#Court Notice Ad

[getmeupsocial]

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[confines]

challengers felt strangely unpolished for a film that had a budget of $55mil and was shot on 35mm film. maybe i'm just a picky freak idk. like, they had some scenes where the passion was so present. then others it was like damn. that cut was sloppy. they kept that in? that was a weird casting. oh that's an odd song choice. i had a good time but i was so unimpressed so many times. then there was stuff like the cinematography involving the tennis where i was really really impressed and interested to see the behind the scenes. i still don't know quite how to feel about the movie.

[babamediagroup]

https://speakerdeck.com/babamediagroup/court-notice-in-the-toi-newspaper

[pookalicious-hq]

no. 1 fan ... sukuna ryomen x reader

˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚ - since when did sukuna ryomen have a girlfriend? and why is she so cute (and absolutely perfect for him)? tags: basketball!au, fluff, swearing, sfw <3 masterlist

The gym lights caught on the glossy surface, a faint shimmer bouncing with every shift of motion. Tiny flecks of glitter sparkled like distant stars, the edges glinting silver against the stark backdrop of the jersey. A burst of pastel pink contrasted sharply, the soft hue radiating a kind of innocent charm that felt entirely out of place.

It was a detail almost too small to notice—yet somehow, it drew eyes in, an odd juxtaposition against the chaos of the pregame atmosphere. The gym was alive with the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished wood, players stretching, and the low hum of excited chatter from the stands. Sukuna Ryomen, lounging casually in the middle of his team’s warm-up drills, was the last person anyone expected to have such a thing plastered on his shoulder. But there it was. My Melody, a sweet little bunny holding a basketball.

Satoru was the first to spot it, of course.

“Aw, how cute, Sukuna-chan. Didn’t know you were into Sanrio like that.”

Sukuna turned, narrowing his eyes at the playful teasing in Satoru's voice. “The fuck are you on about now?”

Satoru just pointed, smirking as all eyes followed his gesture. "Your cute little stowaway there."

And there it was—bold against the red and black of Sukuna's jersey, a sticker of My Melody, holding a basketball positioned perfectly as if to dunk it. It was so out of place, yet it felt strangely fitting. Its innocence danced in stark contrast to Sukuna's menacing aura, and the sweetness of the bunny somehow managed to coexist with the intimidating presence of the player.

Sukuna glanced at the sticker and then smirked, barely able to suppress the grin tugging at his lips. His eyes softened just slightly, knowing exactly where it came from.

“Guess it’s not that bad,” he muttered under his breath.

No one knew who had put it there, but there was no mistaking it—Sukuna wasn’t bothered in the slightest. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more it made him smile.

“He’s so weird, I swear,” Satoru muttered, squinting across the gym floor as he slouched against the edge of the bench. The air around them crackled with energy, the squeak of sneakers on the polished hardwood floor echoing through the arena as players warmed up. The thudding sound of basketballs bouncing, the low hum of excited chatter from the crowd, and the faint whistle of the referee adding to the chaos all buzzed around them.

Suguru, already feeling the weight of Satoru's nonsense, pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to focus, pushing away the mounting noise as he geared up for the game. "Satoru, shut up. He’s literally just smiling."

"Exactly!" Satoru gestured with both hands, his voice carrying over the cacophony like a loud bell ringing. “I’ve never seen him... like this. It’s unnatural!”

Suguru flicked Satoru lightly in the forehead, the sharp sound of his fingers connecting with the skin cutting through the background noise. “You’re lucky he can’t hear you, idiot. Besides, he’s allowed to smile. It’s not a crime.”

“It’s so creepy, though!” Satoru rubbed his forehead dramatically, leaning back against the bench. His voice was exaggerated, filled with playful disdain. “I’ve never seen him so... soft. Gross. Eugh. What happened to the demon we all know and love?”

The gym seemed to buzz even louder as the players amped themselves up, a couple of them tossing passes back and forth with fast, sharp movements that made the air feel electric. Sneakers squeaked and slid across the court, some heavy breaths echoing as bodies shifted into the final preparations for the game.

Suguru, however, was still fighting for some semblance of focus, trying to shut out Satoru's ridiculousness as his mind sought that familiar pregame calm. He tried to breathe in rhythm with the ambient noise—the rustling of the crowd, the sharp claps of teammates slapping each other on the back—but Satoru just wouldn’t let up. "It’s because his girlfriend’s watching today," Suguru said casually, as if the thought didn’t even require a second glance.

Satoru snapped his head toward him so fast it almost looked like he was about to knock over the water bottle on the bench. “He has a girlfriend? How do you know?”

“Yuji told me about her yesterday,” Suguru said, brushing it off as if it were nothing. He wasn’t quite sure how to process the idea of Sukuna with someone so... normal, so he pushed it to the back of his mind, letting his thoughts return to the game.

“What about me?” 

Satoru’s stomach jolted, heart skipping in his chest. “Jesus—fuck, Yuji, you scared me!” he exclaimed, clutching his chest as if Yuji had just jumped out from behind him in a horror film.

Suddenly, Yuji’s face popped up right next to them, grinning widely with that unapologetically boyish enthusiasm. “Oops, sorry! I just heard my name and wanted to make sure you weren’t shit-talking me! Haha!”

The two seniors exchanged a look—Suguru, contemplating the comment, and Gojo, mildly entertained—but as usual, the latter barrelled straight past it. “Anyways, we were just wondering about Sukuna-chan’s little girlfriend. She’s here?”

The sound of basketballs slamming into the backboard reverberated loudly around them, rattling the floor beneath their feet as a player went for a dramatic dunk across the gym. The high-pitched swoosh of a net followed. Yet, the small chaos of the game only seemed to amplify Yuji's carefree nature, his laughter infectious.

He gave a single enthusiastic nod, expression lighting up with pure, uncontained excitement. “She should be! She just called to say she found a seat.”

The three of them turned toward the crowd, scanning the packed bleachers. It was almost impossible to pick out individual faces among the sea of fans, but they didn’t have to wonder for long why Yuji could find you so easily.

“There!” Yuji pointed, practically bouncing on his heels.

All at once, they saw you.

You weren’t loud or over the top, but there was something about you that drew attention, like a light you couldn’t help but turn toward. Your eyes sparkled with a warmth that didn’t belong in a crowd this rowdy, your face alight with unguarded joy. You leaned forward, effortlessly engaging the little girl beside you in a cheerful conversation, hands animated as you gestured toward the court.

The little girl giggled, clutching a handful of skittles you must have shared. It wasn’t just the candy; it was the way you leaned in, nodded attentively, and treated the child like her words carried the secrets of pandora’s box. The moment was so natural, so disarmingly sweet, that even Suguru had to admit he could see the charm.

“She’s just... giving away candy to kids?” Satoru blinked, eyebrows raised as though the sight was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen.

Suguru’s smile slowly turned into a gape, crossing his arms. “And apparently making everyone within a ten-foot radius feel like they’ve won the lottery. What a menace.”

“She’s adorable,” Satoru hissed, ignoring the sarcasm. “There’s no way Sukuna convinced someone like her to date him. I mean, look at her!” He gestured dramatically, nearly toppling off the bench.

“She’s smiling, not performing a miracle,” Suguru deadpanned. “Relax.”

“But that’s what’s weird about it!” Satoru insisted. “She’s the sunshine’s asshole, and he’s... I don’t even know what he is, probably just the asshole part.”

The three of them continued to watch as you apologized to a student who stumbled near you, even though it was clearly no fault of your own. You placed a steadying hand on their shoulder, offering a bright, reassuring smile that seemed to melt the poor kid’s embarrassment on the spot. A moment later, you turned back toward the court, your attention zeroing in on the players warming up.

Then, a laugh as melodic as an orchestra bubbled from your lips, captivating everyone within a 20-foot radius.

Heads turned—not just Sukuna’s, but several others, curious to see who’d spoken. Sukuna, however, didn’t seem fazed by the sound. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes scanning the court like a predator waiting for its prey. A mere glance from a teammate was enough to send them scurrying in the opposite direction, but when he caught sight of you, his posture seemed to relax just slightly. His gaze softened, and for a brief second, he didn’t look like a demon—he looked... content.

“Holy shit,” Satoru muttered, leaning closer. “He’s smiling again. Suguru, this is unnatural. I don’t think I like it.”

Suguru sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re just jealous someone actually loves him.”

“Jealous?” Satoru scoffed. “Please. I’m too fabulous to be contained by one person. It’s just—look at her! She’s pure, and he’s... him. Do you think she read his terms and conditions properly?”

Yuji, meanwhile, was grinning ear to ear, his chest practically puffed out with pride as though her presence was his personal achievement. “Do you get it now?” he asked, turning toward the two seniors.

“Get what?” Gojo drawled, still squinting at her like she was a science experiment.

“Why she’s perfect for him,” Yuji said simply.

Satoru opened his mouth, undoubtedly ready to argue, but Suguru cut him off with a raised hand. “You know what? He’s got a point.”

For a moment, even Satoru was quiet, his gaze drifting back to you. You were now laughing, your head tipped back slightly as the little girl beside her showed off her Skittles-stained tongue. The sound was bright, full, and utterly unrestrained—like you’d never learned how to hold back your joy.

Satoru sighed, flopping against the bench in defeat. “Okay, fine. She’s perfect. Whatever. But I still don’t get how he landed her.”

Suguru chuckled. “Maybe she sees something in him you don’t.”

“Oi, loudmouths—and Suguru. Get your asses moving.”

The voice that rang out was unmistakable: Sukuna, cutting through the chatter with his usual no-nonsense tone.

“Sir, yes sir!” Gojo saluted.

“God, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Captain!”

The gym was buzzing with the typical pre-game chaos, but Sukuna’s attention was elsewhere, drawn by the familiar warmth cutting through the din of the crowd. His gaze swept over the stands, and it didn’t take long for his eyes to land on you.

There you were—unmistakable. Even in the sea of faces, your presence stood out. The way your eyes sparkled when you caught his gaze, the playful curve of your lips as you gave him a wink.

Then, as if the universe had granted him a brief moment of peace in the chaos, you blew him a kiss. A simple gesture that made his chest tighten. He of course caught it effortlessly, bringing a hand to his heart in mock reverence, but it was the next movement that caused something unfamiliar to flicker inside him.

Without missing a beat, his hand dropped to his shoulder, tapping the My Melody sticker with a subtle grin. The gesture was small, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but to Sukuna, it was his unspoken reply to you affection.

The smile lingered on his face for just a moment longer before he wiped it away, a smirk taking its place as he stood tall, ready to head out onto the court.

Deleted scene:

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THAT WAS ALL BALL! OPEN YOUR GODDAMNED EYES.”

Your voice sliced through the gym like a whip, sharp enough to make heads turn. Conversations stuttered, sneakers skidded to a stop, and even the referee hesitated for a beat before remembering he was supposed to be an authority figure.

On the court, Sukuna barely reacted—barely. His stance remained firm, shoulders squared as he glared down the ref with the same look that had sent weaker opponents scrambling. But for a fraction of a second, his eyes flickered to the stands, finding you instantly.

His girl.

You were on your feet, fury blazing in your eyes, hands clenched into fists at your sides. The tension in your stance screamed protective, and fuck if that didn’t do something to him.

The gym erupted as the ref made it official. Technical foul on number 20 - Sukuna Ryomen.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned. “A tech? For what? Looking too scary? Boohoo.”

Satoru’s whistle cut through the noise as he turned to Suguru, his grin lazy but amused. “Oh, this is fun. You ever see someone go feral for Sukuna before?”

Suguru hummed, watching Sukuna carefully. “Not like this.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Satoru mused. “Usually, it’s just people going feral at him.”

Yuji snorted. “Right? And he’s actually letting her.”

Which was the weirdest part. Sukuna hated when people stuck their noses in his business. If this were anyone else—even a coach—he’d have shut them down with a glare and a stay the hell out of it.

But with you?

He was letting you bark at the ref, letting you take up space in his fight.

And even worse?

He liked it.

Whistles blew. The opposing team’s bench erupted into cheers, and the ref signaled for free throws.

“Bullshit,” you muttered, arms crossing tightly over your chest.

“Damn,” Satoru mused from the sidelines, still watching you with newfound amusement. “She’s got more fight in her than half the guys on the court.”

Suguru hummed in agreement. “And he’s actually letting her.”

Yuji grinned. “Ah, shit. She’s really gonna go off.”

And he was absolutely right.

Because as the opposing player stepped up to the free-throw line, your voice rang out again—clear, unwavering, and loud enough for the entire gym to hear.

“Oh, come on! You’re calling that a foul? What, is Sukuna just supposed to breathe and get penalized now? Maybe we should just wrap him in bubble wrap and call it a day!”

Scattered chuckles rippled through the stands, but you weren’t joking. You knew how people saw him—how they wanted to see him. A villain. A monster. A player too aggressive for his own good, a walking technical foul waiting to happen.

They didn’t see the discipline. The precision. The sheer skill it took to dominate the court the way he did.

They didn’t see him.

The ref shot you a warning look, but you only lifted your chin, undeterred.

“Terrible call,” you sang again, just loud enough for Yuji to hear.

“Yeah,” he called back with a chuckle. “But that’s just how it is for him.”

You exhaled sharply, frustration curling in your chest. “It’s not fair.”

Yuji just smiled. “He’s used to it.”

That didn’t make it right.

Back on the court, Sukuna set his stance, waiting for the rebound. He should have been focused—should have been calculating his next move—but instead, his gaze slid sideways, just for a second.

You were still standing. Still fuming on his behalf.

His lips curled.

The first free throw went up. The ball arced high, hit the rim—bounced once, twice—then rolled out.

The crowd erupted into noise, but you? You smirked.

“S’what you get for being weak,” you muttered under your breath, knowing damn well the shooter couldn’t hear you.

Sukuna did.

And though he didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge it outright, something about the way he held himself shifted. Shoulders looser. Jaw unclenched.

He wasn’t alone in this.

You had his back.

And for a guy who’d spent most of his life being the villain, that was a weird fucking feeling.

The second free throw went in, but it didn’t matter. The moment the ball was inbounded, Sukuna was a force of nature, tearing down the court with single-minded determination.

And if, after scoring on the very next possession, he just so happened to glance toward the stands—seeking you out, locking eyes for the briefest of moments—well.

That was nobody’s business but his own.

And yours.

a/n: he's a huge red flag but i can't help but romanticize him... anyways sorry its been a while

mwah <3

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」

divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~

a part of gojo's love entries

you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.

and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—

“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”

“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.

“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”

“district court—?”

“—getting a divorce, yeah.”

your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—

“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”

however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.

“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”

you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.

“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”

“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”

you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”

satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.

he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”

you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”

“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”

what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.

“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”

and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”

his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.

“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”

“whoa, wait—”

“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”

“—?! you can’t do that!”

“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”

“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”

“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”

in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.

. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”

“…”

“if you do, baby will also be—”

“you are making us mad.”

“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”

you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.

and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—

“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”

“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”

“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”

“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.

you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”

seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.

and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.

“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”

and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.

you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”

“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”

and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.

epilogue

“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”

“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”

“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”

“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”

“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”

“uh— you’re the one asking first!”

“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”

“nanami is not—!”

“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”

“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”

“wha?!”

[shockercoco]

Cheer Up

Art Donaldson x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, fingering, dirty talk, orgasm denial

Word count - 1135

a/n - I watched Challengers a couple days ago, and it's safe to say I’m a mike faist supporter lol. Also I kind of just skimmed through this so ignore the errors. I hope you enjoy :)

You haven’t been having the best week, and losing a match today to an opponent who you clearly should’ve beat didn’t help at all. Your irritation didn’t go unnoticed by Art either, but he decided to leave you alone in hopes you would calm down.

Art could see the anger radiating off of you from his seat in the stands as you walked off the court after the game. You were pretty much silent for the ride back to the hotel and still once you got into the room. You took a shower in hopes that it would ease the tension in your body, and it did, but not enough. 

Sitting on the couch in front of the tv, you opened your laptop to watch the playback of today's game. This is something you did after every match to help you become a better player, but if you were to ask Art, he would just say that you were torturing yourself.

You were so into the video playing on your laptop that you didn’t notice Art entering the room until you felt him sit down next to you, resting an arm on top of the couch behind him.

“You’ve been sitting here watching yourself for hours, don’t you think it would be better to just close this and relax,” Art says as he dips his head down to try to get you to look at him, but you ignore him and keep your eyes on the screen.

“This is me relaxing,” you tell him.

“You know what I mean,” he says.

“Well this is what I want to do, so if you could leave me alone that would be great,” you turn to give Art a sarcastic smile before looking back at the laptop. He rolls his eyes at your attitude.

“How long are you going to be in this bitchy mood?” he asks, and you just shrug in response. Luckily for you, he knows just how to

You thought he would just leave you given the fact that you clearly don’t want to talk, but he stays in his spot next to you. Suddenly you feel Art grab the laptop from your lap and lean forward to place it on the coffee table in front of you, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

“What are you doing?” you ask, watching him.

“Helping you relax,” he says as he turns his attention back to you and dips his head down to start placing kisses on the side of your neck and up to your ear. 

“Art-,” you begin, but you cut yourself off when you feel a moan rising in your throat. Once you feel like you’ve composed yourself you say, “I’m busy.”

“Then tell me to stop,” he whispers in your ear before attaching his lips back to your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

He places his hand on your thigh and trails it up until he reaches the fabric of your panties. Lucky for him you just like to sleep in underwear and a shirt. He begins to lightly rub you through your panties, not adding any pressure on purpose. Your eyes drift to your laptop on the table that’s still open and playing.

“This isn’t the time,” you say breathlessly as you naturally buck your hips.

He hums in response, waiting for you to tell him to stop, but it doesn’t come. He dips his hand into your panties and runs his finger up and down your slit through the arousal that has started to leak out of you, circling your entrance before moving up to your clit, and this time adding pressure.

“You’ve had this little attitude all week, and I think it’s time that it goes away,” he says in your ear, then leans back to get a look at your face as he pushes a finger into you. “What do you think?”

Your mouth falls slightly ajar as you let out a small moan, but no answer. The video may be playing, but the screen has turned into a blur.

“What, nothing to say? You sure did have something to say these past couple of days,” Art fake pouts with a tilt of his head. “If this is what you needed all along, why didn’t you just say something?”

He then inserts another finger and watches as you fall apart as he curls his fingers inside of you. You move one of your hands up to grip the armrest as your eyes close and your body leans back against the couch.

“I mean this is what you wanted, right? For me to fill you up and make all your worries just disappear?” he questions with a smirk. 

Art feels your walls clench around him at his words as he continues his measured pace with his fingers.

“An answer would be nice,” he states, his tone a little more firm. You shake your head no, but that isn’t enough for art. “No, say it out loud.”

“No,” you manage with a whine.

“No? Are you sure because the way you just gave in so easily tells me otherwise,” Art fake pouts. “It’s not like I have a problem with it, though. After all, I get to be inside you,” he smirks at you.

All you can do is moan as he increases the speed of his fingers. Your legs start to involuntarily close, but you hear him tell you no, so you listen and force them back open. You feel yourself coming closer and closer to your orgasm with each thrust of his fingers, and Art notices too by the way your whimpers and whines become more consistent. 

Right when you feel yourself about to tumble over the edge, Art quickly pulls his fingers out of you and out of your panties, causing you to gasp and your walls to clench around nothing. You finally open your eyes and look at Art, who still has the stupid smirk on his face.

“What are you doing?” you ask in confusion and irritation, and he just laughs at you.

“You were the one that said this wasn’t the time,” he tells you as he licks the fingers that were inside you only a moment ago.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” 

“Are you fucking serious right now?” he repeats with his eyebrows raised. Art begins to stand up, leaving you more tense than before. He motions to your laptop still playing the video from your tennis match and says, “I don’t want to bother you, so I’ll let you go back to what you were doing. Come find me when you’re done.”

You watch with an open mouth as Art walks out of the room with a smile and heads into the bedroom, not giving you a second look.

Part 2 out now!

[dropsnectar]

Courting a Queen: Bee Hybrid × Reader Part Two

Hey! So a lot of you wanted the Bee smut, so, here it is! I'm still new to writing smut so please be kind. Also, in @bunnis-monsters universe of Bee Hybrids, its mentioned that they have different types of Honey that have different properties and effects, so I wanted to play with that a little. Also just a reminder that I headcannon that the queen scouting drones are a bit more intelligent than other bee hybrids,, as this works better to lure in a queen! Hope you enjoy!

Everything had happened so quickly, you didn't know quite what to do or think. 

You'd just been talking and having fun with a few Bee Hybrids, now suddenly suddenly you were in their hive, they were calling you Queen, and it was getting really hard to talk your way out of this when you had so many tongues on your skin--

“Y-You guys I can't become your… oh God um… there's no way I can become a queen!” You tried your best to gently pull yourself out of their grasp, but the little nibbles Haven was doing on your ear were way too distracting. Elias answered you.

“We know you'd be great. Please dont be mean to yourself.” He pouted at you with big eyes as he worked on pulling down your black leggings. He carefully lifted your thighs as he did so and you noticed that his skin, while smooth and soft, also had a sort of firmness to it that human skin didn't. It made your core burn. 

“Are we doing something wrong? Please tell us my Queen, we only want to make you feel good.” Another hand was slowly exploring up your shirt. You looked over at Ray, the black haired hybrid who was staring at you with the biggest, mooniest eyes, like he was a dog begging for a treat. He trailed his hands up and down your belly, his hands were more beelike than the others, and the foreigners of it gave you goosebumps. 

Stop it! You can't become Queen! You'd never leave this place!

“I can't do this.” You finally managed, pulling away from Haven and Ray's grasp.

“I have a home. And a job and…”

And not much else. Your parents weren't the kindest, and you only ever saw your friends once every two months. If they remembered you that was.

Elias gently took one of your hands in his. “This can be your home! We would feed you and do whatever you want! You'll never be lonely again. Please. We've been so long without a Queen and…” His antennas drooped. So Did Haven and Rays, their exuberant wings going quiet.

“ We will die soon. Without a Queen our hive will grow weak, and other hives will fight us for our home territory.” Ray leaned his head gently on my shoulder, a whine escaping his chest.

Haven started to tear up. At least, he seemed to cry. “ We need you. We will never stop loving you, and you would never want for anything, please let us keep you.”

Your heart grew heavy. You didn't know much about bees, but you were aware that Queens were super important for the health of the hive. You had only known them for a day, but you couldn't bear the thought of them dying. They were so incredibly sweet after all.

Maybe I could try it for a little bit. I mean, being a Queen couldn't be so bad. You reasoned. And if it becomes too much, I could maybe help them find a new one. Or run away in the night, maybe.

“I'll… give it a try.” 

The three of them were in the air at once, pulling on your limbs and jumping up and down. Haven got up and did what seemed like a little happy dance, Elias joining in. While Ray continues to hold onto you and nuzzle you in large excited motions. You watched the two dancing and clapped happily. They buzzed loudly, seeming pleased with your smile and sudden lifted mood. They could feel your affection for them in the air and it bode well.

At that time, the bee-man that Elias had pulled aside earlier knocked on the door, before buzzing in with a cup of something sweet. Well, the whole place smelled sweet, but you noticed steam coming up from the cup. You tilted your head in confusion.

“He added some warm water to help you get it down easier! Your human after all, so thick things may be hard to drink, right?” Elias smiled and handed you the warm little cup. It smelled… well. Like honey. But their was a little heat to it. Maybe cinnamon? Nutmeg?

“Its super special, just for you!” Haven volunteered, as he settled back down to his place on your back left. He busied himself with rubbing your shoulder, then kissing the back of your head sweetly. 

All of this attention was making your cheeks rosy. To busy yourself you took an experimental sip of the warm honey. It went easily from your tongue down your throat. Expecting the taste of normal honey, you were surprised by the variety of notes. Still sweet, it indeed had a hefty… spice to it? Like it had been salted and mixed with a little chilli pepper. The heat of it spread from your throat, through your head and your body, making you shiver.

It was a feeling similar to hot chocolate on a long day out in the snow. Delighted, you slurped it down greedily. Ray laughed and the other two hybrids seemed very pleased. They watched you drink the whole cup, pride and their ever present excitement alight on every feature. 

You gave the cup back to Elias and smiled dreamily. You finally felt relaxed enough and tried to lie back on the couch, instead ending up in Ray and Havens arms. 

“That was really good.” You almost whispered. You were still warm from drink, and a haziness had softly draped itself over your brain. Soft. Warm. 

 Probably tired from a long day, you thought with a giggle. What a silly day it had been. What a silly situation.

Elias set the cup down on a table towards the door and floated toward you, a hungry look in his eye. Ray had decided to lap at your jaw now, making you shiver, again marveling at the strange texture his tongue had. Almost like a cat but smoother? Somehow? It felt good. 

The room was filled with pleasant buzzing and purring, as several pairs of hands started working your skin. Haven was now exploring the inside of your shirt, pulling excitedly at your bra. He felt around for a little bit, trying to find the latch. You noticed, through a big mirror by the door that his tongue was sticking out the whole time. You giggled. So cute.

A sudden nip to your inner thigh made you jolt. Elias had made his place between your thighs again and had started licking and nipping to getting your attention. He pouted at you until you gave him full eye contact.

“I'll get to breed you first, since I found you.” Elias said in the most innocent tone you almost didn't comprehend it. Until he was licking at your clothed cunt with his long black tongue. You whined a bit, in surprise and pleasure. It felt good. 

Haven must have figured out your bra because suddenly you felt fingers on your chest now. They moved around haphazardly, watching your face for a reaction. When one found your nipple you bit your lip and pried your gaze away from Elias for an instant. Havens face lit up in a smile.

“ Can I take this off, my Queen?” He asked in his delicate textured voice. You nodded and lifted your arms for them. A sudden jolt pulled your gaze back down to Elias, who was pouting at you. He had pulled your underwear aside and had started licking fervently between your lips. Those big, adoring eyes did as much to you as his tongue and you moaned out.

You were suddenly ablaze now, your core dripping and needy. It was sudden, and your hazy mind tried to work out how they'd got you gushing so fast. They were obviously new at this, reaching around trying to find your best spots, but you needed more. 

“T-take them off, please.” You begged Elias quietly, as your breath was quite ragged. Elias complied happily. You opened your legs wider for him, and he was able to push your lips apart farther so he could get a look at you. Enchanted, he took a finger and drew circles around you, noting when and where you would flinch, and jerk your hips. After experimenting a bit more he decided to suck on your most sensitive place: Your clit.

You howled out as he sucked and licked you, the texture of his tongue so different from anything you'd felt before. 

Haven and Ray were buzzing so loudly as the licked you, groping your sweet tummy, and sucking where they could. Ray had decided on sucking and when you sang for him, he started trilling with glee. Seeing this, Haven did the same. Their hands continued to roam.

The sucking of your tits and the attention on your clit were getting you close. The pressure in your stomach was mounting, and when Elias had decided to move two of his delicate fingers into your entrance you came hard around him, full body quaking. Drool pooled down your face as you gasped, stars filling your vision. 

“ Such a good Queen, coming for us so well.” Praised Ray, before he went back to assaulting your nipple with his tongue. Haven giggled and buzzed in agreement.

When you came down from your high, you were surprised to find yourself still wanting, wriggling, your skin so sensitive and desperate for more touch that you bucked yourself back into Elias’ face. The confusion persisted and you were about to ask a question when Elias answered.

“Don't worry, Our Love, we made sure you'd feel good enough to take all of us. Our honey truly is special. You won't feel any pain, we promise!”

The honey'd been… an aphrodisiac?

Something about that should have bothered you but all you could think about was having something inside you. Of wanting more of their touch, more more more-

You chocked as Haven started rubbing your clit, the sweet pressure bringing you some relief. Elias was taking his human clothing off now, revealing his lower half. His cock was long. Long, but super pretty and pink. You licked your lips as he lined it up with your wet entrance. His big, clear eyes stared at you with such devotion it bordered on worship, before he plunged himself within your needy walls.

You cried out, and it was like a wave of pleasure crashed through the room, as everyone sighed. He started slow, working himself further and further inside you as he went. The stretch and rhythm felt so good, you tried to work in time with him. His length was slick and warm and being so close to him only made your affection grow. You couldn't help it.

Ray and Haven were moaning in your ear. They were still sucking your tits, but were humping whatever bit of you they could, desperate and needy.

You wanted to help them but each stroke Elias was working in you felt so good your mind couldn't think properly. You stayed like that for a while, Elias hitting your best spots, sending you closer and closer to your limit, before he seemed to come, hard, a guttural sound leaving his throat. 

But instead of feeling hot, wet cum, you felt something push against your walls. A ridge was forming inside of you, pushing up through his member. The stretch was delicious and you keened as another traced its way up your walls. A sudden soft wetness, and a heaviness was felt at the innermost part of you. You'd never felt anything like it before and your walls twitched around it. An egg.

Your mind raced back to an earlier comment. You'd completely forgotten about the eggs. But your mind was so gone all you could do was whine at the tightness, as another was laid in you, and you came again, another wave of pleasure racking your mind and body. 

It went on like this, him laying one after the other, bringing you closer and closer to the edge again. You could tell Elias was getting utterly spent, his rocking movements slowing, the erratic flaps of his wings getting more labored. Drool continued to pool out of his mouth. His heavy meaningful gaze was now glassy and tired. You wanted to hold him. 

When the last egg was laid within you, Ray took his place in a flash. As Elias took his spot on your right, lazily sucking on your collarbone, Ray pushed himself in fully in one go. His dick was thicker, and not as long as Elias’, but it felt amazing around the eggs. 

“My turn. You'll take my clutch so well, I know it.” He reassured, rubbing his thumb like limbs on your hips as he slowly rutted into you. He was whispering praises about your beauty and how well you were doing the whole time. The stretch of his dick felt so good as he fucked the eggs further into you, adding his own. He was quicker than Elias to lay though. His eggs were much bigger, making you sputter a bit as you took them. It seemed that Bee-men came continuously as they laid their spawn, because he was a glassy eyed, babbling mess the whole time he pushed more into you. 

Haven took the longest time to lay, despite fucking you the fastest and hardest of the three. He giggled, so happy and pussydrunk the whole time. 

“My Queen, it feels so good. Am I making you feel good?”

“So good,” you confirmed through shaggy breaths.  “So good. My good boy.” You could feel a shock throughout the room and Haven smiled so big through his sweaty curls, that you couldn't help but return it. His hips rocked into you faster now, though he was still careful of your eggs.

The other two pouted, making crying vibrating sounds. “My good boys.” You corrected. “Doing so well.” you were so close to cumming again it was hard to think, but you reached both hands up to caress them both. Consoled, they clung to you even tighter, as if that was possible, whispering praises back. You were such a good queen, taking so many eggs. So good and sweet. 

Their words brought you over the edge at the same time Haven let out a loud trilling sound. He collapsed forward onto your lap, licking at your now extended belly. You both shook, riding out your high.

The room smelled of sweat, and their saccharine aroma. You realized you'd become a bit addicted to the scent, nuzzling closer into the soft fur of your new family. 

You lay there for a time, letting your bee-men fuss over you. They wiped the sweat from your body and cooed at your stomach, at how adorable you were being so full, and taking so many eggs. 

“Our lovely Queen. Did so well for you first mating.” Elias had glowed with pride for you, then  nuzzled into your neck in that way of his. “The rest of the hive is just going to love you. But for now, rest.” He petted soft loving strokes down your forehead. The motion was soothing, and you closed your eyes, letting sleep consume you.

Before you completely lost consciousness, you heard a worried Haven whisper, “I hope she makes us her attendants. It'd be such a shame to only see her when its our turn to mate.” You felt some nodding onto your shoulder and buzzing of agreement. You'd have to remember to ask them about it when you awoke.

Hey guys! Was this too long? Would love some constructive feedback about what you'd like to see more of! Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

[liuhsng]

✩ˎˊ˗ when fate calls ( psh ! )

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — sunghoon x fem!reader ⤷ word count— 20.6k ⤷ taglist for the series — open ! ⤷ warning/s — a/b/o au, foul language, slowburn, enemies to lovers trope, mentions of drinking and alcohol, heavy angst + tooth-rotting fluff, indenial!sunghoon, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

✩ˎˊ˗ summary: as the eldest son of a powerful family, park sunghoon has always followed tradition, dedicating himself to his responsibilities. relationships never crossed his mind, his focus was on the life carefully planned for him. but then there was you, someone he had seen countless times yet never truly noticed until now. when realization dawned on him that you were his mate, it unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. it unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. the unexpeced idea of love terrified him, so he rejected the traditional courting that came with claiming an omega. but as his avoidance hurts you, the high and mighty alpha is forced to confront the truth he’s been running from: some things aren’t meant to be planned.

Park Sunghoon stared at the untouched coffee sitting on the edge of his desk, its heat long gone, leaving behind an aroma that lingered in the air. The clock on the wall ticked softly, mocking him with its glowing digits, 3:14 A.M. He was supposed to be asleep hours ago, but here he was, hunched over stacks of neatly organized paperwork. His bedroom, once a place of rest, now served as an office.

As the eldest, it wasn’t just expected of him to succeed, it was demanded. Every report and signature carried the weight of the Park name. Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, his head tilting toward the ceiling, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

The faint ache in his temples grew sharper, but he ignored it, just as he ignored the way his inner Alpha growled in frustration. "You’re supposed to take care of yourself—for her," it growled. "How will you protect an Omega if you can’t even do this much?"

His jaw clenched as he let out a quiet scoff. “There is no Omega,” he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud would somehow silence the voice.

The thought of having a mate, someone who would rely on him, only added to his frustration. He was already drowning in expectations, chained to a life that had no room for distractions, let alone love.

but his inner alpha didn’t back down, the primal side of him rebelling against his neglect. it clawed at him, not with anger, but with frustration, urging him to stop, to rest, to breathe.

sunghoon shut his eyes briefly, a bitter laugh slipping out as he rubbed the back of his neck. the idea of prioritizing himself, of prioritizing someone else in the future, felt absurd. he didn’t have time to indulge in instincts or fantasies, not when there was a legacy to uphold.

he opened his eyes, his gaze falling to the cold coffee cup, his reflection faintly visible in the dark liquid. the alpha in him stirred again, growling low and dissatisfied, but this time sunghoon ignored it entirely. with a sharp sigh, sunghoon pushed the cup aside, the clock’s ticking growing louder in the silence. the hours dwindled, and morning was creeping closer, but he knew sleep wasn’t an option.

there was work to be done, and park sunghoon never left anything unfinished.

Sunghoon ran a tired hand down his face, sighing as his bloodshot eyes scanned the even larger pile of paperwork that greeted him. As the student council’s marketing director, his responsibilities seemed endless, and the fluorescent light overhead only made the mess on his desk look worse.

It was 6 A.M., and he was the first in the council room. Of course he was. He had made it a habit to arrive early, more out of necessity than enthusiasm.

A brief pang of guilt crossed his mind as he remembered his sister. He hadn’t been able to wait for her like he usually did, leaving the house before dawn without a word. “I’ll have to apologize later,” he muttered to himself, though the corners of his lips twitched upward in a humorless smirk.

Knowing his sister, she was probably already in Sunoo’s car by now, laughing about something with the Alpha. It didn’t help that Sunoo wasn’t just his best friend. The boy with the pink hair was also her Alpha, a relationship that Sunghoon had begrudgingly accepted but couldn’t help but feel protective about.

The thought made him snort under his breath. Of course, she’d be fine; Sunoo never missed an opportunity to step in, no matter how early it was.

The sound of the heavy, wooden doors swinging open pulled him from his thoughts. Jay walked in first, his tie already loose and his uniform jacket slung over his shoulder. The Alpha paused mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he took in Sunghoon’s slouched posture.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Jay said bluntly, tossing his bag on his own desk.

Sunghoon didn’t bother looking up. “Good morning to you too,” he replied dryly, his voice as flat as his expression.

Jake followed close behind, a half-eaten breakfast sandwich in hand. He took one look at Sunghoon and immediately stopped chewing. “Holy shit, did you even sleep?” Jake asked, his tone laced with disbelief. He gestured vaguely at Sunghoon’s face. “You look like a ghost.”

“Thanks,” Sunghoon deadpanned, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms. “Really needed to hear that.”

Jay snorted, leaning against his table. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a pureblooded, strong Alpha, you’re doing a great job of looking half-dead.”

Sunghoon gave them both a sharp glare but didn’t have the energy to retort. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning at the headache that was forming. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the dark circles under his eyes said otherwise.

“Yeah, sure,” Jay quipped, grabbing a stack of paperwork that was messily sitting on top of his table. “Keep telling yourself that, man.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, still looking skeptical. “You’re not going to drop dead on us, right? Because I’m not carrying your heavy ass to the nurse’s office.”

“I’m fine,” Sunghoon repeated, though even he wasn’t convinced by the words.

Jay exchanged a look with Jake, both Alphas sharing a sigh before Jay set his own paperwork down on the desk once again. “You know, if you die,” Jay began with a mocking grin, his tone more teasing than serious, “you do realize you’re going to leave all of this on your sister’s shoulders, right? She’ll probably curse your name for eternity.”

“Or possibly your mate,” Jake chimed in, his voice casual as he gestured toward Sunghoon. “You know, the one you’re supposed to be taking care of in the future by not working yourself into an early grave?”

Sunghoon stiffened at the mention of a mate, his jaw tightening. He hated when they brought it up, and Jake knew it. “I don’t have a mate,” he said coldly, his gaze darkening as he turned to the next set of papers.

Jay opened his mouth to add another comment, but before he could speak, a new voice cut through the room.

“Yeah, as if,” Heeseung’s voice drawled from the doorway, his tone laced with amusement.

He was leaning casually on the wooden door frame, arms crossed as he looked at Sunghoon. “He runs away from any Omega he sees. Poor guy probably wouldn’t know what to do if his mate actually showed up.”

Jake snorted, leaning on his own desk as he tossed his sandwich wrapper into the trash. “He’d probably pass out on the spot,” he added with a grin.

“Or just bury himself in more paperwork,” Jay said, shaking his head. “Honestly, Sunghoon, you’re making all of us pureblooded Alphas look bad.”

Sunghoon glared at the three of them, his annoyance visible. “If you’re all done wasting my time, I have work to do,” he muttered, his voice sharp as he pointedly ignored the way Heeseung’s comment bothered him more than it should.

But Heeseung wasn’t finished. “You know, it’s funny,” he mused, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “For someone so obsessed with rules and traditions, you’re awfully quick to ignore the most important one.”

“I have no time for this,” Sunghoon snapped, his tone colder now, though the way his pen stilled in his hand betrayed his frustration. His eyes stayed glued to the paperwork in front of him, refusing to meet Heeseung’s knowing gaze.

“No time for what?” the older Alpha challenged, his voice calm but laced with amusement. He stepped further into the room, his smirk deepening as he leaned casually against the side of his desk. “No time for the idea of a mate? No time for the Omega who’s meant to balance out that storm in your head? Or is it just no time for things you can’t control?”

“I said, drop it,” Sunghoon growled, his Alpha instincts flashing briefly in his tone as he clenched his jaw. His fingers gripped the pen so tightly it looked like it might snap in his hand.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow but didn’t back down. “I’m just saying,” he continued, his tone now more neutral, “if you keep running from it, you’re only going to make it worse. You think ignoring it will keep things normal the way you want it to?”

Sunghoon’s chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath, his irritation now mixed with something deeper, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He glanced briefly at the clock, as if that would give him an escape, before returning to his work. “I don’t run from anything,” he said quietly.

Heeseung’s scent spiked up then, as if challenging Sunghoon. The sharp scent of coffee and leather surrounding Sunghoon spiked in response, tension building between the two pureblooded Alphas as the room seemed to pulse with an unspoken challenge.

But Heeseung tilted his head, studying Sunghoon for a moment. “Whatever you say,” he said finally, his smirk softening into a faint smile.

“But don’t come crying to us when it all catches up to you.” With that, he pushed off the desk, casually moving the placard on his own desk that read Vice President, Lee Heeseung, sliding it to the side as he stood up, making it clear that he wasn’t going to stay much longer.

Heeseung strode toward the door, hands casually shoved into his pockets, his movements deliberate but effortless. Just before he left, he threw a glance over his shoulder at Sunghoon. “See you later, Park,” he called, his voice light but carrying an unmistakable edge.

“I mean, he had a point,” came a new voice from the doorway, breaking the silence. Their gaze snapped up, and Sunghoon saw Sunoo leaning casually against the frame, his usual carefree demeanor somehow at odds with the tense atmosphere.

The pink-haired Alpha’s arm was slung over his sister’s shoulder, and despite the casualness of the gesture, Sunghoon couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the sight of it. Sunoo didn’t drop his arm but instead moved it to hold her hand, intertwining their fingers as if marking his claim on her.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he watched them. “Right, you’re mated to my sister,” he said, the words coming out almost like a warning as his gaze flicked from Sunoo to his sister.

Sunoo grinned, unfazed by the glare. “Yeah, well, we did kind of notice you were a little… tense. Thought we'd come and check on you.”

“How long have you two been standing there?” Sunghoon asked, his voice laced with a hint of exhaustion. His patience was already running thin after the exchange with Heeseung, and now this.

Sunoo shrugged, his smile widening as he stepped further into the room, his mate right beside him. “Long enough to hear your conversation,” Sunoo replied, his voice light.

“And to know you’re not fooling anyone,” Sunghoon's sister added, her tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness. “Not even your inner Alpha, by the way.” She shrugged, as if the comment was an afterthought, but it hit right where it mattered.

Sunghoon glared at them both, irritation flashing in his eyes. He wanted to deny it, to brush it off as just another conversation about his future, but deep down, he knew they were right.

The hallway seemed to clear instinctively as the student council made their way through. A group of powerful pureblooded Alphas, they carried themselves with the kind of confidence and authority that left no room for doubt about their status.

Ni-ki, ever energetic, walked in front, his eyes filled with curiosity as he turned to Jake. “So, about the proposals under the secretary committee…” he began, his voice full of interest. “Do you think there’s anything the public relations committee can help with?” Ni-ki’s gaze flickered to Jake's tablet, whose fingers were drumming absently on the screen.

Jake looked up from the screen, considering the question for a moment. “You guys could help with the promotions. We need the best PR support for this one.”

“Right,” Ni-ki nodded, clearly processing the info. “I’ll talk to them about the promotions then. We’ll get it done.”

Meanwhile, Heeseung and Jungwon were having their own little debate, their voices rising in the back as they argued about something entirely unrelated to council work. “I’m telling you, that new pheromone perfume? It’s garbage. They’re marketing it like it’ll solve everything,” Heeseung said, shaking his head.

Jungwon chuckled, shaking his head. “Garbage or not, some Betas are eating it up. You can’t deny it’s working.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Trailing just a step behind, Sunoo and Jay passed a football between them, their movements smooth and practiced. “Why are they always like this?” Sunoo muttered, his gaze flickering to the pair ahead.

Jay shrugged, catching the ball effortlessly before tossing it back. “It’s entertaining. Besides, this is tame for them.”

Sunghoon, walking a bit apart from the group, scrolled through his tablet with furrowed brows. His father had sent over another set of files, and while he was used to the constant influx of work, it didn’t make it any less exhausting.

“Seriously, Jungwon, you’re impossible,” Heeseung muttered, shaking his head as he dodged Jungwon’s attempt to nudge him.

“Not like you have a choice,” Jungwon teased, flashing a mischievous grin.

Behind them, Sunoo caught the football mid-air and smirked. “I bet Heeseung’s just mad because Jungwon actually has a point for once.”

Jay chuckled. “Don’t push it. You know how he gets when he’s losing.”

Their banter continued, but Sunghoon remained in his own bubble, his fingers scrolling mechanically over the screen. That was until a familiar voice called out.

“Jake!”

The group collectively slowed, all their attention flicking to you as you approached. Jake stopped in his tracks, lowering his tablet to meet your gaze.

“Hey,” you said, slightly out of breath. “I need your help with something.”

Jake’s brows furrowed slightly. “What’s up?”

You handed him your tablet. “It’s about the proposal breakdown you sent. The third column—again, it’s all messed up, and I can’t figure out why.”

Jake blinked and then laughed softly, shaking his head. “That thing’s cursed.”

You groaned. “Please tell me you can fix it.”

“Of course.” Jake started tapping on your screen, walking alongside you as he explained the error. You nodded along, grateful for his patience.

Behind you, Sunoo and Jay exchanged a glance, their conversation fading as they tuned into yours. Sunoo tossed the ball back absently. “They’re a bit too comfortable, don’t you think?”

Jay smirked faintly, his tone teasing but light. “Maybe Jake’s just that charming.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened, his fingers pausing on the screen as he forced himself not to glance in your direction. Something about the way you walked so effortlessly into their group, completely unfazed, grated on his nerves. His inner Alpha stirred, but he pushed the feeling down.

Jungwon, noticing the way Sunghoon’s scent subtly shifted, leaned toward Heeseung. “You smell that?” he whispered, a sly grin forming.

Heeseung, ever the observant one, smirked knowingly. “Oh, I smell it alright.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked up briefly, landing on you and Jake. He quickly looked back down at his tablet, though the irritation bubbling under the surface didn’t fade.

“You good, man?” Jay called out, the football now tucked under his arm.

“I’m fine,” Sunghoon muttered, his voice clipped.

“Yeah, just approach me whenever you need help with that,” Jake said, his tone casual as he handed your tablet back. A small, easy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the kind that made it impossible to feel tense around him.

You mirrored his smile, genuinely grateful. “Thanks, Jake. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

Turning your attention to Ni-ki, who was walking just slightly ahead, you called out, “Oh, and Ni-ki, I already mentioned the pending tasks to Jake earlier. I think some members of the secretary committee might be able to lend a hand if you’re short on people for logistics.”

Ni-ki glanced back at you, surprised but clearly impressed. “Really? That’d be a huge help. Thanks, (Y/N).”

So you were close to Ni-ki too? Sunghoon’s grip on his tablet tightened slightly, his jaw ticking as he skimmed the lines of text that no longer registered. His focus wasn’t on the files his father had sent him anymore; it was on you. You were supposed to be under Jake’s committee, and yet here you were, chatting easily with Ni-ki like you belonged in every conversation.

Jake noticed the subtle exchange and shook his head with a playful scoff. “You’re getting way too independent for my liking, Nishimura,” he teased, shooting the youngest Alpha a pointed look. “You’re consulting (Y/N) without even running it by me first? Seriously?”

Ni-ki smirked, unfazed by Jake’s mock scolding. “(Y/N)’s good at this stuff. Besides, teamwork, right?” He threw Jake’s own words back at him, grinning.

You laughed, shaking your head at their banter. “Don’t worry, Jake. You’re still the boss. Ni-ki just wanted to cover his bases, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to get a head start.”

“See?” Ni-ki said, raising a brow at Jake. “Efficiency. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Before Jake could retort, Sunghoon cleared his throat, a sharp sound that cut through the light-hearted conversation like a blade. Everyone stopped talking almost instantly, turning their attention toward him.

“My next class is just around this corner,” Sunghoon said, his voice calm but clipped, as if he wasn’t in the mood to entertain any further distractions.

His gaze briefly flickered to you, unreadable yet heavy, before he shifted his attention back to the tablet in his hands. Without another word, he began walking ahead, leaving the group behind.

Jay and Sunoo exchanged glances, the teasing smirks they’d been wearing moments ago replaced by something more knowing. Sunoo raised an eyebrow at Jay, who shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Interesting,” Jay muttered under his breath, loud enough for Sunoo to hear but quiet enough to avoid catching Sunghoon’s attention.

Sunoo nodded slightly, his lips twitching in amusement as he leaned closer to Jay. “Very interesting.”

You, oblivious to the subtle exchange between the two Alphas, kept walking alongside Jake, still completely engrossed in the conversation. “Anyway, just let me know if there’s anything else I can help with. I don’t want to overstep, but I figured I might as well be useful where I can.”

Jake chuckled, his laid-back demeanor putting you at ease. “Overstep? You? Nah, you’re just making my job easier. Keep it up, (Y/N).”

Meanwhile, Sunghoon, now a few steps ahead of the group, tried to keep his focus on the files displayed on his tablet. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to you—walking too close to Jake, smiling too easily at his jokes, and being too comfortable in a group of Alphas where Sunghoon felt like you stood out the most.

His inner Alpha stirred uneasily, frustrated and annoyed at the pull you had over him. He hated how it made him feel, how he couldn’t seem to control the way his senses sharpened whenever you were nearby. His scent of coffee and leather spiked faintly as he clenched his jaw, pushing the feelings down as best he could.

Heeseung, noticing the slight change in Sunghoon’s posture and scent, smirked to himself but didn’t say a word. Jungwon, however, nudged Heeseung with his elbow, his expression smug.

“Called it,” Jungwon whispered, earning a chuckle from Heeseung.

You, still entirely unaware of the tension you were unknowingly creating, glanced toward Sunghoon’s retreating figure for a moment, a small frown of curiosity crossing your face before you turned back to Jake. “Do you think he’s okay?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

Jake glanced ahead, following your gaze to where Sunghoon had disappeared around the corner. “He’s fine,” he replied, though there was a knowing edge to his tone. “He just takes things a little too seriously sometimes. Don’t worry about him.”

But you did. You couldn’t help it.

And neither could Sunghoon.

The classroom buzzed faintly with the low hum of people talking and the scratching of pens on paper. Sunghoon sat by the window, his tablet propped up in front of him, displaying spreadsheets and documents his father had sent over earlier, but his eyes weren’t on them. Instead, they were fixed on the gray sky outside, his thoughts wandering far from budget allocations and meeting agendas.

You.

You’d been on his mind since lunch, and no matter how much he tried to push the thought of you away, it kept resurfacing and demanding his attention. You’d always been around, working under Jake in the secretary committee. He knew you, he had seen you countless times in meetings and events.

But you’d never lingered in his thoughts before. So why now? Why did the sight of you walking beside Jake earlier make something in his chest tighten uncomfortably?

The faintest hint of honey and lilac lingered in his memory, soft but intoxicating. He swore he could still smell it even now, though he knew it was impossible. Your scent—it clung to his thoughts.

His jaw clenched, and his brows furrowed as he tapped his pen against the desk. He didn’t understand it. There was something about you that had his Alpha instincts stirring, clawing at the edges of his mind. His wolf, a part of him he usually kept tightly controlled, was restless.

“Mr. Park,” his professor’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Sunghoon blinked, snapping his gaze toward the front of the room. The professor was staring at him, waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t heard.

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, his classmates glancing between him and the professor. But then Sunghoon straightened in his seat, his expression calm as he answered, “The proposed budget allocation for next semester’s extracurricular activities needs to account for inflation trends. That’s why the margin was adjusted to five percent.”

The professor raised a brow, nodding approvingly. “Correct, Mr. Park. As expected.”

Sunghoon’s classmates exchanged looks, some impressed, others annoyed, but he ignored them. His body was here, in this classroom, answering questions and keeping up appearances, but his mind? His mind was with you.

The bell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. He packed his things quickly, stepping out into the hallway where Jungwon was waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall.

“Took you long enough,” Jungwon teased, stepping beside him as they walked toward their next meeting.

Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately, his thoughts still tangled. Jungwon glanced at him, his brows furrowing slightly. “You good?”

“Fine,” Sunghoon muttered, his tone clipped.

They turned a corner, and Sunghoon’s steps halted for just a moment. There you were, standing a few feet away, chatting with Jungwon and Sunoo’s mates. You nodded at something one of them said, a small smile gracing your lips as you gestured excitedly with your hands.

Sunghoon’s chest tightened again, that unfamiliar feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach. His wolf bristled, the instinctive urge to step closer, to claim what was his. But he shoved it down, locking it away behind the mask of indifference he’d perfected over the years.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his briefly. Without saying anything, you gave Jungwon a small nod, silently acknowledging him. Sunghoon caught the faint smile you sent his way before your attention returned to the conversation in front of you.

“Looks like we’re all heading to the same place,” Jungwon said lightly, his tone casual as he nudged Sunghoon forward.

Sunghoon didn’t respond, his grip tightening around his backpack strap as he forced himself to move. You were close, too close. He could hear your laugh, soft and full of life, as you spoke to Sunoo’s mate. He could smell your scent, and it made his inner Alpha agitated.

He didn’t like this.

Didn’t like how his instincts reacted to you.

Didn’t like the way his thoughts strayed toward you when he had more important things to focus on.

Didn’t like how his body seemed to recognize something his mind refused to.

Heeseung and Jay passed by, still caught up in their conversation, but Heeseung sent him a knowing glance. Not fully understanding, but suspecting something.

Sunghoon shut it all out.

He had no time for love.

No time for whatever this was.

Without another word, he walked past you, through the council room doors, and forced himself to bury whatever this feeling was before it could take root.

You hesitated for a moment, watching Sunghoon as he disappeared into the meeting room without sparing you another glance. It wasn’t the first time he’d brushed past you like that, but something about today felt different. The way his shoulders tensed, the way his gaze hardened the second he saw you—it was like you were a problem he didn’t have time for.

And you didn’t understand why.

Sunoo’s mate, who just so happened to be Sunghoon’s younger sister, sighed beside you, her voice low as she leaned in. “Don’t bother,” she murmured, arms crossing as she watched her brother’s retreating figure. “He’s always like that.”

But was he?

Because despite her words, you had a gnawing feeling that the way Sunghoon treated you was different. Like there was something beneath his cold exterior, something you couldn’t quite understand.

You were still lost in thought when Ni-ki slid into the seat next to you. His presence was casual, but his sharp eyes missed nothing.

He nudged you lightly, voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “Why are you staring at Sunghoon like that?”

You snapped out of your daze, your eyes widening slightly. “What?”

The younger Alpha smirked, resting his chin on his hand as he observed you. “You’ve been watching him since he walked in. And don’t even try to deny it.”

Heat crept up your face as you quickly looked away. “I wasn’t—”

“Uh-huh,” Ni-ki cut in, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, (Y/N). Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You huffed, shaking your head before turning your attention back to Jungwon as he finally started the meeting.

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the smooth wood of the long table before his lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Alright, before we get to the real agenda… I’m assuming everyone here knows they’re expected to be at the grand dinner our dear marketing director's family is hosting?”

Collective groans echoed through the room.

Jay was the first to voice his displeasure, rolling his eyes as he slumped against his chair. “No offense, Sunghoon, but I was trying to pretend I forgot about that.”

“Do we really have to go?” Sunoo sighed dramatically, slouching back in his seat with exaggerated defeat. “What if I suddenly develop a rare illness that prevents me from attending formal events? I think it’s highly possible. I should get it checked out.”

“You and me both,” Jay added, rolling his eyes.

Jungwon chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll make sure our dear school nurse looks after you.” His tone was light, but the glint in his eyes made it clear—none of them were getting out of this.

You sat quietly at the far end of the table, taking in the conversation with mild amusement. The mention of the event piqued your curiosity, though you weren’t as vocal about your distaste for it as the others.

Instead, you found your gaze wandering toward Sunghoon, who, as expected, remained perfectly composed, his expression cold, eyes still skimming over his tablet as if this conversation didn’t concern him in the slightest.

Unlike the others, Sunghoon wasn’t one to complain about formal events. No, he was used to them. They were expected of him, just as everything else in his life was predetermined. And yet, despite his practiced facade, something about the way he held himself—his grip tightening around the device, his jaw tensing ever so slightly—told you that he wasn’t entirely unaffected.

Not that you would ever get the chance to ask him about it.

Because every time you so much as looked his way, his entire demeanor shifted, as if your presence alone irritated him. And it stung, just a little.

Jungwon, unaware of the silent exchange, finally clapped his hands together. “Alright, moving on. Since we’re all forced to attend that wonderful dinner, let’s get to what actually matters—the upcoming school festival.”

A shift in everyone's demeanor followed as the real meeting began. Papers rustled, files were opened, and everyone straightened up, ready to discuss proposals and assignments.

“The main goal for this meeting is to finalize activity proposals before we present them for approval. We have a rough list, but we still need to sort out logistics,” Jungwon continued. “Jake, you and your team already compiled the initial proposals, right?”

Jake nodded, pulling out a neatly organized folder. “Yeah, I went through the ones submitted last week. I’ll run through them real quick.”

As Jake started going over the list, you chimed in with some of your own notes, offering insights from the secretary committee’s perspective. “Some of these proposals overlap with past events, so we might want to rethink a few of them to keep things fresh. Also, we should factor in the budget constraints before finalizing anything.”

Jay, being the treasurer, leaned forward, tapping his pen against his notebook. “Speaking of budgets, don’t forget that we still need funding for venue rentals and logistics.”

Heeseung snorted. “Stop acting like we’re broke. We could fund the whole event if we wanted to.”

Jay smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, but just because we have the funds doesn’t mean we should start tossing money around like it’s fucking Monopoly cash.”

Sunoo, the student relations director, hummed in approval. “Okay, but let’s consider which ones would actually engage the student body. No point in budgeting for an event no one shows up to.”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, shrugging. “That’s fair, but we do have the resources. As long as it’s reasonable, funding isn’t really the issue.”

Jay sighed, still skeptical. “Fine. Just don’t come crying to me when we go over budget because someone thought a fireworks show would be a great addition.”

The discussion flowed naturally, Ni-ki making suggestions from the public relations side. “We also need to think about how we’re promoting these events. Even the best ideas fail if no one knows about them. I can get the PR committee to start drafting marketing strategies once we finalize the shortlist.”

But amidst all of this, Sunghoon was distracted. No one would have noticed—no one except Heeseung, of course.

Because while the others were engaged in conversation, Sunghoon was stuck in a losing battle against his own thoughts. His gaze flickered to you more times than he wanted to admit, even as he forced himself to keep his attention on his tablet. He wasn’t just distracted; he was frustrated.

Why did he care? Why did it bother him when you spoke so easily with the others? You had always been there. You had always been part of these meetings, always sitting on the opposite end of the table, working just as hard as the rest of them.

So why, now of all times, was he so hyperaware of you?

Why did your voice pull him from his thoughts? Why did the scent of honey and lilac make his muscles tense?

He didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have time for love.

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung’s voice cut through his thoughts suddenly, snapping him back to reality.

Sunghoon didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, I agree with (Y/N)’s suggestion.”

Silence.

Jay raised a brow, glancing at Heeseung before turning back to Sunghoon. “You sure about that, man?”

Sunoo looked equally amused, glancing between you and Sunghoon as he tossed the pen between his hands. “Because that was the first time you spoke since the meeting started.”

The corner of Heeseung’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “So, you were listening, huh?”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw. Heeseung knew. He always knew.

But instead of giving them the satisfaction, Sunghoon merely straightened in his seat, exuding the same indifference as before. “Of course I was. I wouldn’t be sitting here if I wasn’t.”

Then Heeseung let out a low whistle, still smirking, only leaning back in his chair. “Right. If you say so.”

Jungwon, still trying to be professional, shook his head. “Alright, focus, people.”

You, however, weren’t paying attention to them anymore. Your gaze drifted toward a specific pureblooded Alpha—the way he sat stiffly, the way his fingers tapped against the screen with an edge of tension.

And suddenly, you weren’t just confused.

You were curious.

Because if Sunghoon truly didn’t care about you, why did he remember every single word you had said?

You replayed every moment you saw him from earlier that day—his quiet, almost reluctant responses to you, how he kept his distance but somehow always seemed to be aware of everything you said and did. His voice echoed in your head now, and it made you question everything you’d assumed about him.

Was this really indifference?

Or was it something else?

The meeting droned on, but your mind couldn't stay focused. It kept drifting back to him—his posture, the sharpness of his eyes, the moles on his face that somehow made him even more attractive, the way he always seemed so calculated, like he was constantly running scenarios in his head, measuring each move.

Sunghoon wasn’t just someone who blended in with the group. No, he commanded attention, even without trying.

And yet, there he was, looking as uninterested as ever, his expression stoic as he scrolled through something on his device. But that nagging feeling—like there was something more beneath his mask—kept poking at you.

Without thinking, you leaned back in your chair, letting the tension in your body melt away for a moment, trying to get a glimpse of the real Sunghoon—not the calculated, polished version he liked to show other people.

You had to admit, you were intrigued. The pureblooded Alphas were all so predictable in their own ways, but Sunghoon was different.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Heeseung cleared his throat, looking at Jungwon with a raised eyebrow. “We’re talking about the theme for the event, right?” he asked casually, as if the meeting hadn’t slipped into a quiet lull.

Jungwon nodded, unfazed. “Yes. But we need more input from everyone. Ideas that aren’t just—”

“I have one,” you cut in, unable to resist any longer. Your voice came out clear and confident, a stark contrast to the flurry of thoughts racing through your mind. “We could go with something subtle but impactful. A theme that revolves around contrasts. Like light and dark, maybe even using elements of nature, contrasts of seasons, or contrasting textures. After all, it’s all about balance.”

You paused, feeling everyone’s gaze on you for just a moment longer than necessary. But you held it together.

The room fell silent. Sunghoon didn’t react immediately, but you could sense his attention subtly shifting in your direction. You dared to meet his eyes for a split second, but he quickly looked down at his tablet again, feigning disinterest.

But you noticed the way his lips pressed together, the slight tension in his jaw that he never showed anyone else. You wondered if he was considering your words or if he was just trying to avoid acknowledging the pull you had on him.

Finally, Sunghoon spoke up, his voice surprisingly calm. “It’s not bad,” he said, looking up from his tablet. “Contrast is a powerful tool. We could work with it.” His gaze lingered on you for a brief second before he turned his attention back to the discussion, as if the acknowledgment had been nothing more than a casual comment.

You blinked, slightly taken aback. The unexpected approval from him felt different from the usual dismissive reactions. But you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You quickly nodded, trying to maintain your composure.

“I’ll send a more detailed proposal with visuals after the meeting,” you added, pushing forward.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything more, but you caught the way his gaze flickered toward you again, his eyes narrowing just slightly. There was a brief pause, like he was weighing his next move.

The air had shifted just a little, and you couldn’t quite place why. But you were certain that there was something more to his response, even if he tried to brush it off as nonchalance.

The rustling of papers and the faint creak of chairs filled the council room as everyone packed up. The meeting had dragged on longer than expected, and most of them were ready to go home.

Jake slung his bag over his shoulder, exhaling. “Alright, let’s go. I think we all want to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

Ni-ki snorted. “Reasonable? You all literally run on caffeine and stress.”

Jake rolled his eyes, already walking toward the door. “Just hurry up.”

One by one, they filed out into the dimly lit hallways, their chatter echoing through the empty corridors. Outside, the night air was crisp, the usual warm breeze replaced by a sharper chill.

The campus at night had an almost eerie but majestic feel to it, grand architecture bathed in soft golden lights, towering columns casting long shadows across the marble pathways. The air smelled of expensive cologne and freshly trimmed gardens—the very image of wealth and privilege. It was the kind of place that asked for admiration, yet felt untouchable, like something straight out of a dream.

They walked in their usual loose formation toward the parking lot, their voices filling the space between them. Sunoo and Jay were deep in a debate about their next group dinner, Ni-ki throwing in sarcastic remarks while Heeseung poked fun at Jungwon’s overly formal meeting style.

But Sunghoon?

Sunghoon was silent.

He walked with them, hands shoved into his pockets, his usual confident stride still the same. And yet, he wasn’t really there. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, wasn’t throwing in his usual sarcastic remarks. He barely even reacted when Ni-ki nudged him in the ribs or when Heeseung smirked at him like he was waiting for a comeback.

Jay was the first to notice. He narrowed his eyes, slowing his steps to fall in line beside him. “What’s up with you?”

Sunghoon blinked, like he hadn’t even realized someone was talking to him. “What?”

Jay gave him a look. “You’ve been weirdly quiet. Like, more than usual. It’s kinda freaking me out.”

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t. And they all caught it.

Because for the briefest second, his scent changed—something bitter wafted through the air.

Jay’s eyes flickered, but he let it go. “If you say so.”

The conversation picked up again, but Sunghoon remained detached, walking alongside them but never really taking part in any of the conversations.

They reached the parking lot, and the group naturally split off toward their respective cars, saying their goodbyes.

Sunghoon walked toward his own: a sleek, black sports car, polished to perfection. It stood out even among the other luxury vehicles, a clear reminder of his status.

He pulled the door open but didn’t start it. Instead, he sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel as he stared straight ahead.

The quietness of the parking lot pressed down on him, leaving nothing but the hum of distant streetlights and the faint ringing in his ears.

And then, for the first time all night, his inner Alpha spoke.

"Pathetic."

A dull throb started in his temples. He shut his eyes, jaw clenching.

"You’re running, aren’t you?"

“Shut up.” His grip on the wheel tightened, but the voice didn’t stop. It never did.

"You saw her today. Again. And what did you do?"

His chest ached. “Nothing.”

His inner Alpha scoffed. "Exactly. You ignored her. You walked past her like she was nothing."

“Because she is nothing to me.” But even as he said it, his own words felt hollow.

"Liar."

His head pulsed, frustration clawing at his skull. He couldn’t do this. He had responsibilities. Expectations. He had worked too damn hard to let something as simple as instincts get in the way.

His life was structured, orderly. He had a plan.

He had no time for love.

No time for distractions.

And yet, the way his instincts clawed at him, the way his Alpha had been restless all evening, it was suffocating.

His own body was betraying him.

He exhaled sharply, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his temple. Not now. Not ever.

With a final, sharp breath, he yanked the car door shut, sealing himself inside.

And then, without another second wasted, he started the engine and drove off into the night.

The drive home was a blur. Sunghoon barely remembered driving through the city streets, his grip on the wheel tense, jaw locked as he forced his thoughts elsewhere—anywhere but where they wanted to be.

But the moment he pulled into the long, private driveway leading to his family estate, he knew that tonight was going to be hell.

His home was as grand as expected from a family like his—towering windows, intricate stonework, and the ever-present air of power. The gates shut behind him, and for a second, he let his forehead rest against the steering wheel. Maybe if he sat here long enough, his thoughts would settle.

Your scent still clung to his senses—honey and lilac, sweet but not overpowering. It had wrapped around him in the council room, seeped into his skin, and now it refused to leave. He hated how much it soothed him, how his muscles almost wanted to relax, how it made something deep in his chest coil tighter instead of loosening.

"You’re being pathetic," his alpha sneered, voice curling in his mind like a mocking whisper. "Avoiding her doesn’t change the fact that she’s yours."

Sunghoon’s lips curled into a silent snarl as he shoved the car door open, stepping out into the crisp night air.

“She is not mine.”

His inner alpha laughed, low and knowing. "Keep telling yourself that. See how well that works."

Ignoring the voice, he strode toward the house. The moment he stepped inside, everything felt too much. The walls felt closer. The silence was suffocating. His body was tense with an agitation he couldn’t shake. His instincts were screaming at him to move, to do something.

He made his way upstairs, stripping off his blazer and tossing it carelessly onto the chair by his desk. His bathroom door was open, the mirror catching his reflection. His eyes were sharp, glowing under the dim lighting, the exhaustion on his face barely hidden beneath the tension.

He turned away, forcing himself not to linger.

A shower. Maybe that would help.

The water was scalding against his skin, yet it did nothing to ease the heat gnawing at his chest. The steam didn’t drown out your presence—your scent lingered, thick in the air. His hands clenched against the tiles, his body stiff as the wave of frustration rolled over him.

“She’s under Jake in the secretary committee,” he muttered, trying to remind himself why it couldn’t be this way. “She’s always been there, but you never cared before. Why now?”

His alpha growled, the voice inside him bitter. "Because you were blind before."

“And I’m not now?”

"No. And you hate it."

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, the water running down his back as he scrubbed it away, scrubbing away the thoughts that wouldn’t leave.

He was supposed to have control. He couldn’t let this slip. He had responsibilities, obligations—his family, the council, the expectations weighing on his shoulders. He could not afford distractions.

And yet…

The moment he collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion tugging at him, he couldn’t escape the truth. The weight of it crushed him as he stared at the ceiling, and despite all the effort to push it down, all he could think about was you.

His body fought against it. His mind screamed at him to focus, to remind himself of his purpose. But his heart, and his damn alpha—kept drawing him back to you.

He lay on his bed for what felt like hours, the shadows from the window stretching over the floor, taunting him with the silence that felt too heavy.

“Get up,” he muttered to himself, sitting up abruptly, his body moving almost involuntarily. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't let himself relax. He needed something to focus on, something that would force his mind to behave.

Sunghoon stalked over to his desk, flicking on the lamp with a snap of his fingers. The pile of paperwork in front of him was waiting; papers that he had ignored for far too long, reports that needed reviewing, contracts his father had left for him to examine.

He grabbed the nearest stack, flipping it open, pretending to care about the figures and legal jargon written on the pages. But it was useless. His eyes skimmed over the words, but none of it made sense. His mind was elsewhere. His fingers would itch for the next page, yet they weren’t moving fast enough.

He cursed under his breath, trying to force his attention back onto the papers, but his thoughts kept drifting—drifting to you.

He slammed the folder closed, frustration clawing at him, his teeth gritting as he let out a harsh breath. What the hell was wrong with him?

"You know the answer," his inner alpha purred darkly. "It’s only a matter of time before you crack."

He shook his head, trying to fight back the growing sensation of need. He couldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow it.

Still, the clock ticked on, its hands mocking him, each second louder than the last.

He pushed himself up from his desk, pacing the room in frustration. His mind was a battlefield, the war between his own instincts and the duties he had been born into. He couldn’t just let go.

He had responsibilities. But everything in him—his very core, his inner alpha—was screaming for him to do the one thing he refused to acknowledge: follow his instincts. Go to her. Take the step forward.

"You’re already in too deep," the voice reminded him again, this time quieter, almost tender. "She’s not just anyone. she’s yours."

Sunghoon froze, his back against the wall as the words hit him harder than he could have ever anticipated. His heart skipped a beat. The thought of you, the reality of you being his, it felt almost too much to bear.

His alpha wasn’t wrong. But the fear of breaking the walls he had carefully built around his life, the fear of losing control, it was all too overwhelming.

Finally, Sunghoon gave in and walked over to his walk-in closet, the weight of his thoughts dragging him down. He yanked open the door, revealing rows of neatly organized clothes.

His eyes scanned the options without much focus, hand moving almost automatically as he grabbed a random hoodie from the rack. Pulling it over his head, he felt the familiar weight of the fabric, but it did little to comfort him.

Maybe a walk would help. Fresh air. Something to clear his mind. Maybe then, he could shake the way his body burned for something, anything that wasn’t this.

But the instant he stepped out into the cool night, his mind betrayed him again. He walked in the direction of the garden, his eyes glued to the ground, his thoughts clouded.

And there, in the garden, where the cold air mixed with the scent of flowers, the feeling hit him again, the overwhelming, suffocating need to give in.

Sunghoon found himself staring at the moon, and then, without realizing it, his mind drifted again.

You.

And when he tried to stop it, it came anyway.

Sunghoon’s frustration increased, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides. The wind swept across the garden, rustling the leaves, and yet he felt nothing but this suffocating pull toward you, toward whatever this was. The thoughts were relentless, the pull of his instincts gnawing at him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting through the chaos of his mind. He pulled it out, his eyes narrowing at the message from Jungwon, “Need you in the council office tomorrow for another meeting. Can’t do this without the rest of you guys.”

Sunghoon scoffed, shoving the phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more committee business. He was already drowning in it.

Yet, despite himself, he began to walk back toward the house, his pace quickening as if his legs knew what his mind refused to accept—that he couldn’t escape this. Not for long.

The only thing on his mind now was what he couldn’t have. And the bitter, hollow feeling that came with it was growing by the minute.

The morning light barely made its way through the heavy curtains, casting faint shadows on Sunghoon’s disheveled bed. He groaned as a loud knock broke through the quietness of his room. The sound echoed in his head, still hazy with the remnants of sleep.

Reluctantly, he reached for his phone, eyes squinting against the harsh glow of the screen. 7:00 AM. The numbers were bold, a text from his sister flashed across the screen, accompanied by a string of impatient emojis.

“Sunghoon, get up. We need to head to the venue. There are last-minute details to fix before the event.”

A sigh slipped past his lips. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled into this whirlwind of preparations, but as usual, duty called. His inner alpha thrashed beneath the surface, restless as ever, but there was no time for that. He had responsibilities to uphold.

Another knock came, louder this time. “Hurry up!” His sister’s voice echoed from the hallway, laced with a teasing urgency.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed. His body felt heavy, his mind clouded, but he forced himself to push through. His sister’s impatience was nothing new, but today, it felt more grating than usual.

He stumbled to the door, opening it to find his sister standing there with arms crossed, an amused smile playing at the corner of her lips. “You're seriously still in bed? I swear, you’re getting worse with every event,” she said, her tone light but laced with the expectation of someone who knew he could do better.

Sunghoon rubbed his eyes, his voice groggy. “I’m coming,” he muttered, trying to shake off the sleepiness clinging to him. She rolled her eyes, brushing past him and heading down the stairs without another word.

Minutes later, he stood in front of the full-length mirror in his closet, adjusting the black Dior suit his mother insisted on for every event. The fabric felt familiar, but it didn’t comfort him the way it usually did.

His reflection stared back at him: sharp, immaculate, and detached. The face of someone who had never been able to escape the expectations placed upon him. He barely recognized himself some days.

Sunghoon’s sports car sped down the quiet road, the cool morning air rushing through the slightly open windows. His sister, as usual, was absorbed in her phone beside him, chattering on about whatever had caught her attention.

But Sunghoon’s mind was elsewhere. It kept drifting back to the image of you at the council, the way you carried yourself with ease, how your presence lingered in his thoughts like a scent he couldn’t shake.

“You’re driving like you’re half asleep,” his sister finally commented, giving him a quick glance with raised brows. “Sunghoon, are you okay? You’ve been off all week.”

He blinked, pulling himself out of his daze and offering a strained smile. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice betraying him as he tried to brush it off.

She eyed him skeptically. “You’ve barely talked to anyone at home this week. What’s going on?”

Sunghoon stiffened but didn’t respond immediately. His mind briefly flickered back to you, but he shook it off, trying to stay focused.

“Have you found your mate yet?” she asked, her voice soft but curious—not teasing. She could sense the change in him even if she didn’t fully understand why.

Sunghoon’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he kept his gaze on the road. His mate. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about that possibility, not when everything felt so complicated.

“No,” he muttered, the word coming out sharper than he intended. “Not yet.”

His sister let out a dramatic sigh, clearly unimpressed. “You’re such a mess. Honestly, you could just relax. It’s not the end of the world if you let your guard down for a second.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he continued driving, his mind still wrapped up in the swirling tension inside him. Why couldn’t it be anyone else? Why did it have to be you? He couldn’t seem to make sense of it.

The silence stretched on until his sister mumbled something under her breath, so quietly that he almost missed it.

“The poor girl.”

His head snapped toward her, brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

She looked at him knowingly, the edge of her teasing never fully disappearing. “You’ve been pushing her away all week, haven’t you?” she said softly, almost pitying. “And you think she doesn’t notice? Poor girl. She probably thinks you’re confused with the way you keep looking at her.”

Sunghoon’s chest tightened at her words. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of them lingered in the air between them. His mind was too busy to process it. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by his feelings now, not when there was so much at stake.

His sister didn’t press the matter further. The drive continued in silence until they arrived at The Park Hotel, Seoul—a towering, luxurious building that his family owned. Sunghoon parked the car and shut off the engine, forcing himself to breathe.

As he stepped out of the car, his gaze landed on a sleek white sports car parked by the entrance. It was familiar, but there was something about it, something about the way it was parked so perfectly neat, that made Sunghoon pause. He glanced at it for a moment but didn’t think much of it. He shrugged it off. After all, there were so many cars in the parking lot. It was probably just another business associate’s vehicle.

“Come on,” his sister said, walking ahead toward the entrance. “Let’s go.”

They walked into the hotel, where the hustle of preparations for the event was already in full swing. His mother was already there, talking to a few staff members, discussing last-minute details. The sight of her being so composed and confident was a relief to Sunghoon. He always felt better around her.

“Mom!” he greeted, his mood lightening as he walked toward her. She smiled and greeted him in return before they moved toward the elevator.

“Top floor,” Sunghoon said, pressing the button for the penthouse suite, the family’s personal event space at the top of the building.

The elevator doors closed, and as it ascended, Sunghoon relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. He loved this space; it always gave him a sense of control. The casual chatter in the elevator with his mom helped ground him.

“Everything ready for the event?” he asked casually, watching the numbers on the elevator screen rise.

His mom smiled, nodding. “Almost. Just some last-minute touches, but I think we’ll be fine. You know how much I love to be thorough with everything.” She glanced at him, her smile softening. “How’s everything with you, Sunghoon? You seem a bit distracted today.”

Sunghoon rubbed the back of his neck, trying to smile more naturally. “I’m just tired, I guess. Been a long week.” He quickly glanced over at his sister, who had her nose buried in her phone. “You know how it is.”

“Of course,” his mom said with a knowing look. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, don’t you? Just don’t overwork yourself. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Sunghoon appreciated the concern, but he wasn’t ready to share what was really on his mind. “I’ll be fine, Mom. Don’t worry.”

The elevator finally stopped, and they were greeted by the usual flurry of activity as staff members hurried around, making sure every last detail was in place. His mom led the way, greeting workers and supervisors with ease.

But Sunghoon’s attention was already elsewhere. His eyes instinctively swept over the scene, and that’s when he saw you.

You were standing near one of the event coordinators, looking effortlessly at ease, your posture graceful. Sunghoon froze. His heart skipped a beat as his gaze locked onto you.

Before he could process it further, his mom continued walking ahead, greeting a woman standing nearby. Sunghoon barely registered who she was until he saw her face, and the resemblance was unmistakable.

His breath caught. The woman was elegant, poised, with the same features that were reflected in your own face. He stood frozen, unsure of how to react. His eyes flicked back to you, now standing beside the woman, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden connection.

Then, to his surprise, his mom stepped forward and pulled you into a warm, affectionate hug. The gesture caught the pureblooded Alpha off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless.

His sister, noticing the way Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on the scene, raised an eyebrow. She smirked, almost as if she had been waiting for this moment.

“So… it’s actually (Y/N), huh?” she said casually, her tone light but laced with a knowing edge. “Guess you really can’t avoid it, huh?”

Sunghoon’s chest tightened as he took a deep breath, trying to process everything at once. What were you doing here?

Sunghoon stood frozen, his thoughts racing as his mom pulled you into a warm embrace. The sight of your face, the familiar features—everything about you felt like it was making his world tilt. He was still processing it all when his mom’s voice broke through his daze.

“Sunghoon, come here, both of you,” his mom called, waving them over.

Sunghoon’s feet moved almost automatically, his sister walking ahead of him, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she noticed the subtle tension in his posture. When they reached his mom, she was still smiling warmly at you and the woman standing next to you.

“(Y/N), I’d like you to meet my children, Sunghoon and his younger sister. And this is (Y/N)’s mother, who I’ve been coordinating with for the event,” she added, beaming. "She’s in the same university as you two, actually.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flickered between you and your mother. So, it was your family they were working with. The realization hit him harder than expected, his chest tightening.

Sunghoon’s sister raised an eyebrow and gave you a knowing smile, but it was his mom who asked the next question, her curiosity piqued. “What are you involved in at school, (Y/N)? I’m sure you’ve been keeping busy with the student council, right?”

You smiled a little, still feeling a little nervous under Sunghoon’s gaze, but his mom’s friendly demeanor helped ease the tension. “Yeah, I’m part of the student council. I’ve been helping with the planning and coordination for the event today.”

His mom nodded approvingly. “That’s wonderful! It’s always nice to see young people so dedicated and involved. I bet you and Sunghoon are both quite busy with school.”

You nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at your lips as you looked at Sunghoon. “We see each other around. We’re both pretty busy with different things on campus.”

Sunghoon’s sister teased, “You two are pretty close, though, aren’t you?”

Sunghoon barely met your eyes, his lips curling into a tight, controlled smile. You mirrored his smile but said nothing, feeling the tension between you both grow.

“Well, it’s great to see you both getting along!” his mom said, clearly happy with the easy atmosphere. “It’s nice to have a friendly face on campus.”

Before Sunghoon could respond, his sister pulled you away with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Come on, let’s go help with the flowers,” she said, nudging you gently. “We’ll let Sunghoon handle things for a bit.”

Sunghoon watched you both walk off, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure. His thoughts swirled, but before he could gather them, his mom caught his eye, giving him a knowing look. She didn’t comment, but her silence spoke volumes.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, his mind still racing. Whatever this was, it was far from over.

The evening settled in, casting a golden glow through the large windows of the hotel. The once-chaotic venue was finally coming together—round tables adorned with pristine tablecloths, floral arrangements meticulously placed, and staff scurrying around to finalize details.

You stood near a reception table, clipboard in hand, while Sunghoon’s sister leaned in beside you, skimming through the checklist.

“So, what’s left?” she asked, propping her chin on your shoulder.

You tapped the page with your pen. “Final seating adjustments, sound check, and we still need to confirm the catering schedule.”

She let out a dramatic sigh. “God, I don’t know how you keep up with all this.”

You smirked. “Maybe because I actually enjoy it?”

She gave you a teasing nudge. “Or maybe because you’re a perfectionist, Secretary Committee Girl.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I organize things. It’s literally my job in the council.”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“You’re overcomplicating the seating chart.”

Your head snapped up, and there he was—Park Sunghoon, standing with his usual composed posture, hands tucked into his pockets, expression unreadable. His mother had been talking to a coordinator nearby, but now, she glanced between the two of you, a small, knowing smile on her lips.

You exhaled through your nose. “We’re adjusting it, not overcomplicating it.”

Sunghoon gave you a flat look. “You moved the executive table again.”

“it needed to be closer to the main stage,” you argued.

“Which messes with the aisle clearance,” he countered.

You opened your mouth to respond, but his mother stepped in smoothly. “You two can argue about seating later. For now, go check on the banquet hall setup. The decorators should be almost done.”

Sunghoon sighed but nodded, while you grabbed your clipboard and turned to his sister. “You coming?”

She waved you off. “Nah, I’m staying here. You two have fun.”

You frowned at her mischievous tone, but the Alpha next to you didn’t give you time to dwell on it. With a tight-lipped expression, he gestured for you to walk ahead.

The large hall was buzzing with activity. Staff were setting up buffet tables, arranging cutlery, and making last-minute touches to the decorations. You and Sunghoon stood near the entrance, scanning the room.

“I’ll check on the centerpiece placements,” you said, glancing at your clipboard. “You can handle the catering status.”

He crossed his arms. “Why do I have to handle catering?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Because I don’t feel like arguing with the head chef.”

Sunghoon huffed but walked off toward the catering team while you made your way toward the floral arrangements. After a few minutes, you stood near the main table.

“They’re behind schedule,” Sunghoon reported, running a hand through his hair. “Something about delayed deliveries.”

You groaned. “Of course.”

You took out your phone, scrolling through your contact list. Sunghoon watched as you expertly navigated the crisis, calling the supplier and getting an update within minutes.

When you hung up, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re really in your element with this.”

You shrugged. “I have to be. The secretary committee basically runs everything behind the scenes.”

He scoffed. “So that’s why you always look stressed on campus.”

You shot him a look. “Excuse me?”

He smirked. “I see you in the student council room all the time, buried under paperwork. I just assumed it was self-inflicted suffering or Jake really hated your guts.”

You rolled your eyes. “Unlike some people, I actually like responsibility.”

Sunghoon just hummed, amused, before looking toward the exit. “Come on, we still have to check the ballroom.”

The ballroom, meant for the main program, was dimly lit as technicians adjusted the spotlights. You and Sunghoon walked toward the stage, where a staff member was testing the mic.

“You handle sound checks?” he asked, sounding mildly impressed.

You nodded. “Part of the job.”

Sunghoon leaned against a nearby pillar, watching as you exchanged instructions with the technicians. His eyes trailed over the way you moved—so effortlessly slipping into control, giving orders with ease, adjusting the smallest details without hesitation. You were in your element, and for a brief moment, he wondered if this was what he had been avoiding all along.

When you finally wrapped up, he glanced at you, voice quieter than before. “You’re really everywhere, huh?”

“That’s kind of the point,” you said, flipping through your notes.

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he looked away, clearing his throat. “So, what’s next?”

You skimmed the checklist. “We need to make sure the VIP section is set up properly.”

Sunghoon groaned. “Please don’t tell me we have to argue about chairs again.”

You smirked. “That depends. Are you going to accept that I’m always right?”

He gave you an unimpressed look but followed you anyway.

The two of you walked through the elegantly arranged VIP tables, double-checking details. At one point, you crouched down to fix a misplaced name card, only to feel Sunghoon standing way too close behind you.

“You’re hovering,” you muttered.

“I’m observing,” he corrected.

You turned your head slightly, only to realize just how close he was. His scent—coffee and leather—wrapped around you, warm and grounding. You swallowed, standing up quickly and brushing imaginary dust off your skirt.

His inner alpha stirred, "Weak. You’re running again."

He ignored it.

His gaze traced the slight parting of your lips, the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders as you exhaled. He let himself linger, just for a second, in the space between restraint and surrender. And that’s when the thought crept in, unbidden.

"Is this really what you’re afraid of? Her? Or the way she makes you forget everything else?"

His jaw tightened.

Because it wasn’t just the bond. It wasn’t just attraction. It was the fear of unraveling, of slipping so deep into something he couldn’t control that he’d abandon everything else, his duties, his carefully built walls, the life that was expected of him.

His alpha hummed in amusement. "She makes you weak, but you want her anyway."

Sunghoon swallowed hard, straightening his posture. The warmth in his eyes cooled, replaced by something unreadable.

You frowned slightly at the shift.

He smirked. “Nervous?” His voice was smooth, but there was a sudden distance in it.

You scoffed. “You wish.”

His gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest second before he took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets as if forcing the space between you.

"Coward."

“If you say so,” he hummed.

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted.

“Ah, there you two are.”

Sunghoon turned, shifting his expression into something neutral as his mother approached, clipboard in hand. You straightened up beside him, the moment from before slipping between your fingers like sand.

“I need you both to oversee the final checks while I discuss something with the event coordinators.” His mother’s tone left no room for argument. She gave Sunghoon a look, one that was equal parts expectation and knowing—before handing you the clipboard. “You know what to do.”

You nodded. “Of course, Mrs. Park.”

Sunghoon exhaled slowly through his nose, nodding along as well. It wasn’t like he could say no.

"Another thing you can't say no to, huh?" His alpha taunted.

He clenched his jaw, pushing down the irritation forming in his chest. It wasn’t at you, he knew that much. It was at himself, at the way he was still standing next to you despite everything.

You, however, had already moved on, scanning through the checklist before nudging his arm. “Come on, Park. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

His eyes flicked down to where you touched him, the warmth of your skin seeping through his sleeve. His inner alpha hummed in approval, but he ignored it, following you as you walked through the venue.

As you worked, your voice was steady as you went over the details. “Floral arrangements are set, table placements are final…” You trailed off as you examined the stage setup, flipping a page on the clipboard. “Lighting checks should be done soon. Could you talk to the technicians?”

He raised a brow. “You’re delegating to me now?”

You gave him a pointed look. “I can’t do everything myself.”

Sunghoon smirked despite himself, but there was something bitter about it. You weren’t even flustered around him anymore. When did you stop getting nervous?

His alpha scoffed. "You’re upset about that? Pathetic."

Still, he didn’t argue. He stepped away, scanning the ballroom for the lighting crew before walking off.

By the time he returned, you were deep in conversation with the floral team, gesturing toward one of the centerpieces. His gaze followed your movements—how easily you took control of the situation, how effortlessly you belonged in this environment.

"She’s everywhere. Always in the middle of things, always moving forward."

He rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar tightness forming in his chest. Maybe that’s why he had avoided this for so long. Because standing here, watching you do what you did best, made him realize something.

It wasn’t just about you. It was about him.

The fear wasn’t of falling for you. It was of what that would mean, of what he’d have to let go of to have you.

“Earth to Sunghoon?”

He blinked, snapping back to reality. You were watching him, an amused expression on your face.

“Spacing out already?” you teased. “We’re not even done yet.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important,” he muttered, voice clipped.

You frowned at the sudden change in his tone but didn’t push. “Right. Well, let me know if you're ready to go. We still have things to check.”

You walked past him, your scent—honey and lilac—lingering in the air, soft yet unmistakable. His Alpha bristled, pushing at his restraint.

"She’s slipping away. Your Omega is slipping away."

Sunghoon clenched his fists. No. You were right here. He just didn’t know what to do with that.

For now, he settled for following you.

The night air was crisp, carrying a faint chill that hinted at the changing seasons. You barely noticed, too preoccupied with checking off the last few items on your clipboard as you walked through the dimly lit parking lot with Sunghoon’s sister beside you.

“God, if one more person asks me about table placements, I’m quitting this whole thing,” she groaned, rubbing her temples.

You chuckled. “You say that, but you’ll still show up tomorrow looking like you run the place.”

She shot you a tired grin. “Shut up.”

A few steps behind, Sunghoon trailed silently. He wasn’t really listening to the conversation—at least, that’s what he told himself.

But his eyes betrayed him, flickering to you every so often, catching the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you absentmindedly tapped your pen against the clipboard, the way your scent of honey and lilacs felt like it was wrapping around him, daring him to step closer.

"She’s right there. Yours. Slipping away."

His inner Alpha’s voice was persistent, lingering in the back of his mind like an ache he refused to acknowledge.

He exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Distance. Control. A clear line between what he felt and what he knew he had to do.

But then you stopped beside your car, unlocking it with a quiet beep. His sister slowed beside you, turning to Sunghoon with a slight frown.

“Hoon, you good?”

Your gaze flickered toward him at the question, eyes searching, like you were trying to figure out what was wrong.

And that was the problem. You always noticed.

The Alpha tensed, his walls slamming back up. His face smoothed over, his posture shifted; cold, detached, unreadable.

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

The change was almost unnoticeable, but you caught it.

Your grip on the clipboard tightened, as if debating whether to push, whether to call him out on it. But instead, you just nodded, lips pressing into a thin line.

“Alright,” you murmured.

His sister sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “You’re both so dramatic.” Then she turned to you, brightening up again. “Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

You mustered a tired smile. “I won’t.”

Sunghoon stayed silent.

And this time, you didn’t bother looking at him before sliding into your car.

The moment your door shut, his Alpha growled in protest.

"Fix it."

He clenched his jaw, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

“No.”

Your engine rumbled to life, headlights casting long shadows across the pavement. He should’ve looked away, should’ve just walked off—but he didn’t. He watched as you drove off, the sound of your car fading into the night.

A quiet sigh escaped him. His mother.

She didn’t say anything earlier, didn’t scold or pry. She simply looked at him; knowing, like she already had a hint of what was happening.

And for some reason, that made his chest tighten.

So he exhaled, turned on his heel, and walked away.

The Park estate was quieter than usual, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside and the occasional laughter echoing from the living room. Sunghoon leaned back against the couch, one arm draped over the backrest as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone.

The guys had gathered there a few hours before the grand dinner, since it was closer to the venue, and the suits for the evening were going to be delivered directly to the estate. It was comfortable, familiar.

“Bro, do you even listen to yourself?” Sunoo snorted, throwing a cushion at Jungwon, who barely dodged. “You keep saying you care about her, but where are you, huh? If I were your mate, I’d leave your ass.”

Jungwon groaned, rubbing his temples. “It’s not like I’m ignoring her on purpose, okay? I just—”

“Just what?” Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Bro, you’re literally a pureblooded Alpha. Start acting like one.”

Jake snorted from his spot on the couch, shaking his head. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who barely figured out his own mating bond.”

“Hey, at least I figured it out,” Sunoo shot back. “Jungwon’s still treating his Omega like he's still courting her—he's walking on eggshells.”

Jungwon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t need this right now.” The younger Alpha huffed, slumping into the couch, ears turning a bit red.

Heeseung chuckled. “He’s right, you know. Just follow your instincts. Might help.”

Sunghoon tuned them out. His fingers tapped against his phone screen, his mind elsewhere. That was, until two familiar voices drifted in from the hallway.

“Oh yeah, follow that. Don't be like my brother—can’t relate to the whole instincts thing.”

His sister and Heeseung's mate.

Sunghoon barely registered her words, but the comment stung more than he expected. He tensed up, feeling his jaw clench involuntarily.

They didn’t even glance his way, walking past them straight to the kitchen.

For some reason, it made him feel smaller than he ever wanted to. He stayed quiet, his grip on his phone tightened, focusing on the lack of sound in the room.

Jungwon’s eyebrows lifted. “Uh… hello? You good?”

Ni-ki leaned forward, grinning. “Yeah, that was kinda weak, man. You always have something to say.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His thoughts were spiraling too fast, his Alpha stirring like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

"They’re right. You’ve been avoiding this for too long."

His jaw clenched.

"Why? Because you’re scared? Because you think pushing her away makes you stronger? You already know the answer, don’t you?

Sunghoon snapped."

A low, warning growl left his throat, deep and sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

His scent soured, something bitter and tense.

The room fell silent.

Sunghoon immediately regretted it.

His friends weren’t scared, he knew that much—but they were surprised. He never let his emotions slip like that, never let his control falter.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Damn, man,” he muttered, clearly surprised. “You good?”

Sunghoon exhaled slowly, pressing his thumb against his temple.

Jungwon, still startled, hesitated before speaking. “Hey, man, relax…”

And then, Jungwon added, almost absently—

“What’s got you all messed up? It’s like you—”

Sunghoon cut him off. “I met my mate.”

The words left his mouth before he even fully registered what he was saying.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sunoo was the first to recover. “What?”

Jungwon’s eyes widened as he processed what Sunghoon had said. “Wait—what?”

Sunghoon leaned back against the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. His heartbeat felt louder in his ears now, the weight of his own admission settling in. “I met my mate,” he repeated, this time with more certainty, but still unsure.

Jake let out a low whistle. “Well, shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t think I’d hear that today.”

Jay was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “You?”

Sunghoon shot him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jay raised his hands in defense. “I mean, dude, it’s you. You’ve never even cared about that kind of stuff. I just—when? How?”

Sunghoon hesitated. He hadn’t planned on saying this out loud, let alone explaining it. The moment he said the words, it felt like he had given away the control he had spent years perfecting—it had just cracked at the edges.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, and who?”

Ni-ki looked almost wary. “Wait, wait, hold up—are you sure?”

Sunghoon shot him a flat look. “You think I’d joke about this?”

“No, but you also don’t exactly seem sure,” Ni-ki pointed out.

That was fair.

Because the truth was, Sunghoon wasn’t sure, not fully. Or at least, he had spent the last few days convincing himself he wasn’t sure. Because if he admitted it, that meant things had to change.

And Sunghoon hated change.

Heeseung, who had been the quietest of them all, finally spoke up. His voice was calm. “Since when?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together.

“Sunghoon,” Heeseung pushed, more insistent this time. “How long have you known?”

A muscle in Sunghoon’s jaw ticked. “…A while.”

Another silence stretched between them, heavier this time.

Sunoo groaned, running a hand down his face. “You knew and didn’t say anything?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer.

Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “Bro, what the hell?”

Ni-ki leaned forward, his expression sharper now. “You’re seriously fighting this?” His voice was wary, frustrated. Despite being the youngest, he thought it was stupid—this was instincts, this was nature.

The gods themselves had chosen fated mates with intention. Rejecting that was like rejecting the sky, the air, the pull of the ocean’s tide. It made no sense to him. “Why would you reject something that’s meant for you?”

Jungwon, usually the more level-headed one, actually agreed. “Ni-ki’s right,” he muttered. “You’re making this way harder than it has to be.”

Sunghoon snapped.

“You think I had a choice?” His voice came out sharper than he meant, louder. His scent flared again, dominance pouring out of him.

And that set them all off.

Because they weren’t just Alphas. They were pureblooded Alphas, born and bred into power, and when dominance was challenged, instinct demanded they answer.

Jake and Jay shot him a glare, their own scents spiking as an automatic reaction. Jungwon bared his teeth slightly, frustration and something close to disbelief flickering in his eyes. Sunoo looked like he wanted to hit him.

“Yeah, you had a choice,” Sunoo threw back. “And you blew it!”

Ni-ki’s glare sharpened. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

Jake scoffed, shaking his head. “You think this is a fucking game? Do you know how many Alphas would kill to even find their mate?”

Sunghoon clenched his fists. “It’s not that simple.”

Jay barked out a short, humorless laugh. “No, you’re just making it complicated.”

Sunghoon had had enough.

He shot up from the couch, turned on his heel, and walked out, his footsteps heavy against the marble flooring, his scent still bitter, still unsettled. He didn’t care where he was going. He just needed to get out.

Sunoo and Heeseung exchanged glances before following after him.

The afternoon air was cooler than he expected. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair, trying to breathe.

Sunoo was the first to break the silence. “Dude,” he muttered, “what the hell is going on with you?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately. He stared out at the sunlit garden, hands in his pockets, jaw tight.

Heeseung leaned against the railing beside him. “Talk to us.” His voice was calm. “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Sunghoon let out a short, hollow laugh. “Feels like I do.”

Sunoo crossed his arms. “No, you’re just choosing to.”

Silence.

Sunghoon’s fingers twitched. He didn’t know how to say it, didn’t know how to make them understand.

“I…” He exhaled sharply, tilting his head back. “I don’t want this.”

Sunoo furrowed his brows. “Why?”

Sunghoon swallowed hard. “Because I don’t know how to be that person. A mate. A bond. A life that’s—” He shook his head. “I wasn’t made for that.”

heeseung sighed, rubbing his temple before stepping in. “sunghoon, listen to yourself. you’re treating this like it’s some kind of punishment.”

sunghoon let out a heavy breath, the weight in his chest pressing down harder. “it feels like one,” he admitted.

“because—” sunghoon continued, closing his eyes for a brief second before looking away. “because it means everything changes. i change.”

Sunoo scoffed, shaking his head. “And? What’s so bad about that?”

Sunghoon turned to him, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t get it.” Sunoo cut him off. “You’re not losing yourself, Sunghoon. You’re finding something—someone that was always meant to be yours.”

Heeseung nodded, stepping closer. “And having an Omega to call yours? That’s a responsibility in itself, one you were always meant to take on. You’re not abandoning anything—you’re taking something just as important.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. He wanted to argue, wanted to fight back—but the truth was, deep down, he knew they were right.

The thought alone terrified him.

The event was already in full swing by the time Sunghoon arrived, the grand ballroom glowing with golden chandeliers and the murmur of polite conversation.

His polished shoes clicked against the marble floors as he stepped in alongside the others, all of them dressed in perfectly tailored suits, their hair styled to absolute precision. They looked every bit like the pureblooded Alphas they were raised to be: refined, dominant, untouchable.

But none of that mattered the second he spotted you.

You were standing near the center of the room, surrounded by a group of familiar faces—his sister, Jungwon’s mate, Heeseung’s mate, and other Omegas of high standing. A tight-knit circle of Omegas that radiated grace and effortless elegance, laughing softly amongst themselves, their delicate fingers wrapped around champagne flutes.

And then there was you.

Your gown hugged your frame in all the right places before cascading down in soft waves, your hair curled to perfection, makeup flawless, lips painted a shade he couldn’t quite name but suddenly wanted to memorize.

It pissed him off.

Not because you looked good—no, that was obvious. It was the fact that you had noticed him, just as he had noticed you, but chose to act like he wasn’t even there.

He saw it. The way your shoulders tensed when he stepped into your vision, how your fingers gripped your champagne glass just a little tighter. But you didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t even glance his way.

Like the past few days of him being distant meant nothing.

And that—that frustrated him more than anything.

A cough sounded beside him.

“Karma,” Sunoo smirked, enjoying every second of this.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. Jungwon outright grinned. Even Heeseung—calm, composed Heeseung—gave him a knowing glance, like he had expected this from the start.

But the worst was Ni-ki.

The youngest in the group, ever observant, leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for them to hear.

“Damn,” Ni-ki mused, tilting his head. “That must hurt.”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, ignoring the way the others tried to suppress their laughter.

His gaze flickered back to you.

Still not looking at him.

Sunghoon barely had a moment to collect himself before the inevitable happened.

People noticed them.

It was impossible not to.

A group of young, pureblooded Alpha heirs walking into a gathering like this, dressed to perfection, exuding confidence and power—of course, eyes turned their way.

The murmurs started almost instantly, subtle yet unmistakable. A few heads turned, quiet whispers rippling through the crowd as their names carried weight in these circles.

They barely had a chance to exchange glances before they were pulled into conversations, their group dispersing as they were greeted by family acquaintances, business partners, and distant relatives.

Sunghoon knew how this worked. He had been raised for it, trained to move through these events with effortless charm and perfect composure.

His feet carried him toward his parents, who were seated at a table near your group. His father, deep in conversation with a few business partners, barely glanced at him before greeting him with a firm pat on the shoulder. His mother, ever the composed woman, gave him a knowing look before murmuring, “You’re late.”

Sunghoon exhaled, adjusting the cuff of his suit. “Got caught up.”

His father chuckled, still half-distracted. “Ah, well. You made it.”

Before Sunghoon could take a step back, a familiar voice cut in.

“Well, if it isn’t Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon turned, and his expression barely shifted, though he immediately recognized the man.

An older Alpha, mid-forties, silver-streaked hair, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed. Someone deeply tied to their family’s business dealings—one of his father’s closest partners.

“It’s been a while since I saw you,” the man continued, raising his glass in greeting. His tone was casual. “You’ve grown into quite the spitting image of your father.”

Sunghoon offered a small, polite nod. “It’s good to see you again.”

The older Alpha chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Good to see you too, kid. I remember when you were still a runt, running around at these events like you had better places to be.”

Sunghoon let out a short, practiced laugh. “Not much has changed.”

That earned another chuckle. Then, with an amused tilt of his head, the older Alpha leaned back slightly in his chair.

“You must have Omegas swooning left and right,” he mused, swirling his glass lazily. “With that face of yours, I bet they’re lining up.”

Sunghoon let out a soft breath, shaking his head. “I don’t have time for that.”

It was an easy response. Dismissive, effortless. A throwaway comment.

Except his eyes betrayed him.

Because, without thinking, his gaze flickered right back to you.

And you heard him. Of course, you did.

Omegas had sharper senses than most. Your hearing was leagues above everyone else’s, and Sunghoon knew it.

He knew it the moment he saw your grip on the champagne glass tighten ever so slightly. The way your shoulders straightened just a little more.

But you didn’t react, not outwardly.

Instead, you let out a small, polite laugh, face perfectly neutral. Then, in the same smooth, composed tone you always used at events like this, you excused yourself.

Sunghoon stiffened.

But it wasn’t just you who reacted.

His sister’s gaze snapped to him almost immediately, a flicker of something unmistakable in her expression: disappointment.

She said nothing, but she didn’t need to. The look alone said everything.

And she wasn’t the only one.

His mother, ever observant, barely shifted in her seat, but the sharp glint in her eyes told him she had caught on too.

Sunghoon swallowed.

He shouldn’t follow you.

He should’ve let it go.

But before he even realized it, his feet were already moving.

The hall leading to the restrooms was dimly lit, the golden glow of the chandeliers fading the further you walked. The music and chatter from the ballroom dulled behind you, muffled and distant, as if the world was deliberately pulling away, leaving you alone with your thoughts, with the weight on your chest.

Your back hit the wall beside the restroom entrance, your breathing sharp and uneven.

Your inner Omega whimpered, "Not here. Not now."

You clenched your fists at your sides, nails pressing into your palms as you fought the sting behind your eyes.

You had known. You had always known how this would end.

And yet, standing there, shoulders stiff, throat tight, your pulse hammering against your skin, you hated that it still hurt.

You sucked in a breath, blinking up at the ceiling, forcing the tears back.

You would not cry.

Not in front of him.

And yet, the moment you sensed his presence, the moment his scent curled around you; thick, intoxicating, overwhelming, your body betrayed you.

Your fingers twitched.

Your breathing faltered.

You hated yourself for giving in so easily.

“What do you want, Sunghoon?” Your voice was cold, but the slight tremble at the end, barely there, almost unnoticeable, gave you away.

He stopped a few feet away, his hands flexing at his sides.

He was staring at you, his gaze dark, conflicted, like he didn’t know why he was here either.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I—”

“You what?” You cut him off, your voice sharp, edged with something dangerously close to heartbreak.

He exhaled, pressing his lips into a thin line.

You almost laughed. Of course.

“Nothing to say?” You scoffed, tilting your head. “Then why are you here?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly.

You hated the way your chest clenched at the sight.

Hated the way his tie had loosened slightly, the way a strand of hair had fallen over his forehead, the way he looked so frustratingly undone for the first time tonight.

“You push me away.” Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to continue. “You act like I don’t exist. And now you’re here, acting like you—” You swallowed, shaking your head. “You don’t get to do this, Sunghoon.”

His lips parted slightly.

“You don’t get to act like I matter when you’ve made it very clear that I don’t.”

Something cracked in his gaze. And for the first time, he looked afraid.

“I never said that,” he muttered, his voice softer now.

“You didn’t have to.”

Silence.

A suffocating silence. Your throat burned. You couldn’t do this. You turned to leave, to push past him, to breathe—

But suddenly—

You couldn’t move, and before you could react, a strong, calloused hand wrapped around your wrist—firm, desperate.

Your breath hitched.

Sunghoon pulled you back—hard—and in the span of a heartbeat, you collided straight into his chest.

The impact knocked the air from your lungs.

His scent swallowed you whole.

You gasped sharply, your knees nearly giving out.

And then—

Warmth.

Overwhelming, all-consuming warmth, his arms were around you.

One wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The other cradled the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair—steady, like he was terrified of letting go.

Your chest heaved against his, hands fisting his suit jacket so tightly your knuckles ached.

But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care.

Not when his heart was hammering against yours, not when his grip on you was desperate, not when his entire body was trembling, like he was breaking just as much as you were.

Your breath came out shaky. “Let me go.”

He didn’t. He tightened his hold.

“Sunghoon.” Your voice cracked.

His head dipped lower, his breath fanning against your temple.

“I can’t.”

Your stomach flipped violently. Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and relentless.

“You—” You squeezed your eyes shut, your grip on his suit tightening. “You’re such a fucking coward.”

His body tensed. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t loosen his hold. Didn’t deny it.

Instead, his fingers curled into the fabric of your dress. And for the first time—Sunghoon let his instincts win.

Your hands gripped his suit tighter as your chest heaved, a strangled sob breaking free before you could stop it. The tears were now, falling fast and hot, no longer something you could hold back.

You pressed your face into his chest, the fabric of his suit absorbing the wetness, but it did nothing to soothe the ache inside you.

Sunghoon’s grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. He pulled you in closer, as if trying to protect you from everything.

The shaking of his hands on your back was evident, and the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths made your heart ache for him in ways you didn’t understand.

“Don't cry, Omega, please.” His voice was barely a whisper.

You shook your head, the words stuck in your throat. It felt like all the pain you’d buried, all the frustration, the confusion, the rejection—it was spilling out at once. You were drowning in it, and you didn’t know how to stop.

But his plea only made the sobs come harder, breaking free from your throat like you had been holding them in for years.

His arms tightened around you again, as if he could physically hold your pain together, as if he could stop you from shattering completely.

“I hate you.” The words barely made it past your lips, muffled against his chest, but he heard them.

You knew he heard them.

Because his entire body stiffened for a split second before his grip on you softened, his hand sliding from your waist to your lower back, the one behind your head shifting, his fingers threading into your hair with a gentleness that almost hurt.

“I know,” he murmured, voice so quiet it was almost lost in the silence of the hallway.

Your body shook against his, another sob wracking through you, and he just held you.

Not saying anything.

Not pulling away.

Just letting you break in his arms the way you had never allowed yourself to before.

Minutes passed, or maybe seconds—it didn’t matter.

Time felt frozen between you, the weight of everything crashing down in the space between your heavy breaths. Your mascara had smudged against the fabric of his suit, staining it, but he didn’t seem to care. He just kept holding you, his scent wrapping around you, keeping you from completely falling apart.

And then, finally—finally—you found your voice.

“Why?"

A single word. Quiet. Shaky. But sharp enough to cut through the silence.

Sunghoon stilled.

“Why did you do it?" Your voice cracked, but you pushed forward, your hands gripping his suit even tighter. “Why did you act like I didn’t exist? Like I was nothing to you? Why did you pretend you didn’t care when you—when you—" Another sob clawed its way out of your throat, your fingers trembling where they clung to him. “When you do this? When you hold me like this, like you actually—"

Your voice faltered, and Sunghoon inhaled sharply. His grip on you loosened, just enough for him to pull back slightly, just enough for him to see your face. His fingers, still shaking, brushed against your cheek, tracing over the tear-stained skin, his thumb wiping away the wetness that refused to stop falling.

His hands paused for a second.

And then—so, so softly—he spoke.

“I was scared.”

Your breath hitched.

“Scared?" you muttered, barely above a whisper.

He nodded, swallowing hard, his jaw clenching like he was fighting something inside himself. His fingers brushed against your cheek again, hesitating, before cupping your face fully, his touch impossibly gentle.

“I didn’t know how to handle it," he admitted, voice soft, filled with something unrecognizable. “I didn’t know how to handle you."

Your brows furrowed, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs.

“Sunghoon—"

“Everything in my life has always been about responsibility," he cut in, his grip on your face tightening slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure you were listening. “I was raised to be strong, to take over, to lead—to never let anything distract me from what I was meant to do."

His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, and his gaze softened—just barely.

“And then there was you.”

The words came out barely above a whisper, but they sent a shiver down your spine.

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath, his forehead nearly pressing against yours. “You were never supposed to be a part of that plan.”

Pain flared in your chest, sharp and unrelenting.

“So what?" you whispered, voice trembling. “You thought ignoring me would make it easier?"

His eyes squeezed shut, his expression twisting into something almost pained. “I thought if I pretended you didn’t exist, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

A bitter laugh left your lips. “And did it?"

Sunghoon let out a slow breath, his hands stilling against your skin. His silence was the only answer you needed.

He was breaking, right in front of you.

And for the first time, you saw it. The fear in his eyes. The weight on his shoulders. The guilt, the regret, the want.

“You absolute coward," you whispered, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “You let your fear ruin everything. You let it destroy me."

Sunghoon inhaled sharply, his fingers pressing against your skin like he was afraid you would slip away.

“I know," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

And then, as if he couldn’t help himself, his hands moved again, thumbs tracing over your cheeks, smudging the mascara-stained tears without a care that his fingers were getting stained too.

He was looking at you now. Really looking at you.

Even with tear-streaked cheeks, even with mascara smudged against your skin, he thought you were beautiful.

You always had been.

And maybe that had been the scariest part of all.

He exhaled shakily, his forehead finally pressing against yours.

“I was so focused on all the responsibilities I had," he whispered, eyes fluttering shut, “that I forgot the most important one was right in front of me."

You. It had always been you.

And for the first time in forever, he stopped fighting it.

His hands trembled as he pulled you close again, wrapping you in his warmth, as if trying to make up for every second he had spent pretending you didn’t exist.

His heartbeat that was once steady, always controlled, was frantic against your cheek, like his body itself was betraying him, exposing everything he had kept hidden for so long.

“I’m sorry," he murmured against your hair, his voice soft, stripped bare of all the indifference he had once worn so easily.

Again.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

And again.

“I’m sorry."

Each word landed like a plea, an ache.

His hands clutched at the fabric of your dress, fingers curling against your back as he buried his face into your shoulder. His breaths were uneven, his hold desperate like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip through his fingers for good.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the feeling of his regret pressing against your chest like a force you weren’t sure you could withstand.

“I really hate you," you whispered, voice unsteady, and you felt the sharp inhale he took against your skin.

But you didn’t move away. Neither did he.

“I know," he murmured. He didn’t argue. Didn’t try to make excuses. He just held you.

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the lapels of his suit. “I understand you more than you think."

A breath passed between you, thick with everything unsaid.

Slowly, hesitantly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands moving from your back to cup your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the tear-streaked trails, smearing the black mascara that had run down your skin more than before.

His hands were shaking.

His fingers, stained with the remnants of your pain, trembled as they held you.

But he didn’t stop.

“You do?" His voice was so quiet, so uncertain, it almost broke you all over again.

You nodded. Because you did. You understood.

You had always known Sunghoon was never just the eldest son of his family, never just the heir, never just the perfect pureblooded Alpha everyone expected him to be. He carried burdens he never spoke of, expectations that weighed him down like chains.

And you understood now, you understood that loving you, wanting you, was the one thing he had never been taught how to handle.

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, his forehead nearly knocking against yours as he leaned closer, the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words sent a violent shudder down your spine. Your breath caught, your heart twisting painfully in your chest.

Because this moment, this hesitation, this vulnerability in his voice—was not the Sunghoon everyone else knew.

This was the boy who had spent so long running. This was the boy who had finally stopped.

“It doesn’t mean you’re forgiven,” you murmured, even as your fingers curled against his chest.

For the first time that night, Sunghoon laughed. Soft. Shaky. Breathless. But real.

“I know,” he whispered, and then, slowly, finally, he closed the distance.

His lips met yours, and the world stopped spinning.

The first press of his lips was soft, like he was still afraid, still unsure if he deserved this, deserved you.

But then you exhaled against his mouth, a shaky breath that tasted like surrender, and something inside him snapped. The hesitation was gone.

Sunghoon’s hands, still cupping your face, tilted your head just enough for him to deepen the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that bordered on desperation. His body caged you in, pressing you against the cool wall behind you, but all you could feel was him—his warmth, his scent, his everything—surrounding you, consuming you.

His grip tightened. One hand slid down, fingers grazing your jaw, your throat, before curling around the small of your back and pulling you in.

Closer. Not close enough.

A small gasp escaped you, and Sunghoon swallowed it, exhaling a sharp breath against your mouth before chasing your lips again. His movements were rougher now, more frantic, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every regret, every missed moment into the kiss.

Like he was trying to prove something. That he was sorry. That he wanted you. That he needed you.

His other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your face up further, deepening the kiss until you felt dizzy, breathless—like you were floating, like you were falling.

And god, maybe you were. Maybe you had been all this time.

Your fingers fisted his suit, clinging to him. His lips, now hot and insistent, barely gave you a second to breathe—like he was terrified that if he pulled away, even for a moment, you’d disappear.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

You melted into him, letting yourself get lost in the moment, in the way his body trembled against yours, in the quiet, choked noise he made when your fingers finally, finally slid up to his hair.

It was intoxicating—the way he kissed you—like he was trying to make up for every second he had wasted, every touch he had denied himself, every moment he had spent pretending he didn’t want this.

Didn’t want you.

Your lungs burned, your heart pounded, and yet neither of you pulled away, unwilling to break whatever fragile, breathless thing had formed between you.

Sunghoon made a strangled noise against your lips before reluctantly—so reluctantly—he tore himself away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his lips red and swollen.

His eyes, dark and dazed, fluttered open to meet yours.

And then, barely above a whisper, voice wrecked, he murmured,

“Stay.”

A single word, but it held everything. A plea. A confession. A promise wrapped in desperation.

Your fingers tightened in his suit. “I’m not going anywhere, Sunghoon.” Your voice was steady, but thick with emotion. “Even when you push me away. Even when you try to pretend I don’t exist.”

His hands, still cupping your face, trembled. “Never again.” It came out like a vow. Like a prayer.

His thumbs brushed over your damp cheeks, smearing what remained of your ruined mascara. His grip on you didn’t loosen—if anything, he pressed his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply, as if he was making sure you were real.

The silence stretched between you, heavy, but not suffocating. Not anymore. Then, suddenly, he straightens—“We need to fix you up.”

You blinked. “What?”

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, scanning your face, your tear-streaked cheeks, the smudges of black under your eyes. Then, without another word, his fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you toward the restrooms.

“The female restroom is that way,” you pointed out, confused.

“I know.”

Your steps faltered. “You’re not allowed in there.”

Sunghoon scoffed, barely sparing you a glance. “As if I’m letting you out of my sight again.”

Your heart flipped.

Before you could protest, he pushed open the door, dragging you inside with him. The moment it clicked shut, he turned to you. “Up.”

You blinked. “What?”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes before gripping your waist and lifting you effortlessly, placing you onto the cool marble counter like you weighed nothing.

You gasped. “Sunghoon—”

But he was already turning to the faucet, pulling a Dior handkerchief from his pocket. You watched, breath caught in your throat, as he ran it under the water, fingers tightening around the fine cloth.

And then, with the utmost care, he turned back to you.

Your knees brushed as he stepped between your legs, his touch impossibly gentle as he cupped your face, tilting it slightly. The wet fabric pressed against your cheek, cool against your overheated skin, and Sunghoon—god, Sunghoon—wiped at the tear stains, the smudged makeup, his fingers brushing over your skin like he was handling something fragile.

Something precious.

You couldn’t stop staring.

The way his brows furrowed in concentration. The way his jaw clenched whenever he came across a particularly stubborn stain. The way his lips pressed together—like he was trying to hold back words he wasn’t ready to say.

The way he touched you. Like you were his. Like you had always been his.

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

And when he finally, finally met your gaze again, his own eyes filled with something unreadable—something raw—you realized, with stunning clarity, that you had never really stood a chance against Park Sunghoon.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.

A shaky exhale left your lips.

He was still staring at you, drinking in every detail, like he was memorizing the way you looked, the way your lashes trembled, the way your lips parted as if you had something to say but didn’t know how.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His voice was quieter than usual, but the tease was still there, laced with something softer.

You blinked, startled, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. “What?”

His lips curled slightly, but there was something about his smirk—something less sharp, less guarded. Something that made your pulse stutter. “You were staring.”

Your stomach twisted. Of course, he would notice. Your first instinct was to scoff, to roll your eyes, to dismiss it like you always did—but before you could, you felt it. The shift.

Your scent spiked—not in distress, not in discomfort, but in something else. Something sweeter.

The scent of honey and lilacs curled around him, delicate yet intoxicating, a confession wrapped in something neither of you had the words to say.

Sunghoon inhaled. Slowly. Deliberately.

His lashes fluttered for the briefest second, his fingers tightening just slightly around yours, before his smirk faded entirely.

And then, wordlessly, he leaned in.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t second-guess.

His lips found your forehead, pressing into your skin with the kind of tenderness that made your breath catch in your throat.

And he stayed there. Lingering. Savoring.

His breath was warm, brushing against your temple, the tip of his nose barely grazing your hairline.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, the corner of his lips twitching slightly. “Come on,” he murmured, voice still hoarse.

You barely had time to process it before he moved, guiding you off the counter with his hands firm at your waist, catching you when your balance faltered.

But he didn’t step away. Didn’t loosen his grip.

Instead, his fingers threaded through yours, locking them in place as if letting go was never an option. You blinked up at him, breath uneven.

“You ready?” His voice was quieter now, softer in a way that made your breath hitch.

You swallowed, throat tight. Then slowly, you nodded. And just like that, he pulled you with him. Hand in hand.

The warmth of his palm was steady against yours, fingers locked. It wasn’t just an absentminded touch, wasn’t something he would let go of the second someone looked too long.

No, this was different. This was him choosing you. Claiming you as his mate. And the second you stepped out, the change in the atmosphere was immediate.

Silence. Then whispers. A sea of murmurs spread through the ballroom like wildfire, voices hushed yet urgent, their curiosity thick enough to suffocate.

Heads turned, eyes widened, people stared.

Alphas. Betas. Omegas.

They looked, and looked, and looked. Their shock crackled through the air like static electricity, palpable in every held breath, every barely concealed gasp, every sharp glance exchanged between one another.

You could feel their questions hanging in the air, unspoken yet deafening. Was this real? When did this happen? How did this happen?

Their gazes burned into your skin—some filled with intrigue, others laced with disbelief, and a few even brimming with something close to envy.

Because this wasn’t just anyone walking out of a room hand in hand with Park Sunghoon. This was you. And Sunghoon? He didn’t even blink.

He didn’t falter under the weight of their stares, didn’t acknowledge the whispers that carried his name in hushed, scandalized tones.

No, he just walked.

Back straight, shoulders squared, head held high. As if this had been the plan all along. As if this was exactly where he was supposed to be. And with every step forward, the hushed murmurs only grew.

Some Alphas scoffed—exchanging skeptical glances—as if trying to convince themselves they weren’t impressed. Some Omegas straightened, eyes wide with a mix of admiration and disbelief. Others, Betas included, simply watched, unable to look away, their expressions unreadable.

But none of them mattered. Not to you. Not to him.

Sunghoon’s grip on you remained firm, and even as the weight of the room threatened to crush you—even as the world outside of this moment blurred into nothing but an afterthought—one thing became blindingly clear.

You weren’t walking behind him. You weren’t trailing after him, waiting for him to decide when to let go.

No, you were right there, beside him. Right where he wanted you to be. And for the first time in a long, long time, you weren’t afraid to be seen.

Sunghoon shot a smirk over his shoulder before tugging you even closer, his grip on your waist effortlessly firm. Your hands barely had time to react before his fingers slipped from yours—only to be replaced by the steady warmth of his palm pressing against the curve of your hip.

The moment you reached their designated table, all conversation died. The six boys stared, mouths slightly open, like they had collectively short-circuited.

“What the fuck?”

The words came from Sunoo, cutting through the silence. He blinked once. Twice. Then leaned back in his chair, hand over his chest like he had just witnessed a crime.

For a second, nobody spoke. Then, slowly, as if processing what he had just seen, Sunoo exhaled and shook his head in mock devastation.

“I feel like a proud dad,” he said, voice thick with fake emotion. “My boy finally grew a pair.”

Jake choked on his drink. Jay slapped the table. Ni-ki let out an actual wheeze, gripping his stomach like he physically couldn’t handle it.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon just sighed, clearly regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

“Shut up,” he muttered, shoving Sunoo’s chair with his foot.

“Oh no, no, no,” Sunoo replied, shaking his head. “You don’t get to shut me up after making us sit through weeks of your bullshit. You brooded for so long.”

“You were insufferable,” Heeseung chimed in, still recovering from his initial shock.

“Actually unbearable,” Jake added.

Ni-ki snickered, nudging Jungwon. “Tell me I’m lying.”

Jungwon exhaled through his nose and pinched the bridge of it, like he was physically restraining himself from joining in. Instead, he turned to you.

“I respect you so much,” he said seriously, nodding. “For putting up with this.”

You smiled awkwardly at first, not really sure what to say. But then you caught the way they all looked at you—not like a stranger, not even like someone new. No, they knew you. Maybe not personally, but definitely through him.

Sunghoon had been avoiding his feelings, but he hadn't been quiet about them, either.

“I wouldn’t say patient,” you admitted, finally finding your words. “I just… didn’t want to force anything.”

Jay clicked his tongue, shooting Sunghoon a look. “You’re lucky she even gave you that chance, man.”

Jake leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You do realize you can’t run forever, right?”

Sunghoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I wasn’t running.”

“Bro, you practically had track shoes on,” Ni-ki deadpanned.

Heeseung smirked. “But at least you were smart enough to stop and follow.”

Just as Sunghoon was about to retort, a flurry of movement caught everyone’s attention.

Across the room, Sunghoon’s sister, along with Heeseung’s mate and Jungwon’s mate, almost ran over to you, practically shoving through the crowd. Sunghoon barely had time to react before his sister skidded to a stop in front of the table, eyes blown wide.

“When did this happen?!” she demanded, breathless.

You blinked. “Uh… a few minutes ago?”

A sharp gasp.

“Oh my god,” Heeseung’s mate clutched his arm, her face pale as if she might actually pass out.

Heeseung sighed and started fanning her with his hand. “Breathe, babe. Breathe. You knew this would happen eventually.”

“Did I? Did I really?” she shot back, eyes still locked on you and Sunghoon like she was watching the finale of a long-running drama.

Jungwon’s mate wasn’t any better. She was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, excitement thrumming through her whole body. Jungwon, ever the responsible one, subtly reached over and stole her champagne glass before she could drop it.

“This is insane,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Like, historical. I need a moment.”

But while that mess was happening, Sunghoon’s sister was not celebrating the way the others were. No, she was glaring directly at Sunghoon, hands on her hips, looking like she was about to throw hands.

“You—” she started, voice rising.

Before she could even think about launching herself at her brother, Sunoo—who, unfortunately for Sunghoon, also happened to be her mate—stood up and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back.

“Alright, alright, let’s not start a scene, love,” he said smoothly, voice light but firm.

She squirmed against his hold. “I just want to talk to him—”

“Liar,” Sunoo deadpanned.

“Park Sunghoon, you forced the poor omega to accept you as your mate, didn’t you?” she accused, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Sunghoon blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah! You probably made (Y/N) feel like she had to accept you just because you’re all high and mighty—”

Sunoo sighed and pulled her back against his chest, locking both arms around her now. “Hoon, just let her get it out of her system. She’s been waiting for this day for too long.”

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head. “I actually said yes willingly, if that helps.”

Sunghoon’s sister froze. “You did? Like… willingly-willingly?”

“Willingly-willingly,” you confirmed, amused.

She blinked. Then sighed dramatically, leaning into Sunoo’s hold. “Well… okay. But if he screws this up, I will come for him.”

“Noted,” Sunghoon muttered.

Sunoo patted her head like she was an over-excited puppy. “There, there. You’ll survive this.”

Sunoo shot Sunghoon a smirk over her shoulder. “But man, you’re never living this down.”

Sunghoon groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Jay grinned, raising his glass. “Love you too, man.”

Sunghoon let out another sigh, but despite his grumbling, his hold on you was steady as he guided you toward an empty seat.

With ease, he pulled the chair out for you and waited until you sat down before moving to adjust the trail of your gown, making sure it was neatly tucked away so no one—especially him—would step on it.

The entire table had fallen eerily quiet.

It wasn’t an awkward silence. It was the kind of silence that felt like everyone was holding their breath, watching something unfold before them in real time, something they never thought they’d actually witness.

Even as Sunghoon straightened up, his focus remained on you. His eyes scanned your face with the same attention he always gave to important things, searching for anything he might’ve missed.

Apparently, he had missed something.

Without a word, he reached out, the pad of his thumb brushing against the edge of your eye, carefully swiping away the faintest smudge of mascara that had escaped his first attempt.

Your breath hitched.

But the Alpha wasn’t done.

Satisfied with his work, his fingers barely hesitated before they moved to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his knuckles graze your cheek ever so slightly. The touch was brief, but it was enough to send a wave of heat rushing to your face.

You swallowed, pulse slightly unsteady, but managed to send him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Sunghoon hummed in acknowledgment, seemingly unaffected by the entire exchange as he finally settled into his own seat.

He exhaled, relaxed for the first time that night, before slinging an arm around the back of your chair—or maybe it was your waist, you weren’t even sure anymore. His fingers brushed against your side absentmindedly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet, the silence remained.

It was as if the group wanted to soak it in, to relish what they had just witnessed before fully reacting.

“I know they’re fated mates and all that,” Ni-ki mumbled, voice tinged with disbelief. “But this is shocking.”

“Right?” Jay breathed out.

“I never thought I’d live to see Sunghoon be so…” Jake trailed off, gesturing vaguely in Sunghoon’s direction.

“Domestic?” Heeseung guessed.

“Whipped,” Sunoo corrected.

Sunghoon let out a long, suffering sigh, tilting his head back against his chair. “Can you all just shut up?”

“Fuck no,” Sunoo said, smirking. “We’re never shutting up about this.”

Jake lifted his glass in mock toast. “To Sunghoon, for finally pulling his head out of his ass.”

Ni-ki followed suit, raising his drink with a grin. “To (Y/N) for somehow handling his brooding for weeks and still willingly agreeing to be his mate.”

Sunghoon groaned, muttering curses under his breath, but his arm around you didn't move.

As the evening stretched on, your table of eleven had finally started to settle. The once chaotic energy mellowed into something softer—comfortable, easy.

Some of the boys were a little tipsy, their words slurring as they tried to argue over something completely irrelevant. Others remained to themselves, quietly nursing their drinks, letting the night wind down at its own pace.

But Sunghoon? Sunghoon was right beside you.

His arm had never left your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric of your gown as if he needed the reminder that this was real. His other hand was laced with yours, his grip firm.

He held you like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon. And the scent—his scent, coffee and leather tinged with a lingering warmth—wrapped around you, mixing with your own like they belonged together.

You let yourself relax, melting into his hold as the voices around you became distant background noise. Sunghoon exhaled softly, shifting just a bit so he could rest his chin against the side of your head. It wasn’t something anyone else would really notice, but you did. You noticed the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, the way his heartbeat was steady and slow against your back.

The rest of the table was lost in their own little worlds, some caught in their own quiet moments with their mates, others too caught up in conversation to pay attention.

Heeseung sat comfortably with his mate curled up against him, her head resting against his shoulder as he absentmindedly played with her fingers, their hands intertwined.

Jungwon was just as affectionate, his mate tucked against his side as he nursed a drink in his free hand. Unlike Heeseung, whose touches were slow and casual, Jungwon was openly doting, reaching up every so often to tuck a stray hair behind her ear or brush a kiss against her temple.

Sunoo, of course, was a little more dramatic with his affection. His mate—Sunghoon’s sister—had been sulking in his arms for the past several hours, still processing the events of the night. He cradled her easily, stroking a soothing hand over her hair as she grumbled into his chest.

“I just wasn’t prepared, okay?” she whined, her voice muffled. “This all happened so fast.”

Sunoo hummed, ever patient.

“You don’t understand.”

“I do, though.”

“No, you don’t.”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Fine, you win. I don’t.”

Meanwhile, Ni-ki was watching everything unfold like it was his own personal drama series. His eyes darted between all the couples, mouth slightly open in exaggerated disbelief. “Damn couples,” he muttered, half to himself, half to Jake, who only chuckled.

Sunghoon straightened, rolling his eyes. “Can I have a moment?”

“No,” Sunoo deadpanned, still holding Sunghoon’s sister against his chest. “You wasted weeks brooding. This is our moment too.”

Jake let out a loud laugh. “Yeah, man, we had to sit through so much.”

“I still have secondhand trauma,” Heeseung added.

Jungwon stole the champagne glass from his mate’s hand as he nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, you just buried your face in your free hand, overwhelmed but undeniably warm inside. But before you could even fully process it, you felt his eyes on you, watching the way you tried to hide your flustered expression.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and before you could react, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just for you. “You better get used to this,” he murmured, “because you’re gonna hear a lot more of this for a very long time.”

A very long time.

Forever felt like such a long time, but maybe it was worth it when you finally had your Alpha within arm’s reach.

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© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don't hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[eeksburner]

To be loved is to be seen

Simon Riley x Wife!Reader Fluff/Smut (18+)

(The things you notice and remember about Simon after being together for so long)

My inbox is open for requests, comments, etc! (For the love of everything, please send something to my inbox)

Not proofread

TW: NSFW topics (Sex, P in V)

You have been with Simon for 5 years. You dated for 2 years (courted for even longer before he decided it was safe to love someone openly again) and have been married for 3 (you guys eloped pretty soon after he proposed). After being together for so long, you couldn't help but compile a list of all his quirks, preferences, and other little facts.

While he was very private and quiet with his affection for you in the beginning of your relationship, he has become much more open about it. Simon spent so much time keeping his emotions internal, that he was ready to let his love engulf you in the way he always wanted it to. He isn't a fan of major PDA, but he will keep a hand on you if possible.

He is so lovey-dovey. As mentioned above, he loves knowing he doesn't have to be secretive with his love, so he writes notes, does breakfast in bed, lets you do skincare on him, holds your hand proudly in public, and spoils you to no end.

Simon loves a sweet, milky tea. Don't let him lie to you. He likes 4 sugars and a heavy dose of cream or milk. It reminds him he isn't at work or in a shitty position where he can't enjoy a sweet treat. It's the epitome of indulgence to him. Simon loves a sweet tea from his sweet wife.

Not just with tea, but he has a sweet tooth for everything. He just can't stop himself when you make a fresh batch of sweets or pass by a bakery. He can't stand spicy food, though. If it's well seasoned, that's one thing, but if it's spicier than his favorite salsa/hot sauce, he won't enjoy it nearly as much. Of course, he knows there are worse things, so he will eat without complaint regardless of where you are, but you know when you see his neck starting to flush that it's too hot for him. He just doesn't see the joy in hurting both his tongue and ass for some food.

He is so incredibly polite. Some people like to confuse blunt or straightforward with rude and cold, but that's not right. Simon always says "Please", "Thank you", "Sir", and "Ma'am". He doesn't understand why you would be rude to someone for no reason. Simon also always leaves a nice tip for servers, etc. Dealing with people all day long would kill his social battery, so he leaves them a little extra for their brave choice to deal with the public.

Simon has such a nice physique, but it takes quite a bit to maintain. He doesn't want to miss out on any time with you, so he will go super early in the morning when you're still sleeping at home. He doesn't like working out in front of people if he can help it. He usually lets his guard down when he's focusing on form or straining to finish his last set of 250lb bench presses. He showers and is back in bed for cuddles before you even start to stir awake.

He loves animals. They remind him that goodness and innocence still exist in the world. While he may be embarrassed being seen with a small doggy in his arms, he will still love and spoil them to no end. Doing even get him started on cats. He will just sit in the same room as one and feel so understood. Reptiles, fish, etc. he loves them all.

Simon likes a rare steak. He doesn't like it cooked any more than that, but he will suddenly love medium if it's what you made. (He calls it shoe leather if overcooked anywhere else)

He has such nice teeth. Despite the stereotypes around British people and having bad teeth, Simon's are naturally pretty straight. He uses floss and mouthwash as well as a whitening toothpaste.

He will do whatever accent you have (if it's different than yours) just to see you giggle.

Simon added your birth month flower into his arm sleeve. The one sweet thing that's permanently on his body and it's dedicated to you.

He loves taking baths both with and without you. They relax his muscles in a way that showers can't. Having such a big, heavy body means gravity isn't on your side, so when he can have some relief in the tub, he's a happy man.

NSFW BELOW: If you are under 18 please scroll :)

Simon can be rough, but he prefers not to be. You're his sweet little thing, why would he want to put you in a position that is anything but comforting and full of love? Sure, if you're into the more kinky stuff, he will gladly oblige, but he may not do anything that includes intense degradation.

He prefers to be praised and loved on rather than humiliated or degraded. Simon has endured enough of that growing up and in his job. He loves your gentle touches and sweet kisses, so different than what he normally experiences.

Simon cums so much. It's an obscene amount every time he cums. He will also go multiple rounds if you let him. Being away for so long means having several fantasies he wants to play out. You guys have long abandoned getting new sheets after they're stained with your love.

He is pretty insecure about his body. His scars, his proportions, anything really. Simon loves it when you reassure him and make him feel loved down to the bone. He even still blushes when he's getting undressed and your hungry eyes are eating him up.

His favorite position is sitting up with you riding him. Hugging you while you grind and bounce on his cock is heaven. He can see the pretty faces you make and see your tits jiggle, too. It's one of the best positions to get you to cum quick, which is always his goal. He would never deprive you of a quick release.

His cum tastes good. He eats pretty clean (and eats some extra things to make it taste good for you), so you never mind giving him a quick blowie to ease some tension

He is a munch. He loves to feel your thighs fight against his hands as they quake and shiver from the use of his tongue on your pussy. You'll hear how sloppy he's being and the moans he's letting out as he humps the bed. It's such a turn-on for him, he can't help it.

Simon is vocal in bed. Why be quiet when you can be loud and tell everyone how good your partner is being. Whines, whimpers, moans, cursing, you name it. He knows how much you love hearing him, so he does nothing to hide his noises of pleasure.

If you liked this, please send some more suggestions and Simon quirks to my inbox so I can continue this list!

[callsigns-haze]

-ˋˏ The week it all went south ˎˊ-

Part 2

Part 1 here

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

Azriel has the perfect life. You as his wife. Kaia as his daughter. But him and the boys are stupid enough to challenge you for a week and then his perfect life might simply...disappear

Warning: FUTURE ANGST, mentions of past lovers, mentions of sex, cursing, kissing, mentions of injured child, drinking.

Word count: 27k

The cabin was cozy, nestled in the heart of the mountains, surrounded by towering pines and a blanket of soft snow that had recently fallen. The scent of wood and fresh air filled the space as the door swung open, and the sounds of excited footsteps echoed in the large entryway.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand stepped inside first, each of them carrying bags and supplies for the week ahead. Behind them came Nyx, Kaia perched on his back as he carried her effortlessly, while Cassian’s three boys, Torran, Emrus, and Calen, rushed in, their laughter and energy filling the cabin.

“Okay, okay, settle down,” Cassian said, his voice carrying a playful authority as he followed them inside. His eyes scanned the room, making sure nothing was out of place for the kids. “Nyx, put Kaia down—let her run around. Emrus, don’t touch that,” he added, reaching out to grab Emrus’s hand as he tried to explore one of the stone fireplaces.

Azriel was right behind them, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. His shadows moved around him like a second skin, guiding him to the far corner where he noticed a small table with some leftover supplies from the previous tenants. He set Kaia down on the floor, watching her immediately start fluttering her wings in excitement.

“Go ahead, Kaia. You can explore,” Azriel said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he crouched down next to her. Kaia, always quick to absorb everything around her, toddled off eagerly, her little wings fluttering behind her.

Rhysand and Nyx were the last to step through the door. Nyx had an amused look on his face, though there was a touch of apprehension behind his eyes as he let Kaia go to explore. His gaze met Rhysand’s for a moment, and a silent understanding passed between them. Rhysand gave a small smile before reaching down to ruffle Nyx’s hair affectionately.

“Looks like we’re all here,” Rhysand said, giving the room a sweep with his violet gaze. “It’s a good thing we got here early—plenty of time to get settled in before the chaos begins.”

Nyx chuckled, rolling his eyes as he turned to follow Kaia, who had already found a spot by the window to observe the falling snow. “This week’s going to be a mess,” he muttered, but there was a smile in his voice as he watched his little cousin.

Cassian glanced over at the group of kids, who were already finding ways to entertain themselves in the cabin. His sons were exploring the open space, trying to figure out the best spots to play. “Alright, boys,” Cassian called out. “This place might be ours for the week, but let’s remember there are rules. And that means no breaking anything.”

Emrus grinned at his father. “You can’t stop us, Dad!”

“Watch me,” Cassian teased, giving him a playful shove.

Azriel watched them interact with an affectionate smile, his shadows swirling around him in a comforting embrace. There was a comfort here, even in the midst of the chaos. For the first time in a long time, he felt at ease, his family together and safe, away from the pressures and expectations of the Night Court.

“Alright, let’s unpack and get settled,” Azriel said to the others, standing tall again. “We’ve got a week to enjoy this place. Let’s make it count.”

Kaia, having moved over to a chair in the corner, suddenly turned around and let out an excited squeal. “Dada! Dada!” she called, her voice filled with joy. “I see snow!”

Azriel smiled warmly, his heart swelling at the sound of her happiness. He moved over to her, kneeling down beside her to look out the window. “I see it too, sweetheart. We’ll go play in it later.”

Azriel stood up from the window, his eyes scanning the room as he noticed Kaia tugging at the hem of his tunic, looking up at him with her bright, eager eyes. A soft smile curved his lips as he bent down to her level, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Ready to see your room, Kaia?” he asked, his voice gentle but filled with affection.

She nodded enthusiastically, her little wings fluttering behind her as she grinned up at him. “I wanna sleep with you, Dada!” she exclaimed in her sweet, toddler speech, her words still a little jumbled but full of intent.

Azriel’s heart softened at the sound of her words, and he held out his hand for her to take. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go see where we’ll be sleeping for the week.”

Kaia’s tiny hand gripped his fingers as he led her through the cabin, past the large living area and toward the hallway. The wood floors creaked softly underfoot as they walked, the warmth of the fire crackling in the background. Azriel could hear the sounds of the kids still exploring the other rooms, but his focus was entirely on Kaia.

As they reached the door to the room they’d be staying in, Azriel pushed it open with a soft creak, revealing a cozy space with a large, comfortable bed. A fluffy comforter in shades of deep blue and silver covered the mattress, and soft light filtered through the window, casting a peaceful glow across the room.

Kaia’s eyes widened as she stepped inside, looking around the room in wonder. “So pwwetty, Dada!” she exclaimed, her wings fluttering in excitement.

Azriel chuckled softly as he watched her take in the space. “I’m glad you like it, Kaia. This will be our room for the week.”

He guided her over to the bed, helping her climb up onto it. She immediately flopped down, her small body sinking into the softness of the blankets. Azriel followed, sitting beside her, his wings brushing the fabric of the bedding as he settled in.

Kaia rolled onto her back, her little hands resting on her chest as she stared up at the ceiling. “Dada, we pway in the snow now?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

Azriel chuckled, brushing a hand through her hair. “Soon, sweetie. We’ll go out there and play, but first, we need to get settled and rest a bit.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You can nap here for a little while, and when you wake up, we’ll go outside together.”

Kaia’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, her soft breathing steadying as she relaxed into the bed. Azriel sat quietly beside her, his gaze lingering on her peaceful face. This, he thought, was the calm he needed—the precious moments of stillness before the chaos of the week began. The weight of the world could wait a little longer.

Nyx burst through the door, eyes wide and his face flushed from running. His breath came in quick gasps as he skidded to a stop just inside the room. His messy hair was wild, and he had that familiar look of someone who had been running away from something—more specifically, from someone.

“Close the door, Azriel!” Nyx shouted, glancing over his shoulder. His 13-year-old face was a mix of exasperation and amusement. “They’re coming!”

Azriel barely had time to react before Nyx rushed forward and made a beeline for the bed, practically diving under the blankets next to Kaia. Kaia, who had been resting quietly, sat up with wide eyes, looking over at her cousin in surprise.

Azriel, trying not to laugh at the sight of Nyx huddled next to his daughter as if he were some secret agent on the run, quickly moved toward the door. Just as he shut it, the sound of loud, excited footsteps could be heard in the hallway, followed by the unmistakable voices of Cassian’s sons calling after Nyx.

“Nyx! Where’d you go? We’ll find you!” Torran’s voice rang out, followed by Emrus and Calen shouting in a chorus.

Azriel grinned, shaking his head. “What did you do to deserve that?” he asked Nyx, who had now curled up under the blanket next to Kaia, trying to hide as much of himself as he could.

Nyx poked his head out from beneath the covers, his eyes darting to the door. “They’re relentless,” he muttered with a smirk. “They wanted me to show them how to use the dagger I found, but they’re way too reckless. I told them I’d rather live.”

Azriel chuckled, ruffling Nyx’s hair as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I told you they’d be trouble. But I didn’t expect you to be the one running from them.”

Kaia giggled at the sight of her older cousin hiding, her wings fluttering a little in her excitement. “Nyxie funny!” she said, her voice high-pitched with joy.

Nyx gave a half-smile in return, his cheeks still flushed from his sprint. “You’re one to talk, Kaia. I think you’re the one who’s funny.” He stuck his tongue out at her, and Kaia giggled, reaching out to tug on the corner of his sleeve.

Azriel shook his head with a quiet laugh, glancing toward the door as he heard the footsteps grow quieter. “Looks like they’ve given up for now,” he said with a chuckle. “You might be safe for a little while, Nyx.”

“Good,” Nyx replied, settling back into the blankets next to Kaia, who had now decided to snuggle close to him. “I think I’ll stay here until they forget what they were chasing me for.”

-----

The sun hung high in the Day Court sky, its warmth streaming through the open terrace where you, Feyre, and Nesta lounged comfortably. You were settled on plush chairs, a pitcher of sparkling wine and three glasses between you. The scent of citrus and sea salt drifted on the breeze, blending perfectly with the laughter that filled the space.

Feyre leaned forward, her gaze sharp with curiosity as she swirled her drink. “Alright, I can’t take it anymore. You’re going to have to tell us about Eris.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk as she tilted her head at you. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten, sister. You casually drop that you’ve slept with Eris, Lucien, and Tarquin, and expect us not to demand details?”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair as you looked between them. Their relentless pestering had started the moment you mentioned it yesterday, and it didn’t look like they’d let up anytime soon.

“Alright, fine,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “If you must know, Eris was my first.”

Feyre���s jaw dropped, her glass clinking against the table as she set it down quickly. “Eris?” she repeated, her voice somewhere between shock and disbelief. “The Eris Vanserra? High Lord of the Autumn Court, lord of insufferable arrogance?”

Nesta, on the other hand, let out a soft laugh, her cool demeanour masking the intrigue in her eyes. “I’m not surprised,” she said smoothly. “He has a certain… flair about him.”

You rolled your eyes at Feyre’s reaction, taking a sip of your drink before answering. “Yes, Eris. And he wasn’t as arrogant then as he is now. We were both young. He was charming, and I was… curious.”

Feyre shook her head as if trying to process the information. “I’m sorry, but you need to elaborate. How did that even happen?”

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table, a small smile tugging at your lips as you recalled the memory. “It was centuries ago, long before the War. I was still finding my place in the Night Court, and Eris… well, he was already the future High Lord of the Autumn Court. He came to the court of nightmares with his father on some diplomatic nonsense. I was introduced as Rhysand’s sister, and Eris… he was bold.”

Nesta’s brow arched. “Bold how?”

You smirked, swirling the wine in your glass. “He cornered me at a party. Told me I was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen and asked me to dance. One thing led to another, and we ended up spending the rest of the night together.”

Feyre groaned, placing her head in her hands. “This is too much.”

Nesta chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. “Sounds like Eris knew what he wanted.”

You nodded, your smile softening. “He did. And despite what he’s become, back then, he wasn’t so bad. We parted ways amicably, and that was that.”

Feyre peeked at you from between her fingers. “And you just… never told us? Not even when we were dealing with him during the whole alliance mess?”

“Well,” you said, shrugging, “it didn’t seem relevant. And besides, you two are in your thirties. I’m over five hundred years old. You didn’t exactly ask for my full romantic history.”

Nesta scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “And yet here we are, prying it out of you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her response. “Alright, alright. For the record, yes, I’ve slept with more than just Azriel. Eris, Lucien, Tarquin—”

“Tarquin too?” Feyre interrupted, her voice an octave higher.

You nodded with a sly grin. “He was sweet, actually. Very attentive.”

Nesta exchanged a wide-eyed look with Feyre before turning back to you. “You’ve certainly had an interesting history.”

You raised your glass in a mock toast. “I’ve lived a long life. And every mistake, every fling, every relationship has led me to where I am now.”

Feyre shook her head, lifting her own glass. “I still can’t believe Eris.”

Nesta smirked, raising her glass as well. “To Eris, Tarquin, Lucien, and whoever else we haven’t uncovered yet.”

Feyre leaned forward in her chair, her gaze sharp with curiosity, the sunlight catching the mischievous glint in her eyes. "Alright, since we’re getting the full history… Helion. Twice, he said?"

Nesta arched a brow, her lips twitching as though she was trying not to smirk. "And he’s the truth-teller, so we know it’s true. Twice. What’s the story there?"

You groaned, leaning back against the plush cushions of the Day Court lounge. The scent of jasmine and citrus hung in the air, blending with the warmth of the midday sun. You sipped your wine slowly, stalling as Feyre and Nesta exchanged expectant glances.

"You two are relentless," you muttered, shaking your head. "Fine. Yes, Helion and I… had our moments. Twice."

Nesta tilted her head, a sly smile spreading across her face. "And what exactly sparked those moments?"

You set your glass down, resting your elbows on your knees as you smirked. "It was centuries ago—long before Rhysand being High lord so soon was even a thought in the Night Court's plans. Helion was young, charming, and absolutely insufferable. He loved to flirt, and I… well, I liked the attention."

Feyre snorted. "Sounds like him."

You chuckled. "The first time was during a diplomatic visit to the Day Court. We’d been dancing at one of their endless celebrations, and one thing led to another. He was persistent, and I was curious."

"And the second time?" Nesta asked, her tone neutral but her eyes gleaming with intrigue.

You sighed, tilting your head back as you remembered. "That was years later. I visited the Day Court to broker a trade agreement. Helion was even more insufferable by then, but gods, he knew how to get under my skin. He flirted shamelessly, practically challenged me to resist him. I didn’t."

Feyre leaned back in her chair, looking torn between amusement and disbelief. "So, twice. And neither time it became anything serious?"

You shook your head. "It was never serious. Helion and I were… friends, in a way. We enjoyed each other’s company, and that was that. No strings, no expectations."

Nesta tapped her fingers against the rim of her glass, her voice dry. "Well, at least we know why he called you the ‘loss of his life.’"

You laughed, raising your glass to her. "Helion’s dramatic. Always has been. But he’s a good male, and we’ve remained on friendly terms ever since."

Feyre narrowed her eyes playfully. "And you just forgot to mention this to us before?"

"Forgot? No," you replied with a grin. "I just didn’t think it was relevant. My past is… well, it’s my past. I’ve lived a long life, and I didn’t think you’d want to hear about all of it."

"Clearly, we do," Nesta quipped, her smirk widening.

Feyre leaned forward again, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright, and who was better—Helion or Eris?"

You burst out laughing, shaking your head as you lifted your glass. "That’s a secret I’ll take to my grave."

Nesta groaned in mock frustration. "You’re impossible."

"Am I?" you teased, grinning at both of them. "Or am I just keeping some mystery alive?"

The sun shifted lazily across the sky, casting golden hues over the Day Court’s sprawling terrace as you, Feyre, and Nesta lounged in your seats, the pitcher of wine now half-empty. The laughter and teasing had yet to cease since you admitted to your history with Helion, and your sisters seemed more determined than ever to get every last detail out of you.

Feyre leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her face a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I’m just saying, I don’t know why you won’t answer. We’ve been at this for hours. You slept with Helion twice. It’s not like we’re asking you to write a ballad about it."

Nesta, sitting across from you, swirled her wine with an exaggerated air of patience. "Exactly. All we’re asking for is a comparison. Was he better than Eris? Worse? Or maybe somewhere in between?"

You groaned, throwing your head back against the plush cushions of your chair. "You two are ridiculous. Why does it even matter?"

"It matters," Feyre said firmly, pointing at you with a grin, "because you’re our sister, and you’ve been holding out on us. Centuries of experience, and you’re just now letting us in on the good parts."

Nesta smirked. "You’ve lived five hundred years longer than us. The least you can do is share some wisdom. Especially if it involves Helion and Eris. And Tarquin."

You shot her a mock glare. "I am not giving you a ranking, Nesta."

She raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips tugging upward. "Who said anything about a ranking? Although, now that you mention it—"

"Nesta," you groaned, cutting her off as Feyre snorted into her wineglass.

Feyre set her drink down, her face alight with mischief. "You know what’s killing me? The fact that Helion said it himself. Twice. Twice means something. Was it because the first time wasn’t good enough? Or was it so good you couldn’t resist a second time?"

"Feyre," you said, your voice exasperated but tinged with laughter, "you’re impossible."

Nesta crossed her legs, her sharp gaze fixed on you. "Don’t change the subject. What I want to know is if it was Helion’s charm or his… skills that made you go back for round two."

"Gods," you muttered, covering your face with your hands as they dissolved into laughter.

"Come on," Feyre coaxed, leaning closer, her eyes bright. "We’re your sisters. You can tell us. Was it the muscles? The golden glow? Or did he just talk his way into your bed again?"

"Both of you need to stop," you said, though the smile pulling at your lips betrayed your exasperation.

Nesta’s smirk widened. "We’re not stopping until we get answers. You’ve been teasing us all day."

"And what exactly do you want me to say?" you shot back, laughing despite yourself. "That Helion is charming? Fine, he’s charming. That he’s skilled? Fine, he’s skilled. Happy now?"

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a look, then simultaneously shook their heads.

"Not even close," Feyre said.

"We want details," Nesta added.

You groaned again, reaching for your wineglass as Feyre and Nesta started tossing out theories and questions, their determination unyielding. Hours had passed, and yet they showed no signs of letting up.

You could only laugh, raising your glass in mock surrender. "You two are relentless. Absolutely relentless."

"And you love us for it," Feyre teased, her grin wicked.

Feyre, her cheeks flushed from the wine, leaned forward with an impish grin. "Alright, alright. Let’s simplify this. Who was the best? Helion, Eris, or Tarquin?"

Nesta smirked, sipping from her glass like she had all the time in the world. "Yes, let’s settle this once and for all. You have to pick one."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your temples. "Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated by the Inner Circle’s most dangerous duo?"

"Because you are," Feyre said cheerfully.

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her expression cool but her eyes sparkling. "And don’t think you can distract us. We’ve waited centuries to hear this gossip. We deserve answers."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to think of a way out of this. "I’m not ranking them. That’s final."

"Fine," Feyre said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Then just tell us who surprised you the most."

You blinked at her, caught off guard. "Surprised me?"

Nesta tilted her head thoughtfully. "That’s actually a good question. Who was different than you expected?"

You considered this for a moment, swirling the wine in your glass. "Well… if I had to pick someone, I’d say Eris."

Feyre’s eyes widened, and Nesta leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "Why Eris?" Feyre asked.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Because despite all his arrogance and fire, he was surprisingly gentle. He could be soft when he wanted to be, which wasn’t often, but it was enough to catch me off guard."

Nesta looked impressed. "That is surprising. I wouldn’t have guessed that about him."

Feyre rested her chin in her hand, a dreamy look on her face. "I can actually see it. He’s all rough edges on the outside, but maybe there’s something softer underneath."

"Don’t let him hear you say that," you said with a laugh. "He’d deny it until his dying breath."

"And Helion?" Nesta pressed, not letting you off the hook.

You sighed again, shaking your head with a small smile. "Helion is exactly who you think he is. Charming, confident, and very, very good at what he does."

Feyre fanned herself dramatically, laughing. "You’re not making this any easier for us, you know."

"And Tarquin?" Nesta asked, her tone even but her smirk giving her away.

Your smile softened. "Tarquin was sweet. Gentle, almost shy at times. But there was a strength to him too, a quiet confidence. He was… different."

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a look, then turned back to you with matching grins.

"Well?" Nesta said. "We still haven’t gotten a clear answer."

You threw up your hands in exasperation. "Because there isn’t one! They were all different, alright? Can we move on now? I've chose my husband, is that not enough!"

Feyre snorted, shaking her head. "Not a chance."

Nesta raised her glass, her smirk widening. "You’re stuck with us, sister. Might as well spill everything."

Helion strolled into the room with his usual air of confidence, his golden robes shimmering in the fading sunlight. His grin widened as he took in the three of you lounging with wine, clearly enjoying yourselves.

"Ah," he said, spreading his arms theatrically, "the beauties of the Night Court, still gracing my halls. What trouble have you been causing in my absence?"

Before you could say a word, Feyre and Nesta pounced.

"Helion!" Feyre exclaimed, her tone filled with mock scandal. "How did you manage to sleep with her twice?"

Nesta smirked, tilting her head as she added, "We’ve been trying to get answers out of her for hours, but she’s being terribly uncooperative. Care to enlighten us?"

Helion froze for a fraction of a second, then threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and full. "Ah, so she’s finally told you about our little… history." His amber eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked at you. "And here I thought that was our secret."

You groaned, sinking deeper into your chair. "I’m going to kill both of you," you muttered, glaring at your sisters.

Feyre ignored you, her grin as wide as ever. "Come on, Helion. We’re dying to know. Twice? What did you do to manage that?"

Helion sauntered over, pouring himself a glass of wine as if he had all the time in the world. He took a slow sip, savouring the moment, before leaning casually against the edge of the table.

"Well," he began, his voice smooth and teasing, "I’d like to think it was my charm, my wit, and, of course, my irresistible good looks."

Nesta rolled her eyes. "Be serious."

Helion chuckled, setting his glass down. "Alright, if you must know… it was persistence. Your sister wasn’t easy to win over. The first time took weeks of courting—dancing, poetry, gifts. I had to work for it."

Feyre’s eyes widened. "Dancing and poetry? Really?"

You groaned again, covering your face. "Helion, stop."

"Why should I?" he teased, his grin widening. "This is far too much fun."

"And the second time?" Nesta pressed, clearly enjoying this far too much.

Helion shrugged, his tone casual but his eyes glinting with amusement. "The second time… well, by then, she already knew what she’d be getting. I’d say it was mutual curiosity more than anything else. A moment of weakness on both our parts."

Feyre burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "I can’t believe this. You’re like an open book!"

Helion raised his glass in a mock toast. "A truth-teller, as they say. I have nothing to hide."

Nesta smirked, turning to you. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

You shot her a withering look. "I hate all of you."

Helion chuckled, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "Don’t be mad, my dear. It’s all in good fun."

Feyre and Nesta dissolved into laughter again, and you couldn’t help but join them, even as you plotted your revenge for the endless teasing. Helion, ever the showman, basked in the chaos he’d caused, clearly pleased with himself.

Nesta, never one to let an opportunity for drama pass, leaned forward with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Alright, Helion, since you’re such a truth-teller, did you know she’s also slept with Eris and Tarquin?"

Helion, mid-sip of his wine, froze. He lowered the glass slowly, his golden eyes snapping to you with an expression of exaggerated betrayal. "Eris and Tarquin?" He placed a hand over his heart, his voice mock-wounded. "You wound me, my darling. I thought I was the only High Lord you graced with your affections."

Feyre and Nesta howled with laughter, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Helion, don’t start."

But Helion, of course, ignored you entirely. "Eris, I can maybe understand. He has that sharp-edged allure, though I didn’t think you’d fall for his particular brand of arrogance." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "But Tarquin? I would have thought his gentle demeanour was too… tame for you."

Feyre leaned forward eagerly. "So, you didn’t know?"

Helion shook his head, his golden hair catching the sunlight. "Not a clue. This is news to me—and very entertaining news at that." He turned to you with a sly grin. "Darling, were you just collecting powerful men for your own amusement?"

"Apparently," Nesta said dryly, smirking at you.

You glared at all three of them, your cheeks heating. "You’re all impossible."

Helion laughed, clearly relishing the situation. "I feel like I should be offended, but honestly, I’m impressed. Eris, Tarquin, and me? That’s quite the trio. Did you have a checklist of traits you were trying to complete?"

Feyre nearly choked on her wine, laughing so hard tears streamed down her face. Nesta, trying to keep a straight face, asked, "Were they all… at different times, or was this some sort of power alliance you were building?"

"Gods," you groaned, sinking lower in your chair. "I’m leaving."

But Helion was grinning like a cat with cream, clearly enjoying every second of your discomfort. "Don’t leave now, darling. The best part of this story is just beginning."

Feyre leaned into Nesta, both of them giggling like conspirators. "You have to admit," Feyre said, "this might be the best thing we’ve ever learned about her."

"And the most entertaining," Helion agreed, raising his glass in a toast. "To our fiery Night Court beauty, who’s apparently been breaking hearts across Prythian for centuries."

You scowled at all of them but couldn’t suppress the small, begrudging smile tugging at your lips. "If you don’t stop, I swear I’ll tell Tarquin about the time you lost a bet to me, Helion."

That shut him up—momentarily, at least. Feyre and Nesta, however, were far from done, their teasing laughter following you long into the afternoon.

As the laughter finally began to settle, Feyre, still grinning, leaned forward with a curious glint in her eyes. "Alright, I have to know. With all these men in your past, how did you end up with Azriel in the end? What made him different?"

Before you could answer, Helion let out a booming laugh, nearly spilling his wine. He pointed at you with a playful smirk, shaking his head. "Ah, somehow, the beast won over the beauty."

You shot him a glare, but the corner of your lips betrayed the smallest twitch of a smile. "Helion, if you’re going to call him a beast, you should remember he has shadows that could very well find their way into your dreams."

"Let them," Helion said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Perhaps they’ll give me insight into how the brooding warrior managed to claim the heart of Prythian’s most elusive treasure."

Nesta snorted, her arms crossed. "Honestly, I’d like to hear this too. What did he do to make you settle down after centuries of… well, you know?"

Feyre leaned in closer, her curiosity unmistakable. "It’s true. I mean, Azriel of all people? Don’t get me wrong, he’s wonderful, but he’s so quiet, so restrained. I can’t picture him chasing after you."

You sighed, swirling the wine in your glass as a fond smile crept onto your face. "That’s the thing. He didn’t chase me. Azriel isn’t the type to play games or put on a show. He just… was himself. Steady, patient, kind. I think that’s what got me. After centuries of grand gestures and fleeting flings, he was the first to make me feel like I could truly rest. Like I didn’t have to be anything other than me."

Feyre’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That’s… actually really beautiful."

Nesta arched a brow. "So you’re saying it was the quiet, brooding patience that won you over?"

You chuckled. "Pretty much. That, and the fact that he’s maddeningly stubborn. He saw through all my walls and didn’t let me push him away, no matter how hard I tried."

Helion sighed dramatically, raising his glass again. "Well, I suppose I’ll allow it. If anyone deserves you, it’s that shadowsinger of yours. But don’t think I’m not still jealous."

"You’ll live," you teased, rolling your eyes at him.

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a glance, both of them smiling now. Feyre’s voice was soft when she spoke. "I’m glad you found someone like him. You deserve that kind of love."

You nodded, a warmth blooming in your chest. "I do too."

Helion groaned, breaking the tender moment with a laugh. "Alright, enough of this sweetness. Where’s the scandal? The chaos? Surely Azriel wasn’t perfect all the time."

You smirked, tilting your head. "Oh, he’s far from perfect, but that’s a story for another time."

Feyre and Nesta groaned in unison, but you just laughed, taking another sip of your wine. Some stories, after all, were meant to be kept between you and Azriel.

-----

Kaia was bundled under a blanket in the middle of the large bed, her tiny wings shifting slightly as she napped. Azriel sat at the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on Kaia’s back as if to shield her from even the idea of the world outside. The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the quiet room, her little face relaxed in the purest form of peace.

Nyx, sprawled in a chair by the window, watched her with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. "She sleeps like she owns the place," he murmured, his tone a little envious.

Azriel glanced at him, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "She does. At least in her mind."

Nyx chuckled but stayed where he was, resting his chin in his hand. "You’re lucky she’s so small. If she were my age, you’d have your hands full trying to keep her from taking over the entire cabin."

Azriel’s smile widened, his gaze returning to Kaia. "She already has me wrapped around her finger. I wouldn’t even try to stop her."

They lapsed into silence, the comfortable kind that settled naturally between them. Kaia’s wings twitched slightly as she shifted in her sleep, a tiny sigh escaping her lips. Azriel adjusted the blanket around her, his movements practiced and gentle.

The door creaked open, and Rhysand’s unmistakable presence filled the room. He leaned casually against the frame, his arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, there you are. I wondered where my son had gone."

Nyx glanced over his shoulder, his expression sheepish. "I’m not hiding. I’m… supervising."

Rhys raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Supervising? It looks more like lounging." His gaze shifted to Azriel, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. "And you, Azriel? You’ve recruited my son into your world of quiet brooding already?"

Azriel didn’t look up, his attention still on Kaia. "I’m teaching him patience. A skill you seem to lack."

Rhys chuckled, stepping fully into the room. He looked down at Kaia, his expression softening. "She really is a little marvel, isn’t she?"

"She is," Azriel replied quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Nyx stood, stretching lazily. "Well, if you’ve found me, I guess I’m free to go now."

Rhys gave him a pointed look. "Not so fast. If you’re leaving, you’re taking your cousins with you. They’ve been terrorizing Cassian since you vanished."

Nyx groaned but nodded, pausing to glance at Kaia one last time. "She’s lucky she’s a baby. No one’s expecting her to deal with any of this chaos."

Azriel smirked faintly, his shadows curling protectively around his daughter. "She’ll have her time. For now, this is enough."

Nyx rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, slipping past Rhys and out the door. Rhys lingered, his gaze settling on Azriel with a mix of amusement and fondness.

"You’re in deep, aren’t you?" Rhys said softly.

Azriel finally looked up, his golden eyes unwavering. "Deeper than I ever thought possible."

Rhys smiled, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Good. She deserves that."

With one last glance at Kaia, Rhys left, leaving Azriel alone once more with his sleeping daughter, his expression calm and utterly content.

As Kaia slept soundly, her tiny fists curled into the blanket, Azriel leaned back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on her. The room was quiet save for the soft rustle of her wings and the occasional creak of the cabin as the wind moved outside.

His thoughts, however, weren’t fully here. You had been gone with Feyre and Nesta for hours now, no doubt enjoying yourselves in the Day Court. He trusted you completely, but his mind always wandered when you weren’t within reach, especially with Helion around.

Azriel’s shadows stirred as if sensing his unease, curling lazily around his shoulders and wrists like smoke. He glanced at them, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Go," he murmured quietly. "Check on her."

The shadows seemed to ripple in acknowledgment before slipping from him, snaking out through the room and under the door, silent as always. He watched them disappear, his mind already imagining their path as they travelled across the cabin and beyond.

He shifted his focus back to Kaia, his fingers brushing over the edge of her blanket. She stirred briefly, one of her little wings fluttering, but then she settled again, a soft hum escaping her lips.

It didn’t take long before his shadows returned, curling around him with familiar ease. They brought back glimpses of your laughter, the sound of Feyre teasing Helion, and the faint scent of the Day Court’s jasmine-laden air.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" Azriel muttered to himself, a soft chuckle escaping him. Despite his love for you, he couldn't help the small pang of longing to have you here, even in the midst of his joy at knowing you were having fun.

Kaia shifted again, and Azriel leaned forward, adjusting her blanket before sitting back, his expression softening as his shadows whispered their findings to him. At least you were happy and safe, and for now, that was enough.

The peaceful quiet of the room was shattered as the door suddenly swung open with a loud creak, followed by Cassian’s booming voice.

"Az, have you seen where—"

Before he could finish, Kaia stirred, her little nose scrunching as she let out a soft whine. Azriel shot Cassian a glare sharp enough to cut steel, his shadows coiling tighter around him in warning.

"Cassian," Azriel hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Cassian froze mid-step, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he realized what he had done. "Oh, shit," he muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Kaia’s whine turned into a soft, drowsy cry as her eyes fluttered open, her tiny wings twitching beneath the blanket. "Dada," she murmured groggily, her voice thick with sleep.

Azriel immediately leaned forward, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "It’s okay, Kaia," he murmured, his voice soft and calming. "Dada’s here."

Kaia blinked up at him, her big hazel eyes—so much like his—glistening with half-formed tears. She reached out a small hand, her fingers clumsily clutching at his tunic. "Too loud," she mumbled, her toddler speech slurring slightly.

Azriel shot another pointed glare at Cassian, who was still frozen in the doorway. "You woke her up," Azriel said, his tone clipped.

Cassian had the decency to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t realize she was napping," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "Sorry, Kaia."

Kaia, however, wasn’t so easily placated. She turned her head toward Cassian, her little brows furrowed. "Cassy bad," she declared, her tiny voice firm despite the sleepiness clinging to it.

Cassian blinked, then burst out laughing. "Oh, come on, kid. Don’t sell me out like that!"

Azriel gently scooped Kaia into his arms, her small wings drooping as she nestled against his chest. "You brought this on yourself," he muttered, his tone dry.

Kaia, already calming in her father’s arms, shot Cassian one last pout before burying her face in Azriel’s tunic. "No loud," she mumbled, her voice muffled.

Cassian held up his hands again in surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’m the villain here."

Azriel sighed, rocking Kaia gently as she started to settle. "What do you need, Cassian?"

"Nothing that can’t wait," Cassian replied, stepping back toward the door with a sheepish grin. "I’ll let you get back to it. And, uh, sorry again, Kaia."

Kaia didn’t bother to respond, already drifting back into a doze against Azriel’s shoulder. Cassian gave a final wave before slipping out, closing the door much more quietly this time.

Azriel sighed, his shadows wrapping around him and Kaia protectively. "Troublemaker," he muttered, though whether he meant Cassian or his daughter, even he wasn’t sure.

Kaia shifted against Azriel’s chest, her little wings twitching under the blanket he had draped around her. She let out a soft, frustrated sigh, her tiny fists curling into his tunic as she blinked her wide hazel eyes up at him.

"Dada," she whispered, her voice barely louder than a breath, "no sweepy."

Azriel brushed a hand gently over her soft, dark curls, his expression softening. "You need to rest, Kaia," he murmured, rocking her slightly. "You’ve had a big day already."

She shook her head, her curls bouncing with the motion. "No sweepy," she insisted, her voice gaining a bit more strength. Her little hand tugged at his tunic, her pout forming as she looked up at him. "Cassy loud. Kaia wake."

Azriel sighed, his shadows curling lazily around them as if to create a cocoon of calm. "I know, love," he said softly. "But you’ll be tired later if you don’t sleep now."

Kaia wrinkled her nose, clearly unconvinced. "No sweep. Play?"

He smiled faintly, brushing a finger down her nose. "It’s not time to play, Kaia."

She huffed, her little wings fluttering in agitation as she shifted in his arms. "Kaia no tired," she declared, her tone bordering on stubborn.

Azriel chuckled under his breath, standing up from the bed with her in his arms. "Alright, let’s see if we can make you sleepy again."

He began pacing the room slowly, his movements deliberate and soothing. He hummed a low, calming tune, the same one he’d used to lull her to sleep since she was a newborn. Kaia rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes half-closing as the melody washed over her, but her little fingers still fidgeted with the edge of his tunic.

"Dada," she whispered after a moment, her voice softer now, "sing more?"

Azriel smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Of course, my star," he said, his voice gentle.

As he continued humming, Kaia’s breathing began to even out again, though her wings twitched every so often. Even as her eyelids grew heavier, she didn’t quite let herself drift off, as if determined to fight sleep as long as she could.

Azriel kept at it, patient as ever, holding her close and rocking her gently. Eventually, her small hand stilled, and her soft breaths fell into rhythm. He glanced down to see her eyes finally closed, her little body fully relaxed against his.

"Stubborn, just like your mother," he murmured with a fond smile, brushing another kiss to her forehead before settling her back onto the bed.

Azriel watched Kaia for a moment longer, ensuring she was completely settled. Her little wings lay still now, tucked neatly beneath the blanket, and her tiny hand rested loosely by her face. Her soft breaths filled the room, the kind of sound that brought a rare peace to Azriel’s ever-guarded heart.

Satisfied she was finally asleep, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, his shadows curling protectively around her as if to ensure no sound or disturbance would wake her this time. He straightened slowly, his steps deliberate and silent as he moved toward the door.

Azriel opened it just wide enough to slip through, closing it with a quiet click behind him. His sharp senses immediately attuned to the sounds of the cabin: faint laughter and the unmistakable hum of conversation coming from the main room where Cassian and Rhysand were.

He moved down the hallway with his usual grace, his boots making almost no sound on the wooden floor. His shadows lingered at the edges of the hall, stretching ahead of him as though scouting the way.

As he approached the room, Cassian’s boisterous laughter echoed, followed by Rhysand’s smoother, amused tone.

"You do realize that was entirely your fault," Rhys was saying, his voice carrying a hint of teasing.

Cassian’s retort was immediate. "How was I supposed to know she was napping? Az didn’t put up a sign."

Azriel stepped into the room, his expression calm but his gaze sharp. "You didn’t need a sign, Cassian. It’s common sense."

Cassian turned, his grin wide despite the reprimand. "Ah, the shadow master returns. Did you get your little princess back to sleep?"

Azriel moved to stand near the fireplace, his shadows flickering faintly in the firelight. "She’s asleep now. Don’t wake her again, or I’ll ensure you regret it."

Rhysand chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk. "Kaia has you wrapped tighter around her finger than I thought possible, brother."

Azriel shrugged, unbothered. "She’s two. What’s your excuse for Nyx?"

Rhys’s smirk widened, and Cassian let out a bark of laughter. "Touché," Cassian said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Azriel sighed, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. "What’s the status of the rest of the cabin? Any other disasters I need to know about?"

Cassian waved a hand dismissively. "The boys are fine—for now. Nyx is keeping them occupied."

"For how long?" Azriel asked dryly, his golden gaze shifting between them.

Rhysand grinned. "Long enough for us to enjoy the silence. Or what’s left of it, considering Cassian’s volume."

Cassian scoffed, throwing a cushion at Rhys, who dodged it with a laugh. Azriel shook his head, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his expression as he watched his brothers.

"Let’s just hope this calm lasts," he muttered, though deep down, he knew better.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall before Calen burst into the room, his face flushed with frustration. His dark hair was tousled, and his little wings fluttered in agitation as he stomped in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"Uncle Az! Uncle Rhys! Dad!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of a boy who had reached his limit.

Cassian immediately straightened, his grin widening as he turned toward his youngest. "What’s wrong, champ? You look like you’ve just fought a battle and lost."

Calen shot his father a glare, his small jaw set in defiance. "Torran and Emrus won’t stop bossing me around, and Nyx keeps telling me I’m too little to play the game!"

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, lounging back in his chair with a smirk. "What game is this, exactly?"

"Some stupid hide-and-seek game, but they keep making rules that don’t make sense!" Calen huffed, his wings flaring slightly as he planted his feet firmly on the ground. "And they won’t let me hide where I want!"

Azriel’s lips twitched as he exchanged a glance with Cassian. "Sounds like they’re trying to stack the odds in their favour," he said evenly, his shadows curling lazily around his shoulders.

Cassian laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Ah, Calen, you’ve got to be cleverer than that. Outsmart them! You’re the youngest—that’s your secret weapon. They’ll never see it coming."

Calen frowned, clearly unimpressed by the advice. "But they don’t listen to me," he muttered, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Rhysand tapped a finger against his chin, his violet eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, Calen, if you want to win, maybe you should team up with someone else. Divide and conquer."

Calen tilted his head, his young mind clearly working through the suggestion. "Like Kaia?"

Azriel, who had been watching quietly, arched an eyebrow. "Kaia is napping, Calen. And she’s not exactly old enough to strategize."

"But she’s sneaky," Calen insisted, his eyes lighting up with the beginnings of a plan. "She’s little, and she can hide really good!"

Cassian let out a hearty laugh, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. "Now that’s thinking like a true warrior! But maybe let Kaia sleep a bit longer before you recruit her to your cause."

Calen sighed dramatically, his wings drooping slightly. "Fine," he grumbled, though his mind was clearly still turning over ideas.

Azriel crouched down to Calen’s level, his golden eyes steady and calm. "You’ll figure it out, Calen. And if you really need help, come find me. I’m sure we can even the playing field."

The boy perked up at that, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Uncle Az."

"Anytime," Azriel replied, straightening again as Calen turned and marched back toward the hall, clearly ready to face his brothers and cousin once more.

As the door closed behind him, Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. "That one’s going to give them hell when he gets older."

Azriel simply shook his head, a faint smile lingering on his lips as his shadows whispered faintly around him. "Let’s just hope he doesn’t wake Kaia in the process."

The sound of measured footsteps approached the room, and moments later, Nyx leaned casually against the doorway, his expression a mix of amusement and mild panic. His dark hair was slightly mussed, and his eyes—the same striking shade as his mother’s—sparkled with mischief and just a hint of guilt.

"Uh, heads up," Nyx announced, crossing his arms and glancing between his father, Cassian, and Azriel. "There’s a broken vase on the second floor."

Rhysand’s brow lifted, his smirk fading as he sat up straighter. "A broken vase? Which vase, Nyx?"

Nyx hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "You know, the one mom really likes. The blue one with the gold pattern."

Cassian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You’ve got to be kidding me. That thing is practically an antique!"

Azriel’s gaze sharpened, his arms crossing over his chest. "How did it happen?"

Nyx shrugged, the picture of nonchalance, though the way he avoided direct eye contact betrayed his nerves. "Well, Torran and Emrus were throwing a ball, and Calen tried to catch it, but he tripped, and... smash."

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath. "And where were you in all this?"

"Supervising," Nyx replied quickly, though his sly grin faltered when his father gave him a pointed look.

"Supervising," Rhys repeated dryly. "And did it occur to you to stop them before they destroyed something your mother treasures?"

Nyx raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I tried! But you know how they are—they don’t listen to me half the time. Besides," he added with a smirk, "it’s kind of funny when you think about it."

Cassian let out a short laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough when Azriel shot him a warning glare.

"You do realize," Azriel said in his calm, deadly tone, "that not only is Feyre going to be furious, but Y/N will probably be even worse. You know how she feels about people not respecting the house."

Nyx grimaced, his playful demeanor faltering entirely. "Yeah, I figured. That’s why I’m warning you. I thought you might want to... I don’t know, soften the blow or something."

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, a weary sigh escaping him. "Nyx, you’re going to help clean it up, and then you’re going to explain to your mother and Y/N what happened. Understood?"

Nyx groaned, his shoulders slumping. "Do I have to? Can’t you just—"

"Understood?" Rhysand repeated, his tone firm.

"Yes, sir," Nyx mumbled, dragging his feet as he turned to leave. But just as he reached the doorway, he glanced back over his shoulder.

"Good luck with Mom and Aunt Y/N," he added with a sly grin. "I’m sure they’ll both be... understanding."

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving the three men in heavy silence.

Cassian was the first to break it, shaking his head with a rueful laugh. "This is why I always say we should have fewer breakable things in the house. Kids and antiques don’t mix."

"Maybe," Azriel muttered, his jaw tightening slightly, "but I doubt that’s going to help us right now."

Rhysand chuckled darkly, his violet eyes narrowing in amusement. "If Y/N and Feyre walk in before we figure out a plan, we’re doomed."

The trio made their way up to the second floor, their footsteps echoing faintly through the quiet hall. As they rounded the corner toward the room where the vase had once sat, the sight of shards scattered across the floor greeted them.

Cassian winced, crouching down to survey the damage. "Well, that’s... something," he muttered, examining the pieces of the vase. But his voice faltered as his gaze swept over the floor and landed on Emrus, who was crouched nearby, his hand pressed tightly against his side.

Azriel was the first to react, his expression hardening as he moved quickly toward the boy. "Emrus?"

The young boy flinched but didn't immediately pull his hand away. Blood trickled between his fingers, dark against the pale skin of his hand, and when he lifted his eyes to meet Azriel's, they were wide with fear.

"It... it’s not bad," Emrus stammered, though his voice wavered with pain. "I just... I didn’t mean to—"

Azriel gently pried Emrus’s hand away from his side, and a sharp intake of breath escaped him as he saw the small shard of ceramic lodged in Emrus’s palm. The cut was deep enough that the piece had embedded itself into the wound.

"How did this happen?" Azriel asked, his voice low and controlled, though there was a clear edge of concern.

Emrus swallowed hard. "I—uh—I was trying to pick up the pieces, and I didn’t see it. It... just happened."

Cassian crouched next to him, examining the cut with a frown. "This isn’t something you can just ignore, kid. We need to get that out and clean it."

Azriel nodded, his expression shifting to one of determination as he carefully reached for the piece of ceramic embedded in Emrus’s hand. "This might hurt," he warned, his voice softening to reassure the boy.

Emrus winced as Azriel gently tugged at the shard, and the pain caused his body to stiffen, but he didn’t cry out. Azriel, with his expert hands, slowly removed the piece and then pressed his palm over the wound to staunch the bleeding.

Cassian immediately stood, his voice low but urgent. "I’ll get some supplies. We need to clean it properly."

Azriel remained crouched next to Emrus, his shadows swirling around them protectively. "Stay calm, Emrus," Azriel murmured, his eyes never leaving the boy’s face. "You’re going to be fine."

Emrus nodded weakly, his face pale but determined. "I’m sorry about the vase, Uncle Az. I didn’t mean to break it."

Azriel’s gaze softened, his voice gentle. "I know you didn’t. Just focus on breathing. You’ll be alright."

Cassian returned a moment later with a small first-aid kit, and Azriel quickly got to work, cleaning the wound and applying a bandage. Once he finished, he met Emrus’s eyes. "All done."

Emrus flexed his fingers experimentally, then gave Azriel a tentative smile. "It doesn’t hurt anymore."

"Good," Azriel said, offering him a small nod. He looked up at Cassian, who was watching from a few feet away. "Make sure he doesn’t try to go back to playing until that heals, alright?"

Cassian waved a hand dismissively, though there was no hiding the worry in his eyes. "Of course, of course. I’ll make sure he takes it easy for the rest of the day."

Azriel stood up, glancing once more at the broken vase before looking back at Emrus. "Are you alright to sit for a while?"

Emrus nodded again, holding up his now-bandaged hand. "Yeah. I’ll stay here."

Azriel nodded, his eyes flicking back toward the door as he stepped away, glancing at Cassian. "Let’s clean up the mess before the others get up here. They won’t be pleased."

Cassian grinned, clapping Azriel on the back. "Oh, I’m sure they’ll understand. At least once we show them the bleeding hand, they’ll feel sorry for you."

Azriel smirked. "I think they’ll just be mad that we didn’t prevent it in the first place."

"True," Cassian replied with a chuckle. "Alright, let’s get to it."

As they bent down to start cleaning the shards, Azriel’s mind wandered briefly to the children—so full of energy, always finding ways to get into trouble. But despite it all, he knew he would do anything to protect them. Even if it meant dealing with broken vases and wounds along the way.

-----

The three of you were sprawled across an opulent chaise in one of the Day Court’s sunlit sitting rooms, golden light pouring in through the high windows. The wine bottles scattered across the table were almost empty, and the haze of tipsiness made everything funnier, everything lighter. Nesta and Feyre were giggling uncontrollably, their cheeks flushed a deep pink.

“You know,” Feyre slurred, swirling the last of her wine in her glass, “I have to say... I was worried when I first got with Rhys. I mean, he talks such a big game—”

You cut her off with a loud groan, throwing a pillow at her. “Don’t. Stop. No!” You held up a hand as if warding off some invisible evil. “Feyre, that’s my brother. My brother. I don’t want to hear anything about him in bed!”

Nesta burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t tell me you’ve never wondered—”

“No!” you shrieked, grabbing another pillow to chuck at her this time. “Absolutely not! I’m disgusted you’d even suggest it. I’d rather rip out my own wings again than hear about Rhysand’s—” You shuddered dramatically, cutting yourself off.

Feyre, in tears from laughing so hard, managed to gasp out, “Fine, fine! I won’t bring him up again. But just so you know... amazing. Amazing.”

Nesta let out a cackle as you groaned loudly, grabbing the wine bottle and drinking straight from it to erase the mental image.

“Alright,” Nesta said after catching her breath, leaning back smugly. “Since Feyre can’t talk about Rhys anymore, let’s talk about Cassian.”

You snorted. “This should be good.”

Nesta smirked, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. “Oh, he’s exactly what you’d expect. Loud, commanding, cocky. He thinks he’s the best at everything—and honestly? He’s not wrong.”

Feyre and you burst into laughter, but Nesta wasn’t done. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a devilish grin. “But there’s this one thing he does with his wings—”

“No, no, no!” Feyre groaned, covering her ears with her hands. “I don’t need to hear about my brother-in-law like that!”

You, meanwhile, were doubled over, tears streaming down your face as you laughed. “Nesta, you’re going to kill her!”

Nesta raised her glass in triumph, her grin widening. “I’m just saying, he’s got stamina. And creativity. What more could I ask for?”

Feyre looked like she might pass out from mortification, and you took the opportunity to change the subject—or so you thought.

“Alright, Y/N,” Nesta said, turning her sharp gaze on you. “Your turn. Spill. What’s Azriel like?”

You froze mid-sip, choking slightly as you set the glass down. “Oh, no. I’m not doing this. No way.”

Feyre and Nesta both leaned in closer, their eyes glittering with mischievous glee. “Come on,” Feyre urged, her voice lilting with the wine. “We told you about ours. Fair’s fair.”

Nesta smirked. “Don’t be shy. We all know Azriel’s got... talents.”

You flushed, shaking your head furiously. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not feeding your curiosity again.”

“Please,” Feyre said, drawing the word out into a whine. “We’re your sisters! We deserve to know!”

You sighed, giving them a half-hearted glare. “Fine. I’ll say this: Azriel is... thorough.”

They both burst out laughing, and you quickly held up a finger. “That’s all you’re getting. Thorough. Nothing else.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun. I was hoping for something juicy.”

“Yeah, well,” you shot back, smirking, “I’ve got to preserve some mystery. Unlike you two, apparently.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes, her competitive streak kicking in as she leaned closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "You’re holding out on us, Y/N. ‘Thorough’ doesn’t cut it. You’ve got to give us something."

Feyre nodded in agreement, her cheeks flushed with wine and mischief. "Exactly. You can’t just leave us hanging. Spill, sister."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "You two are relentless, you know that?"

Nesta smirked, crossing her arms. "And you’re stubborn. But we’ve got all day and another bottle of wine. So talk."

Feyre chimed in, waving the almost-empty bottle in your direction. "We’ll even pour you another glass if it helps."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "Bribery? Really?"

"Whatever it takes," Feyre said, her grin widening.

With a dramatic sigh, you threw your hands up in defeat. "Fine! Fine. But if Rhysand or Cassian ever hear about this, I’m blaming both of you."

Nesta’s smirk widened as she refilled her glass. "They won’t hear it from us. Promise."

You took a long sip of wine, stalling for time. Finally, you set the glass down and crossed your arms. "Alright. Azriel... is quiet. Not in a boring way, but in this... intense, focused way. He pays attention to everything. He notices the little things—like the way my breath hitches when he touches certain places or the exact moment to slow down or speed up. He’s—"

Feyre’s eyes widened, and she nearly choked on her wine. "Oh, Mother. Keep going."

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her smirk practically predatory. "I knew it. All that control he has? Bet it all comes undone in the bedroom."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. "Sometimes. But even when it does, it’s still... deliberate. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s enjoying every second of it."

Feyre fanned herself dramatically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "No wonder you look so smug all the time."

Nesta laughed, leaning back in her chair. "I always figured he’d be good, but damn, Y/N. You hit the jackpot."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the small, satisfied grin on your face. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," Feyre said, raising her glass in a mock toast.

Nesta clinked her glass against Feyre’s, her smirk firmly in place. "We’re definitely bringing this up next time the guys think they’re the superior ones."

You groaned, already regretting giving them anything to work with. "You two are impossible."

Feyre grinned, her cheeks still flushed with laughter and wine. "And you’re married to a Shadowsinger. Who knew you were the wildest one of all of us?"

Nesta snorted, leaning in closer with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Alright, next question: How does he use his shadows—"

"NO!" you shouted, cutting her off as you reached for the wine bottle and poured yourself another glass. "This conversation is over. Forever."

But the laughter that followed made you realize you’d walked right into their trap—and you were never going to live it down.

-----

The cabin was finally quiet, the day’s chaos simmering down to a peaceful hum. The fire crackled softly in the stone hearth, casting a warm, golden glow over the living room. All five kids—Nyx, Torran, Emrus, Calen, and little Kaia—were snuggled up on the massive couch, each dressed in their pyjamas. For the first time all day, they were calm, their boundless energy having finally run its course.

Nyx, ever the eldest and self-proclaimed “responsible one,” sat on one end of the couch, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He was pretending to read a book, though his eyelids were drooping. Next to him, Torran and Emrus were leaning against each other, their earlier squabbles forgotten as they shared a blanket. Calen was curled up near Emrus’s side, clutching a small stuffed dragon he insisted was his lucky charm.

Kaia, the tiniest of them all, was tucked securely between Nyx and a pile of pillows, her wings fluttering slightly as she fought to stay awake. Her chubby hands clutched her favourite soft toy, a well-loved plush bat Azriel had given her. She yawned, her big hazel eyes—so much like her father’s—blinking slowly as the warmth of the fire and the coziness of the moment lulled her.

Azriel stood quietly by the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the rare sight. His shadows swirled lazily around him, their usual restlessness mirroring his relief that, at last, the house was still. Rhysand was seated in one of the armchairs, a cup of tea in hand, his head leaning back against the chair as he watched the children with a faint, contented smile. Cassian, sprawled in another chair, was grinning like a proud father, even as his eyes drooped with exhaustion.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this still,” Cassian muttered, his voice low so as not to disturb the moment.

Rhysand chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle. Someone write this down.”

Azriel allowed himself a small smile, his gaze lingering on Kaia as she yawned again, her wings twitching before she snuggled deeper into the pillows. “Kaia’s usually asleep long before this,” he murmured, his voice gentle.

Cassian grinned. “She’s a fighter, that one. Just like her dad.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh, stepping further into the room to drape another blanket over the children. Kaia’s tiny hand reached out instinctively to clutch the edge of the blanket, pulling it close to her chin.

“You think they’ll actually stay down this time?” Rhysand asked, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel glanced at the sleeping children, his expression softening. “They’re done for the night. Even Kaia can’t fight sleep forever.”

Cassian let out a contented sigh, resting his head back. “Peace at last. Let’s not jinx it.”

Nyx stretched his arms over his head, his book slipping onto his lap as he yawned. He glanced at the younger boys, Torran and Emrus, who were beginning to nod off under their shared blanket. With the air of someone much older than his thirteen years, Nyx stood and tapped Torran’s shoulder.

“Alright, time for bed,” he said softly, though his tone left little room for argument.

Torran groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around him. “But it’s warm here...”

Nyx rolled his eyes but smiled. “You’ll be warm in bed too. Come on, before Uncle Cassian carries you like a baby.”

Emrus chuckled sleepily, nudging his brother. “He will, you know.”

That got Torran moving, albeit slowly. He stretched and stumbled off the couch, dragging Emrus with him. Together, the three boys shuffled toward their room, their footsteps soft against the wooden floor.

Cassian, watching from his chair, smirked as he stood. “That’s my boys. Go on, Nyx, make sure they brush their teeth.”

Nyx waved him off, already leading the way. “I know, I know. Night, Uncle Cassian. Night, Uncle Az.”

“Goodnight,” Azriel said quietly, his gaze still on Kaia, who was now fully asleep on the couch.

Cassian turned his attention to Calen, who was still clutching his stuffed dragon and blinking groggily. “Alright, little warrior, time for you too.”

Calen pouted but held up his arms for Cassian to lift him. “Carry me?” he mumbled sleepily.

Cassian’s grin softened as he scooped the six-year-old into his arms, dragon and all. “Of course, buddy. Let’s get you to bed.”

Calen rested his head against Cassian’s shoulder, his eyes already drooping shut as they headed toward the boys’ room. Cassian glanced back at Azriel before disappearing down the hallway.

“You’ve got it good with just one,” he teased lightly.

Azriel’s lips twitched in a faint smile as he adjusted the blanket over Kaia one last time. “For now.”

The house grew quieter as the boys settled into their room, leaving only the crackle of the fire and Kaia’s soft breathing in the living room. Peace, for now, reigned in the cabin.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, swirling the remnants of his tea in his cup as he watched Azriel fuss over Kaia. A sly smile spread across his face as he crossed one leg over the other, his posture relaxed but his tone laced with mischief.

“You know, Az,” Rhys began casually, his voice low to avoid waking Kaia. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when the great Shadowsinger—silent, brooding, and deadly—would be tucking a toddler in on a couch like a doting father.”

Azriel shot him a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. “What’s your point, Rhys?”

Rhys’s grin widened. “Oh, no point. It’s just amusing to see how utterly whipped you are by someone who weighs less than a loaf of bread and calls you ‘Da-da’ with half her words missing.”

Azriel huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head as he adjusted the blanket over Kaia once more. “She’s two. What’s your excuse for Nyx still calling you ‘Rhysie’?”

Rhys feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. “That’s different. Nyx calls me that out of love and respect.”

“Or to annoy you,” Azriel countered smoothly.

Rhys chuckled, conceding the point. “Fair enough. But seriously, look at you. The mighty Shadowsinger reduced to a pile of mush every time she looks at you with those big eyes.”

Azriel finally sat back, his arms resting on his knees as he glanced down at Kaia’s sleeping form. The faintest smile tugged at his lips. “Can you blame me?”

Rhys tilted his head, studying his brother-in-law with a rare softness in his gaze. “No, I really can’t. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, and honestly, it’s a sight to behold. Who would’ve thought Azriel’s greatest weakness would be a pint-sized Illyrian with wings?”

Azriel’s shadows curled lazily around him, their movements mirroring his contentment. “She’s not my weakness, Rhys,” he said quietly, his voice firm. “She’s my strength.”

Rhys’s teasing smile faltered for a moment, replaced by something deeper. He gave a small nod, his voice quieter now. “You’re a good father, Az. Kaia’s lucky to have you.”

Azriel looked back at him, his expression softening in gratitude. “Thanks, Rhys.”

But, true to form, Rhys couldn’t let the moment stay too serious for long. He leaned forward, the mischief returning to his eyes. “Still, if she starts bossing you around like Y/N bossed me, I reserve the right to laugh.”

Azriel smirked, leaning back in his chair. “She already does, Rhys. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure to remind her that her ‘Rhysie’ uncle is always available for tea parties.”

Rhys groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Why do I get the feeling that’s going to come back to haunt me?”

Azriel’s smirk widened as he leaned back, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Because it will.”

Cassian returned to the living room, his heavy footsteps signalling his arrival. In his hand was a folded piece of parchment sealed with the mark of a messenger. His expression, though not overtly grim, carried a weight that made both Rhysand and Azriel glance up immediately.

“Looks like we’ve got a situation,” Cassian said, holding up the letter. He handed it to Rhys, who broke the seal and quickly scanned the contents, his brows knitting together.

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asked, his posture straightening, shadows stirring slightly around him.

Rhys sighed as he folded the letter back up. “There’s trouble at one of the camps—an argument that’s spiralled out of control between a couple of the commanders. It’s threatening to disrupt training for the younglings, and the emissary is asking for our intervention before it escalates further.”

Cassian crossed his arms. “I would go, but I can’t leave Torran, Emrus, and Calen here without one of us. They’ve finally calmed down, and I don’t trust them not to burn this cabin to the ground if I’m gone.”

Rhys nodded, rubbing his temple as he considered the situation. Then his gaze shifted to Azriel. “Az, do you think you can handle this? I’d go myself, but I promised Feyre I’d keep an eye on Nyx this week, and you’re... well, you’re better suited for delicate diplomacy when it comes to these camps.”

Azriel hesitated, glancing over at the couch where Kaia was still curled up, sleeping peacefully. His brow furrowed as he weighed the request. “It depends on how long I’ll be gone. I don’t want her to feel unsettled without me here.”

Rhys leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She’ll be fine, Az. We’ve got this. You know we’ll take good care of her—Kaia adores Cassian and me.”

Cassian grinned, thumbing toward himself. “She adores me more than you, Rhys. Don’t lie to the man.”

Azriel shot him a dry look before turning back to Rhys. “How bad is the situation? Will this just be a quick visit, or am I looking at days of negotiation?”

“According to the letter, it shouldn’t take more than a day or two to resolve,” Rhys said reassuringly. “You’d fly out tomorrow morning, handle the situation, and be back before Kaia even has time to miss you too much.”

Azriel still looked reluctant, his fingers tapping lightly against his thigh. His shadows curled protectively around him, their movement reflecting his unease.

“Az,” Cassian said, his voice softer now. “We’ll take care of her like she’s our own. You know that. And if anything happens—anything at all—you’ll be the first to know.”

Rhys nodded in agreement. “She’s in good hands, brother. Go sort out the camp mess and come back to her. She’ll be fine.”

Azriel exhaled deeply, his gaze softening as he looked at Kaia once more. After a long pause, he gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll go. But if anything happens, I expect to know immediately.”

“Of course,” Rhys said, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Now, get some rest tonight. You’ll need it if you’re flying out first thing tomorrow.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on Kaia as she slept peacefully on the couch, her tiny form curled into the blanket. He could feel the weight of his decision to leave, the protective instinct that surged through him, but he knew the task ahead was necessary. He stood slowly, intending to lift Kaia and carry her to her room for the night, his heart heavy with the thought of being away from her.

Just as he stepped forward, Rhysand’s voice broke the silence.

“Az,” Rhys said, his tone soft but firm. “Leave her. We’ll take care of her while you get some rest. You need to be at your best tomorrow.”

Cassian, who had been quietly observing from the doorway, added with a reassuring grin, “We’ve got this, Shadowsinger. Go sleep. Kaia’s in good hands with us.”

Azriel paused, his gaze flicking between his brothers. He opened his mouth to argue, but the fatigue he’d been pushing aside all day hit him like a wave. His shoulders slumped slightly as he realized they were right. He hadn’t slept much, and the journey tomorrow would require all of his focus.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice tinged with doubt. His gaze drifted back to Kaia, still wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, completely unaware of the growing distance between them.

Rhys stepped forward, giving his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’re sure, Azriel. You can’t be at your best if you’re exhausted. Let us take over for tonight. You’ll be back before you know it.”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Kaia’s getting more comfortable with me than you these days.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed, and he turned his gaze back to his daughter. She was resting soundly, her breathing even and calm. It wasn’t easy to leave, but he knew the safety of the camp depended on him.

Finally, he gave a small nod, stepping back reluctantly. “Alright. But if she wakes up…”

“We’ll handle it, Az,” Rhys said firmly. “Go rest. You’ll be back before you even miss a beat.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment longer before turning toward the stairs. As he made his way to his room, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, his shadows curling protectively around him even though he trusted his brothers completely.

“I’ll be back before she knows I’m gone,” he murmured to himself, his heart heavy but determined.

Once Azriel disappeared up the stairs, Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a glance. The room was quiet now, save for the soft sound of Kaia’s breathing and the occasional crackle from the hearth. Cassian leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out and folding his arms behind his head, a thoughtful expression settling over his face.

“You know,” Cassian began, his voice low to avoid disturbing Kaia, “I never thought I’d see Azriel like this. Completely head over heels for that little one. It’s... different.”

Rhys chuckled softly, leaning against the edge of the table. “Different is an understatement. Did you see the way he was looking at her just now? Like she’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.”

Cassian smirked, shaking his head. “I don’t blame him. She’s adorable. And she’s got his eyes—those big, soulful eyes that just make you want to give her the world.” He paused, his tone turning teasing. “Not to mention, she’s got him wrapped around her little finger. Did you notice how he didn’t even argue when she demanded two bedtime stories last night?”

Rhys raised a brow, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Az? Not arguing? That’s a first. Kaia might be the only person who can command him without a single word of protest.”

Cassian laughed quietly, his broad shoulders shaking. “Honestly, it’s a little terrifying how much power she has over him. But it’s good for him, you know? Az needed something—or someone—to break through that wall of his. Kaia did that without even trying.”

Rhys nodded, his expression softening as he glanced at the sleeping toddler. “She’s brought out a side of him we never thought we’d see. A side even Y/N couldn’t fully reach. Don’t get me wrong, she’s his world, but Kaia... she’s something else entirely.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you think he worries too much about her, though? I mean, the way he hesitated about going to the camp tomorrow—it’s like he can’t bear to be apart from her, even for a day.”

Rhys sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course he worries. She’s his daughter, and she’s so small, so fragile compared to what we’ve dealt with with the boys. But that’s just Azriel. He’s always been the protector, the one who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Kaia’s just added to that weight.”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but she’s also lightened it in a way. You can see it in his eyes—he’s happier now. More at peace. Even with everything going on, he’s... softer.”

Rhys smirked. “Softer, yes. But don’t tell him that. He might actually throw you out the window this time.”

Cassian chuckled, leaning back again. “Noted. Still, it’s good to see him like this. And if he’s trusting us with her tonight, it means he knows we’ll take care of her.” He tilted his head toward Kaia, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “She might be tiny, but she’s already got the Shadowsinger’s stubborn streak.”

Rhys laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, she’s definitely her father’s daughter. We’re in for it when she grows up, that’s for sure.”

They both fell silent for a moment, their gazes drifting to Kaia. Despite their teasing and banter, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Azriel’s devotion to his daughter was something they both respected deeply, and they’d do whatever it took to protect her in his absence.

Cassian broke the silence with a smirk. “So, what are the odds she’s awake in five minutes, asking for a snack?”

Rhys chuckled, glancing at the clock. “Oh, I’d say pretty high. Better get ready—Az will never let us hear the end of it if we mess this up.”

Cassian grinned. “Bring it on. I’ve faced worse than a grumpy toddler. I think.”

Rhysand let out a low, amused chuckle, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back against the table. His violet eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked over at Cassian, who was now trying—and failing—to untangle one of his sons’ cloaks from the back of a chair.

“Cass, you can barely keep your three in line,” Rhys teased, his grin widening. “And you think you’ll be fine with Kaia added to the mix? Let’s be honest, she’s smarter than all three of your boys combined—and probably smarter than you too.”

Cassian groaned, finally yanking the cloak free, only to find it ripped slightly at the seam. He held it up with a sheepish grin. “First of all, this was already torn. And second, I’ll have you know I’m an excellent multitasker. Handling three boys and one tiny shadowling is a piece of cake.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Right. The same multitasking that led to Torran and Emrus turning the entire second floor into a battlefield last week? Or was it the time Calen painted your leathers because you ‘weren’t paying attention’?”

Cassian waved him off, though his cheeks tinted slightly. “Minor hiccups. Kids are kids, Rhys. They’re supposed to make a mess. Besides, Kaia’s an angel compared to my boys. How hard can it be?”

Rhys snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “An angel? Did you miss the part where she stole Azriel’s daggers last month and tried to hide them under the couch because she thought they were ‘shiny’? She’s not just an angel—she’s a sneaky little shadowling with more cunning than all of us combined.”

Cassian shrugged, unfazed. “She’s two, Rhys. How much trouble can she really cause?”

Rhys threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and echoing through the room. “Oh, Cass. Famous last words. Let’s just hope she doesn’t team up with Calen. I’m not sure the cabin—or you—would survive.”

Cassian smirked, tossing the ripped cloak onto the nearest chair. “If that happens, I’ll blame you. You’re the one who convinced Az to leave her with us, after all.”

Rhys grinned, his eyes sparkling with humor. “You’re on your own, brother. Just don’t come crying to me when Kaia outsmarts you and the boys band together to take over the cabin.”

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced toward Kaia, still sleeping soundly. “She’ll be fine. I’ve got this.”

Rhys gave him a knowing look, his grin never faltering. “If by ‘got this’ you mean you’re about to be completely outmatched by a toddler, then yes, Cassian. You’ve definitely ‘got this.’”

Kaia stirred under the blanket, her tiny body shifting as she blinked her sleepy eyes open. Her dark lashes fluttered, and for a moment, she stayed still, her little face scrunching as if debating whether to wake fully. Then, with a soft yawn that revealed her tiny teeth, she wriggled out of the blanket, her dishevelled curls sticking up in every direction.

“Dada?” she murmured groggily, her voice soft and still thick with sleep.

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a glance, both freezing like guilty children caught in the act. Rhys crouched down to her level, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Hey, little shadowling,” Rhys greeted her softly. “Your dad went to get some rest. You’re stuck with us for now.”

Kaia blinked up at him, her tiny face thoughtful as if processing his words. Then she rubbed her eyes with her fists and let out another yawn.

“No Dada?” she asked, her tone slightly indignant now.

Cassian stepped forward with a grin, crouching beside Rhys. “Don’t worry, Kaia. We’re here to take care of you. You’ve got me, Uncle Cassy, and Uncle Rhysie. What more could you need?”

Kaia tilted her head, her sharp, Azriel-like eyes narrowing in clear suspicion. “Dada betta,” she mumbled, clutching the blanket to her chest as if it offered some sort of protection from these two uncles.

Rhys chuckled, his shoulders shaking as he glanced at Cassian. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

Kaia’s gaze flicked between them before she reached her tiny hands out toward Rhys, her bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. “Up, Rhysie,” she demanded, her toddler voice firm despite her small size.

Rhys, unable to resist her, scooped her up into his arms, settling her on his hip. “Alright, shadowling. What’s the plan? Are we going to sit quietly, or are you going to join your cousins in their chaos sleeps?”

Kaia laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes half-lidded with sleepiness. “No chaos. No loud,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Cassian laughed loudly at that, earning a sharp look from Kaia. “Too loud!” she scolded, her tiny hand patting Rhys’s shoulder as if to emphasize her point.

“See?” Rhys teased, smirking at Cassian. “She’s already taking charge. I told you she’s the smartest one here.”

Kaia hummed sleepily, snuggling closer to Rhys. “Dada come back?” she asked quietly, her small hand fisting his shirt.

Rhys rubbed her back soothingly. “He’ll be back soon, Kaia. But for now, you’re stuck with us.”

Kaia didn’t respond, but the way her eyes drifted closed again suggested she wasn’t too upset about the arrangement—for now.

Rhys smiled softly as he looked down at Kaia, who was now dozing lightly on his shoulder, her tiny fingers still clutching his shirt. He brushed a stray curl from her forehead, his expression unusually tender.

“You know,” he said quietly, careful not to wake her, “I’ve always kind of wanted a daughter. There’s just something about them. They’re...different. Softer, maybe. Or maybe it’s because they can wrap you around their little fingers in a heartbeat.”

Cassian snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t let Feyre hear you say that. She’ll be dragging you to the Healer’s to reverse what she made you do.”

Rhys chuckled, glancing over at him with a smirk. “As if. Feyre would murder me before she let me suggest another kid. She barely handled Nyx as a toddler.”

Cassian barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nesta wouldn’t even entertain the idea. The second Calen started running, she told me I was done. And not just done—snipped. She practically dragged me to the Healer’s herself.”

Rhys’s laughter deepened, his shoulders shaking. “At least Feyre pretended it was my idea. Said something about how ‘three Illyrian warriors in the house is enough for one lifetime.’”

Cassian shook his head, grinning. “Cowards. They couldn’t handle another one of us.”

Rhys grinned, his eyes flicking down to Kaia, who stirred slightly but remained asleep. “Not sure I blame them. One Nyx is plenty of trouble. But...I don’t know. Something about having a daughter feels different.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, his grin teasing. “Starting to sound like you’re jealous of Azriel.”

Rhys smirked, but there was a warmth to it. “Maybe I am. Kaia’s going to be trouble when she grows up, though. She’s got that look in her eye—sharp and calculating, just like her dad. And with Az’s temper? She’ll be unstoppable.”

Cassian grinned, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. “Good thing she’s got us around to spoil her. If Az isn’t careful, I might just claim her as my fourth.”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “Good luck convincing Nesta to let you bring her home. Kaia’s got enough sass to go around—she might just turn your whole house upside down.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his grin mischievous as he gestured toward Kaia, still nestled against Rhys’s shoulder. "You think Az and Y/N are going to have another one?"

Rhys raised an eyebrow, adjusting Kaia slightly to keep her comfortable. "You mean after this little shadowling? They might need a breather first. She’s only two."

Cassian smirked. "Sure, but you know how Az is. He’s obsessed with that kid. If Y/N even hinted at wanting another, he’d be on board in a heartbeat."

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. "True, but have you met my sister? She’s not exactly the most patient when it comes to sleepless nights. I think Kaia already takes up enough of her energy."

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Yeah, but she’s got that soft spot for Az. All he’d have to do is give her one of those brooding, puppy-dog looks, and she’d be done for."

Rhys laughed, a deep, rich sound. "You’re probably right. Azriel could convince her of anything with that quiet persistence of his. And let’s be honest, Kaia’s adorable enough to make anyone consider giving her a sibling."

Cassian tilted his head, considering. "If they do have another, what do you think? Another girl or a boy this time?"

Rhys tapped his fingers on the armrest, his expression thoughtful. "Knowing Az, it wouldn’t matter. He’d adore them either way. Though...a little boy with Y/N’s temper? That would be entertaining to watch."

Cassian barked out a laugh. "Can you imagine? A mini-Azriel running around but with Y/N’s attitude? The kid would have the entire Night Court wrapped around their finger before they could even talk."

Rhys smirked, a glint of humor in his eyes. "Or Kaia would just boss them around like she already does with everyone else. Either way, they’d have their hands full."

Cassian stretched, his wings flexing behind him as he grinned. "I say we place bets. If they have another, how long before the new kid starts causing trouble? Kaia set the bar high—stealing Az’s daggers before her second birthday."

Rhys shook his head, laughing. "I’m not betting on my sister’s family planning. But if they do have another, I’m sure it’ll be chaos—and hilarious to watch from a safe distance."

Kaia stirred against Rhys’s shoulder, her tiny fists rubbing at her eyes as she let out a sleepy little whine. Her dark lashes fluttered open, and she blinked blearily at the room. For a moment, it seemed like she might settle back down, but then she wiggled, her small hands tugging at Rhys’s shirt.

“Rhysie,” she murmured, her voice soft but insistent.

Rhys glanced down at her, his expression fond. “What’s wrong, little shadowling? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Kaia shook her head, her curls bouncing slightly. “No sweep. Wanna go ‘side,” she said, her toddler speech firm despite her grogginess.

Cassian snorted from across the room, trying to hide his laugh behind his hand. “She wants to go outside? At this hour? She’s got Az’s stubbornness, all right.”

Kaia turned her sharp gaze on Cassian, her little brow furrowing. “Not Cassy. Talkin’ to Rhysie,” she declared, her tone almost scolding.

Rhys bit back a laugh as he shifted her in his arms. “Outside? It’s night-time, Kaia. There’s snow everywhere. It’s cold.”

Kaia nodded enthusiastically, her little hands patting his chest. “Snow! Wanna pway in snow!”

Cassian leaned forward, his grin wide. “She’s persistent. What do you say, Rhys? Midnight snowball fight?”

Rhys shook his head, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’m not letting her freeze out there. Azriel would kill me.”

Kaia’s lip wobbled at his refusal, her big, teary eyes locking onto Rhys’s face. “Pwease, Rhysie? Wanna pway,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to tug at his heart.

Cassian leaned back with a laugh. “Good luck saying no to that. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Rhys sighed dramatically, pretending to be defeated. “Kaia, it’s cold and dark. But how about this? If you go back to sleep now, I’ll take you out to play first thing in the morning. Deal?”

Kaia considered this, her little face scrunching in thought. “Pwomise?”

Rhys nodded, holding up a hand. “I promise. First thing in the morning, snowball fights and snow angels.”

Kaia finally seemed satisfied, snuggling back against his shoulder. “Okay...but Rhysie better not forget.”

Cassian shook his head, chuckling softly. “She’s got you, brother. Good luck living up to that promise.”

Rhys smirked, patting Kaia’s back as she drifted off again. “Just wait until morning. We’ll see who wins the snowball fight.”

Kaia shifted in Rhys’s arms, her little body restless as she tried to find a comfortable spot. She let out a soft sigh, her dark lashes fluttering as she attempted to settle.

But after a few moments, she squirmed again, her tiny fists rubbing at her eyes. “Can’t sweep,” she mumbled, her voice quiet but full of frustration.

Rhys looked down at her, his brows raising in amusement. “Can’t sleep, huh?”

Kaia shook her head, her curls brushing against his chest. “No sweep. Eyes no close,” she explained, her toddler logic making perfect sense to her.

Cassian chuckled from across the room, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. “She’s too stubborn, just like her dad. She’s going to wear you out, Rhys.”

Kaia shot him a glare, her little nose scrunching. “No stubborn. Wanna pway!”

Rhys smirked, adjusting her in his arms. “You know, Kaia, it’s very late. Even the snow is sleeping.”

Kaia’s eyes widened, and she tilted her head at him. “Snow sweep?”

Cassian nearly choked on his laughter, turning away to compose himself.

Rhys nodded solemnly, fighting back his own grin. “Oh, yes. Snowflakes need rest too. They work hard falling all day.”

Kaia seemed to ponder this for a moment, her tiny fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt. “But...but I no tire,” she finally said, her voice a little quieter now, as if trying to convince herself.

Rhys pressed a kiss to her curls, his tone soothing. “How about we try, just for a little bit? Close your eyes, and if you’re still not sleepy after a while, we’ll think of something else. Deal?”

Kaia hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Deal...but no sweep yet.”

Rhys cradled her a little closer, gently rocking her in his arms. “We’ll see, little shadowling. We’ll see.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, grinning. “I’m betting she lasts five more minutes before she’s out again.”

Kaia’s eyes narrowed at him, her little voice firm. “No sweep!”

Both males laughed softly as Kaia huffed, snuggling closer to Rhys but still determined to stay awake.

Rhys sighed, bouncing Kaia lightly as she continued to fidget. “All right, little shadowling, since you can’t sleep with me, let’s see if Cassian’s big, loud arms can tire you out.”

Kaia blinked up at him, her dark eyes narrowing. “No Cassy,” she protested, her tiny hands clutching at his shirt.

Cassian, sitting sprawled in a chair nearby, grinned and opened his arms dramatically. “Come on, Kaia. Uncle Cassy’s warm and cozy. I promise not to be too loud.”

Kaia turned her head to glare at him. “You too noisy. No want Cassy!”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “Too noisy, huh? Well, maybe you’ll make him quiet down for once.”

Ignoring her protests, he carefully shifted her over to Cassian. Kaia squirmed, her wings fluttering weakly as she pouted. “Rhysieee,” she whined, reaching back for him as Cassian scooped her up with ease.

Cassian held her snugly against his chest, feigning offense. “Hey, I’m fun! You just don’t know it yet.”

Kaia huffed, crossing her little arms and burying her face against his shoulder. “No Cassy. Want Rhysie.”

Rhys smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “You’ve got her wrapped around your finger, Cass. Let’s see if you can keep her entertained.”

Cassian grinned down at the stubborn toddler. “All right, Kaia, how about this? If you stay with me for five minutes and still want Rhys, I’ll hand you right back. Deal?”

Kaia peeked up at him suspiciously, her brow furrowed. “Pwomise?”

Cassian held up his hand solemnly. “I promise. But I’m pretty sure I can win you over before then.”

Kaia didn’t look convinced, but she let out a resigned sigh, settling against him begrudgingly. “Okay...no loud,” she warned, poking his chest with her tiny finger.

Rhys laughed softly, shaking his head. “Good luck, Cassian. She’s tougher to win over than the Illyrians at camp.”

Cassian smirked as he began rocking her gently. “Oh, please. I’ve got this. By the end of the night, she’ll be asking for Cassy instead of Rhysie.”

Kaia made a disbelieving noise, muffled against his shirt, and both males chuckled, the sound filling the room as she began to relax slightly in Cassian’s arms.

As Kaia settled reluctantly against Cassian’s broad chest, her little fingers fidgeted against his shirt. She let out a soft huff, still pouting about being handed over.

Cassian, ever the charmer, gave her a grin. “What’s the matter, Kaia? I’m way comfier than Rhysie. Don’t you think?”

Kaia looked up at him, her dark brows knitting together in toddler indignation. “No.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Tough crowd. All right, what can Uncle Cassy do to make you smile?”

Instead of answering, Kaia raised her small hand and grabbed a lock of his dark hair, giving it a gentle tug.

“Hey!” Cassian exclaimed, his grin widening as he leaned back slightly. “What’s that for, little shadow?”

Kaia’s lips twitched, as if she was trying not to smile. “Hair funny,” she mumbled, giving it another playful tug.

Rhys, watching from his spot against the wall, smirked. “Looks like she’s testing your patience, Cass. Maybe she thinks you need a new hairstyle.”

Cassian glanced at Rhys, feigning offense. “Oh, please. My hair is flawless, thank you very much.”

Kaia, clearly unimpressed, tugged again, this time letting out a tiny giggle. “No. Funny.”

Cassian chuckled, reaching up to gently take her hand. “All right, little troublemaker. Let’s keep the hair-pulling to a minimum, huh? Uncle Cassy’s hair isn’t as strong as daddy’s.”

Kaia tilted her head, considering this, before giving a final, cheeky tug. “Cassy hair no strong!”

Both males burst into laughter at her declaration, and even Kaia let out a small giggle, finally relaxing in Cassian’s arms.

As Kaia snuggled deeper into Cassian’s arms, her little body began to stiffen, her face scrunching in a way that suggested something was bothering her. Her small fingers, which had been fidgeting with his shirt, slowed to a halt, and she let out a soft whimper.

Cassian paused, looking down at her with a raised brow. “What’s wrong now, little shadow?”

Kaia’s lip trembled slightly, her eyes filling with an unspoken sadness. “Want mama,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, but it was clear as day to Cassian.

Cassian’s heart softened, and he gently ran a hand over her dark curls. “You miss her already, huh?” he asked, his voice gentle, though his teasing nature faded as he saw the way her little face crumpled.

Kaia nodded, the whimper turning into a small sob. “Mama...” she repeated, sniffling.

Rhys, still leaning against the wall, watched the scene with an understanding look. He stepped forward, his tone quiet as he addressed Kaia’s distress. “She’s not far, little shadow,” he said softly. “She’s probably just taking a break with Aunt Feyre and Nesta. We’ll bring her to you in just a week.”

But Kaia’s tears continued to spill, her small voice rising in sadness. “Want mama now...”

Cassian exchanged a look with Rhys, and though he was used to being the loud and boisterous one, he softened as he held Kaia closer. “You’ll see her soon, I promise,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “She’ll be right back here, snuggling you, okay?”

Kaia hiccupped, her tiny body still trembling in his arms. “Want mama,” she repeated, more urgently this time, her little face pressing against his chest in an attempt to calm herself.

Rhys sighed quietly, shaking his head with a small smile. “She’s just like Azriel—stubborn to the core. You better get used to it, Cass. It’s gonna be a long night.”

Cassian shot Rhys a mock glare, but there was a softness in his eyes as he rocked Kaia gently. “Yeah, I’ve got this. Go get Azriel, will you?”

Rhys nodded and disappeared from the room, leaving Cassian with Kaia as she continued to whimper softly, still missing her mother.

Rhys carefully stepped into Azriel’s room, the shadows creeping along the walls as they adjusted to the dim light. Azriel was sprawled out in bed, a faint snore escaping from his lips as he slept, his wings tucked neatly around him. Rhys hesitated for a moment, then, with a wry smile, he knelt down beside the bed and shook Azriel's shoulder gently.

“Az, wake up,” Rhys said quietly, but firmly.

Azriel let out a gruff sound, his eyes flickering open and narrowing as he adjusted to the light. He blinked a few times, clearly not yet fully awake. “What’s going on?” he murmured, rubbing at his face with one hand as he yawned.

Rhys chuckled softly, folding his arms across his chest. “Kaia’s upset. She’s asking for you.”

Azriel’s expression softened instantly at the mention of his daughter. He sat up quickly, his tiredness forgotten. “Is she okay?” he asked, his voice thick with concern.

“She’s missing her mom. I think she needs you.” Rhys stood and gave him a small, knowing smile. “Come on, I’ll take you to her.”

Azriel nodded, running a hand through his messy hair as he rose from the bed. He was still in his sleep clothes—dark pants and a loose shirt—moving with a sense of urgency as he followed Rhys out of the room. His wings shifted restlessly behind him as if they too could feel his concern for Kaia.

They made their way down the hallway, the soft sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet cabin. As they entered the living room, the soft whimpering from Kaia could be heard faintly.

Cassian was still holding her, but Kaia’s distress hadn’t settled. She was curled up against his chest, her face buried in his shoulder, and every few seconds, another whimper would escape her. Her small body was trembling slightly, the sadness evident in her posture.

Azriel’s heart clenched as he saw his daughter’s misery. He hurried over to Cassian, in front of him. “Kaia,” he said softly, brushing a few strands of her dark hair from her face.

At the sound of her father’s voice, Kaia’s eyes fluttered open, and her little face twisted with frustration. She reached out with one small hand, her voice shaking. “Dada…” she whimpered, her arms reaching toward him.

Azriel’s chest tightened as he gathered her into his arms, her tiny body pressing against his as he held her close. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Kaia sniffled, still not fully comforted, but her sobs began to subside as she snuggled against her father. She shifted in his arms, her tiny hands clutching his shirt tightly. “Want mama,” she said, her voice soft and broken.

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, his heart aching for his daughter. He held her tightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I know, baby,” he whispered. “But mama’s resting right now. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a quiet glance, knowing how much Azriel’s presence would help calm Kaia. Rhys stepped back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “She’ll be asleep in no time now,” he said.

Cassian nodded, though his usual mischievous grin was gone. “You’re the only one who can calm her when she’s like this.”

Azriel didn’t say anything at first, his full attention on Kaia as she snuggled closer to him. He gently rocked her, murmuring reassurances as she finally relaxed in his arms. He glanced up at his friends, his voice quiet but steady. “Thanks, both of you. I owe you one.”

Rhys chuckled softly. “No need for that. Just make sure she doesn’t give us any more trouble tonight.”

Azriel smiled faintly, his attention back on Kaia as her breathing slowly evened out. “I’ll try my best,” he said quietly, knowing full well that with his daughter in his arms, everything would be fine.

As Kaia’s breathing evened out in Azriel’s arms, Cassian and Rhys exchanged a glance. There was something so natural about the way Azriel cared for his daughter, the quiet tenderness that softened his usual stoic demeanour. It was a side of him they rarely saw, and it prompted Cassian to speak.

“You’re a damn good father, you know that?” Cassian said, his voice low so as not to wake Kaia.

Azriel glanced up from where he was rocking his daughter, his shadows curling faintly around her like a protective cocoon. “I’m just doing what she needs,” he replied quietly.

Rhys leaned against the doorframe, a thoughtful look on his face. “Have you ever thought about having another?” he asked casually, though there was genuine curiosity in his tone.

Azriel’s hands stilled for a moment as he adjusted Kaia’s blanket. He looked down at his sleeping daughter, his expression unreadable. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted after a moment, his voice soft. “But… it’s not that simple.”

Cassian frowned slightly, leaning forward. “What do you mean? You and Y/N are incredible parents. I can’t imagine anyone better to handle another little shadow like her.”

Azriel let out a quiet sigh, his wings shifting restlessly behind him. “Kaia’s birth wasn’t easy,” he began, his voice tight. “She came three months early. Y/N was… in bad shape. The healers weren’t sure if either of them would make it.”

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a grim look, the memory of those tense weeks flashing through their minds. Azriel had been a shadow of himself during that time—distraught, restless, and consumed by worry.

“I’ve never been so scared,” Azriel continued, his gaze distant as he gently stroked Kaia’s hair. “Holding her for the first time… it was the best and the worst moment of my life. I was terrified of losing her. Of losing Y/N.”

Rhys stepped closer, his tone softer now. “We remember,” he said. “You were in hell during those weeks. But look at her now, Az. She’s strong, just like her mother.”

Azriel smiled faintly, his fingers still brushing over Kaia’s curls. “I know. She’s my everything. But I don’t know if I could put Y/N through that again. The risk…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Cassian placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his voice steady. “It’s your decision, Az. No one can tell you what’s right for your family. But I can tell you this—whatever you and Y/N decide, you’ve got us. Always.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked back down at Kaia. “Thank you. I just… I want to give her everything. And I know Y/N would love another child. She’s mentioned it before.”

Rhys smiled knowingly. “She has. I’ve heard her tell Feyre how much she’d love to give Kaia a little brother or sister. But you’re right to consider the risks. It’s a decision you both need to make together.”

Azriel’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking his thoughts aloud for the first time. “Sometimes, I wonder if we’re meant to have just Kaia. She’s more than enough.” He paused, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “But then I think about what it would be like to hold another baby. To see Kaia as an older sister.”

Cassian grinned. “You’d kill it, Az. You’ve already proven that.”

Azriel’s smile grew as he looked down at Kaia, her tiny form peaceful in his arms. “Maybe,” he said softly. “Maybe one day. But for now, she’s everything I need.”

Rhys and Cassian nodded, their respect for their brother deepened by his unwavering devotion to his family. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the soft crackle of the fire the only sound, as Azriel held Kaia close, his love for her evident in every gentle movement.

-----

The bright sun filtered through the luxurious curtains of your room in the Day Court, casting golden streaks across the bed where you, Feyre, and Nesta lay tangled in a mess of pillows, blankets, and regret. The faint hum of distant birds outside did little to soothe the pounding in your head. You groaned as the sound of the door creaking open sent a sharp pulse through your temples.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Helion’s smooth, amused voice filled the room. “Or should I say, good evening? It’s already past two in the afternoon.”

A collective groan rose from the bed as Feyre buried her head under a pillow, Nesta flopped onto her stomach with a muffled curse, and you blinked blearily at Helion, who stood at the door with a smug grin and an air of smug satisfaction.

“Helion,” you croaked, your voice scratchy from the night before. “Why are you so loud?”

“Loud?” Helion placed a hand over his chest as if wounded. “I’m being positively gentle for a man who had to endure your drunken antics last night.”

Nesta peeked out from under her arm, her hair a disheveled halo around her head. “What antics?” she grumbled.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” Helion leaned casually against the doorframe, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s see… there was dancing on the tables, a rather heated debate about who had the best wingspan in Prythian—”

“Stop,” Feyre mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“And, of course,” Helion continued, ignoring her, “the grand declaration from you, Y/N, that you could outdrink me any day of the week.”

You winced, rubbing your temples as fragmented memories of the previous night began to resurface. “Did I win?”

Helion chuckled. “Let’s just say the three of you are lucky you’re still alive after the amount of wine you consumed.”

Nesta groaned, reaching blindly for the glass of water on the nightstand. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Of course I am,” Helion said, stepping fully into the room and crossing his arms. “It’s not every day I get to see the great Night Court ladies reduced to this state.”

“Why are you even here?” Feyre muttered, finally sitting up and squinting at him.

“To wake you,” Helion replied with a theatrical flourish. “You’ve slept the entire day away, and there’s an entire court waiting to be graced by your hungover presence.”

You flopped back onto the pillows, groaning. “I don’t think I can move.”

“Nor should you,” Helion said, his grin softening into something almost kind. “You had your fun, and now you’ll suffer for it. But, if it’s any consolation, I’ll have food sent up to help with the hangover. Consider it my charity for the day.”

Nesta muttered a quiet thanks as Feyre reached over to squeeze your hand. “We’re never drinking that much again,” she said firmly.

“You say that now,” Helion said with a smirk, already heading for the door. “But give it a week.”

As the door closed behind him, the three of you exchanged weary looks before collapsing back onto the bed, the promise of food and a quiet afternoon the only solace for your throbbing heads.

You groaned as you rubbed your temples, the pounding in your head relentless. “I miss being in my hundreds,” you muttered, your voice hoarse. “I could drink like this and wake up feeling fine. What happened to that?”

Feyre snorted, even though she winced at the sound of her own laugh. She was propped up against a mountain of pillows, her hair sticking up in every direction. “I don’t know if that’s age or just poor choices. And I hate that I can’t remember which.”

Nesta rolled over onto her back, staring at the ornate ceiling of the room. “What exactly did we even do last night? Helion mentioned dancing on tables, but I don’t remember that.”

“Neither do I,” Feyre admitted, frowning. “Though I do have a vague memory of someone challenging someone else to a drinking contest.”

“That sounds like me,” you groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “Why do I always do this? Every time I think, ‘Oh, I can keep up with Helion,’ and every time, I end up half-dead the next day.”

Nesta laughed softly, but it turned into a hiss of pain as she clutched her forehead. “Do you think he was exaggerating? Dancing on tables feels a bit dramatic.”

Feyre grimaced. “Honestly? Knowing us, probably not.”

You sat up slowly, squinting as the light streaming through the window hit you directly in the face. “What do we even do from here? How do we recover from whatever disaster last night was?”

Feyre shrugged weakly, resting her head on her hand. “Step one: figure out what we drank. Step two: never drink it again. Step three: try to piece together the chaos.”

Nesta sighed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “I’m not sure I want to know. If Helion’s smirk was any indication, we embarrassed ourselves.”

“Embarrassing myself in front of Helion isn’t even my biggest concern,” you muttered. “What if we made promises? Or said something incriminating? I don’t remember anything after, what, the third bottle of wine?”

Feyre groaned, flopping back onto the pillows. “I don’t remember anything past sitting in that sunroom. Did we even make it back to our rooms on our own?”

“Barely,” Nesta replied, shielding her eyes with her hand. “I vaguely remember Helion carrying someone. Was it you, Feyre?”

Feyre made a face. “Don’t remind me. I think he was laughing the whole time.”

You shook your head slowly, trying to push through the fog in your brain. “We need answers. But first, we need food. And maybe another century of sleep.”

Nesta smirked faintly, even through her hangover. “Agreed. But let’s make a pact: if Helion ever offers us another bottle of wine, we refuse.”

“Deal,” Feyre and you said in unison, though all three of you knew it was a promise unlikely to be kept.

You flopped back against the plush pillows, pulling a blanket over your face to block out the daylight streaming through the curtains. “Do you think they’re still alive?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the fabric.

Nesta let out a low chuckle, though it was tinged with exhaustion. She adjusted her position, settling deeper into the bed. “Depends. How long do you think it took for the chaos to start?”

“Five minutes,” Feyre guessed, her eyes already fluttering closed again. “Nyx probably started something with Cassian’s boys, and Kaia probably got into something she shouldn’t.”

You groaned softly, turning your head to the side. “Poor Az. He was probably up all night. Kaia doesn’t sleep well when everyone is not home.”

Nesta hummed in agreement. “If anyone can handle it, it’s him. Though Rhys and Cassian… I’m not so sure. The three of them together with the kids is a recipe for disaster.”

“Disaster,” Feyre murmured sleepily. “It’s probably already happening. But honestly? Not our problem right now.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, though the sound came out weak and tired. “They’ve got it covered. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.”

“Even if they don’t,” Nesta added, her voice already fading, “we earned this.”

The three of you sank deeper into the comfort of the bed, the soft hum of the Day Court’s tranquillity lulling you back to sleep. Whatever chaos might have been unfolding back at the Velaris could wait. For now, the thought of dealing with anything beyond your pounding heads was impossible.

-----

The next morning at the cabin, a thin blanket of snow coated the ground, shimmering in the sunlight. The boys had already left for camp, their excited chatter and stomping boots long gone, leaving a peaceful quiet in their wake. Outside, Rhys and Cassian stood with Azriel near the edge of the clearing, their breath visible in the crisp air as they discussed his upcoming trip to the Illyrian camp.

Kaia played nearby, bundled up in a tiny fur-lined coat, her small wings peeking out from the back. Her boots crunched in the snow as she toddled around, scooping up handfuls of powder and tossing them into the air with delighted giggles.

Azriel kept glancing toward her, his shadows hovering protectively nearby. His jaw was tight, his eyes flickering with hesitation. “I don’t like leaving her,” he said, his voice low.

“She’s going to be fine,” Rhys reassured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got this. She adores us.”

Cassian grinned. “She’s got me to entertain her. What more could she need?”

Azriel shot him a flat look. “If she so much as cries, you’ll regret it.”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “You worry too much. Go handle the camp situation, and we’ll make sure Kaia is happy and safe. Promise.”

Azriel let out a reluctant sigh, his gaze drifting back to Kaia. She had plopped down in the snow, her tiny hands patting together an uneven mound that was supposed to be a snowman. As if sensing her father’s attention, she looked up, her bright hazel eyes—so much like his—lighting up.

“Dada!” she squealed, scrambling to her feet. Her wings flared slightly as she ran toward him, stumbling a little in the snow but determined to reach him.

Azriel crouched down just in time to catch her as she barreled into him, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his neck. “What is it, love?” he asked softly, holding her close.

“No go, Dada!” she said, her voice muffled against his coat. “Stay wif me.”

Azriel’s heart clenched as he pulled back to look at her. “I’ll be back soon, Kaia. Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cassian will take care of you while I’m gone.”

Kaia’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “No like it,” she mumbled, her little hands clutching his shoulders.

Rhys stepped closer, crouching down beside them. “Kaia, sweetheart, we’re going to have so much fun. You’ll see.”

Kaia turned her head to glare at him, her pout deepening. “No fun wif you. Too bossy.”

Cassian barked a laugh, earning a glare from Azriel. “She’s got you figured out already, Rhys.”

Azriel kissed the top of Kaia’s head, his lips lingering against her soft hair. “I’ll miss you too, my star,” he murmured. “But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Kaia sniffled, her small hands framing his face as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Miss you, Dada.”

He hugged her tightly one last time before standing, reluctantly placing her back on the ground. Kaia tugged on his coat, her hazel eyes wide with emotion. “Dada, hug ‘gain?”

Azriel smiled softly and knelt again, wrapping her in his arms for one more hug. “Always, Kaia,” he whispered.

Rhys finally stepped in, scooping Kaia up into his arms to distract her. “Come on, little star. Let’s go make some hot chocolate while Dada gets ready.”

Kaia clung to Rhys, watching over his shoulder as Azriel straightened and adjusted his coat. Her small hand waved frantically. “Bye, Dada! Wove you!”

“Love you too, Kaia,” Azriel called back, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest.

As he turned to leave, his shadows trailed after him, but his thoughts lingered on the tiny, determined girl who had stolen his heart.

As Azriel disappeared into the tree line, Kaia’s hazel eyes stayed glued to where he had been, her little face pouting in concentration. She wriggled in Rhysand’s arms, tugging at his collar.

“Uncle Rhysie,” she said, her toddler voice firm, “go lake now?”

Rhys glanced at Cassian, eyebrows raised. “The lake? Kaia, it’s cold out here. Don’t you want to go inside for some hot chocolate?”

Kaia shook her head vehemently, her curls bouncing around her face. “No choc’late. Lake!” She stretched her arms out dramatically, pointing toward the path that led to the frozen lake just beyond the cabin. “Pwease, Uncle Rhysie!”

Cassian chuckled as he leaned against the cabin’s railing, arms crossed. “She’s got her mind made up. You’re not winning this one.”

Kaia turned her big eyes on him. “Uncle Cassy, pwease? Wanna see da water.”

Cassian laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You mean the ice, kiddo. That lake’s frozen solid.”

Kaia tilted her head, her lips pursing in thought. “Ice pretty!”

Rhysand sighed dramatically, bouncing her slightly in his arms. “Fine. But we’re just looking, Kaia. No running, no touching the ice, and absolutely no going out on it. Got it?”

“Got it!” she chirped, her wings fluttering with excitement.

Cassian shook his head, amused. “You’re going to regret giving in, Rhys.”

Rhys shot him a playful glare. “If you’re so sure, you’re welcome to come supervise.”

Kaia clapped her hands, thrilled. “Uncle Cassy come too!”

Cassian groaned but grabbed his coat. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before you sweet-talk us into something even worse.”

Kaia giggled, wiggling out of Rhysand’s hold as soon as they reached the snow-covered path. She toddled ahead, her tiny boots crunching in the snow, her wings flaring for balance as she followed the trail to the lake.

Rhys jogged to keep up with her, shaking his head with a smile. “Kaia, you’ve got us wrapped around your little finger.”

She looked back at him, grinning cheekily. “Like Dada!”

Cassian laughed loudly, following behind them. “She’s not wrong!”

The three of them soon reached the lake, its surface gleaming with a layer of frost and ice. Kaia’s eyes widened in awe as she clapped her hands together. “So pwetty!”

Rhys and Cassian stood nearby, watching her as she crouched to inspect the snow around the edge, her little fingers brushing against it.

“She’s too much like Azriel,” Cassian muttered, smirking.

Rhys nodded, his expression soft. “She’s going to be a force to reckon with one day.”

Kaia looked up at them with a beaming smile, completely unaware of the pride and affection shining in their eyes.

Kaia’s hazel eyes lit up as a small brown rabbit darted across the snowy clearing near the edge of the lake. She gasped, her wings fluttering with excitement. “Bunny! Bunny!” she squealed, pointing at the little creature as it paused to twitch its nose.

Rhys chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched her. “Looks like she found a friend.”

Kaia crouched low, mimicking the rabbit’s position. Then, with a delighted giggle, she began hopping up and down in the snow, her boots barely leaving the ground. “Hop, hop, hop! Wike bunny!”

Cassian leaned against a nearby tree, laughing as Kaia’s curls bounced with each jump. “She’s got the hopping down, but she’s a little noisier than that rabbit.”

“Bunny hop!” Kaia shouted, flapping her tiny wings as she hopped again. Her balance wavered, and she landed on her bottom in the snow, but she quickly scrambled back up, undeterred. “Hop ‘gain!”

Rhys rubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide his grin. “You’re going to tire yourself out before lunch, Kaia.”

Kaia spun around to face him, shaking her head so vigorously her curls flopped side to side. “No tire! Hop more!” She crouched again, springing up with an exaggerated bounce. “Hop, hop, hop!”

The rabbit twitched its ears and scurried further away, disappearing into the trees. Kaia stopped, staring after it. “Bunny gone…” She pouted, her big hazel eyes turning to Rhys and Cassian.

Rhys crouched down, holding out his arms. “Come here, Kaia. The bunny went home, but you’re still our little hopper.”

Kaia toddled over to him, giggling as he scooped her up. She pressed her cold little nose to his cheek. “Rhysie hop too?”

Cassian snorted. “Oh, I’d pay good money to see that.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow at him, then looked back at Kaia. “How about Uncle Cassian hops instead?”

Kaia’s face lit up as she turned to Cassian, clapping her hands. “Uncle Cassy hop! Pwease!”

Cassian groaned, shaking his head. “You two are troublemakers.” But he pushed off the tree and gave a dramatic hop in place, earning a squeal of delight from Kaia.

“‘Gain! ‘Gain!” she cheered, bouncing in Rhys’s arms.

Cassian sighed, hopping a few more times before throwing his hands up. “That’s all you’re getting, little miss.”

Kaia giggled, leaning against Rhys’s shoulder with a content sigh. “Bunny hops fun…” she murmured, her energy finally waning as the excitement wore off.

Kaia squirmed in Rhysand’s arms, her wings flapping slightly as she pushed against his chest. “Down, Rhysie! Down!” she demanded, her tiny voice insistent.

Rhys tilted his head, giving her a mock-serious look. “You’re going to run off as soon as I put you down, aren’t you?”

Kaia giggled mischievously, avoiding his gaze. “Noooo…” she dragged out, not sounding convincing at all.

Cassian smirked, crossing his arms. “She’s got that look. You know the one Azriel has when he’s about to disappear into the shadows?”

Rhys sighed, setting her down gently on the snowy ground. “Alright, go ahead. But stay close, Kaia.”

As soon as her boots touched the snow, Kaia took off in a full toddler sprint, her little legs pumping furiously and her wings flapping for extra speed. She let out a triumphant squeal, her curls bouncing wildly as she bolted toward the edge of the clearing.

“Kaia!” Rhys called after her, already starting to jog.

Cassian burst into laughter, watching her waddle-run like her life depended on it. “She’s quick for someone so tiny!”

“Quick and reckless,” Rhys muttered, though his tone was full of amusement.

Kaia didn’t respond, too focused on her self-declared adventure. She ran in zigzags, her little boots crunching the snow as she tried to follow the faint tracks left by the rabbit from earlier.

Rhys finally caught up, scooping her up mid-run. She let out an indignant squeak, wriggling like a fish out of water. “No! Wanna run, Rhysie!”

Cassian joined them, laughing as he ruffled her curls. “That wasn’t running, Kaia. That was flying with your feet!”

Kaia pouted, folding her arms as Rhys settled her back against his chest. “Wanna fly…”

Cassian chuckled. “You’ll fly plenty when you’re older. For now, let’s stick to running in safe places, alright?”

Kaia sighed dramatically, her little shoulders slumping. “Okay… but next time, I win.”

Rhys exchanged a look with Cassian, both stifling their laughter at her determination.

Kaia began to wiggle in Rhysand’s arms, her tiny wings twitching as she pushed against his chest with her small hands. “Rhysie…” she whined softly, her voice carrying the unmistakable tone of a toddler who had been confined for too long.

Rhys adjusted his hold, pressing her back to him more securely. “Kaia, I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not happening,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Kaia squirmed harder, her little feet kicking lightly against his sides. “Nooo! Down, pwease!” she pleaded, her hazel eyes glinting with frustration. She twisted, trying to look up at him with her best pout, her bottom lip sticking out dramatically.

Rhys sighed, shaking his head. “That look might work on Azriel, but not on me, little one.”

Cassian, walking a few steps ahead, turned around with a grin. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Rhys. She’s persistent—Azriel’s kid through and through.”

Kaia’s wings flapped again, and she leaned as far as she could to one side, trying to force Rhys’s grip to loosen. “No fair! Wanna down!” she declared, wriggling like a fish.

Rhys adjusted her again, tightening his hold slightly so she couldn’t slip away. “Kaia,” he said patiently, “the last time I let you down, you sprinted off like a wild rabbit. Do you think I’m going to fall for that again?”

Kaia’s brows furrowed as she huffed, blowing a small puff of air through her lips. “Pwease…” she tried again, softening her voice. When Rhys didn’t budge, she flopped her head dramatically against his chest. “Rhysie mean…” she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Cassian laughed outright, shaking his head. “She’s got you pegged. Rhys, you’re officially ‘mean.’”

Rhys raised an eyebrow at Cassian, smirking. “I can live with being mean if it means she’s safe. Nice try, though, Kaia.”

Kaia let out a long, exaggerated sigh, her little hands gripping Rhys’s shirt tightly. “Fine,” she muttered, though she squirmed once more for good measure before finally going limp in his arms, clearly realizing she wasn’t going to win this round.

Rhys kissed the top of her curly head, his amusement evident. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

Kaia grumbled softly under her breath, her head resting against him as she gave in to the temporary defeat, though the glint in her eyes promised she wasn’t done trying.

As the crisp winter breeze started to pick up, Cassian pulled his coat tighter around himself and glanced at Rhys, who was still holding a now-quiet but visibly restless Kaia. The snowflakes had begun to swirl in the air, carried by the increasingly sharp gusts of wind.

Rhys shifted Kaia in his arms, noticing how her small wings trembled slightly in the cold despite her thick coat and scarf. “The wind’s picking up,” he said, his tone laced with concern. “It’s probably time to head back. I don’t want her wings getting stiff or chilled.”

Cassian nodded in agreement, brushing snow off his shoulders. “Yeah, the cold up here isn’t great for her. Little Illyrians aren’t built for this until they’re older.” He glanced at Kaia, who was now nibbling on her mitten-covered fingers. “She’s a tough one, though. Already lasted longer than I expected.”

Rhys looked down at Kaia, her curly hair peeking out from beneath her hat. “What do you think, Kaia? Ready to go back to the warm cabin?”

Kaia scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “Nooo! Wanna pway!” she declared, her voice muffled slightly by her mittened hands.

Cassian chuckled, crouching slightly to her eye level. “Kiddo, as fun as it is out here, that wind’s going to get too strong for your wings. We’ll come back out tomorrow, okay?”

Kaia’s pout deepened, and she turned her head to bury her face against Rhys’s chest. “No wind! Stay!” she mumbled stubbornly.

Rhys sighed, his expression softening. “I know you don’t want to leave, but we have to think about keeping you safe, little one. I promise we’ll come back out when it’s warmer.”

Kaia peeked up at him, her hazel eyes filled with a mix of defiance and understanding. “Pwomise?”

“Promise,” Rhys replied firmly, brushing a stray curl from her face.

Cassian straightened up and stretched. “Alright, let’s get moving before the storm decides to really hit. I’m not looking forward to carrying a cranky Calen back from the camp if it comes to that.”

Kaia let out a small, resigned sigh, her wings drooping slightly as she gave in. “Okay…” she said softly, snuggling closer into Rhys for warmth.

As they turned to head back to the cabin, the wind picked up again, blowing snow around their boots. Rhys held Kaia securely, shielding her as much as possible from the chill. Cassian walked ahead, breaking the path through the snow, his laughter occasionally ringing out as he teased Rhys about his “clingy sidekick.”

By the time they reached the cabin, Kaia’s earlier stubbornness had melted into quiet contentment, her small body relaxed against Rhys. Once inside, the warmth of the fire greeted them, and Rhys carefully set Kaia down, helping her out of her snow-dusted coat.

“There we go,” Rhys said gently, crouching down to her level. “Safe and warm. What do you say we find something cozy to do inside?”

Kaia nodded, her earlier disappointment forgotten as she toddled toward the couch, where her favourite stuffed animal awaited. “Pway inside!” she declared, her wings giving a small, happy flutter.

Cassian grinned from the fireplace where he was stoking the flames. “There’s my brave little snow angel. Welcome back to the warmth, Kaia.”

She beamed at him, seemingly ready for her next adventure, even if it was indoors.

Kaia grabbed her favorite stuffed animal—a plush dragon with soft wings and a mischievous grin stitched onto its face—and clutched it tightly to her chest. Her small fingers gripped it as if it were her most prized possession.

Without warning, she bolted from the living room, her wings giving a tiny flutter as she launched herself into a toddler sprint. Her curls bounced with every step, and her laughter echoed through the cabin as her bare feet padded rapidly on the wooden floors.

“Kaia!” Rhys called after her, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Where are you going?”

Cassian turned from the fireplace, watching her dart out of sight. “Oh, no. She’s on the move again.”

Rhys pushed himself up from the couch, shaking his head. “She’s too fast for her own good. Did you see which room she went to?”

Cassian shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “No clue. She’s like a tiny shadow, just like her dad.”

Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We can’t let her run loose in here. She’ll end up climbing something she shouldn’t.”

The two of them quickly started checking the rooms, opening doors and peeking inside. “Kaia?” Rhys called, his tone more playful now. “Where’d you go, little one? You can’t hide forever.”

Cassian poked his head into a small bedroom, scanning for the toddler. “Not here. I swear, she’s got Az’s stealth gene.”

A giggle echoed faintly from somewhere down the hall, followed by the soft thump of her tiny feet as she scampered further away.

“There!” Rhys pointed toward the end of the hallway. “She’s heading that way. Go left, I’ll go right.”

They split up, searching the cabin for the runaway toddler. Cassian checked the kitchen, glancing under the table and even in the pantry. Rhys peeked into another bedroom, opening the closet just in case she’d decided it was the perfect hiding spot.

Finally, they heard a faint creak from one of the rooms upstairs. Rhys looked at Cassian and raised an eyebrow. “Did she make it up there?”

“Apparently,” Cassian replied, already heading for the stairs. “We’re dealing with a master escape artist, clearly.”

As they climbed the stairs, they could hear her little voice singing softly to herself. When they reached the top, they found her sitting in the middle of a guest room, completely content as she played with her dragon toy.

“There you are,” Rhys said, his voice a mix of relief and amusement. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re causing, little miss?”

Kaia looked up at them with wide, innocent eyes, clutching her toy tightly. “No twouble,” she said with a small smile, her voice sweet and certain. “Kaia pway!”

Cassian laughed, shaking his head as he leaned against the doorframe. “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid. Otherwise, you’d be in so much trouble.”

Kaia just giggled and went back to playing, clearly not concerned about her brief escape.

As Kaia stood up, her wings flared out slightly, her tiny feet eager to run again. The moment she started moving, Cassian rushed toward her, eager to catch her before she made another escape.

"Gotcha!" he said with a grin, reaching out to scoop her up. But in his haste, he didn’t quite grab her the way he intended. His hands landed too roughly around her waist, one brushing too close to her delicate wings.

Kaia let out a sharp gasp, her body tensing as pain shot through her. A tiny squeak of distress slipped past her lips, followed by a wail of pain as her wings flared involuntarily, stretching in response to the discomfort. The pressure around her wings made her feel trapped, causing her to cry out.

“Ah, Kaia—!” Cassian immediately froze, his face going pale as he realized what he’d done. He had been too quick, too careless. He quickly set her down gently, his hands trembling slightly as he checked her face for signs of further injury.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Cassian murmured, kneeling beside her as Kaia hiccupped between sobs, clutching her wings protectively. The pain was sharp but not enough to have caused any lasting harm, but it was enough to make her feel vulnerable and scared.

Kaia's little hands rubbed at the base of her wings where the pain had flared. She whimpered softly, her tears making her cheeks glisten. “It huwt...” she sniffled, her voice trembling.

Cassian’s heart dropped, and he looked over at Rhys, who had been standing nearby, watching in horror as the situation unfolded. Rhys stepped forward immediately, his expression full of concern.

“Kaia, sweet girl,” Rhys said softly, his voice soothing. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Cassian didn’t mean to hurt you, did he?”

Kaia looked up at him with big, tear-filled eyes, still rubbing her wings. “Huwts, Rhysie... wanna see mama...”

The sight of her in so much pain tugged at both of their hearts. Rhys quickly picked her up, cradling her carefully, his arms supporting her without touching her wings. He gently kissed her forehead. “Shh, it’s okay. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

Cassian stepped back, his face filled with guilt. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just wanted to stop her from running.”

“I know,” Rhys said, his tone gentle but firm. “Just... be more careful next time. Her wings are still delicate, Cass. Especially when she’s running around like that.”

Kaia nuzzled into Rhys’s shoulder, her crying slowly tapering off as she felt the comfort of being held. She looked at Cassian, a small frown on her face. “Kaia fwu... hurt...”

Cassian’s heart sank. “I’m really sorry, little one. Please forgive me.” His voice was soft, remorseful.

Rhys sighed, gently rocking her as he rubbed her back. “Let’s get you settled, little one. We’ll take care of those wings.”

Kaia nodded, her little hands still clutching Rhys’s shirt as she hiccupped softly. “Wings... hurt...” she mumbled again, sounding exhausted.

Cassian stood in the doorway, watching them carefully, promising to be gentler next time. He felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect her, and in that moment, the weight of it hit him harder than ever.

Rhys watched as Cassian stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped, his expression pained. It was clear that the moment Kaia had cried out in pain had hit him harder than he'd expected. Cassian, usually full of energy and wit, now seemed small and weighed down by the guilt of his actions.

Rhys sighed, moving slowly towards him as he continued to hold Kaia gently. “Cassian,” he began softly, his voice more calm than usual. “It was an accident.”

Cassian didn’t meet his eyes at first, instead running a hand through his hair, his gaze still lingering on Kaia. He was chewing at his lip, clearly replaying the moment in his mind. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, Rhys. You know that, right? I just... I didn’t think.”

Rhys stepped closer, now standing beside him, watching as Kaia snuggled further into his arms. She had already started to settle, though the trace of her tears was still visible on her little face.

“I know you didn’t,” Rhys said gently, his voice carrying a quiet authority, as if trying to ease the weight Cassian was carrying. “But you have to remember, her wings... they’re not like ours. They’re delicate, Cass. We all need to be careful when we’re handling her, especially with how young and fragile she is.”

Cassian swallowed hard, nodding slowly, his eyes still on Kaia. “I know... I just... I just wanted to stop her from running off again. She’s so fast, and I didn’t think.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “I really hurt her, Rhys. Look at her.”

Rhys glanced down at Kaia, who had fallen mostly silent now, resting against him, her little fingers still clinging to his shirt. The pain had faded, though she still seemed a bit shaken, her wings tucked close to her body for comfort.

“She’ll be okay, Cass,” Rhys reassured him. “You didn’t do it on purpose. It was an honest mistake. I did it way more than once with Y/N.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. We’ll all make sure she’s taken care of. You don’t need to carry that guilt.”

Cassian finally met his eyes, his shoulders still heavy, but the tension in his face easing slightly. “I just... I don’t want to be the one who hurts her, Rhys. She’s just a little thing.”

Rhys smiled softly, understanding the weight of his words. “None of us want that. And we won’t let that happen. But you can’t beat yourself up over every little thing. Kaia knows you didn’t mean to hurt her.” He paused, giving Cassian a small, reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’re family, Cassian. We all look out for each other, especially for the little ones.”

Cassian nodded, his breath coming out in a slow exhale as he glanced down at Kaia once more. Rhys could see the relief start to seep in, even if only a little.

“She’s strong, Cass,” Rhys said with a slight chuckle. “And so are you. Just... be a little more careful next time, yeah?”

Cassian managed a weak smile, though his eyes still held that hint of guilt. “I will.”

As Rhys cradled Kaia, her big, teary eyes locked onto Cassian, who was still standing near the doorway, guilt written all over his face. Her tiny hands gripped at Rhys’s shirt for a moment before she reached one out toward Cassian, her lip trembling.

“C-Cassy?” she said softly, her toddler voice wobbly from leftover sniffles.

Cassian’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes wide with surprise. “Kaia?” he asked gently, his voice breaking slightly.

She squirmed in Rhys’s arms, her little wings giving a faint twitch as she leaned toward Cassian. “Not mad?” she asked, her words barely a whisper, as though she feared the answer.

Cassian’s heart twisted painfully. He immediately stepped closer, holding his hands out toward her. “Oh, sweetheart, no,” he said quickly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not mad at you. Never. I promise.”

Rhys, sensing the moment, carefully handed her over to Cassian. Kaia settled into his arms, her little fingers clutching at his shirt as she rested her head against his chest. “Cassy not mad,” she repeated softly, her voice muffled against him.

Cassian wrapped his arms around her securely, his hand instinctively going to her small back to avoid her wings. “No, Kaia. I’m not mad,” he said firmly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her dark hair. “I could never be mad at you. You’re my favourite little troublemaker.”

Kaia pulled back slightly, her wide, tearful eyes searching his face. “Pwomise?”

“I promise,” Cassian said, his voice full of warmth. “You don’t ever have to worry about that, okay?”

She seemed to consider this for a moment, her tiny brows furrowing in a way that was so Azriel-like it made both Rhys and Cassian chuckle softly. Finally, she gave a small nod and snuggled back against his chest, her little wings twitching slightly as she calmed.

Rhys watched the scene unfold with a soft smile, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Looks like someone forgives you, Cass,” he teased lightly, though his tone held nothing but affection.

Cassian let out a relieved laugh, holding Kaia a little closer. “Thank the Mother for that,” he muttered, his hand gently brushing over her back.

Kaia, now more relaxed, let out a tiny yawn, her small hand patting Cassian’s chest as if reassuring him in return. “Cassy good,” she murmured sleepily, already starting to drift off.

Cassian’s chest tightened, his guilt easing as he held her close. “Yeah, Kaia,” he whispered. “You’re pretty good too.”

-----

The midday sun warmed the ornate balcony of the Day Court palace, casting soft golden light over the intricately carved table where you, Nesta, and Feyre sat. Plates of vibrant dishes—exotic fruits, fresh-baked bread, and delicately spiced meats—were spread out between gleaming goblets of water and pale wine.

Feyre leaned back in her chair, her golden-brown hair catching the sunlight as she sliced into a piece of honey-glazed pastry. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in one sitting,” she admitted, her voice tinged with laughter. “Helion’s chefs are showing off.”

Nesta, sitting to her right, raised an eyebrow as she delicately sipped from her wineglass. Her steel-blue eyes scanned the table, unimpressed. “They certainly know how to lay out a feast,” she remarked dryly, spearing a slice of fruit with her fork. “But I wouldn’t call it showing off until they bring dessert.”

You smirked, stretching your arms over the back of your chair. “I don’t know, Nesta. I think it’s already better than anything we’ve had in Velaris,” you teased, popping a tart berry into your mouth.

Feyre gasped in mock offense. “Traitor,” she accused, pointing her fork at you.

You shrugged, grinning. “I’m just saying, when was the last time someone in Velaris served us peaches soaked in starlight syrup?” You gestured to the glittering dish at the centre of the table, its contents shimmering faintly.

Nesta chuckled, finally breaking a smile. “Fair point.”

The three of you fell into comfortable conversation, the light breeze carrying the faint scent of lavender and citrus from the gardens below. Feyre told a story about Nyx’s latest attempt to climb a tree, which had resulted in both him and the poor tree landing in a fountain. Nesta shared an amusing account of her struggles getting Calen, Torran, and Emrus to sit still during a family dinner.

“You know,” you said between bites of bread dipped in herbed oil, “this is the first time in months I’ve eaten a meal without having to cut it into tiny pieces for Kaia.”

Feyre laughed. “I remember those days,” she said, her expression softening. “It’s nice to have a moment for yourself, isn’t it?”

Nesta’s lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile. “If by ‘moment’ you mean a full day without anyone yelling or crying, then yes, it’s very nice.” She reached for another slice of bread, her tone lighter than usual.

As the meal went on, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—plans for the afternoon, teasing guesses about what chaos the men and children might be causing back at the cabin. Feyre tilted her head toward the sun, closing her eyes for a moment. “We should do this more often,” she said softly.

You and Nesta exchanged a glance, both nodding. “Agreed,” you said, raising your glass in a small toast.

“Next time,” Nesta added, a hint of mischief in her voice, “we’re going to make them pack us lunch before we leave.”

The three of you laughed, the sound mingling with the warm breeze as you leaned back in your chairs, savouring the rare peace and the perfect company.

Nesta was the first to break the silence, tilting her chair back slightly as she gazed out over the sprawling gardens below. “Do you think they’ve burned Velaris down yet?” she asked dryly, though her lips twitched in amusement.

Feyre snorted, shaking her head. “If they have, Nyx is probably the one who lit the match. That boy has a knack for trouble.”

You chuckled, swirling the last of your wine in your glass. “Kaia probably helped. She’s in that ‘curious about everything’ phase right now. If there’s a disaster, she’s either in the middle of it or watching with fascination.”

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that sound familiar?” She shot a pointed look at Feyre, who rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Oh, don’t start,” Feyre said, tossing a grape at her sister, which Nesta effortlessly caught. “Besides, I distinctly remember you setting Father’s study on fire when you were ten.”

“That was an accident,” Nesta replied coolly, though the faintest hint of pink crept up her neck. “I was trying to read by candlelight.”

You laughed, the sound ringing out over the balcony. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

A soft knock on the doorframe interrupted the conversation, and you all turned to see Helion leaning against the doorway, his ever-present grin firmly in place. “Ladies,” he greeted, sweeping into the room with the grace of a predator. “Still lounging about, I see.”

“Helion,” you said, sitting up straighter but not bothering to hide your smirk. “Here to check if we’ve completely drained your wine reserves?”

He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Perish the thought. Though I must say, it’s almost three in the afternoon, and you’re still in your nightclothes.” He tsked playfully. “I expected more from such esteemed warriors.”

Nesta glared at him, though it lacked her usual bite. “I’ve had three children. Let me have my moment.”

Feyre nodded in agreement, raising her glass. “Seconded.”

Helion laughed, the sound warm and rich. “Far be it from me to argue with such formidable women.” He pulled out a chair, sitting with the ease of someone completely at home. “Though I must admit, I’m curious—what exactly did you three get up to last night? The palace staff have been whispering about it all morning.”

The three of you exchanged glances, trying to piece together the hazy memories of the previous night. Feyre groaned, pressing a hand to her temple. “I think we were… gossiping? And then someone brought out another bottle of wine, and after that…”

Nesta shook her head. “Don’t ask me. The last thing I remember is laughing so hard I fell out of my chair.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair. “Whatever happened, I’m sure it was nothing Helion hasn’t seen before.”

Helion’s grin widened. “True, though I must say, it’s a shame I wasn’t invited. It sounds like it was quite the spectacle.”

“Next time, Helion,” you promised, raising your glass. “Next time.”

-----

Cassian crouched down in front of Kaia, holding out her little boots as she stomped her tiny feet on the floor, giggling. “Okay, little troublemaker,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. “One foot in, then the other. Let’s get you bundled up before you drag us all into the snow again.”

Kaia, her brown eyes sparkling like Azriel’s, lifted her foot and immediately pulled it back, wiggling her toes with a mischievous grin. “Nooooo! Tickles!” she squeaked, collapsing into giggles.

Rhys chuckled from where he stood by the door, holding Kaia’s tiny, fur-lined coat. “Cass, you’ve been outsmarted by a two-year-old. Again.”

“Don’t start, Rhys,” Cassian grumbled, finally managing to slip Kaia’s foot into the boot. “You’re not exactly winning any points, standing over there like a statue.”

Kaia’s laughter softened as she noticed Cassian’s focus on her. She reached out with her small hands, patting his face lightly. “Cassy not mad?” she asked in her soft toddler voice, her brow furrowing.

Cassian paused, his expression melting as he met her gaze. “No, sweetheart, I’m not mad. Never at you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice low. “I’m sorry I hurt you earlier, okay? I’ll be more careful.”

Kaia tilted her head, studying him intently before giving him a big, toothy grin. “Cassy funny!” she declared, breaking into another fit of giggles as she patted his cheek again.

Rhys snorted, walking over with her coat. “At least she forgives you.” He crouched down, draping the coat around her tiny shoulders and fastening the buttons. Kaia squirmed a little but eventually settled, her eyes darting between the two men. “There we go,” Rhys said, standing and brushing his hands off. “One very bundled-up little girl.”

Cassian stood, scooping her up into his arms before she could make a break for the door. “And where do you think you’re taking us this time, hmm?”

Kaia pointed a tiny finger toward the door. “Snow! Big snow! Wanna find bunnies!”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Bunnies? I thought we were making snow angels.”

Kaia shook her head so hard her little curls bounced. “Bunnies first, then ‘angels. Then—” She paused, her toddler mind clearly working overtime. “Then cookies!”

Cassian laughed, adjusting her on his hip as he grabbed her scarf. “You’ve got your priorities straight, kid. Let’s go before you change your mind.”

As they stepped toward the door, Kaia leaned toward Rhys, reaching for him with her little arms. “Rhysie, carry!” she demanded.

Rhys raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. You’re the boss.” He took her from Cassian, settling her against his chest. She immediately grabbed at the edge of his scarf, tugging it playfully.

Cassian shook his head, pulling his own coat on. “She’s got us wrapped around her little finger.”

“Completely,” Rhys agreed, smiling down at Kaia as she babbled excitedly about the snow. “But honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As they trudged through the snow toward the base of the hill, Rhys adjusted his grip on Kaia, who was leaning forward with wide eyes, staring at the glittering blanket of white that stretched in every direction. Cassian followed close behind, his boots crunching through the icy crust, while they chatted about the boys’ training schedules.

Just as they were about to begin the climb, a figure appeared in the distance, running toward them with urgency. Rhys narrowed his eyes and held up a hand to pause their ascent. Cassian stepped forward slightly, his posture straightening, while Kaia, oblivious to the shift in mood, reached up and tugged on Rhys’s collar.

“Rhysie,” she said in her sing-song toddler voice, poking at his jawline with her little fingers. “Down! Wanna walk!”

Rhys glanced down at her, hesitating for a moment. “All right, but don’t wander too far, Kaia,” he warned, crouching to set her gently on the ground. “Stay where we can see you.”

Kaia nodded earnestly, her curls bouncing, and immediately began toddling through the snow. She hummed to herself as she went, her tiny boots leaving uneven prints in the powder as she stomped in circles.

The messenger reached them then, panting heavily. He was dressed in standard Illyrian gear, his wings visibly trembling from the strain of his journey. “My lord,” the man said, addressing Rhysand with a quick bow. “There’s trouble at the nearest camp—an argument has broken out over land disputes, and tempers are flaring dangerously. They’re requesting immediate intervention.”

Rhys frowned deeply, exchanging a look with Cassian. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that there’s been a physical altercation,” the messenger admitted, his expression tight. “We fear it may escalate further if someone of authority doesn’t step in.”

Cassian let out a low sigh, his breath misting in the cold air. “Sounds like we’ll need to head out sooner than planned.”

Rhys nodded grimly. “Agreed. Azriel’s already at another camp, so it’s on us.”

As the two began discussing the logistics of leaving the cabin to address the issue, Kaia wandered further from them, her tiny hands outstretched as she admired the way the snowflakes melted on her palms. She crouched near a patch of untouched snow, giggling softly to herself as she poked at the white expanse.

Neither Rhys nor Cassian noticed her subtle movements. Their focus remained on the messenger and their impromptu planning. Cassian suggested a strategy, while Rhys debated whether or not to inform Azriel of the situation immediately.

Kaia, meanwhile, had spotted a small cluster of icicles hanging low from a nearby tree branch. With the stubborn determination of a toddler, she began toddling toward it, her steps uneven but deliberate. The cold breeze tugged at her scarf, but she paid it no mind, too enthralled by her frosty discovery.

It wasn’t until the messenger left and Rhys turned back to continue their walk that he noticed Kaia wasn’t where he had last seen her. “Kaia?” he called, his voice calm but sharp enough to draw Cassian’s attention.

Cassian turned, his brows furrowing as he scanned the area. “Where’d she go?”

Rhys’s heart sank as he realized they had been so caught up in the conversation that they’d let her slip from their sight. “Kaia!” he called again, louder this time, his tone more urgent as his eyes darted around the snowy landscape.

Rhysand’s voice cut sharply through the crisp winter air. “Kaia! Come back here, sweetheart!” His violet eyes scanned the snow-covered ground, seeking the trail of her tiny boot prints.

Cassian immediately joined in, his deep voice echoing across the empty expanse. “Kaia! Where are you, little one?!” His tone was firm but edged with worry.

They both moved quickly, their heads swiveling as they searched for any sign of her. Cassian crouched briefly, studying the snow for fresh tracks, but the crisscrossing prints from earlier in the day made it hard to distinguish hers.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” Rhys muttered, though his tone betrayed his growing concern.

“She’s quick for her size,” Cassian replied, his brows knitting together. His hands flexed at his sides, and he cursed under his breath. “We shouldn’t have let her wander.”

“Kaia!” Rhys called again, his voice carrying more urgency now. The calm façade he usually maintained was slipping.

The biting wind whipped past them as they moved further from the hill, scanning between the trees and behind snowdrifts. Rhys’s shadows began darting out instinctively, swirling and stretching in every direction to assist in the search.

“Kaia, come on, baby!” Cassian called, his tone softening despite the edge of panic. “Where are you?”

A faint rustling noise reached their ears, and Rhys’s head snapped toward it, but it was only the wind shaking a low-hanging branch. His jaw clenched.

“She’s too small to be out here alone,” Cassian muttered, his eyes narrowing as he moved toward a line of bushes. “We need to find her now, Rhys.”

“I know,” Rhys snapped, his calm veneer cracking entirely. He lifted his hand, sending his shadows farther into the surrounding forest. “Kaia! Answer me, sweetheart!”

The silence that followed was deafening, save for the crunch of their boots and the occasional gust of wind.

Cassian straightened, his chest rising and falling heavily. “She wouldn’t just wander into the trees, would she?”

“She’s curious, Cass,” Rhys replied tersely. “If she saw something interesting, she might have.”

The thought made his stomach churn. Rhys lifted his chin and released another shout. “Kaia! Come back to us!”

The echoes of their voices faded into the vast, snowy landscape, and for the first time, a genuine pang of fear struck Rhys’s chest. They couldn’t lose her—not here, not now.

-----

Kaia’s tiny boots crunched softly against the snow as she followed the hopping bunny deeper into the woods. Her wide hazel eyes, so much like her father’s, sparkled with excitement. She giggled, toddling after the small creature, her chubby hands outstretched as if she could grab it.

“Bun-bun!” she squealed, her toddler speech barely forming the words. “Wait! No hop—stay!”

The bunny stopped briefly, its nose twitching as it turned to look at her, then bounded further into the trees. Kaia puffed out a little breath of frustration, her wings fluttering slightly as she continued her pursuit.

“Kaia get you!” she declared determinedly, stumbling slightly over a hidden root before regaining her balance. The cold nipped at her cheeks, turning them a rosy pink, but she didn’t seem to notice.

The trees began to close in around her, their branches forming a canopy that blocked some of the afternoon light. Kaia didn’t mind; she was too focused on her game.

The bunny paused again, just ahead, and Kaia crouched as if mimicking the creature. “Hi, bun-bun!” she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of excitement and awe.

When it hopped away again, she gasped, jumping to her feet. “Nooo! Come back! Pwease!”

She stumbled after it, her tiny wings flaring with the effort of trying to catch up. The ground was uneven, and though she tripped here and there, Kaia was relentless.

A cold breeze blew through the forest, ruffling her dark curls, but she was too enthralled by the bunny to notice the growing distance between her and the hill where her uncles were.

As the bunny disappeared behind a larger snowdrift, Kaia slowed, her little legs tiring. She looked around for it, turning in circles.

“Bun-bun?” she called softly, her voice trembling slightly. The forest suddenly seemed bigger, quieter. The playful giggles she had carried moments ago were gone.

She shivered, her small hands wrapping around herself. “Kaia find you…” she mumbled, her voice unsure now.

But the bunny was nowhere to be seen. The woods were silent, except for the faint whistle of the wind, and Kaia’s tiny face scrunched in confusion. For the first time, she realized she couldn’t see her uncles anymore.

“Uncle Cassy?” she called, turning toward where she thought the hill had been. “Rhysie?”

When no answer came, her lower lip trembled. She clutched the little stuffed animal she’d carried with her, holding it close to her chest.

“Dada?” she tried, her small voice barely above a whisper. The towering trees around her felt suddenly much larger, and the cold began to seep in through her thick coat.

Kaia sniffled, her brave pursuit of the bunny forgotten. “Kaia… cold…” she whispered, tears beginning to well in her big, hazel eyes.

Kaia wiped her little face with the back of her mitten, sniffling as she shuffled through the snow. Her tiny boots sank with each step, but she was determined to keep moving. In her toddler mind, staying still wasn’t an option.

She clutched her stuffed toy tighter, the familiar softness bringing a small sense of comfort. “Bun-bun?” she murmured again, her voice quivering. “Kaia find… Kaia not scared…”

Her small wings fluttered uselessly against her back, a reflex whenever she felt nervous. The forest seemed darker now, the trees casting long shadows that danced in the fading light....

And sadly for Kaia a forest is not a safe place for a child whose father has many enemies.....

Part 3

[myrleius]

loud and clear — bokuto k.

bokuto k. x deaf fem!reader│word count: 1.1k

synopsis: You want to cheer Bokuto on, but being deaf makes it complicated.

cw/tags: fluff, established relationship

Silence isn’t empty.

It’s full of color, of movement, of the small details that get lost beneath the noise. You don’t need sound to know the world is alive. You see it in the way the wind stirs the trees, in the way laughter shakes someone’s shoulders, in the way excitement brightens a person’s eyes.

And right now, you see it in the way Bokuto plays.

His presence is a roar even if you can’t hear it. He’s larger than life, bursting with a kind of energy that fills every inch of the court. His teammates react to him, the crowd reacts to him, and you—watching from the stands—feel your heart react too.

You want to cheer for him too. You want him to know that you’re here, watching him, proud of him.

But the last time you tried—

You shake the thought away. No. Not today.

Instead, your fingers tighten around the plastic horn in your lap, the one you spent way too long picking out just for this moment. The one you know he’ll hear.

You didn’t expect someone like Bokuto to notice you.

You remember that day clearly—sitting in the library, flipping through a book, when suddenly, a blur of motion appeared in the corner of your eye.

A boy. Grinning. Talking.

Your brain registered the movement of his lips before anything else. He was saying something, long and fast, but you didn’t understand a word.

“Slower,” you signed instinctively, unsure if he’d understand. You pointed at your ear, then shook your head.

Bokuto blinked. Tilted his head.

Then, realization hit.

“Oh,” you could make that out. His lips moved slower this time, more deliberately. Then again, softer, like he was testing the word. “Oh.”

He hadn’t known.

His shoulders stiffened, his hands twitched like he wanted to fix his mistake but didn’t know how. Then, determination settled over his features, and he dug into his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen.

A moment later, he slid the open page toward you.

[HI!! I’M BOKUTO KOUTAROU!!!]

The letters were big, uneven, and written with so much force the pen almost tore the paper. Beneath them, an attempt at a doodle—a little stick figure with spiky hair, arms raised high.

You bit back a laugh.

Reaching for the pen, you wrote your name beside his, adding a small doodle of your own.

And just like that, a new page of your life had begun.

Bokuto never let your deafness be a barrier. If anything, he made it a bridge.

He started learning sign language almost immediately. The first time he tried, it was awful—his fingers tangled together, his expressions were exaggerated to the point of comedy, and you had no idea what he was trying to say.

But he never got discouraged. He practiced, asked questions, made sure he got things right. He still talked a mile a minute, but he started signing alongside his words, his hands always moving to keep you in the conversation.

And he watched you, really watched you. He noticed the little things—how your gaze flickered between people when they spoke, how you relied on vibrations, how you always positioned yourself where you could see everything. He adapted without you needing to ask.

But there were times when doubt crept in.

Dating wasn’t something you thought would be easy for you. There were too many little hurdles, too many things you worried would be too much for someone else to deal with.

And yet, Bokuto never made you feel like you were a burden.

Still, some things were hard. Like the first time you tried cheering for him. You don’t think about it often, but sometimes the memory surfaces, uninvited.

Standing on the sidelines, watching him play, you had wanted to join the crowd, to call his name like everyone else. But you couldn’t hear yourself, didn’t know how loud or strange it might sound.

You tried anyway.

But when people turned to look—some with confusion, some with poorly hidden amusement—your throat closed up.

You never tried again after that.

But Bokuto noticed afterwards. Of course, he did.

Which is probably why he dragged you to a party store one afternoon, an impish grin on his face as he led you straight to a shelf of noisemakers.

“If you don’t wanna cheer with your voice, we’ll find something else!” he signed, eyes bright with determination.

He tested each one with theatrical enthusiasm, laughing when a squeaky horn made the shopkeeper glare at him. But then, he picked up this one—the one in your lap now—and blew into it.

Your eyes tracked his reaction, the way his face lit up at the sound you couldn’t hear but knew he liked.

You bought it without hesitation.

Now, here you are.

The game is intense, the energy in the gym electric. Bokuto stands near the net, focused, determined. You know how much he loves this sport. You know how much he gives to it.

And you want to give back.

Taking a breath, you lift the plastic horn, pressing it to your lips.

You don’t hear the sound it makes, but you don’t need to.

Because Bokuto’s head snaps up immediately. His gaze locks onto you, eyes wide. And then—

A grin. So full of joy it’s nearly blinding.

He pumps a fist in the air, then turns back to the game with renewed energy.

You don’t need sound to tell you what he’s feeling.

You can see it. Feel it.

Silence isn’t empty.

It never was.

Bokuto wiped the sweat off his forehead, still buzzing from the win. The gym was as loud as ever—teammates clapping him on the back, spectators chattering as they filed out—but his ears were tuned to one thing and one thing only.

Honk!

There it was.

That ridiculous little honk! cut through the gym’s chaos like a battle cry, sharp and unmistakable. His grin stretched wide as he peeked over his shoulder.

Yn was standing near the exit now, tucking the plastic horn into her bag. When she caught his gaze, she waved, bright and proud, and his heart did a little somersault.

God, he loved her so much.

But there was a problem.

See, under no circumstances could yn ever find out what that horn actually sounded like.

Not because it was bad! No, no, no! It was perfect, adorable even.

But if she knew how it sounded? She might stop using it. And Bokuto needed that honk. Needed to hear it at every game, needed to pick it out of the crowd and know, without a doubt, that she was there, cheering for him in her own way.

So when Akaashi suddenly appeared beside him, raising an eyebrow, Bokuto panicked.

“That horn—” Akaashi started.

“NOPE!” Bokuto slapped a hand over his mouth. “Nope, nope, nope, don’t say it! I don’t know what it sounds like, you don’t know what it sounds like, nobody knows what it sounds like.”

Akaashi blinked. “But I do know—”

“NO YOU DON’T.”

Akaashi sighed, looking vaguely exhausted, but Bokuto didn’t care. His secret was safe.

Yn would never know her chosen instrument of encouragement made the same sound as a goose.

note: In case you’re wondering, people still stared when yn blasted that horn—but this time, she didn’t notice. She thought it was just a normal, loud honk.

[devosin]

000.5. "dressed for grief"

— THE CONCUBINE GAME !! Y/N L/N, the newly crowned Emperor takes the court by storm—after dethroning their father, who at the end of his reign almost led his empire to a downfall—Now, Y/n must deal with the after affects of their father's reign and stabilize the Empire . . starting by . . taking in Concubine's? . . stay tuned to see what this new Emperor has planned!!

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, twice a month !! — twst cast x reader | 1.1k words . .

“Hold still”, Yuuken says as he rubs some more powder on your face, “we need to make you look pale, sickly”, he adds, as he brushes some blush underneath your eyes blending it out with his finger, adding a very teary effect. 

“Feeling very attractive right now”, you say monotonically, sarcasm lining your words, as your eyes remain closed, Yuuken rolls his eyes and he swears It would’ve gone to the back of his skull by now, with how you've been behaving for the past hour, as he prepped you, gave you what can only be described as media training in modern terms.  

“It’s still not right”, he mumbles under his breath, massacring his pile of makeup, because yes, he does where makeup, he needs his complexion to be up to par, although he’d never admit that because you and Yuuka make fun of him for unpractical reasons a little too much, and he’s a little embarrassed of it. 

“Wow okay . .  Feeling very loved right now”, you mumble playfully, and you can just imagine the way Yuuken backs away, “No . . Not like that—you know what I meant—”, he says in frustration, “Why is it so hard to make you look fucking sad?!?”, he says out loud this time, “It’s usually fucking easy”,  . . . “You do this on a regular basis?”. 

There was a moment of silence between you both, before he replied, “These tear ducts don’t come naturally honey, it’s tired-chic.”

There was a pause between you too, before you replied, “Alright.” 

Time: 11:49 am Setting: Side palace, Y/n’s current room. 

Yuuka knocks on the door to your room, “Yuuken, I got the rags—clothes you wanted”, she quickly corrected herself, as she entered your room without bothering to wait for someone to open the door first or allow her in the room. 

“I’m not wearing that”, you quickly say as you finally sit up after what felt like hours, “C’mon, we need the ministers to see you looking distraught, I don't want father killer rumors going around early in your reign”, Yuuken says, grasping your shoulders, looking a tinsy bit worried and you could finally notice the uneasy radiating off of him. 

You purse your lips shut, “It’s fine, he was half dead anyway”, you mumbled softly, after a few seconds of silence you added, “He died in the throne room, on his throne, where he spend his lifetime, just like he wanted.”, and you hated the look of pity he directed towards you, goddamn Yuuken and his overcompensating care. 

Yuuka buds in, considering the heavy atmosphere, she chuckles softly, “You look great”, the words knock you and Yuuken out of your trance, you stayed silent for a moment but a ghost of a smile takes over you features, “They’re not supposed to look good, they’re supposed to be sad . .  Damnit”, Yuuken dramatically falls to the ground in frustration and Yuuka just laughs, walking up to you, “Let me fix it”, she says, sitting you back down on that goddamn stool again, you felt like a doll, those porcelain dolls that they sell at the pawnshop at the corner of Town square.  

Yuuka, grabbed some make-up, carelessly, as one of her hands held your chin up, her hands were rough, but warm, “close your eyes”, and you do without complaint, didn’t bother adding a snide remark or complaint like you did with Yuuken moments prior, she rubbed something on your eyes, you couldn’t really tell If it was mascara or eyeliner. 

Then she licked her thumb, wetting it before smudging the makeup on your face even more carelessly, smudging, rubbing, before she stopped, “Perfect”, she announces, and your face drops slightly as she let go of your chin, “That was gross”, you mumble trying to ease the weird uncomfortable and warm nerves she set off, “but effective, you look sad now”, Yuuken adds in, making his presence known. “Why can’t I just look happy, everyone wanted that fucker dead”, you mumble, even though you know the answer, he didn’t reply, probably deeming your words not necessary of a response. 

Time: 3:46pm Setting: Outside the Emperor’s Study, Main palace.

Yuuka straightens her posture when she hears footsteps, looking all the posed guard she was supposed to be, only to slump back when she realizes it's another maid, too much in a hurry to note how much she was slacking. She sighed, leaning back against the door, trying her best to hear the conversation going on inside. 

It was a difficult task, considering how thick the palace walls were, including the doors. 

The court officials, and certain key players in the aristocracy were in the room discussing with y/n about their coronation and a bunch of other power dynamics and governmental shit she didn't really bother studying when she was younger—She's starting to regret that now—she leans further into the thick oak doors, trying to hear anything she could . . 

‘Nothing—Goddamn it’, her hands clenched into fists, as she let out a groan of frustration. . when the door opens, Yuuken exits the room.  

Yuuka approached him immediately, her hands on his shoulders, “Got anything useful?”, “Where to start”, he responded with an exasperated sigh, “I swear their making me age ten times faster”, he added, “So that’s why I’ve been seeing more wrinkles—”, “What wrinkles?”, she chuckled, “kidding, don’t be such a killjoy”. 

Yuuken leaned against the wall, “So, first of all they moved up the date for Y/n’s Coronation, which means so much more paperwork”, he sighs dramatically, and Yuuka can almost see the pain and anguish in his eyes, “so so so much more work.”   

“Don’t you have people who work with you”, “Incompetent motherfuckers who can’t even write properly” . . “Okay . . this feels like a problem of your own making.”, Yuuka pointed out smoothly as she stretched her arms, “Got anything else?—besides your impending workload?”, she asks. 

“Well . . the ministers were asking how y/n plans on dealing with what’s left of the empire after their father’s rule, like trade relationships with nearby countries, and well . .  a lot . . I zoned out after they mentioned taking in Concubines.”

“Excuse me?” Yuuka starts, and Yuuken just sighs and nods, “They’re going to start a harem?”, she asks and he nods again, “What. The. Fuck.”, she says finally standing upright, “You've got to be fucking kidding me, they can’t even take care of themselves, you’re telling me they’re going to handle a harem, please.” She adds quickly, rubbing her temple in frustration, “Maybe I should go in and slap the shit out of them . .  Knock some sense in that noggin you know?” 

“That’s treason”, “Is it?”

— taglist ♡ ; @ravenlking , @oogly-oogly , @corvids-treasure-box , @queerlordsimon , @syl-lithy , @vamprel , @sarah22447 , @nerdy-simp-7120 , @islander-posts , @the-dumber-scaramouche , @lunavixia , @senpaiofotome , @sophiethewitch1 , @voasprofile , @dotster001 , @eriislost , @twst-writer , @the-fox-of-the-eclipse , @achy-boo , @despairingy-obsessed , @mirai-in-the-headspace , @novaloptr , @silvery-stars-above , @alby-rei , @shionin , @shan-jia-mo-li , @phiikichi , @xmoogx , @celestisnothere , @fluffimemes , @sketchy-owl , @mscarterakaviola98 , @batknot , @lemonmoonmochi , @thespiderinyourroom , @gl00muraaii , @probablynoposts , @a-z-rie-l , @kyxmlii , @warcelia , @leifsclubroom , @entropyensues , @rhyzoma , @ghostlysyntaxed , @busy-dadzawa-fish , @iris-arcadia ,

♡ . Ask to be tagged...

Yuuken probably has costume jewelry too . . Men wearing make-up core, we love to see it. Yes he wears a corset, fight me.

Lowkey after finishing writing, Yuuka, Yuuken, and Y/n's friendship feels like those meme's of like "Two girls one guy friendships <333", because that is exactly what it is.

Can you feel the subtle gayness from Yuuka & Y/n, i'm trying so hard to be subtle about it, but like UGH, I have this vision for the two of them, yes this is primarily because I'm a Yuuka lover, sue me.

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discord server (for spoilers & updates)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[imxnotxhere]

Acotar Men Fic Recs

** Updated 03/07/2024 **

I already made a list for azriel which was actually meant as a list for all the characters I read for but I read a lot more of azriel fics because he's my baby and the list was getting too long. So here are the rest of the characters and I also added some more azzy drabbles sorry

Rhysand

@azsazz

dioxazine part 2 - fluff, smut, modern au, art school au

the lord's work - smut

if you should die before you wake - smut, rhys x cass x azriel x reader

just hold on - smut

a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series

double duty - smut, rhys x reader x cass

what's mine - smut, rhys x eris x reader

lavender haze - fluff, suggestive

@tadpolesonalgae

mine - smut, check warnings!

knocked up - smut

vampire!rhysand drabble - smut

professor!rhys headcanons part 2 - smut

soothing - fluff, aftercare

@leafsandstarlight

easy like sunday morning - fluff, smut

@azrielbrainrot

my body keeps saying it's yours - smut

all over my skin - smut, rhys x reader x azriel

@writingsbychlo

home to us - fluff

rhys as a pleasure dom - smut - technically a drabble? blurb?

@azrielscrown

mirror mirror - smut

daylight - fluff

@acourtofwhatthefuck

shrinking violet - smut

@shadowdaddies

if i catch you i fuck you - smut

@fieldofdaisiies

rhysand... - drabble, smut

Cassian

@azsazz

mirror mirror - smut

take it - smut

a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series

@tadpolesonalgae

on the strategy board - smut

pools of sunlight - fluff

@leafsandstarlight

halley's comet - angst, smut

@princess-tulip-writes

drabble - smut - az x cass x reader

@fieldofdaisiies

cassian... - drabble

@illyrianbitch

words of affirmation - fluff

Eris

@acourtofmenandthirst

runaway - angst, smut

fox hunting - smut

closed until further notice - fluff, smut, coffee shop au

smut blurb

smut blurb II

@leafsandstarlight

destiny's battleground - angst, smut

my lovely throne - smut

despite our differences - angst, smut, series

the prince of blood part 2 part 3 - vampire!eris

@tadpolesonalgae

servitude - smut

thumb prints - smut

@serpentandlily

sly fox, dumb bunny - series

@azsazz

the burning of the autumn leaves and the roaring of my yearning heart - angst, smut

soul on fire - smut

a court of four horsemen - smut, part of a series

@azrielbrainrot

fire on fire - angst?

mind over matter - angst?

@gothicbabydollz

riding eris' face - smut, drabble

riding eris' thigh - smut, drabble

@honeybeefae

cauldron fated - angst, smut

@princess-tulip-writes

making out with eris while giving him a handjob - smut, drabble

praise kink eris - smut, drabble

@fieldofdaisiies

eris' hands... - drabble

eris... - drabble

@theostrophywife

like you wanna be loved - fluff

Lucien

@tadpolesonalgae

solecist night - smut

@acourtofwhatthefuck

yell at me again - smut

personal problem - smut

the moon on a string - fluff

@princess-tulip-writes

drabble - smut

drabble - smut, az x lucien x reader (kind of)

@gothicbabydollz

dom lucien - smut, human!reader

@fieldofdaisiies

lucien... - smut

@ceoofyearning

say yes to heaven - fluff

Helion

@leafsandstarlight

a high lord's scholar - fluff

@tadpolesonalgae

new mechanisms - smut

sweet like peaches - smut

[kiszjuli]

YOU WIN .ᐟ

✸ varsity!jaemin x fem!reader | genre. fluff. | w.c. 2.1k | ♡

↳ synopsis. in which jaemin has been pining after you and makes you a deal. if he wins the valentine’s day basketball game, you have to go out with him. you agreed, but you knew you didn’t like him like that. at least that’s what’s you’ve been telling yourself.

↳ playlist. pov - ariana grande. universe (let’s play ball) - nct dream. i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys call me baby - exo. talk saxy - riize. adore you - harry styles.

the large, crowed gym boomed with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and the faint echo of chatter and commentary bouncing off the walls. valentine’s day was tomorrow, and with it came the school’s annual basketball game—a game everyone seemed to love, whether it was purely for the game itself, or the romance that seemed to come with it. for you, though, it was just another day behind the camera, documenting the campus chaos for the yearbook.

through your camera, you’d captured just about everything this year: pep rallies, club meetings, quiet moments in the library, and even pictures of people doing the simplest things. and of course, na jaemin. somehow, he was everywhere. whether he was on the court, joking with friends, or flashing a charming grin at you, jaemin had an uncanny ability to find your camera—and you hated how often you found yourself keeping the photos he was in.

you’d spent the last semester convincing yourself it didn’t mean anything. he was just one of the many faces in the crowd, one of the players you documented out of habit. but jaemin thought very different.

about a week ago, he’d found you crouched on the sidelines during practice. you fiddled with your lens, as he walks up and proposed his idea to you. “if i win the valentine’s day game,” he’d said, leaning casually against the bleachers, and looking down at you, “you have to go out with me.”

at that, you almost dropped your camera. “what?”

“come on, pretty girl, you heard me.” his grin had been infuriating, as always. before you could think to respond, he added, “i’m. a deal’s a deal.”

“and if you don’t?” you piped.

"i don't always win, but i promise you i will this time.” he responded with a confident tone.

the idea was ridiculous. you clearly didn’t even like jaemin like that—or at least, that’s what you’d been trying to convince yourself of.

although you found your heart beating a little quicker when he was around, eyes lighting up a bit when he walked in the same room, laughing slightly harder at his jokes-it was all meaningless. right?

so, motivated by your persistence to prove your subconscious wrong, you’d agreed and now, as the stands filled quickly with students, and your camera in your lap, you glanced around not being able to shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to end you you expected.

—

despite yourself, because of the infectious crowd, you felt the pre-game thrill in your chest. you adjusted some things on your camera, getting it ready for when you needed it. aiming it in front of you you changed some of the setting, while looking through the lens. then you had noticed that he was directly in the middle; staring your way. you lowered the camera, looking at him straight on. that stupid smirk and casually spun a basketball in his middle finger. show off. his coach called the team for a quick team talk, and of course he didn’t leave without throwing a wink at you.

you fought the urge to roll your eyes but couldn’t deny the small flutter you felt in your stomach.

the gym fell to a hush as the referee walked to the middle of the court, the basketball in hand. both teams on either of his sides, waiting in anticipation. you got your camera ready for the shot, eyes trained on the scene in front of you, but you felt the weight of someone else’s gaze.

jaemin.

he stood at the center, opposite the other team’s strongest member, his attitude relaxed but ready. something about his calm and confident demeanor told you that he already knew how the game would end. like he was playing with certainty, and not hope.

seconds later, the whistle blew, the ball was thrown into the air.

jaemin reacted instantly, leaping towards it. his body stretched effortlessly to the ball, fingers grazing it first—the perfect tip-off. just like that the gym erupted in cheers and the game begun.

from behind the camera, you followed the motions of the players. shoes squeaked against the polished wood, the sharp bounce of the ball echoed through the gym. jaemin was moving like he was made for this, weaving through players with an ease. his focus was intense, completely imo in the game, but every now and then his eyes would flicker to you.

they were subtle glances, quick enough that no else would would have caught it. but you did, and he knew that.

and you hated that your stomach flipped every time it happened.

—

later in the game, halfway into the second quarter, jaemin caught a pass near the three-point line, and without hesitation, he launched the ball toward the hoop. The form was perfect, the kind of shot that sent the crowd to their feet before it even touched the net. and of course, you got the perfect picture of him in action, feet lifted at least a foot off the ground.

the cheers that followed were deafening. jaemin didn’t celebrate, he didn’t even look surprised. he just turned on his heels and jogged back to defense with that same cocky smirk, and looked directly at you.

you lowered your camera, heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

—

the fourth quarter had rolled around, and the gym was like a madhouse. the scoreboard glowing with mirrored numbers. 76-76. the game had been the kind that had the entire crowd on the edge of their seats constantly. every dribble, every pass, every shoot felt like it carried the weight of the entire game. and at the center of it all—na jaemin.

but he was also exhausted. Sweat clung to his skin, dampening his hair. his cheeks were flushed, and his chest heaved.

the rest of the team was just as worn out, struggling to keep up as the opposing team tried to pushed harder, desperate to steal the lead. jaemin had been their anchor, but the slight lag in his step was noticeable.

and yet, every time he looked up at the stands to you, there was still that unwavering determination. almost as if it pushed him harder; to keep his drive high.

you weren’t sure how long you had been holding your breath when the game reached the final full minute. the rival team had the ball, moving with quick, calculated passes, trying to run down the clock. the team knew what they were aiming for—a last-second shot, the buzzer-beater that would end it all.

jaemin wasn’t about to let that happen.

in a fraction of a second, he darted forward, intercepting a pass with a speed that seemed impossible given how drained he had to be by now. the crowd gasped, watching with intense focus, defenders right on his heels. you didn’t even realize you were standing until your knees bumped against the scorer’s table, camera still clutched tightly in your hands.

the timer was ticking down—

ten seconds left.

he crossed the three-point line. his teammates shouted, signaling for a pass, but he didn’t even glance their way, focused on his own play.

seven seconds.

an opposing player lunged at him, trying to block him. failing, jaemin spun around him, keeping the ball in his possession.

four seconds.

he took the shot running out of time.

the ball left his fingertips, spiraling toward the hoop just as the final buzzer blared through the gym.

time seemed to slow, everyone’s heads following the ball.

the ball traced the rim once—twice—before finally sinking through the net.

the gym erupted with cheers and yells and claps.

the student section stormed the court, screams of victory bouncing off the walls. the team tackled jaemin in celebration, hands ruffling his hair, hitting him on the back, yelling his name.

but jaemin wasn’t paying attention to them.

his eyes were locked on yours, with an ‘i told you so’ look.

and you knew.

this wasn’t just a win, it was his win.

and you were his prize.

—

jaemin had done it. he’d won the game, meaning he’d also won the bet.

as you sat at the bottom of the bleachers, still surrounded but the buzzing nature of the gym, you weren’t sure scared you more—the fact that he actually pulled it off, or the fact that you secretly wanted him to.

but before you could process it any further, a familiar figure broke through the heavy crowd.

jaemin. hot, sweaty, completely breathless.

his jersey clung to his skin, strands of damp hair falling over his forehead, cheeks flushed even more. his eyes were sharp, focused and locked onto you. he didn’t stop until he was right in front of you

your breath caught in your throat.

jaemin tilted his head, a breathless grin tugging at his lips. “so…” he ran a hand through his damp hair, the pieces falling right back. his chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. “about our little deal.”

you swallowed hard.

your mind scrambled trying to find an excuse, something to get out of this, but every word died before it could reach your tongue. the truth was, no matter how much you had tried to convince yourself otherwise, you wanted this. wanted him.

jaemin must have noticed the mix of hesitation in your expression because his smirk widened, a teasing glint in his eyes. he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of sweat and cologne, his voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous.

“you’re not gonna back out on me, are you, pretty girl?”

something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch. the way he looked at you. like he already knew he had won more than the game and bet. you couldn’t form a proper response.

“uh..”

jaemin let out a quiet chuckle, gaze flickering to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “guess that means i’ll pick you up at seven.”

and just like that he turned around back to the court, leaving you standing there with your racing heart.

oh, you were screwed.

—

you weren’t nervous, definitely not.

at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you checked your reflection for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. it wasn’t even a real date. just the result of a stupid bet.

and yet, here you were, doing your last touches.

a sharp knock on your dorm door made you jolt, heart leaping into your throat. you took a deep breath before opening it, only to find jaemin leaning casually against the frame, looking criminally hot.

his sweaty jersey and damp hair from earlier was gone, now replaced in a white tee, covered by a black jean jacket and matched black jeans. his usual charm fully present. his cologne was soft but warm, dangerously enticing. and they way he had that signature smirk, he knew exactly what you were thinking.

jaemin’s eyes raked over you, picking out every detail. he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “damn,” he leaned in. little. “if i knew you’d clean up this nice, i would’ve made the bet a long time ago,”

you rolled your eyes trying to ignore the quickened pace of your heart. “are you gonna flirt all night or are we gonna leave?”

he chuckled, stepping from the doorframe, gesturing his arm out of the building. “both. definitely both.”

with a dramatic sigh, you stepped out and locked the door behind you. as you followed him to his car, you realized something—this felt like a real date. nothing forced, not awkward, not something you were being dragged into. interesting.

—

jaemin ended up taking you to a tucked away, late-night café, the kind with dim lighting and cozy booths. it was quieter than you expected, more intimate, which he probably planned.

as soon as you sat down in the booth, jaemin leaned forward, eyes fixed on you with that same infuriating smirk. “so, be honest,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “how long have you been secretly in love with me?”

his words caught you off guard. “excuse me?”

he grinned. “i mean, you did agree to this pretty quickly.”

you scoffed. “it was a bet.”

“sure.” he nodded slowly, like he wasn’t the one who came up with it. “and yet, here you are. looking beautiful, by the way,”

you rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “do you flirt with everyone like this?”

jaemin tilted his head, pretending to think. “only you.”

your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to glare. “unbelievable.”

he laughed, leaning back. “better get used to it, pretty girl. you’re my valentine this year,” ‘and hopefully forever’ he thought to himself.

you smiled shaking your head.

the worst part? you weren’t even mad about it. in fact, you couldn’t form see yourself going out with him more than just tonight. maybe you did harbor some feelings for na jaemin after all..

—

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~ THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpufffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yomaman @yukisroom97

[screamingcrows]

HSR characters as ways animals court and mate

Welcome to the (hopefully) weirdest biology lesson you'll ever have! Essentially a shitpost. I shouldn't be allowed near blorbos. There might be better suited animals, these are all my takes on the characters and animals picked from ones I knew.

Repost from my old blog so I added more characters as compensation.

Characters included: Sampo Koski, Veritas Ratio, Ruan Mei, Jing Yuan, Argenti, Sunday, Kafka, Caelus, Moze

Warnings: nsfw in the way a national geographic documentary is, there are no graphic details but proceed at your own discretion, breeding mention for Jing Yuan, Sampo's ridiculously large appendage, Caelus slander,

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Sampo Koski - Limax maximus (leopard slug)

Truly, few people are as slick as Mr. Koski. You might not even notice at first that you are being observed by a mysterious, handsome stranger. Sure, his methods may be a little on the unusual side, but he values being well-informed before acting. Once he does decide to act, you may find yourself in quite a few unfortunate situations, luckily, your good friend Sampo is there to help you out. He is quite well endowed in certain departments, but where others might feel shame or even outright fear for their partner's comfort, this ingenious entrepreneur prides himself on always having the right tools for the job. Rest assured, your comfort and pleasure is of the highest importance! Or, for the right price, he will gladly put himself on the receiving end to satisfy your desires. Limax maximus is somewhat unusual in its mating habits compared to other slugs. They also have a ridiculously large penises (largest observed being 92cm or 36 inches) - mind you, a snail's penis emerges from their gonopore which is located on the side of their head. The leopard slugs court by circling each other for hours before eventually climbing a tree, coiling around each other and producing a string of mucus to hang upside down from - letting gravity unfold their penises. Since these slugs are hermaphroditic, both receive a sperm package and goes on to lay eggs.

Veritas Ratio - Strix varia (barred owl)

While Veritas might not exactly be keen on grand gestures to express himself, your persistance in seeking him out and staying close does eventually lead to the realisation that his days wouldn't be the same without your presence. Though he prefers to save his words, there's never a shortage around you, always talking, asking, listening, engaging in conversation that only you can provide. The shift in behavior is endearing, Veritas becomes keen on inviting you home, cooking for and with you, bathing together (something that had been near unimaginable for him). His hands gravitate towards you as often as possible, either just resting there or rubbing tension from your muscles. He takes care of you and lets you take care of him. It's a beautiful everyday life, after all, why would he confine himself to expressing his love a few times a year, when he could do it every day in countless ways instead? Strix varia - as many owls - remains mostly monogamous, with the exception being in instances of younger, widowed birds. Their courtship usually involves the owl hen following around the male for a time before they both begin engaging in duets and mutual preening. Every year for a period of time before mating, the male will take up all hunting responsibilities and dote on his partner :3 These owls are also, compared to closely related species, known for disliking man-made nesting boxes (microbiome is inferior to a hollowed out tree trunk) and they're considered some of the most curious and polite predators.

Ruan Mei - Timema (genus of stick insects)

While you might be interested in Ruan Mei, chances are she won't be interested in the same sense. There is little time for such 'pleasantries' and even less willingness to make time for it. Whether she cannot, or doesn't want to, understand the concept of love, she recognises the value it holds in terms of reproduction and evolution. And even then, she has gone about creating life by herself just fine. So, perhaps she will let you into her bed for a night, but it's unlikely that she lets it lead to more. Members of the genus Timema primarily reproduce through the process of parthenogenesis (virgin birth), meaning they reproduce asexually and males are very few and far between. Sexual reproduction is incredibly rare and speculated to only be done by a few individuals to keep a diverse enough gene pool.

Jing Yuan - Panthera leo (lion)

It's no secret that Jing Yuan has had ample time and opportunity for sexual experiences. Nor is it any secret that he's attractive (which he's aware of), despite his long life, Jing Yuan appears to be in the prime of his life and health. All that experience doesn't make his time with you any less special, it simply means that your pleasure and desires are exceedingly important. Anything you could want to try he will indulge, of course, you'll have to tell him, use your words, even if the answer is written all over your face. The one thing he does often want to indulge for his own sake is finishing inside. Other than that, Jing Yuan is more than happy to lay back and watch as you pleasure yourself with him. If you ask, he's happy to help, he knows your body quite well by now - ah just don't ask him in the afternoon. He's napping. Male lions are - apart from on the rare occasions that they have to defend their territory - very relaxed individuals. The females hunt for him while he sleeps (and looks good). The mane serves as a 'sexual ornament' and shows off how 'healthy' a male is. A more pigmented mane means higher testosterone levels (Ignore the pigmentation part for Jing Yuan and just consider how healthy and well taken care of he looks). A few days before the female enters estrus, the male picks up on changes to her scent and starts following her around. Female lions are known for having incredible stamina during estrus, often to the point of tiring out the male to a point where he will try to stalk off and sleep. Also worth noting that lions have a barbed penis that scratches the vagina upon pulling out, this can cause the female to ovulate just like I would if Jing Yuan did me

Argenti - Panthera leo male x Panthera tigris female (Liger, hybrid)

A knigh of Beauty passing by, not exactly the smartest choice to throw your heart at, is it? Argenti is kind, chivalrous, perhaps a little odd, and beautiful. He sees in you a work of art, compliments you as though he has no choice but let the words flow. Unfortunately, he doesn't let anyone get close. Perhaps he will indulge you for a night, find pleasure in seeing you come undone while he remains clothed. There is no settling down for him, no family life, he swore an oath that he must keep. Ligers are incredibly rare and only found in captivity. As with other hybrids, ligers follow Haldane's rule meaning the heterogametic sex (in this case the male) is sterile. These hybrids are stunning creatures, highly social, and the biggest living cat. But there is no 'successful' mating for them. Reproductive behavior in females follow that of their parent species.

Sunday - Anthochaera phrygia (regent honeyeater)

Once Sunday becomes free to act for himself, it's not particularly hard to recognise his little displays of interest. They're sweet and awkward at best and downright embarrassing at worst. He tries his best - he truly does - by learning from those around him. Unfortunately, those people are now the Astral Express crew, and aeons above, some of them aren't great at flirting to begin with, but having Sunday attempt mimicry? Horrendous. Once he gets a little more confident (perhaps you should reassure him that you enjoy who he is) you can expect him to open up more. Expect his care and love to be presented with something akin to devotion. With time, perhaps he'll even sing for you? Unfortunately, regent honeyeaters are critically endangered. This is in part due to the loss of their unique song. During early life, birds spend months learning various calls that will be important for signalling. These are typically learned from the parents, but regent honeyeaters leave the nest before this happens and a loss of habitat meant fewer individuals to learn from. Males have begun copying other bird species, leading to significantly lower interest from females, accelerating their decline.

Kafka - Crocuta crocuta (spotted hyena)

So you're enamoured with Kafka? Difficult not to be, she truly just... has a certain appeal wouldn't you say? Approaching with care and submission rather than aggression will see your chances of success increase. Kafka is confident in herself and her abilities, knowing what path she walks and the destination. But that doesn't mean she won't indulge in a little fun from time to time, after all, the script she has doesn't dictate every single action. She's in control throughout it all, even in the occassion of you being allowed on top, there's still no doubt about the hierarchy. She would have every stellaron hunter ready to protect you if your safety is deemed worthwhile. The spotted hyena lives in highly complex social groups with females most often ranking higher than males. Anatomically, the spotted hyena females have developed a 'pseudo-penis' (very enlarged clitoris) complete with faux scrotum and testes that cover the vagina - making forced copulation by a male impossible. The female needs to retract the pseudo-penis which is also what the male will insert his into. Males that remain passive and subservient have higher chances of successful mating compared to aggressive ones.

Caelus - Ailuropoda melanoleuca (giant panda)

Teeny tiny penis. Caelus is very easily goaded into doing things, sometimes you don't even have to suggest a stupid idea before he's halfway done trying. Poor man has no idea what to do with himself the moment things turn spicy. Very cute, very sweet, probably good cuddles. But you're gonna need a toy. At around a whopping 3cm (~1 inch), the giant pandas aren't giant everywhere. Courtship can involve males doing a handstand against a tree and peeing as far up as possible to signal that he's near. Famously, giant pandas seemingly lose interest in mating when kept in captivity and there's been a lot of initiatives to figure out how to get the spark back (this includes showing them panda-porn and giving them an equivalent to viagra)

Moze - Canis lupus (grey wolf)

Though he may appear reserved (and a little scary even) once you get to know Moze, it quickly becomes clear that he just.. he has a certain way of showing his affection. It's almost like having gained a shadow with how he follows you around. At first, he may be more inclined to keep you away from any and all danger, but gradually warms up to the thought of being partners in every sense. His trust in you is absolute and nothing could sway his loyalty. Still, Moze does enjoy seeing you well taken care of (going so far as having Jiaoqiu give him lessons on your favourite foods). Once he loses himself in the pleasures of your body, it becomes near impossible for him to stop. All that careful control slips from his grasp until the moment you're both panting for breath and utterly exhausted. During those times, he wraps his arms securely around you, keeping you there for as long as he can justify. I think we all know how dogs mate, no? Mounting, knotting, all that. Wolves are monogamous and form tightly knit packs. Mated pairs are excellent at cooperating, both for hunting and raising pups. The male wolf hunts for the first couple of weeks after the female gives birth, making sure she can rest in the den and look after the young. Interestingly, the more newly bonded a pair is, the more frequently will the male scent mark their territory to dissuade any potential intruders.

[prythianpages]

A Field of Dandelions | Azriel

azriel x green witch reader | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

“Please don’t talk to me like that.”

“Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.”

warnings: angst but with fluff at the end, mentions of self-hate/abuse. pretty much Azriel thinking he's not worthy of a mate.

a/n: I've been re-reading the Shatter Me series and there's a scene between Aaron and Juliette that drove me to make this along with the song Dandelions by Ruth B. The dialogue above is directly from the book Unravel Me. I used them as a writing prompt along with the general gist of the scene and added my own twist to it. I just wanted to put that disclaimer out there.

The door opens before you can even knock and your dear friend and High Lady pulls you into a warm hug. She beckons you inside with a smile and your eyes dart around the various paintings adorning the walls, finding that some are new.

Surprise etches onto your features when your eyes land on the Night Court’s Spymaster. He stands at the end of one of the winding staircases with his usual stoic expression. Still as devastatingly handsome as always. You drop your gaze as quickly as you had met his and if he notices it, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

Your ears pick up on faint crying. It grows louder and louder. Turning your head toward the source, your eyes land on Nyx. Despite being in the comfort of his father’s arms, his little features contort in pain. You greet your High Lord with a bow of your head, noticing the exhaustion on his face that mirrors Feyre’s.

“Is Mor on her way?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag. It’s full with all necessary tools and equipment you need for your venture.

Feyre had requested if you could make a tonic to sooth Nyx’s aches while he’s teething but your apothecary shop was unfortunately out of the main ingredient. Dandelion root. Not just any dandelion root but the ones that grow in the soil between the courts of Spring and Autumn and given the current tensions in Prythian and your status as a former Spring court inhabitant, it was not safe for you to go alone.

“Oh,” Feyre says as she takes the babe into her arms. You coo at Nyx and he blinks up at you, his crying coming to a stop. His lips tug up into a small smile and he wraps a tiny hand around your finger. “She is unfortunately caught up in Vallahan.”

“So then Cassian is to escort me today?” You ask again, looking up at your friend.

You catch the way she looks at Rhysand. They share a look and you know they’re communicating to each other through their mind. It’s Rhysand who answers you this time.

“Cassian isn’t fond of the spring, allergies and all.”

The Shadowsinger steps forward and your smile falls. You turn back to your friend, who gives you a sheepish smile in return.

“Azriel will be escorting you today.”

You almost want to say no. The thought of being alone with Azriel makes your stomach churn with unease and something else that you can’t quite discern at the moment. But Nyx begins to squirm in his mother’s arms with a pout and Feyre’s eyebrows knit in concern.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Feyre says.

“Our son’s life is in your hands.”

Feyre slaps her husband’s arm with a roll of her eyes. “He’s not dying, Rhys,” she grumbles. “He’s just in some discomfort from teething.”

She then turns to Azriel with a stern look. The corner of her lips threatened to betray her. “Be nice.”

**

Azriel’s shadows envelop you both, whisking you away to the forest of the Spring Court. It was the safest of the two courts to winnow directly to. The air in the dense woods hangs heavy with the scent of blooming blossoms and you’re thankful for the muffled sounds of nature as it provides a soothing background noise, saving you from the awkward silence between you and the impassive Shadowsinger.

Azriel walks ahead, his movements graceful and quiet. His shadows cling to him like the loyal companions they are but some hover over your boots, silencing your own steps. 

He finally breaks the silence. “You’re staring.”

You shift your gaze immediately and wonder if he can also sense the pink that dusts your slightly flustered face. “I’m just surprised you’re the one escorting me,” you answer honestly.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he responds cryptically.

A slight tension settles between you, your heartbeat quickening as you follow him through the forest. “Right,” you say, your face growing pinker.

You shift the weight of your bag to your other shoulder and Azriel comes to a sudden stop. He turns, his hazel eyes scanning you for a moment. Without a word, he takes the bag from your arm, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder. 

The unexpected gesture catches you off guard, and a quiet "thanks" escapes your lips. “You’re being awfully nice today,” you can’t help but observe, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your tone “I think this is the most you’ve talked to me since we met.”

Azriel’s lips curve into an almost-smile. A rare sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “My High Lady told me to be nice.”

“Right,” you repeat quietly to yourself as you exhale, a futile effort to calm your fluttering nerves. It’s almost embarrassing the effect Azriel has on you and as the butterflies in your stomach stir, you hope that the rest of the day unfolds quickly.

**

Mates. Two individuals predestined to be together, brought together by unseen forces and an irresistible bond. Azriel once wondered if he had a mate but after centuries of living, he began to wonder if he was simply destined to be alone.

When his brothers found their mates and he still hadn’t found his, he started to think he was far beyond the reach of love. It was a blessing he could not have. He didn’t need a mate, so he convinced himself he didn’t want one. Romance was not part of his duties and he was starting to come to terms with the fact. 

That is, until, he met you.

Nestled right on the outskirts of the area known as the Rainbow of Velaris was a quaint shop. The wooden sign above, engraved with dark letters spelling out Nightrose Apothecary, swayed gently in the cool morning breeze. Azriel had ignored the frenzied whirlwind of his shadows as he stepped into the shop.

Shelves made of twisted vines and wood were neatly arranged with rows of glass jars containing colorful powders, dried herbs and exotic roots. A friendly black cat, lounging on the sunlit windowsill, blinked at him in greeting. As he stepped further into the shop, his senses became overwhelmed with the prominent scent of lavender and chamomile.

Behind a worn, wooden counter is where you stood. You hummed to yourself, immersed in the book in front of you. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you skimmed over the rough edged pages, your fingertips carrying an enchanting green glow and eyes filled with darkness. 

You were a witch but it was no surprise to him. He had heard about you. You were a good friend of Feyre’s. One of the few people she could trust during her time in the Spring court. When the Spring Court fell into chaos, Feyre had brought you with her and helped you open up this shop.

His steps were silent and he’s sure you’re unaware of his presence, so he shifted, parting his mouth to speak–

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

His steps faltered, eyes widening for a fleeting moment.

When you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, his eyes locked with yours and something deep within him awakened. An exhilarating feeling like no other. He felt light. He felt alive. And he was almost afraid to blink, not wanting the feeling to end.

His shadows peeked out from behind his limbs, curious to see what had their master in a chokehold. They dispersed from his body in a thrilled dance as the darkness left your eyes, revealing their natural color. They’re beautiful and sparkling with kindness, even as his shadows disobey his silent orders and slither up your arms in a cool greeting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself apologizing, a slight tint in his cheeks. “They usually don’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” you brushed off his worry and he felt lightheaded and bewitched at the smile you directed toward him. “What brings you here?”

Azriel can’t help but feel that you already know why he’s there. He pulled his gaze away, choosing to focus on the crystal orbs on the counter instead. “My High Lady recommended I come to you. I’ve been having trouble…sleeping.”

The green glow returned to your fingertips as you beckoned a small clear vial from one of the shelves behind you. It’s filled with a silver liquid that glistened as it moved, mirroring the twinkle of the stars that light up the night sky.

“This should help.” You told him as you held out the vial to him. “Take a sip before you’re ready for bed and it should quickly pull you into a restful slumber. Some say it even brings forth sweet dreams.”

Azriel nodded his head, taking the small vial from you with a gloved hand. He stored it carefully into the chest pocket of his leathers. His hands then dug into the pockets of his pants but you held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s on the house.”

“But–”

“Any friend of Fey–the High Lady’s is a friend of mine.”

His throat tightened as he realized it’s time for him to leave and he doesn’t want to. He’s caught in a whirlwind of emotions and finds himself torn between hope and fear. Or maybe he fears what it means to be hopeful because for once in his life, he wants something.

He wants you. His mate.

But as he thanked you for your kind gesture, he realized that the bond must have not snapped for you as it had for him. So he reluctantly went on with his day and when the sky darkened and stars awakened, he took a sip from the small vial. He had the best sleep of his life that night and dreamt about you.

The next morning he asked Rhysand and Feyre about what he had experienced because he couldn’t believe it himself. They confirmed his suspicions and they were both delighted. Feyre even more so as you were her dear friend.  

She had taken it upon herself to bring you two together. Her first attempt was a family dinner. It was going well until Elain had spotted a spider and upon the small scream she let out, Nesta had rushed to kill it for her. Your distress was impossible to turn a blind eye to and Feyre quietly asked if you were alright.

“It didn’t need to die,” is all you quietly said, your eyes lined with silver.

Witches were one with nature and given your niche with herbs and creation, Azriel realized the depth of your admiration for all life that night. Then, another harrowing one. You were so innocent, so pure. He was guilty, hands tainted and stained red. He didn’t deserve you.

The Cauldron must’ve made a mistake.

Feyre was undeterred so she gave it another attempt, despite Azriel’s protest. She arranged a night out at Rita’s for the Inner Circle and invited you. Azriel didn’t plan on going but Rhysand had made sure his schedule was clear and when Feyre had sent him an image of you in a skin tight dress, he came as quickly as he could. 

But it was too late.

He arrived to find a high fae leaning toward you in interest and you were smiling at him. A smile Azriel wanted reserved just for him. The male had placed a hand at your waist and Azriel felt his stomach churn when you laughed at something he had said. A sound he wished to be the cause of. You seemed happy and who was he to stand in your way?

The male was everything Azriel was not. Blond, blue eyed and perfectly smooth hands–hands that were all over you and welcomed by you. He unconsciously hid his scarred hands behind his back and when your gaze met his across the room, he looked away. 

Azriel was not worthy of you. He didn’t deserve to have you as his mate. So he reminded himself that romance was not part of his duties and convinced himself that the Cauldron, had indeed, made a mistake. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of being just a friend to you. The mere idea pained him so much that he pushed you away. He didn’t return to your apothecary when he finished the vial you’d given him–not even when his nights became restless again and dark circles appeared beneath his eyes. When he’d see you walking along the streets of Velaris, he’d turn the other away and when you would visit Feyre and he was there, he’d find an excuse to leave.

But there was one thing he couldn’t shake off–the primal instinct to protect you. It was the least he could do for you as he felt indebted to you for the Cauldron’s mistake. 

So when he heard you needed an escort to the border between the Spring and Autumn courts, he was the first to volunteer, despite Mor and Cassian also offering.

**

It’s as if the ground beneath you comes to life in your presence. Birds fly over you, chirping and singing a beautiful melody. As you pass, buds blossom into beautiful flowers as if enchanted by you. Even the animals emerge from their hidden abodes. The squirrels playfully dart between branches while a family of deer gracefully emerges from the trees.

It becomes evident that nature itself is captivated by your presence. and it extends beyond nature, weaving its magic onto Azriel as well. It reaches into the very heart of the Shadowsinger, casting an enchanting spell that even he cannot escape.

A blue butterfly dances playfully around Azriel. It startles him, pulling him out of his trance and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes from you. You raise a finger and the butterfly lands on it softly.

“Hello, little one,” you coo softly. You turn to Azriel, holding out your finger to him. “Would you like to hold it?”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you scared of a butterfly?”

Azriel does not answer your question. Instead, his eyes dart around the forest that still stirs with liveliness around you. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though it’s not your fault. The butterfly grants you one last flutter of its wings before flying away. “I can’t help but be admired by many.”

Azriel lets out a hum. You’re too distracted to pick up on the subtle resonance of agreement, your eyes widening as the meadow finally comes into view in the distance.

**

You inhale deeply, flooding your senses with the sweet and delicate fragrance surrounding you. Time seems to slow and your worries dissipate away as you kneel down, gently touching the soft sea of green, white and yellow. The gentle sway of the dandelions is mesmerizing almost, their feathery plumes catching the morning breeze like wishes aching to be set free.

Azriel watches you and his eyes are a reflection of an adoration deeper than any meadow bloom. There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest. You close your eyes, a serene expression on your face. Strands of sunlight weave through your hair, creating a halo of warmth and Azriel finds it hard to breathe when your lips bloom into a tender smile.

Your eyes open and meet his hazel eyes and suddenly, he’s looking away. He clears his throat, eyes looking around the field. “What’s so special about this place?” He asks, a desperate attempt to reclaim the distance between desire and reality.

“All life is a delicate balance of give and take. Spring brings forth new life and beauty, new beginnings. Autumn leaves showers of gold, recognizing the temporary nature of all things. “ You answer as if it's common knowledge and upon the bewildered expression on Azriel’s face, you offer the simpler explanation:  “The soil between Spring and Autumn is very potent.” 

“These are weeds. They’ll grow anywhere.” Azriel deadpans. He regrets it immediately at the slight frown that forms at his casual dismissal.

“You may see a weed,” you begin, plucking a single dandelion from the ground as you rise to your feet. You approach the Shadowsinger. “But I see wishes.”

You extend the dandelion to him with a softness in your eyes that he’s never been on the receiving end of. “They say a single dandelion possesses the power to grant one-hundred wishes. But their beauty lies in their resilience because when they fall apart, they simply start again. A reminder to us all of boundless hope.”

Azriel hesitates, his gaze fixed on the dandelion. His gloved fingers brush against yours and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his. The mere thought dares to send a shiver through him but he swiftly pushes the thought away.

You smile at him as he carefully accepts the stem from you. His shadows remain dispersed around the field but from where he stands, he can feel them vibrating joyfully. Your smile is so bright, so dazzling and for the first time since he met you, it’s all for him.

A sudden warmth floods through him, a sensation he never anticipated, and he finds himself utterly captivated.

“Make a wish,” you whisper to him, your voice a gentle prompt that lingers in the air like a spell waiting to be cast.

Azriel is not one to believe in things like this but he finds himself surrendering to the magic of the moment. For you.

Under the tender gaze of a field of dandelions, he closes his eyes. He lets out a silent breath, and makes a wish. A breeze courses through you both in that moment. The dandelion’s wispy seeds take flight, unraveling into a fine constellation of possibilities. 

The soft bristles of hope travel through the air and find their way to you and a laugh escapes from you in response to the tickling sensation as they caress your face.

Azriel’s heart feels strangely gentle–as if the weight that often accompanies his existence has momentarily dissipated. His entire body seems to soften in the glow of your laughter and a rare smile forms on his face.

He’s stuck in a trance, mesmerized by you, failing to catch the sounds of the creatures approaching.

Before he knows it, there are arrows whistling around you both. He barely has enough time to respond as one hisses by his ear and darts to you. He immediately raises his hand up, his shadows rushing to the rescue and forming a protective shield around you both.

**

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the tip of an arrow that is a couple of inches away from you. It’s coated with blood. Azriel’s blood.

Your breath hitches at the sight. There's an arrow embedded into his gloved hand and if it weren’t for Azriel’s other hand at the small of your back, you would’ve fallen backwards.

“Are you alright?” His gaze is examining you carefully, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

You blink at his words. “Are you alright?”

“Well, well, well.” A voice drawls followed by deep, rumbling growls from the hounds that surround you. They’re kept at bay by Azriel’s shadows. “What do we have here?”

Azriel turns around, ready to face the threat head on. His shadows remain at your side protectively. Some slither up and down your arms, their touch aimed at offering comfort and reassurance. 

“Eris.”

The red head smirks and his teeth flash when he catches the sight of the Shadowsinger’s injured and bleeding hand. “My apologies,” Eris sneers. “If I had known it was you, I would’ve aimed for the heart.”

A sound escapes from you–one you didn’t know you were capable of making and you step out from the shadows. It draws Eris’s attention to you. His amber eyes drink you in and you feel Azriel stiffen beside you. The Autumn’s male’s eyes land on the obsidian necklace around your neck and they narrow.

“What is a witch doing in my lands?” His hounds that are still surrounding let out another growl, prompted by their master’s tone of voice. They snap their teeth menacingly.

But you’re unfazed.

Perhaps, it’s Azriel’s protective shadows or the overwhelming anger set alight by Eris’s words that grant you the confidence and push you forward. Your eyes fill with darkness, resembling a night sky without any stars and Azriel can feel the energy coursing through your veins as you call upon your magic.

“Keep wasting the air with that breath of yours and I might just cur–”

A hand comes over your mouth, stopping you from saying anything else and you’re being pulled flush into Azriel’s chest. You grimace at the taste of leather and squirm only for Azriel’s arms to tighten around you.

“Cute,” Eris remarks with a hint of amusement but there’s an unmistakable fear that flashes in his eyes for a short lived moment.

 “We’re just passing through,” Azriel states, his voice void of emotion. 

Eris observes you both in contemplative silence. He must discern something in Azriel that prompts him to stand down. With a thoughtful hum, he gracefully turns away. His hounds follow suit and as he walks away, he calls over his shoulders: “Make it quick.”

You watch as Eris disappears into the forest, still wrapped tightly in Azriel’s arms. It isn’t until Eris is completely out of view that you squirm again and without thinking, you bite on his gloved hand. Hard. Azriel flinches and finally releases his grip on you.

You turn to him with a glare that he returns.

“Threatening to curse the heir to Autumn? Are you out of your mind?”

“I should curse you for stopping me!” You exclaim, crossing your arms with a scowl. Your gaze then softens as you quietly add:  “He hurt you.”

“Gods,” Azriel breathes, stepping away from you and tilting his head backwards. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“You mean besides piss you off by merely existing?” You huff as you snatch your bag away from him to get the jars you brought. “Can’t imagine it gets any worse than that.”

**

The walk to your apartment is silent and you begin to wonder if you should apologize for your outburst earlier. It was not within your nature to raise your voice at anyone…or harbor anger toward someone. But Eris had tried to hurt you, hurt Azriel and then shamelessly sneered about it.

Azriel follows you into your home, watching as you set the ingredients you collected down. He expects you to bid him farewell and kick him out but as you turn to him and your gaze falls to his injured hand, you sigh.

“Come on,” you offer, reaching out for his hand and he recoils. You frown.  “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

You know he’s lying by the way his jaw clenches and you can’t help but notice that he appears to be repelled by your touch. You almost laugh. “I promise I won’t curse you. I actually never cursed anyone before.”

Azriel’s expression remains unreadable.

“Just let me see. I can help you.”

“I’m fine.” He says through gritted teeth.

“You��re bleeding all over my floor.” You say in hopes to get him to accept your help and when it doesn’t, you cross your arms against your chest. “Do you really hate me that much? To be repulsed by my touch?”

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel confesses and his voice is much quieter, much softer when he speaks again. “I could never.”

Azriel holds your gaze in contemplation for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see his shadows pushing him toward you so you try again. This time, when you step forward, your hand reaching for him, he doesn’t pull away. 

 “Sit,” you tell him, nodding your head at one of the chairs in your kitchen. 

With a hard swallow, he does. He is entirely still as you hold his gloved hand in yours. Even his shadows are eerily still as if holding their breath. His eyes are boring into you with an intensity that heats your skin. You bring your other hand up, a soft green glow emitting from your fingertips. With the help of your magic, you carefully take the arrow out, drawing a sharp gasp from him. 

“Sorry,” you say, turning your attention to his glove next. You use your magic to remove it as well, not wanting to cause him any more pain or discomfort.

As the green mist of your magic dissipates, revealing the scarred skin beneath, your eyes widen. The scars are extensive, streaking around his fingers and the palm of his hand and the bleeding gash in the middle is nothing compared to them. You lift your gaze to meet his only to find his eyes are dead of emotion.

“Azriel.” You breathe and it’s the first time you’ve ever addressed him by his name and it sounds so pretty, so beautiful but the way you’re looking at him…

“Don’t.” His throat feels tight and he starts to withdraw his hand from yours but you stop him. You want to know who hurt him this deeply. Today was a day of firsts for you–first smile from Azriel, first time you ever felt so angry, first time you growled at someone and you were more than willing to add another first to that list. Cursing someone.

But Azriel looks like he’s about to break so you push your rage aside. Realization dawns on you as you now understand why he’s always wearing gloves around you, why he avoided you at all costs before. Your heart aches.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” you say softly as you begin to heal his hand. “Your scars may forever carry their stories with them but they do not define you. Your heart does and I can see it now. It’s bright and beautiful. You’re beautiful and–”

“y/n,” he almost begs. “Please don’t talk to me like that.”

The gash on his palm is now completely healed and you tighten your hold on it. “Why?”

“It’s cruel and heartless and you don’t even realize.” His voice drops to a pained whisper and his eyes are fluttering shut, body trembling. Shadows cling on to him, embracing him in an attempt to comfort their master. You’ve never beheld anything more heartbreaking.

“Do you think that lowly of me?” You begin, your voice quiet. “That I would be put off by your scars?”

When he doesn’t answer, your free hand reaches for his face, lifting his chin up. But his eyes are still closed and deep lines form on his forehead because your skin is so soft, so warm and he’s not worthy.

“Azriel,” you steady your breath. “You’re my mate.”

His eyes shoot open, hazel orbs glistening with tears as he looks up at you. “You know?”

“I’ve known since the moment I met you.” You confess with a pained smile. “I wanted to tell you right away but I didn’t want to scare you and when I was ready to tell you, you were avoiding me. I thought you hated me because, well, I’m a witch and not everyone is fond of them.”

“But that night at Rita’s–”

“My stupid attempt at making you jealous,” you explain to him sheepishly. “I thought it would prompt you to talk to me but it backfired immensely.”

Silence falls over you two. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “For what?”

“For being your mate.” Azriel responds. “I don’t deserve you. My hands are not only scarred but stained red. I’ve tortured many. I’ve killed many. You value life but I take it.”

“I value innocent life. It’s my duty to protect nature–to protect those that cannot speak for themselves.” You clarify. “I understand that it’s your duty to protect this court. I don’t see you any different for it.”

The hand at his face drops and you use it to remove the glove from his other hand. Your hands grasp onto his larger ones and you lace your fingers with his, embracing the thickened and roughened skin. Azriel’s breath hitches.

 “This can’t be real,” he murmurs to himself, dropping his gaze. “In that field of dandelions, I wished upon every one of them. For you.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” you tell him with a smile as an overwhelming rush of tenderness comes over you. “It cannot create or destroy love. It can only heighten what is already there.”

Azriel’s expression softens and he looks back up at you. Half terrified. Half hopeful. “So this is real?”

You decide to show him instead by leaning down and kissing him. 

Azriel’s body relaxes and then he’s using his hands to tug you forward and onto his lap. He kisses you back. Deeply and desperately. He places his hands on your face, your neck and then they’re at your waist, slipping under your shirt. He wants to feel your skin, all of you and you welcome it, arching into him because his touch feels so good.

It stirs a light of desire in you–a desire so bright that it rivals the sun and blossoms flowers of its own. A desire to love and be loved. 

“What else did you wish for?” You gasp out when you both pull away for air. His hands are right under the curve of your chest and he leans his forehead against yours.

His breath is heavy but he smiles at you and you engrave the image into your mind because you’ve never seen anything so beautiful. You’re inclined to ask Feyre to paint it for you later.

“My only wish was for you to be mine.” He confesses, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Done.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

Azriel has heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime–he’s seen it come to his brothers. He never thought it would come to him but he’s pretty sure that you are that love of his and he was a fool to push it away. He knows this now because when he gazes into your eyes, he can see forever in them.

here's an alternate scene, where y/n is the one who says "please don't talk to me like that" instead of az: read here

here's a scene if you're curious about feyre's reaction: read here

if you're interested in reading more about this au you can find the masterlist for this series here