#and that’s not even getting what his kids think about it

[ddejavvu]

hotch x new recruit! reader where it's SO obvious to everyone in the team that she's just so in love and enamoured with hotch. it gets worse when the team go out drinking to celebrate after a case, and she's an affectionate drunk who just wants to sit in hotch's lap 🤭

"I just need to rest my eyes." You swear, your head feeling like a stone sinking in a lake as you press your forehead into the steady plane of Hotch's shoulder.

"You need to rest your arm," Emily laughs, reaching out to take your drink from your hand, "Slow down with the booze, sleepyhead."

"I'm not tired." You insist, lips brushing the rough fabric of Aaron's polo shirt, "I'm- I told you, I'm resting my eyes."

"That's what my mom used to say before she'd start snoring," Reid recalls with a slight smirk, one that's almost out of place on his soft features.

"That's parent-code for 'I don't want my kids to bother me while I'm napping'." Rossi agrees, raising one of your hands and watching it drop, "Face it, kid, you're smashed."

You roll your eyes with a heaving sign that teenage Penelope Garcia would have envied, raising your spinning head to look up at Hotch. You're closer than you've ever been to him, nearly face-to-face as he peers down at you where you rest on his shoulder, but you don't notice above your ire.

"They're making fun of me."

"They are." Hotch nods, a rare smile on his face as he tries not to laugh, "I think it's because you're tipping over into my lap."

"Fine. Fine!" You struggle to straighten yourself, but you lead with your upper half that's pitched towards Hotch. You slide over the bench and hoist yourself onto one of Hotch's legs, barely able to manage even that with the table in your way. It's a tight squeeze, but it earns you a round of laughter as Aaron's hands come up to brace whatever fall you're about to throw yourself into.

"Hey- hey!" Morgan gestures to his own lap, "This seat is open too, you know. Why are you all cuddled up with the boss man?"

"Because he's not laughing at me." You huff haughtily, but Aaron's face is nestled gently into the curve of your spine to hide his snickering, "He loves me- he doesn't think I'm drunk!"

"Right." Aaron flounders, a little on the nose, "Of course not." he recovers, drawing in a deep breath for composure, "On an unrelated note, Y/N, you should let me drive you home. I think you'd like the music I listen to."

"Okay." You nod, attempting to spin your head 180 degrees to look at him where you're uncomfortably perched in his lap, "Can we get ice cream on the way?"

"Of course." Hotch nods, patting a firm hand against your hip, one that prompts you to slump further against him, "And if you keep your seatbelt on the whole ride, I'll get you two scoops."

[dollfacefantasy]

caleb x fem!reader

you and caleb used to play fight a lot, but things are different now that you're older

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, fauxcest, dry humping

a/n: um hehe just a small drabble cause i've been thinking... also i like the pipsqueak thing idgaf kiss me about it. imagine this takes place when she’s staying with him.

"isn't this around the time you'd usually cry mercy, pipsqueak?" he breathes, his smooth voice warming the air next to your ear.

a small grunt escapes you as you try to lift your arm to shove him off. your effort is pointless though. his grip tightens around your wrist, and he brings your limb back down to the floor without much effort.

“caleb, quit it!” you whine.

he just laughs at you. his body doesn’t move away an inch. he stays right where he his, hovering over your smaller frame.

the two of you used to play fight all the time as kids. you’d squabble over the remote or your toys. whiny arguments would morph into a small scuffle, a test of wills. so it felt natural today to lunge at him when he held the book you wanted to read just out of reach. getting physical made sense. you’d been so agitated with him keeping you here, you needed to blow off some steam. it just didn’t feel so good when reality set in as he wrestled you down to the floor like always.

“it’s not funny,” you say and try to jam your knee up into his abs.

he dodges the move and continues to smirk at you. “maybe not to you. but it’s pretty funny from up here. pretty cute too,” he teases.

you scowl, squirming some more. in your younger years, you’d always been able to fight back a little. you’d lose in the end, sure, but victory had been in reach a few times. now, caleb is stronger. he’s bigger, and he doesn’t fight like a scrappy high school kid but rather someone with training. you’re starting to realize you have no chance now, and part of you wonders if you ever did. or maybe he’d been going easy on you.

as if to taunt you, he slides your arms up above your head and grabs both your wrists with one hand. even with his other one free, he keeps you pinned with the same amount of force. it’s fucking humiliating. you feel your cheeks starting to heat up as he drags the back of his fingers along your jaw, cooing at you.

“you always used to get so angry like this too. so frustrated. you’d think you would’ve learned not to start fights you can’t win,” he mocks.

his thumb comes to sweep along your cheekbone, back in forth in slow strokes. he stares into your eyes while he does, almost studying you. it gets you heated for a whole other reason you don’t even want to acknowledge.

“get off of me,” you squeak, your voice much less aggressive now.

“maybe i will if you beg enough,” he taunts, “if you use your manners and say please like a good girl, i’ll consider it.”

“shut up!” you say. you kick a few more times and buck your hips to try and get loose.

in response, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams it back to the ground. you let out a little growl, assuming you’ll have to restrategize. but then he pushes his pelvis down on top of yours.

you gasp. all the fight leaves you in a harsh blow because now, unlike any of the other times you play fought with him, you feel a solid bulge pressing between your legs.

your eyes widen, and you sputter. you’re sure you look totally stupid right now. but you don’t know what else to do. there’s no question about it. he’s got a boner, and he’s rubbing it right up against you.

“i told you. you’re not gonna win. might as well surrender,” he says. he speaks in a completely even tone, as if nothing is different.

“c-caleb. what are you doing?” you start, “don’t be weird.”

“i’m not being weird,” he defends with feigned innocence, “we always used to mess around like this. what’s got you all shy now?”

you know why he’s asking. because he knows you won’t say it. the answer is so easy, yet you can’t bring the words to leave your lips.

“you know what,” you whine softly.

he chuckles and leans in even closer to your face. “maybe i do. but i don’t think that it’s weird. we’re not kids anymore. you can’t whine and wriggle around like that and expect me not to react,” he murmurs.

your heart beats harder in your chest. you can feel every thump. before you can say anything in return, he grinds his hips again, rolling his hardened length right up against you. and this time, it feels good.

“i- caleb- we can’t,” you whimper, biting your lip.

“we can’t? we can’t what? we’re not doing anything,” he says before grinning at you, “it doesn’t count if it’s over the clothes.”

you want to smack him, but both your arms are still immobile.

“it’s still weird. we’ve never- i don’t see you like this,” you insist, though the last statement is a complete lie.

he tsks and shakes his head before pushing his erection between your legs for another time. this one draws a whine out of you. his hips jump forward at the sound, but he doesn’t let his face show that burst of desire.

“what do you see me like then?” he whispers.

silence fills the air between the two of you as you fail to answer. you know what you see him as. you know your crush on him goes back years. you know what fantasies fill your head at night when you’re alone.

but you also know how you want to see him. What you’re supposed to see him as. What you’ve tried to limit his role to for so long.

“it’s ok,” he finally says, “i won’t make you say it if it’s that hard. but i know you like this. i know you remember?”

he grinds against you again, but this time it’s not only once. now he sets himself into a rhythm, consistent swings of his hips against your center.

“i know when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you’re ashamed,” he says, “i know when you want something, but you’re too scared to ask.”

ducking in, he kisses your neck. you moan in response, putting no effort into suppressing the noise now.

“that’s right, princess. your big brother knows you better than anyone, doesn’t he?” he coos mockingly.

“caleb!” you whine. you internally cringe at both titles, but outwardly, your face still contorts with pleasure.

“what?” he laughs, “that’s what you were gonna say before, wasn’t it?”

“but i didn’t,” you whimper.

“but you thought it, and it’s all the same to me,” he teases.

he refocuses his mouth on your neck again. his lips move over the column of your throat while his cock continues pressing right on your pussy. it feels better by the second. maybe it’s because he’s kissing your neck too, you’re not really sure. all you know is the hot, sparkling feeling in your stomach is building.

nipping at your pulse point, he then sucks on the skin like he wants to leave a mark. his tongue laves at it for a few moments before he pulls off.

“i’m gonna let go of your arms. you’re gonna behave, ok?” he mumbles against your skin.

“mhm,” you whimper and nod. the overt submission feels pathetic, but losing the feeling of him would be even worse.

“good girl,” he praises.

he keeps his word and releases his hold on your wrists. the air feels cool on your skin that’s all warmed up from his hands. now with his other arm in use, he can snake one around your ass and boost your hips. the new angle allows him to thrust against you harder.

“fuck, baby,” he grunts. you feel his lashes brush your neck as his eyes flutter.

your arms loop over his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. more little mewls spill from your lips. you can feel his stiff length sliding right up against your folds through your clothes. every swipe brings a blissful burst of friction to your poor throbbing clit.

“there you go. i got you. big brother’s got you,” he mumbles mindlessly. he chokes out a moan into your shoulder as his hips move like they have a mind of their own.

your body starts to squirm more. that hot feeling inside is reaching a boiling point. you clutch at his shirt, your nails digging in so hard they threaten to tear the fabric. the constant push and pull of his lower half is nearly hypnotic. it seems like you’ll be under him forever while also on the brink of letting go.

after a few moments more, he pulls back to look at you. his eyelids hang low, heavy with his desire for you.

“god, you’re so pretty. so fuckin’ beautiful now,” he says and presses his forehead to yours. his eyes shut while your breaths mingle. “i knew you wanted this too. just look at you. almost falling apart, and i haven’t even really touched you. i knew no one else could do this better.”

all you can do is whimper softly and cling to him harder. you pull on him as if trying to pull him into your body, to meld your two beings into one. the pressure down below feels dull and muted, but it’s blooming nonetheless.

“yeah… you’re gonna cum all over your pretty panties,” he mutters, “get ‘em all nice and wet so i can have some fun with ‘em later.”

“caleb…” you whine, useful words falling out of your grasp in this moment. one of your hands flies up and laces in his hair. your fingers clench into a fist, giving the strands a sharp tug.

he groans and bucks his hips extra hard. “c’mon. cum for me, baby. let me make my sweet little angel cum,” he murmurs.

it really doesn’t take much to get you there. the friction burn he’s rutting you both into works, and you feel yourself hit the high. euphoria rushes through you. a little breathy whine erupts from your lips. your back arches off the floor, but he keeps you cradled against him securely.

the whole time you’re cumming, he’s still humping you like his life depends on it. it’s when you start to come down, that he finally explodes. he buries his face in your neck, letting out the loudest moan you’ve heard so far. his arms tighten up around your frame as his fingers dig into your malleable flesh.

his hips jolt forward in random twitches now, chasing the last remnants of release while he spills inside his pants.

when he’s done, his breaths are harsh and labored. he nuzzles the crook of your neck before kissing your cheek and receding off your body. his palm runs over his face lazily.

“fuck, i gotta change now,” he says, not bothering to look down at the dark patch at the front of his pants.

without even really thinking about it, you reach forward for the waistline. you’re already craving more of him. but before your hand can get there, he takes your wrist.

“not so fast, pipsqueak. i think you should actually beat me before i let you have the real thing,” he smirks.

[nymphaea-blue]

Love and Deepspace boys as dads

Info : 3.1k+ word count whole (around 650 - 900 per part), includes : Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, reader is female, reader and LIs are married, mentions of arguments, possible lore spoilers or slightly inaccurate lore references.

Notes : I did my best to keep the parts even :D They are all so supportive, I love the game because of this so I had to include that in the fic as well <3

Rafayel

﹒　⁺ I see him as a girl dad, he would probably have twins.

﹒　⁺ He loves his little daughters more than anything! They are the light of his day, even when they mess up sometimes. He has no issues taking care of them if you aren't able to because of missions.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel would be very patient. Yes, he has his moments when even he loses a little control, but overall your kids would be well behaved so there rarely were moments when he needed to get angry at them.

﹒　⁺ The playful type. He likes to take them out somewhere fun, perhaps to go swimming or maybe to a nearby amusement park, or even on a small vacation in a different country with you by their side of course.

﹒　⁺ They would be half lemurians! The girls are naturally excellent swimmers and they are very loyal, as well as interested in arts, but they look human and don't have a tail. He loves to sing them lullabies in Lemurian and he would try to teach them a little about Lemuria as well.

﹒　⁺ After they grew up, he was even more invested in their lives. He knew all the drama, everything that was happening in school and you bet if your daughters ever came home crying he would be quick to do something about it. Rafayel would also not mind doing skincare with all of you! He did it even before he knew you (in this lifetime) so now he just got to do it with the entire family.

﹒　⁺ He still makes sure the two of you get plenty of time together and he takes you out on dates, even well after he became your husband. He does his best to split the responsibility 50/50 but with how frequent his exhibitions seem to be, it’s hard, though he is always fully supportive of you and appreciates the effort you make for the family.

“Mommy look, look!” Your daughters called out to you as you were relaxing on a towel nearby. Since you were free from work and Rafayel finished his pieces for the exhibition, it was a perfect day to spend it on the beach, especially because the weather was warm and it was right in front of your home anyways.

As you looked over at where the girls were, you could see a sandcastle being built, with your husband, Rafayel, helping them with it. It was very visible which parts Rafayel worked on and which ones the girls did, but it was endearing since they tried to replicate what he did. 

“Awh, it looks wonderful! Good job, girls!” You cheered them on, they were trying their best and it was all that mattered, they had fun with their dad too, it wasn't surprising since they got a little bit of his artistic spirit from him.

“Heyy, I'm here helping them as well, you know.” Your husband pouted playfully as he got up and walked towards your resting spot.

He kissed your forehead gently after he adjusted your parasol to make sure the sun won't blind you.

“How are you doing, cutie?” He checked in on you, the beach day was also a way for you to take a break and relax, with constant either work or motherhood activities you felt very tired out as of late so Rafayel decided that he would keep the girls busy for a while so you would be able to relax a little. He does his best to help out daily but you understand that he is in fact a world famous painter so his job does keep him busy sometimes. “Much better, thank you Rafayel.” “Don’t thank me, I’m your husband and they are my kids too you know. Just let me know if you ever need a break, okay? I don’t mind ignoring Thomas every once in a while if it means I can spend some more time with my favourite girls.”

Zayne

﹒　⁺ I think he would have both a girl and a boy, with around a 4 year gap between them.

﹒　⁺ Ever since your oldest son was born, he took a lot more rest days from his job. His job was important, yes, but family came first, especially after you got pregnant with a second child. Zayne was very active in their lives and he was there to keep the entire family in check - especially when it came to health.

﹒　⁺ I think he picks up the kids from school almost daily and he is never late. He makes them school lunch while you handle breakfast for the family and later on he gets the kids dressed when you prepare yourself for the day. The responsibility is very even and no one feels left out or overworked.

﹒　⁺ He fully believes in raising kids to be smart, kind and helpful but also responsible. I feel like he would be against giving them a phone or access to the internet before he was sure they would be ready for it and even after they get it, he would remind them to not spend all day on the internet and he would do his best to go out with the kids so they would be able to play around outside.

﹒　⁺ Zayne never gets mad at the kids, he just can’t. Even if something does happen, he handles it with a straight face and a calm voice while he helps them to navigate the difficult situation. The only time he would get slightly annoyed at them would be if they dare to disrespect you - he is a firm believer that since you gave birth to them and took care of them so well, they should respect you, no questions asked.

﹒　⁺ The twins make frequent visits to his office, he just can't say no to them when they come in… He is still very professional and will make them wait in the waiting room if he has a patient but otherwise they are free to hang out with him and he likes to teach them about his job.

﹒　⁺ He is a little sad to see your kids get older. It's amazing that they are becoming more mature and responsible but he also has a hard time keeping up with them after they become teens. 

  “Okay, open up, you need to take this for your fever.” Zayne said, his tone fully professional, his doctor mode still on it seemed. The kids caught a cold and your husband was extremely worried about this, though it was also cute to see him like that.

“Noo, this will taste horrible!” 

“Yeah, it always does!”

The siblings said almost in unison, and your poor lover just sighed in response. It felt like the hundredth time he tried to get them to take their medicine but it always needed lots of fighting for them to do so. Deciding that it was enough of watching Zayne suffer, you entered the room.

“Sweethearts, you need to take this like your daddy says so, you don’t want to be sick all the time, do you?” You tried to persuade them sweetly as you sat down next to them on the bed to bring them some comfort. “I’m not taking this, it tastes like toothpaste!” “Besides, if I’m sick I can skip school.”

“..What if I give you sweets?” You decided to take a different approach, it was bound to work. Your kids instantly agreed of course, it would help to fix the taste of the medicine and it would be like a little reward to them and hopefully, they would get better soon. Your husband just watched in slight disbelief that the attempt worked.

“Giving them sweets after doing something they should do anyways can teach them bad habits.” “Do you want some too?” “... Yes.”

Xavier

﹒　⁺ I think he would have a little boy, one kid is plenty enough but he also thinks about having a girl in the future as well.

﹒　⁺ He was the one to take care of him after he was born and he let you rest instead. Xavier treasures his sleep a lot but when your little star wakes up, he is the one to get up from the bed and cuddle him to sleep again.

﹒　⁺ I think he would read him bedtime stories as well, though you often find him asleep with the book in his hand. It was adorable, really, because somehow he could fall asleep while taking care of him but who were you to complain, at least you could rest a little.

﹒　⁺ Xavier would prefer to take care of the kid most of the time and let you work or hang out with your friends (just not Charlie perhaps). He is still your partner at work of course and whenever at least one of you isn’t at home, you hire a nanny to care for the little sunshine. But overall, he takes a lot of the responsibility, though he loves every single moment of it because he never thought that he would be able to live long enough to see a little clone of you and him combined sleep so softly in his arms.

﹒　⁺ He is very protective of your kid, just as much as he is about you. Xavier does his best to keep him away from wanderers, he doesn’t even want your child to look at them because the little one will have nightmares later on. Whenever a wanderer attack does happen, he handles it with ease and then checks up on the two of you, he is always so worried as well

﹒　⁺ When it comes to parenting, he would look like a relaxed type, but he is very protective. During childhood he is very fun and relaxed, he lets him play around and explore and has no issue going to the cinema or to a playground with him. Teenage years are a different world though, especially if your kid gets a partner - you bet he will do a background check on them, their parents, their ancestors, whatever, just to make sure they are enough for your son.

﹒　⁺ He handles any upset situations with ease and a mostly calm face, he does his best to talk with your kid and explain the situation before trying to even punish him somehow. Afterwards however, in the comfort of your bedroom, you see that he is disturbed by those conversations often and he might get more clingy and more silent after this. It just pains him whenever your kid does something bad and mostly because later on he has to do something about this. Worry not, however, give him a few kisses and reassuring words and he will be asleep in your arms in no time, almost like a baby.

“... and then the knight saved the princess. The end.” “Read me another one daddy!” You came back from a night out a few minutes ago, but the sight of your husband reading a bedtime story to your son was so cute you couldn’t help but observe from the door. Though soon enough, Xavier noticed you and you swore the room almost got a little lighter after he saw you there all alive and well.

“Welcome back, dinner is ready if you are hungry. I will heat it up for you in a second after I finish here.” He greeted you with a smile after you came closer to them, he leaned in and gave you a sweet kiss on the lips as a welcome gift.

“No need, I can heat it up on my own, do you want some as well?” You asked him, it would be nice to eat with him, spend some quality time together. All you wanted to do was rest in his arms, to be honest.

“Sure, I can eat a little. Heat up a portion for me too please.” You nodded, it was nice that he agreed, at least you would have some company and you would be able to tell him about all that happened on the night with your friends. You were working hard lately and Xavier was actually the one to propose that idea to you. Your gaze soon drifted to the little one in his bed, already all tucked in and looking sleepy. “Hey baby, I missed you.” You gently kissed his forehead and he murmured something in return, it was clear he was close to falling asleep. “I will go to the dining room soon, just have to finish putting this one to bed.” You nodded and headed to the kitchen to head up the food for the two of you. After about ten minutes though, you noticed that he still hadn't come, you even managed to change into your pajamas already but he was nowhere to be seen so you decided to check your son's bedroom again.

Sure enough, you found Xavier, asleep with a book in his hand while he leaned against your son's bed. You smiled and covered him gently with a blanket.

You sure loved this sleepy star of yours.

Sylus

﹒　⁺ He would have twins 100% and more kids too if you are up for it. It would probably be two girls.

﹒　⁺ He is a rich dad. He buys them whatever they want, but he makes sure not to spoil them too much so they will still be respectful towards hard work and money. If they ever need something for their school trip or perhaps their hobby, he will often buy them it. Their birthdays or holidays are very prosperous and full of joy, Sulus gets the best gifts for everyone because there is no better use of his money than to make his own family happy.

﹒　⁺ Sylus does his best to not get kids into his dark business, they don’t need to worry their pretty heads about it. He keeps them a secret, only Luke and Kieran know and oftentimes, he actually orders them to stay at the mansion and keep the kids and you safe in case something happens when he is away on business. 

﹒　⁺ Disrespect isn’t something that he would tolerate, but he handles it well. Sylus is cold during those talks, because he thought the two of you raised them better, but he understands that the kids make mistakes sometimes and he tries to make them realise their mistakes. In the end, he can never be too harsh on them, he tries but he is too much of a softie when it comes to your kids. 

﹒　⁺ You take care of the kids most of the time and pick them up from school. Sylus is a busy man, you knew this even before you got married so it was fine. He however feels guilty that he can’t spend as much time with them as he would like so he tries to make this up to them and you as much as possible. If you ever tell him that you need a break and feel tired then you already know that he suddenly has the next day off and he is up and with the kids the entire time while you get sent to a spa or on vacation somewhere.

﹒　⁺ He would try to help them with homework after they enter school, but he is always so confused about this. Don’t get him started on arts and music, he doesn’t understand this at all and he doesn’t know how one even teaches such a subject when it comes to the talent and abilities of the individuals, which not all have (like him).

﹒　⁺ I think the kids would somehow get some of his dragonic traits. They love to hoard things like toys or your jewelry in their room, they get so annoyed when you give one sibling more attention than the other and of course, they even look a lot more like Sylus rather than you. The cocky bastard has strong genes. Of course they can’t have a tail, horns or wings, but the twins dressed up as dragons once for halloween and Sylus was ready to cry on the spot.

   Currently you were at the table, drawing with the twins as an afterschool activity. The entire day was a bit hectic, you had a hard mission at work, then you had to rush to pick the kids up, the girls got into a little bit of trouble at school so you had to listen to the teacher scold them which sucked and now they were very energetic after school while you were absolutely drained. You did your best to appear happy, it wasn’t all their fault that the day sucked so much for you and you didn’t want to take it out on them. “I’m home, girls.” Sylus said as he finally, finally came back. He left yesterday morning and didn’t come back until now. You missed him and were worried despite knowing he would be able to handle himself. The girls ran up to him for hugs immediately.

“Daddy! Where were you? We missed you!” The girls said and then they eagerly began to talk to him about what he missed. Such energetic kids they were.

You just watched, resting your elbows on the table, you had a moment of rest it seemed.

Sylus, who noticed that you didn’t go up to greet him, hurried the girls to their room for a moment before he approached you. “Hey there, kitten. Missed me?” He asked as he gave you a kiss and a slight side hug as he noticed how tired you looked. “I did, you sure took your sweet time to come back.” You responded, with a little more bite than you wanted. But Sylus didn’t get mad, rather he seemed worried.

  “How are you holding up? Did the girls give you trouble?” “A little. I’m just… tired, it was a rough day.” You sighed, you didn’t try to hide that you were exhausted, it was visible and you knew he would do his best to help so there was no point.

“I see… how about I take them somewhere fun now, get them to use up all their energy so they will go to sleep nicely and then later on, we can spend some time together, hm? You just rest right now, catch up on some sleep and selfcare.” He proposed while he rubbed your shoulder. He knew taking care of kids could be exhausting sometimes so he would be more than happy to let you rest now and then treat you someplace nice later on. 

“That sounds nice, thank you Sylus..” “Don’t thank me, just go rest, I will take care of our little angels."

[gallusrostromegalus]

Random question, could you give some ideas on Irish names your family may have in the 1950-60s? I got a character with an Irish grandpa with 9 brothers and sisters (3 brothers and 6 sisters) and I only got the oldest sister name (soairse) and his name (Caine). I guess I could just name the rest some form of jack and Margret since those seem to be popular, but I wanted to see if there were some “interesting” names you found in your family tree that maybe one of the siblings got named after some ancestor?

Firstly for the sake of clarity: I'm American, not Irish. All of my ancestors for the last 4-5 generations have lived here, and while I like learning about the language/music/culture, I am absolutely not an expert. I HIGHLY recommend getting a sensitivity reader, I'm sure someone in the comments can wave at you if they're willing to take on the job.

Second, Triple-check the spelling, pronunciation, meaning and provenance of any names you do choose, and ABSOLUTELY DO NOT TRUST ANY BABY NAME WEBSITES, they're basically all AI slop at best. The best written-down lists and meanings are actually on Wikipedia.

Third: If you want to learn more Irish names, you can look up the names of like, any Irish musician or artist. I think spotify still has Genre Playlists, if you look up "Irish Folk" you'll get a shitload of names of Real Irish people- and hey, if Hirohiko Akari can name all his characters after 80's pop bands, you can make a subtle ref to modern musicians. Also you'll get a bunch of fun music! --- So while I was writing this, I somewhat departed from the intent of this response, and am putting the last point under a cut because the post got long. And weird.

So there is a thing in Irish-american families, and I think it's true in the British isles still where there are "Family Names", where the same set of first names is recycled over and over and over across generations. My dad's family has exactly three male names that they rotate through over the generations: Roy, Emmet and Jack*. In that order, where the son takes the father's first name as his middle name. My great-grandfather was Roy Jack Surname, my grandfather was Emmet Roy Surname, and my dad is Jack Emmet. My sister and I were AFAB, so the names skipped us and my male cousin in my generation is now Roy Jack. In the event that there are more than three living men with the same surname in the family, that's when they start reaching for the Given Names Of In-Laws We Like and might introduce a new name into the lineup.

*Names changed for privacy above and hereafter, but you get the idea.

So if any of your characters are descendants of that grandpa? They may share a first or middle name with one of his siblings. in fact, they may share the SAME first and middle name with a living relative, and be called "Junior" or "Young Firstname" to distinguish them from the relative they were named after.

My mom's family is from England and has a similar tradition: any new girl born into that family gets a name that is based on the name of one of her living female relatives, usually by sharing the same first letter or syllable. Elanor after Eloise, Vivian after Virginia, and also Jenny after Virgnia via 'Ginny' and every variation of Margret ever, which there are way more of than you'd think.

I cannot recommend doing what they did with Male names though: Name literally every boy Bob* for like five generations, and distinguish individuals by middle name (Bob-Howard and Bob-Benjamin) surname (Bob-Jones and Bob-Bailey) or Honorific (Captain Bob, Dr. Bob, Bob Jr.) when yelling out the kitchen window.

Most families have to good sense to not have the same name repeated in a generation, even if it has a shitload of nicknames. A mother and daughter might both be Margrets (with different nicknames), but two sisters or cousins wouldn't be.

If you've got in-laws you like, but their surname didn't carry over to their kids, you can also just use their surname as a first name! "Regan" is a first and last name, as are Riley and Bailey. This works out in some cases but not in others:

I have a pretty rare surname- last time I checked, there's only 14 people with it worldwide. It's similar to two other VERY COMMON Irish Surnames, but spelled different and from a different region. It's also Very Definitely A Surname- nobody would see my surname alone and think its a firstname.

Since I don't want to bandy it about, we'll pretend that it's "Breathnach", which has a similar vibe.

My Iowa family is Enormous and all descended from my Great-Aunt Lilyanne, Emmet-Roy's sister. Being a good catholic girl, Lillyanne took her husband's surname when she married, and most of her descendants still have that surname, and none have Breathnach.

After the last of my grandfathers grandchildren were born my Iowa family was sad- all but one of Emmet-Roy's grandchildren was female, and my male cousin has his father's surname. Assuming that we would all marry and take our spouses names, the Iowa family despaired that that the Breathnach name would die out!

So one of my second cousins decided that she would Carry On The Family Name, by giving it to the son she was carrying as a Firstname.

Yeah.

Being "Breathnach Surname" is bad enough, but this was compounded by the fact that the Iowa family's surname is Thomas.

YEAH.

My poor cousin Beathnach Thomas, who always has to re-do his paperwork because NOBODY ever puts the names in the correct boxes, who had his first name printed on every jersey he ever had because the uniform place went "that can't be right!", who cant buy his own beer because he's had so many drivers licenses confiscated because liquor store owners and bartenders think his ID is a fake, who has to not only spell his name to everyone he meets, but explain it too.

Then I made it worse.

I ran into cousin Beathnach in Bozeman, Montana quite by accident a few years ago, and while catching up, I mentioned that I was married.

"You know, it's a real hassle, but I'm kind of glad I've got the name I do. I'd heard you sister changed her name, and now with you married- I'd be sad to think we were running out of Breathnachs, you know?" he laughed.

I had to explain.

I married the most wonderful man in the world, who has an extremely common first and last name. Which was kind of a problem, because he shares it with some truly rotten people that always come up during background checks and he has have to explain he's not THAT asshole. It also sounds like and is only a letter or two off a lot of other very common names so his mail is constantly sent awry.

My husband will shortly abandon his too-common-for-comfort surname and become the newest Breathnach, taking the total to 15 (the paperwork takes a while).

...So the name lives on through us anyway, and poor cousin Breathnach Thomas went through all that for no reason. He got very quiet, got up from the table and walked outside to the veranda of the restaurant we were in to stare into the picturesque scenery for a while.

"Well, it's not like people change their first names..." he sighed, when he returned to the table.

"...You know how my sister changed her name? She only changed her first name. She's still a Breathnach." I explained quietly.

I've never seen a man look so haunted.

"I know lots of people who've changed their first names, actually. Mostly for transgender reasons, but a bunch because they just didn't like the one they were given." I added, because if he's going to get his world turned over, it's best to flip it all at once.

His brow furrowed at the ponderous speed of a continental collision, approaching the idea with caution. "...I'll have to think about it."

It's been about a year, but since then, I'll get a text from him every few weeks, auditioning a new given name. I do my best to be fair- I give him the meanings of those names, how they're likely to be misconstrued (some are tolerable annoyances, some pose a safety risk), and if he'd be sharing that name with anybody notable or troublesome. The first few were clearly based on Breathnach, but he began to branch out, and the trend of names has indicated that the idea of Naming Himself is causing my cousin to examine himself, and come to some Realizations (TM).

I realize I have gotten completely off-topic from your actual ask, but I urge you to really get into the nuance of nomencalture, because a name can tell a fascinating story.

[impish-baby]

More dad survivor x zombie reader + an old friend :) (tw: dead animal, guns, emetophobia, threats of harm)

"Aw, sugar.." The dead bird is the farthest thing from appetizing but you look so darn happy offering it to him, how's he supposed to say no?

"You're the sweetest, daddy will eat it later, ok?" That at least seems to be satisfactory enough for now, as you drop the poor thing down onto the park table.

The playground has long been abandoned, left in disarray since the apocalypse hit, that doesnt stop Hank from finding it absolutely adorable when you try to climb up a slide. Nearly gives him a heart attack though.

"Baby, come on, you're gonna hurt yourself." He wonders if you remember being little and playing here, your memory isn't the best when it comes to some things but you sure seem to recall what it takes to give him gray hairs. "I know you think it's fun, but your old man really couldn't handle it if you got scratched up while you're messing around."

You get hurt so easily now a days, he's basically toddler proofed the house all over again and yet you still find a way to bang yourself up when he's not around, that's why he's taken to tying you up when he can't keep an eye on you.

When you do finally decide to slide back down, Hank immediately sweeps you up into his arms with a soft chuckle. "Alright, alright, I think you've had enough outside time for today, we should be headin' home."

It would've been a good day, a great one even, if he didn't catch the glittering of a silver barrel from the corner of his eye.

"Shit-" Hank has never been more greatful that he was holding you, because you lunge automatically for the stranger and likewise closer to the gun. "No, sweetheart, shhh..shh..calm down.." God, he'd love it if you listened, it's hard to pull out his own pistol while trying to wrangle you into staying put.

Other survivors aren't very common in town, most people left after the first few months.

"You gonna let that thing go so I can shoot it?" He recognizes that voice, and it makes Hank's heart sink into a pit in his stomach. "I ain't.. Hank?" A familiar face is rare, a friendly familiar face is nearly unheard of.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot, just step back for a minute, alright?" When Hank glances over, he wasn't expecting Bo to be emptying his stomach onto the cement.

"I- Fuck-" The man retches again, dryheaving. "You.. God, the kid.." An honorary uncle, Bo knew you since the day you where born, he didn't see the day that was meant to be your last.

"I know," You stopped struggling once you heard his voice, eyes wide as you simply whine to be let down. "You're gonna have to wait, be patient, hun." That never was your strong suit. "The grown ups need to talk."

"Hank.. man, you gotta let them go.." There's tears in Bo's eyes as he takes a cautious step forward. "They're dead. There aren't any ifs or buts, that's a corpse. You can't-"

"That is my child," He's been a sinner for a long time, if it comes down to it, shooting his brother will be one of his worst. "My baby, what kind of father am I to hurt them?"

"A merciful one!" There are days you wake up confused and scared, you cry for hours or at least your body tries to. "They aren't a person anymore, Hank, they aren't themselves. You're fucking lucky they haven't bitten you yet!"

"I'd welcome it if they did." He's thought about it, that first night when you went cold in his arms and many more after that. "You pull that trigger and that's it, a life without my kid isn't worth living."

"Dammit," Hank almost collapses in relief as the gun is holstered, putting his away as well. "You're still an idiot, huh? Figures.."

Bo approaches slowly, never taking his eyes off your still form. All you do is smile and try to reach out for a hug, but he cringes away with a look of disgust.

Hank's heart breaks as you tuck your teary face against his neck. He doesn't know how to explain in a way you'd still understand, all he can is press a kiss to your forehead and shush your sniffles.

[velvetvexations]

I'd like to add something to the topic of forced impregnation / corrective rape of transmascs & men.

One thing I feel like other people tend to believe is that trans people with uteruses / the capability to get pregnant are "extremising" a problem that really only affects a few select trans people, surely not a lot.

What they don't get is that we're not extremising anything. Even just on the topic of forced pregnancy, I know barely a single trans man who hasn't been told that getting pregnant would fix him or that his whole worth as a person with a uterus is measured in how many children he can pop out at best, or being straigh up threatened with it or at worst having someone actually attempt to or fully act on that threat. And the ones who it didn't happen to? They know full well that it's always a "it didn't happen yet". That threat is still there, even without anyone saying it. People don't have to outright say it or threaten us because we just know.

It's not something we made up as a "gotcha" to trans women. In fact, it has nothing to do with most trans women at all, safe for the ones who can get pregnant! It's our lived experience. Our every-day life.

I was thirteen, just started my period, when my mother started to try to convince me that my whole worth as a person was making babies, that I needed to make kids the second I'd turn eighteen, that I would otherwise waste my life. And no, she didn't actually think that of all women. My cis sister? Never got to hear any of that. Just me. Because my mother looked at me being masculine and saw something she needed to fix (by only buying me extremely sexualised feminine outfits and telling me the stuff mentioned above, and that it was "only that" makes me one of the lucky ones). It happened to me not just because I was born with a uterus, because then it would've happened to my sister, too. It happened because my mother could tell something was "wrong" with me because I was too masculine. Got a little too exited when people mistook me for my brother. She didn't know what transmasculinity was back then in name, but she absolutely did know that it was "wrong" and needed to be "fixed" - and the way to fix a "broken woman" is to get her pregnant. She, of course, couldn't do that back then, but she could do her best to try to make me do that once I was "old enough" (I'm very glad today that she failed.)

And basically every trans men I've talked with about that topic had their own story like that or much, much worse. Only very rarely has a transmasc/man not experienced something like that, and even then, the threat is so omnipresent that even they tend to know exactly what I'm talking about.

It's a horrifying truth, it's uncomfortable, but it needs to be talked about. Our pain has been ignored and swept under the rug for so long, and people are still continuing to do so. So they can keep telling themselves that we "don't have it that bad" that we're "making a deal out of nothing" that what happens to us is just "individual cases" not something targeted. Because if people don't listen, they don't have to admit to themselves how they're playing into our oppression. Because to this day my mother is still claiming that she supports the trans community, after she did everything in her power to stop her son from existing. She won't listen to what I have to say because it "wasn't that bad", and my sister turned out great, so what do I have to cry about?

Nobody listens to trans men in general because it's never "as bad" as we make it out to be. After all, a cis woman said it wasn't that bad and she'll always be more believable than what ever a trans man or transmasculine person has to say. A trans man could obviously never experience anything a cis woman in his situation wouldn't.

This got longer than I anticipated. Thank you for listening and talking about this topic. I appreciate you, your work here is incredibly important and I'm glad you do this. Take care, and have a nice day!

(Also, this whole assumption about us "extremising" and "making a big thing out of nothing" also sounds a bit like hysteria talk to me, especially given that our conversation is about uterus-related things, but I might be reading to much into it here.)

the issue is that TRFs will take all this as "so you're saying that means trans men have it worse than trans women?"

like noooooooo you invented that sentence! that was nowhere in the original text girliepop!

[cinnamqnx]

virtually yours ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

pairing. seishiro nagi x f!reader

summary. you’re not a usually a gamer girl, occasionally playing the sims or roblox, so imagine your surprise when a clip of you & your best friend goes viral for talking shit to who you imagined was a 12 year old kid, but actually a popular streamer with a territorial fan base and of all place, on dress to impress.

warnings. basically just crack & fluff, nagi is a lil toxic at the start, swearing

15 | virtually yours

☁︎. one week later

your heart was beating out your chest, your palms sweaty as you stood in the hallway, waiting for seishiro nagi. he had just finished his football game, and to no one’s surprise, winning the match.

you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous to meet the rest of his friends, but you couldn’t help if you and nagi wouldn’t click like you had online.

“y/n?”, you whip around, seeing nagi, his hair messy and disheveled after clearly having a shower. and damn, was 10x more attractive in person.

“hi.”, you say breathlessly, not expecting him to literally come up behind you, “where are your friends?”,, you ask, nervously.

he gives you a small smile, “are you more excited to see them than me?”

you raise your brows, “what? no. sorry, i’m just-“, you breathe, “i’m just really nervous.”

“i’ve been nervous all day, too.”, he mutters, running his hand through the side of his hair, “i was worried i wasn’t gonna perform well.”

“are you kidding? you did so well, sei. i’ve never been so invested in football.”, you laugh.

“really?”, he smiles.

you nod, looking up at him. hearing everything you did about nagi, you assumed he might come across more nonchalant, maybe even a bit quiet. that was your main worry when it came to meeting him and thinking your relationship might be different in person.

but, looking up and seeing the pure adoration in his eyes and the nervous expression he had on his face, you knew you never had a thing to worry about.

“so yeah, i don’t really know why i was so worried.”, you say to nagi, sitting across from him on a bench table at the fair, biting into a greasy hotdog he had just bought you.

you didn’t get a reply, looking over to see him staring at you, his hand on his cheek, “what?”

“hm?”, he asks.

“you’re just staring at me, is my rambling boring you?” you smile.

“no, you just look really pretty right now.”, he states as a matter of fact.

“i look pretty stuffing my face with this hotdog?@, you laugh.

“mhmm, you do.”, he smiles.

“shut up.”, you roll your eyes, smiling.

“i was really worried too. i’ve not really ever spoken to a girl like this before.”

“like, at all?”, you ask, surprised. he was a good looking boy, and he’s had no experience?

he shakes his head, “never been interested in anyone, and it always seemed like a hassle when i saw it.”

“and what do you think now?”, you smile, tilting your head at him.

“i still think it’s a hassle.”, he pauses, “but in a good way.”

“a hassle in a good way, hm.”, you repeat, finishing off the rest of your hotdog.

“what do you wanna do next?”, he asks, looking at you intently.

“i wanna go on the rides, obviously.”

“but they make me feel nauseous.”, he whines.

“uh huh, and who asked who to a fun fair?”, you smile at his whiny expression.

he simply sighs, looking back at you. how could he deny you when you’re smiling at him like that?

“now, cmon.”, you stress, getting up and grabbing nagi’s hand, “i don’t wanna wait around in the lines.”, you say, looking up at him with an eager glint in your eye, pulling him with you.

nagi couldn’t help but smile to himself, a month ago he would have never thought he’d be spending valentines with a gorgeous girl who he met on roblox, talking shit to him.

and while it may have caused him a great amount of hassle, he couldn’t be more grateful for it.

navigation. virtually yours

author’s note. i can’t believe this series is finished 😭 i’ve had so much fun writing this and seeing ur comments even if i didn’t get chance to reply :) ur all so funny and have me in hysterics 😭 if you enjoyed this series im hoping you’ll enjoy more fics i have coming in the future!!

taglist: @nensi @yuiearyi @mi2ukiss @pookalicious-hq @shumeow-h @solaqes @jellychannie @kermitbbg69 @pctterheadd @mizuwki @simpingmyassoff @karasu4life @crispynutella @stwberri @lilwx @suksatoru @rwura @ibyobi @renchai @nuhahani @digitaltrippers @natsukicookies @meekydeeks @ursafehaven @tamimemo @yukari1k @chaoslibra @mochiii-sama @cookielovesbook-akie @ningninjas @wallflowerdowned @hannimissesherbackbone @dinnersyummy @appalost @mbyy00 @asteraslvrr @kaz-0e @kascar-chronicle @arwawawa2 @rwbie @haruhi269 @lovessen @kaiserlvr @azharyy @hwaassaa @mikaru0 @sobbangchan @thenightsflower @chuurinnie @appl3-0rchard (closed)

[goatgoesmbe]

So about that post of Simons gf that's super kind. what if she's petty with her kindness. one time me and my mom got in fight and that same day she complained about how many house plants she had. so i bought her a miniature rose bush (roses being a hard plant to take care of) as make up gift. I've also made other people their coffee wrong, bought unbalanced pens, gave there cats cat nip, given their children obnoxiously loud toys, etc.

Tw : reader is morally questionable, mention of assault

OOOH ANON, I LOVE THISS-

Like- just because reader is sweet, that doesn't mean being a pushover. You have class, and your own way of handling assholes properly.

I imagine Simon would think he needed to be the one who protects you, seeing you're all sunshine and rainbow, always so nice and kind- and he just didn't want anyone to take advantage of you, you know?

But then he realized that you're actually not a damsel in distress.

The first time he saw it, was at a neighbor's baby shower..

"You've been with him for what? 3 years now- and still no ring?" 

Simon glanced at you,simply smiling  in response. He recognized that voice, Stella was her name. Or something along those lines. She was one of those people who always wanted attention, bragging about every little thing while also dragging people down just so she could feel better about herself.

Simon had to hold back from rolling his eyes when she previously arrived. Wearing matching designer clothes with her five-year-old son, Aiden. Which was a waste of money in his opinion, the little fella will grow out of them in a short time after all.

"I mean.. come on, you're not getting any younger.. better make it official soon before you expire - he might no longer  be attracted to you by  then" Before you could respond to the previous jab, Stella continued talking. You could see why she would ask something like that, it was just how she was like after all. 

You and Simon have reasons, but it was really none of her business. And you couldn't exactly explain to her that your boyfriend is legally dead so you couldn't marry him properly.

Simon wasn't even listening to the other lads around him anymore- not that he did in the first place. Looking at you directly from his spot, he observed the others who interacted with you. You were surrounded by the other moms from the neighborhood, yet none of them said anything against Stella.

He saw you giggle, brushing off Stella's words way too casually like it didn't affect you, or maybe you didn't get that she was mocking you- Simon wasn't sure.

"It's time to go, luv" His gruff voice stopped their conversation as he approached you. He could feel their eyes on him, some of them not hiding the fact that they found him attractive from how they looked up at him with a slight flush on their cheeks. He wondered how you were comfortable being around them at all, he could never exchange more than a few words with them without feeling  like he needed to commit  murder.

Well.. whatever, you won't be meeting them again anytine soon, since the both of you  were planning to move away.

You looked up at him with those big innocent eyes and pouted "But-". 

"It's late" he added, putting his hand on your hip and pulling you close to make a statement at the others who still shamelessly gawked at him.

Seeing that look in his eyes- the one that means he accepted no rejection, you sighed. "Alright, let me say my goodbye" You said before turning back to them.

Simon simply grunted and waited. And when he thought you were ready to go, he raised an eyebrow when you instead walked over to the kids who were busy playing. You told them about you moving out of  the neighborhood and the kids didn't seem to like that, you were their favorite after all.

"I have something for you guys to remember me by.." You chirped. Immediately, the kids looked at you with eagerness as you rummaged through your tote bag.

The side of his lips lifted under his mask when he saw you pulling out mini harmonicas. Before you could say anything more, a brat snatched one out of your hands. That was Aiden, Stella's spoiled boy. Which means it would be hard for the mom to get the noisy thing from him.

A cute little giggle escaped your lips as you watched the boy immediately blow on the harmonica messily, spraying spit everywhere.

After you made sure every kid got one, you stood up and held his hand before skipping away with him in tow. Cacophony of moms' frustrated yelling, children's laughs, and loud harmonicas left behind.

So you had planned your revenge all along, huh? Seems like you're not a total angel like he’d thought you were.

...

The second time was  when he visited you at work. While he provided  enough for you to stay home and do nothing, you still insisted on running  your own cafe. Saying that it had been your dream since you were little. And how can he say no when you look at him with those puppy eyes?

And while you do have people working for you, you still help around from time to time. "It's the best part about having a cafe," you said to him that one time.

He was sitting at a table close enough to observe you working in that cute little uniform you had designed yourself for the cafe, when a guy walked in. His appearance screamed 'douche', the kind of guy who would talk about how many body counts is too many for a woman in a podcast.

Despite that, you greeted him cheerfully like you do with every other costumer. Even when he told you to write 'daddy' on the cup after you asked for a name, a disgusting smirk on his lips.

Meaning you would need to yell out that word to call for him when the order was ready.

And while Simon was fuming inside, you were calm. Humming along with the music playing from the speaker as you prepared the coffee. 

But, instead of calling for the guy yourself, you turn to one of your employees. His name was Shane, written on the name tag clipped to his uniform. He was a big guy, not any taller than your boyfriend but still. A simple man who will be pleased spending the night scarfing down pizzas and beers. Now, Shane was known for many things, one of them being very gay, and being  totally not shy about it.

You smiled before turning away to take the next order, all while  secretly paying attention to what was going to happen next.

"Daddy..!" Shane shamelessly sing-sung the word loudly and even when Simon expected it already, he still choked on his tea. He also saw you biting down your lip to prevent yourself from laughing.

Shane went on for a while until the whole cafe fell silent except for the music playing that didn't fit the situation at all, which made it evenmore hilarious. 

'Daddy' finally walked over to get his order. Red in the face and looking very pissed. He was not stupid enough to cause a scene, however, and simply accepted his cup without so much as a thank you. And of course, Shane added the cherry on top by throwing a flirty wink.

And when you noticed the way he glanced at you after taking a sip of his coffee, tasting regular milk instead of almond- knowing full well he told you earlier about his lactose intolerance. You simply gave him that sweet smile of yours, a cheerful "Thank you, please come back again..!" Thrown his way like how it always is whenever a customer is leaving.

Simon chuckled under his breath and shook his head. Feeling proud (and scared, that was borderline crime) of his pretty bird being cruel in her own ways.

So when he saw you sighing after an argument on the phone with your mom, he didn't question it when you went ahead and bought a make up gift for her.

[capquinn]

hello my favorite writer on this app.. after your quinn thot today I was curious if you would write husband!quinn and reader doing the challenge where you go to dinner and first one to mention the kids loses.. maybe a little fun time ensues after 🫣

(quinn would definitely lose and talk about bug within 10 mins)

LOVE this idea. like, absolutely obsessed with it. quinn is struggling bc literally everything reminds him of bug and cub. the music playing in the restaurant? cub babbles along to it in the car. the couple at the next table? bug told him the other day she’s going to marry her best friend from daycare. he’s doomed from the start <3

“Let's play a game,” you announce, setting your menu down and leaning in conspiratorially. “First one to mention the kids loses.”

Across the table, Quinn smirks, tipping his beer to his lips.

“What do I win?”

You blink. “What?”

“If I win.” He raises an eyebrow, expression calm, but you know him too well — there’s mischief brewing under the surface. “What do I get?”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious. “What do you want?”

Quinn hums, pretending to mull it over, gaze flicking over you like he’s debating his options. He sets his beer down, lazily tracing the condensation on the glass with his fingers. Then, with a slow smirk, he shrugs.

“Dunno. Guess I’ll decide when I win.”

You scoff, nudging his shin with the toe of your shoe under the table. It’s not a hard kick — just enough to make him smirk, to let him know you’re onto him.

“Oh, you’re feeling confident.”

“I’m always confident.”

The game starts off easy. You talk about work, a movie you want to see, the couple at the table next to you who are clearly on a first date. Quinn teases you about how you always take forever to pick what to eat, while he’s already placed his order in record time.

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair.

“Sorry for wanting to make an informed decision.”

Quinn rests his chin in his palm, watching you with barely hidden amusement.

“You just read the whole menu, pick something, then change your mind three times before the server even gets here.”

“That is a gross exaggeration.”

He hums, a little too smug. “I just think it’s funny how you panic-order every time.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Keep talking and I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Quinn grins, kicking back slightly in his chair. “Go for it, baby. I’m winning this bet either way.”

You scoff, shaking your head, but before you can fire back, the server appears to take your order. You do exactly what Quinn predicted — debate between two options, panic last second, and pick something you weren’t even originally considering.

Quinn just smirks as he hands the menus back. “So predictable.”

“I’ll remember this when your food looks boring and you're begging for a bite of mine.”

Quinn just chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches across the table, fingers lazily finding yours. He doesn’t say anything at first, just traces slow, absentminded patterns over your knuckles, his thumb brushing over your wedding ring, turning it slightly like he always does. It’s quiet, easy — one of those moments that doesn’t need filling, just the two of you sitting there, comfortable in the silence.

Then, after a beat, he smirks. “This game is so easy, huh?”

You huff out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes as you squeeze his fingers. “Yeah, piece of cake.”

But as the minutes tick by, you start running out of steam. Every topic feels like it inevitably leads back to the two tiny humans you’re both very obviously not allowed to mention. You talk about a book you’ve been reading, but Quinn doesn’t read fiction. Quinn brings up hockey, but you hear enough about it during the season. The conversation starts circling the drain, filled with long pauses and raised brows, both of you waiting for the other to slip up.

And then — like it’s a reflex — you both reach for your phones at the same time.

You freeze. Quinn freezes. Fingers hovering over the screen, neither of you daring to move.

Quinn tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, voice slow and suspicious. “What are you doing?”

You sit up straighter, phone still suspended midair, blinking at him like you’ve been caught red-handed. “What are you doing?”

His lips twitch. “Just checking something.”

"Me too," you reply, maybe a little too quickly. A beat of silence. The tension thickens, the air between you charged with the weight of realisation.

Quinn’s gaze flickers toward you, sharp and knowing. “Are you checking the baby monitor?”

Your jaw drops, betrayal and horror mixing into one. “Are you?”

Quinn exhales, dragging a hand down his face, already defeated. “Damn it.”

Your shock melts into pure glee. You throw your hands up, phone clattering against the table as you burst out laughing. “Oh my God! I won!”

Quinn groans, leaning back in his chair, tilting his head toward the ceiling.

“Unbelievable.” But there’s a fondness in his voice, even as he shakes his head, even as he reaches for his water like he needs a moment to process his loss.

You grin, all smug and triumphant. “Feels good to be a winner.”

Quinn shoots you a look, all playful warning.

“Guess we should just finish up and head home to —” He catches himself, groaning. “I almost did it again.”

“Tough loss.” You grin, voice full of fake sympathy as you rest your chin on your palm. “So, what do I win?”

Quinn watches you for a long moment, his eyes glinting with something warm, something teasing, something just a little dangerous. He leans in, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against your wrist where his hand has found yours again.

“You won. You call it," he murmurs, voice dropping just enough to make your breath hitch.

You hum, tilting your head, dragging it out just to watch him squirm.

“Hmm… I could ask for something small,” you muse, tapping a finger against your chin. “Or… something big.”

Quinn exhales, amused. “You're ruthless.”

“You knew that when you married me,” you counter sweetly.

His thumb strokes idly against the inside of your wrist, his gaze flickering between yours, a tension so thick and warm settling between you in the low candlelight.

Then, smirking, you lean in, all smooth confidence as you murmur, “I think I’ll decide when we get home.”

[rosenclaws]

Valentines Day Blues || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: Logan has never really cared about Valentines day until he met you, but despite his best efforts nothing seems to be working out for him.

warnings: angst to fluff, a little spice at the end but no smut, logan's self doubt and slight anger issues, happy ending.

wc: 2.8k

a/n: This is my entry for Loveuary event by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt! I had pick worst logan my love and add some angst bc I love angst but it all works out for our boy <3 Happy (Early) Valentines day guys!!

Sometimes Logan wonders why he even tries anymore. It's like the world is out to get him specifically. All he wanted was to plan one perfect day. Just one day where he can prove to you, to himself that he's more than a fuck up.

Logan has never really cared about Valentines Day. He's celebrated before. You know gone to dinner, to the movie, had a few hook ups. When he lived at the mansion he remembers the heart decorations and all the red and pink. The kids sharing valentines and watching them experience their first love. But thinking back on his long life there just wasn't anything about the holiday that stood out to him.

For Logan, things just never seemed to work out. Love wasn't his thing. He had lost the ones he loved. He hadn't thought about it, felt it, for years. It never even crossed his mind anymore. Too afraid of losing yet another lover. He went about his life, a shell of the man he used to be. A disgrace to the name X-Men and a monster parents tell their children about at night.

Until Wade showed up and everything changed. He's a hero now, well he's not a villain in the eyes of citizens. He'll take it. He could be free to live again, to make friends, enjoy life. To heal and live in memory of his fallen friends rather than run away from the pain. He doesn't think he'll ever forgive himself, but he can start by being a better man.

It's been so long since Logan felt love that he didn't even recognize it at first. He didn't understand why his heart beat faster, why he felt sweaty, why his stomach twisted and turned by just your mere presence. He thought it was something else.

Maybe you're a mutant and were using your powers on him. Maybe you had heard what he had done and decided that he wasn't worthy of redemption. He avoided you like the plague. Unable to shake whatever you were doing to him no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't until Wade slapped him on the back of the head and spelled it out in big bold letters.

He had a crush.

Logan just scoffed. A crush? That word...It felt so juvenile. A crush is something between two kids who stare at each other from across the classroom. A crush is small and innocent and Logan is far too old and far too worn to be crushing on Wade's friend. But he could only lie to himself for so long. It wasn't a crush. No that wasn't the right word.

He was in love. When he started creeping back into your life it hit him full force. Took him by the neck and shook him until it all clicked. He longed for your attention, to be close to you. To make you laugh, to watch you smile. He wanted to hold you at night, to hear your voice when he drifted off to sleep and to wake up the next morning with you by his side. He was utterly fucked.

It was funny really. Especially to Wade, I mean how clueless could a man be? You would think two hundred years of experience would mean he could pick up on these things. But Logan doesn't notice those things anymore.

He's so in his own head he never even noticed that you were mirroring his feelings. That the mere sight of Logan was enough to make you weak in the knees. That his laugh, as rare as it was to hear, was music to your ears. That you were heartbroken when he started to avoid you, anxiety filling your brain about why the man just couldn't stand to be around you.

Wade treated it as his own rom com. Making popcorn and watching the longing looks shared between the two of you. Except Wade wasn't a patient person and he wasn't trying to watch a slow burn where both of you refuse to talk. So he pushed you two together. Spilling both your secrets right in front of each other and walking away like he didn't just change your lives forever. But it worked. You had to give him that at least. Even if Logan really didn't want to give Wade any credit ever.

Logan remembers that night like it was yesterday. You took his hand, so nervous to look him in the eyes. He locked your fingers together, squeezing your hand softly and tilting your chin to look at him. Colossus passes by and using the man as cover he kisses you. He could hear a faint "Oh come on! What is this Disney Channel?" From Wade but he pays it no mind.

Since that day Logan has vowed to spend every moment being the man you deserve. You tell him that you love him but sometimes it's hard to believe. How could someone like you love a man like him? Your heart was too good for him. Too bright to be with a man who wasn't even sure he had a heart just a year ago.

But nevertheless you're still here and Valentines day is fast approaching. This is his chance to show you how much he loves you. To buy you the perfect gift and plan the perfect date. If he could do this, he could be just a fraction of a man good enough for you.

He wanted to make you breakfast. To dress up nice and proper for once with flowers in his hands. A picnic at the park. To watch the sunset together all wrapped up in blankets. A night time drive that ends in a passionate night.

But life has other plans.

The day starts with a broken alarm clock. Logan groans as he wakes up, reaching out for you only to feel an empty bed. He shoots awake, looking at the clock to see that it was well past breakfast time.

"Fuck!" He hisses as he throws the covers off and scrambles to the kitchen. To his dismay you're already awake and eating. His heart sinks, failure number one.

"Hi honey, how did you sleep?" You ask sweetly as you wrap your arms around his waist, sighing happily as you hug your boyfriend.

"Alright, I meant to wake up earlier than this." He mumbles as he holds you tight. He tries not to show his disappointment as he covers it with a smile. He still has his other plans, the day is just starting.

"That's okay, I'm glad you were able to get some rest." Logan huffs but nods along with you.

He pours himself a cup of coffee. He suddenly realizes to tell you something and pulls you back into him, kissing you fiercely. You squeak in surprise but melt into his embrace.

"What as that for?" You tease as he pulls away. Logan shrugs and kisses you again.

"Happy Valentines Day Sweetheart." He purrs. You giggle as he buries his face in your neck.

"Happy Valentines Day Logan."

"Now, I have the whole day planned so go get ready." His disappointment from earlier fading as he thinks about the rest of the day. "How romantic of you." You kiss his cheek and turn to go back to your bedroom. Logan smirks and gently slaps your ass as you walk away.

"Logan!" You scold him but he just grins wider.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself."

Logan packs the picnic basket as you get ready. He made sure to buy all your favorite things and handmade chocolate covered strawberries last night after you went to bed. Those were romantic right? The clock ticks by faster than he realized and it dawns on him that the flowers he ordered have yet to arrive. His phone buzzes and he growls as he checks it.

Of course.

A text from the florist shop that they can't complete his order despite the fact he ordered these weeks ago. Fuck. Well maybe he can grab something on your way to the park? No he can't buy them right in front of you. Plus what store even has flowers right now. Maybe he can cut a few from the neighbors garden. They won't miss a few roses.

"Logan? Everything okay?" He snaps out it and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

"Just fine sweetheart," His eyes land on you and he lets out a low whistle.

"You trying to kill me or something?" He says with a smirk as he takes in your outfit. Fuck you're perfect.

"This old thing? I just had it laying around." You joke.

You grab onto his belt and pull him into you, his lips capturing you in a hot kiss. His hands slowly slide up your body. You could get lost in this kiss forever.

A loud boom breaks you apart. Your heads whip towards the window and see the sky darken before your very eyes.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Logan growls as he lets go of you. Stalking his way to the window to see rain pouring down outside. There goes the picnic plans. He slams the window shut. Frustration taking over his mind.

"It's supposed to rain all day," You say as you check your phone. You notice Logan's mood turn sour and you start to get worried.

"Of course it is." He scoffs. Logan searches for something in his brain to fix this day. Maybe he can just drive out of the city and you can still go on a picnic or watch the sunset.

"Logan are you okay?" You ask softly. He grunts as his phone buzzes once again in his pocket. Wade's picture flashes up on the screen and it takes everything in Logan to actually answer.

"What."

"Hey so...I might have borrowed your car last night for reasons that are not important to you and well lets just say its going to be out of commission for a couple days k sorry gonna hang up before you process this bye love you!" Wade speaks fast and hangs up faster.

No breakfast, no flowers, no car, no park, no sunset. Just fucking great. He can't even do one fucking nice thing for you. Logan crushes his phone in his hands without even thinking. He's done, he just. He doesn't get it. Why can't he just do one nice thing for you?

"Logan!" You hurry over and try to comfort him but he just holds his hand up.

"What's wrong?" He just sighs, stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"There are no plans anymore. I'm sorry." He says lowly. Disappointment seeping into his tone.

"I had everything planned, I had the perfect day. A day where I can just... you know what? Forget it. I don't even know why you bother with me anymore." He mumbles.

He ignores the calls of his name as he walks out the door and leaves. The rain soaks him right to his metal bones. He just sits on the grass. Letting the rain hit him. Dramatic? Maybe but he's defeated. Just. Purely defeated.

His inner thoughts swarm with attacks, the happiness he had hoped to feel was draining. Being replaced with self doubt that can only scream that he's not worthy of you, not worth the love.

"Logan you get your ass back inside right now!" Your voice cuts through the harsh patter of the rain. He turns to see you marching forward, your pretty clothes all ruined now as you walk over to him.

"Go back inside, you're going to get sick." Logan says with concern but you don't care.

"No, not until you talk to me." You say stubbornly. He huffs and takes off the jacket he had put on earlier to hold it above your head. Rain pelts his back but its stopped hitting you.

"It's nothing."

"Stop that! Stop shutting me out Logan. Look I know this is hard, that sometimes you get wrapped up in your own head. But that's why I'm here." You grab his face, making sure he can't get away from you. You don't know how many times you need to drive this into his thick skull but you will if that's what it takes.

"A bother? Do you really think I'm just putting up with you? I fucking love you, you idiot! I don't care about if the date is perfect or if you get me flowers or chocolate. I care about you."

"Everything got fucked up today sweetheart. Literally everything I wanted was ruined. Don't you think that's a sign? That the universe is trying to fucking tell me something?" You scoff and shake your head.

"Tell you what? Huh? What could the universe possibly tell you that I can't. I'm telling you right now. That you are the love of me life. I love our lazy mornings, the soft kisses, the movie nights, the way you make my day brighter and my stomach flutter. Fuck the universe. Logan, I'm right here." Logan does so much for you that he doesn't even notice.

He loves you and his love is more than enough. It bleeds into everything he does. The way he looks at you, how he talks to you, the pure love and adoration in his eyes.

"I wanted today to be perfect for you. I wanted to show you that I'm worthy of every part of you." He confesses.

You pull him in for a kiss. Not caring if he drops the jacket that was once covering you. You let the rain fall as your lips move passionately with each other. Logan groans as he wraps his arms around you. Your hands reach up to grab at his wet hair, pushing it back and running your fingers through it. His hands grip your waist tightly, pulling you impossibly close to him. Reluctantly you pull apart, needing to catch your breath. He's got this dopey smile, his eyes softening as you rest your hands on his chest.

"You idiot, you're already are worth that and more." You whisper. Thunder rolls through the sky and you tug on Logan's hand.

"Come on, let's go back inside. I don't need to find out if your metal skeleton attracts lightning." He chuckles but follows you back inside. After drying off and changing back into your pajamas he finds you trying to push the couch back.

"What are you doing?" He asks as he walks over and picks it up with ease.

"Show off." You mumble. You grab a blanket it and lay it on the floor.

"You wanted a picnic, so let's have one." Placing a couple pillows on the floor, you and Logan sit in your living room with the food he had packed earlier.

The sound of the rain hitting the windows was oddly peaceful. Your heart warmed at the sight of everything Logan had packed. He really put thought and care into this. You were practically in his lap at this point. His hands wanting to be on you at all times.

"Here," You lift a chocolate strawberry to his mouth and he takes a bite.

"Sweet, not as sweet as you though." He says with a cheeky smirk.

"Cheesy," You roll your eyes playfully. He chuckles, his thumb rubbing the side of your mouth where some chocolate was. His face softens, eyes brimming with an emotion you can't read as he stares at you.

"Hey, I love you."

You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You're everything. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. Logan feels it all, you're it for him. But he doesn't know how to say it quite yet, so he settles for I love you and hopes you understand how much he truly means it.

"I love you too Logan, more than anything." He presses a kiss to your cheek and peppers them down to your jaw. His teeth grazing your pulse point.

"There's still one more thing I had planned that we can do right here." Logan purrs. You giggle as he flips the two of you so that you're on your back, your head on a pillow.

"Oh really?" You tease as you slip your hands up his shirt.

"Happy Valentines day Logan." You hum as he nibbles on your neck.

It's not the day he had expected to have, but it's turned into one he'll never forget. Maybe this holiday isn't so bad. He smirks as he sits back on his knees, still in slight disbelief that you're his. You know what? The universe can suck it. Because he's happy and for once he won't let anything get in his way.

"Happy Valentines day sweetheart."

Here's to many, many more.

[atinystaypixie]

A Husband's Present

Summary: It's Kento's birthday and your husband deserves his presents. WC: 2.5k+ CW: 18+, MDNI, Smut, (brief) biting, creampie (with intent of pregnancy)

Kento was the best husband one could ask for. Attentive, understanding, patient. He was a natural provider and made it easy for you to always be in a state of ease. Even when you first started dating, you never had to ask, he would always do. The sink was broken? He was fixing it without a second thought. Tires looking flat? Pumping air in them and going to take you for replacements.

He was romantic as well. Dates were well thought out and never boring. Why go to an expensive restaurant when he knows you prefer picnics with a movie projector? Just because you were a homebody didn’t stop him from showing up with your favorite snacks and making pillow forts. He also loved being in the kitchen with baking. It’s how he proposed to you when he presented you with a cupcake topped with a ring. You still don’t know how he managed to put it on there without you seeing  when you both were decorating at the same time.

You never would have thought such an amazing man would be in your life. It’s why you are planning on creating life with him tonight. You’ve seen the way he’s looked at families lately whenever you two have been out. Along with him being amazing, he was respectful of your body and never wanted to push the topic unless you were ready. You’ve been married for four years now and dated for three. Your biological clock was ticking too and you are more than willing to give him kids. 

It’s why your acrylics were done in his favorite color with his initials, your hair styled in a high ponytail that he loved pulling, and your plump lips glossed to perfect. He would be home soon. Sadly work pulled him away for the day due to his birthday falling on a weekday this year. Awaiting him was his favorite hot meal, go to item from the local bakery, and of course, you wrapped up pretty for him. There was just something about how delicious you looked when dressed for his eyes only. A sacred, precious being crafted just for his touch.

His hands made sure to never leave an inch of you untouched. Gripping at your hips, smoothing over your thighs, fingers pressing into your back. Pink lips pecking at the skin of your neck, molding to your own lips, and whispering endless sweet vows to you. Your mind started to slip off into thought as you stood in the middle of the kitchen thinking of the love your husband never fails to give you. 

The timer on your phone pulls you out of thought with a jump. You tighten your robe and make your way to the stove pulling out the last of the food. It’s getting close to time for him to be getting home so you start setting the plates. It should all be finished as soon as he walks through the door.

Well, it should, but why do you hear the front door opening already? 

“Baby,” the man of the hour comes around the corner, loosening his tie, “I’m home.” He says making his way towards you.

“Kennie, you’re home early. Everything okay?” You ask, kissing his cheek. You’re more than happy to see him, but you weren’t expecting him so soon.

“Mm. I missed my wife, didn’t want to be there anymore.” He says while pulling you closer, arms wrapping around your waist, and lips pressing kisses to your jaw. His hands slide down to the fat of your ass, gripping them. “What’s under here?” A smirk etching itself on his face.

“That’s for you to find out after we eat,” you emphasize the after and slip out of his hold. 

It doesn’t take long for you both to settle in and enjoy the food you made. He tells you about his day and you do the same. It’s obvious he is distracted throughout dinner though. His eyes lingering on your lips as you speak, scanning down to the cleavage peeking from the slight opening of your robe, and some responses are just mere hums and nods. Kento doesn’t care how long you have been together, he will never not be attracted to you.

Once finished eating, you clean up while he goes to shower. It took convincing since he hates not helping you, but you finally got him to go. You needed him to go so you could set up in the bedroom. After all the neverending spoiling he gives you, you at least want to attempt to take control for one night.

Your tall, blonde man finally emerges from his shower with a towel around his waist. The candlelit room and soft music playing makes him smile. If there is anything he loves, it’s the scents that come from you. Whether they are on you or filling the house.

“What’s all this, love?” 

“I wanna take care of you tonight, Kennie. It’s your birthday. Let me show my husband how much I appreciate him.” How can he resist when you are looking at him with those eyes? Your voice causes his heart rate to quicken. 

You have Kento feeling like it’s his first time again. He knew you were his peace and place of relaxation, but you were really working a number on him. Your soft hands worked all the knots out his muscles, leaving occasional kisses in their wake. It wasn’t helping that you now had him on his back and was straddling him. His stomach clenching as you teasingly raked your nails low, close to his hardened dick.

“Kennie, open your eyes. Look at me, baby.” Your voice was soft, seductive. All the touching and teasing alone you have been doing was about to send him over the edge.

“Love, stop teasing me please.” His voice was raspy and eyes were low. You loved when your husband got like this for you. That was all it took for you to hook your fingers in the towel and loosen it exposing his member. It was pretty and long, a darker shade from need, and a strong stance as it laid against his stomach.

You ran a hand up and down it, making him do a sharp inhale. It didn’t take you long to maneuver yourself down with your face in front of it. Kento pried his eyes open in time to see you peppering the underside with kisses. Every touch makes him twitch in your hand causing a seductive giggle to come from you. One thing about Kento is that he would always flip a switch in your brain. You thrived off of his sexual needs, eager to please.

“Fuck, love, are those my initals?”

“Mhm, you like?” He tried, he really did, but he can’t sit back any longer when he’s married to a vixen. 

He sits up, his veiny hand wraps in your ponytail tilting your head back while the other runs a thumb over the designs. “You really know how to mess with me,” his eyes locked on yours, “open.” A simple command that leads to him tapping his tip on your tongue, slowly feeding you his cock. “Good girl - fucckk- good girl,” he breathes out as he guides you down, pushing him to the back of your throat. Your tongue massages him as he finds relief in the wetness. You’ve made it a habit over the years to cockwarm him with your throat and it pays off with how easily you can keep him there. Your mouth is always warm and the moans you release around his length only add to the pleasure.

Kento loves stuffing your throat, the sight always making his balls tighten. It’s a slow, repeated process of pushing in and dragging himself out after a few seconds. He goes in all the way to the base and almost pulls completely out, stopping at the mushroom tip. One hand in your hair and the other cupping your chin, catching the stray tears that fall from your pretty eyes. It’s a beautiful sight having the woman he would die for trust him with her body in such ways.

He pulls out of your mouth tracing his tip over your lips thoroughly running whatever gloss you have left on them. “Let me unwrap you now, doll.” He guides you back up into his lap and undoes the belt to your robe. 

Exposed. You’re so exposed for him. Your perky breast sitting out pretty with the lace accentuating them, your stomach only covered by thin patches of the lace, and your pussy. Your pussy was completely uncovered sitting between the material. It’s easy access, perfection. He knew just how to play your body like a string on a guitar.

“Is this all for me, my love? Hm? Dressing up all pretty for me?” You would answer straightly, but it’s hard when his thumb is swirling your clit just right. “Answer me, doll. Did all this so I could fuck you real good?” It’s just something about the way he looks in your eyes and speaks with that tone that has you attempting to close your legs around his hand. You would be successful if he didn’t have you straddling him still. “Haven’t even done anything to you yet. It’s okay, love, I’ll take care of you.” He pushes the remainder of the robe off your body, throwing it off to the side somewhere.

“Wait,” you whine, “Kennie, I was supposed to be taking care of you.”

“Shh, shh. You know there's nothing I love more than loving on my beautiful wife. Let me enjoy my present thoroughly, yea?” He knew he had you when your eyes glazed completely back over. He laid you down and littered kisses across your face, down your jaw, and stopped at your belly. 

“Baby,” you mumbled.

“I know, I got you.”

“No. I want…I want you to put a baby in there.” You spoke a little louder, but timid making the man pause for a moment. Did you know he had been wanting to have a child with you? Since when did you want kids? Was he hearing things? His brain was trying to process the words. “Kennie, did you hear me? I want to have a baby with you-,” He cut you off with a deep, slow kiss. His tongue is swirling with yours and claiming your mouth as his for the second time tonight. 

“I’ll give you one, don’t worry.” It was all he said before you felt him lower himself again. This man is magic with his tongue and fingers, both were working open your sopping hole. His lips latch onto your clit while his fingers curl deep inside of you. In the process of working him up earlier, you made yourself needy too. You didn’t even need the extra foreplay, but Kento knew just how much your body reacted when his mouth connected to your pussy.

“Cum on my tongue and then I’ll give you everything you want.” His voice was so soothing, it was supportive almost, encouraging you to coat his taste buds in your juices. A few more sucks and curl of his fingers was all it took to have your back arching off the bed and pussy releasing. 

He groans out a collage of curses before sitting up and dragging you closer to him by your thighs. “My pretty wife,” he says while spreading your pussy lips. This is a present he will forever be happy to open. Your folds are all shiny as evidence of your activities, ready to indulge in more. While using his thumbs to hold you open and taking his time to admire you, your soft hand wraps around his length stroking it. 

“I love you.” Another smile blossoms on his face. How did he get so lucky? 

He thrusts forward into your hold a couple of times before removing your hand and interlocking your fingers. “I love you more.” His free hand guides his cock through your folds, the tip pressing against your clit with each one. He doesn’t stop until you whine at him again. He loves when you need him. Both of you are in love with one another needing each other.

He finally lines himself up to you and pushes in. You would think he hasn’t fucked you in months with the way your pussy squelches as it drags him in. “Shit, you’re taking me in so well, baby.” Once he bottoms out, he brings his chest yours, dragging your hands above your head. Both of you are panting as you hold eye contact, a silent conversation between lovers.

Your legs wrap around his waist and he doesn’t hold back from plunging into you. The sloppy musical happening between your bodies is enough to know he’s fucking you with purpose. Knowing he’s working to impregnate his wife gives him a new drive. He’s so deep in you and only pulling his length halfway out with each stroke leaving little breaks between each rush of pleasure you feel. You two are so close that your bodies are almost one. Layers of sweat covering you both as you moan out his name.

There’s a knot forming in your lower belly already making your insides slipperier. “Kennie,” your breath out. 

“Let go, baby. I got you.” He feels your fingers grip at his harder, the squint of your eyes and raise of your voice almost push him over the edge. Your gummy walls pulse around his member letting him feel every second of your release. He slows his thrusts working you through it while muttering sweet words into your ears.

When he sees you coming back down some, he raises up from you and puts both of your legs over his shoulders. “Saw that this was a good position to ensure pregnancy.” Your fuzzy brain barely has time to think about what he said before he is speeding up his thrusts again. He looks down to see his cock coated in white as he moves in and out of you. His hands have found home on your hips, his head turning to the side to kiss at your calf. Kento is getting close and you can tell from the way he brings your leg closer and sinks his teeth into the skin trying to hold on.

“I’m so close, baby. So close.” He rasps out feeling his balls tighten. Your pussy working to milk him. 

“Come on, Kennie. Fill me all up.” That’s all it takes for him to explode, hips stuttering and broken moans falling past his lips. You lower the leg he isn’t holding and sit up some to reach at his dick. Your fingers massage the amount that isn’t stuffed in your cunt making him rock back and forth from sensitivity. 

When he finally calms down, his eyes land on you. He places your leg to his side and pulls you up by the neck for a sloppy kiss. 

“Happy Birthday, Kennie.”

“Thank you, baby,” he smiles and kisses you again, “but I’m not done enjoying my present yet.” Kento was going to keep you here all night until he felt you were stuffed enough with his cum.

✨

Pixie’s Flying 🧚🏽‍♀️

This a repost! I posted this back in July but it never showed up in tags! Hopefully it shows up this time and you can read and enjoy it🥹

ENJOY! Reblog, like, and comment💜!

Pixie’s Masterlist

[callsigns-haze]

-ˋˏ The week it all went south ˎˊ-

Part 1

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.

Word count: 13937

Rhysand's office was dimly lit, the soft glow of faelight casting long shadows over the dark mahogany furniture. The air smelled faintly of leather, ink, and the rich tang of spiced wine. Cassian leaned back in one of the armchairs, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, while Azriel sat with his customary stillness, though his eyes betrayed the warmth of someone entirely at ease. Rhysand, perched on the edge of his desk, held his own drink with the casual elegance he always seemed to exude.

“Remind me again,” Cassian said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Why do we still have to deal with these Illyrian males who think they’re gods’ gift to training camps? I’ve been dealing with one this week who couldn’t even hold his sword properly, and he still had the audacity to call himself a warrior.”

Rhysand snorted, taking a sip of his drink. “Because if we don’t, they’ll tear themselves apart—or worse, decide to revolt again. You’re good at handling them, Cass.”

“Good at handling them?” Cassian scoffed. “I’ve got three sons at home who listen better than most of those arrogant bastards.”

Rhysand smirked. “That says more about Nesta than it does you.”

Azriel chuckled softly, the sound rare but genuine. “How are your boys doing, anyway?”

Cassian’s face softened instantly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Torran’s growing too fast. He’s already outpacing me in drills. Emrys is still too young to care about swords, which drives Torran insane. And little Calen—” He shook his head, laughing. “That one’s going to be the death of me. He’s climbing everything he sees. Nesta caught him on the roof last week.”

Azriel raised a brow. “The roof?”

Cassian nodded grimly. “Nesta nearly burned the house down when she found him. I don’t know whether to be proud or terrified. Probably both.”

Rhysand laughed, tipping his glass toward Cassian. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“And you don’t?” Cassian shot back. “How’s Nyx? Still giving you and Feyre a run for your money?”

Rhysand sighed dramatically. “Thirteen is...a challenge. He’s inherited Feyre’s stubbornness and my sharp tongue, which is a dangerous combination.”

Cassian snorted. “Sounds like poetic justice to me.”

Rhysand ignored him. “He’s growing into his powers faster than we expected. Sometimes I don’t know whether to be proud or worried. Feyre’s convinced he’s going to be stronger than both of us one day.”

“He probably will be,” Azriel said simply, his voice laced with quiet confidence.

Rhysand tilted his head, considering. “Maybe. But I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Azriel shook his head slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Nyx will outpace you before you know it.”

Cassian grinned. “And then you’ll know what it feels like when your kids don’t need you to teach them anymore.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He turned to Azriel. “Speaking of kids, how’s Kaia?”

Azriel’s expression softened instantly, the shadows around him retreating. “She’s...perfect. Curious about everything. She spent half an hour today chasing after her own shadow, trying to figure out why it wouldn’t go away.” His voice was tinged with amusement and an unmistakable love.

Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And YN? Is she keeping up with her?”

Azriel gave a quiet laugh. “Barely. Kaia’s too quick for her own good. YN says she’s going to start making me run after her when she gets tired.”

Rhysand smirked. “You always were the fastest, Az. Seems fitting.”

Azriel shot him a look, though it lacked any real venom. “I’ll remind you of that when you’re chasing Nyx through Velaris at two in the morning.”

Cassian laughed, raising his glass in a mock toast. “To fatherhood. The most exhausting battle we’ve ever fought.”

The other two raised their glasses, the clink of crystal filling the room.

Rhysand’s gaze flicked between them, his expression uncharacteristically soft. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

Cassian nodded, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah, we have.”

The door to Rhysand's office creaked open just enough for a small, tousled head to peek inside. Azriel’s sharp gaze flicked to the doorway, his eyes softening as Kaia’s little feet padded across the stone floor. Without hesitation, she ran straight to him, her tiny wings fluttering in a haphazard attempt to take off.

“Dada!” she squealed, her voice high-pitched and filled with excitement. She launched herself into his arms with a giggle, and Azriel caught her effortlessly, pulling her close.

“Kaia,” Azriel murmured, pressing a kiss to her messy hair. “What are you doing up, sweetheart?”

She tilted her head, big amber eyes that mirrored his looking up at him with feigned innocence. “I no want bath,” she said, wrinkling her little nose in distaste. Her chubby arms wrapped around him tighter. “Mama say I need bath... but I hide!”

Azriel’s lips twitched at the sight of her determination. “You hid from your mama to come find me?”

Kaia nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing with every movement. “Ye! I run real fast! Hide so no bath! No bath, Dada!” Her words were still jumbled with her toddler speech, but the meaning was clear enough.

Cassian leaned forward in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “What about me, huh? I don’t get a hug?”

Kaia squinted at him, brows furrowing as if trying to understand. After a moment, she shook her head and pointed a finger at him accusingly. “You too loud!” she declared with absolute certainty, her little lips pouting. “You talk all da time. I no like.”

Cassian laughed, throwing his head back. “Too loud? I’m the fun one, Kaia. You can’t just pick favourites like that.”

But Kaia was already halfway out of his reach, shifting in Azriel’s lap as she snuggled in closer to him. Her tiny hands reached up and tugged at Rhysand’s dark hair, as if the pull of his long strands was just too tempting.

“Rhysie,” she said with a giggle, her toddler voice softening the name into something both endearing and mischievous. Rhysand chuckled, allowing her to yank on his hair without complaint.

“You’re a little troublemaker, Kaia,” Rhysand said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as she pulled harder, then instantly snuggled back into Azriel’s side.

“Don’t pull on Rhysie’s hair, sweetling,” Azriel said gently, though there was a fond smile on his face. He wrapped an arm tighter around her as she cuddled against his chest, clearly not bothered by his warning.

“No bath!” Kaia protested again, her speech barely coherent as she pouted. “Mama no get me! I run! I hide!” She giggled again, clearly proud of herself. “Mama say I need clean. I say no! I say no bath, no bath, no bath!”

Azriel shook his head, chuckling softly as he ran his fingers through her dark hair. “You’re very clever, little one.” He looked at the others, sharing a silent understanding that there was no way Kaia was going back to the bath tonight.

Cassian grinned. “Alright, no bath. But only if you tell me a secret first, Kaia.”

She leaned back in Azriel’s lap, her tiny face scrunched up in thought. “A secret?” she asked, sounding very serious for a two-year-old.

“Yes, a secret,” Cassian insisted. “Tell me something nobody else knows.”

Kaia looked around the room, her eyes narrowing as she thought harder. Then, after a long pause, she smiled brightly. “I cookies,” she whispered loudly, leaning in to make sure Cassian heard. “I no share cookie.”

Everyone laughed, even Rhysand shaking his head with a smile. “That’s a secret?” he teased.

Kaia nodded vigorously. “Big swecret!” she insisted, then looked up at Azriel with all the sweetness in the world. “Dada... no bath?”

Azriel kissed the top of her head. “No bath tonight, sweetheart. But you’ve gotta let me have a drink with the guys now, okay?”

Kaia looked at him seriously, her little brows furrowing. “I no want drink. I want you,” she said, her tone pleading.

Azriel’s heart softened. “I’m here,” he whispered. “Always.”

Kaia settled back into his arms, clearly satisfied. “Okay, Dada. You stay.”

Kaia, content and warm in Azriel’s arms, relaxed into him, her little body soft and pliable as she burrowed closer. Azriel’s wings adjusted slightly, folding around her like a protective cocoon as she curled up against his chest, her tiny hands clasping at the fabric of his tunic. Her hair—so dark and wild—spilled across his arm, and her breath came slow and steady as she began to doze off, her toddler body relaxing against the weight of his warmth.

The low murmur of conversation from the men around them filled the air, but Kaia wasn’t paying attention. Instead, her tiny fingers traced the markings on his arm absentmindedly, her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck. She was already half asleep, the soft and steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her further.

Cassian was leaning back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, giving Azriel a teasing look. "You know, I thought Azriel was the quiet one," he said, glancing toward Rhysand with a raised brow. "But now we’ve got the next generation in here, and she’s already taking after her dad. Quiet as a shadow."

Azriel chuckled softly, a quiet sound that only made Kaia snuggle deeper into him. “She doesn’t stay quiet when she wants something,” he murmured, though his voice held the tenderness that came with his love for her.

Rhysand, ever the calm presence, took a slow sip of his drink. “She has a strong will,” he said thoughtfully. “Wonder where she got that from? You or my sister?” He shot a playful glance toward Azriel.

Azriel only gave him a quiet look of warning, his fingers running through Kaia’s soft hair as her breath deepened, little snores just beginning to escape her. He spoke in a low, affectionate tone. “She’s more than just willful. She’s clever. She knows how to get what she wants.”

Cassian grinned. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger already, doesn’t she?”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he looked down at her, his wings fluttering lightly in the quiet, the weight of her trust settling over him. “She knows exactly how to work her way around me.”

“She’s two,” Cassian teased. “Wait until she’s ten, and she’ll have you wrapped up in knots.”

“I’ll be ready,” Azriel said with a soft smile, though the idea of her growing up so quickly left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He kissed her forehead gently, almost imperceptibly, as she murmured something unintelligible in her sleep.

The conversation drifted away from him as he allowed himself to enjoy this brief, peaceful moment with his daughter, the calm of the room enveloping them. But as the men continued to talk, there was a soft shuffle of footsteps, and Kaia’s small head jerked up from Azriel’s chest, her sleepy eyes blinking rapidly.

“Dada,” she whispered, her little voice thick with sleep. “Mama?”

Azriel stroked her hair gently, reassuring her. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

But Kaia’s curiosity had already taken over. She sat up suddenly, rubbing her eyes as she looked around the room. "Mama? I hide!” she said with a gleam of mischief in her voice, suddenly more awake and alert. Her eyes darted across the room as if calculating the best place to hide from YN. Without warning, she hopped off Azriel’s lap, her tiny wings fluttering in excitement. She scampered to the couch and dove under the blanket with an exaggerated puff of air, pulling it over her head, only her little feet sticking out.

Azriel watched her with a fond, amused expression, shaking his head slightly. “Kaia, you can’t keep hiding from Mama,” he warned softly, though there was no real reprimand in his tone.

Kaia’s voice came from under the blanket, muffled but still clear. “Mama no find me,” she said with utter confidence. Her tiny legs wiggled, her feet kicking the blanket in her excitement. “I hide, Dada! I good at hide!”

Cassian and Rhysand both chuckled at the sight. Rhysand’s eyes twinkled as he looked over at Azriel. “Looks like she’s more like you than we thought. You used to hide from your problems too.”

Azriel gave him a pointed look. “I don’t hide.”

“Of course not,” Rhysand said smoothly, though there was an unmistakable smirk on his face. “Kaia certainly doesn’t.”

Kaia, apparently content with her decision to hide, made little giggling noises from beneath the blanket. Azriel’s wings unfolded slightly in amusement, and he reached for her, gently pulling back the blanket to find her face all scrunched up in concentration as she tried to remain hidden.

“I see you, little one,” Azriel said softly, and Kaia’s giggles broke free as she peeked out, eyes wide with a mix of delight and mischief.

“I’m good hide, Dada!” she announced, her tiny hands still clutching at the blanket.

Azriel smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her face as she crawled back onto his lap, snuggling against him once more. “You are, sweetheart. But no more hiding from Mama. She’s coming.”

Kaia frowned for a moment, but the promise of staying with her daddy seemed to cheer her up. “No Mama. No bath,” she muttered, her speech still jumbled but full of intent. “Hide more!”

Azriel chuckled, knowing full well that this little one would give her mama a run for her money.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway before the door to Rhysand’s office creaked open, and you stepped inside. Immediately, your eyes flicked to the sight before you—Azriel, seated comfortably in one of the chairs, his dark wings enveloping his daughter, who was curled up in his lap, asleep but still warm from the lingering glow of her playful energy.

You smirked as you took in the scene. Cassian and Rhysand were deep in conversation, but both looked up at you the moment you entered, the tension of their talks easing into an unspoken amusement. They’d seen that look before—the one where you were hunting for something (or someone) you didn’t want to admit was far too skilled at evading capture.

“I’m searching for a runaway,” you said with a teasing lilt to your voice, crossing your arms. Your gaze fell onto the small figure tucked against Azriel’s chest, her hair a wild halo of dark curls, her little body completely at ease despite her escape attempt.

Azriel’s head tilted slightly as he met your eyes, and a soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You mean Kaia, don’t you?” Rhysand’s voice was dry, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “I’m sure she’s hiding from you because she knows exactly what’s coming.”

“I’m sure she’s just lost in thought,” Azriel replied, though the way he shifted Kaia gently in his arms suggested he was trying to keep her in her comfortable cocoon. “She was really adamant about not needing a bath.”

“Oh, she’s very good at that,” you said, walking further into the room. “I thought I’d check in with you guys, but it looks like you’ve got her well in hand.” You looked pointedly at Azriel, whose face had softened as he ran his fingers through Kaia’s hair.

Kaia shifted in Azriel’s lap, her eyes half-lidded, but she was still awake, and the moment she heard your voice, her little face scrunched up in exaggerated suspicion. She slowly lifted her head, her tiny wings fluttering behind her as she tried to blink the sleep from her eyes.

“No Mama!” Kaia protested, throwing her arms over her face as if it would somehow shield her from the inevitable. “Hide! I hide, no bath!”

You sighed dramatically, taking a step closer, feigning exasperation. “Kaia, sweetheart, don’t you want to be all nice and clean for the night? I was just coming to check on my two favourite people, but I see that one of them is being a little troublemaker.” You crouched down in front of her, smiling at her defiant little pout.

She peeked from beneath her arms, and her lip trembled, her voice barely a whisper. “No Mama. No bath. I hide. I hide from Mama, Dada.”

Azriel chuckled softly, his voice low and soothing. “She’s good at hiding, love. I’ve tried to tell her it’s not going to work.”

“Oh, I know it won’t work,” you said, reaching out to pull the blanket off her tiny form. “But it’s adorable to watch her try.”

Kaia giggled as the blanket was pulled away, exposing her to you. Her small hands shot up to her face again in an attempt to shield herself. “No, no, no bath! I hide. I good hide!”

“You are a very good hider, sweetheart.” You reached down to scoop her up gently, ignoring her protest. She squirmed a little but melted against you when she realized there was no escape. “But no more running. It’s time for a bath.”

Kaia, however, wasn’t about to give up so easily. “I no need bath,” she declared with a loud puff of air. “I already clean! I clean!”

Rhysand’s laugh echoed through the room. “I believe that’s a no, then.”

You shot him a quick, amused glance. “A very determined no, at that. I think she might be more stubborn than any of us.”

Azriel’s eyes softened as he gazed at Kaia, still nestled against you. “She gets that from her mother.”

“She might also get it from her father,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you shifted Kaia onto your hip.

“Not that much,” Azriel protested, though the warmth in his voice made it clear he didn’t mind at all.

“I’ll let you both deal with her when she’s three,” you said, already walking toward the door with Kaia clinging to you like a tiny koala. “For now, she’s still in the stage where she’s cute enough to get away with anything.”

Cassian laughed. “Good luck with that, YN. I’ve had a lot of practice with troublemakers, but I’m pretty sure Kaia’s going to be next-level.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’m well aware, Cassian.”

Azriel’s eyes followed you as you walked out the door, Kaia’s arms wrapped tightly around you. “You sure you want to take her?”

You glanced back at him and smiled, a playful glint in your eyes. “She’s your daughter, Azriel. I think you’ve had your turn.”

Kaia let out a loud whine, her small hand tugging at your collar. “No bath!” she repeated, her toddler words still as adorably clear as ever. “I no bath, Mama!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” you said, kissing her forehead.

As you carried Kaia toward the door, her little protests still filling the air, you paused and turned back to the three men lounging in the office. Cassian was leaning so far back in his chair it looked like he might tip over, Rhysand was swirling his drink with all the leisure of a man who had nothing but time, and Azriel—well, Azriel was looking at you with that calm, unruffled expression, even though you knew he was just as guilty as the other two.

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “You know, I have a theory,” you said, bouncing Kaia slightly as she rested her head against your shoulder.

“A theory, hmm?” Rhysand drawled, one brow arching as he took another slow sip of his drink. “Do enlighten us.”

You smirked. “It’s funny how every time Feyre, Nesta, and I are up to our necks with the kids—” you glanced at Azriel meaningfully, “—all of you somehow end up here. Drinking. Relaxing. Laughing like life is oh-so-easy.”

Cassian snorted, his grin widening as he set his drink down. “We’re strategizing,” he said, far too defensively to be believable. “Important things. Illyrian training. You know, for the next generation.”

“Right,” you said, shifting Kaia to your other hip. “Strategizing. Because obviously, the best way to deal with a horde of screaming children is to sit in Rhysand’s office with a glass of whiskey.”

“I think it’s working,” Rhysand chimed in smoothly, giving you a wink. “Look how relaxed we are.”

Kaia, as if on cue, perked up just enough to lift her head and point a chubby finger at Rhysand. “Rhysie no help!” she declared, her toddler voice loud and certain.

You grinned. “Exactly, Kaia. Rhysie no help.” You turned toward the door, raising your voice just enough to carry down the hallway. “Nesta! You’ve got to come see this. The boys are in here strategizing while we’re busy running after all the kids.”

A moment later, you heard footsteps approaching, quick and purposeful, and then Nesta appeared in the doorway, her sharp gaze sweeping over the room. “Let me guess,” she said, crossing her arms and tilting her head. “Drinking and lounging while we’re doing all the work?”

Cassian, who had the audacity to look pleased to see her, leaned back even further in his chair. “We’re taking a much-needed break, sweetheart. You know how exhausting strategizing can be.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Strategizing, huh? And what exactly have you been strategizing, Cassian?”

“Training,” Cassian replied smoothly. “The future. Our sons.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Of course. You’re strategizing, and we’re dealing with three boys who’ve decided that walls are optional for flying practice.”

Cassian sat up straighter, a smirk playing at his lips. “That sounds like good training to me.”

Nesta shot him a look that could have frozen the Sidra. “It’s destruction, Cassian.”

Kaia, catching onto the tension, buried her face against your shoulder, peeking out just enough to whisper, “Cassy in trouble?”

“Yes, Kaia,” you said, grinning. “Cassy’s in big trouble.”

Azriel, who had been quietly observing the exchange with an amused smile, finally spoke up. “To be fair,” he said softly, “the boys did ask for a break.”

“Of course they did,” you said, shaking your head. “Meanwhile, Feyre and I had to chase Nyx off the roof again, and Nesta’s youngest is trying to figure out how to set a trap for the twins.”

Rhysand chuckled, raising his glass toward Nesta. “To the mothers of the Inner Circle. The true warriors among us.”

Nesta raised a brow but didn’t take the bait. “You’re lucky we haven’t strung all of you up yet.”

Cassian leaned forward, grinning as he motioned toward the empty chair next to him. “Why don’t you join us, sweetheart? You deserve a break, too.”

Nesta sighed but finally walked over, claiming the chair with a regal grace. She glanced at you as you shifted Kaia again, who had started to drift off once more. “I’m not doing this alone, YN,” she said. “Feyre deserves to see this, too.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you replied, smirking as you moved toward the door. “I’m going to send her in next. Let’s see how long your little strategy session lasts once the rest of us are here.”

Azriel’s quiet laugh followed you out, and you heard Cassian groan, “She’s bluffing, right?”

Rhysand’s amused voice was the last thing you heard before you turned the corner. “You know better than that, Cassian.”

You didn’t make it far before you paused, a smirk creeping across your face. “You know what? Feyre does need to see this now.” Adjusting Kaia on your hip, you turned back toward the hallway and called out, “Feyre! You might want to come take a look at this.”

The sound of footsteps echoed moments later, and Feyre appeared, her hair slightly mussed, her expression one of mild exasperation. “What is it now? Did Nyx try to jump off something again?”

“Not this time,” you said, gesturing toward the office. “But you’ll want to see what our fearless mates and brothers are up to while we’re busy chasing after their children.”

Feyre raised a brow and stepped into the room, her gaze sweeping over the scene—the three men lounging in comfort, glasses of whiskey in hand, all looking far too pleased with themselves.

“Well, well,” Feyre said, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “What do we have here? A secret meeting?”

Rhysand’s lips curved into a slow smile as he gestured to the empty seat next to him. “Join us, darling. We were just discussing the intricacies of basic Illyrian training.”

Feyre scoffed, striding further into the room. “Basic Illyrian training, hmm? Is that what you call this little boys’ club?”

“I think it’s cute,” you chimed in, bouncing Kaia slightly as she started to squirm. “They’re pretending they’re doing something important while we’re out there making sure their children don’t destroy Velaris.”

Nesta, still seated beside Cassian, smirked and gestured toward Feyre. “Take a seat. I’m sure they’ll explain how their ‘strategizing’ is critical to the survival of the Night Court.”

Feyre shook her head, but there was amusement in her eyes as she looked at Rhysand. “You know, Rhys, I’m starting to think we deserve a break.”

“A break?” Rhysand echoed, tilting his head. “From what, darling? Surely you’re not suggesting life with our children is anything less than a joy.”

You snorted. “Oh, it’s a joy, alright. Especially when Nyx decides to start a game of tag on the roof, or Cassian’s boys decide to see if they can break through a wall with their wings.”

“They’re learning structural integrity,” Cassian said defensively, though his grin betrayed him.

“And how exactly is that helping us?” Nesta asked, her tone sharp as she fixed him with a glare. “Do you know how many walls we’ve had to repair this month?”

Azriel stayed quiet, his hand lightly rubbing Kaia’s back as she snuggled against him, but his lips twitched in amusement.

Feyre stepped closer to Rhysand, placing her hands on the back of his chair. “You know, I think we deserve a week off. No kids. Just us. Let’s see how well you three manage without us.”

Rhysand arched a brow, his voice smooth as silk. “A week off? Are you implying we can’t handle our own children?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shifting Kaia again as she started to doze off. “Can you handle Kaia’s nightly escape attempts? Or Nyx’s tendency to challenge gravity at every opportunity?”

Nesta smirked. “What about when the twins decide they’re inventing a new game that requires smashing furniture?”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Please. We’ve handled far worse.”

“Oh, really?” Feyre asked, her tone dripping with challenge. “Then let’s make it official. One week. No help. No Feyre, no YN, no Nesta. Just the three of you and all the kids.”

Rhysand leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gave her a slow, considering smile. “And what would the three of you be doing during this week of freedom?”

“Anything we want,” you replied immediately, grinning. “No schedules. No messes to clean. No nightly tantrums.”

Nesta’s voice was firm. “And no repairing walls.”

Azriel glanced down at Kaia, his gaze softening. “You’d really leave us alone for a week?”

“Yes,” you said, though your heart warmed at the way he was glancing at your daughter. “And you’d survive. Maybe.”

Cassian grinned, leaning toward Azriel and Rhysand. “Come on, boys. How hard could it be?”

Rhysand’s gaze flicked toward Feyre, full of mischief. “Challenge accepted.”

Feyre smirked. “You’ll regret that by the end of the first day.”

You laughed, Kaia stirring slightly as you kissed the top of her head. “We’ll pack our bags tonight. Good luck, gentlemen. You’re going to need it.”

You grinned, shifting Kaia onto your hip as you leaned against the doorframe. “You know, Feyre, Nesta, and I could always go to the Day Court for the week. Helion would love to take us in. No kids, plenty of sunshine, and a lot less chaos.”

Cassian sat up straight, feigning offense. “The Day Court? You’d betray us like that?”

“Oh, it’s not betrayal,” Nesta said with a smirk, tapping her fingers on the armrest of her chair. “It’s survival. And besides, Helion has excellent taste. He knows how to treat his guests.”

Rhysand arched a brow at Feyre, his expression amused. “You’d run off to Helion? Really, darling? Aren’t I enough?”

Feyre tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Well, Helion does throw very good parties. And he doesn’t make me chase a child off the roof.”

Before Rhysand could respond, a loud, familiar voice interrupted.

“NO!”

Nyx came barreling into the room, his curls bouncing as he skidded to a stop in front of you. His eyes were wide with panic, and his wings flared slightly behind him as he planted himself firmly in your path.

“You can’t leave them in charge!” Nyx declared, pointing dramatically at his father, Cassian, and Azriel. “Not again! They’ll ruin everything!”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his expression equal parts amused and offended. “Excuse me, young man. What exactly are you accusing us of?”

Nyx turned on him, his hands on his hips. “The last time you were in charge, Uncle Cassian said I could ‘fly like an Illyrian,’ and then—” He flapped his arms wildly for emphasis. “And then I broke my arm!”

Cassian burst out laughing, clapping a hand on his chest. “That was a learning experience, Nyx. Every Illyrian has to learn how to fall at some point.”

“I didn’t fall!” Nyx shouted, glaring at him. “You threw me!”

“I did not throw you!” Cassian protested, though his grin was far too wide to be convincing.

Nyx crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “You threw me, and then you told Mama it was an accident. I’m still not allowed to go anywhere with you by myself!”

Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath about reckless behavior and bad influences. “He’s not wrong, Cassian. You did throw him.”

“I helped him fly,” Cassian corrected, raising his hands defensively.

Nyx turned to you, his expression pleading. “You can’t leave us with them! Uncle Azriel doesn’t even let me hold his knives, and Dad just makes me sit and listen to boring stories about being High Lord.”

Azriel chuckled quietly from his seat, his hand still resting protectively on Kaia’s back as she began to doze. “I’m not letting you hold my knives, Nyx. You’re thirteen, not thirty.”

Nyx huffed, his wings twitching in frustration. “I can fight! I’m strong!”

“You’re also grounded,” Feyre said firmly, cutting off whatever argument he was about to make. “And if you’re trying to talk us out of going to the Day Court, it’s not working.”

Nyx’s eyes widened as he looked between you, Feyre, and Nesta. “You’re really going to leave me with them? Mama, you can’t!”

Rhysand smirked, leaning forward to ruffle Nyx’s hair. “Don’t worry, son. We’ll take excellent care of you.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Nyx muttered darkly, stepping away and turning toward the door. “I’m telling Aunt Amren. She’ll stop you.”

Nesta snorted, shaking her head. “Amren’s the one who suggested this in the first place. She said we’ve ‘earned’ it.”

You grinned, watching as Nyx stormed off, muttering under his breath about unfair treatment and irresponsible adults. Turning back to the three men, you tilted your head. “Well, there you have it. Even your own son doesn’t trust you to handle this.”

Rhysand sighed dramatically, lifting his drink. “Clearly, I’ve raised a traitor.”

Cassian laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Rhys. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Azriel didn’t say a word, but the slight twitch of his wings and the quiet laugh that escaped him said everything.

You smiled sweetly, adjusting Kaia on your hip. “Let me know how that attitude works out for you when we’re gone. We’ll be sure to send Helion your love.”

Feyre and Nesta smirked in unison as you all turned to leave, already planning the week of freedom ahead.

-----

The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came after all the children had finally settled into sleep. Kaia had been tucked into her bed hours ago, her tiny wings carefully draped over her blanket as she drifted off without a care in the world. The boys had stayed up later than usual, their laughter echoing through the halls until Azriel finally sent them off to their rooms with firm but gentle reminders about the chaos they’d already caused today.

Now, it was just you.

You stood in the bedroom, a soft glow from the bedside lamp illuminating the suitcase open on the bed. You were methodically folding clothes—light dresses, comfortable shoes, and a few things Feyre and Nesta had sworn were “perfect for the Day Court.” A small smile tugged at your lips as you thought about the week ahead. The idea of a break, of sunshine and relaxation with no children demanding your attention, felt like a dream.

The door creaked open behind you, and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Still packing?” Azriel’s voice was soft, laced with that calm, steady warmth you adored.

You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of him leaning against the doorframe. His hair was slightly tousled, his shoulders relaxed now that the day’s chaos had come to an end. His gaze swept over the room, lingering on the suitcase before meeting your eyes.

“You know,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you, “I could still talk you out of this.”

You smirked, turning back to the suitcase as you folded another dress. “Oh, you could, could you?”

He came to stand beside you, his wings rustling slightly as he leaned against the bedpost. “Absolutely,” he said, his tone low and teasing. “Just say the word, and I’ll convince Feyre and Nesta that this trip isn’t necessary.”

You raised a brow, glancing up at him with a playful smile. “And how exactly would you do that? Bribery? Threats? Or are you planning to charm us into staying?”

Azriel’s lips twitched, his hazel eyes shining with amusement. “I was thinking charm, actually. It usually works on you.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you placed another item in the suitcase. “Not this time, Shadowsinger. I’m going, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”

He watched you for a moment, his expression softening. “You deserve it,” he said quietly. “All of you do. But… Kaia’s going to miss you.”

You paused, your hands stilling on the edge of the suitcase. “Kaia’s going to miss me?” You looked at him, raising a skeptical brow. “She spent the entire day glued to your side, Az. If anything, she’s going to forget I exist.”

Azriel chuckled, his wings shifting as he straightened. “She loves her mama. Even if she’s too stubborn to admit it sometimes.”

You smiled, your heart warming at the thought of your daughter. “She gets that from you, you know.”

He stepped closer, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, his touch gentle as he studied you. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” you said, your voice softer now. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, his hand dropping to rest on your waist. “We’re both lucky to have you.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the weight of the day melting away. His hand was warm against your side, grounding you in a way only he could.

“You’re really okay with this?” you asked quietly, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “Me leaving for a whole week?”

He smiled, a rare, genuine thing that made your heart flutter. “I’ll miss you,” he admitted, his thumb tracing small circles against your hip. “But I’ll survive. And so will Kaia. Somehow.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as his wings folded slightly around you. “I don’t know who I should be more worried about—her or you.”

“Definitely me,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But I’ll try to manage without you.”

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze. “You’ll do more than manage. You’ll be amazing. You always are.”

Azriel leaned down, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that was both comforting and full of promise. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur.

“Don’t worry about us. Just enjoy yourself, YN.”

“I will,” you promised, your heart swelling with love for the man before you.

As the silence stretched between you, Azriel’s gaze flickered to your lips, a familiar glint of mischief lighting his hazel eyes. His hand on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you just a fraction closer.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, velvety tone that always sent a shiver down your spine, “we still have some time before you leave.”

Your lips curved into a teasing smile as you tilted your head. “And what exactly are you suggesting, Shadowsinger?”

Azriel’s wings flared slightly, brushing against the edges of the room as he leaned in. His lips ghosted over yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath, but he didn’t close the distance. Not yet.

“I’m suggesting,” he said, his voice a soft rumble, “that maybe you should stay here and let me remind you of all the reasons you shouldn’t go.”

Your breath hitched as his free hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone. He dipped his head, his lips barely grazing your jaw as he whispered, “Starting with how much I’ve missed having you to myself.”

“Az,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone steady even as heat pooled in your chest. “You’re not playing fair.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm as his lips trailed along the curve of your neck. “I never said I would.”

Your hands found their way to his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching under your fingers as you tried to catch your breath. “You’re not going to win, you know. I’m still going.”

His lips paused against your skin, and you felt the smirk that formed there. “Oh, I don’t need to win. I just need to make sure you remember me while you’re gone.”

Your laugh was breathless, and you tipped your head back, giving him better access as his kisses turned more insistent. “As if I could forget you.”

Azriel hummed, his wings curling slightly around you as his hands slid to your hips, holding you firmly in place. “Good,” he murmured, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, full of the kind of intensity that made your knees weak.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “One more thing,” he said, his voice rough with affection.

“What’s that?” you asked, your voice just as soft.

His lips curved into a smirk as his thumb brushed against your lower lip. “Make sure Helion knows you’re mine.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of warmth as you leaned into him. “I think he already knows, Az.”

“Good,” he said again, his tone playful yet possessive as he kissed you once more, this time with no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

Azriel didn’t let you pull away—not that you wanted to. His lips moved against yours with that perfect blend of softness and urgency, his hands anchoring you firmly in place as though daring you to remember anything but him.

The suitcase on the bed was all but forgotten as he coaxed a sigh from you, his mouth tilting into a knowing smirk at your reaction.

“Az,” you murmured against his lips, your voice half-scolding, half-breathless.

“Hm?” he hummed, his tone utterly unrepentant as he kissed the corner of your mouth, then trailed down your jaw.

“You’re distracting me,” you managed, though your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt betrayed just how little you minded.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough in a way that made your pulse flutter. “You’ve been so focused on everyone else, shadow,”—his favorite term of endearment for you, spoken so softly it made your heart ache—“it’s time someone focused on you.”

Your heart squeezed at the tenderness in his words, even as his teasing lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“You know,” you said, your breath hitching when his teeth grazed your skin, “if you keep this up, Feyre and Nesta are going to show up in the morning, and I’m not going to be ready.”

Azriel chuckled, the sound low and sinful as he lifted his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t need to pack for the Day Court. You could stay here. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You arched a brow, pretending to consider it even as you traced slow circles on his chest. “And what exactly would you do to make it worth my while?”

His hazel eyes darkened, and the corners of his mouth twitched as though he were holding back a full grin. “I’d start,” he said, his voice a silken promise, “by reminding you how much I love you. And then…” His wings flared slightly, his fingers tightening on your hips as he leaned in again.

“And then?” you pressed, your voice soft, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the way his gaze lingered on your lips.

“And then,” he murmured, his forehead brushing against yours, “I’d spend the whole week making sure you never want to leave my side again.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, though it was breathless and tinged with heat. “Azriel,” you said, shaking your head even as your hands slid up to wrap around his neck, “you are completely incorrigible.”

“I’m your incorrigible husband,” he said, his lips curving as he kissed you again, slow and deep, until all thoughts of the Day Court faded into nothingness.

When you finally pulled away, your breathing uneven and your cheeks flushed, Azriel’s hands stayed firm on your waist, holding you close. His hazel eyes sparkled with satisfaction, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head as you tried to regain your composure.

“And you love me for it,” he teased, leaning down to brush another soft kiss to your temple.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Unfortunately for me.”

Azriel chuckled, his wings shifting as he stepped back just enough to give you space. “I’ll leave you to finish packing—if you insist on going, that is.”

“If I insist?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

His smirk deepened, and he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Go to the Day Court. But don’t be surprised if I show up halfway through the week to bring you home.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to the suitcase on the bed. “Kaia would never forgive you if you left her for that long.”

“She might forgive me if I brought her to you,” he countered, his voice softening at the thought of your daughter.

“She’d love it,” you admitted, glancing over your shoulder at him. “But I think you can handle a week without me. Besides, Helion’s already promised Feyre, Nesta, and me the royal treatment.”

Azriel’s wings twitched, a subtle flicker of something possessive crossing his face before he hid it behind a playful smile. “You’ll be back before you know it.”

“Miss me already?” you teased, folding the last of your clothes and placing them in the suitcase.

“Always,” he said simply, and the sincerity in his voice made your heart stutter.

You paused, turning fully to face him. For a moment, you just looked at him—the man who had been your partner in everything, who had stood by your side through chaos and calm, who adored you and your daughter more than anything in the world.

Stepping closer, you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. “I love you,” you said softly, the words carrying all the weight of your feelings.

Azriel leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. “And I love you.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. Then, with a final lingering kiss, Azriel stepped back, his hands falling to his sides.

“I’ll check on Kaia before I head to bed,” he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your heart swelling as you watched him leave the room, his shadows trailing after him.

And as you turned back to the suitcase, you couldn’t help but smile, already counting down the days until you’d be back in his arms again.

-----

The morning light filtered gently through the curtains, bathing the room in soft, golden hues. You stirred slowly, the warmth of Azriel’s arms wrapped securely around you, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a moment, you just lay there, savoring the feeling of being tucked against him, his wings sprawled protectively around your form.

His face was relaxed in sleep, the lines of tension from the previous days gone, and you couldn’t help but smile softly at the way he looked—vulnerable and at peace. You pressed your face against his chest, breathing in the scent of him, a mix of sandalwood and something distinctly Azriel—earthy, comforting, and home.

But as much as you wanted to stay there forever, the thought of the day ahead pulled you from the warmth of his embrace. You sighed quietly, trying not to disturb him as you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. The soft rustle of the blankets seemed to stir Azriel’s senses, and you felt him shift behind you, pulling you closer as though trying to keep you there.

“Five more minutes,” he murmured against the back of your neck, his voice thick with sleep.

You chuckled softly, turning your head to plant a kiss on his jaw. “You know I have to go, right?”

Azriel groaned, his arms tightening around you. “I know,” he mumbled, but there was a hint of reluctance in his tone. “But I can’t let you leave yet.”

You laughed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll be back soon. Besides, Feyre and Nesta will never let us hear the end of it if we’re late.”

“Mm, they’re already too excited to get away,” he muttered, nuzzling against your neck with a final sigh of contentment. But after a moment, he released you, the warmth of his body leaving a cold spot on the bed.

Reluctantly, you slid out of bed, the cool air of the room instantly making you miss the heat of his touch. You moved to the closet, pulling out your outfit for the day, but as you dressed, you could feel Azriel’s eyes on you, his presence heavy and comforting.

Once you were dressed, you turned back to the bed. Azriel had propped himself up on his elbow, his gaze fixed on you with that dark, intense look he always wore when he was lost in thought.

“You’re really going to leave me?” he asked, his voice soft but with an undercurrent of affection.

You smiled, walking over to him and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I have to. I’ll miss you, too, though.”

He nodded, and for a moment, you stood there together, soaking in the last few moments before the day began in full force.

After a final kiss, you left the bedroom, stepping out into the hall. The house was already stirring, and as you walked toward the stairs, you heard the sound of voices below. When you reached the kitchen, you found the familiar sight of Cassian, Rhysand, and your little Kaia sitting at the table.

Kaia’s tiny feet dangled from the chair as she babbled happily, her wide, bright eyes sparkling up at Rhysand, who was teasing her with a piece of fruit. Cassian sat beside her, his boisterous laugh filling the room as he ruffled her hair. His sons were still nowhere to be seen, probably still asleep, which seemed to be a rare luxury in the chaos of their usual routine.

“Well, well,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with a smile. “Look who’s in charge of the kids this morning.”

Cassian looked up, grinning ear to ear. “Someone has to keep an eye on them while you take your luxurious break.”

Rhysand glanced up from where he was sitting next to Kaia, a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re welcome. Though, I don’t know why you’re so eager to leave us. Kaia seems pretty happy here.”

Kaia giggled, reaching up to grab at Rhysand’s hair, tugging on it with all the strength her tiny hands could muster. “Rhysie!” she said, her voice lisping around the word as she giggled.

You shook your head with a small laugh. “She really is a handful, isn’t she?”

“She’s a delight,” Rhysand said, his tone dry as he pulled his hair out of her grasp. “I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to deal with her tantrums.”

Cassian threw his head back with a laugh. “I can’t wait to hear what happens when it’s Azriel's turn to watch her this week.”

Before you could respond, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, and you turned to find Feyre and Nesta walking into the kitchen, both already fully prepared for the trip.

“We’re ready to go,” Feyre announced with a grin, her bags slung over her shoulder.

“You two really can’t wait, can you?” you teased.

Nesta crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “We deserve this, YN. Don’t try to ruin our excitement.”

Feyre grinned. “I’ll second that. I think it’s about time we leave the chaos behind for a bit.”

You laughed, crossing the room to grab a cup of tea before setting your gaze on Rhysand and Cassian, who were now clearly in full babysitting mode.

“If any of them come back with bruises or broken limbs, I’m blaming you three,” you said, teasing.

Cassian held up his hands in mock defence. “We’ll be just fine. I promise, Kaia’s in good hands.”

“Besides,” Rhysand added, “you’ll be back before you know it.”

As the four of you gathered your things, laughter and light-hearted banter filled the air. But in the back of your mind, you knew Azriel would be there to handle everything while you were away. You just hoped the boys wouldn’t get too out of hand.

-----

The moment the last of the girls left, a tense silence descended over the room, hanging thick in the air. Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel stood there for a moment, exchanging glances as they mentally prepared themselves for what was about to unfold. They’d been through this before, but that didn’t make it any less challenging.

Azriel shifted on his feet, his wings barely brushing against the table. “Are we sure we can handle all of them?” he asked, though it wasn’t a question of doubt—more like a quiet observation.

Cassian grinned, clearly relishing the chaos. “Of course, we can. How hard can it be? It’s just kids, after all,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He shot a glance at Rhysand. “And don’t you dare try to say it’s ‘too much,’ Rhys. You’ve survived worse.”

Rhysand sighed but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “True. But we’ve never had this many all at once.”

The sound of little feet padding into the room interrupted the conversation, and soon the three boys—Torran, Emrus, and Calen—came stumbling in, their messy hair and sleep-rumpled faces betraying that they had just woken up. Their eyes were still half-lidded as they slowly blinked at the scene before them: three fully-grown men standing in a kitchen, attempting to look responsible.

“Dad?” Torran rubbed his eyes sleepily, looking at Cassian. “What’s for breakfast?”

Emrus yawned loudly, his hand rubbing his face. “I’m hungry,” he mumbled, barely opening his eyes as he looked at Rhysand, trying to look as cute as possible to get out of a scolding.

Calen, who was the youngest of the three, immediately latched onto his father’s leg, hiding behind it and peering up at the three men. “Daddy,” he said quietly, a bit unsure of the situation. “Where’s Mom?”

Cassian ruffled his hair affectionately. “She’s off on a much-needed vacation, remember? It’s just us today. And don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”

Azriel gave a small, half-amused smile, glancing toward Rhysand and Cassian. “This is going to be fun,” he muttered under his breath.

The sound of more footsteps followed soon after, as Nyx walked in, still looking half-asleep but clearly already aware of the shift in the atmosphere. His eyes immediately flickered from Azriel to the boys, and then he gave a soft sigh, knowing exactly what his father was about to ask him to do.

“Dad, I’m not babysitting them,” Nyx grumbled, clearly tired of the routine.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Rhysand. “You’re not. You’re the oldest; it’s your job to make sure they don’t set the house on fire.”

Rhysand snorted, shooting Azriel a knowing look. “He’s right, Nyx. Just keep an eye on them for now. You’re the only one who can make sure Cassian doesn’t let them eat their weight in pastries before noon.”

Cassian threw his hands up in mock offense. “I don’t always spoil them,” he said dramatically. “But I do know what the kids like.”

Nyx rolled his eyes but nodded, knowing he was essentially outnumbered. He moved to sit at the table and begin slouching in the chair, obviously dreading the next few hours.

Just then, Kaia—Azriel’s little two-year-old—wobbled around room, her hair a wild mess of dark curls, her wide, curious eyes scanning the scene before her. She let out a cheerful giggle when she saw her dad and immediately ran toward him.

“Dada!” Kaia called, her baby voice high-pitched and full of excitement as she tried to climb onto his lap.

Azriel’s face softened as he scooped her up, settling her on his knee. “Hey, little one,” he said, his voice tender as he brushed a stray curl from her face. “What are you up to?”

“I want pannycake!” she declared loudly, bouncing on his lap as if that would make her demand more convincing.

“Of course you do,” Azriel said, half-amused and half-resigned. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Rhysand, with a resigned sigh, stepped over to the counter and grabbed the breakfast supplies. “Looks like it’s up to us to feed the masses today,” he muttered. “Anyone want to help?”

Cassian clapped his hands together, standing up with a grin. “You bet. Let’s make this an event.”

Torran, Emrus, and Calen started to gather around the counter, already too excited by the idea of food to care about their previous grumpy moods. Kaia, now securely in Azriel’s arms, pointed enthusiastically at the pancakes and asked, “Can I have bwuebewwies?”

“You can have whatever you want,” Azriel replied with a smile, brushing a kiss to the top of her head. He could already see that he was going to be wrapped around her little finger for the foreseeable future.

As the group settled into their roles, Rhysand began heating up the pan, Cassian retrieved various ingredients with unnecessary enthusiasm, and Nyx slouched in his seat, trying to act like he wasn’t already mentally preparing himself for the chaos ahead.

“Should we make this a competition?” Cassian asked, his tone light as he bounced between tasks. “See who can get the kids fed and settled fastest?”

Azriel rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at his lips. “You’re insane. But I’m in.”

Nyx groaned. “I’m too old for this.”

Cassian barely had time to react before Torran, Emrus, and Calen launched themselves at him, a unified flurry of arms, legs, and battle cries.

“Attack!” Torran shouted, his voice ringing with the authority of the eldest as he tackled Cassian around the middle.

Emrus scrambled to climb onto his father’s back, giggling uncontrollably. “We’ve got you now, Dad!”

Calen, not wanting to be left out, latched onto Cassian’s leg, his little hands gripping tightly as he added his own gleeful shout to the chaos.

Cassian staggered under the weight of all three boys, laughing as he tried to fend them off. “You think you can take me down?” he bellowed dramatically, his voice booming through the kitchen. “I’m a General! You’ll never defeat me!”

“You’re outnumbered, Dad!” Torran crowed, attempting to wrestle Cassian to the ground.

Azriel leaned casually against the counter, Kaia still perched on his hip, her little hands gripping his tunic as she watched the spectacle unfold with wide eyes. “Should we help him, sweetheart?” Azriel asked, his tone amused.

Kaia tilted her head, considering it for a moment before shaking her head firmly. “Nope. Cassy too loud,” she declared, her baby voice cutting through the noise.

Rhysand snorted from his spot near the stove, where he was flipping pancakes. “Looks like you’re on your own, Cassian.”

Cassian shot Rhysand an exaggerated glare. “Some High Lord you are, Rhys. Aren’t you supposed to lead by example?”

“I am,” Rhysand said smoothly, gesturing to the pancakes with a flourish. “I’m feeding your troops. It’s called strategy.”

As Cassian’s boys continued their assault, Nyx, who had been watching with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, got up from his chair and walked over to Kaia. He crouched down so he was at her eye level, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, Kaia,” he said gently, reaching out to brush a stray curl from her face. “You wanna get out of here before things get even crazier?”

Kaia blinked at him, her tiny hand clutching Azriel’s sleeve as she considered his offer. “We go?” she asked, her voice curious.

“Somewhere quiet,” Nyx replied, standing up and holding out his hand to her. “Trust me, this week is going to be a mess. We’ve got to stick together, okay?”

Kaia looked up at Azriel, her big dark eyes questioning. Azriel chuckled softly, setting her down on the floor. “Go on, sweetheart,” he said. “Nyx will take care of you.”

Kaia slipped her tiny hand into Nyx’s, her trust in him absolute. Nyx gave her a reassuring smile before glancing back at the adults. “Good luck,” he said dryly, his tone making it clear he didn’t envy them one bit.

With that, Nyx led Kaia out of the kitchen, leaving the three grown men to handle the chaos that was quickly escalating behind them. Rhysand sighed, flipping another pancake onto the growing stack. “You know,” he said, addressing no one in particular, “this might actually kill us.”

Azriel smirked, his calm exterior never faltering. “Speak for yourself.”

Cassian, now pinned to the floor by his three sons, looked up with a mock glare. “You two are terrible friends.”

“Friends who are making breakfast,” Rhysand corrected, raising his spatula in a mock toast.

Cassian groaned, though his grin never wavered, and the sound of laughter filled the kitchen once more.

Cassian finally managed to wrestle himself free from his sons, standing up and dusting off his tunic with a grin. “You know,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, “maybe we should take this whole circus to the cabin.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, flipping the last pancake onto the growing stack. “The cabin? With all the kids?”

“Why not?” Cassian shrugged, his grin widening. “The boys have their Illyrian training this week anyway. They’ll burn off all their energy in the mountains, and we’ll have some breathing room to relax.”

Azriel, who had been silently wiping syrup off his hands after Kaia’s sticky breakfast adventure, froze. His sharp gaze snapped to Cassian, his wings shifting slightly as tension settled over him.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Azriel said quietly, his voice calm but firm.

Cassian frowned. “Why not? It’ll be good for the kids, and you know the mountains are perfect for—”

“For the boys, maybe,” Azriel interrupted, his tone measured but with an edge of protectiveness. “But Kaia’s too little. She can barely lift off the ground, and the air pressure in the mountains is different. It’s hard even for fully grown Illyrians.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his violet eyes thoughtful. “It’s not just the air pressure, is it?”

Azriel glanced at him, his expression unreadable, but they all knew him too well.

“The Illyrians…” Azriel finally admitted, his voice quieter now. “They don’t take kindly to females with wings. Kaia’s just a baby. I won’t let her be exposed to that kind of... prejudice.”

Cassian straightened, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with seriousness. “Az, no one’s going to say a damn thing to Kaia. And if they do, they’ll answer to me. Or Rhys. Or, hell, even the boys. You know we won’t let anything happen to her.”

Rhysand nodded in agreement. “And as for the air pressure, we’ll adjust. We won’t push her to fly or do anything strenuous. She’s your daughter, Azriel. She has all of us to protect her.”

Azriel’s wings shifted again, the tension in his shoulders still visible. “It’s not just about protection,” he murmured, looking down at his hands. “I don’t want her to feel... less. Or different.”

Cassian clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his grip firm. “She’s not less, and she’s not different. She’s Kaia, and she’s incredible. Those winged bastards at the camps don’t get a say in that. You’re her father. She’s got you—and us. That’s all she needs.”

Rhysand smiled softly, leaning forward. “She’s going to grow up knowing she’s loved and cherished. And when the time comes, if she has to face the world, she’ll do it with her head held high because she’ll know she has us behind her. Always.”

Azriel exhaled slowly, the tension in his body easing slightly at their reassurances. He glanced toward the doorway where Kaia had toddled off with Nyx. “She means everything to me,” he said softly.

“We know,” Rhysand said. “And that’s why we’ll all make sure she’s safe. You’re not doing this alone, Az.”

Before Azriel could respond, the sound of loud footsteps filled the air, followed by a cacophony of laughter. Torran, Emrus, and Calen came barreling through the room, yelling as they bolted toward the doorway.

“Nyx! Wait for us!” Torran called, his voice filled with excitement.

“We want to play too!” Emrus added, his little feet pounding against the floor.

Calen, the smallest, brought up the rear, his face lit up with pure joy. “Kaia! Come back!” he yelled, his high-pitched voice echoing as they all disappeared around the corner.

Cassian shook his head, a mixture of amusement and exasperation on his face. “There they go,” he muttered.

Rhysand smirked, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee. “They’re your sons, Cassian. You only have your lack of self-control to blame.”

Azriel chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on the doorway where his daughter had disappeared. Despite his concerns, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They’re going to wear Nyx out,” he said, the hint of amusement clear in his tone.

Cassian grinned. “Good. That’ll make things easier for all of us.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his gaze settling on Azriel. “So, what do you say, brother? The cabin for a few days? We’ll make it work—for everyone.”

Azriel hesitated for only a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Fine. But if anything happens to Kaia—”

“Nothing will,” Cassian interrupted, clapping him on the back. “You have my word.”

Azriel’s lips quirked upward in a small smile. “You better keep it.”

Cassian’s grin stretched ear to ear, his hazel eyes lighting up like a child who had just been handed his favorite toy. He slapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, his voice booming with excitement. “The cabin! This is going to be amazing!”

Azriel raised an eyebrow at him, his expression unimpressed. “Amazing? You do realize this isn’t a vacation, right? We’re bringing five kids under thirteen with us, including my toddler.”

Cassian waved a dismissive hand, already pacing the kitchen like he was planning a military campaign. “Details, Az. Minor details. This is going to be an adventure! Fresh air, wide-open skies, and the boys can run wild while we sit back, relax, and maybe get some peace and quiet—”

“Cass,” Rhysand interrupted dryly, leaning back in his chair. “You’re describing a fantasy. Peace and quiet? With your sons in the mix? I’d say the odds are slim to none.”

Cassian pointed at him, undeterred. “First of all, my boys are angels—”

“Absolute terrors,” Azriel interjected, his tone flat.

Cassian ignored him. “—and second, they’ll be too busy with training to cause chaos. I’ll get them out there running drills first thing every morning. They’ll be so exhausted they won’t have the energy to do anything but sleep.”

“Drills?” Rhysand repeated with a smirk. “You’re taking them to the cabin, not a war camp.”

“It’s a lifestyle, Rhys,” Cassian said, puffing out his chest like he was imparting sage wisdom. “Besides, you’ll thank me when they’re passed out by sundown and we’re sitting by the fire with a drink in hand.”

Azriel crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “And what about Kaia? She’s not exactly going to be running drills, Cassian.”

Cassian’s grin softened, a rare moment of genuine warmth flashing across his face. “Kaia’s going to love it. I’ll make sure she’s safe, Az. I promise. We’ll take her flying close to the cabin where the air’s gentler, show her the river, and teach her how to throw rocks into the water. Trust me, she’s going to have the time of her life.”

Azriel’s expression softened at the mention of Kaia, though he still looked sceptical. “She’s two, Cassian. Her idea of ‘time of her life’ is eating blueberries and hiding under blankets.”

“Exactly!” Cassian said, throwing his arms wide. “And the cabin is perfect for that! We’ll build her a blanket fort by the fire. She’ll never want to leave!”

Rhysand chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re really leaning into this, aren’t you?”

Cassian crossed his arms, his grin turning cocky. “Of course I am. I’m going to make this the best trip ever. Just wait—you’ll be thanking me by the end of it.”

Azriel sighed, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re mad, you know that?”

Cassian clapped him on the back, his grin unwavering. “And yet, you love me for it.”

Rhysand shook his head, lifting his coffee mug in a mock toast. “Here’s to surviving whatever Cassian’s version of ‘the best trip ever’ turns out to be.”

Cassian laughed, already mentally packing for the adventure. “Oh, you’ll survive,” he said confidently. “You might even enjoy yourselves. Trust me, boys—this is going to be legendary.”

Azriel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he straightened up. Cassian’s enthusiasm for the cabin trip was infectious, but the thought of Kaia being away from home in unfamiliar terrain still had him a little on edge.

“I’ll go find Kaia,” Azriel said, pushing off the counter. His shadows stirred, curling lazily around his shoulders as if they were ready to help in the search. “Nyx probably dragged her off somewhere to keep her entertained.”

Cassian smirked. “That kid’s already got more sense than you give him credit for. Kaia’s in good hands.”

Azriel shot him a look that said, That doesn’t mean I’m not checking. Without another word, he strode out of the kitchen, his sharp hearing picking up faint giggles echoing down the hall.

As he walked through the house, he let his shadows fan out, whispering to him about movement and noise. They swirled back, leading him toward the sitting room. When he stepped inside, the sight before him made him pause.

Kaia was sitting on the floor, her little wings fluttering as she balanced a small pile of stuffed animals on top of Nyx’s head. Nyx, sitting cross-legged and perfectly still, looked utterly resigned, though there was a small, amused smile on his face.

“Kaia,” Azriel said, his voice soft but firm as he crossed the room.

Kaia’s head whipped around, her big dark eyes lighting up when she saw him. “Dada!” she squealed, scrambling to her feet. She stumbled slightly before running toward him, her tiny wings flapping in excitement.

Azriel caught her easily, scooping her up into his arms. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone tinged with amusement as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Kaia leaned back, her little face glowing with mischief. “Pwaying wif Nyxie’s hair,” she declared proudly, pointing at Nyx.

Nyx raised an eyebrow, reaching up to pluck a stuffed animal from his head. “I don’t think this is what my dad had in mind when he said to keep her busy.”

Azriel chuckled, pressing a kiss to Kaia’s temple. “Thank you for watching her, Nyx.”

“Anytime,” Nyx said, standing up and brushing off his pants. He handed Kaia one of the stuffed animals she had dropped. “But fair warning—she’s a little too good at bossing people around.”

Azriel smiled softly, adjusting Kaia on his hip as she giggled and buried her face in his neck. “She gets that from her mother,” he said with a hint of warmth in his voice.

Kaia peeked up at him, her curls bouncing as she grinned. “Dada, we go?”

“Yes, love,” Azriel said, turning toward the doorway. “We’re going to the cabin, but first, we need to pack your things. Come on, let’s get you ready.”

Nyx followed them out, shaking his head. “This is going to be a long week,” he muttered, though there was a glimmer of affection in his voice.

Azriel glanced back at him with a rare, small smile. “It always is.”

As Azriel walked toward the staircase with Kaia securely in his arms, he glanced back at Nyx, who was trailing behind with a casual slouch.

“Nyx,” Azriel said, his tone calm but carrying the unmistakable authority of someone used to giving orders.

The 13-year-old straightened slightly, his sharp eyes meeting Azriel’s. “Yeah?”

“Go pack your things,” Azriel instructed. “Clothes, whatever books or games you want to bring. Make sure you’ve got enough for the week.”

Nyx sighed, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Do I have to? I just got her to sit still. That was hard work, you know.”

Azriel gave him a pointed look, one that made Nyx quickly rethink any further protests. “Yes, you have to. Unless you’d like to be stuck in the same outfit for the next seven days.”

Nyx groaned but didn’t argue further. “Fine. But if I have to pack, I’m bringing all my stuff. Don’t complain when I take up half the space in the cabin.”

Azriel’s lips quirked upward in a faint smile. “Just pack what you need, Nyx. No more, no less.”

Nyx huffed, turning on his heel and heading toward his room. “You’re lucky I like Kaia and my aunt,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite in his tone.

Azriel turned his attention back to Kaia, who was fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “Alright, little one,” he murmured, his voice softening as he kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get you packed up.”

Kaia wriggled slightly, her tiny hands gripping his shoulders. “I pack toys?” she asked, her words slightly garbled in her toddler speech.

Azriel nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Of course. Let’s make sure we grab your favourite ones, okay?”

“‘Kay,” she said happily, her wings fluttering as she cuddled closer.

Azriel carried Kaia into her small but cozy room, decorated in soft shades of cream and pale green. Tiny wooden shelves lined the walls, overflowing with stuffed animals, picture books, and small trinkets she’d accumulated in her two short years. Her favourite blanket, a deep blue that matched his siphons, was draped over the side of her crib-turned-toddler bed.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Azriel said, setting her down on the soft rug in the centre of the room. She plopped onto her bottom with a giggle, her tiny wings fluttering as she looked up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

Azriel crouched down and opened the small wooden chest at the foot of her bed, pulling out a soft travel bag embroidered with her name. “We’ll start with your clothes,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

“Cwothes!” Kaia echoed, clapping her hands.

Azriel stood and moved to her little dresser, pulling open the top drawer where her neatly folded tunics and leggings were stored. He carefully selected a week’s worth of outfits—soft, comfortable pieces that would keep her warm in the cooler mountain air.

“Do you want to help, Kaia?” he asked as he folded a tiny tunic and placed it in the bag.

Kaia jumped to her feet, wobbling slightly before toddling over to him. “I hewp!” she declared proudly, grabbing one of the leggings he’d laid out. Her little hands struggled to fold it, but she managed to mash it into a ball and shoved it into the bag.

Azriel chuckled, his shadows curling around him like an extension of his amusement. “Good job, love,” he said, smoothing out the bunched-up fabric before zipping the main compartment.

Kaia beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “I so good,” she said with a self-satisfied nod.

“The best,” Azriel agreed, lifting her back onto the rug. He moved next to the shelf where her favorite toys were kept. “Alright, what toys do you want to bring?”

Kaia’s eyes lit up, and she immediately ran to the shelf, pointing at a stuffed bat nearly as big as her. “Batty!”

Azriel reached for the stuffed animal, handing it to her. “Batty, of course. Anything else?”

Kaia clutched Batty to her chest, her little face scrunched in concentration as she scanned the shelf. “An’...an’ Bunny!” she declared, pointing to a small gray rabbit.

Azriel grabbed the rabbit and added it to the bag. “Batty and Bunny. Anyone else?”

Kaia hesitated, then nodded. “Puppy!”

Azriel reached for the well-loved plush dog and handed it to her. “Alright, that’s three. I think that’s plenty, don’t you?”

Kaia pouted slightly but nodded, hugging Batty tightly.

Next, Azriel grabbed her favorite blanket from her bed. “We’ll need this,” he said softly, folding it neatly before tucking it into the bag. He also added a couple of her picture books, knowing how much she loved to have bedtime stories read to her.

Finally, he packed a small pouch with some snacks—dried fruit and crackers, her favourites—and slid it into the side pocket of the bag.

“There,” he said, zipping the bag shut. “All ready for the cabin.”

Kaia looked up at him, her big dark eyes shining. “We go now, Dada?”

Azriel smiled, scooping her up into his arms. “Not yet, love. Soon.”

Kaia rested her head against his shoulder, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of his shirt. “’Kay,” she murmured, her voice soft and content.

Azriel pressed a kiss to her curls, his heart swelling with a warmth he could never quite put into words. “Let’s go find the others,” he said, carrying her and the bag out of the room.

-----

You, Nesta, and Feyre stood in the grand room of the Day Court's estate, taking in the sweeping view of the sun-kissed landscape outside. The pale golden walls and sunlit windows were the perfect setting for a relaxing getaway, especially after weeks of chaos back at the Night Court.

As you set down your bag, you sighed with relief. “It feels so good to finally be here,” you said, dropping onto one of the plush couches and looking at the half-empty wine bottle beside you.

Feyre raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling on her lips. “Already drinking at 1 PM? I guess we really are living our best lives without any kids around.”

Nesta snorted as she opened a second bottle. “I’m not complaining. I’ve earned this.”

You laughed and took a sip, leaning back against the cushions. “I swear, every moment I get without Kaia trying to climb up my legs is a treasure.”

Feyre rolled her eyes but was clearly amused. “I thought we were all in agreement. A week off. I can’t believe we actually made it.”

Nesta chuckled. “We should’ve left sooner. It’s been a mess with the kids, but at least we finally get some peace and quiet.”

As if on cue, the door to the living room swung open, and Helion strode in, his hair shining like the sun itself. He wore his usual carefree grin, his amber eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Well, well, well,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he took in the three of you lounging on the couch. “The beauties have come without their beasts. Should I be worried about what you’re all getting up to without them?”

You smirked at him, feeling the familiar warmth of his teasing presence. “Helion, you’re just jealous you didn’t come with us. You know you can’t resist our charm.”

Nesta and Feyre both glanced between you and Helion, their curiosity piqued.

Feyre tilted her head. “Wait, you two know each other that well?”

Helion raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by their interest. “Know each other? We go way back. You could say I’m the loss of her life,” he said, a playful gleam in his eyes. “She’s the one that got away.”

You rolled your eyes, not at all surprised by his dramatic flair. “Not true,” you replied with a grin. “We slept twice, centuries ago. That’s all. And one of those times was when you were trying to win a bet on whether or not you could make me laugh.”

Nesta and Feyre exchanged looks, clearly intrigued.

“Twice?” Feyre asked, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re telling me there was nothing more between the two of you?”

Helion leaned against the doorframe with a knowing look, crossing one ankle over the other. “Ah, nothing more. The truth is, we slept, we laughed, and then we moved on. I’m the truth-teller, after all,” he added, smirking as if to say, don’t challenge me on this.

Nesta looked at you in disbelief. “So, you two really didn’t get together after all that?”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “Nope. I’m not sure even Helion can hold a candle to the other men I’ve encountered. Besides, we’re still good friends.”

Helion’s grin widened as he walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “The best kind of friend, of course. The kind who knows all your secrets and still manages to make you laugh.”

Feyre laughed softly, clearly entertained by the banter. “Well, I’m glad you two had your fun. But, seriously, is there any chance you two would ever—”

“Stop right there,” you interrupted, holding up a hand to halt her curiosity. “Let’s just say we’ve both moved on. No need for more stories. My husband is way more than perfect for me.”

Helion chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I won’t embarrass you any further. But I still stand by my ‘loss of my life’ claim.”

You smirked, giving him a playful shove. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Just the way you like me,” he replied with a wink, turning to face Nesta and Feyre. “Anyway, welcome to the Day Court. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. And don’t let them fool you; they can’t resist a little sunshine every now and then.”

With that, Helion made his exit, leaving you, Feyre, and Nesta to settle into the quiet luxury of the Day Court, your laughter still echoing in the room.

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a surprised look as Helion left, their curiosity piqued by the snippets of your past that had come up in conversation. They were both clearly itching to ask more, and Feyre, ever the straightforward one, was the first to break the silence.

“You never told us about that,” she said, her voice half teasing, half incredulous. “How did we not know about you and Helion?”

You took another sip from your glass, leaning back and pretending to be nonchalant, though inwardly you were amused at their questions. You had definitely seen more than your fair share of shocked expressions over the centuries.

“You’re only in your thirties,” you said with a smirk, setting your glass down on the table beside you. “I’ve had more time to experience things than you can imagine. I’m in my five-hundreds, remember?”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but intrigued. “Still… How have we never heard any of these stories?”

“Well, the thing is,” you began, glancing between them with a knowing smile, “I’ve had more than just one adventure, if you will. Not just with Helion.”

Feyre blinked. “What do you mean? Like…”

You didn’t let her finish, taking an exaggerated breath. “I slept with Eris too. He’s a charming one, if you can get past his ego. Lucien wasn’t bad either. Good lover, actually.” You shrugged casually, enjoying the shocked expressions on their faces. “And let’s not forget Tarquin. I’ve seen my fair share of High Lords. being Rhysand's sister allows a lot of interactions with higher profiles.”

Feyre’s mouth dropped open, eyes wide in disbelief. “Tarquin? I would never have guessed!”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. We never got very far,” you added with a teasing grin. “Just a few stolen moments here and there, but you know… Tarquin’s good company when you need it.”

Nesta was almost choking on her wine, unable to keep her laughter in. “Wait, so you really weren’t lying when you said you’ve slept with half the court?”

You raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, smirking. “Wouldn’t call it half, but yes, I’ve been around. But those are just the more notable names. There are more.”

Feyre shook her head in utter disbelief. “How have we been friends for so long, and you’ve never once mentioned any of this?”

“Because, darling,” you said, swirling your wine in the glass with a playful grin, “you two have been busy with your own drama. There’s only so much time in a conversation, and quite frankly, I enjoy watching you both unravel the mystery of my past.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at you, clearly intrigued but also a little annoyed by the way you were making a game out of this. “Okay, fine. But I want to know everything. Tell me about Eris.”

You leaned back, folding your arms and smirking at them both. “Well, that’s a long story. Maybe after another glass of wine?”

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a look, both of them clearly hooked on your tales now, and you could tell they weren’t going to let this go. They were going to need all the details, and you were more than happy to indulge them in their curiosity.

For the first time in a while, you felt truly free. No responsibilities. No expectations. Just three old friends relaxing and laughing in the comfort of the Day Court—and the promise of a few more stories to tell.

A/N: Comments and reblogs would be appreciated, let me know if you'd like to be tagged

[petew21-blog]

Homophobic gym teacher

I hate PE. I hate it so freaking much that I’d rather have history with Mr. Douglas every day than to run in front of Mr. Mills every day. He hates me, ever since I came out as gay at school I received mostly good feedback from others. Even my bullies were kinda nice about it. Thank God I live in the twenty first century. But one person didn’t really take It well.

I browsed through his instagram a few times. And while I looked for the perfect photo of him flexing his biceps, showing his abs or anything that would help me for my jerk off session, I found out that he was quite hardcore republican. How a person like this could get into education is beyond me.

As always I finished jerking off while looking at his regular bathroom gym photo. Man, what I would give to fuck him. Why do jerks always have the perfect body?

My phone buzzed. I snapped back into reality. Jack, my friend who is also gay, but not out yet, texted me.

“Hey, are we gonna ditch school tomorrow? I can’t hear any more of that Mills bullshit while we climb the rope”

“We’re gonna be rope climbing? Ah fuck me. He’s gonna be insufferable.”

“My thoughts exactly. So? Are we skipping school?”

“I can’t man. I gotta keep up my attendance after missing so many days thanks to Mr. Mills”

Next day, 2:29 PM

I stood next to the rope, waiting for Jake to finish his turn. Mr. Mills stood below him, screaming. Jake couldn’t get to the top. Mr. Mills told him to get down and screamed at him some more. What an asshole. It was my turn. The bell rang. “Fuck yeah. No more rope climbing for me.” My classmates, me included, turned to head to the lockers.

Mr. Mills: ”González? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Me: ”Sir, the class is over and it’s Friday.”

Mr. Mills: ”The class is over when I say it is over. Get on the fucking rope and stop talking back at me. The rest of you can leave.”

I got close to the rope. I grabbed it and squeezed the rope between my feet. I started pulling myself up and immediately felt the pain of lifting myself. I knew I was weak, I didn’t really need some wannabe teacher slash gym freak to remind me and scream at me what a lazy piece of shit I am. I tried to ignore him. I gave myself a goal to just finish it and leave, but Mr. Mills stood directly below me to comment on my fat ass slowing me down.

I was almost at the top, a wave of happiness swept over me. “Shit, I’m gonna make it!”

And right then I slipped. And instead of locking my feet, I just let go off the rope.

THUD

“I survived. Fuck. I fell from the freaking rope. My head was hurting so hard. My head? But I thought that I fell on my back? Ahhh the pain.”

I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry from the fall. I tried blinking several times and my vision was slowly getting better. I lifted my arm to grab on my head, but as I did it didn’t feel right. I looked at my arm. It was bigger. As in full of muscles.

“What the hell?” I said out loud, but instead of my young squeaky almost too feminine voice a low baritone came out of my throat.

“How the fuck…?!” I looked to my left. There was my body getting up from the ground

Me: ”Mr. Mills?”

Mr. Mills: ”Ah you gotta be fucking kidding me?! Is that you González?”

Me: ”I… Yes. How… How did this happen?” Mr. Mills: ”Does it look like this happens to me a lot?”

Me: ”But… it’s scientifically impossible”

Mr. Mills: ”I bet this was caused by those covid vaccines to make you immigrant fags take over our lives.”

Me: ”Yeah… right. Cause everyone wants to be a stupid republican”

Mr. Mills: ”Shut your mouth or…” he was interrupted by the janitor telling us to leave so he can lock the school. Mr. Mills gave me his car keys and I gave him instructions how to find my locker. We decided to meet each other in his car and to figure out what to do after that.”

After many unsuccessful attempts I found his Chevrolet and entered the passenger’s seat. Few moments later, I realized that I’m gonna be the one driving so I switched seats and got behind the wheel for the first time in my life. His car was amazing, it smelt great and was clean. How should I even drive this thing? I don’t drive a car. I’ll get us into trouble.

I stopped overthinking about the car. “I am in my teachers body. The one who bullied me almost every day. I am an adult male.” I looked into the rearview mirror. “Fuck, I am in one of the hottest man’s body around. And I am wasting it just worrying here. I flexed and squeezed my new biceps. Fuuuck. It’s so huge. I checked if no one else was around and lifted up my shirt.

“Oh my gooood” I slammed my head into the seat. “This is so hot!”

My new abs and pecs now uncovered were the most perfect ones I have ever seen. The ones I jerk off to every night before sleep. And now it’s here. All for me.

I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Mills in my body approaching the car. And behind him ran Jake. They entered the car.

I tried to improvise: „Why is your friend here?”

Jake: „Holy shit. So it is true. Mr. Mills would never react so calm. Is that really you in there, Daniel?”

I turned at Mr. Mills who now had a very irritated face. “I didn’t say anything, he figured it out.”

Jake: „I didn’t believe it at first, but Daniel never swears like this. And your vocabulary isn’t exactly rich so I knew really quickly where I heard the phrases before. Damn, I’m good. So? What are we gonna do? We should test it out somehow. Shit, Daniel you should get drunk tonight!”

Mr. Mills: „No! There won’t be no drinking, touching or anything with my body. This is definitely temporary and we will be back by tomorrow morning.”

Me: „If you think so…”

I drove Jake and my body home. Mr. Mills had to give me a speed course of driving, but his muscle memory helped me out way more than I thought. We set up some ground rules. No drinking, no drugs, no permanent changes to our bodies, no photos and no sex. He left the car while saying something about a fag in his body, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I speeded to get to his house asap.

I didn’t really explore the house as much when I arrived. I went straight to where I thought was the bedroom and immediately started taking off my clothes. His black speedo was PACKING and getting tighter every minute, but I really wanted to make this first exploration as perfect as possible. I lifted up the shirt, touching my new hairless and fatless stomach. I flexed and sets of abs appeared. I touched every last one of them. My hand continued up to my new large pecs.

“God damn, Mr. Mills. These are some perfect man titties.” I squeezed them. They looked so tight in all the photos, but when I wasn’t flexing them, they were quite soft. Must be amazing to lay on these. I played with them some more before taking off my shirt and releasing my new hairy pits. I took a long whiff off them. “I smell like a proper MAN now!” I licked it as well, enjoying the salty taste of Mr. Mills’s pits. I looked at myself in the mirror. My new dick was hard as a rock and waited for me to take care of it.

I headed to the shower and turned on a hot water. “Your body is probably not used to a hot water, am I right, Mr. Mills? I bet you are one of those cold water freaks who bathe in the icy waters.” I hated his voice before, but right now as I was controlling it, I began to like it so much.

The water poured all over my large body, from the perfect face, over my massive pecs, hairless abs and right to my beautiful dick. “Nice dick, Mr. Mills!” I said and chuckled over the fact that I just said that.

I suddenly got a mischievous idea. I came out of the shower and texted Jake.

Jake: „I can’t believe I’m doing this. I am just squeezing Mr. Mills’s pecs and touching his abs. Can you believe it, Daniel?”

Me: „It’s wild, right? But I got an idea. Wanna make it more interesting?”

Jake: „Interesting how?”

Me: „Stop touching me you lazy fag” I said in an authoritative voice and Jake moved his hands away from me quickly.

Jake: „Why did you do that? I got scared.”

Me: „I bet you are scared, you little fag. I know you just came over so that you could jerk off you little dick and watch me enjoy myself.”

Jake: „Daniel?”

Me: „Daniel won’t save you right now. You will do as I say. Ok?”

Jake finally caught up to my roleplay scenario and started acting as well. And by the look of his face I knew that he was really into it.

Jake: „Yes, Mr. Mills. I will do whatever you say.”

I sat down on the couch watching. “I want you to admire my body and say how hot I am and how horny it makes you.”

Jake got his hands on MY body and got a bit nervous: „You have sexy abs, Mr. Mills.”

Me: „You think that’s enough? That they are just sexy?”

Jake: „I think they’re the hottest abs I have ever seen”

Me: „How about my biceps. You like them?”

Jake: „They are SO big. I want you to squeeze my head in them. I want to lick your armpit hair. I want to kiss you.”

Me: „That’s a good boy. How about you show me how good you are, you fag?”

I moved his hands over to my new hard crotch.

Jake smiled and licked his lips

I fucking love being in this body.

And I bet Jake’s ass is gonna love this body even more.

[detectivedarling]

As with all things in life, one fact builds on the other, and a lot stands behind the current situation. First, Danny counts in his head, ghost fights are hard to capture on video. Second, the few videos taken of Phantom not in a fight are carefully kept secret. Third, sending those videos over any form of internet seems more dangerous than it's worth.

It's why Bruce, two years after Danny told him about his previous vigilante life, still has only seen Phantom in the mostly low quality videos he could scrounge up from the internet. Which was, admittedly, a lot. Bruce is pretty good when it comes to that. Danny doesn't think Tucker would have been able to find everything Bruce has, and Danny knows for sure he himself wouldn't have found half. If even a third. Not that he was ever much interested in finding videos of himself, seeing his ass get kicked from a different perspective never sounded particularly fun.

But here he sits, next to Bruce, with a high priority, carefully cushioned post package. A simple USB and film card sits inside the many layers of bubble wrap.

Tucker jumped on new technology the second he was able, curious for all things digital, while Sam more often stuck to the old and 'better' looking devices. The film card is hers, from the years after she got a ridiculously expensive and old fashioned camera for her birthday and used it with dedication. It was nearly all aesthetic shots and poetic, environmental moments, but she had some special film cards for filming her life, her friends. She had an even more special card for filming when Phantom was involved.

She rarely did. The film needed to be hidden carefully, so no one sniffing through her stuff could find any hints to Danny's identity. Tucker's occasional digital photo or video were always copied to an equally hidden USB and scrubbed from whatever he used to film on. Danny, for all that his family had never once snooped in his stuff, didn't dare save anything.

Bruce starts with the film card because Danny asks him to. He sets up something compatible, and the film starts with a scratch and a laugh, Danny's breath stolen away as he looks at Sam's bedroom, from before she hung up the goth-ified star string lights Danny and Tucker had gifted her on her thirteenth birthday. Her TV is colorful, the image of a scoreboard for Mario Kart with flashing images of racers. Danny leans in to read. Sam is in first, he's in seventh, and Tucker just barely managed to claim eleven.

Which is why she recorded the video. Tucker covers the scoreboard with his body, just a little too late. I was distracted, okay?! His voice carries through the speakers as he yells at her, eyes pointed behind the camera. Sam as laughing, that fun middle ground of mocking and friendly.

"I'm injured," Danny mumbles, barely speaking over Tuckers ranting. He can't bear to cover the sound up. "Just- just a warning."

Bruce rubs a thumb over Danny's hand. He doesn't look away.

Sam almost giggles. Distracted, uh-huh, she teases and the camera turns to look at Danny beside her. At Phantom beside her.

It's a funny first video for Bruce to watch. Of all the (admittedly not very many) videos Danny's friends have taken of him as Phantom, the first Bruce sees is from the same day as the video Bruce was watching when Danny told him about being Phantom. It's the aftermath of a ghost fight.

Phantom is bleeding. He's sitting on a mess of towels, under and behind him to prevent any ectoplasm from getting on Sam's chair. His right eye is shut, the mess of blood splattered over his face during the fight cleaned away, but a thin trail of it still drops from under it. His left arm is sluggishly dripping blood and sucking it back up. It's cut off at the mid point of his forearm, grown from his elbow. It would take a few more hours before the hand comes back fully formed. His eye shouldn't take much more than one, at the time of the video.

His shoulders are shaking. Phantom is bleeding, injured and dismembered, but his shoulders are shaking from the laugh he can barely hold in.

Our seventh placer, everybody, Sam speaks to an audience that was never meant to include any more than the three of them. Danny can't imagine Bruce not watching alongside him. Not distracted like our dear Tuck.

Sometimes Danny would come out of a rough ghost fight wishing for nothing more than to grieve in peace. To lay and be in pain, to be alone or comforted quietly by his friends. Sometimes Danny wanted the room to be as somber as he felt. Other times he needed to be alive, even as he couldn't transform back before he finished healing, he needed to be present and distracted, he needed to be pulled away from the pain of being pulled apart. This was one of those times.

Phantom falls back against the cushion, laughing. It hiccups with the blood in his lungs, but it's happy and free.

Tucker groans. I wanna play Doomed

The camera turns down as Sam prepares to stop her filming. Build Danny a setup for playing one handed instead of whining next time. Until then, it's Mario Kart.

The video ends.

im dedicating this to @detectivedarling. i felt inspired after seeing their little ficlet yesterday sadhjfl 🫶

-

Danny's grip on his cane tightens.

"What—"

His voice cracks. He stops, clears it, then tries again in spite of the nausea twisting in his gut. "What are — you, uh, watching, Bruce?" He sounds horribly far away.

Bruce doesn't look at him, his attention laser-focused on the screen. Which is— fine. It's usually not a problem, Bruce gets like that when he hyper-focuses on a case, and unless it's urgent — or he's been at it for hours — Danny sees no need to pull him away from it. He likes the quiet camaraderie they have, it's companionable and unique to the two of them.

He wishes he was right now though. Looking at him, that is.

That way he wasn't watching what was clearly one of Danny's ghost fights. One of the nastier ones, if the collateral damage and rubble on the street is of any indication.

Danny tries to remember which one that is. He shuffles a little closer to the desk, ignoring the rock in his stomach or the ugly weightlessness in his arms. It's not the blood blossoms, that much he knows. He just recently had an injection so it shouldn't be bothering him this soon—

So it's just nerves. Perfect.

Most footage of his fights are— messy, at best. Unusable at worst. Amity Park was obsessed with appearing 'normal' when they first started happening, and typical news stations censor the worst of the fights anyways for publishing, since they can get pretty gory at times. And ghosts move too fast to be caught on regular standard cameras, not including distance and light and—

That is to say— finding usable ghost fight videos is hard.

Danny wonders how Bruce got his hands on this one, and then stops wondering.

The audio is muted, which is - good. Good, because the fight is ugly and chaotic and clearly this was taken on someone's phone. Fuck, he can't remember if he ever saw that before — clearly not. They're hiding behind an overturned car, and Danny grits his teeth so he doesn't tell that idiot to run.

The camera turns up, and focuses on two figures in the air. It takes a few seconds, but when it does, Danny gets hit with a wave of vertigo. His grip tightens and he leans heavily on his cane, he waits for the black dots to disappear.

He- uh, he remembers this fight now. Uh, sort of.

He remembers being twelve at the time, and he remembers some of the injuries he got out of it. His eyelid spasms abruptly. This ghost wasn't one of his regulars, so he doesn't remember whatever name they had, barely remembered what they looked like up until- uh. Now.

Was he always that small? Well— Phantom's never been particularly big, perks of being a dead kid, but— it's - different. Seeing it from an outsider perspective. Was he that small? Or is it just because he's wearing a jumpsuit clearly too big for him that casts the illusion of being small?

Doesn't really - matter. Now. He can't access his ghost form, and he already knows the answers to his appearance.

Phantom is clearly bleeding, viscous and violently green like the bubbles of a lava lamp, clutching onto a limp shoulder that's missing an arm from the elbow down. Half his face is drenched in similar blood, the eye on the drenched side is closed — not because he can't see through the ectoplasm.

Danny's memories of that fight slowly come in a bit clearer. Right. He took a pole to the eye in that one. That had - hurt. A lot. Getting an eye gouged out usually does. It and the missing arm took hours to grow back.

He rubs his eye with his palm for no other reason than it itches.

The other ghost isn't untouched of any injury either, but he's not in a state of dismemberment like Phantom is.

Danny drops his gaze down at Bruce, whose sitting in his chair with his hands threaded together, looking so tense that Danny half expects to meet solid steel if he were to touch his back. His face is - blank. Terribly blank, with an intensity in his eyes that Danny doesn't see often.

He looks terribly distressed.

He opens his mouth, and finds that nothing comes out. His throat is thick with an ugly, tar-like feeling that makes his eyes sting. Kinda reminds him of when someone wraps their hands around your throat and presses. He closes his mouth, then tries again.

"B—" hhhhhh, "Buzz."

Finally Bruce looks at him, one hand slaps the space button on the keyboard, and the video pauses. His expression doesn't shift, but there's a weight in the lines of his face that reminds Danny of a set of weights sagging.

He looks quite like he's grieving something.

Bruce opens his mouth, his voice comes out terribly soft and heartbroken: "He looks like you."

Which is— a terrifying sentence in and of itself. One that makes Danny's legs shake and ignite his ragged, poison-chewed nerves alight with the need to run. An instinctive urge to deny, deny, deny.

How could he? He could say, that's a ghost, Bruce. I'm not a ghost. He could crack a joke, and ask, 'do I look dead to you?' or say something about how he knows that his parents studied ghosts, but that didn't make him one.

He could say that, and he could say it knowing full well that Bruce would see right through it. He'd probably let Danny too.

Danny closes his eyes. They sting, you see? So does his nose, right in the back like someone popped him in the face. And his throat is thick and gross and like someone stuck a spider, the big fat tarantula kind, right down into his esophagus.

He breathes in — through his mouth, because his nose stings and so it'd be best not to irritate it further with air — and it's terribly shaky and uneven. But it clears a pathway to his lungs big enough for him to say — whisper, really:

"You know, I think you're the first person to notice that."

[elodieunderglass]

I hope your evening is better than your day was. ✨💫

In reference to me haggardly saying in the tags that after the day I’d had, everything (horrible things with legs) that my loved ones (you guys) were doing to heal me (send me horrible things with legs) was a help. And it was. And you are.

It was a tough old month already. But it’s all swings-and-roundabouts, snakes-and-ladders, win-some-lose-some, 🫴🫳.

I sleep about 9 hours in 48 at the moment, which is not especially great, owing to the Wretchedness of Mouse (2), a largely nocturnal animal. But then when Mouse is awake at Mouse o’Clock and quietly pottering around on Mouse Business, there isn’t much I can usefully do, so I’m just curled up with Dr Glass’s tablet, peacefully drawing Killie the jockey OC. As a result I’ve realised something massive for me, that my creativity is THERE, but fuelled by self-indulgence! Like, with stuff like fanfic projects and Killie, there was always a lot of “mental braking” on before, with me anticipating (based on evidence experience of posting my writing online for mumblety-many years) how much people would dislike it - put the brakes on, Elodie, we can’t let the haters know that we yearn. But hey, I started rambling on about fics and my own OCs, and YES it’s probably startling and annoying for some people and I do apologise, but ALSO you’ve all been very kind, and I think that it’s better for me to have the brakes off. 4 am takes notwithstanding, it’s better to have the brakes off. So what if I’m cringe and occasionally annoying - I have paid my dues and done my duties.

The new shed at the allotment blew down, but we have been forgiven for our carelessness in allowing it to happen, and two people on the committee have approached me with kindness - one committee member even stopping me in a shop to tell me, “people want to help you, Elodie, we’re your friends, you know.” Citation needed, but there you go.

Saturdays are always made especially for me dreadful by taking children to swimming lessons, on foot both ways, but usually we walk on to meet friends for coffee after. I go out with my friends and play board games with our neighbours and have learned how to play Wingspan.

Dr Glass received an official diagnosis of ME, but I bought a robot vacuum in the strength of that - saying, well, why assume things will ever get easier? Let’s get easy now! - and actually I really like having a robot vacuum!!

There have been more causes than I could help with, but my promotion has strengthened the coffers, so this month I’ve been able to donate to a few!

Due to childcare falling through, I had to take all three kids to an antifash protest in the cold and was dreading it - the walking, the whining, is it going to be awkward, i trust the organisers but HE’S not bringing his kids, GOD. But then my neighbour and her giant puppy came with us! on purpose! And we knew a lot of people there and the kids played.

I had to buy some clothes for work, and I never buy anything new (never having money) and was scared I’d get it wrong (stupid and weird) but I buckled up and bought these: https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/rosamoth-button-up-midi-skirt https://www.disturbia.co.uk/products/swamplife-frog-embroidered-linen-blend-high-waist-midaxi-skirt

And it sounds bonkers, but the amount of people at work, etc, who have come up and instantly allied themselves with me on the strength of Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt has strengthened my convictions. Strongly recommend Frog Skirt / Moth Skirt and their emotional equivalents if you hit a stage of career where you need to suddenly level up.

I am thinking about counterweights. And kindness. And the balance of the turning world. And the light in the sky coming back. And, unfortunately, Killie, but he’s a counterweight too; sure, he’s awful, but we already know he contains the seeds of becoming okay.

As evidence suggests that many things do.

Thank you for your shining kindness, and my love back to you 💫

[woso-story]

Alexia Meeting Your Son Theo

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the park as you arrived hand-in-hand with Theo. Your little boy, excited as ever, swung your arm playfully as his eyes scanned the playground. But your gaze was elsewhere—on the woman sitting on a bench, waiting for you both. Alexia, your girlfriend of three months, stood up the moment she saw you, her face lighting up with a warm smile.

Taking a deep breath, you crouched down to Theo's level. "Remember what I told you? This is Alexia."

Theo looked up at her, curiosity shining in his big eyes. "Hi, Alexia!"

Alexia knelt to meet him at eye level. "Hola, Theo! It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mama talks about you all the time."

Theo giggled and glanced at you. "Really?"

You ruffled his hair. "Really."

---

With the introductions out of the way, the three of you made your way to the playground. Theo ran ahead, climbing up the jungle gym with ease. Then, he turned back and called out, "Alexia, come up here!"

You chuckled, expecting her to politely decline, but to your surprise, Alexia grinned and followed him up. The sight was almost surreal—Alexia Putellas, captain of Barcelona and the Spanish National Team, crawling through a jungle gym meant for children. You couldn’t hold back your laughter when she struggled a little with the tight spaces.

"You okay there, champ?" you teased.

She shot you a playful glare. "I’ve faced defenders bigger than this, but I think this might be my toughest opponent yet."

Theo giggled uncontrollably before leading her to the slide. "We go down together, okay?"

Alexia nodded seriously, as if she had just received tactical instructions from her coach. But as she slid down, her long legs barely fitting, she landed with a dramatic plop. Theo clapped his hands, delighted.

---

As he ran off to play with some other kids, Alexia came to sit beside you on the bench, shaking her head in amusement.

"He likes you," you said softly, watching your son happily interact with the other children.

Alexia smiled. "He's an amazing kid. You've done such a great job raising him."

Warmth spread through your chest at her words. Most people had been hesitant about dating a mother, but not Alexia. She accepted everything about you, without hesitation.

Before long, Theo came running back, his clothes covered in dust and his face glowing with excitement. "Can we get ice cream?"

You exchanged a glance with Alexia, who immediately nodded. "Of course."

At the ice cream stand, Theo was set on getting his usual chocolate until Alexia ordered stracciatella. Eyes wide, he changed his mind. "I want what Alexia has!"

She chuckled. "Good choice."

As the three of you sat down to eat, Theo took one bite before exclaiming, "This is the best ever! From now on, I always want stracciatella!"

Alexia winked at you. "Looks like I’ve converted him."

---

As the afternoon stretched on, you noticed the effortless way Alexia fit into your little world. She wasn’t just there to impress you—she was genuinely interested in Theo, in his stories about dinosaurs and superheroes, in the way he built castles in the sandbox. You found yourself falling even more for her, seeing how kind and patient she was.

Later that evening, Alexia drove you both back home. You hesitated for a moment before asking, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to."

While you prepared the food, Theo eagerly dragged Alexia to his room to show her his toys. Every now and then, you peeked in to see them playing together, Alexia just as immersed in his world as he was. At one point, she caught your eye and flashed you a smile so full of warmth that your heart fluttered.

"Mama, look! Alexia is really good at building towers!" Theo beamed, showing you the structure they had built with his blocks.

"She’s full of surprises, isn’t she?" you teased, making Alexia laugh.

After dinner, you took Theo to his room to get him ready for bed, but he had one last request. "I want Alexia to read me a story too."

You smiled and went to ask her. Without hesitation, she agreed. She chose a book about a brave little lion who learned to trust again after facing hardship. As she read, her voice was soft yet expressive, and Theo listened with rapt attention, his little fingers grasping the edge of the blanket.

Half an hour later, Theo was sound asleep, his breathing even. You and Alexia tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

---

Back in the living room, you turned to her. "Thank you. For everything today."

She pulled you into her arms and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "It was my pleasure. I’d love to spend more time with you and Theo."

Your heart swelled. "I’d love that too."

The rest of the evening was spent curled up together on the couch, watching a movie in comfortable silence. At one point, Alexia reached for your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. When it was time for her to leave, she kissed you softly before stepping out into the night.

As you climbed into bed, a smile lingered on your lips. Everything had gone so perfectly. It felt like the beginning of something truly special—something real, something lasting. A future that felt brighter than ever before.