#professor!nesta

[autumnshighlady]

Teacher's Pet

Nesta Archeron x female!reader

first part in The Professor Series

summary: Dr. Archeron is the strictest professor you've ever had. No matter how hard you try, you can't get her to praise your work. That is, until she calls you into her office

warnings: smut, power dynamic, mean Nesta Archeron, 18+ only

word count: 3.7k

request: my legs shake just thinking about Professor Nesta x reader. Nesta being a serious, rigid and sadistic teacher. And the student being the typical exemplary student

a/n: this is part one of my professor series! each fic will be on the shorter side so I can get as many characters done as possible. Enjoy!

series playlist on Spotify here

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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You sat in the centre seat at the front row of class, furiously scribbling down notes in your book. Your hand ached with the effort to keep up with the professor’s sharp voice, but you fought through it. The echoing of pens on paper filled the lecture hall, a dull background noise amidst the lecture on classical literature. It was the only class where every single student paid attention and behaved, for fear of suffering the wrath of the icy professor, Dr. Nesta Archeron.

The female was the most feared teacher in Velaris, known for her sharp tongue, tough grading, and zero tolerance policy for bullshit. She commanded the classroom like a general over an army, with complete and utter authority. She was also the hardest one to get praise from, much to your disappointment. You were a straight-A student, always at the top of your class. Your teachers had always loved you, often commenting on your intelligence and eagerness to learn. 

All except Dr. Archeron.

No matter how hard you tried, you were unable to get a single positive comment from her. The most you’d gotten was a nod of her head, and even that earned you hushed congratulations from your classmates around you. Therefore, you had made it your mission to get one compliment from her before you graduated. And you had three months left, and so far nothing.

It was particularly difficult to concentrate today, however. The professor had her hair done up in its usual coronet, a few loose strands framing her sharp face. She was wearing a black turtleneck that hugged her curves, forcing you to keep your eyes on her face. It was paired with a dark brown pencil skirt and sheer black tight underneath, topped off with knee high black boots. In other words, she looked stunning. Well, she looked that way every day, but for some reason today your brain decided to fixate on it even more.

God, those boots made you want to just drop to your knees in front of her–

“Miss (Y/N).” A familiar sharp voice snapped you out of your trance, making you look up. Dr. Archeron was staring down at you, an unimpressed scowl written across her features.

“Yes, ma’am?” You asked, voice quiet. Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and you just wanted to crawl under the desk beneath her grey gaze.

“Did you even hear my question, or were you too busy daydreaming?” She demanded, arms crossed.

“No ma’am.” You answered sheepishly, wringing your hands together. “If you could possibly repeat–”

She cut you off, voice as cold as ancient stone. “No. This is the third time I’ve caught you distracted in this class today. Since I’m clearly distracting you from daydreaming, you have no reason to be here.”

Your heart dropped in your stomach. Never before had a teacher spoken to you this harshly. It made tears well up in your eyes. “Professor–” You began to protest, but were interrupted once again.

“Leave, now. See me in my office at 5pm.” She did not spare you a single glance as she turned away to resume the lecture.

Fighting back the tears, you gathered your stuff as hastily as possible. Nearly tripping over your bag, you scurried out of the classroom, letting the door slam aggressively behind you. It was childish, and you regretted it immediately once you realised you’d have to face the professor again later.

5pm was a strange time to meet in her office, you thought to yourself. Normally most professors have left campus by then, but you didn’t think much of it. Tossing your stuff on a nearby bench, you sat down and put your head in your hands. You couldn’t hold the tears back any longer, and they began to fall down your face. You spent the entire semester trying to get Dr. Archeron to like you, and you had just blown it. All because your stupid brain got distracted by how good she looked. You were no better than a man.

“Hey, doll.” The cheerful voice of the archival studies professor, Dr. Helion, sounded a few feet away.

You quickly wiped your tears, trying hard as possible to hide the evidence of your crying before lifting your head to meet his bright gaze. “Hi, Dr. Helion.” You said, hoping he was on his way to a meeting or something and would pass by.

The professor paused, cocking his head. “What’s wrong, sugar?”

His kind voice broke your composure, and you began crying again. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. Helion was not phased, however. He took a seat next to you, placing a large hand on your shoulder. “It’s ok.” He murmured, rubbing your back. “Let it out.”

After a few minutes of sobbing underneath the professor’s touch, you finally caught your breath. You felt a little better having cried – Dr. Helion was the go-to professor for informal life advice. He was popular amongst the students not just for his stunningly good looks, but his wisdom. You knew you weren’t the first student to cry on his shoulder, and wouldn’t be the last.

“So,” He said. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“My literature class,” You mumbled, wiping your hair from your face. “I got kicked out.”

Dr. Helion frowned. “Kicked out? What’d you do, kill someone in the middle of class? You’re my best student!

You laughed. “I think I’d feel better if I had killed someone and gotten kicked out. She just… Dr. Archeron got so mad because I missed her question. I don’t think I deserved to be kicked out for that. I have to go see her in her office later today, I’m worried she’s going to fail me or something.”

Dr. Helion sighed, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “That’s fair. Dr. Archeron is tough, that’s for sure. See what she has to say when you meet with her, then give her your side of the story. She’s strict, but reasonable. Don’t let it get to you. You’re a brilliant student.”

You smiled at him, the anxiety in your stomach easing up at his comfort. “Thank you, professor.”

“Anytime.” He stood up and began to walk away, but turned to face you one last time. “Just between you and me, she likes you. That’s why she was so tough on you. She wants you to succeed.” Helion flashed you a wink before departing down the corridor, leaving you more confused than ever.

Dr. Archeron liked you? Enough to mention it to Dr. Helion? It seemed like she hated you just as much as any other student. It only made your nervousness come back as you checked the time, groaning when you realised you had six hours to kill before your meeting with Dr. Archeron. Literature was your only class for the day, and you lived all the way on the other side of the city. It wasn’t worth the long trek there and back, so you decided to find something to eat and review next week’s readings while you waited.

****************

Finally, 4:55pm came. You checked your outfit one last time in the bathroom mirror. You donned a simple pair of leggings with a low-cut red tank top that made your boobs look good. A soft grey cardigan was draped over your shoulders, your hair left down and framing your face. You normally tried to look a bit less casual, but today was not your day it seemed. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves you took the steps down the hallway to Dr. Archeron’s office door.

4:58pm.

You paced back and forth outside her door, overthinking. You weren’t sure if you should wait two minutes in case she was busy, or if you should knock early. At this point, you didn’t want to do anything to risk her wrath again, so you continued to pace until you heard a stern, “Come in, (Y/N).”

Sighing, you pushed open the door and stepped inside Dr. Archeron’s office. It was a beautiful space – rich, wooden shelves with hundreds of old books lining them, a large green sofa with plush white pillows at either end, and a beige rug in front of the desk that adorned the centre of the room. The professor didn’t look up as you closed the door behind you. “Were you trying to make a hole in the floor? I could hear you pacing from in here.”

“Apologies, professor.” You muttered, taking a seat in the armchair across the desk.

“Speak up.” She demanded, still not sparing you a glance as she continued writing something on a piece of paper.

“I…” Your voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. You were at a loss – normally you excelled in conversation with professors, the skill coming naturally to you. But your throat was dry, and no words came out.

Finally, Dr. Archeron looked up at you. Her grey eyes met yours, utterly unflinching. “You’re nervous.” She stated rather than asked.

You paused the wringing of your hands. “No–”

“Let’s not lie to each other, shall we?” The professor said, putting down her pen and resting her elbows on the desk. “I’ll try again. You’re nervous.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You make me nervous.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. You felt your face getting red again. To your surprise, the corner of Dr. Archeron’s lip twitched.

“Because I’m a strict, heartless professor?” She said casually. “I know my reputation. I’m proud of it. It gets students to obey me. I’ve heard many great things about you, miss (Y/N). You’re a star student. Perhaps I make you nervous because I don’t sing praises in your ear for everything you do?”

You flinched at her harshness. It felt like an insult, like she was mocking you for being praised so much. Defeated, you admitted a quiet “Yes.”

You looked down at your hands as the sound of a chair scraping on the floor echoed throughout the room. High heels clacked on the wood as the professor walked around to the front of her desk. She was standing less than two feet away from you. “Look at me.” She said sternly. You obliged, lifting your chin up to meet her gaze. She stared down at you with a level of softness you hadn’t seen before. Her brows weren’t furrowed in disappointment, but relaxed in their natural arched position.

“Listen to me closely,” She said. “You do not need praise from me. You know why? Because you’re a good student and you know it. You don’t need it validated by me. Have confidence in your own intelligence and capabilities. A female as smart as you shouldn’t be reduced to tears just from me sending her out of class for zoning out.”

You sucked in a breath at her words. They were harsh, yes, but kind in their own way. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at her compliment, which was redundant to her point but you let it slide. “Thanks.” You said quietly, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“Which brings me back to why you’re here in the first place.” Dr. Archeron continued, crossing her arms. “You zoned out three times today. You’ve been doing that lately and I want to know why. Is my content boring or do I just make you that nervous?”

“Your content isn’t boring, ma’am.” You said quickly.

She smirked, which unsettled you. “So it’s the second one then?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it. You had no idea what to say – either you denied it, and then had to come up with a bullshit reason why you were zoning out; or you admit the humiliating reason why your attention was drifting off to fantasyland where you were bent over Dr. Archeron’s desk and letting her have her way with you. “No–” You began.

“I thought you were going to be a good girl and be honest with me.” 

Your thoughts came to a screeching halt as her words hit you. Good girl, the phrase that was your unfortunate weak point. It seemed your professor knew it too, the way her smirk deepened at your reaction. “That’s what I thought.” She said, pride seeping into her voice.

You wanted to drop dead right then and there. There was no way you were getting out of this – she KNEW about your crush on her. You could tell she had figured it out a while ago, and was cornering you now to confirm it. You began spewing apologies faster than your brain could comprehend. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean–”

“I wouldn’t want your…. nervousness, let’s call it,” Dr. Archeron hummed, emphasising the word ‘nervousness’ in a mocking way. “To get in the way of your learning. Looks like it’s my responsibility to get you to relax around me.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She placed a finger to your lips, shushing you. “Stand up.” She ordered. You obliged, pushing the chair back and letting the cardigan fall off your arms as you stood up. The room suddenly felt much smaller as Dr. Archeron took a step towards you. Her face was inches from yours, and you could smell her sweet scent around you.

“Dr. Archeron…” You whispered, not sure what you were asking.

“Nesta.” She corrected, voice gentle. “In here, you can call me Nesta.”

“Nesta.” You said, experimenting with the sound of her name on your tongue. You had never even dreamed of calling her by her first name. In all your wildest fantasies, you had only addressed her as ‘ma’am’ or ‘professor’. Never this intimate.

She took another step closer, her lips now centimetres from yours. “If you do not want this, you may leave at any time and we will never speak of it again.” She said calmly. “I will not hold you to anything.”

“Please,” Was all your dry mouth was able to muster. Thankfully, Nesta understood what you needed, and pressed her lips to yours. 

They were the softest lips you had ever kissed, tasting like spiced red wine against your tongue as you melted into her mouth. Nesta grabbed your hands and placed them on her waist, allowing you to touch her. “Relax.” She muttered against your lips. You squeezed her hip gently, and she groaned into your mouth, pleased. 

Nesta reached up and cupped your jaw in her slender hands, deepening the kiss further. Gods, you had never been kissed like this before. The world spun around you as you eagerly opened your mouth up to her, letting her tongue explore wherever it wished. You whined when her lips eventually left yours, gasping for breath.

“Don’t pout.” She scolded, reaching down and grabbing the bottom of your tank top. “Lift up your arms.”

You did so, allowing her to pull the tank top over your head and discard it somewhere on the floor. You had opted to go braless today, leaving your breasts exposed to the warm air of the office. Wetness pooled between your legs as Nesta shamelessly drank in your topless figure, her grey eyes darkening.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me and let me take care of you.” She said huskily. “I want you to relax around me. It’s your reward for being my top student.”

You nodded, reaching to grab her waist again. You needed her closer. Nesta obliged, but walked you back until your legs hit the large green sofa, forcing you to sit down. Nesta followed suit, landing beside you and wasting no time in bringing her hands up to your breasts to squeeze as her lips attached themselves to your neck. You whimpered, arching up into her touch. Her hands were strong, kneading at the flesh of your breasts as she sucked marks on your neck that sent a tingle up your spine and heat between your legs.

“That’s it, pet.” She purred. “Let me hear those pretty noises.”

You bit your lip, worried about any lingering students or staff hearing the noises you so desperately wanted to make. Nesta sensed your hesitation and brought her mouth down to your nipple, giving it a harsh suck and causing you to cry out. “That’s more like it.” She said, satisfied. You gripped her shoulders as she worked her mouth on your breast, biting and sucking and kissing before she moved to the other one.

Without thinking, you bucked your hips in the air, yearning for some relief. Nesta released your right breast with a lewd popping noise. “Desperate already, are we?” She teased, trailing a finger down your stomach to the top of your leggings. “Normally I’d have you on your knees begging for it, since you didn’t listen to me several times today. But just this once, I’ll let it slide. You’ll learn my rules soon enough.”

You lifted your hips, granting her access to pull your leggings and panties off in one go. You were instantly naked on her couch, the slick between your legs visible. Nesta unabashedly stared down at your newly exposed pussy, licking her lips like a cat. “My, my, you’re soaked, pet. Is that all for me?” She cooed, running a finger lightly over your slit.

“Yes,” You gasped at her touch. “All for you.”

Seemingly pleased with your eager answer, Nesta kissed your lips once again, muffling your moans as she gathered your wetness on her fingers and rubbed your clit. Your body sang in response, her hand applying just enough pressure to take the edge off but not enough to push you towards the edge. You had a death grip on the couch cushion, toes curling as your fantasies unfolded before you. 

After rubbing your clit for a few minutes, Nesta harshly pushed you into the couch so you were laying down, head propped up on one and while your lower body was just at the edge. She kissed her way down your chest, then your stomach, then her lips hovered above your core. “Beg.” She demanded sternly.

“What?” You breathed heavily. “But you said–”

“I changed my mind. You make such pretty sounds. I want you to beg me to eat you out.”

“Please…” You whimpered, closing your eyes.

“Do better. And look at me while you beg.”

You opened your eyes and groaned at the sight of Nesta’s face less than an inch away from where you wanted it most. “Please, Nesta.” You begged. “Please touch me. Please eat my pussy, I’m begging. I need you, please.”

“Much better.” Nesta said before lowering her head and licking up your slit. You let out a deep moan, back arching into her touch. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around her body, pulling her closer and causing her to chuckle against you, which sent vibrations down your legs. Her golden brown hair was glowing in the light from all the different candles in the room, making her look like a goddess kneeling before you, a mere mortal in comparison. Nesta’s tongue was as skilled as it was sharp, flicking against your clit in a way that made your legs involuntarily twitch.

The room was filled with lewd slurping sounds and moans. In the back of your mind, you wondered if anyone could hear you. Surely, most staff were gone by now, having headed home for the weekend. Any remaining students would be in the other building studying for the last few hours. But you couldn’t deny that the possibility of someone hearing the noise from Nesta’s office excited you. You were a good student, never in a million years did you think that you’d be naked in a teacher’s office with your legs spread for them.

Two of Nesta’s fingers slipped inside of you, curling upwards and instantly finding that spot that made you see stars. Your hand reached down and grabbed her hair, fingers messing tangling in her perfect braid. You whimpered – her tongue and fingers felt so good, you weren’t sure how long you could hold off your climax. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, with Nesta between your legs and your head thrown back in pleasure on her couch. But that familiar tension began to build up in your stomach, and your breaths began shortening.

“That’s it, pet.” Nesta muttered against your clit, her hot breath on the bundle of nerves intensifying the pleasure. “Be a good girl for me and cum. Let yourself go.”

Minutes later, you felt your legs twitch as the coil in your abdomen finally snapped, sending your release barrelling through your body. You moaned out Nesta’s name, tightening your grip on her hair and bucking your hips into her face. The world spun around you, falling away as you got lost in your pleasure. Your clit began oversensitive beneath her mouth as she came down from your high, sending waves of fuzziness through your legs.

You panted heavily as Nesta finally pulled her lips and fingers from your cunt, opening your eyes and watching in awe as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and sucked the remaining juices off. “You taste as sweet as you look.” She purred, planting a kiss on your lips before striding over to where your clothes had been discarded. All you could do was lay there, gathering your bearings and wondering if it was all just a dream.

With a tenderness you didn’t know she possessed, Nesta helped you get dressed. She gently pulled the leggings on, and eased your arm through the armholes of the tank top while you pulled it down. Once she finished draping your cardigan over your shoulders, she stopped back, her face smug. “I expect now you’ll be less nervous around me, won’t you?” She said coolly. 

You couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. “Yes, I think so.”

Nesta folded her arms. “Good, but don’t think this gives you a free pass for anything. I still expect the best from you, whether I praise you for it or not. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled wickedly, returning to her seat at her desk and picking up a pencil, continuing her work. Save for the now messy coronet hair, she looked exactly as she had when you first walked in. “Good. Now get out of my office.”

[thehighladywrites]

— “it’ll be our little secret, professor”

☀︎ - pairing: eris vanserra x reader

☀︎ - summary: you hook up with this delicious older man for one fun night to forget your scummy ex, what do you do when the same man turns out to be your new professor?

☀︎ - warnings: smut, oral (m.receiving), hint of degradation, taboo relationships, student x professor, both are obviously old enough, i just want him so bad GOD

☀︎ - amara’s note: this is going to be a series where i’ll post text threads with prof eris, headcanons, just different things. I’m planning this series to be about 10 chapters, but I literally have no structure, I just write. also i hope you like this as much as I do. and if you see any mistakes, no you don’t

In the corner of the club, everything felt a bit fuzzy. The air was thick with a mix of excitement and different scents. Dim lights created a soft atmosphere, and the distant sounds of the crowd and music blended together. It was like time slowed down, and you were in your own world, just soaking in the low-key vibe of the club corner.

The earlier shots hit you, and now you're in a blissful, relaxed state. All you could focus on were the hands exploring your body, lips locking with yours, and captivating scent surrounding you.

In the heat of the night, you ended up kissing a stranger without a second thought. The risk of being alone with someone unfamiliar did register – you just didn't care. Discovering your boyfriend's cheating after a difficult three-year relationship, marked by numerous breakups and makeups, left you feeling free from a toxic situation.

Now, free from those shackles, you embraced the chance to breathe and have some carefree fun. You had gone out with your friends, planning to originally get black out drunk but you suppose there’s better ways to cope.

Coming up with the idea of harmless fun, you and Elain came up with new identities for everyone to play out. Providing a random name, you spun a fat lie of being an up-and-coming writer, in the middle of writing your latest novel. Falsely claiming to be older, you described a beautiful house situated on the outskirts of Prythian that you owned. It was all part of a lighthearted game, with no harm intended since you believed you'd never cross paths with the guy again. It was ridiculously easy to bag the man since he didn’t tell you anything about himself, only nodding when you talked about yourself.

The attractive stranger had dark copper hair, captivating amber eyes, and stood several inches taller than you. His eyes glistened in mirth mixed with hunger. His muscular build caught your attention, and you found yourself grabbing onto his strong arms.

If his looks didn't captivate you, his mouth certainly did. His wicked tongue unleashed clever comebacks and tantalizing dirty talk that sent shivers down your spine.

The best part? He was older, more mature, more confident and much more good-looking – just so much more than your ex. Comparisons might be wrong, but if you had to choose, the man in front of you was a no-brainer.

Because he wasn't some guy; he was a man who acted like a man, who spoke like a man and touched you like a real fucking man.

The man had been touching and kissing you for what felt like an eternity. You greedily wanted more from him. You didn't want to regret not taking the chance, and almost as if he could sense it, he invited you back to his place.

You nodded, excusing yourself to let your friends know about leaving. Approaching them, you shared your decision to go with him, and Gwyn, Nesta, Em and Elain cheered you on. However, Feyre, always the protective friend, expressed her concern.

“Go get some, but I swear I’ll hunt him down if anything happens, got it? And have your location on.”

Her words, while somewhat playful, held a genuine undertone of worry.

You nodded and promised her you’d be safe before hurriedly made your way outside to the handsome man.

“Still want to come with me, sweet thing?” he asked curiously, making sure it was still something you wanted.

“Mm, yeah, still wanna go. Unless you've changed your mind?” Stepping forward, you grabbed the man's tie, pulling it gently as you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. A playful glint clouded your gaze as you cocked your head to the side, oozing confidence.

He smirked down at you with a wicked glint, clearly showing his mind was nowhere near changed. The man stepped forward, rubbing his clothed cock against your dress, making you feel his hard on through his pants

“Does it feel like I’ve changed my mind?”

The chemistry you had was unmatched, he was so clever and witty and you wanted to know more about him as he led you to his car, a sleek, black one, indicating money.

You’d blame your forwardness on the alcohol tomorrow when you remembered how you just blurted out the question.

“Hey, you rich or something?” you giggled.

The man opened up the backseat door for you and through the side of his eye gave you an amused smirk.

“Or something.” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, grinning, as you hopped into the backseat, enjoying the warmth of his hands securing your seatbelt and closing the door.

But hold on, the backseat?

Weren't you supposed to sit upfront with him? Before you could ask, he opened the other backseat door and slid in beside you.

Maintaining eye contact, he grinned at your confusion and said, “Alden, please take us home.” A faint "yes sir" was heard, and the car started moving. Shocked, you realized he had a driver – clearly, he was quite wealthy.

You scanned the spacious car, realizing there was more than enough room for the fun activities on your mind. With a screen separating you from the driver, you unbuckled your seatbelt and moved closer, straddling his lap.

His hands instinctively found your hips, guiding your movements over him. Lips on your neck, he left dark marks as your hands ventured lower, reaching his cock, which elicited a groan from him. Your eyes widened as you felt the size of him. The man simply flashed you a subtle smile and raised his eyebrows.

You unbuckled his belt, maintaining eye contact as you carefully watched his face show pleasure as you put your hand down his pants and stroked him. You gave him a few lazy strokes, eventually shuffling off his lap and kneeling infront of him, ready to put your mouth to use.

Time became irrelevant and all that was heard were the sinful, obscene noises mixed with his hisses of pleasure as you sloppily bobbed your head up and down, swirling your tounge around the head, running your finger over the slit.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it. Could use this slutty little mouth forever.” he rasped, hips bucking as his hands went to your hair, slightly pulling on it as you let out a muffled whimper.

Pre cum and spit dripped down your chin, slowly making it’s way to your chest and floor as you pushed your head down further and further, feeling satisfied at his sounds of pleasure.

Once, twice, you grip on the shaft and slap the tip on your tongue before sucking on the sensitive head.

With a quick twitch of his cock, he cums, experiencing euphoria in his buzzed state. He gasps and moans pitifully as his lips twitch between his teeth and his hips buck into your mouth against his better judgement. You pump your hand at the base of his cock where you are unable to fit, swallowing as much of the hot, sticky ropes that coat your mouth as you can. As he pours into you, the walls of your pussy clench around nothing, so badly wishing your were sitting on the cock that was currently on your tongue.

His cum was everywhere - your hair, your face, your tits. He slumped against the seat and moved his eyes down back to you, catching you licking of the sticky residue of your fingers.

Before either of you have a chance to say something, the car slows down to a halt signaling that you’re probably at his place. He tucks himself into his pants and doesn’t buckle them before he opens the door and grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder as you laugh. Your mind forgets about the fact that you’re covered in his cum and just blanks when you take a look at his so called house, a mansion or a fucking estate is more like it.

The lengthy driveway opened up to a stunning front yard adorned with red and orange-leaved trees, an unusual scene for the end of summer. A well-lit, ornate fountain with three tiers stood proudly infront of the house, enhancing the beauty of the surroundings. The massive Victorian mansion, with its beautiful windows and overgrown vines stunned you.

He set you down and held your hand as he led you into his room, and it overmet your expectations. Instead of a dark, edgy space, it was spacious with earthy tones and bathed in soft ambient lighting. The room exuded comfort, making you wish to stay longer. His bed, adorned with a large fluffy comforter and a million pillows, looked inviting.

Various trinkets and figurines adorned the room, but what captured your attention was a massive bookcase showcasing your favorite books. Intrigued, you dropped his hand and made your way over. Your eyes widened at seeing a book from your wishlist, yet to be released. Confused, you asked how he had it, and he explained that Sellyn Drake was an old family friend and had gifted it to him.

You decided to tease him about the book, saying, “You know, I've heard great many things about this book. How about you tell me what it's about? I heard it had some... exciting scenes.”

His eyes met yours, and with a subtle smile, he stepped closer and closer, “How about I show you instead?” The air seemed to thicken with a hint of tension, leaving you curious and captivated by the possibilities that lingered in his suggestion.

——

Your legs trembled as you hastily stood up, determined to make your exit. Having been fucked stupid all night, dawn was approaching, and the new semester was starting tomorrow, leaving you with a load of preparations. You located your dress, bag, and heels, putting the clothes on carefully. Quietly, you ordered a cab to avoid startling the man still asleep. Before leaving, your eyes lingered on his bookshelf. Tiptoeing closer, you took the book you'd eyed the night before and read the teaser on the back. Glancing between him and the book, grabbed it, and silently left his room and house.

——

Feyre, Elain, Nesta, Gwyn and Em, your friends and roomates, practically pulled you across campus to grab your schedule and check out the new students filling the cafeteria. The buzz of excited chatter and the aroma of coffee and sweet pastries filled the air as you scanned the room. After a few moments, you parted ways, each heading to your respective classrooms, the anticipation of a new semester buzzing in the atmosphere.

You wandered through the literature building, searching for classroom LE4, the place where Advanced Literature with Professor Beron awaited. Memories of your first year with him being an absolute ass lingered, so you hoped he'd calmed down over the summer, giving everyone a fucking break.

You finally entered the huge lecture hall and climbed the stairs, opting for a seat at the back, hoping to fly under the radar in case Professor Beron was in a bad mood.

A few rows down, you spotted your ex, Ilias, with a new girl on his lap. His sleazy smile and wandering hands were more icky than anything ever. Reflecting on why you ever went back to him so many times, you turned around, focused on bringing out your notebook and computer from your bag. As the doors opened, the click-clack of quality shoes echoed through the hall, accompanied by girly giggles and voices creating a murmur in the background.

A jolt of surprise froze you, and your heart seemed to pause for a moment as his voice unexpectedly filled the room. All your previous movement ceased, and a sudden hush fell over the surroundings, creating an atmosphere charged with unexpected tension. The shock of hearing someone you hoped thought to see again made time momentarily stand still.

“Hello. I'm Professor Eris, and I'll be taking over this class. My father used to teach it but has passed away, so I'll be filling his shoes. I anticipate a productive year together. If you doubt your ability to keep up with the rapid pace of this advanced class, I suggest you leave now and spare yourself, as well as me, the trouble.”

Panicking, your eyes scanned the room for any possible escape route. There was just no fucking way you could be in this class when your professor had fucked you against his bookshelf, or when you had his dick shoved down your throat. Sinking in your seat, you desperately opened your computer, using it as a shield, praying he wouldn't notice you. The need to escape intensified, but the fear of drawing attention kept you frozen in your seat.

As dread crept in, he pulled out an attendance list. The sinking feeling deepened as he insisted everyone state why they chose the course. Hiding behind your computer, you debated revealing your presence or attempting to stay under the radar.

"Ilias Smith?"

"Emma Wilson?"

"Jess Lennox?"

"Amanda Gomez?"

Each one confidently declared "here" and delved into passionate remarks about Hemingway, Austen, Kerouac, all the authors that made them choose this course or whatever. Your hands started sweating as Professor Eris called your name. When you hesitated, he repeated it louder, his gaze scanning until it locked onto you.

Anticipating an intense reaction, all you saw was a slight narrowing of his eyes.

“Well? Are you here, Y/N L/N?”

You mumbled a faint "yeah," and when he asked why you were there, your words fumbled, “Uh, I suppose because I like books. A huge fan. Yes.”

Your classmates chuckled at your less-than-impressive answers, and you sunk back into your chair, just observing for the rest of the lecture. A few rows ahead, a group of girls giggled, thinking they were discreet as they whispered about Professor Eris. Their discussions about their fantasies sparked a tiny irritation within you.

Like who the hell gossips about someone, so crudely in broad daylight and during a lecture, especially when it's about a professor? It wasn't jealousy, no, no definitely not.

You just found it… super unsettling.

——

After two suffocating hours, you hastily packed your bag, eager to escape. But just as you were about to disappear, your name echoed in the room.

“Miss L/N, do you mind staying behind? There seems to be a problem with your email,” Professor Eris announced, leaning against his desk with his massive arms crossed. He bid the remaining students goodbye and waited until they all left before locking the doors.

The moment those doors clicked shut, the atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. The tension became so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

He turned back around and approached you, merely a few inches away, face a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Hello there, little liar. I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”

Your cheeks heated and nervousness filled you at the memory of the depraved moments you'd shared, causing your gaze to involuntarily drop to his chest and wander downward, reliving those sensations.

However any nervousness vanished as you remembered that he was the one who came to your university. If anyone should’ve been surprised it should’ve been you. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you toyed with the idea of making his year more challenging. Testing how good of a man he really was became a tempting game.

After all, a man like him wouldn't indulge a student, right?

This could turn into a fun little project to spice up an otherwise dull year.

Lifting your chin up, you looked him square in the eyes as your lips twitched in anticipation.

“I could say the same, Professor Eris. You definitely don’t seem like the lecturer type.”

His eyes narrowed at you, jaw clenching as his intense gaze bore into yours. The intensity made you shift a little, almost causing you to lose some of your confidence.

“Do you think you're funny? I believe you understand the situation here. You lied and now you're here of all places. As my student. Well, this is an unexpected twist. One of us will have to quit and report this,” he stated, injecting a hint of playfulness into his serious tone.

Wait, quit? No, you really didn't want him to leave. This could turn into such a nice little distraction, and there was no way you were losing it now. The thought of him leaving added a layer of urgency to the situation, making you quickly reassess the potential consequences.

“Come on, professor. It doesn't have to be like this. I won't tell anyone. And who says we have to stay away from each other? I mean, what the dean doesn't know won't hurt him, right?” you suggested, a sly smile playing on your lips as you flirted with the idea of bending the rules.

Eris looked you up and down before throwing his head back and letting out a hearty laugh. Your brows furrowed as you twisted your lips, wondering if he was laughing at you. Was he not taking you seriously? Despite the uncertainty, the desire to keep playing this game with him intensified.

Eris seemed to notice your mood turning sour and promptly clamped his lips shut.

“I promise, sweet thing, I'm not laughing at you. I’m just amazed at your boldness.” he assured you with a more serious tone, attempting to dispel any misunderstanding.

“Promise?”

He stepped forward, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You both knew that under no circumstances should you be doing this. If anyone caught you, there would be hell to pay. Expulsion and blacklisting from any other Ivy League universities for you, and definitely prison or some sort of pesky law thingy for him.

Yet the mere thought of engaging in something so wrong and secretive made your stomach flip, a mix of thrill and anxiety churning within you.

Looking up through your lashes, you blushed, a deep crimson hue spreading across your cheeks as you once again grabbed his tie and pulled him closer.

“I promise I won't tell anyone, professor. It'll be our little secret,”you whispered, the words laden with a taboo excitement that sent a shiver down your spine.

A wicked gleam flashed in Eris's eyes, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Well then, miss L/N,”he whispered, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Let's see just how well we can keep our little secret.”

[rosenecklaces]

Discussed this with someone before, but I seriously consider Elain powers unexplored are mental/telekinesis-like. Straight up astral projection that makes her see The Mother and perhaps even talking. I don't know it just feels like a natural route when you already have a seer that can literally see as far as the other side of oceans, considering she's about the have Rhys as assigned-bat-boy and his own abilities I can see her being trained that way and pretty much open the box of Pandora while doing so with him

[ofduskanddreams]

Hoping to write at least 2 more of the drabble requests today. Modern AU Gwynriel and Azriel learning to fly with Rhys and Cass are the next in line👀 I’ll aim to do at least one drabble daily until I run out of requests :)

There’s still time to make a request if you’d like. Find the announcement post here.

[highladyandromeda]

The Stolen Pen

Azriel x Fem!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azriel was mortified.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You stole her pen?” 

“I–I didn’t steal her pen, Nesta”

“You stole her pen.”

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

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

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

“I didn’t steal her pen!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needed to fix this. 

Now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was so, so doomed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wasitforrevenge]

new romantics pt 2

pairing: MODERN AU!college azriel x female reader

warnings/content: suggestive language, yearning!!! alcohol and drugs mentioned, two love sick idiots, some parts are flashbacks, this is not edited…ill do it later sorry, photos from pinterest

word count: 4.5k

summary: the start of long weekend vacation starts, azriel surprises you and both of you struggle with holding your feelings inside.

authors note: i feel like i use too many of the same words im trying here please! anyways hi part 2 of my azriel fic! i think im gonna write 4 chapters, i’ve already started on part 3 and can’t wait to post! hopefully this weekend, azriel smut coming soon!!!… i am so excited i can’t stop blushing as i write it so! enjoy this part and hopefully i’ll have the next one out soon! thank you for all the likes and comments! i appreciate all the feedback thank you all!

the next friday afternoon, you’re sitting in the last row of the room, fake listening to your english lecture droning out your professors voice with thoughts of azriel. as always. you truly wonder how you manage to keep passing.

this is your last class before a four day weekend, your whole day has just dragged on and frankly, you’re exhausted and just want to go home and do nothing all weekend.

your head has running with thoughts of last weekend all week. its been driving you mad. you’ve never been one at being able to talk about your feelings, like at all. growing up an only child left and never having any more than just a couple friends you knew growing up left you lonely.

but once you became friends with azriel, you just felt like you belonged somewhere. the days you just spend laying around and talking about anything and everything. whether its what some dumbs said in class, the best dad joke you can find to the hardcore shit from your childhoods.

the only thing you could never talk to him about was… him. all you wanted to do was confess to these feelings but yet you haven’t. how can you just admit to your best friend that you’re in love with him.

that’s also something you came to the conclusion to over this week. that you’re in love with him. you thought azriel was driving you mad before you realized this but afterwards… it was so much worse!

when you and nesta finally connected after the party, she for sure entertained your delusions. you told her about everything that happened, leaving out the way he talked to you and held you. that was something you wanted to keep for yourself.

you’re deep in your mind over him, yet again, when you hear a psst from behind you.

and there he was.

azriel peeking his head through the slightly propped door, he grinned when you looked back towards the door to see what was behind you. your eyes grew wide… he’s supposed to be in class right now but you couldn’t even think about that as he stuck his hand and motioned for you to come, there you were making sure your professor was turned to the chalkboard before grabbing your bag and going with him.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

when you got outside your classroom, azriel grabbed your hand and brought you directly to the car. he opened your door and let you in before sitting in himself. your eyes focus on the sight of his scarred hums gripping the steering wheel and all you can think about is that video of the girl saying “you wish that was you huh you wish that was you!”

he’s always done that and it sends butterflies through you every time. once he got in and started driving… away from the direction of your apartment. when you turning to look out the back window, you notice a couple bags in the back seat.

“oh my god az pleasseee tell me where you’re taking me” you groaned pretending to be annoyed at the man in the drivers seat.

he looked over at you again and the sparkle in his eyes just sends you back to when he was staring down at you laying on his chest, cuddled up against him.

he laughed and said, “sorry can’t tell you it’s a surprise.”

you groaned again, even louder this time. “this better be good i missed the rest of the class for this.” you would miss every lecture for this man and he wouldn’t even have to ask.

“oh don’t worry princess, it’s insanely better than whatever that professer was saying… not that you were paying attention to anyway.”

you turned to look at him, mouth open wide and mumbled a shut up. he laughed so hard and then of course you had to laugh, but your eyes couldn’t ignore the way his chest lifted and the muscles in his arms contracted. what you would do to feel him hold you again.

the drive continued with you guys laughing and singing to the playlists on your phone. another thing you guys love to do is to blurt out states on license plates when you see a new one, something that azriel, of course, excels at and seeing them first every time.

about 3 hours later, you pull into a long driveway in the middle of the woods. you didn’t mind the long drive, in fact you and azriel mainly take backroads every time you guys go out just to take in the scenery. the trees and mountains on this drive particularly blew your fucking mind.

“is this where we going?” you ask looking out the window like a little kid, fingers holding on the door. azriel couldn’t help but look over at you as you spoke, his heart swelled at the sight of you.

the way your hair moved from the window open, how your skin gleamed in the sun shining through the windows of his old mustang and the look of utter excitement that coated your face the whole drive.

he doesn’t answer and just keeps driving up the dirt road before your eyes land on a beautiful, old wooden house next to a huge lake. you’re in awe of the masterpiece before you as you notice two cars already in the driveway. you know right away by rhysands honda civic and nesta’s toyota rav4, that everyone is here.

you can’t help but internally scream right now. you can’t believe that azriel has brought you here, and kept it a secret for you don’t even know how long. you look at him, eyes wide and he can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face when you look him.

you smile back at him, even bigger than the one he gave you if possible before your eyes turn to the front door and you see nesta and cassian standing there waving at you to come inside.

you go to open your door but azriel is there doing it for you before you even notice he got out of the car. even though you loved sitting in his car engulfed in the smell of him, you couldn’t wait to get out and spend the weekend here.

you step out azriels car, breath taken away yet again at the view in front of you. nesta is throwing herself into your arms before you even realize, engulfing you in a huge hug.

as she pulls away, you see through the corner of your eye azriel and cassian getting your bags from the car. she grips your hand lightly in yours and starts pulling you towards the house as she asked you about your drive up.

walking inside the house, she let go out of hand and spun around in a circle yelling “TADA” as you both laugh. your eyes dart across the house to the two big L black couches, along with a couple comfy chairs, a fire place along a wall that had shelves covered in books and photos. floor to ceiling windows covered the outside of the house giving you an amazing view of the trees, mountains and lake surrounding the house.

to your left, you see a open wooden kitchen, cabinets littered the walls with a huge two door fridge with a huge kitchen island, covered in different bottles of alcohol. oh yes you guys will be partying it up over this long weekend.

you hear the steps of people behind you, hoping to see azriel again you couldn’t stop staring at him during the drive up. everyone he caught you staring he smiled at you and just kept on driving, like it was perfectly normal. you turn around to see rhys and feyre walking down the staircase next to the entrance way of the house along with azriel and cassian walking into the open front door.

your smile widened as you saw him and you felt nesta jab her elbow into your side and you gave her a glare before she smiled wide at you, before leaving to walk to the kitchen.

you laugh in your head and walk towards azriel to greet everyone, “hi friends!” you said as cassian pulled you into a bear hug. what you didn’t see was cassian give azriel a wink as he embraced you. he pulled away with a laugh before both feyre and rhysand brought you in for a hug.

as they let you go, nesta called everyone to come to the kitchen. they followed but you stayed there as you watched azriel move your bags off to the start of the stairs to take up to your rooms later so you guys can join your friends in the kitchen. he turned around he saw you there watching him. he swears his heart almost explodes out of his chest every time you look at him.

azriel was ready to tell you that he was in love with you. it’s a feeling he refused to admit for years up until a couple months ago. despite not admitting it, deep down he knew what it was, he never had anyone treat him like you did. the way you cared about him and just treated him normal after so many people in his life have just walked on eggshells around him.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

when he met you, he was attached to you from the start. he knew a lot about greek mythology, taking the class was just something fun for him and when you and him got partnered together, he knew it was the beginning to an end. the way his heart started beating faster when you came around, the way his hands got sweaty when you accidentally brushed hands or when your thigh rested against his while sitting next to each other in the library.

cassian and rhysand knew something was up the way azriel came into rhysand’s apartment. the faint blush still on his cheeks, and the smile that didn’t seem to disappear. this had been happening a lot over the past couple weeks when they saw him.

azriel walked in, backpack slung over his shoulder as thoughts of you looking beautiful, sitting across from him at the coffee shop you guys were studying at that night. he didn’t even glance towards the couch until he heard cassian call out to him, “what’s the smile for az?.”

azriel turned towards his brothers, seeing their own smiles painted on. azriel laughed as he walked over and tossed his bag into the chair beside him before taking the seat next to cass.

he swiped a hand over his face and sighed in exaggeration, “what smile?” when he looked towards them, the shit eating grins on their faces said it all. they knew about the unrequited crush he held onto for mor, they knew what his family did to him, all they hoped is that whoever was making azriel smile this much wouldn’t break his heart.

a few weeks later, azriel walked into his own apartment, with you in tow. after he came across you in the elevator, he realized it made spending time together a lot easier. after class one evening, he invited you over one night to join in on movie night with his friends.

he finally told his friends who you were a couple days ago. they couldn’t even remember a time they had seen him talk about something so passionately, rhysand and cassian don’t even think that he registered it. azriel was still insisting that you guys were just friends.

that night was spent watching the jurassic park series. you were so relived walking to his apartment, you were nervous to meet his friends but he assured you everything would be okay and there was nothing to worry about. you loved that about him, sometimes you didn’t even realize how much you stressed yourself out, but every time you spoke it, azriel was there assuring you everytime.

after three movies, four bags of popcorn and a ton of candy, you were starting to doze off. you were so comfortable on the couch surrounded by the way azriel’s apartment smelt.

azriel, who was sitting next to you, noticed that you were getting sleepy and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “hey princess, i’ll walk you down.” you nodded to him with a smile. he stood up and offered you his hand. you guys said your goodbyes and everyone pulled you in a hug. you loved his friends already, nesta especially.

he holds his your soft skin with his own flawed, he could never really get over the way you felt against him. during this point of him liking you, the touch was minimal but he ate it up every time. azriel opened the door and walked out behind you, his hand ever so lightly grazing over the small of your bag where your t-shirt had ridden up.

“but the scene of the t-rex oh my god az,” you laughed lightly as you were exiting the elevator on your floor. he shook his head at you, “no way the scene with the kids in the kitchen was the best in the first one!” he insisted throwing his arms up in exaggeration.

“okay az whatever you say.” you giggle as you approach your door, turning around to face azriel behind you and grab your keys out of your shorts pocket. you look up and meet his eyes as he towers over you. you stand in silence staring at each other before you tear your gaze away, you wonder how long you’d been staring at him like that. he gives you a smile as you look down nervously with your keys in your hand. you turned back to unlock your front door then moved back to face him to say goodnight.

“thank you for movie night az, we have to do it again.” he brings his hand to your cheek and moves a piece of hair that fell into your face from your messy hair clip, he tucks it behind your ear as you look up at him again. “of course, its rhys’s turn next but you can have the one after him.” he said with a laugh as he stepped closer to you. your feelings for azriel were getting worse. it was an innocent crush at first but now… he’s all you could think about. your heart was basically beating out of your chest, your chest almost brushing against yours, you could feel the warmth of his body spreading over yours.

he was pressing against you now as he leaned down, you watched him as his face made it to yours, you were so eager to kiss him but instead he brushes his lips against your ear to whisper, “goodnight sweetheart, ill see you tomorrow,” as he gripped the doorknob behind you and opened the door for you. he leans back and gives you a huge smile as you step back into your apartment, mostly in shock at the way his body felt against yours. you smile back at him before whispering back, “goodnight azriel.” and shutting your door.

azriel is still in front of your door, a few moments longer than he should been after you were in your apartment. he shakes his head with disappointment in himself as he finally walks away. he was so centimeters from your lips and just couldn’t do it. what if you weren’t into him? he didn’t want to press your boundaries, he needed to know this was reciprocated before he did anything.

as much as he wanted to go back there and knock on your door until you opened it, so he could pick you up in his arms, carry you to your bed and fuck you like it was the last night in the world, he just could not.

at least… not yet.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

you don’t even know what time is it now as you all sat outside on the patio behind the house. it overlooked the huge, dark lake with trees covering every inch that surrounded you, not another house in sight. it was incredibly peaceful as you sat on the swinging bench in the corner with azriel, your legs over his lap as you both held drinks in your hand. the sky lit up with stairs as you looked around at your friends talking amongst themselves. you guys spent the day playing drinking and card games. playing cards against humanity with the inner circle was truly a remarkable time. feyre and rhys made homemade pizzas for dinner and they were amazing. you guys laughed for hours and now out on the deck, everyone else sat in chairs around the fire pit as you guys passed a few joints around.

azriel was laughing at whatever cassian said along with rhys while feyre and mor chatted, she showed up halfway one of your card games. amren was nesta sat in the chair next to the bench you and azriel were sitting on as you both sipped on glasses of red wine, talking about the last smutty books you were reading.

as you spoke to her, you couldn’t help by getting distracted at azriel holding the bottom half of your leg with his hand as they rested of his lap while the other one left a glass of whatever they were drinking now. he was just barely moving it back and forth but god it sent chills through your body, it doesn’t help that nests speaking about whatever book she was reading lately as you focused back on what she was saying, trying to get the thought of him touching you farther up out of your mind.

“the slowburn was top tier,” nesta said to you giving you a wink as she sipped her wine, “but oh my god the way they fucked,” letting out a frustrated groan, she shook her head as you both laughed.

“yeah nes, just wait until the sequel, if you thought that was good… you’re in a for treat.” you wiggled your eyebrows at her and laughed. you hear azriel laugh next to you and turn your head towards him. drunk you wants to kick everyone to their rooms and take him, here and now… but alas you’re stuck just staring at the beautiful man in front of you. the way his muscles flex when he laughs, and the way his chest moves. his tattoos peek out of the collar of his shirt and all you wanna do is hold him in your arms.

an hour goes by hanging out by the fire before everyone else else heads to their rooms, leaving you and azriel swinging on the bench smoking another joint. he blows the smoke out in a laugh as you guys talked about the last episode of parks and rec you guys watched. you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the weekend with him. it just felt a little too natural.

“oh my god duke silver… i just cant,” you laughed as he handed you the joint. azriel laughed, “ron swanson is the best part.” your heart starts beating faster as his hand is now actively rubbing up and down. this bench was surprisingly comfortable but

“along with april,” azriel said and you couldn’t help but agree, they just really are. you hit the joint a few times and pass it back. “okay az, i’m tired now,” you look at him with a small smile on your face. “okay let’s go,” he said with no hesitation. you let out a little laugh and move your legs off his lap, instancing losing the warm of his legs and hands on you.

you guys head into the house and azriel grabbed your bags to carry them up to the 2nd floor of the house, you guys walk down a hallway to the end and he stops in front of the door on right. “here this one is mine and that one,” he said pointing to the one directly across from his, “is yours.” he smiled at you before you turn and open your door as he opened his.

you grabbed your suitcase and carried it into the room and shut the door. you move and find the light switch. locating it, you switch it up and look around the room in front of you. only to find mor asleep on the bed. you quietly groan, out of exhaustion, drinking all day on vacation really takes it out on you. you aren’t close enough with mor so you cant just slide in next to her, so now you’re stuck with your last option.

azriel.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

immediately after entering the room, azriel took a seat on the edge of the bed. his hands still warm from rubbing them on your legs as you sat next to him the whole time. he looked at them, the scars were hard to deal with but never once it did bother you. but they bothered him for some reason, old insecurities and harsh memories all wrapped in something he has to live with everyday.

when his hands are on you, it’s a different story. it’s something he never wants to stop doing. he’s mesmerized by you entirely. he’s in the midst of his thoughts about you when he hears a low knock on the room to his room. he stands up and opens it.

seeing you standing outside his door in the dimly lit hallway, suitcase next to you, hand up about to knock again. he sees you jump at the way he opened the door so fast, not expecting him to be there already.

“hey princess, did you get lost?” azriel said as he leaned on his shoulder against the doorway, a smirk across his tired face.

“mor is asleep in my bed…” you grumble, “can i sleep with you?” you ask him.

a millions are in his head at once. mainly the last time you guys had slept next to each other, the night that he beat the shit out of that guy for touching you, the warm of your body against his, it was like that the entire time. something that he wanted forever. he wanted you in his bed, right now.

with his mind crowded, azriel just nods as he picks up your bag handle and brings your suitcase in the room, shutting the door and locking it behind you after you stepped in.

“thank you az,” you tell him sheepishly.

“you didn’t even have to ask,” he says smiling at you, he points to the other door in the room, “there’s the bathroom so you can get ready for bed.”

“thank you, i’ll be back.” you tell him as you walk towards the bathroom. he watches the door shut behind you, he needs to get himself together before you come out, the thoughts he’s been having all day about you, clothed and naked, where consuming him, yet again.

he realized that you didn’t take anything to the bathroom when he hears the sink turn on. before it’s off, he moves to his own suitcase and grabs a large t shirt he brought and a pair of boxers for you to wear, he loved when you smelled like him. he grabbed out a pair of gray sweatpants for him to change into.

he hears the bathroom door open and looks over to you stepping out. you give him a smile as he watches you walk to suitcase next to his. you pulled out your toiletries bag and were about to pull out your pajamas before azriel had to cut in.

“here you can wear these,” azriel told you, he felt his face grow red, cursing himself for not holding himself together. “thank you az.” his gaze moves down to your lips as you smile at him, taking the clothes from his hand, he feels your fingers brush his. he watches as you turn back around and head to the bathroom to change for bed.

azriel took this time to change into his own sweatpants while he waited his turn for the bathroom. he connected his phone to the tv and put whatever episode of park and recs you guys left off on, leaving it on for background noise and he turned off the light, leaving the room with a small glowing lamp in the corner by the door.

azriel watches the tv from the edge of the bed as he sees you from the corner of his eye come out of the bathroom. dressed in the clothes he gave you, his heart started beating faster.

“i feel like i’ve said thank you a thousand times but thank you again az,” he heard you say as you walked towards him. he looked up to meet your gaze as you stood, almost in between his thighs as he rested his hands on them, “thank you for bringing me here, this place is fucking beautiful- i can’t wait for tomorrow, you’re amazing az thank you,” he feels your hand reach up and hold his cheek, rubbing it thoughtfully over his sculpted cheekbone.

he couldn’t help the way his cheeks heated up under your gaze, “thank you for coming with me, this will probably be a weekend you will never forget,” azriel said with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the sides of your hips.

azriel heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth and go to the bathroom before you guys go to bed. when he comes back, he sees you in the blankets like it’s the most normal thing you’ve ever done. the comforter is pulled up to your chin as your eyes linger on the bathroom door as azriel stepped out.

he moves toward the bed and walks around to the opposite side of the bed, sliding in next to you before he lays on his side, facing your back. the show plays in the background as he watches you turn to face him.

azriel lifts his arm and brushes some of your fallen hair behind your ear as he spoke, “i’m glad we’re here.”

“me too az,” you say quietly.

his hand rests on your cheek before azriel watches you move to cuddle into his chest, just wanting you to be closer to him. he wraps his arm around your body, pulling you closer into his body as he kisses your forehead.

“goodnight princess.”

“goodnight az.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

thank you all for the support, love and feedback! here’s the taglist for this! thank you guys so much! comments and feedback are always appreciated

@purple-haired-faerie @thespencerhastings-blog1 @scorpioriesling @kitsunetori @scooobies @elsie-bells @nickishadow139 @lilah-asteria

[lyssasdrafts]

★ 𓈒 ݁ STAR—CROSSED (rhysand x reader) ⊹

chapter eight: (written) ✧

𓈒 ݁ ✫ masterlist previous next

sometimes you really questioned the lengths that you go through in order to maintain your reputation and status as one of your university’s best students. you supposed it could also be due to the amount of fear that your professor bryaxis instilled within you. as if doing the photoshoot with rhysand wasn’t already enough, your professor had soon assigned you to begin tutoring other students within your major. mostly freshmen who needed help, but also the occasional classmate from your lectures who would likely fail if you didn’t offer your assistance.

that’s how you ended up spending your friday afternoon at the library that your friend nesta worked at. while you didn’t mind staying there since fridays were one of the least busy days at the library, it also happened to be the day that your friend took off work. you were patiently seated at one of the desks at the back, tapping your foot as you wait for your “student” to arrive.

needless to say, you’re definitely taken aback when a larger man walks into the library, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder as he wanders the place. he seems like he’s unfamiliar with the place and it clicks in your mind that he’s looking for you. you give him a bit of a stare, blinking at the sight of him before his eye finally catches you too.

“are you my tutor? you’re y/n, right?” cassian gives you a smile. although there’s only a few other people in the library, you suddenly feel them all staring at the man who just sat next to you.

“it’s cassian, right? i’m supposed to tutor you?” you try to hold back the distaste in your tone. if this was rhysand, you would be gloating and smiling to yourself the entire time that he needed your help for once. if this was azriel, their other friend, you would perhaps actually tolerate it. but cassian? there was no doubt he needed the help, but you weren’t hopeful as to whether or not he would actually listen to you.

“professor bryaxis sent me here,” cassian looks down, and for once you see a different side of him. he’s not the cheering, loud, overbearing jock, but instead, he hangs his head in embarrassment. it’s almost as if he’s afraid, like whatever lecture your professor gave him really stuck with him.

“are we even in the same major?” you can’t help but ask, twisting your face at him.

“no, i really only go to prythian university on a sports scholarship… but i needed your help for a compulsory course i have to take here,” cassian says. a part of you suddenly feels more inclined towards him after knowing there’s something you both have in common. you knew rhysand and morrigan came from a rich background but hadn’t known anything about cassian or azriel.

“compulsory is a big word for you,” the comment slips out of your mouth.

“i didn’t know that you thought i was dumb just because i’m strong,” he crosses his arms, “rhysand always says the same, you know.”

“we are nothing alike,” you stop cassian from going any further.

“it doesn’t matter,” he pulls out his notebook that’s in less-than-ideal condition, likely from being tossed into his backpack along with all his training equipment. “this is probably easy for you, so i’m asking for your help.”

you can’t help the chuckle on your face when you see the basic course he has to take, “this is just simple science—”

“can you help me or not?”

you sigh, before remembering the commitment you made and the look on your professor’s face, “i will.”

cassian smirks at you, “perfect, because i would not want to go back to professor bryaxis.”

you can’t help but laugh a little bit as his comment. “she’s the one who told me to start tutoring, and i was too scared to say no.”

“i can’t blame you, she really scares me…” cassian murmurs, almost as if he doesn’t think you can hear him.

the tutoring is quite simple. you explain each concept to cassian, drawing graphs and images if you believe they help with understanding. you make it your goal not to have any eye contact with cassian, instead just looking at the papers and his notebook in front of you the whole time.

it’s not until you drop your pen onto the ground and move your chair back to pick it up that cassian beats you to it, picking it up for you and handing your pen back.

“thank you,” you mutter, for the first time looking into his brown eyes. cassian pushes his long hair back before he nods, accepting your thanks.

“i still can’t believe i have prythian’s smartest student tutoring me,” cassian gives you a look that you’ve only seen him flash to certain girls in the hallways.

“you really think so? over rhysand?” you roll your eyes.

“don’t tell him i said that,” cassian winks at you. “i’m jealous sometimes that he spends so much time with you. you push him to be better, to study better. for me, i’m the only one pushing myself.”

“you don’t have teammates or your coach?” you ask.

“rhys and azriel used to play on my team in our first two years, but both of them dropped it to focus on studying. they made having coach beron way better. now i’m left with people like devlon,” cassian groans.

“i never liked him either,” you shake your head. devlon was one of the players on cassian’s team, his vice captain, much to cassian’s dismay. the two have even had a few public fights that rhysand had to break up, which resulted in both of them being threatened to be kicked off the team by coach beron.

“he’s not just annoying, he’s a terrible person. you know he has a reputation for not respecting other students right?” cassian shakes his head. “that’s why i got into a brawl with him last year. i was defending a girl in my class who he wasn’t listening to.”

“you were…?” you tilt your head, perhaps realizing that there was more to cassian than you’d expected.

“if he ever gives you any trouble, let me know. and i mean it,” cassian looks at you in the eyes again, and you realize that he’s being completely serious. cassian had just met you and already offered to look out for you.

“thank you…” you say again, realizing your time tutoring him should be over. “i’ll see you soon.”

“don’t you need help carrying all these books?” cassian says, “they seem heavy.”

“i can handle it myself,” you insist.

“i’ll take them,” cassian says.

as he begins collecting the textbooks and novels at the library desk, you take a look at cassian’s figure and his features that you’d never appreciated until now. his arms, his muscles, and you take a deep breath to collect your thoughts before grabbing your smaller bag and heading towards the library door.

cassian follows behind you, carrying you books until the end of the walk outside the library. it suddenly occurs to you that having a tall and built protector might not be the worst thing. perhaps rhysand’s friends weren’t that bad.

“thank you, i can handle it from here,” you try to take your books back from cassian, and he awkwardly fumbles before letting you grab them. you’re about to walk away without looking back to him before his voice stops you.

“well then, i’ll see you around, y/n.” cassian gives you a wink before walking off.

— NOTES

finally we have our introduction to cassian, my fav himbo 🫶

i randomly decided to make b*ron their coach (debating adding eris to this au as a background character)

sorry for the EXTREMELY long hiatus, life has been crazy lately and i’ve always hit a writers block, i can promise more chapters coming soon!!

— TAGLIST

@thelov3lybookworm @starsand @lilah-asteria @therealmoonstone @just-a-social-casualty-1 @ashjade19 @girlontheblock @cherry-cin @daughterofthemoons-stuff @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sweet-chai-amore @kierramofficial @noelli-smv @c-dizzle99 @littlest-w01f @marina468 @dragneel-brothers

[tecontos]

Mamei meu colega de trabalho antes das feria na biblioteca. (junho-2024)

By; Kersia

Ola, me chamo Kersia, sou casada há algum tempo e nunca havia pensado em trair o meu marido. Somos jovens, bonitos e nos damos super bem na cama. Não posso reclamar de nada, pois o meu marido sempre me come gostoso e me faz gozar.

Sempre fui muito safada, desde novinha, sempre gostei de tocar siririca e desde que perdi a virgindade sempre tive muitos parceiros, mas como disse, não havia pensado em trair.

Esse ano comecei a trabalhar em uma escola nova. Sou professora e fico sempre trocando de escola, assim conheço muitas pessoas novas.

Nesta escola, conheci Carlos. Mas antes de descrever nossa relação, vou descrever nossa aparência.

Eu sou morena, magra, mas com um corpo bonito, bumbum grande, peitos durinhos boca bem carnuda, tenho 27 anos e todos dizem que tenho cara de inocente.

Carlos, um homem de 45 anos, branco, magro, cara de típico professor de humanas, cabelos jogados nos olhos, sorriso bonito, olhos azuis, barba mal feita. Tio, mas com aquele ar de que vai te ensinar tudo.

Carlos era professor de História, falava de ideologias, arte, música e literatura. Logo de cara nós demos muito bem. Conversávamos sobre a escola, sobre os alunos, sobre nossos ideais filosóficos e políticos. Ele falava da esposa, que era ótima e eu também falava sobre o meu marido. Por um tempo ficamos bons amigos.

Mas, não dava pra negar que percebi Carlos olhando meu corpo e sei que ele percebia minha admiração por ele. Estávamos sempre juntos e um homem e uma mulher juntos uma hora ou outra algo acontece e foi isso que aconteceu.

Um dia estávamos na biblioteca, não haviam alunos na escola, era fim de período e estava tudo bem quieto.

Carlos falava sobre um livro que havia lido e como ele estava com dores de cabeça apagou a luz, e ficamos os dois sozinhos conversando.

Conversa vai, conversa vem, o tempo se passava e nem vimos. Carlos se levantou, trancou a porta e olhou fixado pra mim, sem dizer uma palavra. Eu senti meu corpo gelado, parte de mim já estava esperando esse momento. Dava pra sentir no ar que nós dois nos desejávamos muito e aquele era o momento. Parecia que estávamos parados há uma eternidade.

Carlos veio caminhando pro meu lado, bem pertinho de mim e passou os dedos no meu rosto.

- “Eu adoro ficar com você”

E veio chegando perto e mais perto até que me beijou, um beijo ardente, faminto e demorado. Aquele beijo que esperou meses para ser dado e que agora parecia querer te beber toda de uma vez só.

Eu estava perdida, mas correspondia…

Ele passava mãos no meu corpo todo enquanto beijava minha boca, meu pescoço… as nossas respirações cada vez mais intensas. Eu sabia que era errado, que estávamos dentro da escola que trabalhávamos e que nós dois éramos casados, mas o desejo era mais forte, e sentir aquelas mãos me acariciando, apertando estava me deixando louca de tesão.

Eu estava com a bucetinha molhada, escorrendo e o cheiro de buceta estava tomando conta da biblioteca. Passei a mão por cima da calça de Carlos e a pica dele estava muito dura, quase arrebentando o jeans da calça.

De repente, ele sem pensar, abriu o zíper, colocou o pau para fora, e que pau gostoso ele tinha…

Duro, uma cabeça inchada e brilhante. Não era muito grande, mediana, mas grossa e muito dura, feito pedra…

– Chupa minha rola, safada… sussurrou no meu ouvido e me empurrou a cabeça até a altura da rola

Mamei aquela pica com tanta vontade, como se fosse a última pica da terra. Ele acariciava meus cabelos e urrava de prazer. As vezes tirava a rola da minha boca e batia com ela no meu rosto, e eu olhava pra aqueles olhos azuis cheia de tesao e voltava a mamar gostoso.

Depois de alguns minutos mamando, ele me puxou pra cima, me colocou sentada em uma das mesas, levantou minha blusa, deixando os peitos a mostra e iniciou uma punheta em cima da minha barriga. As vezes eu olhava pra baixou, por vergonha ou para olhar o pau dele, então ele puxava meu rosto e me mandava olhar para ele.

Ele tinha uma expressão de puro desejo. E continuava punhetando, até gozar em cima de mim.

Terminando, com todo o cavalheirismo que sempre havia me tratado, pegou seu casaco e limpou o gozo.

Beijou minha boca mais uma vez, perguntou se eu estava bem e saiu da biblioteca, retornando logo em seguida, com um copo de água para mim e café para ele.

Continuamos conversando, sobre o livro e sobre a loucura que fizemos. Nossas conversas tem ficado mais íntimas, as vezes trocamos beijos e carícias, com cuidado para que ninguém da escola perceba…Mas confesso que é difícil trabalhar no mesmo local sem sentir vontade de transar com ele.

Eu morro de vontade de mamar aquela pica novamente, ainda bem que essas férias já esta acabando.

Enviado ao Te Contos por Kersia

[vidalinav]

Stu(died) Bonus Scene 1

Summary: This is how Nesta gets Cassian's hoody.

~

Nesta heads to the campus library after her shift and it’s not to study. It’s to feel paper on her fingertips. To hide behind a shelf and sit at the bottom, wading through carpeted seas. There’s something about the smell of books. Home is not a place that is hours away, but a place between pages that she can’t begin to fathom or feel.  

Nesta can read it though.  

She can smell it.  

And yes, maybe the semester is getting a little too heavy and so her thoughts are weighing down on her. If only she could carry a thousand books instead of working another shift, or writing another paper, or twisting her brain to remember every detail of a lecture. Her professors are starting to sound like the adults in Charlie Brown. Wha wha’s instead of the explanation on the electrical activity of the heart.  

Rip out her aorta, already. Each ventricle and vein. Press words instead of notes into the cavity. Nesta wants it to fill her... to feel full... to feel... happy again.  

Because she’s starting to feel only tired.  

And yes, she needs sleep. A shower. Some food. But Nesta thinks of books instead of walking home after her shift. She lugs herself to the elevator, presses the button for the fourth floor and she breathes in the smell of old paper. 

No one will ask where she is. Nesta works too much for anyone to guess that she might not be where she’s supposed to be, so hours will pass between shelves and there’s nothing romantic about the way her arms hug her knees, because no one else will be there to hug her. Because who will care about her if all she does is work?  

But Nesta won’t cry.  

Or at least she says she won’t. She’ll let the books calm her back into decency and composure. Enough to go home and do her homework for the night, because it’s still due in the morning.  

Everything seems to be due tomorrow and the night arrives sooner than she thinks.  

Nesta’s not crazy enough to sleep here, but she knows some people will. It’s easy to do when there are students gulping down Red Bulls until their body is 70% caffeine. There’s only so many all-nighters you can pull, before the inevitable crash, but Nesta has not pulled her fair share.  

In fact, there’s nothing really wrong.  

Or at least she says there isn’t.  

She’s alone on a Thursday and tomorrow it'll be Friday and her friends will be planning a movie while Nesta thinks of work. Shifts in between studying.  

But she’s used to it. She’s done this before. Nesta does this every semester... and every semester more, she scurries through the shelves, peaking through hallways. Every semester she sits on the floor, waiting for books to tell her how she feels.  

Nesta doesn’t truly know. 

Most of the time in the library, well... she’s annoyed. Irritated at something Cassian says or the way he doesn’t do what she tells him. She fumes, nagging and bitter as she taps at his textbook and for some reason that feels... good.  

It at least feels better than this. This awful, nothing feeling. This tired, resigned woe. This if no one knows I exist, do I? feeling.  

Will this be her life for four more semesters?  

Nesta sighs, squeezing tighter at her knees.  

And it's dark by the time Nesta leaves. As she walks out of the library, the night takes a bite... a little nibble before Nesta stops at a lamp post, safe in its shade.   

And... well, night is only scary for women, she thinks.  

That must be what sits on her chest, maybe.  

There’s a story that people pass around like nighttime fairytales about a girl who was stabbed on campus three years ago. It’s why their campus has emergency alarms at every corner and why there’s a buddy system for late night trips back home.  

But Nesta doesn’t think to call them. Nesta does everything herself.  

Alone, she thinks... and it might not be fear that sits there, peeking through her skin.  

It roars, she knows—that feeling.  

The night is only scary for women.   

That’s the greatest knowledge she’s learned and perhaps there is one feeling she can name instead of numbness. This great big... unfairness. Quiet in the solid night.  

It is unfair that she is her. That she is a woman. It is unfair she is a student. That she is not even a rich student. That she has to study. That days pass and she studies. That years pass, and she’ll study for those too.  

It is quite unfair that she is not a frat boy.  

Not a privileged little frat boy whose dues would pay for her tuition... or her books... or her food. Three jobs? They’ve never heard of work.  

Cassian has sure never heard of work. He eats privilege for breakfast. With his little silver spoon.  

So, she doesn’t know why she calls him. She presses her thumb to the number before she can convince herself against it.  

Nesta can hear laughter in the background. Giggling and bright.  

Feminine.  

“Nesta?” He answers, and his voice is rough with concern. Not at all with curiosity, though she’s never called him before.  

“Cassian,” she breathes and there must be something in the sound of her voice. Something that means no arguing. No questions asked except for one.   

“Nesta, where are you?”  

She looks around the buildings. The yellow brick beneath her shoes could lead anywhere. To the library. To the closed restaurants stuck in dorm halls. “I’m on campus. Near... the business hall.”  

“Wait there and I’ll come get you,” he says and for once Nesta doesn’t argue with him.   

~ 

The lamp posts illuminate pockets of an abandoned campus, and the light means someone else exists. Nesta needs only to reach out a hand and he’ll be standing there.  

Because she called.  

Because he worries for her. She can hear it in his voice on the phone.  

When he comes running, Cassian’s in pajama pants and a white tee. In the dark, his chest looks like the moon. He has his hoodie crumpled in his hands, and he holds out the shaded red urging her take it.  

“It’s freezing out here,” she replies, tucking her hand into her pockets as if that might make him pull it back. Out of reach where her hands can’t grasp it without her permission.  

“I know,” he says, firmly, “so wear my hoodie so you don’t freeze to death. You didn’t bring a coat?” 

“It was warm earlier. I didn’t think I would be here this long.” 

Cassian’s hair flops around his face as he tilts his head, scrunching up his brows. “Why were you? Didn’t you work today?”  

“I just lost track of time,” she answers dismissingly. It's technically true, though she supposes time is not so easily tracked when she is often running out of it. She can’t stop thinking about classes, about money, about the future, about her lack of time. So Nesta shrugs. “The library makes me... calm—Why are you laughing?” 

Cassian’s grin gets wider at her derisive tone. “I’ve just seen you get mad at me so many times in that library, I have a hard time imagining it makes you calm.”  

Nesta can’t help but huff as she crosses her arms. She can feel the wind, her short-sleeved shirt barely covering anything. Cassian doesn’t seem to like that. He frowns at her arms, his brows permanently engraved.  

“Still, take my hoodie,” he urges, “I don't like seeing you shiver when there’s a perfectly good hoodie right here going to waste.”  

Cassian holds it out for her, but Nesta doesn’t want to take it. It seems too intimate. She doesn’t want to feel the cloth on her skin, warm from his body, wonder if that’s how his hugs must feel. She doesn’t want to know what he smells like, if she’ll ever be able to wash it off as if it permanently marks her skin. 

Would she be okay with that—with having an essence of him burned into her memory? She thinks of those moths. They dive in out of light sockets because they can’t resist the glow. Is it his hoodie that she can’t resist? The color, it’s warmth. Is it him she moves to as he walks in the moon’s magic veil?  

She can hear the buzz of bulbs of lamp posts and wonders if that’s an invitation to speak. She wonders if this is an invitation to wrap her arms around him and sink... to feel warmth where there is none.  

To the moths, the moon is trapped in a lightbulb. To Nesta, the moon is captured on Cassian’s chest, and it might be a perfectly good place to rest her head for a while, if only she did not fear what that would make her feel.  

It’s only as Cassian dips his head to catch her eyes that Nesta realizes she’s been staring at his bright white t-shirt.  

“I can’t take it,” she says.  

“It won’t bite Nesta, what are you afraid of?”  

You, she wants to speak.  

“Your cleaning habits,” she says instead.  

Cassian rolls his eyes, but his hand still reaches out for her, that hoodie grasped in his palm.  

Take it, the gesture says.  

Nesta has never been fond of people telling her what to do.  

~ 

“Cassian walked you home?” Gwyn asks. Nesta tries to hold the hoodie behind her back, but nothing can hide Cassian’s massive sweatshirt in her hands.  

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Emerie says as she rubs a towel through her waves.

Nesta shrugs, “just the first number I saw.”  

But she doesn’t let them ask any more questions before going to her room.  

It’s late after all.  

And in her room, when she’s supposed to be studying, Nesta looks to her bookshelf, then to the window where a white house sprawls across the lawn like a blinding star. The pen is already in her hand when her gaze drifts to paper. She thinks of his name in the corner of the first page and her pen moves across the third where chemical bonds are sprawled in light green.  

I wish I could bottle every moment with you and keep it in a jar. Safe where I can see it.   

~

Stu(died) Tagged List:

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430 @unhealthyfanobsession @simpingfornestaarcheron @talkfantasytome  @sayosdreams

~

I told you I was back. Also college is hard y’all. I had to write something that captured that. Also every detail about campus was my campus!

Next chapter has tinges of nesta being sad and why so I had to set up some sort of transition.

[dawneternal]

⊹ Gwyn x Azriel Modern college AU

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

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

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

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

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

⊹ Word Count: 2.1k

⊹ AO3 Link

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Goldfish crackers scattered to the floor. 

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

Shit. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, Gwyn heard a stifled giggle through the phone. 

“Nesta, don't laugh!” She cried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Five

A Modern Feysand AU

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

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long everyone. Life is... insane. But it's spring break, so I finally had the time and energy to devote to this. It's kind of long, so fair warning ;) Also, I did just spend four straight hours writing and editing this so if there are typos… there are typos💓

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My Other (Completed) Feysand AU Fic: What to Expect When You're (Not) Expecting

Chapter Five:

A week after Feyre told Azriel she would turn informant against her partner, she still hadn't heard from the FBI.

And her week only grew worse with every passing day. Her professors had hit the mid-semester stride, assigning longer and longer readings. She continued to receive invitations to networking events and all manner of schmoozing and boozing opportunities from her future firm. Various midterm writing assignments were ramping up, and she had just finished a particularly brutal round of citation checks for the Law Review legal journal on which she was a staff editor.

Her only saving grace had been Tamlin’s obvious exhaustion. He left the apartment before Feyre woke up and returned long after she fell asleep.

If it had been any other way, Feyre wasn’t sure how she would have survived the week. The thought of Tamlin touching her sent shivers down her spine and images of what Rhys’s younger sister might look like spinning through her head. Did Tamlin know about what had been done to keep his secret? How involved was he in the more violent aspects of his criminal enterprise?

The questions were endless, and yet Feyre had no one to ask. She was supposed to be the one finding answers, anyway.

And while she desired to put a stop to Tamlin's crimes, she couldn't help but find it ironic that this was just one more thing that had come to rest on her shoulders.

And the FBI didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry, Feyre thought irritably as she waved Tamlin out the door on Thursday night. He had come home early to pack a bag—once again leaving town for the weekend. On business.

Feyre let him press a kiss to his cheek, then shut the door on his back, doing her best not to slam it.

She turned and leaned against the wood, scrubbing her face with her hands. If the FBI didn’t tell her what to do soon, she would forget about the deal and break up with Tamlin. Move back in with her family. It would mean adding a job to her academic workload, but she didn’t think she would survive more than a few months in her family’s house. Nesta would freeze her out until she needed something. Elain's perpetually present boyfriend disliked Feyre for some reason. Her father wouldn’t know what to do with her.

Feyre sighed, then jumped as a knock on the door behind her head reverberated through her skull.

“Did you forget something?” She asked, flinging open the door, expecting to find a harried-looking Tamlin on the other side.

Instead, she came face-to-face with Rhysand, a stunning blonde woman next to him.

“Oh,” Feyre squeaked.

Rhysand grimaced at her, dressed once again in all-black suit, tailored perfectly to his muscular body. Though he looked more casual than Feyre had ever seen him—his usual black tie was missing, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Feyre swallowed, averting her eyes from his tanned upper chest and violet eyes, instead surveying the blonde.

The woman was also clad in all-black, her blazer buttoned around a narrow waist, a short pencil skirt emphasizing long, tanned legs. Her blonde hair cascaded over both shoulders, and her lips, coated in a bright red lipstick, tugged into a smile.

Perhaps this was Rhys’s partner? Feyre’s eyes snapped back to Rhys’s at the thought, as if she would find the answer there.

“As much as I would love to stand here and watch you two stare at each other, the hall is a little exposed. May we come in, Feyre?” The blonde asked, brushing past Feyre without waiting for an answer, disappearing into the apartment behind her.

“You came,” Feyre breathed.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry it took so long.”

“Would you two get the hell in here?” The woman’s voice sounded from behind Feyre.

Rhys grimaced again, gesturing for Feyre to lead the way into the apartment. “Please excuse my cousin, Morrigan Underwood. She’s one of the best the FBI has to offer, but most days she’s just a pain in my…” Rhys trailed off, and Feyre couldn’t help but grin as Morrigan extended a manicured hand toward her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Feyre,” Morrigan said, smiling warmly down at her. Morrigan was tall, and the heels only added to her height. Next to the beautiful FBI agent, Feyre felt short and grubby in her socked feet next and oversized t-shirt. “Sorry to barge in on you. We got lucky tonight—video cameras are down. So we thought we would come to you.”

“Just luck?” Feyre asked, folding her arms and leaning against the kitchen island.

Morrigan and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Luck with a little help from Azriel,” Morrigan admitted, shrugging.

Gods, they really were the FBI, Feyre thought, walking around the kitchen island and opening the fridge. “Can I offer either of you—a water? Or something else?”

“We don’t want to trouble you,” Rhys said, at exactly the same moment Morrigan said, “Absolutely. Tamlin took forever to leave, and even though someone knew there would be a stake-out, he didn't think to stock refreshments in his car.” Her brown eyes cut to Rhys.

“Mor,” Rhys groaned.

Feyre smiled to herself as she retrieved three bottles of sparkling water from the fridge and returned to the living room, sitting in the armchair across from the couch where Rhys and Mor had seated themselves.

“Nice place,” Mor commented, her eyes scanning the room appreciatively. “Very . . . minimalist.”

Feyre shrugged. “It’s not exactly to my tastes, but thank you.”

Feyre ignored Mor’s cocked eyebrow and the crease that formed between Rhys’s eyebrows at her words. She cleared her throat. “So. Care to share why you’re here?”

Mor popped the top off her water and sank back into the plush white couch, lifting the drink toward Rhys. “You’re up, cousin.”

Rhys leaned forward on the couch, his own water forgotten on the sleek coffee table in front of him. Feyre couldn’t figure out where to look as she waited for him to speak. His large hands, clasped in front of him. The sliver of exposed skin just below his neck. Those violet eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul.

She settled for his forehead as Rhys began to speak. “You took a risk last week, going into Spring Solutions without backup. If something had happened to you in there, we would have had no way of knowing.”

Feyre folded her arms. “I thought you wanted me to gather information for you. How am I supposed to do that if I can’t go anywhere without an escort?”

“Backup doesn’t necessarily mean an escort.”

-----

Two hours later, Feyre’s mind was about to explode with all the information Rhys and Mor had drilled into her head. They had provided her with a wire, an earpiece that she could hear and speak to them through, an exhaustive explanation of how dangerous being an informant was, and a briefing on proper reporting and contacting methods she would have to engage in when reaching out to the FBI.

She drew the line at the bulletproof vest Mor retrieved from her bag.

“Where am I supposed to hide that?” Feyre demanded. “The tech is enough.”

Mor and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Feyre…” Rhys trailed off, his eyes searching her face.

“You make me take that and this whole thing is over before it began.”

Rhys held up his hands. “Alright. But if you dream up any more ridiculous plans to go into the heart of enemy territory, you contact us first. We’ll get it to you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. She didn’t envision herself getting shot any time soon.

“Lastly,” Mor said. “Here’s the address of our future meeting place.” She handed Feyre a scrap of paper. “Memorize it and then destroy it. You can get there by train, so transport isn’t a problem. You’ll have to switch trains about halfway there, but that’s your opportunity to determine if you’re being followed. If you have any suspicion whatsoever that someone is on your tail, do not go to the safe house. Just board a train back in the direction of the city.”

Feyre looked down at the address. “How often will we be meeting?”

“Only as often as necessary. You let us know through that earpiece and we’ll arrange it. Best not to create any new strange habits that people might notice. Memorize.”

Feyre nodded, swallowing the sudden wave of anxiety cresting through her. She was truly doing this. Working for the FBI. Attempting to inifiltrate a strange and possibly deadly organization. Betraying her boyfriend—the man who had fed her and housed her for the better part of her law school experience.

Mor cleared her throat, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got a meeting. Finish up here, Rhys?”

Rhys nodded, clapping his cousin on the shoulder as she stood, extending her hand once more to Feyre. “Good luck, Feyre. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again very soon.” Feyre nodded, and Mor paused, her manicured hand squeezing Feyre’s. “Do try not to get caught.”

Then she was gone.

Leaving Feyre and Rhysand alone in the enormous, stark apartment.

“Is there much more?” Feyre asked, forcing herself to keep her arms at her sides rather than swinging them in the awkward silence.

“No, but—” Rhys halted midsentence as Feyre slumped into the enormous white armchair next to the window, relieved to hear those words coming from Rhys’s mouth. She honestly hadn’t been sure if she could take much more.

Her entire relationship was a lie—everything was a lie. She had trusted Tamlin with her safety. With her nights and days and most of the time in between. He had given her a place to stay after years spent under her family’s influence.

And yet.

“He’s been lying to me,” Feyre muttered, more to herself than Rhysand, who had leaned closer to her as her thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper. “This whole time.”

Her eyes drifted down from the ceiling, locking instead with Rhys’s blue eyes, drinking her in from his position on the couch.

“I never knew,” she said softly. “I never even suspected. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

A muscle fluttered in Rhys’s jaw, and he shook his head, one hand extending toward her as if to rest it on her knee. But he thought better of it, instead clasping his hands between his knees. “On the contrary. I’ve spent a year investigating Tamlin and he's slipped through my fingers every time. It’s no surprise you never knew."

Feyre bent over her knees, hands covering her face. “How long will it take?”

Rhys cleared his throat, thankfully understanding her meaning. “It depends. The more and better information we get, the easier it will be to charge him.”

When Feyre didn’t respond, Rhys continued.

“But if you want out, Feyre, say the word. We—I—would never dream of forcing you to stay in this relationship just for our purposes. There would be no hard feelings if you changed your mind.”

Feyre’s hands slid from her face, and she returned Rhys’s stare with one of her own. “No.”

“No?”

“I want to do this. I have to do this. If what you say is true, Tamlin is the reason your sister—and who knows how many others who knew too much—are gone. I can’t stand by and watch that happen. Can’t leave him knowing about the horrible things he is causing, or at least sanctioning.”

She could have sworn a glimmer of pride shone in Rhys’s eyes as he surveyed her. And despite everything, despite the loss of his sister and the investigation and the potential threat to Feyre’s life, he smiled.

“Then let’s bring that bastard down.”  

Feyre couldn’t resist the grin she shot back.

-----

A week later, some of that excitement had died down. Tamlin had been at work around the clock, busy with various “projects” as he described them to Feyre. However, he had revealed that his next out-of-town venture would take place in late October—just a few weeks away. And Feyre was determined to discover the destination. So in addition to her studies and checking in every so often with the FBI through her earpiece, she spent the wee hours of the morning combing through Tamlin's computer in secret, digging through his bags and looking through his phone for anything that might reveal his future plans.

She continued to come up empty-handed.

But she didn't intend to give up, even though her exhaustion grew worse with every passing day. Feyre resolved to take a break from her sleuthing that night as she walked to another networking event, this one just a few blocks from her apartment.

She arrived in her best black suit, pencil skirt just brushing the tops of her knees, black tights beneath warding off the crisp fall air. She had spent extra time on her hair that evening—adding a little extra dry shampoo, teasing the golden-brown strands into a gentle curl at the ends. She even went so far as to add an extra layer of mascara before she came to her senses.

There was only one reason Feyre was putting in this extra effort, despite the minuscule chance that the reason would even be present at the mixer.

United States Attorneys surely had better things to do than attend every attorney/law-student networking event in the city.

And besides. Feyre was still unavailable, even if Tamlin had barely laid a finger on her the past few weeks, as busy and stressed with work as they both had been. Even if in her mind, her relationship with Tamlin had long since come to a crashing halt.

So she had resisted the urge to dab on some blush before she rushed out the door, tying her black overcoat around her waist as she rode the elevator to the lobby. Just a half hour later, she found herself engaged in a spectacularly dull conversation with a pair of junior associates from one of the other firms in Prythian. Feyre had forgotten their names almost as soon as she had heard them, distracted as she was with thoughts of her mission for Rhys—with thoughts of whether Rhys might be present tonight.

“Do you have plans to pursue partnership?” One of the attorneys—a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and brown eyes—inquired, taking another sip of her mixed drink. The woman was tipsy, but quite adept at hiding it. If Feyre hadn’t spent years observing her older sister Nesta’s drinking habits, she might not have noticed.

Unfortunately, the woman was staring at Feyre so intently that Feyre decided she would be forced to answer the question. Feyre’s mind raced, and she genuinely wondered whether saying, “I don’t know—nor do I much care at this point,” might be disadvantageous to her career. If it might get back to Hybern & Night.

But then she felt a hand at her elbow, a warm male body sidling up next to her, the scent of citrus and the sea washing over her in a wave.

“Feyre, darling. You’ve been avoiding me. My father insisted I meet his firm’s future associate.”

Feyre bit back her smile as she turned her attention from the attorneys in front of her to the man who had just stepped up to her elbow. Blue-black hair slightly tousled, as if he had just run his fingers through it. Violet eyes dancing with mirth. Black-on-black suit only emphasizing his imposing figure.

“I didn’t realize we were engaged in a game of hide-and-seek,” Feyre said. “Will you excuse me, ladies? It was wonderful to meet you both.”

And she allowed Rhys to whisk her away, through the crowded ballroom where the event was being held and up a set of stairs, where he pulled her out to a small balcony overlooking one of Prythian’s many parks to the rear of the building.

“That’s twice now,” Rhys noted, releasing Feyre’s elbow only when she leaned against the railing, her own elbows resting against the cool metal.

“Twice what?”

“That I’ve saved you from the vultures. However will you repay me?” Rhys asked, leaning onto the railing next to her.

“I’ll think of something,” Feyre said quietly, raising her eybrows.

“How are you holding up?” Rhys asked.

Feyre blinked. She had expected him to press her for details on Tamlin’s movements, or perhaps encourage her to try just a little harder to get him something, anything he could use to find justice for his little sister.

“I’m—fine,” she said haltingly. “Tamlin has another trip in two weeks, but you already know that. He’s…resistant to the idea of me hanging around Spring Solutions. Keeps insisting it’s going to interfere with my studies.”

Rhys sighed, shifting on his feet. Feyre tried to ignore how the motion brought his arm closer to hers, so close she could feel the heat of his body soaking into hers. “He may be an insufferable bastard, but the man is cautious.”

Feyre tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her wince at the words “insufferable bastard.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said, once again surprising Feyre at how adeptly he said the right thing, how flawlessly he interpreted her mannerisms and expressions. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

But Feyre shook her head. “You have every right, Rhysand. After what he did to your sister…”

Rhys let out a long sigh. Feyre echoed him a moment later.

"You called them vultures," Feyre said after several silent moments passed.

"And?"

"Why did you become an attorney if—if you find most of those people in there as abhorrent as I do?"

Rhys shrugged, the movement causing his shoulder to brush against Feyre's. "I come from a very long line of attorneys. In a way, it was the only future I ever really considered for myself. Even though I hated the way my father's work kept him so busy, how he constantly chose his billable hours over his family. I knew he never had any passion for the law he practiced. He merely craved the money, and the prestige, and the reputation."

Feyre turned to observe Rhys, studying the side of his face as he gazed out over the park.

"But I think watching all that made me want to be a different kind of attorney. Someone who cares about the people I'm representing, the cases I'm bringing. And a career as a prosecutor seemed like a good place to start—at least for now.” Rhys paused, as if weighing whether to say what he said next. “I'm not sure if it's made me any better than my father."

"For what it's worth, Rhys, I don't consider you a vulture."

Rhys met her eyes then, his face so open, so vulnerable, for one brief moment. "Likewise," he said quietly.

Feyre grimaced, choosing not to argue with him. Even though she was the one chasing the money that came with a big law job. Even though everything Rhys had said could very well describe her situation exactly.

“You want to get out of here?” Rhys said suddenly.

Feyre turned to look at him. “And do… what?”

“Take a walk. Grab a drink. Do anything other than talk to those insufferable sycophants prowling around that ballroom.”

Feyre swallowed, and before she could talk herself out of it, she heard herself saying, “Let’s go.”

An hour later, Feyre was two glasses of wine deep, laughing at something Rhys said to the strangers they had befriended at the bar a few blocks from the networking event. She hadn't had this much fun in—in a very long time. She couldn't remember the last time she went out with her friends on a whim, talking about everything and nothing, without discussing law school or work or anything serious.

But Rhys was fun. And Feyre was enjoying herself immensely. She even felt a little sad when Rhys paid the tab over her protests, insisting that he remembered all too well the weight of law school loans, before he ushered her out of the bar.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said as they emerged into the dark streets of Prythian.

“You don’t have to do that,” Feyre said.

“It’s dark and we’re downtown.”

Feyre bit her lip, but nodded in assent, turning right to lead Rhys in the direction of her apartment. They made it all of five steps before Rhys's phone rang.

"Sorry," he mouthed at Feyre, answering the call and guiding her over to the edge of the sidewalk.

"Night speaking," he said quietly, leaning against the wall.

Feyre leaned next to him, grateful for the buzz of the alcohol keeping her warm and relaxed as she waited. Grateful that it kept her from thinking too hard about the fact that she had just gone out with drinks. With Rhysand. Alone.

But the languid peace coursing through Feyre's veins evaporated when Rhys stiffened next to her.

"Who is this?" Rhys bit out.

Feyre shivered at the ice in his tone.

"Tell me who you are," Rhys growled, even as he seized Feyre's elbow and tugged her down an alley to their right, pushing her against the wall and crowding close, as if he could shield her very existence from the world around them.

"Who is this?" Rhys demanded once more.

Who the hell was on the other end of that phone call?

"Fuck!" Rhys exclaimed, the phone going dark in his hand as whoever he had been speaking to hung up.

"Who was it?" Feyre whispered.

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell me."

"What did they say?"

Feyre felt the blood drain from her face as Rhys explained.

"We have to go," Feyre said, hands coming up to push at Rhys's chest.

"No. I have to get you home. I'm calling Cassian. He'll handle it." Rhys unlocked his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

Feyre gritted her teeth. "We're two blocks away. I'll be fine. Let's just go."

And before Rhys could argue, she took off down the alleyway, jaw set.

They made it to the alley in less than five minutes, Feyre skidding to a halt at its mouth. Rhys had just hung up with Cassian, whom he had told to meet them there as quickly as possible. Feyre made to plunge into the dark alley, but Rhys grabbed her arm, shaking his head. "Stay behind me," he insisted, moving in front of and stalking slowly down the alley.

They were halfway through the space when Feyre caught sight of what looked like a pile of rags or fabric slumped against the alley wall about twenty feet in front of them.

Only, they weren’t rags, Feyre realized, watching the dark lump on the alley floor shift as Rhys approached.

It was a person—a man—laying on his side, head facing away from them, legs tangled together.

Azriel.

Feyre dropped to her knees next to the agent, the two glasses of wine she had drank earlier now threatening to come up when she beheld the state Azriel was in.

Two black eyes were already forming, his eyes so swollen they were mere slits in his red, black and blue face. Dried blood crusted the skin under his nose and continued all the way down his chin.

Feyre rested an arm on Azriel's shoulder, praying the agent wasn't bruised there as well.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

To her surprise, the agent chuckled. “Believe me, Feyre,” he grunted, his raspy voice echoing slightly in the alley around them. “I’ve had worse.”

Feyre bit her lip as Rhys brushed a hand lightly over her shoulder before joining her on the ground before Azriel.

"How long?" Rhys asked.

"Half hour," Azriel rasped, a series of hacking coughs interrupting him before he could continue. "Maybe longer."

Feyre saw the shadow of rage that passed across Rhys's face as he realized how long Azriel’s attackers had waited to call him. But he didn't verbalize it, instead murmuring, “Let’s get you up, friend." He gripped Azriel’s shoulders and pulling him into a seated position. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the agent, allowing Feyre to more fully appreciate just how battered his face was.

“Gods,” Feyre breathed, following Rhys’s lead and ducking under one of Azriel’s arms.

“It was Spring,” Azriel said quietly, once they had managed to drag him halfway down the alley.

Feyre sensed, rather than saw, Rhys stiffen at the words.

“How do you know?” Feyre asked quietly.

Azriel coughed, spitting a wad of blood onto the alley floor in front of them. “They jumped me,” he said. “Took my gun, then a few of them held me down so they could take turns hitting me. I couldn’t do anything but let them—let them—” He broke off. “Then they dumped me and said they would send someone to retrieve me. I didn't know if that meant someone to finish the job, or help. The only other thing they said, the whole time, was right before one of them stomped on my head: 'Stay the hell away from Spring Solutions. Or else.' I was out cold after that. I think."

A chill ran down Feyre’s spine.

What did or else mean?

None of them spoke another word as Rhys guided them to the mouth of the alley, where a black car awaited. Rhys ripped open the door, revealing a tense-looking Mor in the backseat. She beckoned, taking Azriel from Rhys and Feyre.

Rhys got into the front seat, and Feyre climbed into the back with Az and Mor.

"Gods above," Mor breathed, surveying the damage done to Azriel's face. "What happened?"

Rhys explained as Cassian drove them quickly away from the alley, winding through the dark streets of downtown Prythian.

"Do you think they know?" Mor asked. "About Feyre?"

Rhys shook his head. "No. It was just a coincidence that she was with me at the time."

"They're getting more confident," Cassian noted, pulling his car to a stop in a darkened side street.

It took Feyre a moment to recognize where they were.

"I'll walk you to the building," Rhys said, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car.

“What?” Feyre demanded, mouth falling open as her eyes found Mor's. "I can't go up there knowing—knowing." She broke off, unable to finish her thought. How could she return to her apartment after people from Tamlin's company had just beat Azriel into a bloody pulp just to make a statement?

"Please, Feyre. We need to get Azriel medical care, and the longer you're with us, the greater the chance your cover is blown," Mor pleaded, one manicured hand brushing back Azriel's silky black hair.

"I want to help," Feyre said quietly as Rhys opened the car door next to her.

"You are helping. You already have helped," Rhys said, reaching inside the car to unbuckle Feyre's seat belt. "We need to keep you in a position where you can help."

Feyre swallowed, and let Rhys coax her from the car.

"I'll call you to let you know how he's doing," Mor offered as Rhys shut the door.

Rhys was quiet as he escorted Feyre to the side entrance of her building. "Use that earpiece as soon as you get upstairs. Let us know you go to your apartment safely. Okay?"

"And what if my cover is blown?" Feyre asked.

"If we don't hear from you in ten minutes, I'll come bursting into that apartment myself. They wouldn’t waste time on Azriel if they found out about you.”

Feyre repressed a shudder at the implication in those words: That if Tamlin’s people discovered her treachery, they would come straight for her rather than risk her retreating to the FBI before they could silence her.

Feyre gritted her teeth, lingering in the open doorway.

"Please, Feyre. We have to get Azriel help."

There were so many things Feyre wanted to say, things that the attack on Azriel now made impossible. Had it really been less than an hour since she and Rhys had sat in that bar, laughing and talking without a care in the world?

But Feyre said nothing, instead letting the glass door swing shut between her and Rhys. And since she knew Rhys wouldn't turn to leave until she did, Feyre trudged up the stairs, fighting the urge to turn back for a last glimpse of the attorney watching her.

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

[autumnshighlady]

Tolkien Masterlist

Feanor

Wildest Dreams (ft. Fingolfin)

A Lesson in Language

Maedhros

coming soon

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

SERIES

The Professor series [WIP]

completed: Nesta, Gavriel, Feanor

coming soon: Rowan, Eris, Dorian, Maedhros, Helion

All I Gave You Is Gone (Tolkien x ACOTAR crossover) [WIP]

part 1 / part 2 /

[acourtofkindness]

Thank you for sending in all the stories, here you can find the collection! Some of these are one-shots, some are longer stories, just click your way through them and also check out their other fics!

Dancing While Intoxicated

by @respect_the_shoes (ao3) It’s been more than a year since Bryce first found her way to Prythian, several months since Nesta realized she too could walk through worlds using the Trove. Azriel, Cassian, Nesta and Gwyn were in Midgard for reconnaissance, but that didn’t mean Bryce was not going to take the opportunity to show them some of the best that Crescent City had to offer. What if members of the Night Court were able to walk between worlds and visit Bryce and her friends in Crescent City? What if during one of those visits, some of them end up at a night club?

The Bargain

by @HeadCanonHeadCase (on ao3) Azriel Moreno, Captain of the Velaris University Hockey Team, has a problem. He's failing Professor Merrill's course. Failing means no hockey, which could mess up his chances of making it to the NHL. Good thing Azriel also has a solution: Gwyneth Berdara. Smart, funny, and beautiful; she managed to get an A on the midterm when most of the class failed. And luckily for Az, Gwyn needs him too. She has a crush on Tarquin Summers, swim star at VU, but she has no idea how to get him to notice her. When Az and Gwyn make a bargain to help each other, the last thing either of them expects is to actually become friends. But that's exactly what happens. An easy trust forms that has Gwyn and Az sharing secrets that only their closest friends know. What will happen when friendship leads to something more?

[moodymelanist]

Professor cassian and student nesta smut?

hope you don't mind that it's just ~roleplay~

accepting kinktober prompts all october long! any acotar couples i've written for are fair game (not just nessian, although I certainly love wrting those freaks getting freaky)

Cassian had asked Nesta to give him a few minutes to set their office up for today’s game, which mostly involved putting one of their dining room chairs in front of his desk and making sure the curtains were firmly shut.

The neighbors certainly didn’t need to catch a glimpse of whatever was going to happen in here.

There wasn’t really much else for him to do other than twiddle his thumbs, so Cassian took a seat behind his desk. Just as he got comfortable, a knock sounded on the door, and he didn’t fight his smile at Nesta’s punctuality. He’d said ten minutes, and that was exactly what she’d given him.

"Come in," Cassian called. He pretended to shuffle some papers around just for something to do with his hands as his girlfriend opened the door, and then he was gripping the pages so tightly he half-worried he was going to rip something.

Nesta had gone for the stereotypical schoolgirl outfit, complete with a white buttoned-up shirt, tiny plaid skirt, and even a little matching plaid tie. Her legs looked long and muscular and Cassian wanted them wrapped around him even more than usual, which was saying something.

"Professor," Nesta greeted him after a moment, leaning against the doorframe with an innocent look on her face. Her skirt was so short it was a miracle he couldn't see her underwear. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Cassian took a deep breath so he wouldn't lose it right there. "Yes, I did. Have a seat, Miss Archeron."

"Okay." Nesta closed the door behind her and slid into the chair facing his desk. "Did I do something wrong, sir?"

"You failed your last test," he told her, running with the first thing that popped into his brain. She'd graduated summa cum laude from both undergrad and law school, so it was probably the first time she'd ever heard the words before. "At the rate you're going, you won't pass my class."

"Oh no," she replied with overexaggerated concern. To really sell it, she gave him a little frown and added, "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?"

"At this point?” he answered, pretending to think about it for a few seconds before releasing a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure there’s anything to be done.”

"I need this class to graduate, sir,” Nesta said pleadingly. She leaned forward and shifted her weight onto her elbows, the motion stretching her already-tight shirt nearly to the point of no return. “Is there really nothing I can do?”

“Well…” he trailed off with another sigh. “I suppose there might be an opportunity for extra credit.”

“I’ll do anything,” she told him, her eyes going big and pleading. He loved her when she was all sharp edges, but he wouldn’t lie — this was really doing it for him, too. “Please?”

“This has to stay between us, Miss Archeron,” he responded. “I can’t have the other students finding out about any… preferential treatment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed quickly. “I’m good at keeping my mouth full — I mean, shut.”

“Is that so?” Cassian asked, smirking. He’d mostly been thinking about bending her over the desk and fucking her until she cried, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity she’d handed him. “Why don’t you come over here and prove it?”

Nesta got out of her chair and slowly walked around the corner of the desk, giving Cassian more than enough time to appreciate how beautiful she was. She’d left her hair down for once instead of her usual coronet, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was so he could dig his hands in while he fucked her face.

She was thoughtful like that. It was one of the many reasons why he loved her.

“How do you want me, sir?” Nesta asked, coming to a stop right next to him.

Cassian turned in his chair so he was facing her, pressing one of his hands to her bare thigh. Her skin was soft and a little cool as usual, and right on cue, she shivered at the heat pouring off him. “On your knees.”

He inhaled sharply as she sunk to her knees, somehow managing not to break eye contact as she reached for the zipper on his pants. He couldn’t help his groan as she took him out of his pants and gave him a quick stroke, and when she ran her thumb across the head he couldn’t help another, louder groan.

“How bad do you want to pass, sweetheart?” Cassian asked, his cock hard and hot in her hand.

“A lot, sir,” Nesta answered. She blinked up at him before letting go of his cock so she could unbutton her shirt, revealing a dark red bra that emphasized the perfect size of her breasts. “Can I show you?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, reaching out to gather her hair into a messy ponytail. “If you do a good enough job… maybe you’ll pass my class after all.”

“Anything for an A,” she replied. She pulled his pants down lower for better access and returned her hand to his cock with a smirk of her own. “Sir.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he retorted, pulling her head closer to his cock. “Why don’t you focus on getting a D, yeah? That’s a passing grade, isn’t it?”

Nesta rolled her eyes at his joke but opened her mouth to suck Cassian down anyway. She gave him a few tentative bobs of her head before she took more of him, and he groaned at the feeling of all that wet heat surrounding his cock. “Fuck, that’s it.”

“So fucking gorgeous,” Cassian murmured, enraptured. He couldn’t look away from the obscene stretch of Nesta’s lips around his cock, and he sank back into his chair as she worked him like the pro that she was. “Love watching you, sweetheart.”

Nesta could take most of him, but what she couldn’t reach with her mouth and throat, she was more than happy to make up for with her hands. She wrapped one around the base of her cock and timed her strokes to the bob of her head, and it didn’t take long before Cassian was practically putty in her hands.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” Cassian panted, tightening his grip on Nesta’s hair. “So beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”

Nesta couldn’t speak, but that didn’t stop her from showing her approval. She moaned around his cock and the vibration made him buck into her mouth.

“Yeah? You like hearing how good you look sucking my cock?” he said, groaning when she whined as best she could with most of her mouth full. “Course you do. Pretty thing like you needs her mouth stuffed, doesn’t she?”

“Mhmm,” she moaned. Her eyes flicked up to meet his as she reached up to fondle his balls with her free hand, and the simmering heat in his gut went supernova.

Cassian abandoned any semblance of control as he widened his stance and started fucking into her mouth. Her eyes went a little wide and started watering, but she didn’t dare look away from him. If anything, she gave him the green light when he felt her other hand creep down to join the one already playing with his balls.

“God, Nesta, don’t stop,” Cassian grunted, a little crazed with the way his cock looked going in and out of her mouth. “Fuck, that’s a good girl, gonna fill up that perfect little throat—”

Cassian held Nesta’s head in place as he came down her throat, thrusting into her mouth with a few short, jerky pumps of his hips as pleasure rocked through him. He didn’t let up until she smacked his thigh three times in a row, their signal for when she needed to breathe, and then she was pulling herself off his cock with a slightly dazed look on her face.

“Jesus, that was hot,” Cassian said once he could think straight again. He released his tight grip on Nesta’s hair and gently ran his hands through it, trying to sort out some of the tangles he’d caused without hurting her. “You’re an A+ student in my book, sweetheart. Was that okay for you?”

Nesta nuzzled her cheek into his thigh and looked up at him with a sweet smile. She was floating a little bit, and it made him melt that she trusted him enough to let go like this. “Mhmm. Better than okay.”

“Okay,” he replied with a smile of his own. He reached down and hauled her into his lap, ignoring the way his cock twitched at having her so close. “Come on. Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing | @avidromancereader | @a-little-disguised

[talesofcreation]

˛ㅤ⠀ ⋆ ㅤ⠀⌗ ㅤ⠀𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐃𝐄𝐑 ㅤ⠀› ㅤ⠀era ⠀uma ⠀vez⠀… ⠀uma ⠀pessoa ⠀comum⠀, ⠀de ⠀um ⠀lugar ⠀sem ⠀graça ⠀nenhuma⠀! ⠀há⠀, ⠀sim⠀, ⠀estou ⠀falando ⠀de ⠀você ⠀hwi ⠀aeri⠀. ⠀você ⠀veio ⠀de ⠀baltimore⠀, ⠀eua⠀, ⠀e ⠀costumava ⠀ser ⠀neurologista ⠀por ⠀lá ⠀antes ⠀de ⠀ser ⠀enviada ⠀para ⠀o ⠀mundo ⠀das ⠀histórias⠀. ⠀se ⠀eu ⠀fosse ⠀você⠀, ⠀teria ⠀vergonha ⠀de ⠀contar ⠀isso ⠀por ⠀aí⠀, ⠀porque ⠀enquanto ⠀você ⠀estava ⠀descobrindo ⠀uma ⠀doença ⠀rara⠀, ⠀tem ⠀gente ⠀aqui ⠀que ⠀estava ⠀salvando ⠀princesas ⠀das ⠀garras ⠀malignas ⠀de ⠀uma ⠀bruxa ⠀má⠀! ⠀tem ⠀gente ⠀aqui ⠀que ⠀estava ⠀montando ⠀em ⠀dragões⠀. ⠀tá ⠀vendo ⠀só⠀? ⠀você ⠀pode ⠀até ⠀ser ⠀inteligente⠀, ⠀mas ⠀você ⠀não ⠀deixa ⠀de ⠀ser ⠀uma ⠀baita ⠀de ⠀uma ⠀imoral⠀… ⠀se⠀, ⠀infelizmente⠀, ⠀você ⠀tiver ⠀que ⠀ficar ⠀por ⠀aqui ⠀para ⠀estragar ⠀tudo⠀, ⠀e ⠀acabar ⠀assumindo ⠀mesmo ⠀o ⠀papel ⠀de ⠀cientista ⠀rival ⠀na ⠀história ⠀frankenstein⠀… ⠀bom⠀, ⠀eu ⠀desejo ⠀boa ⠀sorte⠀. ⠀porque ⠀você ⠀vai ⠀precisar⠀!

૮   ⠀pinterest ⠀✶ ⠀inspo tag ⠀✶ ⠀ connections ⠀   ◌Ⳋ𝅄

˛ㅤ⠀ 001 ㅤ⠀› ㅤ⠀𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 ㅤ⠀⋆⠀

Todo mundo sabe como funciona o mundo e como o dinheiro o move. Desde criança, Aeri sabia que, assim como era seu maior problema, pela escassez, dinheiro seria sua salvação, quando pudesse tê-lo em abundância. Entre poder, contato e tantos outros benefícios, o que a garota sempre quis era o acesso que dinheiro podia dar. O pequeno comércio dos pais no bairro mais periférico de Baltimore era o suficiente para proporcionar pequenos acessos: aulas de piano e francês, roupas de qualidade mediana e muitos livros. Desde sempre escutou que aquilo era o que lhe daria a oportunidade de ascender, uma boa educação e uma boa forma de se apresentar para as pessoas.

Na escola, era a melhor. Precisava ser. Da forma mais cruel consigo mesma, Aeri dedicava-se aos estudos como se sua sobrevivência dependesse disso. Dormia o mínimo de horas por dia para se manter saudável, não tinha nenhum amigo e não fazia absolutamente nada que não proporcionasse resultados futuros. Os resultados disso foram uma adolescente extremamente deprimida e ansiosa, mas, ao mesmo tempo, uma bolsa para estudar Medicina na Johns Hopkins School of Medicine.

Enforçada e muito inteligente, a caloura chamou atenção dos professores desde a primeira semana de aula. Foi o suficiente para abrir todas as portas que precisava e ansiava, passando a fazer parte de grupos de pesquisa desde cedo. Mais tarde, apaixonada pela neurologia, passou a focar em se especializar nesta. Ela queria ser a melhor.

Especializou-se em doenças neurológicas raras, passando a trabalhar com a maior referência do ramo no Johns Hopkins Hospital, terceiro melhor hospital do mundo. Os dois anos seguintes foram suficientes para que, aos poucos, criasse seu próprio nome e saísse das sombras de seu chefe. Trabalhando de igual para igual, Aeri passou a tratar pacientes de doenças raras sozinha.

Ao contrário de seu chefe, achava que faltava ao seu ramo da medicina a coragem de ousar. Começou a testar tratamentos em que acreditava muito, mas que não eram seguros e podiam causar consequências irreversíveis aos pacientes. Sabia que era um risco, mas tinha certeza que esse era o primeiro passo para o avanço científico e estava disposta a se expor para isso.

No ano seguinte, aproveitando dos recursos do hospital e da fama que estava adquirindo, fez todos os testes com os pacientes e, aos poucos, apontava diagnósticos que nenhum outro médico havia dado. E ela estava certa. Mais tarde, descobriria uma mutação que fazia com que aquilo fosse uma doença nova, que levaria ao conselho médico.

Enquanto os médicos estudavam a nova doença que Aeri apresentava, também estudavam seus pacientes. Todos os testes feitos foram descobertos e um enorme processo administrativo, junto com um processo criminal, contra Aeri começariam. Em seis meses, a médica foi de uma grande promessa a uma louca completa.

Sua audiência estava marcada para começar, onde seriam escutados membros do conselho, seu ex-chefe e 73 pacientes, todos com progressão considerável de suas doenças, mas com efeitos colaterais irreversíveis também. Foram três meses de depoimentos até que chegassem ao interrogatório de Aeri, que era assediada pela mídia estadunidense a meses. Estava prestes a ir para o tribunal quando, aos pés de sua porta, um livro diferente apareceu. Foi sua salvação, um jeito do mundo dizer que era boa demais para ser presa. Uma oportunidade que ela abraçaria, como todas as outras.

˛ㅤ⠀ 002 ㅤ⠀› ㅤ⠀𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐬 ㅤ⠀⋆⠀

Desde que chegou ao Reino dos Perdidos, Aeri se sente pronta para assumir o papel que lhe foi designado, de Cientista Rival no conto Frankenstein. Odiava sua vida anterior e sente que, nesta, terá muito mais liberdade para fazer as experiências que sempre quis.

Aos poucos, Aeri fica mais e mais ousada. Trabalhando na Clínica de Frankenstein, tem acesso a todos os tipos de ferramentas médicas e a pacientes que consegue convencer a usar uma coisinha a mais aqui e ali. Não coloca a vida de nenhum em risco ainda, mas começa a se sentir mais e mais a vontade com a ideia.

˛ㅤ⠀ 003 ㅤ⠀› ㅤ⠀𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 ㅤ⠀⋆⠀

Aeri é fluente em inglês, coreano e francês, além de se comunicar bem em alemão, mandarim e japonês.

Joga xadrez desde os sete anos de idade e ganhou algumas competições durante a infância e adolescente, mas parou de competir quando começou a faculdade.

Se fosse condenada, os advogados estimavam que seria presa por cerca de 12 anos.

[velidewrites]

The Daily Struggles Of An Art Student

Desperate to finish her male anatomy assignment before the deadline, Feyre Archeron finds a secluded corner in a cafe. Or so she thinks.

Pairing: Feysand

Tags: Modern AU, Artist!Feyre, Look folks I'm just going to say it: Feyre spends half of this fic looking up reddit [redacted] for a male anatomy assignment

Notes: Happy birthday the wonderful @the-lonelybarricade! I wrote you this definitely not unhinged one-shot as a little gift. Thank you for being such a great friend, and truly the most supportive person in this fandom. I cherish you!!

Read on AO3

Feyre was running out of time.

Deadlines, she decided, were really not her thing. What was that saying? “You can’t rush art?” Well, her professor at the New York Academy of Art would be inclined to disagree. Then again, Feyre wasn’t sure the blank page shining a soft, white light from her iPad could really count as “art.”

She sighed in frustration, shifting in her seat. As if the new angle could help, somehow. With exactly four hours and twenty minutes until she was to submit her assignment, the prospect of failing was quickly starting to look more and more like a reality. Feyre had always been bad at painting from memory, particularly when it came to capturing people. Her own cat, she could probably paint in minutes and be satisfied with the outcome. Or the view from her apartment. Or the honey-brown colour of her sister’s eyes, especially when she just saw Elain at dinner the other day.

Male anatomy, on the other hand…

Feyre needed a reference. Desperately.

It wasn’t unusual for an art student to spend hours on Pinterest, searching for the perfect pose, one that would be just right. Feyre had done it herself too many times to count. It was simply that…well, Pinterest could not provide a reference for everything. And Feyre would rather not use her own memory to capture a man’s physique in full.

She had just broken up with Tamlin, after all, and had very little interest in ever recalling their time together again. Lucky for her, he had moved to Boston last week to pursue his Master’s, never to bother her again. Hopefully.

Unfortunately, with Pinterest proving entirely hopeless, and Tamlin decidedly out of the picture, Feyre was left entirely out of options.

The worst thing about all this was that Feyre had only herself to blame.

There had been one option she simply pretended not to acknowledge, though she would have finished yesterday morning had it not been for her own stubbornness—or, as Nesta had called it, had she not been such a prude. Feyre certainly did not think of herself as one—it was just that…well.

Every morning, from 8 till 10:30 sharp, her class offered anatomy studies with a handful of volunteers from the student body posing for their life drawing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they were completely nude, which was not something Feyre would have cared about in the slightest had their newest model not been Feyre’s best friend. And her sister’s new boyfriend.

Ever since she had told Lucien Vanserra the school was considering paying the volunteers for their efforts, his gaze lit up and, not even a day later, there he was, his name displayed proudly on the sign-up sheet. Feyre knew him long enough now to know the extra money in his pocket was just an excuse. Someone has to capture this body one way or another, Feyre, Lucien had told her a few days ago, a twinkle in his russet eye. She supposed he did make an interesting art subject, with the scar and all—but not nearly interesting enough to strut through the East Building proudly, letting both students and teachers alike gush on about his “cruel beauty.”

Elain, to her horror, seemed to support Lucien’s latest modelling endeavours wholeheartedly.

“He promised to bring a few of the sketches home,” her sister had told her excitedly at dinner. The best reaction Feyre could offer was a horrified, blinking stare.

It wasn’t that Lucien was lacking in the looks department—on the contrary, actually—but she’d always seen him as a brother, ever since the day he’d almost run her over on his motorcycle, her very first day as a college freshman. And so, for the past few days, Feyre would make sure to avoid the East Building like the plague.

Today, she ended up in a nearby campus cafe, a cozy spot for a senior art student seeking privacy, yet still crowded enough to make Feyre look over her shoulder every few minutes. She’d opted for a secluded corner near the restrooms, with no windows next to her table, just in case a nosy passerby caught a glimpse of what exactly Feyre was drawing. Or, rather, attempting to draw.

She glanced at her phone, an unpleasant sense of dread curling in her stomach once again as she realised twenty more minutes had passed. Had she really wasted all that precious time thinking about Lucien?

Feyre needed to come up with a solution, and fast. There was no way she was failing this class, not in her final year. She was planning to move to Paris next year and continue her education there—where better than the art capital of the world? She would not let a poor painting of a penis, of all things, ruin all of her plans and dreams for the future.

Relying on Pinterest for now, Feyre began sketching the unnamed man. His upper body posed no serious issues, and she found herself done with the clean lineart and three hours thirty minutes left to spare. The thighs, too, seemed to feature all the muscles in correct places, though upon further inspection, she had perhaps drawn them slightly too large for a regular, male specimen. Whatever. With Lucien as the current model, she doubted any of her classmates would submit perfectly proportionate sketches.

Good, Feyre decided. This was good. The only thing left for her to do now was to find a good reference for the final pièce de résistance. She could do this—there was no one around, after all, and she’d make sure her browser history would be wiped clean later. Ressina, her classmate from the Academy, liked to borrow Feyre’s iPad sometimes to try her skills at digital art—and Feyre wasn’t sure their friendship was well-established enough that she could explain without making a fool of herself.

With a deep, deep sigh, Feyre got over herself and fired up Reddit.

Well.

This was going to make things a whole lot easier.

It was honestly beyond her that this entire archive was out there, for free and simply waiting for her to download. Without wasting any more time, Feyre got to scrolling.

She hadn’t expected to be flooded with so many options, but soon enough, she found just the perfect reference—the angle matched exactly the pose she had already outlined, and from the ruler he’d so proudly displayed beside it, the man didn’t seem like he would mind. And so, with the image neatly placed in the corner of her canvas, Feyre began to add the sketch. Everything seemed to be coming together—and, her focus lost entirely to the penis before her, she was actually starting to believe she might just submit this thing in time.

“Friend of yours?”

“Shit!” Feyre jumped, pressing her iPad close to her chest as she whirled back.

The voice behind her—of course—turned out to be a man. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

“Well?” he asked, eyes twinkling. Were they actually violet, or was the soft light pouring through the window just that spectacular?

Feyre felt her cheeks heating. “You know, it’s rude to invade other people’s privacy,” she told him, anger slowly replacing the embarrassment coiling in her chest.  Who was this man, this stranger, to question her?

He only seemed more amused, though he lifted a defensive hand. “Hey, I was just leaving the restroom,” he said, pointing back to the staircase behind. “It’s not my fault you’re right out here for all to see. Who’s invading whose privacy now, hmm?” Before Feyre opened her mouth to retort, the man added, “Oh, no need to apologise. Mind if I sit?”

And with that, he simply plopped down on the chair beside her.

The audacity. 

Feyre’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t going to apologise,” she said, setting her now locked iPad on the table.

He ran a hand through his hair, raven waves soaking up the sunlight, and smiled again. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“Anyway, this isn’t my friend,” Feyre said, hoping there was enough mockery in her tone to wipe that stupid grin off his handsome face. “It’s a project. For art school.”

“Ah, yes” he mused, drumming his long, slender fingers on the polished wood. “I could tell from how precise your strokes were.” Something about the way he said strokes made the heat in her face nearly boil over. Get it together, idiot! He leaned back in his seat, as if he could somehow tell exactly what Feyre was thinking. Then, he proclaimed, “You’re an artist.”

Alright, Feyre decided. Not entirely a prick, then. “I’m not sure I’d call myself that,” she admitted honestly. Not yet, at least.

“I would,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling slightly as he added, “I’d like to call you many things, actually. Let’s start with your name.”

There it was. Feyre couldn’t help but flirt in return. Prick or not, she liked his boldness—and his good looks certainly were no disadvantage. “You first,” she demanded.

He flashed her a wide, brilliant smile. “My favourite subject.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

“Rhysand,” he said. “But you, darling, can call me Rhys.”

Rhysand. The name was so unusual she almost didn’t register what he’d called her. Darling. It was then that she’d finally taken her eyes off his face long enough to take in the rest of him—the deep, English accent, lilting as though he wasn’t speaking to her but singing the smoothest melody.

Yeah—she really needed to get it together.

“What brings you to New York City, Rhysand?” she asked him, not giving him the satisfaction of using his clearly personal nickname yet. His eyes sparkled again, accepting the challenge.

He shrugged. “Research. The sights. Pretty girls drawing male genitalia at 1pm on a Tuesday.” Rhysand winked. “Greatest city in the world, huh?”

Feyre’s cheeks flushed again. “Research?” she questioned, desperate not to go back to that topic with a man she’d only just met.

Rhys chuckled. “Yes. I’m an astronomer—or about to be, at least.”

“Interesting.”

“It is,” he agreed, and she could’ve sworn actual stars flickered in his gaze with the words. “You’d be surprised just how much the night sky has to offer.”

“I paint it sometimes,” Feyre told him, unsure why she’d just admitted something that personal to a stranger. “Whenever I feel…down, I suppose.”

To her surprise, Rhys nodded. “I do the same.”

Her brows flicked up. “Paint?”

“I’m afraid I’m not that talented. No, I look up—watch the stars.”

Feyre smiled. “That actually sounds wonderful.”

Rhys angled his head. “You know, I haven’t had the chance to explore the New York sky yet. I could use some company.”

Something told her she was up for one hell of a first date. “Alright, Rhys,” Feyre said, his face lighting up triumphantly at the name. She chuckled, grabbing her iPad as she rose from her chair. “Meet me here at seven thirty tonight.”

“Wait!” he called after her. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she teased. “I’m not sure I’m ready to part with darling.”

The stars in his eyes twinkled. “Oh, I think we’ll work something out.”