#language has predictable rules | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cutehoons02 · 2 months ago

Text

My posessive kitten!

Jake pt Sunghoon pt Jaypt

*pairing: pervy kitten hybrid Jungwon x vet Girl

*trope: roomates to lovers/oppositive attraction

*synopsis: You were in the shit, Your best friend had decided to move in with his boyfriend and you were looking for a roommate to even the apartment and every person you met to share the expenses didn’t convince you, until Jake your best friend’s boyfriend told you that Jungwon one of his hybrid friends was looking for a house and so you found yourself sharing the space with a kitten who looked so cute that he was crazy

*tags: Jungwon is a black cat hybrid, lots of tension, Jungwon behaves with superiority and loves to tease the protagonist always throwing arrows, the protagonist studies veterinary for hybrid and finds himself studying the world of hybrid, territoriality, fake innocent girl, neddy Jungwon, needy girl, kisses, pacifiers, masturbation, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) normal-doggy sex, knot filling, pet names (good girl,baby) (wonnie)

12.3k (🐈‍⬛)

(English is not my native language)

For decades now, hybrids had been living alongside humans. Once considered "special" beings, half-human and half-animal, a nature experiment that hadn't yet found its place in the world, they had fought for years to gain recognition of their rights and true integration into society. Now, hybrids could study, work, rent homes, and live freely, without necessarily having to belong to a human family that would adopt them.

However, there were still strict rules: until the age of twenty, they could live in Hybrid Centers, facilities created to provide education and prepare them for independent living. But after that age, they either had to be adopted by a family willing to take care of them, or find a job and an apartment like any other citizen.

Jungwon had reached that point, staring at the form they had just given him, his black ears slightly lowered, his tail flicking irritably behind him. “You just need to find a place, Jungwon,” said the operator from the Center, a man in his fifties with glasses perched on his nose. “It’s not that bad.” Not that bad for you, he thought, biting the inside of his cheek. You're not the one who has to change your whole life overnight. Not that he hadn’t known this moment would come. He knew very well. But a part of him had hoped to delay it a bit longer. He liked life at the Center. Sure, there were rules, but at least he had a safe roof over his head, guaranteed food, friends to spend time with... and he didn’t have to worry too much about the future. Now, though, he had to find a place. And fast. When he left the office, still holding the form in his hands, he found Jake waiting for him. The friend sized him up and tilted his head, his golden ears twitching with the movement. “Funeral face,” he commented with a little laugh. “Did they finally kick you out?” Jungwon shot him a glare. “Very funny.” Jake started walking beside him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. Unlike him, Jake was the classic sunny hybrid, always smiling, always ready to help others. Very golden retriever. “I told you to find someone to adopt you, you know?” the friend continued with a sly grin. Jungwon flicked his black ears in annoyance. “And become some boring human’s pet? No, thanks.” He had never been the type to be kept on a leash – figuratively speaking, of course. He wanted his freedom, he wanted to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He didn’t like the idea of someone making decisions for him. Jake laughed, as if he had already predicted that response. Then he suddenly stopped and turned to him. “Speaking of homes... I know you're looking for one.” Jungwon stiffened. “It’s not that I’m looking for one… they’re forcing me to find one.” “Same difference. Anyway, I’ve got an idea for you.” Jungwon narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “What kind of idea?” “My girlfriend has a friend who’s looking for a roommate,” Jake explained, shrugging his shoulders. “And the price is great. Oh, by the way... she’s a vet for hybrids.” Jungwon froze. His ears immediately flattened, and his tail stiffened. “NO.” Jake sighed. “Don’t be dramatic, she’s not the devil.” “Hybrid vets are worse than regular humans,” Jungwon muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “They treat you like an experiment to study. They stick needles everywhere and talk to you like you're a helpless puppy.” “She’s not like that,” Jake assured him. “Really. And think about it: living with a vet could actually be a benefit for you. She already knows how to deal with hybrids, won’t ask stupid questions, and won’t bother you.” Jungwon made a sound of disapproval. The idea of living with a vet made him uneasy… but, on the other hand, he didn’t have many alternatives. “… I want to see the apartment first. And I want to smell it, and her,” he finally conceded, reluctantly. Jake smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “I knew you'd come around to my idea.” Jungwon sighed, but deep down he was already curious. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be that bad after all. At least, he hoped so.

You were desperate; it wasn’t an exaggeration, it was a fact. After two years of perfect cohabitation, your roommate and best friend had announced, with heart-shaped eyes and a smile that reeked of goodbye, that she was finally going to take the big step: move in with her boyfriend.

His boyfriend, Jake. Jake, the golden retriever hybrid who was the most cheerful and handsome one you’d ever known, the one you had studied carefully to make sure he was perfect for your friend. And you’d done a great job because those two looked like they had stepped out of a fairy tale. Great for them, but a disaster for you. Because now, you found yourself alone, with a too-large and too-expensive apartment to live in by yourself.

You had posted ads everywhere, set up appointments, and met possible candidates. But none of them convinced you.

The first one was a nice human guy, but he had the vibe of someone who forgot the bills and lived off pizza and takeout left lying around for days. No, thanks.

The second was a sweet girl, but she spoke to her hamster like it was her child and insisted you greet it every time you came home. Also, no.

The third… let’s not even talk about it. He was a fox hybrid who tried to hit on you with a terrible pick-up line five minutes after crossing the threshold. Eliminated.

In short, you were back at square one.

You were a social and friendly person with everyone, but also extremely perfectionistic. Probably a side effect of your training as a hybrid vet. Your studies honed your critical eye, your need for precision, and organization. You didn’t just want any roommate; you wanted someone polite, clean, respectful, and… well, bearable.

That’s when your best friend, perhaps feeling guilty for “abandoning” you, suggested a name.

'Jungwon.'

“Who?”

'A friend of Jake’s hybrid cat,' she answered with an encouraging smile. 'He’s looking for a place, and I think he might be perfect for you.' You weren’t convinced, but at that point, you were so desperate that you agreed to at least meet him.

The next day, you opened the door with a slight smile, letting your best friend, Jake, and… the black ball of fur that stared at you with piercing, bright green eyes, thin and probing.

It was unsettling. Not just because he didn’t take his eyes off you, as if trying to read you, but because in his gaze, there was something too self-assured, a hint of malice that sent chills down your spine.

Jake, holding Jungwon in his arms like he was a domestic kitten (though clearly, he wasn’t), spoke to him in a sweet, almost reassuring tone before setting him down.

'Come on, behave.” Jungwon landed gracefully on the floor, stretching slightly with a fluid motion, his long black tail lazily swaying behind him. He didn’t greet you. He just walked slowly through your apartment with an analytical, almost… predatory air.

You watched him closely as you showed him around. He was handsome, and that irritated you, but you never crossed the line of getting too close as you showed him the bathroom, the kitchen, his new room, and the living room. But when you opened the door to your bedroom, he paused longer. Too long. He gave a soft huff, as if absorbing the air in the room, and then, without hesitation, jumped onto your bed.

He mewed softly, rubbing against the sheets with a look of pure satisfaction as if he had found the perfect spot to stay.

“Ehm…” You looked at Jake, searching for answers, but he looked visibly embarrassed.

'Jungwon…' he scolded, running a hand through his hair. 'Come on, don’t do this.'

But Jungwon didn’t stop. He buried his face in the pillow, his ears twitching with excitement as his body slid across the blankets, leaving his scent behind, marking the space as if it were already his.

His mind was going to a dangerous place.

God, what a scent… It was sweet, and enveloping, with notes of lavender and honey. But underneath, there was something else. Something of yours, something that was driving him crazy.

Burying himself under the blankets in here…Jungwon bit his lower lip as a shiver ran down his spine. Hybrids didn’t have perfect self-control when it came to the scents that attracted them, and yours was… damn good.

He imagined waking up here every morning, burying his face in your hair while you slept, your warmth pressed against his body…He felt his tail twitch behind him.

I wonder how she would react if I brushed up against her like this… if my tail caressed her bare skin while she slept if my breath brushed against her ear before she even woke up…

He bit his cheek to suppress the low growl rising in his throat.

He was a well-behaved kitten, yes. He wouldn’t do anything inappropriate. But thinking about it? He couldn’t exactly stop himself. He barely lifted his gaze to you, his sharp eyes narrowing even further as he studied you.

Roommate, huh? Maybe, or maybe something more interesting.

When Jungwon returned to the kitchen, you expected him to just settle down and perhaps give you a clear answer about the house. But no, he purred—not at you, of course. Oh no, that would have been too easy.

Instead, he moved toward Jake and rubbed slowly against his legs, his long tail moving lazily behind him as his little face vibrated with satisfaction and he mewed something. A deep, slow, almost sensual sound.

You stared at him, unsure. Was that necessary?

“So?” you asked, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine. “Did you like the apartment?” Then, with a more cautious tone: “Did you like… the scent?” you asked the cat as he stared at you.

Jake scratched the back of his neck, laughing softly. 'I think he liked you.'

You stiffened slightly, trying not to let it show. He was just a hybrid, a territorial cat, nothing more. It didn’t mean anything. You didn’t answer, simply watching Jungwon as he and Jake moved into the guest room to talk.

'Oh my God, you're as stiff as a board!' exclaimed your best friend, sitting next to you with a mischievous smile.

You shot her an irritated glance. "What are you talking about?" She nudged you. 'You saw how hot he is, right?'

You huffed. "No, I didn't."

'What do you mean, no? Even as a hybrid, it's obvious he's a looker.'

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes. "I don't care. I just want a normal roommate, to finish my studies, and not have unnecessary distractions."

She gave you a satisfied little smirk. 'Sure, sure... let's see if you'll say the same thing soon.' You were about to ask her what she meant, but then you heard footsteps.

First, Jake's—steady and relaxed. Then, slower, almost calculated steps followed behind him.

You turned around and— Oh. The guy leaving the room wasn’t a hybrid in animal form anymore. He was a man.

Blonde, slightly wavy dyed hair framed a face that looked sculpted with unnerving precision. Sharp, deep brown eyes that perfectly contrasted with his cat-hybrid form. His feline ears were still there, less pointed than before but still visible among his soft hair, and then there was his tail. Longer than in his animal form, but constantly moving— a detail your veterinary side couldn't ignore.

Joy? Tension? Embarrassment? No.

He didn’t seem embarrassed at all as he studied you, his gaze slowly scanning over you, as though he were analyzing every little detail, and in an automatic impulse, you extended your hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

He stopped. He didn’t immediately take your hand. He first looked you in the eyes, then lowered his gaze to your outstretched hand. A silence of a few seconds that felt like an eternity, and then he smiled.

One of those slow, almost lazy smiles, but with something too subtle to catch immediately, and finally, he took your hand.

His grip wasn’t excessive, but it wasn’t hesitant either. Sweet, but firm. His thumb barely moved across your skin, a touch almost imperceptible, and then…

'Nice to meet you, roommate. I’m Jungwon.'

Those words left his lips with a tone that made you shiver.

More than a month had passed since Jungwon moved into the apartment with you, and you still couldn’t figure him out. And it was absurd. You’d been studying and working with hybrids for years; you knew every one of their traits, habits, and instincts… Yet, he was an enigma.

One day he’d throw sharp jabs at you, the next, he’d almost be sweet.

“You’re always so precise and organized... almost boring,” he told you one day as he watched you carefully study and organize your veterinary notes.

“You don’t know how to have fun, do you? Maybe you should loosen up, every once in a while,” he said another day while you were out shopping, and you had been adamant about not going with him to a hybrid-only party.

“You stress too much, and when you do, your scent changes. I don’t like it,” he said one day when you came home with tears in your eyes for messing up a project on your exam.

“But the scent you leave on the couch... that, I like,” he said one day with a cocky tone while you were half-asleep next to him, watching a movie together.

He drove you crazy, and the worst part was his presence. No matter how much you tried to keep your distance, he was always there. In the house, in your space, and yet, when you came home and he was in his animal form, he wouldn’t even look at you.

Was he offended? Or was it just a game? He would barely turn around, flick his tail with a bored expression, and go to his room without a single meow of goodbye. But then, some nights, you’d find him under your bed.

And that’s when your patience ran out.

That evening, when you came home late from work, you found Jungwon—this time in his human form—sprawled out on the couch with his phone in hand. His black ears twitched slightly, signaling that he'd heard you enter, but of course, he didn’t even bother to look up. You sighed, tossing your bag onto a chair. Fine, I won’t ignore him this time. "Jungwon," you called flatly. He finally lifted his head, his ears perking up slightly as they caught the sound of your voice, with a look that was both bored and amused at the same time. 'Mmh?' You crossed your arms. "Can we talk?" He gave a small crooked smile. 'You’re always so formal… Go ahead, roommate.' You ignored the teasing tone. "Why do you keep sleeping under my bed?" He paused for a second, then tilted his head, his smile widening. 'Oh? You noticed?' You blinked, incredulous. "Of course I noticed! I've found you there more than once! Don’t try to deny it." Jungwon chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head in a lazy motion, as though stretching lightly. 'I’m not going to deny it. I’m just waiting to hear your lecture.' Your eye twitched with irritation. "I’m not going to lecture you. It’s simple: my room is mine. You have yours, and I don’t go into yours. If I did, you’d get mad because your room has to smell only like you. Yet, you don’t care and come sleep under my bed like it’s normal." He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. 'I don’t see the problem. It’s just the floor.' "It’s not just the floor!" you exclaimed, exasperated. "It’s my space, and you can’t just… squat there!" Jungwon sat up slightly, his bright green eyes gleaming with mischief. 'What if I told you the problem isn’t the floor, but the fact that I’m under you?' You blushed. "What?" 'Your scent helps me sleep,' he said with disarming naturalness as if it were the most normal thing in the world. You stared at him, your brain trying to process. "You… what?" Jungwon slowly stood up, approaching with measured steps, his tail lazily swishing behind him. 'Is that so strange? You know better than me that hybrids have an excellent sense of smell, especially our cats. And your scent is…' He stopped right in front of you, lowering his head slightly to look at you better. '…comforting.' You swallowed. Don’t let him intimidate you. "Look, I don’t care if you find my scent pleasant or whatever," you replied, trying to keep your voice firm. "But I don’t want you sleeping in my room." Jungwon smiled. 'What if I told you I can’t live without it?' Annoyed, you stared him straight in the eyes. "What if I told you I’ll kick you out?" you said with a smile that made Jungwon growl internally. Silence. Then, to your surprise, Jungwon burst into laughter. It was a genuine laugh, light, almost musical. But there was a hint of mischief, as though he was teasing you. 'God, you’re so funny when you’re mad.' You spun around quickly to leave because you were tired of his behavior, but he was faster. He grabbed your wrist, not roughly, but with enough of a firm grip to stop you. 'Joking aside,' he murmured, his voice lower. 'I’m not doing it to annoy you.' You slowly turned to face him, locking eyes, and Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, an almost nervous gesture. 'It’s just that… I like knowing you're there.' You didn’t respond right away. Something in his tone at that moment made you hesitate, and then he smiled again, and that vulnerability vanished, replaced by his usual arrogance. 'But if you want me to stop, I’ll do my best.' “I’ll do my best” didn’t mean he would stop. It just meant he’d try, and somehow, you already knew he would never truly stop.

It was one o'clock p.m. when you heard the door open, and Jungwon was laughing, talking on the phone with someone. He seemed in a good mood, his low and relaxed laughter filling the air as he took off his jacket.

“…Come on, it’s impossible, Heeseung, the musical part is completely off-beat—” But as soon as he saw you sitting at the table, surrounded by books, notebooks, the tablet with some charts, and a plate of food next to you.

For a moment, he just stared at you in silence. Then, without even greeting you, he lowered the phone and abruptly ended the call. He raised an eyebrow, his tail twitching slightly as he took in the sight of you sitting there in front of him. It was strange because you always came home around 6 p.m. 'Why are you home already?'

You smiled innocently. "I have to stay home and study this week, it's exam time."

You pointed to the plate. "I made you some food in case you’re hungry. I know you love rice with vegetables, so I made some for both of us."

Jungwon walked over, put his bag down, and slumped into a chair.

'How thoughtful,' he muttered, picking up the fork with an amused smile. Then he looked up at you, his feline eyes scanning you as if they always hid something, and he began eating, apparently relaxed, but his eyes wandered over your books, curious. And then, he noticed the titles of the textbooks you were studying, and his cheeks tinged slightly red.

Reproduction in Feline Hybrids: Biology and Behavior.

Mating Between Hybrids and Humans: Probabilities and Precautions.

Heat Dynamics in Hybrid Cats.

Jungwon froze for a moment, seemingly analyzing what he had just read. Then, slowly, his smile changed, it was no longer a regular smile, but one of those smiles you had learned to fear, a mix of amusement and mischief.

Jungwon calmly put down his fork, leaned back in his chair, and intertwined his fingers on the table.

'Interesting.' You already knew where he was going with this and sighed, because you knew he’d start making jokes. "Don’t start."

He tilted his head, his gaze moving over the open texts. ìSo, that’s why you’re home all week? To study...' He paused for a moment, then lifted his eyes to you with a dangerous glint. 'Sex between hybrids?'

You hurried to correct him. "Reproduction. It’s not the same thing."

He smiled. 'Oh, but it’s very similar,' he said cheekily. You wanted to hide and sink into the ground with embarrassment.

'So,' he continued, tapping his fingers on the table. 'You’re reading about how… mating works between a hybrid and a human?' He said it slowly, almost savoring each word, and your face immediately heated up.

"I-I'm studying for an exam, Jungwon." You tried to stay calm, even though he wouldn’t take his eyes off you. "It’s important to know these things since I’m a veterinarian and I’m studying for my specialization."

He nodded slowly. 'I see.' Then he looked down at one of the books, and his smile grew even wider.

'And these numbers?' He pointed to one of the charts. 'Are you analyzing the success rate between a hybrid and a human?'

You swallowed. "Yes," and you handed it to him, and his eyes carefully scanned the various numbers and colors. Jungwon chuckled, amused. 'And tell me... how’s the percentage? High?'

"It depends on the type of hybrid," you replied quickly, trying to stay professional.

But he leaned in a little closer to the table.

'And for cats?' You lost your breath for a second.

"Jungwon." You tried to keep a serious tone. "You’re annoying."

He smiled again. 'And you’re too adorable when you try to be professional about topics so...' He paused theatrically. '...delicate.'

You covered your face with a hand, exhausted. It was only the first day. How the hell were you going to survive a whole week?

Jungwon shook his head, laughing to himself as he went back to eating, but in his mind, he was already looking forward to the days ahead. It was going to be an interesting week, he thought to himself.

Jungwon woke up late, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a soft light across his room. He stretched slowly, yawning, his tail moving lazily beneath the covers. It was then that he smelled it—your scent, sweet and persistent, lingering in the air, on the sheets, maybe even on him. A shiver ran down his spine, and a familiar warmth spread low in his belly. 'Shit.' He placed a hand on his face, trying to push away the thoughts invading his mind. You. You under him, your soft skin against his, your warm breath against his neck. You, moaned his name as he sank into you, his tail wrapping around your body, his knot filling you up and making you tremble. Just the thought of it made him growl quietly between his teeth. 'Damn study week.' As if it wasn’t already hard enough living with you, now he had to listen to you talk about reproduction, mating, and success rates. And now, his body was reacting on its own. He ran a hand through his light hair, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to ruin everything. He had finally found a decent roommate—though a little too perfect for his taste—and an apartment to stay in. He couldn’t let his cat instincts fixate on you in inappropriate and dirty ways. With a sigh, he got up, put on a pair of sweatpants, and left the room. You were in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a steaming cup in your hands, immersed in your books. As soon as you heard footsteps, you looked up distractedly… and nearly choked on your herbal tea. Jungwon entered the room shirtless, wearing only soft sweatpants around his hips, his smooth, pale skin fully exposed. He toned arms, sculpted abs, and a V-line that dipped too enticingly beneath the waistband of his pants. It was… It was too attractive and too beautiful at the same time. You coughed violently, trying to catch your breath as he looked at you with an amused smile. 'Woah, you okay?' he asked, walking closer and giving you a few innocent taps on the back. You nodded frantically, still coughing, your face probably on fire. He leaned against the counter, taking his coffee cup and sipping it calmly. Then, with the most shameless tone in the world, he tilted his head and looked at you with mischief. 'Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a guy shirtless.' You shot him a death glare, desperately trying to recover. “I’ve seen them.” You paused to swallow. “But not my roommate.” Jungwon chuckled, leaning against the sink. 'I’m just saying, it’s nothing shocking. I’m just a regular guy, part hybrid, with a pretty decent body.' He shrugged and winked at you, making his muscles move beneath his skin. 'I was hot.' You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms, and a shiver ran through your body. “Doesn’t seem like hybrid cats are in heat right now.” It was an innocent statement. Purely academic. But Jungwon smiled in a way that immediately made you regret speaking, and he moved a little closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 'I’m not in heat.' His voice was low, slightly husky, and your stomach twisted. You lowered your gaze to your cup, trying to focus on the fact that you still had exams to pass and a roommate who was always teasing you. You sighed. “Fine.” Jungwon chuckled, going back to drinking his coffee as if nothing had happened. But his tail, the one that kept moving slowly behind him, betrayed his mood far too well, and you already knew it wasn’t over yet.

That morning, Jungwon wasn’t home, and you finally had some peace.

You sat at the table with your tablet on, your books open, and a notebook full of notes. You spent hours studying carefully, softly repeating the harder concepts to yourself. Before lunch, you went out to do some grocery shopping, picking up what you needed and also getting a few things for Jungwon.

You have learned some of his cat hybrid preferences:

Hot milk with a bit of honey. He had told you he always drank it when he felt tired.

Smoked tuna. You’d noticed that every time he ate it, his tail moved slower, a sign of pure enjoyment.

Cream-filled pastries. He had never explicitly said it, but you’d seen how his eyes sparkled every time he had one.

Dried catnip, which he’d never admit to liking, but that would mysteriously disappear from the pantry now and then.

As you were putting away the groceries, you heard the door open, and it was exactly one o’clock p.m. when Jungwon walked in with damp hair from the rain. The scent of rain and wind mixed with the sweet aroma of vanilla and butter, something he must have brought back from the bakery.

He greeted you with a smile and handed you a white cardboard box.

'Spring’s beginning,' he said casually.

You took it, curious. “What’s this?”

'A cake.' He took off his wet jacket, shaking his hair slightly. 'It’s a new recipe we tested this morning.'

You eyed him with suspicion. “It’s not your birthday, right?”

Jungwon chuckled softly. 'No, of course not. I made it. You need to try it and tell me if it’s good.'

It was strange. Jungwon never did things without a second purpose, yet today he seemed... normal. After eating, you tasted the cake. It was soft, with a light cream and a hint of honey and lemon.

“Wow,” you said, genuinely surprised. “It’s really good.”

Jungwon smiled a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. You ate together, and for the first time, he acted almost kindly. Of course, there were still his usual jabs—comments about how you held your fork, how your face lit up when you ate something good, how your sweatshirt was way too big on you—but they were light, almost affectionate, and it worried you. It was strange seeing Jungwon like this.

At the end of lunch, he stretched with a little feline yawn and stood up. 'I’m going to take a shower and then sleep for a bit.'

You nodded, but you didn’t stop watching him as he left the kitchen.

What the hell is going on with him today?

It was already five in the afternoon, and you were immersed in your studies, completely absorbed in the descriptions of hybrid cat reproduction. The characteristics of the knot, its use in keeping the partner secured during mating, the success rates between hybrids and humans… And then you felt something soft brush against your legs. You looked down and found Jungwon in his feline form, a black ball of fur with sharp green eyes staring at you intensely. "Jungwon?" He meowed softly, rubbing his head against your leg. It was the first time he had approached you like that, and with slightly trembling hands, you stroked him. His ears lowered in pleasure, and as if that was the sign he had been waiting for, he jumped onto your lap, curling up against you. You stayed still for a moment. Jungwon wasn’t the type for physical contact, at least not in that way. He was more the type to brush against you briefly, to sneak touches, using contact as a game, but now he was here. Curled up between your legs, his small warm body vibrating softly with purring as he pressed even closer to your hoodie, rubbing his little face against the soft fabric as if trying to soak up your scent. It was too intimate of a scene. You went back to focusing on your notes, repeating aloud what you were studying.

"… during mating, the male’s knot swells inside the mate, preventing immediate extraction and ensuring a longer bond between the two partners…"

Below you, Jungwon moved slightly. You were distracted for a moment to look at him and his ears had moved imperceptibly and his tail had twisted around your legs. You continued reading.

"… in feline hybrids, this process can last several minutes up to a maximum of forty-five, increasing the chances of conception…"

You heard a light sound, something in between a meow and a little moan. You looked down again and Jungwon was looking at you. His eyes were darker, slightly narrower, and his tail moved slowly, languid. Then, with a fluid movement, he rubbed his face against your belly, making a little satisfied sound as if the idea of what you were saying had pleased him too much. You kept repeating it out loud for hours, Trying to ignore the strange atmosphere that had been created between you and Jungwon after his sudden-and very suspicious-meow of the afternoon.

Then, at 7:30 p.m., the door to his room opened and he entered the kitchen with the usual relaxed and cheeky attitude. 'Can you stop?' He asked with a tone that seemed almost bored, although in his eyes there was that usual glow of malice. You looked at him with a confused air. "Stop what?" 'To talk about knots, couplings, and all those things that we know to hybrids and even humans who are not veterinarians.' You snorted, trying to close the book. "I’m studying, Jungwon. Sorry if I want to pass my exams." But he was faster than you. With an agile movement, he took the book out of your hands and opened it again, scrolling through the pages with ease. A funny smile appeared on his lips as he read some passages, and then his eyes returned to you. 'Tell me, Y/n…' he said, tilting his head slightly. 'You’re so good at studying… then you’ll be able to answer some questions, won’t you?' You get stiff. "Jungwon, give me back the book." But he ignored your request and leaned to the table, browsing through the pages calmly. 'How long does the knot of a feline hybrid last on average?' he asked with innocence, though his tone was not at all innocent. You feel your cheeks warm. "It depends… can last from twenty to forty-five minutes, depending on the partner and the level of excitement." He smiled, smug. 'Interesting. And during the act, what do cat hybrids like most?' Swallowing, clenching fists on knees. "It depends on the hybrid." Jungwon shook his head, amused.

'Come on, doctor. You’re an expert, aren’t you? You know we have some innate preferences…' His eyes grew ever more intense as he waited for your answer. You bit your lip. "Cat hybrids tend to appreciate the bite on the nape… because they stimulate the instinct of submission and bonding with the partner." He tilted his head, his tail moving lazily behind him. 'What else?' You felt the beat accelerate. "Lick and nibble on the skin of your partner, especially in sensitive areas. Physical contact is important for you." Jungwon slowly licked his lips, as if he was tasting your words. 'Interesting…' He muttered, leafing through the pages again. Then he stopped at a chapter and a sneaky smile curled his lips. 'What about contraceptives?' You stiffened. "What?" He raised an eyebrow. 'What can a human girl use to avoid a pregnancy with a human? And a hybrid?' Deglutitors. "There are specific pills for both humans and hybrids. Those for hybrids also regulate heat hormones, while those for humans serve to prevent fertilization with the hybrid seed." Jungwon nodded as if he was satisfied with your answer. Then his gaze became more penetrating. 'Do you take them?' You were blocked. The air suddenly seemed heavier and his tone was playful, but there was something deeper in his voice. Something more authoritative.You lowered your gaze, feeling the heat rise to the cheeks. You never imagined having to answer such a question. Then, without looking into his eyes, you nodded slightly but Jungwon didn’t seem satisfied. With a slow step he approached and leaned slightly, his face dangerously close to yours. 'I want to hear you say the answer, Y/n.' His tone was low, almost a whisper, and it made your back shiver. "… Yes, I do." 'Yes, what?' "Yes, I will." He smiled, his smug expression. 'Good girl.' Then he straightened up and, as if nothing had happened, closed the book and put it on the table. 'Now you can stop studying for today. It’s dinner time.' he said lightly as if he had not just embarrassed you to the core. He glanced at you one last time, then turned to the refrigerator, leaving you there with your heart pounding and feeling that Jungwon was much more dangerous than you had imagined.

The heavy rain was thundering on the roof, accompanied by the deep sound of thunder that shook the air. You slowly opened your eyes, still groggy from sleep, but something seemed out of place. The door to your room was open, and you had closed it the night before. You leaned over the bed, your heart beating quietly in your chest, and looked down; under the bed, curled up in his animal form, Jungwon was sleeping deeply. His small body rose and fell with a regular rhythm, his black tail wrapped around his body, and a light puff of air left his lips now and then. For a moment, you found yourself thinking that he looked incredibly sweet when he slept. Almost… harmless. Maybe he should sleep forever, you thought sarcastically, aware of how cheeky and irreverent he was when awake. You slowly got up, careful not to wake him, and opened the blinds to let some light in, but the sky outside was dark, heavy with rain. A small meow caught your attention. Jungwon had woken up and, still in his animal form, lazily rubbed against your legs. You hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gently petted his head, feeling his soft fur under your fingers. It was one of the few times he allowed you to touch him without teasing. "I'm going to the bathroom," you said quietly. When you came out, he was there in his human form, leaning against the hallway wall with a small catnip twig between his lips, chewing absentmindedly. His hair was messy, his oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder, and his tail lazily swayed behind him. You stared at him. "Is something wrong?" Jungwon looked at you with an unreadable expression, then shrugged. 'Hmm… nothing.' But then, without any warning, he stepped closer and buried his face in the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled your skin, and you froze completely, shocked by his sudden gesture. "J-Jungwon?" You felt his chest vibrating against you in a soft laugh. 'You smell good…' he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. You tensed slightly. "Are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on with you?" He pulled away just a bit, his icy green eyes meeting yours. 'I don't like thunderstorms.' His admission took you by surprise. Jungwon, the cheeky, territorial, manipulative hybrid, was afraid of something? All day long, he stayed incredibly close to you. You were on the couch, and he sat next to you, phone in hand, lazily scrolling through the screen. You quietly repeated your notes about hybrids, and every so often he threw in a teasing comment. But when the thunder struck the house with a deafening roar and the lights went out suddenly, his body moved instinctively. He grabbed your hand and sat next to you, his chest rising and falling faster. 'Don't leave me alone,' he whispered. You felt his fingers gently tighten around yours, his tail trembling slightly. You smiled, trying to lighten the tension. "What are you, a scared little kitten?" A low growl formed in his throat, and when you turned to look at him, his gaze was no longer that of a frightened pup. It was burning. His teeth were slightly sharper, his mouth barely open as if he were controlling his breath, and his expression… was something you had never seen before. Instinctively, you gently stroked his hair, brushing his feline ears. His body vibrated slightly at the touch, and you felt his tail tighten around your wrist for a second. Jungwon reached out and took the book from your lap, letting it fall to the floor. Then, without giving you a chance to react, he pushed you gently against the couch, his face moving closer to yours, your heartbeat quickening. When his lips brushed against yours, it felt like the air around you became even warmer. Jungwon didn’t say anything and kissed you.

The kiss was ravenous, impatient. Jungwon moved over you with a hunger he couldn’t contain, his body trying to imprint his presence on your skin, your lips, everywhere. He wanted to possess you, mark you, make you understand that you had entered his territory and that you would never leave, his mind a whirlwind of obscene thoughts. What would it be like to see you beneath him, your body trembling under his touch? What would it be like if he heard you moaning his name, your nails digging into his back? If he could bury himself inside you, fill you up until you were completely his? The thought made him growl softly against your lips, his hands tightening around you, and you pulled him even closer, letting your body respond to his instincts. Feeling him so close, the heat of his skin against yours, the way he rubbed against you slightly without even realizing it… it was almost overwhelming. Jungwon pulled away from you for just a moment, his breath heavy as he looked at you with glossy, cheeky eyes. Then he lowered his face and began licking your neck, first slowly, then with more intensity, nibbling and leaving little red marks on your sensitive skin. A shiver ran down your spine, and you couldn’t hold back a small moan. He smiled against your skin. 'You’re making the sounds I want to hear…' he whispered with a hoarse voice. You teased him, trying to keep control. “Are you putting into practice what I studied yesterday?” Jungwon chuckled against your neck, licking you slowly until he reached your ear. 'Mh, yeah… but I’m skipping straight to the more interesting parts.' You felt his tail lazily wrap around your thigh, his grip becoming more secure. Then his voice dropped, making you shiver. 'And you know what my favorite part is?' he whispered, licking his lips just barely. 'The part where I make you mine.' You laughed as you felt him lightly tickle you, teasing him, running your fingers through his light hair. “You’re too confident, Jungwon.” He lifted his face, looking at you with mischievous, gleaming eyes. 'And shouldn’t I be?' Before you could answer, his hands slipped under your sweatshirt, grazing your skin with the warm touch of his fingers. A shiver ran down your back, and Jungwon paused for a moment as if savoring the sensation of your body under his touch. Then his gaze grew more intense, and with a sly smile, he whispered in your ear: 'Not even the bra? Tsk. I knew you were a cheeky girl.'

With a fluid movement, he took off your sweatshirt, leaving you vulnerable under his predatory gaze. He wasted no time: his lips immediately found a beautiful bud of yours to tease, leaving kisses and small bites along your breast and with the other hand squeezing slightly the other breast and her warm breath against you made you moan. 'Who knows what you would be like,' he muttered between a little bite and licking your nipples, 'if you were full of milk for our puppies...' A shiver passed through your body, and for a moment you felt the primal instinct behind his words, the animalistic desire to mark you, to bind you to him in the deepest way possible. You quickly recovered and nudged him slightly, laughing. "In another life, or perhaps later," you provoked him, enjoying the spark of defiance in his eyes. Jungwon growled softly, his teeth shining in the room’s flickering light. 'I don’t like to wait.' Another thunder shook the house, and for a moment you just felt him stiffening. You noticed it, and you couldn’t resist the temptation to mock him. "Oh? Big Jungwon is afraid of a thunderstorm?" You shouldn’t have said that because with a quick movement, his body presses against yours, its hard and warm length rubbing against your sensitive pussy, even through clothes. The sudden contact made you moan her name before you knew it. Jungwon smiled, satisfied, and then his voice became lower, deeper. Authoritarian. 'I’m afraid again. I challenge you.' He rubbed against you and this time to drive you crazy, you felt his cock grow against you, hard, insistent, making you moan involuntarily.

A sharp smile was painted on her face as her lips began to come down, kissing you with adoration along the belly until it stopped right at the edge of your pants. You looked up at him, the bright eyes of a restrained desire. He waited as if he wanted to hear you plead, but you, biting your lip, gave him only a nod of assent. This seemed to amuse Jungwon, who with a mischievous look tickled you a little more before slowly taking off your pants.

A low whistle slipped from his lips when he saw your black lace panties. 'You are so beautiful not to mention your smell,' he whispered with a note of amusement as his finger traced a fiery path along your inner thigh. When he touched the damp cloth, his smile widened.

'Look how wet you are...' he muttered in a provocative tone. 'Don’t tell me that it’s all my fault?'

You felt yourself burn, but the playful spark in your eyes made him growl softly. He stooped down, the warm breath touching your skin as his fingers made small circles closer and closer to where you wanted it most. 'Tell me...' whispered in a low and territorial voice, his gaze chained to yours. 'Has anyone ever filled you before?' You reckon softly, shaking your head with a mixture of challenge and embarrassment. "No," you replied, your voice a flutter of excitement.

Jungwon licked his lips, his eyes curled up with pure possession and his tail began to swing as happy as he was to have heard those words.

'Then I will assure you that you will never need anyone else.'

His mouth settled on the skin of your thighs and began to give you small kisses and marks, as his hands crept deeper and deeper.

'I will be the only one to fill you... and make you feel so good that you won’t think of anyone else.' A shiver ran through your back as his fingers moved with a torturing slowness. He smiled, satisfied with your reaction.

In a slow, almost studied movement, he pulled off your panties, leaving you completely vulnerable under him. 'So beautiful and already so wet for a hybrid, then.' His tone was a mixture of joke and satisfaction while with a curious act, he opened your legs.

His feline eyes shone with malice, his warm breath grazed your skin. Then, without warning, his fingers went down to pull off your pulsating clit. A groan eluded you at the feeling of his slow, torturing touch, as he tilted his head with an accomplished smile. 'Tell me, little vet, what are you going through for the exam?'

His voice was low, charged with a restrained exception, as his finger began to massage your swollen clitoris with unnerving precision.

'Maybe the reproduction of feline hybrids? The node filling?' The heat went up to your face. Your mind tried to join theoretical concepts, but its touch made it difficult to even think. "Yes, the cat hybrids have a knot that serves to hold the seed" you managed to stutter, the voice broken by the shivers of pleasure running down your back. He giggled softly, his breath stroking the inside of your thighs while increasing the pressure on your sensitive spot.

'Good, but it seems to me that it is distracting you. I bet you might have asked yourself a few spicy questions about the links between hybrids and humans at times.' Suddenly, without ceasing to torment your clitoris, he slid a finger into you, the hot and invasive feeling made you gasp. He smiled, satisfied. 'Answer me, have you ever thought of me filling you up while you were studying?'

his finger began to pump inside your slimy cunt but at the same time, he stopped because he wanted to tease you and you knew you had to answer him as soon as possible. "Yes, yes I thought of you" he laughed and his ears picked up every sound you made and his tail moved more and more no matter how excited he was. 'Let's see if you can stay focused... How long is the bond created by the knot of a cat hybrid?'

You clutched the sheets, trying to formulate a sensible answer despite the growing pleasure. "D-Depends... it can last from a few minutes to ... to half an hour...and if your cats are in heat the knot act could last even hours!"

He tilted his head, satisfied with your answer. 'You want another finger, baby?' Nod frantically, the need to feel it deeper was now unbearable. He smiled, but before settling, he formulated another question: 'And how does the human's body react when it is filled by the knot?'

You struggled to think, but between the desire and his expert touch, the answer came out wrong. As soon as the words left your lips, you felt a slight pinch on your thigh. 'Wrong.'

His voice became lower, more authoritarian. 'And yet you should know, given how excited you are to just talk about it.' You bit your lip, his dominant tone made you shudder, while his fingers resumed moving inside you with more intensity. 'Maybe, I'll have to give you a more practical lesson, as you struggle to concentrate.'

He dipped another finger inside your now moist, sensitive, and slimy cunt and you pulled his tufts of light hair to bring him closer to you, your legs were now completely open under him, breathless as his fingers explored every inch of your intimacy with a wise and vicious touch, he looked down on you, his gaze burning with a primitive and possessive desire.

'Look how you tremble for me...' he whispered in a voice full of satisfaction, sliding a third or finger into you with maddening slowness.

'You're so tight ... like you were made just for me.' His tone was poisonously sweet, charged with a confidence that made you cringe. You felt completely at the mercy of his touch, yet you could not hold back a small flicker of provocation. "it's too much"

He froze for a moment, then laughed softly, a low, dangerous sound. His feline eyes became darker and hungrier.

'Oh, baby ... do you really think you can give me rules?' Suddenly, his fingers inside you moved deeper, faster, making you gasp out of control. 'Let me teach you one thing...' he whispered, lowering himself to touch your lips with warm breath.

'You don't decide anything. You're mine. You were born to be filled by me, always and only by me.' You could hear your heart pounding in your chest as its tone became darker, and more viscous.

'I'll ruin you, understand? I will fill you so well that you will not even be able to think of someone else, you will always have my seed and my knot inside you. No one will ever catch you like I will.'

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and when his mouth lowered on your sensitive buds, the heat became untenable. His tongue played with you, wet, slow, torturing, while his fingers inside you continued to move with precision, spreading and preparing you with perverse attention.

'I have to prepare you for my knot, baby. You'll have to welcome me completely.' His tone was a promise, a threat, and a sweet condemnation. He crawled at you, his movements languid but territorial, like a cat marking his territory.

'Tell me ... are you ready to be mine alone?' But at that moment you were already completely fucked, at the mercy of him and no one else. You nodded as you felt your spasms consume you inside your pussy throbbing as you came between his fingers, he meowed at the sight of your excitement against his lips, and like an animal hungry for its prey he began to suck all your excitement as if it were his favorite meal and at the same time he sucked your clit throbbing and the room was full of moans and small growls.

'Yes what?' his voice was low, slightly amused, but there was an authority in his question that made you cringe. Your face warmed as you clasped your legs instinctively, biting your lip. "I want you... I want your knot." A satisfied grin appeared on his lips as he tilted his head slightly, almost like a predator watching his prey play alone in his trap.

'So good and obedient ... at least in words,' he muttered, lowering his face until he touched your lips with hers.

'Let's see if you can keep this sweet submission even after I've ruined you completely.' Before you could answer, his arms closed around you, lifting you up without the slightest effort. The heat of his body pressed against yours as he carried you to your room, the lips tracing fiery kisses down your neck, leaving behind shivers of anticipation.

'You know,' he whispered against your skin, his voice charged with an almost possessive desire, 'I'm tired of sleeping under your bed in my animal form.'

You felt his teeth graze your earlobe before he added in a lower, rougher tone: 'I want to sleep with you, squeeze you, feel your body against mine every night... and most importantly, I want to fill you whenever I feel like it.'

He dropped you gently on the mattress, his eyes never taken away from yours. You felt chained under that gaze, unable to move while his presence dominated the room. You tried to play down, play with him, but the smile on his lips betrayed that he knew exactly what you were doing. Your trembling hands moved to lower his pants and then boer It was impressive, more than you had imagined. Its length throbbed, thick and full of desire, the transparent liquid that perled its tip was a silent promise of what he would enjoy in making you his own. he noticed your gaze and laughed softly, his hand caressing your cheek before descending along your body, tracing every curve with slow, possessive fingers.

'Do you like what you see, baby?' You could feel yourself burning up, but nodded slowly, biting your lip.

'Be clear.' His voice grew deeper, and his fingers grazed your center with an expert touch.

'Tell me what you want. Ask me well.' Your breath broke under the combination of his authoritarian tone and the touch that turned you on more and more. "I want you, ... I want yo, Jungwon to fill me." A contented growl escaped from his lips as he ducked over you, his body pressing against yours in an inescapable promise.

'Good girl.' His lips moved over yours with an intensity that made you lose your breath, his hands caressing you with a possessiveness that left no room for doubt.

'You are mine.' he whispered against your skin. 'And after this night, you will no longer have doubts about who owns you.'

Jungwon's eyes shone with a dangerous intensity, his smile curving into a contented grin as he watched you tremble beneath him. He grazed your dripping cunt with his cock, snatching a muffled moan at you. The heat between you was unbearable, and he seemed to revel in seeing you so vulnerable, completely at the mercy of his will.

'Tell me,' he muttered in a low, velvety voice, leaving a kiss on your neck. 'What have you studied about hybrids like me?' Your breathing was irregular as you tried to put the words together.

"The knot..." you whispered, but he interrupted you with more determined pressure against your center, making you gasp.

'Be more precise.' His voice was an order disguised as sweetness.

'You will know that hybrids have an instinct... a need to completely fill their mate. And you, sweet prey, want it, don't you?' You could feel yourself blazing and nodding slowly, your fingers clinging to the sheets beneath you as his body left no way out.

'It's not enough to nod, I want to hear you say it.' His mouth came close to your ear, his warm breath making you shudder.

'Tell me what you need, or I'll have to teach you to respond better.' You bit your lip, your mind clouded by desire and the way he was making you feel completely his. "I need you ... your knot."

Jungwon laughed softly, smugly, as you felt the tip of his mushroom cock push slightly inside you which made you tremble. 'So good and obedient...' he muttered, brushing your chin with his thumb.

'Let's see if you're as good at answering.' His lips rested on your neck, leaving a trail of slow, provocative kisses as she continued to touch you, still not giving you what you so desperately wanted.

'If you want to be filled as you wish, you will have to deserve it. Answer my question: how does the body of a human companion react when she is greeted by a knot?' Your mind struggled to remember the notions studied, but it was difficult to concentrate when his body pressed against yours in such an intimate way, causing you to lose all lucidity. "Yes ... it fits..." you managed to say, with a thread of voice. "the knot tightens around and then fills the girl's belly..."

'Very good. If you answer well ... well, I could be generous enough to give you exactly what you want.' You felt a shudder at his tone, a mixture of fear and excitement burning inside you. You wanted it more than anything else, and he knew it very well.

'What happens when the knot swells completely?' Swallow, trying to formulate a response as the heat inside you grew more and more. "It hangs inside ... prevents it from separating until ... until the binding is completed."

'Exact answer, I wonder,' he continued, her voice imbued with pure perversion, 'Will your body be tight enough to hold me back? Or will I have to teach you to adapt to my size?'

You covered your face with one hand, your embarrassment now skyrocketing. 'Don't hide, baby,' he whispered with a sharp smile.

'I want to see your every reaction as you answer me.' Your voice was a trembling whisper. "S-yes... it will hold you..."

'Very good,' he muttered, rewarding your response with a deep, possessive kiss.

'So, get ready. Because once I'm inside of you...' his smile got even more dangerous, 'I won't let you go for quite a while.'

And with those words, you felt with a determined push, his big cock go inside your pussy full of excitement. A groan escaped from your lips as your body adjusted to its presence, feeling it deeper than you ever imagined. The warmth, the fullness, the sense of connection—it was all too much. He paused for a moment as if he wanted to enjoy every second of the feeling of being inside you. His breathing became heavier, his hands clasping your hips with force. 'You're so tight...' he muttered, lowering herself to nibble at your earlobe.

'You're perfect for me, you know?' His words made you tremble. You could feel it throbbing inside you, its warm, thick length moving with maddening slowness as if it wanted to imprint every push into your body.

'You're really mine now,' he whispered against your skin, his hands holding you still as he upped the pace. 'No one can ever have you like I have you.' You nod, your mind clouded with pleasure. "Jungwon-you are the first...” He froze for a moment, his gaze becoming darker and more intense.

'Oh?' His thrusts became more decisive, deeper as if he wanted to imprint his mark on you indelibly.

'Tell me again who you belong to,' he ordered, the tone more authoritarian now. You groaned, your arms clasped around his neck. "Only you"

A satisfied growl escaped from his lips as he increased the pace, his breathing getting heavier. The heat in your belly grew more and more, and you felt the tension build up inside you, your body responding perfectly to its movements. And then, suddenly, you felt something change. A primal heat spread through your body, more intense than anything you had experienced before. Your breath stopped for a moment as you felt something swell inside you, filling you even more. Node.

Your eyes widened as your hands slid down her back. "J-Jungwon..." you whisper, in an unsure tone. "Is it... is it the knot?"

He looked down at you, his smile slightly mocking. ‘Mh? You’re really not very perceptive for someone who studies veterinary on hybrids...’

You felt blushing, but any protest died on your lips as he pushed even deeper, increasing the pressure within you.

‘See?’ He whispered against your mouth, kissing you slowly as it kept moving.

‘Now you really know what it means to be mine.’

Your body trembled, every nerve lit by the heat and sense of fullness that increased with each push. It was too much. It was everything.

And when the plane knot swelled completely, sealing you to it, you felt a wave of pleasure crossing you, leaving you breathless.

Jungwon leaned over you, forehead against yours, breathless as his hands caressed you softly. ‘Good girl,’ he whispered, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

He slid his hand along your belly, touching you with exasperating slowness. The knot within you pulsed slightly, and the sensation made you shudder.

‘So tight to me...’ he whispered, His voice full of desire. ‘Tell me, baby, has your textbook ever told you what it feels like to be filled with a hybrid?’

You bit your lip, trying to maintain a minimum of lucidity, but your body was already yielding to pleasure.

"N-no..." you panicked, your breath breaking as he kept teasing you with small movements of the pelvis.

Jungwon laughed softly, his tone a mixture of satisfaction and fun. ‘Then you are really lucky to have me... To make you feel everything on your own skin.’

His hand slid lower still, and his fingers touched the point where you were united, collecting some of the heat that flowed from you. He brought it before your eyes, watching with a smug grin your embarrassed reaction.

‘Look at you...’ he murmured, taking His fingers to His lips and tasting you slowly. ‘You’re all wet for me... so obedient... so mine.’

Your face caught fire, and Jungwon seemed to adore your embarrassed expression. He slowly leaned over you, brushing your lips. ‘Tell me what you want, baby. I want to hear you beg.’

You shivered beneath him, your body moving unintentionally to seek more contact. "I want..."

He sank his light nails into your hips. ‘Speak well. I want to hear every single word come out of that pretty mouth.’

Swallowing hard, the knot inside you that pressed gently against your walls. Your body was on fire, your mind completely clouded. "I want... I want you to fill me up... and louder please fill me up like a cat."

Jungwon smiled a satisfied and predatory smile. ‘So good...’

His thrusts reclaimed, more sails but incredibly deep, making you completely lose control. Your body trembled beneath him, every fiber of you seeking more, more, more. Your pussy couldn’t stop grabbing it and rebutting it against you, Jungwon brought his mouth to your ear, his voice a harsh whisper. ‘You feel so full, don’t you? Can you feel my knot swell inside of you? At this point, you should know that you can’t run away anymore...’

Groans, hands clutching desperately behind his back. "J-Jungwon..."

He laughed softly, kissing your jaw before leaving you a light bite. ‘Oh, baby... you’re so lost now.’

His fingers found your center, playing with you as his thrusts became more intense and animate. Every fiber of your body vibrated, the knot inside you pulsed in a way that made you lose your head.

‘Oh, yes...’ Jungwon whispered, squeezing your hips as he sank deeper. ‘You were born for this, to be under me, to welcome me completely...’

You panicked hard, your body bowing under him. "Yes... yes... Jungwon..."

‘Tell me whose you are.’

"I am yours..." you replied without hesitation, your heart beating madly.

A satisfied growl vibrated in her chest. ‘Good girl.’

The pleasure exploded inside you, leaving you completely breathless as your body huddled around its knot. Jungwon held himself over you, his breath broken as he filled you completely.

The knot swelled completely, sealing you to him, and you groaned at the feeling of being entirely his.

Jungwon stood over you, his eyes still dark with desire, his body not letting go of yours. Slowly, she lowered herself on you, pressing a languid kiss on your lips.

‘You are perfect so...’ she whispered against your skin. ‘Mine. Completely mine.’

And at that moment, lost in its warmth, in the beating of its heart against yours, you knew you could never be anyone else’s, Jungwon’s breath was still irregular as his body relaxed against yours. The knot had finally deflated, leaving a trail of languishing heat between your legs. But instead of walking away, he stood there, his chest pressed against your back, his face hidden in the hollow of your neck.

He left you a little bit on your skin before licking you flat, his feline way of marking what was his. You shivered at the sensation, a warm shiver that ran through your spine.

Jungwon laughed softly at your skin. ‘You’re still so sensitive...’ he whispered, his tone filled with satisfaction.

You were leaning towards him, feeling him still against you, warm and present. "Mh... enough, you tickle me..." You chuckled, trying to move slightly.

But in the movement, you felt something.

You get stiff.

Its length is still pressed against you, not completely hard... but not completely extinguished.

You barely lifted your head to look at him, standing in front of his slightly shiny eyes, his most vulnerable expression I had ever seen. He seemed confused, almost frustrated.

"Jungwon...?" you called softly.

He snorted, sinking his face in your hair. ‘Ugh... it’s not fair,’ he murmured against your skin. ‘I still want you.’

The heat went up to your cheeks as he drew even closer to you, almost as if he wanted to merge with your body. His hands slid slowly down your hips, caressing you with a dangerous delicacy.

‘I want to fill you again...’ he whispered, the tone sweet, but the words dangerously sinful. ‘ i want to make you mine again and again and again.’

A shiver ran through your body. It wasn’t just desire what you saw in his eyes. It was obsession.

You lightly sunk into his arms, looking at him with a funny smile. "Again?" You teased him, biting your lip. "You’re so insatiable, Wonnie..."

He stared at you, his eyes darkening. ‘Are you too tired for my second knot?’ He asked, the warm and low voice as one of His hands crept between your thighs, touching your still sensitive and swollen clitoris.

You flashed, a groan escaped from your lips as its skilled touch made you shiver.

Jungwon grinned. ‘Strange... your body seems to tell me otherwise.’

You gave him a look, but the redness on your cheeks only made him more amused. "Jungwon... I-"

‘Shh.’ He leaned over you, licking the lobe of your ear before whispering dangerous words to you. ‘Leave it to me, get on all fours you just have to be my good human girl.’

You turn your belly down with the beautiful show of your ass and Jungwon moans at the sight of you so embarrassed but also excited about what you were going to do, your little pussy emanated a heavenly smell for the hybrid and the sight of your excitement slowly descending beneath you made him growl. His hands go over your hips to guide you, and you feel Jungwon’s arm under you, wrapped around your stomach as he lifts you up, lowers himself and kisses you on the temple.

‘Ready, baby, to be filled again?’ You look up at him and your eyes tear slightly from the overstimulation that will come against you, and groan when you feel a finger of Jungwon enter you again.

"Wonnie, please..." you said sighing

‘So fucking sexy, you’re so fucking beautiful like that, baby,’ groans behind you, making you clench awkwardly as a soft chuckle resounds behind you and he sinks for the third time another finger inside you and pumps it, You screamed of pleasure because it was too much but he did not seem to care anything, his cock was again big and could not wait to fill you again and while you felt that you were coming he let out the finger from your poor pussy and yelled.

‘God, you’re so embarrassing little one,’ he said laughing as he lined up his big cock, the tip of his dick touching your pussy again, poking at your clitoris, and making you weep with needy names.

He can’t help but moan as he starts grinding the head of her cock against your folds.

‘Oh fuck,’ he says in a husky voice.

Breathless, you grab the sheets and hold them tight in your hands, while your ass and back rise slightly to feel it even more inside you.

"Fuck me, Wonnie, I want to hear you again".

Jungwon does not waste any more time and aligns itself to your entrance and pushes its length into you by sliding in until it is pressed all the way down. You groan in the hollow of your elbow, and your walls pulsate, full and so sensitive, he leans forward until his chest is flush with your back and the tip of his cock presses on your G-spot.

‘Do you feel good? Who would have thought that my roommate could take my cock so well’ whispers in your ear and you can only whine and nod.

‘This pussy is all mine, isn’t it?’ asks with clenched teeth as you hear his tail give you small slaps against the legs, nibbling on your shoulder skin, and starts rubbing his hips against you, rubbing his cock on your G-spot over and over again.

"Yes, all yours, please fill me up," whispers, gasping and he wasted no time starts pushing in and out his cock and as first you felt again that inhumane and visceral heat enveloping your body and especially the lower part of your belly, Your mouth opens immediately for the sensual sensation of being stretched and tied to him and you feel your belly full again.

‘No one else?’ He’s humming as if he didn’t already know.

"No, just your Jungwon" when he heard those words his knot tied you completely and you came together making a mess in his dick and him filling you again.

The sound of the storm roaring outside the window seemed farther away now, but the strong gusts of wind still shook the house. Jungwon was there, holding onto you, as if your presence was the only thing that could reassure him.

‘Are you really this calm when there’s a storm, Y/n?’ Jungwon asked, his voice a little lower, almost shy, as if embarrassed by his own behavior. He cuddled up even closer, his warm body pressed against yours, seeking comfort in your embrace.

‘I don’t understand… sometimes, when the noise is too loud, it feels like… it invades me completely. It’s strange.’

You felt tender toward him, even though his proximity made your heart race. You’d never seen Jungwon so vulnerable. His usual playful attitude was now replaced by a need for protection he couldn’t hide. With a gentle smile, you hugged him a little tighter.

“You know, as much as you may seem like a wild cat, you do like feeling safe, don’t you?” you asked, gently stroking his hair.

Jungwon lifted his head to look you in the eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips. ‘Everyone needs to feel safe,’ he said, but his tone immediately shifted to something more mischievous. ‘Though, sometimes, I think you’re protecting me from… something more intense than just a storm.’

You stirred slightly but didn’t pull away. “Well, it’s not like I mind holding you tight, Jungwon. Seems like you need me, huh?” you said, the warmth of your voice blending with the sweetness of the moment. You liked teasing him, seeing that spark of interest in Jungwon’s eyes.

He lowered his gaze, pretending to appear unfazed, but his eyes sparkled with a different light, one that spoke of hidden desire. ‘You’re right. I need you… more than you think. Especially when you make me feel… so real.’ His hand, which had been resting on your side, began to slowly slide down your back in a provocative manner, making you shiver under the touch.

The tension between the two of you was palpable, and despite trying to keep a light tone, you couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, so you’re helpless, huh? You didn’t look helpless at first, it seemed to me that you had a lot of weapons at your disposal," you replied, as your eyes lowered to his lips.

Jungwon didn’t miss a chance. ‘It’s not just the weapons I have... it’s also my instincts’ he said with a dangerous grin, ‘can’t be ignored for long.’

A shiver ran down your spine. " Oh, really? And what will you do with all these 'instincts', Jungwon?" he chuckled and pinched your side and told you to stop

"You know...I’m really curious to see what it’s like when you’re in heat."

Jungwon, in a moment, became more serious, and his breath became heavier. ‘Oh, Y/n, you have no idea what can happen when I’m in heat. But I will tell you something...’ he whispered, bringing his mouth to your ear, his warm breath against your skin. ‘If you liked it so much when I filled you up before. Wait until I’m really in heat. It will be an experience you’ll never forget.’

A shiver ran down your back, but you couldn’t hide your smile. "I can’t wait to find out, Jungwon. But I hope you’ll be ready to handle it, because... I warn you, I have my ways of making you lose your head."

His hands gently grabbed your face, forcing you to look at it. ‘Oh, I will. I promise you that I will be as intense as possible. And when that time comes... you will not run away.’

The game between you two became more and more electric and yet there was a sweetness in all this, as if, under each provocative word, there was also a hidden love. And as the storm raged outside, within you was only the warmth of a bond that was growing ever stronger.

—————————————————————

Taglist: @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @m3wkledreamy @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki @annovaz @kkamismom12

Rebblog and comments are appreciated

2K notes · View notes

kenwio · 4 months ago

Text

Joker's kid! reader and how they life in manor started

Author's note 1: This part is huge, and it was a huge struggle for me to write (and rewrite), so I apologize if it feels crumpled T^T and there will be other author's notes

Warnings: long read, grammar mistakes (English is not my first language), mental issues, abuse

Bruce knew that eventually you will leave the madbay, you were there long enough to heal, but he had no idea how to bring you to the manor and he can't predict your reaction, seeing your reaction of everything in medbay, your confusion and fear that you showed looking at the simplest things. But other things concerned him even more.

Firstly, he knew that taking you to manor would include revealing of his identity to you, and identities of rest of the family. Secondly, the family.... he was worried about how they would react on you being there. So far, non of the kids interacted with you, and only Dick visited you while you were in the medbay, but he never saw you awake, thanks for the side effects of medicine that made you incredibly sleepy. And thirdly, you were a child of a villain, who knows what you are capable of? So what if you seemed harmless in the madbay? Plus, Bruce knew Tim and Jay expected only bad for you and Damians opinion of you was as bad if not worse somehow. Bruce knows it's going to be tough and he is not sure he can deal with it

Today was the day he would let you see his face and lead you up to the mansion. So, why did the world greatest detective was feeling icky? Was he afraid of you? No, you are just a kid, yes Joker's kid, but still a kid. Was he afraid your potential reaction? Not really, but he was troubled that he could predict it.

Maybe you didn't really show emotions, which was concerning, but also was made him feel more at ease, since you didn't show any signs of acting like your father.

You were sitting at your bed in medaby staring at your blurred reflection in the mirror. You couldn't clearly see yourself, but you were sure you looked a bit different and the clothes you were wearing now, simple t-shirt and pants, were much more comy and much more suited for a child, unlike that horrible suit.

- Hey, little one, how are you feeling? - he asked with strained gentleness

- I'm okay - you answered simply

- Since you are mostly recovered you will have to leave the medbay - he started saying. You were expecting something like that to happend, because why would he let you stick around? He alredy done much for you. As you were staying in the medbay you remember that Batman had a rule - a rule of not killing. Maybe that's why he helped you and healed you up, he probably just didn't want to let you die. You knew your father wouldn't really care of something happened to you, and he wouldn't even avange you, because why would he? You are just a pawn and he has bigger cards to cards to care about.

- So you will bring me back? -you asked, simply, which shoked Batman. You just now simply and dully asked him if he will bring you back to the crime alley ? How? Why? He felt his heart stinging at your emotionless reaction.

- No, I want to give you your new home

- New home? - you asked, confused. What did he meant by that?

- Yes. You will live with me, Alfred, and my sons. - he said calmly, looking at you, studying your reaction, he moved his hands closer to his mask. - that means you will know who I'm, and who are my allies are, which brings me to the point, before we could go to your new home, you must learn few rules, you understand right? - you only nodded in response. You were really confused. Why he wants you to live with you? Why is he okay with it? What was his reasoning?

The rules included: do not reveal our dentities to anyone, no wepons, no sharp object, no violence, no disobedience, mandatory emotional check-ins, mandatory seek of help when you need it, respect of boundaries and few other. You listened carefully when he explained every rule, trying to remember every detail, but you couldn't really understand that all. And you didn't really understood what will happened if you break the rule, but you didn't wanted to take chances.

After he explained the rules and you nodded to confirm you got the idea, he finally took his mask, and his face seemed to be familiar, and after few sections of thinking you said

- Oh, you are a man from newspapers - you remember seeing his face on some of the newspapers you used as blankets back in the crime alley.

- So I guess you know me? And you know my name - he asked, a bit confused by your reaction and use of wording

- uh.. I saw you, I don't really who you are - and it was true, you may saw him on newspapers, but you didn't really read them, there was too much words you didn't understand

- My name is Bruce Wayne, you can just call me Bruce. And since I introduced myself, it's time for you to introduce yourself too - he gave you a slight, gentle smile, encouraging you to speak up

- my name is (your name)

- Follow me, (your name)

So now you were following Bat...uh Bruce into various corridors of ... giant house? Castle? You didn't really know, but it was. You looked around, trying to take in at least some of the surroundings, but it was too much for you to remember. All you could say, the place was really luxurious... really like a castle, like one you saw in story book you manage to found one day.

Finally you arrived at the corridors there you assumed lived residents of the place. If you understood correctly while listening to Bruce, here manor two of his sons lived permanent: Tim and Damian, and two others, Richard and Jason, occasionally payed a visit. As you looked around corridor, you suddenly heard unfamiliar voice

- Father, you really decided to let them live here? - that voice sounded annoyed and angry

- Damian, we've talked about it - answered Bruce. You looked to father and son, who started conversation, taking in the appearance of short boy with spiky hair, and bright green eyes. So this is Damian.... as you looked at him, you noticed that his angry gaze never leaving you. His cold anger mixed with with annoyance made you visibly flinched.

- and I still stand my words, they are dangerous - young boy said, walking past his father, stopping in front of you - I was raised by assassins, don't think I won't see through your games - he said closing walking in his room and closing his door. You looked at him go, you expected this kind of greeting.

- Damian can be a little hostile at first- Bruce tried to soften up the atmosphere Damian created

- oh, it's fine, I understand -you answered calmly.

- so, most of those rooms are free so, feel free to chose one.

You walked through the corridor, checking if the room was taken or not, and you stopped at the far away room in the end for the corridor. Knowing that you would probably annoy others with your existence in the manor, you decided to choose exactly this room. You understood that your life here depended on how Batman, or how he told to call him Bruce, and his sons, and if you wanted to live peacefully you needed to try hard and not make him angry.

Bruce wanted to encourage you to take a room closer to others, but decided not to, so he would not discourage you

As you and and him walked in, you couldnt stop looking around. You would be living here now, and it felt like a dream.

- if you need anything call Alfred, and if you need me, just say so to him. - said Bruce as he left you to settle down. You looked around, taking in a surroundings by a bit empty previous guest room that just became yours. You sat down on the bed, feeling it's softness. You were still a confused, you felt fear as always, but also there was something else in the mix of your feelings, something much more lighter.

--------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ -----------------------

In the morning you was woken up by the rays of sun. You didn't figured out how to close the curtains. Previously you didn't feel like going to dinner, so Alfred brought you sandwiches in your room so you at least could have a bite.

You looked out if the window, seeing beautiful geen garden. The sight was new to you, who grew up in the surroundings of dirty bricks and broken concrete. You watched sky, which looked more clear than in crime alley, clouds, birds, trees. It felt surreal, and it made this light feeling in your chest become stronger.

Alfred knocked soon after, he reminded you to wash your face and brush your teeth (something old butler had to explain you how to do) and said that he would lead you to the dining room.

Damian was already there, he tensed up once he saw you. You sat far away from him, sinking in your chair under his gaze.

Soon after you heard yawning coming form the way you've just walked in.

-Morning, Dams, morning Alfred - you heard the sleepy voice say - B left already?

- yes, master Tim - said the old butler putting coffee on place on the table near Damian's one.

- Drake - Damian said through teeth

- oh, look someon in a bad mood since morning, how - the boy sat down, suddenly stopping when he noticed you. He looked at you, not a word leaving him as he quietly staredat you for a few seconds with unreadable expression. Not knowing you decided at least to try to make the situation more strange

- hello? - you mumbled. And he just nodded. His gaze lingered a bit longer on your hair, before he looked away, looking visible uncomfortable. Alfred served the food soon after. It was one of the most tasty things you've ever ate, even if you could feel tension in the air that could be cut with the knife.

After Alfred was lead you back to your room and Bruce made a quick check up on you few hours latter you were left alone. You didn't really had anything to do: the books that were in the room were a bit difficult for you, and you didn't really had an idea what to do with crayons, because all the paintings that came in your mind were ones that were present on your father's "show scene". As you were loking at the window, you heard a sudden knock on your room's door. You turned around, awaiting too see an old butler, but was greeted with the sight of tall young man with wavy black hair, blue eyes, and slightly akward but nonetheless friendly simile.

- Hey, little one - he greeted - what are you up to.

- Hello - you mumbled rather shyly, looking at the window, when back at him.

- Oh, good-old window watching huh - you nodded, soon after adding

- You are?

- Right, I'm Dick, and what's your name?

- (your name)

- Nice to meat you. So, how are you here so far - he tried to striked up the conversation, before you heard familiar annoyed voice of Damian

- Grayson, I require your presence, now!

- Dami, just a minute - he answered

- now! - Damian repeated

Richard gave you an apologetic look - sorry, gotta go, but I would like to hang around you next time, if you Don't mind.

-I do not mind - you mumbled as you watched him left. The way he talked to you was unusual for you. It reminded the way how Bruce or Alfred talked with you, but it was warmer. It made that light feeling in your chest stronger for a bit, until it was taken away. It was strange to be talked with like that, but it was nice. Suddenly, you couldn't help but wish but to be talked with like that more.

--------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ -----------------------

As day went by, you started slowly getting used to the life in here and rutine. You mostly spend your time around Alfred, following him as if you were a little ducking. He helped you around, explained how to do one or other things, helped you to find books you could read through, also old butler introduced to tw, but you quickly found out that cartoons were a bit much to you, so insted you settled on nature documentaries.

So here you were in the living room watching about life of animals in tropical jungle, when you heard heavy footsteps behind door, after that you hears how doors were heavily pushed open, you turned around, and saw tall and built tall and muscular guy, with short black hair with few white strands on them and book in his hands. Judging by his looks and what Alfeed told you so far you guessed it was Jason. Though, he seemed somehow familiar to you, yet you couldn't understand why...

- hello - you mumbled, looking at him.

He instantly frowned, you could see the same expression of anger on his face, the one you noticed on Damian constantly.

- what, old man really had his sanity kicked out? - he grumbled.

You were unsure of how to react, what to do. On one hand you could clearly see that Jason was mad at you the same way Damin were, so the plan was ether to hide in your room, or to stay quiet. On the other hand, even if you really didn't understand how to interact with others, in a short time you've been in the manor Alfred told you some basics of social interactions and politeness, one of which was to iniciate conversions, which made you want to give it a go.

- I just found out that some animals pretend to be dead so they wouldn't become a prey - you mumbled quietly, you really just learned that fact so you decided to share it. But it.your words seemed to make Jason even more mad.

- tsk, I see you, little psycho, are not so different from your crazy Dad - he spat out angrily, leaving you feeling down. You weren't like your dad, were you?

- I uh - you struggled to say, but you couldn't form your thought. What to answer to that? You weren't sure.

- don't even try, I don't like clowns -he spat out. Before you could say anything or he could continue saying things that left you sad, Alfred walked in.

- Master Jason, master Bruce awaits you in a batcave

- thanks - he said as he walked out, leaning you alone with your confusion and sadness, or so it was until you heard Alfred's cautious voice

- Master (your name)? Are you feeling alright? You seem to be a in your thoughts.

- I'm okay - you answered immediately, not wanting to worry old butler

- I see. - he answered, a bit thoughtfully, before speaking again - would you like to have some tea with cookies? - you nodded eagerly, remembering their sweet taste -when follow me to the kitchen

While you were enjoying tea with cookies, and looking how Alfred was busy preparing lunch, cutting greens with cooking scissors and chopping vegetables. He done this all fast and gracefully, leaving you amazed by his skills. In the middle of him cutting yet another green leaf, Alfeed was asked to go down to the cave by Jason, who walked away immediately after. Old butler put scissors near the edge of counter, and asked you if you knew how to get back to your room, before leaving. You just finished eating last cookie, when you heard metallic ring of fallen scissors. You walked to pick them up, but seeing your blurred reflection in them gave you an idea difference of original idea. Now you were on the way in your room.

Honestly speaking, you understood why your father was hated in this house, and you could understand why they hated you too, Joker is your dad after all, but you didn't like him to. In fact, he only brought you suffering. And you knew there wasn't a way to undone it,

But there is one thing you could do.

You walked in your room, I'm your bathroom, and in mirror you saw that one thing that reminded you of your father's the most. Your damaged green hair. Although while you were staying here, your hair grew longer and you could see your original color of hair, but green was still there and you hated longer green parts of your hair, his parts of your hair. Damian, Jason and Tim probably hated them too.

Chop.

You started cutting the green parts, leaving only strands of YOUR hair. It took awhile, it was hard. But few minutes after you were without them, and with fluffy uneven mess of a haircut on your head.

Putting all your green hair in a trash, you hurried back to kitchen. To your surprise, Alfred wasn't there yet. You put scissors in the sink, and returned to your tea, happy thay now you didn't had reminder of your dad on your head.

------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ -----------------------

After your sudden haircut, scolding, and another, but more professional haircut latter, Alfred decided to keep an eye on you. He had to admit that your desire to show difference form your dad finally made him warm up to you. But he was even more surprised when you said that you wanted to help him with tasks around the house and managing requests of boys and Bruce. Bruce found it a welcome change, but not all boys agreed with him

Which leads you to the present moment, you were cautiously carrying tray with coffee and snacks for Tim, since he skipped lunch yet again making Alfred worried yet again, when you were walking past Damian.To avoid him, you took a little to the other side, almost kicking off some sort of sculpture, which he caught, stopping in front of you, glaring at you

- Tt... use your eyes when you are going anywhere, pay attention - he grunted.

- I'm sorry - you said calmly, - cool move by the way - you said in attempt to soften the move

- I wasn't asking for your opinion. - he said, glaring at you one more time and saying - One false move and you'll find yourself dismantled faster than these figurines could hit the ground. Touch anything else in Father's collection, and you'll be practice dummy for my katana.

You tried not to flinch at Damian words, but did so anyways. It took you few minutes to calm down and continue your way towards Tim's room. You prepared to knock, but door was slightly agape.

- Tim? - you called, imitating Alfreds tone of voice. You saw how his hand gestured you to come in, so you did. You placed tray with coffee and snacks on his table. He glanced at you only for a second, before his eyes returned to the screen of his laptop, in that moment some sort of text appeared there, making him jolt, put laptop down and run away. You just stood there, not knowing what to do, you looked between door from which he left, and screen of his computer device, when another text appeared on it, and this time you could read it - "low battery. connect the charger"

Thanks to Alfred, you already knew what charger is, you just have to find it! You looked around, seeing too many wires around the room. You looked at the laptop, and saw too many ports. As you were unsuccessfully trying to find the right wire and right port, laptop's screen went dark. In that moment Tim walked in.

- What did you do?! - he asked almost yelling. Immediately going to the laptop

Nothing! - you panicked, and stepped away. He raised a hand and wave it. Not noticing yor flinch.

- just go, go away! You are messing all up!

If you thought you were shaky after encounter with Damian, this one definitely did.

Judging by Tim's reaction, you broke his computer. You didn't mean to, and you didn't knew if anyone will believe you that you didn't mean to do so. Maybe you'll need to apologize later, but right now, all you wanted is to talk with Alfred or to use up Bruces offer and talk with him if you needed it. In the state of panick you must have took the wrong turn, and bot seeing clearly before yourself, you bumped into Jason, after what you was pushed back and fell down in the process.

- you, little psycho! Don't you dare to touch me! - he yelled, making you flinch. For a second you felt like you was back with your father, pushed around, beaten and yelled at. As you were processing what happened, you didn't hear soft footsteps,

Jay, it was an accident. They just didn't not you - said Richard, trying to calm Jason down -yes, little one? - he said turning to you, but you were already running back to your room.

You cruled up in your blanket, hiding from the world and trying to calm down. You felt like crying. You probably did cry. It was all your fault. You almost broke figurine from Bruces collection, you probably broke Tim's computer, and you made Jason angry, so , Dick too was probably angry at you. Why had you just break thing, make everything worse. Maybe you should talk to Bruce.

--------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ ---------------------

You didn't even notice how you feel asleep for a short time, but when you woke up, you decided to see Bruce, if anyone, he should know how to get allong with boys. And that's what you really wanted, to get along with them, just to feel safe.

The problem however was to find Bruce. You remember Bruce showing you where his cabinet and room was, however, you don't remember where exactly they are. You managed to find Alfred, who gave you a concerned look, but explained you where he was. He also said that all of them were having a movie night - Richard decided that everyone needed at least one bounding day a month, where all of them would gather and do something together. That got you a bit worried, because what if you ruin their movie night just like how you ruined everything today. But maybe you could apologize in front of everyone for being inconvenience and making them angry? You'll have to brace yourself . While thinking about it, you walked through various corridors, until you reached movie room.

There they were: While movie were playing on a big screen they sat on cozy sofa and armchairs. Bruce sat in the armchair, occasionally looking on the boys. You could see smile on his face. Dick sat in the middle of the sofa, watching with enthusiasm and actively commenting on the plot, eating popcorn. On one side if him, putting his head on Dick's shoulder, sat Tim, who was lazily laying on sofa. He sometimes corrected Dick or commented on CGI, whatever it is. On the other side of the Dick sat Damian, who tried to make an impression that he didn't like being here, yet even you could see through his act, and who tried to keep Tim's and Jason's hands away from popcorn. And near Tim, in the corner of sofa sat Jason, who teased Damian and Tim most of the time, argued with Dick on which character is better and successfully stole Dick's popcorn.

You've never seen a sight, that was as warm as this. It felt so warm, so cozy, so homy

It felt like family.

And here you were: in the shadow, not daring to make a step, to come in to join them, to afraid to ruin this perfect moment

You've never had a family in that sense of word, and what you had as a family, you wouldn't dare to call as such. In your family was no warmth, no care. There weren't a moment like this. But you needed them.

After you were taken in my Bruce you found out what care was, but even so it felt like it still was too far away from you, so far that you couldn't reach it. Maybe you didn't deserve it, but you wanted care you wanted love. You wished you could be a part of family you see right now. You want to come in. But you know you can't, you know you will ruin the moment if you will walk in now. You know that Damian will add another threat to a previous one, Jason will yell, Tim will shoosh away, and probably Dick and Bruce will silently agree with them and will say to you to come another time.

Your father is Joker, that's instantly makes you undeserving of care and attention. Well, whay to say if your own mother left you. And as for the batfamily, it's only natural to hate a child of their main enemy.

But what if you can prove you are not like your father? What if love and care are earned, and that's exactly why you didn't get them. When you will have to try and earn it. But for now, all you could do now, is to hide behind the door in another room, listen intently on every sound they make, cry silently, afraid of making any noise so you couldn't ruin the moment and wish you could be with them. Wish you was loved at least once in your life. Wish you were a part of their family.

--------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇ ♧ ----------------------

Thank you for reading and feel free to share your opinion 💖 have a good day

Author's note 2: I really badly wanna draw Joker's kid. I'd you are interested in my artworks , please let me know

Author's note 3: (1) In one of anonymous asks (here) one user had similar idea of what I had in mind. I hope I've done it good > - < (2) And I wanted to fit this idea from another ask (here) in the plot to, but I couldn't done it fully, I'm sorry T^T

Author's note 4 : to be honest, I have no idea what is tag list and how it works (I'm really sorry, but I'm not active social-media user), but few amazing people asked to tag them, and i hope I'm doing it right: @socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr

976 notes · View notes

monster-disaster · 5 months ago

Text

[alien] Bruk'x

alien!Bruk'x x human!Reader Good to know: male masturbation

Summary: You drive Bruk'x crazy without knowing about it.

Bruk'x resists the urge to follow you out of the mess hall and through the long, echoing corridors of the base back to the wing that you and the other humans have been occupying since your arrival. You are always there, always busy with one thing or another. Your work ethic and excitement are like a fire he cannot look away from. Even when he cannot understand your language, he finds himself captivated by the rapid, animated way you speak with your co-workers. Your voice rises and falls in rhythms unfamiliar to his ears, and your hands move as if your whole body is involved in the conversation. Every emotion flickers across your face, so expressive and so different from his own people, and each nuance draws him in, holding him spellbound.

Ever since you arrived on his planet as a scientist, seeking the military's help to explore uncharted territory, his mind has been tangled with thoughts of you. Your enthusiasm and your questions, which seem to never quiet your always racing mind, amaze him. Bruk'x can never quite predict what you’ll ask next, and he finds it amusing. It feels as if there’s always something you are eager to discuss, always a new curiosity sparking in your eyes. And it seems to him that you are always working. He never sees you in the simple, casual clothes the other humans wear from time to time. Instead, you wear black pants, a white shirt, and a matching lab coat that never looks quite clean. There is always something on it, a telltale mark that reveals what you've spent your day doing.

Today, blue stains speckle the fabric and smudge your fingers, unmistakable evidence of your work with the ink-blue flowers that grow in the shadowed parts of their world and leave stains that last days. You even approached him about it earlier. Your brows were slightly furrowed in worry as you held up your hands. Your accent was thick but charming as you struggled with his language. Are you sure it will come off? Bruk'x chuckled and nodded, offering you a warm smile as you gazed up at him. You always listen to him with such intent that it makes it all too easy for him to imagine you looking at him the same way for other reasons. In his mind, instead of asking him about his home and people, you ask about him for more than scientific reasons. Your white, blunt teeth flash in a smile as you laugh at something he says, and your small, human eyes crinkle at the corners, framed by those dark circles that have worried him ever since he learned they are a sign of lack of sleep for humans. It’s so easy for him to imagine that you might be genuinely interested in him, maybe even needing or wanting him.

Bruk'x grapples with the cultural rules that bind him day after day. In his society, it’s customary for females to make the first move, a tradition he can neither forget nor dismiss. He cannot reveal his interest in more than a few kind gestures, and although you respond to his small displays of affection, you do not take it further, driving him to the brink of sanity.

The night presses on, but Bruk'x stays at his table in the dimly lit mess hall, long after his mates have retreated one by one to their quarters or the night shifts that await them. It’s late, and the base has settled into a hushed calm, with only the faint hum of machinery and the occasional shuffle of feet echoing in the corridors. His own duties are over, but he clings to the hope of seeing you again, of catching one last glimpse of you today.

He knows you are likely still deep in some task, your mind so engrossed that you’ve lost track of time. He can almost picture your tired, determined eyes scanning the shelves in the lab, one hand absentmindedly pushing a strand of hair from your face as you murmur to yourself in your own language.

He glances up whenever he hears a faint sound near the doorway, hoping it’s you. You’ve made a habit of sneaking out to the mess hall, sometimes in the dead of night, to find a leftover snack or something warm to drink. He’s caught you more than once, your eyes bright with a mischievous glint as you riffled through supplies, muttering to yourself about how little food humans need compared to his kind, and why that somehow doesn’t stop you from needing just one more bite before bed.

He shifts in his seat, the ache of his long day forgotten as he imagines what he might say to you if you show up. He might pretend he came here simply to unwind, just another coincidence, or he might let slip a small comment about the strange customs of humans who work so late. He often wants to say more, but he knows he must tread carefully.

Soon, his Captain, Carmek'x, appears at one of the doors, which slip apart with a quiet, hissing sound as he steps inside. Bruk'x watches him approach, his four long arms moving in perfect sync with each quiet, measured step. Despite his broad, muscular frame, Carmek'x moves with a surprising elegance, gliding around the tables until he stops in front of Bruk'x. The dimmed lights cast a faint glow over his skin, a deep blue that almost matches the shade of your fingertips, still stained by the flowers you collected today.

The big alien halts at the table, raising one eyebrow in a familiar, questioning gesture. Bruk'x knows that his captain picked up the expression from a certain nurse on base, but he says nothing.

"Everything alright?" Carmek'x asks, his voice low and calm. Behind him, the long, ropelike strands that cascade from his head, weapons than what you and your people would call hair, shift restlessly. The protective plates at the ends click together every now and then as a subtle reminder of their strength.

"Long day," Bruk'x replies, his tone weighted with unspoken thoughts.

Carmek'x regards him with a knowing look, and Bruk'x meets his golden eyes without flinching. They both know what the other is thinking, though neither says it aloud. "Be patient."

Bruk'x only nods in a silent acknowledgment. With the way things are and the unspoken rules binding him, patience is the only option he has.

When he finally retreats to his room, Bruk'x feels as though he has been running circles around the base for hours. Exhaustion settles deep within him, dragging through his limbs like a weight he can't shake off. His mind feels fogged. You are so tightly tangled in his thoughts that no amount of distraction seems enough to get rid of you.

With a deep, resigned sigh, he sinks down onto his bed, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to push the image of you away for even a moment. But it doesn't work. He isn't even surprised. You linger in his mind, vivid as ever. He images your uniform, messy hair, and bright, curious eyes. He can almost feel the warmth of your arm brushing against his as you lean in to speak. Your accent is thick and heavy in his ears. You always stand so close, digging through your pockets for those small scraps of paper you use to scribble down your questions or ideas because otherwise, you forget them within a few minutes. He almost smiles to himself, remembering how eagerly you jot down everything you want to discuss with him later.

Your scent drifts through his mind too, that strange brew you call "coffee" mingling with the earthy fragrance of the plants and soil from his world, clinging to you as if they are a part of your very being.

His four arms lie tensely at his sides, twitching and fidgeting restlessly, not quite sure what to do as his imagination wanders. He can almost feel himself reaching for you, his hands moving of their own accord, yearning to pull you closer. In his mind, he buries his head into the curve of your neck, breathing in your warmth, letting your softness lull his racing mind. He imagines you tilting your head slightly, instinctively giving him the space to press his lips to your bare skin, so soft and vulnerable. It strikes him how much you trust, how effortlessly you embrace the unknown, and how your vulnerability seems to bother you so little. It unsettles him. You often seem so careless with your own safety. The thought of being the one who guards you, who ensures you’re safe, cared for, and treasured, surges within him. A need to protect you stirs within him, an instinct stronger than any he’s known. His hands move instinctively, his breathing deepening as the thought of holding you close consumes him. How would you feel against him? You’re so soft and smooth, so delicate compared to the solidity of his own form. His chest rises with every labored breath, longing coursing through him. If only he could hold you in his arms, feel your heartbeat against him, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

His cock throbs insistently, pulsing against the rough fabric of his uniform, which suddenly feels unbearably tight. Every seam and stitch seems to scratch at his skin, igniting a strange, burning itch across his body. Almost instinctively, his arms move, fumbling to shed his clothes quickly. One by one, his garments fall away until his cock springs free, hard and glistening with pre-cum. It juts out, slapping against his abdomen.

Every image of you that flashes through his mind sends a new wave of need surging through him, making him ache.

He wonders, no, he craves to know what you would look like without your clothes. Would you be like the human women he saw in the images his comrades pulled up? The memory makes his cheeks burn with an embarrassed heat. When they heard about humans coming to their lands, some of his mates eagerly searched for information about your kind. It didn’t take long before they uncovered pictures and videos of human women, bare-skinned and open. Are you as soft as you appear? Would your skin yield beneath his touch, pliant and warm? He growls low in his throat, driven by the thought. His large hand trails down his taut abdomen, grasping the base of his cock with a firm grip. The shock of his own touch makes his hips jerk forward involuntarily. He wants it. He needs it. Would you like him to take your nipples into his mouth like those in the videos? He would love nothing more than to feel your delicate hand at the back of his head, guiding him down, pressing his face to your chest. His mouth waters at the imagined taste of your skin. The honor of pleasuring you overwhelms him. He pictures you arching your back, pushing yourself against him, allowing him to worship your body.

His hand starts to slide up and down along his length, his fingers spreading the pre-cum across his thick shaft.

He wonders what you would think of him, of his cock. In the videos, he noticed how the human males seemed… softer, even at their hardest. His mates laughed at this, baffled at how these humans could protect themselves. Would you be disturbed by his hardness, or would it spark your curiosity as he’s noticed so many things do? A rough chuckle escapes him, hoarse and pathetic. The sound vibrates in his heaving chest. Would your soft hands explore him, tracing every ridge and scar, lingering over the roughness of his cock? He’s certain you’d be fascinated. He can imagine your curious gaze, the same one you use when studying every new thing in his world, directed at him. He would let you examine him, ask your never-ending questions, and touch him wherever you wanted. He’d answer all of them, body strained, tense as a bow, fighting not to snap from the pleasure.

His hips buck upward, thighs hard and trembling as he braces himself on his bed.

Would you let him do the same to you? Would you let him part your thighs and taste you, take you apart slowly, carefully? He’d have to be so patient. He would need every inch of his restraint to make sure you were ready. Patience isn’t his strong suit, but for you, he’d find it. He can picture you pressed against the bed or even splayed across his chest, letting him take his time. He’d be careful and slow, watching every reaction to make sure you could handle him, each movement more controlled than the last.

Since he’s met you, he’s watched more videos than he’d care to admit, scouring for any glimpse of a woman who resembles you, seeking to understand what human men do to pleasure their mates. He'd told himself it was just curiosity, but he knew he wanted more. He wanted to know what you’d sound like, feel like, if you’d arch and gasp when he finally touched you. Would your body feel as soft as those women looked? And how would you taste? The thought of you on his tongue makes him groan, swallowing hard as he imagines your warmth and scent enveloping him.

His hand tightens as he picks up the pace, squeezing every so often to prolong the rush building at the base of his spine.

He would ask you to sit on his face, pressing yourself down so he could savor every inch of you. The mere thought makes him groan. The sound is thick with desire. He is a sergeant, used to commands and obedience, and he would gladly submit to your every need. He’d let you lead, eager to follow your guidance and surrender to your desires.

And when it was time… how would you want him to take you? Would you prefer to be taken from behind, or would you want him to press you against the wall, holding you in place as he pounded into you? Or maybe, you’d want to ride him, allowing him to watch every expression cross your face, every bounce of your body, each gasp you’d make. He imagines the feel of your body; tight and wet, gripping him so perfectly, pulling every ounce of his essence from him as though you couldn’t bear to let him go. He’d give you everything he had, and after that, no other male would ever be enough.

His jaw clenches, his teeth grinding as the edge nears, imagining how you’d feel wrapped around him, tight and hot, squeezing every drop out of him. He’d make sure to give you everything, to show you that no other could satisfy you the way he could. No other man would ever compare; he would make sure of that.

Would you bite him, marking him with your blunt, human teeth? He hopes so. He imagines your teeth sinking gently into his neck, marking him, or your nails scratching down his back, leaving a trail of evidence that he’d carry with pride. Would you even be able to draw blood? The thought alone nearly undoes him.

His hand moves faster, hips thrusting up as he chases his release. His imagination runs wild, painting vivid scenes of you in every position. You’re breathless, naked, and beautiful in each one. The vision is too much. His release crashes over him like a wave as a hoarse shout tears from his throat. The sound is raw and guttural. His body convulses, muscles tightening and shivering as his climax pulses through him. Thick ropes of his cum spill over his hand and across his abdomen, leaving him a panting, trembling mess. He keeps thrusting into his grip until he can’t bear it anymore, finally collapsing back against the bed, every ounce of strength spent.

It takes Bruk'x a long time to gather himself, his body heavy and his mind muddled. The satisfaction he felt moments ago has already faded, replaced by the gnawing frustration that seems to cling to him no matter what he does. It drives him to madness, a helpless ache that no release can seem to soothe.

He sighs and prepares to return to bed, hoping that sleep will come, but his thoughts are interrupted by a loud, insistent knock on his door. He frowns, annoyance tugging at his expression when the knock echoes again, followed by a familiar voice.

"Captain?" Bruk'x calls, swinging the door open to reveal the other alien standing there.

Both of them look disheveled, faces flushed and breathless, but neither of them acknowledges it.

Carmek'x gaze is intense. "Forget patience," he says. His voice is clipped and direct.

Bruk'x stares, confused. "What?"

"Human women," his captain explains, his tone laced with frustration and perhaps a touch of irritation. "They work in different ways. Patience be damned."

You can dive into Carmek'x's story and explore many others I've shared throughout the year on my Patreon, with even more exciting content coming this month.

#monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster fucker #terat0philliac #monster smut #alien romance #alien x human #alien fucker #alien boyfriend #alien smut

853 notes · View notes

official-linguistics-post · 5 months ago

Text

on reconstruction and historical linguistics

to follow up on today's reblog, i want to comment briefly on the apparent misapprehension that linguistic reconstruction is just guesswork with a fancy name, because that's not accurate!

reconstruction is based on specific, well-attested constraints of linguistic development. we know from centuries of investigation that languages tend to change in predictable ways. we also have a decent understanding of the complexities introduced by phenomena like language contact, which can result in borrowing on multiple structural levels. our methods are well established and borne out by evidence.

comparative reconstruction involves applying these known constraints ("rules") in reverse on a collected body of words in related descendant languages. when possible, we also incorporate historical written evidence, which often provides midpoint references for changes in progress. it is always recognized by historical linguists that reconstruction can be imperfect; we cannot know what information has been lost.

the results of reconstruction can be mixed, but i'll let campbell (2013:144) explain:

How Realistic are Reconstructed Proto-languages? The success of any given reconstruction depends on the material at hand to work with and the ability of the comparative linguist to figure out what happened in the history of the languages being compared. In cases where the daughter languages preserve clear evidence of what the parent language had, a reconstruction can be very successful, matching closely the actual spoken ancestral language from which the compared daughters descend. However, there are many cases in which all the daughters lose or merge formerly contrasting sounds or eliminate earlier alternations through analogy, or lose morphological categories due to changes of various sorts. We cannot recover things about the proto-language via the comparative method if the daughters simply do not preserve evidence of them. In cases where the evidence is severely limited or unclear, we often make mistakes. We make the best inferences we can based on the evidence available and on everything we know about the nature of human languages and linguistic change. We do the best we can with what we have to work with. Often the results are very good; sometimes they are less complete. In general, the longer in the past the proto-language split up, the more linguistic changes will have accumulated and the more difficult it becomes to reconstruct with full success. (emphasis mine)

or, to quote labov's (1982:20) pithier if less optimistic approach:

Historical linguistics may be characterized as the art of making the best use of bad data, in the sense that the fragments of the literary record that remain are the results of historical accidents beyond the control of the investigator.

in sum, historical linguists are very realistic about what we can achieve, but the confidence we do have is genuinely well earned, because linguistics is a scientific field and we treat our investigations with rigor.

---

Campbell, Lyle. 2013. Historical Linguistics: An Introduction. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Labov, William. 1982. "Building on Empirical Foundations." In Perspectives on Historical Linguistics. Winifred P. Lehmann and Yakov Malkiel, eds. Pp. 17-92. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

#linguistics #language #historical linguistics #i got to hang out with my grad school colleagues and talk about one of my dissertation texts today so i'm in my academic feelings #also it's friday and i'm allowed to have a little fun (yes this is fun) (i'm a phd what do you expect)

466 notes · View notes

eu-nicola · 5 months ago

Text

the fastest driver part 1

summary: you are a young and talented driver, who begins your journey in Formula 1 with Ferrari. despite your undeniable ability, you are constantly relegated to the background due to the Scuderia's strategies, which always favor your teammate, Charles Leclerc.

warnings: nothing for now

word counter: 9026

author's note: english is not my first language, this is from an amazing request

You grew up in a small town where dusty streets were your first track, and the only kart your parents could afford became an extension of yourself. You spent years perfecting your skills under the blazing sun, your hands always stained with grease, while dreaming of the big leagues. Your determination and talent didn’t go unnoticed for long, and by the age of seventeen, you were already competing in Formula 3, winning races, and building a reputation that few could ignore.

However, the transition to Formula 1 was no fairy tale. Despite your achievements in the lower categories, many doors remained closed. You were a woman in a sport dominated by men, and while you hated admitting it, you knew the battle to prove yourself extended beyond the circuits. But when Ferrari came calling, you realized all your sacrifices had been worth it. Ferrari, the team with the most history and prestige in Formula 1, had set its sights on you.

The first time you set foot in Maranello, Ferrari's heart, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The walls of the main building were adorned with iconic images: Lauda, Schumacher, Vettel... all the greats who had raced for the Scuderia. And now you were there, ready to make your mark in history.

They introduced you to Charles Leclerc, your teammate. Tall, charismatic, and with a smile that could disarm anyone, Charles greeted you politely but with a reserved attitude. It was clear he wasn’t going to let his guard down around you.

The technical team showed you the SF24, the car you’d be driving that season. It was beautiful, a machine designed to fly on asphalt, and when you finally sat in the cockpit for the first time, everything felt right. This was your place.

Preseason testing in Barcelona was your first big challenge. The media was eager to see you in action, and the headlines were as varied as they were predictable: some hailed you as a breath of fresh air for Formula 1, while others questioned your ability to handle the pressure.

When you finally hit the track, all the external noise disappeared. It was just you, the car, and the circuit. From the first lap, you proved you belonged in this world. Your times were competitive, sometimes even better than Charles’, which didn’t go unnoticed by the team or the press.

But then, in the middle of your best stint, you received a radio message: “Box, box. We need to check something on the car.” There was nothing to check, and you knew it. But you obeyed. Charles needed more track time, and Ferrari made sure he got it.

The day of the first race in Bahrain was a whirlwind of emotions. Seeing your name on the red cars alongside Charles’ was a dream come true. But you also knew your real challenge was just beginning.

You qualified third, right behind Charles, which left the team satisfied but not surprised. In the race, you had a spectacular start, overtaking Charles at the first corner. Adrenaline surged through your body as you realized you were leading the race for Ferrari. But then the radio crackled again: “Let Charles through. He has better pace.”

You clenched your teeth. You knew it wasn’t true, that you had the pace to fight for the win, but you also understood the unwritten rules of the Scuderia: Charles was number one. So you lifted your foot off the accelerator, watching as Charles took the lead while a bitter frustration built up inside you.

You finished second, a result any rookie would have celebrated, but for you, it wasn’t enough. In the press conference, journalists bombarded you with questions about being relegated to second fiddle. You smiled professionally and replied that it was all for the good of the team, but inside, you were burning.

The dynamics within Ferrari didn’t take long to settle. You were the driver who followed orders, no matter how illogical or unfair they seemed. From the beginning, you had accepted that a place in Formula 1 was a hard-earned privilege and that surviving in such a legendary team required showing commitment and loyalty. But at Ferrari, the price of that loyalty seemed increasingly steep.

You were always the first to arrive at the garage and the last to leave. You immersed yourself in the technical details, analyzing every bit of data from the car and holding long meetings with the engineers. But no matter how hard you worked, there was always an invisible line you couldn’t cross. Every strategy, every race decision, seemed designed to keep you in your place: the perfect support for Charles Leclerc, Ferrari’s "star man."

Some moments were particularly frustrating. Like that Sunday in Monaco, when the sky threatened rain and the track conditions were changing rapidly. You were in a strong position, right behind Leclerc, and clearly faster than him at that point. When you asked for permission to attack over the radio, the response was curt:

“Hold position. The priority is to protect Charles’ race.”

That day, you bit your lip and obeyed. You lifted slightly in every corner, letting Charles pull away enough to avoid pressuring him. And, as if it were a cruel joke, Charles’ strategy backfired: he was called to the pits at the wrong time, losing all his advantage. Meanwhile, you got stuck in traffic you couldn’t overcome with the car you had. You finished off the podium.

You could have screamed, could have let out your frustration, but you didn’t. When journalists approached with questions about the strategy, your response was impeccable, the “good girl” answer they expected:

“It’s part of racing. I trust the team and the decisions they make.”

Even when you didn’t feel it, even when it ate away at you inside.

Ferrari, an institution as legendary as it was unyielding, seemed to thrive on your docility. In internal meetings, you weren’t the one to stand up and challenge the strategists or argue over team orders. It was Charles who raised his voice, who demanded explanations or changes. You, on the other hand, nodded, worked harder, and returned to the grind. In the team’s eyes, that attitude made you the perfect driver to support the project. “Predictable,” some would say. “Reliable,” others would call it.

However, there were days when the injustice weighed too heavily. You remembered races like Silverstone, where you led for more than 20 laps, only to receive the order to let Charles through under the pretext that he had better pace. You complied without protest, watching your chance for a first victory vanish with a maneuver that didn’t even make sense to the commentators.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” a journalist asked you in the post race press conference, almost reproachfully.

Your answer was automatic:

“The team has its reasons, and I trust them.”

But inside, you wanted to scream. Of course, you wanted to fight. You wanted to prove you hadn’t come this far just to be a shadow.

Despite everything, you never broke. You kept working, accumulating miles, and learning every step of the way. At Ferrari, you were known as the hardest worker, the one who spent extra hours reviewing data and analyzing races. Sometimes, even Charles joked with you:

“You should relax a bit. You don’t need to prove so much to the team; they already know you’re good.”

But you knew it wasn’t enough. Your place always seemed precarious, as if you were under constant evaluation, always one step behind in the team’s priorities.

Throughout the season, this dynamic became so evident that even some fans began to notice the disparity. On social media, the discussions were constant: some praised your obedience, seeing you as the ideal teammate, while others criticized Ferrari for not giving you a fair chance. You didn’t say anything, but you read the comments. You felt the frustration of those who wanted to see you succeed, and that gave you strength to keep going.

And although that helped you move forward, there were things that got in the way. Spending so much time with Charles Leclerc was inevitable. You shared meetings, strategies, team dinners, and endless travels from one circuit to another. Sometimes, during long waits at airports or motorhome rides, he relaxed enough to drop the façade of being the perfect driver.

It was in those moments that you began to notice him differently. Maybe it was the way his smile widened when you managed to make him laugh with your sarcastic comments or how he looked at you with a mix of awe and admiration when you discussed strategies, showing detailed knowledge of every technical aspect. You found yourself anticipating those small moments, those conversations where the weight of the motorsport world seemed to disappear, even if just for a few minutes.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You told yourself it was nothing, simply a side effect of being so close to someone for so long. But little by little, that feeling began to grow. You found yourself watching him during meetings, noticing details that had previously gone unnoticed: the slight accent in his English, the way he ran a hand through his hair when frustrated, his easy laughter when something truly amused him.

Reality hit every time you remembered that, to him, you were just his teammate. Maybe a friend, even a sort of younger sister, but nothing more. Charles had a natural way of making you feel comfortable but also reminding you of where you stood in his life.

One night in Suzuka, after a long day of training and meetings, you both ended up in the small lounge of Ferrari's motorhome. You had gone to get a cup of tea to clear your mind and found him sitting on the couch, looking at something on his phone. He looked up when he saw you and smiled.

“Long day?” he asked, setting his phone aside.

“As always,” you replied, pouring hot water into your cup. Then you turned to him. “And you? I haven’t seen you since the last meeting.”

Charles sighed and stretched. “I was trying to reply to some messages, but I don’t even know where to start. Family, friends, everyone wants to know how I’m doing all the time. It’s exhausting.”

You smiled, sitting in a chair across from him. “Must be tough being Charles Leclerc.”

He laughed. “Don’t believe it. You’re a Ferrari driver too. You must have your own endless list of messages.”

“Yeah, but the difference is that I’m not seen as the team’s big star. I only have to worry about my parents and a couple of close friends.”

He tilted his head, as if evaluating your words. “Don’t think we don’t notice. The whole team knows how dedicated you are. Maybe they don’t say it all the time, but they know how much you bring to the table.”

Your heart skipped a little. You hadn’t expected that kind of recognition from him. You tried to stay composed.

“That’s... good to hear. Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way, but thank you.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Charles looked at you with curiosity.

“And you? How do you handle it? Being here, under so much pressure, one of the few women in this sport... It can’t be easy.”

You lowered your gaze to your cup, letting your thoughts swirl.

“It’s not. But I don’t expect it to be. I grew up knowing I’d have to work twice as hard to get here. So, I do. Sometimes it’s frustrating, especially when it feels like no matter how much I try, things don’t change.”

“Are you talking about the team orders?”

You looked up quickly, surprised he mentioned it. He was watching you with that intensity of his, as if trying to unravel your thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a half smile. “I know. It’s not fair.”

“Then why don’t you say anything?” you asked, almost without thinking.

He seemed to ponder this for a moment. “Cause this sport isn’t fair. It never has been. You know that as well as I do.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

Charles nodded, as if he understood perfectly what you meant. Then, to your surprise, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Look, I know it doesn’t always seem like you’re valued, but believe me, you’re incredible. You’re fast, smart, and more hardworking than anyone in this paddock. You don’t need Ferrari to tell you that because you’re proving it every time you get in the car.”

His sincerity left you speechless. For a moment, the noise of the outside world disappeared, and all you felt was the warmth of his gaze and the weight of his words. You wanted to say something, but the lump in your throat stopped you.

Finally, he broke the silence with a smile that seemed to lighten the atmosphere.

“Besides, if you start beating me, I’ll have to work harder. And I don’t want that,” he joked.

You laughed, grateful that the moment had turned lighter.

“Don’t worry. You still have a bit of an advantage... for now.”

You both laughed, and the moment passed. But as you walked back to your room that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you had felt. No matter how much you tried to deny it, your feelings for Charles were there, silently growing. And the worst part was knowing that, to him, you were just a teammate, a friend, maybe even that younger sister he joked about in meetings.

But you wanted to be more than that. And you had no idea how to handles.

The conversation with Charles left you more affected than you wanted to admit. His words echoed in your mind like a constant refrain: “Your incredible,” he had said. Did he really mean it? Or was he just trying to motivate you, like an older brother would with a younger sister? You couldn’t shake the feeling that, while he valued you, he didn’t fully see you. Not as an equal, not as a true rival, and certainly not as anything more.

That, combined with the weight of the team orders and the constant feeling of being a shadow in Ferrari, began to wear you down in ways you couldn’t ignore. The following races only reinforced your frustration. In Austin, you were once again told to hold position behind Charles, even though you were faster. In Interlagos, you were excluded from a key strategy that could have landed you on the podium. Every time you received the order over the radio, you obeyed, because that was what was expected of you. The “good girl” who didn’t cause trouble. The obedient driver who always put the team above herself.

But inside, something was breaking.

It was in the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, the last race of the season, that you reached your limit. At the Yas Marina Circuit, the sun was sinking into the horizon, bathing the paddock in golden and orange hues as the tension filled the air. For Ferrari, this race was crucial: the team was still fighting to secure second place in the Constructors Championship, and every strategic decision was made with that goal in mind.

But for you, this race meant something else. After months of following orders, of being relegated to a supporting role, you knew this was your moment. There would be no next time. Ferrari had made it clear that their priority was Charles Leclerc. You’d heard the rumors that, regardless of the results, your seat was at risk. You had nothing left to lose.

You had qualified fourth, right behind Charles, while the Red Bulls occupied the front row. You knew you would have to play your cards smartly to have a chance, but you also knew you weren’t going to follow orders that hurt you again.

As you adjusted your gloves in the cockpit, you heard your engineer’s voice over the radio:

“Remember, the priority is to maintain positions and support Charles if necessary.”

You bit your lip to keep from responding. Instead, you simply said:

“Understood.”

But this time, you didn’t understand. You weren’t willing to sacrifice yourself again.

When the lights went out, your reaction was flawless. You held your position, avoiding an aggressive attack from a Mercedes. Charles was trying to keep pace with the Red Bulls, but it soon became clear he didn’t have enough speed to catch them.

By lap 15, you were right behind him. Your tires were in better condition, and you were clearly faster in the technical corners. You tried to put pressure on him, but the order came over the radio before you could attempt an overtake.

“Hold position. Repeat: hold position.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. This was the moment. You could obey, as always, or you could risk it all.

On lap 18, down the main straight, you moved out of Charles’ slipstream and went for the overtake. The maneuver was clean, an impeccable move that left the team speechless. The protests came immediately over the radio.

“What are you doing? Give the position back, now.”

But you ignored the orders. You didn’t respond. Your only answer was to push harder.

From the pit wall, the tension was palpable. You could imagine the strategists shouting, the engineers exchanging nervous looks. Charles tried to reclaim the position, but his worn tires didn’t allow him to get close enough. You focused on your pace, pushing to the limit in every corner.

By lap 40, the critical moment arrived. A safety car came out after a crash, and Ferrari called Charles in first to change tires. However, you ignored your order to pit on the next lap, staying out to maintain the strategic advantage. When the safety car period ended, you were in third place, with the Red Bulls ahead and Charles behind.

The final laps were a battle of pure instinct. Max and Checo fought for the victory while you defended your podium spot tooth and nail. Charles attempted an aggressive overtake on the penultimate lap, but you blocked him with a move that was clean yet firm.

The checkered flag waved, and you crossed the finish line in third place. You had achieved your first podium in Formula 1. Emotions overwhelmed you as you heard the commentators’ cheers and the fans’ applause. It was the moment you had dreamed of your entire career.

But the celebration was short-lived.

When you arrived at parc fermé, the faces in the Ferrari team were telling. Charles stepped out of his car and gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. There was no anger, but no joy either. You removed your helmet and walked toward the podium, feeling the mix of joy and tension around you.

The podium was a whirlwind of emotions. You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment: the champagne, the cheers, the feeling of proving what you were capable of. But when you returned to the motorhome, reality hit you like a punch.

The team principal was waiting for you in the meeting room, his expression cold as steel.

“What do you think you were doing out there?” he asked, his voice restrained but loaded with anger.

You looked him straight in the eye.

“I was racing to win.”

“You disobeyed direct team orders, jeopardizing our strategy and our relationship with Charles. This is unacceptable.”

“What’s unacceptable” you said firmly “is that I was never given a fair chance. Today, I proved that I can compete. That I deserve to be here.”

A tense silence followed. Finally, the team principal sighed, as if carrying a massive weight on his shoulders.

“This cannot continue. There is no place in Ferrari for someone who doesn’t follow the rules.”

And so, the decision was made. You were fired from Ferrari that very night.

As you packed your things, you felt a mix of emotions. Sadness and anger, yes. But also pride. You had shown that you weren’t just another cog in the system. You had fought for yourself, for what you believed in.

Before you left, Charles approached you.

“That was a great podium” he said with a small smile. “I knew you had it in you.”

“Thanks” you replied, feeling a pang of emotion.

“What are you going to do now?”

You looked at him, letting a defiant smile cross your face.

“I’m going to keep racing. Wherever, with whoever, but I’ll keep racing.”

And with that, you walked away.

After your departure from Ferrari, there was no time for regrets. You had barely stepped out of the motorhome at Yas Marina when the motorsport world began to react. News of your dismissal spread like wildfire, and the controversy dominated every headline: “The rebellion that shook Ferrari,” “A driver fired for disobedience but with talent to shine,” “Was Ferrari’s decision fair?”

At first, you tried to escape it all. You hid at home, turned off your phone, and avoided social media. But you soon realized the world wouldn’t leave you alone. The story had become too big, and to your surprise, the public was mostly on your side. In every interview, in every analysis by the experts, the same argument arose: Ferrari had wasted undeniable talent.

It didn't take long before the calls started coming in. First, they were from midfield teams: Aston Martin, Williams, even Alpine. They all saw you as a golden opportunity, a talent Ferrari had let slip away. But there was something about those offers that didn’t quite convince you. After fighting so hard to prove your worth, you didn’t want to take a step back in your career.

One day, while you were having breakfast at home, your agent arrived with an expression you had never seen before a mix of disbelief and excitement.

“Red Bull is interested in you.”

You almost dropped your coffee cup.

“Red Bull? The world champion team?”

“Yes, them. They called me this morning. They want to meet with you.”

The news was surreal. Red Bull, the most dominant team on the grid, the one that had won championships with Max Verstappen, was now interested in signing you.

A few days later, you traveled to Milton Keynes, where the team’s headquarters were located. From the moment you walked into the building, you felt the difference. Here, there was no solemn, almost monarchical air like at Ferrari; Red Bull was modern, fresh, with an energy that was palpable in the atmosphere.

You were greeted by Christian Horner and Helmut Marko. During the meeting, Horner got straight to the point.

“We’ve been watching you all season,” he said with a confident smile. “What you did in Abu Dhabi was risky, but it showed you have a hunger for victory, and that’s what we’re looking for in a driver.”

“We know Ferrari didn’t give you the opportunities you deserved,” Marko interjected in his characteristic serious tone. “You won’t have that problem here. We want you to compete at the highest level.”

The proposal was clear: you would be part of the Red Bull team as the second driver, alongside Max Verstappen. It wasn’t an easy seat. Verstappen was the undisputed champion, and competing alongside him meant facing one of the greatest in history. But it also meant a golden opportunity to prove you belonged in the elite.

“What do you say?” Horner asked, smiling expectantly.

You looked at your agent, who gave you a slight nod, as if to say it was your decision. You took a deep breath and then responded:

“I accept.”

The news of your signing with Red Bull was announced during the winter break, just before Christmas. The official statement included words from Horner praising your talent and fighting spirit, highlighting that you would be a key piece in maintaining the team’s dominance.

The public reaction was explosive. Social media was flooded with messages of support and surprise. Some criticized the decision, arguing that Verstappen didn’t need internal competition, while others celebrated it as a victory for a driver who had earned her place against all odds.

Even Charles Leclerc reacted in an interview:

“I’m happy for her. She’s a great driver and deserves this opportunity. Red Bull is an incredible team, and I’m sure she’ll do well.”

The first day at the Red Bull factory was completely different from what you had experienced at Ferrari. From the beginning, they treated you like part of the team. The engineers showed you the progress on the new car, and Max, though reserved, gave you a professional welcome.

“It’s not easy here,” he told you during lunch at the factory canteen, “but if you’re here, it’s because you have what it takes.”

The buzz reached its peak after the announcement of your signing with Red Bull. While the whole world debated your arrival at the most dominant team on the grid, you were only beginning to process what this new chapter in your life meant. However, something kept crossing your mind. At first, the excitement and thrill of the new opportunity kept you busy, but when things calmed down, one question arose strongly: What had happened to Checo?

Checo had been Max Verstappen’s teammate for the past few seasons, and although he hadn’t reached the Dutchman’s level, he had been a key pillar in the team’s success. You had seen how he fought on track, defending positions with a ferocity few could match. So why had they terminated his contract?

Rumors about Checo’s departure started surfacing even before your arrival was announced. Some said his results hadn’t been enough for Red Bull, especially compared to Max’s absolute dominance. Others suggested that the internal atmosphere in the team had deteriorated and that Checo was tired of living in the champion’s shadow.

However, there was no clear statement. Red Bull, true to its style, had handled the situation discreetly. Even during your first weeks with the team, no one directly mentioned Checo. The engineers, mechanics, strategists… everyone seemed focused on you and Max, as if the past had been erased in one fell swoop.

One day, while you were in the simulator at Milton Keynes, you ran into Horner. You had finished an intense testing session and were wiping off sweat when he approached.

“How are you feeling so far?” he asked in his usual relaxed tone.

“Good, I think I’m adapting quickly,” you replied, though deep down you knew you still had a long way to go to reach Max’s level.

Horner nodded, but you noticed something in his expression. As if he knew there was something else you wanted to ask. You decided to take the chance.

“Christian, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

You took a deep breath before speaking. “What happened with Checo?”

Horner looked at you for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. Finally, he sighed.

“Checo is an incredible driver and was fundamental to many of our successes. But the level of demand here is very high. This year, he didn’t meet the expectations we had set.”

“Was it just that?” you asked, doubtful.

“He felt he deserved more support, and I can’t blame him for that. But in the end, we decided it was best for both parties to go separate ways.”

You nodded, though Horner’s words didn’t resolve all your doubts. You had seen Checo give it his all on the track, and it was hard to believe that simply hadn’t been enough. But at the same time, you knew how ruthless this sport could be.

A few weeks later, while scrolling through the news on your phone, you finally found out about his future. Checo had signed with Aston Martin, a team that wasn’t at Red Bull’s level in terms of performance but offered him the opportunity to be the undisputed leader.

You looked at the photo of his announcement on social media: Checo in his new green and black suit, smiling in front of a car that would hardly compete with the leaders. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite decipher. Resignation? Or perhaps relief?

You caught yourself wondering how he must have felt being displaced. Although you hadn’t made the decision, your arrival at Red Bull had been the catalyst for his departure. For a moment, you were overwhelmed by a sense of guilt.

The preseason began, and with it came the tests in Bahrain. It was there that you saw Checo for the first time since the announcement. You were walking towards the Red Bull hospitality when you saw him coming out of the Aston Martin garage. You hesitated but finally decided to approach him.

“Checo,” you called out, trying to sound casual.

He turned and looked at you with a friendly smile.

“Hey! How’s it going?” he responded, as if nothing had happened.

“Good… I think,” you said, a little nervous. “I just wanted… well, I wanted to tell you that I really admire what you did at Red Bull. You’re incredibly talented, and I know it wasn’t easy.”

Checo looked at you for a moment, then slowly nodded.

“Thank you. That means a lot. But don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Aston is a new challenge, and I’m excited to lead a project.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

“I know you’ll do amazing things.”

He smiled, and for an instant, you saw the determined and proud driver who had fought so hard on track.

“And so will you. You’ve got a great opportunity. Don’t waste it.”

You said goodbye with a handshake, feeling strangely at peace. You had feared there might be resentment, but Checo seemed to have found his path.

After the first day's testing and your conversation with Checo, you were in the circuit's canteen, reviewing your engineer's notes. It was a quiet night; most of the drivers had already retired to rest. However, when you looked up, you saw Charles walk in. He hesitated for a moment upon seeing you but then walked over to your table with his hands in his pockets.

“Can I sit?,” he asked, his tone more neutral than usual.

You nodded, surprised.

“Sure.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Charles fiddled with a napkin between his fingers while you waited, unsure of what to say. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Red Bull isn't an easy team.”

“I know,” you replied, keeping your gaze fixed on him.

Charles nodded slowly, as if carefully choosing his words.

“Max is... complicated. Not because he's a bad person, but you know how he is. He's the favorite, the team leader. And Red Bull isn't exactly forgiving with those who don't meet their expectations.”

“Are you worried I can't handle the pressure?” you asked, feeling a slight sting to your pride.

“That's not it” he replied quickly, his tone softening. “I know you can handle the pressure. What worries me is that you'll have to deal with an environment where you won't always be supported, where everything you do will be scrutinized to the smallest detail.”

You looked at him in silence. There was something about his words, the sincerity of his tone, that disarmed you. Charles, always so focused on his own career, was taking the time to warn you about the challenges you would face.

“It’s not so different from what I experienced at Ferrari, don’t you think?,” you finally responded, trying to sound confident.

Charles let out a faint smile, but he didn’t seem convinced.

“Maybe. But at Ferrari, there was... balance. Even when it didn’t seem like it, you knew there were people who believed in you, even if they didn’t say it outright. Red Bull is different. They’re all or nothing. And Max... he doesn’t share easily.”

You knew he was right. From day one, you’d felt Verstappen’s presence like a shadow that dominated everything. But it didn’t scare you.

“If there’s one thing I learned at Ferrari, Charles, it’s that I don’t need everyone to believe in me. I just need to believe in myself.”

He looked at you intently for a few seconds, as if evaluating every word. Finally, he nodded, though his eyes reflected something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Just don’t lose yourself in all this, okay?.”

“Lose myself?.”

“Yeah. In the politics, the pressure, the constant need to prove something. Don’t let that define who you are.”

When Charles stood to leave, he left his crumpled napkin on the table. For a moment, you wanted to say something, maybe thank him, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you simply watched him walk away.

There was something unusual about that conversation. Charles had always been direct and competitive, but this time, there seemed to be something more. Genuine concern, perhaps even something deeper he wasn’t ready to express.

You stayed in the canteen for a while, thinking about his words. You knew he was right in many ways. But you wouldn’t dwell on that now.

Despite Charles’ warnings and your own fears about joining Red Bull, things started off better than you expected. Max Verstappen, the man who dominated the grid with a mix of raw talent and relentless confidence, surprised you from the very beginning.

You had assumed he’d greet you with reluctance or, at least, a certain coldness. After all, you were taking the seat that had belonged to Pérez. However, from the first day, Max was open and genuinely friendly.

That day, you had arrived early, nerves on edge. You were reviewing your notes in a meeting room when Max walked in with his characteristic relaxed stride.

“Hi, how are you?,” he said, smiling as he took a seat across from you.

“Good, thanks” you replied, feeling a bit awkward about the formality of the moment. “And you?.”

“Surviving the winter. I always miss being on the track.”

His tone was light, almost casual, and it helped you relax a bit. You briefly talked about the upcoming season, the regulation changes, and the expectations for the new car. Then, Max abruptly changed the topic.

“I know this might be tough for you. Joining a team like this isn’t easy, especially when everyone expects you to measure up to me.”

You looked at him, surprised by his candor.

“I suppose so, but I’m not here to measure myself against anyone. I’m here to do the best I can.”

Max nodded, clearly satisfied with your response.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Don’t worry about me. I get along with everyone who works hard and is honest. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve got both.”

His words left you slightly taken aback. You had expected a more distant relationship, but it seemed Max had no intention of turning this into an uncomfortable rivalry.

As preseason progressed, you started working more closely with him and the team’s engineers. Max proved to be surprisingly collaborative, sharing information and advice without hesitation. There was something refreshing about his attitude: you didn’t feel like he was constantly evaluating you or trying to assert dominance.

“If the car feels weird in fast corners, try adjusting the differential. Sometimes it gives a more stable feeling,” he told you during a simulator session while you were reviewing your laps.

You tried it, and to your surprise, it worked.

“Thanks” you said, smiling.

“No problem. Just don’t thank me too much if you end up beating me on track,” he replied with a light laugh.

Many journalists speculated whether Max would try to "psychologically crush" you or if Red Bull would relegate you to the role of second driver. However, within the team, the reality was completely different.

Max seemed to understand that, while you were new to the team, you weren’t a rookie. You had proven your worth at Ferrari and didn’t need to show anyone you belonged at this level.

“The key here is to enjoy the process,” he told you one day while waiting in the paddock during testing. “Everyone’s going to criticize you, no matter what you do. So, just do it your way.”

His words resonated with you. They weren’t condescending advice or a lesson from an experienced driver to a younger one; they were the words of someone who understood exactly what you were facing.

Over time, you discovered a side of Max that few saw. Off the track, he wasn’t the aggressive and dominant driver everyone knew. He was relaxed, even humorous, and had a genuine passion for racing.

One day, while waiting for a meeting, he asked you:

“What made you fall in love with racing?.”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t common for someone in this world to talk about emotions so directly.

“I guess the freedom,” you answered after thinking for a moment. “The feeling that, when you’re in the car, everything depends on you.”

Max nodded, smiling slightly.

“Exactly. That’s the best part. Sometimes I think the teams, the sponsors, everyone forgets that. But in the end, we’re here because we love racing.”

It was at that moment that you understood something crucial: Max didn’t see you as a threat or an intruder. He saw you as someone who shared his love for the sport, someone who understood what it meant to live to compete.

When the first Grand Prix in Bahrain arrived, your relationship was solid. Max was still the undisputed leader of the team, but he had also become someone you could rely on. During pre-race meetings, he encouraged you more than once.

“Remember, the first race is always the hardest,” he told you as you walked towards your cars. “But once you start, everything else will feel easier.”

You nodded, grateful for his support.

The race itself was intense, but the atmosphere within the team was surprisingly positive. You finished in fourth place, right behind Max, who won the race in his dominant style. When you returned to the garage, he was the first to congratulate you.

“Good job. Not bad for your first race with us.”

His smile was genuine, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Despite your initial doubts, your relationship with Max turned out to be much easier and more rewarding than you had expected. You knew things could change quickly in this sport, but for now, you were enjoying the process.

Although you had the skill and determination needed, you knew that joining such a dominant team meant adapting to a completely new level of demands. Max, with his experience and ability to squeeze every fraction of a second out of the car, quickly became someone you admired more than you anticipated.

What you hadn't expected was for Max, the four time world champion, to take on the role of mentor with you. From the beginning, he seemed determined to share everything he knew, not just about the car but about how to survive and thrive in such a competitive team.

Max didn’t just give you technical advice; he also taught you how to navigate team dynamics and the stress of the season. During a testing session, he took the time to show you how to better analyze the car's telemetry.

“When you're looking for time, don’t obsess over what others are doing. Compare your laps against yourself. Sometimes, the small mistakes aren’t in the big corners but in the transitions, in how you shift the car's weight.”

You sat next to him as you analyzed a lap together. Max pointed out details you hadn’t even noticed, like slight steering corrections or changes in throttle pressure.

“You have good instincts,” he said, pointing to a particularly fast sector you had achieved. “But with a bit more analysis, you can be even more precise.”

His words motivated you. It wasn’t common for Max to give compliments, and whenever he did, you knew they were sincere.

More Than Technique: The Mentality

One afternoon, after an intense day of testing in Barcelona, Max invited you to his motorhome to chat. There was a relaxed atmosphere as you both shared a cup of coffee.

“Let me tell you something that took me a long time to learn,” he began, with an unusual seriousness. “Formula 1 isn’t just won on the track. Half the battles are up here,”

he said, tapping his head. “If you let criticism or politics affect you, you won’t have the clarity you need when it matters.”

“And how do you make sure it doesn’t affect you?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t always succeed,” he admitted. “But I’ve learned to focus on what I can control. It doesn’t matter if someone says you’re not good enough, or if the team doesn’t seem to support you. In the end, the only judgment that matters is your own.”

Those words stayed with you. Max wasn’t just a master at driving; he had also developed a mental strength that made him practically unbeatable.

Max helped you understand the trickiest circuits, manage tires in changing conditions, and anticipate other teams strategies. Whenever you had a question, he was there, willing to explain, no matter how busy he was.

In Japan, during a strategy meeting, one of the engineers suggested a setup you weren’t entirely convinced about. Before you could say anything, Max intervened.

“I think she’s right,” he said, gesturing towards you. “With that setup, the car will be more unpredictable in fast corners. Let her try what she suggests.”

It was a small gesture, but it meant a lot to you. Max wasn’t just helping you improve as a driver; he was also teaching you how to make yourself heard in an environment where you had often been silenced.

The mutual respect between you grew with each race. While Max remained the undisputed leader of the team, he never made you feel inferior. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy watching you progress.

After a Grand Prix in Japan, where you achieved your first podium with Red Bull, Max was one of the first to congratulate you.

“I knew you’d do it,” he said, patting you on the shoulder as you walked up to the podium.

In that moment, you understood that his support wasn’t just professional. Max genuinely wanted you to succeed, not because it benefited the team, but because he recognized your talent and believed in you.

Your progress within the team was evident: you had earned podiums, improved your lap times, and, most importantly, found your place within the team hierarchy. Max had become more than a teammate; he was a key figure in your professional and personal life. As the months went by, something else began to grow between you, something you both knew but neither dared to acknowledge.

The bond you shared was solid, forged on the track but also in those moments away from it. The long talks after races, lunches with the engineers, jokes, and knowing glances it felt natural, almost inevitable, to feel so comfortable around each other. Max had taught you so much, not just about driving a Formula 1 car, but about handling the pressures of life in the paddock. He had shown you his vulnerabilities, sharing stories of his career, frustrations, and fears, as only someone close would do.

But that closeness began to blur the lines between professional and personal. And you started to realize that the emotions you felt for him were more complicated than you had anticipated even more than they had ever been with Charles.

It was in Monza, after one of the most intense races of the season. The track was wet, making the race even more challenging. Both of you had fought to the end, and while Max won, you finished an impressive second. On the podium, the smiles were genuine, but there was a tension in the air, something neither of you could deny.

After the race, Max approached you to congratulate you. When he hugged you, it felt different this time. There was a palpable energy, something neither of you could ignore. A lingering touch, a soft and almost imperceptible whisper that made time stop for a moment.

“You were amazing today,” he said, his face just inches from yours.

The eye contact between you was intense, as if you were seeing something in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before. Suddenly, you became acutely aware of his closeness, the warmth of his body, the softness of his voice, the way his hands rested on your shoulders differently than before. Something in his demeanor had changed.

Max was the first to pull away, as if he had felt the same unease you had.

“Let’s celebrate,” he said quickly, smiling, but his tone sounded slightly strained.

You looked at him, but for a moment, the words caught in your throat. You knew what had just happened, and you knew Max did too. Yet neither of you said anything.

The celebration that night was lively, full of laughter and joy, but the atmosphere between the two of you remained marked by that unresolved tension. You were happy with the result, but there was something else on your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about that hug, the way Max had looked at you, the closeness that had felt so different from any other interaction you’d had with him.

As the night ended and you returned to your room, doubts began to creep in. What did it all mean? You had worked so hard to be in this position, to be part of such a prestigious team, and now, it seemed like something was threatening to destabilize it all.

The next day, Max didn’t come down for breakfast as he usually did. His room was empty when you passed by his door. You decided to wait until the afternoon to talk to him, but when you found him on the track, the conversation was distant. He wasn’t rude, but there was something about his posture that told you he was also trying to process what had happened.

"Everything okay?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

Max raised an eyebrow, as if considering whether to answer or not.

"Yeah, sure. I just... felt a bit tired this morning." He shrugged. "But everything’s fine."

You knew it wasn’t just tiredness that had caused his silence. There was a lingering discomfort between you two. Something you couldn’t easily shake off.

By nightfall, the two of you were sitting on the hotel terrace, looking out at the sea. The cool breeze from the Italian coast made everything feel calmer, but the atmosphere between you was far from it. Max was silent, and so were you. Finally, he broke the silence with a phrase that felt much heavier than it seemed on the surface.

"You know, things get really complicated when you start mixing emotions with work."

You looked at him, surprised by the frankness of his words. You knew exactly what he was referring to, but you also knew it was a conversation neither of you wanted to have.

"I know," you replied in a low tone. "But it’s not that easy to control what you feel, is it?"

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair, something he often did when he was uncomfortable.

"No, it’s not." He was silent for a moment. "But there are lines we can’t cross, especially in this team. You know that I... I have Kelly."

That mention of Kelly hit like a bucket of cold water. Although you knew Max was in a steady relationship, you had never thought it would affect you so much. Acknowledging that reality, that he was committed to someone else, left you feeling a mix of guilt and confusion.

"I understand," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

But inside, you questioned whether you really did. How could you control something that felt so natural, so undeniable between the two of you? The attraction, the chemistry, that connection that had grown over time. You knew Max felt it too, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

After that conversation, it was clear that neither you nor Max were willing to cross a line that could cost you everything: your careers, your mutual respect, and the team’s stability. However, the attraction between you didn’t go away. If anything, the tension became more palpable. It was a constant game of restraint, a delicate balance between what was right and what wasn’t.

In public, everything seemed normal. Both of you maintained impeccable professionalism, working together as the team Red Bull needed. Max continued helping you as a mentor, and you kept learning from him, impressing the team and fans alike with your progress. But behind closed doors, things were very different.

One day at the Milton Keynes factory, during a simulator session, Max entered the room while you were finishing a run. When you stepped out of the simulator, he was reviewing your data, as he often did. His expression was calm, almost indifferent, but the way his eyes followed you as you approached the monitor said otherwise.

"You’re improving in the slow sectors," he said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "But you’re still losing a bit of time in the fast corners."

"Any advice?" you asked, trying to keep a casual tone.

Max looked at you for a moment, and that look lasted a second longer than it should have. It was enough to feel that spark of electricity between you, the one you both tried to ignore.

"Yeah, sure," he finally replied, turning to the screen to point something out. "Here, in Turn 5, you need to be more aggressive with the throttle. Don’t be afraid to use the full width of the kerb."

You leaned toward him to get a better view of the screen, and for a moment, you were too close. You could feel his breath, and the tension in the air was almost tangible. He was the first to step back, realizing that such closeness only complicated things further.

"Try it on the next run," he said quickly, breaking the moment.

Over the course of the races, that tension only grew. There were lingering glances during strategy meetings, accidental brushes in the garage, and prolonged silences that made it even clearer what you were both thinking. Max remained just as committed to helping you progress, but his behavior was sometimes contradictory. There were days when he seemed to deliberately keep his distance, and others when his closeness was unmistakable.

One night, after a team dinner in Monaco, you both ended up in the hotel elevator. It was late, and most of the staff had already gone to rest. The silence between you was almost deafening as the elevator ascended slowly. You could feel his presence, every movement he made, even if he didn’t look at you directly.

"Good job today," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Thanks. You did well too. As always."

Max gave a small, sideways smile but said nothing more. When the elevator stopped on your floor, you both hesitated for a moment. You felt like he wanted to say something, something he was struggling to contain, but in the end, he simply nodded and let you exit first.

What surprised you was that, even though you tried to keep your distance, it seemed like Max was the one closest to crossing the line. There were moments when you caught him watching you from across the garage, with an expression that made you wonder what he was thinking. And then, in meetings, he always found a way to be by your side, even when it wasn’t necessary.

One day, during a technical meeting in Zandvoort, Max made a comment that, although it seemed innocent, had an undertone you couldn’t ignore.

"You know, sometimes I wonder if you do this on purpose," he said with a slight smile, pointing out a minor mistake in your data.

"Do what?" you asked, confused.

"Be so... persistent. It’s like you want everyone to notice you."

You knew he was talking about your determination on track, but something in his tone made you think he meant something more. You held his gaze, trying to decipher him, but before you could respond, someone else entered the room, cutting the moment short.

Despite everything, neither of you mentioned what was really happening. Both of you were aware that crossing that line could destroy everything you’d built. Max had a stable relationship with Kelly, and you were in a delicate position as the team’s rising star. There was too much at stake, and neither of you was willing to risk it.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

625 notes · View notes

halemerry · 2 years ago

Text

So there's a lot to unpack here but I want to start by talking about the ending and specifically about the Metatron and the calculating moves made at the end of episode 6.

Every single piece of what happened there was a manipulation technique being employed against Aziraphale to an almost brilliant degree and I'm honestly a little obsessed with what this says about the Metatron in particular.

Let's go in order.

First of all. We see him order coffee. In a human body. Something sweet and sugary. He talks to Nina and asks her about her shop name. Does anyone ever ask for death? And when she tells him no they don't his response is to say "so predictable". Our introduction to him here even when everything about him reads like a sweet old man is presented to show us someone who reads the world in terms of being predictable to him.

He then shows up in the middle of Aziraphale's existence being threatened. He immediately cuts down the threat's authority (using outdated language like Az himself would favor) and reemphasizes his own connection to Heaven. When Michael doesn't recognize him and he puts her down and then directly engages Crowley. Crowley who, to Aziraphale, has for centuries at a minimum been someone he thinks is smarter, better, more Good than these other archangels. The Metatron validates these beliefs. Crowley is more Heavenly than these archangels who couldn't even recognize the voice of God when he was standing right in front of them.

The Metatron draws attention to the fact he's in a human body. The kind of body Aziraphale has been in and loved for nearly 6000 years. He then banishes the archangels, implying their morality is in a gray space, and validates Muriel someone we have seen Aziraphale react positively to and someone outside the current power structure. Look at me, he's saying. I see and validate the little guy.

He then tries to talk to Aziraphale. Aziraphale says "I've made my position quite clear." And then the Metatron offers Aziraphale the coffee. This bartering chip, consuming sustenance, is a thing that Aziraphale and Crowley have used as their connective tissue for centuries. It's an olive branch for them. It's giving Aziraphale bodily pleasure and the Metatron implies that he himself has partaken also - a thing we know that Aziraphale has struggled historically with moralizing. He is seen by the closest thing he has left to his parent and he is having old fears validated as safe and old habits being played upon to make him feel secure

He then REMOVES Aziraphale from his home turf. Not only does he remove Crowley from the equation but he takes Aziraphale from the place that has stood as a place of sanctuary throughout the entirety of the season. The shop is Safe and Aziraphale is leaving it and he is leaving the one person who might be able to smell the bullshit coming from the Metatron. The music notably turns absolutely dire here.

The next time we see them the Metatron tells Aziraphale that he doesn't need to answer instantly. He can take his time, if he likes. All the time he needs. And then tells him to go tell Crowley. Once again bringing Crowley in as a valid part of this while manufacturing a scenario where he can't possibly be.

Az ends up in a place where he's overwhelmed and confused and he wants so badly to believe what he's being told. It's an appealing thing from his perspective! He feels off kilter like he's made a mistake in judging the Metatron. He can't even fully articulate what happened to Crowley at first and he's had absolutely no real time to actually think it through. He's running on sheer reactive energy.

The Metatron starts their conversation by asking Aziraphale's opinion. Who should rule Heaven? This is once again playing into making Az feel validated and like he's a part of this decision making process. The Metatron corrects him, complimenting Aziraphale and making him feel capable and in control. He reassures Aziraphale's bafflement. And draws attention to some traits that, while true of Aziraphale around Crowley, are not his defining traits in the eyes of Heaven. You don't just tell people what they want to hear I find particularly notable in this regard given Aziraphale spent most of his time on earth actively lying to Heaven and doing just that. But it fits into the narrative Aziraphale has built around himself, especially post Apocalypse. The Metatron then says I need you (a phrase Az will use much more painfully here in a minute).

And even after all this Aziraphale says no. He says flat out he doesn't want to go back to Heaven. He says this!!! And then the Metatron sweetens the pot. He swaps tactics. Not once has this come up until Aziraphale pushes back against the idea. If the Metatron could've gotten him without using it I have no doubt he wouldn't have bothered with it. Come to Heaven and we can save Crowley. Aziraphale loves Crowley. Aziraphale thinks Crowley is better than any of the angels he's interacted with. Crowley is Good and Nice and Kind and always saving him and now he's being presented with a way to return that. He can Forgive Crowley - a thing Crowley has always presented to Aziraphale as something he struggles with. All of these things Aziraphale has watched Crowley react to in a way that belittles himself or distances them from one another. Of course he wouldn't consider that maybe what he was actually saying is "I'm unforgivable and I don't want that forgiveness."

The Metatron offers Aziraphale a Dream Offer for the pre Armageddon Aziraphale. You can keep your Crowley. You can heal him like you have always thought he deserved. You can have power and control the people who for your whole existence has beaten you down. It can go back to how it was but BETTER.

When Aziraphale leaves he still hasn't answered. He goes and has the conversation they have. It's intense and emotional and the Metatron comes in after the Moment all casual and asks how it goes, knowing fully well the shitstorm he had just set up to get created. And then he turns around and says "always did want to go his own way" which is not only true of Crowley but framed as a bad thing despite the fact that he has just spent twenty minutes or so telling Aziraphale that he's done his own thing and that is Good. He is playing both sides of this perspective as it suits him. And then he cuts down Crowley asking questions, pressuring Aziraphale to avoid doing the same. He then proceeds to ask Aziraphale not if he's made up his mind but if he's ready to get started. He is one by one closing off exit routes to this thing as Aziraphale starts to look more and more panicked and indecisive. He makes sure the bookshop is in good hands and asks Aziraphale if there's anything he needs to take with him. Letting Aziraphale have the illusion of choice while cutting down "I don't want to" as an option altogether.

And Az, as soon as the Metatron is out of shot, tries to express this. And then he falls back right on old coping methods. The Metatron pats him on the head. Reassures that he's the right one for this. That he is Good. That his particular skillset is needed here.

It is a masterstroke of manipulation. A very dark twist on what we see Crowley do time and time again with Aziraphale throughout the millennia. Familiar in a way that makes Aziraphale feel safe. Except this time this is being used to put him back in line. It's brilliant and painful and it fucking hurt and I need a season 3 to see the Metatron get what's coming to him stat.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #Metatron #Aziraphale #Episode 6 #Every Day #good omens meta

6K notes · View notes

maximoffsgirl · 5 months ago

Text

Airplane Mode ✈︎

summary: When the long-awaited "winter break trip" finally arrives, the twins are thrilled to explore somewhere new and have a well deserved break—and so are you and Wanda. Even if she has to drag you away from the shops, sometimes the best souvenir is the one right beside you, holding your hand.

warnings: Established relationship, Wanda and Reader are married. Domestic Life. Airport environment. The twins are close to 8/9 years old. Wanda is referred as Mama, Y/N is referred as Mommy. Otherwise, I think there's none, this is pure fluff

author's note: English isn't my first language :) and to the anon who requested this, I hope this is what you were thinking about❤️ (I don't have any airport vocabulary either, so I apologize for that :D)

word count: 2.300

The twins began their Holiday countdown as early as the beginning of November, their excitement bubbling over and dominating their thoughts. This yearly ritual marked the start of their anticipation for what had become a cherished tradition in the Maximoff family.

Like every year, the family had planned to travel for a week or two, combining the celebration of the twins’ school break with the chance for a fun yet rejuvenating getaway. The destination was always kept as a surprise for the twins, which only heightened their excitement.

Wanda moved around the house with a medium-sized folder securely tucked under her arm. You’d watched her check and recheck the documents inside at least four times already. The folder contained all the family passports—including yours, since she apparently didn’t trust you enough to keep it yourself—and a collection of other papers that, to you, seemed unnecessary. Though you didn’t comment on it, and advised your children not to do so.

“Wanda, love, the Uber is almost here,” you called out, your voice carrying a mix of urgency and affection as you made sure the twins were ready to leave. You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at their matching Woody and Buzz Lightyear backpacks, a testament to their unwavering love for Toy Story.

As you helped them with their luggage, Wanda moved through the house one last time, her sharp eyes scanning every detail. She checked every window and door, ensuring everything was securely closed and locked. Her thoroughness didn’t surprise you; it was just Wanda being Wanda, always making sure nothing was left to chance.

When Wanda finally appeared by your side, you reached for her hand and gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze. Without saying a word, you brought her knuckles to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss against them. It was your silent way of telling her that everything was under control, that she didn’t need to worry so much.

She turned to you with a soft, sweet smile, her gaze full of affection. Leaning in, she mirrored your gesture, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your face. It was her way of saying thank you—thank you for grounding her, for always knowing just what to do or day to ease her mind.

Just as you expected, Wanda became a well-oiled machine at the airport, her mind working like clockwork as she scanned the bustling surroundings. You could almost see the gears turning in her head as she ensured every detail was accounted for.

As always, you had arrived two hours early—Wanda’s non-negotiable rule. Predictably, the twins were already whining about the wait, their tired voices echoing their confusion about why you couldn’t just leave home closer to the flight’s departure time and walk straight onto the plane. Their innocent logic made you chuckle.

“Mama, where are you going now?” Tommy whined, dragging his feet as he held onto your hand, clearly not thrilled about all the airport procedures.

“To get our boarding passes and check in the luggage, honey,” Wanda replied with her usual calm tone, though her focus was already set on her next task.

You knew as well as the twins that the boarding passes could have been handled online through the app or website. But Wanda preferred doing it herself, ensuring everything was in order, her way. At times like this, you knew better than to argue or try to convince her otherwise. Some battles simply weren’t worth fighting, and honestly, you admired her determination to make sure everything went smoothly.

If you were honest, airports gave you mixed feelings. You loved the little family moments they brought—how Wanda seemed effortlessly in control, the warmth of a tiny hand - Billy’s or Tommy’s - clasped in yours, and the shared excitement of what the week held for all of you. But the waiting, the line, and the endless tasks? Those were a headache.

So when the luggage was finally dispatched, you let out a quiet sigh of relief. Now all that was left was waiting.

The twins had taken the opportunity to wander a few steps ahead, relishing the small taste of independence their age afforded them. You and Wanda walked side by side, keeping a watchful eye on them. Letting them think they had the upper hand.

As your body turned instinctively toward the nearest store, Wanda chuckled knowingly. She reached out, gently taking your hand in hers to steer you back on track.

That didn’t stop you, of course. Boredom always had a way of sparking your impulse to shop, and Wanda knew it. Before long, you were tugging her toward a chocolate shop, a stuffed animal store, a library, and even all the coffee stands that appeared.

Wanda chuckled at your playful comments, her amusement evident as she listened to you gush over every store that caught your eye. With practiced ease, she gently pulled you away, her fingers softly stroking your hand or resting at your waist, a calming touch meant to distract you.

As she guided you to the other side of the terminal, her tone was light and teasing. "Come on, love," she said, subtly steering you away from temptation. It wasn’t just practicality—Wanda knew exactly how to distract you, and she couldn’t help but smile at how easily you fell for it every time.

She wasn’t just indulging your whims—she was also protecting the trip budget. Wanda wasn’t about to let you spend half of it before the vacation even began.

“Wands! Look at that. We have to get it as a souvenir,” you exclaimed, pointing excitedly at something that left Wanda slightly puzzled. She followed your gaze but couldn’t quite figure out what had caught your eye this time. Still, she smiled warmly, her attention flickering briefly to the twins to ensure they were still close by.

“I think it’s better if we eat first, babe,” she said gently, her voice as soothing as her touch.

Without missing a beat, she called out to the twins, who were already wandering toward another distraction, and began steering everyone toward a café. A little snack before the flight, she decided, was the perfect way to ground the moment—and maybe keep you from buying half the airport.

The rest of the time you had at the airport stayed like this. You all had a chill snack, and wandered a little more around the airport. Before Wanda pulled out her folder, analyzing where the gate you’re supposed to go is.

The twins were endlessly curious, their excitement bubbling over into constant guesses about where the family was headed. They’d been obsessing over it for weeks, their hopes pinned on somewhere warm and sunny. After all, that had been their official request when asked about the trip.

Their reasoning was clear enough: the only winter clothes they had packed—or as they preferred to call them, their "Christmas clothes"—were currently layered on their small bodies . But neither of you agreed or disagreed as they rambled about their ideas.

Instead, you settled into the chair, sighing contentedly as you finally relaxed, Wanda and the twins right next to you, though, somehow, the moment of peace and 'destination guesses' quickly dissolved into a heated debate between your wife and the boys.

The seating arrangement had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time: one window seat and one middle seat in one row, and the same seats in the row directly behind. It was a way to split parenting duties evenly, with each of you sitting next to one of the twins.

But apparently, the twins had changed their minds about the carefully crafted plan. They didn’t want to be separated anymore; instead, they were dead set on sitting together.

“Please, Mama! We’ll be good. We promise,” Tommy pleaded, his little foot giving an impatient stomp on the ground for emphasis.

Billy turned his attention to you, eyes wide with a practiced pout. “Mommy,” he whined, his tone tugging at your heartstrings in the way only he knew how. You could already feel yourself softening, ready to agree—until you caught Wanda’s sharp look.

Her eyes spoke volumes: Don’t even think about it.

You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat, offering an awkward smile to avoid siding with either party.

“We won’t do anything wrong. We promise!” one of your sons whined again, his voice edging toward desperation as he tried to convince you—though it was clear, he needed only to win Wanda over. You were already sold at the first “Mommy”.

Wanda sighed, her tone firm but calm. “It’s not about doing right or wrong, boys. You’re two children, and you need supervision.”

The twins' faces fell, and you could already see little tears forming in their eyes. Billy, ever the persistent negotiator, tugged at Wanda’s sleeve and pleaded, “We know! But we promise we’ll be super quiet. We pinky pinky, triple pinky promise!”

Wanda sighed, glancing at you as if to say, Are you seeing this?

You sighed, turning to Wanda with a soft nudge toward the boys. “I mean… It can’t hurt,” you whispered, giving her a subtle look that showed just how hard it was for you to resist their pleading.

Wanda met your gaze, then looked back at the twins, frustration briefly flickering in her eyes. She ran a hand across her face, clearly weighing her options before giving in.

“Fine,” she finally said, her voice firm but resigned. “But if I hear one little complaint, or any fighting from the two of you, this will not turn out well. You are warned.”

The twins immediately brightened, exchanging victorious looks as they hugged each other in celebration. Their excitement was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like a small victory for them. But Wanda’s warning still lingered, a reminder that the next few hours would require a delicate balance of good behavior and quiet contentment.

As you watched the twins, you couldn't help but smile at their eagerness, though you knew they were about to test the limits of Wanda’s patience. The flight ahead would be an interesting one, to say the least.

When you entered the plane, the twins quickly settled behind you and Wanda, but it didn’t take long for them to realize they had a dilemma: the coveted window seat. They exchanged worried glances, not wanting to be separated due to such a thing.

After a few moments of whispered discussions, the twins reached a decision: Tommy would get the window seat on the flight to your destination, and Billy would take his turn on the way back. The compromise was simple—based on age—and it seemed to work perfectly. Wanda chuckled softly at how easily they managed to sort it out, knowing full well it wouldn’t have been that smooth if the threat of separation wasn’t hanging over them.

You settled into the window seat of your row, Wanda next to you. You exchanged amused glances as you watched the twins finalize their plan.

“Did you see that?” you whispered with a grin, watching as the twins figured out their seat arrangement. Wanda just nodded, her smile wide as she shook her head in mock disbelief.

Once the safety instructions began, you and Wanda turned to the row behind you, making sure the twins were ready. You checked their seatbelts and went over the rules one more time. “You can play games, but keep it on airplane mode and no loud sounds or arguments, okay?” you reminded them gently. You also made sure they had snacks within reach and that they knew they could call either of you if they needed anything.

Wanda, ever the considerate one, turned to the teenage girl seated next to them. “If they disturb you, just let us know. We’ll switch seats with them if necessary,” she said with a kind smile, hoping to avoid any issues during the flight.

The girl, who seemed shy, nodded in acknowledgment before returning to her phone. You and Wanda returned to your own seats, ready for the flight. While the twins settled into their seats, both of you began to follow the same instructions you had given the kids.

At some point during the flight, the lights dimmed, signaling the beginning of the quiet hours. The twins, exhausted from the excitement, were already asleep. Their faces were peaceful as they lay with their pillows aligned just so, heads resting comfortably against them. The empty seat next to Wanda provided the perfect space for you to stash your handbags and other belongings, giving you room to stretch out a little.

You turned towards Wanda, noticing the seat divider had long been folded away. You settled closer, moving your body so that you were nestled against her chest, your arms wrapping around her waist, and your legs draping over hers. Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle, her voice low and teasing as she turned to look at you.

“Comfy, sweetheart?” she whispered, a playful glint in her eyes.

You sighed in contentment, pressing a soft kiss to the skin you could reach, the warmth of her chest comforting you. “Very,” you murmured, savoring the closeness”.

Wanda's hand moved gently to your hair, her fingers running through it with a soothing, tender touch. She leaned her head against yours, letting out a quiet sigh as she closed her eyes, feeling the calmness of the moment wash over both of you.

The plane was suddenly quiet, the soft murmur of people whispering to each other only adding to the sleepy feeling that settled over you. The familiar rhythm of the plane's engines and the gentle sway made it hard to keep your eyes open.

And even though you hadn’t picked up any souvenirs from the airport, you had something far more precious. You had Wanda. And no matter where you went, you knew you’d always seek her out—just as she did with you. There was a quiet, comforting certainty in that, a bond that felt like home no matter the destination.

✄╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌

masterlist

#mcu #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #y/n

421 notes · View notes

callsigns-haze · 2 months ago

Text

Greatest treasure part 2

Summary: Eris, has been High Lord of Autumn for quite some time now, his son Azer who basically started his alliance with the Night Court is not an adorable three year old anymore but a minature version of him at the age of seventeen. Not only that but you two have a daughter now who is the flame in every situation. Eris keeps his alliances close to hear causing future meetings and drama.

Warning: Contains alcohol, cursing, teasing, mentions of smut, kissing, court politics, mentions of war, distress.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x reader

English is not my first language

18k words

This will be continued into a part 3

PART 1

14 Years Later

The Autumn Court had changed in ways no one could have predicted. What was once a kingdom shrouded in fear and cruelty had flourished under Eris’s reign. The court, though still sharp-edged and strong, had softened in places—particularly where its High Lord’s family was concerned.

Everyone knew now that Eris Vanserra had a soft spot. It wasn’t something he would ever admit outright, but the evidence was undeniable. His people had witnessed it in the way he looked at his wife, his unwavering devotion written in every lingering glance and fleeting touch. They saw it in the way he ruled—with a balance of fire and fairness, always ensuring his court’s prosperity. But more than anything, they saw it in his children.

Azer, now seventeen, was the perfect blend of his parents. He had Eris’s sharp features, his golden eyes, and his burning ambition. But he had your heart—the steady kindness you’d nurtured in him since he was small, the ability to wield fire not just with power, but with control. He was already well-known within the court, training among the finest warriors, his magic nearly as refined as his father’s. But his love for his family remained his greatest strength.

And then there was Avey. Seven years old, with her father’s striking hair and your soft smile, she had Eris wrapped around her little finger. While Azer had been kept secret for the first years of his life, Avey had been introduced to the court as soon as she was born—her presence a symbol of the new era Eris had brought. She was fierce, stubborn, and far too smart for her age, often found trailing after her brother and demanding to be included in whatever he was doing.

Tonight, the Vanserra family stood at the edge of the ballroom once more. Another gathering, another political affair—this one a celebration of Azer’s upcoming formal initiation into the court as its heir. It was a mere formality, as everyone already knew Azer would one day take his father’s place, but still, it was tradition.

Eris stood tall, his crown gleaming in the candlelight, his hand resting at the small of your back. Across the room, Lucien stood beside Helion, both watching the night unfold with an amused sort of ease. Avey, dressed in a deep autumnal red, clung to her brother’s arm, her face scrunched in frustration.

“This is boring,” she declared, crossing her arms over her chest.

Azer snorted, glancing down at her. “Did you come just to complain the whole night?”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.

Eris smirked, watching their exchange with quiet amusement. “She gets that from you,” he murmured under his breath to you.

You raised an eyebrow. “She gets that from you.”

Before he could argue, Avey tugged at Azer’s sleeve again. “Can we go now?”

“You can go,” he said with a shrug. “I have to stay.”

Avey pouted, looking up at you. “Mama?”

You shook your head with a smile. “Not this time, love.”

She huffed dramatically before turning to her father, her eyes big and pleading. “Daddy?”

Eris sighed, ruffling her curls. “You’re lucky I like you,” he murmured, bending down so they were at eye level. “Go find Lucien. He’ll take you to get something sweet.”

Her entire face lit up, and she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before darting off toward her uncle, who caught her easily before she could barrel into him.

You leaned into Eris’s side, watching her go. “You really are soft.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Don’t spread that around.”

Azer, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement, took a sip of his drink. “Everyone already knows.”

Eris shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “Just wait until you have children,” he muttered.

Azer choked slightly on his drink. “Let’s not talk about that.”

You laughed softly, taking Eris’s hand in yours. The room was full of people, of noble houses and political figures, but here, in this small circle of warmth, it was just the four of you. The High Lord and Lady of Autumn, their fiery heir, and the little girl who had softened them all.

Yes, everything had changed. But for the first time in a long time, it was exactly as it should be.

As the night stretched on, the ballroom buzzed with energy. Laughter, conversation, and the occasional clash of goblets filled the air. Azer stood at the centre of it all, the young heir of the Autumn Court, poised and commanding in a way that was almost eerie. He wore his title well, just as Eris had trained him to. But beneath the weight of expectation, there was still the boy who had once clung to your gown and declared balls to be “boring.”

You watched him from the sidelines, Eris standing beside you with a goblet in hand. “He carries himself like a High Lord already,” you mused, eyes following your son as he engaged in polite conversation with one of the noble families.

Eris hummed, tilting his head slightly. “That’s because he’s been raised for this. But he’s still got fire in him—just like his mother.”

You smirked, nudging his side. “That fire got me in plenty of trouble.”

“And yet,” he murmured, bringing your hand to his lips, “it’s the reason I fell for you.”

Before you could reply, a flash of red darted through the room—Avey, running full speed toward Azer. You barely had time to open your mouth before she jumped onto a chair beside him and tugged on his sleeve.

“Azer,” she hissed, attempting to whisper but failing miserably.

Azer sighed, turning toward her with an amused expression. “What?”

She cupped her hands around her mouth dramatically. “Uncle Lucien let me have three pastries.”

Azer blinked. “And you came all the way across the room just to tell me that?”

She nodded sagely. “Yes.”

He fought back a grin, shaking his head. “I hope you get a stomach-ache.”

Avey gasped, smacking his arm. “Mama! Azer’s being mean to me.”

You stepped forward, arms crossed. “Maybe he wouldn’t be so mean if you weren’t interrupting an important conversation.”

Avey pursed her lips, then turned to the noble family still standing nearby. “Was it an important conversation?” she asked sweetly.

The lady blinked, thrown off. “Um… yes?”

Avey turned back to Azer with a victorious look. “Sounds boring.”

The entire exchange had Eris pinching the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. “We cannot take her anywhere.”

Lucien appeared behind you, grinning as he leaned against a pillar. “Oh, come on. She keeps things interesting.”

“You let her have three pastries?” Eris shot him a glare.

Lucien shrugged. “You let her wrap you around her little finger, so I figured, why fight it?”

Avey, thrilled by the chaos she was causing, looked between the adults and took Azer’s hand. “Come on! I wanna dance.”

Azer groaned. “No—”

But Avey was already pulling him toward the dance floor.

You leaned into Eris, laughing softly. “She’s going to rule us all one day.”

Eris sighed, but there was a proud smile tugging at his lips. “I fear she already does.”

Azer let out a long-suffering sigh, but he didn't fight it when Avey yanked him toward the dance floor. Her little hands gripped his much larger ones as she practically dragged him between the other dancing couples, weaving through nobles who stepped aside with amused glances. He towered over her, his formal attire sharp and crisp, a stark contrast to Avey's tiny form in her autumn-red dress. She was beaming, her excitement palpable.

Azer looked down at her, shaking his head. "You're too small for this."

"I'm not small," she huffed. "You're just freakishly tall."

His lips twitched, but he crouched down, gripping her waist and lifting her onto the tops of his boots. "There," he muttered. "Now you can actually keep up."

Avey gasped in delight as he straightened, her feet now resting firmly on his. She gripped his hands tighter, already bouncing with excitement. "This is so much better!"

Azer rolled his eyes but started moving, guiding her into the rhythm of the music. It was slow, steady, nothing too complicated—he wasn’t about to spin her around like their father did with their mother. But it was enough to make her giggle, her curls bouncing with every small step.

The ballroom had grown quieter, people pausing to watch. Not in judgment, not in ridicule, but in something softer. Something fonder. The heir of Autumn, the sharp and poised young warrior, dancing with his little sister like it was the most important thing in the world.

Avey, unaware of their audience, tilted her head back and beamed up at him. “This is way better than sitting around listening to boring people talk.”

Azer scoffed. “You’re the one who wanted to come.”

She grinned, utterly unapologetic. “And now I want to dance.”

He rolled his eyes again, but he spun them both in a slow circle, her laughter ringing out like bells. She clung to his hands as he picked up the pace, letting her lean into his movements, her feet never once touching the floor. She was weightless, free, like a little flame flickering in the breeze.

Across the room, Eris watched with unreadable eyes. His grip on your waist tightened just slightly, and when you looked up at him, you found a softness there—one he rarely let show.

“She’s going to be trouble,” he murmured, voice rich with something almost affectionate.

You smiled. “She already is.”

Lucien, standing beside you both, let out a low chuckle. “That one will bring this court to its knees one day.”

Eris exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Let’s hope it’s not anytime soon.”

But despite his words, his gaze never left his children. The son who had grown into a leader before his very eyes, the daughter who had him wrapped around her little finger. And for all the fire and power he wielded, this was what he had built. This was what he had fought for.

Azer, utterly defeated by his sister’s relentless enthusiasm, lifted her up entirely, spinning her once before setting her down again. Avey squealed, her laughter unbridled, echoing through the grand hall.

Avey was still giggling when Azer finally set her down, her tiny hands gripping his sleeves as she tried to regain her balance. Her curls were a wild mess from all the spinning, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Azer steadied her with a sigh, his hands still resting on her shoulders.

"You good?" he asked, arching a brow.

Avey grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling. "Again."

Azer groaned. "Absolutely not."

She pouted. "But—"

"Nope." He tapped her nose, smirking as she scrunched her face. "Go bother Uncle Lucien or something."

Avey gasped, whipping around to find Lucien across the room. "That’s a great idea!" And just like that, she took off running, dodging between nobles without a care.

Azer exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face as he turned back toward the main table. He spotted you and Eris still watching him, both of you with expressions he didn’t quite like—proud, knowing. His scowl deepened.

"What?" he muttered as he strode up to you both.

You tilted your head, sipping your wine. "Nothing."

Eris hummed, swirling his drink in his hand. "You’re a good brother."

Azer huffed. "Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."

Lucien returned then, looking mildly exhausted as he held a very squirmy Avey in his arms. "She caught me," he sighed. "How do you two keep up with this one?"

"We don’t," you said flatly. "She keeps up with us."

Avey wriggled out of Lucien’s hold, landing with a small hop before throwing herself at Eris, wrapping her arms around his waist. He barely budged at the impact, glancing down at her with an arched brow.

"Tired already?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

Avey clung tighter, peeking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "No," she chirped. "But I need a break before I challenge Azer to a rematch."

Azer groaned, throwing his head back. "You have to be joking."

Eris snorted, ruffling Avey’s hair before looking at his son. "I think she’s serious."

Azer shot him a flat look. "You let this happen."

Eris only smirked, sipping his wine. "And I’d do it again."

Lucien clapped a hand on Azer’s shoulder, grinning. "Welcome to the rest of your life, kid."

Azer muttered something under his breath, but there was no real frustration in his tone—just exasperated fondness.

You watched them all—Eris, your son, your daughter, Lucien. The family you had built. The warmth of it settled deep in your chest, filling every part of you with something unshakable, something eternal.

Azer crouched down beside Avey, his sharp golden eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned in close. His sister, still catching her breath from all the dancing, barely noticed at first—until he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, “Do you wanna ditch?”

Avey’s head snapped up, her curls bouncing as she turned to him, eyes wide with curiosity. “Ditch?” she echoed, voice barely above a whisper.

Azer smirked, nodding slightly toward the open balcony doors, where the cool night air drifted in. Outside, the gardens stretched into the dark, a maze of trees and lantern-lit paths just waiting to be explored.

“You’re always complaining about boring parties,” he murmured. “Thought you might want a little adventure.”

Avey bit her lip, glancing between him and the ballroom. Their parents were now engaged in conversation, Eris watching the room like a hawk, their mother speaking quietly to Lucien. No one was looking their way this very second.

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of her dress. “Where would we go?”

Azer’s grin widened. “Anywhere but here.”

Avey hesitated—only for a second. Then, with a sly little smile, she nodded.

Azer didn’t waste another moment. In one swift motion, he scooped her up, one arm locking around her waist as he rose to his full height. She barely managed to stifle a squeal, gripping onto him as he adjusted his hold.

“Shhh,” he hushed, his voice laced with laughter. “Do you want to get caught?”

Avey smacked his shoulder lightly. “I am perfectly capable of sneaking, you know.”

“Sure you are.” Azer shot her a knowing look before glancing toward the exit again, scanning the room for any watchful gazes. When he was certain they were in the clear, he whispered, “Hold on tight, little fox.”

The moment Azer stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air wrapped around them, carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering embers of the torches lining the garden paths. The storm had passed, leaving behind a dampness that clung to the stone beneath his boots.

Avey wiggled in his arms, her small hands clutching his shoulder as she whispered urgently, “Put me down! We’ll be faster if I run too.”

Azer huffed but complied, setting her gently on her feet. The moment her toes touched the ground, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him toward the steps leading into the garden.

“Come on!” she urged in a hushed giggle, her bare feet barely making a sound as she darted forward.

Azer kept pace easily, letting her think she was leading him as they weaved through the lantern-lit paths. The hedges were still dripping from the earlier rain, the scent of damp leaves and flowers heavy in the air. Their footsteps were muted against the softened ground, blending into the rustling of the trees overhead.

“Where exactly are we going?” Azer finally asked as Avey pulled him through a narrow archway covered in autumn-coloured vines.

She glanced over her shoulder, grinning. “Anywhere but here, remember?”

Azer rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. “If you get me into trouble—”

“Oh, please.” Avey waved a dismissive hand. “I’m the youngest. You’d get in trouble, not me.”

Azer let out a short laugh. “Unbelievable.”

They slipped deeper into the gardens, the warm glow of the ballroom fading behind them. The air was still damp, the scent of wet stone mixing with the crisp freshness of the night. Avey twirled ahead of him, arms outstretched as if she could catch the remnants of the storm in her fingertips.

For a moment, they were just two shadows moving through the night, laughter barely contained as they ran through the maze of hedges and stone paths. No court, no politics, no expectations—just freedom.

Just them.

Avey let out a breathless giggle as she grabbed Azer’s hand and yanked him toward the deeper part of the gardens, where the trees grew thicker and the paths turned uneven. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light over the damp leaves as they ran, their feet barely making a sound against the softened earth.

“Faster!” she whispered, shooting him a mischievous grin.

Azer groaned dramatically but picked up his pace, his longer strides easily keeping up with her frantic energy. She was quick—quicker than most would expect—but he’d always been faster. Still, he let her drag him along, her small fingers gripping his wrist like she was leading some grand escape.

The scent of rain still clung to the air, mingling with the rich, earthy scent of the lake as they neared. The closer they got, the louder the water became—calm but steady, lapping at the edges of the rocky shoreline. The path opened up suddenly, the last of the hedges parting to reveal the lake stretched wide before them, smooth as glass beneath the moonlight.

Avey skidded to a stop at the edge, her toes just shy of the damp stones lining the shore. Azer nearly crashed into her, catching himself at the last second as he ruffled her curls.

“We’re soaked already,” he muttered, glancing down at the mud clinging to the hem of his pants. “I don’t know why I let you think of this.”

Avey grinned, stepping onto the nearest flat stone jutting out into the lake. “Because you love me.”

Azer rolled his eyes but said nothing.

The water shimmered, reflecting the night sky like a fractured mirror. Avey crouched, dipping her fingers into the cold surface, sending tiny ripples across the lake. She looked over her shoulder at Azer, her smile turning sly.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he warned.

Avey’s grin widened.

And then—she splashed him.

Azer stared at the water droplets now dripping from his sleeve. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to her, feigning betrayal. “Oh, you are dead.”

Avey squealed, scrambling to her feet just as Azer lunged. She barely managed to dodge, her laughter echoing through the trees as she sprinted down the shore, her older brother right behind her.

-----

The warmth of Eris’s arms wrapped around your waist before you even saw him coming. His presence was unmistakable—the heat that always radiated from him, the scent of cedar and smoke clinging to his skin. He pulled you flush against his chest, his grip firm yet lazy, as if he had all the time in the world to simply hold you.

His lips found the curve of your neck first, the kiss slow, lingering, before trailing up to just behind your ear. The heat of his breath sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt the ghost of a smirk against your skin.

“You disappeared on me,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, meant for you and you alone.

Your hands covered his where they rested against your stomach, fingers idly tracing along the veins of his wrists. “I needed a moment. The wine was helping.”

Eris chuckled, the sound vibrating against your back. “Drinking to survive my company, sweetheart?”

You tilted your head slightly, giving him more access as his lips brushed just beneath your jaw. “Drinking to survive this entire night.”

He hummed in amusement, his fingers pressing a little firmer against your stomach as he rocked you gently in place, swaying slightly in the dimly lit ballroom. The music played on, couples dancing in elegant circles, but in this moment, with his arms locked around you, the rest of the world felt distant.

His nose grazed your ear as he whispered, “You’ve been so patient, putting up with all these strangers, all these dull conversations. Should I reward you for your suffering?”

Your lips twitched. “And what exactly do you have in mind, my love?”

Eris pressed one last slow kiss just beneath your ear, then murmured, “Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a request.

Eris didn’t wait for your answer—he simply took your hand, spinning you in one smooth motion before pulling you onto the dance floor. His other hand found the small of your back, guiding you effortlessly into the rhythm of the music.

The ballroom’s golden light flickered in his sharp amber eyes, but his focus was entirely on you. His grip was steady, his movements precise, as if he wasn’t just dancing but claiming you in front of everyone. You let yourself sink into the moment, into the warmth of him, the way his fingers pressed lightly against your spine, the way his thumb traced idle circles against the back of your hand.

“See?” he murmured, his voice nothing more than a low hum between you. “Not all of tonight has to be dreadful.”

You let out a soft huff, though your lips twitched. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

Eris smirked, leaning down just enough so that his breath ghosted across your cheek. “Dancing with my wife? I’d be a fool not to.”

His confidence was infuriating—and devastatingly effective. You let him lead you across the floor, the two of you moving as if you had done this a thousand times before. His warmth, his scent, the way his fingers tightened just slightly around your waist when you moved too far—it was enough to make the rest of the ballroom blur into nothing.

But then—something itched at the back of your mind. A sense of wrongness, an absence that shouldn’t have gone unnoticed for so long.

You blinked, pulling back slightly to glance around the room. Your gaze skimmed over the crowd, searching, searching—

And then it hit you.

“Azer and Avey,” you said suddenly, your voice sharper than before. “Where are they?”

Eris barely faltered, but you felt the way his grip tightened just a fraction. His expression didn’t change immediately, but you knew him well enough to see the flicker of realization in his eyes. He turned his head slightly, scanning the ballroom as if he could will them into appearing.

Your stomach twisted. You hadn’t seen them in—how long had it been? Too long. A sick feeling curled in your chest as you whispered, “Eris—”

“I know.” His voice was calm.

-----

Avey let out a high-pitched shriek as Azer’s arms finally locked around her waist. She had tried to escape—kicking, twisting, even scrambling onto the rocks at the lake’s edge—but her older brother was faster, stronger, and far too determined.

“Azer! No—no, no, no—”

Her protests were cut off by a triumphant laugh as he lifted her off the ground, her legs flailing wildly in the air.

“You’ve been asking for this all night, little fox,” Azer teased, his grip firm despite her desperate attempts to wiggle free. “What kind of big brother would I be if I didn’t give you what you wanted?”

“I don’t want it!” she screeched, grabbing at his wrists, but it was useless.

Azer stepped into the water, the cold sending a brief shudder up his spine as it rushed over his boots. Avey, sensing her doom, clung to him like a cat avoiding a bath.

“Azer, NO, I will—”

She never got to finish her threat.

With a sharp twist, Azer spun and dropped her into the lake.

Avey hit the water with a splash, the sound echoing through the quiet night.

For a second, there was only silence. Then—

“You absolute—” Avey’s head broke the surface, her soaked curls plastered to her face as she gasped. “You are dead!”

Azer howled with laughter, doubling over as his sister splashed furiously at him. Her small hands sent waves of water sloshing against his legs, but he barely flinched.

“I warned you,” he taunted, stepping back just as Avey lunged for him.

She missed, sputtering as she pushed her soaked curls from her eyes. The water was up to her shoulders now, her dress clinging uncomfortably, but that wasn’t about to stop her.

Azer grinned down at her, hands on his hips. “You look like a drowned kitten.”

Avey narrowed her eyes. “You,” she seethed, “are the worst brother in the entire world.”

Avey, soaked to the bone and shivering, let out an ear-piercing squeal as she kicked forward, sending a wave of lake water straight at her brother.

Azer barely had time to shield himself before the cold water splashed against his chest. He gasped in mock offense, shaking out his arms as he glared at his little sister. “Oh, now you want to play dirty?”

Avey stuck her tongue out at him, her small hands pushing against the water as she tried to wade toward him, her movements clumsy but determined. “You deserve it, you big, mean bully!” she huffed, still struggling to get her soaked curls out of her face.

Azer crossed his arms, smirking. “You say that now, but you’ll be laughing about this by morning.”

Avey puffed out her cheeks, her big, golden-amber eyes narrowing into a glare. “No, I won’t!”

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t!”

“Yes, you—”

Avey let out another high-pitched shriek and lunged at him, arms flailing. She barely reached his chest before slipping beneath the water again with an undignified sploosh.

Azer snorted, watching her pop back up a second later, sputtering and furious. “You need to work on your sneak attacks, little fox.”

Avey stomped her foot—or at least, tried to. The water made it more of a splash than anything else. “You ruined my dress, you horrible, evil, big—” She fumbled for the worst insult her seven-year-old brain could think of. “Goat!”

Azer barked out a laugh. “A goat?”

“A smelly goat!” Avey added, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Oh no,” he deadpanned, placing a hand over his heart. “Whatever will I do with such a brutal insult?”

Avey huffed, crossing her arms in the water as she glared up at him.

Then—suddenly—her lips twitched.

Azer caught it immediately. “Ah-ha!” He pointed a triumphant finger at her. “You’re smiling!”

“No, I’m not!” she squeaked, lips pursing again.

“Yes, you are. And I told you—you’d be laughing about this soon.”

Avey groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “I still hate you.”

Azer only grinned. “Love you too, little fox.”

Avey scowled, but this time, there was no real fire behind it. With one last glare, she lunged for him again—this time, managing to grab onto his arm, holding on tight.

Azer chuckled, easily hoisting her up until she could wrap her arms around his neck. “Come on, let’s get out of the water before you turn into an icicle.”

Avey sniffled, resting her wet cheek against his shoulder. “I won’t turn into an icicle,” she mumbled.

Azer smirked. “Maybe not, but you are freezing.”

Avey only hummed in response, her small fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he waded toward the shore, carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all.

-----

Back in the ballroom, you barely had a moment to savor the warmth of Eris’s embrace before a chill ran up your spine—a mother’s instinct. You had been swaying in his arms, your head tucked beneath his jaw, enjoying the steady rise and fall of his breath against your temple. But something gnawed at you, a feeling that whispered—your children were up to something.

Eris must have felt the shift in your body because he hummed low in his throat, his lips grazing just beneath your ear. “Relax, my love,” he murmured, voice like embers burning low. “You’re too tense.”

You sighed, your fingers twisting against the fine fabric of his tunic. “Eris…” You lifted your head slightly, peering up at him. “Where are the children?”

He stilled for half a second—a fraction of hesitation, but you caught it. His fingers curled more firmly around your waist, his free hand coming up to brush over your jaw, coaxing your attention back to him.

“They’re fine,” he assured you, though his tone was more amused than convincing.

You narrowed your eyes. “Eris.”

He exhaled through his nose, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “Avey is with Azer.”

You stared at him. “And where is Azer?”

He hesitated. Just for a moment.

Your stomach dropped.

“Eris Vanserra,” you said, stepping back slightly. “Tell me they’re not up to something.”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, tilting his head back slightly. “Would it make you feel better if I lied?”

“Eris!”

His smirk widened, and before you could shove at his chest, Lucien came striding toward you both, eyes sharp. “You might want to go find your son,” he drawled, crossing his arms. “And your daughter.”

Your heart kicked. “What happened?”

Lucien lifted a brow. “Oh, nothing much. Just Azer being… well, Azer.”

Eris ran a hand through his damp hair, rubbing at his temple. “I swear, that boy…” But there was no real frustration in his voice—only exasperated fondness.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, lifting the hem of your dress to make your way toward the open doors leading into the stormy gardens. Eris fell into step beside you, his hand pressed firmly against the small of your back.

“We’re never hosting another ball,” you muttered, your pace quickening.

Eris let out a deep chuckle. “You say that now.”

You shot him a sharp glare. “Your son is a menace.”

His grin was entirely too pleased. “Yes,” he agreed, voice dripping with pride. “Yes, he is.”

The moment you stepped outside, the cold bite of rain met your skin, soaking through the fine fabric of your dress. The storm had worsened since you and Eris had last been out here, the wind howling through the trees, carrying the scent of wet earth and embers.

You shivered slightly, but you barely noticed, too focused on the distant sounds of laughter—one deep and rich, the other high-pitched and full of glee.

Your gaze flicked to Eris. He had already pinpointed the source, his sharp amber eyes narrowing toward the lake.

With a groan, he started forward. “If they’re in the godsdamned water…”

You picked up your pace beside him, your heart hammering. “Avey better not be in the lake.”

“She wouldn’t.” But even as Eris said it, you could hear the doubt creeping in.

And then—

“I HATE you, Azer!”

Avey’s furious, tiny voice echoed across the stormy night, followed by Azer’s uncontrollable laughter.

Eris sighed heavily. “I knew I should’ve locked that boy in his room.”

You broke into a run, following the sound of their voices. Eris was right beside you, muttering under his breath about how his son was nothing but a walking headache, though you caught the glimmer of amusement in his tone.

By the time you reached the shore, the sight before you had you stopping dead in your tracks.

Avey stood in the shallows of the lake, drenched from head to toe, her tiny fists clenched at her sides as she glared up at her older brother. Water dripped from her curls, her lower lip wobbling, but her eyes burned with the kind of fury only a little sister could muster.

Azer, standing just out of reach, was still laughing, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “Come on, little fox,” he teased, wiping at his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Avey stomped toward him, slipping slightly in the mud. “You’re the worst, Azer Vanserra!”

Azer grinned. “You’ve said worse.”

“I mean it this time!”

“You always mean it.”

Before she could tackle him, you cleared your throat loudly.

Both children froze.

Slowly, they turned their heads, catching sight of you and Eris standing just beyond the treeline.

Avey’s face paled. Azer’s grin faltered.

Eris crossed his arms. “Would either of you like to explain why my daughter is soaking wet at the edge of the lake in the middle of a storm?”

Silence.

Then—

Azer scratched the back of his head, offering a sheepish smile. “Uh… bonding?”

Eris’s eye twitched.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Azer.”

Avey wasted no time, spinning on her heel and pointing an accusatory finger at her brother. “He dunked me!”

Eris exhaled sharply. “Azer.”

“She wanted to ditch,” Azer defended, raising his hands in surrender. “I just… made it more exciting.”

Avey splashed at him again, glaring daggers. “I hate you.”

Azer only laughed.

Eris ran a hand down his face, looking seconds away from dragging Azer into the lake himself. But before he could, you stepped forward, reaching for your shivering daughter.

“Come here, sweetheart,” you murmured.

Avey sniffled dramatically but rushed into your arms, wrapping her soaked limbs around you. You smoothed a hand down her wet curls, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re freezing.”

She sniffled again, nuzzling into your warmth. “Azer’s mean.”

“I know, baby.” You sent a look at your son. “Azer, you’re mean.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Wow. Betrayal.”

Eris finally pinched the bridge of his nose. “Both of you, inside. Now.”

Azer groaned. “But—”

“Now.”

Avey smirked as she let you lead her toward the house. “Hah. Loser.”

Azer rolled his eyes but trailed after you, still smirking. “Oh, shut up, little fox.”

Eris fell into step beside you, muttering, “I’m going to strangle that boy one day.”

You chuckled softly. “No, you won’t.”

He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “No,” he admitted, glancing at his son. “I won’t.”

By the time you stepped back into the manor, the storm had picked up, the rain lashing against the grand windows. The warmth of the ballroom was a stark contrast to the damp chill clinging to your skin. Avey shivered in your arms, her small hands clutching at your dress, while Azer trailed behind, shaking out his soaked curls like a wet dog.

Eris shot him a look. “Do that again, and I will throw you back outside.”

Azer grinned, completely unbothered. “Worth it.”

Avey, still bundled against you, let out an exaggerated sigh. “Mama, I need a bath. A warm one. With bubbles.”

You kissed her temple, smoothing a hand down her damp curls. “We’ll get you one soon, love.”

Lucien had been standing nearby, talking to Helion and Arlene, but at the sight of the four of you—sopping wet and clearly having just returned from whatever disaster Azer had orchestrated—he made his way over, brow arched.

“I don’t even want to ask,” he muttered, raking his gaze over his dripping niece and nephew.

Eris exhaled sharply, rubbing at his temple. “Then don’t.”

Lucien chuckled. “Azer, what did you do?”

Avey immediately pulled back from your hold, pointing an accusatory finger at her older brother. “He threw me in the lake!”

Lucien turned to Azer, unimpressed. “Really?”

Azer smirked. “She wanted to ditch the ball. I made it fun.”

Avey huffed, crossing her arms. “You threw me!”

Lucien sighed, shaking his head. “You’re lucky your mother’s here to keep your father from strangling you.”

Eris shot his brother a glare. “Don’t tempt me.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting Avey more comfortably in your arms. “Alright, enough. Avey needs to get warm, and I need to get changed before I catch a cold.”

Avey perked up immediately. “Can I have extra bubbles?”

You smiled, brushing a damp curl from her face. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Azer groaned. “She gets extra bubbles, and I get threatened? Unfair.”

Eris turned, eyes sharp. “You dunk your sister in a lake again, and I’ll dunk you.”

Azer only grinned, the picture of unrepentant mischief. “I’d like to see you try, old man.”

Lucien let out a bark of laughter. “You are getting old, brother.”

Eris glared at them both. “Out. All of you. Before I lose my mind.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to Avey’s forehead. “Come on, little love. Let’s get you warm.”

As you turned to leave, Azer leaned into his sister with a teasing grin. “Still the best night ever.”

Avey stuck out her tongue. “Hate you.”

Azer just laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “No, you don’t.”

And despite her dramatic grumbling, Avey leaned into her brother’s warmth as you all disappeared up the stairs, leaving the remnants of the storm—and the ball—behind.

-----

Later that night, after the manor had settled into a quiet hum of flickering candlelight and distant laughter, you found yourself standing by the window of your chambers, gazing out at the darkened forest beyond. The rain had finally eased into a soft drizzle, the world outside bathed in silver moonlight.

Eris was behind you, his presence a familiar warmth as he pulled you into him, arms wrapping securely around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder, his breath fanning over your damp hair.

“They’re in bed,” he murmured, voice laced with exhaustion.

You hummed, tilting your head slightly against his. “Both of them?”

“Avey knocked out in the bath. Azer had to carry her to bed.” His lips brushed just beneath your ear, a smile in his voice. “I think it made up for the whole lake incident.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “He’s lucky she adores him.”

Eris sighed, holding you a little tighter. “He’s lucky we adore him.”

You turned in his arms, meeting his gaze. There was something softer in his expression tonight, something only you ever got to see. The High Lord of Autumn, so ruthless to the rest of the world, so completely undone in the quiet moments he let himself have with you.

“Are you alright?” you asked, brushing your fingers over his cheek.

He exhaled, his hands settling at your hips. “I should be asking you that.”

You raised a brow. “Eris.”

A smirk ghosted over his lips before he shook his head. “I keep thinking about tonight. How different everything is now.” His thumbs traced absentminded circles against your waist. “There was a time when I never thought I’d have this. A family. Peace. You.”

You softened, sliding your hands up to cup his face. “But you do have it, Eris. And you always will.”

His grip tightened as he kissed you, slow and deep, like he was trying to commit the feeling of you to memory. When he pulled back, his eyes burned with something unspoken.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, though you both knew it wasn’t a question.

You smiled, leaning into him. “Always.”

And as the rain faded into nothing, as the world outside stilled, you let him pull you towards the bed, towards the warmth of his touch, towards the life you had built together—one that was yours to keep, always.

Eris’ lips found yours again, slow at first, savouring, but then something shifted—something more playful sparking in his touch. His fingers skimmed along the curve of your waist, featherlight, making you shiver as he deepened the kiss just enough to leave you wanting more.

Then, just as you leaned further into him, he pulled back.

You blinked, dazed, only to see the smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “What—”

Before you could finish, he brushed his lips over yours again, barely a ghost of a touch. And again. And again.

A frustrated sound caught in your throat as you tried to chase his mouth, but he only pulled away, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Patience, darling,” he murmured, voice rich with laughter.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Eris chuckled, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw, his fingers now tracing slow, teasing circles over the small of your back. “And yet, you adore me.”

You huffed, though the warmth pooling in your stomach betrayed you. “That’s debatable.”

He grinned against your skin. “Liar.”

Then, in one smooth motion, he dipped you backward, catching you securely in his arms. A surprised laugh escaped you as you clung to him, the world tilting. His eyes, molten with mischief, locked onto yours.

“I should leave you like this,” he mused, pretending to consider it, “make you ask for it.”

You let out an indignant scoff. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Eris merely hummed, as if the thought truly tempted him. Then, finally, finally, he kissed you properly—deep and slow and claiming. His hand cradled the back of your head, tilting you just the way he liked as he swallowed the breathless sound you made.

By the time he pulled away, you were sure your legs would have given out if not for his hold. He studied you, smug and satisfied, his thumb brushing against your kiss-swollen lips.

“See?” he murmured. “Patience does have its rewards.”

You glared at him, though the effect was ruined by the heat in your gaze. “Shut up and kiss me again, Eris.”

His grin was wicked as he obeyed.

Eris didn’t waste a second. His lips crashed onto yours again, this time with none of the teasing restraint from before. His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you deep, hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this.

A pleased hum vibrated against your mouth when your fingers tangled into his fiery hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. His grip on you tightened, one hand sliding up your spine, the other slipping lower—possessive, claiming.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he broke the kiss, only to nip at the soft spot just below your ear. “You taste like wine,” he murmured, voice husky as he kissed a slow path down your throat.

“And you taste like trouble,” you shot back, though the breathless edge to your voice ruined the effect.

Eris chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Funny, I was about to say the same about you.” His hands skimmed lower, fingers pressing into your hips. “Dragging me out into the rain. Ruining my perfectly tailored suit.”

You gasped as he suddenly lifted you, hoisting you onto the nearby table in one swift motion. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, but he pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over yours.

“What am I going to do with you?” he mused, his smirk utterly wicked.

You arched a brow, fingers still tangled in his hair. “I could give you a few ideas.”

His gaze darkened, molten heat burning in those amber eyes. “Oh, I bet you could.”

Then he kissed you again, deeper this time, until all thoughts of the ball, the rain, and everything else melted away entirely.

-----

Two months later

Azer barely stirred when his bedroom door creaked open. The early morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the room. His bed was warm, the blankets a tangled mess around him, but he was still deep in sleep, his face half-buried in his pillow.

That was, until a small set of hands shoved at his shoulder.

“Azer,” Avey whisper-shouted, her seven-year-old voice laced with urgency. When he only groaned in response, she huffed and tried again—this time climbing onto his bed, her knees digging into his side as she shook him harder.

“Azer, wake up!”

He let out a dramatic groan, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. “Go away, Ave.” His voice was rough with sleep, and he definitely wasn’t in the mood for whatever chaos his little sister was about to unleash.

But Avey was nothing if not persistent.

She flopped down onto his chest with all her tiny weight, making him grunt in protest. “Wake up,” she whined. “It’s important!”

Azer cracked one eye open, only to find Avey’s face inches from his, her big autumn-coloured eyes wide with excitement. Her curls were a wild mess from sleep, and she was still in her nightgown, her little feet tucked under her.

He groaned again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Ave, if this isn’t life or death—”

“It is!” she interrupted, bouncing slightly on his chest. “Mama and Dad are up, and I heard them talking about something big.”

Azer sighed, already regretting this conversation. “What kind of ‘big’?”

Avey’s grin stretched wide. “I think we’re going on a trip!”

That got his attention. Azer’s brows lifted slightly as he finally pushed himself up onto his elbows, making Avey slide off his chest and onto the mattress beside him. “A trip where?”

“I don’t know,” she huffed, flopping onto her stomach and kicking her feet. “But I heard Mama saying we have to pack, and Daddy said something about ‘preparations’ and ‘not causing a diplomatic disaster.’”

Azer blinked, then smirked. “That definitely sounds like Dad.”

Avey giggled, nodding enthusiastically. “So come on,” she urged, tugging at his arm. “We have to find out where we’re going!”

Azer let out a long-suffering sigh, but he was already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He knew there was no getting out of this—not when Avey was determined.

“Fine, fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “But if this is some boring meeting in another court, you owe me.”

Avey beamed, hopping off the bed. “Deal!”

Avey practically skipped down the hall, her nightgown billowing behind her as she rushed ahead. Azer trailed after her at a much slower pace, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes.

The Autumn Court palace was quiet this early in the morning, save for the occasional flickering of flames in the wall sconces and the faint rustling of servants already beginning their day. But Avey’s hurried footsteps echoed through the halls, her excitement impossible to contain.

“Avey, slow down,” Azer grumbled, running a hand through his messy hair. “If you wake up the whole palace, Dad will—”

He was cut off as Avey skidded to a stop in front of their parents’ study. Without hesitation, she pressed her ear against the heavy wooden door, eyes gleaming.

Azer sighed, crossing his arms. “Really?”

Avey shushed him, waving a frantic hand for him to join her. He rolled his eyes but stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside her.

“…we need to make sure everything is in place before we leave,” their father’s voice came from inside, calm but firm.

Azer frowned. Before we leave?

“We should tell them soon,” their mother replied, her voice softer but no less decisive. “Azer especially. He’ll need time to prepare.”

Avey turned to him, practically vibrating. See? she mouthed excitedly.

Azer ignored her, listening closer.

“We’ll tell them at breakfast,” Eris said. “And we’ll remind them to be on their best behavior—”

“Especially Azer,” their mother added, amusement clear in her tone.

Azer scowled. What was that supposed to mean?

Avey giggled into her hands.

Then, suddenly—

“I know you two are listening.”

Avey gasped, her eyes going wide as the door swung open to reveal their father standing there, arms crossed, an unimpressed expression on his face.

Busted.

Avey immediately threw Azer under the metaphorical carriage. “It was his idea!” she blurted, pointing at him.

Azer scoffed, looking down at her in betrayal. “Seriously?”

You appeared behind Eris, shaking your head but clearly amused. “Come inside,” you said, stepping aside. “Since you’re so curious.”

Avey brightened, all traces of guilt gone as she skipped into the study. Azer followed with far less enthusiasm, dragging a hand down his face.

“Good morning to you, too,” he muttered as he stepped past his father.

Eris merely raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be less pleased when you hear where we’re going.”

Azer frowned, but before he could ask, his mother gestured for them to sit.

“Children,” you said, a knowing smile on your lips, “we’re going to the Night Court.”

Azer groaned the moment the words left your mouth, dropping his head back against the chair like the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders.

“The Night Court?” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “So that means…”

“Yes,” Eris confirmed, clearly enjoying his son’s misery. “You’ll be seeing Nyx and Annavella.”

Azer let out another louder groan, tilting his head to glare at you like this was your fault. “Mama, do we have to?”

Avey, sitting beside him, perked up immediately. “I like Nyx and Annavella,” she chirped, swinging her legs beneath the chair. “They’re fun.”

Azer shot her a betrayed look. “That’s because they baby you.”

Avey stuck out her tongue.

You tried—tried—to keep a straight face, but Azer’s suffering was far too entertaining. “Since your father and Rhysand formed an alliance, yes, we do have to go,” you told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “And you will behave.”

Azer slumped further into his chair. “Nyx is so annoying.”

“He’s twenty-one, Azer,” you sighed. “I doubt he’s changed that much since the last time you saw him.”

“Exactly,” Azer huffed. “He’s worse now. He acts like he’s so mature and wise just because he’s the heir to the Night Court. And don’t get me started on Annavella.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with Annavella?”

Azer let out an exasperated laugh. “Oh, I don’t know—maybe the fact that she thinks she’s better than me at everything? The last time we sparred, she practically tried to take my head off!”

“She won that sparring match,” Avey reminded him sweetly.

Azer scowled. “She cheated.”

Eris chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds like you’re afraid of a little competition.”

“I’m not afraid,” Azer grumbled, crossing his arms. “I just don’t want to deal with her smug face for an entire trip. She and Nyx are so full of themselves.”

You patted his arm, barely holding back a smile. “You’ll survive.”

Azer only slumped further, muttering something about Night Court arrogance under his breath.

Avey, meanwhile, was practically bouncing in her seat. “When do we leave?” she asked eagerly.

“Tomorrow,” Eris answered.

Azer groaned again, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Kill me now.”

Eris smirked. “Now, now, little firefox,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “It’ll be good for you.”

You watched as Azer slumped deeper into his chair, rubbing his temples like this trip was going to be the end of him. It was so tempting to drag this out just to watch him suffer, but you decided to be merciful—for now.

“And,” you said, drawing out the word, “Kallias and his wife will be there as well.”

Azer barely reacted.

You smirked. “With their son, Edur.”

That got his attention. His head popped up, eyes slightly less miserable. “Edur’s coming?”

“Yes.”

He nodded approvingly. “Alright. That makes it slightly better.”

Eris snorted, shaking his head at how quickly Azer’s attitude shifted. You knew he and Edur got along well—both of them were skilled fighters, and Azer actually respected him, which was rare for anyone outside of his own family.

But you weren’t done yet.

“And,” you added, enjoying this a little too much, “Tarquin is coming as well.”

Azer frowned. “Okay…”

“With his daughter.”

The moment the words left your mouth, Azer’s entire body stiffened. He slowly turned to look at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Noelani?”

You smiled sweetly. “Yes.”

Azer let out the loudest groan yet, dramatically flopping his head back against the chair.

“No,” he whined, dragging a hand down his face. “Not her.”

Avey, who had been swinging her legs beneath her chair, perked up at this. “Oooooh,” she hummed, grinning. “Azer likes her.”

Azer bolted upright so fast it was a miracle the chair didn’t topple over. “I do not like her, I want her existence to end.”

“You totally do,” Avey singsonged, giggling as she leaned toward him.

Azer turned his glare to you and Eris. “Why is she like this?”

“She’s seven,” Eris said simply.

“With a seven-year-old attitude,” you added, ruffling Avey’s curls.

Avey giggled again, clearly enjoying every second of Azer’s torment.

Azer groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “This is awful.”

“Oh, come now,” you teased, nudging him. “Noelani is a very nice girl.”

Azer scoffed. “She’s obnoxious.”

“You’re obnoxious,” Avey shot back.

Azer ignored her. “She’s always smiling and talking and trying to act all charming, like she thinks she’s so clever.” He rolled his eyes. “And she flirts with everyone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you jealous?”

Azer gawked at you. “What? No! Why would I be jealous? That’s—ugh, forget it.”

Avey smirked. A perfectly mischievous smirk that looked far too much like Eris’s. “I think Azer has a crush.”

Azer groaned again, shoving away from the table. “I’m done with this conversation.”

Avey giggled, leaning into your side. “He totally likes her.”

You chuckled, wrapping an arm around your daughter. “He’s in denial.”

Eris merely shook his head, clearly amused. “This trip is going to be interesting.”

Azer, now standing with his arms crossed, scowled at all three of you. “I hate this family.”

Avey beamed up at him. “We love you, too!”

Azer moved before Avey even had the chance to scramble away. One second, she was grinning up at him with all the mischief in the world, and the next—

“AHH!”

Avey’s delighted shriek filled the room as Azer lunged, grabbing her around the waist and tackling her straight onto the plush carpet.

She wriggled and kicked, but Azer had years of training on her, easily pinning her down with one arm while using the other to mercilessly tickle her sides.

“Take it back!” he demanded over her squeals.

Avey screeched with laughter, thrashing like a wild thing. “Never!”

Azer grinned wickedly. “Wrong answer, little fox.”

His fingers moved faster, digging into her ribs, and Avey shrieked again, gasping between giggles as she tried to kick at him.

“Mama, help!” she cried, still laughing so hard tears pricked her eyes.

You crossed your arms, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… I don’t know. You did say Azer had a crush.”

Avey cackled. “Because he does!”

Azer groaned, flopping dramatically onto his back beside her. “Why do you exist?”

Avey immediately rolled onto him, sprawling across his chest in a way that made it impossible for him to move.

“Because you’d be so boring without me,” she declared, grinning as she poked his cheek.

Azer huffed, scowling at her. “You’re the worst.”

Avey batted her lashes. “And you love me.”

Azer sighed, letting his head fall back onto the carpet. “Unfortunately.”

Avey giggled, curling up against him like a satisfied little fox kit. Azer sighed again but let her stay, draping an arm around her like he always did.

Eris leaned toward you, murmuring, “Seven going on seventeen.”

You laughed softly, watching your children—so different, yet always drawn back to each other. “Tell me about it.”

Azer lay sprawled on the carpet, letting Avey practically nest on top of him. She had her arms tucked beneath her chin, peering up at him with a triumphant little grin, clearly very pleased with herself.

He huffed. “You’re ridiculously smug for someone who just got tackled.”

Avey wrinkled her nose at him. “You still didn’t win.”

Azer raised a brow. “Oh?”

Before she could react, he flipped them, rolling her onto her back and pinning her wrists to the floor.

“Who’s winning now?” he teased, grinning down at her.

Avey scowled. “You cheated!”

Azer barked a laugh. “I taught you this move, little fox. You should’ve been ready.”

Avey thrashed, trying to break free, but Azer easily kept her in place, smirking as she let out an exasperated groan.

You and Eris watched from the side, both of you thoroughly entertained.

“I give it a minute before she bites him,” Eris murmured.

You hummed, considering. “Thirty seconds.”

And then—

“OW—Avey!”

Azer jerked back, grabbing his arm where Avey had actually bitten him. Avey used the distraction to scramble free, cackling as she bolted across the room.

“I knew it,” Eris said, shaking his head.

Azer glared after his sister, rubbing his arm. “You are feral!”

Avey only stuck her tongue out at him. “You deserved it!”

Eris chuckled, stepping forward and ruffling Azer’s hair. “That’s what you get for underestimating a little fox.”

Azer grumbled something under his breath, still glaring at his sister, but he didn’t argue.

You just smiled, watching them—knowing that no matter how much they bickered, no matter how much they teased and tackled each other, Azer would always protect her, and Avey would always adore him.

Seven going on seventeen, indeed.

Avey kept a safe distance from her brother, practically vibrating with smugness as she rocked back on her heels. “What’s wrong, Azer?” she taunted, her little hands on her hips. “Didn’t think your baby sister could outsmart you?”

Azer rolled his eyes, still rubbing his arm where she’d bitten him. “You didn’t outsmart me, you cheated.”

Avey just grinned. “You should’ve been ready.”

Eris let out a low chuckle beside you, clearly enjoying this far too much. “She is your sister,” he reminded Azer. “I don’t know why you’re surprised.”

Azer let out a long suffering sigh, running a hand through his unruly hair. “She’s a menace.”

Avey beamed, taking it as a compliment. “I am!”

Eris shook his head with a soft smirk, then glanced at you. “How do you feel about giving her to Rhysand as a diplomatic gift?”

Avey gasped, utterly offended. “Mama!” she cried, running straight to you and wrapping her arms around your waist. “Tell him he’s not allowed to give me away!”

You smoothed a hand over her wild curls, barely containing your laughter. “I don’t think Rhys could handle you, little fox.”

Avey nodded fiercely. “Exactly!”

Azer snorted. “He’d return her in a day.”

Avey whipped around, pointing an accusing finger at him. “I am a delight, you meanie!”

Azer just smirked. “A delightful menace.”

Avey huffed dramatically, but instead of arguing, she just turned back to you, her eyes wide and pleading. “Mama, can we please go now?”

You smiled down at her. “Go where?”

She groaned, bouncing on her toes. “To the lake! Azer promised!”

You raised a brow, glancing at your son. “Did you?”

Azer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I might have.”

Eris chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Then you’d better take her before she decides to bite you again.”

Azer grimaced as Avey giggled, clearly thrilled by the idea.

“Fine, fine,” Azer muttered, grabbing her hand. “But if you splash me in, I swear—”

Avey just cackled as she dragged him toward the door, already knowing she would.

As Azer and Avey disappeared through the doorway—Avey practically bouncing on her toes, Azer grumbling but following nonetheless—you felt Eris’ arm tighten around your waist, keeping you close.

The warmth of his body against yours was familiar, steady. Even after all these years, after all the chaos and change, there was something constant in the way he held you.

You glanced up at him, and his gaze was already on you—amber eyes soft, lingering, filled with something deep and unspoken.

“You’re looking at me like that again,” you murmured.

His lips twitched. “Like what?”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “Like you’re trying to memorize me.”

Eris huffed a quiet laugh, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he reached up, fingers brushing along your jaw, tilting your face slightly toward him.

“I already have you memorized,” he murmured, voice lower now, softer. “But I like to remind myself anyway.”

Your breath hitched, caught in the way his thumb traced over your cheekbone, the way his gaze flickered over every detail of your face—as if he were savouring the moment, as if he wanted to keep it forever.

You smirked, placing a hand over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Sentimental, aren’t we?”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, leaning down just enough that his lips almost brushed yours. “Don’t tell anyone.”

You grinned, tilting your chin up slightly, closing that last bit of space. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

And then, just before his lips could fully claim yours—

A scream echoed from outside, followed by a loud splash.

You both froze.

Then—

“Avey, I swear!” Azer’s furious voice rang through the halls.

Eris let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why did we have children?”

You laughed, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door. “Because you love me and your dick always used to end up between my legs.”

Eris sighed dramatically, but he followed—because he did. More than anything.

The two of you stepped outside, the warm breeze carrying the scent of damp earth and pine from the gardens. The moment your feet hit the stone pathway leading toward the lake, you knew what you were about to find.

Sure enough—

Azer stood at the edge of the water, dripping wet, clothes clinging to him, curls a soaked mess as he glowered at his little sister. Avey, who was still standing knee-deep in the lake, had her hands clasped behind her back, lips pursed in an attempt to contain her laughter.

“You little monster,” Azer seethed.

Avey giggled, her shoulders shaking. “You should’ve seen your face!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but beside you, Eris had no such restraint. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and when you turned to look at him, he was smirking.

“You did say she couldn’t push you in,” Eris mused. “Not that she couldn’t pull you.”

Azer shot his father a withering glare. “Not. Helping.”

Eris merely shrugged, unbothered, as his attention flicked back to Avey. “You’re lucky I like you, little fox.”

Avey grinned, positively beaming. “I know.”

Azer groaned, pushing his wet curls back from his face. “I hate all of you.”

You snorted. “You don’t.”

Azer exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath, but before he could start his inevitable rant about how much of a menace his little sister was, Avey let out a squeak—

And promptly ran straight for you.

You barely had time to react before she leapt into your arms, soaking you in the process. The cold water from her clothes seeped into your dress, making you gasp as she nuzzled into your neck, giggling.

Eris smirked at your expression, stepping forward to ruffle Avey’s soaked curls. “You are soaked, little fox.”

Avey hummed. “So’s Azer.”

Azer grumbled something incomprehensible.

Eris exhaled through his nose, then turned to you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Shall we retrieve our chaotic children and return before we cause any more scandal?”

You sighed but smiled, adjusting Avey in your arms. “I suppose.”

Eris smirked, then reached for Azer’s shoulder, clapping a hand against his wet clothes. “Come, my drowned heir. Let’s get you dried off before your mother disowns us all.”

Azer groaned, but followed—because, despite the theatrics, he wouldn’t change any of this for the world.

-----

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of wine between his fingers as he looked around the room. Feyre sat beside him, one arm draped over the back of her chair, her expression calm but observant. Across from them, Cassian was sprawled lazily on the couch, his wings draped over the sides, while Nesta sat beside him, her usual unimpressed stare locked on her mate’s attempt at looking relaxed.

Azriel stood near the window, arms crossed, his shadows curling idly around his shoulders. The room was warm, the soft glow of the chandelier reflecting against the polished wood floors, but there was an edge to the atmosphere—an unspoken weight in the air as they all waited.

Seated in the center of it all were the next generation—Nyx, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and Annavella, who was perched on the arm of a chair, idly twirling a strand of dark hair between her fingers. Cassian and Nesta’s sons sat beside them—Andros, the eldest at nineteen, with his father’s broad shoulders and wild grin, and Evander, who was eighteen and a perfect balance of both his parents, sharp and steady but with Cassian’s penchant for trouble lurking beneath his composed exterior.

“You’re making it sound like we’re preparing for war,” Nyx finally said, raising a brow at his father.

Rhysand exhaled a slow breath, setting his wine down on the table. “Not war. But there will be tensions.” His violet gaze flicked toward Andros and Evander. “It’s your first time meeting them all at the same time, and I want you to be prepared.”

Annavella rolled her eyes. “It’s a gathering, not a battlefield.”

Nesta scoffed, taking a sip of her own drink. “Clearly, you’ve never been to a court gathering.”

Cassian grinned, ruffling Evander’s hair, much to his son’s annoyance. “There’s a lot of pride on the line when you throw High Lords and their families in one room. You’ll want to keep an eye on everything—and everyone.”

Evander frowned slightly. “Who exactly is coming?”

Rhysand leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Eris and his family, obviously. His son Azer is around your age, along with his younger sister, Avey.” His gaze flicked toward Nyx and Annavella. “You two have met them, but this will be the first formal gathering since they’ve become fully recognized within Autumn.”

Nyx nodded, his expression unreadable. “Azer’s fine. A bit high-strung, but fine.”

Cassian snorted. “Can you blame him? Look who his father is.”

Feyre shot him a look, but Rhysand only smirked before continuing. “Kallias and Viviane will be attending as well, along with their son, Edur. He’s twenty now.”

Andros perked up. “He’s the one that trained in Winter’s army, right?”

Azriel nodded. “He’s skilled—one of their best.”

Evander raised a brow. “So he’ll be fun to spar with?”

Cassian grinned, nudging his son’s shoulder. “Maybe. If Kallias doesn’t mind you breaking his alliances.”

Nesta sighed, shaking her head before turning to Rhysand. “Who else?”

“Tarquin,” Rhysand replied. “And his daughter, Noelani.”

Nyx groaned immediately, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not her.”

Annavella laughed, tossing a cushion at her brother. “Oh, come on, Nyx. She likes you.”

“That’s the problem.”

Cassian laughed loudly, and even Azriel smirked slightly. “She’s persistent,” Rhysand admitted, amusement flickering in his gaze. “But you’ll survive.”

Nyx grumbled something under his breath.

Andros glanced at Evander, who was trying to stifle a grin. “This is going to be interesting.”

Rhysand exhaled slowly, glancing around the room, making sure they all understood. “Just remember—this is about alliances, about maintaining the peace that’s been built over the years. Whatever personal feelings you have about the others, put them aside.”

Cassian stretched, flexing his wings. “And if it does come to a fight—”

Nesta smacked his arm.

Cassian grinned. “What? Just saying. Wouldn’t be the worst way to spend an evening.”

Rhysand sighed, rubbing his temples. “Mother help us all.”

Nyx groaned again, leaning back in his chair. “I still don’t get why we have to be the ones dealing with this. Shouldn’t this be a High Lord thing?”

Rhysand gave his son a pointed look. “You’re the heir to this court, Nyx. One day, you will be the one managing these relationships.”

Nyx muttered something under his breath, but Annavella smirked. “I think it’s fun. Maybe Azer and I can make a game out of it—see how long it takes before someone snaps.”

Evander chuckled. “You say that like you’re not going to be the first one to start something, again may I add.”

Nesta sighed, rubbing her temples. “Please, for once, can we get through an evening without one of you causing a scene?”

Andros grinned at his mother. “No promises.”

Cassian laughed, clapping his eldest on the back. “That’s my boy.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes before turning back to Azriel, who had remained silent, simply listening to the conversation unfold. “What do you think?”

Azriel shrugged, his shadows curling around his shoulders. “Eris is smart. He knows the importance of tonight.”

Nyx scoffed. “Yeah, but Azer?”

Azriel hesitated for half a second before exhaling. “Azer takes after his father in ways that matter. He’ll keep himself in check.”

Annavella grinned. “I hope not.”

Rhysand shook his head, but before he could respond, Feyre cut in. “We also need to be aware of the political weight of this night. It’s not just about alliances—it’s about history. The Autumn Court has been in shadows for centuries under Beron’s rule. This is one of the first times Eris is fully opening his doors to others.”

Nyx tapped his fingers against his knee. “So what? We’re supposed to act like everything’s perfect and ignore the fact that everyone has some kind of grudge against each other?”

Nesta arched a brow at him. “That’s called politics.”

Cassian smirked. “That’s called bullshit.”

Feyre sighed. “Just try not to let your emotions get the best of you.”

Nyx let out a long breath before finally nodding. “Fine. I’ll behave.”

Andros snickered. “That makes one of us.”

Evander grinned. “Two.”

Annavella just winked.

Rhysand closed his eyes for a moment before muttering, “This is going to be a disaster.”

-----

You sighed as you knelt in front of Avey, carefully wrapping her in a thick, warm towel. Her curls clung to her face, damp and tangled from her latest adventure—one that had ended with her completely drenched, yet again.

"Avey," you murmured, gently squeezing the towel around her shoulders. "This is the third time today. Do you enjoy making me chase you down with a towel?"

Your seven-year-old daughter giggled, her little nose scrunching as she rocked slightly on her heels. "Maybe," she admitted, mischief glinting in her bright amber eyes—the same ones her father had.

You shook your head, unable to suppress a small smile as you rubbed the towel over her curls, trying to absorb as much water as possible. "You're going to catch a cold at this rate."

"Nuh-uh!" she protested, puffing out her chest. "I'm strong!"

"You're soaked," you countered, pulling the towel from her head and moving to dry her arms next. Her skin was still cool from the lake, and you hurried to warm her up, rubbing her down with firm, steady motions.

Avey sighed dramatically, letting her head tilt back. "You're like Azer."

You arched a brow, moving to dry her tiny legs. "Oh? How so?"

"He always says I’m trouble," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "That’s because you are trouble."

She gasped, eyes going wide with faux betrayal. "Mama!"

You winked at her, then reached for the fresh clothes laid out on the bed. A simple cream-colored dress with delicate embroidery along the edges—something soft and easy to move in.

"Arms up," you instructed.

Avey obeyed, lifting her arms so you could pull the dress over her head. It fell into place around her small frame, and she wiggled her fingers excitedly before spinning in a little circle.

"Pretty?" she asked, peering up at you.

You brushed her curls back from her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Very pretty."

She beamed, then suddenly gasped. "Oh! Shoes!"

You barely had time to react before she sprinted across the room, slipping slightly on the rug as she grabbed a pair of tiny slippers. She shoved her feet into them, grinning triumphantly as she turned back to you.

"Ready!" she announced.

You stood, smoothing out her dress one last time before taking her hands in yours. "No more lakes tonight, understood?"

Avey bit her lip, clearly debating.

"Avey."

"Okay," she relented with a sigh. "No more lakes."

You arched a brow. "Or fountains. Or ponds. Or any water that isn't a bath."

She huffed. "You sound like Daddy."

You smirked. "Good. Now, let’s go before he realizes how much of a mess you made."

Avey giggled, gripping your hand tightly as you led her toward the door—warm, dry, and looking every bit the little princess she was. For now, at least.

You scooped Avey up into your arms, pressing a quick kiss to her damp curls as she giggled, her little arms wrapping around your neck. She was warm now, her fresh dress soft against your skin as she nestled into you.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity.

"To my room," you murmured, shifting her slightly in your arms. "So I can braid your hair before you go running off again."

Avey let out a dramatic sigh, flopping her head against your shoulder. "Braiding takes forever."

You chuckled, carrying her through the halls of the Autumn Court’s grand estate. The flickering faelights cast soft golden glows along the walls, the distant hum of the evening carrying through the corridors. Avey tapped her fingers against your shoulder as you reached your chambers, pushing the door open with ease.

The room was warm, the fireplace crackling gently in the corner. You set Avey down on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity, her little legs swinging as she looked at herself in the mirror, making faces.

You grabbed a wooden brush from the vanity, running it gently through her curls. "Hold still, little fox."

Avey pouted but obeyed, only fidgeting slightly as you worked through the tangles. Her hair gleamed under the light, the soft waves slowly smoothing out with each careful stroke.

"You have so much hair," you murmured, brushing it all to one side.

"Daddy says it’s wild like me," Avey said with a grin.

You smiled, gathering three small sections of hair near her temple. "Well, let’s see if we can tame it a little."

You started twisting the strands together, weaving them delicately as your fingers worked with practiced ease. Avey hummed under her breath, her hands resting in her lap as you continued.

"Are you making it fancy?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"A little," you admitted. "But not too fancy. Just enough to keep it out of your face."

She seemed satisfied with that, watching in the mirror as the intricate twist braids formed, wrapping gently around the side of her head.

"I like when you do my hair," she admitted softly.

Your hands stilled for a moment before you pressed another kiss to the crown of her head. "I like doing your hair, baby."

She smiled, leaning into your touch. You finished securing the braids with a delicate ribbon, tying it neatly before running your hands over her hair one last time.

"There," you said, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. "Now you’re ready."

Avey turned in her seat, reaching up to touch the braids before beaming at you. "Thank you, Mama!"

You brushed your fingers along her cheek. "Always, my love."

And as she hopped off the stool, twirling once in front of the mirror, you swore you saw the same wild spirit in her eyes that Eris carried—bright, untamed, and full of fire.

The door creaked open just as Avey finished her twirl, and a familiar voice filled the room.

"What are you two up to?"

Azer leaned lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, the usual sharp amusement dancing in his eyes. His red hair—so much like Eris’s—was slightly tousled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed or had been roughhousing with someone, which, knowing him, was highly likely.

Avey gasped dramatically, whirling around to face him. "Look! Mama braided my hair!" She grabbed the ends of the delicate twist braids, her little fingers fumbling to show them off.

Azer pushed off the doorframe, sauntering into the room with the casual confidence of someone who knew exactly how much space they took up. He stopped just beside Avey, reaching down to flick one of her braids lightly.

"Not bad," he mused, tilting his head. "Mama’s got some skill."

You raised a brow at him, folding your arms. "Are you just figuring that out now?"

Azer grinned. "I mean, I guess I could have better ones, but—"

"You have better ones," you interrupted, rolling your eyes. "I’ve been braiding your hair since you could sit still long enough for me to do it."

Avey giggled, stepping closer to her brother and grabbing the hem of his tunic. "Are you gonna get braids, too?" she asked, looking up at him with wide, mischievous eyes.

Azer scoffed. "No way."

"Why not?"

"Because I have style, little fox," he teased, ruffling her hair and promptly messing up a few strands you’d just secured.

Avey let out an indignant squeal, swatting at his hand. "Azer! Mama just fixed it!"

You sighed, already stepping forward to smooth her hair back into place. "Honestly, do you have to torment her all the time?"

"It’s part of my job," Azer said matter-of-factly, stepping back before Avey could retaliate.

Avey crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. "You should get braids, then I’ll forgive you."

Azer chuckled, but something in his gaze softened as he looked at her—his little sister, his shadow, the only person who could truly bend him to her will. With an exaggerated sigh, he turned his back to you, lowering his head just enough.

"Fine. One. One braid," he said, pointing a warning finger at you. "And if anyone sees, I’m blaming you."

Avey cheered, bouncing on her toes. "Yes!"

You just smirked, already gathering a few strands of his unruly red hair. "I think I’ll make it fancy."

"Not too fancy!" he quickly protested, but the way he stayed still—the way he let you do it at all—said more than words ever could.

You ran your fingers through Azer’s thick, unruly red hair, smoothing out any tangles as he knelt on the floor in front of you, his back to you. He was tense at first, his pride making this harder for him than it needed to be, but as your fingers worked methodically, he relaxed, exhaling slowly.

Avey sat cross-legged beside him, watching with rapt attention, a grin tugging at her lips as if she couldn't believe her big brother had actually given in.

"You know," you murmured, carefully sectioning a small strand at the nape of his neck, "for someone so dramatic about this, you sure have nice hair. You should let me do this more often."

Azer groaned. "Don't push your luck, Mama."

You smirked, weaving the first few strands together. "Oh, don’t worry. Avey will make sure this isn’t the last time."

"I will," Avey confirmed with a firm nod.

Azer sighed, but you could feel the way he was holding back a smile.

With steady hands, you continued braiding, the rhythm of it as familiar as breathing. His hair was soft, silky despite his reckless nature, and it took to the braid easily. You made it neat but not too intricate—just enough that it wouldn’t unravel too quickly, but still subtle enough that he wouldn’t feel like a walking target when the others inevitably noticed.

As you reached the end of the braid, you grabbed a small leather cord from the table beside you and tied it off, securing the strands in place. You let your fingers linger for just a second before sitting back, admiring your work.

"Done," you announced, patting his shoulder.

Avey clapped her hands excitedly. "Let me see!"

Azer reached up, running his fingers over the small braid at the base of his neck. He turned his head slightly, catching your expression—your barely contained amusement, the fondness in your eyes.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, standing up and shaking his head, as if trying to see if the braid would just come undone on its own. When it didn’t, he let out another sigh, but there was something softer in his expression as he turned back to you.

"Happy now?"

Avey grinned. "Very."

And despite himself—despite all his protests—Azer smirked, giving you a look that was so much like Eris’s, full of reluctant amusement and deep-seated affection.

You reached out, fixing the collar of his shirt. "You?" you asked, tilting your head at him.

Azer rolled his eyes. "Don’t push it," he muttered, but the way he nudged Avey’s shoulder—the way he didn’t immediately take the braid out—told you everything you needed to know.

Eris strode into the room, his presence as commanding as ever, though there was a rare ease in his expression. He glanced around, expecting movement, maybe the usual last-minute scrambling before departure. Instead, he found the three of you huddled together, suspiciously still. His sharp amber eyes flickered with confusion as he took in the scene—Azer sitting on the floor, Avey perched beside him, and you kneeling behind your son with your hands suspiciously close to his head.

“What exactly is going on here?” he asked slowly, crossing his arms. His gaze zeroed in on Azer, who immediately tensed, sitting up straighter as if caught doing something scandalous.

Avey, on the other hand, had no such reservations. She beamed up at her father. “Mama braided his hair!” she announced proudly.

Eris’s eyebrows lifted, his gaze flicking down to the small, subtle braid nestled at the nape of Azer’s neck. His lips twitched as he fought a smirk, though the glint of amusement in his eyes betrayed him.

Azer groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is not a big deal.”

Eris hummed in mock consideration, tilting his head. “No, I suppose it’s not. But it is rather… unexpected.”

You sat back on your heels, wiping your hands on your skirts. “You say that like I haven’t done this to you before.”

Eris gave you a knowing look, one that sent warmth curling low in your stomach. “Yes, but I married you. Azer here still has his pride to think about.”

Azer scowled. “Are we done? Or are we going to analyse my hair?”

Eris chuckled, finally taking a step forward. “I came to check if everyone was packed, but clearly you’re all too busy playing dress-up.”

“I am packed,” Azer shot back.

Avey, of course, had no such claims. She gasped dramatically, grabbing your arm. “I forgot my stuffed fox!”

Eris sighed, shaking his head. “I should’ve known.” Then, looking back at you, he arched a brow. “And you, my love? Or were you too occupied tormenting our son?”

You smirked. “I’m ready. Just waiting on these two.”

Eris exhaled through his nose, clearly holding back a laugh as he ruffled Azer’s hair—a deliberate move to mess with the carefully woven braid. Azer swatted his hand away with a glare, and Avey giggled.

Eris grinned. “Hurry up, little foxes. We leave soon.”

Azer groaned as Eris left the room, muttering something under his breath about insufferable parents while Avey scrambled to her feet, suddenly remembering all the things she needed to bring.

You stood, brushing off your skirts, watching as your daughter darted around the room in a flurry of energy, grabbing her stuffed fox, a book far too heavy for her to actually read, and a small bundle of miscellaneous trinkets she had deemed essential for the trip.

Azer, still seated on the floor, rubbed a hand over his face before looking up at you. “Do we really have to go?”

You sighed, walking over to him and nudging his shoulder with your foot. “Yes, you really have to go.”

He groaned louder this time, tilting his head back against the edge of the bed. “Nyx and Annavella are so annoying.”

“You say that like you’re not just as bad.”

He scowled at you. “They’re worse.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for his wrist and tugging him up to his feet. “Come on, stop sulking. It won’t be that bad.”

He gave you a flat look. “You do remember that Noelani will be there, right?”

Avey gasped dramatically from the other side of the room. “She likes you!”

Azer looked horrified. “She does not!”

Avey smirked, hugging her stuffed fox. “She does.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing as Azer threw his hands up in exasperation. “This is actual torture.”

You patted his cheek fondly. “Oh, you’ll survive.”

He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like I’d rather not, but he didn’t argue further, which was a miracle in itself.

Eris’s voice echoed down the hall. “Are you three coming or am I leaving you behind?”

Avey gasped again, clutching your arm. “No! Don’t leave me!”

You laughed, hoisting her up onto your hip. “Let’s go before your father actually considers it.”

Azer trudged after you both, muttering complaints all the way down the hall.

-----

The carriage rocked gently as it moved through the Night Court’s mountainous terrain, the familiar scent of crisp night air seeping through the cracks. You could already see the glow of the palace ahead, the elegant structure nestled into the cliffs of Velaris, its towers piercing the dark sky.

Inside the carriage, Avey sat beside you, kicking her feet restlessly against the seat, while Azer slouched on the other side, arms crossed, staring moodily out the window. Eris sat beside him, watching his daughter’s movements with an arched brow.

“Avey,” Eris finally said, his voice calm but firm.

She froze mid-kick, blinking up at him innocently. “Yes, Daddy?”

Eris gave her a pointed look. “What are the rules?”

Avey huffed, tilting her head back dramatically against your shoulder. “Be polite, don’t interrupt, don’t challenge people to fights—”

“Especially not Cassian,” Eris added, rubbing his temple as if already anticipating disaster.

Avey grinned. “But he always accepts!”

Eris sighed. “That is not the point, little fox.”

Avey giggled but quickly straightened her posture when Eris narrowed his eyes at her. “Fine, fine. Be polite, don’t interrupt, no fights, and no climbing on anything.”

“Or anyone,” you added, thinking of the last time you were here when Avey had quite literally scaled Azriel’s leg like a tree.

Avey pouted. “He didn’t mind.”

Eris pinched the bridge of his nose. “Regardless, I minded.”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll try to be good.”

Azer snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Avey turned and stuck her tongue out at him.

Eris exhaled sharply. “And you,” he said, looking at Azer now. “I don’t want to hear any complaints about Nyx, Annavella, or Noelani tonight. Understood?”

Azer scowled but grumbled, “Understood.”

You reached over, patting his knee. “Thank you for at least pretending to behave.”

Azer muttered something under his breath, but you chose to ignore it as the carriage slowed, signalling your arrival.

Eris straightened his jacket, casting one last glance at his children. “Be on your best behavior.”

Avey beamed. Azer rolled his eyes. And you—well, you just knew this night was going to be interesting.

The carriage door swung open, revealing a familiar stone courtyard bathed in the soft glow of faelights. The crisp night air rushed in, carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth and blooming jasmine.

Avey was the first to scramble forward, but Eris caught her before she could leap out. He shot her a warning look, and she huffed but obediently let him lift her down with practiced ease. Azer stepped out next, landing with a heavy thud, shoving his hands into his pockets. You followed last, smoothing out your attire before taking Eris’s offered hand as he helped you down.

Velaris’s grand palace loomed before you, dark and elegant, the open doors revealing the warm glow of candlelight inside. At the top of the steps, Rhysand and Feyre stood waiting, both dressed in their court’s signature shades of deep midnight and starlight silver.

Feyre’s lips twitched as she looked between your children. “They’ve grown.”

Rhysand smirked slightly, eyeing Azer’s unamused expression. “Some more than others.”

Azer gritted his teeth, clearly already preparing himself for a long night. You nudged his side in warning.

Eris stepped forward, inclining his head slightly in greeting. “Rhysand. Feyre.”

Rhys nodded back, his expression unreadable. “Eris.”

It was a tentative truce between them, one that had taken years to forge. But despite their alliance, an air of tension always remained—a deep-rooted wariness that neither High Lord would ever fully let go of.

Feyre, ever the diplomat, smiled at you warmly. “It’s good to finally host you properly.”

You returned her smile. “Likewise.”

Before anything else could be said, a flurry of movement caught everyone’s attention as Nyx and Annavella appeared, walking down the steps toward you.

Nyx, now twenty-one, moved with an easy confidence that he’d inherited from his father, his cobalt siphons gleaming against his black leathers. Beside him, Annavella, the same age as Azer, was dressed in a flowing gown of deep violet, her golden-brown curls cascading down her back.

Nyx’s lips curled into a smirk as he clapped Azer on the shoulder. “Miss me?”

Azer gave him a deadpan look. “Like a hole in the head.”

Annavella rolled her eyes. “And yet you never change.”

Before Azer could retort, another voice cut in.

“You made it.”

Cassian’s deep, amused voice carried across the courtyard as he and Nesta descended the steps. Azriel followed a few paces behind them, his shadows curling slightly in the cool air.

Avey’s face lit up, and before Eris could stop her, she bolted straight for Cassian.

“Cassian!”

Cassian barely had time to brace himself before Avey launched into his arms. He caught her effortlessly, laughing. “There’s my favorite little Vanserra.”

Eris sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

Cassian grinned unapologetically, ruffling Avey’s hair. “Come on, Eris, don’t act like she doesn’t get it from you.”

Eris muttered something under his breath, but Avey just giggled, clinging to Cassian like a koala.

Nesta crossed her arms, eyeing her mate. “Put her down before she starts thinking she can get away with anything.”

Cassian smirked. “Oh, but she can.”

Eris looked like he was deeply regretting every life choice that had led him here.

Meanwhile, Azriel’s shadows curled toward Avey, brushing against her arms. She gasped, twisting to look at them. “Hello again!”

Azriel’s lips twitched slightly. “You remember them?”

Avey nodded eagerly. “They’re my friends.”

Azer groaned, rubbing his temples. “Mother above, this is going to be exhausting.”

You just smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “Welcome to diplomacy, my dear.”

A rush of footsteps echoed through the courtyard as two more figures appeared at the top of the stairs—Andros and Evander, Cassian and Nesta’s sons.

Andros, the older of the two at nineteen, had the same broad build as his father, his wings tucked neatly behind him. His dark hair was tousled, as if he had just flown in from training, and his golden-brown eyes gleamed with mischief. He had inherited Nesta’s sharp features but wore Cassian’s signature cocky grin.

Evander, only a year younger, had a slightly leaner build but carried himself with the same easy confidence. His hazel eyes flicked over the gathered group, his mouth twitching as he took in Azer’s unamused expression.

“Well, well,” Andros drawled as he descended the steps, wings flaring slightly. “Look what the wind dragged in.”

Azer groaned, already regretting everything about this visit. “Is it too late to turn around and leave?”

Evander smirked, clapping a hand on Azer’s shoulder. “Afraid so. You’re stuck with us now.”

Avey, still in Cassian’s arms, wriggled excitedly. “Andros! Evander!”

Cassian huffed as she all but launched herself at Andros. He caught her easily, spinning her around before setting her down with a dramatic bow. “Princess Avey, looking as ferocious as ever.”

Avey puffed up proudly. “I am ferocious.”

Evander ruffled her hair. “You’re definitely something.”

Eris sighed, crossing his arms. “This is exactly why I warned her about manners.”

Andros grinned. “She has excellent manners. Just… selective use of them.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “That’s the problem.”

Azer, meanwhile, had taken a half-step away, clearly prepared to avoid whatever chaos his sister and the two Illyrian males were about to cause. But Andros, never one to let an opportunity pass, draped an arm around Azer’s shoulders.

“You know, I think I missed you, Vanserra.”

Azer shot him a deadpan look. “That’s unfortunate for you.”

Evander laughed. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Azriel, who had been silently observing, finally spoke, his shadows curling lazily around him. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that by the end of the night.”

Azer muttered under his breath, “Cauldron, save me.”

The group made their way through the grand halls of the Night Court’s palace, footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. The towering ceilings, carved with intricate constellations, seemed to glow under the soft faelights lining the walls. Despite Azer’s reluctance about this visit, even he had to admit—the place had style.

Rhysand led the way, walking with that effortless grace that spoke of his power. “Your rooms have been prepared in the guest wing,” he said smoothly, glancing over his shoulder at them. “I assume you’ll find them comfortable.”

Eris, walking beside you with Avey’s small hand in his, gave a slow nod. “We’ll see.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it held that natural edge, that careful reservation he always carried outside of Autumn.

Avey, meanwhile, looked like she wanted to touch everything. She twisted in Eris’s grip, her wide amber eyes darting to the draped tapestries, the sparkling chandeliers, the darkened garden views beyond the windows. Azer nudged her as they walked, whispering, “If you break something, I’m not covering for you.”

Avey just grinned, whispering back, “You always cover for me.”

Rhysand led them up a spiraling staircase, gesturing down a long hallway. “Azer, your room is here,” he said, opening a door to a spacious chamber with deep sapphire accents and a view of the mountains. A large bed sat in the centre, draped in plush, midnight-blue blankets, and a small seating area was arranged near a balcony.

Azer glanced around, nodding slightly. Not bad.

Before he could step inside, Avey tugged on his sleeve. “Where’s mine?”

Rhys smirked, leading them a few doors down to another room. This one was lighter—rich purples and silvers, a few plush pillows scattered on the bed. Avey gasped and immediately ran inside, flopping onto the bed like she was testing its bounce.

“It’s so soft!” she exclaimed.

Eris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Avey.”

She grinned up at him. “What? You said not to break anything. I’m not breaking anything.”

Rhysand chuckled, turning to you and Eris. “And yours is just ahead.”

He led you both to a grand chamber at the end of the hall. It was elegant but understated, done in deep, romantic hues. A large fireplace flickered in the corner, the carved wood furniture polished to perfection. The balcony doors were slightly ajar, allowing a cool breeze to drift inside.

Rhysand gestured inside with an amused smile. “If anything is not to your liking, feel free to send a complaint directly to my mate. I won’t listen, but Feyre is far more accommodating.”

You rolled your eyes with a soft laugh. “Noted.”

Eris simply exhaled through his nose, stepping inside and surveying the room. “It’ll do.”

Rhysand placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Such high praise, Vanserra.”

Eris didn’t dignify him with a response, instead turning toward you as Avey’s delighted giggles echoed down the hall. “Do you think she’ll last ten minutes before getting into trouble?”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Five.”

Azer, still lingering in the doorway of his room, called, “Two. At best.”

It was less than two minutes before a loud crash echoed down the hallway.

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply before turning toward Eris, who already looked exhausted. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath, while Rhysand just smirked.

“Well,” Azer sighed, leaning casually against his doorway, “that didn’t take long.”

Eris shot him a warning look before pushing past you, striding down the hall toward the sound of what was probably destruction. You followed quickly, heart already sinking as you turned the corner and saw Avey standing in the middle of her room—innocently—while a large, ornate vase lay shattered at her feet.

Avey, to her credit, at least looked a little guilty. “It was an accident,” she said quickly, hands clasped behind her back.

Rhysand, standing beside you, let out a low chuckle. “That,” he murmured, “was an expensive accident.”

Azer sighed dramatically. “Told you.”

Eris’s jaw tightened as he crossed his arms. “Aveline.” His voice was low, measured.

The use of her full name made Avey straighten. “I didn’t mean to!” she protested. “I was just—spinning, and then I tripped, and then the table wobbled, and then boom.” She spread her arms for effect.

Cassian, who had wandered in with Nesta and Azriel behind him, snorted. “Gotta say, that sounds a lot like how Nyx used to be at that age.”

“I never broke anything that expensive,” Nyx muttered from the doorway, arms crossed as he took in the damage.

Nesta let out a long sigh before turning toward you. “Would you like some wine?”

Eris cut in before you could answer. “No. She’d like an explanation from our daughter about why she can’t stand still for one minute without causing a scene.”

Avey, still standing there with wide, innocent eyes, tilted her head. “Because I’m seven?”

Silence.

Azriel made a choked sound that might have been a laugh before turning away, shoulders shaking slightly.

Eris ran a hand down his face. You, on the other hand, took a long breath and crouched down to Avey’s level. “Sweetheart,” you said gently, “this isn’t our home. We have to be respectful of other people’s things, okay?”

Avey shuffled her feet. “I was being respectful. The vase got in my way.”

Nesta exhaled through her nose. “Oh, I like her.”

Rhysand, ever the amused host, simply waved a hand. The shattered pieces of the vase lifted from the ground, reforming smoothly before settling back onto the table, completely whole. He smirked down at Avey. “Try not to destroy my house before dinner, little Vanserra.”

Avey beamed. “No promises.”

Eris let out a slow, measured breath. “We are never visiting again.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples before glancing at Rhysand. “We’ll cover the cost,” you said, exasperated. “And anything else she manages to break before we leave.”

Rhysand chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. “Consider it a gift.”

You arched a brow. “A gift?”

He smirked, tilting his head toward Avey, who was now whispering something to Evander, her wide grin telling you she was already plotting her next grand adventure. “Yes. A gift for the sheer entertainment she’s about to provide.”

Eris let out a long breath beside you. “I don’t find it very entertaining.”

Cassian clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “That’s because you’re the poor bastard raising her.”

Avey perked up at that, turning toward her father. “Poor?” She gasped dramatically. “Are we poor now?”

Azer, from his place against the doorway, howled with laughter. “No, but you might be by the time we leave.”

Eris shot him a sharp look, but before he could speak, Avey was already looking up at you, big-eyed and curious. “Mama, if we’re poor, does that mean I can’t get a pet?”

You groaned. Rhysand laughed. Azriel, standing in the corner, only shook his head.

“I’ll set up a damages account,” you muttered, half to yourself.

Eris pinched the bridge of his nose. “Make it a large one.”

Rhysand, still grinning, waved a lazy hand. “Oh, don’t bother. I’ll just send you the bill when you leave.”

Eris shot him a deadpan look. “How generous.”

Rhys chuckled, but before he could retort, Avey tugged at your sleeve. “Mama,” she whispered conspiratorially, “if we are poor, maybe Uncle Lucien will buy me a pet instead.”

Azer, barely holding in his laughter, leaned down. “Go ask him. See what he says.”

Eris pointed a warning finger at him. “You encourage her one more time, and I’ll—”

“What?” Azer challenged, smirking. “Throw me in the lake? Again?”

Avey gasped. “You threw him in the lake?”

Eris exhaled, long and slow. “I’m going to throw myself in the lake.”

Cassian, grinning, slung an arm over Eris’s shoulder. “If you do, at least make it entertaining for us.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Alright, enough.” She glanced down at Avey, then at you. “Dinner’s in an hour. Maybe keep this one occupied until then.”

You glanced at Avey, who beamed innocently up at you, hands clasped behind her back.

Occupied. Right.

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Come on, troublemaker.” You took her hand, guiding her down the hall toward your rooms.

As you walked away, Azer called after you, voice full of laughter. “Don’t forget to set aside extra for the damages bill!”

You didn’t look back, but you did send a sharp glare over your shoulder. He only grinned.

You led Avey through the dimly lit hallways of the Night Court’s palace, your hand wrapped gently around her much smaller one. The echoes of chatter and laughter from the others faded behind you as you walked toward the guest wing.

Avey’s steps were light, nearly bouncing with each one, her seven-year-old energy never seeming to wane. She swung your hand back and forth, humming under her breath, her mind clearly still buzzing with whatever mischief she was planning next.

When you finally reached your room, you pushed open the heavy wooden door and guided her inside. The Night Court’s guest rooms were just as grand as you expected—deep purples and blues woven into the tapestries, the furniture dark and rich with elegant carvings. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering golden light against the walls.

Avey plopped herself onto the edge of the large bed without hesitation, kicking her feet back and forth as she looked around. “It’s pretty,” she admitted, tilting her head. “But our home is better.”

You smiled softly, sitting beside her. “Of course it is. Your father made sure of that.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “I still don’t get why we have to stay here so long.”

You brushed a loose curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “It’s important. These alliances—”

“—are important for the court. I know.” She sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. “But it’s boring.”

You laughed, smoothing a hand over her wild red hair. “You sound just like your brother.”

Avey perked up, her sharp little fox-like grin appearing. “Maybe Azer and I should ditch again.”

You gave her a look. “Absolutely not.”

She giggled, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands. “Fine. What can we do then?”

You tapped a finger against her nose. “Well, for starters, I can fix your hair. It’s a mess.”

She gasped, swatting your hand away with an exaggerated scowl. “It is not!”

You simply arched a brow, reaching over to pluck a leaf from her curls. Her eyes widened slightly before she let out a sheepish giggle.

“Okay, maybe a little.”

You shook your head with a smile and patted your lap. “Come here, little fox.”

With a dramatic sigh, she scrambled up and settled herself in front of you, small and warm against your legs. As you reached for her hair, she leaned her head back to look up at you, grinning.

“Can you make it fancy?”

You smirked, already separating the strands. “Of course.”

You gently combed your fingers through Avey’s wild curls, smoothing them as best you could before you began weaving the strands into a proper braid. The firelight cast a soft glow over the room, warming the deep blues and purples around you.

“Alright,” you murmured, sectioning her hair with practiced ease. “But you have to sit still for this, Avey. No squirming.”

She sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, her little hands settling on her lap. For a few moments, she stayed perfectly still—until, of course, she didn’t.

Her foot started bouncing first, tapping lightly against the floor. Then she wiggled her shoulders, twisting slightly to look up at you. “How long is this going to take?”

You pressed a hand to her shoulder, turning her forward again. “It takes as long as you let me work.”

She groaned, but you felt her settle again, at least for a moment. As you began braiding, she suddenly whispered, “I am being calm.”

You snorted softly, fingers continuing their steady work. “Avey, you have not been calm a day in your life.”

She gasped, twisting again to look at you. “I have too!”

You lifted an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? When?”

She blinked, mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of an answer. “Um—yesterday.”

You tugged lightly at her braid, a teasing correction. “Yesterday, you and Azer stole one of your father’s hounds and tried to race it through the halls.”

Avey giggled, completely unrepentant. “Okay, fine. The day before yesterday.”

“The day before yesterday, you convinced a servant that the kitchens were on fire so you could sneak extra pastries.”

She burst into laughter, tipping forward slightly. “Oh yeah! That was a good one.”

You shook your head, exasperated but smiling. “You see my point?”

She huffed, dramatic as ever. “Fine. Maybe I don’t like sitting still.”

“I noticed,” you teased, giving her braid a final twist. “But you can learn. And tonight, I need you to at least try to be patient.”

Avey groaned, slumping slightly. “I hate patience.”

You chuckled, tying off the braid and running your fingers over the woven strands. “I know, little fox. But I also know you can do it.”

She turned slightly, peering up at you with bright, mischievous eyes. “Maybe if I try really hard…you’ll let me ditch again later?”

You flicked her ear, making her squeak. “Absolutely not.”

You turned Avey gently by the shoulders so she was facing you, her bright, mischievous eyes still sparkling with the remnants of her laughter. But you gave her a look—a serious one—and the smile on her face dimmed just a little.

“Avey,” you started, smoothing your hands over the tops of her braids, “I mean it this time. You really have to behave tonight.”

She groaned dramatically, tilting her head back. “Ugh, why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because we know you,” you said simply, tapping a finger against her nose. “You and Azer are two sides of the same coin, and if I leave you to your own devices, I know you’ll get into trouble.”

Her lips pursed in a pout, arms crossing over her chest. “That’s not true. Azer gets into way more trouble than me.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “You lit your curtains on fire last month because you wanted to ‘see what would happen.’”

She flinched, eyes darting away. “That…that was an experiment.”

“Avey,” you said, voice patient but firm. “This isn’t just any visit. This is an important meeting between courts, and I need you to try to be calm and well-mannered. I know it’s hard for you to sit still, but you have to be polite.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, flopping back slightly. “But it’s so boring.”

You held back a smile, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “It doesn’t have to be. You’ll have Nyx and Annavella to keep you company. Even Andros and Evander will be there.”

Her face scrunched up. “Evander is mean.”

“He is not mean, he just likes teasing you because you react.”

She huffed, looking away. “Maybe.”

You tilted her chin back toward you, waiting until she met your gaze again. “Avey. I need your word. No tricks, no sneaking off, no setting things on fire.”

She blinked at you, silent for a long moment, before muttering under her breath, “That last one is very specific.”

“Because I know you,” you repeated, trying not to laugh.

She sighed again, but after a moment, she straightened her spine and looked you in the eye. “Fine. I promise.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because if you break that promise, your father will be the one dealing with you.”

Avey froze, eyes going slightly wide. “... You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

She swallowed, then nodded vigorously. “Okay. No sneaking. No tricks. No fire.”

“Good girl,” you murmured, smoothing down her dress one last time.

-----

Rhysand’s office was dimly lit, the warm glow from the lanterns casting flickering shadows across the mahogany desk and the deep violet curtains that framed the massive windows. Outside, the Night Court’s sky was inky black, stars glimmering like shattered diamonds, but inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and crackling firewood.

Cassian leaned back in one of the plush armchairs, his boot propped up on the low table between them, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “So,” he drawled, eyes flicking toward Eris with a smirk, “how long until one of our kids tries to kill each other?”

Azriel, standing near the window, gave a soft huff of amusement but said nothing, simply taking a slow sip of his drink. His shadows curled lazily around his shoulders, as if even they were relaxed in the presence of old friends.

Rhysand, perched behind his desk, arched a brow at Eris, who was sitting opposite Cassian, fingers tapping against his glass in thought. “Azer and Annavella in the same house?” Rhys mused, his violet eyes gleaming. “I give it two days before something catches fire.”

Eris scoffed, lifting his drink to his lips. “If we’re being honest, I’m more worried about Avey.” He took a long sip before lowering the glass. “She’s seven, but she’s clever—and she’s the one Azer indulges the most.”

Cassian snorted. “Sounds familiar.” He shot a glance at Azriel, whose shadows rustled in what could only be amusement.

Azriel finally spoke, voice quiet but edged with dry humor. “Sounds like she gets it from you.”

Eris smirked, swirling his whiskey. “That girl was born scheming. I blame her mother.”

Rhysand chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned forward to pour himself another drink. “Speaking of, how is your mate handling all this? I imagine she’s already trying to keep Azer from fighting anyone before the night is over.”

Eris exhaled sharply through his nose. “She’s trying, but Azer…” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He has my temper. And your son has yours.”

Rhys’s smirk didn’t falter, but there was a knowing glint in his gaze. “He does. Which means we’re in for quite the next few days.”

Cassian clinked his glass against Azriel’s, grinning. “We should place bets.”

Azriel shot him a look, but there was amusement there, lurking beneath the usual shadows.

Eris simply groaned, tilting his head back against the chair. “If my son sets something on fire, I am not taking responsibility.”

Rhysand only laughed, lifting his drink. “We’ll see about that.”

BUT i think i might make this a series of the events of their kids growing up to be leaders....