#Rhys being a good dad

[the-lonelybarricade]

If you're taking prompts. How about Rhys teaching Nyx how to be a proper ruler or to harness his powers? 😊

Thank you for the prompt lovely!! I hope you enjoy this little scene I whipped up during my lunch break!

Rhys Week - Day 2: High King

“As High King, I sentence you with treason against the crown.”

“Treason?” Cassian balked. “That's hardly—”

“Silence,” Nyx roared, fury glinting in his deep blue eyes. He raised his fists into the air. “Any last words?”

A smirk twitched at the corner of Cassian’s lips. “Behind you.”

Nyx turned, just in time to be met with the snowball hurtling through the air. He stumbled backwards as it smashed against his face, appearing momentarily stunned as the ice crystals fluttered away from his chin.

Two deep sets of laughter rumbled through the air, one from Cassian behind the boy and the other from Azriel, who watched in amusement as Nyx shook off the excess snow.

Rhysand could track the very moment the fun transcended into something darker. Nyx wiped his hand across his face, discarding more than just the layer of snow. Something shifted in his eyes as he surveyed his howling uncles. A look that offered enough warning for Rhysand to throw a shield around his brothers, around the cottage, around Nyx himself.

Every snow-built fortress and soldier exploded into a mist of frost, eviscerating their hours of work, along with Azriel and Cassian’s laughter.

The world went so still for a moment. 

Nyx stood at its center, marveling the carnage. Azriel and Cassian watched him warily, faltering somewhere between protecting their nephew and protecting themselves.

Snow crunched underfoot as Rhysand stood from his now demolished cover. He was the first to brave that heart wrenching realization dawning on Nyx’s face.

“Nyx,” Rhysand said softly, crouching before his son.

Tears glistened in his eyes, and he aimed them anywhere but his father’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffed.

“Talk me through what happened.”

His bottom lip began quivering. “I got mad.”

“And then what?” Rhys prompted.

Nyx glanced around at the empty field of snow and let out a wet sob. “Then it all exploded.”

“On the outside, yes,” Rhys murmured. He pressed a hand to his son’s chest. “But you felt it in here first, didn’t you? Felt your magic building up?”

“It happened so quickly,” he said, eyes wide with a fear that Rhys felt like a knife in the gut. “I didn’t—” he sucked in a harsh breath . “I didn’t mean to—” 

“Come here,” Rhys murmured, pulling his son against his chest. Nyx stuffed his face into his father’s shoulder, and like a blockage in a stream being cleared away, the tears began flowing in earnest. Rhysand rocked him gently, giving him a moment to release all that emotion before he gently prompted, “Did you know that sometimes, I’m afraid of my power, too?”

His small voice was muffled against Rhysand’s tunic. “...You are?”

“And so is your mother.” Rhys soothed a hand over Nyx’s long, dark scruff of hair. He had been growing it out to be more like his uncle Cassian. “And mistakes like this, they are all a part of learning. They remind us why it’s so important to learn control. So that the next time your magic builds up, you can manage it safely.”

Nyx pulled away, tears still shimmering among the constellations in his eyes.

“Remember your lessons?” A tendril of night drifted from Rhysand’s palm, snaking around Nyx’s shoulders. It nudged him affectionately against the cheek. “What’s an example of a safe way to release magic?”

Nyx held out his hand, and that same star-kissed power released from his palm, lifting into the air to twine playfully with Rhysand’s. His heart tugged at the sight.

“You know how it feels now, when your magic needs to be drained. You’ll get better at recognizing it, but now you have an idea of your threshold—and what happens if you go beyond it.” Nyx nodded, absently feeling at his chest. Rhys knew the phantom ache he felt there all too well. “What do you do the next time you feel it building?”

“I release it,” Nyx said, with newfound determination. “So that no one gets hurt.”

Rhys smiled proudly. “That’s right. Now, what do you need to go say to your uncles?”

With a closed fist, Nyx hastily wiped away the remaining tears from his cheeks before marching over to where Azriel and Cassian stood, watching with poorly hidden concern. 

Shoulders set with an earnesty that was entirely Feyre’s doing, Nyx met each of his uncles in the eyes and said sincerely, “I’m sorry for losing control of my magic.”

“Hey, we’re all okay, aren’t we?” Cassian said warmly, clapping an affectionate hand onto Nyx’s shoulder. 

And what else, Nyx? Rhys prompted silently. What else do you have to say to your uncles?

He had circled around, so that he could see the sparkle in his son’s eyes, the mischievous tilt to his lips that felt almost like looking in a mirror. 

“One other thing,” Nyx said to them, sounding much more elevated now that he could see the way Rhysand knelt to the ground and plunged his hand into the cold snow.

Nyx couldn’t help laughing as he said, “Behind you.”

[goldenspringmornings]

I can't remember but is it ever stated anywhere how long rhys's dad was high lord? cause I was thinking about it for a fic and it occurred to me that sjm (or me) could do the absolute funniest thing

[azsazz]

A Snowy Starfall

Daddy!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Batbabies waging their OWN snowball fight imitating their dad & uncles. Some take it too seriously, others don't take it seriously at all, it's pure chaos that ends in cocoa.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,003

Notes: Happy Holidays my loves 💙

_________________________________________

“Come on, you three,” you tut towards your mate and his friends. They’re standing before the large glass windows overlooking your backyard. The sun casts deep oranges and reds across the snow-ridden land, your children shrieking as they play in the snow. A valiant snowball fight is running its course, and Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand stand, faces pressed to the windows as they watch, quietly cheering their children on. “They’re going to notice you staring.”

“Maybe they already have,” Feyre adds from her spot at your kitchen counter. She’s concentrating intently on decorating a cookie, adding swirls of black icing to the gingerbread woman’s hand, creeping up her extended arm. The cookie’s dress is provocative, bare dough legs showing between slats of laced icing. She hardly glances up as she continues, “They’re probably imitating them as we speak.”

Curious, you peek out the window, too. Indeed, Wren and Baz have built a fortress in the snow to protect themselves from the onslaught of snowballs being thrown their way. Gideon and Nyx have joined forces against the two brothers, the latter packing the fluffy snow into tight, white balls, while Gideon launches their ammo towards your sons.

Your eldest daughter, Zuzu, and Nyx’s younger sister, Asteria, had joined the competition early on. They’d been a formidable team too, but grew bored of their brothers and cousin who were taking the snowball fight a little too seriously. Now, they are in the snow with little Castor, who had cried until she’d been let outside by her protective father, bundled up in so many clothes her wings nearly disappeared into the fabric. The girls are making snow angels, though Castor’s looks very much like a circle on the lawn.

Dark streaks dart behind the wall your sons have built and you frown, watching as Baz’s shadows help roll clumps of snow closer, creating perfectly circular snowballs. From what you’d heard from your husband’s friends, using shadows was against any and all snowball fight rules.

You cut Azriel a glance but he’s conveniently occupied, watching the game outside.

“Well, at least they’re both on the same team,” you comment to your mate, who refuses to let his gaze stray from the little boys. Good, he can watch them while he does the dishes then, since there’s a window above the sink. You pat him on the ass, nodding towards the mess of dishes in the sink. He nods in response, loping quickly over to peer out the window again. “So they’ll either both lose or both win.”

“They’ll both win,” Az responds immediately, a quick but pointed look your way. “They do take after me.”

Cassian scoffs behind you and you turn to see a scowling Nesta shooting him a look as he tries to steal a cookie. Jax giggles in her lap at his uncle's antics, but when Cassian hands him part of the cookie and its head falls off, Jax’s smile wobbles. He’s not outside due to the nature of his powers. As an empath, sensing the competitive nature of his siblings and the sting of a snowball to the face, it had been in his best interest to be inside around the luscious scents of cookies and warmth, instead of out in the bitter snow.

Nesta coos, bouncing him, and Cassian is thankful for the distraction, slipping further down the counter to where the High Lord sits, trying—and failing—to gain his mate's attention. The commander slips an arm around Rhys’ shoulders and glares at the back of Azriel’s head, continuing his complaining. “The only reason you’ve won so many is because of those damn shadows, Az.”

Azriel throws over his shoulder, wincing as Baz takes a snowball to the face, his face going red with fury. “How was I supposed to know they were unaffected by the magic restrictions?” he claims, sending said shadows out into the yard once he sees Baz’s slipping through the snow, headed for the icicles hanging off the railings of the porch. His intercept his sons in a display of authority, spearing them into blackened mist. Baz glances up to the window, locking eyes with his father, who wears a look of warning on his face, brow raised. Azriel watches his son visibly huff and take his anger out on the snow, building a ball and launching it across the playing field in frustration.

His gaze cuts across the yard, narrowing his eyes. Gideon and Nyx are crouched low behind their own pile of snow, looking like they’re scheming. He wants to trail his shadows in their direction, listen in on their conversation, but he’s alerted to Malos’ whines from the other room. If one of his youngest is awake, they either both are, or will be soon.

“Malos is up,” Az tells you softly, shutting off the water to the sink. He wipes his hands on a towel and kisses you gently on the cheek. You’re mixing color into icing for the cookies, getting ready for when it’s too dark out for the children to play. They’ll get all cleaned up and have some hot chocolate to warm their bellies, and you, Feyre, and Nesta have baked cookies for all of the children to decorate. “I’ll get them.”

“I’ll join,” Cassian answers, stealing another cookie off of a platter. He dunks it into your icing to the neck, the cookie dripping with sugary goodness as he lifts it to his mouth, shoving it inside. He ducks under your glare. “Gotta go get my baby.”

Cassian and Nesta’s youngest daughter, Sif, had been put down for a nap with both Knox and Malos. She’s still a little too young to be outside without supervision, and the eldest children of the Inner Circle demanded time outside without their parents, probably because they knew their fathers would try and take over their snowball fight had they been outside. They didn’t want any tips or tricks, not even your children, even with Azriel’s hundred of wins beneath his belt.

Jax climbs from Nesta’s lap over Rhys who lets out a harsh exhale when his knee lands a little too close to his private area, and then over to Feyre, who finally sets her cookie down to scoop your middle son in her arms.

“Pretty,” Jax comments, pointing at her decorative cookie. It looks just like her, and there’s one next to it that looks a little like Rhysand. Purple dots for eyes stare up at him. “Uncle Rhysie?”

“Good job, Jax,” Feyre coos, pressing kisses to his cheeks. They pink with a blush and he settles into her arms, looking utterly at bliss. He revels in the warmth of her emotions, the pride surging through her. It feels like warm bubbles in his chest, and he noses at her collar.

“Look who’s ready to party,” Azriel announces, entering the room, arms full with your two youngest children, Malos and Knox. Knox still looks a little sleepy, head resting against Azriel’s shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. His tiny wings are droopy with sleep, and his twin sister, Malos, is already reaching for the cookies. 

Nesta is quick to scoop her away from Azriel. She claims not to have a favorite niece, but Malos and her have an understanding. You see more of Nesta in Malos’ personality than any of the children of the Inner Circle, and you’re extremely happy that they have such a close connection. 

“Hi baby,” you greet Knox, who is signing mommy to you. You ease him out of Azriel’s arms, who promptly returns to his position in front of the window, pressing exaggerated kisses to his chubby cheeks. It makes him smile wide, flaring those wings that he hasn’t quite figured out how to control. “Are you ready for some yummy cookies?”

His dark eyes light with excitement. Of course your children are ready for sweets, they always are. They picked that up from Azriel, who has the biggest sweet tooth you’ve ever seen.

Cassian reenters the room with his daughter in his arms and Rhys pouts. Almost everyone in the room is preoccupied with a child in their arms, except for him. Maybe he can convince Feyre to have one more. The youngest children in the family are two now and he misses having a tiny babe around.

By the heated look in her eyes, his mate seems to be considering the same, sneaking past those shadowy walls in his mind to catch a glimpse of his thoughts. The High Lord smirks. He sends her over some imagery to go with his thoughts, and her cheeks go red. That hot look turns into one of warning, and she’s speaking out loud now, “Why don’t you call the children inside so they can get warmed up and decorate some cookies?”

“Of course, darling,” Rhys sweeps from his seat in a wisp of darkness. 

Breaking a cookie in half, you give part of it to Knox, who signs thank you, munching on the sweet. The other half is passed to Malos as you head towards where your mate is finishing up the dishes, leaning against him for a moment, reveling in all of your family happily together.

“I love you,” Azriel murmurs into your hair, leaning over to sneak a bite of Knox’s cookie. Your son stares up at his father with wide eyes, and like this, he looks just like Az. It makes your heart warm, and Jax squeals in happiness in response, your happiness radiating to him. It makes your grin wider, peeking over your shoulder to see him so content in his aunt's arms. 

“I love you too, Az,” you whisper back to him, resting your forehead against his. 

It’s a nice moment, until the children from outside are wrangled through the door by Rhys. The boys are arguing about who has won their snowball fight, while the girls are peeling away their winter gear, excited to decorate cookies with icing and sprinkles and the edible petals Elain had given you before her trip to the Summer Court with Lucien. 

“Now, now, boys,” Rhys starts, but the diplomatic tone he’s using does nothing to deter the cousins from arguing. “I’m sure we can come to a consensus without yelling and acquiescing.”

“But Baz used his shadows,” Nyx complains, wringing his gloves between his hands in frustration. “We all saw it.”

“Nyxie, don’t be mean to Baz,” Wren counters, brows furrowed. He doesn’t like it when his family argues, especially over trivial things. His heart is so kind. “You can win the snowball fight if you want, but Baz and I are gonna win the cookie decorating contest, right Bazzy?”

“No,” Baz says flatly, dropping his gear onto the floor. You give him a look but he almost seems un-bothered by it, done with the debate his cousins are currently having. “We won the snowball fight and we’re going to win the cookie decorating contest.” 

You share a look with your mate, watching the scene unfold. Baz is quite the Stubborn Suriel, no matter what it comes to.

“Dad,” Nyx groans, “Can’t you do something?”

Cassian is the one who comes to the rescue, Castor reaching up at him for her sister. He helps the little one down and the older one with her undressing, peeling her thermals off layer by layer. “It’s not about who won, right boys? It’s about spending time and having fun with the ones you love.”

Feyre, Nesta, and yourself awe at his words, but Azriel and Rhysand are rolling their eyes and muttering under their breath at Cassian’s cheesy words. 

“What a kiss ass.”

“Smug fucker.”

“Azriel,” you hiss, turning your body away from him, like that will hide Knox from his vulgar words. “Language.” 

He winces, “Sorry love.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now, bouncing Knox in your arms a little as you turn fully from your mate. You poke Knox’s belly playfully before addressing the rest of the room. “How about those cookies, then? They won’t decorate themselves!”

[sungmee]

ECCC 2023 OFMD Panel Highlights:

vico showed up in izzy cosplay, they all were very excited at having a room of 3000 people cheering for them

on being asked about becoming sex symbols: "there's nothing sexier than kindness" -rhys

vico talking about how they had no clue on sailing and boat things, saying "starburst" instead of "starboard"

rhys started making sheep noises with a dad joke and then they all just started doing sheep impressions. samba's was basically just a scream

vico standing up and showing off their sword "wait that's a real sword" "how did you get that through weapons check??"

a question about who in the cast probably reads fanfic, they said nathan, paused, then said "i think con reads a lot of fanfiction"; samba gave a shoutout to rizzy

one word for what their character gets up to in s2: vico: serious gooseness (as opposed to silly gooseness) rhys: fantastical samba: let's just say there's more screaming

alex sherman apparently said s1 stede was a puppet becoming a real boy and s2 is stede becoming a man

on what cryptid stede would like best, rhys said "stede would go for the mermaid...or the kraken"

musical episode question, what song their character would sing: vico: tu pirata soy yo samba: let's get it on ("as he's torturing somebody") rhys: rainbow connection

samba: you know, karl dies- rhys: WHAT

rhys: i wish i had stede's hair samba: YOU DO

last question was what the toughest episode was to film samba: spoilers for s2?? moderator: how strong is your NDA? samba: very strong. there's a sniper in the room

then vico said ep 2 was the toughest and rhys said there's more physical stuff happening in s2, he had to workout, and samba got all the BTS

no release date or trailer, but it was a great panel with good questions and thoughtful answers

[homeslices]

Euphoria (Azriel x pregnant!reader)

Summary: You and Azriel find out you’re pregnant.

A/N: Thought his idea was cute and I’m thinking about making this an entire series of dad!Azriel. Also I’m sorry if this isn’t good, it’s my first time writing anything for acotar, but I do really like it so I plan on writing more in the future.

Pairings: Azriel x pregnant!Reader

Warnings: suggests smut, slight angst about not being able to conceive a baby (fluff to make up)

Word Count: 1.0k

Azriel and you had been trying to have a babe for a while. While the only people in the Inner Circle who had a child was Rhys and Feyre, you have been mated for hundreds of years and were beyond ready. 

Having children was something you had to have many lengthy discussions about first. Azriel’s trauma with his family as a child and your own trauma being an Illyrian women whose wings got clipped before being cast out of your home only too be found and taken in by Rhys’s his mother, were all things you both had to think about before even considering bringing a babe in this world. That’s not even mentioning the war you and all of your loved ones fought in and somehow survived. However, seeing Feyre and Rhy being amazing parents to their son, and just seeing Nyx in general, has confirmed what you both have wanted for a while. 

But, as much as you both wanted a child, it just did not happen. It’s been years since you started trying, and as much as you love to be with Azriel intimately, it started to feel more like a task rather than something fun. There have been a few nights that Azriel has woken up because you forgot to close the bond and was flooded with your feelings of self-loathing. All he could do was cup your tearstained face and whisper reassuring and loving words to you. You blamed yourself and as much as Azriel denied it, those thoughts just didn’t go away.

After the third night of that happening, both you and Azriel decided to just stop trying. Of course you both would continue to not take the tonic, but your goal while being intimate was no longer having a baby, it was to enjoy each other. After a time, sex was pleasurable again, your mindset improved, and while you did have moments of self doubt, Azriel was always there for you as you were for him. Similarly, your family was amazing the entire time. While Azriel and you were fairly private about the situation, you didn’t hide what was going on with them. Their support helped you heal, both of you. It’s been a few years since then, Nyx was now six and it is true that time heals all wounds. 

Azriel was the one who noticed it first. The sun was starting to rise, light beginning to stream through the window of Azriel and your shared bedroom. It was one of those rare occasions that neither of you had to go anywhere that morning, however, Azriel was so used to being up before the sun that he was already awake. Your face was peaceful as you slept, your bare figure tangled in the sheets, and the only noise heard was your soft breathing. His hazel eyes watched your calm face, all the while having his shadows watch both of your surroundings. Weirdly enough, his shadows also kept brushing over you, almost like they were scared to let you out of their grip. It reminded him of when you first mated, at least one of his shadows had to be with you at all times once both of you got out of the frenzy.

There was something different, something unusual that Azriel could sense that made him feel uneasy, but not on edge. It bothered him, however, as your eyes fluttered open and you shifted your body to face your mate, it hit him. Well, your scent hit him. Before, the room smelled of the previous night’s activities, but with your change in position, he could now make out that your scent has changed. It was subtle, but the slight sweetness in the air was all that was needed to figure out what was so strange. 

Azriel’s face was the first thing you saw as you woke up. Despite being able to mask how he’s feeling extremely well, his slightly widened eyes, along with the millions of thoughts running rampant behind them, were all telltale signs that he was in shock. 

You hum curiously before speaking.

“What is it?” you question while reaching up to cup the side of his face, rubbing your thumb along his cheek. You could feel the coolness of his shadows brushing all over your body, it was comforting yet slightly unusual to wake up to. 

“You're pregnant.” 

Sitting up suddenly, as if a bucket of ice water had been spilt on you, you look at him bewildered.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

A grin filled with pure joy took over his face as he answered you once again. 

“You’re pregnant.”

All you could feel was disbelief and elation. You could now tell that your scent was different and all you could do was look at your husband, your mate, incredulously. His deep laugh fills the room, only further showing his happiness. You beam at him as he lifts you in his arms and settles you on his lap. His bare skin felt warm against yours, and the chill that continued to brush over you from the shadows felt perfect against you. The only time you’ve felt this overjoyed was when you found out you were mated to Azriel. You brush your lips against his as he cups your face, brushing away the tears you didn’t know were falling. 

You knew things were going to change from that point on. You knew how male got when their mate was pregnant, how protective they became. You saw first hand when Feyre was pregnant with Nyx, she could never move more than a few feet away before Rhys was next to her once again, and if a stranger came up to her, everyone could feel the power he unleashed to get them away. Rhys had mentioned it was similar to how males are after first being mated, but also said that that is nothing compared to how protective he felt of his mate carrying his child. 

You knew that this was only the beginning of troubles you would face. But at this point in time, wrapped in one another’s embrace, tenderly kissing tears of joy off each other's face while the morning light poured in, all you could feel was euphoria. 

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 3

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N looks forward to the next time her and Feyre go to the Night Court. Choosing to stay out of the way in the Spring she is visited by the High Lord and threats are made. Few months of learning how to read and Feyre finally warming up to the Night Court, the next time they return to the Spring Y/N is caught of guard and chaos ensues.

Content Warning: 18+ brief depictions of abuse, Tamlin being a dick, Ianthe appearance, unwanted groping (Not from any of our beloved night court folks or Spring court), blood, separation.

Word Count: 5.6k

chapter 2 Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry if it seems to be a bit sped up but I simply could not bring myself to write more filler chapters! I hope you enjoy!

After my argument with Feyre, I locked myself in my room for the three weeks. Feyre had tried to come apologize and she tried to come in, but I had made sure my door was locked. I didn’t really move from my chair other than to change and sneaking into the kitchen late at night to eat. To avoid running the High Lord, Lucien or my sister.

There had been a continuous warmth on my tattooed wrist, Rhys’ reminder that I wasn’t alone. On the bad days where sleep evaded me, I tried to send back a wave of appreciation, unsure if he could feel it. Chances were he we were sleeping when I sent so he probably didn’t even know, but I did appreciate him.

Feyre and I have never had many fights and it was even rarer that the fight had resulted in us not talking and working it out. The last time was right before Tamlin took us away.

Feyre slammed her bow on the table. “You should have been here. What were you thinking going out there?”  I scoffed as I dropped the wolf carcass on the table, facing my twin whose eyes flared with anger and a hint of fear. “You could have died!”

The door creaked open, and I glanced to see Nesta and Elain emerge from the bedroom. Their eyes went wide taking a look at the beast on the table. Our dad remained near the fireplace not acknowledging that Feyre and I had returned. Not like he noticed when we left. “Feyre, you could have died to. I have just as much skill at hunting like you, we work better together, and it worked out look at what we caught.” I held out my arm to show the wolf. “I love you, and I didn’t want you going out alone tonight. I’m glad I was there to help you take this beast down.”

Feyre blew up, “I could have killed you! I didn’t know you were there!”

I gave her a doubtful look and cross my arms, “I have been able to sense your presence since we have been children, you definitely knew I was there.”

Feyre ran her fingers through her brown hair not caring if she got blood in it. “Maybe I wanted to be alone, figured Nesta would give you some good quality time. At least she doesn’t despise your presence.”

My mouth dropped and quickly recovered, “Are you fucking serious, Fey? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Girls,” Our father croaked from his spot in the fireplace, only then that I noticed he was carving something in his hands. “That’s quite enough. Y/N your mother and I have taught you better than to use that type of language.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever you say.” I grit out and was about to push past my sisters when the door flung off its hinges and a beast with emerald eyes locked his gaze with mine.

A knock caused me to jolt from my seat and the book I was attempting to read on the table next to the chair, “Go away,” I yelled trying to conceal the fact the knock on the door frightened me.

The sound of the lock turning, and the door opens causing me to jump out of my chair, to see Tamlin strolling in. He shut the door and made a spectacle of locking the door. His eyes met mine and his eyes held nothing but cold and controlled anger. “Long time no see, Y/N.” He drawled and I tried not to shiver as fear locked up my joints. He slowly approaches me with his hands clasped behind his back, “You’re breaking Feyre’s heart you know. Locking yourself in here.” The sun from the window hit him and in any other situation I would have found his beauty mesmerizing, but his beauty looked sinister.

I crossed my arms and Tamlin takes notice of my tattoo decorating my skin before its tucked away. Feigning indifference, tucking the fear deep down and lifting my chin. “What do you want, Tamlin?” Shifting my weight back and forth.

Tamlin closed the distance, and I took a step back, “You’re coming down and having dinner with us tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, and I could hear the growl in his chest, “No thanks, as you can see, I’m quite busy here.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, “That wasn’t a request,” he took another step toward me.

“I don’t care,” I muttered and made the error of trying to step around him and in a flash, he gripped me and pinned me against the wall his muscled his hand moved from my arm and moved to my hip his free hand clamping down over my mouth. His gaze turned feral and crazed, letting his anger unleash and I could only produce a whimper through his hand.

He brought his face closer to mine and I could see the pure ire in his eyes. “Listen to me carefully. You are going to clean up, put on a pretty dress, come downstairs and apologize to Feyre for causing her stress and pain. Then you are going to eat in silence you will be seen and not heard.” I tried to yank my head, but he has my face in an iron grip, and he gripped my hip in bruising force keeping me pinned to the wall, “Like the good little human girl you are.” He released my face.

I quickly spat in his face, “Fuck-“he clamped his hand back over my mouth and I lashed against him.

Tamlin tsked, “No, no, the only thing I wanted to hear from you at all is ‘Yes Tamlin.’ And an apology to my soon to be wife.” He gripped my hip so tightly I gasped, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Tamlin kissed it away, the gesture going against his words. He met my eyes again his grin anything but comforting, “Blink if you understand, Y/N,” my name almost a snarl against his lips. I slowly blink and more tears fall. He lowers his face to kiss my forehead and I thrash my hands trying to push him away, but I couldn’t move him. He pulled away and released my body giving my cheek a not so tender pat, “Good Girl. Now go clean up there will be a dress on your bed,” he turned and made his way to the exit.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and I noticed Tamlin paused, “Oh and Y/N,” He turned his hand still on the handle, “Make no mistake if you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair. Feyre’s happiness is important to me I will do anything to keep a smile on her face.” With that he left, and I let the emotions of the interaction fully take over and slide down the wall and bury my face in my knees to stifle the uncontrollable sobs. I barely notice how warm and tingling my tattoo is through the tears.

Cassian’s POV

I sat in the lounge of the townhouse with Rhys, there was a throbbing in my chest that caused discomfort. I rubbed my chest, but the pain wouldn’t subside, it felt like my heart was aching. I creased my eyebrows sadness consumed me and I rubbed that spot tighter as I closed my eyes.

“Cass, you alright?” Rhys’ voice pulled me from the wave of emotion overtaking me.

“I just have this weird feeling; my chest feels tight.”

Rhys gave me his full attention, his glass of whiskey forgotten. “Do you need me to get Madja?”

I shook my head, “No, just feels like something is wrong.” Another wave overwhelmed me, I closed my eyes, and I took a deep breath to neutralize myself. When I opened my eyes, my brother had a painful expression on his face. He was gripping his glass tightly his knuckles were white. “What is it?” I asked.

Rhy formed his lips into a tight line, and he clenched his hands into a fist, “Something is wrong over there,” he gritted through his teeth as he rubbed his left arm, causing me straightened I didn’t need him to fill me in. “She is sending utter turmoil down the bond.”

I grimace, “What kind of male torments their partner like that. To cause that much dread.”

Rhys shook his head, his eyes meeting mine the stars winking out, “It’s not Feyre, Cass.” My grip on my own glass tightened, “It’s Y/N’s.” Rhys stood and downed the rest of his drink.

Rhys began to walk out, and I called out, “Where are you going?”

“It’s the beginning of the new month, brother.” Rhys turned and winked at me, and darkness consumed him as he winnowed out of town house.

Reader’s POV

After a bath and getting the tears to finally stop I walked into the bedroom, taking a look at my hip fortunately there was no bruising from Tamlin’s grip. A lilac dress was laid out for me. The gossamer fabric chaffed my skin. The skirts were heavy against my hips, the spot where Tamlin squeezed still tender, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths and my wrist tingled. I looked down and grazed my tattoo calm washing over me, “Thanks Rhys.” I whispered.

I walked over to the door and opened it to find Feyre on the other side biting her nail, a nervous habit she started when we were kids. Her eyes widened as she saw what I assumed is my puffy eyes from crying, and in turn I saw how her eyes looked bruised and I know she has still not been sleeping, “Hi.” She whispered.

I drifted my gaze to my feet, “Hi.” I looked back at her and look at her thin frame and her sunken cheeks and Tamlin’s words flooded my brain.

You’re breaking Feyre’s heart.

Guilt racks through me as I lightly pull her hand from her mouth, “Feyre, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

Feyre squeezed my hand, “No, I am sorry. I know that this transition has been hard on you. I should have been more considerate to your feelings.”

I gave her a small smile tears pooling in my eyes again, “Let’s just put it behind us,” I patted her hand with my trembling one.

If you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair.

“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you’re trembling like a leaf. Do you want to lie down I can tell Tamlin you’re not-“

“No!” I blurted, causing Feyre to step back stunned. I composed myself, smoothing my skirts willing my hands to stop shaking, “Let’s just go have dinner with our…friends.” Feyre beamed at me referring to Tamlin and Lucien as friends as I tried to keep the bile from creeping up. We made our way to the dining hall. The closer we got the more nervous I became even the comfort of the tattoo felt vacant. I was trying to keep my hands from shaking by keeping them clasped.

The doors opened as we approached and Lucien and Tamlin were standing in their seats, snarling at something and as we got deeper into the dining hall to find Rhysand his hand tucked into his pockets. Feyre stilled and I fought every instinct to run and hug him. “Fuck you, Rhysand, we are to have a nice dinner. You can’t just take them.”

“Per our agreement it doesn’t matter when I come pick them up in the month.” Rhys spoke with cool indifference. “But I am a reasonable male,” He turned to us, “Ladies, I’ll give you the choice you can enjoy the meal with the High Lord and his loyal pet,” Lucien scowled, “Or we can go right now.”

Feyre moved to her seat by Tamlin Rhys tracking her entire movement, “I would like to have a meal before being whisked away.”

Rhys pulled his gaze away from Feyre and met mine. For a moment, I looked at Tamlin and could see his lips move the message clear Sit down. I met his gaze to his and hoped he understood what I was trying to convey with my eyes as I began to move to the seat next to my sister.

Don’t leave, please don’t leave. Don’t go.

Rhysand meandered to a seat on the opposite end of the table as Tamlin growled the claws peeking from his knuckles, “They want to have dinner, you can come back when their done.”

Rhys pulled the chair and plopped in it kicking his feet up as if he owned the place. “Where’s your hospitality, High Lord? I think it’s best I stay and join you. I’m sure Feyre and Y/N wouldn’t mind.”

Feyre scowled and I just lowered my gaze, finding the skirts of my dress very interesting as I took a seat. “Fine.” Tamlin grumbled and food appeared on each plate filled with lavish meats and cheeses.

I looked at the table and Tamlin’s fierce gaze met mine, “Y/N, so wonderful for you to finally join us tonight, care to say anything to Feyre.”

“Tamlin, leave her be she already apologized to me.” Feyre scolded her hand gripping my thigh with a gentle squeeze.

Tamlin bristled and I shifted in my seat under his scrutinizing gaze, “Well I’m glad she apologized. Let’s try to have a meal together with everyone present moving forward.” I looked to Lucien who avoided eye contact with me...Coward.

Feyre gave a small smile, “Sounds great.”

I moved my food around with my fork, not having an appetite. I felt a prickle in the back of my mind. You need to eat. I tried to reign in the shock of Rhys’ voice in my head.  You BOTH do.

I looked at him, to see he was eating the food, but his eyes were locked on me and Feyre, I looked to my sister, and noticed she was doing the same thing. Looking at the High Lord of the Spring and his emissary, the two were engaged in their own conversation eating paying us no mind. I took a few bites of my food and out of the corner of my eye I saw Feyre following suit.

One the meal was finished Rhys stood and Feyre rising from hers, Tamlin reached to grab her hand and she casually moved her hand. I made a note to ask her about it when we’re alone. Feyre gave him a small weak smile, “We’ll see you in a week.”

A hand lightly gripped my shoulder, I looked up and met Rhys’ gaze, “Ready to go?”  I nodded and rose from my seat. His hand slid down my arm and gripped my hand. “Feyre Darling,” Her gaze met his as he held out hiss free hand for her to take. She approached him with less fury than the first time we went to the Night Court. When she places her hand in his we are consumed by the darkness, and we are back in Rhys’ home.  Feyre looked at me, “I’m going to go to bed. You are coming?”

Rhys gave Feyre a comforting grin, “She will be there in a moment. I need to talk to her real quick.” Feyre to my surprise give him a silent nod and her lips curve slightly upward and I swore that Rhys stopped breathing for a moment. “Good night, High Lord.” She said and turned and headed back to our shared room.

Rhys turned to me, and I averted my gaze to my hands that were interlaced.  “Y/N, look at me,” I refused and kept my gaze on my hands, look at me, please his voice echoed in your mind. I sighed and met his gaze, “What happened? I felt an unnerving turmoil earlier today through,” he grabbed my arm with the tattoo. “It was like you were screaming down the bond.”

I slipped my arm from his grasp, and he let me, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I murmured wrapping my arms around myself, “I doubt you would believe me anyway.”

Rhys scowled, “You don’t have to tell me what happened. You don’t have to talk to me. But don’t ever say that I wouldn’t believe you. The pain I felt today was real your pain was real.” Rhys’ face softened, “Just don’t bury this down and forget about it, it will eat you alive, okay?”

 I gave him a nod and he turned to leave probably to head to his own room, “He pinned me against a wall,” I blurted, and it caused him to still, he turned, and I could feel the tears building up as I placed my trembling fingers over my mouth, “He clamped my mouth so tight I thought he would break my jaw and he gripped my hip to keep me pinned to the wall.” I sobbed and Rhys in three strides made his way back and without saying anything else wrapped me in his arms and I let the sobs take over and buried my face in his shirt. A comforting hand placed on back of my head and he rubs my back in almost a brotherly way. “I tried to push him away and I couldn’t,” whether he could understand the words and tears just wouldn’t stop. “He told me I needed to remain silent except to apologize to Feyre for locking myself in my room. He said that he going to tie me to a chair and force me there.”

Rhys arms were the only thing keeping me upright, “It’s okay.” He whispered pressed his cheek atop of my head, as my sobs racked out of my body. “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help you.”

There was a calm emotion that slowed down my sobs slowed, I take a deep breath, “Can you help me not feel as weak and powerless as I felt today? I never want to feel that way again.”

“Yes, you will never have to feel that way again.” He pushed away and looked at me, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I can train you.” I nodded in agreement as exhaustion began to take over my body. “It’s been a long day,” I gave him another nod, “Want to go to your room?” He gripped one of my hands, “I can take you there.”

I shook my head and his brows furrowed, “Can I go to the library?” He smiled and gave the top of my hand he held a kiss.

“Of course, you can, let me take you.” I gave him a small smile and sniffled as he led me to the library. The small journey was quiet, but the door opened, and the books came into view. “Tomorrow, we can start your reading lessons I’m hoping your sister will want to partake as well.” I turned to him, and he held hope in his eyes that Feyre would be willing. “We can start training whenever you want, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

He released my hand and began to walk away. I grabbed his hand again and he looked back at me, “I don’t know what I can say. What I can do to repay for your kindness.” And I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Rhysand.”

He returned the embrace, “You don’t need to thank me.” He pulled away and cupped my cheek, “Have a good night, Y/N.” He places a chaste kiss to my forehead and heads deeper into the hall. I walked into the library and the fireplace lit and I welcomed the warmth as I sat on the large chair. Sinking into the cushion I laid my head back and in the comfort of the library my eyes shut, and sleep overtook me.

Cassian’s POV

She looked beautiful and peaceful on the library chair fast asleep. Rhys had casually let me know she would be there and before I went to bed after a long day in Windhaven, I stopped by to see if she might have needed anything and found her sound asleep. Rhys didn’t tell me what happened in Tamlin’s court, but he had mentioned that she was interested in training. The red around her nose and the smell of dried tears told me she had been crying and my mind only went to the worst-case scenario of what happened.

Leaning off the door I tucked my wings to not have them drag across the floor I approached, Y/N’s sleeping form, the way her neck was angled she would wake up in immense pain. I lightly scooped her in my arms trying my best not to wake her, she only stirred to move her head and leaned it against my chest and the sweet smell of Jasmine and lilacs flooded my nose. She smelled as beautiful as she was. I walked over to the couch that was placed right in between two bookshelves against the wall and lay her down making sure her head pressed against the pillow. The house placed a blanket in my arms and in no hesitation, I placed the blanket on her. She snuggled against the softness of the blanket and let out a content sigh.

I smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sleep well, Sweetheart.” And with that I left the library and went to my room.

Reader’s POV

The next morning, I woke up and found myself on the couch in the library, and there was a blanket over me. I remember falling asleep on the chair, but don’t remember moving. The scent of leather and Sandalwood lingered in the room and was a comforting embrace. Feyre opened the door her eyes frantic, “There you are! I was so worried!” She donned a peach dress that fitted her figure with sheer sleeves that had rhinestones on it. Her hair was pinned back to the side, and she looked beautiful even though the dress looked like it was wearing her.

I stretched and smiled at her, “Sorry, Fey, I fell asleep in here. I like it in here.”  I sat up and put the blanket to the side, “I’m hungry.”

Feyre nodded, “Well go change and we will go get breakfast.” I nodded and went to the bedroom to change into a purple top with sheer puffy sleeves that showed a little more cleavage with matching pants and put my hair in a simple braid and made my way to breakfast.

At breakfast Rhys broke the news to my sister that we would be learning to read, write and shield against Daemati fae, which he explained to me is how he was able to speak to me in my mind. That went as well as I anticipated but with some coercing, she joined me in the office to get our first lesson. “I don’t understand why you care about our education.” Feyre grumbled.

“Oh, are you saying having this ability wouldn’t have been useful under the mountain?” I stilled at his question and Feyre went pale and silent. “We don’t know what the future holds, its in my best interest to have you two, well versed and ready for anything.” 

He explained to us how to put up mental shields that we worked on, and we spent an hour writing the ridiculous phrases that made Feyre roll her eyes and mutter, “Insufferable,” causing me to chuckle. After an hour of Rhys scolding us for keeping our shields up and checking our work, he released us for the day. Feyre and I went back to the room and fell into a comfortable silence and that evening I went back to the library and grabbed a book to practice my reading.

The rest of the week was spent that way shielding, reading and writing and towards the end, Feyre was eating more and smiling more to Rhysand which I swore the High Lord soaked in her smiles like sun rays. When we returned to the Spring Court, we both spent some time together reading and despite my utter disgust I would join for meals to appease Tamlin and keep his temper at bay.

Months went by and fell into the same rhythm. Rhys threw in a few fighting lessons, but we started with balance and stretching. He said he would only show me the basics but when his General came home that I would start training with him for more intricate training. I wanted to ask Rhys what Cassian’s role was in his court or just even to learn more about him, but I refrained, I didn’t want to pry, and he never wanted to divulge in the members of his court.

I could tell after Rhysand dropped us off that both Feyre and I were feeling better and stronger as Feyre was begging Tamlin to go out and hunt and help the people in town and met with stonewall refusal. So, she would dive into reading with me, but her face was fuller, and light shone back into her eyes, the color in her hair was vibrant again. Turns out that verbal sparring with Rhys was doing something for her.

Dinner that night after Tamlin told Feyre he didn’t want her hunting, Tamlin was utterly sweet, to her and to me. I welcomed the change even if Ianthe had graced us with her presence and her saccharine grin making my skin crawl. It felt as though things were finally falling into place. I drank the wine that Ianthe had poured for me and when I went to my room, sleep overpowered me and I moved to my bed my head landing on the pillow as I slipped into unconsciousness not even realizing that I had left my door wide open.

I awoke with a start as the warm breeze caressed my bare skin, I sat upright my surroundings spinning but trees surrounded me, I was in the forest. Someone had put a sheer nightgown on me my hands were bound behind my back and female laughter caused my blood to chill. I turned my head to find Ianthe there. “Ianthe, help me please.”

She approached me and gone was any warmth in her features and cold viper took her place as she crouched to meet my eyes, “I’m under Tamlin’s orders. To take you far away from the manor”

I gritted my teeth, “Bullshit, he wouldn’t hurt my sister that way!” I sent panic down the bond in hopes that Rhys would be able to answer my call.

Ianthe stroked a finger down my cheeks moving to my neck and down to my clavicle, “Unless we tell her you ran away.”

Fear ran down my spine I masked it with indifference, “You think she would believe that I would abandon her like that.”

Ianthe traced her finger right above the swell of my breast and I jerked away from her, “Well we could also say that you were influenced by the Naga lured out by a lesser fae and with your fragile human body you couldn’t resist.” I bit my lip, and she smirked knowing she would believe that as she held a dagger and sliced quickly above my clavicle, and I hissed, refusing to scream. Though she sliced off one of the straps to my night gown. She placed a kiss to my cheek before she murmured, “I’d run if I were you. Won’t be long before the monsters that live in these woods smell your blood and come looking for you.” And with that she vanished.

I gritted through my teeth as I rose to my knees, ignoring the pain of twigs and rocks pressing into my knees as I rose to my bare feet and began to run. I wasn’t sure which way I was running and there was minimal moon light to help but I just kept running and sending my fear down the bond. Even opening my mind:

Rhys, help. Please help me!

There was no response, but I kept pushing, kept sending waves of fear down our tattoo and shouting my thoughts in hopes he would hear. It felt like hours I was in there before I tripped over a stump I didn’t see and fell hard on my back. My vision blurred as my head collided with something hard, but the silence was palpable in the forest. My breathing was labored, and I could feel the warmth trickle of blood running down my face. I knew my feet were cut up, but I still rose to my knees and willed myself to try and stand. Dizziness dropped me back to my knees and a sob raked out of me. “Rhysand, please.” I whispered.

A low chuckle echoed behind me, and I began to tremble. “What a delicious treat we have brother, a human girl” The sound of slithering made me want to vomit but I forced the bile down and kept my head down. The slithering halted and the images of the Naga Feyre had painted flooded my memory the serpent-like creatures with talons and vile creatures.

Another low sinister voice followed, “What a pretty little thing and tied up just like a present.”  A sharp finger moved my hair away to look at my bleeding wound. I looked up and met yellow eyes and a pink serpent tongue sticking out. The hand that moved my hair gripped the back of my neck and I whimpered as the Naga licked the trail of blood from my forehead. The free hand groping my exposed breast, the beast hummed in approval, “She is delicious.”  The Naga gripped my hair and I yelped in pain as he approached, bringing his mouth closer to mine but keeping my head in place so I couldn’t move.

Rhys, I think I’m going to die. If I do, it was an honor being your friend.

I could have sobbed when Rhys’ voice came into my head.

No one will be dying tonight.

There was a slash of metal and the howl of the Naga who was gripping me as he was yanked away a flash of blue propelling it back. The sound of wings booming above and a thud on the ground. I couldn’t see my savior’s face only that blue gems blazed in the night as he approached the creature that put its hands on me with a blade in his hand.

The creature’s brother tried to slither its tail around my waist only to be met with steel cutting in clean off. A blast of red power forced the beast back against the tree. The Naga was about to approach again ready for a fight when a dagger flew and landed right in between its eyes, and it slumped back against the trees. The clouds parted and moonlight was able to help me see but a hand grabbed my shoulder and a jerked out of the grip turning slightly to meet familiar hazel eyes. His eyes held fear and he held his hands out palms open, “Y/N, do you remember me?” He whispered.

I nodded, “Cassian,” I whispered my voice hoarse and dry.

Cassian gave me a warm smile, “Good, Can I untie you?” I nodded again and he took another dagger and made his way behind me to cut my ties as the other winged male approached. My hands were free, and Cass took my hands in his and began to massage my wrists to bring the circulation back into my hands. “Is this, okay?” he asked, ignoring his friend who had just approached. I nodded again words not forming.

The other male knelt and gave me a small smile, his eyes a similar hazel to Cassian’s but just like Rhys and Cassian he was utterly beautiful, “I have heard a lot about you, Archeron.” His voice was pure honey, “I’m Azriel.”

I give him a small wave. Cassian released my hand and slid off his jacket sliding it over my shoulders to cover me. I slide my arms into the sleeves. “We have to get going before more come.” Cassian whispered to me, “Will you let me carry you?”

I nod but force myself to say, “Don’t bring me back to the Spring Court.” I whisper as my eyes met his and pain flashes in those eyes. “Please.”

“You are not going back there, Sweetheart. We’re taking you home.” Cassian scoops me up and holds me close to his chest, where the scent of sandalwood and leather fills my nose and my eyes widened, was he there that day in the library? Did he move me over to the couch? My thoughts whirled but the dizziness caused me to lay my head on his chest. “You alright?” He murmured the words thrumming from his chest causing warmth to spread through my body.

“I hit my head, and a little dizzy but I’ll be alright.” Azriel rose nodding to his friend and gripped Cassian’s arm as darkness consumed us until we emerged into a house I had never seen before.

Rhys was in the hall his eyes frantic, “Mother above, Is she alright? Where's Feyre?”

Tears welled up at my conversation with Ianthe bubbled to the surface of never seeing Feyre again, “I'm alright” I croaked, “They’re going to make her think I’m dead.” I whisper and tear slips from my face. Cassian’s grip tightens on me his thumb rubbing circles on my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face letting his scent soothe me.

"Who is?" Cassian asked.

"Tamlin and Ianthe." I whimper as pain erupts from my head. I pressed on, "They are going to tell her I abandoned her."

Rhys sounded as though he was clenching his teeth, “Cassian go take her to one of the rooms upstairs and have Madja come take a look at her.” I could hear his footsteps and a hand was on my arm giving it a comforting squeeze, “I’ll check on her in the morning.”

You didn't abandon her and when she sees you again she will know that Rhys' words in my mind brought me comfort as I heard his steps walk away with what I assume was Azriel's not far behind.

With that Cassian took me up the stairs and into the room I took a look around there were two twin sized beds and he laid me down on the one farthest from the window, He looked at the wound on my head, "I'm going to go get our healer, I'll be right back." He got up and I on instinct grabbed for his hand, hissing at my fast movement.

"Stay. Please don't leave me." I whispered.

He bit his lip and he nodded he looked off into the distance for a long moment and then he grabbed the chair from the small desk and brought it by my bedside. "Rhys, is calling for our healer." He sat letting his wings dip slightly as he grips my hand again and rubs the top of my hand. The soothing motion lulling me into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 4

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @Tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieoo

[illyrianbitch]

One Summer — Part Six

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: drug usage/mentions as usual, alcohol, mor/feyre/reader being fashion icons, reader & az being 'just friends', drunk girl bonding, reader being a sentimentalist and loving her friends

Word Count: 5.4k

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✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was a cramp in your stomach from laughing so hard— a pain made worse by the fact that Mor’s roughly concocted mimosas fueled the hilarity of every comment. She and Feyre were in stitches beside you, their snickers echoing off the walls as you all made your way down the stairs. It had taken a while, but you were finally ready to head out for the last day of Summit. The boys had been waiting with increasing impatience.

As you rounded the corner into the kitchen, Cassian looked up with a start, his hand paused mid-air, spoon halfway to his mouth. He choked as he took in the sight before him, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“What the hell do those say?” Cassian coughed, pressing his hand over his mouth as he swallowed hard. He stood up from his seat, and you bit back a laugh.

You three had been adamant about making your last day truly memorable. Somehow that had turned into throwing out any pretenses of looking cute or trendy. Instead, you three wanted something more sophisticated, outfits that showed your maturity. You’d each chosen special shirts for one another. 

Yours was a white tee with bold, unapologetic text: “I made your dad a bottom.” Mor’s shirt was a masterpiece of absurdity. She’d cut it into a sleeveless, oversized fit that hung off her frame with casual abandon. The front featured a stock photo of a muscular, awkwardly posed werewolf figure with the caption “Human by chance, alpha by choice” scrawled underneath in an ill-advised font. Feyre’s was also a true work of art. She'd played pretend offend for all of three seconds when she'd first seen it, giggling about how true it was. Her shirt boasted a crudely drawn frog holding a paintbrush, paired with the words “Dyslexic with tig bits.”

You exchanged grins with your best friends. 

"Aren't you gonna tell us how good we look?" Mor asked, placing a hand on her hip. She gave him a look of impatience, as if the time running by without her compliment was getting on her nerves. 

"I-" Cassian ran a hand across his mouth, tracing his mustache with extra care once he noticed her budding scowl. "Rhys! Az!"

The two boys emerged almost instantly, their mouths falling open in amusement as their eyes scanned the shirts. Rhys was the first to react, his face lighting up with a wide grin as he let out a low whistle.

“Pretty privilege lets you guys get away with way too many things,” he mused, his attention fixed entirely on Feyre as he approached her. He gently took her hand, guiding her into a dainty twirl to showcase her outfit.

Your gaze shifted to Az, who leaned casually against the wall, amusement dancing in his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. Mimicking his pose, you crossed your arms defensively. He shook his head, pushing off the wall and strolling towards you.

“Well, don’t cover up the art like that,” he said, glancing at your crossed arms. “I was enjoying it.”

You blushed, letting out a snort as you dropped your arms, gesturing dramatically to the shirt. Az’s eyes glimmered as he reached forward, his fingers lightly brushing the edges of the fabric. “Why this one?”

“Mor chose it for me,” you replied, your breath catching slightly. Azriel nodded in approval.

“Fitting.”

Cassian, now fully recovered, let out a hearty laugh. “Well, I’m feeling left out. You all look—” he paused for dramatic effect, “—exceptionally unique.”

“Good answer,” Mor said with a satisfied nod. She wrapped an arm around you, pulling you along with her as she walked towards the kitchen. “And isn’t the idea of dommy Y/N so hot?”

You groaned, your face flushing red as she giggled beside you. For the tenth time that morning, you begged her to stop using such a strange title. Her laughter only grew louder.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The merch line was long, but you didn’t mind waiting; the day was cooler, the sun less blistering than it had been, and the thought of having a physical memento from the weekend was comforting. Az had volunteered to keep you company while the others leisurely watched a smaller set on the schedule. There was an ease to this moment, the kind that settled in when time stretched out.

Azriel turned his head to look at you. His eyes scanned your figure and a second later he was shaking his head, looking away as a laugh left his lips. Your heart skipped a beat. Az’s laugh was something you coveted, a sound you’d become addicted to over time.

You waited until his eyes reached yours again to raise your eyebrow. "What?"

"That fuckin' shirt," Az replied. "I just can't get over it."

You grinned, nudging him with your shoulder as the line moved forward. "Don't judge. It's been a chick and dick magnet."

It was true. You'd gotten more compliments on your shirt than you'd ever received in your entire life— at least, drunk you seemed to think so. God, you needed to wear this outfit more often.

Azriel shook his head again, offering up his hands in surrender. "No judgment here," he said. He scanned you again, eyes glowing with a sense of contemplation. He pulled his cap off his head and placed it on yours. You tracked his movements with your eyes, watching as he took a step backwards and admired you as if he'd just created a masterpiece.

"Perfect."

It was an effort not to beam at the word alone, at how it seemed to anchor itself in your chest, resonating with a deeper meaning you were too embarrassed to fully acknowledge. You cleared your throat, ignoring the warmth that rolled through your body, surely collecting on your reddening cheeks. You placed your hands on your hips. 

"I look good?"

Azriel let out a small hiccup, a smile spreading across his face. "Oh yeah," he said, reclaiming his spot next to you in a few, easy strides. "You look like every dude in Rhys's frat."

Your smile fell. You attempted to give him a glare, to scowl, but Azriel's proud grin pulled a laugh from deep in your chest. "You said it looked good."

Az's smile curved, deepening into the crevasses of his cheeks. "And I meant it, you look great. Stunning."

There it was, that feeling again— that giddiness that left you fumbling for words. Something warm and silly spread throughout your chest. For a moment, you struggled to respond, fumbling through your mind to put together a coherent sentence. It was proving hard, so incredibly hard, when Az was looking at you the way he was.

"I didn't know frat boys were your type."

Azriel shrugged. "I didn't either. Guess we're both learning new things."

You playfully smacked him with your hand and reached up to remove his cap from your head. He shook his head, taking it back to adjust the band with nimble fingers. You watched him, noting the slight tremble as he refitted it to your head.

“You keep this,” Azriel said, securing it on you again. “It looks better on you anyway.”

You swallowed, fingertips brushing the brim. “Careful, Az. It might sound like you’re flirting with me or something.”

Azriel stared at you for a moment. His gaze was steady, searching. Do friends look at friends this way? Was it wrong to crave his gaze so deeply?

"What can I say," Az finally replied. The line moved forward. "I guess I just can't resist the pull of a frat guy."

Azriel brushed his palmalong the small of your back to guide you forward. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he removed his hand.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You weren't sure how much time had passed since Az left to go put all of the merch in the car. His instructions to you had been clear: stay in the same area so he could find you when he came back in. When he'd left, there was still around an hour until you'd meet back up with Mor, Feyre, Cass and Rhys. 

But Azriel's instructions left your mind the minute he was out of view. You'd reached that perfect point of being slightly crossed—mostly drunk, but not dangerously so— and everything felt vibrant. Alive. It made no sense to stand still or sit in a patch of grass and wait for Az to return like a sad codependent dog and its owner. No, that wouldn't do.

So you wandered, finding yourself by the food trucks, a new fruity drink in your hand. Non-alcoholic and entirely too expensive for its small size, but money didn't seem real to you. There was a large smile on your face as you weaved through the small crowds. You'd made around six new friends, random people you began talking to in line, those equally as drunk who voiced their love for your outfit. 

You barely registered when you bumped into a girl, the drink in your hand sloshing a bit. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” A soft voice exclaimed. You brought your attention to her face, taking in her long brown hair as she wiped a drop from her shirt. You were about to apologize then too, but then her eyes met yours. Something sparked in them. They widened, the brown glowing almost, and she beamed. 

“I know you!”

You stilled. “You do?” There was something familiar about her but you couldn’t quite place it. The smile especially. Something warm and friendly. 

“Yes!” she nodded eagerly. She grabbed the arm of a person next to her, pulling them into the conversation. Deep blue eyes and sandy brown hair. 

“Babe," the girl said, "This is the girl from yesterday!"

A look of realization formed on her partner's face. She turned to you again. "I was just telling them earlier about you. I took your picture yesterday."

They nodded, a small chuckle leaving their lips as they took a sip of their shared drink. "She was," they said, "The pretty girl with the boyfriend who had a sick wing tattoo.”

You blinked. Maybe you were feeling a bit slow today, a bit lethargic, or maybe you were a bit too gone to carry such a fast conversation. You let their words sink in, allowing your face to blossom into a smile. You recognized her face now, remembering the sweet approach she'd had to you and Az. The picture you now cherished so deeply. Your cheeks warmed. 

 “Oh, uh. He's not my boyfriend.”

The girl stilled. A sense of surprise flickered across her face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly, “just friends.”

She exchanged a look with her partner, a silent conversation passing between them, and then turned back to you with an intrigued expression, eyes slightly narrowed, lips still curved at the edges. 

"Really?" She repeated, as if her question would pull a different answer, one that may have satisfied her more. 

You gave a sheepish smile, shrugging your shoulders. You suddenly felt entirely too vulnerable, embarrassed in a way you hadn't felt since you were a child in kindergarten. She exchanged another look with her partner. 

“Does he know that?” They said. 

You shifted awkwardly, the heat rising in your cheeks. “Yeah, I mean, it's kinda weird, though. I don't know...” You trailed off, feeling the words slipping away from you. It was hard to articulate when your mind was so pleasantly hazy. You hesitated, then added with a chuckle, “It’s a long story.”

They both nodded. The girl looked at her partner before turning back to you. She grinned and shrugged, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Well, if you have the time, so do we.”

You furrowed your brows. She leaned in closer, like a best friend about to share a secret, and whispered conspiratorially, “I love a good storytime.”

And so, you found yourself sitting on a patch of grass, with Victoria and Jamie, as you learned their names to be, a band playing distantly on the stage nearby. The entire history spilled from your lips like uncontrollable bile, as if you were drafting a biography and starting it from the moment you met Feyre—because that’s when it truly all started. Almost four years ago, you realized.

You talked about freshman year, about your introductory philosophy class, your friendship with Az that blossomed into this deep, heavy crush. You told them about that almost-kiss, the one that lingered in your memory like a bittersweet stain, and even about your relationship with Eris. 

Victoria's drink was empty by the time you’d finished and the sun had dipped ever-so-slightly in the sky, now painting the festival in golden hues. 

 “Wow,” Victoria said, exchanging a meaningful look with Jamie before turning back to you.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment. “I talked too much, didn't I?"  

“Not at all! That was incredibly entertaining. Felt like the plot to some kind of romcom,” she said, laughing lightly. Jamie nodded in agreement. You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“So… what’s holding you back?” Victoria asked, tilting her head slightly as she studied your face. You opened your mouth to respond, but she quickly interjected, “And do not say it’s because you’re not sure he feels the same. You’re wearing his hat.”

You offered a sheepish smile, bringing your fingers up to trace the brim of Azriel’s cap, still securely placed on your head. You’d almost forgotten he’d put it there. It made sense now, why your face didn’t feel as burnt as usual. It also felt silly to admit that it was a worry of yours--- that maybe Az didn't see anything romantic with you the way he once did, that maybe these small moments were doused in a platonic love, like that from Cass and Rhys, and you had deluded yourself into thinking too deeply about them. 

You shrugged, a small, helpless gesture. “It’s more complicated than that,” you mumbled, but your words felt hollow even to your own ears.

Jamie leaned forward, their gaze sharp and inquisitive. You resisted the urge to draw back at the eye contact, at how their blue eyes seemed to be reading you. They casted a glance at Victoria.

“Is it because of your ex-boyfriend?"

"What?" You frowned, letting your shoulders sag as the words ran through you. "What do you mean?"

They shrugged, sharing another glance with Victoria.

"You mentioned him a lot. And you said they all had a past. Maybe it’s some kind of guilt?”

Your eyes widened as you considered the possibility, the weight of it settling heavily in your chest. You hadn’t consciously connected the two, the strange anxiety and guilt that had bubbled throughout the week. But now that it had been mentioned, acknowledged by someone other than yourself, the thought lingered, a seed of doubt taking root.

Maybe they were right; maybe you’d been letting guilt hold you back from pursuing what you truly wanted. That extended to things far beyond the way you felt for Az. The truth was, you did feel guilty. You'd lost time with your friends when you and Eris dated. It was part of the reason why you felt even worse for not wanting to move with Mor— because you didn't want to disappoint her another time, to make her feel like you were choosing something else over her.

And there was Azriel. Azriel, Azriel, Azriel. Where was he anyways? You should go find him. Surely it's been too long. Were you spending too much time with him? Should you be at Mor's hip instead?  Your thoughts started swirling faster, more compounded and harder to process. 

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way,” you admitted, your voice quiet. "Maybe that's it."

Why was it so easy to be more honest to complete strangers than to yourself? Such a strange thing, you thought, as Victoria watched you carefully. Her eyes softened with understanding. There was a moment of silence before Jamie smiled encouragingly, gently placing a hand on her thigh. 

“I think Vi has something to show you.”

"Oh, right! I do." She beamed, eyes lighting up with excitement. She pulled out her phone and a few seconds later, she was holding it out to you, a photo on the screen. "This was why I was so glad to run into you."

The photo was taken the day before, during the set where Victoria had taken that picture of you and Azriel. This one was from behind, capturing Azriel’s arm resting naturally around your waist as you both watched the band. The sight stirred something deep within you. You felt a smile tug at your lips as you remembered how that moment had felt—comfortable, right, as if the world outside had fallen away, leaving just the two of you.

When you met her eyes again, Victoria grinned, clearly delighted by your reaction. “Watch the live,” she said, offering you her phone to hold in your own hands.

You listened, gently taking it and pressing down on the photo. It showed you looking away from Az, a soft smile on your face, and then, right after, Az looking down at you with an expression just as soft, one that you felt deeply in your chest. You let it replay a couple of times.

No wonder Victoria had assumed you and Az were together, had complimented you like a couple, told her partner about you both. If you were an outsider watching this moment, you’d think you were a couple too—so natural, so connected. What could be, if only you were brave enough to reach for it.

Victoria’s voice pulled you back. “It was fate that I ran into you again. The picture was so cute I was tempted to post it somewhere in hopes it got to you.”

Her words made you smile and you glanced at Jamie. The way they looked at her, with such tenderness and affection, was like something out of a fairy tale. It made your heart ache, longing for something similar. Azriel's laugh echoed faintly in your head. 

Jamie caught your gaze and nodded toward the phone in Victoria’s hand. “Friends don’t look at friends that way,” they said, their grin slightly teasing but gentle all the same. “Just so you know.”

Victoria sighed wistfully, leaning into Jamie as they wrapped an arm around her. "You know what I think?" You raised a brow, inviting her to continue. Her face softened as she met your gaze. "You should tell him how you feel."

You sighed, looking down at the ground. Admitting you felt something for Azriel could change the dynamic between you. And not only that, but the dynamic between you and everyone else. You liked where everything was at now. You didn’t want to ruin it.

“It’s just not that simple.”

“No one said it would be,” She said gently. She looked up at Jamie, her eyes shining a bit brighter than seconds before. “But sometimes, the best things aren’t.”

You had given Az similar advice the day before—urging him to chase his dreams and not confine himself to limitations. The irony of those very words being directed back at you now, especially about him, made you want to laugh. It felt oddly fitting and full-circle. Maybe you could write a paper about it. 

Jamie tangled their fingers in Victoria’s hair. They nodded in agreement, giving you a look that said: Listen to her. She's right. 

Victoria seemed to catch your hesitation and she called your attention with a gentle murmur of your name. "I'm serious," she said. "The regret of not trying will probably be much stronger than any guilt you feel now."

You smiled to yourself, picking at the grass around you and feeling the blades between your fingers. You looked at them again, amused at how your day had led you to this insightful couple and some much-needed time to spill your guts.

"You guys are so wise," you said with a small chuckle. "Y'know that?"

"It's these fucking spiked lemonades," she replied, lifting up her empty can. "They give me a fifth sense."

Jamie chuckled next to her. They patted her head gently. "Sixth."

"Huh?" She said, turning her head to look at them. 

"Sixth sense, babe," they said. "You already have five senses."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel had found you five minutes into your second conversation with Victoria and Jamie, his eyes wide and cheeks slightly red. He'd been looking for you for almost fifteen minutes, his countless calls having been sent to voicemail because your phone had been silenced. You'd apologized profusely, but Az had laughed it off, saying he was grateful that you had a shirt he could see from miles away and a hat he knew like the back of his hand. He greeted Jamie and Victoria, recognizing the latter almost immediately, and then jokingly thanked them for watching you while he was gone, making a joke that you were a wandering toddler with an affinity for shiny things.

Victoria shot you a knowing look as you both walked away.

You had a few more minutes before you were scheduled to meet the rest of the group, so you took the opportunity to enjoy the scene. You and Azriel wandered through the vibrant area of the festival where booths from local artists and craftspeople lined the grassy areas. The atmosphere was lively, filled with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of music from nearby stages. With everything around you vying for your attention, your mind stayed tethered to the conversation with Jamie and Victoria.

You stopped when you spotted a photobooth nestled between two tables, a vintage looking thing advertising two strips of 5 photos for 12 bucks. A steep price, but something in you was drawn to it nonetheless.

You looked at Azriel with a grin. “Does the photographer feel like being photographed?

Az raised an eyebrow. “I feel like no matter what I say, you'll somehow convince me to do it anyways.”

You smiled wider, biting your lip to keep it from spreading too much. “You know me so well.”

The space was intimate, practically needing you both to sit atop of one another. You gently took his hat off, placing it in your lap as Azriel’s arm slipped comfortably around your shoulders, drawing you even closer. The gesture was casual, something he'd done countless times before, but it sent your pulse racing all the same.

Azriel’s smile was warm as he looked into the camera and you found yourself acutely aware of his presence, noting the smallest of details despite the camera's low quality. The curls on his head, the sharpness of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled as he grinned. The smile on your face as the booth snapped its first picture was a result of staring at Az's reflection; your second smile came from the sound of his laugher, soft and genuine, filling the tiny space.

You reached out and gently cupped his cheek for one of the next poses, your fingers brushing against his skin. His expression softened. And then his fingers were grazing your hair, slowly tangling themselves by winding a strand around his finger.

As the fourth picture snapped, you noticed how he was looking at you—not at the camera, but at you. His gaze was steady and unwavering, filled with something you couldn’t quite name but felt in every fiber of your being. You turned to look at him, meeting his eyes with soft breath. 

Jamie’s voice echoed in your head, a distant but persistent echo. Friends don’t look at friends that way.

The space between you seemed to contract. You took a deep breath, feeling a familiar buzz of longing resurface. And suddenly, you were eighteen again, millimeters away from Az on that Halloween night. His eyes drifted to your lips.

Victoria’'s voice whispered next: The regret of not trying will probably be much stronger than any guilt you feel now.

Azriel leaned in, his eyes drifting shut as he brought his hand up to cradle your hair. Your breath hitched and you moved to close the distance, a sudden need filling your body. Azriel, your mind seemed to whisper, repeatedly like a prayer, Azriel Azriel, Azriel—

A sudden, blinding FLASH snapped you to reality. You both pulled back slightly, eyes wide, as the booth’s camera whirred to capture the memory you’d just almost shared. Azriel blinked, clearing his throat, and you scrambled to pull back the curtain, stepping into the blinding sunshine. 

You fumbled with your shirt, trying to smooth it down as though you'd been caught in some misstep. The words, I made your dad a bottom, mocked you boldly. Avoiding Azriel’s gaze, you stared at the ground as he handed you the strip of photos. Your hand brushed his briefly, lingering long enough to feel the warmth of his touch as you took the pictures.

You glanced at the photos, then looked up to find Azriel already staring at you. You opened your mouth to say something, but a familiar voice yelling your names cut you off. Mor and Cassian came sprinting towards you with wide smiles. You shoved the photo strip into your bag. 

You smiled, making an effort to focus on the story Cass was animatedly telling as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into his side. But your eyes kept drifting back to Azriel, who seemed just as lost in thought as you. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were a sentimentalist at your core. 

For as long as you could remember, you collected memories. You stored them away like treasures, delicate and fragile, saving them for rainy days when you'd wrap yourself in nostalgia like a warm blanket. You wanted everything to have meaning, for things to make sense in a world that often didn’t. Perhaps that’s what led you to study philosophy—a major that let you think too deeply about everything, that encouraged you to seek understanding to a point where nothing made sense.

The Stoics believed that the practice of virtue was enough to achieve eudaimonia, a well-lived life. As you stood in the grassy expanse, watching the lights dance across the night sky and feeling the music pulse through your veins, you thought that maybe this was what they meant. Maybe this was a well-lived life—being surrounded by the simple joy of being alive.

The sun had long set and the sky above was a blanket of deep indigo. You'd all chosen to enjoy the headliner and final performance from a distance, preferring the open space behind the throng rather than being swallowed by the crush of bodies near the stage. From your vantage point you watched the massive crowd sway in unison, a sea of bobbing heads and glowing sticks. Every now and then flashing neon lights would meet your eyes, causing you to squint at their power. 

You could see it all—the band on the huge screens, the ocean of people, and the world alive around you. Your arms were intertwined with Mor and Feyre's as you danced together, singing the songs at the top of your lungs. Mor pulled you both closer and you felt her laugh more than you heard it, a rumble through her body as she beamed into the endless night.

Feyre laughed, and you watched as her gaze fell elsewhere. She squeezed you both before bouncing towards Rhys, hair flying wild and free. He caught her easily, their bodies swaying in perfect harmony and you grinned at the way they fit so effortlessly together. You stored the image of their smiles away in your mind.

Mor pulled you towards her, bringing your cheeks between her palms. Her eyes were glowing with a mixture of happiness and the alcohol in her system as she grinned.  "I'm so glad you're here!"

The words ran through you, warming every corner of your body as you smiled back to her. Distantly, you could feel the tickle of tears behind your eyes--- the urge to cry from a strange mixture of love, happiness, and guilt. You let your mind focus on that love as your smile grew wider. 

"Me too," you responded loudly. "I love you."

Mor's eyes lit up even more as she squealed, pulling you into a quick hug as she repeated the words back to you, over and over. When you pulled away, you found Cassian next to you, his strong arms wrapping around both of you, drawing you into his orbit. He twirled you and you laughed, moving with him until your world was a dizzy blur of colors and lights. And when Cass moved to pull Mor, you paused for a moment, looking around the crowd. You weren't quite sure what you were searching for. But your heart seemed to be seeking it, some craving.

 A few steps away were Rhys and Feyre, their faces lit up with excitement as they sang animatedly to Azriel. You turned your attention to him, observing his genuine smile and the way he moved to the music. Despite the proximity of your bodies on the same patch of grass, in this fleeting instant, he seemed distant, absorbed in his own enjoyment--- and you watched it with a sense of admiration. Your gaze lingered on his lips.

The craving you once had—whatever it was you had been searching for—faded as he laughed. 

You gently pulled away from Mor and Cassian, stepping aside to watch your friends dance. The scene was too perfect to let slip away unrecorded, so you pulled out your phone and captured a bit of it. The quality would suck in the darkness, the figures mostly shadow with laser lights painting them in brief flashes of color, but you didn’t care. 

A bittersweet ache ran through you. You'd never have this moment again. And if you parted ways after graduation, you'd miss out on many more moments like this. When you looked back up, Az was approaching you. There was a smile on his face that matched the warmth in you, a sense of peace that paired perfectly with that tingling excitement that Az often made you feel.

He extended his hand towards you. "It's time to take your own advice.”

You looked at his outstretched hand, then up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. He didn't need to explain his words further. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Almost instantly, your mind traveled to the countless times you had urged him to embrace the moment, attempted to pull him out of his head. 

You let out a determined breath and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you pulled him back towards the group. Mor and Feyre had blended into a new group, singing along and laughing with their new friends. Meanwhile, Cassian and Rhys were dancing in a playful, almost mocking manner, with Cassian humorously mimicking the way Rhys and Feyre had been dancing closely.

You tugged Azriel into the midst of it all, letting him guide you into a light twirl. The music wrapped around you, the lights casting an ethereal glow over the jubilant crowd. The world narrowed into this experience--- to you and Az surrounded by your friends, to Mor singing the lyrics to a giggling Feyre. 

The Stoics believed in many things. They believed in the value of virtue and the pursuit of wisdom, in accepting the things we cannot change, and most importantly, they believed in the power of the present moment. It is the only thing we have control over.

Your wandering thoughts from earlier were all true. You'd never be this young again. You'd never attend this same festival, never be this drunk, never dance like this in this exact constellation of friends and music. You'd miss out on many memories, many moments just as joyous. 

You’d never have this exact moment again.

But right now, it was all yours.

And that was all that mattered.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

For your viewing pleasure, here is the view Victoria had of Reader and Az:

drawn by the best and most talented ever @micahssketchbook

authors note: i wonder who that sweet sexy drunk best friend was named after.... @daycourtofficial any ideas?

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound @melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

[starsxblazing]

Could i request and azriel fic where he had a crush on reader for years but didn’t act on it because he wss fixated on this whole three brothers and three sisters thing. But he realised that he and elain don’t have anything in common so they stay friends and he tells her about reader. When he sees her again she had a child with another illyrian but they aren’t together. Her son is maybe 2-3 years old, he starts to spend more time with her as friends but he knows that he still loves her. The bond snaps for him but he doesn’t say anything yet. He basically moved her into his home because he wants them to be together every minute. (Some dadaz and son time would be cute. ) They all sit at dinner with the inner circle and readers son calls him dad, cassian and rhys are both happy for their brother and thats when the bond also snaps for reader. Just fluff and daddy az ? Where he shows him how to fly and tell the babe how he is going to be a big brother.

That may be long, so if you don’t want to write something that long, then thats also fine 🫶🏼

a/n: I can't say enough just how much I love seeing the batboys being fathers

Azriel x Reader

Yours Truly

Azriel hated going to the war camps and always avoided it whenever he could. Despite his feelings, Rhysand had ordered him to go with Cassian to check in with them since the war was drawing closer. He glanced around as they made their way into the heart of the camp, noting the variety of women and children scattered about. There were far more here than at any of the other camps and whereas all Illyrians treated their women horribly, it wasn’t as bad here. 

He sat back in the meeting and let Cassian do the talking, being merely backup if it was needed. It was all that he could do to keep his attention on the conversation but his need to leave had him restless. No sooner than his brother could turn to leave the tent, Azriel beat him to it. They all knew how he felt so Cassian continued on behind him in silence as they gauged the training.

They hadn’t made it halfway to the training rings before a body collided with his. He took a step back before kneeling down and extending a hand to help. When you looked up at him, he noted the beauty in you that was much different than any other Illyrian female. You smiled sheepishly at him but placed your hand into his. His eyes scanned over you briefly and hoped that you didn’t notice it but when he met your gaze again, you were grinning. It took him off guard because everyone in the camps usually shied away from him but here you were, unafraid of his intimidating stare.

“Thank you,” you said breathlessly.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled as his eyes locked on your hand that you hadn’t pulled away.

“I’m Y/N.” You gave him a smile that he could have sworn was apologetic. “Sorry about-”

“Y/N!!” 

You spun on your heels to see the male calling your name. He watched your body go tense and could taste the fear coming off of you in waves. There were similarities between you and the male and judging by the scowl, you weren’t treated well at home. The male grabbed your wrist with an iron grip that caused you to wince and he instantly bristled in anger. This was one of the main reasons that he hated being around other Illyrians.

“I was just going to-”

“I hope you had the good decency to apologize for your carelessness,” the male growled as he pulled on you.

He wasn’t sure why it was you in particular that he suddenly felt so protective of but chalked it up to the fact that he usually didn’t see the mistreatment right in front of him. Without thinking, he wrapped his hand around the male’s wrist with a force that had him immediately letting go. A growl escaped him and the man that he assumed was your father stumbled backwards.

“You can leave,” he snapped and the male had enough of his own sense to scurry away.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft as you rubbed your wrist.

“Pleased to be of service,” he replied drily, earning another smile from you.

“I really didn’t mean to run into you.”

Glancing behind him, Cassian had disappeared and he wasn’t sure if he had seen the interaction. It didn’t matter either way but he suddenly didn’t have the urge to leave. There was something about you that had him debating whether he should leave or not, knowing that you would suffer repercussions once you returned home. You shifted your body when he glanced at your wings. 

“Do you want to fly?” he asked suddenly, surprised with himself for such an outburst.

“I- Uh- Can’t,” you mumbled, the words almost incoherent. 

“With me,” he corrected.

Azriel watched you carefully and felt hope blossom within him when you turned to look behind you. There was a hopefulness in your eyes but the reluctance was written in your body. A silent sigh of relief passed his lips when you nodded slightly. He chuckled when he grabbed you quickly and shot into the air and a quiet scream left you. 

Once he leveled out in the air, your eyes immediately scanned the landscape with awe and wonder on your face. It eased some part of his heart that he hadn’t realized had tightened as he watched. There was no questioning the peace that you were now feeling for a partial experience of what you could never have yourself.

You had difficulty tearing your eyes away from the beautiful scenery as you flew in the spymaster’s arms. It was no secret who he and the general were and you had felt embarrassed that you had run into him. Surprisingly, there was no fear of him that most people had but you did feel safe for a change in his arms. Not to mention the fact that you had been even more surprised when he had scared your father off. Nobody had ever bothered to protect you and your opinion of the Night Court leaders were heightened just for that alone. 

Your father was in one of his moods and nothing that you did was right in his opinion no matter if he had been drinking or not. He had screamed at you for fifteen minutes but as soon as he raised his hand, you sprinted through the door. It all led you to being able to fly even if it wasn’t your own doing before Azriel landed on top of one of the mountains.

“This is beautiful.” 

Your breath puffed in front of you before being swept off by the wind as you stared in awe. When you looked back at him, he was watching you intently and you suddenly felt self conscious. You gave him a small smile that he returned but his gaze never left you, even as he moved closer. Warmth rolled off of him from the few inches that he left between you both and you found so much comfort in it. You couldn’t remember the last time that you felt this way and your heart begged you not to let him leave.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere else and you ended up sitting up under a snow covered tree while he asked you questions about your life. You had been so lost in conversation that you didn’t notice at first when his hand wrapped gently around yours. The small act caused your heart to race and you had no interest in pulling it away.

Time passed you by too quickly for your liking despite the fact that enough had gone by for the sun to now be descending in the sky. By the time that he was gathering you in his arms, you were praying to the Mother that he would come back to see you again.

Azriel brushed Cassian off when he returned home and his brother began to interrogate him. He didn’t want to talk about how he was feeling, especially not when he had to figure it out himself. A quiet nagging in his heart wouldn’t let him leave without knowing more about you and he hated having to leave you alone.

He returned to the camp at any opportunity that he had and lost more sleep than he could keep up with just to see you. If what he felt for Mor was love, then what he felt for you was indescribable. It surpassed reason but he couldn’t stay away, not even when he began questioning Elain’s mating bond. The entire situation didn’t make any sense to him, especially when he felt sour when he thought about it.

“Oh, gods!”

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of your voice. He had just gotten back from rescuing Elain from Hybern’s army and the last person that he expected to see was you as he was being forced into one of the healing tents for his injuries. You watched him with caution, tears lining your eyes while you took in every injury that he had. It caused his heart to clench as his love for you spread through him. 

“What are you doing here?” The question came out as if he was out of breath, as if he hadn’t had time to come down from the adrenaline rush. “We’re in the middle of a-”

“War? Yea, I noticed,” you replied, staring pointedly at him. “I’m here helping out. I’m nothing spectacular but I can still help with some parts of the healing process.”

Your words hit him like a stone to the chest. He wanted so badly for you to see yourself differently but he was momentarily stunned into silence as you approached him. You knelt before him and began the process of washing the blood off of him. Every touch was surprisingly gentle even though he could barely think through the close proximity. It didn’t make much sense to him since the both of you were always close together whenever he visited but it was somehow different this time.

“You are.” His throat felt tight and the burning in his eyes started when he remembered that you were treated horribly by his own people. “More than you know.”

Your eyes flicked to his and there were still unshed tears in your eyes. He watched your throat bob before you ducked your head down to continue cleaning and wrapping his injuries. There was nothing that he wouldn’t give to know what you were thinking but he didn’t have time to question you before Rhysand walked in.

“Y/N?” The High Lord raised a brow at her as she looked sheepishly at him. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“Well, I was but I heard Thesan saying that someone was injured and a healer was coming so I thought that I’d help out.” All of the words escaped you all in one breath as you shifted in what he assumed was worry. “I didn’t think it would hurt to help one more person.”

“You’ve been working hard all day,” his brother replied gently, his eyes darting between the two of you. “Although I have to admit that my shadowsinger is in good hands.”

“I’m doing all that I can,” you laughed quietly, the sound causing his heart to clench. “I promise I’m done for the night once I’m done here.”

The High Lord nodded, his face still tender but when you looked away, there was mischief in his eyes. Azriel blocked it out and his attention refocused fully on you. His injuries weren’t as bad as he thought and definitely weren’t anywhere near as bad as his wings were. She took note of said wings before meeting his gaze. 

“I wish I could do something to help,” you muttered. “I wish I had some form of special healing magic and-”

“You’re special just as you are.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise and despite his pain, he stood and pulled you up with him. He pulled you into him, enjoying your warmth against him that suddenly had him feeling ten times better. There was an underlying feeling that he couldn’t describe pulling at his heart and he was content to stay like this for the rest of his life. 

It wasn’t until Elain suddenly returned to his mind that he pulled away. In no way would it be fair to you to string you along whenever he was sure that the Cauldron had been wrong. He took a step back and the sudden pain in your gaze had him taking a deep breath.

“You really should get some rest,” he mumbled as he took a few more steps back to place distance between the both of you. “Thank you for your help.”

A simple nod was all that he got before you ran from the tent, taking a piece of his heart along with you.

You couldn’t wrap your head around what the shift in Azriel was about. His heart had picked up its pace just before he pulled away from you. It was unusual for him to do so unless it was time for you to part ways but something about it was different this time. The feeling felt more like a goodbye and it was one thing in particular that you had a hard time swallowing.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turned to see who was calling for you and it was the exceptionally good looking Illyrian that had flirted with you earlier while you tended to his minor wounds. A thought passed your mind that you would enjoy the attention from him in hopes that it would drive your thoughts away from the shadowsinger. 

“You look like you’re healing well,” you laughed, suddenly feeling shy as his full attention stayed on you as he moved closer.

“I think I have one that needs to be rewrapped if you don’t mind taking a look at it.”

You knew what the underlying meaning was and you also knew that it was wrong. Despite that, you followed him to the tent with the intention to forget and chase away the weight that came with war.

The male was already gone from his tent the next morning and you were surprised that you had slept in a bit longer than you meant to. By the time you were up and dressed, you could hear the war beginning. You simply stood with the other healers and waited and watched with both dread and hope.

There was so much work to be done when it was over that you didn’t have time to look for the male that you had so desperately fallen in love with. It did hurt your heart a bit when you were told that both your father and brother had died in the war but you weren’t particularly sorry for it. There was even a tinge of pain when the male that you had fallen into bed with was announced deceased as well.

You made a half hearted attempt to look for Azriel but had given up when it seemed like he had disappeared. If nothing else told you that it was truly an act of farewell, the fact that he was staying hidden from you did. With a sigh, you followed one of your close friends back to your camp.

It was strange returning home to an empty house but there was a sense of relief knowing that you would no longer be critiqued about every little thing that you did. A passing thought of being forced unwillingly into a marriage crossed your mind. That thought officially left your mind a month later when your best friend, Iris, found you on the outskirts of the camp by the bushes as you lost your stomach for the third time that day. 

“You’re..” The sound of Iris sniffing came from behind you as the female rubbed your back soothingly. “You’re pregnant.”

“What!?”

You spun so quickly that it had your head spinning and you vomited yet again. High Fae had an incredibly hard time having children but it appeared that the lesser ones didn’t. Azriel came to your mind again, the thought of him hurting you just as much as before. There wasn’t a day that went by that you didn’t think about him and it didn’t tear your heart into. 

You were foolish to think that someone as important and special as he was to actually want you just as much as you wanted him. Even if he had, you highly doubted that he would now that you were carrying a deceased male’s child. That thought also hurt because your child would grow up without a father and be shunned because he was a bastard child.

Iris was there for you throughout the entire pregnancy no matter what was said about either of you. She was a great friend and you couldn’t be any more thankful for her. She was due to be wed a week before you gave birth and for that, you were thankful as well. 

The labor was long and hard but thankfully successful either way and as you held your newborn son in your hands, you felt a love like no other in the world. 

Azriel had questioned Elain’s mating bond for four years and even after that, he fell in love with her. Or at least he thought that he had. He had been sure that he was the one meant for her since his brothers had been mated to the female’s sisters. Most of the time, he sat in the garden with her while she chatted away in happiness. There had been a change in her over the last couple of months as she began to spend time with her mate. 

He didn’t have much in common with her and no matter how much time had passed, he still couldn’t get you off of his mind. He felt horrible for disappearing on you without a word but at the time, he felt that it was the best course of action. You deserved to be loved and appreciated but what you deserved more was an explanation. He had never been good with expressing his emotions but he should have tried harder with you.

“- And Lucien says that the scenery in Spring Court is beautiful.”

His thoughts of you had tuned out Elain’s one sided conversation but the fact that she was talking about her mate and not him made him feel at ease. He hoped that he wouldn’t be breaking her heart as he had undoubtedly done yours. Then again, there was also the possibility that you may have very well been married off since your father and brother had passed in the war. You deserved happiness but he desperately wanted to be the one to give that to you.

“Where have your thoughts gone to?” Elain asked, watching him with a curious gaze. 

“I met someone a few years back,” he admitted quietly while gauging her reaction.

“A she?”

“Yes.”

Elain fell silent but it wasn’t filled with tension as he had dreaded that it would be. Instead, she appeared thoughtful before her gaze fell upon him again, eyes full of questions. He didn’t know how much information that he would give her but he felt the sudden need to talk about you to someone. Anyone. 

“Who is she?” she finally asked, setting down her gardening tool to give him her full attention.

“Y/N.” Your name falling past his lips had him ready to shoot into the skies and fly to you as fast as he could. “I met her in one of the camps before the war.”

“And you love her.” It wasn’t a question but a frown fell on her face. “Why haven’t you said anything to anyone?”

“She deserves better.” A half lie but a shiver ran up his spine as he forced himself to be vulnerable. “She has probably found it after all of these years.”

“You’re a great male,” Elain reassured, giving him a small smile. “My opinion may not matter much but I think that you should at least go talk to her.”

He took a few moments to ponder his choices and what he could possibly say to you to make things better. Elain watched him with that same reassuring smile so he took to the skies before he could think any more about it. His heart pounded hard in his chest during the entire flight, his nerves on edge for whatever could happen.

There were many wary glances thrown in his direction when he landed but he paid them no mind as he let his intuition guide him to you. His first stop was your home and unfortunately, you didn’t answer the door. As he turned back to head back towards the heart of the camp, he was truly beginning to wonder if you had married. The thought hurt but he deserved it if that was the case. 

No sooner than he reached the first market stall, the faintest hint of your scent filled his senses. His eyes scanned the small crowd and quickly found you with a small child by your side, a hand gripped tightly around yours. As if you could sense him, your wide eyes met his and it was in that moment that you overtook all of his senses.

The Illyrians around him faded into nothing as that golden thread that now bound the two of you together shined brightly on his end. You gave him a small, shy smile but didn’t make a move to step closer. He let his gaze drift to the child as you picked him up and he noted everything about him quickly. 

The boy had every feature of an Illyrian so to him, it meant that you had moved on. He didn’t deserve the explanation that he wanted but found himself hopeful whenever you walked towards him. Instead of directly addressing him, you simply nodded your head to your home. He followed closely behind while glaring at anyone who dared look at you too long or with disdain.

“We haven’t seen you or Cassian in a while,” you started as the three of you entered the home and sat the boy down. “Come to check on training?”

“I came to see you,” he admitted, shifting on his feet in his nervous state. “I didn’t- I didn’t handle it right.”

“Go play, sweetheart,” you muttered to the boy who did as told before you turned back to him. “I get it. I’m not-”

“You are everything,” he growled softly once he was close enough to cup your face. “I was foolish to let you go.”

“Az-”

“No.” His voice was thick again from his throat tightening, his nerves at an all time high as the bond sang inside of him. “I love you and I always have. But you deserve so much better.”

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered as tears lined your eyes again. “Nobody wants a female with a bastard son much less an Illyrian female with one.”

“He’s beautiful,” he murmured. “Any male would be foolish for letting you go. Just as I was.”

“You deserve better and-”

Azriel cut her off by crashing his lips to hers and his heart warmed at how you melted into him. He had come with the intention to win you back at all costs only to find out that you were his mate. It truly was a feeling like no other, an experience that could never be described without doing it justice. Little feet could be heard so you pulled back quickly and place a few feet of distance between the two of you.

“Mama.” The boy peered curiously around the corner, eyes moving between the both of you. “Who’s that?”

“Aeden, this is Azriel.” You smiled tenderly at the boy before looking at him. “Az, this is Aeden.”

“Hey!” Aeden exclaimed happily but turned back to his mother. “Eat and fly!”

“We can eat,” you laughed softly, stretching your hand out towards him. “We can look again for someone to help you fly.”

His heart was now a puddle on the floor. You had a son that more than likely didn’t know a thing about flying at his young age. Aeden’s Illyrian instincts were already screaming at him to learn how to fly and there was seemingly no one to teach him. His brain began nagging him but he wasn’t sure how to voice what he wanted to say.

“There’s no one that will help him fly?” he asked quietly when you joined him on the couch while the boy ate.

“No,” you answered with an equally quiet tone. “Nobody quite wants to be around us due to the circumstances. Not even my best friend’s husband.”

“Come to Velaris.” The words escaped him before he had time to realize what he was thinking. “You would both be loved and me, Cass, and Rhys can teach him how to fly. He’d love Nyx.”

You assessed him for a moment and placed a quick kiss against his lips before your son could see. Relief flooded through him when you nodded your head, leaving him feeling better than he had ever before in his life.

You stood in the foyer of the place that Azriel called home, contemplating everything that had led you here. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful and appreciated his offer but it was because of how out of place that you felt. A townhouse was somewhere that you would have never guessed that you would ever call home. You had barely had time to agree before the shadowsinger was reassuring you tenderly all while offering to help you pack up what was needed.

He had promised that there would be better belongings waiting for you and he hadn’t lied. You were surprised to learn that the High Lord and Lady themselves had gone out of their way to buy both you and your son some things that you needed. Something within you nagged you about the generous charity that it felt like but as you watched your son get settled, all of that went away without a trace.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” you asked later that night, for some reason dreading the answer.

“You have a room there.” He pointed to a guest room beside Aeden’s. “Or..”

“Or what?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you suggesting that I can sleep with you?”

“If- If you-” Azriel tripping over his words with a new wave of nervousness was somewhat amusing. “If you want.”

You gave him a small smile, touching his shoulder in reassurance before checking in on your son. Anticipation shot through you as you relaxed in the bath, contemplating your two options. There hadn’t been a moment of peace since you had given birth and hoped that the new environment would keep the three year old in his own bed that night. Once you were clean, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door and stepping past the threshold of his bedroom.

“I was wondering if your offer still stands,” you muttered quietly as heat rose in your cheeks.

“Please.”

There was something in his underlying plea that had your feet moving but you stopped at the edge of the bed. He watched you with patience and ended up pulling you down into the bed next to him. A laugh slipped past you as he pulled you so close into him that there wasn’t an inch separating the both of you. 

“I don’t bite,” he murmured, burying his face into your hair.

“And if I wanted you to?” you countered with a coy smirk.

“That could be arranged.”

A devilish grin spread across his face before he had you on your back and it earned him a quiet laugh. You weren’t sure how long he made love to you and worshiped you in a way that no one ever had before. There were too many ‘I love yous’ passed between the both of you for you to keep up with but it had you feeling complete for the first time in your life.

You had no way to know what time it was or how long that you had slept but when you awoke, Aeden was in the bed and curled up next to Azriel. The sight had your heart fluttering in your chest so you simply laid back down and snuggled up to the pair.

A month felt as if it passed by in a blur. Azriel had waited a week before introducing you and your son to the family, seemingly impatient to teach Aeden how to fly. There were so many mornings that your son sat in your love’s lap while they read and you cooked breakfast. It was a sight that you knew that you would never get tired of seeing. 

It wasn’t until you watched Azriel and Cassian making progress with Aeden after three months did you realize what true happiness was. Cassian was silly and had jokes when it came to helping the boy all while Azriel fretted like a mother hen. Feyre had mentioned once that it looked as if the male saw your son as his own and it was all that you see when you looked at him.

“He’s making really good progress.” 

You glanced beside you to the High Lady as you both prepared the food for the night. A frown fell on your face as you watched Aeden fall out of the air again only to be caught by Azriel. Your son truly had made progress but your heart pounded in your chest each time you watched him make a mistake and start falling quickly towards the ground.

“I’m used to seeing different versions of the males’ training so this is definitely new for me,” you sighed. “I know Az won’t let him get hurt but still.”

“I felt the same with Nyx.”

A smile was shared between the both of you as Elain joined to help finish up the meal. Anticipation and nervousness filled you as it came time for the entire Inner Circle to come together. You had met all of them already, of course, but it felt like a new test with having them all together.

“Ready to eat!” Aedan exclaimed as he ran through the door, covered in dirt with a small scratch on his face.

“Did you let my son fall?” you asked as you looked between Azriel and Cassian.

“I turned my back for one second-”

“He’s fine,” Cassian drawled, laughing hard when his brother elbowed him in the ribs for interrupting him. “Even Feyre took a few tumbles and she’s just fine.”

“That’s different,” you huffed, glancing at your friend in hopes that she would defend you but the female simply smiled.

You shook your head in defeat and ushered your son to his seat between you and Azriel. Aedan adored the shadowsinger and looked up to him in a way that he had never experienced before. At least that was what he had told you during a late night conversation. Conversation flowed easily thanks to the family that made you feel welcomed and loved just as the spymaster had promised. 

“Daddy!” Aeden exclaimed. “Want more!”

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes went wide when you realized that your son had just called your boyfriend his father. It was unprovoked and something that hadn’t been talked about by any of them. You glanced at Azriel and as your eyes met his, your body went tense and loose all at once at the overwhelming new feeling.

“I was going to tell you,” he whispered gently with caution on his face as the bond sang between you.

All that you could do was grin cheesily at him. At that point and time, it didn’t matter that you hadn’t been informed. All that mattered was that you had found the one that you were made for and on top of that, loved your son unconditionally as well. Rounds of congratulations sounded around the both of you but you couldn’t think straight as your eyes refused to move from the hazel ones two seats across from you.

You had never thought that your life would be this good and you would go through all of the hell and heartbreak again if it meant being where you were now.

Tag list:

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 13

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 1.8k | Warnings: none | Masterlist

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author's note: everyone say thank you to @sarawritestories for bullying me to get me to write and to @milswrites for the NEW HEADER LOOK IT'S SO PRETTY

Ten minutes to the dot from getting to your door Azriel was walking into your apartment with a bowl of popcorn and several bags of candy. He brought chocolates, gummy worms, cookies, and several other sweets in the crook of his elbow, several being held by random fingers. You really weren’t sure how he was carrying it all. 

In your absence he also changed into some black sweatpants and a black tee, his arms flexed with all the snacks in his hold. He looked great at mini golf, but now he looked attractive in such a different way. 

“What are you doing?” He looked a bit ridiculous, as if he just raided a candy store. He looked even more ridiculous trying to toe his shoes off before making his way over to you.

“I know you don’t have food here.”

“Yes we do - Cassian was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday!” You whip your head to the kitchen, as if you could see the inside of your pantry from where you sat. “Besides I ordered a pizza.”

He gives you a look, “Cassian’s version of grocery shopping is stopping at our apartment and taking what he wants.”

Your eyes widen, “no he does not! He said he goes to the store for food.”

He scoffs, setting down the candy and snacks on the table in front of you, lining them all up so you could see the label on each bag, “the store of Rhys and Az, maybe. A 24 hour convenience store Cassian has a lifetime membership to.”

You think back to all the times Cassian told you he was going grocery shopping, but you’re not sure if you ever did see him come back with bags of groceries. All the food and supplies just showed up. “Well, I’m sorry he does that. It does explain his luxurious tastes though…”

“It’s fine,” he says sitting next to you, your legs touching. “Rhys’s dad pays for the groceries, so..” 

His sentence lingers as he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s what’s worked for us for a long time. Rhys couldn't care less. Actually I think he prefers getting to spend money on us.”

“So things with Rhys’s dad are weird?”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose. His dad sucks. Gives Rhys a- basically an unlimited credit card. Rhys has played with the limits on it before. We all know he’s rich, we just don’t know how rich. He’s spent a ridiculous amount of money on that card with no response. Once he bought all of ours and Cassian’s furniture in one trip - bought ridiculously priced shit too. Didn’t even blink over it.”

He scoops up a handful of popcorn, popping some into his mouth. “Well, all the furniture except their ridiculously sized tvs.”

You giggle, grabbing the bag of sour candies he brought and opening them, popping some in your mouth. “Mm, you’re too good to fall victim to their childish antics?”

“I’m more evolved than them.”

“So it was a different Azriel that Cassian was talking about going racing with him on some backroads a few weeks ago?”

A beat passes and he refuses to look at you, his eyes straight forward. “I think Cassian has face blindness.”

“Oh yeah, mhm.” You pick up the remote, scrolling to look through potential movies to watch. “Maybe we should get a decal for your bike so he won’t get confused again. I’m thinking of something that makes you seem distinguished.”

“Oh?”

“Something that makes you seem intimidating.”

“something scary?” His eyes dance with amusement, crinkling in contained joy.

“Something terrifying. So they know you’re a menace.”

You scroll through the movie options, Azriel’s arm making its way across the back of the couch behind you. He spreads his legs a bit, and you nestle into his shoulder as you put on Jurassic Park, picking a movie you’d be okay with missing some parts to it.

The two of you had watched at least three quarters of Jurassic Park, several parts of the movie missed because the two of you couldn’t keep from making out on your couch. 

You watched the entire trilogy, staying up late with him. By the time the second movie came on, the two of you talked through most of it, until you’d reach the scenes with the pterodactyls in the third movie. Then you had forced your hands over his mouth, not letting him talk over your favorite scenes. Once you had pulled them away, he immediately dove on top of you, pushing you into the couch and nuzzling his face into your neck.

The two of you stayed up until somewhere around 3 AM, the third movie long forgotten as you asked him to stay the night. Nothing happened, except you did wake up the next morning with his arm slung around your waist, making it very tempting to completely ignore your alarm clock.

Unfortunately, Azriel had work to do, kissing your temple before he snuck back into his apartment to get dressed.

He had been gone for all of twenty seconds when your phone buzzed and he asked if you’d like to get coffee the next day before class. Your classes lined up at the same time each day, so you two would meet up at a local coffee shop in the morning. You’d park your car in the grocery store lot afterwards, Azriel holding out his spare helmet for you before helping put it on your head before he’d zip you two through campus, one of his hands always on your thigh. 

The two of you would separate once he’d walk you to your classes, and then you’d meet back up at the library. It was a bit concerning to you how quickly the two of you fell into a routine, most of your free time of the week either spent with him or texting him.

“I got you something.”

You rummage through your bag when Azriel walks up to the table, his jacket being thrown onto one of the extra chairs. He sets down his helmet as you continue your search. You slide the envelope across the table, his scarred fingers touching yours as he grabs it from you. He opens the envelope, pulling out the note.

‘To be more menacing’ is written on pink stationary, a sticker falling from the paper. He picks it up, a smile on his face as he turns the sticker in his fingers, the cartoon goose with a knife in his mouth looking back at you.

His smile is captivating in the harsh lighting of the library, the LEDs making his skin several shades too light.

But it made his smile all the more blinding. 

“Thank you,” he slips the sticker into his jacket pocket, sliding into the seat across from you.

He pulled out his laptop, his bag neat and tidy, a far cry from Cassian’s paper cluttered bag. You go back to reviewing your notes, as Azriel begins typing on his computer. The silence is comfortable between you two, and as you feel it start to settle, Azriel’s foot grazes your own, sticking itself between your crossed ankles. 

You peer at him across the table, but his tortoiseshell glasses don’t move towards you, his computer screen reflecting through them to show he was working on some form of coding you had no desire to understand. You smile back down to your books, trying to get all your work finished before Friday, the six of you spending the weekend at Rhys’s dad’s lake house. 

Cassian had been moaning and groaning for several weeks about wanting to go to the lake, but Rhys’s dad was having renovations done on the house and on the private dock until roughly two weeks ago. Since its completion, Cassian has been relentless, worming the word ‘lake’ into every conversation he’s had, not being very subtle about what he wanted.

Every morning he texted your group chat about his ‘cornfLAKEs’ or about how he just loves ‘snowfLAKEs’. He had just run out of words two days ago and now resorted to making up words that had ‘lake’ in them. Rhys immediately texted everyone to ‘please for the love of my sanity, be available this weekend or else I’m petitioning we murder Cassian’. 

None of you wanted to be stuck doing any kind of work this weekend - Cassian and Azriel already had the weekend off, Mor and Feyre were free, and your plans revolved around the work and the man in front of you. All of you were desperate to finish any work that was due on Monday before the six of you left.

“So this weekend.”

He holds up a finger, typing furiously before he stops, looking up at you. He closes his laptop slightly, pushing it away from himself. 

“This weekend.”

You put your chin in your hands, looking at his tan face. You loved seeing him wear his glasses - they made him look so endearing and soft. “Are we um going to tell anyone before we go? Besides Mor, obviously.”

You had texted Mor at some point during the second or third movie, asking her if she had mentioned your date to anyone. She had said no and that she’d be willing to keep it that way if you remembered to thank her profusely for ‘setting you up on the best date of your life’. 

You had agreed, but now this left you with a bit of a dilemma - when do you tell everyone? Does he want to tell everyone?

“You don’t understand how annoying they can get when it comes to my love life.”

You giggled, certain you could figure it out based on how nosey and meddling Cassian was. 

He clears his throat, “besides I’d like to figure things out with you before they know. I don’t want them to scare you off.”

You laughed, “I walked in on Cassian trimming his toenails the other night. I think anything worse than that violates the Geneva convention.”

His smile is bright as he watches you giggle at your own joke. “How about this,” his hands move across the table, laying them palm up so you can sit yours into them. Your fingers lightly trace the lines on his palms as his voice picks up again. “I’ll take you out for lunch tomorrow, and it will be the official end of things… until we get back.”

You raise your brows, but he’s not finished. “Obviously, not really the end of things. But just.. We’ll come back from lunch as the people we were last week. Before mini golf.”

Your voice is a bit unsteady as you ask, “do you want to stay those people? The before mini golf versions of ourselves?”

“No.” His reply is fast, voice full of conviction.

“You’re not just saying this because Rhys’s lake house has a hot housekeeper, are you?”

He blows out his lips, laughing at your waggling eyebrows, “Sonya’s been about eighty years old for the past fifteen years.” His fingers quickly snatch yours, holding them tightly. “So she’s perfect for me.”

You throw your head back, about to laugh, but he pulls your fingers forward, bringing you in for a soft kiss you can’t help but giggle through.

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Thanks for reading <3

[thrumbolt]

Top 5 most annoying Tamlin scene misinterpretations

1. ''There is no such thing as a high lady'' I hate this one, because it is always taken as some sort of proof that Tamlin is a raging misogynist who doesn't want an equal woman by his side or some similar type of nonsense. I don't know where this is coming from. Tamlin never wanted to be a high lord. He would probably welcome for someone to take over most of the work so he could just keep running through the woods. He also has absolutely no issues with taking advice from women in power (Ianthe? Hello??). His first reaction to the high lady question is literally this:

“Is everyone just going to call me ‘Tamlin’s wife’? Do I get a … title?” He lifted his head long enough to look at me. “Do you want a title?”

And let's not forget that Feyre's first reply is ''No, I don’t know if I can handle them calling me High Lady”. To which he then answers that she doesn't have to worry about that, since ''there is no such thing as a high lady'' because the magic choses the title and it keeps chosing males. Also this whole scene happens while he eats her out. Not that it's relevant or anything, just saying...

2. ''Tamlin killed Rhys' family'' No. Tamlin's dad killed Rhys' family. I have no idea how Tamlin doing it is ever the takeaway from that whole story. Let's just quote the actual scene:

“Tamlin’s father, brothers, and Tamlin himself set out into the Illyrian wilderness, having heard from Tamlin—from me—where my mother and sister would be, that I had plans to see them. I was supposed to be there. I wasn’t. And they slaughtered my mother and sister anyway.”

Yeah okay, Tamlin gave the information (supposedly) and was there (supposedly) sure, but it's highly unlikely that he was so willingly. Let's not forget that it's established that Tamlin was afraid of his father, that Tamlin's father is worse than Beron (who, I might remind you, tortures his sons) and that Tamlin was friends with Rhys at the time - which neither family approved of. Even Rhys doesn't actually believe Tamlin did anything besides being spineless:

''I didn’t care that Tamlin had been there, had allowed them to kill my mother and sister, that he’d come to kill me because he didn’t want to risk standing against them.''

In the end we don't know the details. Tamlin could've been tortured and tied up or whatever. Making him watch could've been a cruel form of punishment for being friends with Rhys. We don't really know until SJM graces us with Tamlin's side of the story.

3. ''It's really Tamlin's own fault that the spring court fell'' Alternatively also phrased as: 'Feyre just opened everyone's eyes to Tamlin's incompetence' and....honestly? This low key makes me question the reading comprehension of people.

Yes, Tamlin made a deal with Hybern, which was extremely risky, but the war was coming regardless (as we learn from Rhys in the first half of ACOMAF) and the spring court would be the main target because of its location next to the wall. Inviting Hybern into his lands in a trade is actually a pretty smart way to avoid a lot of death on Tamlin's part - plus he needed help to rescue Feyre and get her out of the deal she had with Rhysand (people forget that Tamlin didn't know Feyre didn't actually need rescuing from the guy that was abusing her in front of him in ACOTAR).

So yeah anyway, Feyre did several things to make the spring court fall: 1. She manipulated the solstice ceremony to make herself seem cauldron-blessed in the eyes of the people, 2. She made a sentry accuse Ianthe (who WAS doing sneaky shit) which essentially did nothing except putting Tamlin on the spot in front of Hybern, so he was kind of forced to throw the sentry under the bus. Good job Feyre, you got a poor sod whipped! But it also built resentment within the soldiers, which was her plan all along and 3. before leaving, she did this (let's just quote the whole thing):

''I had a people who had lost faith in their High Priestess. I had sentries who were beginning to rebel against their High Lord. And as a result of those things, I had Hybern royals doubting the strength of their allies here. I’d primed this court to fall. Not from outside forces—but its own internal warring. And I had to be clear of it before it happened. Before the last sliver of my plan fell into place. The party would return without me. And to maintain that illusion of strength, Tamlin and Ianthe would lie about it—where I’d gone. And perhaps a day or two after that, one of these sentries would reveal the news, a carefully sprung trap that I’d coiled into his mind like one of my snares. I’d fled for my life—after being nearly killed by the Hybern prince and princess. I’d planted images in his head of my brutalized body, the markings consistent with what Dagdan and Brannagh had already revealed to be their style. He’d describe them in detail—describe how he helped me get away before it was too late. How I ran for my life when Tamlin and Ianthe refused to intervene, to risk their alliance with Hybern. And when the sentry revealed the truth, no longer able to stomach keeping quiet when he saw how my sorry fate was concealed by Tamlin and Ianthe, just as Tamlin had sided with Ianthe the day he’d flogged that sentry …When he described what Hybern had done to me, their Cursebreaker, their newly anointed Cauldron-blessed, before I’d fled for my life … There would be no further alliance. For there would be no sentry or denizen of this court who would stand with Tamlin or Ianthe after this. After me.''

So, the sentries left Tamlin because of a lie. A fake story. Without sentries, Hybern decided to take over rather than just be guests and had a prime spot to attack the summer court in turn. Which is also why Tarquin is extremely pissed at Feyre - not Tamlin. So no, Tamlin wasn't a bad high lord. His only real mistake was ever trusting Feyre.

Sure, some argue that Feyre thought Tamlin genuinely sided with Hybern and might be a threat to the rest of Prythian, so taking him down would make sense for her even outside of petty revenge. But there's just one problem with that: Feyre is a mind reader. She could have just.....checked. lol

4. ''Tamlin didn't do anything Under the Mountain'' This one really gets my goat because it's not really true? Things Tamlin did to help Feyre: 1. He sent her away to the human realm. (People forget this, but he basically doomed his court to protect her ass - it's not his fault she came back!) 2. He made Lucien check up on her. (Yes Lucien was Feyre's friend but he still acted under Tamlin's orders!) 3. He ignored Feyre as to not rile Amarantha up even more (Come on, have you seen Amarantha? It totally makes sense) 4. He tries to get to Feyre, begging Amarantha to stop even as he is tied up, bleeding out from a stab wound to his chest that he can't heal because he has no powers - like what do you want him to do??? 4. He literally kills Amarantha the second he is able to

Also personal conspiracy detour: That music that Rhysand supposedly sent to Feyre was SO originally supposed to be Tamlin, you can't convince me otherwise. I will never not believe that this wasn't just a lazily done quick change when SJM rewrote book 1 and 2 to account for the boyfriend switcheroo. Attributing the music to Rhys makes absolutely zero sense. He's not a musical boy at all, come on! Music themes never come up with him again either! Meanwhile Tamlin played for Feyre before, is generally a musical guy COME ON! /conspiracy detour over

5. ''It's Tamlin's fault that Nesta and Elaine got turned to fae'' No. No it's not. He knew nothing about this. Ianthe did this on her own accord because Feyre told her where her sister's lived. Tamlin actually attacks (!) the King of Hybern over it (to no avail, but still).

Some people blame Tamlin for keeping Ianthe around afterwards, despite of what she did. Those people I want to refer to point number 3 in this list. Ianthe was working with Hybern. Tamlin tried to be buddies with Hybern for reasons. No, he can't just throw out Ianthe.

[littlemisssatanist]

my acotar unpopular opinions

taking this time to come out as an acotar reader. yes i've read all the books and i've spent way too much time thinking about it. i enjoy the books in the sense that i enjoy hating on many of the characters and loving a few of the others.

be forewarned inner circle fans. you will not like this.

rhysand is not a 'morally grey' character. he's a rapist and a groomer. he sexually assaulted feyre utm, he groomed her (reminder that she was 19 in acotar), and he withheld important medical information from her. 'you'll always have a choice' my ass.

nesta telling feyre about her pregnancy was not a bad thing. why do people act like it is? 'oh she did it to hurt feyre' hurt her by doing what? revealing the lies that her beloved husband had woven? revealing the fact that she'd die giving birth? the fact that rhysand told literally everybody but feyre?

mor is not the champion for women everyone thinks she is. this i will give to sjm it is truly impressive to make a character like women and still be a pick me. i'm not even going to go into her whole weird ass relationship with her dad (i still don't understand why she wouldn't just kill him. 'oh rhys needed the army' rhys is supposed to be the most powerful high lord ever. either admit he's a fucking loser or give me an actual good reason for this) or the fact she's seemingly incapable of doing anything to help the women in the court of nightmares, but everytime she was mentioned, i had to let out a heavy sigh and rub my temples.

on a similar topic. i liked eris. like a lot. out of all the acotar characters sjm has written, eris is by far my favorite.

the inner circle needs to sit the fuck down. they are the most hypocritical bitches i've ever met. they like to think themselves high and mighty. reading them make fun of lucien's band of exiles while their name is literally 'court of dreamers' was the most infuriating thing ever. and then they have the gall to be insulted when called out. don't dish what you can't take.

out of all the inner circle, the only one i don't hate is azriel. this is simply because he is the only one who hasn't opened his big fat mouth and done something bad (except if you maybe count his whole thing with elain). cassian is on my hit list. it's on sight with cassian.

nessian is sjm's worst ship and i will stand by that. lucien/nesta could have been so much. 'nesta would have ripped lucien apart' and cassian was your first choice? not even azriel was considered? like be so for real right now. sjm didn't see the potential of lucien/nesta and i will forever mourn that.

sjm is a terrible writer. i'm not saying this to be mean but she seriously just sucks at it. that being said i admire her ability to still make millions of dollars off her shitty writing. as a woman, i am rooting for her. as a reader, every day i wake up a shoot a prayer to the heavens begging the gods to not let sjm write any more books from the inner circle's pov.

lucien/elain is better than azriel/elain. argue with the wall.

eris/azriel is better than azriel/elain. you can kiss my ass.

NESTA/ERIS IS BETTER THAN RHYSAND/FEYRE. i know this because i have been enlightened.

feyre is a victim to rhysand. that being said, she is also a major bitch. both can be true because these things are not mutually exclusive. i wish she could make friends outside of the ic like nesta did, but i know that's unlikely.

feyre's pregnancy storyline was completely useless and went against her whole character.

acomaf retconned everything about tamlin and feyre's relationship in order to make more money. idc.

tamlin gets a ridiculous amount of hate. rhysand is hypocritical. so tamlin locking feyre in a house because she wants to ride out with him into potential danger is terrible and abusive, but rhysand locking nesta in the house of wind for... *checks notes*... having sex and spending money on alcohol is helping her? what?

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Bat Boys with Bat Babies HC

Warnings: polyamorous mates, nothing else really, batboys being mushy with the bat triplets, ft amren & mor, i know i have two more requests to get done from last month but the bat boys are my comfort mates rn

honestly you hardly get any time with your babies besides breast feeding. the bat boys were smitten and abducted your babies from their cots

already wrapped around the triplets' little fingers

Rhysand loves toting his pack of children wherever he went. two would be on his shoulders while he held one in his arms

in both velaris and the hewn city, everyone calls Rian the crown prince despite Dagen technically the first born. (as babies no one is for sure of who belonged to which father but as they get older it's easy to tell. rian has the prettiest eyes; dagen has whisps of shadows on his wings that make them look fluffly, and baila had the general's rambunctiousness)

also as a toddler, baila made it a habit to greet everyone by headbutting their shins like a goat 😂

you nor your mates or the rest of the inner circle care about paternity. in your mixed family it didn't matter.

though succession would be something to talk about when the kids got older

cassian is definitely the fun dad. rough houses with all three bat babies.

azriel plays shadow tag and hide & seek with them. his shadows make for good alarms at night as they monitor the nursery while you caught up on much needed sleep

bat babies LOVE mor. amren kinda scares dagen and rian but not baila.

"this one is fearless" amren would comment then add with a smirk "i like it."

an even bigger bed is required for all seven of you to properly snuggle

when the babies start to experiment with their wings and flap them rhysand damn near cries. its a big step for illyrian babies when they begin to utilize their wings and strengthen them. (rian like rhysand can summon his wings at will)

az tells them stories using his shadows to make images for them (when their eyes start to track, they're mesmerized)

while there are no favorites, baila is more spoiled than her brothers. she was the only female afterall and the most charming. baila had cass' personality with your appearance. cass jokes that she'll be ruling the court of nightmares in no time lol

however, she's the one who likes to stay by your side the most. complete mommy's girl and it breaks her daddys' hearts 😂. always cries when they try to take her away from you.

kids like napping in rhys' office. often times dagen is curled up against his chest as he goes through paperwork. rian and baila in the cot that he moved to his office.

when they learn how to walk, they follow rhys everywhere (or try to)

pls send me more bat boy hc. they give me life

[redbleedingrose]

Girl Dad!Cassian x reader Headcanons

A/N: I love me some girl dad Bat boys and Vanserra bros. TBH all the ACOTAR males would make incredible girl dads and I was just thinking about Cassian today. Anyway, this is for @augustinerose I know that it has been tough recently, so I hope this made you smile. <3

Cassian is a girls girl. He LOVES his daughter, and wants his babe to be able to express herself in any way she wants. So he def lets his daughter paint his nails pink and purple, and grins so wide when she smacks a kiss onto his cheek calling him pretty. And he takes real good care to paint her nails all nice and clean.

Cass is also happy to let his pretty princess put some makeup on him, with the blue eyeshadow and red lips. Male is not even the slightest bit embarrassed when you walk into your home to find him sitting on the floor so that your daughter can reach his face, six bows of all colors in his hair that is half braided and half curled, with your reddest shade of lipstick being smeared all over him. The guilty look from your babe stealing your makeup is too cute, and you settle down into Cass’ lap and ask her to do your hair and makeup too.

He would die for this child, and do practically anything to see a smile on her face, so he is gonna wear the purple tutu and tiara for his girl, and he is absolutely gonna have his pinky pointing out while he sips water from a tiny princess tea cup cuz his baby girl scolded him for not using "proper etticuite daddy."

Occasionally, she can also rope in Az and Rhys and they might roll their eyes and moan and groan, but they are gonna do anything for that little girl because they adore her and she is the only baby girl in the family so far. They spoil her like no other. You had to practically ban Rhys from getting her anymore dresses because there was no more storage in your home, and you nearly threw him into the Sidra when he offered to add another room to your home so he could fill it up with more jewelry and shoes and tutus for the “night court princess”

And on starfall, she does little dance routines for the whole family but she willet all shy about dancing her little ballerina routine in front everyone in the inner circle, so he helps her out and dances by her side even getting on his tippy toes despite everyone is snickering at him, this big burly male twirling around with his muscled arms pointed to the sky with his "mini me"

He loves pretending to chomp and eat her ruddy cheeks because it makes her cackle from deep in her tummy, and he is always blowing raspberries into her chubby belly. Don’t even get me started on those chunky thighs, and stinky feet. Cass wants to cry every single time he thinks about his pretty princess growing up. He wants her to stay young forever, to never worry about a single thing, to make sure that he can always watch over her and protect her.

When she was a newborn, he would steal her from the bassinet and take her on flights, wrapping her tiny wings into a wooly blanket to make sure they stay warm and cozy, and he would spend hours just flying around and telling her stories about his life, and stories about you. His favorite topic to talk about to her while she snoozes away is how much he loves you and how much he loves her. His obsession with his girls is truly a next level of adoration.

Ugh AND he loves cutting up fruit for her, and she just walks around munching on it with her tiny fist around the fruit and juices smeared across her cheeks. An he is always so gentle about wiping away the juices with a wet rag, having her sitting on the counter with her tiny legs swinging back and forth kicking his corded thighs while he cleans her ups and smooches her ruddy cheeks when he is done

Let us also discuss how Cassian learned how to braid hair by the Valkaryie warriors, and so he is the expert when it comes to doing her hair. Male can do twists and plaits so fast and instinctually, its insane. Most days, you have him doing your own hair. Oh, and she was born with a TUFT of hair that he would play with to soothe her. It is thick and dark just like his, and curls at the end, and he thinks it is one of his favorite features that he passed on to her.

OOOHHHH and imagine him teaching her to fly when she finally has the strength to control those muscles. She is all frustrated with fat tears rolling down her ruddy cheeks cuz “is too hard daddy” and he is down on one knee in front of her, rubbing his large hands over her tiny shoulders hushing her little cries, “s’okay baby, you’re right, it is hard,” and he smooches her cheek and pulls back to stare into her big eyes, “but you know what sweet girl? You can do it. It might take some time and practice, like most things do, but you will do it. And I will be here every step of the way, ‘kay?” And she sniffles, rubbing her tears away with a tiny fist and snuggles into his big chest while nodding.

Every birthday, he buys her a bouquet of flowers. And he also buys you a bouquet of flowers, making sure to thank you for the best gift he has ever received.

Okay maybe I will add more to this later, but this all I got for now, I hope you enjoyed!!!

[adickaboutspoons]

Happy sexual Sunday. In honor of Rhys announcing his upcoming substack by pointing at hand-written bulletpoints on a chalkboard with a screwdriver, I want to share the OnlyFans Stede idea that has been in my plot bunny pen for ages, but prolly isn't going to go anywhere. Stede's OF account was set up for him by Lucius, and is completely neutral content of him demonstrating basic auto maintenance and, like, how to tie a fishing lure, and a bunch of other Dad things, and he's completely oblivious to how unintentionally suggestive he's being. Like, he's filming himself working in the garden when it's super hot out, makes a "it's not the heat, it's the humidity" dad joke, strips off his shirt and uses it to mop his brow. He's on his hands and knees, pulling up weeds, and when he manages to pull up a particularly stubborn one, roots and all, kind-of-whispery/grunting-to-himself, "Aww, yeah. That's what you want, baby." Then he sits back and takes a deep drink from his water bottle, and accidentally holds it near his crotch while encouraging his watchers to stay hydrated. Ed is one of his subscribers and finds the whole thing just brain-meltingly hot. Eventually, they accidentally meet IRL, and Ed is trying to be SO COOL and not let it be known that he knows this guy and where from. And then they keep running into one another (by total coincidence - Ed hasn't become a convert to going to the farmer's market instead of just picking shit up from the grocery store on the off (likely) chance of running into Stede while he's there. Not at ALL.), and start becoming friendly. It's during one of these meetings Ed accidentally slips that he's a subscriber. He's mortified. For a moment he thinks Stede is going to get all weirded out. But Stede is just like "Oh! You like the feed? Why didn't you say so?! Always glad to meet my Only Fan!" (Stede has a v. healthy subscribership, but he thinks making the Only Fan joke is Hilarious) Stede asks for his username, and when he tells him, Stede is all "Oh! I know YOU! I can't tell you how much your feedback means to me. Always leaves me feeling all glowy for days!" Ed is all blushy and stammery and, "Uh... yeah, man. Me too." He offers Ed a hug, and Ed is internally combusting. Stede is all "If you've got any ideas for the feed, I'm always open to suggestions. Is there anything you'd like to see me doing?" There are MANY things Ed would like to see him doing. None of which are appropriate to give voice to in a crowded open-air market. Eventually eventually, after many instances where Ed is going crazy trying to figure out if it's a date or just a hang, there would be a v. thorough railing wherein Stede whispers all the tender, affirmational things Ed could ever have wished to hear. So! here's the only bit of it I've actually bothered to write:

The man on the screen smeared a little grease around the tight little hole, then inserted the cylinder into the gap in one smooth, gratifying motion. "There we are," he said, his voice a low, self-satisfied hum, "A nice, tight fit. And doesn't it feel good to do it yourself?"

Ed's breathing picked up pace a little.

"And that's how you replace a spark plug. Nothing shocking about it." He smiled a charming, little shit-eating grin and winked at the camera.

Ed's breath caught in his throat.

"So that's it for this one! Thanks, as always to my subscribers, and a special tip of the hat to this week's new friends," he looked away from the camera and put on a pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses. Ed swooned a little as he read out the names from an actual printed page.

At the end of it, he took off the glasses and looked directly into the camera again, his eyes soft and his smile genuine and kind. "Thank you for sharing this time with me. Lots of love!"

There was nothing explicitly sexual about the CapriSun_Erotica OnlyFans page. In fact, the most shocking thing about it was how roundly wholesome the content was. Just a man and his phone camera and a world of practical advice and dad jokes. An intensely hot man in the tiniest shorts or tightest jeans Ed had ever seen, who seemed allergic to doing up the top three buttons on his shirts, and that radiated so much DILF energy Ed was a little astonished the videos didn't just melt his phone screen. It was the most intensely arousing thing Ed had ever seen.

He eased himself out of his boxers and hit the replay button.

When he had cleaned himself up, he tapped out a quick reply. "Hey DaddyStede, great vid as usual. Really got my motor running. 😘"

[staystraykay]

TokyoRev Dad's: Baby's First Words

Sup Freaks! Sorry I've been very MIA lately. Had a lot of things to take care of and sadly I just couldn't fit any time into writing for you guys. But I am back and ready to kick ass!

So, we're starting up the TR Dad series and we are starting strong. Baby's first words and the line up for the comback is:

Rindou---Ran---Mikey

So let's rock-n-roll buttholes!

RINDOU

“Come on, honey. Say mama.” You begged your nearly one-year old daughter. 

Raiya had begun babbling and baby talking a couple of months ago. She’s made up her own little words for things she wanted or needed, and sometimes you had to have your five-year-old son Rhys to translate for you. Like when she started calling her comfort blanket her shushie. You didn’t have a single clue what she had been crying for all day until Rhys came in and handed her the small purple blanket.

“You wanna say it. I know you do.” You said playfully, making her giggle and clap her hands together repeatedly. “Mmmah mmmmah.” You said slower, making a funny face to try and trick her into mimicking you. 

“Y/N?” You heard Rindou call out after you heard the door open and shut. 

“In Raiya’s room.” You answered before clapping you hands. “Ma ma. Come on, Rai. I know you can do it. Say ma ma.” 

“Hey, Angel.” Rindou hummed as he came into the room, blonde hair pulled half back, kissing the top of your head before joining you on the tiara rug. “Princess,” he cooed down at his daughter who was smiling and clapping.

“Hi Daddy!” Rhys came running into the room, launching himself onto his father’s back.

Rhys’s blonde hair was getting longer and along with his downturned eyes your sweet baby boy was looking more and more like his father every day. He even picked up on his dad’s death glare, which he mimics when he doesn’t want to do what you’ve asked.

“Hey buddy!” Rindou chuckled and reached his arm around to support the boys weight, carefully so he doesn’t fall. “Were you good for momma today?” He raised a brow and the little boy smiled and nodded his head.

“Yup.” He popped his p with a giggle.

“What about school?” Rindou pushed further.

“Green card all day.” Rhys said proudly with his chin held up. “Kouta had to move his card to yellow today.”

“Really? Why?” Rindou mocked a gasp.

You always loved that Rin was good with kids. Hell he was great with you even. So watching him be a dad, being a great father who was involved in his kids lives, well it made you fall deeper in love with him. When he had to work out of town he always called ever free second he got to talk to the kids, and with you. You were worried when you first found out you were pregnant with Rhys. You were only seventeen and rindou had barely turned eighteen when you found out. At the time you were afraid you were so young and he was involved in such harsh work you thought maybe he’d bail. But he hasn’t. Not for a single second once since the day you told him about Rhys. And when he found out about Raiya, and that it was a girl this time, oh you wish you could go back and relive the excitement and joy written all over his face. 

“He threw a car at Kenzia’s head.” Rhys sighed. “I told him not to, daddy. Is told him whats you told me. Haitani’s don’t hit girls, unless it’s their butt because they like that.”

“Rindou!” You gasp and smack his chest. “Rhys, honey, you don’t hit gets period.”

The five year old snorted and looked at his dad with a matching smirk and said, “ok momma.”

Oh when this boy gets older you have no clue what you’re going to do.

“Daddy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” You sigh and toss a half hearted glare at your husband. “Daddy’s been hit one too many times.”

“Da~” you heard your daughter attempt to mimic.

You snapped your attention back down to her in shock. “What was that? You got it, Rai.” You smiled. 

She looked up at you and Rindou with her big violet eyes. “Da~ Da~” she babbled again.

“Come on, Princess. Almost there.” Rindou encouraged her, picking her up.

“Da da.” She pushed out with a big smile on her face, giggling and shrieking in her little baby excitement. “Dada! Dada!”

“Yes! That’s right, Princess. Dada is right here!” He cheered and smirked over at you. “Suck it. She said dada first.”

You glare and roll your eyes. “So? Rhys said mama first and he was our first born, so I still get the crown.”

Rindou smirked down at you and leaned in to peck your lips. “Mmm,” he hummed as he pulled away, “you’ve always had the crown baby. My first princess.”

“Ew,” you laughed and pushed him away before getting up. “I’m the queen.”

“My queen.” He added with a sexy knowing look. “Maybe we can make another little Prince or Princess tonight when the kids go to sleep.” He muttered into your hair before picking up both kids and running out the room to play with them.

Good God, what have you done to deserve this amazing man?

RAN

“You’re hovering, Love.” Ran sighed as he walked in to the living room to see you and your son on the couch. 

For hours now you have been trying to get your son Kouta to say something. Anything. You were getting impatient and you wanted to hear him say something. You could have sworn he said ball this morning but Ran said it sounded more like a burp. So, here you were laid on the couch, son on your lap giggling because his momma was making funny sounds and faces.

“He’ll say something when he’s ready to. No need to rush the process.” He added before leaning over the back of the couch and booped your son on the nose with one of his long fingers. “Ain’t that right, kiddo? Tell momma it’s ok. You’ll talk when you’re ready.”

You glared before flatly saying, “Rhys said his first word yesterday.”

Ran snapped his eyes to you and said, “really? Rin didn’t tell me.”

You shrugged and went back to playing with your son. “Katie called me yesterday and told me.”

“What was it?” He asked you, brows raised.

You shrugged again as you made a funny face to make your son laugh. “She didn’t say. We were on the phone and I guess he said it just then because she rushed me off the phone.”

“So she didn’t tell you, you just happened to be on the phone with her when he said it.” He deadpanned. 

“She still would have called me.” You defeneded.

“Mmmm sure.” Ran continued to tease. “You’re not special.”

“Am too!” You snapped back, obviously letting him under your skin.

“Are not.” He amusingly continued. He always did love to see you all flustered and your feathers are ruffled up. It was satisfying to know that even after all these years and now a kid, he still could rile you up like this.

“Are so! Now take it back, Ran!” You pout, feelings slightly hurt.

You were a princess dammit. He better start remembering that.

“Mmmm no.” He sighed.

You looked to your son and faked cried. “Dada is so mean, bubba.”

Your one year old son looked at you and pouted. He looked to his dad and slapped his chubby little hand down on his dad’s head before curling up in your chest.

“Mama.”

Did he just-

“Aw, baby.” You cooed as he rubbed his little head further into your chest. 

“Mama.” He repeated and you were just about ready to pass out.

“Someone’s protective over their momma.” You cooed and squeezed the baby close to you. “Mommy’s big protector.”

“Hey now, you don’t have to protect her from me.” Ran pouted and joined you on the couch. “I love momma too.” He whined.

Kouta looked at his dad and then looked at you.

“I know. He’s so whiney.” You said to your son, teasing your husband.

“Y/N.” He whined again.

You roll your eyes and look at your son. “What do you say? Should we share cuddles with dada?”

“Mama!” Kouta cheered and snuggled further into your chest.

“Sorry, Ran. You heard the kid. Momma only. No dad.” You taunted and mocked a shrug.

“Yeah right.” He scoffed before scooping you both up into his arms and curling up with you two. He looked at his son who was giggling. “You can share momma. I had her first anyways.”

MIKEY

Kaito, your five year old son, was helping you today and keeping his ten month old sister Miyo distracted for you. You needed the help today honestly. Miyo had woke up at six this morning and she hasn't ran out of energy yet. And with Mikey off handling 'business' today you had absolutely no help.

So, while you worked on making lunch to take up to your husband, Kaito decided he would step up and keep Miyo distracted. He was currently playing peek-a-boo with her on the living room floor. You could hear the gurgling giggles in the kitchen and every once in a while a childish 'boo!'.

"Kaito, honey, please go get your shoes and grab your sister's too." You called from the kitchen as you started to wrap up the bento box up in the black fabric.

"Yes ma'am." He called back and you could hear his little feet thudding off to his room.

"Hi Princess!" You cheered in a fake excitement for your daughter. She turned her little head towards you, her blonde hair cascading down from two pigtails. She clapped her hands with a big smile on her chunky little face. "Wanna go see daddy?" You asked and she squealed. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Here you go, Momma." Kaito said as he handed you Miyo's pink sparkly shoes Mikey just had to get her.

You son sat next to you and slipped on his spiderman light-up shoes before standing up to help you get things together. He honestly was mommy's little helper. You're going to cry when he grows out of this.

"I got Miyo's stroller ready, Momma. Daddy's lunch is in the bottom." He stated before he went to grab your purse off the kitchen table.

"Ok, buddy. Thank you." You smiled as him after you finally wrestled your daughter's shoes on. "Come on, Princess. Let's go see daddy." You sighed and stood up to strap her into the stroller. "Kaito, when we get outside you jump on the back ok? We gotta get there quickly today."

"Yes ma'am." He called from the front door that he was already unlocking.

You finally got both out the door and closed the house up. The walk to Bonten wasn't far from your house. Mikey liked to stay close in case he needed to get to the office for an emergency and also he said hiding in plain sight was always the best option. What cop would believe a known mobster was living a block away from his office? You didn't necessarily agree with that, but if Mikey went in he'd be coming right back out anyways so you didn't care. Half the damn city was in Bonten's pockets.

Thank you Kokonoi.

"Momma, can I push the livater button?" Kaito asked, still not quite getting the hang of the word elevator.

You smile down at him and rub his pale blonde hair. "Sure. You remember daddy's floor number?"

"P for pimp house!" He cheered.

"Pent house. Pent." You quickly corrected.

Sanzu probably taught him that.

You're going to rip his pink hair out.

"Penthouse." Your son repeated, feeling out how the word formed in his mouth.

You sighed as pushed the stroller up to the elevator doors. "Ok, Kaito, push the button pointing up."

"Ok!" He cheered and jumped off the back of his sister's stroller. "Up!" He chanted as he did his little happy dance waiting for the elevator to come down. "Up! We goin up! Right, Miyo?" You adored how your son always thought to include his sister. It made you a proud momma.

Miyo squealed again which made both you and Kaito laugh.

The elevator dinged and before the doors could fully open up, Kaito was already jamming his small body into the metal box. You tried to reach out to grab him in case anyone was in there he didn't need to see, but lucky you it was only Kokonoi.

"Uncle Koko!" Kaito cheered before launching him at the Chanel dressed man.

He looked up from his phone and saw you before looking down to the mini version of his boss. "Kaito. Y/N." He nodded to you before bending down to talk to your son as you joined them on the elevator. "How's the prince today?" Koko asked kindly before ruffling your son's hair.

"I'm good. I helped momma today." Your son bragged before giving the filthy rich man a big smile.

"Did you now? How'd you do that?" He played along.

It was always so funny to you how well Kokonoi did with kids. Normally boujie rich people don't like kids. They think there gross or loud or sticky or hazardous or in most cases all that wrapped up in a three foot body. But oddly not Koko. He loved Kaito and Miyo both. You remember all the too nice Chanel baby clothes he tends to get for both of them. The damned wind suit your son had on is an overly expensive Nike set Koko gifted to him as 'clothes you can get dirty'.

"Lots of stuff! But I mostly play with Miyo for Momma, so she can get things done." Kaito smiled even wider as Koko laughed and told him how good of a job he was doing.

"You coming to see Mikey today?" Koko asked you.

You nodded and said, "He forgot to grab lunch, and I refuse to let you guys suffer. I know how mean he can be to you guys if he doesn't eat." You chuckled sympathetically.

Koko nodded knowingly. "I was just on my way to the convenient store to get him something. He's been testy today."

The elevator dinged and opened up to the bonten pent house. Your son dashed out quicker than either you or Koko could react and before you knew it your five year old was out of sight.

"Kaito, wait!" You called.

You really needed to explain to him why he couldn't just run around in daddy's office. Or come up with a kid friendly reason. Telling your five year old that his father is a mobster who's killed people and beaten other's in this very office until they were unrecognizable.

"Daddy!" You heard your son cheer.

"Kaito?" The panic and confusion in your husband's voice was clear. "Where's your mother?"

"I'm right here." You sighed as you rounded the corner to see Mikey on the couch along with the Haitani brother's who were passing a joint back and forth and Sanzu who was cleaning his gun. "Kaito, I have told you, you cannot run away from mommy." You sighed as you gripped your son's shoulder.

"Uncle Sanzu what's that?" Kaito ignored you and asked the pink hitman about his gun.

"Huh? This? A nine-"

"It's nothing you need to know." You cut him off and glared at the man.

"Put it away." Mikey growled lowly and the hitman nodded and quickly took the 9-milimeter to his office.

Before you could turn on the Haitani's you heard the sliding of the balcony doors and saw the two finishing their roll on the balcony. At least the two of them had some type of manors. Who the hell starts breaking down what a gun is to a five year old? It's not like he doesn't have kids of his own. He has a son just a couple years younger than Kaito at home.

"Hi, Princess!" Mikey cheered as he picked his daughter up our of her stroller. "How's daddy's favorite girl?" He cooed as she squealed and giggled.

"Excuse me?" You snapped and raised a brow.

Mikey stiffened and then looked at you with a wink before kissing your brow. "Besides you my love."

"Mmmhm. Sure." You mocked rolling your eyes. "Well, your favorite girl has kept momma up since six this morning. Just playing and playing." You smiled at your daughter and cooed.

"Has she? You gotta let momma get her sleep, Princess. She's mean to daddy if you don't." Mikey teased and you shot him a quick glare.

You both started playing with her when Kaito started playing with his miniature soccer set Mikey kept at the office for him. Said he always wanted to make sure his kids could come visit him and have something fun to do.

Miyo noticed her brother and started babbling for him.

"You see bubba?" You asked as Mikey bounced her.

She looked at you then back at Kaito and suddenly screeched out, "Bu-ba!"

You and Mikey both froze and then looked at each other.

"Did she just-"

"Uh huh." You nodded.

"Bu-Ba! Bu-Ba!" She called out again and again, getting better every time.

Mikey finally put her down and she crawled off quickly to her brother, calling him as she did so. You looked over to Mikey and saw the pout on his face.

"Manjiro," You warned, "let your son have this."

"But I wanted to be her first word. I'm dada!" He pouted aloud to you.

You rolled your eyes and pecked him on the lips. "You're always going to be her daddy and she's always going to be your princess. Her first word doesn't change that. And you should be happy your daughter loved her brother. Maybe they'll be close and we'll be some of those lucky parents with kids who get along."

"Doubt it." Mikey scoffed. "Emma and I use to fight from sun up to sun down. Enjoy this while you can."

[harrygoeswest]

Infatuation On A Mutual Level

You and Harry are housemates and are both secretly quite fond of one another.

A/N: Woooo she’s here!!! I loved writing this one shot a lot and I really hope it shows. I haven’t had motivation to write for ages and this year I’ve really come back to it and I’m so happy. I hope you all love it as much as I do. She’s special to me. Special mention to the only person who ever wants to read for me @all-things-fic​ <3 Please come tell me what you think afterwards!! Katie x

Trigger Warnings: sexual content, brief mentions of loss, nightmares

Word Count: 18,777

~.~.~.~.~

Now

Every morning was the same.

The creak from the only bed on the first floor began the day. Then the gush of the tap in the shared bathroom. The kettle in the kitchen on the ground floor. The door closing when George left for the day. Then again 15 minutes later when Rhys did. Abbie starting the shower immediately afterwards now her boyfriend was gone. And then the only thing that ever made your skin prickle:

Harry’s door opening.

Every morning you would roll over at the sound, away from it. God forbid the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ ever pinned you with that warm, green-eyed stare first thing in the morning through the open gap of your own bedroom door. No, you might never be able to survive such a thing.

Living in a shared house was hard. Not least because you felt responsible for the place itself; owned by your single dad who would do anything to bring in what income he could, including taking more rent off his eldest child than he’d like. An argument arose regularly over your living situation but it was hard enough filling the fourth bedroom with a tenant. Living in the third was the least you felt you could do. The building was in dire need of some TLC but it wasn’t exactly an affordable fete. Sometimes the ceiling leaked on the second floor when it rained thanks to some shabby scaffolding work a few years back; the main reason why it was so hard to let the fourth bedroom. Part of you didn’t want to.

It was also hard in a house share because people were messy and you had a horrendous phobia of general mess. If you could quit your job and play full-time housekeeper you absolutely would. But your dad wouldn’t allow that. “Not in my lifetime,” He’d say with the gentlest scowl.

But the hardest part, by far, was being in such close proximity to the man who rented the bedroom across the hall. You weren’t sure why you were so terrified of him. Scarred by your original encounter with him, perhaps, but he wasn’t actually scary. He was, rather annoyingly, the nicest person in the house. Constantly aloof, yes, but still the poster boy for gentlemen everywhere.

Maybe if you spoke to him you’d learn he’s just a normal bloke, your inner voice trilled.

“Shut the fuck up.” You hissed into your pillow.

You waited for the inevitable sputter of the shower starting up again, and then rolled out of bed, threw on the clothes you’d hung up on the wardrobe door the night before - clean white shirt and grey trousers, ironed within an inch of their life - and scurried downstairs to arrange your usual to-go breakfast. Coffee in a reusable cup and a cereal bar. Hair and makeup could be fixed at work. You were always thirty minutes early anyway.

~

Harry wasn’t sure how you managed it. How every day you managed to evade him to avoid a puffy-eyed “good morning” or a potentially awkward conversation over breakfast.

As he stood in the hallway between your bedrooms towelling his hair dry in nothing but a pair of boxers and a damp t-shirt, he stared into your bedroom and marvelled yet again at how you seemed to have managed to keep it tidied to a borderline compulsive degree.

A large king bed sat against the left wall with ironed white linens and a plush sunflower yellow throw draped across the foot. One lone bedside table tucked against the right side with a tasselled muted green 60s velvet lamp and a book resting atop. A picture hung above the headboard - some vibrant canvas of abstract art. Every morning he wondered if you’d painted it yourself. Against the opposite wall stood a tall regal-looking cherrywood wardrobe next to a matching dresser with a sleek TV on top. It was the most modern thing about the room. In the window overlooking the garden a dream catcher hung in the dead centre. It was the only nicknack you seemed to have, and part of him hated that it seemed like something negative. Something to catch nightmares, to ward off evil.

Did you have bad dreams? And if so, why?

As always, the window had been opened two inches to let in fresh air. You never closed your door, not even at night. You never had clothes left out. Clutter didn’t exist in your vocabulary. Dust wasn’t permitted in your room. Or the bathroom, or kitchen, or living room, he’d deduced. You took Wednesdays off in the week and cleaned when no one else was home to bother you. He doubted the others had picked up on these things about you, but he’d noticed.

Harry had noticed a lot about you.

Especially that in the mornings, you waited until he took his bathroom time to get ready for work and leave without having to run into him. Some chaotic part of him wanted to change his routine so you’d have to. He wanted to know what you looked like straight out of bed with puffy eyes and linen marks on your cheeks and hair in disarray. The other part of him, the gentleman, told him not to. Who knew what might happen if he threw your routine off kilter.

Distress, probably?

No. He wouldn’t be having that.

Shaking his head, he wandered into his own room and shut the door behind him. One day the puzzle of you would finally form a complete picture. Today, he settled for the tethered, jumbled segments he’d managed to collect this far.

~

You stared at your phone, face a picture of bewilderment. Deciphering text messages from the housemates was starting to get increasingly difficult, no thanks to the fact that you were shit at it and everyone else seemed to excel.

Blackpool Tower

🌚 👰🏼❌🧽🍽️🔄

🌝 🙈🖕🏼

👰🏼 😕

Translation: Abbie George didn’t wash his dishes again.

Rhys Oh for fuck’s sake.

George Whoops.

You were on a roll with the emojis. It had started as a joke because George had said he hated people who only used emojis to text each other rather than actual words, so for a week the four of you had sent every text using only emojis. Then it had turned into a bet: how long could all of you go without using words, and who would be the first one to crack. You all knew that, without a doubt, Rhys would crack first, even though he was the one who’d proposed the bet in the first place. It had been two weeks and no one had cracked yet.

🍉 🤔👰🏼🥄🥄🍱🔄

👰🏼 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😠

🌝 😒🙄

🌚 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

👑 ❌❌❌❌❌❌❌

Translation:

Harry Maybe George should cook dinner again…

George HAHAHAHAHAHAHA no.

Rhys Yeah right.

Abbie No thank you.

You Absolutely fucking not.

Why did all of you have such ridiculous headers?

Abbie and Rhys were the twin moons because that was the look they always gave each other when they thought something was cute, funny, interesting, or otherwise. They’d moved into the house as a couple and had remained in said couple for 3 years. Sharing a room was their way of saving money to buy a house. It made sense.

George was a blonde bride because he was the most outwardly gay man any of you had ever known and often acted like an utter madam. Madam was actually George’s nickname to his friends now thanks to the house’s light ribbing. He had also chosen his own emoji.

Harry was the watermelon because we were never without it thanks to a frankly concerning obsession. If there wasn’t a watermelon in the fridge, or slices, or packaged chunks, something was very wrong.

And you were the crown because you’d refused to pick an emoji and the house had affectionately bestowed the title of Tower Queen to you. You’d pretended to hate it, but they all knew you viewed it as the highest compliment.

Oh, and the group chat was called Blackpool Tower because you lived together in a tall, two-rooms-to-a-floor townhouse at the top of town. The Eiffel Tower had been suggested but George immediately pointed out that we were not a classy enough bunch to live in such a fine establishment. I’d told him to speak for himself.

The talk of food made you hungry, and it hit you like a landslide that you hadn’t had any dinner. You rolled off your bed and sent a text to Blackpool Tower, then shoved your phone away.

~

Multiple things happened at once. The shower turned on in the bathroom; your bedroom door opened with a quiet creak (which would not happen again since you went through WD40 like a bee in pollen); Harry’s phone vibrated with another text.

Blackpool Tower

👑 👩‍🍳🍝 … 🌚🍝🌝🍝🍉🍝➡️🧊 … ❌🍝👰🏼

Harry snickered.

Translation: You Making dinner. Leftovers in the fridge. None for George.

It wasn’t unusual you’d make enough food for everyone. Harry had learned that you’d picked that trait up from your dad. Sometimes no one would stop you, especially since there was never anything wrong with a meal you’d cooked. In fact, if there were a restaurant with food cooked by you, Harry would dine there every night. But he also knew that letting you cook for all the other housemates all the time wasn’t fair.

🌚 🍉➡️🍉❌🍉➡️🍉❌👑

👰🏼 🚫🚫🚫🚫

“For fuck’s sake.” He muttered.

Rhys must have been in the shower. If George or Abbie were home they’d have rugby tackled you to the floor given the chance.

Harry abandoned his phone and lurched out of his room, down the stairs to the kitchen. He nearly stacked it twice but he made it, with panting breaths to accompany him.

You turned your gaze on him with a startled look, giving him a once over. “What are you doing…?”

“Don’t you dare cook for everyone else.”

You blinked twice and then rolled your eyes. “It’s fine - I’ve got plenty.”

“It’s not fair.”

“If I don’t cook it today it’ll go off. So might as well.”

Harry looked at the produce you’d piled on the counter and back at you, then back again. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You bought enough for everyone.” He straightened and folded his arms across his chest.

You spluttered and scoffed for far too long. “No.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t stop me.” You scowled at him.

It was the most emotions he’d ever seen on you. If he’d known all this time that all he needed to do to get a conversation out of you was wind you up a bit, he’d have done it much sooner.

“Yes I can.”

You put a hand on your hip. Christ. “How?”

He stared at you, statuesque and cursing himself for challenging a bet he couldn’t win. You were right. How would he stop you? He wasn’t going to drag you away from the kitchen and up the stairs without your permission. Hell, he didn’t want to do anything without your permission, threats begotten. He hadn’t thought this through.

You let out a breath, a mocking one, and turned away from him and picked up a knife to start chopping. “Didn’t think so.”

“You can’t do this forever.”

Chop.

“Do what?” You challenged, refusing to look at him again.

Chop chop.

“Look after every person that comes in here because you feel like you owe people something. The world will take advantage of you. Is that what you want?”

Your shoulders visibly tensed over the words that tumbled out of his mouth. They weren’t even spoken with malice. They were soft and cautious.

CHOP.

“This feels like a very deep conversation to be having on a Tuesday evening.”

He growled, frustrated. “Stop babying everyone.”

Chopchopchop.

“If they didn’t want me to baby them they simply wouldn’t let me. And maybe I like babying people. Sometimes it’s nice to have a responsibility.”

“That’s just it, though. They’re not your responsibility.”

You smacked the knife down on the chopping board and turned to face him, an unfamiliar anger in your eyes that muddled with something else murky and grey. Hurt. “Will you just let me cook my fucking dinner in peace?”

Harry stood, tense, staring at you with his fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, he said, “Fine. But you’ve got to let me help you.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Harry.” Your head lolled back.

“Two different people, but I appreciate why you might get confused.”

You stared at him for an indecipherable length of time. Or gawked might have been a better descriptor. And then you snatched the tea towel off the side and smacked it in a whip-like movement against his arm. “Git.”

~

Two weeks later and you and Harry had begun a sort of ritual; you would cook with each other every other night. The distinct difference was that when you bought food, you bought enough for everyone. When Harry did it he only bought enough for the two of you.

You hadn’t quite figured out yet if being in this new… friendship with Harry was better or worse. Cooking together four nights a week versus blissful ignorance towards him and his attractiveness? The now near-constant proximity to him was making your head spin for stupid reasons. Namely said attractiveness.

His biceps for one. No one should be allowed arms that had the ability to make one’s mouth water. Pair his strong muscles with the litter of tattoos that were drawn down his right arm and you’d found yourself sweating even on the coldest day. A man’s body should not have such a strong effect on a person, yet here you were - a swoon personified.

Then there was his face, which was worse. Eyes mouth jaw. Those three things individually on a man were the first thing that always drew you in, but Harry had a triple threat. Seaglass green, blush pink and the perfect 100 degree angle. Not too square. And to top it all off, a wispy mop of chestnut waves atop his big head.

The perfect man?

“Aye,” Harry took the knife off you before you started chopping an onion, “thought we established that needed sharpening. A blunt knife is more dangerous than a sharp one.”

A man who cared about your wellbeing?

His bedside manner could use some work.

“Fuck off.” You whispered to your inner voice.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, cheeks burning. Great, he probably thought you were crazy.

You silently passed Harry the stone out of the drawer. He could sharpen it if he was going to make such a big deal out of it.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, and started swiping the edge of the knife along the full length of the stone.

Chalky noises. Sharp noises. Furrowed brow. Biceps flexing. Obscenely attractive. Abort abort abort.

You busied yourself by turning on the hob and drizzling oil into a pan. Basically looking anywhere but at Harry and his arms. Sexy arms.

Sex on legs.

Your legs were wobbling. A flame of burdened heat licked its way between your thighs and you had to lean against the counter to stop from buckling. It had been a long time since a man had touched you.

Yeah. This was worse. Definitely worse. Hyper-awareness of everything going on around you wasn’t unusual, but being hyper-aware of everything Harry did was like some unfound form of torture. There was being attracted to someone and then there was whatever this situation was.

Ridiculous?

It was ridiculous, but at least you could suffer knowing that your inner voice had been wrong. Harry was not a normal bloke. He was some kind of enigma.

~

For the past couple of nights Harry had kept his door open. He’d learned that you did indeed have nightmares regularly so the dreamcatcher you kept in your bedroom window was doing little for your unconscious mind. He’d debated buying a bigger one for you but wasn’t entirely sure how appropriate that would be.

You weren’t loud. In fact, if he hadn’t kept his door open he never would’ve known, because the ajar-ness of his door had come prompted for completely different reasons - that unusual urge to see you first thing in the morning. Now two nights in a row he had been woken up by your little yelp, followed with a hissed string of curses while shifting around your bedsheets to get comfortable again. As soon as he knew you were asleep, he wasn’t too far along after you.

He still hadn’t been able to decide if cooking with you nearly every night was a good thing or a bad thing. While he never failed to enjoy himself during your bi-nightly kitchen sessions, he hated separating from you afterwards. It wasn’t enough. The persistent nearness of you for an hour or so only to be followed by a later severance was almost painful. The bedroom door being left open was just another attempt at trying to get closer to you.

He knew it was you in the bathroom because you took longer than everyone else. Not because you were using up all the hot water but because you used it as an excuse to give it a thorough clean. Being able to hear everything going on in the house was both a gift and a curse, but Harry wasn’t attuned to all the tenants. Only you.

Five minutes later the bathroom door opened, and you plodded up the two flights of stairs. He knew the way all the stairs creaked, and you were going at nothing more than a leisurely pace. He caught a glimpse of you as you passed, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The scent of strawberries and jasmine wafted through the gap in his door after you.

Harry’s phone vibrated.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 Friends coming over tomorrow night for drinks 🍻 we’ll behave

👰🏼 You idiot

🌚 RHYS

🌝 NOOOOOOOOOO

🍉 Pay up dipshit

🌝 😭😭😭

A few minutes later Harry got a notification to say he’d received a £10 payment into his bank account.

~

Then

The cold had crept in again. Not from the weather - it was warm at night. This was a different kind of cold. The sweaty kind that kept you up at night. Medication had kept the nightmares away for some time but now you were locked in the house for the foreseeable future you couldn’t bear the idea of being constantly dimmed down by it in front of your housemates.

Last night was the first time you’d had a nightmare in close to a year and it was just as terrifying as it used to be. Some traumas just wouldn’t leave you be. You’d taken a couple of painkillers to numb your headache and they’d graciously knocked you out for another few hours and brought you right on through to 8am. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept that late. With everyone at home all the time now, it seemed no one wanted to get out of bed.

You had a job to do today, anyway. The room next to yours had finally been rented, so you’d been tasked with giving it a proper clean before the new tenant arrived this evening.

You did need to eat, but before that you wanted to get the window open in there to coax some fresh air in.

Hauling yourself out of bed, you meticulously tidied your room the same you did with every morning, dressed in clothes appropriate for cleaning, and took the short step across the hall to the other room.

The door was closed which was unusual. You always left the doors to the empty rooms open with a wedge so they wouldn’t get stuffy from disuse. Maybe you’d opened the window yesterday and forgot? Had the wind closed it for you?

Shrugging to yourself, you opened it anyway.

“Oh,” your eyes widened, “fuck, shit, sorry.”

Inside, collapsed face down on the bed dressed with only a sheet was a man, near-naked in only a pair of boxers. You couldn’t see much of his features bar a mop of chocolate curls, a heavily tattooed arm, and a particularly nice arse beneath his pants.

He lifted his head, complete with a gorgeous profile, and peeled open an eye. A very green, beautiful eye. He made a confused, questioning noise.

The room was full of belongings, so this must be the new tenant and not some homeless person who’d managed to sneak in without anyone realising. At least you hoped.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were moving in later today. Sorry.”

“Friday.” He managed. A sleep-coated, groggy and somewhat delirious voice. It was delicious. You wanted to taste it.

“What?”

“Friday was moving day.”

“Yes. Today.”

“No. Yesterday.”

You looked at your phone. “Christ. I’m sorry. Isolation is getting to me. You don’t care. I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your sleep. I’ll go. Sorry.”

You pulled the door closed before you could embarrass yourself any further, and then hid yourself in the bathroom out of sheer embarrassment.

If you never saw that marvellous-looking man again it would be too soon.

~

Now

Harry often thought about that first day.

Morning. Just after dawn. Early summer sun casting you in gold. Tiny shorts. Faded creaseless t-shirt. Sleepy face messy hair.

He hadn’t seen you anything of the sort since and he craved it like an addict did cocaine.

A pandemic had ruined many things for many people, and the most recent ruin back then had been Harry’s longest relationship. That’s what had brought him to a double bedroom in a shared house rather than a flat and his own fucking space. He couldn’t afford the latter.

It had been hot that night, moving into a new home in the darkness. He’d picked up the key from the owner, your dad it had turned out, and transferred his possessions from one place to another in the late night simply to avoid having to discuss his situation with people he didn’t know.

But yes, the heat is what had caused him to strip down to his underwear before passing out. The startled look on your face at the sight of him had absolutely been worth it. The sight of you had been worth it. Such a strong attraction to someone fresh after a breakup should be wildly inappropriate, but there you suddenly were, bare-legged and dangling yourself in front of him like a piece of string to a kitten. Still, the fact remained that Harry liked to think himself a gentleman. He tried to be a gentleman, and after living so close to you for so long, it didn’t take long to learn that you liked to keep to yourself. So he had done the same.

Until now, apparently.

“That housemate of yours here?”

Harry’s ears pricked up at the question like a cat’s would if it heard something interesting. He recognised the voice and hated the speaker. He always had. Today was no exception.

“Which one? I’ve got three of ‘em if we don’t include Abbie.” Rhys’s oblivious laughter filtered up the stairs to the sanctuary of the top floor.

“Well I ain’t talkin’ about the lads, am I?”

Harry shivered. He imagined if you could hear them then you would too.

“She’s here”, “Don’t bother,” came simultaneously from Rhys and Abbie. Abbie sounded almost defensive, and that pleased Harry to no end.

“Why not?”

“Because she isn’t interested.”

“Maybe you should let her decide that for herself.”

Unconsciously, Harry rose from the desk in his room and made his way across the hall to yours. The door was open, obviously.

You were sitting up with a book but you had earplugs in. Whether it was playing music or just to block out the noise from downstairs he wasn’t sure. As soon as you spotted him a small smile curved on your lips, and you pulled an earplug out. It was playing music.

Harry had never met anyone who could listen to music and read at the same time. There were surely plenty, but this put you in the Elite Tier in his head.

“What’s up?”

Footsteps began on the stairs, and Harry threw a cautionary glance over his shoulder before he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, sliding the lock across.

You were leaning forward now, a crease in your brow. “What’s going on?”

“Rhys’s friends are here.”

You blinked. “I know.”

“Yes but his idiot friends are here.”

You tipped your head. “I’m not following.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know… Gaz? The one with the teeth.”

“Oh. Right. Why not? He’s harmless, no?”

“Is he? I’m not so sure.”

Your name suddenly trilled from the floor below. “You home?”

You looked at the door as Harry moved to the side, dumbfounded. Harry shook his head at you when you began to move.

Why not? You mouthed.

Harry pretended to drink from an invisible glass and grimaced.

The idiot called your name again and knocked on the door. “Come on, come say hi.”

Harry was really scowling now. You flashed glances between him and the door multiple times.

“She’s probably asleep, mate!” Rhys hissed from outside the door. “She works early some Saturdays.”

That was not true. You’d never worked weekends, not even as a teen. It was Rhys’s smart ruse to get him to back off.

The door handle jostled. Harry suddenly looked more threatening than a mafia boss, and your jaw fell slack from shock.

“Oi,” smack, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What? Worth a shot.”

“No it fuckin’ weren’t, go downstairs.”

Some heated muttering commenced, but neither you nor Harry moved or spoke until you were satisfied they wouldn’t hear anything.

“Did he seriously just try and get in here?”

“While you were ‘sleeping’?” Harry air-quoted around the word. “Yes. He did. Hence the distrust.”

“What the fuck…”

He watched you for a moment and the look on your face said it all. You were upset, in a confused sort of way. Your mind was somewhere else, no longer in this room. Eyes glassy and breathing shallow.

Someone had tried to come into your personal space while they had the impression you were sleeping. If that had been the case there was no telling what would’ve happened. If Harry hadn’t come in you probably wouldn’t be any the wiser to Rhys’s friend’s real character, and that was what scared him. You had a tendency to put too much faith in people as just people. If someone was being nice to you that must mean that they are nice.

“What are you reading?” He asked into the silence, not only to break the quiet but to pull you out of the trance you’d been in.

“Oh, er,” you looked down at the book in your lap and turned it upwards, flashing the cover to him, “some daft romance.”

You put it aside after slotting the bookmark inside to keep your place. He smirked to himself. God forbid you dogear a page.

“Happy ending?”

You nodded, playing with your loose earbud. “Yeah. Has to be.”

“They’re my favourite.”

You gawked at him then. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Is that so shocking?”

You laughed musically. “I don’t know… I kind of assumed a guaranteed happy ending would irritate you or something.”

“Not at all. Sad endings are rubbish.”

“Aren’t they?” You patted the bed by your lap, suddenly animated. “I hate them.”

“Me too.”

“What are they for? No one wins, everyone is miserable, and someone has almost always died in the middle.”

He folded his arms, brows furrowed in a mock defence. “Now who hurt you? Tell me. Who do I need to beat up?”

“John Green.”

Harry scoffed. “He’s the worst.”

“Paper Towns? What the fuck was that all about?”

“Load of shit.”

“Exactly!”

He grinned, relaxing his posture. A commotion began downstairs, and he turned over his shoulder towards the door. Two phones dinged inside the room.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 🍻🍻➡️🌃➕👰🏼

You were being left alone. Thank God.

Harry met your gaze with a passive smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Wait…”

He raised a single brow at you. “Yes?”

“Why don’t we watch a movie? If they’re pissing off out…”

He was both surprised and elated by your suggestion. All he’d be doing otherwise was looking for flats to move into alone and listening to some murder podcast before passing out. Friday nights were raucous in one’s late twenties.

“Two movies.” He bargained. “One we can bitch about first, and then one we like to make ourselves feel better.”

Your returning smile was prizewinning. Priceless. “And… takeaway? I really don’t want to cook.”

He clicked and pointed a finger at you. “You’ve got yourself a deal, madam.”

~

This was a new low for you. Or perhaps it was a high - you hadn’t decided yet. Using the newfound common ground over a love of happy endings off the back of the fear of a mad man trying to let himself into your room to coax Harry into a movie night with you. In your room, no less. The house was empty yet you chose to suffer the shitty WiFi signal in your tower room because your bed was more comfortable than the communal sofa in the living room on the ground floor. The cold ground floor.

Now, after a shared pizza that was delivered in record speed, you and Harry lay parallel to one another as you batted bitchy comments between one another about the infuriatingly devastating plot of Atonement.

“I wanna smash her face into a wall.”

You nearly choked on your wine, and wiped a pre-existing tear off your cheek. “Harry,”

“What?” He whined. “Every time I get to the end and she tells the real story I see red. Why get people’s hopes up like that?”

His eyes were red around the rims.

You sat forward as the credits began to roll and looked at him with a timid smile. “Opinionated, aren’t you?”

He was draped across the left side of your bed closest to the door, legs crossed at the ankle and hands tucked behind his head against the headboard. He was close to slouched, but he looked so impossibly at ease you wanted to just nestle right into him.

You could do it. Nothing is stopping you.

You repressed a growl.

“Coming from you?” He retorted, amused.

Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. “What’s next?”

He pursed his lips and gave a thoughtful look towards the ceiling. “Notting Hill?”

You gasped. “Fuck yes. Do you fancy dessert?”

“Always. What have you got?”

“I picked up a chocolate trifle on the way home from work.”

“That sounds dirty as fuck.”

“It is dirty as fuck.” You agreed and stood from your bed. “I picked it up on the way home with the intention of eating it all by myself, but… I’m willing to share.”

“How kind.” Harry chuckled. You felt his gaze on you leaving the room.

Two minutes later you returned with an unwrapped trifle and two spoons. Harry had already found Notting Hill on one of the many subscription sites you paid for and had it paused right at the start. He sat up straighter as you settled back down, pressed play, and then the two of you sunk into cake and gooey chocolate layered beneath sweet cream.

“Is Hugh Grant too posh?” Harry asked between mouthfuls.

“Yes, but it suits him?” Your question pondered. “Like, I couldn’t imagine him with a Scouse or Georgie accent.”

Harry’s returning laughter was delighted, magical. “This would be a very different film if he did.”

You gave a gutterall, mischievous laugh. “I would like to see it.”

Once you’d spoiled yourselves with trifle you settled back down, two parallel figures unmoving in the dim room, except to drink wine.

Harry was an ominous presence beside you. Warmth radiated off him in languid rolls, beckoning to you like an evil sea siren. Your hands fisted on your stomach, muscles tense. It really was taking everything in you not to lean into him and inhale his scent. Let it lull you to sleep like a safety blanket.

Occasionally you peeked glances at him. If he’d noticed you he never said anything, and it made you brave. After so long the film became background noise and Harry was the real star. A black t-shirt across a flat, muscular chest, steady breaths causing a rise and fall. Black jogging bottoms that rose higher up his legs with each slight movement, showing more scrumptious leg hair per inch. Big, boney, veiny feet with heinously long toes. Hair taken off his face with a tiny claw grip, a little greasy around the ears.

The overwhelming need to shove your face into his armpit finally gave motive to look away. Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts meant nothing anymore. There was a sexy man sprawled across your bed who ate your trifle and wanted to watch stupid rom-coms with you.

You fell asleep before the end.

~

Harry was sure he was dreaming. It wasn’t possible, the situation he found himself in. It was what he wanted, what he had really wanted for a while now, but the actual possibility of it coming to fruition had been next to none. Zero. Impossible.

He’d woken up in your room. That was the first tell that he was still dreaming. Then he found a warm body curled around him, and him around them in return. Your warm body. Leg draped over his thigh, arm slung across his torso, head tucked under his chin, his arms around your shoulders and inhaling your strawberry shampoo.

You were both still on top of the covers, neither able to finish the movie without passing out. He’d even noticed you had nodded off first but he didn’t want to leave you without making sure you’d lock the door behind you again in case Rhys and his idiot friends returned.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. That was too accurate and not nearly lucid enough for an unconscious mind.

He didn’t want to move in case he stirred you, but he was desperate to see your face. Your beautiful, sleeping face. He refused to believe you’d cuddled up to him while conscious. Because it had been that way around - you were parked up on his side of the bed. His lips pricked upwards at the corners with that knowledge.

It was raining heavily outside. It fell against the window in loud smatters, the room cast in a dull grey tone. It made him want to squeeze you tighter, to keep you from any harm. He still refrained.

Eventually you woke. He could tell from the way your body tensed and your breath caught in your throat.

“Don’t freak out.” He mumbled, voice thick from lack of use.

You took in a deep, obvious breath. “No? Why not?”

“You don’t need to.”

“I think I do.”

“Explain, please.”

You hesitated, wetting your lips, and took in another deep breath. “I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“How?”

“I’ve put myself into your personal space without your permission.”

“You were unconscious.” He argued.

“Doesn’t make it any better. You should’ve run for the hills the second my foot touched your lovely hairy leg.”

Harry chuckled. He tightened his arm around you and brushed his nose through your messy hair. “Maybe I don’t mind you in my personal space. Maybe… I like it.”

“Do you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

He laughed again. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

You sat up and faced him.

Gah. There you were. Puffy eyes, cracked lips, scruffy hair. His stomach did a backflip at the sight of you - a dream he had nightly. In equal measure, he missed having the warmth and weight of your body against him.

“Don’t think about it too much.” He gave you a gentle smile. “Nothing needs to be complicated.”

You remained silent, either awestruck or dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure.

He stood, reluctantly, and pinched your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

That sorted you out. Your face rearranged itself into a scowl, gaze following him as he left the room. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but such a conversation felt too poignant for 8 o’clock in the morning. You needed space to let your thoughts take over.

~

Cooking dinner and movie nights. That had become yours and Harry’s thing. After he’d dropped what you considered a bombshell that he didn’t mind you in his personal space you’d had the longest shower of your life - accidentally using all the hot water - and then spent the morning face down on your bed trying not to scream into your pillow.

Since then you’d been obsessively cleaning, more so than usual by way of distraction from the man living across the hall. The house was spotless. You’d even cleaned the windows at one point, outside, with help from your dad and looked at a way to fix the leaking problem in the empty bedroom.

It still didn’t stop your mind from constantly drifting back to the other morning. Waking up curled around Harry like that had been both terrifying and utterly perfect. For a man with such a hard physique he’d been incredibly comfortable. Too comfortable. Then he’d said a number of things that threw your somewhat orderly brain into complete disarray and chaos.

“You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

Harry hadn’t seemed to take his own words lightly, either. He’d been more comfortable in closer proximity with you since that morning, in the little things like light touches to your arms and back while you cooked together, or a kiss on the top of your head before you disappeared into your room for the night. Some nights you would share a bed after a movie because it was just easier - you were already settled, and you always woke up cuddled against him like a fucking creep.

“This,” Harry said as he pulled the oven door open, a waft of heat filling the cold room, “is gonna be fuckin’ banging.”

“Mhm.” You quipped, shoving a tortilla chip into some salsa, and then into your gob.

It was a Saturday night. By a freak stroke of luck, all the other housemates had gone away for the weekend - George to his parents’ and Rhys and Abbie on a weekend break to Amsterdam. So, a dinner and movie night had been a given, but you’d stuck a portable heater in the communal living room downstairs, found as many blankets as you could and piled them onto the sofa, then queued up enough movies to last all night.

Harry’s carefully crafted pizza sat atop the stove, cooked to perfection with your favourite ingredients on one half and his on the other. Your mouth watered.

You carried everything into the lounge, set it all up on the coffee table, and pressed play on your first movie of the night.

It was civil while you ate, and you were admittedly starving. To Harry’s credit the pizza was delicious and you wished it was bigger because you could’ve eaten another. You filled the hole in your stomach with tortillas and salsa instead. He graciously took all the dirty plates back into the kitchen when you were done, and returned with two bowls of strawberries, raspberries, and of course, watermelon. It was a very healthy dessert but the watermelon looked seriously out of place.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me eat your watermelon.” You joked. “Feels like a sacred honour.”

He snorted but remained silent.

Eventually, after all the food and a couple of glasses of wine, you were horizontal, your feet in Harry’s lap. He had his hands locked around your ankle after you accidentally kicked him in the thigh.

“If you were in a rom-com, who would you want to play your love interest?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Hugh Grant.”

You giggled, turning your face into the sofa cushion. “90s or current Hugh Grant?”

“90s. Current Hugh Grant is into much more sophisticated roles that I don’t care for. Even if they are generally great films.”

“I see…” you mused.

He squeezed your ankle, a smile flirting on his lips. “No, I don’t know. Who’s queen of romantic comedies? Reese Witherspoon? J-Lo?”

“Oh my God, I love J-Lo.” Your voice was a dreamy, breathy sound.

“A fine woman indeed.”

“I love it when you talk like it’s the 1800s.”

He laughed so loudly it was almost a bark. “Noted. Who would you want to play opposite?”

“Sam Claflin.”

“The king of rom-coms.”

“Exactly. Very easy on the eye.”

Harry was smirking again. His hands were moving now, smoothing up and down your leg in easy strokes.

Thank fuck you shaved, you little scruffy bear.

You mentally flicked your inner tormentor behind her ear.

The film played on and held your attention for some time. You were possibly the most relaxed you’d been for a very long time. Not one muscle in your body felt tight.

Harry’s lackadaisical caressing continued, which you were still half-conscious of. It was nice to be touched that way - you don’t think you ever had been. You didn’t panic until you realised he’d been venturing just a touch further up your leg with every stroke; until his fingers tickled your thigh.

You gasped, grabbing his wrist, wrenched yourself upright.

Heat flooded your centre, slick and warm. It was so instantaneous it took you by surprise, and your cheeks burned, the tips of your ears warm.

His eyes were on you, wider than usual. “Sorry,” he tried to speak but it only came out in a whisper.

What is wrong with you, woman? You wanted this.

The inner tormentor was right. You had wanted it, and for quite some time. But the advance of it had taken you so completely off-guard that your body had reacted before your brain did.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Harry muttered, a furrow between his brow. He was angry with himself.

Finally you managed to shake your head. You managed to manoeuvre yourself by taking one leg - the leg he still had his hand on because you were keeping it there - off his lap and tucked it under itself. You pressed his palm flat against your skin, smoothing over each of his long fingers in turn, and met his intense gaze.

You were much closer now, faces and bodies mere inches from each other. You could feel his breath against your face, and you knew he could feel yours too from the way his eyelids fluttered with each exhale. Shiny eyelids, you noted.

He slowly closed the space to brush his nose upwards against yours, and your next exhale was much shakier.

“What are we doing?” You asked.

“Whatever you want.”

You wanted many, many things. And 99% of them involved him.

You licked your lips, and his gaze dropped to them at the action. Your stomach squirmed and your inner voice squealed with nerves.

Harry placed his other hand firmly on your hip and tugged, and you spilled over his lap, straddling him with your hands using his shoulders for balance. Another gasp fell out of you at the feeling of a certain something between your legs. A certain hard something.

“Is this okay?” He asked, both hands tentative on your thighs.

“Mhm.” You managed.

His hands spread wider, and you grew wetter, breathing heavier

He swallowed thickly. “Can I kiss you?”

All you could do was nod.

You noticed the beginning of a smile before his mouth was on yours. That mouth you’d thought of many times, at all hours, on all days of the week. And it was finally on yours, and perfect too. Soft, big, spongy. It felt like heaven against your own.

He took his time, leisurely testing the waters with you. What you would allow and what you wouldn’t. What you liked and what you didn’t.

You liked all of it.

His tongue was reverent as it eased your lips open, but thorough once you’d granted him access to you. He tasted like strawberry and watermelon, a delicious combination. A lethal combination.

His hands still smoothed over your thighs, reaching for your arse but never quite making it there. He didn’t want a repeat of the previous reaction from you.

You held onto him tightly, hands squeezing over his shoulders in an accidental but welcomed massage. You wanted to touch him everywhere but weren’t sure if he was okay with it.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this with you.” Harry’s voice was gruff, strained. He spoke against your lips.

“Neither did I.” You said breathily.

“Thought about it a lot.”

“Me too.”

He groaned into your mouth, hands rising to your hips and waist, tugging on your loose t-shirt.

You continued kissing, mouths bruising with lust, skirting around the removal of clothes. His arousal only got harder between your legs and it made you wriggle. Your wriggling caused friction, and the friction caused whimpers.

“I won’t last if you make noises like that.”

This information gave you immense satisfaction. He practically ate the smile off your face, and you wriggled again over the top of him. More whimpers, more movement. Back and forth, back and forth until you were utterly soaked inside your pyjama shorts.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed.

“Harry,” you moaned, fisting his t-shirt at the chest.

“Keep going.” He practically begged.

You gave a frustrated noise and did as he said, rolling your hips over the length of his clothed shaft. Over and over and over again. Tits began to bounce. Back began to sweat. Toes began to curl.

Harry stripped you of your top and buried his face in your chest. Kissing, licking, sucking, bruising. A canvas of vivid colour. He dragged his lips across any inch he could, leaning forward, arching you backwards, just to access more. More more more.

Rolling, dragging, rolling and dragging your dampness against his erection. It was your sole focus. You needed it - the release you hadn’t felt for some time. You were always too nervous to masturbate with only two walls and doors separating you and Harry. You needed this more than anything else.

He held onto your back with one strong arm, hand gripping your waist while his other cupped your breast, and he took your nipple into his mouth without any further hesitation. Lick, suck, lick.

You squealed at the sensation, grabbed his face and brought his mouth back to yours. Faster faster faster you moved your hips and devoured his mouth until-

“Harry!”

Heat burst through your body, crashing through every cell, corner and crevice. You were tense as you came, clinging to Harry as tightly as possible. Then, as breath left you, you fell limp against him.

Harry stroked your hair and kissed your temple. His nose drew circles on your cheek.

When you pulled back, thoughts catching up to you, you looked confused.

“What?” He asked, head tipped to one side.

“This doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What doesn’t?”

“This,” you pointed between him and you.

“Why doesn’t it?”

“Because,” you gestured at him and then dropped your hands to your lap, “have you seen you?”

“Many times.”

You gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m serious, Harry. People that look like you aren’t interested in people who look like me.”

“What a horrifically outdated cliche.” He said in a flinchingly bored tone. “For the record, I think you’re bloody gorgeous. Have done since the day I met you.”

“Why?”

“Because I do! Life is too fucking short to let society dictate who is attractive enough to date who.”

You made a face, one where your eyebrows and your mouth stretched. “Yes, but-,”

“-No buts. I fancy the pants off you and that’s all you need to know.”

“Are you sure?”

He laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have let you do what you just did if I wasn’t sure. Would I?”

“I don’t know… some men are pigs.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Look,” he took your face in his hands, “some men are indeed pigs. But I like you. A lot. And I’ve had fantasies a hell of a lot like what we just did together for a damn embarrassing amount of time. About you. That’s all you need to know. Ever since I met you, I’ve been all about you.”

You pulled your lips between your teeth and stared at his chest, unseeing. Giddiness filled your tummy and white noise flooded your ears.

Harry picked up your hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. He watched you closely as he peppered kisses to your skin. “You’re thinking too hard, but I get it.”

“I think too hard about everything.” You mumbled. “Especially when it comes to you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know but I’ve always thought about you more than I’d like to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re very distracting.”

“Sounds like a compliment to me.” He said, and pecked your nose. “Shall we finish our movies and go to bed?”

Involuntarily, and as if prompted by the suggestion, you yawned. “Probably a good idea.”

Harry smiled, wrapped his arms around your middle and squeezed you tightly to his solid frame. “Let’s do it.”

~

Harry worked late a lot over the next week or so. He hated it mostly because it meant less time with you. Less conscious time, anyway. For the first few nights he’d come home to find you asleep and couldn’t bear the idea of accidentally waking you up, but after sharing a bed with you for so many nights now, it had been a hard drug to quit.

It was late now, well past midnight and you’d probably fallen asleep hours ago. But seeing you curled up and facing the window, sheets bunched up to your chin and face buried in your pillow, he couldn’t help himself.

He quietly stripped out of his clothes, save for his boxers, shut the door behind him and slid into bed beside you. He surrounded you with his warmth - arms around your middle and his face pressed between your shoulder blades. He tugged you backwards until your bodies were flush together, chest to back, and sponged a wet kiss into your shoulder.

You did rouse a little, giving out a soft, sleep-filled squeak. “Hi.”

He smiled, leaving another kiss closer to your neck. “Hi.”

“Wondered when you’d be back.” You said around a content sigh.

“And me.”

You giggled. You took a hand that clasped around your chest and brought it up to your lips. “Tried to stay awake for you but failed.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.”

He littered more kisses against your skin, because he could just never get enough of you. “Thank you.”

“Pleasure.”

“Now go back to sleep.”

“Yes sir.”

~

“You look different.”

You frowned, meeting your sister’s scrutinous eyes between washing a saucepan clean. You were washing, she was drying, like you always did. You didn’t trust her enough to actually clean the dirty tableware. Sometimes she didn’t properly dry things either, but you’d make the most of what you could.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “You’ve got a kind of… air about you.”

“Right…”

“Hey,” your dad appeared, nudging your sister’s arm, “maybe she’s got a boyfriend.”

Embarrassed heat filled your body.

“No, that’s not it.” Your sister shook her head. “Anyway, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“I don’t…” you didn’t know how to finish that.

Perhaps your many nights sharing a bed with Harry had been what she was talking about, but the label of boyfriend/girlfriend definitely hadn’t come up yet. You just liked each other. A lot. Add that to the fact that any night you shared a bed with him you didn’t wake up in cold sweats or choked screaming fits, it wasn’t exactly something you planned to stop doing any time soon.

“Oh my God, don’t overthink it like you do everything else. It’s a compliment. Take it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Aye, don’t be snotty.” Dad swatted your sister’s arm.

“I’m not!”

Your sister was younger than you, and for all eternity most definitely cooler. She was in school and that hadn’t changed into adulthood. It didn’t particularly bother you. Generally you got on very well, she just didn’t have a problem opening her mouth when she had an opinion.

“Anyway, don’t forget family dinner night. Next Friday?” Dad reminded you.

Ah yes. Family dinner night was not here at Dad’s house with just you and your sister. It was at the house with Dad, your sister, and all the housemates. George proclaimed it his favourite time of the month, because Dad, an ex-chef, always cooked. Harry, because of his often awkward shift work, was almost always absent.

“Okay.” You nodded.

After finishing your last dirty dish, you pulled your phone out.

Blackpool Tower

👑 ❌😃

Sometimes a text simply couldn’t be written exclusively in emojis, so you’d come up with a rule whereby if you needed to write one, you’d send a ❌😃 to alert them.

👑 Family dinner night next Friday. Be there or be square 💘

👰🏼 🤯🤩🤯🤩🤯

🌚 🎉🎉🎉

“You’re still doing the emoji thing?” Your sister asked with a narrowed gaze.

“We have another bet running to see who’ll crack first.”

“Right… will everyone come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That’s me asking if Harry will be there, by the way.” She said with a smirk, nudging your arm.

If you didn’t know any better you’d be hot under the collar thinking she was onto you. The mention of his name got you flustered anyway, but you did know better. As any sensible woman would, your sister had a little thing for Harry that she’d never shied away from.

“I don’t know.” You repeated, somewhat irritated.

“Well, find out! Do I need to make an effort or not, you know?”

“I mean… he doesn’t usually come. So probably not.”

“Double check. To be safe. Or give me his number.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Bore.” She scoffed, and swished away.

~

Sundays were laundry day. Harry knew this, which is why he’d never do his on the same day. Everyone in the house knew that first thing on a Sunday morning you would head down to the basement with a book and a basket full and sit there until everything had been through the tumble dryer (unless it was delicate in which case you’d air it in your window for the day).

Today, though, Harry travelled from the top of the house to the very bottom and slipped inside the utility room, closing the door behind him before any of the other housemates could hear him.

“What are you doing?” You asked, voice light with laughter.

Harry’s gaze rested on you, full of some kind of infatuation. You were sitting atop the industrial-size tumble dryer in the far corner of the room, back against the wall and knees up, book held against your thighs.

He shrugged. “Wanted to come irritate you a bit.”

“You never irritate me.”

He grinned and put himself in your personal space. He found your bookmark and placed it between the pages, and then took it away, abandoning it. “Are you sure?”

You let him manoeuvre you; pulled you forward a little and spread your knees apart. Your legs fell over the side, resting either side of his hips, and your breathing quickened. He placed one hand on your thigh and the other stroked over your cheek.

“Feel free to interrupt laundry day any time you want.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You laughed at his mock genuine tone and brushed your fingertips against his lips. “You know, my sister has a massive thing for you.”

He stood quietly for a fraction of time, gaze assessing. “I would tease you about it but I just can’t. I kind of already guessed.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm. She’s not exactly subtle.”

“No, she’s not. She asked me for your number.”

“Did you give it to her?”

“What do you think?” You rolled your eyes.

He smirked. “You getting possessive of me?”

“Maybe. But she’s too self-absorbed to realise. She thinks I’m doing it because giving out your number willy nilly is morally wrong. Which it is. But yeah, I also just don’t want her to have it.”

His lips tightened, nose flared, eyes light - batting away a smile. “I think I like this side of you.”

You gave an uncharacteristic grunt, but your eyes never left him. “You look like a frog when you make that face.”

His face neutralised and he sucked in a breath. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

This visibly delighted you. “Maybe I’ll start calling you Froggy.”

“Too far.” He pinched your waist

You giggled, hands pressed against his chest. Your palms felt warm over his t-shirt and he never wanted you to take them away.

“How long left on your cycle?”

“Er…” your gaze dipped downwards to the screen on the washing machine. “Like, 20 minutes probably.”

“And then it’s going in the tumble dryer?”

“Yes… why?”

“Because,” he pecked your lips once, “I think I know,” he kissed your left cheek, “something we can do,” then your right cheek, “while we wait.”

Your gaze was curious and intense as he started sponging his lips down your front, from neck to chest to stomach. You reclined some, breathing heavy, and he pulled your legs up by the ankle and planted your feet back on top of the dryer.

“Oh,” you spoke, voice caught.

“You okay with this?” He asked hesitantly.

Even though you’d been sleeping side by side something close to 5 nights a week, your little dry humping session last weekend was as far as you’d gone in the sexual intimacy department.

You made a strangled noise. “Christ, yes.”

Grin fully spread across his face, he smoothed his palms up your thighs to your hips and tucked his fingers into the silky waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

“Can we take these off?”

You hummed an affirmed noise, and lifted your arse off the surface. In one smooth pull he had the garment off your legs and over his shoulder, probably in the same vicinity of the book he’d taken off you.

He met your gaze with a lifted brow. “Not a fan of knickers?”

“Not in my jim-jams, no.”

His smile blossomed like daffodils in spring. “That’s either the cutest or sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Can we go with sexy considering what I hope you’re about to do?”

“Sure thing, cutie.”

You squealed a little at the name, but he couldn’t tell if you loved it or hated it. Regardless, he kept a firm grip on your legs and lowered his lips to your knee. In a slow, measured movement, he kissed his way up the inside of your legs with his hot, wet mouth.

Your breath was laboured as you watched him, eyes wide when he met your gaze again but so incredibly keen. To prove it, you pushed a hand through his curls and massaged his scalp, coaxing him forward.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so fucking long.” He admitted, mouth dragging over the softest part of your thigh.

His hot breath fanned against your waiting lips and you visibly clenched.

“I’ve wanted you to, believe me.” Your voice was but a rasp.

“Yeah?” He sighed happily, left hand moving closer to your centre. He extended his thumb out, “Are you wet for me?” He pulled your lips apart, and the noise he made at the sight of you was practically carnal.

“Harry,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair.

He hummed again, face inching closer to your dripping lips. He licked between you, wetness collecting on his tongue. The taste of you was something better than he could’ve ever imagined and he growled because of it. He gripped your legs tighter, hesitant no more, and buried his face right between your soft thighs.

“Oh, God,” you whined. Your head lolled backwards and both fists found purchase in his beautiful hair, twisting and tugging.

He grunted in response to you, spurred on. He collected as much of your juice as he could, firm stroke after firm stroke of his perfectly capable tongue.

He played with your clit in a way that made you squirm and squeal, eliciting the most delectable little noises out of your hoarse throat. Harry didn’t hold back - he never had in that department. He went for it completely and utterly.

The washing machine launched into rapid spinning, filling the room with wheezing, screaming noises.

“Harry, don’t stop.” You begged, body rigid with desperate tension.

He obeyed your every word. He spread your legs further and further with his digging grip. He burrowed his face into your cunt, tongue plunging inside of you and spading inside your heat like a desperate gardener.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you panted as you lifted your head again to watch him.

His eyes were already on you, dark and hooded and filled with keen lust. His head moved with an eager precision like his mouth did. He wanted you this way. He’d wanted it for so long he couldn’t quite believe he was getting it. You were a goddess, ethereal and perfect.

The washing machine’s cycle reached its peak, vibrating harshly beside the two of you. It was deafening yet the least bit distracting.

Harry pursued his advances on your cunt relentlessly and without breath until your body went rigid and then shuddered. You screamed his name, withholding nothing, any cries drowned out by the washing machine. Your body visibly vibrated like the machine beside you, and eventually your limbs weakened to jelly.

Harry stood straight and helped you sit up again, wrapping his arms around your middle. He tucked your head into his neck and twisted his face into your hair.

“You’re right, that was incredibly sexy.” He mumbled.

He revelled in your returning laughter, the sound light and airy. You showed no shame in clinging onto him, fingers raking through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Maybe you can do it again later.” You suggested, lips sponging against the skin on his neck.

“Any time you like.”

After another minute or so you pulled away, eyes scouring his face. “You’re a mess, sir.” You commented as you wiped your thumb around his shiny mouth.

He made a wordless noise, held your wrist, and took your thumb in his mouth. “I’ll be a mess for you.”

“Perhaps I’ll be a mess for you, too.”

His brows shot up and it made you laugh. “It’s cruel to joke about that.”

“I’m not joking.”

He gave you a challenging look.

“Want me to prove it?” You offered.

Was it even worth the question? “Always.”

You grinned. “Let me put my washing in the dryer and I will.”

He took a step back and bent at the waist, arms extending like he was bowing. “M’lady.”

You hopped down from where you’d been sitting and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Sir.”

~

The kitchen was a hive. And a mess. There was shit everywhere and your anxiety was through the roof just looking at it. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight because any kitchen your dad found himself in nowadays ended up looking like a pig sty but it didn’t settle the tightness in your chest.

He moved around the room with chaotic precision while you trailed after him tidying up any unnecessary mess, and your sister sat at the dining table Rhys and George had brought up from the basement an hour ago, scrolling through her phone.

“What about him?” Your sister flashed her screen to the two of you, the next Tinder profile filling it.

Your dad leaned over and squinted. “His eyes are too far apart.”

“Ugh. Knew you were gonna say that.” She grumbled.

This was a game you played regularly. Your sister would showcase potential Tinder matches either for her or for you (which you always declined to comment on), and your dad would garner his unfiltered opinion. It was probably a big part of the reason you were both still (technically) single. No one was ever good enough. That, and you didn’t have a Tinder account. Or any dating app account, actually.

“Him?” She flashed the next profile to you both.

Cute. But…

Not Harry.

Your inner tormentor smirked.

“What’s his anthem?” Dad knew all the terminologies now for the dating app world. He liked to call Hinge ‘UnHinged’, because that’s what the suitors on there usually were.

“Um… Wonderwall.”

You gagged, and Dad scoffed. “Next.”

You carried on for a little while, joining in when you felt like it but mostly just trying to keep the kitchen at an acceptable level of clean.

Rhys, Abbie and George were upstairs getting themselves ready for dinner as if it was some kind of gala they were about to attend. They did it everytime; dinner with Dad felt like an occasion. Harry wasn’t home and you hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask if he was going to be. He left at such a weird time this morning you couldn’t figure out what shift he was on and how that would affect his ‘home time’.

“Lay the table please, poppet?” Your dad asked of your sister, because he knew it was the only task she’d willingly do.

She leapt to her feet in a dramatic flurry and made for the cutlery draw. “Have we got enough for matching sets?”

“Very unlikely.” You muttered. You hadn’t eaten dinner with matching cutlery since you moved in.

The front door opened, cold air blustering in and mixing with the heat of the kitchen. Harry stepped in, bundled up in a big coat and rucksack slung over one shoulder.

“Hope I’m not late.” He said in a gravelly voice, smile sheepish.

“Harry!” Dad greeted him with complete joy. “Wasn’t expecting you, what a nice surprise.”

Your sister looked flustered all of a sudden. She’d convinced herself he wasn’t coming. Part of you had, too.

“I’ll just change and be back down.”

“Sure, we’ve got a bit of time yet.” Dad waved him away.

You’d pretended to busy yourself, but you watched as he headed for the stairs and caught the subtle wink he gave you.

Ah shit.

“What am I going to do?” Your sister panicked. “I'm a disaster - I look hideous.”

“No you don’t.” You grumbled. She’d never looked hideous in her life.

“Can I borrow some makeup?”

It was easier to just give her what she wanted rather than fighting her on it. “Sure - what do you need?”

She listed off a bunch of makeup items, most of which sounded completely foreign so you were sure you didn’t have them. You’d just give her your entire makeup bag and let her do what she wanted.

You knocked on Harry’s door before you went back down, makeup bag in hand. He opened in just his jeans, a light straight-leg pair with gaping holes at the knees.

“Hey,” he smiled, and rested an arm against the doorframe.

“Hi… I thought you’d be working late?”

He shook his head. “I was supposed to be. Swapped my shift ‘cause I always miss family dinner.”

“I see… well, you’ve successfully panicked my sister.”

“That was my plan all along, actually.”

“Mhm, sure.” You bit away a smirk. You liked this playful side of him a lot. “If you need half an hour to mentally prepare… I’d take it.”

“Noted, thank you.”

You left him to change and made your way back downstairs. Your sister eagerly took your makeup from you and dashed to the bathroom on the first floor.

Neither she nor Harry, or anyone else for that matter, came down until it was time to sit down.

Your dad sat at the head of the table as he always did, spread laid out in front of you in the middle. You sat to your dad’s right on the corner, and your sister to the left. You knew she was going to try and save the seat on her other side for Harry, but George ended up taking it instead, which visibly irritated her. She did have a particular ‘gay man’s best friend’ vibe about her - they flocked to her like sheep. Abbie sat at the other head, Rhys on her left, and then Harry sandwiched between Rhys and you.

He squeezed your thigh under the table, and you tried to pretend like it didn’t have some obscene effect on your intimate places. You lightly kicked his shin and started piling food onto your plate.

Like some kind of mafia father, your dad went around the table and asked all of the housemates for an update on their lives. He liked to do this, and fortunately your housemates liked pleasing him. He was a good landlord, and that showed by the way they gravitated towards him. He probably wouldn’t do this sort of thing if you weren’t living there, but he had a responsibility to them as tenants as well as you, his eldest daughter.

When you were done eating you sat back in your chair and put your hands in your lap. Harry didn’t hesitate to take one in his own and link your fingers. You peeked up at him as subtly as possible, unable to fight the giddy warmth that spread through you. He didn’t meet your gaze for the sake of keeping everyone else out of your business, but he did squeeze your hand, which only made the airy, slightly delirious feeling inside of you that much stronger.

Your sister spent 20 minutes talking about herself without breath, and as self-absorbed as she was, she was harmless, really. Not to mention entertaining. You never laughed as much as you did when she had her mouth open.

“Harry, you should come to these more often.” She said to him, batting her eyelashes.

You were about to walk her and your dad to the car and send them on their way. Harry was trying his absolute hardest to escape.

He cleared his throat. “I probably should, yeah.”

“It was good having an extra nice body.”

You gave her a look, brow raised. She shrugged. “I think it’s home time, no?” You prompted, gripping her arms and nudging her away.

“Fine.” She huffed, and began walking towards the street. “Bye team!”

Most people had already disappeared to their rooms but you had to admire her spirit. Dad was already gone, eager to go to bed.

You were halfway to the car when your sister asked, “So are you gonna tell me or what?”

You met her gaze with another raised brow. “Tell you what, exactly?”

“Mate,” she swatted my arm, “I am not an idiot. I know when I’m not wanted, because it’s not often.” She could not get any more vain if she tried. “I always did wonder what I had to do to get Harry’s attention better, and today I finally figured it out. I need to be you.”

Ah. Not as ignorant as she appears, then.

You pressed your mouth closed, looking away. “Er,”

“Don’t ‘er’ me. I saw that wink he gave you when he got home, but I thought he was just trying to wind me up. And then he sat next to you, not by choice it seemed, but there was barely an inch of space between you and practically a metre between him and Rhys. Then he just didn’t stop looking at you, even though he pretended he wasn’t. Let me tell you, that boy has not learned the art of subtlety.”

She turned to you then, a searing gaze heavy. “Look, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, or if you’re already shaggin’ him and lying to me about it-,”

“-We’re not having sex.” Yet.

“Okay, fine. Whatever. Just do something about it, please. If I can’t have him you should. Don’t let a man that beautiful go to waste. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.” She huffed, and then pulled you in for a tight hug. “Fed up of seeing you alone and underselling yourself. You’re hot shit! I know it, and Harry clearly knows it.” She suddenly takes your face in her grasp. “So do something about it.”

~

You appeared in the doorway of Harry’s room around 20 minutes later, fresh-faced and in your PJs. He was reading in bed, having stolen a book out of your cupboard.

“Is he secretly in love with her?” He asked without taking his eyes off the pages, his long finger brushing the spine.

You squinted at the title as you moved closer to him. “Yes. What made you pick that one?”

“Because it’s obviously your favourite.”

“How’d you work that one out?”

“The spine is cracked beyond belief. It’s nearly falling apart.”

“I might’ve bought it from a charity shop.”

He lifted a brow. “Did you?”

“No.”

He put the book aside, focussing all of his attention on you. You’d sat down cross-legged on top of the covers, and you wore a calm yet unreadable expression. There was a hint of something in your eyes. Infatuation, maybe?

“What’s going on?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Nothing. I’m just… happy.”

“Me too.”

You remained quiet for a moment, gazing at one another in a comfortable silence. Eventually, Harry opened his arms in request of your embrace, and you gave it to him without hesitation. You settled against him, head tucked under his chin.

“I like this, Harry. Us.”

“So do I.” He nodded, pressing his lips into your hair. “A lot.”

“You make it easier.”

“Make what easier?” He asked, and then held his breath.

A beat passed. “Life. Sleeping. Consciousness. Cooking. Just… being.”

“That’s a very big compliment.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

When you peered up at him, he lowered his mouth to yours for a slow and tender kiss. It wasn’t abrasive or demanding; it was perfect. Full of an understanding that neither of you expected to find in another person.

“Tell me about your nightmares.”

“I don’t have them when I’m with you.” You admitted, as if he hadn’t already worked it out. When he didn’t respond to you, you reluctantly continued. “They’re about my mum. She died in a car accident a few years ago and I dream about it sometimes.”

Harry’s heart found its way into his mouth. “You were there?”

“No. My sister was. I was with dad - it was a weekend. Me and dad at his work cooking, mum and my sister shopping in town. Were on their way back and someone just ploughed into the side of the car, driver’s side. She died on impact and my sister was in hospital for a week.”

Harry held onto you tighter, his lips against your temple. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s okay…” you swallowed, body tensed in stillness. “I dream about that day a lot. Mostly the part where Dad broke the news to me. Seeing my sister in the hospital plugged in and drugged up. The funeral; the look on Dad’s face. I wake up crying more than screaming, usually.”

He took a deep breath, and he clung to you like you might disappear. “I’m really sorry. Sorry that happened to you and your family, and that you have to relive it most nights. That’s not fair.”

You met his gaze, cupping his cheek. “Ever since we started doing… this, I haven’t had a single one. Not even on the nights we don’t share a bed. I don’t know why, I guess my conscience has decided it’s safe with you. And I do feel safe with you.”

“Then I will stay with you every night to make sure you never have a bad dream again.” He vowed, turning his head enough to kiss your palm. “I like knowing that you feel safe with me. S’a pretty big compliment.”

“I’m full of those when it comes to you.”

His chest swelled, a helpless smile on his face. “Even when you tell me I look like a frog.”

You snorted and hid your face in his chest. “You do, though.”

“Okay, thank you.” He huffed, feigning offence, but he didn’t let you go; didn’t loosen his hold on you.

You talked late into the night until you fell asleep, wrapped around one another and bundled under his bedclothes. Having you so close and being so open gave Harry a sense of clarity. He’d had an attraction to you since the day he met you, but this was turning into something more. Feelings were now coming up to bat, and he had a pretty solid idea of where they were heading.

~

“You are filthy.”

You wiped your brow, meeting Abbie’s gaze with indifference. “I am not letting this garden turn into a jungle again like it did last year.”

“I know, but I’ve never seen you so dirty. You’re the cleanest person I know.”

“Believe me, I’ll be jumping straight in the shower once I’m done.”

It was the warmest day of spring so far, and for once it wasn’t raining, so you’d taken the opportunity the second you had it to get outside and sort the garden out. The winter had turned it into a tangled overgrown mass of green mess, and you’d been desperate to get it sorted.

Abbie had offered to help but had realised very quickly that she was out of her depth, and eventually offered moral support in lieu of the physical kind. You didn’t mind the company - it beat waiting inside for Harry to come home, alone all day.

You chopped away at the forest that had grown, turned the soil over when you found it, and potted some new plants to give it some life. By the time Harry came home your legs were covered in dirt, cuts and fresh bruises, nail beds black, hair full of dead foliage, and just downright sweaty.

Abbie had surrendered to the house to be entertained by Rhys, and George wasn’t home. He was never home much anymore, you were all under the impression he had a boyfriend.

Harry helped you to your feet where you were kneeling in the soil, eyes giving you a thorough once over. “You look…”

“Filthy. Yes, I know.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I like it.”

“Really?”

He followed you as you collected your gardening tools and hid them in the shed tucked against the side of the house. “Absolutely. You’re so clean and put together all the time, it’s kinda nice seeing you a bit roughed up.”

You hummed out a laugh. “Interesting.”

Harry boxed you up against the wall, out of sight of any of your nosey housemates. His hips trapped yours, hands holding your sides at the ribs. Without a hint of hesitation, he pressed his mouth to yours, eagerness overpowering tenderness.

You simply let him, never one to deny the most handsome man you knew a hot and heavy kiss. You enjoyed being wanted by him. Who the fuck wouldn’t?

“I’ll let you go shower.”

“Okay.” You murmured, delirious.

He pulled away, giving your hip one last squeeze before he vanished into the house. You spent five more minutes in the garden making sure you’d tidied up after yourself, and took some pictures to send to your dad.

Your shower was longer than you’d have liked thanks to the state of you, and in turn it took you longer to clean the bathroom down than usual. You were starving by the time you got back to the top floor.

Harry was at his desk when you slipped inside his room, browsing something on his laptop.

His room and yours were polar opposites of one another. Where you hid all your belongings, made your bed and kept things as minimal as possible, Harry had more shit than necessary. A bulging wardrobe, unmade bed, things everywhere. He was a man with stuff, and lots of it. Sometimes it made you itch. But he wasn’t dirty in any capacity. It smelled of fresh linen and clean air all the time.

“Do you feel better?” He asked, closing the lid on his laptop again.

“Mm. Loads better.” You gave him a warm smile as you perched on the edge of his bed.

He rolled over to you but abandoned the chair halfway to stand up. Then he crawled over you, forcing you to lie backwards and caged you against the bed.

“You smell amazing.” He said with a voice like gravel.

You ran a hand down his front and slipped it under his t-shirt, trailing your fingertips over his chest. “Thank you,”

He lowered onto his forearm, face an inch from yours and groin against your pelvis. You inhaled sharply, noticing the very obvious stiffness coming from Harry’s midsection. His hand smoothed the length of your side, down your thigh to your knee and then back up again to your arse.

He met your mouth with a kiss, deep and hungry. Dizzying. He led and he was all over you, tongue devouring yours.

“It was a lot harder than it should’ve been to not follow you into the shower.” He admitted.

You let out a soft whine and fisted his t-shirt, pulling him flush against your chest. You wanted to feel the weight of him on you. “You should’ve.”

He returned that with a growl, and his hand on your arse gripped tighter. Your name tumbled off his lips in a husky plea, “I want you so fuckin’ bad.”

Hooking your legs around his hips and pushing his centre against yours, you gave him the silent go-ahead. You looped your arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’m right here, and you can have me.”

Something inside Harry snapped. Any reservations about your desire for him vanished. His kisses became punishing and carnal. His hands on you a little rougher than before, than ever. Possessive.

You helped him out of his top and in turn he helped you out of yours. You scooched backwards up the bed as he drank you in. It wasn’t lost on you that this was the first time he’d seen your top half naked. Somehow, amongst all the nights of bed-sharing, you’d never been fully naked.

His eyes were dark, hooded. He looked at you like you were his last meal, and honestly you lived for it. You wanted to die under that gaze.

“You’re so sexy.”

You bit away a timid, flustered smile. Bashfulness wasn’t sexy.

He stalked you like a wild cat as you lay back. His mouth and hands descended on you again, searching and exploring every inch of you, searing hot and wet kisses into your skin.

His hands slipped into your pyjama bottoms, feeling around your arse again before he tugged them down your legs, leaving you completely stark under his burning gaze. A strangled moan fell out of him while he regarded your naked form, hands smoothing and squeezing your hips, your waist, your boobs.

“You’re so fucking soft.” He said the words like praise.

You laid your hands on his as they travelled over you, and he pushed his mouth back to yours in that same eager dance as before. He ground himself against you, hard as a rock underneath his joggers, and it was doing all sorts to your core. Your heartbeat fell down and down again to your middle, slick heat flourishing between your legs.

“Please, Harry,” you begged him, pushing his hand down.

“What do you need?” He asked, a little cruelly, as if he didn’t know exactly what you needed.

“Touch me.”

The man gargled at you. He was fucking strangled. He traced between your thighs delicately to the point it tickled, and swiped a finger easily in a stripe up your folds, wetness collecting.

“Like that?”

“Yes.” You wriggled under him, desperate for more. “More.”

He played with your clit teasingly, enjoying the way you squirmed. “More?” He asked as he slid a finger into your waiting heat.

A small cry left you. It wasn’t enough and he knew it. “More.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?”

You whined. Now you were the one being carnal. You gripped his head tightly and kept your mouth to his, tongue abrasive and lashing.

While he wound you up in the most irritating way, you found your own ways to move him on. Your feet dug into the backs of his thighs and pushed downwards at an attempt to budge his joggers off. You didn’t want to wait anymore. You wanted him in all his solid glory, right now.

“Are you trying to take my bottoms off with your feet?”

“Yes.” You grunted.

“Oh,” he gave you a dark laugh as his kisses trailed back down your front, “that’s gonna cost you.”

He licked around your belly button, the warmth of his hands vanishing from your body to push his joggers down. He gave your cunt the shortest, most mind-blowing piece of attention with his mouth, dragging noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make. Then he turned you over without warning, on your front, and tugged your arse up to rest against his crotch.

You gasped, excited by the somewhat aggressive nature he’d taken on. Your Harry - soft and gentle as they got - man-handling you. You peered at him over your shoulder as he produced a square foil wrapper from somewhere and ripped it open with his teeth. He watched you watching him as he rolled it down his shaft, drawing your attention to it - visually, anyway - for the first time. You had to swallow the lump in your throat.

“This what you wanted, darlin’?” He asked as he smoothed his hand over your arse, but his gaze never left you. “You want me to fill you up with my cock?”

“God yes.” You said without a hint of a waver.

“You want it like this?” He lined himself up, fisting himself at the base, and glided the head of him through your wet, parted, waiting folds.

“Yes.” You whimpered. “Please. Please please please.”

He made that noise again, his large fist grabbing your hip as he hovered at your entrance, and then he thrust himself inside you.

A ripping, searing pain had you wanting to scream so loudly you had to shove your face into the mattress to muffle it. An ache blossomed in place of the initial pain, one that was all too familiar and yet quite unfamiliar. It had been absent, like a friend who lived too far away. Now it homed itself inside of you like it belonged there. Perhaps it did, and the only way to quell it was to entertain it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel good.” He hissed, his hands squeezing your hips and your bum in turn.

Harry pulled out, enough that only his head remained inside you, and then he gave another powerful thrust until he completely filled you. “So fucking good, my God.”

He started moving, in steady, sharp movements. He didn’t want slow. Hell, you didn’t want slow. You wanted fast and hot and sweaty, and that’s exactly what he gave you.

Harry started fucking into you so viciously you could feel it in every part of your body, from the jiggle of your tits to the shake of your arse to the rock of your hips. Oh, and the stretch of his cock as he buried deeper and deeper inside you. Every part of your body was aflame with need, a desire, a craving to be fucked into oblivion.

His hands were on your hips again, fingertips digging into your skin. He rocked you back and forth in time with his thrusts, not that you needed him to. You were doing that all on your own.

He grunted and hissed through every single powerful drive of his cock into your cunt, your name tumbling out of his mouth over and over again.

“Harry,” you whimpered, “harder.”

He growled and obeyed, pistoning inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes.” You cried, head burrowing again.

You felt him on you, all over you then, his chest against your back, lips kissing your shoulders and his arms with a vice grip around your middle. His skin was tacky, as was yours. You were surrounded by a cloud of packed heat, like a humid summer day.

“You are…” Harry began to say, panting in your ear, and his head shook against you, “fuck, I can’t even think straight.”

You moaned, lifting up and twisting your head in search of him. He caught your chin and brought your lips to his in another deep, claiming kiss. You wanted every kiss to be like that from then on - owning, possessing, asserting. You were his and you wanted him to know it.

He gave another round of punishing thrusts before he made a winded noise, “Turn over,” he pleaded, “I want to see your face.”

A whimper fell out of your mouth when his thickness disappeared from inside you, and he helped you onto your back before he got straight back in there. He was low over you, chest on your chest, hand on the back of your thigh, and his eyes roamed your face while it contorted with pleasure.

He hooked your leg over his hip and went harder. Harder, faster, harder, faster. Your head lolled back and a string of curse words fell out of your mouth. His lips danced across your chest and you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him there. There was nothing better than being worshipped by a mouth. Especially Harry’s mouth.

He licked and sucked over your skin until your boobs and sternum were littered with little purple spots of lust, and honestly you didn’t care. You wanted them all over you. You wanted yours all over him.

His hips never stopped moving - pushing, pushing, pushing you towards a beautiful, glorious high like a high-speed train ploughing towards a dangerous cliff edge. God, you wanted that edge and you wanted it now. You wanted to be flung off it whilst securely attached to the man currently pushing you there.

You pulled Harry’s mouth back to yours, holding your body to him as you clenched, milking him towards his end and yours. You needed it. Your head was about to explode with rampant thoughts and you needed to wash them away.

“Fuck, Harry,” you whispered, neck and shoulders spiked with heat. It radiated off you.

“I know.” He groused and bit your lower lip. “I’m fucking close. So fucking close, and I’m gonna blow if you keep doing that.”

“Please do it,” you begged, clenching again to feel his growl in your mouth, “come, Harry.”

And boy did he fucking come.

His body wracked with a shudder, movements ceasing as you wrapped yourself tightly around him. His muscles rippled beneath your fingertips while he came, oblivious to your own masterful undoing.

You calmed together, lips moving in tender kisses until your breath was caught again and your limbs were sore. You deflated when Harry abandoned you to clean himself up, and you dipped into your bedroom to do the same when you found the strength.

When he came back you snuggled up to him in his bed, between his legs with your head on his chest. His lips grazed through your hair, breathing light and content.

“I am… fucking obsessed with you.” He mumbled.

You traced your fingers over the hair and the swallows on his chest, a warmth filling you, like an acceptance. Being wanted hadn’t mattered to you until now. Until Harry.

“I… am also quite infatuated with you. And I have been for some time. Just… quietly.”

“You been sniffin’ my bed sheets while I’m at work?”

You giggled and nuzzled closer to him. “No. Not recently, anyway.”

“Not recently?”

“I’ve never sniffed your bed sheets, Harry.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“I’m weird, but I’m not that weird.”

“But you’ve been infatuated with me for ages.”

“Not enough to go into your room and sniff your bed sheets.”

“Did you do anything a bit weird?”

“No.”

“Really? Not even… a little… you know?”

You gave him a bewildered look, and he waggled his eyebrows at you.

Haha. You totally did that, you creep.

“Maybe.” You murmured, hiding your face again.

He chuckled and held onto you tightly. “I did, too. Feeling’s always been mutual, darlin’.”

You heaved a content sigh. “I’m glad it was. I really do like this. Us.”

“Me too.”

~

Harry had been living life with a permanent spring in his step. He had you, living in the same house and sharing a bed, cooking at dinner time, shagging at night time, and just generally being wonderful, fantastic, gorgeous, brilliant you.

Tonight you were at your dad’s house with your sister so he was cooking alone, but George was in the living room watching one of those daft culinary competition programs on Channel 4, the commentary filtering out with an occasional expletive. Abbie and Rhys were out but would likely be home soon. You’d be back eventually, too, and he liked knowing that nowadays you came home to him.

Rhys and Abbie came back first. Harry had decided to join George in the living room, too intrigued by the shouty drama on Come Dine With Me to ignore it.

Abbie gasped at the TV. “This is the one!” She squealed.

“What one?” Rhys demanded. “Oh, yes!”

“What am I missing?” Harry asked, a little bewildered.

George shushed everyone with a finger to his lips. “I’ve been talking him through it but I want him to see.” He flailed a hand in the couple’s direction.

All four pairs of eyes glued to the TV, a vetted interest in the argument unfolding. The contestants from that week’s episodes were gathering in the final host's living room, bank notes spread in a circle atop a silver tray and holding up a scroll wrapped in red ribbon.

The front door of the house opened again, and in you waltzed, a baffled look on your face. Very rarely did you come home to find everyone in the living room.

Abbie squeaked your name, begging you to join before it kicked off on the telly. “Come on, quick.” She patted the space between her and Harry, conveniently.

His eyes were no longer interested in the TV drama, only in you.

“In fourth place is… me.”

“Ah,” you said in recognition of the scene on the telly as you sat down. Your arm brushed against Harry’s as you tucked your right foot under your left thigh, and caught yourself before you settled into his side like you normally would.

A chorus of patronising oohs filled the room from the contestants on the screen. The host was shaking his head.

“Wait, is this the-,”

“You won, Jane.”

Barking laughter filled the room from the housemates, including Harry, but the host didn’t stop there.

“Dear Lord, what a sad little life, Jane.”

“You’ve got that on a T-shirt!” Harry swatted George’s arm.

“Damn right I do.” He grinned. “Cultural icon.”

“You, or the bloke having an aneurysm?”

“Both.”

“... grace of a reversing dump truck.”

More squeals filled the room, as if the entire scene hadn’t been a meme for years now.

Abbie patted your shoulder. “Did you see the video of Penn Badgley doing this?”

“Obviously.”

“Wait, I wanna see.” Rhys frowned.

Episode forgotten, Abbie found the clip on her phone and showed it to everyone.

“Oh my God, I think I’m going to hear it in that voice forever now.” George muttered, a wistful look in his eyes.

“Shall we watch a movie or something?” Abbie suggested, a hopeful look in her eye. “We never do anything all together… it would be nice.”

“I’m up for that.” Rhys grinned, because why would he ever turn down one of his girlfriend’s ideas?

“Yeah, me too.” George nodded.

All eyes turned to you and Harry. You couldn’t very well say no now, it would look odd. Especially if you both did, which is what you both wanted to do. There were two perfectly good beds upstairs, one of which needed to be destroyed. That wasn’t very well going to happen if you both sat on the couch and watched a film with your housemates.

“Yeah, sure.” You finally said, because you hated the way everyone was looking at you.

“Go for it.” Harry managed, much worse at hiding his disapproval than you were.

“How are we going to decide, then? ‘Cause I don’t really watch the horror films you two are into,” George pointed between Abbie and Rhys, “and Harry probably only watches underground indie movies or something.”

Harry had no idea what gave him that impression, but the laugh that came out of your mouth - hearty, loud and delighted - was worth the assumption.

“Why don’t we all write a movie name down on a piece of paper that we’ll all like - a comedy or something - and do a raffle.”

“Okay, but who’s choosing?”

Harry rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable to happen. George and Abbie fought for five minutes, both arguing that one of them should choose, and then the decision was given to you as the honorary house mediator. Everyone wrote their choices down on a scrap of paper and dropped them all into one of Rhys’s beanies. Then you closed your eyes, body screaming reluctance at having to be the decision-maker, and plucked a folded square out.

Your mouth lifted at the corners. “Shrek 2.”

Snacks were brought in, beers were shared out, and someone pressed play on the film where it had been queued up.

“Wait!” George screamed.

You all looked at him, bewildered by his dramatics. He’d even stood up.

“What?” Rhys gave him a baffled look.

“I wanna sit in the armchair.” George pointed to the very one Rhys sat in. “I don’t wanna sit in a couple sandwich. A third wheel is bad enough, but a fifth wheel is a disaster.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, laughter nervous and the ultimate giveaway.

“Oh fuck off if you two think we don’t all know you’re a thing.”

Your body tensed. Harry could feel it, the way you went from soft to rigid in a split second. “What?”

“We’ve known for ages.” Abbie said with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, like, the second Harry moved in.” George rolled his eyes.

“But we haven’t been-,”

“-Maybe not the whole time, but definitely recently. I can hear the floorboards creak, you know.” George gave you an accusatory glance. Curse him living directly beneath you. “Amongst other things.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or whether he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned pink, and you looked like you were in shock. “Right…”

“I am slightly offended that you didn’t want us to know.” Rhys folded his arms. “What did you think was gonna happen?”

He had a point. What did you think was going to happen? Mild ribbing and inappropriate jokes? It wasn’t exactly any of their business what the two of you were doing on the top floor, but that didn’t mean you’d needed to hide everything from them. Why had you stopped yourselves from being affectionate when around them? They were your friends. You all had inside jokes and a group chat and emoji code names. They were like a second family in a way. Even though you all enjoyed your own company, you liked each other too.

“I think… for a while we didn’t really know what was happening.” Harry finally spoke, twisting in his place. “We just started hanging out and it kinda grew from there.”

“I called this on day one, by the way.” George said smugly.

“It’s true, he did.” Abbie nodded, still smiling. “Two good-looking people at the top of the house? Recipe for heaven.”

“We’re happy it finally happened. Just… don’t hide shit like that from us. We’re all friends.” George was back to scowling.

“Friends.” Rhys cooed, like Jay from The Inbetweeners.

“Anyway, now that’s all out there, can we start the film please? Or it’s gonna be my bedtime.” Abbie flailed her hand around.

The movie started, everyone settled into their places, and you managed to find a comfortable position against Harry’s side.

Even though you chatted along with conversations and laughed at the telly, Harry knew something was off. You were still tense, and you didn’t touch him like you normally would. He wanted you in his arms, not pushed awkwardly against his side. He wasn’t sure if it was because you were uncomfortable displaying affection in front of other people, but whatever it was he wanted to make it go away.

He shifted at one point in an attempt to wrap an arm around your middle, but instead you moved further away. That utterly terrified him.

As the movie credits rolled, everyone started to move, ready to get to bed for the night. Except you.

“Guys,” You said, quiet as a mouse, but everyone heard you. Because you never stopped anyone for anything, “can we all have a chat?”

Dread nestled itself into Harry’s stomach. A chat? About what? Everyone? Why did everyone have to be present? What was going on?

The housemates sat back down, if a little tentatively, gazes wary. You finally gave Harry your attention, if only fleetingly with a worried smile.

“Are you alright?” Abbie asked and pulled your hand into hers.

Harry leaned forwards.

“You’ll all be getting an email tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you in person.” You licked your lips, stare heavy on the stone floor of the living room. “Dad is selling the house.”

~

A little piece of your heart broke that evening when your dad told you his plans to sell. It was a place that you had such an odd relationship with, because while it cost a lot of money and caused a lot of financial problems, it also brought you a family you never asked for and a man you never dreamed of having.

You knew your dad would try and hold onto it as long as he possibly could because it had become your home, and he’d been in bits over dinner as he broke the news. He cried, so you cried, and then your sister cried, too. Everyone had been a mess.

“What?” George said, dumbfounded. Hell, everyone was dumbfounded.

“It’s the last thing he wanted to do, but it’s kind of burning a hole in his pocket and we can’t afford it anymore. Between the leaking second floor and dodgy plumbing there’s also woodworm and stone repairs and all sorts of other crap I don’t want to bore you with.”

“You found this out today?” Abbie asked, bottom lip trembling.

“Yeah, an hour or so ago. I’m really sorry, guys.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Rhys frowned.

Abbie crawled across the small gap between her and you and wrapped her arms around you. “We get it. It’s old, it’s a bit rickety and it needs a lot of TLC. We all know your dad gave it all the care he could afford and it’s okay that he can’t afford it anymore.”

“How long do we have to find new places?” George asked, biting his lip.

“As long as it takes to sell. Given the condition of the place it could be fuckin’ ages.” You managed a laugh.

“If your dad needs us to do anything, he just needs to let us know. And we’ll make sure it’s tidy as fuck for viewings and shit.”

“Thanks, Rhys.”

The housemates starting shifting again, collecting up their bits and leaving with softly spoken good nights. You still didn’t move, and neither did Harry. After a quiet minute or so, he slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“What are you thinking?” He asked in a gravelly whisper.

You took a deep breath, nibbling away at your lower lip. “That I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“Mhm.”

“Scared about what?”

You turned to face him, cataloguing every crease of worry on his handsome face. “Us. What this means for us.”

He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “What do you think it means for us?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m scared it means the end, when I don’t want it to. I’m scared that what we’ve been doing is just… convenient? And now that we have to leave it won’t be so convenient anymore and it will be over.”

“You don’t want it to be over.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. Not even a little bit. I… I don’t want a night without you ever again. I can sleep with you around. I can breathe. I need to breathe, and I can’t do that without you. And part of me hates that I need you, but I do, and the rest of me that doesn’t hate it tells me to fuck everything to the wind. Because it’s not just need, it’s also a want. I just want you around, like you have been. Presence is such a funny thing when it comes from different people, but yours… I like yours. A lot.”

Harry spoke your name in a low voice, gaze on your mouth as he smoothed his thumb across your lower lip, “I don’t want it to be over, either.” He meets your gaze again, cool, calm and collected. “I really hoped it wouldn’t be at any stage ever, least not because we have to leave the house and find another one. I’ve been living with you for three fucking years and I also don’t want to have to spend a night where you don’t live with me. Hell, it’s not even a fucking option. I know you love this place because it’s your family’s, but I don’t care where we live as long as we do it together. I’ve been looking at other places since the day I moved in, and the only reason I haven’t bothered to leave is because you kept me here, whether you meant to or not. And now we have to leave, and I’m sure as shit gonna take you with me, because I can’t live without you.”

You stared at him for a moment, and then launched into his arms, tackling him into the sofa. You peppered his face with kisses until he caught your lips and held you there, happy in the knowledge that you needed each other and that was absolutely fucking okay.

“You’re special to a lot of people, but especially to me.” Harry mumbled into your lips. “I’m selfish enough to not let you go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Good.”

You remained in the lounge for a little while longer, wrapped up in one another, until movement began upstairs and you decided it was probably time to head upstairs to bed. Before you made it to the stairs, Rhys and George appeared in front of you. Rhys looked apprehensive and George looked irritated he’d been dragged out of his room again.

“What’s going on?” You asked, cocking your head.

“Abbie’s in the loo so I’m gonna make this real quick before she comes back.” Rhys threw a wary glance over his shoulder. “I need your help.”

~

Every morning was the same.

This week it had been, anyway. You woke up with the sunrise, wrapped in Harry’s arms, and you listened to his heartbeat and his unconscious breathing for a blissful twenty minutes before his alarm went off. Then he’d fall out of bed with a reluctant yawn, mooch his way around the room and disappear into the bathroom to get ready for work.

Upon reappearing he’d head to the kitchen to make a coffee and leave a cup of tea on your bedside table, then a kiss on your lips, and then you’d watch the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ leave your apartment from the comfiest spot in the bedroom.

Today was the same, but different. He wasn’t going to work today, and neither were you. It meant longer in bed, with enough time for sexy shenanigans, then he’d make for the bathroom, bring you tea afterwards and breakfast.

You spent the day in bed, right up until 5 o’clock when you had to get up and go out to give your keys back.

Yes, your dad had managed to sell the house. It had taken a while, but it got there. The new owners were moving in tomorrow, and you’d all arranged to meet your dad and your sister there to do a final ‘handover’.

George had moved into a studio flat in the centre of town but spent most of his nights at his boyfriend’s place. Rhys and Abbie had finally bought that house they always wanted, out of town but easy to travel into. And you and Harry also had your own place, still renting and in the city, but it was yours together, and that was all you wanted.

“Are you nervous?” Harry asked as you walked up to the front of old Blackpool Tower.

“I’m not the one that needs to be nervous.” You shrugged, even if you had been the one to help Rhys with most of the planning.

He’d been a lot of work over the past few weeks. After he initially asked for your help he spent so long searching for the damn jewellery he forgot about the rest of it. You had reminded him on many occasions that it didn’t need a big song and dance, but he insisted, because he wanted it in the house you’d all shared with her favourite people to witness it.

The garden was lit up in the early evening with fairy lights and candles. George, your sister and your dad were already at the far end waiting for Rhys and Abbie to arrive. You gave over your keys - dad had the house professionally cleaned even though you had offered, because it was too big a task for one person.

Blackpool Illuminations

Rhys We’re nearly there…

Yes, Rhys had really named the group chat for the planning committee ‘Blackpool Illuminations’.

You stood next to your sister who wrapped herself around your middle, and Harry kept hold of your free hand.

“I hope she says no.” Your sister said, and Harry snorted. “Just for a laugh.”

“I don’t think Abbie has it in her to say no to Rhys.” You mused.

Five minutes later the couple in question turned up. Abbie had no idea what was going on, obviously. She’d been told they were going for dinner and then for a walk. The walk was always supposed to end here, at the old house.

Abbie gasped at the sight before her, hands on her mouth as she moved through the garden. “What’s going on?”

Behind her, Rhys swiftly dropped to one knee and presented the ring he’d spent months agonising over. “Abbie,”

You all watched and listened as Rhys spent five minutes talking about how perfect his girl was for him. It was very typical Rhys - overboard and unnecessarily long. Most things maybe could’ve been kept for his wedding vows.

Just as your sister was about to explode from restlessness, Rhys finally asked, “Will you marry me?”

“I would’ve said yes five minutes ago.” Abbie giggled, nodding, and held her left hand out.

George and your sister started hollering, your dad was pretending not to cry, and you fell into Harry’s hold again, watching the happy couple with a warm smile.

“I hope to God they don’t ask me to help plan the actual wedding.”

Harry chuckled and pressed his lips into your temple. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”

Your sister presented herself in front of you with an assured look on her face. “When are you two getting engaged, then?”

Harry choked behind you, and you gave your sister a bewildered look. “Reel it in, please.”

“What?” She shrugged. “Being in love suits you. A wedding would really suit you.”

“A wedding isn’t something you arrange for an aesthetic, sis.” You reminded her.

“Speak for yourself, but I do recommend heavily considering it.”

After she turned away, Harry lowered his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

You tightened his arms around you. “One day.” You said with a kiss to his palm.

His smile imprinted on your cheek. “One day.”

~.~.~.~.~

Thank you so v much for reading if you make it this far. It’s a long one, I know. The longest one shot I’ve actually ever done. Much love to you <3