#not the joy of having his son making a mess

[disastrousduckss]

Something for the small Mockingbird AU is that when Branch was smaller, like 3-5, and when he tracks in mud, Ablaze has to quickly get him into a bath before he makes a mess throughout the bunker

But when Branch is old enough and still tracks in mud, Ablaze just hoses him down snsnajajaj He cleaned the bunker and pod, he's not gonna clean it all over again just because Branch thought it would be cute to participate in a mud slide snsnsn

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Damian's (not) real friend

Based on the results of this poll post.

Bruce knew kids made imaginary friends as part of their development. He had done plenty of research on the topic long before taking in Dick. Over the years, as his children grew in numbers, so did his research on proper developmental milestones.

Typically, children create imaginary friends from the ages of six to nine. But that did not mean they had to give them up even if they were in their teens.

So yes, he knew kids could have imaginary friends of any age, but seeing Damian develop one was slightly shocking. It might have been due to his upbringing that Damian hadn't had one or had chosen not to speak of his buddy until he knew he was safe.

Knowing his son felt secure enough in his household to do so filled his heart with joy. Bruce kept an eye on Damian since he brought up his new friend, Daniel. He was glad his son had finally made a friend in his school that it took a few days to notice Damian never brought up Daniel unless someone else did.

When Tim asked him about his friend- claiming to have spotted Damian sitting by himself at lunchtime after his youngest had told everyone he had lunched with Daniel- the boy had waved his concerns away.

That's when Bruce learned Daniel was not a little kid at Damian's school but rather an imaginary friend.

More specifically, he learned that Daniel could not be photographed or recorded. He simply would not appear on cameras or in auto recordings. Damian didn't seem to find any of that odd, nor take into account that, as Batman and Co., they had the means to pick up some trace of something being there.

After all, they had machines that could indicate a Speedster messing with the timeline! But no, Damian insisted that Daniel simply could not be recorded.

Apparently, Damian checked.

Now Bruce knew that an imaginary friend only became a concern when the child seemed frightened by it; it encourages harmful or destructive behavior; it rapidly changes the child's typical behavior, and the child blames it for all harmful or dangerous behavior or if it disrupts the child's ability to socially interact with others.

Daniel didn't seem to frighten Damian, nor did it encourage bad behavior in his son. But it certainly got in the way of Damian making real friends, and his son's behavior changed, even if he grumbled good naturally about it.

Daniel pestered Damian to join him in exploring Gotham to find, and Bruce quotes, "Secret spots for getting down in funky town."

Damian had videos of himself break dancing in abandoned subways, ballroom dancing with the air in an abandoned firehouse, and the oddest of all, disco in an underpass where he seemed to be making faces at the area around his left shoulder. He never posted them, claiming that Daniel just wanted them for themselves.

Bruce was mildly alarmed. He brought it up with the rest of his children, who all reported similar tales of Daniel.

Tim had noticed Damian recording songs in his room- his son had inherited the Wayne vocal cords. They were all blessed singers- claiming that Daniel had written and composed the music but had wanted Damian to record it since he couldn't. They would be using it in one of their videos.

Jason brought up the fact he had seen Damian make a collage covered in nothing but pictures of himself and the Gotham landscapes. Damian had spent nearly seven hours cutting, gluing, and organizing the postal board that he hung up.

Dick's report, however, was the most alarming. He had seen a photo booth strip Damian carried at all times. It supposedly held Daniel, but all he saw was an empty booth. This, coupled with the heart-shaped frame of some underpass, of an empty wall that Damian lovingly placed on his desk, could only mean one thing.

"Damian is infatuated with his imaginary friend." He said, voice heavy in concern as his children gave each other wary looks. "Damian is fully convinced Daniel is real and, likely, is treating him as a boyfriend rather than a best friend."

"Want me to talk to him? I can get him to agree to introduce me to his....boyfriend." Steph volunteers while stepping forward. "There were some cases at the homeless shelter Duke and I volunteer at where I needed to convince some kids to introduce me to their imaginary friends."

"That could work. Besides Dick, you have the closest relationship with Damian," Duke agrees. He is staring at the videos of Damian dipping someone that wasn't there, jaw tense. It likely reminded him of his parents. "It is better to send you in just because Damian may not be ready to talk to Dick about crushes."

"I'll set up some closer monitoring around Damian," Babs offers, nodding at Tim, who was already hacking into the boy's school cameras. She had sent him a private message to get started on that the second she heard Dick's report. She was busy hacking into the city's system of Damian's usual routes when going into the city. "If someone caused him to develop Daniel, I want to be sure we stop it."

"And I'll be sure to make them pay," Jason hissed, punching his fist as Cass twirled a blade at his side, nodding in agreement. She hasn't said much, but everyone could see the anger and concern for the youngest in her eyes. Apparently, she had been able to tell through Damian's body language he had developed a crush on Daniel but had not picked up on the fact he wasn't real.

To Damian, he was, so when she read his body language, she thought he was, too.

Alfred speaks up, his voice even despite the slight tremble in his folded hands on the conference table. "We also have to consider the possibility of instituting Damian. Something like this does not dub well for Master Damian's ability in the field. Civilian or Cape."

His words send a cold chill down everyone's backs. It was like the air itself was holding its breath as they turned to look at Bruce, waiting for his call. Bruce had his face in his hands, shoulders shaking in silent tears, but he nodded. "Dami needs help"

Dick stumbled back into his chair, looking like his father had just punched him in the gut. Tim's fingers paused over the keys, eyes hazy and lips tight. Cass' knife stabbed the table, grip knuckle white while Jason swore up a storm, slamming a fist down.

Steph, Duke, and Babs remained in their spot, but their faces had angry frowns. Bitter that they could do no more as they glared into the air around them. The three had always been more silent rage than the rest, the kind that forced the air around them when the rest of the Bats burned in it.

"We have to-" Bruce's words get cut off by the Cave communication bell. The camera on the Batcomputer turns on, displaying Damian in a rather fetching streetwear outfit.

"Hello, Father." He said calmly, aiming the camera so they could see he was inside a stale bathroom. "I am calling to ask permission to invite Daniel to dinner at the Manor. We were going to get some pizza after our latest dancing video, but the one Daniel adores was closed for construction, and it's getting rather late for other places. Daniel lives in the bad side of town, so his sister would rather he not be out too late."

Oh gods, Daniel had a sister now? One that limited Damian's movements?

"Of course, son," Bruce heard himself say. A heavy lump developed in his throat as a broad, pleased smile spread across his child's face. Bruce is no stranger to heartbreak, but he felt it cracking as Damian reminded him that Daniel was a civilian, so they needed to ensure that vigilante things were out of sight. "That sounds fine, Dami. We will be waiting for you both."

"We?"

"Your siblings want to meet Daniel." Bruce clarifies, looking around the table of his children, who look back at Damian with pity. "Don't you?"

Dick presses a hand against his mouth, nodding his head. "We sure do. Heard so much about Daniel, it would be a shame not to."

"Very well." Damian yields after some thought. "We shall be home in an hour. Alfred, could you make some meat lasagna? That's Daniel's favorite food."

"It's making him ask for meat." Jason curses under her breath "on top of everything else?"

Thankfully, it's too soft for Damian to hear, so Alfred speaks up. "Of course,e Master Damian."

"Replace the béchamel sauce with layers of cheese, please." Damian requests, smile turning a bit soft and gooey. "Daniel prefers it that way."

"Right away, sir."

The call ends, and the cave erupts into noise. Bruce springs to his feet, shouting out orders. They will think of what to do now that Damian has introduced them to Daniel.

Multiple JusticeLeague-approved therapists are called, Black Carnary is on speed dial for any help they may need, and the kids brush up on their mental illness assistant packages. They don't plan on confronting Damian tonight about it, but they will carefully prob to see what exactly Daniel and his sister make Damian do.

____________________________________________________________

Alfred's face spams an hour late as he watches the front gate security cameras. Master Damian arrives in an Uber, holding the door open and offering his hand to the air as if attempting to help someone get out of the vehicle. The boy waves away the driver, then keeps his hand wrapped around nothing as he strides to the Manor in sure steps.

Alfred doesn't have the auto on, but he can tell by the movement of Master Damian's lips that he is speaking to it.

Alfred moves to the front door, fixing his vest to gather courage before opening the door, a calm Welcome home, Master Damian on his lips.

Only to choke on his spite at the sight of another young boy the same age as Master Damian standing right where Daniel should be. He even has his fingers interlocked with Master Damian.

"Alfred, this is Daniel Fenton. Daniel, this is my family butler, Alfred Pennyworth."

"You're real," Alfred breathes, staring wide-eyed at the boy who offers him a wave. It's such a whiplash from the emotional turmoil of this afternoon that he forgets himself and his manners as he gawks at the child.

"Um, I sure am?" Daniel, for his part, looks a little uneasy, which prompts Master Damian to step in front of him, shielding him with his body. His green eyes are blazing with slight protective rage.

"I did not see you in the camera...." He hears himself say as if that was justification for his reaction.

Master Domain's shoulders relax. "Yes, Daniel does not appear on any form of record. It happens. Come, Daniel, I'll show you my room while dinner is made."

"Cool. Can we practice some new moves, too? I really want to get the choreography for our new song down."

"Of course."

Alfred steps back, allowing the children to walk inside, climb up the stairs, and vanish from sight. He fumbles for his phone, knowing he has to report this before Master Bruce and the other children make fools of themselves.

Goodness, he didn't even start on the meat lasagna. He didn't think he was actually going to feed someone.

[callsigns-haze]

-ˋˏ The week it all went south ˎˊ-

Part 2

Part 1 here

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

Azriel has the perfect life. You as his wife. Kaia as his daughter. But him and the boys are stupid enough to challenge you for a week and then his perfect life might simply...disappear

Warning: FUTURE ANGST, mentions of past lovers, mentions of sex, cursing, kissing, mentions of injured child, drinking.

Word count: 27k

The cabin was cozy, nestled in the heart of the mountains, surrounded by towering pines and a blanket of soft snow that had recently fallen. The scent of wood and fresh air filled the space as the door swung open, and the sounds of excited footsteps echoed in the large entryway.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand stepped inside first, each of them carrying bags and supplies for the week ahead. Behind them came Nyx, Kaia perched on his back as he carried her effortlessly, while Cassian’s three boys, Torran, Emrus, and Calen, rushed in, their laughter and energy filling the cabin.

“Okay, okay, settle down,” Cassian said, his voice carrying a playful authority as he followed them inside. His eyes scanned the room, making sure nothing was out of place for the kids. “Nyx, put Kaia down—let her run around. Emrus, don’t touch that,” he added, reaching out to grab Emrus’s hand as he tried to explore one of the stone fireplaces.

Azriel was right behind them, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. His shadows moved around him like a second skin, guiding him to the far corner where he noticed a small table with some leftover supplies from the previous tenants. He set Kaia down on the floor, watching her immediately start fluttering her wings in excitement.

“Go ahead, Kaia. You can explore,” Azriel said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he crouched down next to her. Kaia, always quick to absorb everything around her, toddled off eagerly, her little wings fluttering behind her.

Rhysand and Nyx were the last to step through the door. Nyx had an amused look on his face, though there was a touch of apprehension behind his eyes as he let Kaia go to explore. His gaze met Rhysand’s for a moment, and a silent understanding passed between them. Rhysand gave a small smile before reaching down to ruffle Nyx’s hair affectionately.

“Looks like we’re all here,” Rhysand said, giving the room a sweep with his violet gaze. “It’s a good thing we got here early—plenty of time to get settled in before the chaos begins.”

Nyx chuckled, rolling his eyes as he turned to follow Kaia, who had already found a spot by the window to observe the falling snow. “This week’s going to be a mess,” he muttered, but there was a smile in his voice as he watched his little cousin.

Cassian glanced over at the group of kids, who were already finding ways to entertain themselves in the cabin. His sons were exploring the open space, trying to figure out the best spots to play. “Alright, boys,” Cassian called out. “This place might be ours for the week, but let’s remember there are rules. And that means no breaking anything.”

Emrus grinned at his father. “You can’t stop us, Dad!”

“Watch me,” Cassian teased, giving him a playful shove.

Azriel watched them interact with an affectionate smile, his shadows swirling around him in a comforting embrace. There was a comfort here, even in the midst of the chaos. For the first time in a long time, he felt at ease, his family together and safe, away from the pressures and expectations of the Night Court.

“Alright, let’s unpack and get settled,” Azriel said to the others, standing tall again. “We’ve got a week to enjoy this place. Let’s make it count.”

Kaia, having moved over to a chair in the corner, suddenly turned around and let out an excited squeal. “Dada! Dada!” she called, her voice filled with joy. “I see snow!”

Azriel smiled warmly, his heart swelling at the sound of her happiness. He moved over to her, kneeling down beside her to look out the window. “I see it too, sweetheart. We’ll go play in it later.”

Azriel stood up from the window, his eyes scanning the room as he noticed Kaia tugging at the hem of his tunic, looking up at him with her bright, eager eyes. A soft smile curved his lips as he bent down to her level, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Ready to see your room, Kaia?” he asked, his voice gentle but filled with affection.

She nodded enthusiastically, her little wings fluttering behind her as she grinned up at him. “I wanna sleep with you, Dada!” she exclaimed in her sweet, toddler speech, her words still a little jumbled but full of intent.

Azriel’s heart softened at the sound of her words, and he held out his hand for her to take. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go see where we’ll be sleeping for the week.”

Kaia’s tiny hand gripped his fingers as he led her through the cabin, past the large living area and toward the hallway. The wood floors creaked softly underfoot as they walked, the warmth of the fire crackling in the background. Azriel could hear the sounds of the kids still exploring the other rooms, but his focus was entirely on Kaia.

As they reached the door to the room they’d be staying in, Azriel pushed it open with a soft creak, revealing a cozy space with a large, comfortable bed. A fluffy comforter in shades of deep blue and silver covered the mattress, and soft light filtered through the window, casting a peaceful glow across the room.

Kaia’s eyes widened as she stepped inside, looking around the room in wonder. “So pwwetty, Dada!” she exclaimed, her wings fluttering in excitement.

Azriel chuckled softly as he watched her take in the space. “I’m glad you like it, Kaia. This will be our room for the week.”

He guided her over to the bed, helping her climb up onto it. She immediately flopped down, her small body sinking into the softness of the blankets. Azriel followed, sitting beside her, his wings brushing the fabric of the bedding as he settled in.

Kaia rolled onto her back, her little hands resting on her chest as she stared up at the ceiling. “Dada, we pway in the snow now?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

Azriel chuckled, brushing a hand through her hair. “Soon, sweetie. We’ll go out there and play, but first, we need to get settled and rest a bit.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You can nap here for a little while, and when you wake up, we’ll go outside together.”

Kaia’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, her soft breathing steadying as she relaxed into the bed. Azriel sat quietly beside her, his gaze lingering on her peaceful face. This, he thought, was the calm he needed—the precious moments of stillness before the chaos of the week began. The weight of the world could wait a little longer.

Nyx burst through the door, eyes wide and his face flushed from running. His breath came in quick gasps as he skidded to a stop just inside the room. His messy hair was wild, and he had that familiar look of someone who had been running away from something—more specifically, from someone.

“Close the door, Azriel!” Nyx shouted, glancing over his shoulder. His 13-year-old face was a mix of exasperation and amusement. “They’re coming!”

Azriel barely had time to react before Nyx rushed forward and made a beeline for the bed, practically diving under the blankets next to Kaia. Kaia, who had been resting quietly, sat up with wide eyes, looking over at her cousin in surprise.

Azriel, trying not to laugh at the sight of Nyx huddled next to his daughter as if he were some secret agent on the run, quickly moved toward the door. Just as he shut it, the sound of loud, excited footsteps could be heard in the hallway, followed by the unmistakable voices of Cassian’s sons calling after Nyx.

“Nyx! Where’d you go? We’ll find you!” Torran’s voice rang out, followed by Emrus and Calen shouting in a chorus.

Azriel grinned, shaking his head. “What did you do to deserve that?” he asked Nyx, who had now curled up under the blanket next to Kaia, trying to hide as much of himself as he could.

Nyx poked his head out from beneath the covers, his eyes darting to the door. “They’re relentless,” he muttered with a smirk. “They wanted me to show them how to use the dagger I found, but they’re way too reckless. I told them I’d rather live.”

Azriel chuckled, ruffling Nyx’s hair as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I told you they’d be trouble. But I didn’t expect you to be the one running from them.”

Kaia giggled at the sight of her older cousin hiding, her wings fluttering a little in her excitement. “Nyxie funny!” she said, her voice high-pitched with joy.

Nyx gave a half-smile in return, his cheeks still flushed from his sprint. “You’re one to talk, Kaia. I think you’re the one who’s funny.” He stuck his tongue out at her, and Kaia giggled, reaching out to tug on the corner of his sleeve.

Azriel shook his head with a quiet laugh, glancing toward the door as he heard the footsteps grow quieter. “Looks like they’ve given up for now,” he said with a chuckle. “You might be safe for a little while, Nyx.”

“Good,” Nyx replied, settling back into the blankets next to Kaia, who had now decided to snuggle close to him. “I think I’ll stay here until they forget what they were chasing me for.”

-----

The sun hung high in the Day Court sky, its warmth streaming through the open terrace where you, Feyre, and Nesta lounged comfortably. You were settled on plush chairs, a pitcher of sparkling wine and three glasses between you. The scent of citrus and sea salt drifted on the breeze, blending perfectly with the laughter that filled the space.

Feyre leaned forward, her gaze sharp with curiosity as she swirled her drink. “Alright, I can’t take it anymore. You’re going to have to tell us about Eris.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk as she tilted her head at you. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten, sister. You casually drop that you’ve slept with Eris, Lucien, and Tarquin, and expect us not to demand details?”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair as you looked between them. Their relentless pestering had started the moment you mentioned it yesterday, and it didn’t look like they’d let up anytime soon.

“Alright, fine,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “If you must know, Eris was my first.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped, her glass clinking against the table as she set it down quickly. “Eris?” she repeated, her voice somewhere between shock and disbelief. “The Eris Vanserra? High Lord of the Autumn Court, lord of insufferable arrogance?”

Nesta, on the other hand, let out a soft laugh, her cool demeanour masking the intrigue in her eyes. “I’m not surprised,” she said smoothly. “He has a certain… flair about him.”

You rolled your eyes at Feyre’s reaction, taking a sip of your drink before answering. “Yes, Eris. And he wasn’t as arrogant then as he is now. We were both young. He was charming, and I was… curious.”

Feyre shook her head as if trying to process the information. “I’m sorry, but you need to elaborate. How did that even happen?”

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table, a small smile tugging at your lips as you recalled the memory. “It was centuries ago, long before the War. I was still finding my place in the Night Court, and Eris… well, he was already the future High Lord of the Autumn Court. He came to the court of nightmares with his father on some diplomatic nonsense. I was introduced as Rhysand’s sister, and Eris… he was bold.”

Nesta’s brow arched. “Bold how?”

You smirked, swirling the wine in your glass. “He cornered me at a party. Told me I was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen and asked me to dance. One thing led to another, and we ended up spending the rest of the night together.”

Feyre groaned, placing her head in her hands. “This is too much.”

Nesta chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. “Sounds like Eris knew what he wanted.”

You nodded, your smile softening. “He did. And despite what he’s become, back then, he wasn’t so bad. We parted ways amicably, and that was that.”

Feyre peeked at you from between her fingers. “And you just… never told us? Not even when we were dealing with him during the whole alliance mess?”

“Well,” you said, shrugging, “it didn’t seem relevant. And besides, you two are in your thirties. I’m over five hundred years old. You didn’t exactly ask for my full romantic history.”

Nesta scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “And yet here we are, prying it out of you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her response. “Alright, alright. For the record, yes, I’ve slept with more than just Azriel. Eris, Lucien, Tarquin—”

“Tarquin too?” Feyre interrupted, her voice an octave higher.

You nodded with a sly grin. “He was sweet, actually. Very attentive.”

Nesta exchanged a wide-eyed look with Feyre before turning back to you. “You’ve certainly had an interesting history.”

You raised your glass in a mock toast. “I’ve lived a long life. And every mistake, every fling, every relationship has led me to where I am now.”

Feyre shook her head, lifting her own glass. “I still can’t believe Eris.”

Nesta smirked, raising her glass as well. “To Eris, Tarquin, Lucien, and whoever else we haven’t uncovered yet.”

Feyre leaned forward in her chair, her gaze sharp with curiosity, the sunlight catching the mischievous glint in her eyes. "Alright, since we’re getting the full history… Helion. Twice, he said?"

Nesta arched a brow, her lips twitching as though she was trying not to smirk. "And he’s the truth-teller, so we know it’s true. Twice. What’s the story there?"

You groaned, leaning back against the plush cushions of the Day Court lounge. The scent of jasmine and citrus hung in the air, blending with the warmth of the midday sun. You sipped your wine slowly, stalling as Feyre and Nesta exchanged expectant glances.

"You two are relentless," you muttered, shaking your head. "Fine. Yes, Helion and I… had our moments. Twice."

Nesta tilted her head, a sly smile spreading across her face. "And what exactly sparked those moments?"

You set your glass down, resting your elbows on your knees as you smirked. "It was centuries ago—long before Rhysand being High lord so soon was even a thought in the Night Court's plans. Helion was young, charming, and absolutely insufferable. He loved to flirt, and I… well, I liked the attention."

Feyre snorted. "Sounds like him."

You chuckled. "The first time was during a diplomatic visit to the Day Court. We’d been dancing at one of their endless celebrations, and one thing led to another. He was persistent, and I was curious."

"And the second time?" Nesta asked, her tone neutral but her eyes gleaming with intrigue.

You sighed, tilting your head back as you remembered. "That was years later. I visited the Day Court to broker a trade agreement. Helion was even more insufferable by then, but gods, he knew how to get under my skin. He flirted shamelessly, practically challenged me to resist him. I didn’t."

Feyre leaned back in her chair, looking torn between amusement and disbelief. "So, twice. And neither time it became anything serious?"

You shook your head. "It was never serious. Helion and I were… friends, in a way. We enjoyed each other’s company, and that was that. No strings, no expectations."

Nesta tapped her fingers against the rim of her glass, her voice dry. "Well, at least we know why he called you the ‘loss of his life.’"

You laughed, raising your glass to her. "Helion’s dramatic. Always has been. But he’s a good male, and we’ve remained on friendly terms ever since."

Feyre narrowed her eyes playfully. "And you just forgot to mention this to us before?"

"Forgot? No," you replied with a grin. "I just didn’t think it was relevant. My past is… well, it’s my past. I’ve lived a long life, and I didn’t think you’d want to hear about all of it."

"Clearly, we do," Nesta quipped, her smirk widening.

Feyre leaned forward again, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright, and who was better—Helion or Eris?"

You burst out laughing, shaking your head as you lifted your glass. "That’s a secret I’ll take to my grave."

Nesta groaned in mock frustration. "You’re impossible."

"Am I?" you teased, grinning at both of them. "Or am I just keeping some mystery alive?"

The sun shifted lazily across the sky, casting golden hues over the Day Court’s sprawling terrace as you, Feyre, and Nesta lounged in your seats, the pitcher of wine now half-empty. The laughter and teasing had yet to cease since you admitted to your history with Helion, and your sisters seemed more determined than ever to get every last detail out of you.

Feyre leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her face a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I’m just saying, I don’t know why you won’t answer. We’ve been at this for hours. You slept with Helion twice. It’s not like we’re asking you to write a ballad about it."

Nesta, sitting across from you, swirled her wine with an exaggerated air of patience. "Exactly. All we’re asking for is a comparison. Was he better than Eris? Worse? Or maybe somewhere in between?"

You groaned, throwing your head back against the plush cushions of your chair. "You two are ridiculous. Why does it even matter?"

"It matters," Feyre said firmly, pointing at you with a grin, "because you’re our sister, and you’ve been holding out on us. Centuries of experience, and you’re just now letting us in on the good parts."

Nesta smirked. "You’ve lived five hundred years longer than us. The least you can do is share some wisdom. Especially if it involves Helion and Eris. And Tarquin."

You shot her a mock glare. "I am not giving you a ranking, Nesta."

She raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips tugging upward. "Who said anything about a ranking? Although, now that you mention it—"

"Nesta," you groaned, cutting her off as Feyre snorted into her wineglass.

Feyre set her drink down, her face alight with mischief. "You know what’s killing me? The fact that Helion said it himself. Twice. Twice means something. Was it because the first time wasn’t good enough? Or was it so good you couldn’t resist a second time?"

"Feyre," you said, your voice exasperated but tinged with laughter, "you’re impossible."

Nesta crossed her legs, her sharp gaze fixed on you. "Don’t change the subject. What I want to know is if it was Helion’s charm or his… skills that made you go back for round two."

"Gods," you muttered, covering your face with your hands as they dissolved into laughter.

"Come on," Feyre coaxed, leaning closer, her eyes bright. "We’re your sisters. You can tell us. Was it the muscles? The golden glow? Or did he just talk his way into your bed again?"

"Both of you need to stop," you said, though the smile pulling at your lips betrayed your exasperation.

Nesta’s smirk widened. "We’re not stopping until we get answers. You’ve been teasing us all day."

"And what exactly do you want me to say?" you shot back, laughing despite yourself. "That Helion is charming? Fine, he’s charming. That he’s skilled? Fine, he’s skilled. Happy now?"

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a look, then simultaneously shook their heads.

"Not even close," Feyre said.

"We want details," Nesta added.

You groaned again, reaching for your wineglass as Feyre and Nesta started tossing out theories and questions, their determination unyielding. Hours had passed, and yet they showed no signs of letting up.

You could only laugh, raising your glass in mock surrender. "You two are relentless. Absolutely relentless."

"And you love us for it," Feyre teased, her grin wicked.

Feyre, her cheeks flushed from the wine, leaned forward with an impish grin. "Alright, alright. Let’s simplify this. Who was the best? Helion, Eris, or Tarquin?"

Nesta smirked, sipping from her glass like she had all the time in the world. "Yes, let’s settle this once and for all. You have to pick one."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your temples. "Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated by the Inner Circle’s most dangerous duo?"

"Because you are," Feyre said cheerfully.

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her expression cool but her eyes sparkling. "And don’t think you can distract us. We’ve waited centuries to hear this gossip. We deserve answers."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to think of a way out of this. "I’m not ranking them. That’s final."

"Fine," Feyre said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Then just tell us who surprised you the most."

You blinked at her, caught off guard. "Surprised me?"

Nesta tilted her head thoughtfully. "That’s actually a good question. Who was different than you expected?"

You considered this for a moment, swirling the wine in your glass. "Well… if I had to pick someone, I’d say Eris."

Feyre’s eyes widened, and Nesta leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "Why Eris?" Feyre asked.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Because despite all his arrogance and fire, he was surprisingly gentle. He could be soft when he wanted to be, which wasn’t often, but it was enough to catch me off guard."

Nesta looked impressed. "That is surprising. I wouldn’t have guessed that about him."

Feyre rested her chin in her hand, a dreamy look on her face. "I can actually see it. He’s all rough edges on the outside, but maybe there’s something softer underneath."

"Don’t let him hear you say that," you said with a laugh. "He’d deny it until his dying breath."

"And Helion?" Nesta pressed, not letting you off the hook.

You sighed again, shaking your head with a small smile. "Helion is exactly who you think he is. Charming, confident, and very, very good at what he does."

Feyre fanned herself dramatically, laughing. "You’re not making this any easier for us, you know."

"And Tarquin?" Nesta asked, her tone even but her smirk giving her away.

Your smile softened. "Tarquin was sweet. Gentle, almost shy at times. But there was a strength to him too, a quiet confidence. He was… different."

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a look, then turned back to you with matching grins.

"Well?" Nesta said. "We still haven’t gotten a clear answer."

You threw up your hands in exasperation. "Because there isn’t one! They were all different, alright? Can we move on now? I've chose my husband, is that not enough!"

Feyre snorted, shaking her head. "Not a chance."

Nesta raised her glass, her smirk widening. "You’re stuck with us, sister. Might as well spill everything."

Helion strolled into the room with his usual air of confidence, his golden robes shimmering in the fading sunlight. His grin widened as he took in the three of you lounging with wine, clearly enjoying yourselves.

"Ah," he said, spreading his arms theatrically, "the beauties of the Night Court, still gracing my halls. What trouble have you been causing in my absence?"

Before you could say a word, Feyre and Nesta pounced.

"Helion!" Feyre exclaimed, her tone filled with mock scandal. "How did you manage to sleep with her twice?"

Nesta smirked, tilting her head as she added, "We’ve been trying to get answers out of her for hours, but she’s being terribly uncooperative. Care to enlighten us?"

Helion froze for a fraction of a second, then threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and full. "Ah, so she’s finally told you about our little… history." His amber eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked at you. "And here I thought that was our secret."

You groaned, sinking deeper into your chair. "I’m going to kill both of you," you muttered, glaring at your sisters.

Feyre ignored you, her grin as wide as ever. "Come on, Helion. We’re dying to know. Twice? What did you do to manage that?"

Helion sauntered over, pouring himself a glass of wine as if he had all the time in the world. He took a slow sip, savouring the moment, before leaning casually against the edge of the table.

"Well," he began, his voice smooth and teasing, "I’d like to think it was my charm, my wit, and, of course, my irresistible good looks."

Nesta rolled her eyes. "Be serious."

Helion chuckled, setting his glass down. "Alright, if you must know… it was persistence. Your sister wasn’t easy to win over. The first time took weeks of courting—dancing, poetry, gifts. I had to work for it."

Feyre’s eyes widened. "Dancing and poetry? Really?"

You groaned again, covering your face. "Helion, stop."

"Why should I?" he teased, his grin widening. "This is far too much fun."

"And the second time?" Nesta pressed, clearly enjoying this far too much.

Helion shrugged, his tone casual but his eyes glinting with amusement. "The second time… well, by then, she already knew what she’d be getting. I’d say it was mutual curiosity more than anything else. A moment of weakness on both our parts."

Feyre burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "I can’t believe this. You’re like an open book!"

Helion raised his glass in a mock toast. "A truth-teller, as they say. I have nothing to hide."

Nesta smirked, turning to you. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

You shot her a withering look. "I hate all of you."

Helion chuckled, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "Don’t be mad, my dear. It’s all in good fun."

Feyre and Nesta dissolved into laughter again, and you couldn’t help but join them, even as you plotted your revenge for the endless teasing. Helion, ever the showman, basked in the chaos he’d caused, clearly pleased with himself.

Nesta, never one to let an opportunity for drama pass, leaned forward with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Alright, Helion, since you’re such a truth-teller, did you know she’s also slept with Eris and Tarquin?"

Helion, mid-sip of his wine, froze. He lowered the glass slowly, his golden eyes snapping to you with an expression of exaggerated betrayal. "Eris and Tarquin?" He placed a hand over his heart, his voice mock-wounded. "You wound me, my darling. I thought I was the only High Lord you graced with your affections."

Feyre and Nesta howled with laughter, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Helion, don’t start."

But Helion, of course, ignored you entirely. "Eris, I can maybe understand. He has that sharp-edged allure, though I didn’t think you’d fall for his particular brand of arrogance." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "But Tarquin? I would have thought his gentle demeanour was too… tame for you."

Feyre leaned forward eagerly. "So, you didn’t know?"

Helion shook his head, his golden hair catching the sunlight. "Not a clue. This is news to me—and very entertaining news at that." He turned to you with a sly grin. "Darling, were you just collecting powerful men for your own amusement?"

"Apparently," Nesta said dryly, smirking at you.

You glared at all three of them, your cheeks heating. "You’re all impossible."

Helion laughed, clearly relishing the situation. "I feel like I should be offended, but honestly, I’m impressed. Eris, Tarquin, and me? That’s quite the trio. Did you have a checklist of traits you were trying to complete?"

Feyre nearly choked on her wine, laughing so hard tears streamed down her face. Nesta, trying to keep a straight face, asked, "Were they all… at different times, or was this some sort of power alliance you were building?"

"Gods," you groaned, sinking lower in your chair. "I’m leaving."

But Helion was grinning like a cat with cream, clearly enjoying every second of your discomfort. "Don’t leave now, darling. The best part of this story is just beginning."

Feyre leaned into Nesta, both of them giggling like conspirators. "You have to admit," Feyre said, "this might be the best thing we’ve ever learned about her."

"And the most entertaining," Helion agreed, raising his glass in a toast. "To our fiery Night Court beauty, who’s apparently been breaking hearts across Prythian for centuries."

You scowled at all of them but couldn’t suppress the small, begrudging smile tugging at your lips. "If you don’t stop, I swear I’ll tell Tarquin about the time you lost a bet to me, Helion."

That shut him up—momentarily, at least. Feyre and Nesta, however, were far from done, their teasing laughter following you long into the afternoon.

As the laughter finally began to settle, Feyre, still grinning, leaned forward with a curious glint in her eyes. "Alright, I have to know. With all these men in your past, how did you end up with Azriel in the end? What made him different?"

Before you could answer, Helion let out a booming laugh, nearly spilling his wine. He pointed at you with a playful smirk, shaking his head. "Ah, somehow, the beast won over the beauty."

You shot him a glare, but the corner of your lips betrayed the smallest twitch of a smile. "Helion, if you’re going to call him a beast, you should remember he has shadows that could very well find their way into your dreams."

"Let them," Helion said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Perhaps they’ll give me insight into how the brooding warrior managed to claim the heart of Prythian’s most elusive treasure."

Nesta snorted, her arms crossed. "Honestly, I’d like to hear this too. What did he do to make you settle down after centuries of… well, you know?"

Feyre leaned in closer, her curiosity unmistakable. "It’s true. I mean, Azriel of all people? Don’t get me wrong, he’s wonderful, but he’s so quiet, so restrained. I can’t picture him chasing after you."

You sighed, swirling the wine in your glass as a fond smile crept onto your face. "That’s the thing. He didn’t chase me. Azriel isn’t the type to play games or put on a show. He just… was himself. Steady, patient, kind. I think that’s what got me. After centuries of grand gestures and fleeting flings, he was the first to make me feel like I could truly rest. Like I didn’t have to be anything other than me."

Feyre’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That’s… actually really beautiful."

Nesta arched a brow. "So you’re saying it was the quiet, brooding patience that won you over?"

You chuckled. "Pretty much. That, and the fact that he’s maddeningly stubborn. He saw through all my walls and didn’t let me push him away, no matter how hard I tried."

Helion sighed dramatically, raising his glass again. "Well, I suppose I’ll allow it. If anyone deserves you, it’s that shadowsinger of yours. But don’t think I’m not still jealous."

"You’ll live," you teased, rolling your eyes at him.

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a glance, both of them smiling now. Feyre’s voice was soft when she spoke. "I’m glad you found someone like him. You deserve that kind of love."

You nodded, a warmth blooming in your chest. "I do too."

Helion groaned, breaking the tender moment with a laugh. "Alright, enough of this sweetness. Where’s the scandal? The chaos? Surely Azriel wasn’t perfect all the time."

You smirked, tilting your head. "Oh, he’s far from perfect, but that’s a story for another time."

Feyre and Nesta groaned in unison, but you just laughed, taking another sip of your wine. Some stories, after all, were meant to be kept between you and Azriel.

-----

Kaia was bundled under a blanket in the middle of the large bed, her tiny wings shifting slightly as she napped. Azriel sat at the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on Kaia’s back as if to shield her from even the idea of the world outside. The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the quiet room, her little face relaxed in the purest form of peace.

Nyx, sprawled in a chair by the window, watched her with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. "She sleeps like she owns the place," he murmured, his tone a little envious.

Azriel glanced at him, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "She does. At least in her mind."

Nyx chuckled but stayed where he was, resting his chin in his hand. "You’re lucky she’s so small. If she were my age, you’d have your hands full trying to keep her from taking over the entire cabin."

Azriel’s smile widened, his gaze returning to Kaia. "She already has me wrapped around her finger. I wouldn’t even try to stop her."

They lapsed into silence, the comfortable kind that settled naturally between them. Kaia’s wings twitched slightly as she shifted in her sleep, a tiny sigh escaping her lips. Azriel adjusted the blanket around her, his movements practiced and gentle.

The door creaked open, and Rhysand’s unmistakable presence filled the room. He leaned casually against the frame, his arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, there you are. I wondered where my son had gone."

Nyx glanced over his shoulder, his expression sheepish. "I’m not hiding. I’m… supervising."

Rhys raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Supervising? It looks more like lounging." His gaze shifted to Azriel, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. "And you, Azriel? You’ve recruited my son into your world of quiet brooding already?"

Azriel didn’t look up, his attention still on Kaia. "I’m teaching him patience. A skill you seem to lack."

Rhys chuckled, stepping fully into the room. He looked down at Kaia, his expression softening. "She really is a little marvel, isn’t she?"

"She is," Azriel replied quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Nyx stood, stretching lazily. "Well, if you’ve found me, I guess I’m free to go now."

Rhys gave him a pointed look. "Not so fast. If you’re leaving, you’re taking your cousins with you. They’ve been terrorizing Cassian since you vanished."

Nyx groaned but nodded, pausing to glance at Kaia one last time. "She’s lucky she’s a baby. No one’s expecting her to deal with any of this chaos."

Azriel smirked faintly, his shadows curling protectively around his daughter. "She’ll have her time. For now, this is enough."

Nyx rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, slipping past Rhys and out the door. Rhys lingered, his gaze settling on Azriel with a mix of amusement and fondness.

"You’re in deep, aren’t you?" Rhys said softly.

Azriel finally looked up, his golden eyes unwavering. "Deeper than I ever thought possible."

Rhys smiled, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Good. She deserves that."

With one last glance at Kaia, Rhys left, leaving Azriel alone once more with his sleeping daughter, his expression calm and utterly content.

As Kaia slept soundly, her tiny fists curled into the blanket, Azriel leaned back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on her. The room was quiet save for the soft rustle of her wings and the occasional creak of the cabin as the wind moved outside.

His thoughts, however, weren’t fully here. You had been gone with Feyre and Nesta for hours now, no doubt enjoying yourselves in the Day Court. He trusted you completely, but his mind always wandered when you weren’t within reach, especially with Helion around.

Azriel’s shadows stirred as if sensing his unease, curling lazily around his shoulders and wrists like smoke. He glanced at them, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Go," he murmured quietly. "Check on her."

The shadows seemed to ripple in acknowledgment before slipping from him, snaking out through the room and under the door, silent as always. He watched them disappear, his mind already imagining their path as they travelled across the cabin and beyond.

He shifted his focus back to Kaia, his fingers brushing over the edge of her blanket. She stirred briefly, one of her little wings fluttering, but then she settled again, a soft hum escaping her lips.

It didn’t take long before his shadows returned, curling around him with familiar ease. They brought back glimpses of your laughter, the sound of Feyre teasing Helion, and the faint scent of the Day Court’s jasmine-laden air.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" Azriel muttered to himself, a soft chuckle escaping him. Despite his love for you, he couldn't help the small pang of longing to have you here, even in the midst of his joy at knowing you were having fun.

Kaia shifted again, and Azriel leaned forward, adjusting her blanket before sitting back, his expression softening as his shadows whispered their findings to him. At least you were happy and safe, and for now, that was enough.

The peaceful quiet of the room was shattered as the door suddenly swung open with a loud creak, followed by Cassian’s booming voice.

"Az, have you seen where—"

Before he could finish, Kaia stirred, her little nose scrunching as she let out a soft whine. Azriel shot Cassian a glare sharp enough to cut steel, his shadows coiling tighter around him in warning.

"Cassian," Azriel hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Cassian froze mid-step, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he realized what he had done. "Oh, shit," he muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Kaia’s whine turned into a soft, drowsy cry as her eyes fluttered open, her tiny wings twitching beneath the blanket. "Dada," she murmured groggily, her voice thick with sleep.

Azriel immediately leaned forward, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "It’s okay, Kaia," he murmured, his voice soft and calming. "Dada’s here."

Kaia blinked up at him, her big hazel eyes—so much like his—glistening with half-formed tears. She reached out a small hand, her fingers clumsily clutching at his tunic. "Too loud," she mumbled, her toddler speech slurring slightly.

Azriel shot another pointed glare at Cassian, who was still frozen in the doorway. "You woke her up," Azriel said, his tone clipped.

Cassian had the decency to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t realize she was napping," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "Sorry, Kaia."

Kaia, however, wasn’t so easily placated. She turned her head toward Cassian, her little brows furrowed. "Cassy bad," she declared, her tiny voice firm despite the sleepiness clinging to it.

Cassian blinked, then burst out laughing. "Oh, come on, kid. Don’t sell me out like that!"

Azriel gently scooped Kaia into his arms, her small wings drooping as she nestled against his chest. "You brought this on yourself," he muttered, his tone dry.

Kaia, already calming in her father’s arms, shot Cassian one last pout before burying her face in Azriel’s tunic. "No loud," she mumbled, her voice muffled.

Cassian held up his hands again in surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’m the villain here."

Azriel sighed, rocking Kaia gently as she started to settle. "What do you need, Cassian?"

"Nothing that can’t wait," Cassian replied, stepping back toward the door with a sheepish grin. "I’ll let you get back to it. And, uh, sorry again, Kaia."

Kaia didn’t bother to respond, already drifting back into a doze against Azriel’s shoulder. Cassian gave a final wave before slipping out, closing the door much more quietly this time.

Azriel sighed, his shadows wrapping around him and Kaia protectively. "Troublemaker," he muttered, though whether he meant Cassian or his daughter, even he wasn’t sure.

Kaia shifted against Azriel’s chest, her little wings twitching under the blanket he had draped around her. She let out a soft, frustrated sigh, her tiny fists curling into his tunic as she blinked her wide hazel eyes up at him.

"Dada," she whispered, her voice barely louder than a breath, "no sweepy."

Azriel brushed a hand gently over her soft, dark curls, his expression softening. "You need to rest, Kaia," he murmured, rocking her slightly. "You’ve had a big day already."

She shook her head, her curls bouncing with the motion. "No sweepy," she insisted, her voice gaining a bit more strength. Her little hand tugged at his tunic, her pout forming as she looked up at him. "Cassy loud. Kaia wake."

Azriel sighed, his shadows curling lazily around them as if to create a cocoon of calm. "I know, love," he said softly. "But you’ll be tired later if you don’t sleep now."

Kaia wrinkled her nose, clearly unconvinced. "No sweep. Play?"

He smiled faintly, brushing a finger down her nose. "It’s not time to play, Kaia."

She huffed, her little wings fluttering in agitation as she shifted in his arms. "Kaia no tired," she declared, her tone bordering on stubborn.

Azriel chuckled under his breath, standing up from the bed with her in his arms. "Alright, let’s see if we can make you sleepy again."

He began pacing the room slowly, his movements deliberate and soothing. He hummed a low, calming tune, the same one he’d used to lull her to sleep since she was a newborn. Kaia rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes half-closing as the melody washed over her, but her little fingers still fidgeted with the edge of his tunic.

"Dada," she whispered after a moment, her voice softer now, "sing more?"

Azriel smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Of course, my star," he said, his voice gentle.

As he continued humming, Kaia’s breathing began to even out again, though her wings twitched every so often. Even as her eyelids grew heavier, she didn’t quite let herself drift off, as if determined to fight sleep as long as she could.

Azriel kept at it, patient as ever, holding her close and rocking her gently. Eventually, her small hand stilled, and her soft breaths fell into rhythm. He glanced down to see her eyes finally closed, her little body fully relaxed against his.

"Stubborn, just like your mother," he murmured with a fond smile, brushing another kiss to her forehead before settling her back onto the bed.

Azriel watched Kaia for a moment longer, ensuring she was completely settled. Her little wings lay still now, tucked neatly beneath the blanket, and her tiny hand rested loosely by her face. Her soft breaths filled the room, the kind of sound that brought a rare peace to Azriel’s ever-guarded heart.

Satisfied she was finally asleep, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, his shadows curling protectively around her as if to ensure no sound or disturbance would wake her this time. He straightened slowly, his steps deliberate and silent as he moved toward the door.

Azriel opened it just wide enough to slip through, closing it with a quiet click behind him. His sharp senses immediately attuned to the sounds of the cabin: faint laughter and the unmistakable hum of conversation coming from the main room where Cassian and Rhysand were.

He moved down the hallway with his usual grace, his boots making almost no sound on the wooden floor. His shadows lingered at the edges of the hall, stretching ahead of him as though scouting the way.

As he approached the room, Cassian’s boisterous laughter echoed, followed by Rhysand’s smoother, amused tone.

"You do realize that was entirely your fault," Rhys was saying, his voice carrying a hint of teasing.

Cassian’s retort was immediate. "How was I supposed to know she was napping? Az didn’t put up a sign."

Azriel stepped into the room, his expression calm but his gaze sharp. "You didn’t need a sign, Cassian. It’s common sense."

Cassian turned, his grin wide despite the reprimand. "Ah, the shadow master returns. Did you get your little princess back to sleep?"

Azriel moved to stand near the fireplace, his shadows flickering faintly in the firelight. "She’s asleep now. Don’t wake her again, or I’ll ensure you regret it."

Rhysand chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smirk. "Kaia has you wrapped tighter around her finger than I thought possible, brother."

Azriel shrugged, unbothered. "She’s two. What’s your excuse for Nyx?"

Rhys’s smirk widened, and Cassian let out a bark of laughter. "Touché," Cassian said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

Azriel sighed, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. "What’s the status of the rest of the cabin? Any other disasters I need to know about?"

Cassian waved a hand dismissively. "The boys are fine—for now. Nyx is keeping them occupied."

"For how long?" Azriel asked dryly, his golden gaze shifting between them.

Rhysand grinned. "Long enough for us to enjoy the silence. Or what’s left of it, considering Cassian’s volume."

Cassian scoffed, throwing a cushion at Rhys, who dodged it with a laugh. Azriel shook his head, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his expression as he watched his brothers.

"Let’s just hope this calm lasts," he muttered, though deep down, he knew better.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall before Calen burst into the room, his face flushed with frustration. His dark hair was tousled, and his little wings fluttered in agitation as he stomped in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"Uncle Az! Uncle Rhys! Dad!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of a boy who had reached his limit.

Cassian immediately straightened, his grin widening as he turned toward his youngest. "What’s wrong, champ? You look like you’ve just fought a battle and lost."

Calen shot his father a glare, his small jaw set in defiance. "Torran and Emrus won’t stop bossing me around, and Nyx keeps telling me I’m too little to play the game!"

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, lounging back in his chair with a smirk. "What game is this, exactly?"

"Some stupid hide-and-seek game, but they keep making rules that don’t make sense!" Calen huffed, his wings flaring slightly as he planted his feet firmly on the ground. "And they won’t let me hide where I want!"

Azriel’s lips twitched as he exchanged a glance with Cassian. "Sounds like they’re trying to stack the odds in their favour," he said evenly, his shadows curling lazily around his shoulders.

Cassian laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Ah, Calen, you’ve got to be cleverer than that. Outsmart them! You’re the youngest—that’s your secret weapon. They’ll never see it coming."

Calen frowned, clearly unimpressed by the advice. "But they don’t listen to me," he muttered, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Rhysand tapped a finger against his chin, his violet eyes twinkling with amusement. "You know, Calen, if you want to win, maybe you should team up with someone else. Divide and conquer."

Calen tilted his head, his young mind clearly working through the suggestion. "Like Kaia?"

Azriel, who had been watching quietly, arched an eyebrow. "Kaia is napping, Calen. And she’s not exactly old enough to strategize."

"But she’s sneaky," Calen insisted, his eyes lighting up with the beginnings of a plan. "She’s little, and she can hide really good!"

Cassian let out a hearty laugh, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. "Now that’s thinking like a true warrior! But maybe let Kaia sleep a bit longer before you recruit her to your cause."

Calen sighed dramatically, his wings drooping slightly. "Fine," he grumbled, though his mind was clearly still turning over ideas.

Azriel crouched down to Calen’s level, his golden eyes steady and calm. "You’ll figure it out, Calen. And if you really need help, come find me. I’m sure we can even the playing field."

The boy perked up at that, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Uncle Az."

"Anytime," Azriel replied, straightening again as Calen turned and marched back toward the hall, clearly ready to face his brothers and cousin once more.

As the door closed behind him, Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. "That one’s going to give them hell when he gets older."

Azriel simply shook his head, a faint smile lingering on his lips as his shadows whispered faintly around him. "Let’s just hope he doesn’t wake Kaia in the process."

The sound of measured footsteps approached the room, and moments later, Nyx leaned casually against the doorway, his expression a mix of amusement and mild panic. His dark hair was slightly mussed, and his eyes—the same striking shade as his mother’s—sparkled with mischief and just a hint of guilt.

"Uh, heads up," Nyx announced, crossing his arms and glancing between his father, Cassian, and Azriel. "There’s a broken vase on the second floor."

Rhysand’s brow lifted, his smirk fading as he sat up straighter. "A broken vase? Which vase, Nyx?"

Nyx hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "You know, the one mom really likes. The blue one with the gold pattern."

Cassian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You’ve got to be kidding me. That thing is practically an antique!"

Azriel’s gaze sharpened, his arms crossing over his chest. "How did it happen?"

Nyx shrugged, the picture of nonchalance, though the way he avoided direct eye contact betrayed his nerves. "Well, Torran and Emrus were throwing a ball, and Calen tried to catch it, but he tripped, and... smash."

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath. "And where were you in all this?"

"Supervising," Nyx replied quickly, though his sly grin faltered when his father gave him a pointed look.

"Supervising," Rhys repeated dryly. "And did it occur to you to stop them before they destroyed something your mother treasures?"

Nyx raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I tried! But you know how they are—they don’t listen to me half the time. Besides," he added with a smirk, "it’s kind of funny when you think about it."

Cassian let out a short laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough when Azriel shot him a warning glare.

"You do realize," Azriel said in his calm, deadly tone, "that not only is Feyre going to be furious, but Y/N will probably be even worse. You know how she feels about people not respecting the house."

Nyx grimaced, his playful demeanor faltering entirely. "Yeah, I figured. That’s why I’m warning you. I thought you might want to... I don’t know, soften the blow or something."

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, a weary sigh escaping him. "Nyx, you’re going to help clean it up, and then you’re going to explain to your mother and Y/N what happened. Understood?"

Nyx groaned, his shoulders slumping. "Do I have to? Can’t you just—"

"Understood?" Rhysand repeated, his tone firm.

"Yes, sir," Nyx mumbled, dragging his feet as he turned to leave. But just as he reached the doorway, he glanced back over his shoulder.

"Good luck with Mom and Aunt Y/N," he added with a sly grin. "I’m sure they’ll both be... understanding."

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving the three men in heavy silence.

Cassian was the first to break it, shaking his head with a rueful laugh. "This is why I always say we should have fewer breakable things in the house. Kids and antiques don’t mix."

"Maybe," Azriel muttered, his jaw tightening slightly, "but I doubt that’s going to help us right now."

Rhysand chuckled darkly, his violet eyes narrowing in amusement. "If Y/N and Feyre walk in before we figure out a plan, we’re doomed."

The trio made their way up to the second floor, their footsteps echoing faintly through the quiet hall. As they rounded the corner toward the room where the vase had once sat, the sight of shards scattered across the floor greeted them.

Cassian winced, crouching down to survey the damage. "Well, that’s... something," he muttered, examining the pieces of the vase. But his voice faltered as his gaze swept over the floor and landed on Emrus, who was crouched nearby, his hand pressed tightly against his side.

Azriel was the first to react, his expression hardening as he moved quickly toward the boy. "Emrus?"

The young boy flinched but didn't immediately pull his hand away. Blood trickled between his fingers, dark against the pale skin of his hand, and when he lifted his eyes to meet Azriel's, they were wide with fear.

"It... it’s not bad," Emrus stammered, though his voice wavered with pain. "I just... I didn’t mean to—"

Azriel gently pried Emrus’s hand away from his side, and a sharp intake of breath escaped him as he saw the small shard of ceramic lodged in Emrus’s palm. The cut was deep enough that the piece had embedded itself into the wound.

"How did this happen?" Azriel asked, his voice low and controlled, though there was a clear edge of concern.

Emrus swallowed hard. "I—uh—I was trying to pick up the pieces, and I didn’t see it. It... just happened."

Cassian crouched next to him, examining the cut with a frown. "This isn’t something you can just ignore, kid. We need to get that out and clean it."

Azriel nodded, his expression shifting to one of determination as he carefully reached for the piece of ceramic embedded in Emrus’s hand. "This might hurt," he warned, his voice softening to reassure the boy.

Emrus winced as Azriel gently tugged at the shard, and the pain caused his body to stiffen, but he didn’t cry out. Azriel, with his expert hands, slowly removed the piece and then pressed his palm over the wound to staunch the bleeding.

Cassian immediately stood, his voice low but urgent. "I’ll get some supplies. We need to clean it properly."

Azriel remained crouched next to Emrus, his shadows swirling around them protectively. "Stay calm, Emrus," Azriel murmured, his eyes never leaving the boy’s face. "You’re going to be fine."

Emrus nodded weakly, his face pale but determined. "I’m sorry about the vase, Uncle Az. I didn’t mean to break it."

Azriel’s gaze softened, his voice gentle. "I know you didn’t. Just focus on breathing. You’ll be alright."

Cassian returned a moment later with a small first-aid kit, and Azriel quickly got to work, cleaning the wound and applying a bandage. Once he finished, he met Emrus’s eyes. "All done."

Emrus flexed his fingers experimentally, then gave Azriel a tentative smile. "It doesn’t hurt anymore."

"Good," Azriel said, offering him a small nod. He looked up at Cassian, who was watching from a few feet away. "Make sure he doesn’t try to go back to playing until that heals, alright?"

Cassian waved a hand dismissively, though there was no hiding the worry in his eyes. "Of course, of course. I’ll make sure he takes it easy for the rest of the day."

Azriel stood up, glancing once more at the broken vase before looking back at Emrus. "Are you alright to sit for a while?"

Emrus nodded again, holding up his now-bandaged hand. "Yeah. I’ll stay here."

Azriel nodded, his eyes flicking back toward the door as he stepped away, glancing at Cassian. "Let’s clean up the mess before the others get up here. They won’t be pleased."

Cassian grinned, clapping Azriel on the back. "Oh, I’m sure they’ll understand. At least once we show them the bleeding hand, they’ll feel sorry for you."

Azriel smirked. "I think they’ll just be mad that we didn’t prevent it in the first place."

"True," Cassian replied with a chuckle. "Alright, let’s get to it."

As they bent down to start cleaning the shards, Azriel’s mind wandered briefly to the children—so full of energy, always finding ways to get into trouble. But despite it all, he knew he would do anything to protect them. Even if it meant dealing with broken vases and wounds along the way.

-----

The three of you were sprawled across an opulent chaise in one of the Day Court’s sunlit sitting rooms, golden light pouring in through the high windows. The wine bottles scattered across the table were almost empty, and the haze of tipsiness made everything funnier, everything lighter. Nesta and Feyre were giggling uncontrollably, their cheeks flushed a deep pink.

“You know,” Feyre slurred, swirling the last of her wine in her glass, “I have to say... I was worried when I first got with Rhys. I mean, he talks such a big game—”

You cut her off with a loud groan, throwing a pillow at her. “Don’t. Stop. No!” You held up a hand as if warding off some invisible evil. “Feyre, that’s my brother. My brother. I don’t want to hear anything about him in bed!”

Nesta burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can’t tell me you’ve never wondered—”

“No!” you shrieked, grabbing another pillow to chuck at her this time. “Absolutely not! I’m disgusted you’d even suggest it. I’d rather rip out my own wings again than hear about Rhysand’s—” You shuddered dramatically, cutting yourself off.

Feyre, in tears from laughing so hard, managed to gasp out, “Fine, fine! I won’t bring him up again. But just so you know... amazing. Amazing.”

Nesta let out a cackle as you groaned loudly, grabbing the wine bottle and drinking straight from it to erase the mental image.

“Alright,” Nesta said after catching her breath, leaning back smugly. “Since Feyre can’t talk about Rhys anymore, let’s talk about Cassian.”

You snorted. “This should be good.”

Nesta smirked, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. “Oh, he’s exactly what you’d expect. Loud, commanding, cocky. He thinks he’s the best at everything—and honestly? He’s not wrong.”

Feyre and you burst into laughter, but Nesta wasn’t done. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a devilish grin. “But there’s this one thing he does with his wings—”

“No, no, no!” Feyre groaned, covering her ears with her hands. “I don’t need to hear about my brother-in-law like that!”

You, meanwhile, were doubled over, tears streaming down your face as you laughed. “Nesta, you’re going to kill her!”

Nesta raised her glass in triumph, her grin widening. “I’m just saying, he’s got stamina. And creativity. What more could I ask for?”

Feyre looked like she might pass out from mortification, and you took the opportunity to change the subject—or so you thought.

“Alright, Y/N,” Nesta said, turning her sharp gaze on you. “Your turn. Spill. What’s Azriel like?”

You froze mid-sip, choking slightly as you set the glass down. “Oh, no. I’m not doing this. No way.”

Feyre and Nesta both leaned in closer, their eyes glittering with mischievous glee. “Come on,” Feyre urged, her voice lilting with the wine. “We told you about ours. Fair’s fair.”

Nesta smirked. “Don’t be shy. We all know Azriel’s got... talents.”

You flushed, shaking your head furiously. “Nope. Not happening. I’m not feeding your curiosity again.”

“Please,” Feyre said, drawing the word out into a whine. “We’re your sisters! We deserve to know!”

You sighed, giving them a half-hearted glare. “Fine. I’ll say this: Azriel is... thorough.”

They both burst out laughing, and you quickly held up a finger. “That’s all you’re getting. Thorough. Nothing else.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun. I was hoping for something juicy.”

“Yeah, well,” you shot back, smirking, “I’ve got to preserve some mystery. Unlike you two, apparently.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes, her competitive streak kicking in as she leaned closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "You’re holding out on us, Y/N. ‘Thorough’ doesn’t cut it. You’ve got to give us something."

Feyre nodded in agreement, her cheeks flushed with wine and mischief. "Exactly. You can’t just leave us hanging. Spill, sister."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "You two are relentless, you know that?"

Nesta smirked, crossing her arms. "And you’re stubborn. But we’ve got all day and another bottle of wine. So talk."

Feyre chimed in, waving the almost-empty bottle in your direction. "We’ll even pour you another glass if it helps."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "Bribery? Really?"

"Whatever it takes," Feyre said, her grin widening.

With a dramatic sigh, you threw your hands up in defeat. "Fine! Fine. But if Rhysand or Cassian ever hear about this, I’m blaming both of you."

Nesta’s smirk widened as she refilled her glass. "They won’t hear it from us. Promise."

You took a long sip of wine, stalling for time. Finally, you set the glass down and crossed your arms. "Alright. Azriel... is quiet. Not in a boring way, but in this... intense, focused way. He pays attention to everything. He notices the little things—like the way my breath hitches when he touches certain places or the exact moment to slow down or speed up. He’s—"

Feyre’s eyes widened, and she nearly choked on her wine. "Oh, Mother. Keep going."

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her smirk practically predatory. "I knew it. All that control he has? Bet it all comes undone in the bedroom."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. "Sometimes. But even when it does, it’s still... deliberate. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s enjoying every second of it."

Feyre fanned herself dramatically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "No wonder you look so smug all the time."

Nesta laughed, leaning back in her chair. "I always figured he’d be good, but damn, Y/N. You hit the jackpot."

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the small, satisfied grin on your face. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," Feyre said, raising her glass in a mock toast.

Nesta clinked her glass against Feyre’s, her smirk firmly in place. "We’re definitely bringing this up next time the guys think they’re the superior ones."

You groaned, already regretting giving them anything to work with. "You two are impossible."

Feyre grinned, her cheeks still flushed with laughter and wine. "And you’re married to a Shadowsinger. Who knew you were the wildest one of all of us?"

Nesta snorted, leaning in closer with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Alright, next question: How does he use his shadows—"

"NO!" you shouted, cutting her off as you reached for the wine bottle and poured yourself another glass. "This conversation is over. Forever."

But the laughter that followed made you realize you’d walked right into their trap—and you were never going to live it down.

-----

The cabin was finally quiet, the day’s chaos simmering down to a peaceful hum. The fire crackled softly in the stone hearth, casting a warm, golden glow over the living room. All five kids—Nyx, Torran, Emrus, Calen, and little Kaia—were snuggled up on the massive couch, each dressed in their pyjamas. For the first time all day, they were calm, their boundless energy having finally run its course.

Nyx, ever the eldest and self-proclaimed “responsible one,” sat on one end of the couch, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He was pretending to read a book, though his eyelids were drooping. Next to him, Torran and Emrus were leaning against each other, their earlier squabbles forgotten as they shared a blanket. Calen was curled up near Emrus’s side, clutching a small stuffed dragon he insisted was his lucky charm.

Kaia, the tiniest of them all, was tucked securely between Nyx and a pile of pillows, her wings fluttering slightly as she fought to stay awake. Her chubby hands clutched her favourite soft toy, a well-loved plush bat Azriel had given her. She yawned, her big hazel eyes—so much like her father’s—blinking slowly as the warmth of the fire and the coziness of the moment lulled her.

Azriel stood quietly by the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he took in the rare sight. His shadows swirled lazily around him, their usual restlessness mirroring his relief that, at last, the house was still. Rhysand was seated in one of the armchairs, a cup of tea in hand, his head leaning back against the chair as he watched the children with a faint, contented smile. Cassian, sprawled in another chair, was grinning like a proud father, even as his eyes drooped with exhaustion.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this still,” Cassian muttered, his voice low so as not to disturb the moment.

Rhysand chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle. Someone write this down.”

Azriel allowed himself a small smile, his gaze lingering on Kaia as she yawned again, her wings twitching before she snuggled deeper into the pillows. “Kaia’s usually asleep long before this,” he murmured, his voice gentle.

Cassian grinned. “She’s a fighter, that one. Just like her dad.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh, stepping further into the room to drape another blanket over the children. Kaia’s tiny hand reached out instinctively to clutch the edge of the blanket, pulling it close to her chin.

“You think they’ll actually stay down this time?” Rhysand asked, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel glanced at the sleeping children, his expression softening. “They’re done for the night. Even Kaia can’t fight sleep forever.”

Cassian let out a contented sigh, resting his head back. “Peace at last. Let’s not jinx it.”

Nyx stretched his arms over his head, his book slipping onto his lap as he yawned. He glanced at the younger boys, Torran and Emrus, who were beginning to nod off under their shared blanket. With the air of someone much older than his thirteen years, Nyx stood and tapped Torran’s shoulder.

“Alright, time for bed,” he said softly, though his tone left little room for argument.

Torran groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around him. “But it’s warm here...”

Nyx rolled his eyes but smiled. “You’ll be warm in bed too. Come on, before Uncle Cassian carries you like a baby.”

Emrus chuckled sleepily, nudging his brother. “He will, you know.”

That got Torran moving, albeit slowly. He stretched and stumbled off the couch, dragging Emrus with him. Together, the three boys shuffled toward their room, their footsteps soft against the wooden floor.

Cassian, watching from his chair, smirked as he stood. “That’s my boys. Go on, Nyx, make sure they brush their teeth.”

Nyx waved him off, already leading the way. “I know, I know. Night, Uncle Cassian. Night, Uncle Az.”

“Goodnight,” Azriel said quietly, his gaze still on Kaia, who was now fully asleep on the couch.

Cassian turned his attention to Calen, who was still clutching his stuffed dragon and blinking groggily. “Alright, little warrior, time for you too.”

Calen pouted but held up his arms for Cassian to lift him. “Carry me?” he mumbled sleepily.

Cassian’s grin softened as he scooped the six-year-old into his arms, dragon and all. “Of course, buddy. Let’s get you to bed.”

Calen rested his head against Cassian’s shoulder, his eyes already drooping shut as they headed toward the boys’ room. Cassian glanced back at Azriel before disappearing down the hallway.

“You’ve got it good with just one,” he teased lightly.

Azriel’s lips twitched in a faint smile as he adjusted the blanket over Kaia one last time. “For now.”

The house grew quieter as the boys settled into their room, leaving only the crackle of the fire and Kaia’s soft breathing in the living room. Peace, for now, reigned in the cabin.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, swirling the remnants of his tea in his cup as he watched Azriel fuss over Kaia. A sly smile spread across his face as he crossed one leg over the other, his posture relaxed but his tone laced with mischief.

“You know, Az,” Rhys began casually, his voice low to avoid waking Kaia. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when the great Shadowsinger—silent, brooding, and deadly—would be tucking a toddler in on a couch like a doting father.”

Azriel shot him a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. “What’s your point, Rhys?”

Rhys’s grin widened. “Oh, no point. It’s just amusing to see how utterly whipped you are by someone who weighs less than a loaf of bread and calls you ‘Da-da’ with half her words missing.”

Azriel huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head as he adjusted the blanket over Kaia once more. “She’s two. What’s your excuse for Nyx still calling you ‘Rhysie’?”

Rhys feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. “That’s different. Nyx calls me that out of love and respect.”

“Or to annoy you,” Azriel countered smoothly.

Rhys chuckled, conceding the point. “Fair enough. But seriously, look at you. The mighty Shadowsinger reduced to a pile of mush every time she looks at you with those big eyes.”

Azriel finally sat back, his arms resting on his knees as he glanced down at Kaia’s sleeping form. The faintest smile tugged at his lips. “Can you blame me?”

Rhys tilted his head, studying his brother-in-law with a rare softness in his gaze. “No, I really can’t. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, and honestly, it’s a sight to behold. Who would’ve thought Azriel’s greatest weakness would be a pint-sized Illyrian with wings?”

Azriel’s shadows curled lazily around him, their movements mirroring his contentment. “She’s not my weakness, Rhys,” he said quietly, his voice firm. “She’s my strength.”

Rhys’s teasing smile faltered for a moment, replaced by something deeper. He gave a small nod, his voice quieter now. “You’re a good father, Az. Kaia’s lucky to have you.”

Azriel looked back at him, his expression softening in gratitude. “Thanks, Rhys.”

But, true to form, Rhys couldn’t let the moment stay too serious for long. He leaned forward, the mischief returning to his eyes. “Still, if she starts bossing you around like Y/N bossed me, I reserve the right to laugh.”

Azriel smirked, leaning back in his chair. “She already does, Rhys. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure to remind her that her ‘Rhysie’ uncle is always available for tea parties.”

Rhys groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Why do I get the feeling that’s going to come back to haunt me?”

Azriel’s smirk widened as he leaned back, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Because it will.”

Cassian returned to the living room, his heavy footsteps signalling his arrival. In his hand was a folded piece of parchment sealed with the mark of a messenger. His expression, though not overtly grim, carried a weight that made both Rhysand and Azriel glance up immediately.

“Looks like we’ve got a situation,” Cassian said, holding up the letter. He handed it to Rhys, who broke the seal and quickly scanned the contents, his brows knitting together.

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asked, his posture straightening, shadows stirring slightly around him.

Rhys sighed as he folded the letter back up. “There’s trouble at one of the camps—an argument that’s spiralled out of control between a couple of the commanders. It’s threatening to disrupt training for the younglings, and the emissary is asking for our intervention before it escalates further.”

Cassian crossed his arms. “I would go, but I can’t leave Torran, Emrus, and Calen here without one of us. They’ve finally calmed down, and I don’t trust them not to burn this cabin to the ground if I’m gone.”

Rhys nodded, rubbing his temple as he considered the situation. Then his gaze shifted to Azriel. “Az, do you think you can handle this? I’d go myself, but I promised Feyre I’d keep an eye on Nyx this week, and you’re... well, you’re better suited for delicate diplomacy when it comes to these camps.”

Azriel hesitated, glancing over at the couch where Kaia was still curled up, sleeping peacefully. His brow furrowed as he weighed the request. “It depends on how long I’ll be gone. I don’t want her to feel unsettled without me here.”

Rhys leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She’ll be fine, Az. We’ve got this. You know we’ll take good care of her—Kaia adores Cassian and me.”

Cassian grinned, thumbing toward himself. “She adores me more than you, Rhys. Don’t lie to the man.”

Azriel shot him a dry look before turning back to Rhys. “How bad is the situation? Will this just be a quick visit, or am I looking at days of negotiation?”

“According to the letter, it shouldn’t take more than a day or two to resolve,” Rhys said reassuringly. “You’d fly out tomorrow morning, handle the situation, and be back before Kaia even has time to miss you too much.”

Azriel still looked reluctant, his fingers tapping lightly against his thigh. His shadows curled protectively around him, their movement reflecting his unease.

“Az,” Cassian said, his voice softer now. “We’ll take care of her like she’s our own. You know that. And if anything happens—anything at all—you’ll be the first to know.”

Rhys nodded in agreement. “She’s in good hands, brother. Go sort out the camp mess and come back to her. She’ll be fine.”

Azriel exhaled deeply, his gaze softening as he looked at Kaia once more. After a long pause, he gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll go. But if anything happens, I expect to know immediately.”

“Of course,” Rhys said, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Now, get some rest tonight. You’ll need it if you’re flying out first thing tomorrow.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on Kaia as she slept peacefully on the couch, her tiny form curled into the blanket. He could feel the weight of his decision to leave, the protective instinct that surged through him, but he knew the task ahead was necessary. He stood slowly, intending to lift Kaia and carry her to her room for the night, his heart heavy with the thought of being away from her.

Just as he stepped forward, Rhysand’s voice broke the silence.

“Az,” Rhys said, his tone soft but firm. “Leave her. We’ll take care of her while you get some rest. You need to be at your best tomorrow.”

Cassian, who had been quietly observing from the doorway, added with a reassuring grin, “We’ve got this, Shadowsinger. Go sleep. Kaia’s in good hands with us.”

Azriel paused, his gaze flicking between his brothers. He opened his mouth to argue, but the fatigue he’d been pushing aside all day hit him like a wave. His shoulders slumped slightly as he realized they were right. He hadn’t slept much, and the journey tomorrow would require all of his focus.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice tinged with doubt. His gaze drifted back to Kaia, still wrapped in the warmth of the blanket, completely unaware of the growing distance between them.

Rhys stepped forward, giving his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’re sure, Azriel. You can’t be at your best if you’re exhausted. Let us take over for tonight. You’ll be back before you know it.”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Kaia’s getting more comfortable with me than you these days.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed, and he turned his gaze back to his daughter. She was resting soundly, her breathing even and calm. It wasn’t easy to leave, but he knew the safety of the camp depended on him.

Finally, he gave a small nod, stepping back reluctantly. “Alright. But if she wakes up…”

“We’ll handle it, Az,” Rhys said firmly. “Go rest. You’ll be back before you even miss a beat.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment longer before turning toward the stairs. As he made his way to his room, he cast one last glance over his shoulder, his shadows curling protectively around him even though he trusted his brothers completely.

“I’ll be back before she knows I’m gone,” he murmured to himself, his heart heavy but determined.

Once Azriel disappeared up the stairs, Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a glance. The room was quiet now, save for the soft sound of Kaia’s breathing and the occasional crackle from the hearth. Cassian leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out and folding his arms behind his head, a thoughtful expression settling over his face.

“You know,” Cassian began, his voice low to avoid disturbing Kaia, “I never thought I’d see Azriel like this. Completely head over heels for that little one. It’s... different.”

Rhys chuckled softly, leaning against the edge of the table. “Different is an understatement. Did you see the way he was looking at her just now? Like she’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.”

Cassian smirked, shaking his head. “I don’t blame him. She’s adorable. And she’s got his eyes—those big, soulful eyes that just make you want to give her the world.” He paused, his tone turning teasing. “Not to mention, she’s got him wrapped around her little finger. Did you notice how he didn’t even argue when she demanded two bedtime stories last night?”

Rhys raised a brow, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Az? Not arguing? That’s a first. Kaia might be the only person who can command him without a single word of protest.”

Cassian laughed quietly, his broad shoulders shaking. “Honestly, it’s a little terrifying how much power she has over him. But it’s good for him, you know? Az needed something—or someone—to break through that wall of his. Kaia did that without even trying.”

Rhys nodded, his expression softening as he glanced at the sleeping toddler. “She’s brought out a side of him we never thought we’d see. A side even Y/N couldn’t fully reach. Don’t get me wrong, she’s his world, but Kaia... she’s something else entirely.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you think he worries too much about her, though? I mean, the way he hesitated about going to the camp tomorrow—it’s like he can’t bear to be apart from her, even for a day.”

Rhys sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Of course he worries. She’s his daughter, and she’s so small, so fragile compared to what we’ve dealt with with the boys. But that’s just Azriel. He’s always been the protector, the one who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Kaia’s just added to that weight.”

Cassian nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but she’s also lightened it in a way. You can see it in his eyes—he’s happier now. More at peace. Even with everything going on, he’s... softer.”

Rhys smirked. “Softer, yes. But don’t tell him that. He might actually throw you out the window this time.”

Cassian chuckled, leaning back again. “Noted. Still, it’s good to see him like this. And if he’s trusting us with her tonight, it means he knows we’ll take care of her.” He tilted his head toward Kaia, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “She might be tiny, but she’s already got the Shadowsinger’s stubborn streak.”

Rhys laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, she’s definitely her father’s daughter. We’re in for it when she grows up, that’s for sure.”

They both fell silent for a moment, their gazes drifting to Kaia. Despite their teasing and banter, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Azriel’s devotion to his daughter was something they both respected deeply, and they’d do whatever it took to protect her in his absence.

Cassian broke the silence with a smirk. “So, what are the odds she’s awake in five minutes, asking for a snack?”

Rhys chuckled, glancing at the clock. “Oh, I’d say pretty high. Better get ready—Az will never let us hear the end of it if we mess this up.”

Cassian grinned. “Bring it on. I’ve faced worse than a grumpy toddler. I think.”

Rhysand let out a low, amused chuckle, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back against the table. His violet eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked over at Cassian, who was now trying—and failing—to untangle one of his sons’ cloaks from the back of a chair.

“Cass, you can barely keep your three in line,” Rhys teased, his grin widening. “And you think you’ll be fine with Kaia added to the mix? Let’s be honest, she’s smarter than all three of your boys combined—and probably smarter than you too.”

Cassian groaned, finally yanking the cloak free, only to find it ripped slightly at the seam. He held it up with a sheepish grin. “First of all, this was already torn. And second, I’ll have you know I’m an excellent multitasker. Handling three boys and one tiny shadowling is a piece of cake.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Right. The same multitasking that led to Torran and Emrus turning the entire second floor into a battlefield last week? Or was it the time Calen painted your leathers because you ‘weren’t paying attention’?”

Cassian waved him off, though his cheeks tinted slightly. “Minor hiccups. Kids are kids, Rhys. They’re supposed to make a mess. Besides, Kaia’s an angel compared to my boys. How hard can it be?”

Rhys snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “An angel? Did you miss the part where she stole Azriel’s daggers last month and tried to hide them under the couch because she thought they were ‘shiny’? She’s not just an angel—she’s a sneaky little shadowling with more cunning than all of us combined.”

Cassian shrugged, unfazed. “She’s two, Rhys. How much trouble can she really cause?”

Rhys threw his head back and laughed, the sound rich and echoing through the room. “Oh, Cass. Famous last words. Let’s just hope she doesn’t team up with Calen. I’m not sure the cabin—or you—would survive.”

Cassian smirked, tossing the ripped cloak onto the nearest chair. “If that happens, I’ll blame you. You’re the one who convinced Az to leave her with us, after all.”

Rhys grinned, his eyes sparkling with humor. “You’re on your own, brother. Just don’t come crying to me when Kaia outsmarts you and the boys band together to take over the cabin.”

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced toward Kaia, still sleeping soundly. “She’ll be fine. I’ve got this.”

Rhys gave him a knowing look, his grin never faltering. “If by ‘got this’ you mean you’re about to be completely outmatched by a toddler, then yes, Cassian. You’ve definitely ‘got this.’”

Kaia stirred under the blanket, her tiny body shifting as she blinked her sleepy eyes open. Her dark lashes fluttered, and for a moment, she stayed still, her little face scrunching as if debating whether to wake fully. Then, with a soft yawn that revealed her tiny teeth, she wriggled out of the blanket, her dishevelled curls sticking up in every direction.

“Dada?” she murmured groggily, her voice soft and still thick with sleep.

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a glance, both freezing like guilty children caught in the act. Rhys crouched down to her level, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Hey, little shadowling,” Rhys greeted her softly. “Your dad went to get some rest. You’re stuck with us for now.”

Kaia blinked up at him, her tiny face thoughtful as if processing his words. Then she rubbed her eyes with her fists and let out another yawn.

“No Dada?” she asked, her tone slightly indignant now.

Cassian stepped forward with a grin, crouching beside Rhys. “Don’t worry, Kaia. We’re here to take care of you. You’ve got me, Uncle Cassy, and Uncle Rhysie. What more could you need?”

Kaia tilted her head, her sharp, Azriel-like eyes narrowing in clear suspicion. “Dada betta,” she mumbled, clutching the blanket to her chest as if it offered some sort of protection from these two uncles.

Rhys chuckled, his shoulders shaking as he glanced at Cassian. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

Kaia’s gaze flicked between them before she reached her tiny hands out toward Rhys, her bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. “Up, Rhysie,” she demanded, her toddler voice firm despite her small size.

Rhys, unable to resist her, scooped her up into his arms, settling her on his hip. “Alright, shadowling. What’s the plan? Are we going to sit quietly, or are you going to join your cousins in their chaos sleeps?”

Kaia laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes half-lidded with sleepiness. “No chaos. No loud,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Cassian laughed loudly at that, earning a sharp look from Kaia. “Too loud!” she scolded, her tiny hand patting Rhys’s shoulder as if to emphasize her point.

“See?” Rhys teased, smirking at Cassian. “She’s already taking charge. I told you she’s the smartest one here.”

Kaia hummed sleepily, snuggling closer to Rhys. “Dada come back?” she asked quietly, her small hand fisting his shirt.

Rhys rubbed her back soothingly. “He’ll be back soon, Kaia. But for now, you’re stuck with us.”

Kaia didn’t respond, but the way her eyes drifted closed again suggested she wasn’t too upset about the arrangement—for now.

Rhys smiled softly as he looked down at Kaia, who was now dozing lightly on his shoulder, her tiny fingers still clutching his shirt. He brushed a stray curl from her forehead, his expression unusually tender.

“You know,” he said quietly, careful not to wake her, “I’ve always kind of wanted a daughter. There’s just something about them. They’re...different. Softer, maybe. Or maybe it’s because they can wrap you around their little fingers in a heartbeat.”

Cassian snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t let Feyre hear you say that. She’ll be dragging you to the Healer’s to reverse what she made you do.”

Rhys chuckled, glancing over at him with a smirk. “As if. Feyre would murder me before she let me suggest another kid. She barely handled Nyx as a toddler.”

Cassian barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nesta wouldn’t even entertain the idea. The second Calen started running, she told me I was done. And not just done—snipped. She practically dragged me to the Healer’s herself.”

Rhys’s laughter deepened, his shoulders shaking. “At least Feyre pretended it was my idea. Said something about how ‘three Illyrian warriors in the house is enough for one lifetime.’”

Cassian shook his head, grinning. “Cowards. They couldn’t handle another one of us.”

Rhys grinned, his eyes flicking down to Kaia, who stirred slightly but remained asleep. “Not sure I blame them. One Nyx is plenty of trouble. But...I don’t know. Something about having a daughter feels different.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow, his grin teasing. “Starting to sound like you’re jealous of Azriel.”

Rhys smirked, but there was a warmth to it. “Maybe I am. Kaia’s going to be trouble when she grows up, though. She’s got that look in her eye—sharp and calculating, just like her dad. And with Az’s temper? She’ll be unstoppable.”

Cassian grinned, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. “Good thing she’s got us around to spoil her. If Az isn’t careful, I might just claim her as my fourth.”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “Good luck convincing Nesta to let you bring her home. Kaia’s got enough sass to go around—she might just turn your whole house upside down.”

Cassian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his grin mischievous as he gestured toward Kaia, still nestled against Rhys’s shoulder. "You think Az and Y/N are going to have another one?"

Rhys raised an eyebrow, adjusting Kaia slightly to keep her comfortable. "You mean after this little shadowling? They might need a breather first. She’s only two."

Cassian smirked. "Sure, but you know how Az is. He’s obsessed with that kid. If Y/N even hinted at wanting another, he’d be on board in a heartbeat."

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. "True, but have you met my sister? She’s not exactly the most patient when it comes to sleepless nights. I think Kaia already takes up enough of her energy."

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Yeah, but she’s got that soft spot for Az. All he’d have to do is give her one of those brooding, puppy-dog looks, and she’d be done for."

Rhys laughed, a deep, rich sound. "You’re probably right. Azriel could convince her of anything with that quiet persistence of his. And let’s be honest, Kaia’s adorable enough to make anyone consider giving her a sibling."

Cassian tilted his head, considering. "If they do have another, what do you think? Another girl or a boy this time?"

Rhys tapped his fingers on the armrest, his expression thoughtful. "Knowing Az, it wouldn’t matter. He’d adore them either way. Though...a little boy with Y/N’s temper? That would be entertaining to watch."

Cassian barked out a laugh. "Can you imagine? A mini-Azriel running around but with Y/N’s attitude? The kid would have the entire Night Court wrapped around their finger before they could even talk."

Rhys smirked, a glint of humor in his eyes. "Or Kaia would just boss them around like she already does with everyone else. Either way, they’d have their hands full."

Cassian stretched, his wings flexing behind him as he grinned. "I say we place bets. If they have another, how long before the new kid starts causing trouble? Kaia set the bar high—stealing Az’s daggers before her second birthday."

Rhys shook his head, laughing. "I’m not betting on my sister’s family planning. But if they do have another, I’m sure it’ll be chaos—and hilarious to watch from a safe distance."

Kaia stirred against Rhys’s shoulder, her tiny fists rubbing at her eyes as she let out a sleepy little whine. Her dark lashes fluttered open, and she blinked blearily at the room. For a moment, it seemed like she might settle back down, but then she wiggled, her small hands tugging at Rhys’s shirt.

“Rhysie,” she murmured, her voice soft but insistent.

Rhys glanced down at her, his expression fond. “What’s wrong, little shadowling? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Kaia shook her head, her curls bouncing slightly. “No sweep. Wanna go ‘side,” she said, her toddler speech firm despite her grogginess.

Cassian snorted from across the room, trying to hide his laugh behind his hand. “She wants to go outside? At this hour? She’s got Az’s stubbornness, all right.”

Kaia turned her sharp gaze on Cassian, her little brow furrowing. “Not Cassy. Talkin’ to Rhysie,” she declared, her tone almost scolding.

Rhys bit back a laugh as he shifted her in his arms. “Outside? It’s night-time, Kaia. There’s snow everywhere. It’s cold.”

Kaia nodded enthusiastically, her little hands patting his chest. “Snow! Wanna pway in snow!”

Cassian leaned forward, his grin wide. “She’s persistent. What do you say, Rhys? Midnight snowball fight?”

Rhys shook his head, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I’m not letting her freeze out there. Azriel would kill me.”

Kaia’s lip wobbled at his refusal, her big, teary eyes locking onto Rhys’s face. “Pwease, Rhysie? Wanna pway,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to tug at his heart.

Cassian leaned back with a laugh. “Good luck saying no to that. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Rhys sighed dramatically, pretending to be defeated. “Kaia, it’s cold and dark. But how about this? If you go back to sleep now, I’ll take you out to play first thing in the morning. Deal?”

Kaia considered this, her little face scrunching in thought. “Pwomise?”

Rhys nodded, holding up a hand. “I promise. First thing in the morning, snowball fights and snow angels.”

Kaia finally seemed satisfied, snuggling back against his shoulder. “Okay...but Rhysie better not forget.”

Cassian shook his head, chuckling softly. “She’s got you, brother. Good luck living up to that promise.”

Rhys smirked, patting Kaia’s back as she drifted off again. “Just wait until morning. We’ll see who wins the snowball fight.”

Kaia shifted in Rhys’s arms, her little body restless as she tried to find a comfortable spot. She let out a soft sigh, her dark lashes fluttering as she attempted to settle.

But after a few moments, she squirmed again, her tiny fists rubbing at her eyes. “Can’t sweep,” she mumbled, her voice quiet but full of frustration.

Rhys looked down at her, his brows raising in amusement. “Can’t sleep, huh?”

Kaia shook her head, her curls brushing against his chest. “No sweep. Eyes no close,” she explained, her toddler logic making perfect sense to her.

Cassian chuckled from across the room, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. “She’s too stubborn, just like her dad. She’s going to wear you out, Rhys.”

Kaia shot him a glare, her little nose scrunching. “No stubborn. Wanna pway!”

Rhys smirked, adjusting her in his arms. “You know, Kaia, it’s very late. Even the snow is sleeping.”

Kaia’s eyes widened, and she tilted her head at him. “Snow sweep?”

Cassian nearly choked on his laughter, turning away to compose himself.

Rhys nodded solemnly, fighting back his own grin. “Oh, yes. Snowflakes need rest too. They work hard falling all day.”

Kaia seemed to ponder this for a moment, her tiny fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt. “But...but I no tire,” she finally said, her voice a little quieter now, as if trying to convince herself.

Rhys pressed a kiss to her curls, his tone soothing. “How about we try, just for a little bit? Close your eyes, and if you’re still not sleepy after a while, we’ll think of something else. Deal?”

Kaia hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Deal...but no sweep yet.”

Rhys cradled her a little closer, gently rocking her in his arms. “We’ll see, little shadowling. We’ll see.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, grinning. “I’m betting she lasts five more minutes before she’s out again.”

Kaia’s eyes narrowed at him, her little voice firm. “No sweep!”

Both males laughed softly as Kaia huffed, snuggling closer to Rhys but still determined to stay awake.

Rhys sighed, bouncing Kaia lightly as she continued to fidget. “All right, little shadowling, since you can’t sleep with me, let’s see if Cassian’s big, loud arms can tire you out.”

Kaia blinked up at him, her dark eyes narrowing. “No Cassy,” she protested, her tiny hands clutching at his shirt.

Cassian, sitting sprawled in a chair nearby, grinned and opened his arms dramatically. “Come on, Kaia. Uncle Cassy’s warm and cozy. I promise not to be too loud.”

Kaia turned her head to glare at him. “You too noisy. No want Cassy!”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “Too noisy, huh? Well, maybe you’ll make him quiet down for once.”

Ignoring her protests, he carefully shifted her over to Cassian. Kaia squirmed, her wings fluttering weakly as she pouted. “Rhysieee,” she whined, reaching back for him as Cassian scooped her up with ease.

Cassian held her snugly against his chest, feigning offense. “Hey, I’m fun! You just don’t know it yet.”

Kaia huffed, crossing her little arms and burying her face against his shoulder. “No Cassy. Want Rhysie.”

Rhys smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “You’ve got her wrapped around your finger, Cass. Let’s see if you can keep her entertained.”

Cassian grinned down at the stubborn toddler. “All right, Kaia, how about this? If you stay with me for five minutes and still want Rhys, I’ll hand you right back. Deal?”

Kaia peeked up at him suspiciously, her brow furrowed. “Pwomise?”

Cassian held up his hand solemnly. “I promise. But I’m pretty sure I can win you over before then.”

Kaia didn’t look convinced, but she let out a resigned sigh, settling against him begrudgingly. “Okay...no loud,” she warned, poking his chest with her tiny finger.

Rhys laughed softly, shaking his head. “Good luck, Cassian. She’s tougher to win over than the Illyrians at camp.”

Cassian smirked as he began rocking her gently. “Oh, please. I’ve got this. By the end of the night, she’ll be asking for Cassy instead of Rhysie.”

Kaia made a disbelieving noise, muffled against his shirt, and both males chuckled, the sound filling the room as she began to relax slightly in Cassian’s arms.

As Kaia settled reluctantly against Cassian’s broad chest, her little fingers fidgeted against his shirt. She let out a soft huff, still pouting about being handed over.

Cassian, ever the charmer, gave her a grin. “What’s the matter, Kaia? I’m way comfier than Rhysie. Don’t you think?”

Kaia looked up at him, her dark brows knitting together in toddler indignation. “No.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Tough crowd. All right, what can Uncle Cassy do to make you smile?”

Instead of answering, Kaia raised her small hand and grabbed a lock of his dark hair, giving it a gentle tug.

“Hey!” Cassian exclaimed, his grin widening as he leaned back slightly. “What’s that for, little shadow?”

Kaia’s lips twitched, as if she was trying not to smile. “Hair funny,” she mumbled, giving it another playful tug.

Rhys, watching from his spot against the wall, smirked. “Looks like she’s testing your patience, Cass. Maybe she thinks you need a new hairstyle.”

Cassian glanced at Rhys, feigning offense. “Oh, please. My hair is flawless, thank you very much.”

Kaia, clearly unimpressed, tugged again, this time letting out a tiny giggle. “No. Funny.”

Cassian chuckled, reaching up to gently take her hand. “All right, little troublemaker. Let’s keep the hair-pulling to a minimum, huh? Uncle Cassy’s hair isn’t as strong as daddy’s.”

Kaia tilted her head, considering this, before giving a final, cheeky tug. “Cassy hair no strong!”

Both males burst into laughter at her declaration, and even Kaia let out a small giggle, finally relaxing in Cassian’s arms.

As Kaia snuggled deeper into Cassian’s arms, her little body began to stiffen, her face scrunching in a way that suggested something was bothering her. Her small fingers, which had been fidgeting with his shirt, slowed to a halt, and she let out a soft whimper.

Cassian paused, looking down at her with a raised brow. “What’s wrong now, little shadow?”

Kaia’s lip trembled slightly, her eyes filling with an unspoken sadness. “Want mama,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, but it was clear as day to Cassian.

Cassian’s heart softened, and he gently ran a hand over her dark curls. “You miss her already, huh?” he asked, his voice gentle, though his teasing nature faded as he saw the way her little face crumpled.

Kaia nodded, the whimper turning into a small sob. “Mama...” she repeated, sniffling.

Rhys, still leaning against the wall, watched the scene with an understanding look. He stepped forward, his tone quiet as he addressed Kaia’s distress. “She’s not far, little shadow,” he said softly. “She’s probably just taking a break with Aunt Feyre and Nesta. We’ll bring her to you in just a week.”

But Kaia’s tears continued to spill, her small voice rising in sadness. “Want mama now...”

Cassian exchanged a look with Rhys, and though he was used to being the loud and boisterous one, he softened as he held Kaia closer. “You’ll see her soon, I promise,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “She’ll be right back here, snuggling you, okay?”

Kaia hiccupped, her tiny body still trembling in his arms. “Want mama,” she repeated, more urgently this time, her little face pressing against his chest in an attempt to calm herself.

Rhys sighed quietly, shaking his head with a small smile. “She’s just like Azriel—stubborn to the core. You better get used to it, Cass. It’s gonna be a long night.”

Cassian shot Rhys a mock glare, but there was a softness in his eyes as he rocked Kaia gently. “Yeah, I’ve got this. Go get Azriel, will you?”

Rhys nodded and disappeared from the room, leaving Cassian with Kaia as she continued to whimper softly, still missing her mother.

Rhys carefully stepped into Azriel’s room, the shadows creeping along the walls as they adjusted to the dim light. Azriel was sprawled out in bed, a faint snore escaping from his lips as he slept, his wings tucked neatly around him. Rhys hesitated for a moment, then, with a wry smile, he knelt down beside the bed and shook Azriel's shoulder gently.

“Az, wake up,” Rhys said quietly, but firmly.

Azriel let out a gruff sound, his eyes flickering open and narrowing as he adjusted to the light. He blinked a few times, clearly not yet fully awake. “What’s going on?” he murmured, rubbing at his face with one hand as he yawned.

Rhys chuckled softly, folding his arms across his chest. “Kaia’s upset. She’s asking for you.”

Azriel’s expression softened instantly at the mention of his daughter. He sat up quickly, his tiredness forgotten. “Is she okay?” he asked, his voice thick with concern.

“She’s missing her mom. I think she needs you.” Rhys stood and gave him a small, knowing smile. “Come on, I’ll take you to her.”

Azriel nodded, running a hand through his messy hair as he rose from the bed. He was still in his sleep clothes—dark pants and a loose shirt—moving with a sense of urgency as he followed Rhys out of the room. His wings shifted restlessly behind him as if they too could feel his concern for Kaia.

They made their way down the hallway, the soft sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet cabin. As they entered the living room, the soft whimpering from Kaia could be heard faintly.

Cassian was still holding her, but Kaia’s distress hadn’t settled. She was curled up against his chest, her face buried in his shoulder, and every few seconds, another whimper would escape her. Her small body was trembling slightly, the sadness evident in her posture.

Azriel’s heart clenched as he saw his daughter’s misery. He hurried over to Cassian, in front of him. “Kaia,” he said softly, brushing a few strands of her dark hair from her face.

At the sound of her father’s voice, Kaia’s eyes fluttered open, and her little face twisted with frustration. She reached out with one small hand, her voice shaking. “Dada…” she whimpered, her arms reaching toward him.

Azriel’s chest tightened as he gathered her into his arms, her tiny body pressing against his as he held her close. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Kaia sniffled, still not fully comforted, but her sobs began to subside as she snuggled against her father. She shifted in his arms, her tiny hands clutching his shirt tightly. “Want mama,” she said, her voice soft and broken.

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, his heart aching for his daughter. He held her tightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I know, baby,” he whispered. “But mama’s resting right now. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a quiet glance, knowing how much Azriel’s presence would help calm Kaia. Rhys stepped back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “She’ll be asleep in no time now,” he said.

Cassian nodded, though his usual mischievous grin was gone. “You’re the only one who can calm her when she’s like this.”

Azriel didn’t say anything at first, his full attention on Kaia as she snuggled closer to him. He gently rocked her, murmuring reassurances as she finally relaxed in his arms. He glanced up at his friends, his voice quiet but steady. “Thanks, both of you. I owe you one.”

Rhys chuckled softly. “No need for that. Just make sure she doesn’t give us any more trouble tonight.”

Azriel smiled faintly, his attention back on Kaia as her breathing slowly evened out. “I’ll try my best,” he said quietly, knowing full well that with his daughter in his arms, everything would be fine.

As Kaia’s breathing evened out in Azriel’s arms, Cassian and Rhys exchanged a glance. There was something so natural about the way Azriel cared for his daughter, the quiet tenderness that softened his usual stoic demeanour. It was a side of him they rarely saw, and it prompted Cassian to speak.

“You’re a damn good father, you know that?” Cassian said, his voice low so as not to wake Kaia.

Azriel glanced up from where he was rocking his daughter, his shadows curling faintly around her like a protective cocoon. “I’m just doing what she needs,” he replied quietly.

Rhys leaned against the doorframe, a thoughtful look on his face. “Have you ever thought about having another?” he asked casually, though there was genuine curiosity in his tone.

Azriel’s hands stilled for a moment as he adjusted Kaia’s blanket. He looked down at his sleeping daughter, his expression unreadable. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted after a moment, his voice soft. “But… it’s not that simple.”

Cassian frowned slightly, leaning forward. “What do you mean? You and Y/N are incredible parents. I can’t imagine anyone better to handle another little shadow like her.”

Azriel let out a quiet sigh, his wings shifting restlessly behind him. “Kaia’s birth wasn’t easy,” he began, his voice tight. “She came three months early. Y/N was… in bad shape. The healers weren’t sure if either of them would make it.”

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a grim look, the memory of those tense weeks flashing through their minds. Azriel had been a shadow of himself during that time—distraught, restless, and consumed by worry.

“I’ve never been so scared,” Azriel continued, his gaze distant as he gently stroked Kaia’s hair. “Holding her for the first time… it was the best and the worst moment of my life. I was terrified of losing her. Of losing Y/N.”

Rhys stepped closer, his tone softer now. “We remember,” he said. “You were in hell during those weeks. But look at her now, Az. She’s strong, just like her mother.”

Azriel smiled faintly, his fingers still brushing over Kaia’s curls. “I know. She’s my everything. But I don’t know if I could put Y/N through that again. The risk…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Cassian placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his voice steady. “It’s your decision, Az. No one can tell you what’s right for your family. But I can tell you this—whatever you and Y/N decide, you’ve got us. Always.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked back down at Kaia. “Thank you. I just… I want to give her everything. And I know Y/N would love another child. She’s mentioned it before.”

Rhys smiled knowingly. “She has. I’ve heard her tell Feyre how much she’d love to give Kaia a little brother or sister. But you’re right to consider the risks. It’s a decision you both need to make together.”

Azriel’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking his thoughts aloud for the first time. “Sometimes, I wonder if we’re meant to have just Kaia. She’s more than enough.” He paused, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “But then I think about what it would be like to hold another baby. To see Kaia as an older sister.”

Cassian grinned. “You’d kill it, Az. You’ve already proven that.”

Azriel’s smile grew as he looked down at Kaia, her tiny form peaceful in his arms. “Maybe,” he said softly. “Maybe one day. But for now, she’s everything I need.”

Rhys and Cassian nodded, their respect for their brother deepened by his unwavering devotion to his family. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the soft crackle of the fire the only sound, as Azriel held Kaia close, his love for her evident in every gentle movement.

-----

The bright sun filtered through the luxurious curtains of your room in the Day Court, casting golden streaks across the bed where you, Feyre, and Nesta lay tangled in a mess of pillows, blankets, and regret. The faint hum of distant birds outside did little to soothe the pounding in your head. You groaned as the sound of the door creaking open sent a sharp pulse through your temples.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Helion’s smooth, amused voice filled the room. “Or should I say, good evening? It’s already past two in the afternoon.”

A collective groan rose from the bed as Feyre buried her head under a pillow, Nesta flopped onto her stomach with a muffled curse, and you blinked blearily at Helion, who stood at the door with a smug grin and an air of smug satisfaction.

“Helion,” you croaked, your voice scratchy from the night before. “Why are you so loud?”

“Loud?” Helion placed a hand over his chest as if wounded. “I’m being positively gentle for a man who had to endure your drunken antics last night.”

Nesta peeked out from under her arm, her hair a disheveled halo around her head. “What antics?” she grumbled.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” Helion leaned casually against the doorframe, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s see… there was dancing on the tables, a rather heated debate about who had the best wingspan in Prythian—”

“Stop,” Feyre mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“And, of course,” Helion continued, ignoring her, “the grand declaration from you, Y/N, that you could outdrink me any day of the week.”

You winced, rubbing your temples as fragmented memories of the previous night began to resurface. “Did I win?”

Helion chuckled. “Let’s just say the three of you are lucky you’re still alive after the amount of wine you consumed.”

Nesta groaned, reaching blindly for the glass of water on the nightstand. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Of course I am,” Helion said, stepping fully into the room and crossing his arms. “It’s not every day I get to see the great Night Court ladies reduced to this state.”

“Why are you even here?” Feyre muttered, finally sitting up and squinting at him.

“To wake you,” Helion replied with a theatrical flourish. “You’ve slept the entire day away, and there’s an entire court waiting to be graced by your hungover presence.”

You flopped back onto the pillows, groaning. “I don’t think I can move.”

“Nor should you,” Helion said, his grin softening into something almost kind. “You had your fun, and now you’ll suffer for it. But, if it’s any consolation, I’ll have food sent up to help with the hangover. Consider it my charity for the day.”

Nesta muttered a quiet thanks as Feyre reached over to squeeze your hand. “We’re never drinking that much again,” she said firmly.

“You say that now,” Helion said with a smirk, already heading for the door. “But give it a week.”

As the door closed behind him, the three of you exchanged weary looks before collapsing back onto the bed, the promise of food and a quiet afternoon the only solace for your throbbing heads.

You groaned as you rubbed your temples, the pounding in your head relentless. “I miss being in my hundreds,” you muttered, your voice hoarse. “I could drink like this and wake up feeling fine. What happened to that?”

Feyre snorted, even though she winced at the sound of her own laugh. She was propped up against a mountain of pillows, her hair sticking up in every direction. “I don’t know if that’s age or just poor choices. And I hate that I can’t remember which.”

Nesta rolled over onto her back, staring at the ornate ceiling of the room. “What exactly did we even do last night? Helion mentioned dancing on tables, but I don’t remember that.”

“Neither do I,” Feyre admitted, frowning. “Though I do have a vague memory of someone challenging someone else to a drinking contest.”

“That sounds like me,” you groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “Why do I always do this? Every time I think, ‘Oh, I can keep up with Helion,’ and every time, I end up half-dead the next day.”

Nesta laughed softly, but it turned into a hiss of pain as she clutched her forehead. “Do you think he was exaggerating? Dancing on tables feels a bit dramatic.”

Feyre grimaced. “Honestly? Knowing us, probably not.”

You sat up slowly, squinting as the light streaming through the window hit you directly in the face. “What do we even do from here? How do we recover from whatever disaster last night was?”

Feyre shrugged weakly, resting her head on her hand. “Step one: figure out what we drank. Step two: never drink it again. Step three: try to piece together the chaos.”

Nesta sighed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “I’m not sure I want to know. If Helion’s smirk was any indication, we embarrassed ourselves.”

“Embarrassing myself in front of Helion isn’t even my biggest concern,” you muttered. “What if we made promises? Or said something incriminating? I don’t remember anything after, what, the third bottle of wine?”

Feyre groaned, flopping back onto the pillows. “I don’t remember anything past sitting in that sunroom. Did we even make it back to our rooms on our own?”

“Barely,” Nesta replied, shielding her eyes with her hand. “I vaguely remember Helion carrying someone. Was it you, Feyre?”

Feyre made a face. “Don’t remind me. I think he was laughing the whole time.”

You shook your head slowly, trying to push through the fog in your brain. “We need answers. But first, we need food. And maybe another century of sleep.”

Nesta smirked faintly, even through her hangover. “Agreed. But let’s make a pact: if Helion ever offers us another bottle of wine, we refuse.”

“Deal,” Feyre and you said in unison, though all three of you knew it was a promise unlikely to be kept.

You flopped back against the plush pillows, pulling a blanket over your face to block out the daylight streaming through the curtains. “Do you think they’re still alive?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the fabric.

Nesta let out a low chuckle, though it was tinged with exhaustion. She adjusted her position, settling deeper into the bed. “Depends. How long do you think it took for the chaos to start?”

“Five minutes,” Feyre guessed, her eyes already fluttering closed again. “Nyx probably started something with Cassian’s boys, and Kaia probably got into something she shouldn’t.”

You groaned softly, turning your head to the side. “Poor Az. He was probably up all night. Kaia doesn’t sleep well when everyone is not home.”

Nesta hummed in agreement. “If anyone can handle it, it’s him. Though Rhys and Cassian… I’m not so sure. The three of them together with the kids is a recipe for disaster.”

“Disaster,” Feyre murmured sleepily. “It’s probably already happening. But honestly? Not our problem right now.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, though the sound came out weak and tired. “They’ve got it covered. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.”

“Even if they don’t,” Nesta added, her voice already fading, “we earned this.”

The three of you sank deeper into the comfort of the bed, the soft hum of the Day Court’s tranquillity lulling you back to sleep. Whatever chaos might have been unfolding back at the Velaris could wait. For now, the thought of dealing with anything beyond your pounding heads was impossible.

-----

The next morning at the cabin, a thin blanket of snow coated the ground, shimmering in the sunlight. The boys had already left for camp, their excited chatter and stomping boots long gone, leaving a peaceful quiet in their wake. Outside, Rhys and Cassian stood with Azriel near the edge of the clearing, their breath visible in the crisp air as they discussed his upcoming trip to the Illyrian camp.

Kaia played nearby, bundled up in a tiny fur-lined coat, her small wings peeking out from the back. Her boots crunched in the snow as she toddled around, scooping up handfuls of powder and tossing them into the air with delighted giggles.

Azriel kept glancing toward her, his shadows hovering protectively nearby. His jaw was tight, his eyes flickering with hesitation. “I don’t like leaving her,” he said, his voice low.

“She’s going to be fine,” Rhys reassured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got this. She adores us.”

Cassian grinned. “She’s got me to entertain her. What more could she need?”

Azriel shot him a flat look. “If she so much as cries, you’ll regret it.”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “You worry too much. Go handle the camp situation, and we’ll make sure Kaia is happy and safe. Promise.”

Azriel let out a reluctant sigh, his gaze drifting back to Kaia. She had plopped down in the snow, her tiny hands patting together an uneven mound that was supposed to be a snowman. As if sensing her father’s attention, she looked up, her bright hazel eyes—so much like his—lighting up.

“Dada!” she squealed, scrambling to her feet. Her wings flared slightly as she ran toward him, stumbling a little in the snow but determined to reach him.

Azriel crouched down just in time to catch her as she barreled into him, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his neck. “What is it, love?” he asked softly, holding her close.

“No go, Dada!” she said, her voice muffled against his coat. “Stay wif me.”

Azriel’s heart clenched as he pulled back to look at her. “I’ll be back soon, Kaia. Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cassian will take care of you while I’m gone.”

Kaia’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “No like it,” she mumbled, her little hands clutching his shoulders.

Rhys stepped closer, crouching down beside them. “Kaia, sweetheart, we’re going to have so much fun. You’ll see.”

Kaia turned her head to glare at him, her pout deepening. “No fun wif you. Too bossy.”

Cassian barked a laugh, earning a glare from Azriel. “She’s got you figured out already, Rhys.”

Azriel kissed the top of Kaia’s head, his lips lingering against her soft hair. “I’ll miss you too, my star,” he murmured. “But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Kaia sniffled, her small hands framing his face as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Miss you, Dada.”

He hugged her tightly one last time before standing, reluctantly placing her back on the ground. Kaia tugged on his coat, her hazel eyes wide with emotion. “Dada, hug ‘gain?”

Azriel smiled softly and knelt again, wrapping her in his arms for one more hug. “Always, Kaia,” he whispered.

Rhys finally stepped in, scooping Kaia up into his arms to distract her. “Come on, little star. Let’s go make some hot chocolate while Dada gets ready.”

Kaia clung to Rhys, watching over his shoulder as Azriel straightened and adjusted his coat. Her small hand waved frantically. “Bye, Dada! Wove you!”

“Love you too, Kaia,” Azriel called back, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest.

As he turned to leave, his shadows trailed after him, but his thoughts lingered on the tiny, determined girl who had stolen his heart.

As Azriel disappeared into the tree line, Kaia’s hazel eyes stayed glued to where he had been, her little face pouting in concentration. She wriggled in Rhysand’s arms, tugging at his collar.

“Uncle Rhysie,” she said, her toddler voice firm, “go lake now?”

Rhys glanced at Cassian, eyebrows raised. “The lake? Kaia, it’s cold out here. Don’t you want to go inside for some hot chocolate?”

Kaia shook her head vehemently, her curls bouncing around her face. “No choc’late. Lake!” She stretched her arms out dramatically, pointing toward the path that led to the frozen lake just beyond the cabin. “Pwease, Uncle Rhysie!”

Cassian chuckled as he leaned against the cabin’s railing, arms crossed. “She’s got her mind made up. You’re not winning this one.”

Kaia turned her big eyes on him. “Uncle Cassy, pwease? Wanna see da water.”

Cassian laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You mean the ice, kiddo. That lake’s frozen solid.”

Kaia tilted her head, her lips pursing in thought. “Ice pretty!”

Rhysand sighed dramatically, bouncing her slightly in his arms. “Fine. But we’re just looking, Kaia. No running, no touching the ice, and absolutely no going out on it. Got it?”

“Got it!” she chirped, her wings fluttering with excitement.

Cassian shook his head, amused. “You’re going to regret giving in, Rhys.”

Rhys shot him a playful glare. “If you’re so sure, you’re welcome to come supervise.”

Kaia clapped her hands, thrilled. “Uncle Cassy come too!”

Cassian groaned but grabbed his coat. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before you sweet-talk us into something even worse.”

Kaia giggled, wiggling out of Rhysand’s hold as soon as they reached the snow-covered path. She toddled ahead, her tiny boots crunching in the snow, her wings flaring for balance as she followed the trail to the lake.

Rhys jogged to keep up with her, shaking his head with a smile. “Kaia, you’ve got us wrapped around your little finger.”

She looked back at him, grinning cheekily. “Like Dada!”

Cassian laughed loudly, following behind them. “She’s not wrong!”

The three of them soon reached the lake, its surface gleaming with a layer of frost and ice. Kaia’s eyes widened in awe as she clapped her hands together. “So pwetty!”

Rhys and Cassian stood nearby, watching her as she crouched to inspect the snow around the edge, her little fingers brushing against it.

“She’s too much like Azriel,” Cassian muttered, smirking.

Rhys nodded, his expression soft. “She’s going to be a force to reckon with one day.”

Kaia looked up at them with a beaming smile, completely unaware of the pride and affection shining in their eyes.

Kaia’s hazel eyes lit up as a small brown rabbit darted across the snowy clearing near the edge of the lake. She gasped, her wings fluttering with excitement. “Bunny! Bunny!” she squealed, pointing at the little creature as it paused to twitch its nose.

Rhys chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched her. “Looks like she found a friend.”

Kaia crouched low, mimicking the rabbit’s position. Then, with a delighted giggle, she began hopping up and down in the snow, her boots barely leaving the ground. “Hop, hop, hop! Wike bunny!”

Cassian leaned against a nearby tree, laughing as Kaia’s curls bounced with each jump. “She’s got the hopping down, but she’s a little noisier than that rabbit.”

“Bunny hop!” Kaia shouted, flapping her tiny wings as she hopped again. Her balance wavered, and she landed on her bottom in the snow, but she quickly scrambled back up, undeterred. “Hop ‘gain!”

Rhys rubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide his grin. “You’re going to tire yourself out before lunch, Kaia.”

Kaia spun around to face him, shaking her head so vigorously her curls flopped side to side. “No tire! Hop more!” She crouched again, springing up with an exaggerated bounce. “Hop, hop, hop!”

The rabbit twitched its ears and scurried further away, disappearing into the trees. Kaia stopped, staring after it. “Bunny gone…” She pouted, her big hazel eyes turning to Rhys and Cassian.

Rhys crouched down, holding out his arms. “Come here, Kaia. The bunny went home, but you’re still our little hopper.”

Kaia toddled over to him, giggling as he scooped her up. She pressed her cold little nose to his cheek. “Rhysie hop too?”

Cassian snorted. “Oh, I’d pay good money to see that.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow at him, then looked back at Kaia. “How about Uncle Cassian hops instead?”

Kaia’s face lit up as she turned to Cassian, clapping her hands. “Uncle Cassy hop! Pwease!”

Cassian groaned, shaking his head. “You two are troublemakers.” But he pushed off the tree and gave a dramatic hop in place, earning a squeal of delight from Kaia.

“‘Gain! ‘Gain!” she cheered, bouncing in Rhys’s arms.

Cassian sighed, hopping a few more times before throwing his hands up. “That’s all you’re getting, little miss.”

Kaia giggled, leaning against Rhys’s shoulder with a content sigh. “Bunny hops fun…” she murmured, her energy finally waning as the excitement wore off.

Kaia squirmed in Rhysand’s arms, her wings flapping slightly as she pushed against his chest. “Down, Rhysie! Down!” she demanded, her tiny voice insistent.

Rhys tilted his head, giving her a mock-serious look. “You’re going to run off as soon as I put you down, aren’t you?”

Kaia giggled mischievously, avoiding his gaze. “Noooo…” she dragged out, not sounding convincing at all.

Cassian smirked, crossing his arms. “She’s got that look. You know the one Azriel has when he’s about to disappear into the shadows?”

Rhys sighed, setting her down gently on the snowy ground. “Alright, go ahead. But stay close, Kaia.”

As soon as her boots touched the snow, Kaia took off in a full toddler sprint, her little legs pumping furiously and her wings flapping for extra speed. She let out a triumphant squeal, her curls bouncing wildly as she bolted toward the edge of the clearing.

“Kaia!” Rhys called after her, already starting to jog.

Cassian burst into laughter, watching her waddle-run like her life depended on it. “She’s quick for someone so tiny!”

“Quick and reckless,” Rhys muttered, though his tone was full of amusement.

Kaia didn’t respond, too focused on her self-declared adventure. She ran in zigzags, her little boots crunching the snow as she tried to follow the faint tracks left by the rabbit from earlier.

Rhys finally caught up, scooping her up mid-run. She let out an indignant squeak, wriggling like a fish out of water. “No! Wanna run, Rhysie!”

Cassian joined them, laughing as he ruffled her curls. “That wasn’t running, Kaia. That was flying with your feet!”

Kaia pouted, folding her arms as Rhys settled her back against his chest. “Wanna fly…”

Cassian chuckled. “You’ll fly plenty when you’re older. For now, let’s stick to running in safe places, alright?”

Kaia sighed dramatically, her little shoulders slumping. “Okay… but next time, I win.”

Rhys exchanged a look with Cassian, both stifling their laughter at her determination.

Kaia began to wiggle in Rhysand’s arms, her tiny wings twitching as she pushed against his chest with her small hands. “Rhysie…” she whined softly, her voice carrying the unmistakable tone of a toddler who had been confined for too long.

Rhys adjusted his hold, pressing her back to him more securely. “Kaia, I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not happening,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Kaia squirmed harder, her little feet kicking lightly against his sides. “Nooo! Down, pwease!” she pleaded, her hazel eyes glinting with frustration. She twisted, trying to look up at him with her best pout, her bottom lip sticking out dramatically.

Rhys sighed, shaking his head. “That look might work on Azriel, but not on me, little one.”

Cassian, walking a few steps ahead, turned around with a grin. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Rhys. She’s persistent—Azriel’s kid through and through.”

Kaia’s wings flapped again, and she leaned as far as she could to one side, trying to force Rhys’s grip to loosen. “No fair! Wanna down!” she declared, wriggling like a fish.

Rhys adjusted her again, tightening his hold slightly so she couldn’t slip away. “Kaia,” he said patiently, “the last time I let you down, you sprinted off like a wild rabbit. Do you think I’m going to fall for that again?”

Kaia’s brows furrowed as she huffed, blowing a small puff of air through her lips. “Pwease…” she tried again, softening her voice. When Rhys didn’t budge, she flopped her head dramatically against his chest. “Rhysie mean…” she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Cassian laughed outright, shaking his head. “She’s got you pegged. Rhys, you’re officially ‘mean.’”

Rhys raised an eyebrow at Cassian, smirking. “I can live with being mean if it means she’s safe. Nice try, though, Kaia.”

Kaia let out a long, exaggerated sigh, her little hands gripping Rhys’s shirt tightly. “Fine,” she muttered, though she squirmed once more for good measure before finally going limp in his arms, clearly realizing she wasn’t going to win this round.

Rhys kissed the top of her curly head, his amusement evident. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

Kaia grumbled softly under her breath, her head resting against him as she gave in to the temporary defeat, though the glint in her eyes promised she wasn’t done trying.

As the crisp winter breeze started to pick up, Cassian pulled his coat tighter around himself and glanced at Rhys, who was still holding a now-quiet but visibly restless Kaia. The snowflakes had begun to swirl in the air, carried by the increasingly sharp gusts of wind.

Rhys shifted Kaia in his arms, noticing how her small wings trembled slightly in the cold despite her thick coat and scarf. “The wind’s picking up,” he said, his tone laced with concern. “It’s probably time to head back. I don’t want her wings getting stiff or chilled.”

Cassian nodded in agreement, brushing snow off his shoulders. “Yeah, the cold up here isn’t great for her. Little Illyrians aren’t built for this until they’re older.” He glanced at Kaia, who was now nibbling on her mitten-covered fingers. “She’s a tough one, though. Already lasted longer than I expected.”

Rhys looked down at Kaia, her curly hair peeking out from beneath her hat. “What do you think, Kaia? Ready to go back to the warm cabin?”

Kaia scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “Nooo! Wanna pway!” she declared, her voice muffled slightly by her mittened hands.

Cassian chuckled, crouching slightly to her eye level. “Kiddo, as fun as it is out here, that wind’s going to get too strong for your wings. We’ll come back out tomorrow, okay?”

Kaia’s pout deepened, and she turned her head to bury her face against Rhys’s chest. “No wind! Stay!” she mumbled stubbornly.

Rhys sighed, his expression softening. “I know you don’t want to leave, but we have to think about keeping you safe, little one. I promise we’ll come back out when it’s warmer.”

Kaia peeked up at him, her hazel eyes filled with a mix of defiance and understanding. “Pwomise?”

“Promise,” Rhys replied firmly, brushing a stray curl from her face.

Cassian straightened up and stretched. “Alright, let’s get moving before the storm decides to really hit. I’m not looking forward to carrying a cranky Calen back from the camp if it comes to that.”

Kaia let out a small, resigned sigh, her wings drooping slightly as she gave in. “Okay…” she said softly, snuggling closer into Rhys for warmth.

As they turned to head back to the cabin, the wind picked up again, blowing snow around their boots. Rhys held Kaia securely, shielding her as much as possible from the chill. Cassian walked ahead, breaking the path through the snow, his laughter occasionally ringing out as he teased Rhys about his “clingy sidekick.”

By the time they reached the cabin, Kaia’s earlier stubbornness had melted into quiet contentment, her small body relaxed against Rhys. Once inside, the warmth of the fire greeted them, and Rhys carefully set Kaia down, helping her out of her snow-dusted coat.

“There we go,” Rhys said gently, crouching down to her level. “Safe and warm. What do you say we find something cozy to do inside?”

Kaia nodded, her earlier disappointment forgotten as she toddled toward the couch, where her favourite stuffed animal awaited. “Pway inside!” she declared, her wings giving a small, happy flutter.

Cassian grinned from the fireplace where he was stoking the flames. “There’s my brave little snow angel. Welcome back to the warmth, Kaia.”

She beamed at him, seemingly ready for her next adventure, even if it was indoors.

Kaia grabbed her favorite stuffed animal—a plush dragon with soft wings and a mischievous grin stitched onto its face—and clutched it tightly to her chest. Her small fingers gripped it as if it were her most prized possession.

Without warning, she bolted from the living room, her wings giving a tiny flutter as she launched herself into a toddler sprint. Her curls bounced with every step, and her laughter echoed through the cabin as her bare feet padded rapidly on the wooden floors.

“Kaia!” Rhys called after her, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Where are you going?”

Cassian turned from the fireplace, watching her dart out of sight. “Oh, no. She’s on the move again.”

Rhys pushed himself up from the couch, shaking his head. “She’s too fast for her own good. Did you see which room she went to?”

Cassian shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “No clue. She’s like a tiny shadow, just like her dad.”

Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We can’t let her run loose in here. She’ll end up climbing something she shouldn’t.”

The two of them quickly started checking the rooms, opening doors and peeking inside. “Kaia?” Rhys called, his tone more playful now. “Where’d you go, little one? You can’t hide forever.”

Cassian poked his head into a small bedroom, scanning for the toddler. “Not here. I swear, she’s got Az’s stealth gene.”

A giggle echoed faintly from somewhere down the hall, followed by the soft thump of her tiny feet as she scampered further away.

“There!” Rhys pointed toward the end of the hallway. “She’s heading that way. Go left, I’ll go right.”

They split up, searching the cabin for the runaway toddler. Cassian checked the kitchen, glancing under the table and even in the pantry. Rhys peeked into another bedroom, opening the closet just in case she’d decided it was the perfect hiding spot.

Finally, they heard a faint creak from one of the rooms upstairs. Rhys looked at Cassian and raised an eyebrow. “Did she make it up there?”

“Apparently,” Cassian replied, already heading for the stairs. “We’re dealing with a master escape artist, clearly.”

As they climbed the stairs, they could hear her little voice singing softly to herself. When they reached the top, they found her sitting in the middle of a guest room, completely content as she played with her dragon toy.

“There you are,” Rhys said, his voice a mix of relief and amusement. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re causing, little miss?”

Kaia looked up at them with wide, innocent eyes, clutching her toy tightly. “No twouble,” she said with a small smile, her voice sweet and certain. “Kaia pway!”

Cassian laughed, shaking his head as he leaned against the doorframe. “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid. Otherwise, you’d be in so much trouble.”

Kaia just giggled and went back to playing, clearly not concerned about her brief escape.

As Kaia stood up, her wings flared out slightly, her tiny feet eager to run again. The moment she started moving, Cassian rushed toward her, eager to catch her before she made another escape.

"Gotcha!" he said with a grin, reaching out to scoop her up. But in his haste, he didn’t quite grab her the way he intended. His hands landed too roughly around her waist, one brushing too close to her delicate wings.

Kaia let out a sharp gasp, her body tensing as pain shot through her. A tiny squeak of distress slipped past her lips, followed by a wail of pain as her wings flared involuntarily, stretching in response to the discomfort. The pressure around her wings made her feel trapped, causing her to cry out.

“Ah, Kaia—!” Cassian immediately froze, his face going pale as he realized what he’d done. He had been too quick, too careless. He quickly set her down gently, his hands trembling slightly as he checked her face for signs of further injury.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Cassian murmured, kneeling beside her as Kaia hiccupped between sobs, clutching her wings protectively. The pain was sharp but not enough to have caused any lasting harm, but it was enough to make her feel vulnerable and scared.

Kaia's little hands rubbed at the base of her wings where the pain had flared. She whimpered softly, her tears making her cheeks glisten. “It huwt...” she sniffled, her voice trembling.

Cassian’s heart dropped, and he looked over at Rhys, who had been standing nearby, watching in horror as the situation unfolded. Rhys stepped forward immediately, his expression full of concern.

“Kaia, sweet girl,” Rhys said softly, his voice soothing. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Cassian didn’t mean to hurt you, did he?”

Kaia looked up at him with big, tear-filled eyes, still rubbing her wings. “Huwts, Rhysie... wanna see mama...”

The sight of her in so much pain tugged at both of their hearts. Rhys quickly picked her up, cradling her carefully, his arms supporting her without touching her wings. He gently kissed her forehead. “Shh, it’s okay. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

Cassian stepped back, his face filled with guilt. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just wanted to stop her from running.”

“I know,” Rhys said, his tone gentle but firm. “Just... be more careful next time. Her wings are still delicate, Cass. Especially when she’s running around like that.”

Kaia nuzzled into Rhys’s shoulder, her crying slowly tapering off as she felt the comfort of being held. She looked at Cassian, a small frown on her face. “Kaia fwu... hurt...”

Cassian’s heart sank. “I’m really sorry, little one. Please forgive me.” His voice was soft, remorseful.

Rhys sighed, gently rocking her as he rubbed her back. “Let’s get you settled, little one. We’ll take care of those wings.”

Kaia nodded, her little hands still clutching Rhys’s shirt as she hiccupped softly. “Wings... hurt...” she mumbled again, sounding exhausted.

Cassian stood in the doorway, watching them carefully, promising to be gentler next time. He felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect her, and in that moment, the weight of it hit him harder than ever.

Rhys watched as Cassian stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped, his expression pained. It was clear that the moment Kaia had cried out in pain had hit him harder than he'd expected. Cassian, usually full of energy and wit, now seemed small and weighed down by the guilt of his actions.

Rhys sighed, moving slowly towards him as he continued to hold Kaia gently. “Cassian,” he began softly, his voice more calm than usual. “It was an accident.”

Cassian didn’t meet his eyes at first, instead running a hand through his hair, his gaze still lingering on Kaia. He was chewing at his lip, clearly replaying the moment in his mind. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, Rhys. You know that, right? I just... I didn’t think.”

Rhys stepped closer, now standing beside him, watching as Kaia snuggled further into his arms. She had already started to settle, though the trace of her tears was still visible on her little face.

“I know you didn’t,” Rhys said gently, his voice carrying a quiet authority, as if trying to ease the weight Cassian was carrying. “But you have to remember, her wings... they’re not like ours. They’re delicate, Cass. We all need to be careful when we’re handling her, especially with how young and fragile she is.”

Cassian swallowed hard, nodding slowly, his eyes still on Kaia. “I know... I just... I just wanted to stop her from running off again. She’s so fast, and I didn’t think.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “I really hurt her, Rhys. Look at her.”

Rhys glanced down at Kaia, who had fallen mostly silent now, resting against him, her little fingers still clinging to his shirt. The pain had faded, though she still seemed a bit shaken, her wings tucked close to her body for comfort.

“She’ll be okay, Cass,” Rhys reassured him. “You didn’t do it on purpose. It was an honest mistake. I did it way more than once with Y/N.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “And don’t forget, you’re not alone in this. We’ll all make sure she’s taken care of. You don’t need to carry that guilt.”

Cassian finally met his eyes, his shoulders still heavy, but the tension in his face easing slightly. “I just... I don’t want to be the one who hurts her, Rhys. She’s just a little thing.”

Rhys smiled softly, understanding the weight of his words. “None of us want that. And we won’t let that happen. But you can’t beat yourself up over every little thing. Kaia knows you didn’t mean to hurt her.” He paused, giving Cassian a small, reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’re family, Cassian. We all look out for each other, especially for the little ones.”

Cassian nodded, his breath coming out in a slow exhale as he glanced down at Kaia once more. Rhys could see the relief start to seep in, even if only a little.

“She’s strong, Cass,” Rhys said with a slight chuckle. “And so are you. Just... be a little more careful next time, yeah?”

Cassian managed a weak smile, though his eyes still held that hint of guilt. “I will.”

As Rhys cradled Kaia, her big, teary eyes locked onto Cassian, who was still standing near the doorway, guilt written all over his face. Her tiny hands gripped at Rhys’s shirt for a moment before she reached one out toward Cassian, her lip trembling.

“C-Cassy?” she said softly, her toddler voice wobbly from leftover sniffles.

Cassian’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes wide with surprise. “Kaia?” he asked gently, his voice breaking slightly.

She squirmed in Rhys’s arms, her little wings giving a faint twitch as she leaned toward Cassian. “Not mad?” she asked, her words barely a whisper, as though she feared the answer.

Cassian’s heart twisted painfully. He immediately stepped closer, holding his hands out toward her. “Oh, sweetheart, no,” he said quickly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not mad at you. Never. I promise.”

Rhys, sensing the moment, carefully handed her over to Cassian. Kaia settled into his arms, her little fingers clutching at his shirt as she rested her head against his chest. “Cassy not mad,” she repeated softly, her voice muffled against him.

Cassian wrapped his arms around her securely, his hand instinctively going to her small back to avoid her wings. “No, Kaia. I’m not mad,” he said firmly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her dark hair. “I could never be mad at you. You’re my favourite little troublemaker.”

Kaia pulled back slightly, her wide, tearful eyes searching his face. “Pwomise?”

“I promise,” Cassian said, his voice full of warmth. “You don’t ever have to worry about that, okay?”

She seemed to consider this for a moment, her tiny brows furrowing in a way that was so Azriel-like it made both Rhys and Cassian chuckle softly. Finally, she gave a small nod and snuggled back against his chest, her little wings twitching slightly as she calmed.

Rhys watched the scene unfold with a soft smile, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Looks like someone forgives you, Cass,” he teased lightly, though his tone held nothing but affection.

Cassian let out a relieved laugh, holding Kaia a little closer. “Thank the Mother for that,” he muttered, his hand gently brushing over her back.

Kaia, now more relaxed, let out a tiny yawn, her small hand patting Cassian’s chest as if reassuring him in return. “Cassy good,” she murmured sleepily, already starting to drift off.

Cassian’s chest tightened, his guilt easing as he held her close. “Yeah, Kaia,” he whispered. “You’re pretty good too.”

-----

The midday sun warmed the ornate balcony of the Day Court palace, casting soft golden light over the intricately carved table where you, Nesta, and Feyre sat. Plates of vibrant dishes—exotic fruits, fresh-baked bread, and delicately spiced meats—were spread out between gleaming goblets of water and pale wine.

Feyre leaned back in her chair, her golden-brown hair catching the sunlight as she sliced into a piece of honey-glazed pastry. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in one sitting,” she admitted, her voice tinged with laughter. “Helion’s chefs are showing off.”

Nesta, sitting to her right, raised an eyebrow as she delicately sipped from her wineglass. Her steel-blue eyes scanned the table, unimpressed. “They certainly know how to lay out a feast,” she remarked dryly, spearing a slice of fruit with her fork. “But I wouldn’t call it showing off until they bring dessert.”

You smirked, stretching your arms over the back of your chair. “I don’t know, Nesta. I think it’s already better than anything we’ve had in Velaris,” you teased, popping a tart berry into your mouth.

Feyre gasped in mock offense. “Traitor,” she accused, pointing her fork at you.

You shrugged, grinning. “I’m just saying, when was the last time someone in Velaris served us peaches soaked in starlight syrup?” You gestured to the glittering dish at the centre of the table, its contents shimmering faintly.

Nesta chuckled, finally breaking a smile. “Fair point.”

The three of you fell into comfortable conversation, the light breeze carrying the faint scent of lavender and citrus from the gardens below. Feyre told a story about Nyx’s latest attempt to climb a tree, which had resulted in both him and the poor tree landing in a fountain. Nesta shared an amusing account of her struggles getting Calen, Torran, and Emrus to sit still during a family dinner.

“You know,” you said between bites of bread dipped in herbed oil, “this is the first time in months I’ve eaten a meal without having to cut it into tiny pieces for Kaia.”

Feyre laughed. “I remember those days,” she said, her expression softening. “It’s nice to have a moment for yourself, isn’t it?”

Nesta’s lips twitched into a rare, genuine smile. “If by ‘moment’ you mean a full day without anyone yelling or crying, then yes, it’s very nice.” She reached for another slice of bread, her tone lighter than usual.

As the meal went on, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—plans for the afternoon, teasing guesses about what chaos the men and children might be causing back at the cabin. Feyre tilted her head toward the sun, closing her eyes for a moment. “We should do this more often,” she said softly.

You and Nesta exchanged a glance, both nodding. “Agreed,” you said, raising your glass in a small toast.

“Next time,” Nesta added, a hint of mischief in her voice, “we’re going to make them pack us lunch before we leave.”

The three of you laughed, the sound mingling with the warm breeze as you leaned back in your chairs, savouring the rare peace and the perfect company.

Nesta was the first to break the silence, tilting her chair back slightly as she gazed out over the sprawling gardens below. “Do you think they’ve burned Velaris down yet?” she asked dryly, though her lips twitched in amusement.

Feyre snorted, shaking her head. “If they have, Nyx is probably the one who lit the match. That boy has a knack for trouble.”

You chuckled, swirling the last of your wine in your glass. “Kaia probably helped. She’s in that ‘curious about everything’ phase right now. If there’s a disaster, she’s either in the middle of it or watching with fascination.”

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that sound familiar?” She shot a pointed look at Feyre, who rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Oh, don’t start,” Feyre said, tossing a grape at her sister, which Nesta effortlessly caught. “Besides, I distinctly remember you setting Father’s study on fire when you were ten.”

“That was an accident,” Nesta replied coolly, though the faintest hint of pink crept up her neck. “I was trying to read by candlelight.”

You laughed, the sound ringing out over the balcony. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

A soft knock on the doorframe interrupted the conversation, and you all turned to see Helion leaning against the doorway, his ever-present grin firmly in place. “Ladies,” he greeted, sweeping into the room with the grace of a predator. “Still lounging about, I see.”

“Helion,” you said, sitting up straighter but not bothering to hide your smirk. “Here to check if we’ve completely drained your wine reserves?”

He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Perish the thought. Though I must say, it’s almost three in the afternoon, and you’re still in your nightclothes.” He tsked playfully. “I expected more from such esteemed warriors.”

Nesta glared at him, though it lacked her usual bite. “I’ve had three children. Let me have my moment.”

Feyre nodded in agreement, raising her glass. “Seconded.”

Helion laughed, the sound warm and rich. “Far be it from me to argue with such formidable women.” He pulled out a chair, sitting with the ease of someone completely at home. “Though I must admit, I’m curious—what exactly did you three get up to last night? The palace staff have been whispering about it all morning.”

The three of you exchanged glances, trying to piece together the hazy memories of the previous night. Feyre groaned, pressing a hand to her temple. “I think we were… gossiping? And then someone brought out another bottle of wine, and after that…”

Nesta shook her head. “Don’t ask me. The last thing I remember is laughing so hard I fell out of my chair.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair. “Whatever happened, I’m sure it was nothing Helion hasn’t seen before.”

Helion’s grin widened. “True, though I must say, it’s a shame I wasn’t invited. It sounds like it was quite the spectacle.”

“Next time, Helion,” you promised, raising your glass. “Next time.”

-----

Cassian crouched down in front of Kaia, holding out her little boots as she stomped her tiny feet on the floor, giggling. “Okay, little troublemaker,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. “One foot in, then the other. Let’s get you bundled up before you drag us all into the snow again.”

Kaia, her brown eyes sparkling like Azriel’s, lifted her foot and immediately pulled it back, wiggling her toes with a mischievous grin. “Nooooo! Tickles!” she squeaked, collapsing into giggles.

Rhys chuckled from where he stood by the door, holding Kaia’s tiny, fur-lined coat. “Cass, you’ve been outsmarted by a two-year-old. Again.”

“Don’t start, Rhys,” Cassian grumbled, finally managing to slip Kaia’s foot into the boot. “You’re not exactly winning any points, standing over there like a statue.”

Kaia’s laughter softened as she noticed Cassian’s focus on her. She reached out with her small hands, patting his face lightly. “Cassy not mad?” she asked in her soft toddler voice, her brow furrowing.

Cassian paused, his expression melting as he met her gaze. “No, sweetheart, I’m not mad. Never at you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice low. “I’m sorry I hurt you earlier, okay? I’ll be more careful.”

Kaia tilted her head, studying him intently before giving him a big, toothy grin. “Cassy funny!” she declared, breaking into another fit of giggles as she patted his cheek again.

Rhys snorted, walking over with her coat. “At least she forgives you.” He crouched down, draping the coat around her tiny shoulders and fastening the buttons. Kaia squirmed a little but eventually settled, her eyes darting between the two men. “There we go,” Rhys said, standing and brushing his hands off. “One very bundled-up little girl.”

Cassian stood, scooping her up into his arms before she could make a break for the door. “And where do you think you’re taking us this time, hmm?”

Kaia pointed a tiny finger toward the door. “Snow! Big snow! Wanna find bunnies!”

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Bunnies? I thought we were making snow angels.”

Kaia shook her head so hard her little curls bounced. “Bunnies first, then ‘angels. Then—” She paused, her toddler mind clearly working overtime. “Then cookies!”

Cassian laughed, adjusting her on his hip as he grabbed her scarf. “You’ve got your priorities straight, kid. Let’s go before you change your mind.”

As they stepped toward the door, Kaia leaned toward Rhys, reaching for him with her little arms. “Rhysie, carry!” she demanded.

Rhys raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. You’re the boss.” He took her from Cassian, settling her against his chest. She immediately grabbed at the edge of his scarf, tugging it playfully.

Cassian shook his head, pulling his own coat on. “She’s got us wrapped around her little finger.”

“Completely,” Rhys agreed, smiling down at Kaia as she babbled excitedly about the snow. “But honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As they trudged through the snow toward the base of the hill, Rhys adjusted his grip on Kaia, who was leaning forward with wide eyes, staring at the glittering blanket of white that stretched in every direction. Cassian followed close behind, his boots crunching through the icy crust, while they chatted about the boys’ training schedules.

Just as they were about to begin the climb, a figure appeared in the distance, running toward them with urgency. Rhys narrowed his eyes and held up a hand to pause their ascent. Cassian stepped forward slightly, his posture straightening, while Kaia, oblivious to the shift in mood, reached up and tugged on Rhys’s collar.

“Rhysie,” she said in her sing-song toddler voice, poking at his jawline with her little fingers. “Down! Wanna walk!”

Rhys glanced down at her, hesitating for a moment. “All right, but don’t wander too far, Kaia,” he warned, crouching to set her gently on the ground. “Stay where we can see you.”

Kaia nodded earnestly, her curls bouncing, and immediately began toddling through the snow. She hummed to herself as she went, her tiny boots leaving uneven prints in the powder as she stomped in circles.

The messenger reached them then, panting heavily. He was dressed in standard Illyrian gear, his wings visibly trembling from the strain of his journey. “My lord,” the man said, addressing Rhysand with a quick bow. “There’s trouble at the nearest camp—an argument has broken out over land disputes, and tempers are flaring dangerously. They’re requesting immediate intervention.”

Rhys frowned deeply, exchanging a look with Cassian. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that there’s been a physical altercation,” the messenger admitted, his expression tight. “We fear it may escalate further if someone of authority doesn’t step in.”

Cassian let out a low sigh, his breath misting in the cold air. “Sounds like we’ll need to head out sooner than planned.”

Rhys nodded grimly. “Agreed. Azriel’s already at another camp, so it’s on us.”

As the two began discussing the logistics of leaving the cabin to address the issue, Kaia wandered further from them, her tiny hands outstretched as she admired the way the snowflakes melted on her palms. She crouched near a patch of untouched snow, giggling softly to herself as she poked at the white expanse.

Neither Rhys nor Cassian noticed her subtle movements. Their focus remained on the messenger and their impromptu planning. Cassian suggested a strategy, while Rhys debated whether or not to inform Azriel of the situation immediately.

Kaia, meanwhile, had spotted a small cluster of icicles hanging low from a nearby tree branch. With the stubborn determination of a toddler, she began toddling toward it, her steps uneven but deliberate. The cold breeze tugged at her scarf, but she paid it no mind, too enthralled by her frosty discovery.

It wasn’t until the messenger left and Rhys turned back to continue their walk that he noticed Kaia wasn’t where he had last seen her. “Kaia?” he called, his voice calm but sharp enough to draw Cassian’s attention.

Cassian turned, his brows furrowing as he scanned the area. “Where’d she go?”

Rhys’s heart sank as he realized they had been so caught up in the conversation that they’d let her slip from their sight. “Kaia!” he called again, louder this time, his tone more urgent as his eyes darted around the snowy landscape.

Rhysand’s voice cut sharply through the crisp winter air. “Kaia! Come back here, sweetheart!” His violet eyes scanned the snow-covered ground, seeking the trail of her tiny boot prints.

Cassian immediately joined in, his deep voice echoing across the empty expanse. “Kaia! Where are you, little one?!” His tone was firm but edged with worry.

They both moved quickly, their heads swiveling as they searched for any sign of her. Cassian crouched briefly, studying the snow for fresh tracks, but the crisscrossing prints from earlier in the day made it hard to distinguish hers.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” Rhys muttered, though his tone betrayed his growing concern.

“She’s quick for her size,” Cassian replied, his brows knitting together. His hands flexed at his sides, and he cursed under his breath. “We shouldn’t have let her wander.”

“Kaia!” Rhys called again, his voice carrying more urgency now. The calm façade he usually maintained was slipping.

The biting wind whipped past them as they moved further from the hill, scanning between the trees and behind snowdrifts. Rhys’s shadows began darting out instinctively, swirling and stretching in every direction to assist in the search.

“Kaia, come on, baby!” Cassian called, his tone softening despite the edge of panic. “Where are you?”

A faint rustling noise reached their ears, and Rhys’s head snapped toward it, but it was only the wind shaking a low-hanging branch. His jaw clenched.

“She’s too small to be out here alone,” Cassian muttered, his eyes narrowing as he moved toward a line of bushes. “We need to find her now, Rhys.”

“I know,” Rhys snapped, his calm veneer cracking entirely. He lifted his hand, sending his shadows farther into the surrounding forest. “Kaia! Answer me, sweetheart!”

The silence that followed was deafening, save for the crunch of their boots and the occasional gust of wind.

Cassian straightened, his chest rising and falling heavily. “She wouldn’t just wander into the trees, would she?”

“She’s curious, Cass,” Rhys replied tersely. “If she saw something interesting, she might have.”

The thought made his stomach churn. Rhys lifted his chin and released another shout. “Kaia! Come back to us!”

The echoes of their voices faded into the vast, snowy landscape, and for the first time, a genuine pang of fear struck Rhys’s chest. They couldn’t lose her—not here, not now.

-----

Kaia’s tiny boots crunched softly against the snow as she followed the hopping bunny deeper into the woods. Her wide hazel eyes, so much like her father’s, sparkled with excitement. She giggled, toddling after the small creature, her chubby hands outstretched as if she could grab it.

“Bun-bun!” she squealed, her toddler speech barely forming the words. “Wait! No hop—stay!”

The bunny stopped briefly, its nose twitching as it turned to look at her, then bounded further into the trees. Kaia puffed out a little breath of frustration, her wings fluttering slightly as she continued her pursuit.

“Kaia get you!” she declared determinedly, stumbling slightly over a hidden root before regaining her balance. The cold nipped at her cheeks, turning them a rosy pink, but she didn’t seem to notice.

The trees began to close in around her, their branches forming a canopy that blocked some of the afternoon light. Kaia didn’t mind; she was too focused on her game.

The bunny paused again, just ahead, and Kaia crouched as if mimicking the creature. “Hi, bun-bun!” she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of excitement and awe.

When it hopped away again, she gasped, jumping to her feet. “Nooo! Come back! Pwease!”

She stumbled after it, her tiny wings flaring with the effort of trying to catch up. The ground was uneven, and though she tripped here and there, Kaia was relentless.

A cold breeze blew through the forest, ruffling her dark curls, but she was too enthralled by the bunny to notice the growing distance between her and the hill where her uncles were.

As the bunny disappeared behind a larger snowdrift, Kaia slowed, her little legs tiring. She looked around for it, turning in circles.

“Bun-bun?” she called softly, her voice trembling slightly. The forest suddenly seemed bigger, quieter. The playful giggles she had carried moments ago were gone.

She shivered, her small hands wrapping around herself. “Kaia find you…” she mumbled, her voice unsure now.

But the bunny was nowhere to be seen. The woods were silent, except for the faint whistle of the wind, and Kaia’s tiny face scrunched in confusion. For the first time, she realized she couldn’t see her uncles anymore.

“Uncle Cassy?” she called, turning toward where she thought the hill had been. “Rhysie?”

When no answer came, her lower lip trembled. She clutched the little stuffed animal she’d carried with her, holding it close to her chest.

“Dada?” she tried, her small voice barely above a whisper. The towering trees around her felt suddenly much larger, and the cold began to seep in through her thick coat.

Kaia sniffled, her brave pursuit of the bunny forgotten. “Kaia… cold…” she whispered, tears beginning to well in her big, hazel eyes.

Kaia wiped her little face with the back of her mitten, sniffling as she shuffled through the snow. Her tiny boots sank with each step, but she was determined to keep moving. In her toddler mind, staying still wasn’t an option.

She clutched her stuffed toy tighter, the familiar softness bringing a small sense of comfort. “Bun-bun?” she murmured again, her voice quivering. “Kaia find… Kaia not scared…”

Her small wings fluttered uselessly against her back, a reflex whenever she felt nervous. The forest seemed darker now, the trees casting long shadows that danced in the fading light....

And sadly for Kaia a forest is not a safe place for a child whose father has many enemies.....

Part 3

[frownyalfred]

Since we believe the older Jason gets, the more he looks /acts like Bruce, if he attends a gala because of an obligation (i.e. Alfred guilt trips him and the others) how often does he get mistaken as his dad?

Does he take a little advantage and pretends with the more drunker socialites, and tricks them into donating to the lesser known charities that he knows get ignored and directly impact Gotham's poorer neighborhoods?

(Or does he just starts rumors to mess with them all about his dad's rich boy myth. He def makes shifts the hors d'eourves into almost small chilly dogs if he can)

"Mr. Wayne. There you are!"

Jason turned around, smiling wide enough his jaw hurt. With the slim-cut suit, the thin glass of champagne in his hand, and the angle of his shoulders, the whole move was practically a flourish. It was how Bruce did it, after all -- and frankly? It didn't feel too bad.

The true joy came, however, from seeing the faces of the two women as his identity registered. Their smiles tightened, but didn't disappear entirely. Not Bruce Wayne. Close -- but no cigar.

"Mr. Wayne is my father," Jason said, just a little lower than Bruce normally would. He let his eyes settle on the first woman -- blonde, thin lips, eyes narrowed -- and tilted his head, just a fraction. "But I get that all the time. It's flattering, really."

Was it?

"My mistake. You look just like him from behind," the blonde woman said, her strained smile returning. "Jason, yes? Truly remarkable."

Jason swapped his champagne glass into his left hand, holding out his right to her. "Jason Todd. And that's what I strive for at events like these -- remarkable."

The other woman laughed a little at that, breaking ranks with her friend. She was a little older, with more wrinkles on her face than she should have, at her age. A smoker, probably. "Jessica."

Jason shook her offered hand, giving her a smile. "A pleasure, Jessica."

"Anne," the blonde woman added, like an afterthought. Jason hadn't missed the way she'd avoided giving her name when they'd shaken.

Jason skipped right over that tidbit. "Are you looking for Bruce, then? I can point you in the right direction, but you might need to call a cab. He's at Wayne Manor tonight, unfortunately. A little under the weather."

If you can call three broken ribs and a concussion "under the weather."

"Oh, how awful," Jessica said, holding a hand over her mouth. She turned to Anne. "Did you know about this?"

"Of course not," Anne said, eyes narrowing in on Jason again. "Is he alright? It's not like him to miss an event like this."

Jason realized, idly, that was, in fact, Anne Regis. And that he was, in fact, standing at the Regis Charity night. Which meant Anne was -- in all likelihood -- pissed by Bruce's nonarrival. And disappointed in his replacement, if the way her lips pursed meant anything.

"Well, I'm sure he'll make the next one," Jason offered, shrugging one shoulder. Bruce's suit pulled a little, reminding him that silk and satin had less wiggle room than spandex and Kevlar weave. "Fear not, I did bring his check. And his checkbook, if the one he wrote wasn't...satisfactory enough."

It was telling, how Anne's eyes didn't light up at the idea of a larger gift. It meant that this event wasn't really about raising money -- it never was. It was about seeing and being seen. And Anne Regis had wanted to cash in on Bruce Wayne's presence, not his money. His social standing, his charm, his glamor -- not his checkbook.

"That's lovely, dear. What a thoughtful son." Anne glanced over her shoulder, indicating she was about to excuse herself. "Jessica, it looks like Roger is back. Why don't we excuse ourselves--" heh "--and say hello?"

Jessica gave Jason a warmer smile than Anne. "Stay sharp, kid."

"Tell Bruce I said hello," Anne said, with a nod that might have been charming, several decades ago. "We'll have to do brunch soon."

They left, disappearing back into the sea of people. As soon as they were out of sight, Jason diverted to the back bar, setting down his glass of champagne.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked him, taking the glass before Jason could even look for a discard tray.

Jason glanced at the impressive array of bottles, suddenly understanding why Bruce tended to stick to soda water or seltzer at these events. Every single word he'd traded with the women had been like a spar of its own. He needed to stay sharp. Sharper than he did, normally.

"Diet coke, lime, please," Jason said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty. He put it in the tip jar, not missing the grateful spark in the bartender's eyes.

"Right away, sir."

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Just Like His Father

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff, I actually saw this on tiktok and thought it'd be cute to make sth out of it

You were in the kitchen finishing making dinner when your husband returned from a business meeting.

"Hey, love" Lewis greeted you as he entered the kitchen.

"Hey, baby" You smiled as he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you leaving a kiss on your cheek. "You tired?"

"No, but I am starving." He sighed. "What's for dinner?"

"Curry chicken and rice. It'll be ready in a minute, you can sit at the table"

"Oh, yes, please.." He groaned. "Where's Marlo?"

"He should be in his room doing his homework. The young gentleman didn't have lunch today so he has to eat dinner" You chuckled remembering the talk you had with your son earlier today. Marlo was 5 years old and in preschool. He was the smartest, most lovable, but also unintentionally the funniest kid ever.

"Marlo, daddy's home!" You shouted. "Wash your hands and come sit at the table"

"Why were you laughing when you said he didn't have lunch today?" Lewis asked curiously.

"Oh you just wait till you hear it from him" You giggled taking the dish and walking with it over to the table.

When Marlo washed his hands, he ran into the kitchen extending his arms towards Lewis. "Daddy!" He screamed with joy seeing him.

"Buddy" Lewis softened, picking him up in his arms and hugging him tightly. "I missed you. Did you have a good day at school?" He asked.

"Yup" Marlo nodded.

"Tell daddy what happened at school today" You said trying to refrain from laughing so that Marlo doesn't think you're making fun of him.

"What happened at school?" Lewis was still confused. "Did someone mess with you? Did someone touch you? Y/n?" He was already visibly upset and paternal protective instincts kicked in within seconds.

"No, no-"

"Mom did.." Marlo blurted out and his gaze shifted to you. “Mom messed with me..”

"What do you mean?"

"Marlo, did you eat your lunch at school today?" You asked crossing your arms and leaning your elbows onto the table waiting for his response.

"I didn't actually" He said turning to Lewis.

"And why is that?" Lewis asked.

"Because my girlfriend was sat right across from me and you put a note that said I love you babe" Marlo explained pointing his finger at you.

Lewis paused for a second, blinking a couple of times before bursting into laughter. "Your girlfriend, buddy? You have a girlfriend?"

"I'm not sure if I still have one after today" He sighed.

"Oh, your girlfriend didn't like mom's note?"

"No! She got mad!"

You chuckled again remembering how upset he was about it earlier today when he first told you the story. You felt bad for him, but you couldn't help but laugh at the kid stuff that was concerning him.

"And what did you do after that?" Lewis listened intently as you put food on the plates for both of them.

"Nothing, I explained to her that she's married to my dad and I said that my dad is Lewis Hamilton."

"You hear how beautifully he emphasized that my husband is none other than Lewis Hamilton" You joked as Lewis held his head laughing.

"What? I didn't say anything wrong?" Marlo shrugged his shoulders. Love problems were clearly too much for the young man.

"Baby, no girl will ever love you as much as your mom loves you, remember that." You stood up from your chair and walked over to him placing his small face between your hands and kissing his forehead.

"Well, she doesn't have to know that!" Marlo defended.

"Okay, okay. No more notes in lunch boxes just so that your girlfriend doesn't feel like I'm a threat to her apparently" You playfully rolled your eyes going back to your seat. "Now, please start eating your dinner"

"But I still don't understand, regardless of the note, why didn't you eat your lunch?" Lewis asked him.

"Because I wanted to prove her how much I loved her." He sighed before continuing "Dad once told me how he proves his love for you by eating everything you cook even though sometimes he may not like it, but he eats everything because he loves you. I just did the opposite."

Your and Lewis' hearts melted when you hear him say it. You were so proud of your little boy who was too young to know what love was but he learned it so well from his daddy. you knew that one day he would make some girl the happiest girl in the world, just like his father made you and continues to do so day after day.

After dinner was over, both you and Lewis wanted to get Marlo ready for bed. After you gave him a shower and Lewis helped him brush his teeth, you read him a bedtime story and cuddled him before saying goodnight. You also made pinky promises that there would be no more "embarrassing" notes from mom in the lunchbox, and that Marlo would eat his lunch every day.

After that you and Lewis decided to relax on the couch in front of the TV in each other's arms.

"If one day we have a daughter and she comes to me at the age of 5 and says she has a boyfriend, I swear, I will lose my mind" Lewis said jokingly even though you knew he meant it.

"Yeah, we'll homeschool her so she doesn't have any contact with the boys" You said sarcastically rolling your eyes at him.

"Exactly! That's a great idea actually!" He seemed to love it of course.

"Oh stop it!"

"As you told our son today, so I will tell our daughter, no man in her life will ever love her more than me. That's a fact. I already love her."

"Baby, we don't even have a daughter...yet"

"Then I better get to work, no?" He smirked rolling you over and nuzzling his head into your neck making you giggle.

"Well, you better, Lewis Hamilton."

[springtyme]

hii!! i saw ur inbox open and was wondering if i could request this; so, imagine dad!simon (or konig idm!!) having his son / daughter see his face for the first time since they were born and theyre just kinda sitting there like :000?? hes so pretty?? while yn is just screaming in the back?? <33 have a great day n thnaks for reading x

𝐔𝐧𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ♡

Thank you for the request, I had such a good time writing this! I love writing dad!Simon so much! ♡ but also, ngl, the image of this big bloke wearing a mask in front of his baby seems borderline comical to me.

Simon Riley x afab!reader || Masterlist || Ghost playlist

summary: Your daughter finally sees her father's face for the first time.

word count: 2.2k

warning/tag: Mostly just dad!Simon fluff with a little hint of angst. No gendering terms are directly used for the reader, but they are pretty fem coded. It's mentioned that they were pregnant. No use of y/n.

As the soft morning light filters through the curtains of your bedroom, you slowly begin stretching your limbs and blinking away the remnants of sleep. As you slowly settle into wakefulness, you hear the screeching sound of the baby monitor on your nightstand coming to life and you feel how your heart flutters happily in your chest as a familiar sound comes through. The sweet sound of your daughter’s happy coos, accompanied by Simon’s deep, gentle voice, fill the room with sweetness. 

“Morning, sweet pea,” Simon’s voice crackles through the monitor followed by the sound of your baby happily gurgling at her father and then exclaiming a little more whiny sound. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re hungry, but we have to get you changed before we can make breakfast, lovie.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you lie there, basking in the warmth and comfort of your bed. The love and joy that echo through the monitor remind you of just how much love fills your home. It’s moments like these that make your heart swell with an indescribable sense of happiness.

Your mind wanders, and you find yourself reminiscing about the journey that brought you here. 

From the moment you and Simon first met, there was an undeniable connection, a spark that ignited and grew into a love that was both fierce and tender. However, it hadn’t been that easy to convince him that he in fact was deserving of such love. He had been scared that he would mess it up, mess you up, convinced himself that he wasn’t able to make anyone happy and that he was broken beyond repair. But you had been rather insisting, and he had finally let his walls crumble and let you into his heart. 

And as you had expected, all his worries had been unfounded. He is the best, most loving partner you could ever have dreamt of. 

The love you share with him is a love that feels like home.

And then, the arrival of your daughter added a new dimension to your love story. From the first time you had held her tiny hand, you knew that your family was complete. Watching Simon transform into the most loving and doting father has only deepened your admiration and affection for him.

And as you lie here,  reminiscing on your life, you can’t help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the love that surrounds you. 

With a content sigh, you finally pull yourself out of bed, ready to start the weekend with your little family. 

As you make your way down the stairs you can hear the sound of your daughter’s laughter from the kitchen, filling your heart with warmth and you can’t help but smile and make your way towards the source of the joyful commotion. As you enter the room, the morning sun gently illuminates the kitchen, casting a soft glow over the room, and you are greeted by a heartwarming sight. Simon is standing at the stove, stirring a pot of millet porridge, your daughter’s favourite, while she is sitting in her highchair, which has been moved away from the kitchen table and closer to the counter, so she can see what Simon is doing, clapping her hands in delight.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, mingling with the comforting scent of the porridge. You can’t help but feel a surge of immense love and gratitude for the man who stands before you, effortlessly balancing the roles of partner and father.

Simon turns towards you. “Good morning, love,” he greets you, his eyes twinkling with warmth, the bottom half of his face covered by a black mask. He had started to wear it around the house again after your daughter had been born.  

“Good morning,” you reply, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and adoration. “I see you two are having quite the breakfast party.”

Simon laughs softly and nods. “We thought we’d surprise you with breakfast in bed, but it seems that someone couldn’t wait,” he says, glancing at your daughter, who just giggles in response.

You walk over to them, planting a soft kiss on Simon’s masked cheek before planting another on your daughter’s, much chubbier, one. “Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed. This is the best way to wake up,” you say, gazing at your little family with a heart full of love.

Together you finish cooking breakfast, porridge for the baby and scrambled eggs and turkey bacon for you and Simon.

You begin to set the table as Simon picks up your daughter, supporting her with one arm as he settles her on his hip, so he can move her chair back to the table, but before he can grab the chair he stops dead in his tracks.

Your little girl has grabbed a fistful of his mask in her tiny hand. She doesn’t seem to be pulling on it, or otherwise trying to take it off him, but she also doesn’t seem to want to let go of it when Simon gently takes her hand to get her to release her grip.  

“Sweetheart, please…” Simon says softly, but he trails off, a wave of emotions flickering over his eyes, but they end up having a sort of determinant look to them as they lock with his daughter’s.

You feel how your heart skips a beat as Simon lets go of her little hand to instead grip the place his mask is fastened.  

With a deep breath, Simon removes the mask, revealing his face to your daughter for the very first time in her young life. You feel goosebumps rise along your arms as Simon’s features come to light. The room falls silent, and time seems to stand still.

Your daughter’s gaze is fixed on Simon, you can see a whirlwind of emotions flickering across her little face. 

It’s a pivotal moment that holds the power to change everything. You can see how Simon, too, feels a mix of emotions coursing through him. 

He has once mentioned to you that he was afraid that his scars would scare her, but you have had a suspicion that something else might be the reason he has kept the mask on in front of her for. 

He does have a few scars from his work, but they are nowhere near severe enough to scare anyone. You do have another theory to why he has kept it on, one he hasn’t directly confirmed, but a conversation from your pregnancy has stuck with you. 

He had voiced his concern that something would happen to him on the battlefield. not because he was that concerned for his own wellbeing, he knew what the risks of his job was, but because he was afraid of something happening to him, leaving you and your little one alone in the world. He had, on the whole, had many worries about becoming a father. 

He had been worried that his past had broken him so severely that he couldn’t be the dad your daughter needed him to be. Like the fear he also had about you and your relationship in the beginning of it, the fear that he couldn’t be the man you deserved. 

He has, in all the time you’ve known him, done everything to disprove that concern, he is the best partner you could ask for and now the most lovable dad to your little girl, but you know that he still has his concerns and that his feelings about them are valid. 

You think the mask has served as a sort of safety blanket for him. Like he thought that it would be easier for you and your daughter to lose him if your little girl couldn’t remember his face, or something like that. You find that thought heart rending.               

You know that his job comes with a risk, you had known it when you got together and you had known it when you married him and you had known it when you got your daughter. Losing him on the battlefield would be your worst nightmare come true. You know that he is smart, strong and capable, but you also know that there are no guarantees in war, which, to you, is just all the more reason for  your daughter to know her father’s face, but you have let Simon choose for himself when he was ready for that.  

But you don’t want to think about any of that right now, so you push those thoughts away, and instead let yourself be completely mesmerised by the sight before you   

Your little girl focuses on his, now revealed, face, taking in every detail. Her eyes widening in surprise, curiosity, and perhaps even a hint of fear, her little mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ of surprise as she absorbs every detail of her father’s face. 

“It’s just me, princess,” Simon tells her, his voice filled with a mix of amusement, nerves and an overwhelming love for his little girl. His eyes, once guarded, now shine with warmth and affection. 

The confirmation of his voice is what convinces her. A wide smile spread across her little face, revealing the adorable dimples she has inherited from Simon, on her sweet, chubby cheeks. She lets out a happy squeal, as she realises that it really is her father who’s now smiling down at her, a set of dimples matching hers on his cheeks.    

She giggles happily, which, to you, is the most beautiful sound in the entire world. Her little hands starting to explore Simon’s face, her tiny fingers tracing the lines and contours of it. It’s a gentle and tender gesture that speaks volumes. You watch in awe as the beautiful moment between your daughter and her father unfolds in front of you. It’s a moment you will cherish forever. 

When she finally seems satisfied with her mapping of his face with her small hand, she turns her head to look over at you with an excited expression on her little face, one that conveys something along the lines of ‘you seeing this too?’ Her eyes lighting up, reflecting the genuine joy that fills her little heart.

“Yeah, baby, that’s your daddy,” you smile at her, and she lets out another happy shriek before looking back at Simon again, happily nuzzling her little face into his neck. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” You continue as you step forward, placing a hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles over the dusty rose bodystocking that she is wearing, one that Simon picked out when he got her ready and you still laid in bed.   

You look up at Simon, a soft smile on his lips as your eyes lock. 

“He never wants to believe me when I tell him, but he is actually the most handsome man I know,” you say, with a playful glint in your eyes. “He’s probably the most handsome man in the whole world, actually.”           

Simon chuckles, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Oh, come on now,” he replies, his voice a mix of embarrassment and amusement.“I think you might be a bit biassed there, love.”

You shake your head, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Nah, I don’t think I am,” you state, wrapping your arms around both Simon and your little girl in his arms. “Just stating facts. I actually got the most handsome husband and the most beautiful daughter in the whole wide world.” you say with a content sigh, hugging your little family tightly.  

It’s a hug that speaks volumes, conveying love, affection and acceptance. In this embrace, you know that you truly have the most beautiful family in the world.  

As you finally let go of them you place a sweet kiss on your daughter’s little nose. She giggles joyfully, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratefulness over what a happy little girl you have. Simon seems to be thinking the same as he smiles down at her.  

But your adorable little troublemaker doesn’t seem to be done with causing havoc yet.   

She reaches out her tiny hand and grabs for the mask again. Simon hesitates for a moment, looking down at the fabric in his hand, the symbol of his past, before letting her have it. The mask, once a symbol of his doubts and fears, now becomes a simple toy for your daughter as she happily shakes it up and down, a cheeky grin on her little face. 

You and Simon lock eyes, and then the two of you burst out in laughter.  

As your laughter fills the room, a sense of pure joy washes over you. You look at Simon, his eyes sparkling with happiness, and you know in this moment, that the love and bond the three of you share is unbreakable, and it fills your heart with an indescribable warmth.

With a deep sense of gratitude and contentment, you take a mental snapshot of this beautiful moment. It’s a memory that will forever be etched in your mind, a testament to the strength of your love and the joy that radiates from your little girl.

As the laughter subsides, you gather your family close again, embracing the love and happiness that surrounds you. In this embrace, you know that you have everything you could ever need.

Your daughter’s laughter and Simon’s unwavering love fill your life with immeasurable happiness, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the beautiful family you have created.

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Cradle Me

Father!Quinn x Son & Wife!Reader. Word Count: 1,1k Authorial Note: My next voted WIP! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did while writing it! Don’t know if it’s my best piece then. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of birth.

Elliot Samuel Hughes came screaming into the world at 4:12 p.m., Quinn only knew his son for a matter of awed, breathless moments before the world sharpened—and chaos erupted.

Nurses swarmed you, dabbing and cleaning with sodden warm towels. A warm, slimy bundle of swaddle-blanket and baby reached your chest as the obstetrician stepped back from your glistening body. Quinn's reddened hand slipped from your grip, instinctively cradling the baby to your chest. His other hand, shaking slightly, gripped the bed's plastic rail. Leaning forward, he rested his right arm limply across your shoulder, his forehead gently touching yours as the two of you gazed down at your son.

"How’re you doing, Dad?" the obstetrician asked from the sink as he scrubbed his hands clean.

Quinn blinked, a goofy grin spreading across his face. "I feel sick... but in a good way." He laughed softly, joy plastered permanently on his face. "We created a human... that's fucking scary but awesome at the same time."

Even in your post-birth haze, a smile graced your lips. It was an awesome thing indeed. This was your person now, a culmination of Quinn and your love. Despite this baby being considered a gift, he clearly was sent to test you and Quinn’s love for each other. No parenting class could have prepared you for the unfolding chaos that was leaving the hospital and heading home. The first day at the hospital was incredible, the nurses gently guided you and Quinn in the ways of parenting. But once you left and arrived home, the learning curve turned into an aggressive crash course.

Emotions ran high for every family member. Every nap missed, messy feed, spit-up, or nappy mess that needed cleaning up frayed the string further. Quinn and you had been remarkably naïve to think that this journey would be easy, even though you’d been dreaming collectively of this moment for years.

Quinn, along with self-proclaimed uncles Elias, Brock, and JT, spent hours working on the perfect nursery for baby boy Hughes. From wall decorations to the crib and changing table—which you insisted had to be powder blue with clouds and a grassy field with cows in it—the boys poured their hearts into it. Once they had finished assembling the room and you'd let it air out due to your hatred of the smell of fresh paint, you added the final details: books, blankets, nappies, and wipes, along with baby clothes hanging neatly on tiny coat hangers.

The first night home from the hospital was powered purely by adrenaline. You and Quinn took shifts with baby boy—changing, feeding, and sometimes just comforting him to sleep. By the second and third nights, the exhaustion set in. Leaving the warmth of the bed became a Herculean effort, especially for you. The physical toll of birth weighed heavily on your body, and sustaining new life felt overwhelming.

Quinn tried his hardest to take the load off, seeing how hard you were working to make the transition smooth, though it felt futile. His patience held up remarkably well for the first four days, but by the fourth night, tension crept in. Snappish words replaced your usual playful banter, and the distance between you felt like a growing chasm. Quinn’s touch, once so comforting, now felt foreign. Exhaustion tangled both your nerves, and intimacy between the two of you became a distant memory.

That night, an abrupt “goodnight” was shared, accompanied by a peck on the cheek. You both lay there in the dark, separated by a wall of fatigue, each praying for sleep that never came, as baby boy woke again at distasteful hours of the night.

Night five was the killer. Some ungodly hour like 1:03 a.m. glared back at you from the microwave as you ambled around the kitchen for the second time that night. You’d fed him twice now, but much of the milk had come back up in spit-up. Quinn had changed baby once and had checked on him again 45 minutes earlier.

There was one distinct problem: the baby only slept when he was held. You could do as many laps around the kitchen as you wanted, Quinn could rock him for hours, but as soon as baby landed on the bassinet’s mattress, it was like laying him on lava.

"Still no luck, darlin’?" Quinn’s voice came quietly from the doorway, his tired form silhouetted by the dim light of the stairs. He met you halfway, his brow furrowed with concern.

You let out a soft, frustrated sigh. "Every time I put him down, he cries," you whispered, blinking back tears. "I’m so tired, Quinn."

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "C’mon, let’s go back to bed," he murmured, leading you gently up the stairs. Exhaustion had blurred the edges of your world, and you forced a tired smile as he kissed your hand again.

"He’s just going to cry when I put him down, Quinn," you stated tiredly as he threw back the covers for you. The softness of the bed felt like heaven against your aching body, and you settled in without a second thought.

Quinn, now shirtless, pulled baby from your arms and nestled him gently on his chest, holding him snugly as he propped himself up with pillows. He tucked you in under his arm, pulling the blankets over both of you.

"Sleep now, darlin’," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. Baby wriggled slightly in his swaddle but quickly relaxed against Quinn's warmth. "If this is how we have to do it from now on, fine."

Quinn sighed, his grip tightening around both of you. "At least we have good chiros at the rink."

[jetblack4realz]

his little girl - yellowstone boys

how the yellowstone (+ 1923) boys react to you having their daughter

i think i might make this a series if y'all are interested. i think it'd be cute! i'll do kayce (obvs), rip (ofc), ryan (what a man), lee (we didn't get enough of him), jimmy (i haven't seen a single thing on here for him, not that there isn't but still), and spencer (he's iconic)!!

lmk if you want anything in particular for any or all of these guys! i think it could be fun :)

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kayce dutton:

when you first got pregnant, you were so certain it was going to be a little boy, and that's what you told kayce. he smiled over at you, hand on your stomach as he shook his head.

"and why's that, baby?" he wondered.

"he's been kicking like a boy, and i've got the skin to show it's a boy. i've always imagined that i'd be a boy mom," you answered with a shrug, leaning into his embrace comfortably. "and we've already got tate. i think it'll be another boy."

and he'd been alright with that. he let you have your dreams of what to name him and how you'd have him and tate match in little cowboy outfits. you even omitted the gender reveal in favor of it being a surprise, but also because you were so certain it was a boy.

but, when that little girl came out, you both were in instant happy tears.

kayce held her first due to some complications during birth, and he suddenly remembered the joy that came with being a father. as he stared down at his baby girl with eyes that matched his, he was flooded with a certain protectiveness that didn't come with tate. this was his little girl - nobody was going to mess with her.

to say she was spoiled by her daddy was an understatement. there wasn't a day that he didn't come home with a new handful of wildflowers, one for each of his girls, and sit on the floor having her explain all her little drawings to him. when tate would mess with her, teasing as a good older brother would, kayce would give him a stern shake of his head, holding her close to his chest as she sniffled.

"she ain't a boy, bud," he told him. "i know she's your sister and you wanna tease her, but you gotta treat her like a lady."

"i just wanna make her laugh," tate defended.

"find another way, okay pal? there's a million ways to make her laugh and only a few to make her cry. let's figure that out, alright?" he said, pulling the boy into his side for a hug. tate looked at his sister, thinking for a moment before making a funny face, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes as he pulled his mouth at a funny angle. she burst into a fit of giggles, kayce high-fiving him as she clambered out of his lap to go play with her older brother.

you had to be the one to teach her to rope and ride, ensuring she had the true makings of a cowgirl because kayce did not want that life for her. he hoped that she wouldn't ever end up with a cowboy. but, once she knew how to ride well enough, he'd take her on long rides with him and tate, explaining the beauties of montana to them both.

he first bought her a dress from a little boutique in town and a matching bow to go with it when she was five, beyond excited to dress her in it and take her out on a daddy daughter date. you took tate on a mommy son date that same night, smiling as you saw your husband and daughter eating ice cream through the store window as tate dragged you to the theater down the street.

kayce stayed protective, but supportive of what she wanted - except for when she started getting cutesy around the newest ranch hand rip had let stick around, a kid called carter. kayce nipped that one in the bud real fast.

he thrived as a father, it was his true calling, with both tate and your little girl. having both felt like his life had equalled out and he ensured they had a close bond as well. kayce isn't a girl dad or a boy dad, he's just a dad, and he loves it.

rip wheeler:

rip would never admit it, but whenever he imagined finding a girl, settling down, and starting a family, it was always filled with daughters. it was easy to assume that he'd want all boys - he was one of the most manly men montana had ever seen. but, with that, he felt a need to have girls to protect, to be strong for.

so when that first baby ended up a girl, he was silently ecstatic.

"baby, it's a girl," he mumbled to you, his smile the widest you'd seen it since your wedding day.

he was so supportive during labor, petting your hair out of your face as you squeezed his hand tightly. when your little girl finally started crying, he took her straight from the doctor and set her on your chest, one hand on your arm and the other on the baby's back.

he watched over the both of y'all carefully. it was obvious to everyone that you were his number one priorities, and if anyone so much as mentioned your names with the wrong tone he was ready to fight.

rip started taking her out on rides as soon as she was able to be strapped to his chest and sit on a horse without crying, which was actually awfully early. you told him it was only because she was his daughter that he was able to do this, but they both loved it. she was an expert rider by the time she was eight years old, and a good roper too.

you had two twin girls after her, both absolutely adored by rip and their older sister. you were able to go on family rides at that point, you and rip with each one of the littles in front of you and your oldest perched behind rip with wide wondering eyes.

"daddy, an eagle!" she cheered, pointing over his shoulder at a bald eagle flying over the trees.

"good eye, baby," rip said, smiling as he high-fived the little girl.

she quickly became his right hand man. even at four years old, she was grabbing him a banana for breakfast before he headed out the door or helping him clean his boots. the older she got, the more responsibility she got, which was fine by her. she was strong and determined and a total daddy's girl.

until she became a brother's girl.

carter showed up when she was seven and she fell in love with him quickly. he was sweet with her, carrying her on his back out to the barn as she helped him shovel stalls the best she could.

rip didn't know how to feel about it until you finally approached him about adopting carter.

"it wouldn't be anything official since neither of y'all have any documentation or anything," you told him, fiddling with your fingers. "but, that boy needs a home. and rip, i really love him, and so does she, and so do you. we've got one extra room and a place at the table. i want him here. you've seen him with our baby girl, he wants to be a part of this family too. please, rip."

and so that was that. after you sat the boy down and told him, he became even more dependable. he was an avid protector of your daughter and rip actually began smiling at the sight of the two of them walking around the ranch.

rip didn't love carter the same way he loved his baby girl, he was always meant to be a girl dad, but he appreciated him nonetheless. the way he was with rip's daughters helped secure him in the little wheeler family, and rip was happy about it.

ryan:

ryan was in no way prepared to be a father. when you told him you were pregnant he about shat himself.

"but we used protection," he said, eyes wide as he paced the bunkhouse.

"well, quite obviously it didn't work," you said. you grabbed his arms. "ryan, hun, it'll be okay. okay? it'll all work out, we'll figure it out."

"i don't have anything for you. i can't do anything for you. i don't have a house for myself, i barely have my own truck, i make enough to live but i don't know how to provide for you," he stressed.

"we'll figure it out," you emphasized again, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

and you did. with how long ryan had been working on the yellowstone ranch and how close your family was to the duttons (how you'd met ryan, actually), john gave you space in the main house to take care of you new little girl - heavens knew there was enough room, he barely even noticed you were there. he, himself, was kind of obsessed with the idea of having another pseudo grandchild, and ryan was convinced that was the only reason he worked it all out for y'all.

ryan was a nervous father. he was uber careful, keeping constant eyes on the baby or whoever was holding her. ninety percent of the time, that person was himself. he barely even let colby hold her and he cursed out jimmy when he asked, saying how he wasn't about to let that dumbass, brain-injured, bronco-riding klutz of a rodeo star hold his precious baby girl and drop her on her head just like his parents had done to him, obviously.

everyone had a good laugh about that one.

your little girl wasn't around the horses or cows, or even a damn rope for so much of her life, but what she was around was poker. ryan had her in his lap as they played cards since she was a month old and not sleeping through the night. somehow, impeccably, she went down without a fuss after sitting through a few games of cards with her father and his friends.

when she got a bit older, he taught her all his favorite childhood card games, but she got bored of them. when you first walked in on him explaining poker to her, you about smacked him upside the head, but when you saw her smiling and figuring out the order of the cards you let it slide.

"she'll be cheatin' out the rest of us in no time," ryan said, running a hand over her hair as he smiled up at you.

"whatever you say, cowboy," you sighed, sitting next to her and picking at the chips he'd laid out for her.

for her tenth birthday, he threw her a poker party with the rest of the wranglers, the duttons, tate, and carter, with ibc rootbeers in a cooler to make her feel just as cool as the rest of them. it was the first time she'd played with anyone but her parents, and she was stoked.

she smoked their asses.

they were freaking flabbergasted, even ryan. he pressed a kiss to her head, laughing as he congratulated her. "that's my kid, everybody."

lee dutton:

lee never wanted kids.

he knew it, you knew it, john knew it, hell, the whole family knew it. it was never in his plan.

but, you also weren't in his plan. he'd had a perfectly organized idea of being the forever bachelor of the yellowstone, hitting up bars for quick girls when he wanted a makeout or one night stand or whatever, and then returning to life on the ranch.

well, you showed up, a horse trainer from the sixes, travis wheatley's little sister, and he fell in love so fast he almost tripped over his feet. he rushed into dating you, proposing, and marrying you but no one in montana had any complaints, except for maybe your father, but he was in texas so it didn't matter in the long run. and he also, accidentally, rushed into getting you pregnant, which was not the goal at all.

"i know, and i'm sorry, but i'm keeping it, baby," you'd told him the night he found the test. you held his face in your hands, brows furrowed. "i want this. i hope you can understand that."

"i never wanted kids," he told you, shaking his head and breathing out a deep sigh. "but, uh, with you? with you, i'm not so opposed." he looked up at you, mustering a small, almost scared smile. "hell, we're already here, ain't we? let's fuckin do this thing, baby."

"language, lee," you laughed.

his mind was blown when you gave birth, absolutely scared and amazed out of his mind when the nurse handed over this perfect, slightly messy, bundle of pink blankets screaming bloody murder to him as they cleaned you up.

"holy shit," he muttered, staring down at his daughter with wide eyes.

"language, lee," you groaned, sitting up and reaching out for the baby. he handed her to you immediately, watching the both of you carefully.

his world changed that day.

as soon as you were ready to let her out of the house, he took her everywhere with him, and he was not ashamed about it. the strap-on baby carrier was his best friend as he walked around the house, grabbing her nursing bottles before heading out to the barn. john laughed when he saw him the first time.

"and what the hell are you doing? you can't cowboy with a baby, lee," he told his eldest.

"watch me," was his answer.

you didn't know he was doing all this, only being told that he'd take her out while you got some rest or did whatever you needed to get done. it was nice to have little breaks throughout the day, but you worried if she was hungry. well, until you saw the little bottle holster he'd made himself that he kept strapped to his side.

you almost thought it was ridiculous, but it was the best possible outcome you could've hoped for, so you let him take her out every few days.

that girl was practically a cowboy by the time she was five years old. she knew all the terms, had her own boots, was dressed in the same wranglers and carhartts as her dad and grandpa, and always was begging for a horse. she wasn't allowed quite yet, but lee promised her she'd get one eventually.

he took her out hunting with him basically her whole life, teaching her the sacredness and also the practicality of it. she became obsessed with guns when she was eight, something you became especially worried about. you made him put extra locks on each case and then on the safe, the fear of her getting into them eating you alive. she complained about not being able to get a tag until she was twelve, but you thanked the state for it.

lee, of course, found a workaround where she began shooting bucks as big as the bed of his truck when she was only ten because it was on the dutton property - who was going to know? if she could love him anymore than she already did, she definitely did after that.

you kept it to the one kid, knowing she was all lee could really handle. and you were both happy to have her be the center of your worlds. and as much as some traditional montanans might argue that dutton ranch's succession should be male, anyone who met your daughter knew that that little ten year old was as much a cowboy as anyone on the ranch, following in the large footsteps of her grandpa and father with exactness.

jimmy:

jimmy was ecstatic when he learned you were pregnant, as nervous as it made him too. everything in his life was starting to work out; he'd figured out his dream job - to be a horse trainer, he had a good job, y'all had just gotten married, and he bought his first house right by the sixes.

"this is perfect," he told you, kissing your forehead as he smile widely. "everything is so perfect now, darlin'."

when you learned it was a girl that day at the doctor's office, he was even more ecstatic.

"our little cowgirl," you told him as he pulled you into his side.

"our little cowgirl," he nodded, a certain proud smile on his lips as he thought about what it'd be like raising a little cowgirl as a real cowboy now himself.

now that he had money, and good money too, he let himself go out and buy the baby all sorts of things, from cow printed blankets to little stuffed horses. you laughed when he came home one day with tiny little baby boots.

he put them on her as soon as she'd grown enough to give him the chance. he held her hands as he walked her around the room, the small girl bouncing a bit as she situated in her boots.

"i know they're kinda funny, hun," he hummed to her as she walked with him. "but, they're actually the best sort of shoe. you're gonna love 'em."

his favorite part of the day had always been coming home to you, but it was even better now that he had two people to come home to. and she loved her daddy, babbling with that big baby smile as she crawled to him. he'd always scoop her up into his arms and give her a big kiss on the cheek before walking through the rest of the house to find you.

he told her stories about the yellowstone ranch when he tucked her into bed, her favorite black and white spotted stuffed horse in her arms as she gazed up at him with a smile and big hazel eyes that mirrored his own.

when she got older, you started bringing her down to the arena to show her what exactly her daddy did. at that point, he was on travis' main team of show horse trainers, and he was happy to show off for his wife and little girl. she was always excited to watch him, hanging off the fence with a wide grin as you stood behind her, waving at your husband just as travis yelled at him to get back to work. it was the first time jimmy had ever really talked back to him, yelling not to curse when his daughter was around. travis never did it again and began to show off for the eight year old when she was around too.

she was spunky, way spunkier than jimmy was ready for and sassier than he ever had been. "she gets this from you."

when she went to travis asking for her own horse and better lessons, her brows raised and arms crossed over her chest, jimmy nearly had a heart attack. he dismounted his horse, crossing to his daughter but not making it before travis responded.

"what do i get if i do? horses aren't free, you know."

"a new trainer," she answered, nodding at him firmly. "i've seen y'all do this my whole life. i've rode my whole life. just gimme a shot."

at the ripe age of ten, she'd managed to convince travis wheaton to give her a horse, let her dad teach her, and the opportunity to stay on as she trained. travis laughed when he passed jimmy, shaking his head. "i hate to break it to you, but she ain't your kid, jimmy."

jimmy breathed a sigh of relief before he pulled her up onto his horse, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"you've really got to talk to me about things like that before you just do it," he said. "that's my boss, you know that?"

"he ain't my boss," she laughed, kissing her dad on the cheek.

spencer dutton:

spencer had always wanted kids. and ever since he met you he knew he wanted to have them with you. but, life as a hunter in africa was dangerous enough as it is that you both agreed to wait.

life had other plans.

well, you weren't exactly careful, for one, and for two birth control was iffy, so you should've seen it coming sooner or later. it probably should've been later, but what the hell.

he decided that was the right time to quit being a predator hunter then and did what he could to get you both back to montana, hopefully before you popped. you didn't argue - you wanted to be home when you had your baby too. he took excellent care of you on each ship, each town, and on the train west, ensuring you always had water and foods that didn't make you want to throw up, being a constant pillow for when your body decided it needed a nap, and paying for the most comfortable accommodations the different vessels had.

you didn't know the gender of the baby until after you had her. you were exhausted, but spencer had been right by your side the whole way through, smoothing your hair back and cooling you down with a wet cloth as cara coached you through it.

the look on his face when cara exclaimed it was a girl was one you would never forget; a mixture between love, adoration, and excitement, and fear, protectiveness, and anxiety.

he coddled that baby girl. every night, he spent hours cooing to her as he rocked in the rocking chair his father had built when he was just a baby. he told her stories about cowboying and africa, sang her lullabies cara used to sing to him, and never missed an opportunity to kiss her sweet chubby cheeks.

"you're so good with her," you mumbled to him one night as you sat on his lap in the chair, head tucked into his neck as he held you in one arm and the baby in the other. "how do you do it?"

"i don't know," he whispered, glancing at you with a gentle smile before you both returned your gazes to your daughter. "loving her comes as easily to me as loving you. it's as natural as anything i've ever felt."

"so it's just instinct that helps you calm her in any situation?" you asked.

"well, i can't calm her in every situation," he said with a quiet chuckle. "you've got the only solution sometimes. but, yeah. i guess in other ways it is."

then things got worse with whitfield and the ranch. she was older then, about six, and spencer made sure she knew to never go anywhere alone, to scream for help if she ever saw anyone she didn't know on the ranch (because she knew and adored literally every cowboy working for jacob), and to run. fast.

and she was fast. like, surprisingly fast. she took great pleasure in challenging spencer and jack and jacob to races. spencer and jack always pretended to let her win, and so did jacob, but after he got shot she actually did start to win. when he was told to walk around to get better, she thought she would be encouraging by walking right by his side a little faster than he was able to. it did actually get him moving quicker, but cara was constantly rolling her eyes as she did it.

when she got older, of course spencer taught her how to shoot and hunt.

"this is what daddy did before you were born, princess," he told her as he helped her line up the sight to the target.

"kill things?" she asked, raising her brows. you laughed as you sat to the side, watching in amusement.

he cleared his throat, his brows furrowing a bit. "well, i mean, yes, but i was protecting people from animals that wanted to hurt them. and other times getting food for the family."

"so, do i have to get food for the family now?" she asked, looking down at the gun. he laughed.

"you don't have to, no," he reassured. "i just wanted to show you. it's something i love to do, and something to protect you. that's why mama knows."

"mama knows?"

"yes, i do, baby," you chimed in with a smile. "he showed me back when we were just teenagers. he's a lot better than me though, so you listen to him."

"can we shoot something real next time?" she asked, glancing back at spencer.

"maybe not next time, but when you get enough practice in then yeah," he answered.

"when is that?"

she had a lot of questions. and she always asked them. but, spencer was as even kiln as ever, so patient when he responded to her and made sure her curious little mind found the answers it needed.

but, whenever you thought of spencer as a father, there was always one night that came to mind. she was probably four and it was way past her bedtime. y'all had put her to sleep maybe ten times before she finally stayed in her room and you left to hopefully get some rest.

except spencer turned on the radio. you'd just gotten it the day before and were so excited about it and when he flicked it on, some slow, country tune was playing through it. he took you in his arms then, holding you close to his chest with his lips on your temple, swaying you both gentle along to the tune.

you were smiling the whole time, letting him twirl you once before bringing you in close again. only a few minutes into your impromptu slow dancing, your door was pushed open and in walked your toddler.

there was no shouting or frustrated demand for her to go back to sleep, even though that was very tempting given your last hundred tries to have her do just that. instead, spencer pressed a kiss to your head and twirled you out of his arms as he moved to scoop her up instead. he held her up with one arm, his other holding her hand as he spun slowly in circles.

"if i let you dance with mommy and me will you stay in bed?" he said, raising his brows as he met the eyes that matched his. she giggled, nodding as he kissed her cheek. "okay, then let's dance baby."

you leaned up against the bed frame, watching them with crossed arms and a smile as the music played through the small radio. he met your eyes and his smile grew, slowly spinning his way over to you. releasing your daughter's hand, he took yours instead and pulled you in close. his hand moved to your waist and soon you had your arms wrapped around him and your baby girl as he held her between you, swaying slowly.

as the song ended, he twirled you and then spun himself to earn a giggle from the toddler before setting her down and taking her small hand to give her a twirl as well.

your heart was so full in that moment. when he returned from tucking her in for the (hopefully) last time, you kissed him slowly, pulling away with a soft smile.

"you're a good dad, spencer," you told him. he shrugged, pulling you back in to hold you in a gentle embrace.

"you're a good mom. you make it easy for me."

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

thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

[omitea]

𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 — 𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

char. g. satoru x fem! reader

tags. mentions of razors, gojo being a silly dad, you both have a son (don’t let him fool you!). i feel so soft :( not rlly proofread. wc. 0.8k.

notes. ahem, lowkey forgot how to write… lol

you should’ve known something was up the moment you heard hushed mumbles and giggles coming from down the hall. the morning sun shone brightly through the curtains; illuminating the left side of the bed. of course it’s empty, because who else would that muffled voice belong to.

groaning, you rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands— exhaling a warm breath as you slowly sat up. with a quick glance at your phone, you huffed out a sigh of amusement. how is it even possible to be energetic at 7 in the morning…

you groggily let your feet carry you all the way down the hall. the framed family pictures littering the white wall always managed to shape your lips in a smile no matter how many times you passed by.

you stopped just outside the door of the bathroom, feet shuffling as you heard a loud squeal of joy and an ugly snort following soon after. “ssh! ya gotta be quiet or else mama will hear you.” an image of your little boy looking puzzled flashed before your eyes, only making it hard to suppress the giggle wanting to escape your throat.

with a turn of the doorknob, you creaked the door open. and to be honest, nothing could’ve prepared you for the scene happening in front of you. “satoru!,” you gasped, eyes taking in the absolute mess that was created by none other than your husband… maybe son too, but he’s way too young to understand either way.

with an awkward stumble, he moves a step back from the vanity— still keeping a firm hand placed on your son’s back. “what even happened in here?,” you questioned. it was too damn early for this. satoru gulped, looking at anything but you. “we-,” he started before clearing his throat. “i was teaching him how to shave his face.”

you could only deadpan and look at him like he grew two damn heads overnight. “he’s not even one and a half year old yet, satoru,” you said sternly. the white haired man huffed out a dejected sigh, “i know, okay?,” he motioned with his scarred hands. “he has to be prepared for this either way…”

is he serious? it was cute, you admit… but creating such a mess was not needed.

you looked over at your son and the gummy smile he send your way made your heart swell. if it wasn’t for your form leaning again the door, you definitely would’ve melted into a puddle.

the lower half of his chubby face was covered in bubbles. his ‘beard’ bobbing with each movement of his head as he looked between his bickering parents curiously.

a moment of silence bounced off of the four walls before satoru moved to pick the razor back up. it still had the cover on, you noticed. he started lifting his hand to continue where he left off, but got interrupted as soon as you spoke up. “who made this mess?”

if you glanced at your husband a millisecond sooner, you would’ve seen the way his body froze. unfortunately for him though, the little one who was clueless to all this, lifted a small, chubby finger. not only did he start pointing at his father, but he started babbling too. small, white eyebrows furrowing as he tried to get his point across. “bwah, buh!”

satoru looked absolutely horrified as he felt betrayed by his own son. the one that was supposed to have his back. “you promised you wouldn’t snitch!,” he quickly intervened. “i didn’t expect this from my favorite son…”

with arms crossed, he huffed with a small pout on his glossy, pink lips. “he’s your only son, ‘toru.” a heavy sigh escaped his chest while he moved to clean your son’s face with a wet washcloth. “it still hurts, y’know…” so dramatic. “he literally came out of my balls, only for him to stab me in the back?” he continued with each delicate wipe.

you walked towards the two, careful not to slip on the soapy tiles. a quick peek at your son’s big blue eyes, you tilted your head to look at satoru. “how do you think i feel for carrying this adorable human being for nine months…” you paused. “only for him to look like you?” he noticed the way your eyebrows rose, grinning soon after.

“so, what you’re saying is that i’m adorable?” of course would he say that. “don’t worry, sweet cheeks.” satoru pointed to himself with his thumb. “i can use my awesome skills and pop another one into ya!”

you picked your son up and placed a big fat kiss on his rosy cheek. “your papa is so delusional, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.” that only earned a loud gasp and a whine from the lanky man beside you. “not you too!”

ignoring him, you carried on and headed towards the door before sending him a glare. “make sure you clean up everything. and i mean it, satoru.”

turning around he could only widen his eyes and blink. he could’ve sworn he saw the little gremlin grinning up at him as you retreated.

what a fool. you wouldn’t believe him anyway.

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

[saekkas]

𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

summary: your beloved son is a tiny, warmer version of your husband, itoshi rin, clingy and talkative without a care in the world. rin thinks you gave birth to a devil, one that won't let him spend time with you alone.

tags: 1.2k wc | f!reader | established relationship (they're married) | they have a kid in this | aged up characters | pro-athlete rin | kissing (nothing too suggestive), uncle sae makes an appearance

notes: happy birthday to rin itoshi q(≧▽≦q) also shout out to @okkalo because apparently great minds think alike

"black or red?" you mumble, eyes raking down your own reflection in the mirror. "what would he like better?"

at 5 pm on the third friday of every month, you always run into the same problem: date night. itoshi rin, your wonderful and adoring husband of five years, has kept the tradition of taking you out for a romantic dinner and drive throughout the city.

it started on your first anniversary when he surprised you by planning a date at a five-star restaurant that's always fully booked. back then, you were both still fresh out of college with no money to your names and you always wondered how he paid for the cheque.

fast forward years later, with your job as a top marine biologist and his as a renowned soccer player, your college romance seems so far away and yet, it's only bloomed into something far beautiful.

"dad says he likes both!"

you turn around at the words, a grin spreading across your face as you watch your bundle of joy run into the room. his legs are wobbly, and his hair is a dark mess on top of his head but the sight of him barreling straight towards you never fails to warm your heart.

"hello, my prince" you mumble, letting him bury his head into your neck. his hair tickles your skin, and you chuckle when he leaves a kiss on your collarbone. "did you have fun with your dad?"

"yeah! he bought ice cream then we went to the park to play soccer!"

he pulls away from you, bright teal eyes roaming over your face, staring as if he hasn't seen you for years when, in reality, it's only been a few hours. your beloved son is a tiny, warmer version of your husband, clingy and talkative without a care in the world.

"and then we-"

"alright, squirt. time for you to leave."

speak of the devil and he shall appear.

your head snaps towards the bedroom door, your grin melting into a soft smile as your husband steps into the room. rin wears a white fitted undershirt, obviously having changed whilst you were busy with your son.

rin moves, pressing a kiss to your cheek, one your son playfully blanches at, before trying to tug the small carbon copy of himself to where his brother stands at the door.

keyword: trying.

"but i haven't finished talking to mom!" your son whines, tugging his hand out of rin's. he trudges back to you, happily wrapping his arms around your leg, poking his tongue out at your husband. "go away!"

rin grunts, walking over towards you with a growing scowl on his face. "your mom and i have a date. sae's waiting to take you outside."

"well, uncle sae can wait!" the miniature devil in disguise tightens his grip on your leg, shooting a glare at rin before showing you his best puppy eyes. "i wanna be with mom."

"uncle sae can wait, i can't."

sometimes you wonder why the two halves of your heart can never get along.

they bicker, much like how rin used to with sae. whether it's in the morning, afternoon, or night, they'd find a reason to keep on getting on each other's nerves.

you'd be lying if you said it didn't amuse you, especially when you know that their hardheadedness stem from their love of you.

"well you should learn how to be more patient, papa!"

"she's my wife, you little squirt."

you laugh when rin finally reaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist, almost too territorial as he grabs his son's head, moving him away from you like pulling a toy from a claw machine.

"well, she's my mama too!" his small carbon copy huffs, slapping rin's hand away, all the while shooting him a glare. "you're so annoying!"

"okay, okay, that's enough," you sigh out, pressing a kiss to rin's cheek before pushing him away gently, crouching until you're eye level with your son.

you can see rin's disgruntled face in the corner of your eye. "your dad and i have a date tonight, sweetie. will you let us go, hm? i'll cook your favorite meal when you get back from uncle sae's. how about that?"

you watch him hesitate, twitching in his spot, occasionally throwing glances at his dad before he finally says, "i want that and kisses! cuddles too!"

you wonder where he learned to be such a good negotiator.

"okay," you mumble, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead before rin takes his hand, practically dragging your son to the front door where his brother stands, waiting with an amused smile. "be a good boy, okay?"

"wait, one more thing!" your little boy lurches out of rin's grip and you have to silence your laugh with a hand on your mouth, eyes crinkling in amusement at the fiery glare rin shoots him.

your son moves in, placing a kiss on your cheek before whispering cheekily, "you should make dad sleep on the couch tonight."

rin calls his name, muttering what you're sure to be curses under his breath, and you watch as your son moves towards him. only to completely disregard the hand rin has outstretched in favor of sae's.

sae nods his head towards you, one you copy before waving when he takes your son into his car for a weekend away.

"finally alone," your husband mutters, his tone deep and gruff. you can see the tension melt away from his shoulders when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to his frame. "i can't believe you gave birth to a little devil."

rin has always been touchy. it's a fact he's proven time and time again, ranging from your first date until this very moment of when he glides his hand through your hair, playfully tugging at your strands.

"you look beautiful," he mumbles, moving to nuzzle his face into your neck. he trails kisses down the column of your neck, and you sigh, having already experienced the sensation, albeit, a more innocent version, only minutes ago. "ready to leave?"

"hm? who are you and what have you done to my husband?" you chuckle, giggling when he retaliates to your words by nipping on your skin. you move your hand, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. "i'm kidding. you know i love it when you're all clingy and kissy."

he places one final kiss on your neck before pulling away, his eyes taking you in. "stunning," the words leave his lips as a breathy whisper, and you smile at the hazed look in his eyes.

he looks breathtakingly handsome with his hair gelled back and his undershirt wrapped tightly around his frame. you help him pull on his tuxedo, neatly pressed by your own hands only a few hours earlier, as he recounts his day out with your son.

and finally, you watch, amused when he takes off your ring and his, setting them both on your vanity drawer.

"shall we?" the words are muffled against your ring finger, the limb feeling oddly bare. rin kisses every single one of your knuckles before pressing one final kiss to your palm, his lips warm and soft.

"we shall."

he intertwines your fingers, tugging you out of your home and into his car, ready to take sweep you off your feet, just like he once did all those years ago when he made you his.

[moronkombat]

Can you write mk1 men with a pregnant reader who wants to have sex? What are their reactions, are they down for it or not.

spoiler alert, they're all okay with it tw: pregnancy, afab anatomy

Definitely not opposed to it. Reiko's reaction is...intrigued. Typically, sex is a battle in itself with bites and bruises a natural consequence. However, sex with his pregnant partner will look a bit more subdued in terms of physical marking. Expect more hair pulling than usual

Kenshi is initially surprised by this request but he is, ultimately, rather happy to oblige with such a task. Hands will roam your flesh so thoughtful and tender, he wants to feel every inch of you. And so, he will. He spends hours just feeling your body before even oh so carefully filling you with his cock. Does he mean to tease you like this? Of course

Syzoth would be the one to initiate sex during your pregnancy. He finds you terribly attractive when filled with his child. He simply cannot keep himself away from you. A secret he keeps rather close is that he finds you the most beautiful when you are rounded out by his offspring. If he could keep you pregnant forever, he would

Havik is not one to refuse sex with his partner. You being pregnant does not stop him, in fact, it encourages him. Absolutely obsessed with glorifying all the changes your body is going through. He's very descriptive when detailing the swell of breasts, the curve of your hips and, of course, the growth of your stomach. He becomes very possessive with your growing stomach during sex

Wouldn't deny you the pleasure that is sex. It is a natural and primal desire, after all. Rain is happy to have sex with his partner at any time and any place. He quite enjoys the look of you bouncing on his cock while heavy and milk filled breasts wave at him

Knowing that you're pregnant with his child is enough to turn a man like Shang Tsung on. He would not refuse taking you to the bedroom and absolutely making a mess out of your wet and begging pussy. Will fondle your breasts and chuckle as he watches oh so sweet milk drip drip drop

Quan Chi would want to massage your body before fully devouring you. He wants to feel your flesh bend and mold under his fingers. He takes quite the time on the plump of your ass. He is quite fond of your shapely and "motherly" hips

Tomas is actually quite the pervert when his partner is pregnant. Eyes linger upon your curves, you look so beautiful like this. Thoughts most impure overwhelm him and he is practically jumping for joy when you approach him for sex. He's very eager and doesn't want it to end. Once Tomas gets a taste of having sex when you're pregnant, he will not give it up

Raiden is always enthusiastic in regards to satisfying his partner's needs. Would gladly rock your world with the power of thunder until you can barely think. Your body oh so numb after he's done with you. Don't worry, though, Raiden is great with the tenderly aftercare

This man has just been waiting for the chance to absolutely ravage your pregnant body. He is exceptionally proud of himself for getting you pregnant and is invigorated by your changing body. Your growing stomach is a perfect reminder of just how potent he is and Kung Lao quite gets off on that

He's nervous, afraid he'll harm you or the baby. Though, Bi-Han would be a liar if he thought you didn't look attractive when pregnant. Seeing you carrying his child is intoxicating, his head is spinning. When having sex with you, his hand is clutching and resting on your stomach and you swear you can feel him shuttering and trembling with ecstasy just from that

Shao is always wanting to have sex with his partner. Pregnant or not, he will completely envelop you with carnal passion. Will tease you with playful words about how you'll give him many strong sons and that he'll keep pumping you full of his legacy

Johnny would find it fun. He would playfully refer to you as his "baby mama" during foreplay. Very touchy and feeling all of you up. When fucking you, he is quite drawn to your breasts and will whistle while commenting on their size

Not opposed to it at all. Liu Kang is happy to make his partner feel good and, let's be honest, he is feeling good too. He will be much more tender during sex, pampering you and giving you heavenly aftercare

Kuai Liang is very practical. He well aware of how libido increases during the course of pregnancy and is expecting you to eventually come to him all needy and wanting. A man such as Kuai Liang is always happy to indulge his partner in shared desires

Very hesitant. Baraka is aware that he has the tendency to lose control when having sex and he is worried he may harm you and the baby. With some tender reassurance, he will give in. Really tries to restrain himself, holding back and straining to let loose. Should you allow this, well, it will certainly be a long night

[rbfclassy]

STILL IN LOVE! #3 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You anxiously put on your mascara, nervousness building in your chest when your date texted that he was less than five minutes away. It’s been forever since you’ve been on a date, the last one you ever went on was with Toji. You began to grow anxious, a million questions running through your head, self doubt and everything in between. The kids were with Shoko, thankfully she was free for the weekend or else you might’ve had to cancel entirely no thanks to Toji.

You screwed the mascara shut, tossing it back in your makeup bag as you took one last look in the mirror, hands running over your dress to make sure it was flattened out and tight fitting. “Okay.” You took in a deep breath in, trying to calm your nerves. Though all came flooding back once the doorbell rang. “Shit! Okay, okay, be calm,” you spoke to yourself, striding towards the front door, heels hitting the wood below you. You gulped, fingers fidgeting with the lock before you opened the door to finally reveal your date. “Hi!” You smiled.

“Hi…wow,” he looked over your figure, “you look…amazing.” He couldn’t stop staring at you, a small smirk on his face. “These are for you.” He handed you a bouquet of followers.

The smile on your face grew wider as you grabbed the flowers from his hand, sniffing them. “Thank you so much, Nanami.” You averted your gaze towards him. “You look really handsome as well.” It felt like you were back in middle school again, talking to your crush for the first time ever. He wore a black button down, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pair of classic black slacks. His outfit rightfully complimenting yours. “Please, come in.” You grabbed the empty vase that sat on your countertop, filling it with water and placing the flowers in. “These are beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like them, they were one of the very few left,” he chuckled. He bit the inside of his cheek when you looked over your shoulder and flashed him a smile. He cleared his throat as you walked over to him.

“Well, thank you again. Shall we get going?” You asked, staring up at him through thick lashes.

Your faces were only inches apart as he held the stare, your perfume filling his lungs each time he took a breath. It was quite intoxicating. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to be late.”

It was already an hour into the date, you and Nanami were already making great conversation, finding out that you two had a lot in common. He was a hard working man, but always tried to find time for himself when it was necessary. He had his whole life put together, very obvious from the car you two drove to the restaurant in. He was such a gentleman, opening the car door for you, pull out the chair for you. It had you swooning. He had you swooning.

“How’s your pasta?” He asked, slightly leaning forward on the table.

You covered your mouth as you finished chewing. “It’s amazing!” Your eyes swelled up in joy. “Is this your first time here?” You asked.

“It is! I wanted to take you to somewhere new. I’ve driven by this place a few times and it looked pretty interesting. Glad my instincts are paying off,” he laughed, placing his fork down.

“Well, sir, you have excellent taste.” You smiled at him. “How is your food? It looks delicious.”

“It is! Would you like to try some?” He asked.

“Oh, no, no, please you don’t have to do that.” You shook your head, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“I insist. Come on, I know you want to!” He picked up the crab cake he had ordered, breaking off a piece before placing it on a napkin and handing it to you. “Go on, tell me how good it is.” He watched intently as you ate, waiting for your reaction.

“Oh my gosh! It’s so buttery with a slight sweetness,” you let out a satisfied moan. “I’m jealous, Nanami.” He laughed at how serious your face turned once you finished.

He stared at your smile, finding himself mirroring it. You were very lighthearted and fun to be around, not to mention absolutely gorgeous. He was already starting to think about the second date. “Call me Kento.”

“So, how’s the new girlfriend doing?” Gojo asked as he sat on the couch next to Toji, a beer in his hand. Toji glanced at Gojo before averting his gaze back to the television in front of him.

“She’s fine,” he answered, no emotion in his voice. He took a swig of his beer, letting out a sigh. Gojo poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

“Just fine?” Gojo questioned. “You haven’t told me one thing about her since you two got together.”

“Don’t need to,” Toji bluntly stated. Immediately, Gojo could tell something else was plaguing Toji’s mind. Even with a few beers in his system, Toji wasn’t opening up. He knew exactly what it was. Him and Toji have been good friends for years, it’d be shame if he couldn’t tell what was on his mind.

“Okay, so how’s y/n and the kids?” Gojo raised a brow, staring Toji down. There was silence where there was supposed to be answer. He swore he could see Toji’s jaw clench at the mention of your name. Something happened that Toji didn’t tell him about. “Let me guess, you and y/n had some sort of argument and now you’re being pissy about it cause she was one hundred percent right like always?” Gojo batted his eyelashes, giving a cheeky smile.

“Shut the hell up, Gojo,” Toji warned, putting the beer bottle to his lips and taking a big gulp.

“Ah, so I’m right.” There was smug smile on his face as leaned back into the couch. “What is it this time? Did she finally find someone else?” Toji sucked in a breath before exhaling, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Gojo let out an audible gasp, “she did, didn’t she? Holy shit.”

“I don’t know for sure, but we got into an argument about me not taking the kids this weekend, she asked if it was because of yoko and I told her it wasn’t her business and that she was jealous. Then, she told me she had plans, but wouldn’t say with who. So…yeah. You happy?” Toji turned his head towards the white haired man beside him.

Gojo let out a small giggle, before stopping himself. “I’m sorry, you called the mother of your children jealous of your new girlfriend because she asked why you couldn’t take your children? What an asshole you are.” Gojo slowly nodded his head, brows raised in amusement.

“I get it, Gojo. Shut the hell up.” Toji had a firm grip on the beer bottle in his hand, afraid that if he squeezed it any harder, it’d shatter.

“Don’t get me wrong, Yoko is cute and all, but y/n,” Gojo let out a whistle, “y/n is where it’s at. She’s dealt with your ass for eight years, birthed two kids, and is hot as hell..I’d take her over Yoko any day. I see why you couldn’t stay away from her.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Toji glared at Gojo, using what restraint he had not to punch his friends teeth in.

“Just saying.” Gojo shrugged.

Toji’s phone began to ring, quickly grabbing it to see that Shoko was calling. His brows furrowed before he got up from the couch and answered it. “Hello?”

“Yo, Toji, your kids wanted to say goodnight,” Shoko stuffed some ice cream in her mouth, ready to hand the phone off to Megumi, but Toji spoke before anything.

“My kids? You’re the one babysitting my kids? Where’s y/n? Is she there?” Toji leaned against the kitchen counter, brows still knitted together.

“Jeez, you’re full of questions. Yes, I’m watching your kids, and y/n is…on a very, very nice date. Anyway, here are your children,” said with a chipper tone.

Megumi grabbed the phone from Shoko, putting it up to his ear. “Hi, dad, I just wanted to say goodnight. Naya already fell asleep.”

“Hi, buddy, goodnight to you too. Tell your sister I said goodnight if she wakes up, okay?” Toji spoke, placing his beer on top of the counter. He was trying to avoid sounding upset, the information Shoko just told him had his blood boiling.

“I will. I love you, bye!” Megumi quickly hung up the phone before Toji could even respond, leaving his father standing in silence.

The cold night breeze blew past your exposed legs as you walked up to your front door with Nanami, his hand holding yours as he helped you up the steps, making sure you didn’t trip in your heels. “Thank you so much, Kento. I had a great time with you,” you said with a smile, avoiding his gaze.

“I had a great time with you too. Must I say, once again, you look really beautiful tonight. I know you must be tired of hearing me say it, but I can’t help myself.” You took notice of how his eyes scanning over your body, focusing on the tight dress that you wore.

“Trust me, I could listen to you compliment me all night.” It was sort of bold of you to say such a thing, but with the way this man was flirting with you since the moment he laid eyes on you, it was only fair.

“Oh yeah?” His broad body grew closer to you, closing in the small distance. “Maybe we can do that on the second date then?”

You found the courage to look him in his eyes, not daring to pull away, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “I was thinking the same thing,” you responded.

“Good, glad we’re on the same page. Same time next weekend, better be ready.” A smirk tugged at his plush lips.

“Don’t worry, I will. Goodnight, Kento.” You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on his cheek. His hand slipped from yours as you pulled away, unlocking your front door and walking inside.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He took one last good look at you, taking in your smile before shutting the door. Nanami stood on your porch for a while, hands in his pockets, biting down on his bottom lip. He turned to walk down the steps only to stop himself, looking back at your door. Without thinking, he knocked on it.

You opened the door. “Oh, did I forget something?”

“Forgive me.” He cupped your face, planting his lips on yours, a feverish kiss shared between your two. His tongue ran over your bottom lip, gently biting on it. “I couldn’t resist,” he pants.

You were taken by surprise, but still kissed him back. Deep down, you were hoping this would happen. All night the tension was so thick that you could cut with a knife. The way he’d look at you, undressing you with his eyes, only for you to be doing the same. His hands ran up under your dress, squeezing at your thighs. You pulled away from the kiss to speak, “I was waiting all night for you to do this.”

“Yeah, sweetheart? Better not disappoint you then.” His hands ran up your thighs and to your ass, pushing you against the front door. Your hands tangled in his blonde locks as he left wet kisses down your neck. “You looked so good all night I was finding it hard to contain myself,” he admitted. He pushed his hips against yours, allowing you to feel the bulge forming in his pants.

“Just fuck me already,” you moaned. The wetness pooling in your panties was obvious, your cunt throbbing.

“Where?” He quickly asked.

“Anywhere,” you breathily replied.

“Anywhere?” He questioned.

“Anywhere.” You nodded. All while Nanami was stripping you of your dress, you were blissfully unaware of your phone vibrating in your purse for the third time in under two minutes.

“She’s not answering the fucking phone.” Toji tossed his phone on the counter, Gojo standing there with his arms crossed in amusement.

“She’s probably getting the best fuck of her life. Leave her be, she deserves it.” Gojo pushed his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“If you say one more thing, I’m gonna kill you,” Toji threatened. Gojo loved to piss Toji off, especially when he rightfully deserved it. And in this case, he did. “I’m gonna go over there.”

“Don’t go over there! You annoy her enough!” Gojo easily snatched the keys from Toji’s hands. “Wait until tomorrow, okay? Let the woman enjoy her night, she doesn’t need you ruining it.” He stuffed the keys in his pocket.

“Fuck off.” Toji grabbed his beer, chugging it like it was water. He had no right to be jealous, but he couldn’t deny these feeling brewing in his chest. The thought of someone else seeing you like he has, learning your body the way he has, treating you the way you deserved to be treated, and treating his kids with respect, he fucking hated it. He sounded like such an asshole, but deep down a part of you was always his.

“I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be too happy to hear you still care so much about your ex wife getting fucked.” He stared at Toji through his glasses.

“Yeah, well, surprise, she’s not really a girlfriend. I was just seeing her,” he explained.

“Like fuck buddies?” Gojo questioned. Toji answered with a nod. “Interesting that you choose your fuck buddy over your ex wife. Now look at you, lonely and jealous.” Gojo walked off back into the living room.

“You’re insufferable,” Toji muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. He’ll let you enjoy your night, but he was definitely going to have a talk with you tomorrow morning whether you liked it or not.

series masterlist

tag list (comment to be added):

@sweetpo1son @lovebittenbyevans @ryumurin @he4rts444mi @cherrypieyourface @lemonintrovert01 @ladysi0 @avanly @chilichopsticks @tananaxx @akusrider @irlbungee @my-anime-garden @hnm-mika @antiholdinghandsclub @yharnam-prophet @crankyarchives @nnnancyr @kenqki @ebiharachan @dollcest @whoreforjjkmen @yoyio90 @jaegergirl @r0seandth0rns @blankwashed @ittomain1 @3rdmonday @5seos @weird0o0 @1-800-choke-that-ho @s-j320 @viisgrave @mayajadewrites @jhiyoon

[hypnotiiize]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

In the beginning Jude had been tentative. Playing with the skin on his nails, he would bring the topic up slyly and then go quiet when the conversation got too real: Kids. Children. A baby. 

She knew that he wanted three kids– a boy, two girls, the same as her– as he wouldn’t shut up about it when they were younger. Now it all seemed too real to him, she supposed. 

His full lower lip would stick out in what his wife called a pout and he would search his right and left for something to toy with. If he reminded himself to do neither then his leg would start bobbing. If he stopped his leg then he would change his seating position frequently, too fidgety to stay still. 

She told him that there was no rush. They’d just gotten married. They were both young. Children could wait. 

He’d gotten ahead of himself. Grateful for her support, he placed his palm behind her head and brought her lips to his in what became a searing kiss. His hands dropped to her neck, then to her waist, then he stopped kissing her to watch her eyelashes flutter against the apples of her cheeks. Snow glazed over their windows, the glare from their tree lights melting it quickly. Inside the home, the fire burned slowly. 

She found out in February. Someone off-handedly mentioned a glow about her, only to be taken aback when she gasped raggedly in response. 

He found out later that day. She sat him down and, now, she fidgeted instead. He wrapped an arm around her and asked what was wrong. When he tried to pull her into his lap and she resisted, his lips parted. Wracking his brain, he asked if he had done something and all she could do was shake her head. He moved her hair out of her face as he waited for her answer. 

Two fragile words left her lips. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He repeated the words back to her, a breathless whisper. She nodded. 

The realization hit him in waves. She was pregnant. She was pregnant and he was going to be a father. Possibly, most pertinently, she was pregnant and he was going to be a father and he wanted to leap for joy and shout it from the rooftop of their house. She was pregnant and he was going to be a father and he was ecstatic about it and oh my God she was carrying their child as they spoke.

Her eyes widened when he slid his hand over her midriff softly. So soft that she would not have felt it had she not watched his actions. She watched his eyes flit back and forth, putting something together privately. Then he kissed her, enfolding her body into the sofa and sheltering her form with his.

Their baby would want for nothing, he promised himself. He would be the best father ever. He would be at every game, every talent show, and everything else the kid would want to do. 

Matthew was born on a chilly night in September. Jude remembered the loud cry that quietened when their son was finally placed in his mother’s arms. She welcomed him to the world and the baby all but sighed, snuggling into the familiar warmth of his mother. 

Jude remembered that she always had a way with their son. Frowns turned into smiles when she would so much as hum. The baby was wrapped around her finger just as much as she was his tiny one. 

He struggled not to be jealous of the immediate affection between the two. It always took him a second longer than her. He could make a bottle, but not as fast. He could change a diaper, but not as quickly. He was there every step of the way for his son. Just not as swiftly. 

She had no idea. He smiled whenever the baby responded to her and only her, laughed when their son gripped onto her index finger and wouldn’t let go. She was caught up in the whirl of new motherhood– constant mess, little to no sleep, frantic worrying– to focus on anything other than their son. 

He understood that. In fact, he hated himself more for being so acutely aware of his own feelings during this time. Regardless, he would swallow, smile, and kiss his wife goodnight. He would not burden her, he decided. He would just try harder to connect with his son, whose little head would turn toward his mother’s presence even when Jude was cradling him against his bare chest. 

Matthew’s piercing cry awoke the couple. Having just fell asleep, she could only crack one eye open enough to catch her husband hoisting himself up drowsily. He murmured something to her about taking care of it and darkness engulfed her once more.

She was awoken some time later by the same shrill call that made her senses go haywire. This time, the baby sounded closer. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes just as the bedroom door opened. 

Her husband was walking toward her, holding their son out to her. 

“He won’t stop crying. Please.” His voice cracked. 

She grabbed their son and tried to calm him down as he went on, speaking in a low timbre. 

Jude rubbed the back of his head. “I tried to feed him, I changed him, we went for a walk around the house. I don’t know…” 

She nodded and held her son close to her chest. She rocked him in a familiar rhythm– Staying Alive by the Beegees. After rocking him to the mental ah ah ahs didn’t work, she spoke to him in a whisper. Still, he cried. She pouted and kissed his head. 

“He seems a little colicky, baby,” she informed her husband through a yawn. She thought back to seven years prior, when her Godson had been a newborn and scream-cried in the early hours of the morning. Matthew’s cries were similar. She kissed her poor baby’s cheek and held him tighter. “We just have to wait it out.” 

It was only then that she looked up at her husband who sat at her feet. Her lips fell apart at the tear that glistened along Jude’s cheek.

She leaned forward. “Baby, what happened? Are you okay?”

Jude shook his head then palmed his forehead. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, why are you crying? What happened?” she pressed.

He blinked extra hard, willing the truth to surface. Salt-flavored tears fell. 

“I just. I just thought he was crying because of something I did. And I swore I did everything right but I couldn’t… I wouldn’t be able to breathe if I hurt him. I just–” The corners of his full lips quivered, guilt clawing its way up his soul. He placed his head in his hands.

“Jay,” she mumbled and kicked the covers off. She scooted down the bed carefully, crying baby still firmly in the crevice of her right arm. Her left hand reached out, finding his and caressing his knuckles. “It’s not your fault. He’s okay. You didn’t do anything.”

Jude looked up, finally. The tip of his nose was beet red. “Yeah, but what if I did? What if I give him too much milk? Or– or too little? What if his bath water is too hot? I just– he deserves someone who knows what they’re doing.”

She rubbed his chest, hot from the burning mix of emotions. “He deserves you. You’re such a good dad, Jay, you’re the best dad. It’s okay if you make some mistakes.”

“It’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

Jude shook his head, mumbling due to the pinching feeling at the back of his throat. “No, it’s not. No it’s not, because you’re not making these mistakes and it all comes so easily to you and no matter how much I read those books I would never have been able to tell that he was cowlick or something because I’m just– My brain doesn’t work like that. He deserves someone else. I’m too–” He bit his lip. His nostrils flared as a new wave of tears overcame him. “I’m just dumb and it’s not clicking for me. I try so hard. I try and try. I love him with everything in me and he just doesn’t love me like he loves you and now I don’t even know how to soothe him when he’s crying. I’m a horrible father, oh my God.”

Her first feeling was panic. For a split second, she wanted to dig her nails into his arm to ensure that he would not leave. The next second, she wanted to cry for even thinking that thought. 

“No you’re not. Don’t say that,” was all she could manage at first. She rubbed his cheek. “You’re an excellent father, Jude. I’m in awe of you most times. You don’t freak out when there’s spit-up or poop or pee on you. You wake up every night to be with him. You put him to sleep in, like, five seconds! You’re having a breakdown because you can’t fathom the idea of hurting him in any way. You’re so good. He doesn’t need someone who knows everything, he needs someone willing to love him with all of their heart and he has that in you. We can learn along the way.” 

“He doesn’t like me,” said Jude, shaking his head.

Her jaw dropped. “What do you mean he doesn’t like you?! He adores you!” 

Jude sniffled, not fully taking heed of his wife’s words of encouragement. His eyes flitted to his weeping son whose bottom lip began to quiver. This was a different form of a cry, he realized. 

“He’s getting cold, baby,” Jude informed his wife quickly. 

She blindly felt around the bed for something to wrap their son in. 

“See? You caught that so fast,” she commended, fingers brushing against something that she could not yet see. She covered Matthew’s small form quickly then concentrated on her husband, rubbing his shoulder. Her ring finger glittered in the pale moonlight. 

Jude wasn’t responding. His brown eyes stared off into space. She could see him working his jaw the same way he would all those years ago. No longer was he her husband. Now, he was an insecure eighteen-year-old, tall and anxious and not quite sure where he fit in. She thought about what would have gotten eighteen-year-old Jude out of the rut and then she contemplated calling one of his friends for a pep talk. Trent was a father, too– but she knew that this was too personal. This was not a matter of friendly advice. This was a matter of her husband not feeling worthy.

Then, wails became cries. Cries became sniveling. Sniveling turned into whimpering.

She looked down at her son in amazement. She finally saw what she had wrapped around her baby. 

Experimentally, she pulled the cloth from him and his cries picked up. She grabbed something else and wrapped it around him, and if Matthew could speak he would have cursed at her. She grimaced as his legs kicked, strong for such a small human. She tried one more new object then gave in, finding the fabric she had originally cocooned him in. She placed his arms down and swaddled him, giggling softly when he went from full screaming to whimpering at once.

She tapped her husband who gently blinked himself out of his trance. 

“Look,” she began, holding Matthew out. “Look what got him to stop crying.”

Jude grasped his son, supporting his head and neck expertly. He lightly tugged on the cloth around the baby before peeking back at his spot on the bed. 

The corner of his mouth tugged up. “Is this my pajama shirt?” he asked. 

She grinned so big that her tongue was between her teeth. “Of course it is.”

Jude smiled slyly. 

His son yawned, then. A big one, where his nostrils flared and his eyes squinted and his fingers spread out. In the next moment, he gripped onto his father’s t-shirt with one sure fist. 

Jude chewed on his bottom lip to keep from crumbling further. He placed a soft kiss to his son’s cheek, then laughed a tad when he saw the corner of Matthew’s mouth frown. 

“He’s about to start crying again,” he knew.

“Quick! Rock him!” said his wife.

Jude stood, baby in his arms, and swayed. Under his breath, he sang Staying Alive. Matthew’s eyes would droop with every ah ah ah ah that came and then widen if Jude stopped singing for even half a second. 

She stood, too. She danced with her boys until Matthew was fully asleep, and then she pressed her lips to her husband’s. 

“I love you sooo much,” she told him. “And still, that baby loves you way more than me. Believe me.” 

Later, when he was putting Matthew back in his crib, he straightened up and noticed the ice along the baby’s window. He walked over and tapped his index finger against it, remembering the ice from the year before. 

Before, when it was just the two of them. When they were buying gifts for all of their friends. When the eggnog was in full swing. When the thought of children would make him squirm. 

He rubbed his fingers against the window, smiling when the tips of his fingers came back cold. He took one last look at his son wrapped in his grey Spider-man shirt. He loved that shirt and no one but him could wear it– he had once gotten in an argument with his friend because he’d pretended to spill ice cream cake on it. But he was more than happy to pass it on to his son.

He crossed the hallway to his room and tried to lay down. Two minutes later, he found himself back in his son’s room. He rolled Matthew’s crib across the hall, through the door, and around to his side of the bed. 

When he fell asleep, one hand through the bars of the crib and holding onto his son, he knew for sure that he didn’t know what he did to deserve the life he lived.

But he would do his best to live up to it.

[shysublimecoffee]

Marinette receiving the Ladybug mantle was an absolute mistake. I watched the special, and honestly, gurl is doing the most—and for what? A guy? One dude, and she’s ready to throw her common sense out the window. Like, how has Hawkmoth/Gabriel not used his own son more often as leverage against her by now? That’s villainy 101, and he’s just sitting on it. Like for the amount of times I've seen this show rag on ChatNoir because of his weakness in romance when that Ladybug biggest weakness not CN lol.

At this point, I don’t even care about what Marinette’s going through. Whatever emotional investment I had in her? Long gone. She’s out here spinning lies on top of lies, desperately trying to hold together her crumbling Adrien-obsessed empire, and for what? She lost. Game over.

Now, if this were a story about a girl slowly getting corrupted, spiraling into villainy, and intentionally written as a downfall arc? No problem. That would’ve been a compelling narrative with a real lesson for kids about the consequences of obsession and dishonesty. But nope, instead we’re stuck with this mess where her choices make it harder and harder to root for her.

Marinette's speech at the press conference—“Ladybug holds the truth, she holds the truth” —had me scratching my head cause it sound more like a villain then a hero. Like, did the writers forget she’s supposed to have hero-like qualities? She’s meant to be the messenger, the symbol of hope, the hero. But how often does she actually display that in her own show?

Lately, it feels like being Ladybug is more of an obligatory chore for her than something that brings her real joy or fulfillment. Isn’t the whole point of magical girls to inspire, to help others, and to grow through their journey? Where’s the sense of accomplishment, the spark, the joy of making a difference? It’s like they’ve stripped her of everything that should make her role uplifting and meaningful.

I've seen here and there about how MC was never meant to come off that way or the writers are trying to make her more complex or how dare you do you dislike complex female characters or the most used it was never her intention to come off that way it was a mistake.

I want you to picture this without the music just dialogue cause i'm going to be clearcut about this.

Ladybug went to an orphaned, grieving child—one who had been locked away in solitary confinement, surrounded by nothing but white walls and being sensory deprived—and lied to him about his father being a hero. Let that sink in. Gabriel, who systematically abused his own son, was painted as a noble martyr by Ladybug.

Adrien, a kid who was finally starting to question his father’s authority, even beginning to tear down the oppressive image of the man who controlled and hurt him, is now trapped in an even tighter mental cage. After all, if Paris sees his father as a hero, a savior, how could he possibly feel justified in blaming or resenting the man? Gabriel is now a martyr in the eyes of the world, and Adrien is left to wrestle with guilt and shame for ever having cruel thoughts about someone everyone else idolizes.

Ladybug’s decision to perpetuate this lie doesn’t just protect Gabriel’s image—it messes with Adrien’s already fragile mind. Instead of helping him heal or giving him the freedom to process the truth, she’s reinforced the very chains Gabriel used to control him. It’s not heroic; it’s delusional and harmful, all in the name of preserving some twisted version of peace in her head.

You want me to feel pity for a girl who I'm sorry if I sound harsh to yall at the end of the day just want to keep the peace to fill her delusions that everything is going to work out in her part at the end when really she's just the worst type of coward there is when it comes to confrontations lmao. Accountability? She avoids them like they’re some kind of plague. It’s almost impressive how someone can masquerade as a hero while being utterly incapable of facing the hard truths. Lmao, sure, let’s all pity her.

Honestly, in the earlier seasons, at least Marinette seemed to feel bad about her mistakes. Now? She’s only gotten worse. I headcanon that receiving the Ladybug mantle or becoming the Guardian inflated her ego, giving her a power trip. With no proper mentor to hold her accountable and everyone automatically deferring to her leadership, who’s left to challenge her? Well maybe CN if he has the guts to do so but he'd rather cower into his shell lol.

In hindsight, I don’t think Marinette should’ve become Ladybug—not because she lacks the capability, but because the role itself seems to have worsened her as a person. Instead of growing into the hero I though she was meant to be, she’s devolved, losing some of the humility and self-awareness she had at the start of the series.

Let’s be real—we’re in Season 6 now, and we all know the writers aren’t going to make Marinette face any real consequences. The whole universe bends over backward to accommodate her. If you’ve seen Season 5, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

That said, I’ll give credit where it’s due: the special was fun. Yes, despite all my ranting, I actually enjoyed it because it was funny in its own way.

At this point, though, I’m only sticking around for Adrien and Lila. Honestly? I’m rooting for Lila to be the one to drop the truth bomb and expose everything. It would be chef’s kiss poetic if she ended up being the one to set things straight. Lmao.

P.s For anyone who thinks there is a dilemma to be had about the whole thing its really not lol rip the bandaid off.

It reeks of a megalomaniac in the making, making her come off like a gaslighting psychopath. Ironically, it reminds me of Gabriel—especially with the way he used similar wording. Honestly, are we sure Marinette isn’t Gabriel’s true daughter? Because the parallels are man.

I’m genuinely angry that she is the one everyone feels sorry for, and it’s only because the show is stuck in her perspective. If we spent even a fraction of the screen time on Adrien’s pain, it would make for a far more compelling story. It’s infuriating. Marinette isn’t some helpless sheep/damsel victim here—no one forced her into this role at gunpoint. She made her choices, knowingly and willingly. How dare she act like the weight of the world was thrust upon her without her consent? When she very much messed with a grieving kid here?

And yet, Adrien’s pain—real, tangible, and far more tragic—is constantly sidelined. He’s an orphan, being lied to by nearly everyone around him, adults and teens alike, and his suffering is treated as a subplot to Marinette’s endless drama. Why should the audience feel more for her than for the boy who’s lost everything? Why is his pain has to be centered to her??

This isn't a small mistake this has far reaching consequences if the show had the balls to do it to lie to the entire world over a man who terrorized on people fear.

If Adrien ever became a villain, I wouldn’t blame him. In fact, I’d understand and give him the free ticket to go ahead and cataclysm and burned the world .

[rafeandonlyrafe]

just friends

words: 3.1k

warnings: drinking

“hey rafey.” you call, bouncing into the room and giving him a kiss on the very top of his head.

rafe eyes kelce and topper immediately. “only she gets to call me that.” he says sternly, and they both nod, knowing he’s not kidding about that.

“what are you doing, y/n/n?” rafe asks as you start to rifle through the cabinets in his kitchen. 

“getting something to eat.” you say with a shrug, frowning when you can’t find any snacks you like.

“here.” rafe stands up from the stool he’s sitting on and pushes it back under the counter, rounding it to place a hand on your back and guide you to the pantry. he opens it and grabs your favorite bag of chips, knowing exactly what you prefer after 15 years of friendship.

“perfect!” you say happily, giving rafe a dazzling smile, pouring some in a bag and handing rafe the bag back to put away. you head out of the room, going to eat in front of the tv. rafe watches you leave before returning to his spot between topper and kelce.

“why aren’t you dating her again?” kelce asks, making rafe give him a slap on the arm.

“she’s my best friend.” rafe clarifies. you’re the one good thing he’s managed to keep in his life, a light in the darkness, his only source of joy some days when his dad is being particularly cruel or the pain of missing his mom gets too great.

--

“hey rafe, i was wondering if you were gonna miss family dinner.” your mom says, giving him a quick hug.

“and miss your cooking? never mrs y/l/n.” rafe smiles, always putting his charm on when he’s around your parents, despite them already loving him like he’s her own son.

“y/n is outside on the daybed, i think we’ll eat outside since it’s such a nice day.”

“that sounds perfect.” rafe heads towards the door before turning back to call, “let me know if you need any help!”

you look up from your phone when rafe comes out onto the patio, smiling at your best friend. “come hereeeee, rafey.” you say, dropping your phone and opening your arms to him.

rafe joins you on the daybed, resting his head on the pillow next to you as he lays down, pulling you into his hold. you grin as you snuggle into his hold, resting your head against his chest, feeling the familiar heartbeat against your cheek.

you don’t even need to speak, simply relaxing and enjoying being around each other, rafe rubbing his hand up and down over your back, you tracing shapes on his torso.

your mom carries the dishes to the outdoor table, with the help of your dad who just got home from work. “do you think they’re finally going to realize that they’re in love with each other now that they’re older?” your mom asks with a sigh, wiping her hands on her apron as she watches the two of you.

“i’m sure they will soon.” your dad says, placing a hand on his wifes back, “on their own time.”

--

rafe grins as you walk down the stairs and into the dining room, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. your hair is a mess of curls, sticking out in every direction from your scalp.

“why-” you say, flopping down on the seat next to rafe, “do you look so awake right now?”

you thought you were getting up early when you dragged yourself out of bed at 10 am after a movie marathon with rafe that lead you far too late in the night.

“you know i always sleep best when you’re in the bed with me.” rafe says, offering you his bowl of cereal, knowing he can get more later, wanting you to eat as well. you accept it, talking about the movie as you finish off the honey nut cheerios.

“hey y/n.” wheezie greets you, also still in her pajamas, but you’re so comfortable with each other that she doesn’t mind, it’s nowhere near the first time.

“hey wheez.” you say with a smile.

“did you sleep over?” she asks.

“mhm!” you hum in response. “do you wanna do something today wheez? i can take you shopping if you want.” “oh yeah!” wheezie says. “let me get dressed.” “woah, woah, slow down! eat first then we can get some starbucks, okay? besides i still have to shower.” “okay, thanks y/n/n.” wheezie says, rushing out of the room.

“i can’t believe my little sister is stealing my best friend from me.” rafe pouts, crossing his arms.

“oh shush.” you say, standing up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

--

“ugh!” you shout, watching the liquid fall down the front of your dress, soaking the material. your bottom lip quivers. you felt so beautiful tonight, your hair and makeup came out perfectly, but now the beer spilled down your front is ruining that completely.

“i’m so so sorry-” the man begins to apologize, but rafe is already hovering over you, giving the guy a look that his him almost shaking in fear.

“get. out.” rafe manages to say through gritted teeth. the man backs away, heading out of the party.

“rafe, you didn’t have to make him leave.” you say with a pout.

“but i did, he ruined your pretty dress, baby.” rafe hates the look on your face, would do anything to make you smile again, to make you feel better.

you sniffle at the mention of your dress. rafe completely forgets that he’s supposed to be hosting this party right now, taking your hand and tugging you inside of the house and up the stairs.

“come on, sarah wouldn’t mind if you wear something of hers.” rafe says, directing you into his sisters room. you know he’s right, you’re practically a big sister to sarah with how much you’re around. you’ll send her a text promising to give the dress back clean and take one out of her closet.

rafe waits outside the door as you change, taking the dirty dress and tossing it into the laundry room to deal with later. 

“i’m so sorry, bunny.” rafe says, using the nickname he gave you originally in third grade when you would come over just to bounce on his trampoline, until you begged your parents enough that they got one as well.

“it’s okay.” you say, shoving him away from you once you get downstairs, “now go get more beers, i’m sure we’re running low.” rafe nods, letting you boss him around, the one person who can tell him what to do and he’ll actually listen.

you head back out to the party, your friend coming up to you and handing you a drink. “thank youuu.” you coo, taking a sip of the bitter liquid.

“you know, nobody believes you guys are just friends.” she says with a laugh.

“huh?” you ask, only half listening as your eyes scan the party.

“you and rafe, everyone thinks theres something more going on.” “oh my god.” you roll your eyes, sick of this conversation surrounding yours and rafes relationship. “we are just friends! just really good friends!” you say.

“uh huh.” your friend says, and you can tell that she absolutely does not believe you.

--

“rafey, i’m cold.” you say, tucking yourself underneath his arm, giving a tug at the sweatshirt covering his waist.

“i told you to put something warmer on!” rafe says, taking his eyes off the football game you’re watching to tug his sweatshirt off, hanging it over to you without a second thought. 

“you also said you liked my shirt, so you’re sending a lot of mixed signals here.” you say as you pull the sweatshirt over your head, making rafe chuckle.

you make sure he’s not going to get cold himself by wrapping your arms around him, keeping your body close together to share your heat. you breathe deeply into the collar of his sweatshirt, loving the comforting scent.

“this is exactly what i mean.” your friend says when she rejoins you after getting a pretzel from a snack vendors.

“what do you mean?” you ask.

“nobody believes you’re just friends.”

--

“i’ve literally-” your declaration is interrupted by a loud hiccup, “never been drunk in my life.” 

“me either.” rafe says, pulling you onto his lap, head lolling forward against the back of your neck, pressing his lips to the skin there that’s exposed by your bikini.

“you guys went ham.” topper laughs from the other side of the boat, also now just chilling on the sofas after the boat was brought back to the dock and most of the people got off, signaling the end of the party.

“i don’t think i can move.” you manage to slur out, turning to sit sideways on rafes lap so you can rest your head against his shoulder. 

“you’re more than welcome to sleep on the yacht.” topper says, “my parents won’t be back until monday.” “mmkay.” you say, tracing your fingers over rafes jaw. “thanks top.” rafe looks down at you, an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes, one he usually hides from you. it makes you sit up straight, turning to fully face him now, straddling his lap.

“kiss me.” you say, taking his cheeks into your hand and squeezing them slightly, even as your head spins from the amount of alcohol you’ve taken in over the course of the evening.

“yeah.” rafe nods, pulling you tight against him, keeping his hands on your waist as your mouths connect in a sloppy, messy drunk kiss. 

“hey, hey.” topper is suddenly pulling you guys apart. “you’re way too drunk for kissing.” he’s thankful that he opted to drive the boat, meaning that he’s not as insanely drunk as you two are.

“n-no.” rafe says, trying to go to push topper away, but his arm falls before he can even raise it halfway up.

“let me kiss rafe, top, please, i love him so much.” you say, pushing your mouth back against rafes, 

“no, you’re best friends, remember!” topper says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you off of rafes lap, ignoring your whines at being separated. “now, y/n, you come with me and you can take the main bedroom, rafe can sleep on the couch.” “noo, i want rafe, i want him.” you whine, but the minute your head hits the pillow, you’re out like a light.

you and rafe don’t remember anything from after the party, and topper decides not to tell you about the drunken kiss, not wanting you to feel regret.

--

“what do you want?” rafe asks, knowing you don’t like to order and prefer him to do it.

your hands are firmly grasped together as your eyes look over the options. “umm, two scoops of chocolate chip cookie dough.” you say.

“in a bowl? with sprinkles?” rafe asks, knowing that’s usually what you prefer.

“mhm.” you nod, “thanks rafey.”

you let him order his own ice cream and then your own, swaying your hands between your bodies.

“you two are cute together, how long have you been together?” the woman behind the counter asks.

“oh no.” rafe laughs, handing over the cash for the ice cream. “we’re just friends.”

the womans eyes drop to your conjoined hands, and you realize how it looks, letting your hand open and drop away from rafes.

“suuure.” the woman nods, stepping away from the counter to prepare your ice cream.

--

you watch in silent anger as rafe dances with the girl, whose name you think is stephanie but you can’t be sure.

“just go over there, he’s just having fun with her, he only has eyes for you.” topper says, seeing the sad look on your face.

“what? no.” you shake your head, forcing a laugh out. “i’m fine.” “you certainly don’t look fine. you look heartbroken.” topper says.

“come on, you know he’s my best friend.” you say, forcing your eyes away from the dance floor to look at topper.

“dance with me then.” topper stands up, offering you his hand. “just for fun, i know you don’t have feelings for me.” 

you smile at your friend, often forgetting that while you and rafe are extremely close and have been for years, that topper was also there with you for a lot of the time.

“okay.” you place your hand in his, letting him pull you off your seat and towards the edge of where everyone is dancing. you move stiffly at first, unused to the feeling of someone other than rafe touching you, but eventually you get into the rhythm, laughing as topper twirls you around.

you’re not even really dancing to the beat of the song, just letting topper move you as he pleases. you let yourself get lost under the colorful lights, your hands coming up to make movements in the air as toppers hands grip your waist, moving his body behind yours.

you close your eyes and grind your hips back against his, until you’re suddenly pulled away, making your eyes snap open.

“rafe!” you shout as rafe holds you against his body, shoving topper away from you. “what are you doing?” 

“it’s fine, y/n.” topper says, knowing the look of jealousy in rafes eyes.

“no, it’s not fine.” you cross your arms, stepping away from rafe. “don’t be mean to top, you can’t get upset that he’s dancing with me when you’re off with another girl.” you turn and walk away from rafe, knowing he’s on your heels as you head up to his room.

“y/n!” he shouts, slamming the door shut behind you. 

“no, it’s not fair.” you say, flopping down on his bed that you practically treat like your own. “it’s not fair that you get to go have fun, hook up with girls, but the second i even dance with our friend, you pull me away?”

rafe sits down on the edge of the bed, his back to you. “you’re right.” 

“i am?” you ask, surprised that rafe conceded so quickly. 

“it’s not fair that i get jealous but don’t expect you to be.” rafe moves so he’s laying down next to you, face to face. 

“there’s nothing to be jealous of anyways, rafe.” you say, placing your hand on his face, stroking your fingers over the smooth plans of his cheek. “i was just having fun with top, he was making me feel better because i was upset watching you with a different girl.” rafe nods, pulling you in tight to his body. you sigh softly at being in his hold, knowing you’re the one at the end of the day who gets to be with him.

“i love you.” rafe suddenly says. he’s said it before, a million times, but you can tell that this time is different.

“rafe-” 

“no, i love you. let me say it.” rafe says, opening his mouth to talk more but your ears seem to stop working, tuning him out as your mind starts to race. years of friendship, years of being by each other's side.

“i-i…” you shake your head, jumping out of bed and running down the stairs, out of the house.

--

“it’s been an entire week since you’ve seen rafe, why don’t i call him and have him come over?” your mom asks, rubbing your head as you pull the covers up even further. you have barely gotten out of bed since rafes confession, ignoring all the times he’s texted and called you.

“mom, he’s the problem.” you groan. “i don’t want to see him.” “mmm.” your mom hums.

“please, just let me sleep. i’m tired.” you say. you haven’t been able to sleep properly, like your body knows that something is wrong, that the balance is off.

“okay, honey.” your mom drops a kiss to your forehead, closing the door behind her when she leaves.

--

“he’s never missed a family dinner.” you hear your dad whisper to your mom.

“i didn’t invite him.” you say, making them jump, not realizing that you were listening from your seat in the dining room.

“he doesn’t need an invitation.” your mom says, returning to stirring the pot.

“mom, stop-” you pause when you hear a knock at your door. a familiar knock, a pattern you recognize instantly. 

your mom gives you a pointed look. “you let him in or i do.”

your hands are shaking as you head toward the front door, opening it to reveal rafe standing there, hands in his pockets. “i’m sorry.” rafe says, eyes on the ground. “i shouldn’t have said anything.” you step out onto the porch, closing the door behind you so your parents can’t eavesdrop. “aren’t you scared?” you ask, making rafe blink up at you.

“aren’t you scared that we might not work? we’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. what if we throw all of that away be-because we try- i don’t know rafe!”

“shh.” rafe says, taking your face in his hands. “you’re overthinking it baby.”

you shake your head in confusion, trying to turn away, but rafe pushes you against the wall, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “i love you. and you love me, i know it.” 

your traitorous eyes drop to his lips, how close they are to your own. “i do love you.” you whisper, and that’s all rafe needs to hear as he presses your lips together. you melt into the kiss, letting rafe deepen it, his hands keeping your head in place while yours clutch at his shirt, not letting him pull away, not after wanting this for so long.

“i love you.” rafe whispers against your lips, giving you another kiss.

“i love you too.” you say with a giggle, letting rafe lift you and spin you in a circle.

“oh my god, wait until your parents find out.” rafe opens the door, tugging you inside. you follow him happily, head dizzy with love. 

“rafe!” your mom says happily, both of your parents eyes looking at the way you’re wrapped around each other.

instead of speaking, rafe drops his head and presses his lips against yours, to the backdrop of your parents cheers.

--

“oh topper.” you sing as you skip to sit between him and rafe. 

“hey, y/n.” he says, giving you a friendly smile.

“i have something to tell you.” you say, linking your hand with rafe. topper looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to speak. you just raised your joined hands with rafe and give it a shake, hoping he gets the message.

“what?” topper asks.

you laugh, obviously holding hands too much with rafe before you starting dating that it’s nothing telling to topper, so you turn and bring your knee over to the other side of rafes lap, smashing your lips together in a kiss. you pull away after a second to look at topper, “oh, thank god you’re not drunk this time.” he says, pressing a hand against his chest.

“wait, what?” you are rafe say in unison.

[chrisevansonly]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

ʚ charles leclerc x female reader

ʚ nothing is more special than watching your baby boy take his first steps…and of course watching your husband get emotional that his little one is growing up…

ʚ no warnings, very soft and fluffy

ʚ i really wanted to write a dad!charles so here we are even if i still feel iffy about my writing lol, i hope you guys enjoy it! requests are still open for little blurb ideas, fics, smau’s etc<3

For parents there was never a greater joy than watching their child grow, learn and get more and more curious as they became older. For little Théo Leclerc who had just turned 9 months, he was proficient at crawling and getting into anything and everything, you blamed his father’s drive and determination on that. He was as curious as babies come, intrigued in anything his mother and father were doing, he loved playing with coloured blocks, reading bedtime stories with his parents at night, he was the definition of a blessing to both you and Charles.

“good morning chérie, smells delicious down here”

You smiled turning to press a gentle kiss to Charles’s cheek, a soft smile on your face

“morning my love, thought i’d make some pancakes, Théo has been loving them”

“his mother is an amazing cook can you blame him? where is he anyway, it’s too quiet…”

You laughed pointing over to the little area you had set up on your living room, toys and books spilled across the hardwood floor

“he has been quite busy this morning, haven’t you petit prince?”

Cooing slightly at the mini Charles in the corner he giggled looking at you, upon noticing his father he began to wiggle on the floor, slowly making his way over on his hands and knees

“es-tu impatient de me voir bébé!?”

Théo squealed happily, finally making it to Charles who was quick to pick up the happy baby, who’s hands rested on his father’s face

“Look at that happy face! He’s so cute it makes me want to cry…are you so happy to see papa?”

You laughed seeing the smile on his face as he wiggled around in Charles’s arms, coming over to press kisses across his face only intensifying it

“You are going to squirm right onto the floor if you keep doing that”

Théo only giggled, his hands grabbing at the now cooking pancakes that rested on his plate

“Papa will put you in your chair and you can have some breakfast okay my love?”

“Can’t have you hungry can we little worm”

Snorting out a laugh you turned to him

“Little worm?”

“Have you seen him when he does that wiggle? You should hold him when he does it, he’s like a worm”

Shaking your head you couldn’t help but realize that was probably a good nickname for your son, when he got excited there was no stopping that wiggle.

-

Théo was quick to finish his breakfast, never leaving anything behind on his plate, so while you cleaned up, you set him down gently on the floor, though he never really stayed in one place, so as your back was turned he had made it over to his dad who was sitting in the living room, cleaning up the mess baby tornado had left behind. Upon reaching the couch, Théo had grabbed onto the couch to stand up, gripping onto the fabric he got to his feet, letting out a squeal, instantly catching the attention of Charles.

“What are you up too bébé, sois prudent…”

On instinct he moved a bit closer before pausing when Théo began to take steps towards him

“Chérie, regarde ça! Théo marche!”

Quickly turning to look towards the living room you grabbed your phone, immediately walking over to film your baby boy, tears in your eyes as you smiled

“Bravo petit prince! Tu vas si bien!”

Théo giggled walking a few more steps before collapsing into his fathers chest

“He-He walked! Char…he-I can’t believe he walked!”

Joining your boys on the floor you couldn’t help but notice the little tears that rested on your husbands cheeks as well, taking your thumb and gently wiping them off his skin

“I can’t believe it…he-he walked right to me, please tell me you got that”

Nodding you showed him the video once again on your phone, getting to experience the moment all over again, Charles hugging Théo closer

“You’re growing up too fast…can’t believe you’re walking”

“Aw baby, he’s still little…don’t worry”

You kissed his cheek gently, a hand rubbing Théo’s back softly

“Tu seras toujours le petit prince de papa, n'est-ce pas?”

He giggled wiggling around a little bit for Charles to put him back down, watching as he began to crawl around once again

“I’m going to miss him as a baby…”

“I know you will, but we still have some time…besides, who said we have to stop at one?”

Hearing your words Charles looked at you, a slight twinkle in his eyes

“Je suppose que nous avons du travail à faire…”

You smiled shaking your head before pressing a firm kiss to his lips, only pulling away when Théo began to walk once again, only this time heading away from you both

“Well here we go…”

Laughter filled the room as you and Charles took after your now very quick baby boy, what you thought was fast at a crawl, seemed to be lightning speed now that he was on his feet.

You wouldn’t change anything for the world, you’re family was perfect, and you couldn’t be happier…even if your little one was growing up too fast…