Mor spoke again, quietly, not in her usual boisterous manner.

"Yes of course." Y/n spoke, clearly confused.

As Mor sat on the plush sofa, she rejected Y/n's offer of a beverage.

"Y/n honey, I need to tell you something."

"Yeah? What's up."

"I'm gonna need you to sit down."

Following her friends instruction, Y/n took a seat next to Mor. Grabbing the girls hands Mor spoke up once again.

"There's no easy way to tell you this." She sighed, looking up as if about to cry.

"I saw... well me and Feyre saw... well Azriel and Elain... kissing."

Y/n's heart dropped in disbelief. There's just no way. She began to shake her head.

"No, no he wouldn't- no." She shook her head as tears began to fall.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry he's such a dick, you deserve so much better."

"But why- I- I don't understand."

Mor brought her arms around Y/n and squeezed tightly.

"Shhhh, I know honey, I know."

As Y/n's sobs began to quiet down Mor spoke softly.

"Do you want me to stay?" She asked, wanting Y/n to get the comfort she needed.

"No, I- I think I need to be left alone." Y/n replied, her tear stained eyes looking up into Mor's.

"Okay, well text me if you need anything at all, either me, Feyre or Nesta will come, kay?"

"They all know?" Y/n looked down to her feet.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed, its not your fault. We're all seething at Azriel, Rhys and Cass included, he won't walk away from this with no consequences, trust me."

Y/n let out a shaky laugh "Thanks"

As Mor walked out of the apartment, Y/n began to feel icy rage take over her, travelling up her like a wave.

She moved towards her phone, picking it up and making her way to Azriels contact.

BLOCK.

.............................................................................................................................

Azriel laid in bed, scrolling through his phone. He really needed to stop doing that.

He struggled to sleep when Y/n wasn't next to him.

Two more nights and she would be back in his arms again. They had been apart for a week, Y/n having loads of college work to finish and not wanting to have any distractions.

Two more nights.

Putting his phone down, Azriel tried to snuggle down into the sheets, tightly shutting his eyes.

He felt the coldness of the other side of his bed seemingly reach out to him. Calling him to talk to his love.

Opening his phone once more, he began to text her.

Azriel: I miss you lying next to me, can't wait to see you sweetheart.

*Message not sent, recipient has blocked you.*

"What-"

Confused Azriel tried to send another text.

The same thing happened.

no- why would she do that. He hadn't done anything to upset her. They had been sending "I love you" and "I miss you" just hours before.

Why would she suddenly block him?

Suddenly realisation slithered its way into his mind.

Oh.

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

A/n: Sorry for the slow updates im trying my best </3

Taglist:

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lilah-asteria

[tadpolesonalgae]

Up The Junction

ModernYA!Azriel x reader

a/n: set circa 2008, England :) also, this is heavily inspired by Up The Junction by Squeeze if you want to give that a cheeky listen 🧡💛

warnings: angst, smut -> pregnancy, slightly bittersweet ending but I think they’re happy :)

Word count: 7,194

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Will you marry me?”

Your jaw drops open, hands flying to your mouth as you nearly stumble back a step.

He’s down on one knee, presenting a slim, golden band in a simple velvet box, hazel eyes intent and nervous. Slightly jittery as his chest rises and falls.

Your lower lip wobbles, vision blurring, small sobs already wracking your chest. He waits patiently, anxiously, as you try to get the words out, pushing tears away, wiping your nose as you sniffle.

“Yes…!” You cry. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

Relief sweeps through his body, and he’s wrapping you up in his arms, raising you into the air as he swings you around before lowering you again to the floor, pulling you tight. You cry harder, trying to wipe your nose on the scratchy cuff of your navy jumper, thankful you’d decided to put that wash on a few days ago.

“I promise I’ll be good to you,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion, and you squeeze into him tighter. “You won’t regret it,” he swears, managing to pull away long enough to cup your jaw, pressing a kiss to your tear-stained cheek. “I’d never regret it,” you mumble out, still sobbing heavily, trembling with happiness and that rush of joy. Your whole lives together. That feeling of wanting it to be always; forever—requited.

“I’ll be a good husband to you,” he murmurs thickly, gently holding your hand in his larger one, pulling away long enough to slide the thin band around your ring finger.

Fresh tears drip down your cheeks as you raise it up to the watery sunlight, crying at what it symbolises. “I’ll make a good wife, Az,” you manage, turning to look at him with a wide, wobbly smile on your lips. “We’ll make this work. Together.”

Hazel eyes gleam, able to see your reflection in their glassy surface as he nods, still holding you close. “Together.”

—

You’d moved in together after college, happy and engaged, feeling on top of the world. Like nothing could get you down.

You were going to spend your lives together, how could you ever be sad?

It was tricky in places, but you’d found someone renting their garage, a basement attached, fully equipped with a bathroom, working plumbing, and an in-built kitchen. Sure, it was tight, but it was affordable, and most importantly, temporary. It was okay to start small, to build your way up to a family. Rome wasn’t built in a day, after all.

The basement was dingy, one small window in the far wall of the open-plan room, the bed pushed into the corner beneath it. A sink was along the other wall leading to the door, some counter space available along with a washing machine, hob, and oven. The fridge was kept at the far end of the raised surfaces, adjacent to the bed, squeezed in to fit.

The only slight problem was washing. The bathroom was tiny, the only private space in the basement, hidden behind a waterproof curtain in swimming-pool blue, containing a sink and toilet. No shower or bath. You’d have to hand wash.

But it was fine. The two of you couldn’t be happier living together, having your own space and privacy. A place to start building your home.

It took a while to get on your feet after graduation, but Az had managed to get a job in IT, working to keep things functioning at a local law firm, while you managed to snag a spot as a receptionist at a nearby motel. The hours were difficult, with your shifts constantly being moved around, sometimes working double over a day, sometimes called to be in overnight, switching out at two in the morning to make your way back to the cramped basement.

Azriel’s hours were set, but they were long and tiring, often he would get back exhausted, having to explain the same thing over and over to big-wigs who couldn’t care less about how specialised he was in his area of expertise.

A year later, and you’d gathered enough savings to buy a computer, so Az would be able to work from home in the events of…something happening.

That talk had been had late one night, after he’d gotten back from his shift and you were headed out for your own, how it might be a good idea to start thinking about what the future will hold. Who else might be joining your lives. The conversation had ended with a giddy smile on your face, Az’s eyes practically glowing with happiness, the dimple at the edge of his mouth making its rare appearance at the possibility of a future baby.

And now that safety net was in place, the hunky piece of equipment having taken up a valuable spot of counter space, a bar stool bought so he’d be able to work.

You’d become more relaxed after that. A air of electricity between you, charged and excited, yet neither of you dared address that elephant in the room. The shared desire neither of you had the courage to yet voice. Confined to the dark hours where naked bodies would press together, and he’d go slower, rolling his hips deeper, more tenderly that you were accustomed to, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was you were together, together and in love. So intense it was like wildfire.

The first time that subject had been broached was entirely accidental. He’d been kissing down your throat, your nipples sore from the attention of his touch and teeth, hands gripping your hips firmly with your thighs spread apart. You’d both been so near that edge, shared heat passing between you when he’d brushed a spot inside of you, having you squeeze him so deliciously.

“Fuck,” he’d panted, skin flushed with colour, inky hair flopping over his brow, swept across to one side, curling at its ends from sweat. “So fucking good,” he’d praised, bucking his hips, angling so he’d hit that spot again. “Gonna knock you up. Fill you to the brim.” The orgasm had found you right then and there, crying out as you came, fluttering around him, mumbling how badly you wanted him to take the condom off, to finish inside of you.

It had been the morning after the two of you had finally sat down and discussed those secret thoughts, all you’d needed was the others confirmation, and you were ready. It could take a while to conceive, and you wanted to take action before your fertility began decreasing, chances slipping away.

The process had been draining, with you taking a test each month, wondering if that time would be different, if maybe this time he’d taken root inside of you, instead of your cycle being late. But the cramps started again and again, kicking in a mere few days after you having taken the test, as if to spite you. And each time he’d comfort you, wrapping you in his arms when you opened the the small curtain, shaking your head sadly, with him reminding you there’s still time. You’re in no hurry to conceive; this is why it was good you’d started early. You had more leeway.

But then it had been two years since you’d initially gotten engaged, and still no signs of life.

It wasn’t as if he was lacking either. He was thorough in his attention, making sure to keep his hips pressed tight with your own in the minutes after you’d both found completion, keeping release tucked away inside of you.

Slowly, you began worrying—if it wasn’t him, it had to be you.

So you’d made an appointment, searching for any kind of sign to continue trying. There’s be no point if you really were infertile. What could you do then? How could you build a family if your body was wrecked irreparably. But there had been nothing wrong with you that the doctor could find, so you’d gone home, lost and confused. Why wasn’t anything happening?

Azriel had suggested maybe it was hormones—neither of you could deny you were stressing over the lack of development. You weren’t seeing friends as frequently anymore either. In fact, it had been weeks since you’d last hung out with anyone other than your fiancé, so a trip had been arranged. It had been messy, with constantly changing plans, but eventually you settled on a day. Az, Rhys, Cass, and Nesta would be heading to the theatres, while you, Feyre, and Elain spent a girls day together—likely shopping, listening to music, preparing a dinner for when the others returned.

Your own plans aside, most of the confusion had centred on Az’s end, struggling to find a film they’d all be happy to watch. The decisions had been so tiring and seemingly so endless they’d decided to split and see two separate ones instead—much to Cassian’s grumpiness. Az and Rhys would get to see The Dark Knight—a movie you know he’s secretly been desperate to see ever since the villain’s actor’s unfortunate passing earlier that year. Meanwhile Nesta would be dragging her boyfriend to a film adaptation of a book series she’d been subtly obsessed with for years—Twilight.

The day came, and you had kissed your fiancé on the cheek before heading out, making your way to the bus stop to take you to Feyre and Rhys’ place, where the three of you would be spending most of your time. It had been good getting to see the two of them again. It almost felt like you were back in college, chatting away in the cafeteria, slouched on sofas while the radio blasted out whatever was in the charts.

All three of you had gotten into their truck, Elain the only one with a licence so she took the wheel while driving you to the shopping centre. It was all so exciting! It really had been so long since you’d done something like this, having taken out some money beforehand as a precaution, in case you saw something you really liked. Az had insisted, despite the tight budget you managed to make work.

Elain had grabbed a large ceramic mug, small flowers growing up the sides, while you and Feyre had taken an interest in a pretty pair of ruby red heels, the silver buckle contrasting with the popping colour. There was no way you’d be able to afford them, but it didn’t stop you from dreaming, nor did it stop you from encouraging Feyre to buy them, seeing how her eyes twinkled, her mouth pulling up into a wide smile as you spoke about what to wear with them.

Eventually though, the two of you had left the storefront, finished ogling, Feyre having ultimately decided to leave them be. You couldn’t help feel she knew you wanted them, but were unable to buy them, choosing to move on and pick something else—a matching mug with her sister, insisting on grabbing another for you and a forth for their older sister. If it hadn’t been for the black mug with a howling wolf on the side they’d insisted on getting for Nesta, you wouldn’t have accepted their gift. Though that’s likely why they did it in the first place.

The day came and went, cheeks aching from smiling all day, your new mug kept in your bag, precious and exciting, your heart skipping each time you subtly peeked down to catch a gleam of the glazed surface.

Az, Rhys, Cass, and Nesta had gotten back later as you’d anticipated, and while she made no explicit comment about the film, she’d had an excited air about her, Cassian keeping his arm wrapped around her the rest of the night. Az had given you a happy smile, dropping a kiss to your forehead, asking how your day went, and you’d mentioned the heels before you’d proudly shown him the mug in the privacy of the hallway of Rhys and Feyre’s home. Carefully leaving out the gift part. It had been an act of kindness on their end, and you knew Az would insist on paying one of them back if he knew, so you kept it as your secret.

—

Life resumed its normal pace, but you were feeling happier, more uplifted since having gotten out of the cramped and slightly smelly basement, spirits raised from spending a day with your friends.

And then a few months later, you’d missed your cycle.

You’d hardly dared hope, having rushed to a nearby pharmacy to purchase three tests, shakily handing over the money before hurrying home and drawing the swimming-pool shower curtain to a close to give yourself some privacy.

Az had gotten back a while later, calling out for you as soon as he’d stepped foot in the basement, but had been greeted with silence. Then quiet sobs coming from the bathroom.

You remember it so clearly. How he’d hurriedly strode over to the small washroom, calling out for you, making sure you were okay, concern heavy in his voice. It had been then you’d appeared, a positive pregnancy test held preciously between shaky fingers.

“You’re—…” His eyes had started gleaming then, hot and wet, and he’d wrapped you up in his arms, your feet raising off the ground and he lifted you up, your hands locking over his shoulders as you’d managed a tearful nod. “It’s happening, Az,” you’d cried softly, sniffling, wiping your nose on the worn sleeve of your top. “We’re going to have a baby. It’s really happening.”

He’d squeezed you tighter, before setting you down on the floor, hands lightly gripping your upper arms as you pushed wetness from your cheeks. You hadn’t cried like this since your engagement.

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” He’d asked, brows curved as he searched your face. “You’re happy with this?”

A fresh wave of tears had started all over again, a croaky laugh creaking from your throat as you’d nodded. “Over the moon, Az.”

—

The pace had changed all over again, and you’d noticed how he kept the fridge fully stocked, even if it strained on your budget. More expensive foods had made their appearance, no longer cheaping out to scrape by. If you were eating for two, Az had reasoned, he wanted you to be as well-fed as possible. A good diet was important, and you needed more than pasta with the occasional vegetable cooked in.

It wasn’t soon after that you’d noticed the coffee smell fading from his shirts, becoming fainter and fainter after each big clean. When you’d brought it up to him however, he hadn’t minded, reasoning he’d been needing to drink less of it anyway, and now was as good a time as any to start waning off it.

Parenting books had begun cropping up around the place, briefly making an appearance beside his robust computer before being read thoroughly, and returned to the library, moving onto the next one. You couldn’t help how your lips tugged upward at the edges each time a new title appeared, glancing down at your stomach, no noticeable bump yet showing. Though that never stopped either of you from laying hands over your abdomen, pressing close, treasuring the gift.

You’d told your parents, and Az had broken the news to your friends, and you couldn’t have been happier. Finally, three years into your engagement, things were coming together. Hard work paying off.

He’d been trying to get you to rest more often, but you knew you couldn’t afford to take time off before your maternity leave started. Money was still tight, and you savoured every cheque you received, steadily adding to your savings pound by pound. You knew Az had been working overtime more often, taking every chance he could to bring in some extra cash—every little counted now, and you both knew it.

The evenings you had alone together grew further and further apart though, and while you tried not to fret, you missed spending time with him. Eating together, lounging atop a lumpy mattress before sleep, one of you washing the dishes while the other dried and put away.

But routine had shifted: more frequently you would cook, eat supper, and leave his in the oven to keep it warm for when he eventually made it back. It wasn’t everything, but physical intimacies were rarer too, having a few minutes of conversation and hugging, before he was passed out. In those moments guilt weighted in your gut—he was working himself to the bone, the slight darkness he’d always had beneath his eyes becoming more pronounced as the weeks had worn on.

At one point you’d begun timing your schedule with Feyre’s, catching the bus over to her place whenever she had a gap in her shifts—usually a Wednesday, sometimes a Thursday. Weekends had still been precious though, when Az would be back by five instead of ten or eleven, and Sundays when he wouldn’t be working at all.

Between chatting about your lives, future plans, where you’d like to go on holiday to, the topic pf your baby had come up. It had been a surreal experience, but you’d crumbled a little, admitting how much you were missing him. Feyre had sat quietly and listened to every confession, nursing her tea, contained in one of the matching mugs.

“He isn’t around as much, Fey,” you manage, peering into your tea, tucked up on one of her sofas. “He’s running himself ragged, and I don’t know what to do. It’s dark when he leaves and it’s dark when he returns. He leaves early and comes home late, and I know we…it’s difficult…but I need him,” you admit softly. “I need him to be around, so we can do this together.”

Tears had splashed into your tea then, and you’d both discarded your mugs as she’d shuffled closer, arms wrapping around you as you’d cried into the soft cashmere of her jumper. “Am I being selfish?” You’d mumbled out, throat aching from how you were trying to be quiet. “I know he’s doing it for us, but, I just…”

“You aren’t selfish,” she’d whispered, hand stroking up and down over your back. “It’s difficult, like you said. But it will pass, remember? It’s a difficult patch in your life, but you have to trust it will pass. Things will get better.”

You’d sniffled, nodding into her shoulder, pulling back to dry your teary eyes. Guilt tightening around your throat, constricting across your chest as you felt your heart throb with strain.

“You can always come round here, too,” she’d reminded gently. “If you need to get out, I can move some things around, okay? You’re not alone. I know you’re head over heels for one another, but you’ve got us, too. Whenever you need us.”

The sobs had started afresh, but you managed a wobbly smile, playing with the golden band on your finger—an anxious habit you’d fallen into.

“Thanks, Fey.”

—

Christmas had rolled around, and it was the first time in months—years—you’d all been in the same place at once.

Mor had made it back from the states, Amren joining her on the trip back to meet up with everyone and celebrate.

Rhys and Feyre had hosted, and you couldn’t help but hope this would become a tradition of sorts. You’d missed them all acutely, easy days of college long in the past.

You’d all chipped in one way or another, and an agreement had been made to not do presents all around this year. Just spending time with another, with gifts permitted to be exchanged between couples.

The night had started, and straight off the bat you’d noticed the absence of any sort of alcohol, the sharp scent surprisingly noticeable in its absence, and your heart warmed at the thoughtfulness. You kept tight to Az most of the night, treasuring the minutes you spent together with him, and from the way his arm remained around you in some way, you got an inkling the distance might have been waring on him, too. More than you had thought.

Food was put together, and you’d taken the time to appreciate the scents, how much there was to consume—there’d definitely be leftovers. Pudding was brought out, non-alcoholic fruit cake, as well as some biscuits and other little treats.

Then the small gifts made their appearance, and you’d handed Az the small parcel you’d snuck into your bag earlier that night. He’d given an inquisitive look, a suspicious smile curving his mouth, but you’d grinned, nodding your head for him to hurry up and open it. His brows had risen in surprise when he saw the small guitar picks inside, coloured black, blue, and grey, then one with a flaming skull on.

Hazel had practically glowed as he’d smiled, pulling you tight, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. There hadn’t been much time for him to play in recent years, but you’d noticed how his eyes would sometimes flick to the discarded instrument, kept sealed away, leaned against the grey walls of the basement.

“Thank you,” he’d murmured, pulling away to look at you, before pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I hope you get more time to play this year,” you’d whispered back, hands greedily taking in his heat, memorising his feel while you had the chance.

His throat had rolled, then he’d stepped away, pulling something out from his pocket. “It’s not as good as yours,” he’d admitted thickly, almost nervously, “but I thought you might like it.”

You’d cocked your head, holding your palm out when he’d extended his closed fist, dropping something into your hand. It had been a small bracelet, and a smile had curved your lips when you’d noticed the slightly shoddy clasps, stray thread hanging out on one side. Along the string were some small square beads, the type with letters on you could purchase at a craft store, and you held the bracelet up to read the tiny name he’d spelled out.

“Mama bear?” You read aloud, eyes gleaming with heat as your mouth had stretched wide, a grin broadening your lips as you had beamed up at your fiancé with unabashed adoration. A relieved smile had played on his mouth then, nodding his head, affection clear on his features. “For the strongest person I know,” he’d whispered, hazel eyes soft at the edges.

You’d laughed then, shaking your head, but he’d kept that smile on his mouth, like he could see something you couldn’t, until you’d lightly patted him on his arm, telling him to stop spewing nonsense.

A gasp had drawn your attention away from him, turning to see Feyre opening what looked like a neatly wrapped shoe box, and you could make out the shock on her face. Your smile had broadened, happy she’s happy��Rhys was usually good when getting her presents, a twinge of joy that she’s also found someone who cared so deeply for her.

“What d’you get?” You’d asked, keeping tucked into Az’s side.

Panicked eyes had flitted to you before she covered it up, smiling as she shook her head, as if to say ‘oh, Rhysand’. But then you’d moved forward to see what he’d found for her, and you spotted those ruby heels in the box. Silver buckle gleaming beneath the kitchen lights.

Feyre had stiffened, but a smile had broken across your features, hugging her excitedly. “I’m so happy for you!” You’d whispered as you’d embraced, squeezing her tight and you felt as she began relaxing. Her arms had tentatively squeezed you back, leaning into you. “Thank you,” she’d murmured, before you’d both pulled away, Feyre glancing at your smiling face before reflecting the expression.

She’d pulled back after that, and you’d returned to Az’s side as you watched Feyre hug and kiss Rhys, how he’d smiled like he was the luckiest man in the world, and you couldn’t help the warmth that had spread across your face. You’d glanced up at Az, but his expression was unreadable, hazel eyes watching them intently. The open box on the table.

You’d nudged his side, linking your hand with his, guiding his attention back to you. “Want to get out of here?” You’d whispered, grinning, free palm over your abdomen. He’d swallowed thickly, but pulled together a faint smile, nodding.

The ride home had been quiet. Unusually so.

But sometimes he liked his peace, so you’d been happy to play with the bracelet around your wrist, smiling as you‘d looked out of the window into the dark streets outside.

“Those were the shoes you’d mentioned, weren’t they?” He’d asked into the silence.

You’d stiffened, fingers stuttering over the beads, turning to look at him, but he’d been staring ahead. “They wouldn’t have suited me anyway,” you’d said quietly, trying to push some humour into your voice to comfort him. “When would I have even worn them?”

In the low light you could make out how his jaw had worked. “They were.”

You’d lowered your head, peering down at the bracelet he’d given you. “Yeah.”

There’d been a tense silence, then he’d sighed, running a hand through his hair. “One day,” he’d murmured heavily, nodding to himself. “One day.”

You’d looked at hime again after that, wanting to squeeze his hand. “Together,” you’d added, quietly.

—

Winter had been harsh, and the heating had shut off throughout the basement, though it had been fixed within the week.

You’d kept closer those seven nights, and you’d secretly enjoyed the apparent misfortune. He’d been more attentive during that week, making sure you were kept warm, covering you in various jackets, though neither of you could really afford something tough enough to keep the chill out. But it hadn’t mattered when you were lying together, your back pressed to his front, his arm around your waist, hand settled over the noticeable bump in your stomach.

To this day, you can still remember the first time you’d felt her kick.

How you’d been together in bed, on a cold Sunday morning, and you’d felt something. A few moments later you’d felt it again, and had nearly started crying, gripping for Az’s hand to guide it over your abdomen, excitement glowing in your eyes as your baby had kicked again.

Azriel had smiled wide then, a look of awe on his face, gazing at you before returning his attention to your stomach. You’d watched him then, how his face had lit up each time he’d felt a kick, and that giddiness had warmed you up.

Proud of the father he’d already begun to change into.

—

Eight months in, and morning sickness had been running you thin.

It hadn’t been every morning, but more often than not you’d wake, been allowed a few minutes of peace to enjoy with him, then nausea would be creeping up your throat. You’d give a resigned groan, before rolling (actually rolling) out of bed and wobbling to the toilet to throw up.

Azriel had been there for you at first, holding your hair out of your face, soothing your back, reminding how well you were handling the pregnancy, but as you began staying up later waiting for him to come home, with nothing to do throughout the day, you’d begun sleeping in too. He’d never wanted to wake you—wanting you to have as much rest as possible—so had quietly gotten up and headed off to work before the sun was up, letting you sleep in.

Consequently, you’d be alone through the morning sickness, heaving into the toilet bowl, legs trembling. Sometimes having to spend the first hour of your day changing the sheets after having vomited all over them.

It had been getting harder to cope, without him around. But you knew he was working hard—and you needed the money.

The strain hadn’t been helped when one evening he’d brought the bracelet up. You’d never taken it off, since without a shower or bath, there was no reason to, as a flannel could move around it.

“Did you wear that to work?” He’d asked, when you’d been laying on the bed while he washed and dried the dishes. You were too large to reach at this point, so it made more sense for him to do them. Sound reasoning you had detested as it was just more work for him to do while you lazed around, unable to help or contribute.

“Yup,” you’d replied, smiling again as you’d glanced down at the handmade gift. Your heart had always warmed whenever you read his little message, gradually allowing that possibility to take root. Maybe he really did think you were strong. Maybe you actually were. “Never take it off.”

He hadn’t looked at you as you had anticipated, no smile thrown over his shoulder as he’d continued washing the dishes.

Your brows had narrowed then, worry tightening your throat. “Why?”

Azriel had been silent for a bit, putting the plates away on the drying board. “And your work didn’t mind?” He’d asked. “They didn’t think it was unprofessional? Or distracting?”

“No,” you’d laughed quietly, “they thought it was a wonderful gift, and thoughtful. Nancy complimented it endlessly.” His posture had gone a little rigid, spine stiffening when he moved onto drying. “You showed it to everyone?” He’d asked quietly, and worry had hollowed out your ears. “It’s precious, Az,” you’d replied, “of course I did.”

He’d gone silent then, choosing to focus on rubbing off the water with the dish towel.

“Az?” You’d shifted on the bed, heaving yourself into a more upright position. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he’d replied lightly, carefully putting your special mug aside.

Your chest had tightened, and you’d swallowed thickly before setting your slightly swollen feet on the floor, walking to be beside him. “Az…” you’d murmured, hands wrapping over his forearm, pulling him to a halt as hazel eyes had at last swept over you, dark and exhausted. “Please talk to me,” you’d requested quietly, fingers linking with his damp ones. “What’s bothering you?”

Moments had ticked by, then his eyes had grown hot and wet, brows pulling together as tears had escaped down his cheek. “I’m sorry it was such a shit present,” he’d whispered, hands moving to grip yours when he’d turned to face you fully, crying. “I’m sorry I can’t do more for you. I should’ve gotten you something better, something you deserved.”

Your heart had ached painfully, struggling to keep your own tears at bay, as his head had lowered with shame, hands shaking lightly as he held onto you. He hadn’t needed to bring the shoes up for you to know that’s what it was about. His perceived insufficiency, and inability to care for you.

“Az, I…” You had cut yourself off, trying to choke down tears to comfort and reassure him. He was perfect, how could he ever feel like he wasn’t enough, when he was almost singlehandedly keeping all three of you together and looked after. “Az, I don’t care about presents,” you’d managed, “this?” —you’d nodded to the bracelet— “This I love, because you made it for me. Between all your work, and cooking, and caring, you found the time to make me something I could have on me at all times,” you’d said, tears dripping down your cheeks as you’d stared at one another.

“It’s so important to me, because of you,” you’d cried. “You do so much to look after us, working yourself to the bone… I love you, Az. You’re everything to me. The whole world and more.”

“You don’t—… You don’t regret it?” He’d managed thickly, keeping his hold on your hands. “Being with me?”

You’d shaken your head, trying to get the words out as your throat constricted. “No…no I don’t,” you’d cried, peering up at him. “A thousand times yes, remember?”

His brows had pulled together then, pain gleaming in that swirling cosmos of hazel as he nodded, breathing heavily, leaning over you as his arms had wrapped over your shoulders. You could feel his shudders, your hands gripping the back of his shirt—one of his favourites, a comfort item of sorts, with one of the bands he likes printed on the front.

“I love you, Az,” you’d whispered, shaking together. “I love you for you.”

—

Looking back, things had improved for a bit. Until he’d tried to give more of himself.

That had been when you’d begun crumbling.

He’d pushed himself harder, and had managed to get a part-time job in a car-repair shop, having already been familiar with the maths of engineering and having had a fascination with mechanics when he had been younger.

Just like that, the weekends had been taken too.

He’d leave for work before you woke, stop at six, then help out for a couple of hours after dark, returning when you were asleep. Saturdays and Sundays were no longer spent with him—he’d sold them off. Bargaining his time for your future.

He’d work all day, weekends the busiest as it was when folk with regular nine-to-five jobs would have the time to take their cars round for a checkup, or to be evaluated and told where to go if they were unable to fix the problem. You’d hardly seen him in that final, tiring month of pregnancy.

Would he stop once you gave birth? Somehow you’d begun to doubt it.

You’d admired his conviction, his drive and determination to see something through to the end, until it had ultimately taken him away from you. All when you’d most needed him. No amount of talking had been able to convince him otherwise, so set on being useful. On proving to himself he wasn’t insufficient—that he could look after you.

It had been then that you’d left him. Leaving a sticky note on the oven handle telling him you’d gone to Feyre’s, and that you’d needed space.

And he’d given it.

It hadn’t been unusual to chat through notes, but with his long working hours, you’d treasured the new form of communication. Reading and rereading each one he’d left, memorising his handwriting, the tiny hearts he’d added, or the lopsided smileys he’d doodled before heading out. But that hadn’t been enough for you, so you’d reached for help elsewhere.

A few days had gone by before the landline had rung, your fiancé having become too worried to leave silence for any longer, even if you had requested space. He couldn’t leave you like that.

Not soon after, you’d moved back in with your parents, and the guilt you’d felt when Rhys had offered to be the one to tell Az had nearly had your legs giving out. Shame so crushing you’d felt faint. Especially upon accepting.

God knew you wouldn’t have been able to handle that pressure of explaining it to him. Not when you had been on the verge of giving birth. It would have been any day then, and you’d been under enough stress you’d been worried for the health of the baby.

It had worked out in the end though.

—

The knocker thuds thrice against the hardwood door of your parents house, and you instinctively glance over to little Valerie, but she remains soundly asleep.

Your mother smiles as she passes by, heading for the door since you’re still struggling to walk after being discharged from the hospital on the condition that you rest.

You pull Val closer, wanting to keep her as nearby as possible, the pressure in your chest easing as you look over her, quiet and peaceful—for the moment, at least.

Minutes later your mother returns, a gentle look on her face. “It’s Azriel,” she says hesitantly. “Are you feeling up to speaking with him?” At his name alone you feel your eyes grow hot, but you push the feeling away, glancing down at Val. It’s been five days since you gave birth, and he’s yet to see his daughter in person. He deserves to meet her. So you nod.

Your mother watches silently for a little, before reciprocating the gesture. “Do you want to be alone?”

Your throat rolls, but you manage to answer, “yes…we’ll be okay.” She nods again, before turning to leave, “your father and I needed to get some more shopping in anyway—good a time as any, right?” You smile, before she disappears out of sight, and you breathe deeply, holding Val slightly closer, groaning as you straighten on the sofa.

Footsteps scuff in the hallway, and you brace yourself.

He’s messy tidy. Clearly having made an effort, but unable to conceal the circles beneath his eyes, the exhaustion on his features. Hair a little disheveled, likely from playing with it out of stress as you sometimes used to catch him doing.

“Hey,” you manage, pushing a faint smile to your lips.

Hazel eyes scan you carefully before settling on the bundle in your arms, unable to conceal the emotion that flashes through his face. His throat rolls, raising his gaze to yours. Licking his dry lips. “How are you?” He asks thickly, entering the living room, boots having been discarded at the door.

“Good,” you reply, hoarsely. “Still aching in places, but, you know…”

“Staying strong,” he finishes, voice slightly raw. He nods to himself, “you’ve always been good at that.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, and you look at one another.

Then tears are spilling out from both of you, and you’re trying to hold your sobs in to not disturb Val, while Azriel rubs at his face, trying to get himself under control.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes raggedly, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. I just—… I wanted to look after you. I want you to be secure—for us to be secure, but in doing so I left you all alone, and I’m so fucking sorry. I was so stupid.” You sniffle, wiping your nose while trying to dry your cheeks. “Az, it’s fine. I, I get it. You were just trying to—”

“It’s not fine,” he breathes rawly, hand over his face as he rubs his eyes. “You needed me, and I wan’t there. And I can’t make up for that time. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left you like that. I’m so sorry.”

“Az…” you cry softly, trying to cover Val’s ears so she doesn’t wake.

He looks at you, hazel eyes glassy and red rimmed as he tries to pull himself together, to recompose himself for you. “Can you…do you think you can forgive me? I swear I won’t— I’ll never make such a stupid mistake again.”

“Az,” you sob, “I get it. Fuck, it hurt that you left like that, but how can I be mad when you were doing it to look after us?” The tears drip down your face, breathing in wet gasps as you try to pull it back in, wiping away the tears. “Of course I…of course it was difficult, but it came from a good place, Az. I won’t fault you for trying to look after us. I just— I just wish this hadn’t happened now. During the pregnancy, I mean.”

Azriel swallows thickly, grief clear on his face, looking more wrecked than when he’d first entered. “I’ll be better,” he manages quietly, still stood near the doorway, not wanting to impose if you don’t want him there in that moment. His heart simultaneously fractures and heals when he spots that stupid bracelet still kept around your wrist. He wonders if you’ve taken it off since he gave it to you.

“Az…” you sigh, tears still hot on your cheeks, not wanting to say what you have to. He stiffens at the tone, and it feels like you’ve already told him, hazel eyes devastated.

“Az, I think…I need some time.”

He holds completely still, but you’re practically able to see the world falling apart around him.

“It’s not…I don’t think it’s forever, but…for now. I can’t go back there. Into the basement,” you manage, lower lip wobbling, tugging down at the corners. “I’m sorry.”

“What does that mean?” He asks quietly, hardly a whisper. “Are we…do you not want the ring anymore?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know Az,” you cry, “I need time to think about it all. To figure how to go forward.”

He manages a slight nod of his head, breathing shallowly, then his eyes dip to the baby in your arms. “Can I…can I hold her?” He asks, brows curved desperately.

You nod, sniffling again, managing a small smile. “Yes. Yes, you can,” you breathe, trying to shift to make room for him as he walks over, and you turn Val over to face him.

Azriel settles on the sofa beside you, and you revel in that familiar dip of cushion, deprived of his familiarity for so long. It’s a subconscious shift for both of you, how he’s turned slightly toward you on the sofa, with you leaning into him as he holds your baby with reverent care, wincing at how his hands confront her youth.

“You can’t see them at the moment, but she’s got your eyes,” you murmur, moving closer to him still, taking in his familiar scent, nestling into his body, aching to feel him at your side again.

“She’s perfect,” he whispers, eyes growing glassy, and your smile becomes real and alive again. “She’s in good health too. The doctor’s said she was born at the expected weight, and they had nothing to be concerned over so long as she’s taken care of,” you add, head leaning against his shoulder.

Azriel glances over to you, and your breath catches. The proximity at last returned, alone and together in peace. “You did so well,” he whispers, hazel eyes swirling with emotion. “I’m glad you think so,” you whisper back, fighting off tears.

You settle back into quiet, both of you watching as Val continues sleeping, her little face calm and void of disturbance.

Neither of you really know how you end up holding your baby again, tucked into Azriel’s lap with his arms wrapped around both of you. Your head rests on his shoulder, fast asleep with Val comfortably held between you, both her parents at her swaddled fingertips.

Azriel holds both of you close long after his legs go numb, relieved he hasn’t entirely messed things up. He can’t have, if you’re allowing this. Allowing him to see the baby you made together, even after you had to make her practically on your own.

His arm shifts, thumb swiping over the beads of your bracelet, doubting it knows a surface other than your skin. You held onto it through the uncertainty, through the turbulence he unknowingly subjected you to. Never again.

He’ll never leave you on your own again. Especially not now you share a child.

Azriel’s lips brush against your temple, dropping a long, soft kiss to your skin.

He’ll be better this time. For both of you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

[mybestfriendmademe]

Damn I wish I had someone this great.

Modern!Azriel: "too much"

lol i’m projecting in this one. this is how my extended family has always made me feel so 🤷🏻‍♀️

tw: not eating due to anxiety.

-You kept Azriel hidden from your extended family for three years. 

-You truly did not have much association with them. They were kind but not loving towards you. 

-Your parents knew of him as well as the two cousins you were closest with that actually loved you. 

-About a year in, you and Azriel had the talk about your extended family. 

At first, Azriel was kind of hurt by it. He brought you around his family. His chosen and blood when he had to. 

-Your first major argument was about you keeping him away from your family. 

“Are you embarrassed by me?” His voice cracked. 

“What? No! This isn’t about you, Azriel.” You sighed. 

“Then what is it? Are you freaking out about commitment to something?” 

“I just don’t want to bring you around them!” You cried. 

“Why?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” You crossed your arms. 

“Yes it does! Clearly something is bothering you. I cannot rest until I know what it is, Y/N.” He sighed. “I feel like I’m back in high school and my girlfriend is embarrassed to be seen with me.” 

That’s when your tears broke. You didn’t cry often. It took a while before you felt safe enough to do so in front of him. 

“I just…” You wiped your eyes and sniffed. “I’m really scared to bring you around them because I don’t want one of the few good things in my life to be tainted by them.” 

His silence spurred you on. “I don’t want you to be chased away.” 

“Baby,” He sighed. He walked to where you were in the dining room and leaned against the table in front of you. His legs spread, he put his hands on that plush waist he loves so much, and pulled you towards him. “I don’t want to push you, I’m sorry my insecurity got the better of me. But, you do see where I'm coming from, yes?” 

You sniffed and nodded, “I’d feel the same. I’m sorry I didn’t communicate properly.” 

“You were scared.” He justified it for you. 

“So were you a few minutes ago.” You nudged his shoulder. “If you’re going to validate me, I'm going to validate you.” 

“Two people pleasers in a relationship huh?” He chuckled. 

“That’s why we’re working on communication.” You brought your hands up to his broad shoulders. “Can we talk about this tonight? I just need to organize my thoughts a bit before….” You struggled to find the right words. “Ugh let me start over.” You sighed. 

He couldn’t help his smile, his girl was trying so hard. “I want to be able to eloquently tell you what's going on. It’s not you, it’s not even me, well kind of since I’m not letting you around them. But, they are a big issue.” 

“Okay, I’ll order our favorite takeout and we can talk about it when we’re eating. Is 20 minutes enough to help you get your thoughts together?” 

“Yeah.” You smiled, he wasn’t judging you. He was accepting you. Your neurodivergency and the way your mind worked. He kissed your forehead and went off to order the food. He knew your order by heart. 

-So when you guys got your food, you began to tell the story. How you were never “one of them” despite growing up with them. You were always left out and kids were mean. Then you came out as queer, which didn’t help being left out. Everyone looked at you weird. 

He knew better than anyone how it felt to be left out and hurt by your blood relatives. Granted, completely different situations however both are valid situations. 

He assured you he wasn’t upset at you, he was upset for you. He then told you how he would wait patiently. A couple of times, you almost got enough courage to do it. But then chickened out and just stayed home with him. You never went to those gatherings without someone. To be frank, you preferred Azriel’s company. 

-So when you finally took the plunge it was terrifying. 

-It was your aunt's birthday, a week before thanksgiving. You told them about him, they were all shocked to say the least that you had a partner and had had one for three years. 

-Then you got the normal guilt trip of “why didn’t you say something sooner?” or  “why didn’t you bring him” 

-Not “what’d i do to make you feel unsafe telling me this?” But that’s besides the point. 

-So the next week, you brought him to thanksgiving. 

-Your family was shocked to say the least. 

-That the loudest, vulgar, weird person in their family got the quietest, kindest man. 

-Azriel knew how you felt about this part of the family. You had always felt left out, like you weren’t good enough. You were ostracized as a child from them because you were different. 

-You were the only cousin that wasn’t baptized. Which made you different enough. But you’d rather think for yourself and your parents raised you without religion so you could choose your own path. 

-You cussed, you had tattoos, piercings. You wore clothes you were comfortable in which meant yeah, sometimes you wore a tank top that showed a bit of boobs. You wore all black as well. Also you were the plus size family member and you were queer. So that didn’t help the “fitting in” aspect. 

-He wore a nice black henley and black jeans. As well as his boots. He wanted to make a nice impression even though you told him that he could show up naked and you wouldn’t care. 

-He would. He wasn’t modest but he’d rather not have his future in-laws seeing his ‘monster cock’ as you called it. 

-God, he genuinely loved your vulgarity. 

-He knew how nervous you were, he knew you’d barely eat anything just because of sheer anxiety. His goal was to make sure you ate some appetizers or something.  

-When you walked in, you could tell your family was just floored by him. He greeted everyone with the proper “Mr.” and “Mrs/Ms/Miss.” He shook everyone's hands, smiled at your baby cousins who knew nothing of the strange man but were comfortable enough to wave at him. 

The entire time, he had a hand on your waist. Showing he’s on your side. 

-You warned him that your family was going to eventually get him alone to talk to him about you to which he responded with “let them.” 

They weren’t pissing him off too much. He didn’t like the way some of them were around you. Like you were someone to avoid. When he knew that you were the safest person in the room to any stranger, let alone him. 

”I’m sure sometimes she can be overwhelming.” Your aunt said as if it was a fun little tidbit. But he knew it was a jab. 

If smiles could kill, Azriel’s could’ve maimed her. “Actually she’s perfect.” He let his guard down enough to look at you across the room with your cousins, a lovestruck look on his face. “If she’d let me, I’d marry her tomorrow.” 

Your family was clearly surprised. You had never brought anyone around and now you bring this guy for the first time and he’s ready to marry you? 

-Throughout the day, he kept trying to get you to come out of your shell a bit. 

-When he made you snort in laughter, he let out his first real smile all day. Let these assholes see how happy you make him. 

-Then he noticed your elderly family member glaring at your tattoos. She was caught by Azriel and had the decency to have a look on her face like “can you blame me?” To which he smiled and rolled up his sleeves to show off his ink. 

She had the decency to look embarrassed. 

-Your family quickly began to see a real side of you. One that’s comfortable in her space enough to lean on someone. That someone was Azriel.

-Shortly after the meal, you two left. Claiming you had to go to Azriel’s mothers. They didn’t need to know that you had thanksgiving with her and the whole chosen family the day before. 

-You were finally able to relax when the door shut to the car. You two began the drive back home to the city. 

-You snuggled into him over the center console. Your arm wrapped around his bicep as he drove. You sighed, completely content and he kissed your temple while keeping his eyes on the road. 

“Thank you.” You whispered. 

“What for?” 

“Just…loving me as I am.” 

“You should not feel the need to thank me for that.” He said. 

“Well I am. So deal with it.” You huffed, but you kissed his arm through his shirt. “You’re never embarrassed of me, you take me in stride and love me as if I’m…” You trailed off. “Irreplaceable.” 

“You are.” He said so earnestly that you almost weeped. You squeezed him tighter. “You make me feel so happy, so….loved. I’ve never felt so loved. Those people are fools for not seeing how incredible you are.” 

You felt your eyes getting misty. “You’re so getting head tonight.” You whispered. 

He let out a loud, sharp laugh of surprise. Yeah, he was in it forever. 

[cat-or-kitten]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGe2w11XA/

Sorry but this screams Modern!Azriel?!?! 😭

[pellucid-constellations]

Compliments to the Line Cook

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel never goes for any of the girls on staff. Cassian can't figure out why—and it's pissing him off.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: None! Maybe some language but I tend to do that with modern AUs oops

a/n: Me 🤝 eventually turning to AUs for every fandom. Anyways I think I'm setting this up for a cute little series thing with oneshots because I am inspired ✨ enjoy!!

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Come on,” Cassian scoffed with an exasperated tilt of his head. “She is totally into you.” 

Azriel threw his friend a look, wiping his hands on the apron tied at his waist. “I don’t care.” 

“You don’t care? When’s the last time you got laid, man?” 

“Last night,” Azriel simply replied. He moved the prepped onions from the counter to the fridge. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

“What? You didn’t tell me that,” Cassian pouted, pausing his spatula on the grill. 

Azriel huffed out a breathy laugh, taking up his post at the prep table once more. “Do I need to tell you every detail of my sex life, Cass? Would that help you get it up? I know you struggle.”

“Hey,” Cassian called out, brows raised as Azriel met his gaze. “Fuck you. Who was it, then?” 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t the barely legal host you won’t stop trying to set me up with,” Azriel grumbled.

“Dude, she’s literally 26.” 

“She doesn't look 26.” 

The order bell ringing punctuated the end of the pointless conversation between the two men. In truth, Cassian knew Azriel would never be interested in the new host who had been giving him eyes for the past week. Azriel was never interested in the hosts or the waitresses or even any of the customers. But he would never share why. 

Cassian had grown sick of it. 

He narrowed his eyes as he watched Azriel grab the ticket off the order wheel. He flicked the paper with a small hum, heading to the stove and lighting the burner. 

“Fess up,” Cassian urged, plating the burger for table 12 before tossing the towel on his shoulder into the sink. “You act all mysterious but I’m not an idiot. All the girls on staff basically throw themselves at you and you ignore them. They go on and on about your tattoos even though I have just as many. Gwyn even had her hand on your chest last week and you brushed her off with that awkward pat thing you do.” 

“The mean waitress doesn’t throw herself at me,” Azriel replied. He had yet to look up from the pan sizzling at his fingertips. 

“Oh shut up. Nesta doesn’t count.” 

“Well, you said all so…” 

“I swear to god, Az, I’m going to hit you right in that pretty face of yours—what the hell are you making?” Cassian interrupted himself, whipping around from the send-out counter to inspect the odd combination of ingredients being thrown in the pan. 

“An order,” Azriel stated. “I feel like you should be working.” 

“I am working, asshole,” Cassian grumbled.

Azriel made a noncommittal sound and slid an omelette from the pan onto a plate. He grabbed a handful of spices from the cabinet above and continued to work on the meal. Cassian’s confusion only heightened. 

“We don’t make omelettes past noon. It’s dinner. Why the hell did you make an omelette?” Cassian asked, trailing after his friend as he pushed past the swinging kitchen door. “And where the hell are you going?” 

“Will your curiosity ever be satisfied?” Azriel droned. “I’m clearly walking this plate out to table eight. Go back into the kitchen. The Walters were just seated and you know they order enough to feed an army.” 

Cassian ignored him, staying uncharacteristically silent as he set the intention to spy on his coworker. He let his feet stick at the entrance to the dining room, giving him a clear view of table eight and the girl with the backpack and laptop taking up its residence. 

Azriel placed a steady hand on the back of the booth, his chest pressed against the girl’s shoulder as he brought the plate around and edged her laptop aside. The omelette was placed down in front of her, but Cassian was quick to notice that she didn’t even glance at it, her face turned up with a grin. 

“Hi, baby,” Azriel greeted, a smile evident in his voice—a smile Cassian could hear from clear across the room. “Take a break. I made you dinner.” 

“From the secret menu?” she asked with a giggle.

Cassian watched, in complete shock, as Azriel leaned down to press a long, drawn-out kiss to her temple. “Always.” 

Cassian had a lot to say to that mysterious bastard.

[flickering-chandelier]

Full Throttle

✨ Sequel to Was Any Of It True? ✨

Pairing: Modern badboy!Azriel x goodgirl!Reader

Summary: honestly no plot, just smut and fluff. Little snapshots of life with these two cuties.

Based on this request! 🩷 And also this lol 🫶🏻

Warnings: smut, swearing, brief mention of family abuse (very vague about Az's past)

Word Count: 5.1k

Azriel smiled as he read your text.

The essay is complete! I'm all yours. 

He'd never get tired of that thought, that you were his, that he was yours. He texted back immediately:

That might be a new record, bookworm. I'll be there in 10.

“Aaaaand, he's ditching us for the girl. Again,” Cassian groaned before Azriel had even said anything.

Rhysand chuckled. “Why are you surprised?”

Azriel didn't bother to hide his grin. “What can I say, boys? She's much prettier than you.”

His friends laughed and made fun of him for a few more minutes, and by the time he was making his way to his motorcycle, you had texted back.

Maybe I just couldn't wait to see you. 

Azriel's heart swelled. He couldn't believe how lucky he was.

When he pulled up to the library, he slid off his bike and leaned against it, waiting for you to come outside.

Even from a distance, he could see that your eyes were bright as you made your way toward him, a bounce in your step that proved you were proud of the work you had accomplished today. Azriel felt pride rush through him.

He met you halfway, taking your heavy backpack from your outstretched hand, slinging it over his shoulder as you twined your fingers with his. “Hey, beautiful.” 

You grinned, tilting your chin up as you walked back to his motorcycle, silently asking for a kiss. Azriel smirked, leaning down to give you one.

Azriel handed you your helmet when you got to his bike, as you said, your smile bright, “I got so much done today, Az!”

“Proud of you, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling your body against his to kiss you again. “You are a beautiful, beautiful genius,” he said in between kisses, holding your face in his hands.

You were getting breathless, he could tell. You sighed happily, leaning into him even more. 

“Take me home,” you said into his mouth, your voice raspy.

He groaned, taking the helmet from your hands and sliding it over your head.

You laughed as he hopped onto the bike quickly, impatiently waiting for you to settle in behind him.

He was going to get you home as soon as humanly possible. 

On the short drive home, your hands may have wandered a bit.

Smiling to yourself, you laid your palms flat on his stomach, moving lower, lower…

Your hands settled on his growing bulge and he reached back, gripping your thigh hard. It was an effort not to squirm. There was no quicker way to get him going.

Azriel growled when you finally made your way into your apartment, pinning you against the door immediately, his hard body pressing into yours, kissing you with such ferocity that it made your head spin.

“You used to be such a good girl,” he teased, nipping at your neck. “Now you're getting me all riled up in public.”

A moan escaped you as he gripped your ass with one hand, while the other tangled in your hair, pulling on it to expose more of your neck to him. He continued his trail of little bites and kisses as you groaned, “It was hardly public. Nobody was around.” 

He laughed into your skin, and you went in for the kill, knowing it would set him off. “And I'm still your good girl,” you panted.

He halted his movements, his eyes darkening with need as he pulled back to look at you with a devious smile. “Prove it.”

You took a moment to give him your sweetest, most innocent smile before you dropped to your knees and unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants and his boxers down his thighs. Your mouth was around him in a matter of moments.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, his hands moving to gently hold the back of your head.

You hummed somewhat smugly as you took as much of him as you could down your throat, stroking the rest of his length with your hand. 

“Fuck,” he leaned his forearms against the door, pushing himself deeper down your throat, starting to thrust in and out, the back of your head now resting on the door. 

“Look at me, baby,” he grunted, and when your eyes rose to meet his, he groaned loudly, thrusting in and out a few more times before pulling out of your mouth and helping you stand up, kissing you fiercely when you were upright. 

You pushed his pants down the rest of the way and pulled his shirt over his head, desperate to feel his skin.

He smirked as he grasped your ass with both hands, lifting you in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to your bedroom.

As soon as he set you on your feet, you were reaching for your own clothes, but he grabbed your wrists, halting you. You looked up at him curiously and were nearly knocked off your feet at the lust in his gaze. 

Azriel moved your hands to your sides, then slowly curled his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, his eyes laser focused on your body as he revealed your skin inch by inch.

“Az,” you whined. This was taking too long, you needed him now--

“Shhh,” he said as he finally lifted your shirt over your head, leaning down to kiss down your neck, over your breasts, down your stomach, as he unhooked your bra with one hand and let it slide off your form. 

He trailed his lips back up, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking hard as he slid your pants down your legs agonizingly slowly. 

When you were left in nothing but your underwear, you felt dizzy with need. “Az, please.”

Az laughed darkly before he picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. You landed on your back and before you could even react, he was over you, sliding your panties down your legs.

“Tell me what you want,” he said gruffly into your neck. 

“I want all of you,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around him, resting your hands on his back. “Now.”

He moaned, sliding fully into you in one swift movement. You gasped, clutching to him.

Azriel moved slowly at first, giving you time to adjust to him. He gazed into your eyes, twining his fingers with yours, raising your hand above your head. 

You raked your fingers through his hair, pulling his head down to meet his lips with yours. He kissed you gently, a perfect juxtaposition to him pounding into you faster now.

You moaned into his mouth and you felt him smile, his hips slapping against you harder. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmured, and you gasped, raking your nails down his back.

“I told you so,” you said breathlessly.

He laughed, kissing down your chest, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

You groaned, arching your back off the mattress.

“Mmm, I know what that means,” he growled. “You ready to come for me, bookworm?”

All you could do was moan, spurring him on to move even faster against you. 

He held your chin gently, looking into your eyes as you came undone, and he followed right after, groaning loudly.

When he had finished, he slumped on top of you, breathing hard. 

After you both caught your breath, he slid out of you with a grunt, going to your bathroom and coming back with a wet towel, cleaning you up gently before crawling back into bed with you.

Azriel kissed you softly, gently moving your hair off your face, before pulling you to his chest. “I love you,” he murmured, kissing your forehead.

“I love you, too,” you said sleepily, listening to his heartbeat against your ear as you fell asleep.

---

Azriel groaned, tightening his arms around you as your alarm went off.

You pulled out of his reach to turn it off, but as soon as you did, his arms were around you, pulling you back against his chest. 

“It's too early,” he murmured, kissing your neck. “Stay with me.”

When you sighed sleepily, he knew you were contemplating it. 

“I need to go over my notes before class,” you grumbled.

Azriel shifted, turning you to face him, “you're the most brilliant person in the world,” he said, kissing you softly. “You can go one day without looking at your notes before class.” 

You giggled and his heart soared. “I'm not that brilliant.”

“You are,” he said, kissing you again, his hand wandering down to your hip.

“Brilliant people check their notes before class,” you smiled.

“Brilliant people stay in bed with their boyfriends for as long as possible,” he smirked. “I read a study about it yesterday.”

You rolled your eyes, and he couldn't resist kissing you again. “You've never read a study in your life,” you murmured against his lips.

He pulled you closer to him, so your bodies were pressed against each other. He held your face in his hands. “Stay with me,” he whispered, his lips almost touching yours. “Just this once.”

When you bit your lip, he knew he had convinced you. “Okay,” you said quietly. 

He grinned, crushing you into his chest, and you laughed. “I love you too, but I can't breathe.”

“Oh shit,” he said, easing his hold on you.

You spent the rest of the morning in his arms. You traced your finger over the tattoo on his shoulder, trailing up his neck and down his bicep. “What do they mean?” You asked quietly.

He smiled, watching your finger trail over his body. “Luck. Cassian and Rhys have similar ones. We all got them together.”

Your eyes met his then. “Luck for what?” You asked, and he could tell you wondering if it was about his elusive family. 

“A better life,” he said quietly, leaning in to brush a soft kiss to your lips. “I guess they worked.”

You flushed, hiding your face in his chest. He laughed, grateful he could still get you flustered like that. 

“My family,” he said quietly, and you went perfectly still, your face still hidden to him. He gently stroked your hair. He cleared his throat, steeling himself to tell you what he had never told anyone else. “My family was… abusive. To me. My stepmom and step brothers hated me. They didn't see me as one of them, so… they were awful. Really, really awful,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “Rhys and Cassian's upbringings weren't much better. So as soon as we turned 18, we got these tattoos and we left without looking back.”

He tilted your chin up to look at him and his heart melted when he saw the tears on your cheeks. “I'm sorry,” you whispered. “I had no idea.”

He smiled lightly, kissing the tears off your cheeks one at a time. “Nobody does,” he whispered. “Nobody, but my new family,” tears walked up in his own eyes now as he gazed at you. “My brothers… and you.”

You choked on a sob and he brought his rough hands to your cheeks, wiping the fresh tears away with his fingers as he kissed you softly. 

It was torturous to be apart from you from that moment on. 

---

You felt closer to Azriel than ever, since he had told you about his past, and had called you his family. It made butterflies flutter through your stomach every time you thought about it. 

Apparently it also showed on your face because Az slung his arm around over your shoulders and kissed your cheek, whispering in your ear, “What are you all smiley about?”

“You,” you smiled.

Cassian and Rhysand groaned. “You two are disgusting.”

You laughed, leaning your head on Az’s shoulder, who looked thrilled. You had been spending more time with his friends, wanting to get to know them better. It was also partly because you felt guilty that Azriel kept ditching them to spend time with you.

The doorbell rang then, and Azriel went down to get the food you all had ordered.

After he left, Rhysand turned to you, “I know we give him a lot of shit, but we are really glad that he has you.”

Cassian smiled at you genuinely for probably the first time. “You've changed him. He's never been this happy in his life.”

You flushed, and before you could reply, Azriel was back. He noticed the look on your face and raised an eyebrow, “What just happened?”

“Time to eat!” Cassian cut in, taking the bags from Az’s hands and divvying up the food.

Azriel looked to you, and you smiled, patting his shoulder. “I'll tell you later,” you whispered.

Later, the boys were playing a video game that you had tried to play with them, but you died so much that you slowed everyone down, so you opted to read a book instead.

Azriel cuddled you in every spare moment that the game allowed, sometimes accidentally letting Cassian or Rhys die while his hand was on your thigh, or when he was pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

The boys were not hesitant to show their frustration, but Azriel would just shrug, kissing you again.

You felt so unbelievably in love. 

It was well into the night when you two ended up back at Azriel's apartment. 

You were exhausted. He tossed you one of his t-shirts and you stripped down to your underwear before slipping it on over your head. He stripped down to his boxers, his eyes trailing your body with a faint smile on his face the whole time.

You both got settled in his bed, facing each other. You felt so tired, but couldn't close your eyes, couldn't peel them from Azriel’s. His hazel eyes were twinkling even in the darkness.

“What did they say while I was gone?” Az asked quietly, stroking your cheek.

You smiled. “They said they're glad that we're together. And that they've never seen you so happy.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, leaning closer to you, “I never have been this happy.”

A blissful sigh escaped from you as he gently touched his lips to yours, kissing you slowly. Lovingly.

His hand found its way to your hip, easing your body closer to his, like he had all the time in the world.

For a while, he kissed you and kissed you, tongue entwining with yours gently. 

Eventually his hands trailed down to the hem of your shirt. Well, his shirt.

His eyes were trained on yours as he gently pulled it over your head and tossed it aside.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured into your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, your stomach. 

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and he looked up at your face, smiling, like he had been waiting for it.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, brushing a lock of overgrown hair out of his face. “So are you,” you said, your eyes trailing across his broad shoulders, his massive biceps, his toned stomach. 

He chuckled, moving up your body to kiss your lips again. “Thank you, bookworm.”

Azriel took his time kissing you again, his hand trailing down to your panties, sliding them off slowly. 

You gasped as he pressed a thumb to your clit, then slipped a finger inside you.

“Az,” you moaned quietly as he started pumping his finger in and out of you. 

He smiled softly, watching your expression. “Good?”

All you could do was nod, biting your lip. His smile grew; his fingers moved faster. You gripped the bedsheets, watching him.

You whimpered and he halted his movements. "You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathed, reaching for him.

He smiled dreamily, sliding off his boxers and hovering over you, settling his elbows on either side of your head. 

His eyes bore into yours as he slid into you. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against yours.

Your hands found their way into his hair as he moved inside you, kissing you lightly on your lips, your neck, your breasts.

Azriel pulled back to look into your eyes, holding you close to him. “You're everything to me,” he murmured, his hips meeting yours in a slow, steady rhythm.

You felt your bottom lip tremble and he wiped his thumb over it gently, his eyes laser focused on you. “You're everything to me,” you admitted, breathlessly.

His mouth turned up into that half smile that you loved. “Even more than books?”

You brought your hand to the back of his neck, gently pulling him down for a kiss. “Even more than books,” you said.

He moaned, picking up speed slightly. Then he laughed. “That turned me on way more than I was expecting.”

You laughed too, and within a few minutes, the two of you were climaxing together, holding each other tightly.

After you caught your breath and cleaned up, you said, “I want your shirt back.”

Azriel laughed, delight flooding his expression as he tossed it back to you. “Good. It looks better on you than it ever could on me.”

---

When you didn’t meet Azriel for dinner, he was worried. You were always on time. Always. 

He was thankful the two of you had shared your location with each other ages ago. When he checked, you were in your apartment, and seemingly hadn’t moved in hours. 

There was no answer when he knocked. He fished the spare key you’d given him out of his pocket and went into your apartment. 

He found you in bed, fast asleep. You looked pale, a shiny gleam of sweat on your brow. He frowned, feeling your forehead, and swore. You were burning up. 

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut even tighter. “Az?”

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said quietly, stroking your cheek.

Scrunching your nose, you mumbled, “I don’t feel good.”

“I can tell,” he murmured. “One second, I’ll be right back,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he went to your kitchen.

He came back with a glass of water and ibuprofen. “Can you sit up, baby?”

You opened your eyes slowly, then reached for his wrist, laser focused on your own hand as you touched him. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I thought I was hallucinating you,” you said matter-of-factly, your eyes sleepy.

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh, despite his concern. “Oh, wow. Okay, this is worse than I thought.”

He set the water and medicine on the bedside table, then climbed into bed with you, sitting against the headboard, then gently pulling you to a sitting position, settling you between his legs, leaning your back against his chest. You groaned, leaning your head back against him, too.

“Drink this,” he said softly, holding the cup in front of you, his other hand resting on your thigh. 

“I don’t like water without ice,” you mumbled.

“I know. If you’d open your eyes, you’d see the ice in the glass.”

After a moment, you said, “Oh.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as you took the cup from his hand, taking a few sips. 

“Take this,” he said, holding two ibuprofen in front of you. 

You swallowed them without argument, leaning back against him like it took great effort just to do that.

“You wanna lay back down?” He asked.

“Please,” you said quietly. 

He shifted, easing you back against the pillows as gently as he could. “Anything else I can do?”

“I’m too hot,” you grumbled. 

He rifled through your drawers, pulling out shorts and a tank top for you before sliding your pajama pants and your t-shirt off. Getting the new clothes on you was more effort than he had anticipated. He wasn’t used to putting your clothes on.

You let out a satisfied sigh though, when you had changed. 

He refilled your water glass and set it on the table before he slid into bed next to you, holding you in his arms. 

“You don't have to stay,” you mumbled.

“Don't be stupid,” he said, brushing the hair off your face. “Of course I'm staying.”

“I love you,” you muttered, almost too quiet for him to hear.

“I love you, too,” he said, kissing your head softly. “Go to sleep.”

It was a long night, not only because it started around 7. Azriel barely slept. He was too busy feeling your forehead, bringing you cold towels, willing your fever to go down. 

By the morning, you seemed to be doing a bit better, but still not back to normal. 

You mumbled something incoherent, nuzzling into his chest. 

“Hmm?” he asked, tilting your chin up so he could hear you. 

“Shower?” you asked, your eyes finally opening and focusing on him. 

He kissed the top of your head before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to your bathroom. 

It was the least sexy shower he had ever taken. You were slumping over, leaning against him to stay upright. He had one arm looped around you, running the soap over your body with his other hand. 

It worried him that you could hardly hold yourself up. 

He had watched you like a hawk all morning until, a few hours later, still slumped over in your bed, you said, “What time is it?”

He checked his phone. “Almost 11.”

“Shit,” you said, sitting up, grabbing for your own phone. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You stood up, looking exhausted. “I have to go to class.”

Raising an eyebrow, he watched as you looked around for your backpack. “You’re kidding, right? You can barely sit up for fifteen minutes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, a little frantically. “This professor is strict, I can’t miss any notes.”

He stood up, crossing over to you, settling his hands on your shoulders so you’d stop and look at him. “Sweetheart, you need to stay here and rest.”

You shook your head, your eyes welling with tears. “I can’t, Az, I have to go.”

Heart breaking for you, his hands moved to your cheeks. “Baby, you can miss one class. You know you can’t go like this.”

You slumped back down on the bed, exhausted. “I know,” you said, your voice breaking. “But this class is so much work. If I miss one class, I’ll be so behind.”

Azriel sat next to you, helping you lay back down in your bed. “Do you know anybody in the class? I can go get the notes for you.”

You swallowed, then shook your head lightly. “No. I don’t know anybody who would give me the notes.”

“You sure?” He asked. “Nobody?”

Sighing, you settled back against the pillows. “Claire is the only person in the class that I know,” you said quietly. 

His stomach dropped. He hadn’t thought about Claire in a long time, hadn’t seen her in almost a year, not since the party that nearly ruined your life, and his. 

“I can ask her,” he said quietly.

“No.”

“If you’re this worried about it, I’ll ask her,” he said soothingly, running his hand back and forth on your leg.

“She won’t give them to you,” you grumbled. 

The hurt in your voice, in your eyes, made his heart crack. He knew you were remembering it all, all the hurt that he and Claire had caused last year. “Let me try? For you?”

You looked into his eyes, studying him. Finally, you said quietly, “Okay.”

Azriel would do anything for you. This proved it. Claire was the last person that he ever wanted to see. 

He would convince her to give you those notes. He didn’t know how, but he would figure it out. 

You had given Azriel the room number for your class, and he lingered outside just before it ended, waiting for class to let out. 

When Claire walked out, he cleared his throat. She turned to him, her smile positively feline. “Azriel. I haven’t seen you around this year.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said shortly. “I need a copy of the lecture notes from today.”

She raised her eyebrow. “The bookworm’s got you running errands when she skips class now?”

“Don’t call her that,” he snapped. “Are you going to give me the notes, or not?”

Claire looked at Azriel, studying him. “Why should I?”

“You owe her. This is the least you can do,” he said, not trying to hide the edge in his voice. 

She shook her head, incredulously. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, she does. And she’s half delirious with a fever right now, but she’s still stressed enough about these notes that I’m here, talking to you. So, give me the notes.”

Her eyes widened slightly at his harsh tone. She looked at him for a beat longer before, wordlessly, she took her notebook out, flipped to the most recent page, and handed it to him. 

He took a picture of it with his phone, then handed it back to her. “Thanks, Claire.”

Without another word, he turned on his heels, going back home to you. 

You were asleep when he let himself back into your apartment, and he was thankful to see a little more color in your face than when he had left. 

He closed the door behind him, and your eyes opened slowly, a faint smile spreading on your face when you saw him. 

“How’d it go?” 

Azriel smiled, showing you the picture of the notes on his phone, before texting it to you. 

You grinned, “Wow. You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

He laughed, his heart thundering in his chest at your words. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “And you’re mine.”

--- 

“Fucking hell,” Azriel said, his eyes trailing down your body. “That’s what you’re wearing today?” 

“What?” you asked, looking down at your sundress. “You don’t like it?”

He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He kissed down your neck, nipping lightly. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you.”

You giggled, heat running through you at his touch. “If you hadn’t made dinner reservations, I would say that we should skip date night, but…”

He groaned, threading his fingers through your hair and kissing you deeply. “Why’d I have to think ahead and be responsible?”

“You’ve been spending too much time with me,” you sighed as he continued kissing you. 

“Impossible,” he said happily, peppering kisses all over your face. 

All throughout dinner, Azriel’s eyes were boring into yours, his eyes dark with lust, his leg brushing yours under the table, his hand holding yours. 

It was maddening.

As soon as you were back in your apartment, Azriel bent you over your kitchen table, flipping your skirt up before smacking your ass lightly. 

He growled as he slid your panties down your legs, immediately putting his mouth on you, sucking hard.

You groaned, clinging to the table, focusing on keeping yourself upright just as much as you were focusing on the feel of him devouring you.

When he moaned against you, your legs started trembling. “Az, I need you inside me,” you panted. 

He stood up immediately, and you shivered as you heard him undo his belt, dropping his pants, pulling off his shirt. 

“Fuck,” he moaned through gritted teeth as he entered you completely with one powerful thrust. He pounded into you in hard, fast movements, his thighs slapping against your ass over and over again. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the feeling of him inside you. 

He wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling gently, his other hand gripping your waist tightly. 

You whimpered, but as he sped up his pace, slamming into you even harder, you let out an involuntary shriek. 

“That’s it, scream for me, baby,” he growled. 

So, you did.

---

You sighed, resting your head on your arms for a moment. Finals were quickly approaching and you were exhausting yourself. 

A knock on your door made your heart leap. There’s only one person who would show up without warning. 

There was a newfound energy, a bounce in your step as you opened the door to find Azriel on the other side, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he smiled, offering the flowers to you. 

“What are these for?” you asked, your heart thundering in your chest. 

He leaned down to kiss you. “Figured you’re driving yourself insane with studying by now,” he said, smiling. “And also because I love you.”

You beamed, rising to your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I love you. Thank you, Az, this is so sweet.” 

Wandering into the kitchen to get a vase, you sighed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, coming up behind you, pulling you into him once the flowers were settled on the table. 

You shrugged. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?” He asked, his brow furrowed with concern. 

You couldn't help but smile, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him. “Not unless you want to do my homework. Or figure out what I should do this summer.”

‘What are you thinking for the summer?” He said.

“I don't know. I want to stay close by…” you trailed off, smiling at him. “There's kinda this guy I want to spend time with as much as I can.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss you. “So, stay close by. What is there to figure out?”

“My lease is up at the end of the semester,” you said, sadly. “And everything in my budget is pretty much booked.”

“Well,” he said softly, leaning down to brush his nose against yours. “What if you moved in with me?”

Your eyes widened, your heart pounding. “Really? Do you think we're ready for that?”

“I mean, we spend all of our time together already. All of our nights,” he said, shifting to press a kiss to your forehead. “I know that I'm more in love with you than I could have ever imagined,” he smiled. “If it's not what you want, that's okay. But, I think it could be kinda great.”

You pictured it, living with Azriel, sharing your life with him in that way. “I think it would be really great,” you beamed up at him.

His face lit up, his eyes shining. “Yeah?”

“Let's do it,” you said.

He grinned, lifting you in his arms and spinning you around, his deep laugh bouncing off the walls. “I love you,” he murmured, gazing into your eyes as he set you back on the ground. “I can't wait for the rest of my life with you.”

Your heart soared, your knees weak. “Me either, Az.”

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02

Want to see more? Check out part 3!

[surielstea]

Cancelled Plans

Based on this request.

Pairing: Modern!Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an attempt to get over her foolish crush on her roommate Azriel, Reader schedules a date with someone else but Azriel gets awfully clingy when she tries to leave.

Warnings: Smut | minors dni | fingering | teasing | oral (f receiving) | answering a call while receiving oral so semi public (?) | jealous Az

5.1k words

My dazzling black dress looked as if it was made for me specifically. The way it hugged every dip and curve, flared in all the right places. It was beyond just flattering, it made me look angelic yet sinful at the same time.

I spot Azriel on the couch when I enter the sitting room, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he reads from a novel with a worn cover that I've seen him reread a multitude of times.

He flicks his eyes up from his overused book to glance at me, then returns to his page. Then he visibly freezes and looks back to me, needing a double take to make sure what he saw registered correctly. He snapped his book shut when I flashed him a beaming smile.

"Where are you going?" He immediately interrogated, sitting up from his position.

I do a small twirl, showing off. "I have a date," I shrug and he stands, brows lowered. It was always hard to read my roommate's expressions but he had clearly been distraught at the information I gave him. "What? Don't think I'm capable of having anyone interested in me?" I joke and he narrows his eyes at me conspicuously.

"Just confused as to who you think deserves to see you dressed like this," His eyes rake down my figure, dropping all the way to my heels that wrapped up my ankles, slowly moving up the slit in the side of the dress that exposed most of my thigh, my waist, my chest, lingering at the cleavage there for a moment, then finally back up to my eyes.

"It's none of your business," I cross my arms and he tilts his head, unimpressed. I swore he could read me like the pages of his favorite book. "Okay fine," I fold beneath his piercing gaze. "I'm going to dinner with a guy named Nelm and he's super nice so don't—" He doesn't let me finish as he cuts me off with a sudden laugh and I flush in embarrassment. "He's nice, Az," I defend while he suppresses the rest of his laugh, resulting in a thin-lipped smile.

"Nelm cannot be a real name," He says like he refused to even fathom the idea of it.

"Well it is, and I'm going to be late so if you'll excuse me," I spin on my heel, away from him and towards the front door.

"You promised yesterday we'd watch a horror movie tonight," He croons in a sing-song tone that makes me cast a glance back to him with a guilty frown.

"I'll be back later tonight, we'll watch it then," I say, reaching for the doorknob but being mentally stopped by the feeling of something being lost. "Forgetting something?" Azriel hums, holding up my purse, the strap dangling from his finger tauntingly. I groaned, looking at the male.

"Give it." I sigh.

"Try and take it," He shrugs, holding the purse up above his head while taking three long strides forward and closing the distance between us. I look up at him with cold eyes which he only smiles at whilst I silently curse his tall height.

"Az, c'mon I'm going to be late," I claim and he only smirks at the idea.

"Late to what?" Cassian's familiar voice asks from the other side of the room and I jump, looking past Azriel and to my other roommate who was coming down the hallway shirtless, Nesta beside him, appearing to be wearing nothing but his stolen shirt. She practically lived here as much as the rest of us so I didn't bat an eye at the sharp-featured female.

"Great, let's get everyone involved in my love life," I murmur sarcastically while Azriel turns sideways to face both me and his brother.

"She's going on a date with some guy named Nelm," He explains and I glare up at him.

"Horrible name," Nesta mumbles as she enters the kitchen, Cassian trailing behind her.

"He's making it sound worse than it is," I claim and Azriel looks down at me pointedly.

"I only told them what you told me, it's your mind making it seem worse than it is," Azriel retorts and I clamp my mouth shut, knowing he was right.

"Well he's kind, and he's taking me to dinner," I look to Cassian and Nesta like I was someone on trial and they were the jury. "And I'm going to be late, so give me my purse," I take my gaze back to Azriel.

"I don't want to," He shrugs. We pause for a moment at the heaviness that sentence holds. Earlier he had made a taunting game of it, but now he simply just didn’t want me to leave, not for fun, but because he wanted me to stay and watch a stupid scary movie with him.

I was trying to get over him with this date, move on from my ridiculous crush and he was making it awfully difficult. It didn't help that we've made out a couple of times in a few desperate moments while we were both at our lows. But it was never more than lips, always just kissing, we made that line clear and we've both been walking along it for too long.

Nevertheless, my crush wasn't going away, and having it on my roommate of all people was not fun, especially when I saw him walk around shirtless, or roaming the house after showering with a towel loosely wrapped around his hips, hair still dripping water down onto his abdomen—

"How'd you even meet this guy anyway?" Cassian tore me from my straying imagination. Azriel and I both whip our heads towards him.

"Mor set us up," I shrug with a bashful expression.

"Oh," Cassian grimaced, Azriel matching his look of disgust.

"What?" I scowl at both of them, confused as to what's so wrong with that.

"Well Mor playing Cupid is similar to her solstice presents," Cassian attempts to explain.

"She means well, but the outcome is always, laughable," Azriel expands and I frown, looking to the floor in slight defeat, wondering how I would tear myself from this one. I huff and look back at the two males.

"Well he's not laughable, and it's just one date. I think I'll manage," I argue, waving Cassian off. Nesta pulls at his arm and he nods, following her back down the hall.

"Right, good luck then," He calls back and I smile in triumph, bringing my gaze back up to Azriel.

He stares down at me for a moment, mirroring my stubbornness with his pointed look.

"Alright, fine," He sighs, lowering my purse and placing it in my outstretched hands with a tentativeness I nearly didn't catch.

"Thank you," I reach for the doorknob, but I turn back to him for a moment before opening the door, my eyes lingering on pools of hazel.

"Have fun," He shoos and I offer him a grateful smile. "I'm sorry I made you late to dinner with your dad," He added beneath his breath and my smile dropped into a glare.

"It's a date, Azriel. I have a date," I restate but his smirk doesn't falter.

He looks to the door behind me, to my hand on the knob, then back to my eyes, as if anticipating my leave, but I didn't make the move. To be honest I'd much rather stay here and watch that horror movie I promised him than go to dinner with a guy named Nelm.

"Right, a date," He nods, crossing his arms, still waiting for me to take my departure.

"I know the concept of asking a girl out is foreign to you, but I think you can grasp it," I taunt and he chuckles, the amused sound making my stomach flip.

"I know how to ask a girl out," He claims and I smirk, because perhaps prodding his fragile ego was much more fun than any old dinner date.

"I don't believe you," My hand leaves the doorknob only to cross my arms over my chest and his smile widens.

"Yeah?" He leans against the door, indicating that I won't be leaving any time soon now that his weight is pressed against it. I nod. "Do you want to get dinner with me instead of a guy named Nelm?" He tilted his head and I swallowed thickly. Was he genuinely asking me out or just continuing this game I started? "Or we could watch that movie you promised me?" He proposed and my cheeks flushed pink.

"Yes," I blurt out and his brows raise a fraction in both shock and amusement. Gods this was embarrassing.

"Yes to dinner, or to the movie?" He tilts his head, his smirk widening.

"Would you think less of me if I blew off my date just to watch a horror movie with you?" I say, my voice just above a whisper.

"Never." He grabs my hand and pulls me away from the front door, towards the couch.

"Wait I have to change." I pull away from his grasp.

"But you look pretty," He grabs my purse, holding me back from leaving yet again.

"But I'm uncomfortable," I groan but he only tugs at my purse and pulls me closer.

"Just take it off, I won't watch," He closes his eyes and turns his head away from me.

"I'm not stripping down just because you're clingy," I huff and he opens one eye, looking at me with a scrunched nose, his stubbornness outmatched.

"Here." He grabs the hem of his shirt and takes it off with ease, leaving his chest bare.

"You can wear mine," He tosses the fabric at me. I sigh and place the shirt down on the couch.

"All because you want to see me naked," I mumble, dropping my hold on the purse and he sets himself on the couch, closing his eyes just as he promised.

I turn around anyway, unzipping my dress from the side and shrugging it off, allowing it to dip from my shoulders and then pool at the floor.

"Uh, can you hand me your shirt," I murmur, afraid to turn around.

"You were going to let a guy named Nelm see you in that?" He said and I whirled around, staring at him with wide eyes.

"You said you'd shut your eyes!" I grab the shirt in his hands.

"Forget the dress, no one deserves to see you in this," He ignored my exclamation and grabbed me by the backs of my thighs, and pulled me closer, staring up at me in my black lingerie that fit me just as well as my dress.

"You weren't going to let some other guy see you in this were you?" He questions with a certain possessiveness to his voice as I shrug the shirt on, pulling it over my head. Then down past my hips.

"Why does it matter? I'm not going anymore anyways." I plop on the couch beside him, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

"No," He smiles. "You're not."

"Just start the movie." I swing my feet over his lap and he does as says, letting the TV play while dimming the lights.

I still felt exposed despite Azriel’s shirt loosely around my body. Gods, it smelt so strongly of him, and now he was left shirtless and it made me helpless.

I reached over and grabbed a blanket from the armrest, spreading it out over me while readjusting so I was lying down, my thighs now on Azriel's lap.

"You seem comfortable," He remarks, his tone clipped and I look at him with a glare, still upset he made me cancel my date. "Oh c'mon, you can't be mad at me forever," He sighs, leaning down so his bare chest was pressed to my back. "I know how much you love to cuddle," He croons, using my own weaknesses against me. "Besides, who's going to protect you when all the jump scares start to happen?" He suggests and a shiver ran down my spine at the thought.

I hated horror movies, Azriel always made me watch them since they were his favorite. The sadistic freak laughed whenever I jolted at a scary moment.

I pout, burrowing deeper into the throw pillow.

"Fine, but only if you cuddle me too," I offer and he smiles, laying down fully behind me, our legs tangling as his hand snakes around my waist and pulls me further into his chest. I smile at the feeling. How was I ever supposed to get over him while he was actively pressing me into him while I wore his shirt?

I distracted myself with the movie, but it was hard not to think about him while he stroked the side of my waist with his thumb, silently soothing me during tense parts of the movie.

I was in the middle of imaging how good it'd feel to lose the barrier of the shirt and have skin to skin contact when the killer appeared on screen all of a sudden and I jumped, my entire body tensing as I grabbed his hand that was tucked beneath my head and put it in front of my eyes.

"You're alright," He whispers, a slight amusement to his tone that reassured me. "You're fine," He hums, intertwining my hand with his and pulling them away from my line of sight.

I shiver at the feeling of his hand clasped in mine, how intimate it was in such a quiet moment like this. "You cold?" He asks his lips just beside my ear with the position we were in. I nod, using that as my excuse. "Yeah?" He purrs and I swallow thickly, clenching my legs together at all the lewd thoughts developing in my mind at the single word. I needed help.

I nod again and his hand on my waist dipped down beneath the blanket. I stopped breathing for a minute as he slipped his hand beneath the hem of my shirt, his palm rubbing up the side of my stomach, then returning to gripping my waist with his large, warm hand. "Better?" He whispers and I swore that time I could feel his lips against my ear. I fight back my need to mount him and simply nod instead.

"Mhm," I murmur, tightening my grip on his other hand.

Now that I could feel every twitch and movement of his hand I couldn't think of anything else. The movie didn't even scare me anymore, I was too entranced with him to focus on anything else. I wanted him to feel me everywhere. His calloused fingertips brushed against my soft skin, creating a friction I couldn't erase from my mind. I slowly grab his wrist with my free hand and boldly guide his grip upward, his fingers coming to my breast and cupping it in his hand.

He doesn't say anything, stays perfectly quiet as he gropes my breast in his hand and I let out a soft sigh, my hand in his tightening at the satisfying feeling.

He begins to massage my clothed breast in his hand, with little hesitation in his movements with the action and I respond to his touch by leaning into his chest, the curve of my ass pressing to his hips. He dips his head down, his lips meeting the crook of my shoulder.

His kisses trail up my neck then back down as quiet, soft sounds escape from the base of my throat and I prayed he couldn't hear them. His hand leaves my breast and mortification dawns over me. He was going to pull away, going to call me stupid for having a crush on him since he was my roommate.

But he didn't pull away and he still didn't speak. He just continued to lower his hand until it slipped beneath the blankets, and ever so slowly cupped my heat. I let out a soft gasp, clenching my legs shut.

"This alright love?" He purrs into the shell of my ear and I nod.

"Please," I mutter and he smiles into my neck at the desperation in my tone. He rubs his fingers through my folds, the cloth of my underwear doing nothing to keep his hands dry as my arousal seeps through and soaks him anyway. I clench around nothing at the sensation, his finger pads finding my clit and circling it harshly. I flip onto my back, looking up at him with pleading eyes and gripping his free hand with mine.

He smiles down at me, slowly pressing his fingers to my most sensitive area. "Please, Az," I murmur.

"Please what?" He taunts and I pout, not wanting to say it. But he doesn't waver.

"I want your fingers," I confess. "Inside of me, please Az," I finished and his smirk widened, leaning down and capturing my lips with his.

"Look at how nice you asked, was that so hard?" He hummed and I shook my head no. He grants me a smile as his fingers hook under my waistband and he tugs my panties off, bringing them down to my knees and I thrash them the rest of the way off.

He cups my bare heat in his hand and my breath hitched. He presses his lips to mine again. He could feel how much I wanted him I was so wet. "Az," I sigh out softly as his thumb pressed to my clit. I grind down onto his palm, needing more friction. He meets my silent request by beginning to dive two of his fingers through my folds, coating them in my slick and preparing them for entrance.

I let out a breathy mewl as he flicks his thumb over my clit in a particularly stimulating way, making my legs fall open wider. He admired this, humming against my lips and slipping his tongue inside as I opened my mouth to moan his name.

His fingers slowly come down to my entrance, tracing it dauntingly and I stifle a whine, needing him to fill me entirely. I kissed him hard instead of begging, allowing him to explore every expanse of my mouth as he ever so slowly pushed two of his fingers into my slit. I clenched around him at the feeling, how godly it felt when he rubbed against my elastic walls, stretching them on his hand as he began curling his fingers at just the right angle, pressing against that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled deep inside of me.

"There," I clench his other hand in mine, my nails digging into the back of his palm as he continues the lethal movements. I grit my teeth at how damned perfect it felt as he began to speed up, scissoring his fingers against it and creating an entirely new feeling.

Heat washed over me in waves, ebbing and flowing against me as my orgasm built, rapidly approaching.

"Azriel," I whimpered against his lips and he smirked.

"I love hearing my name moaned from your lips," He admitted, his fingers continuing to make a mess of me. "My pretty girl," He admired, his gaze finding mine. My brows creased at the name, and the possession that came with it.

"Yours," I whispered and he nodded, confirming it.

"All mine." He kissed my lips once more, his hand continuing its relentless pace as he flicked his fingers over that bundle, toying with it as I desperately chased my release.

His thumb returned to my clit, rubbing it harshly and I mewled, pulling away from his lips in favor of tilting my head back into the pillow, reveling in the heat running through my veins. "M'close," I warn in a soft tone and he presses a tender kiss to my cheek, then goes down to my jaw with a trail of the same gentleness.

"I know baby, go ahead, make a mess on my hand," He allows and can only obey, anything else would be downright masochistic.

I'm met with a white-hot pleasure that blinded me for longer than a moment, my eyes rolling back as my climax consumes me entirely, bringing both satisfaction and a craving for more simultaneously.

Once my body returns to its reality he removes his fingers from my cunt, now drenched with my dripping arousal. He smiles, bringing his hand up to his lips and licking up the wet expanse of his fingers, gathering my release on his tongue. He groaned as if the taste was revolutionary. "Gods, you're sweeter than I imagined," He confesses and my brows raise slightly.

"Imagined?" I pant out, still wrung from my intense orgasm.

He simply nods, flipping over me so he was settled between my bare thighs. "But I think I need to taste it firsthand," He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my sternum before beginning his descent, trailing delicate kisses down my stomach as he guides my legs over his shoulders, his head now trapped between my knees.

He rubs up and down my thighs, settling himself between them as he reaches the hood of my clit, dancing his tongue down it and without warning digging the pink muscle into my overstimulated clit.

I gasped, my hands going into his hair, grasping as he began kissing down my folds, soaking the lower half of his face. He wastes no time, eager to feel me writhe against his tongue.

I stare down at him in anticipation and he holds the eye contact. His hazel gaze was intense, so passion-filled that it gave me hope that this was more than just a one-time thing.

"Please," I mutter.

"Keep your eyes on me, alright love?" His breath was hot against my puffy pussy, it had been so distracting that I almost didn't hear what he said. But I nodded.

"Okay," I said shakily and before I knew it he leaned down, his lips meeting my entrance as his tongue entered my cunt with ease from him stretching me out with his fingers previously.

I gasped at the sensation, his tongue expertly flicking inside of me as he forced the impressive length of it inside of me.

"Az," I gripe, arching my back and digging my head into the pillows as I pull at his dark locks. He continues the wicked action against my core despite my thighs clamping around his head. He didn't seem to care if he lost oxygen, all he wanted was to taste me deeper and provide me more pleasure until I was finding release on his tongue alone.

I could barely breathe, my legs jolting as he continued his exquisite torture against my throbbing entrance.

"Azriel, right there—" My words are cut off by the familiar ringing of my phone, and it was easily compared to my alarm because it had taken me out of my dream. He looks up at me from between my thighs, his eyes glinting with devilry.

"Pick it up," He coos, and my brows bunch.

"Are you crazy?" I whisper shout at him as if the phone might understand me.

"For you," He purrs, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to my clit. I grip the cushion of the couch at the return of pleasure but the incessant ringing continues and it takes me right out of it again. "Pick it up, or I'll stop." He threatens and I glare at him but he's unwavering. I groan, stretching my arm out to the side and grabbing my purse off the coffee table.

I keep my glare pinned on him as I fish my phone out of the side pocket. The screen lights up with Nelm's contact and my eyes widen, I turn the phone towards Azriel, showing him that I could most definitely not pick this call up. He nods encouragingly and I shake my head rapidly, my brows creased. He begins to pull away from between my legs but I wrap my legs around his neck. "Fuck you," I grit out.

"I plan on it." He smirks against my heat while I bring my phone to my ear, and answer the call.

"Hey, what's up?" I try to mask my voice to be as casual as possible, despite my roommate being between my bare legs.

"Where are you? It's half past seven," He said, slightly irked but I was too busy looking down at Azriel to notice.

"Oh no, was our date tonight?" I gasp in faux shock and Azriel smiles, his eyes lighting with what I knew would be a horrible idea.

"Uh, yeah. I texted you yesterday making sure we were still on?" Nelm said through the other line and I gritted my teeth. I'm so fucked.

"Something came up and texting you slipped my mind—" My breath hitched as Azriel's lips joined with my cunt. I look down at him with panic, mouthing 'no' at him but he doesn't listen.

"Are you alright?" He asked and I felt guilty because he genuinely seemed worried for me.

"Oh— I'm fine just," I struggle to come up with an excuse while Azriel was fucking the thoughts out of me with his tongue.

"Just an emergency happ— happened with my, uhm my roommate," I choke out and Azriel just looks up at me innocently, his hands gripping my thighs as he rolls his long tongue inside of me at a certain spot and I have to fight a moan from slipping past my lips.

"Oh, alright well I can stick around for a while if you think you'll be able to make it?" Nelm suggests from the other end of the line and I curse myself for ever leading this poor guy on when I was clearly not ready for any serious relationship while actively living with my crush.

"I'm so sorry but maybe we can reschedule— fuck," My words turn into curses as Azriel bites at my sensitive clit, silently telling me that my chances of going out with anyone but him were never going to happen. He soothes the bite with the flat of his tongue, circling it directly after with tight, rough movements. I arch into his face, writing into the mattress as I fight my moans off.

"That's fine, when are you free?" Nelm asks and I grit my teeth, shoving my head into the pillows.

"Mm, you know what? I'll just, I can text you my schedule and— and gods, I, I'll let you know when I'm free," I voice, my tone coming off all too whiny as I let a few moans slip through.

"Okay, good luck with whatever your roommate's emergency is." He mumbles, a slight sourness to his tone but who wouldn't be upset after someone flaked on them?

"Yeah, thanks— bye," I grit through my teeth and quickly pull the phone from my ear and hang up the phone.

A loud moan immediately escapes from my throat as soon as the phone shuts off. I let it slip from my hand and fall to the floor absentmindedly as Azriel continues his cruel work at my clit.

I grab him by the hair and pull him away from my heat. "Why did you do that to me?" I pant out, my cheeks flushing with humiliation. He only grins, his lips coated in my slick as his dimples make an appearance.

"Had to show him what's mine," He says, his eyes dark as he leans down once more, flicking his tongue through my folds greedily.

"And I hate sharing," He confesses, diving back into my pussy, his lips sealing against my entrance as he continued fucking me with his tongue, flicking it in and out of me, alternating between my clit and entrance creating an overwhelming amount of stimulation. I pull at his hair and he delights in the pain. I clench my legs around him tighter and I didn't even get the chance to warn him before I teeter over that edge and cum on his tongue.

I pant out for air but it's lost on me as my second climax greets me, hitting me much harder than the last and threatening to knock me out. I swore my ears started ringing for a moment as my vision went fuzzy. Pleasure bloomed through me in the most intense way, still buzzing at my fingertips as he pulled away from my cunt and slowly kissed up my stomach, my sternum, my neck, all the way back to my lips and once he got there I regained all of my senses and enough energy to kiss him back.

His hand came up to my jaw, thumb stroking along it with a soft touch like I was the most precious thing in the world. He pulls away, looking down at me with a prideful smirk.

"My pretty girl." He admired and something in his gaze told me this was so much more than just a hookup.

"You were jealous," I say and he smirks, placing a soft kiss on my lips and allowing me to taste myself once more.

"Of course I was," He murmurs, pulling away less than an inch, his nose still brushing against mine. "But can you blame me?" He asked. "I can't just watch the girl I'm in love with go on a date with some asshole named Nelm," He grumbled and I discarded the insult towards the kind man, focusing on his confession. Heat stained my cheeks in slight shock.

"You're in love with me?" I murmur in slight shock and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Ever since I can remember." He admits and a small smile spreads over my lips. "Sorry, if that scares you." His voice turns soft and I can't help but crumble in his hold.

"No, I'm in love with you too," I say slightly nervously, and dimples grace his features.

"Oh, thank god." He sighs then leans down and presses his lips to mine harshly, holding a level of confidence that wasn't there before.

"Why don't we take this to the bedroom?" He suggests as he pulls away and my grin widens, I wrap my hands around the back of his neck excitedly.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," I hum, my legs wrapping around his hips.

"I think I have some idea," He says, his hips pressing into mine and at his words, I realize he's referring to his clothed bulge straining against his pants and rubbing against my folds. I flash a devilish smile.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

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[lalacliffthorne]

when for a change, Azriel is the one in need of cuddles 💕

I'm back on my modern!batboys roomies bullshit, bc I missed our grumpy bat and am in desperate need of a cuddle, and bc baby boy deserves all the love and care in the world.

The front door fell shut behind me, and I sighed, kicking off my shoes.

"Hello?" Raising my head, I slipped out of my jacket, and my eyes fell onto the boots abandoned in the middle of the hall next to Azriel's open door.

My brows crunched softly.

“Az?”

I listened for a few heartbeats, and my ears picked up on the sound of the shower running. Taking a few steps forward, I peaked into Azriel's room, and my gaze found clothes strewn aimlessly over the room, a knocked over pencil holder and pictures fallen to the floor.

My heart dipped before tightening gently, and picking up my bag, I turned around, quickly sliding into my room.

When maybe ten minutes later, I heard the door to the bathroom open, I was sitting on Azriel's bed, pillows stuffed into my back, his crumpled blanket thrown over my bare legs, one of his sweatshirts drowning my body and a gentle weight on my chest.

The door was pushed open, and my heart skipped softly against my ribs when Azriel stepped into the room, only wearing joggers hanging low on his lips. Muscles shifted under his bare skin as he ran a hand through his hair that looked damp and tousled, a rigid kind of tension in his whole body as he pushed the door close. Then he raised his head, and his body became completely still as our eyes met.

Something tightened gently under my ribs, but I just watched him, quiet.

For a second, Azriel just stared at me. His eyes, piercing and stormy, flickered over my face. Then I carefully pulled the blanket to the side and sent him the crooked ghost of a smile.

The muscles in Azriel's shoulders shifted, his jaw tightening. His gaze seemed to become molten as he flexed his fingers, something rising beneath, and suddenly, the weight on my chest shifted onto my throat.

Staring at him, I curled my fingers into my blanket and swallowed softly.

Azriel's gaze tracked the movement. Then his shoulders sagged as his whole stance seemed to deflate, the strange fight drowning out of his eyes and leaving them simply exhausted, and without another second of hesitation, Azriel moved.

Something leapt against my ribs when with a few strides, he reached the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he slid into the space between my legs, and something rose under my ribs when his arms slipped under my back and Azriel pulled me into a hug so tight, my heart got stuck in my throat.

My breath caught, and Azriel slid his arms further around me, grip crushing, face tucked into my neck. Then his shoulders sagged, and his body slumped heavily onto my chest.

My heart rose, and I slid my arms around his shoulders as I let myself sink back into the cushions. My legs came up to firmly frame Azriel's hips, and I dropped my head and buried my nose in his hair, squeezing him tightly.

Azriel nuzzled his nose into my skin, a soft sound leaving him as he buried deeper into me, the last bit of lingering tension in his body melting into nothingness. His weight was burying me in the pillows, so familiar that my body curved around his far taller one like muscle memory.

It felt like he was trying to hide me away, with his whole body covering mine, while simultaneously hiding himself.

My breath hitched gently, and I slid my arms further around his shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as I could as I pressed my nose into his damp hair.

“Hi,”, I whispered, sliding one hand up to curl my fingers into the hair at the back of his head, and Azriel made a low sound deep in his throat, his grip tightening as he buried himself deeper in my body.

Feeling my heart skip and rise, I held onto him, breathing in his familiar scent that made my chest ache. My thumb slowly brushed over the back of his head, then I stretched my arm with a little effort. Dragging the warm, heavy blanket over us, I let myself sink back into the pillows, slipping my hand out of Azriel's hair and carefully running my fingers over his bare back.

Muscles shifted under my touch and a gentle shudder travelled through his body as a low sound left him. Then Azriel shifted, arms tightening like he was trying to drag me closer, and something melted in my chest.

Gently, I started brushing my fingers over Azriel's back, following his spine up and down in slow, even motions. Raising my free hand to thread it through his hair, gently circling my thumb over the back of his head, I carefully dipped my head to the side slightly to catch a glimpse at Azriel’s face.

Something fluttered gently in my ribs when my gaze flickered over his closed eyes and cheek smushed against my collarbone, the crease between his dark brows slowly smoothing over as his jaw shifted, tensing before relaxing.

Feeling a wave of warmth rise in my chest, fluttering wildly, I dropped my head and pressed my lips against his forehead.

My heart dipped and skipped when Azriel's scent rose into my nose, his hair tickling my skin, and I thought I felt his chest vibrate when a deep sound left him. Then I buried my nose in his hair, running my fingers over the back of his head slowly.

"Are you okay?", I whispered, something tightening around my throat, and Azriel buried his nose in my neck. Then I felt him nod, just once.

Silence settled over the room, calm and comfortable as the sky outside slowly grew darker and darker. Azriel’s body radiated warmth, melting into mine until his muscles were completely loose and relaxed, his weight grounding as his slow, warm breath grazed my neck. My fingers carefully threaded through his hair, gently scratching over his scalp as I felt my own heartbeat calm, my eyes growing heavy. When my hand slipped up to rest against his jaw, my thumb beginning to lightly trace over Azriel's cheek, I felt his even, steady breath.

I had long lost track of time, but when I heard the distant sound of the front door opening and closing, Azriel hadn’t moved in a while. His breath was so slow, it felt like he had fallen asleep.

Gently running my fingers through his hair, I raised my head a little when there was a knock against my door, and with a creak, it opened, revealing tousled dark hair and wide shoulders as Rhys looked over his shoulder.

“Az, you he-“ He turned around and trailed off, and I groaned inwardly when his nearly violet eyes started twinkling, his lips slowly curving upwards in a smirk.

Pushing the door open further, he leaned against the frame and raised his brows.

I glowered softly and silently.

Don’t you dare.

Rhys’ grin grew, and he mouthed: “Cute.”

I rolled my eyes and flipped him off.

“Can I join in?” Rhys’ voice was lowered, though it did nothing to hide the amusement vibrating through it, and I contemplated throwing something at him. But before I could decide on what would make the least noise, Azriel’s low, tired voice vibrated through my bones.

“Fuck off.”

Rhys started grinning so widely, the dimples in his cheeks reached new depths. A low laugh vibrated in his chest, and he pushed off the doorframe.

“Rude.” Sending me a bright smile and a cheeky wink, he turned around, and I couldn’t keep the light giggle breaking from my throat as I watched him close the door again.

“Shithead,”, Azriel mumbled softly into my neck, but I could feel the ghost of a crease forming in his cheek under my fingers.

My heart fluttered gently when Az raised his head, resting his chin on my chest. Our noses brushed slightly, and the thrum under my ribs grew as my gaze flickered over his tired eyes.

"Hi,", I mumbled.

Azriel huffed gently, but the corner of his lips rose just barely. His eyes slowly tracked over my face, and something fluttered violently against my ribs at the spark of something feverish growing in his tired stare.

"Hi,", Azriel mumbled back, and my heart leapt into my throat at the sound of his slow, deep voice quietly vibrating through me.

For a second, we just stared at each other, almost greedy in the way our eyes flickered over the other's face. I catalogised the few pale freckles on his nose and the way his tousled hair fell over his forehead as my fingers slowly ran over the back of his head. Then I blinked lightly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" My voice was so soft, it vibrated in the tiny space between us as my gaze roamed Azriel's face and my hand carefully threaded through his hair.

"Not really." Azriel let his eyes fall shut for a second, his low, deep voice wavering between dry and simply tired.

Staring at him, I felt something close around my throat.

Azriel blinked, his gaze focusing back in on me. Amber eyes tracked over mine, tired, soft, and a little feverish. Then he blinked again, and his deep voice was quiet when he mumbled: "Got caught in the darkness."

Something tightened under my ribs, squeezing my heart.

Azriel's nose lightly brushed mine as he shifted a little, his gaze roaming over my face. Then his soft, low mumble washed over me. "You pulled me out though."

My breath caught in my throat, and pressure built behind my eyes as I nodded, quick and soft.

Azriel's lips curved, just a little as his gaze flickered over mine. Then he tightened his grip and shifted forward, and my heart leapt high when he rolled onto his back with a quiet grunt, pulling me with him.

A soft, breathy squeak bubbled in my throat, and somehow, I managed to catch myself with my forearms pressing into the mattress next to Azriel's head.

My breath hitched when I felt his grip tighten to keep me from sliding away to the side, one of his hands slipping under my sweatshirt and causing a gentle shiver to travel down my spine as his calloused skin pressed against my back.

Something swelled under my ribs, and exhaling softly, I let myself slowly sink into his chest. Azriel shifted to get comfortable, resting his head against the pillows as he stared up at me, and swallowing gently, I traced my eyes over Azriel's face. Then I carefully dipped my head.

My nose lightly brushed against Azriel's, and I could feel his muscles shift, his lashes fluttering against my cheeks. His breath fanned over my skin, his scent rising into my nose as his grip tightened, and feeling something rise in my chest, bright and all-consuming, I bridged the last inch and slowly pressed my lips onto his.

A low sound broke from Azriel's throat, deep and hoarse. His hand rose to cup the side of my neck as his arm slid around my waist, and his thumb brushed over the curve of my neck as I kissed him, simple, warm and long enough to feel dizzy.

Pulling back carefully only for a few seconds, I gently brushed my nose against Azriel's. Then I dipped my head and pressed our lips together again, and Azriel exhaled slowly against my cheek, his fingers sliding into my hair, and a soft noise bubbled in my throat.

Breaking the kiss slowly, I pressed my lips against the corner of Azriel's, then his cheek, his chin, the side of his nose, slow, gentle, my heart pounding against my ribs when I felt his lashes flutter against my cheek.

Azriel's grip tightened, and threading my fingers through his hair, I sank deeper into his chest, pressing one last long kiss onto the place where the crease in his cheek formed when he smiled. Then I pulled back, and Azriel stared at me from half-lidded eyes, that tired, feverish look doubled as his gaze dragged over my face.

Feeling my lips curve, I nudged my nose against his lightly. The corner of Azriel's lips twitched as his piercing eyes dragged tiredly over my face, and I brushed my thumb over his eyebrow before letting my head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Azriel's hand slipped up my back as he slid his arms further around me, then he dropped his nose into my hair and slowly breathed out.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secretlyhers @knmendiola @luvmoo

@azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds

@harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123 @kalulakunundrum

[azsazz]

Penance

Hockey Player!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel can't keep his hands to himself. A modern hockey AU.

Warnings: Fighting

Word Count: 970 (lol i wish it was way longer)

Notes: Welcome to the Hockey AU 😏

_________________________________________

You’ll never understand how your boyfriend gets into so many fights, but here you are again, watching him pummel another player into the ice.

The crowd screams wildly around you so loudly it’s nearly deafening. There’s a chill to the air only the ice emits, the rest of the atmosphere is filled with the heat of bodies, stench of beer and stadium popcorn, and a little bit like body odor. The mostly male fans around you clutch their drinks in their hands as they throw their arms up, egging on the brawl in the rink. You’re sure if you were sitting closer, you might be able to smell the blood splattering the pristine, white ice.

“Come on, Azriel,” you mutter, wringing your fingers together. It’s said a little in disappointment and a lot in encouragement. It’s tough to watch; a player on the Springview Wolves had checked him into the glass. It hadn’t been a nice check either, all but shoving Azriel’s face into the boards. His eyes had gone dark in a millisecond, spinning on his skate and chucking his stick to the ground, his gloves following.

The player had already turned away—Warrick, number 22, the back of his jersey reads—when Az had spun around to give him a taste of his own medicine, and the hit looked dirty on your boyfriend's side because of it, hitting a player who seemed unassuming. Tamlin, number 22’s name is, you know this because Azriel and a few of his teammates had been complaining about the blond haired player all week, saying how the coach only puts him in to start fights, the rest of the time he’s usually a duster, collecting cobwebs on the bench.

Gods, you hope Azriel doesn’t lose any teeth this time.

The pair seem to mostly be wrestling right now, trying to keep their balance as their skates slide against the slick ice and the referees try to tear them apart. But once players start tussling, there’s no breaking them up until one of them hits the ice.

The benches of both teams are going crazy, shouting and hitting their sticks against the partitions. You think you saw the team captain of the Velaris Bats, Rhysand, trying to jump onto the ice to join, but the coach had held him back by the scruff of his uniform.

Cassian had already been on the ice, a winger like Azriel. The pair were nearly untouchable on the ice. It’s as if they had twin telepathy, always scoring points off of one another. He shucked his own gloves off and started a fight with another player for the hell of it, living up to his nickname ‘bloodshed.’ It looks like he’s taking on one of the Vanserra brothers, the younger, Lucien. 

You don’t know what the hell their mother ate when she was pregnant with them, three of her seven sons in the NHL. Eris, the eldest, plays on the Auburn Foxes, while her second born, Pyrolas, has been with the Badgers. That is always a team you dread watching the Bats play. With the amount of fights Pyrolas starts and finishes, it’s a surprise the hot-headed player is still welcome on any team.

Azriel knocks one of Tamlin’s legs out from under him but his competitor doesn’t go down yet, keeping himself propped up on a knee. They’re punching wildly, hitting more helmets than skin, but crimson paints the ice from split knuckles.

You chew on your lip, praying that it ends soon. It’s gruesome, and now that Cassian has joined in, grinning feral with bloody teeth, other players have joined the fray. The referees are useless, and they can only watch the onslaught of Bats players fist-fighting with the Wolves.

The coaches are screaming their heads off from the benches, but there’s too much testosterone in the air for any of the players to hear, let alone take their threats seriously. You know Cassian’s going to be punished in practice for starting a team-wide brawl, and you hope Azriel won’t be added to that punishment.

Tamlin gets in a good hit to the face, cutting the bridge of Azriel’s nose on his helmet. You sigh sadly. You love his nose, all straight and perfect. Something low in your stomach twists, thinking about a scar cutting across the bridge of it. 

Azriel retaliates not with words, but his fists. He tugs the back of Tamlin’s lavender jersey over his head and pummels him, hands moving so fast the blinded player can’t keep up. His fingers scrabble for purchase, clawing into Azriel’s black jersey, but it doesn’t seem to make the man falter at all. 

Finally, Tamlin takes the fall, sliding the rest of the way to the ice. Azriel has his hand pressed to Warrick’s back, keeping him pressed to the ice, his left hand cocked, ready to deliver another blow should he need to. 

A referee skates in, pulling your boyfriend away from the felled player. He ushers Azriel to the penalty box while someone else collects his stick and gloves. Miraculously, his helmet sits on his head, and he’s handed a towel to wipe the blood from his face and knuckles, and Azriel looks beyond pissed off.

Cassian’s ejected from the game, but it doesn’t look much like he cares, receiving pats on the back and friendly shoves from his teammates. He thrives on the bloodshed, Mother help whoever locks him down. They’ll be dealing with eternally busted knuckles and missing teeth. 

The few minutes Azriel has to spend in the sin-bin are long, but at least you can take a moment to calm your racing heart, knowing he can’t start a fight while he’s in time-out for his actions.

The only thing you have to worry about is the remaining period after he gets out of it.

[lyssasdrafts]

biker! azriel aesthetic

[siriuslystyle1989]

Hard Liquor Mixed With A Bit Of Intellect (Part 5)

Modern!Azriel x reader

Warnings : Elain Bashing, non-consensual kissing, Mentions of bedrotting and depression.

Series masterlist main masterlist

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

Shit.

Azriel slammed his phone down on the dresser. Why would they tell her?

Rubbing his eyes he felt his breathing begin to hitch up. Stalking to the bathroom, he splashed water on his face attempting to calm himself down.

He couldn't lose Y/n. Not over something like this.

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

Y/n hadn't left her bed in days. Her clothes were beginning to become stained with food and her room became cluttered and untidy.

She hadn't been to college in about a week and slowly felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into perpetual sadness.

As days rolled into nights, Y/n felt like the world was caving in on her, suffocating her, weighing her down to a point of no return.

She hadn't cried since the day Mor came over. She didn't think she could cry even if she tried. Y/n felt nothing, she was completely numb.

Clasping at her phone, she tapped on the screen to see numerous messages from Mor and Nesta asking if she was alright and if she needed anything.

Of course she wasn't alright, but she would never tell them that.

'Y/n - Yeah I'm doing fine I promise thank you for checking! <3'

Y/n almost laughed at the lie as she took in her surroundings. She knew this needed to stop. But she couldn't bring herself to get better.

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

Trailing up to Rhys' house, Azriel let out a stressed sigh as a hand ran through his hair.

Lifting his arm to knock on the bronzed door, it swung open to reveal his 'brother'.

"So are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on or?" Rhysand looked at Azriel with slight distain in his eyes as Feyre sent Azriel a tense smile as she carried baby Nyx into the living room.

They moved into the house, ending up in the living room where Rhys signalled for the other male to sit down and start talking.

Azriel ran an anxious hand through his hair as he began to instinctively bounce his leg up and down.

"I know what this looks like..." He began as Rhys let out a huff of disapproval.

"I mean it looks like you cheated on your long term girlfriend." Feyre stated bluntly, cradling Nyx in her arms.

"Please, just- just let me explain." Azriel looked at the pair, begging for their forgiveness.

"Go ahead." Rhys spoke, swinging his right foot up to his left knee, leaning back and moving his arm around the back of Feyre.

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

A WEEK EARLIER

The music was blaring loud and Azriel, in his drunken state, needed to get out.

The party had droned on for too long and as Rhys and Feyre began to slowly coax people to leave their home, Azriel decided he'd had enough.

He knew he'd drank far too much and potentially smoked something that he probably shouldn't have, so much so he felt his vision begin to slow and blur. The flashing lights almost sending him into a hypnotic state.

As he began to try and find Rhys and Feyre to say goodbye he was greeted by a sultry voice.

"Hello Azriel." it hummed as he turned around to reveal Feyre's sister, Elain.

"Hi Elain." Azriel slurred clearly uninterested in whatever the female had to say, too focused on getting away from the party and home.

"I've been waiting to find you alone." She spoke, lips caressing his ear.

"Elain what do you wan-" Azriel was cut off by an abrupt kiss as Elain pushed his weakened body to a wall. Assaulting his lips with hers before he could even register what happened.

"Elain- please- stop" He tried to get a word in as she pinned him back, utilising his sluggish state to her advantage.

"What the fuck?" Mor's voice rang in his ears, his eyes opened wide as they met the blurred vision of Feyre and Mor.

Elain began to giggle slightly.

"Oops! looks like we've been... interrupted." She spoke, stroking Azriel's cheek with her hand.

"Mor- wait!" He yelled as the two women began to walk away, their faces laced with disbelief.

What had he just done.

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

"She- she forced herself on you?" Feyre spoke, eyes wide with shock.

"I guess you could call it that, yeah." Azriel replied rubbing the back of his neck.

"Az I'm so sorry she did-" the man cut Feyre off.

"Stop. I don't need your sympathy, I need Y/n back." He spoke, determination lacing his tone.

"Azriel." Rhys stated, empathy gracing his features, locking eyes with his 'brother' "I promise we will sort this out."

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

A/n: BACK WITH PART 5 BABYYYYYY

If you are ever going through a tough time feel free to send me a message i'm always here to listen <3

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @mellowmusings @atomictyphoonkitten @cazrielsfairygf @sidthedollface2 @clementine111002

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Cam-Girl!Reader: His Personal Assistant

A/N: I just— Azriel in a suit and tie? Getting all hot and bothered because he recognises reader from her late-night streams that he spends his evenings watching? How am I supposed to resist that?

Also, apologies to anyone named Kieth :)

Warnings: slight work-place harassment

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Really?”

Helion gives you a smile, “I told you: anything. I can’t imagine why you would want to, but—”

You’ve already launched yourself at him, arms wrapping securely over his wonderfully muscled shoulders, dark skin contrasting gloriously with the crisp white polo he’s wearing that stretches over his chest. The top few buttons are undone in the summer heat, giving a simultaneously tantalising and teasing view. Enough to have your mouth watering, enough to pique your interest, but not enough to reveal anything else. An appetising suggestion.

“Thank-you!” You squeeze him tight and his laugh reverberates through your breasts, nipples peaking in response to the deliciously deep sound. His large hands span your waist, squeezing back and his breath tickles your neck. You press a smacking kiss to his cheekbone, sliding down his body until your flats land on the terrace—warmed by the sun.

“I’m not sure you’ll be thanking me by the end of the month, Luscious,” he chuckles, using your stage name, releasing you as you step away again, still smiling broadly. “I think you’ll be bored to tears by the end of your first day there.”

“Nonsense. I’ve always wanted to see how normal people live their lives,” you counter, grinning confidently. “Besides, how did you manage? It’s not like I have a particularly outstanding CV or anything…” You squint your eyes at him, “what strings did you pull to get me this job?”

Helion smiles, gesturing to continue the walk through his garden. “A good friend from my university days owed me a favour for something in the past,” he explains, eyes twinkling. “One of his directors has a habit of overworking himself—he thinks a personal assistant might do the trick. You’ll be there to give them an extension on finding a suitable fill for the role.”

Your nose crinkles a little, “so…what’ll I be doing? And what sort of job is it? Tell me I’m going to get one of those fancy chairs. You know, all big and executive? That have wheels on the bottom and spin around?” You ask excitedly. You gasp, “will I get a desk, too?” Helion laughs again, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “You’ll be filled in on the details when you get there. As far as I know, it’ll be fairly straight forward: photocopying, emailing, getting coffees—general admin tasks.”

Sounds fun—interesting.

“You probably won’t sit in on any meetings, since he runs a pretty prestigious law firm, but hopefully it won’t be too much of a bore.” He winks over his shoulder and you grin broadly. “How big is the building? Is it far from me?”

“Yes, it’s a skyscraper. And about a twenty minute drive—if you avoid rush hour,” he replies, moving toward the fountain. You could whoop with joy, but manage to restrain yourself. “Thanks again, Helion,” you say, still bursting with happiness—you’re going to get to work a real, normal job!

Your boss just grins over his shoulder, eyes gleaming, “don’t thank me yet.”

You don’t really consider his warning, instead launching more questions his way: What will you wear? How long is the work day? Will you get a decent lunch break?

————

Monday morning, you’re up and ready.

You’d selected your clothes the day before, having gone on a mini shopping spree to get in some appropriate attire for a law firm—which was both and arduous and fun task. A law firm…how grown-up!

The week before, you’d poured over the short and concise email you’d been forwarded from Helion, informing you about dress codes, break times, and when you’re expected to be there, accompanied with parking directions. You’d smiled to yourself that night, before stripping off your clothes, hopping in your shower, then switching on the webcam as you settled in your spare bedroom.

Helion hadn’t been lying when he’d told you the building was a skyscraper, complete with large windows and—most impressively—solar panels covering the elevated roof. The sun is out, making you second guess your cardigan, but hopefully there will be AC inside to counteract the heat. Checking your phone for the email, you step inside the building.

Five minutes later, you’re knocking on a looming door that leads to a room overlooking the entire city—he’s on the top floor. When there’s no answer, you peer at your phone, rereading the email. You’re definitely where you’re supposed to be—maybe a little early, but that’s never a bad thing. You perk up when you hear your name, footsteps drawing closer as you turn to greet whoever it is.

You conceal your shock perfectly—he’s so young! He can’t be older than his early-thirties—and so handsome, too! What a pleasant surprise. Your red-painted lips split into a carefully crafted smile, designed to be both alluring and demure, extending your hand before you, “I am expected, aren’t I?”

The man stops before you, eyes flicking to your hand as he grasps it firmly, gaze piercing into you. The shake is firm and assertive, more of a yank on your arm than the polite gesture you had expected. “You were supposed to wait at reception to be escorted to my office,” he says in a stern, but not unkind, voice. “I was expecting to find you there, but it seems you like to take initiative.”

Your smile morphs to a grin, “that I do.”

His lip twitches, but he gestures to his door, walking inside as he moves for his desk, muttering something under his breath: handful, indeed. You shut the door behind yourself, the slightly clouded floor to ceiling windows that separate his office from the hallway registering dimly in the back of your mind.

“You must be Rhys, then. The friend Helion mentioned,” you probe, taking the seat in front of his large desk. The chair is wonderfully comfy, making you want to purr. Somehow, you don’t feel he would appreciate the reaction. “Rhysand, yes. But you will not be addressing me so,” he replies smoothly, opening his suitcase and pulling out his laptop. “How much has Helion told you about your work experience?” He asks without looking up, preoccupied with commencing what is probably his daily routine of work.

“He said something about working as a temporary P.A. to one of your workaholic directors,” you drawl. There’s that lip twitch again. Not too bad, then. First impressions seem to be going okay. “He also mentioned not getting any ideas concerning bringing my prior work experience to your firm,” you say smoothly, offering a polite smile, watching for his reaction.

He doesn’t remove his attention from the laptop, deft fingers already flying over the keys, features a mask of vague amusement as he gives a brief nod. Right, a power play, then. He wants to make it clear that you’re working for him—one step out of line and you’re done. At least, that seems to be the rough message he’s sending.

“Say, did Helion mention anything about that?” You ask, feeling him out a little. “About what?” He asks, absently. Definitely a line in the sand. Helion must have mentioned your attitude. Fine, then. You can play pretty-personal-assistant. You can be a good little corporate slave. That’s your talent, after all: switching your personas to keep people at your feet.

“About my main job. In entertainment?” You ask, the smile turning demure, while keeping your tone polite. “I know his own line of work, yes. And no.” He looks up from his laptop, eyes turning cold and stern, “you are not to indulge in any sort of work that does not relate directly to tasks you have been given by my Director.”

Your smile widens a little, “understood, Mr. Rhysand Sir.”

————

Helion hasn’t prepared you enough.

Why hadn’t he mentioned the man you’d be working for has looks to put your male counterparts to shame? With a face like that, you’re mildly surprised your underwear stays on and doesn’t drop to your ankles. That a puddle of wetness doesn’t seep into the chair you’re currently seated on.

You stand to greet him, holding out your hand, hoping he’ll be a little gentler than Rhys was. But as soon as his eyes settle on you—red lips, pretty pearl earrings, sweet little pencil skirt—nothing. Not even a blink, or a double-take. Not even a roll of his throat. And it seems his eyes have already flicked back to the CEO by the time you’ve realised he is blatantly refusing to shake your hand. Your teeth grind as you bring your arm back to yourself. For a brief moment you wonder if it’s distain for your occupation—but Rhys had made it very clear he’s the only one who knows about your situation, so it can’t be that.

Of course you get stuck with the pissy, entitled Director who probably thinks women still belong solely in the kitchen and are only good for popping out babies one after another. You feel bad for his wife—if he has one. You should have given some thought regarding to the type of men you’ll be dealing within this discipline. Probably grew up with topiary surrounding his father’s estate, with an obscenely long gated driveway to flaunt it. His own house probably came with underfloor heating and bedrooms that are purely decorative. Probably says scone instead of scon.

“This is my Director, Azriel. Azriel, this young lady will be helping relieve your obscene workload,” Rhys introduces, a plain smile on his handsome face that somehow isn’t as interesting now that this classically-carved, marvellously-muscled, entitled ass has entered your world. “This is her?” He asks, keeping his attention off you. Not showing so much as an ounce of respect. He’s getting on your nerves and you’ve known him less than a minute.

Rhys nods his head once, a swift, concise movement, “correct. You will show her around the firm, demonstrate how to use the necessary equipment, and make sure she is working to the overall exceptional degree that is expected within my company.” Internally, you’re trying to keep yourself together—remarkably tricky. Working to not just a satisfying, but an exceptional degree? With this stick in the mud? All too suddenly, Helion’s warnings are making sense.

Azriel barely nods, “understood.”

He turns for the door, a silent dismissal passing between them, not once looking at you as he makes for the exit. It takes less than a second for you to realise he’s expecting you to follow behind him, like an obedient dog, but you manage to make a graceful exit, muttering a relatively polite, thank-you for your time to Rhys before you’re striding to match Azriel’s brisk pace. You’re not sure he’s even doing it intentionally, with those long legs of his—finely muscled, just like the rest of him. Dickhead.

————

The first place he takes you to is his own office, stopping by to drop off his satchel and turn his laptop on, preparing for the long day ahead. Then he’s escorting you out, striding down the hallway, directing you to a new location. It’s all rather terrifying—the speed and precision with which he conducts himself. Brutal efficiency lacing every movement.

You pick up your own pace to match his, having to kick up to a slightly faster walk than usual to keep up with him. He shows you to your temporary office—across the hall from his own—along with how to use the photocopying feature on the chunky block of machinery at the side of the lounge, as well as how to scan documents in. He shows you once how to do everything, then lets you try your hand at it. Unsurprisingly, you stumble the first two times, either forgetting to select an A4 sized piece of paper, or forgetting to make sure the documents are scanned in with colour.

Despite his previously sour attitude, he’s patient with your learning, not snapping at you when you get something wrong. Not encouraging you, either. You can’t tell where you stand, and as a socialite, it unnerves you—you can’t get a read on him. But you can’t let him intimidate you. He seems like the type to go for blood if he detects it.

“We’ll move on to filing,” he says, once you successfully scan, and photocopy a Grant of Probate, and driving licence. “Any questions?” You get the vague impression it’s not a sincere offer, but maybe you’re making unjust inferences based on the assumptions of his character. Maybe that’s also why you ask the first thing that pops into your mind. “Do you think you could slow your pace a little?” You give him a shy smile, aiming for humour as an ice-breaker, “I’m surprised my heels haven’t fallen off with how fast you’re going.”

His features don’t shift. Not even a twitch of the lips, like with Rhys. He only nods curtly, then sets off at a slightly less demanding pace than before, heading to his office. On the way, you pass by a young man who seems to be a similar age to you—perhaps a little younger— with light brown skin, eyes the colour of matcha tea, and lashes you would die for. He gives you a polite, albeit shy, smile as he passes, which you return.

“Who was that?” You ask nosily once the young man has passed.

“That was Gabrielle. He’s doing an apprenticeship under Kieth. You might run into the two of them over your time here; Gabrielle will have similar tasks as you.” Azriel explains in his monotonous voice—strangely pleasant. You wonder what it would sound like first thing in the morning. You smile mischievously to yourself as you imagine getting him into your bed. All the ways you could blow his mind. You have a hard time imagining he’s particularly fun in the sheets, with his stick-in-the-mud attitude and stick-in-the-mud character.

“And what about Kieth? Is he also a Director? Like you, Azriel?” His eyes flick briefly to you—light brown—before cutting ahead. “Correct.”

You resist the urge to lick your lips. You already know you’re going to fuck him—it’s just a matter of figuring out what kind of woman he wants. You’re going to break him down, until he’s begging for more. No matter Rhys probably won’t want you sleeping with one of his directors behind his back, but he’s not going to find out.

Azriel won’t even know what hit him until his knees are buckling.

You eye the way his suit seems be perfectly tailored to every round muscle, every bone and fibre of his body. Wrapped to perfection, like a sweet, little Christmas present for you to rip into.

————

As soon as you’re home, you’re stepping into the shower, needing to release the tension from your shoulders.

He’d worked you within an inch of your life.

At first, you’d made his coffee too hot, then it was too sweet, and the third time he seemed to have given up, grunting after the first sip—though it was finished by lunch. Then, he’d had you scan a two-hundred page document to him, which had taken you an hour and five minutes of monotonous lowering the machines lid, allowing the blinding white light to slide beneath the glass, changing the page, lining up the corners, then repeating the whole process. It was a task in itself to not drift off and forget if you’d already scanned in a page. Not to mention the additional half an hour spent waiting for the damn file to send.

That hadn’t even been the worst of it. The entire afternoon had been spent filing: finding papers that needed to be strung into the same file, ordering them chronologically—which sometimes meant removing months worth of documents just to slide one stupid printed email to the back of a Correspondence File.

The upside of the afternoon? It had presented you with many opportunities to bend over a cabinet, leaning on a file draw while you sorted through the papers to find the date you were searching for. You’d switch it around sometimes, too, leaning so you were facing him, flashing him a peak down your shirt every now and then.

The downside of the afternoon? His eyes had never left his computer. It was like you didn’t even exist. What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of fate when a pretty lady is offering a plentiful view of her backside? What sort of man doesn’t take advantage of you when you offer him a chance? It’s insulting…but you suppose it’s only been one day. Maybe he’s shy—you’ll have to step up your game.

Maybe you can spill some coffee between his legs. Or wear one of your more sheer tops with a dark bra. Or un-pop a few buttons on your shirt when he works you too hard. Really, he has no right to be so focused on his work when you’re in the same room as him, in your pretty little heels, and pretty little cardi, and pretty little skirt.

Maybe he doesn’t want pretty and little, though. Maybe you should try to be a little more “executive”, like him.

You fall asleep pretty promptly that night, schemes for how to ruffle Azriel’s feathers playing through your devious, sex-addled brain.

You still have a whole month to get him addicted to you. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

————

When you get in the next morning—a whole half an hour before you’re required—you head straight to your office. Only to see Azriel already sat at his desk, deft fingers flying over the keys, looking as stern as yesterday. Why is he in at 7:30 in the morning? From the look of it, he’s been there for a while already.

His dark eyes flick over the lid of his sleek laptop, catching you watching. Without so much as a word of greeting, he returns his attention to his computer, “you aren’t due for another half an hour.” Even if it isn’t a direct invitation, you step into his office, moving to be a few steps from his large desk. “I was planning on secretly sneaking in a couple of practice runs for coffee this morning, but it seems you’ve caught me,” you reply, gently.

Nonsense. You’re supposed to be mirroring him today. People like others who operate in similar styles to them, so you’ll act like a calmer counterpart—more feminine. Softer at the edges. So you straighten a little, standing with elegant poise, raising your chin ever so slightly. “You don’t need thirty minutes to make a good cup of coffee,” he says, eyes remaining on the screen of his computer. “Come back in half an hour when the work day commences.”

“No filing you want me to do? Get me warmed up for the work day?” You ask casually, as if remarking on the weather. His brow dips almost imperceptibly, “come back at Eight.”

“Just eager to help with your workload, Azriel.” You nearly smack yourself as the habitual lilt honeys your tongue. Executive. Not flirtatious. You clear your throat, trying again. “Eight it is, then. I’ll be here on the dot.”

You close the door behind you, heading across the hallway to your office, settling down into your chair—that has wheels. If everything else is miserable, at least you can roll across the floor with ease. You tap your desk restlessly, before logging onto the computer. As soon as you lay eyes on the digital scans from yesterday in your emails, you spin to the side and pull out your phone. Time for an update, anyway.

Undoing enough buttons to easily reveal your tits, hiking up your skirt, you snap a pretty picture, uploading it with a few taps of your fingers. The light is catching on your shiny red lips, making them appear plump, and Luscious. The image loads quickly, followed by a short caption. Getting a little handsy at work. Think I should fuck my boss? xxx

Deciding to be productive, you set yourself straight, and make for your door. You’d passed a coffee house on the way in, and just because you can’t make the bitter liquid in a way to satisfy him, doesn’t mean somebody else can’t be called in. Surely a barista will be a suitable improvement.

————

When you return, you decant the coffee into a nondescript white mug, careful not to burn yourself while handling the hot liquid. Maybe you undo an extra button, too, so he’ll have a little treat when you lean down to place the mug on his desk.

It’s eight on the dot when you knock on his door before before entering. Your plans are fucked sideways when you spot another man stood in his office. Legs in the usual man-spread, a little wider than shoulder width apart, with his hands in his pockets. Someone who’s used to feeling at ease in most spaces, who’s confident in his ability to own and dominate any room he’s in. He reeks of entitlement.

However, you’re pleasantly surprised when he turns at the sound of the door opening, eyes running appreciatively up and down your body, resting for an inappropriate moment on your chest—the undone button. He’s blandly handsome, with a hard jaw and slightly wavy brown hair that’s pushed back from his face. A slight shadow of stubble is already darkening his chin, not enough to look raggedy—more rugged masculinity. It suits him.

“And who’s this little lady?” The man asks, interest sparking in his chocolatey brown eyes. You smile, extending the hand that’s not holding his coffee, “I’m his Personal Assistant—”

“Secretary.” Your attention flicks to Azriel, but he’s eyeing the man before you, sternly. “She’s filling the role of my secretary, until a permanent replacement is found.” You fight the urge to furrow your brow, instead returning your attention to the man before you, who’s still regarding you with male interest.

“There you go then,” you smile, red lips parting enough to lift into a small grin, “I’m his secretary.” His large hand grips yours roughly—demandingly—as he shakes it. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Secretary,” he replies, mouth lifting into a charming grin. “I’m another Director here.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper as he leans in, breath smelling faintly of mint, “the better one, that is.” He winks then stands straighter, and you release a soft laugh. “I don’t suppose you have a role open for a secretary, do you?” You tease back, noting the way his eyes flicker with approval.

“If one ever opens up, you’ll be the first one I contact. Personally,” the man drawls, eyes again dipping to your chest, and you can practically see the fantasies in his gaze. Maybe you’re wasting your time on Azriel.

But then the man turns away from you, “how come you’re treated to a Personal Assistant? Where’s my pretty lady to get me coffee in the morning?” You smile dutifully at the flattery, but Azriel looks mildly pissed off. “She’s my secretary, and she does a lot more than get me coffee in the morning,” he says sharply.

You take the chance to walk round to Azriel’s side of the desk, leaning over slightly as you place the coffee beside him. You intentionally angle your body away from the man, showing the discreet view to Azriel, but his eyes aren’t on you. You don’t really have the time to be frustrated with his lack of attention. “I’m sure she does.”

Woah. That has to be some sort of HR violation.

“Kieth.” Azriel barks, breaking you out of your stare. Thunderclouds have gathered in his eyes, and you can’t help the way your spine straightens. “She’s on work experience. That is not appropriate.” The man—Keith—isn’t deterred, instead flashing you a panty-dropping grin, “not even making him pay?”

You take a step back from Azriel, leaving an appropriate distance between your bodies as you turn to face Kieth. A feline smile slices your lips, eyes flicking to Azriel, making a show of looking him up and down, then back to Kieth. “With a pretty face like that? Never.”

You know Kieth gets the message—how you’ve stood yourself at his side, the opposing end of the desk that serves as a metaphorical wall. You’re aligning yourself with Azriel, and you can practically see Kieth marking the invisible leash you’ve silently suggested is connecting you to him.

If Kieth wants you, he’s going to have to go through Azriel.

———

Despite the seemingly clear alliance formed earlier that day, all traces of camaraderie had dissipated the moment Kieth removed himself from Azriel’s office. It seemed apparent that it was something about the opposing Director that got his panties in a twist, and you needed to investigate.

That being said, even after the team-up, nothing changed between the two of you. He was just as quiet as usual—almost sullen—not even sparing you a glance. You can’t figure out what’s not clicking for him. He has a woman all to himself for most hours of the working day, yet that’s all he seems to be doing: working.

What’s wrong with him?

The only time he’d paid you an ounce of attention was this morning, and since then—nothing.

You flop into bed, tired and frustrated. It’s proving more difficult than anticipated. It’s not like you haven’t had men who’ve taken a while to warm up to you before, but this is unreasonable. He seems completely uninterested. Utterly unbelievable.

The only logical conclusion you can come to is that it must be intentional. Any normal person would make eye contact with someone entering their space, or at least look up. And you’ve been in his office when other people have come in—Gabrielle popped in to ask after a particular file that Kieth had been after—and he’d functioned reasonably then.

It’s iron will that’s walling him off from you. And how are you supposed to break through a self-imposed barrier?

Easy.

You ware him down until the walls turn to dust, then you sweep in, and dominate. Crush down and obliterate.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter three: it's hot when you have a meltdown

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders, and also they play hockey in this one.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - all of your friends know about you and eris but refuse to speak on it. as the first hockey game of the season comes, so does the drama.

word count - 4.7k

a/n - this one is a long one...apologies. but i liveeeee for the drama and the constant lack of communication amongst these three. eris is fucking trying though.

read the rest of the series here!

You sat in Cassian and Azriel’s apartment. All of you had gathered to study, though it really seemed like you were the only one doing homework other than Amren. Mor’s book was open in front of her, but she was painting her nails that glimmering shade of red she was so fond of.  Rhys, Cass, and Az were all zeroed in on the TV watching old film reels of their last hockey game. Tomorrow was game day. The Velaris Devils vs the Autumn Court Smokehounds. You had been trying not to think about it and failing. 

“You’re a fucking idiot. What were you even trying to do with that move, Rhys?” 

Cassian pointed at the television and looked at his Rhys with a frustrated expression. Rhys shrugged and muttered something about being experimental. Mor chuckled from her seat and shot the boys a look while shaking her head. 

“You’re coming tomorrow right?” Cassian's voice was now directed at you. You shifted in your seat, chewing the end of your pen, and slowly raising your head to face all three teammates currently staring at you. Your whole friend group knew now…about Eris, but none of them mentioned anything. They all chose to stick with pointed silence. A new tactic, but it grated your nerves all the same. You took a deep breath. 

“Uhm. Yeah I guess.” 

Something soft and large hit you. You picked it up. Azriel’s jersey. Looking at him you arched a brow in question. He shrugged and just mumbled, 

“You’ve been wearing it every game since freshman year. It’s tradition.” 

Mor and Cassian exchanged glances after looking between you and Azriel. Both of them noted the small statement it made. Both of them knowing you’d wear it for traditions sake, not thinking about what it would do to Eris. Both of them knowing that what it would do to Eris, was the exact reason that Azriel offered up the idea in the first place. You nodded, tucking the shirt into your bag before flinging it over your shoulder and standing up. Rhys watched you gather your things and pick up your jacket, 

“You’re leaving?”

You nod and look around the room. At the complete lack of work being done, “I actually have work to do and you three yelling about hockey is…believe it or not…not that a productive study environment for me.” 

He shook his head, full of mock disappointment, “How can you focus on math when the first game of the season is tomorrow?” 

“Well Rhysand…Some of us are on scholarship.” 

He pursed his lips like that. No witty response coming to him now. Cassian frowned and shoved a handful of pretzels in his mouth before speaking, 

“You’re not on scholarship”

You roll your eyes at him, “You don’t know that.” 

“Yeah I do. You’re not on scholarship you’re just anal about grades.” 

You flip him off before heading towards the door. Azriel reached an arm out and caught your wrist as you passed by him. His voice was low as he asked, 

“I’ll see you at the game?” 

You offer him a small smile and nod. You’d see him at the game….you’d also see Eris at the game…playing against each other.  And that thought alone was giving you a headache. 

★ ★ ★ 

You had tucked yourself into a window booth in a coffee shop on campus. It was drizzling outside, red and yellow leaves staining the sidewalk, the streetlights had just come on. Lighting the whole road golden. This was why autumn was your favorite season. It was like he was in the very air around you, every color, every smell. You shook your head. Trying to get Eris out of your head. 

Lucien slid into the seat across from you. His hair slightly wavy and braids ran throughout it, he pushed it over his shoulder as he leaned against the table. You looked up quickly, mistaking the red hair and the tall, broad shouldered, frame for someone else. He saw it in your eyes and cocked his head with a small smirk, 

“You know how I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for like the last three years?” 

You stop tapping your pen against the wooden table beneath your arm, and stare at him blankly, waiting for him to continue, 

“Imagine my devastation upon finding out you’ve been seeing my brother for the last month.” 

You shake your head and offer him a small smile, “Lucien you have never asked me out seriously.” 

“What the hell did Eris do?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Lucien watched as you shifted in your chair, the smile spreading across your face along with a light blush. He narrowed his eyes at you, he knew exactly what Eris had done to get this whole ball rolling. He had found you at a party, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, leaned in close, and did that stare he always did. The whole routine ended with the two of you talking for a while, laughing and trading light hearted insults, before he cocked his head towards the door and offered you a ride home. It always seemed to work for him. The fact that it had worked on you surprised Lucien a little bit. Although…It wasn’t every day that Eris offered a girl a ride home. It wasn’t everyday that Eris didn’t just hook up with a girl at the party before promptly leaving and not really talking to her again. But from the jump his brother had wanted you in his house…in his space. 

“So if I started acting like a cocky asshole would you give me a kiss too?” 

“Started?” 

Lucien clicked his tongue at your remark before pulling your coffee cup towards him and taking a sip. He nodded towards you, 

“You going to the game tomorrow?”

“Why do you care? Mr. I joined the frisbee team specifically to piss off my dad.” 

Lucien chuckled. Remembering how angry his father had been when he announced at family dinner that he had not gotten onto the hockey team like Eris, but that he instead had gone out of his way to play competitive frisbee in the park every weekend. 

“I don’t care. A certain admirer was hoping you'd be there to cheer him on…or are you two still pretending that nobody knows what’s going on between you?” 

Lucien pointed a finger, accusatory at you, with a teasing smile. You flip a page of your notebook absentmindedly. Why was it that you could never find a spot to do your homework in peace. Never. You sigh, 

“Yeah I’m going. I always go. For my friends.” 

Lucien nodded slowly, musing on the friend's comment, “Right. Because that’s not going to get messy.” 

“What are you implying?” 

“Are you going to pretend that the tension with Azriel and Eris isn’t going to be fucking palpable to anyone with half a braincell?” 

You ignored that comment. Choosing to zero in on your homework once more. Your eyes switched between your notes and the notes Eris had given you. There were perks to him being a year older than you, he had class note’s for most of the classes you happened to be taking this year. Lucien gave you a quick once over, before pulling a book out of his back pocket and leaning back in his chair. Deciding to sit with you for a little while. 

As the silence stretched on, the music of the cafe humming softly in the background, the scratch of your pen against paper insistent. Lucien found himself studying you. Your deliberate avoidance of anything in the past with your so-called friend. He couldn’t stop himself from being nosy. 

“Do you guys never talk about what happened two years ago?” 

Your eyes snapped to him. Alarmed. No you did not talk about it. 

Two years ago. When something in your dynamic with Azriel shifted…forever. 

You were upset. You had gotten too drunk and like always he seemed to be there. The first person to find you when you were upset. The only person who’s comfort ever seemed to actually matter. His quiet solace, exactly what you wanted when you were inebriated and distressed. You remembered the way you leaned into his hug. The way you looked up at him and without thinking kissed him full force. The way he responded immediately. The way he had pulled you into his room….

The way the next morning you had dressed as quietly as you could and snuck out before he could wake up. The way the two of you never talked about it. Both of you hoping the other was too drunk to really remember what actually happened. Your friendship went on like nothing was different. All your friends knew. No one talked about it. 

Your voice was clipped when you responded, “No we don’t.” 

Lucien let it drop. Deciding maybe it was better not to push it. Maybe it was better to let it stay forgotten. 

★ ★ ★ 

Eris had one hand against the counter. Leaning on it as he pushed a wooden spoon around in a pot. You watch from your stool. Your eyes rake over him, hair mussed and his sweater a little baggy, a thread at the cuff of his sleeve coming loose. 

“Are you sure you can cook?” 

He didn’t turn to look at you, his focus entirely on the stove in front of him, “Why do you have no faith in me?” 

You chuckle quietly, “I have faith…in most aspects of you.” 

He started to plate whatever it is that he had made, still using his body to block it from your sightline. Finally he turned around and placed a bowl in front of you, moving to sit next to you at the kitchen island, 

“Pasta is kind of hard to mess up.” He stated before kissing your temple and pointedly looking at your food, waiting for you to try it. You took a bite and nodded slowly, making a mockingly concerned face as you did. He raised his hands in defense, 

“Okay it is not that bad, come on.” You giggled and shook your head, giving in, admitting it was good silently. He nodded his victory and nudged your elbow with his own. You ate in silence for a couple minutes. Taking in each other's company. Every now and then his hand would trace down your back, or through your hair, the small touches an ever present comfort. His apartment littered with your things. Your books on the coffee table in the living room. Your toothbrush in a cup on his bathroom sink. 

He brushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, so he could see your face. 

“You coming to the game tomorrow?” 

You pause before nodding slowly. A small smile grew across his fox like features, 

“So..You gonna sit on the smoke hounds side?” 

“You know…I have made prior seating arrangements.” 

He nodded slowly. You were going to sit on the Velaris side. Of course you were. That’s your school and your friends played for the team. Of course you were. He didn’t know why he hoped that you would sit and support him. Didn’t know why he thought you’d choose him over your friends. Maybe because you were sitting in his kitchen tonight instead of going out with Mor and Cassian. Maybe it was because you had been sleeping in his bed for the last couple weeks, seemingly unable to sleep comfortably without him. 

You studied his face. Watched as the disappointment hit him and he quickly covered it with a slight nod and a raise of his eyebrows, looking back at his dinner. You take a deep breath, 

“But…I’ll be rooting for you” You lean to kiss him, “And I’ll be here to celebrate your win afterwards.” 

He grinned at the idea that you thought he would win. That he’d beat your friends. But then he thought about your statement. I’ll be here to celebrate your win afterwards. Here. In his apartment. His brows furrowed, 

“Why don’t we ever go out?” 

“What like a date?” 

He nodded as if it was obvious. You smile and a crease in your brows start to furrow. 

“Eris you don’t date anyone.” 

“I date.” His tone was defensive and he straightened his shoulders to better look at you. 

“Eris. You allow girls to accompany you to parties. You don’t date.” 

He thought about the two of you. In the last couple weeks. What are we doing then? He wondered to himself. What was this if not dating? Why did you think he made himself so available to you? Why did you think he managed to find you throughout the day without even asking, caring enough to know your favorite spots and your schedule. Why did you think that he spoke to you so gently and craved your touch so constantly. Why did you think that he wanted you to sleep in his bed and nothing else, if not because he liked you. He sucked in a breath. Steeling his nerves. 

“Well, if I win…You owe me a date. A real one. You have to let me take you to the bar with the team.” He took your hand in his as he looked at you, “To celebrate.” 

A slow smile creeped across your face. He wanted you to go out with him. With his friends. You nod. A silent acceptance. Swallowing the guilt in your throat as you did so. The guilt that you had to show up tomorrow in a jersey that wasn’t his. Sit on a side that wasn’t his. But you had to support your friends. There had to be a way to do both.  

★ ★ ★ 

You slide into the arena with no notice. Pulling your jacket tight around you. Your eyes searching for a familiar face. None were in sight. Mor wasn’t here yet. You thought about going into the stands and taking your seat, but instead opted to hurry down the hall towards the locker rooms. The smoke hounds were leaving their locker room as you passed. A couple of the Vanserra brothers eyed you, one of them shooting a high pitched whistle your way and yelling, 

“Your boyfriends in there.” 

You roll your eyes and keep walking, quickly, and duck past the door. Letting it slam closed behind you. Eris was sitting on a bench. Not yet dressed, a towel slung across his hips. 

“Shouldn’t you be with the team for warm ups?” He raised his head at the sound of your voice, standing up to take a couple strides towards you. His arms came up to cage you against a locker and an annoyingly smug smile graced his face. 

“I was waiting to see if you might come to wish me luck.” His hand came down to slowly pull off your jacket and his eyes fell to the name across your shirt. SHADOWSINGER. His brows furrowed and he stared silently at it. 

“It’s not…I wear it the first game of every season…like tradition or something.” You tried to explain. Thinking he might understand the athlete rituals or whatever they were. The good luck charms. He pursed his lips and chose not to say anything. Instead his fingers toyed with the bottom of the jersey and he slowly pulled it off of you, before capturing your lips with his. You let your fingers slide up his arms, across his bare shoulders, and into the hair at the nape of his neck, as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. 

★ ★ ★ 

Mor studies the way you shift slightly in your seat, like you just can’t quite get comfortable. Amren sits next to you, not paying attention to the game at all, eyes glued to whatever complicated book in a foreign language she had started. Mor watches as you run your fingers through your hair, as if paranoid that it looks a mess. It doesn’t. Her eyes narrow as she watches the way you track Eris Vanserra move across the ice. 

“So are we ever going to talk about it?” 

“Talk about what Mor?” 

“You and Eris Vanserra.” 

You sigh, eyes not leaving the game playing out in front of you, “What do you want to say?” 

“Are you sure that it’s a good idea?” 

“Yeah I think I am.” 

She continues staring at you until you finally slump your shoulders and turn to her. You look her up and down, take in her crossed arms and her doubt laced expression. 

“Mor he’s…he’s sweet to me.” 

“Eris Vanserra doesn’t date people though. He fucks around and doesn’t care about the consequences.” 

“This is different. He wants-” 

She raised a hand to cut you off, “What does he want? What exactly is it that he told you he wants?” 

“Morrigan just leave it. She trusts him and there’s nothing we can do.” Amren mumbled from beside you, drawing your attention. 

You scowl at her tone, bored and slightly disbelieving her own words, and turn away from her. Your eyes falling to where he stands on the ice. Those russet eyes meeting yours with a wink before he takes off down the rink. You turn back to her with a small smile, 

“He wants me. Like really wants me and makes that clear. Not everyone does that.” You give her a pointed look as you say it. A look that told her to drop it. A look that said don’t bring up anyone else. I know who you want to compare him to, don’t. She holds your stare and relents. Uncrossing her arms and nodding. Maybe you were right. He did seem to follow you around like a puppy, as if no one else could see the way he trailed a couple feet behind you at parties, or the way he left minutes after you did. She offers you a small smile, laced with a little concern, but warm nonetheless.

You both whip your heads back towards the ice at the sound of a crash. A collision. Shouts echoed through the arena, a mix of booing, heckling, and cheering on the brawl now taking place on the ice. Your eyes scan the fight, trying desperately to see who it is, but you already know. Before you can even see the names on the backs of the jerseys you already know exactly who’s locked horns. 

★ ★ ★ 

Azriel saw him out of the corner of his eye, before the impact came. Knew it was going to happen, but didn’t have time to brace himself for it. Eris Vanserra blocked his pass to Cassian by slamming his entire body weight into him. Azriel hit the ground with a thud and a rattle of hockey sticks. His helmet damn near cracking ice with the sheer force of the fall. Eris standing above him a smirk playing on his lips, the auburn hair pressed to his forehead with sweat, his shoulders rising in a half hearted shrug as he started to skate away. 

Azriel scrambled to his feet, whipping his helmet off and shouting, “WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?” 

Eris turned towards him now, pausing his retreat to purse his lips as if he was thinking and shrugging once more, “I don’t have a problem man. Just doing my job.” 

Azriel wanted to punch the smirk off his face. He squared his shoulders, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to stop himself from launching at the opposing team’s player. He didn’t miss the way Eris’ eyes flitted towards the stands. Azriel looked over his shoulder, to where you and Mor were sitting, the conversation you were having seemed a little heated. Your back turned just enough to see his name splayed across your shirt. His eyebrows raised in understanding and he let out a low laugh, just loud enough for Eris to hear, 

“Oh…You're mad that your girls got my name across her back.” 

Eris’ jaw set. His eyes steeled. A flash of anger, before that swaggering indifference came back and he pulled off his helmet, “You know I was mad about it. But uh..I’m not too upset anymore.

Azriel skated a little towards him as he whispered, “And why is that?” He was baiting him. Azriel knew that. He knew that he shouldn’t ask, knew that the answer to it would only fuel his anger. 

“Well, when I fucked her in that jersey, minutes before the game started…your name was the last thing she was thinking about.” 

The grin on Eris’ face was that last thing Azriel saw before he snapped. Launching himself towards Vanserra, his fist hitting the side of the man's face, both of them falling to the ground. He could have sworn he heard Eris laugh as his fist hit home again. Drawing blood. Both men tustling on the ground, fists flying, the crowd roaring. Eris topped him easily, almost too easily, like Azriel didn’t want to win. But he didn’t care as long as he got to punch the raven haired man underneath him until he was bruised and bloody. 

Cassian rushed towards his friend. Cursing under his breath as he threw himself into the brawl, pulling Azriel from under Eris and restraining him. Rhys at his side, holding Azriel’s other arm. The three players looked at Eris, still grinning, blood dripping from his hairline, and his mouth. He shakes his sweat drenched hair, tongue wagging as he watched Azriel get pulled away by his friends. 

Both of them were taken out of the game. Benched for the remainder. 

★ ★ ★ 

You raced down the hallway towards the locker rooms as soon as the game was over. Not sure entirely who you wanted to check on first. Mor was close at your heels. Amren had excused herself to drive to the bar stating that she needed a drink before she could deal with any drama. 

When you rounded the corner you were met with Eris and Azriel, already at each other's throats. Cassian standing a couple feet away, waiting for it to get bad enough to intervene. Azriel snarling something that you couldn’t quite make out and Eris meeting it with some lazy insult and a smug smirk. You took in his appearance, his blood stained hair and his busted lip, concern shot like lightning through your bloodstream. You shot your words at the eldest Vanserra first, 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He turned towards you, as did Azriel. 

“With me? He hit me first?” 

“And then you pummeled him into the fucking ground and got yourself hurt in the fucking process!” 

Azriel had moved slightly to stand behind you. Eris took in the sight. You fuming with frustration and Azriel towering behind you like some sort of guard dog. He scoffed and spat a mouthful of blood into the ground, 

“Typical.” He shook his head before turning away. He started to walk towards the locker room, before pausing and looking over his shoulder, “Can you really not see what he’s doing? What giving you that fucking shirt was supposed to do? You think he didn’t do that on purpose? To spread some seed of doubt? To make you choose, knowing damn well you’d choose your friend. Are you that blind?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Eris nodded shortly before letting out a humorless, breathy laugh, and pushing through the locker room door with one final comment, “I can’t do this. I’m done.” 

“What does that mean?” You called after him. But the door closed behind him and he didn’t bother responding. You stared at the closed door as if he might come back out, as if he might change his mind. Hoping that he would. Hoping he didn’t mean it. A minute went by….and nothing. 

You rounded on Azriel now,

“Is that true?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Did you do that on purpose?” 

He shrugged, not meeting your eyes, “I don’t know what youre talking about.” 

Your eyes widened and you sucked your teeth in annoyance, “You don't?” 

Every single time you liked someone. Every single time someone liked you. Something went wrong. Your friends managed to convince you they weren’t good enough, or scare them away if that didn’t work. Every single conversation about what you deserved, the way their eyes would flit to Azriel. 

He stood silent in front of you. His expression stony and unyielding, so you continued,

“Why did you want me to wear this then?” You fisted the shirt wrapped around you. Brandishing it towards him to the best of your ability. He frowned and looked you up and down. 

You looked good. Angry, hair falling in front of your face. Stance defensive like you were ready for a fight yourself. Your eyes glittering as tears seemed to prick them incessantly. You looked good. It was all he could think as your question rang through his ears. He tried to think of a response. Something that would sound good, something that would release him of guilt, but he couldn’t. 

“You look good.”

His answer was short, and blunt, and lacking the tells of any lie. You laughed now. Tears threatening to spill. You shook your head quickly. Sniffling, trying to staunch the tears. 

“Well…you did what you do best. You ruined another fucking thing for me. Are you proud?” 

No response. 

“Are you happy now?” 

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks. You held your expression still. Letting them fall silently. Refusing to sob. Refusing to give him the satisfaction. Refusing to let him step towards you to wrap you in a hug and release himself of any responsibility with the excuse of comfort. 

He took an uneasy step towards you, reaching out for you. Cassian cleared his throat and Azriel stopped in his tracks. Recognizing the sound as a warning. He sighed and let his arm fall back to his side. 

“I’m sorry” It was all he could think to say. He didn’t feel sorry. He knew he should but he couldn't muster up the feeling. He knew exactly what he was doing. Knew that the jersey would make a problem, knew that Eris would pick a fight. Knew that your concern would fester into an anger and cause you to lash out, it always did. 

You looked at him, incredulous, mouth agape, “You’re sorry?” 

Your tone made him straighten, bristle even. “He wasn’t right for you. If this was all it took to shake him.” 

“And who is right for me?” You were seething. Your words dripping with venom, stained with tears, “You?” 

You?

It hit Azriel hard. Cassian took a step towards the pair of you before Mor’s hand fell to his arm, halting his movement. Slightly shaking her head as if saying they need to have it out. 

“Well you didn’t seem to think so.” Azriel’s voice was cool and quiet. Like the first fall of snow before the storm. 

“What exactly do you mean by that?” 

You knew exactly what he meant. That he was referencing that night two years ago. The way you had left before the sun rose. The way you had never spoken about it again. The way you had let it simmer all these years.

And then the storm hit. Icy and raging. His voice dark like he’d never even known that the sun could shine. 

“You left…You want to talk about ruining things? Then tell me why.” 

You stared at each other. A silent battle of will. Mor and Cassian standing tense from their position a few feet away. Waiting for you to strike back. Waiting for some ending statement. Some final hurt laced come back. But nothing came, and the teams started to stream out of the locker rooms. Breaking the rigid silence. 

You turned away from your friends. I can't, I'm done. You weren’t going to let that be the end. You pushed your way through the Autumn Court team exiting the locker room. 

Azriel watched you go. His heart pounding. Bringing up that night two years ago was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn't have pushed it. It did more harm than good. He felt Cassian’s hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the hallway. His silence speaking volumes. When Cassian couldn’t find anything to say, Azriel knew he really fucked it. Not even Mor would look at him as she walked away, probably going to join Amren. 

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@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

[svearehnn]

black violets and baby's breath pt. 2 | modern!azriel x bridesmaid!reader

summary: the tension between you and azriel heats up at feyre and rhys' wedding reception.

warning: smut babes, there's smut. and bad words. read at your own risk lmao

part one

You nursed your drink in the corner of the room, cheeks flushed from the red wine in your glass. Your eyes were trained on the male across the room, a soft smile adorning his lips as he listened to Cassian’s exuberant story. He had changed into a black button-up, sleeves rolled just above his elbows, displaying the tattoos that climbed up his arms like swirls of black smoke.

“Ask him to dance.” The familiar voice beside you scared you shitless, pulling your eyes from Azriel before you could see him eye you up and down in your little black dress. Feyre had a cheeky smile on her painted lips, eyes bright with joy. Your heart slowed, the shock subsiding as you rolled your eyes at your best friend.

“I’ve never seen him on a dance floor before. I doubt he would want to dance with me.” You muttered, eyes downcast as you fiddled with the hem of your dress. Feyre punched your arm, eliciting a yelp from you. “What was that for?”

“Stop being so depressing! It’s my wedding and I want the two of you to dance and fall in love and make cute little babies–” you covered her mouth, muffling her words as she continued to speak.

“Fey,” you whined, cheeks heating and this time it wasn’t from the wine. She giggled, her tangent well and done, so you removed your hand. Rather than her gorgeous smile, a smirk now troubled her lips, mischievous and scheming.

“Well, it looks like you might not even have to ask.” You whipped around, eyes wide and immediately locking with Azriel’s. His lips were mere inches from yours, breaths intermingling, the scent of night-chilled cedar invading your senses.

“Hey.” His voice rumbled gently, weakening your knees with its baritone seduction.

“Hi,” you replied, unable to hear yourself over the chatter of the other guests. Azriel’s hazel eyes were soft as they took you in, lingering on your lips for a second too long before flickering back up to your eyes.

“A little birdie told me you were waiting for a dance.” You swiveled, ready to snap at the brunette caught red-handed, but she was nowhere to be found. Azriel’s fingers skimmed your wrist, bringing your attention back to him.

“It wasn’t Feyre if that’s what you’re thinking.” He chuckled, umber eyes flittering to Mor for just a second before he turned back to you. You flipped the blonde the bird without a second thought. She responded with a wink and a laugh as she was whisked away by her own dance partner.

“So,” Azriel started, clearing his throat, “may I have this dance, Little Star?” His hand was outstretched between you, a silent offering. With a deep breathe and a nod you set down your glass and took his hand in yours, heart beating the same as it did when you and Feyre went bungee jumping that one time.

“Lead the way.” His fingers intertwined through yours as soon as your skin touched his, warm and inviting, sparks flying and escalating the tension that surrounded the two of you. He escorted you to the dance floor, his hands finding their way to your waist whilst yours locked around his neck. The soft song lulled your head against his chest, bodies swaying slowly to the tender piano escaping the speakers. His lips ghosted your ear, cool breaths sending shivers down your exposed spine.

“I know I said this earlier,” Azriel whispered, grazing the shell of your ear with his plump, pink lips. “But you look absolutely phenomenal tonight.” You skipped a step, stumbling into him, red accentuating the tips of your ears. He chuckled, holding you against him as if you would vanish if he let go.

“You’re already falling for me, huh?” You shook your head, more so an action of embarrassment rather than an answer to his question.

“Shut up, Az.” You grumbled, pinching his chest. He barked out a laugh, untangling your bodies so he could twirl you, eyes raking up and down your figure, admiring every single detail he saw. He brought you back into him, one hand on your hip and the other on the small of your back. Az drew you closer, a growl escaping his throat before he relaxed. He shut his eyes as he leaned his forehead against yours, exhaling through his nose, swallowing thickly.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Little Star.” Before you could respond and throw two years of friendship down the drain, the sound of ringing glass gathered your attention.

“Gather round, everyone.” Cassian’s boisterous voice filled the room, garnering all attention. “For I have a story to tell. A treacherous tale of love, betrayal…”

“There was no betrayal, Cassian.” Rhys’ bored intonation boomed throughout the room, causing a few chuckles to sound.

“Okay, okay. Anyways.” You giggled, glancing up at Azriel only to find his sparkling eyes already on you. His arm, now wrapped around your waist, squeezed you closer to his side, fingers tracing patterns into the cotton fabric of your dress.

The two of you stayed like that as you listened to Cassian’s best man speech, only separating when Azriel went to fetch the two of you drinks.

You listened endearingly as he slurred about the love and adoration that tied your best friend and her soulmate together. Inconspicuously, you dabbed the tears from your eyes, a smile adorning your lips. 

Cassian’s speech eventually ended and was followed by two body shots that ramped up the party rather swiftly. The near-empty floor of slow dancers became a clustered pile of sweaty people, writhing against each other to the beat of the bass. Your head was buzzing from the alcohol and the music and the feel of Azriel against your back. His hands slid up and down your hips whilst yours reached over your head to play with the brunet curls on the back of his neck. His lips ghosted over your ear, voice a mere figment in your mind.

“Why don’t we step out. Get some fresh air.” You nodded, head swimming. Azriel took hold of your hand and led you through the crowd easily before pushing through a familiar pair of french doors. The garden looked ethereal at night. Even in the middle of Velaris, the stars shined as brilliantly as they would in the country. You could hear the gentle rush of the Sidra, the lull of the wind as it brushed against you, bringing with it a slight chill. Azriel wrapped his arm around you, rubbing his hand up and down your arm in an attempt to offer you warmth.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, in awe of the night that you saw every time you stepped outside. Yet, somehow, it seemed even more magical tonight than it had ever been before.

“What is?” Azriel queried, words filled with the air in his lungs.

“Everything.” You responded, finally tearing your eyes away from the sky to meet his, only to realize that he was staring at you as if you were the stars of the night incarnated.

“You want to know what I think?” He was closer than you remembered–so close that you could see the honeyed-highlights in his dark hair, the freckles on his cheeks, and the saliva on his lips. You responded with a hum, irises twinkling, lips twitching up in a light smile. 

“I think you’re the most beautiful piece of art I’ve set my eyes on tonight.” A blush coated your cheeks, invisible in the darkness of the night. You involuntarily leaned in, lips just barely grazing his own.

“You think so?” The words fell from your tongue in a soft murmur, and you could feel the hitch in his breath as you spoke. Instead of responding, Azriel placed a hand on the back of your neck and placed his lips against yours, meeting you in a slow and sensual pace that made your knees weak and your heart race. He commanded the kiss, holding you to him, pressing your body against his underneath the moonlight. All that could be heard was the sounds of your breathy sighs and the muffled bass that reverberated through the ground. 

“Gods, I have dreamed of this for a lifetime,” Azriel groaned as he pulled away from you, eyes swirling as they stared into yours, tongue flicking out to wet his lips before he dove back in for another taste.

It was all teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance. He pushed you back to one of the chairs, pulling you onto his lap without separating his lips from yours. You rolled your hips eliciting a growl from deep within his throat. Your hands tangled in his hair whilst his roamed your body, sliding up and down your sides, inching up your thighs and disappearing under your skirt. His lips left yours, instead choosing to trail down your neck, leaving rosy marks all over the plush skin amidst your mewls of pleasure.

He tongued the shell of your ear and blew cold air against it, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers inched closer to your clothed core. You could feel his rock hard cock twitching beneath you, begging to be let out of its constraints. Your hips moved involuntarily, rubbing against his length, desperate for its touch. Azriel sighed and finally brushed his fingers against your sweet spot, halting your movements instantly. 

“You’re soaked,” he groaned as he slipped your panties aside and swiped a finger through your folds. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned your head against his shoulder, lips caressing the spot between his shoulder and neck.

“I need you, Az,” you sighed. He obliged, pushing one digit inside of you as his thumb worked your clit. A gasp fell from your lips, hips bucking as his middle finger joined his index inside of you. “Fuck.” His supple mouth was against yours once more, tongues dancing, his giving a show of protection and authority as he continued to work you closer and closer to an orgasm.

You pulled away from him, gasping for breath, sparks flying behind your eyes as your core buzzed and your stomach flipped. A loud whine was muffled by Azriel’s hand as he covered your mouth. 

“Shh, don’t want anybody to hear us now.” He chided, speeding up his movements as you squirmed on his lap. Your hands now clutched at his shirt, knuckles bone white, eyes lidded and hazy. A smirk graced Azriel’s lips at your dazed expression and rosy cheeks. “Are you going to cum for me, Little Star?” 

You nodded and hummed around his fingers as that coil within your belly pulled taut and finally snapped. The bliss was harmonious, filling your whole body with unprecedented adoration for the man in front of you. It seemed as if the stars were falling around you, swallowing you whole–you were shaking in his lap, lips clamped around his fingers as you tried to keep quiet. His eyes never left yours as he pumped his digits inside of you, working you through your orgasm and enjoying every second of your ecstasy as if it were his own. 

“That’s my baby,” he slurred, drunk on you, pulling away as you started wriggling and pushing at his chest from the overstimulation. You were panting, eyes shut, hair mussed and dress wrinkled. When your lids opened and you caught sight of him, Azriel had his fingers in his mouth, sucking up every drop of your release, savoring the taste on his tongue.

A giggle slipped from your lips and his eyes twinkled right before you dragged him into one last kiss. When you parted, Azriel began to smooth down your hair, pushing the strands behind your ears with his rugged hands.

“We should probably get back,” he muttered, yet he made no move to get up. You smirked and rolled your hips, his cock still stiff beneath you. When you leaned in, lips against his ear, you felt the shiver that ran through him.

“I don’t think anybody would miss us if we took some more time to ourselves.” You purred, eyelashes tickling your cheeks as they fluttered. You leaned back, taking note of the growing smile that you revered.

“Hmm, I think you might be onto something, Little Star.” He mused. With that he swung you up into his arms, a squeal leaving your lips as he took you somewhere a bit more private than in the ethereal garden under the stars.