Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!
When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.
As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.
Chapter 1: New Beginnings
Chapter 2: The Decision
Chapter 3: First Day
Chapter 4: Finding Your Place
Chapter 5: Unspoken Connections
Chapter 6: Unexpected Reactions
Chapter 7: Ripple Effect
Chapter 8: Rising Heat
Chapter 9: Breaking Point
Chapter 10: Unveiled
Chapter 11: Walls Fall Down
Chapter 12: Awakening
Chapter 13: Omega Eyes
Chapter 14: Recognition
Chapter 15: Overwhelming Need
Chapter 16: Instinct
Chapter 17: Breaking Point
Bonus: Alpha’s Downfall
Chapter 18: The Wooyoung Effect
Chapter 19: New Boundaries
Chapter 20: Hidden Pages
Chapter 21: Pack Cardio
Chapter 22: Forever
Chapter 23: Taking Control
Chapter 24: Nurturing Fire
Comment on this post to be added to the taglist!
Taglist is closed again 😞
💜 Thank you all for the love on this! Please reblog and recommend this fic if you love it! I update every day or every other day!💜
Description: Eywa sends dreams of the one your soul is bound to. You had hopes of recieving your dream since you were a little girl, but a dream walker was the last person you expected.
Content Warnings: Reader is very apprehensive of Jake, Movie 1 Jake is an idiot and I love him, pretty fluffy
Author's note: I had to split this into 2 parts because it was getting so long. Part 2 is halfway written so it should be out shortly, it has all the lovey dovey parts!
Based on this request by @vaao2445.
THANK YOU to @lejardinfleur for beta reading my 7k word monstrosity and offering feedback!!! You're the best twin/bestie/cousin EVER!
Na’vi words used:
Pa’li - direhorse
vitra muntxa - Soul mated
Yawnetu - beloved, loved one
Kelku - home
‘Angtsìk - Hammerhead titanothere
Tawtute - human
Skxawng - idiot
Junebug's Jake Sully Writing Event Prompt(s): 3. “I saw you in a dream once” and 6. Soulmates/Fated mates, and 13. "yes ma'am.
“Hey! Do I know you? You look familiar.” A strangely accented voice came from your right and you flinched at the sound, stopping your walk and the Pa’li beside you. You glanced over to the stream and spotted a man standing knee deep in the water looking at you.
You were shocked to see it was a dreamwalker. He must have been the one the people had been speaking about in hushed whispers. The nearly Na’vi looking man was dripping with clear water as if he had been swimming and his hair clung to his forehead in clumps.
You had been sick and weak for days, making it so that the Tsahìk had to be called and your mother did not let you leave your parents kelku, not that you could. You had missed the dreamwalker’s arrival two days before, but your friend Neytiri had come by to catch you up to speed and complain about her new pupil.
Because you had never met him before, his appearance shocked you deeply. You fully faced him with paused breath and wide eyed horror as you realized you actually did recognize him.
The Na’vi people had a gift that the humans did not possess. Eywa gave the people of Pandora vivid dreams of their vitra muntxa throughout their life. It could be only once or it could happen often, no two people had the same experience.
Not every Na’vi that would have a mate, had a dream of them first, but many did. For couples whose pairing would be truly soul entwined, their freckles matched up perfectly, a sure indicator of a strong bond.
Dreams of your soulmate had plagued you nearly every night for years. Bright bursts of a strange looking man with five fingers and hair covered brows. You had pushed away the thought of your dreams ever becoming true, vowing to never allow yourself to mate with one of them, a demon.
You had grown up attending Dr. Augustine’s school, you were familiar with dreamwalkers, but after the shooting that killed your classmates, including Neytiri’s sister, you had formed a hatred for them that burned down throughout your body. You wore it internally like white mourning paint.
“Actually, this is gonna sound crazy, but I think I saw you in a dream once,” he laughed bashfully and the sound tugged oddly at your ears. You had heard the sound before when you had been forced to endure visions of his humor. The sound in reality made a lightness in your chest, but you quickly tamped it down. Instead, you pursed your lips and glared harder at the man.
“Do not laugh at that, it is not to be mocked,” you ground out and his smile dried up.
“Right. Uh, well, my name is Jake,” he continued and you sighed, already exhausted that he would not take your hints, as obvious as they were.
“You do not know me,” you spat, making tsaheylu again with the Pa’li and remounting. His face fell as the direhorse burst into movement and you rode away from him.
-
Jake ran a finger down your nose, stirring you from sleep. You blinked awake, opening your eyes to see your mate smiling fondly at you where he laid on his side in your shared hammock.
“Good morning, baby,” he said sweetly in nearly perfect Na’vi.
You smiled, closing your eyes again and burrowing deeper into his hold. “Good morning, Yawnetu,” you murmured into his chest. His hand smoothed over your hair, brushing the strays back into place and away from your eyes.
Little feet pattered across the kelku and giggles accompanied them. Your eyes opened again to laugh, “We can hear you, come out my little ‘angtsìk,” you called.
“Here she comes!” Jake called as a little voice squealed in delight from behind you where you laid on your side. You felt a tiny body using your shoulder and hip to climb onto the hammock and Jake reached over you to help her.
Jake said, “Hey, don't hurt mama,” but it was in vain as a sharp elbow dug into your side. The pain made you suck in a breath and you jerked awake.
You gasped and sat up, immediately cradling your head as you processed the dream.
This one had been so vivid, as if you were really there with him. His heat still lingered on your skin and the child’s laugh still rang in your ears. Now that he had been in front of you in the flesh, Eywa’s call was harder to ignore. This was torture, you decided.
Tears leaked down your face, in spite of your better judgement. You wanted that life so bad, to have a family and a soul bond with someone. But to embrace it with him would be to turn away from your people, your very way of life.
A man was not worth that, no matter how charming his smile or how handsome his face. No matter how bright your future was with him.
-
That night, you sat at dinner by yourself, not able to sit next to Neytiri and that demon after your dream. She sent you wary glances from across the fire, but you never returned them, too focused on eating your teylu and keeping your eyes away from the tawtute.
“Hey, Neytiri. Who is that?” Jake asked his teacher, nodding to the lonely woman across the fire.
Neytiri followed his gaze and was surprised to see you. “That is Y/n, an accomplished hunter,” she explained.
“Huh, y/n…” he tested the name in his mouth and it sounded right. His eyes stayed glued on you as Neytiri asked more questions.
“Why do you ask? Did you meet her today?” she asked.
“Yesterday, out by the river. But I think I’ve been dreaming about her too. That sounds creepy-”
Neytiri stilled, “No, it is a sign from Eywa,” she gasped, leaning in towards him.
“A sign?” he restated, gesturing for her to explain.
She rolled her eyes at his cluelessness. “Eywa sends us dreams about our vitra muntxa, our soul mates. If you are dreaming about her, then it is likely she dreams about you as well,” Neytiri explained, toying with the leaf in her hand.
“Really?” he asked in shock, finally tearing his gaze from you to look at her. “She acted like she hated the sight of me.”
“That does not mean she does not dream of you, Jake,” Neytiri chuckled.
“Wait- Soul mates?” he repeated, the words finally clicking, looking at her intently.
She nodded, “Yes, it is rare to dream about your soulmate more than once. The bond must be strong,” she noted and Jake’s eyes widened.
“As soon as I arrived here, I‘ve had dreams about that woman nearly every night. Usually nothing serious, just joking around, flying together. But, sometimes I see kids, or see her when she’s old.” He shook his head and Neytiri smiled for your future of happiness.
“Eywa must have sensed your path here. You must certainly go talk to her, it is the great mother’s will,” Neytiri insisted.
“Now?” Jake asked, looking to Neytiri, surprised. In the little time he had known her, the chief’s daughter was hardly ever kind to him, she did not mince words or flatter anyone. If she was saying this to him, it must be something important.
“Yes! Go!” she urged, flipping her hand in your direction and Jake scurried up to his feet.
“Geez, I’m goin’” he grumbled, turning to find you again and awkwardly walking over.
“Hey,” he greeted you and you rolled your eyes at his interruption. “Can I sit here?” he asked, gesturing down to the empty space next to you.
“If you have to,” you grumbled.
“Okay,” Jake sank down into a crouch and eyed the room from your vantage point. You could watch every single other person in the room from this spot.
“So… I heard we might be soulmates,” he started and the casual tone made you nearly choke on your food.
He raised his eyebrows as you cleared your throat. Eventually you got out, “Who told you that?” you muttered.
“Neytiri. I told her about these dreams I've been having, she thinks you might be having the same ones,” he admitted and you sighed, of course.
“I have…” you admit and his lips curved up into a smile. You quickly smash his hopes back down by saying, “but it can not be. Not while the humans kill and destroy my people,” you insisted, ripping a teylu in half as you crunched down on it.
Jake blinked, “But, I’m not like them,” he promised and you scoffed.
“You are exactly like them,” you established, staring into the fire.
He shook his head, a cocky smile lit his face. “ You don't even know me. Give me a chance.”
“That is not wise,” you replied, but his resolve only hardened.
“It is the will of Eywa according to Neytiri. You don’t listen to the great mother?” he challenged and your nostril’s flared.
“Of course I do, skxawng,” you gritted out, offended he would question your loyalty.
“Then prove it. Let me win you over,” he requested and you balked.
You did not reply, not sure what to say to that, and silence fell over the two of you. You stared forward and Jake stared at you, as your minds both ran laps around the other.
Jake finally faced away from you and you felt like you could breathe just a little easier. At least, until he finally broke the silence. “I think our daughter's name is Ta’ni,” he said quietly and you sucked in a breath. “But the boy, I’m not sure about, I always call him Ace in my dreams,” he muttered with a faraway smile.
Your eyes slowly traveled to meet his. You opened to him slowly, the topic of your future children softening your heart into sap. “I have not seen the boy yet, and not the daughter's face, just heard her laugh… and felt her elbow,” you grumbled and Jake’s eyebrows furrowed.
“I think I have seen just about everything,” he breathed out and your eyes turned glassy at the thought of there being more. Maybe you had only scratched the surface of your life with him, and that would be for the best. The more you knew, the more you softened to him.
“That is a curse more than a blessing, you will never get to experience it,” you said both as a reminder to him and to yourself.
“I think we will. Let me prove it to you. I’m gonna win you over eventually, just give me a chance,” he requested one more time.
You sighed, finding only hope on his face. “Fine, you may try, but you will not succeed,” you warned.
His smile cracked wide, “You won't regret it,” he promised.
“I already do.”
-
He was true to his word. Over the next month it started slowly. At first it was making a point to say hi and ask you how you were when he passed you on the spiral, or even going so far as to give you updates about his training.
“I shot an arrow today, it was pretty cool,” he noted out of the blue when you passed him under the arches of Hometree’s first floor.
You stilled your walk and looked back at him. “You shot your target?” you asked in clarification.
“Uh, no. I didn't say that. I mean, I did shoot a tree… just not the one I was aiming for,” he admitted.
The bashful look in his eye paired with the way his ears flattened to his head made your lips curve up for a second at him. He was an utter skxawng and you both knew it.
His tail twitched behind him and his expression changed to one of smug victory before you realized you were involuntarily smiling at him and straightened your lips back into a grimace.
“You will have to do better than that if you wish to win me over,” you gritted out and turned away.
“I plan to!” he yelled after you and you just rolled your eyes at his loudness.
Tsu’tey was walking by and stopped at the noise. “What is he screeching about?” he asked you with a scoff.
You stopped again and shrugged. “Not a clue,” you answered.
“He will die quickly,” Tsu’tey guessed and the thought made your stomach churn.
Realistically, that option would be the best case scenario for you. He would be out of the picture and you would no longer be tempted to let him occupy any more of your mind. But the thought of him being gone... that scared you. You couldn't imagine why.
“Perhaps he will give up soon and go back to his own kind. Let us pray it is in Eywa’s will,” you agreed.
-
Neytiri was the only one who knew about you two being connected via soul. When your friend, Ayana, arrived home from a hunt, she had guessed that something was up with you, but she thought it was to do solely with your hatred of the dream walker.
“He looks funny, like he is in a costume,” she laughed, watching the man step on someone’s foot during training as you both observed the training grounds from a nearby tree.
You analyzed his looks closely, “He does not look so different than us. He might be considered handsome,” you said, trying not to sound defensive. You were stuck with him in some sort of way after all.
Ayana looked at you in shock. “Surely you are messing with me,” she scoffed and you momentarily panicked.
“No, I cannot have my own opinion about him?” you asked.
“Of course you can, as long as it is not in favor of him,” she grinned, turning back to watch as Neytiri barked orders to him and he hurried to do as she asked.
“I passed by him last night and got a closer look, have you noticed he has nearly the same freckle pattern under his eye as you do?” she asked and you stilled.
“No,” you answered truthfully and your mind reeled at the meaning.
“Maybe he is your soulmate,” she teased and you froze at her joke. “Have you had any interesting dreams lately?”
You forced out a chuckle, “Every night,” you said.
“Pfft,” she scoffed and took your words as a joke like you hoped. “I would not envy you, if that were truly the case,” she laughed.
-
Eventually, Jake's advances increased to sitting beside you at meals, not saying much of anything at first. He would crouch beside you, crunching on teylu or fruit as you warily kept your mouth shut. But by the second week of silence, you gave in.
“What did Neytiri teach you today?” you asked, sounding annoyed but feeling slightly curious in truth.
His head shot in your direction and he swallowed what he had in his mouth. “Uh, we went hunting again. Didn’t let me shoot anything, but she did force me to jump off of a tree,” he explained.
“I see you made it to the bottom,” you fought a grin at the grimace he had on his face and he scoffed.
“One way or another,” he cocked his head.
“That explains the new hair accessories,” you said, gesturing to where two leaves and even a small twig were nestled in the hair that had fallen out of his braid.
He reached up and patted his head, pulling out most of the debris and sighing. “I’m not really sure what to do with all of this hair. Back on earth I would shave it when I got annoyed with it.”
“You need braids,” you noted, eating another teylu.
“Yeah, hey, Neytiri said you’re a good braider. What do you say?” he asked and you shot him incredulous eyes.
“I do not think that is a good idea,” you replied.
His eyebrows furrowed together in an expression that was very human. “You say that a lot,” he said.
“Because you do not have many good ideas,” you ground out before pursing your lips.
“You said you would give me a chance, and I know that Na’vi don’t say things they don’t mean,” he pointed out and you narrowed your eyes at your previous words getting thrown back in your face. “Wouldn’t it be in Eywa’s will?” he asked coyly.
You narrowed your eyes at his obvious manipulation. “I see what you are doing, but fine, if only to shut you up,” you begrudgingly agreed.
Instead of making a big spectacle, or wanting to schedule another time so you could braid his hair properly, you finished your teylu and got up, expecting him to follow you without telling him. Maybe you would get lucky and he would cluelessly stay behind.
You had no such luck as he shot up to his feet and stumbled after you, nearly jogging to keep up with your quick steps. You passed Neytiri and she gave you a knowing, satisfied look at having passed off her student for at least part of her day. You shot her a playful glare back to show you were displeased and she laughed.
You led him to your parents' kelku, telling him to wait outside as you ducked inside to grab beads and small leather strips to tie off the braids. You still kept a good bit of your stuff here since your hammock could not store things.
You headed back outside and ordered him to sit down on the thick branch below him. Your parents would not be back for an hour or two. You had time to do the lackluster braid you planned.
You crouched beside him, ignoring the way your leg brushed the warm skin of his back or the way his breath hitched for a second. You grabbed the thick lock of fallen hair and combed through it with your fingers, starting the braid loose so it would not hurt his scalp.
“I had another dream last night.” he said after a moment and your hands stilled before resuming motion.
“Me too,” you admitted reluctantly.
“Tell me yours first, maybe they’re the same,” he requested.
You sighed, “Okay, you were arriving back from a hunt, you looked to be a few years older than you are now. I was with child,” you said and his head shifted at the words.
“You had a scrape, a sturmbeast got too close and I cleaned it for you. You touched my stomach, said that our child would be a strong hunter, like its mom. Then I woke up.” You left out most of the details, like how he had kissed you when he arrived back home or how your back hurt from the weight of the baby, or even how a nearly finished bassinet sat in the corner of the kelku and you knew on instinct that he had built it by hand.
“That…” his voice choked and your heart stuttered at his tenderness. Even though you could not see his face, you could feel the emotion radiating off of him. “That is a good one,” he nodded and you finished the braid, moving to the other side to start another one. You originally thought to just do the largest section of free flowing hair, but you selfishly wanted to know about his dream.
“Mine was different, but you were still pregnant, I think probably with the same baby.” He shrugged but continued, “your back was hurting, so Tsu’tey told me about this thing that helped with Neytiri’s pain. We eventually become friends I guess. Anyway, I got behind you and lifted your stomach and it made the pain go away. You were so excited about it that you made me kabobs and picked all this fruit for me the next day, trying to entice me to do it again, as if I wouldn't have done it for hours, all you had to do was ask,” he spoke softly.
“Neytiri and Tsu’tey had a baby?” you asked excitedly, knowing your friend would be overjoyed at the prospect of children.
He nodded, making your hands have to freeze so you didnt lose hair. “They had two by the time we had our first,” he said and you shook your head.
“Eywa blessed them greatly,” you smiled.
“Seems like Eywa blessed us too,” he corrected and you felt that was about all the emotions you could handle for the night without tipping over into the territory of starting to like him. You tied off his braid and stood.
He turned to look at you. “I have to… attend to Na’tu,” you quickly came up with an excuse. Using your ikran seemed flimsy, but you needed to get out of there.
“Right,” Jake nodded, “Hey, thanks for the braids,” he said as you started backing away.
“You are welcome, dream walker,” you said, turning to walk away. “Do not mess them up, I will not do them for you again,” you called over your shoulder.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied as you fled and ascended up to the top of hometree.
content warning: fated mates; ABO; knotting; sex; eating out
Masterlist
Minors DNI 🔞
word count: 5630
Your family vacation had started normal enough. Your dad had spent the day complaining about how hot it was, and your mom had gotten you ice cream to cool off. The chocolate was dripping down your hands, making them all sticky, but you didn't mind. It tasted better than any ice cream you'd ever had, and you thanked her for the treat as she snapped a photo of you with your face covered in your mess.
She laughed and told you about her plans to take you to the beach later, and you nodded along eagerly until the last bite of the cone was gone. "Why don't you go wash up before we leave?" she suggested.
You agreed and hopped out of your chair to run off to the bathroom. You'd just gotten tall enough to reach the faucet yourself, so you ran back and forth between the paper towel dispenser and the sink until no more ice cream was left.
"All clean!" you called as you pushed open the door, only to find a little boy standing outside waiting patiently for his turn. You stopped when you saw him staring, transfixed by his wide golden eyes that glowed like diamonds. He reached for your hand before you could even say hello, and you giggled happily at him because it tickled where he touched.
"Mate," he announced to anyone who could hear, smiling a dimpled smile at the sound of your laugh.
"I don't think I know that word," you confessed, eyeing him curiously. "I'm (Y/N)," you told him. "What's your name?"
"Chan," he answered. "I'm your mate."
"Like a pirate?" you asked, drawing the conclusion from the only place it made sense.
"No. Umm...my momma can explain it better than me. Come here," he urged as he pulled you towards her.
His mom was a kind-looking woman with soft features and a bright smile. She was wearing a pink shirt, and since pink was your favorite color, you liked her right away. When you approached, she crouched down to talk to Chan at his level. "Who do you have with you, honey?"
"My mate," he informed her just as he'd told you. "But umm...she doesn't know what that means."
She looked between the two of you in awe. "Chan, are you sure she's not just a friend?"
"Yes momma," he replied in certainty. "She's my mate."
"How do you know, honey?" she asked.
"Tickles when we touch," he answered as if it were the greatest thing he'd ever noticed.
"It tickles?" she repeated.
You nodded in agreement, not wanting her to think he was lying. "His hand makes my hand feel fuzzy," you explained as Chan nodded along.
"But momma, I don't know how to tell her what a mate is. Can you please help me?" he asked politely.
You both waited for her definition of the word, but your parents came over before she could tell you.
"Sweetheart, we've been looking everywhere for you!" your mom fretted as she pulled you into her arms and away from Chan.
He growled and yanked you back like some weird game of tug-of-war. Your mom looked afraid, but you didn't want your friend to scare her. "Say you're sorry to my mommy," you ordered him with a pout.
Chan took a deep breath and mumbled, "Sorry," with his head hung low.
You were pleased by that and turned back to his mom. "What's a mate?"
Your mom nearly choked at your question, and she tried to grab you away again. Chan nearly bit her, so you calmed him down by squeezing his hand tight. "It's okay. She's my mommy. She's nice," you assured him.
"I think we should have a talk," his mom suggested to yours. The grownups moved just far enough away that you couldn't hear them while Chan got you another ice cream using his allowance. He didn't get one for himself so you offered to share. He seemed happy with that and you took turns giving each other bites.
Every now and then your mom would look over with watery eyes while Chan's mother gently nodded. She held her hand, and you wondered if they were becoming friends too.
"Do you like to play?" Chan asked.
You turned to him with an excited smile, ready to share all of your favorite things. "Yes! I play swings at the park, and my mommy and I draw hopscotch outside."
"There's a park by my house with a tire swing! I can show you if you want," he offered.
"I can't," you told him. "My mommy is taking me to the beach later and then we have to go home tomorrow."
Chan wasn't happy with that answer. He was pouting with puppy dog eyes when he asked, "Where do you live?"
"I don't know," you answered honestly. "It's cold though, and we got here in a plane!"
Chan was even less pleased to know that you lived far away.
"Hi sweetie," your mom said as she approached the table. She knelt down just like Chan's mom did. "Do you like your new friend?" she asked while fighting back tears.
You nodded eagerly, happy that everyone was getting along now. Even Chan seemed okay with sharing your attention as long as he could hold your hand. "Chan is my best friend now! He got me ice cream!"
She sucked back another cry and went to talk to your father. Whatever she said didn't go over well, and he shouted about "interspecies relations" before storming in, and taking you away from Chan. He fought for you, but your dad ignored his claws on his calves and carried you outside.
"Let me go!" you begged, trying to squirm free. He ignored your pleas and buckled you into your seat before slamming the car door shut to take you away. Despite your mom begging him to listen, he roared the truck to life and took off.
You cried for Chan and turned to watch him disappear down the street as your father drove away, your chest aching the more he disappeared. Your mom shouted at your father to turn around, but he didn't listen...not until you passed out from the pain of being away from your mate.
————————————————————————————
16 years later
Chan was like a heater behind you. Every night since you'd met him he'd refused to leave your side. When you were kids that meant separate sleeping bags and a chaperone, but now that you were adults he held you tight, refusing to allow even an inch of separation.
The meaning of mates changed over the years too.
At first you were told it meant you were destined to be best friends. When you became teenagers and the hormones hit, they finally told you it meant you were in love. When you both became adults, Chan finally confessed the truth...it meant all of those things and so much more.
"Channie," you sighed as you wrapped his arms closer around you. "Baby it's time to wake up."
"Mmm...5 more minutes," he groaned as he nuzzled against your neck. It tickled a lot when he kissed on that particular spot. He confessed why the same night he told you what being mates really meant. That sensitive place on your neck was meant to be marked when your heat came. It would signal to everyone that you were Chan's and that he was yours.
You'd laughed a little when he told you. The entire town already knew you as Chan's human since his family had to get special permission for you and your parents to live in the wolves' community. Many knew you as his mate even before learning your name. Still, the thought of being claimed by him in that way was enough to turn you on.
"Little mate, whatever you're thinking about..." he hissed through his teeth and kissed your throat. "I'm going to need you to think about something else unless you want the whole house smelling your sweetness."
"Sorry," you mumbled as you turned to face him. "I'm just so curious what it will be like."
"Mmm, you're thinking about your heat again?" he yawned as he kissed your forehead. You'd woken up most days lately curious about the unknown.
"Back in school, some of the girls said I couldn't have a heat because I'm a human," you reminded him, watching his features twist in frustration at your classmates for upsetting you. He'd already known what they had said, of course, since he'd noticed your mood shift no more than 5 seconds after he came to collect you from class.
"It's been studied for centuries, little mate. You'll have a heat because you're fated to be with an Alpha. It doesn't matter if you're human or wolf," he promised, soothing your nerves with his reassuring words.
"Maybe it'll come today," you mused eagerly.
Chan chuckled and stroked your back at the sight of your pout. "You'll show signs before it arrives, little mate, and so far you've done nothing out of the ordinary."
"Are you sure?" you asked with a disappointed sigh.
"Very," he answered confidently. "And when you show even the tiniest hint of your heat approaching I'm throwing I.N. and Changbin out. You deserve to be comfortable during your heat and free to do whatever you want."
"Whatever I want?" you hummed as you ran your hand down his chest towards his cock. You knew it was hard since you'd felt it earlier, but Chan stopped you from traveling too far south.
"We promised to have breakfast with your parents this morning," he reminded you.
You rolled over with an exaggerated groan. Not only had you forgotten about the meeting, but you also would've rather had breakfast with anyone other than your father. He hated Chan which made you want to protect him and that made Chan jump to protect you...it almost always ended in a fight.
"If you stay on your best behavior, maybe I'll reward you later," he teased as he hopped out of bed to get dressed, his cock pointing straight out.
"And if I'm bad?" you taunted as you bit your lip and crawled towards him, tongue already reaching out to lick up the little dribble of pre-cum on his tip.
He let you have it, and you made a big show of moaning at the taste and looking up at his flushed cheeks. It was a credit to his self-control that he pulled away before you could sink down on his dick. "If you're bad I'll have to punish you," he warned. You smirked as Chan often threatened such things, but had never acted on it.
He didn't even point out your disbelief in him. You both knew each other so well by now that whatever argument he came up with would've ended in a wrestling match with you pinned to the ground as he rocked into you...panting against your neck and licking your mating gland...
"Little mate," he huffed as he shook his head. He couldn't get his pants on since he was still hard...and he was still hard because you were still turned on.
"Is being horny all the time a sign that my heat is coming?" you asked as you tried to think about anything completely sexless.
Unsalted butter...
Tomato soup...
Eggs...
Fertilized...
Bred...
Fuck.
"It's not a sign of your heat," he promised. "It's just a sign that you've found your mate, and your body trusts me to take care of it."
"Well I found you over a decade ago and never felt like this until recently," you reminded him as you plopped onto the bed. You and Chan had been an anomaly in the wolf community...not only because you were a human, but because most mates didn't find each other until their hormones kicked in. You were already in the history books for being the youngest pair to ever find their match.
"It's normal to get like this when it's close, little mate," he muttered as he kissed your shoulder and sat beside you. You leaned into his chest to inhale his scent. It always calmed you down...just like the nickname he started calling you when you were just 13 years old when everyone grew a foot overnight except for you. Even for a human you were exceptionally short at 5'1".
You took a few deep breaths of his familiar scent and felt him zip his trousers shut once you'd calmed down. Your bodies were so intertwined by now that he was calm when you were calm and when you weren't, neither was he.
"I know you're stressed about this breakfast, little mate, but it'll be good for us. It may be your last time to see them before you're marked."
"My dad is going to be awful," you complained, though your feet were moving to the closet to pick out a dress.
"Probably," Chan agreed. "But your mom will be there."
"I guess so. At least that means we'll have cookies tonight," you said, trying to look on the bright side of this whole thing. Your mom always brought a fresh batch with her since baking was her favorite thing to do.
"I hope it's oatmeal," Chan joked as you appeared from the closet with your dress hanging off your shoulders and a look of disgust.
"Now who's on bad behavior?" you joked as you turned away to let him zip your dress up.
"Are you going to fix your hair?" he asked.
You ran your fingers through it and grabbed your purse off the wall. "Come on. Let's get this over with."
Chan laughed and took your hand to follow you down the steps. Changbin and I.N. were so invested in a video game that they didn't even notice you leave. Chan, as always, opened the car door for you, and you climbed in and buckled your seatbelt before he could give you another safety speech.
The diner was only a short drive away, and you arrived just on time despite stalling for as long as you could. "(Y/N)!" your mom called when you walked in. You turned with a genuine smile for her and extended your arms to hug her tight. It wasn't her fault your father was so racist against the wolves.
She turned to Chan to hug him too and admired how tall he'd gotten. "You must've grown 6 inches since Christmas!" she gawked.
"7," he shrugged bashfully. It was cute how he always wanted to impress your mom.
Your father still hadn't said a word and was looking over the menu with intense detail even though you'd eaten here many times. You sighed and sat down beside him before Chan could. He often tried to limit your contact with him to keep the peace.
"Once you two have babies they'll be as big as horses!" your mom joked.
You grinned and held Chan's hand. He'd always been so eager to have a family with you.
"She's not marked yet so they ain't having no fucking babies," your father mumbled, clearly drunk already.
"Dad," you snapped. Chan brushed his thumb across your hand, an obvious reminder to let it go, but you found it hard to put up with your father's obvious distaste for your soulmate.
"Larry, don't go starting with them already," your mother warned. "Chan has done nothing but protect our daughter and love her. There are many worse partners out there than a wolf."
Chan smiled softly at the way she always defended him. You took a deep breath, hoping the argument would be over. Unfortunately, your father wasn't in a mood to be civil.
"Yeah well they don't have to rub it in our face, do they? They walk around blasting their relationship to the world knowing that the only things humans know about wolves is how they fuck," he seethed as he looked at you and Chan then to your hands connected on the table. "I'm sick of pretending like I'm okay with my daughter being a moon whore. I'm going home."
Chan stood to follow him out, likely to smack him for saying such a thing, but your tears kept him in place. You always took priority over everything...even shitty fathers.
"He doesn't mean that, little mate," Chan murmured softly, desperate to calm you down.
"I'm sorry sweetheart. I thought he'd be ready this time," she apologized pitifully while watching your father stumble out the door and light up a cigarette. This exact interaction had taken place a dozen times before, and yet, each time hurt just as bad as the last.
"I don't think he'll ever respect us, Mom," you told her. You were sick of being put in a position to choose between going off on your dad or letting him tear apart your mate...or letting your mate tear into his throat. You knew Chan would win that fight.
"Why don't we make plans to do breakfast together next week?" Chan suggested. "Just us 3?"
Your mom smiled and nodded as she hugged him goodbye. You knew she had to get your father home before he pissed off a wolf without as much self-control.
"I love you, sweetheart. You too Chan," she said as she fought back tears. "You keep our girl safe," she added as she waved goodbye. "Oh and there are snickerdoodle cookies under my seat!" she called out.
Chan retrieved them and turned to thank her with a wave. "It's not oatmeal," he said.
You tried to put on a smile, but felt too drained. "Can we go home now?"
Chan nodded and you nearly ran from the restaurant to escape the nosy glances of the patrons who'd overheard everything in nearby booths. It wasn't like wolves were a secret, but your father had been right about one thing...
Humans only knew about their sex lives.
The wolves had tried time and time again to educate humans on more of their cultural norms, but insanely great sex was the only thing that stuck. Therefore, you preferred to be around the wolves instead of the humans. But since your father refused to step foot on pack lands now, you and Chan traveled just beyond the border to meet and accommodate him.
"I'm proud of you," Chan said just as he pulled into the driveway.
"For what?" you asked. The car ride home had been silent as you both replayed the words spoken by your father.
"You kept control of yourself instead of lashing out at him," Chan pointed out. "You didn't stoop to his level."
You supposed he was right about that. "I'm rewarding myself with a cookie for breakfast," you decided as you marched into the house.
Changbin and I.N. looked up right away, welcoming you home in unison. "Good morning, Luna."
"Are those cookies?" Changbin asked, eyeing them hungrily.
"Does that mean you saw your parents this morning?" I.N. realized.
"Yes and yes," you answered them as you popped open the container. "You can each have a couple but save me a few, okay? I earned them," you offered, watching in amusement as they hopped up from their gaming chairs to fight for first dibs.
Chan snagged one out of the tupperware, too, before sealing it shut much to their dismay. They whimpered like hungry puppies as they begged for more.
"You've had enough," Chan warned them in a low growl.
They backed away to return to their game while murmuring apologies. Once seated Chan turned back to wipe a bit of cinnamon off your chin. "I suppose you deserve a reward for your good behavior," he muttered as he leaned in for a kiss.
You kissed him gently, but backed away, suddenly not interested in sex. "Can we just take a nap instead?"
Chan looked at you curiously. This morning you'd been ready to fuck him in every which way, but now that didn't entice you at all. "Are you tired, little mate?"
You nodded and hugged yourself to his warm chest, nuzzling against his heart with a kiss. "I'm sleepy, Channie."
He rubbed your back for a bit and swayed with you in the kitchen until you nearly fell asleep standing up. You felt him sink down to swipe your legs out from under you, and you trusted that he'd catch you.
He cradled you all the way to bed and promised to return quickly. You reached for his hand and begged him to stay, so he did.
He kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed to allow you to snuggle him. Chan felt so cozy, and you found it easy to relax with his hand stroking your back. The door to the house shut and you briefly looked up through your lashes at him for an answer.
He kissed your forehead and answered softly, "I told Changbin and I.N. to leave for a bit."
You blinked slowly as the news caught up to your tired brain, but eventually you grinned lazily at him. "My heat?"
"Mhm," Chan hummed. "It makes you tired so you have the energy to make it better once it comes."
"And then what happens?" you pondered with another yawn as you sunk deeper into his embrace.
"Then, you'll nest which you've sort of been doing your whole life anyway," he teased. "You used to make our tree houses comfortable with a dozen pillows, and even though this was meant to be the Alpha's quarters, it's covered in floral pink curtains and fuzzy blankets."
You hadn't realized how much you'd done to make this your place, too, until he pointed it out. Everything from the scallop trim shelves to the orange zest scented potpourri on the nightstand. The entire place had your name on it.
"And after that?"
Chan smirked as he leaned forward, his words hit against your ear as he answered, "And then you'll have a desire to fuck so strong that only your mate can satiate you. You'll be horny for days, desperate to have my cum fill your sweet pussy...desperate to be bred."
"Chan," you whined as you squirmed from the need growing between your legs.
"And once you're begging for it, I'll give you my knot," he vowed as he took your earlobe between his teeth.
You gasped and clutched his chest, too tired to give in but too awake to put a stop to it. "Will it hurt?" you asked. You'd only been told that a knot was a huge bulb of his seed. The definition you'd been given was much more scientific than the sexy version Chan described.
"No, little mate. It won't hurt," he promised, much to your relief. "In fact," he continued, "it will feel so good that you won't be able to stop cumming. You'll be in pure bliss for hours, wishing it would never stop."
You smiled sleepily at the thought. "Maybe when I wake up, I'll finally be in heat," you imagined as you neared your dream state.
Chan exhaled, wrapping you in his familiar musk and brushing your hair from your face. "Maybe you will," he muttered just before you fell asleep.
————————————————————————————
When you woke up, you realized that in your sleep you'd somehow ended up tangled with Chan. Your leg was hooked over his hip and he had one arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand held you close to his chest. You inhaled deeply and whimpered as his familiar musky scent filled your lungs.
Chan had always smelled good to you, but this morning he was absolutely delicious. You spotted a sweet dribble of sweat on his neck, and licked it up before you could rationalize what you were doing.
"Channie," you whined as the flavor filled your taste buds, deepening the need for him.
"5 more minutes," he begged, as you tugged on his shirt, fighting to take it off. His hold on you was too strong, though, so you gave up and went back to kissing his neck and running your hands up his chest. Chan was so perfectly built. He was the ideal alpha, and the most suitable mate for any omega...and yet, he'd chosen you.
Love bloomed in your chest as you recalled the first moment you saw him. Chan had known right away that you were meant to be with him, and every day since had been a perfect whirlwind of adoration and gentleness. Chan supported you, and he challenged you. He never made you feel like a human among wolves. You were the future Luna, and he made sure everyone knew that.
"Baby, whatever you're thinking about is making you smell extra sweet this morning," he praised as his eyes fluttered open to your flushed cheeks and lips parted in gasps.
You hadn't even realized that you'd been riding his thigh until he squeezed your waist to try to get you to calm down. You couldn't though. It was like a match had been lit and the firework finally exploded.
You looked helplessly at him, words replaced only by lewd, desperate sounds as you came in your panties.
Chan inhaled deeply, taking in your scent perfuming the air with a satisfied hum that vibrated the entire bed. You trembled from the pleasure still coursing through you and tugged at his shirt again.
"You're in heat," he informed you as he laid you down beneath him while pulling his shirt over his head so you could access more of his dampened skin. Chan was hot already, and you held his sides while kissing his abs one by one before licking straight up his chest.
"You taste good, Channie," you praised as you sucked on his salty shoulder, leaving behind a sizable hickey.
"Your mind is so empty right now isn't it little mate?" he cooed as he discarded your dress and the rest of his clothes. Neither of you was in the mood to be patient. You'd waited long enough.
"Just want you Channie," you pleaded, catching sight of the sun filtering through the window. You realized you'd slept for an entire day, which meant you had ample energy to do with Chan as you pleased.
"How do you want me, little mate?" he rasped as he kissed along your mating gland to your ear, teasing you just to earn pretty gasps. "Do you want me rough? Do you want me to carry you around all week after I show you how hard I can fuck?"
You bit your lip and shook your head.
"No?" he cocked his brow as he kissed across your breasts. "Maybe you want me to tie you up and edge you so that when it hits, it's like a bomb going off in your pussy."
Your heart raced at the thought, but still, you shook your head.
"Maybe you want it doggy style, hmm? Want me to fuck you from behind like the wild animal I am?" he taunted, as he kissed across your thighs and spread them apart.
"Is that what you want baby? To feel like a real wolf?" he asked as he licked a stripe through your core.
"No," you squeaked out, hands twisting in his hair as your hips began to ride his face. His warm tongue was flat and eager to lick up all of your slick.
You almost complained when he replaced his mouth with his fingers, but you'd forgotten how amazing he was at using those. His claws dug into your thighs as two fingers fucked you, curling inside while the thumb flicked your clit.
You arched off the bed screaming for more and less all at once, but Chan never let up.
"I know my little mate so well," he promised as he sucked your clit, riding his tongue over the swollen bud. "Of course my little mate doesn't want it rough. She wants me to make love to her, to show her how happy I am to be fated to be hers," he began when your toes started to curl. "My mate wants to kiss me and look at me when I knot her for the first time," he continued when words abandoned you. "Because my little mate has my whole heart, and she deserves to know what that means," he muttered just as you came on his fingers, body relinquishing to him for the second time tonight.
Chan kissed back up your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever his lips lingered. All the while he kept his fingers working you through it, never letting you fully come down. You knew he could tell how high you were, though, when he gazed down with the softest smile.
"You look so beautiful," he praised before kissing you gently. You looped your arms around his neck and savored the way he loved you better than anyone had ever been loved before.
"My mate," he moaned against your lips when your cunt throbbed around his fingers again, already desperate for more. "Little mate," he groaned as he aligned his cock with your cunt.
Your hips rolled up and down his length, and Chan pulled back with his lips parted in a needy whimper to watch. You were desperate to feel him. It was as though this were the very first time.
Chan held your hand and brushed your palm back and forth, inhaling when it moved one direction and exhaling when his thumb moved to yours. You matched his breaths and opened your eyes to meet his loving gaze. He playfully brushed your noses together, smiling when yours wrinkled from the tickle on your skin.
"I love you so much," he vowed, pausing as if to ensure you were ready.
"I love you too, Channie," you promised just as he filled you.
Your jaw dropped as he sank in deeper than you'd ever felt him. Chan kissed your cheeks and temple as if to apologize, but the feeling only made your heat crave more.
With an inhuman strength, you pushed him beneath you and began to ride him. Chan was shocked and fumbled to get his hands back to your hips, as you bounced on his cock. You bit your lip and watched him crumble beneath you with sweat beading on his forehead.
He had a mini orgasm, but you knew it wasn't the end...it wasn't the knot that your heat desired. You rode him until your thighs ached, until every muscle in your body was pleading for a break.
Chan thrust up into you, probing your cervix each time and drawing pained cries from your lips. It hurt...but only because you weren't bred yet. It was a relief when you felt his knot first try to penetrate you.
"Oh fuck," Chan groaned as he threw his head back. The veins popped in his neck, and you found yourself wrapping your hand around his throat to get his attention again.
"Little mate, I need to...fuck I need to mark you," he reminded you in a breathless voice.
You'd nearly forgotten about the mark. You slowed your pace to a steady roll of your hips and allowed Chan to sit up against the headboard. You didn't even notice that it had splintered from how eager you'd been.
"When I mark you, the knot will fit," he promised as he kissed the same spot where he'd sworn to bite you. "You'll be mine."
"I've always been yours," you reminded him as you tilted your head to the side. "It was fated."
Chan smiled against your skin and sank his canines into your throat, seeping his sweet venom into your blood and marking you for all to see.
You squeezed him close, eyes falling back at the euphoria flooding through you. His bite was matched only by his knot which finally squeezed inside, stretching you more than you thought capable.
Chan tried to pull away, but you urged him to stay still as you bounced on him again. You couldn't move much with his knot inside, but it was enough to make him moan against your skin, vibrating you from the inside out.
You cursed but kept going. Chan began rubbing your clit as his other hand palmed your ass. Your heat was dulling, and you knew instinctively that it meant he was close.
You tore him from your neck and planted your lips against his, ignoring the taste of blood on his tongue in favor of his plump pillowy lips. He never let up on your clit, and he spanked you once and then twice, noticing the way you twitched each time.
You pulled back to catch your breath, and while pressing your forehead to his, both exhaling heavily from the effort, you finally came. His eyes locked onto yours and it was like every star in the sky shone inside you...every flower bloomed.
You kissed Chan the moment it hit, desperate to share the warmth with him. He groaned and guided you to lie down as his cock flooded through every crevice within you. You couldn't help but smile.
All you felt was joy.
Chan looked happy too.
He cupped your cheek and got lost in you the same way you got lost in him. You traced the features on his familiar face as if learning them for the first time, and when he kissed your fingers the tingles you'd learned to ignore over the years ignited again.
"Mate," you grinned, eyes sparkling in pride at the alpha before you.
"Little mate," he replied before kissing you again as love flowed through you.
Summary - Isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?
She was the heart of the Inner Circle—sunlight wrapped in quiet strength, always steady, always kind. But not his. Never his. At least, that's what Azriel told himself the moment the bond snapped into place... and he said nothing.
He watched from the shadows, loving her silently, convinced he was too broken to be chosen. She kept smiling, kept hoping, never knowing why the male who always showed up was the same one who always pulled away.
A story of two hearts quietly breaking beside each other... until one day, they didn't.
One single thread of gold tied me to you.
Tags - slow burn, friends to lovers, intense yearning, hidden feelings, emotional walls, angst, mating bond
Contents -
𓍯𓂃♥︎𓂃 One | The Great War | 2.1k words
𓍯𓂃♥︎𓂃 Two | Illicit Affairs | 2.3k words
𓍯𓂃♥︎𓂃 Three | Tolerate It | 2.2k words
𓍯𓂃♥︎𓂃 Four | All Too Well | 2.2k words
𓍯𓂃♥︎𓂃 Five | This Is Me Trying | 2k words
𓍯𓂃♥︎𓂃 Six | You’re Losing Me | 2.2k words
𓍯𓂃♥︎𓂃 Seven | You Belong With Me | 2.1k words
𓍯𓂃♥︎𓂃 Eight | You Are In Love | 2k words
ACOTAR Masterlist
A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.
This entire fic is inspired by Taylor Swift's song "Invisible String" :)
It's very angsty, quite sad (happy ending dw) and definitely a slow burn—not so much miscommunication, but more of a desperate 'please admit your feelings' kind of story!!
Ik I said I'd try to write more fluff, but this idea took root in my mind and wouldn't let go, so I had to write it—it wasn't really a choice x
Please don't hesitate to vote or comment along the way, it truly means the world to me <3
How different dynamics would respond to “So, I’ve been thinking…”
➛ Friends to Lovers: “Yes? About what… Like, just in general or… About something — or someone! — in particular….?”
➛ Rivals to Lovers: “Don’t hurt yourself.”
➛ Enemies to Lovers: “Yeah, me too. My thoughts involved your death, how about you?”
➛ Fake Dating: “For the last time, I am not recording a sex tape with you just to ‘accidentally’ leak it to make our relationship more believable!”
➛ Secret Love: “Hope you weren’t too obvious. Last time you were ‘just thinking’ you burned a hole into my head and no one knew if you wanted to kill or fuck me. Including me.”
➛ Fated Mates: “I know, so have I. About your thoughts, that is.”
➛ Whump: “Why are you bleeding?”
[Prompt Calender: February 22nd, World Thinking Day]
Summary: Rhys is a bumbling buffoon when it comes to meeting his mate for the first time.
Warnings: awkward tension, reader lives in the hewn city
A.Note: not totally proud of this one since it’s hard for me to write first meeting stories with a concluding ending, but I hope you guys enjoy :)
Word count: 4.8k words
The scratching at my door had me sitting up in an instant, my back pressing against the cold stone wall as my hand slid beneath my pillow, fingers curling around the worn hilt of my dagger. My breath came shallow, controlled, as I listened—waiting for another sound, another shift in the air that might give away whoever had decided to test their luck tonight.
Life in the Hewn City never allowed for restful sleep. Not when shadows slithered in every alley when cruelty pulsed like a second heartbeat through its streets. And especially not now that Morrigan was gone.
Her father's estate had been far from a sanctuary, but at least the sheer power Keir wielded had kept the worst of the monsters at bay. Here, in my apartment on the outskirts of town, I had no such protection. Only thin walls, shattered locks, and neighbors who wouldn't need a reason to break into a young female's bedroom—who wouldn't care that I was High Fae, not when my magic was little more than a flickering candle in the wind.
A shiver danced down my spine as I gripped my dagger tighter, pulling it free just as the handle of my door twisted. My breath stilled.
Wards should have held. I'd watched Mor herself etch them into the worn wood, her golden power laced with every careful stroke. And yet the door creaked open, the darkness beyond bleeding into my already shadowed room.
I made myself as small as possible, the blanket of night cloaking me enough to fool a drunk—most in this wretched place were—but if they stepped inside if they came closer...
A head popped through the gap.
Gold hair caught the dim light.
My breath punched from my lungs. "Morrigan."
I tumbled out of bed, my dagger forgotten as I all but threw myself at her. She caught me effortlessly, her arms wrapping tight around my waist, solid and real, her familiar scent washing over me.
"Oh, I've missed you," she murmured, holding me as if she'd been gone for years rather than two unbearable weeks.
I pulled back just enough to take her in, my hands framing her face, my eyes darting over her features, searching for any sign of injury. My stomach knotted at the gauze wrapped around her waist, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed.
"I thought you got out safe?" I whispered.
She smirked. "Forgot some things."
There was something reckless in her eyes, something sharp and unyielding.
My stomach tightened further. "Mor—"
"I'm getting you out of here."
Her grin was edged with mischief, with certainty.
—
I had heard the rumors—the hushed whispers exchanged between patrons in dimly lit taverns, drunken murmurs of a secret city our High Lord kept hidden from the rest of us. A place untouched by the cruelty of the Hewn City, a myth spun to keep fools hopeful.
I never believed a word of it.
But Velaris was real.
"The City of Starlight," Morrigan had said, her voice breathless with something I hadn't seen in her since we were reckless, ignorant children. She'd smiled then—wild, unguarded. And I had known, in that moment, that every whispered legend had been true.
The city thrived even in the late hour. Laughter and music curled through the streets, golden lights casting soft glows against dark stone. I had never dreamed a place like this could exist, not outside of bedtime stories and half-formed wishes. And yet, Mor guided me through its winding paths as if it were the most natural thing in the world, showing me pieces of the Night Court I had never dared to imagine.
Until, finally, she led me to a small cabin at the edge of a quiet clearing.
Warm light spilled from its windows, shadows dancing against the wood as the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter leaked into the night. It was a thrilling sound—carefree, safe.
Mor stepped onto the porch, her fingers curling around my wrist as she turned back to me with a smirk. "I've been living here for the past few weeks," she hummed, as if it were no great thing. "And I decided I missed my roommate."
Her words barely registered over the clatter of voices inside. I could hear the easy teasing, the playful shouts.
I hesitated.
"It's Rhysand's cabin, but—"
"The High Lord's?" I whirled on her, my stomach clenching.
Mor blinked, as if I'd said something absurd. "He's my cousin, you know?"
I did know that. Of course I did. But the knowledge didn't stop the shiver that traced my spine.
I had seen Rhysand twice in my life—twice was enough.
Both times, I had been convinced I would die right there on the spot, crushed beneath the weight of his power. It exuded from him like a second set of wings, dark and monstrous. The ground itself seemed to quake beneath his steps. To say he was powerful was an insult to the very meaning of the word. He was terror incarnate, the nightmare that lived in the dark corners of every court.
I had heard the stories—of him reaching into minds and shattering them from the inside out, twisting their own fears into weapons sharper than any blade. He did not need to lift a hand to kill.
My throat went dry. "He's not in there, is he?"
The words were barely a whisper, but Mor only shrugged, far too casual. "Sure he is."
I nearly choked. What?
"Mor—"
She didn't give me a chance to protest.
Her fingers curled around mine, firm and unwavering, and before I could think to dig in my heels, she had pulled me forward—up the steps, through the doorway, past the foyer—until I was standing in the heart of the house.
The moment we entered, the conversation stopped.
Four sets of eyes locked onto me.
Hazel. Silver.
And then—
A violet gaze, piercing and unrelenting, dilated with something unreadable.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Rhysand.
The High Lord of Night. The male who could level entire armies with a flick of his wrist, who could peel apart minds like flower petals and leave nothing behind. The nightmare whispered about in every corner of the Hewn City.
And he was staring at me.
His lips parted slightly, as if words had caught in his throat.
Mor, of course, was entirely unaffected. "Gentlemen," she said, grinning as she strode deeper into the sitting room. "And Amren."
The silver-eyed female merely flicked a gaze over Mor before cutting straight to me, a sharp, assessing glance that made my stomach twist.
I was still trying to school my expression into something other than imminent death panic when Mor gave my wrist a final squeeze and released me.
"I'd like you all to meet—"
"She's my mate."
Silence.
Utter, perfect silence.
Then—
A choked sound came from the male lounging in an armchair, wings draped lazily over its sides. He had dark hair, hazel eyes gleaming with delight, and an unmistakable aura of shit-eating amusement. That one must be Cassian.
Next to him, another male, shadows curled at his feet like living things, merely blinked—slowly, deliberately—before glancing at Rhys and murmuring, "That was subtle." And there's Azriel.
Rhys, for all his legendary cunning, looked like he wanted to launch himself into the Sidra.
"Mate?" I rasped, my stomach flipping over itself.
No. No, surely not. That was—impossible. I would've felt something.
Or have I all along?
"You must forgive our dear High Lord," Amren drawled, sipping from a glass of something dark. "He usually has more tact when announcing these things."
Rhys finally seemed to snap back into his body, straightening his spine with something like composed horror.
"What I meant to say," he amended, his voice dropping into something far smoother, far silkier—too smooth as if he were compensating, "is that it's a pleasure to meet you."
Cassian snorted. "You just said she was your mate."
"Yes, thank you, Cassian."
Azriel's lips twitched. "I think she got the message."
My head was spinning, my throat tight. But my body had stilled—not from fear, exactly, but from something else. Something coiling in my chest, something aware.
Rhys's gaze flicked to mine, and his expression softened instantly, all humor melting into something devastatingly gentle.
"It's late. You must be exhausted." His voice had dipped, his usual charm tempered with something achingly sincere. "Let me get you something to eat. Or drink. Or—are you warm enough? I can get you a blanket—"
Cassian was shaking with silent laughter. Azriel merely watched, like he was filing this away for later use.
Amren, however, had no such patience. "Oh, for Cauldron's sake," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "She's not a wounded animal, Rhysand, stop circling her like a mother hen."
"I just want her to be comfortable," he argued, flashing her a glare before turning back to me with something so devastatingly earnest that I nearly forgot who he was. What he was.
He liked me.
No—he wanted me to like him.
Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord in history, was tripping over himself to win my favor.
And somehow, that was more terrifying than any of the rumors I'd ever heard.
—
I wasn't entirely sure how I ended up sitting on a plush couch in the middle of the High Lord's cabin, wrapped in a ridiculously soft blanket that I didn't remember agreeing to. A cup of tea—also not requested—was placed carefully in my hands, steam curling in the dim candlelight.
Rhysand hovered nearby.
And I meant hovered.
He was standing at an awkward, not-quite-close, not-quite-far distance, shifting slightly as if debating whether he should sit or stand or vanish into the floor. His normally easy, fluid grace had been utterly abandoned, leaving him looking... well. Uncertain.
Cassian, sprawled in the armchair across from me, was barely keeping it together. His wings twitched every few seconds, his lips pressed tightly as if physically holding in his laughter.
Azriel, seated beside him, was far more composed—but the slight upward tilt of his mouth betrayed his amusement.
I took a sip of my tea, trying to make sense of all this.
The High Lord of the Night Court—the terror of the Hewn City, the most powerful male in existence—had declared me his mate. And then proceeded to fall apart before my very eyes.
I was still trying to process it when Rhys spoke.
"Would you like more pillows?"
I blinked. "What?"
His violet eyes were very, very wide. "You look like you could use more pillows."
Cassian made a strangled noise.
Azriel coughed into his fist.
"I—I'm fine," I said slowly, watching as Rhys's shoulders sagged in relief.
Too fast. All of this was happening too fast, I couldn't keep up.
"Are you sure? Because I can get more."
Cassian let out a wheezing breath, eyes shining with unrestrained delight. "Yes, Rhys. More pillows. That's definitely what she needs."
Rhys shot him a withering glare before turning back to me, smoothing his expression into something intended to be charming, but coming across as deeply, deeply desperate.
"Or food!" he blurted. "Have you eaten? I can make you something. Or, well, I can't make you something, but I can get someone to—"
"She has tea, Rhys," Amren cut in dryly. "You shoved it into her hands two minutes ago."
"I did not shove—"
"You definitely shoved," Cassian confirmed, barely containing his cackle. "I thought you were going to spill boiling tea all over your mate."
I flinch slightly at the term as Rhys shoots back with, "I was being thoughtful."
Azriel hummed, taking a slow sip of his own drink, the amber color telling me it was something much stronger than tea. "Is that what we're calling it?"
I had absolutely no idea what to do with any of this.
Rhysand—the charmer, the schemer, the legend—was unraveling at the seams in front of me.
Because of me.
"I can make my own food," I finally said, mostly just to say something.
Rhys visibly straightened. "Of course! Yes, I knew that. I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, his usual ease nowhere to be found. "I want you to feel at home."
Cassian grinned. "I think she'd feel more at home if you stopped looming over her like a lovesick bat."
Rhys's glare could have melted stone.
Azriel just leaned back in his chair, shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this," he mused.
Rhys turned his attention back to me, clearly trying to regain some dignity. He attempted one of his infamous smirks. "You must forgive them. They're not used to seeing me flustered."
Cassian clapped a hand to his chest, eyes sparkling. "Oh, it's a gift, truly."
Azriel nodded solemnly. "We should savor this moment."
Rhys looked seconds away from throttling them both.
I just stared at him, still gripping the cup of tea like it was the only solid thing in the world. "Are you okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His breath caught.
And for a moment, the amusement, the chaos—it all faded. His eyes softened, something raw flickering behind them.
"I'm fine," he said, voice lower now, steadier. "I just... I wasn't expecting this."
Neither was I. But still, something shifted in my chest at the way he looked at me—like I was something precious.
I wasn't ready to name that feeling.
But for the first time since I'd arrived, I didn't feel like running.
Slowly—mercifully—Rhys seemed to remember how to function again.
He settled into the chair across from me, still watching me with those impossibly violet eyes, but at least he wasn't hovering like I might vanish if he so much as blinked.
Not that he'd relaxed entirely.
No, because the moment I so much as shifted—adjusting the blanket, setting my tea down—he twitched as if preparing to leap to his feet and fix something.
If I asked for anything, I had no doubt he'd be up and fetching it before I could even finish the sentence.
But at least he was sitting.
Amren, on the other hand, was done with the entire situation.
With a long-suffering sigh, she stood and stretched. "Alright. That's enough of this."
Cassian perked up. "Of what?"
She shot him a withering look. "The two of you sitting here, watching this disaster unfold like it's a theatrical event."
Cassian grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Oh, but it is."
Azriel just sipped his whiskey, but the small smirk on his lips said everything.
Amren turned her glare to them both, then pointed at the door. "Out."
Cassian gaped. "But—"
"Out," she repeated, already making her way toward him.
Cassian barely had time to dodge before she grabbed his arm, yanking him up with surprising strength for someone so small. "Azriel, move," she barked.
Azriel, for all his shadows and lethal grace, barely managed to stifle a chuckle before obeying.
Rhys, looking very much like a male clinging to the last shred of his dignity, just sighed. "Amren, I hardly think—"
"Oh, please." She shot him a knowing look. "You want them gone."
Rhys opened his mouth. Closed it. Then glanced—too quickly—at me.
Cassian cackled. "Oh, this is so good."
"I hate all of you," Rhys muttered.
Cassian just grinned, throwing an arm over Azriel's shoulder as Amren shoved them both toward the door. "Love you too, brother!"
The door shut behind them then silence settled.
I exhaled slowly, my mind still spinning from all of this—this place, these people, Rhysand, sitting before me and looking as though he didn't quite know what to do with himself.
Mor, still seated beside me, gave a soft, reassuring smile. "Ignore them," she said. "They're menaces, but they mean well."
I nodded, unsure what to say.
She nudged me gently. "You doing okay?"
I hesitated.
Then, quietly, "I think so."
Mor's smile warmed. "Good." She stood, stretching. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything, okay?"
I nodded again. "Thanks, Mor."
She winked. "Get some rest."
And then, just like that, I was alone. With Rhysand.
Who, despite his best attempts to seem relaxed, looked about two seconds away from combusting.
The silence stretched for a beat too long before Rhys cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "So," he started, voice smoother now, steadier, "what do you think of Velaris?"
I exhaled, my grip loosening on the blanket around my shoulders as I glanced toward the window. The city lights still twinkled beyond the glass, mirroring the stars above.
"It's..." I searched for the right word. Magnificent."
His lips curved. "It is." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Not what you expected?"
A soft huff of breath left me. "In all honesty, I didn't even expect it to be real."
Rhys chuckled, low and warm. "Most don't."
I looked back at him. "How long has it been hidden?"
His expression turned thoughtful. "Since the war." His gaze flickered to the window, a distant look in his eyes. "My family—my court—has fought to protect it for centuries. It's the one place in all of Prythian untouched by war, by cruelty." He met my gaze again, and this time, there was something softer there. "Now it's yours, too."
Something shifted in my chest at that. The way he said it like I belonged here. I swallowed. "And the court?"
His smile returned, easy and knowing. "You've already met the worst of them."
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "I don't believe that."
"Oh, you should." He smirked. "Cassian and Azriel? Winged buffoons. Mor? Chaos incarnate." He placed a hand on his chest, feigning solemnity. "And me? Well, the stories you've heard don't paint me in the best light, do they?"
A teasing edge now, that sharp, clever humor creeping into his voice.
I tilted my head. "No, they don't."
He grinned, but it softened as he glanced back outside. "You'll see for yourself, though." He hesitated, then added, "You'll be here for Starfall."
"Starfall?"
His eyes lit up, and suddenly, it was as if the shadows in the room no longer existed.
"You've never heard of it?"
I shook my head.
Rhys leaned closer, his voice dropping to something conspiratorial, enticing. "Once a year, the sky does something extraordinary."
I raised a brow, peering out the large arched window to look at the galaxy of stars just outside. "More extraordinary than usual?"
A chuckle. "Much more." He sat back again, watching me with a quiet sort of delight, as if he already knew I'd love it. "The stars don't just shine that night. They fall."
I blinked. "They fall?"
"Mmm." He traced a circle on the arm of his chair. "Not like shooting stars—though it looks similar. The souls of long-lost beings drift across the sky, shimmering trails left in their wake. It's..." He trailed off, searching for the word.
"Magnificent?" I supplied, unable to help the small smile tugging at my lips.
Rhys gave a slow, approving nod. "Very."
Something warm settled in my chest. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
And then, finally, I allowed myself to really look at him.
Not the High Lord. Not the nightmare. Just Rhysand.
And gods, he was handsome.
The kind of handsome that made the room feel smaller, the air feel warmer. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, those impossibly violet eyes that seemed to catch every flicker of candlelight. And the way he looked at me—like I was something precious. Like he already knew me, in some deep, unspoken way.
I cleared my throat, shoving away the thought. "It sounds magical."
He grinned, and for the first time, it wasn't the grin of a High Lord, or a male who held the power of nightmares in his hands.
It was just a smile. For me.
A slight yawn slipped from me, Rhys was instantly moving.
"Mother above, I've kept you up too late—" He was already leading me toward the hall, his steps brisk, his hands half-lifted as if he wanted to guide me but thought better of it.
I barely had time to keep up as he strode toward a door across from Mor's, gesturing to it like it was some grand reveal. "This is yours—of course, if you don't like it, we can find you another room, or a different house entirely, or—"
"Rhys—"
"I really should have let you rest earlier, I can be insufferable when I ramble, and—"
"Rhys."
"I hope you find everything comfortable, but if you need anything—extra pillows, a softer mattress, a different view—"
I pressed my palm to his chest. He froze.
His breath hitched, just barely—but I felt it beneath my hand, the sharp inhale, the slight stutter of his heartbeat.
His eyes locked onto mine, the violet darkening, blazing.
I had only meant to stop his spiraling apologies, but now... Now the air between us was thick with tension.
Something unseen curled and tightened, coiling like a living thing beneath my skin.
Rhys exhaled sharply through his nose. Slowly—reverently—his hand lifted, covering mine where it lay over his chest. His fingers curled just enough to hold me there, as if... as if he couldn't bear to let go.
Something between us shifted and I didn't have time to decide if it was for the better or not.
A pull, deep in my ribs. An ache that hadn't been there before.
Rhys went completely still.
Like he was waging some great internal war, fighting against a force that neither of us had yet spoken aloud. But I felt it.
The way his fingers tightened just slightly over mine. The way his lips parted like he was about to say something, only to think better of it.
The way his eyes—those star-flecked, devastatingly beautiful eyes—searched mine like they held the answer to something he'd been waiting for.
I should have stepped back.
I should have moved.
Instead, I stood there, heart pounding, fingers twitching against the soft fabric of his tunic.
Rhys swallowed, his throat working around the motion, but he said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there, his chest rising and falling beneath my palm, his fingers flexing ever so slightly over mine like he was grounding himself—like he needed to hold on. I knew I should step back.
We had only just met.
Yet that fact seemed irrelevant, insignificant compared to the weight of the moment curling between us, thick as smoke.
Because I could feel it—something pulling me toward him, that bond deeper than attraction, sharper than longing. It was in the way his breath came uneven, in the way his gaze dropped, just briefly, to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes, a flicker of something raw, something wanting, breaking through his carefully placed walls.
His lips parted, like he might say something. Like he might stop this before it went too far.
I didn't let him. Didn't give myself the chance to second-guess, to think, to reason.
I surged forward.
Rhys barely had time to exhale before my lips met his. Soft. That was my first thought—how soft his lips were, warm and parting against mine as if in stunned surrender.
And then he was kissing me back.
A sharp inhale, his hand sliding up my wrist, curling around it like he couldn't quite believe this was happening—but wouldn't dare let go, either.
His other hand found my waist, light, hesitant, his fingers pressing in just enough to ground me, to anchor us both in the storm of whatever this was.
It wasn't desperate. It wasn't hurried. It was slow, tentative, a gentle exploration.
His nose brushed mine as he tilted his head, his lips parting wider, and I felt the way he breathed me in—like I was something to be savored, something he hadn't known he was starving for until now.
A small sound left me—something between a sigh and a whimper—and Rhys shuddered, his grip tightening ever so slightly, his fingertips pressing into my skin like he needed to remind himself this was real.
We lingered there, caught in something we didn't have a name for, something neither of us had expected but couldn't seem to pull away from.
His thumb brushed along my wrist, slow, reverent, as our lips moved together in a rhythm that felt achingly natural.
Like we had done this a thousand times before. Like we would do it a thousand times more.
When we finally parted, it was only enough to breathe, our foreheads pressing together, breaths mingling.
Rhys's fingers flexed at my waist.
"I—" His voice was hoarse, rough with something unspoken. He swallowed. "We should stop."
I exhaled shakily, my hands still fisting the fabric of his tunic.
"We should," I admitted.
His thumb traced slow, lazy circles along my wrist, like he was memorizing the shape of me, the feel of me.
And then, softer—softer than I'd ever heard anyone speak my name—
"But I don't want to."
I barely had time to whisper, "Neither do I," before he kissed me again.
His lips were still on mine, still moving, still taking, even as he rasped against my mouth, "We can't."
But he didn't stop. Didn't pull away.
If anything, his hands tightened at my waist, fingers pressing into my skin like he was anchoring himself—like he was fighting a losing battle against whatever force was unraveling between us.
I gasped as his tongue slid against mine, slow and thorough, like he was trying to memorize me, like he was desperate to learn every piece of me with nothing more than his lips, his hands, his breath.
"Rhys," I whispered, not knowing if it was meant to be a plea or a warning.
He groaned, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath coming out in short, uneven pants.
"I want to know you," he said, his voice so raw, so gutted that it sent a shiver down my spine.
Then his lips were on mine again, harder, deeper, like he was proving it, like he needed me to believe him.
"I want to know everything," he murmured against my mouth, between kisses that left me gasping, left me trembling, my fingers still tangled in his hair. Another kiss, this one rougher, hungrier. "Everything."
I whimpered against his lips, barely able to think, barely able to breathe with the way he was consuming me, the way his words were carving themselves into my ribs.
He groaned, like the sound was being ripped from him. "I—" He shuddered. "Tell me to stop."
I froze beneath him, blinking up at him, my head spinning, my lips swollen from his kisses.
He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven, his hands flexing at my sides.
"Tell me to stop," he repeated, voice ragged, "because I don't think I can on my own."
His words hung between us, raw and trembling, his breath fanning against my lips. I could still taste him, still feel the imprint of his hands at my sides, as if he had branded himself into my very skin. My heart pounded against my ribs, my body warring between the pull of the bond and the sliver of hesitation curling in my chest.
I slipped my hands from his hair, brushing my fingers along his jaw, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. "Rhys," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
His eyes, dark and blazing with emotion, searched mine. I saw the restraint there, the war he was fighting within himself, the way his hands trembled against my sides.
I swallowed, forcing myself to find the words through the haze of want clouding my mind. "I'll accept the bond," I murmured. His breath hitched, his entire body going utterly still. "I just need some time."
A heartbeat passed. Then another. And then—he exhaled, his forehead pressing against mine, his entire frame shuddering. His hands skimmed up my sides, gentle now, reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of me before letting go.
"You could take centuries," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple, featherlight. "Beyond that, if you wanted. I'd wait for you, always."
Something in my chest ached, something too big to name. I closed my eyes, breathing him in, the warmth of him, the endless patience laced in every word.
I tilted my head up, pressing the softest of kisses against his lips—nothing like the desperate, fevered ones from before. Just a promise. Just a thank you.
His hands lingered on my waist, like he wasn't quite ready to let go, but he didn't stop me as I pulled away. A small smile tugged at my lips. "Goodnight, Rhys."
His eyes softened, something almost wistful in them. "Goodnight, my love."
With a final glance, I turned and slipped into my room, closing the door behind me. And even then, I could still feel him—like a shadow, like a promise—waiting.
Comment or reblog with a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!
Synopsis: After catching your boyfriend in bed with your stepsister, you think your life can't possibly get any worse.
You're wrong.
Blackmailed into a forced marriage with a complete stranger, you expect nothing more than a loveless relationship.
Instead, as resentment slowly gives way to trust and affection blossoms, you discover that fate may have chosen you long before you ever had a choice.
Pairing: Valko x (Female) reader/non-MC
Content: All "in-game" information about Valko is considered canon, with the exception of his evol ability and the existence of wanderers.
Trigger warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Forced Proximity (Forced Marriage), Fated Mates, Cheating (not Valko - don't worry), Mentions of Blackmail and Manipulation, Suggestive Content (Non-Graphic), and Mentions of Death (Non-Graphic)
Word count : 7,568
Link to part 1
Link to epilogue (head canons)
Part 2 of 2
THE ORCHID AND THE WOLF
Valko sits at his office desk on the top floor of the EonCore Tech building.
A knock sounds at the door before his secretary, Kim, steps inside with a tablet in hand.
“Mr. Valko, I have news regarding your wife's background,” he says.
Valko gestures toward the chair opposite his desk.
Secretary Kim sits and opens the file on his tablet.
“At the age of four, your wife's mother passed away from cancer. Her father, Henry, raised her on his own until he married Madam Miranda. They remained married for only four years before Henry passed away two years ago.”
Valko nods silently. He can't help but feel sorry for you for losing both parents.
“Madam Miranda is... an interesting woman,” Secretary Kim continues.
Valko's attention sharpens.
“Your wife's father, Henry, was her fourth husband.”
“Is she collecting them?” Valko remarks, raising an eyebrow.
Secretary Kim ignores the comment and continues.
“Her first marriage was at the age of eighteen when she eloped with her childhood sweetheart. He died a year later from a drug overdose.”
“Two years later, she married the CEO of a successful company, the biological father of her only child, Miss Elizabeth. They remained married for twelve years before he was killed in a drunk driving accident.”
“Another two years passed before she married a wealthy businessman. That marriage lasted five years before ending in divorce.”
“Two years after that, she married your wife's father. At the time, Madam Miranda was more than a decade younger than Mr. Henry.”
Valko leans back in his chair.
“It would seem Miranda hasn't had much luck in love,” he murmurs. “She's buried three husbands.”
“What was the cause of Mr. Henry's death? Was there any indication of foul play?” he asks carefully.
“A heart attack,” Secretary Kim replies. “I understand your suspicion, but according to his medical records, he'd been suffering from heart disease for several years due to chronic stress and overwork. He had already experienced a heart attack the previous year.”
Valko nods slowly.
“As for the financial situation,” Secretary Kim continues, “Madam Miranda was already wealthy before marrying Mr. Henry. She inherited all of her second husband's assets after his death and later received half of her third husband's estate through their divorce settlement.”
Valko hums thoughtfully.
“After Mr. Henry's passing, she also inherited all of his assets - his bank accounts, properties, and even his company.”
“So my wife really doesn't receive a single penny,” Valko says in disbelief.
“Correct,” Secretary Kim confirms.
“It was carried out according to Mr. Henry's will.”
Secretary Kim pauses before looking up from his tablet.
“However... this is where things become interesting.”
“Although Mr. Henry had his own lawyer representing both himself and his daughter, the will wasn’t read by his attorney. Instead, it was presented by Madam Miranda's lawyer.”
Valko raises an eyebrow.
“Do we know why?”
“Not yet. I'm currently trying to arrange a meeting with Mr. Henry's lawyer.”
Secretary Kim scrolls further down the report.
“There's something else I find unusual.”
“Madam Y/N believes the apartment she lived in was a rental.”
“Yes,” Valko replies. “She told me Miranda had been paying her living expenses.”
“She was deceived.”
Secretary Kim's tone grows noticeably firmer.
“Mr. Henry purchased that apartment a few years before Madam Y/N began college. It was originally registered in his name, but around the time she turned eighteen, he legally transferred ownership to her.”
Kim looks up.
“After Mr. Henry died, ownership of the apartment was transferred to Miss Elizabeth.”
Valko frowns.
“It doesn't end there.”
Secretary Kim continues reading.
“Around the same time Mr. Henry transferred ownership of the apartment, he also transferred a bank account into Madam Y/N's name. However, following his death, every cent from that account was transferred into an unknown account.”
“There was also a vehicle that was registered in Madam Y/N's name before ownership was later transferred to Miss Elizabeth.”
Valko's eyes narrow.
“So let me get this straight.”
He counts each point on his fingers.
“Mr. Henry transferred an apartment, a bank account, and a car to my wife when she turned eighteen. Yet after his death, the apartment and car ended up in Elizabeth's name, while the money disappeared into an unknown account.”
“That's correct, sir.”
Valko falls silent for a long moment.
“Even a fool can tell something is wrong here. We need to see the contents of that will. Arrange a meeting with Miranda's lawyer.”
“I would advise against that, sir,” Secretary Kim says.
“We have no legal standing to request access to the will, and the lawyer would almost certainly inform Madam Miranda that someone is investigating her affairs. It would only make her suspicious.”
Valko sighs.
His secretary is right.
“Then arrange a meeting with Mr. Henry's lawyer instead. In the meantime, keep digging.”
“Understood.”
Secretary Kim hesitates before asking one final question.
“What about Madam Y/N? Should we tell her what we've discovered?”
Valko shakes his head.
“Not yet. Let's keep this between us. I don't want to burden her with bad news until we know all the facts.”
…
You stand in front of the towering EonCore Tech headquarters, the company Valko owns and runs.
Your classes ended unexpectedly early after one of your professors had a personal emergency. Instead of heading home, you stopped by a bakery to pick up two hot chocolates and a box of brownies before deciding to surprise Valko at work.
As you step into the grand lobby, two women behind the reception desk greet you with polite smiles.
“Good afternoon, Miss. How may we help you?” the younger receptionist with blonde hair asks.
“I'm here to see Valko,” you say, placing the box of brownies on the counter beside you.
She blinks.
“Are you referring to Chairman Valko?” she asks for confirmation.
You nod.
“May I have your name? And do you have an appointment?”
“I don't,” you admit.
You hadn't told Valko you were coming. It had simply been a spur-of-the-moment decision.
The receptionist offers an apologetic smile.
“I'm sorry, Miss, but all visitors must have a scheduled appointment.”
“My name is Y/N,” you say, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm his wife.”
The receptionist's polite smile fades.
“Chairman Valko is unmarried.”
“I'm not sure what you're trying to accomplish by making such a claim, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave the premises.”
“Could you please just call him?” you ask politely. “Or, if he's unavailable, call Secretary Kim.”
“Miss,” the receptionist says coldly, “I'm going to ask you one last time to leave.”
“I really am his wife,” you insist, almost pouting. “I can prove it.”
Balancing the hot chocolates in one hand, you fumble through your bag with the other.
After marrying Valko, you took his surname. Every one of your identification documents reflects that.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
A deep voice speaks from behind you.
Turning around, you find a uniformed security guard standing only a few feet away.
“This is private property,” he says firmly. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Please,” you reply. “This is clearly just a miscommunication. Give me one moment. If you won't call him, then I'll call him myself.”
You reach into your pocket for your phone.
Before you can retrieve it, the security guard grabs your wrist.
“If asking nicely isn't enough,” he says, “I'll escort you out.”
He begins pulling you toward the entrance.
“Let go of me!”
You struggle against his grip.
The cups slip from your hand.
Hot chocolate splashes across the front of your blouse.
You gasp sharply as the scalding liquid soaks through the fabric.
“What is going on here?”
The familiar voice cuts through the lobby like thunder.
Valko strides across the marble floor.
His darken gaze lands on the security guard's hand still wrapped around your wrist.
“Unhand my wife.”
The security guard immediately releases you as though he'd been burned.
“M-Mr. Valko…” he stammers. “Did... did you just call this woman your wife?”
Valko doesn't even spare him a glance.
He shrugs off his suit jacket and gently drapes it over your shoulders.
Without a word, he places a protective hand on your back and guides you toward the elevator.
As the two of you pass the reception desk, the blond haired receptionist is already standing with her head bowed.
“My deepest apologies, Chairman,” she says nervously. “We had no idea you were married.”
Valko doesn't acknowledge her apology.
Instead, he looks toward Secretary Kim.
“You know what to do.”
The elevator doors slide shut behind you, leaving the lobby in suffocating silence.
…
A long silence stretches between the two of you before you finally speak.
“I'm sorry,” you say quietly. “I shouldn't have come without telling you first.”
“It's my fault,” Valko replies immediately. “I should have informed the front desk about you. Better yet, I should have given you a clearance card with full access to the building.”
He offers you an apologetic smile as the elevator doors slide open.
He opens the door to his office, allowing you to enter first before quietly closing it behind you.
As you take in the spacious office, Valko walks over to a cupboard and opens it.
“Why are you here anyway?”, he asks. “Did something happen? Aren't you supposed to have classes?”
“They were cancelled,” you reply.
“So I thought I'd surprise you with some... treats.”
You glance down at the large brown stain covering the front of your blouse.
“I missed you.”
The words are barely above a whisper, but Valko hears them.
You missed him.
His mate missed him.
A smile spreads across his face.
“Here.”
He holds out a black button-up shirt.
“You can change in the bathroom.”
He gestures toward the frosted glass door in the corner of his office.
You thank him, take the shirt, and disappear inside.
A few minutes later, you step back into the office.
Valko is seated in one of the armchairs beside the coffee table.
The moment he looks up, he freezes.
His shirt hangs loosely on your frame, the sleeves rolled to your forearms while one side slips off one shoulder.
Without warning, his soft wolf ears appear atop his head.
A fluffy tail follows, swishing happily behind him.
“Seeing you wearing my clothes got me excited.” He mutters, cheeks turning pink.
A mischievous grin tugs at your lips.
“Were you imagining bending me over your desk?”
A low growl rumbles in his throat.
“Don't tempt me.”
Now it's your turn to blush.
He makes a mental note that this shirt is never going into the laundry again.
You quickly change the subject.
“What's all this?”
You point toward the collection of chocolate bars piled on the coffee table alongside two mugs of hot chocolate.
“My stash,” Valko says proudly. “Help yourself.”
“I'm honestly surprised your office doesn't have a chocolate fountain.”
“That's... actually a brilliant idea.”
You shake your head with an amused chuckle.
The laughter fades into a comfortable silence.
After a moment, Valko's expression turns serious.
“Flower…”
“May I ask you something... personal?”
Only yesterday, after returning from a wellness getaway with your friend Tara, you learned his secret - that he is a wolf hybrid.
He was so open and vulnerable, wearing his heart on his sleeve, that you want to do the same.
“Sure,” you say with a warm smile. “Ask me anything.”
“How did your father meet Miranda?” He asks. “He raised you on his own for so many years.”
“It surprised me,” you admit. “One evening, he told me we were having guests over for dinner. That's when he introduced Miranda and Elizabeth... then announced they were getting married.”
You shake your head at the memory.
“I didn't even know he was seeing anyone.”
“Did he ever tell you why he decided to suddenly remarry?” Valko asks.
“I don't think it was because of love,” you reply with a small shrug. “More... respect, maybe. Besides, it wasn’t my place to question his decision and he seemed happy.”
“Why did your father decide to leave everything to her?”
You think for a moment
“I assumed he wrote his will while I was still underage,” you say. “As his wife, and the only other adult in the household besides Elizabeth - it probably seemed easier to leave everything in her care.”
You pause before continuing.
“I remember him telling me he always felt guilty that I grew up without a mother. He hoped Miranda would become a mother figure to me.”
A grimace crosses your face.
“Besides, Miranda was very involved in the company from the beginning of the marriage. It makes sense that he'd want her to take over.”
Valko falls silent.
There are so many more questions he wants to ask.
But he can't risk making you suspicious. If he keeps pressing, you'll inevitably wonder why he's suddenly so interested in your family's affairs.
He isn't ready to tell you he's conducting his own investigation behind your back.
Clearing his throat, he changes the subject.
“By the way,” he says casually, “I noticed you used the card I gave you. You made quite a large purchase at an art supply store.”
Your face pales.
“I'm sorry,” you blurt out. “I promise I'll pay you back.”
Valko blinks.
“That's not what I meant.”
“I gave you that card so you'd use it. We're married. What's mine is yours.”
He smiles.
“I was just curious what you plan to do with all those art supplies."”
You let out a relieved sigh.
“I like painting,” you admit. “It's been my hobby for years. Now that I don't have a part-time job anymore, and I finally have some free time, I want to start painting again.”
“You paint?” Valko repeats, surprised.
“I don't remember seeing any paintings or art supplies at your apartment.”
“That's because I left everything at the family manor,” you explain. “My apartment was too small to store everything, and between university, studying, and work, I never have time to paint anyway.”
“I see.”
Valko nods thoughtfully.
“I'd love to see your paintings.”
You smile sheepishly.
“I'm not a professional. It's just a hobby.”
Valko's phone chimes.
He pulls it from his pocket, glances at the screen, and lets out a groan before silencing the notification.
“I'm sorry,” he says regretfully. “I need to prepare for a meeting.”
You nod in understanding and begin gathering your things.
“Before you go…”
Valko reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small velvet jewelry box.
“I was planning to give this to you at home,” he says, “but since you're already here…”
He places it in your hands.
Curious, you lift the lid.
Your breath catches.
Nestled inside is a delicate pair of earrings.
Not just any earrings.
The exact same earrings your father gave you for your birthday several years ago.
“How...?” you whisper.
You look up at Valko.
“I knew they weren't just jewelry,” Valko says.
“So I tracked down the exact pair.”
Your eyes widen.
“You mean…”
“They're the originals,” he confirms proudly. “I just had them professionally cleaned and polished. They'd accumulated a little wear over the years.”
A tear slips silently down your cheek.
You throw yourself into his arms.
Your arms wrap tightly around his neck.
“Thank you,” you whisper against his shoulder over and over.
Valko closes his arms around you, holding you close.
Feeling your emotions of happiness made every bit of effort worthwhile.
——————————————————————
Valko's car comes to a stop in front of the iron gates guarding your family manor.
He introduces himself through the intercom, and a few moments later, the heavy gates slowly swing open, granting him access to the long driveway.
Judging by the exterior alone, the manor is elegant without being ostentatious. It has an old-world charm that feels warm rather than extravagant.
Before Valko even reaches the front door, it opens.
“Welcome, Mr. Valko.”
The butler bows respectfully, stepping aside to allow Valko, Secretary Kim, and the three men accompanying them to enter.
“Mr. Valko, what a wonderful surprise.”
A woman around his age gracefully descends the staircase, her elegant dress swaying with each step.
She stops in front of him and offers a bright, practiced smile.
“Do you remember me? I'm Elizabeth, Miranda's daughter.”
“What brings you to our humble home?”
Her scent reaches him before her words do.
Sweet.
Far too sweet.
“I'm sorry for arriving unannounced,” Valko says politely, adopting the calm, professional demeanor he reserves for business clients. “I wasn't certain anyone would be home.”
“I've come to collect some of my wife's belongings.”
“Her paintings, to be precise.”
Elizabeth tilts her head.
“I'm afraid I don't know anything about that.”
“I believe Mr. Valko is referring to Miss Y/N's - pardon me, Mrs. Y/N's - art studio,” the butler interjects from the side. “It was closed shortly after she left for college.”
Elizabeth shoots him a sharp look.
“Oh…”
She lets out a soft laugh.
“Now I remember.”
She smiles innocently.
“The room has been closed for so many years that it completely slipped my mind.”
The butler leads the group through the manor's winding corridors, passing countless doors along the way.
Elizabeth walks beside Valko, making idle conversation.
He barely listens.
Eventually, the butler stops in front of a door and unlocks it.
As it swings open, a spacious art studio comes into view.
“The maids have kept the room clean,” the butler explains. “Otherwise, nothing has been touched.”
The room is spotless, without a trace of dust.
“Pack everything you can,” Valko instructs.
“The paintings are the priority. Handle them carefully.”
The men immediately get to work.
Elizabeth folds her arms.
“To think Y/N would send you all this way for a few worthless paintings,” she says with a dramatic sigh.
“Then again, that's just like her. She's always been such a nuisance.”
Valko's expression noticeably darkens, but before he can say anything, a quiet cough from Secretary Kim stops him.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Valko says pleasantly, “why don't you keep me company elsewhere while my men work?”
He gestures politely toward the hallway, inviting her to step out.
…
The moment Valko and Elizabeth disappear around the corner, Secretary Kim takes it as his cue to begin searching the manor.
After all, retrieving Madam Y/N's paintings isn't the only reason they're here.
The visit also gives him the opportunity to look around the home where Valko's wife grew up and, if possible, speak with the household staff.
As luck would have it, he soon finds the butler.
“May I ask how long you've worked here?” Secretary Kim asks.
“For thirty years,” the butler replies. “Most of the staff have served this family for decades. Even after the late master's passing, may he rest in peace, we chose to remain.”
“How would you describe the relationship between the late master and his daughter?”
“He adored her.”
There isn't a moment's hesitation.
“He and his wife were blessed with her later in life. After his wife passed away, Miss Y/N became his entire world.”
A fond look crosses his face.
“Despite being raised like a princess, she never became spoiled. She has always had a kind and gentle heart.”
“I understand she doesn’t have the best relationship with her stepmother and stepsister.”
The warmth disappears from the butler's expression.
“Madam Miranda and Miss Elizabeth are parasites.”
"Whenever the master wasn't around, they treated Miss Y/N with cold indifference.
He lowers his voice.
“No one in this house is particularly fond of either of them. We remain because this has been our home for many years.”
His shoulders sag slightly.
“Things only become worse after the master's death.”
He looks at Secretary Kim hopefully.
“How is she? None of us has seen her since the funeral. Madam Miranda forbade her from ever returning to the manor.”
“Mrs. Y/N is doing well,” Secretary Kim assures him. "Mr. Valko takes very good care of her.’
Relief washes over the butler's face.
He hesitates before continuing.
“When I first heard about the marriage, I was shocked.”
“Later, I overheard it was an arranged marriage... more of a business arrangement.”
Secretary Kim neither confirms nor denies the statement.
Instead, he steers the conversation back to the matter at hand.
“Have you ever witnessed or overheard anything else that struck you as unusual?”
The butler sighs.
“Madam Miranda is a calculating woman.”
“If she's plotting something, she makes certain it happens behind the closed doors of her office. She never discusses important matters where the staff might overhear.”
“Can you show me her office?”
The butler shakes his head.
“I'm afraid it wouldn't help.”
“The room is secured with both a passcode and Madam Miranda's fingerprint. No one else has access, not even Miss Elizabeth.”
Secretary Kim sighs inwardly.
He never expected this investigation to be straightforward.
“One last question.”
He glances toward the corridor, aware that Valko and Elizabeth could return at any moment.
"”In the days leading up to Mr. Henry's death - or shortly afterward - did either Mr. Henry's lawyer or Madam Miranda's lawyer visit the manor?”
The butler thinks for a moment.
“The late master's lawyer? No.”
“But if memory serves me correctly…. a few days after the master's passing, Madam Miranda met with her own lawyer at his office.”
——————————————————————
The moment Valko walks through the front door of your now-shared home, he is hit by a storm of emotions through the mate bond.
Anger.
Sadness.
Distress.
He follows the overwhelming emotions until he finds you in the living room.
You sit curled up in the corner of the sofa, your knees pulled tightly against your chest, your arms wrapped around them as you bury your face.
“Flower?”
He crosses the room in hurried strides and kneels in front of you.
“What's wrong? What happened?”
“They know.”
Your voice is barely audible, muffled against your knees.
“They found out.”
You slowly lift your head.
“Now everyone at university knows I'm married.”
“Is that really such a bad thing?” he asks, genuinely confused.
You slowly lift your head and meet his gaze.
“It's not the marriage that's the problem," you say quietly. "It's everything that comes after.”
You begin listing the questions one after another, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
“'I had no idea you were in a relationship.'”
“'Why did you get married so young?'”
“'What's your husband like?'”
“Oh... and my personal favorite.”
“'How did you two meet?'”
“Do you have any idea how humiliating it is knowing I can't answer a single one of those questions honestly?”
You shove past him, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to force him to catch his balance as you spring to your feet.
“Oh, you know…” you say, your voice rising. “I am a twenty-year-old orphan and third-year university student who was forced into a marriage as part of a business deal. My husband just so happens to be a werewolf who only married me because I'm his fated mate.”
Valko can only stare.
The words sting because they're true.
You continue before he gets the chance to respond.
“Before you came into my life, I had just found out my boyfriend of two years was cheating on me.”
“With none other than my beloved stepsister, Elizabeth.”
You let out a hollow laugh.
“The worst part? He'd been cheating on me for almost our entire relationship. He just didn't have the gits to end things.”
“And the only reason he ever dated me…” Your voice cracks. “...was because of my father's money.”
You wipe your eyes.
“I barely have time to come to terms with everything,” you say, your voice fading into a whisper. “Before I could even begin to heal... I was married off.”
Valko wasn’t naive enough to had expected to be your first love.
But hearing how thoroughly you'd been betrayed...
How cruelly you'd been used...
It makes rage simmer beneath his skin.
He slowly rises to his feet and carefully takes a few steps towards you.
“I know our relationship doesn't have the kind of beginning either of us would have chosen,” Valko says quietly. “There isn't a romantic first meeting. No courtship. No fairy-tale wedding.”
He lowers his gaze.
“If I could change the way we met... I would.”
He looks back at you, his expression unwavering.
His tone is gentle but resolute.
“I don't want our past to define us. I want us to build something real together.”
You swallow hard before voicing the question that has been weighing on your mind.
“Be honest... if I weren't your mate - if there weren't some biological bond drawing you to me - would your words, your actions, your feelings toward me still be the same?”
“If we happened to pass each other on the street... would you even glance at me?”
Your vision blurs with unshed tears.
Valko's entire body goes rigid.
The question strikes him harder than any blow ever could.
Do you truly believe his feelings are nothing more than instinct?
Do you really think so little of his sincerity?
He opens his mouth to answer.
Nothing comes out.
Valko is left utterly speechless.
Looking away, you turn and walk out of the living room.
Your footsteps echo through the house as you slowly make your way upstairs, leaving Valko standing exactly where he is.
——————————————————————
A few days pass after the conversation in the living room.
Valko feels like a kicked puppy.
Lost.
Defeated.
You've reverted to avoiding him, just like you did when you first moved into the manor after the marriage.
Gone are the shared breakfasts.
Gone are the light conversations during the drive to your university.
Gone are the romantic dates.
Gone are the movie nights spent debating what to watch.
Whenever the two of you cross paths in the manor, neither of you knows how to bridge the distance or what to say.
Valko refuses to let this continue.
He's given you space.
Now it's time to make things right.
As the saying goes, actions speak louder than words.
His kind has always expressed themselves through actions more than words.
…
Valko knocks on your bedroom door, which you've left half open.
You're sitting at your desk with your back to him, hunched over your notes.
Your bachelor's graduation is just around the corner.
“Flower,” he says softly. “Sorry to interrupt your studying, but could you come with me for a moment?”
You don't meet his eyes, but you don't hesitate either.
Silently, you stand and follow him down the hallway.
He stops in front of a door and opens it.
Stepping aside, he lets you enter first.
The moment you step inside, your eyes widen.
The room has been transformed into an art studio.
One that reminds you of the studio you left behind at the family manor.
You slowly walk farther into the room, taking in every detail.
“I thought that if you're going to start painting again, you deserve a space where you can do it comfortably,” Valko says as he comes to stand beside you.
Your gaze drifts to the paintings lining the walls.
You recognize every single one.
“My paintings…”
“I stopped by your family manor to collect them,” Valko says with a smile.
“I've been putting this room together for a while now. Sorry it took so long. I don't know the first thing about art, but I wanted it to be perfect.”
He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Listen, Flower…”
His voice turns serious.
“I'm sorry about the other day,”
“My kind processes emotions differently than humans do. I... needed time to understand your point of view.”
He raises a finger.
“But let me make one thing perfectly clear.”
“I'll spend the rest of my life proving to you that my love for you goes far beyond instinct.”
You turn to face him and hold his gaze.
“I'm the one at fault.”
“I let other people's opinions make me lose sight of everything you've done for me since the very beginning.”
“I won't let that happen again.”
“And from this day forward, I'll put just as much effort into this relationship as you have.”
You step forward and gently wrap your arms around his waist.
“Thank you.”
“I can't wait to create new paintings here.”
You look up at him with a bright smile.
Without warning, Valko's wolf ears pop out.
A fluffy tail appears behind him, wagging uncontrollably.
He really has no control over his transformations around you anymore.
A laugh escapes your lips.
“I want to do something in return,” you say as you let him go. “I need a way to thank you.”
Valko pretends to think.
“Hmm…”
“How about you teach me how to paint?"
A mischievous glint sparkles in your eyes.
“Sure.”
“Your tail will make an excellent paintbrush.”
——————————————————————
Valko and Secretary Kim enter a spacious office.
The man seated behind the desk immediately stands and greets them, shaking both their hands before introducing himself.
“Mr. Lind.”
He gestures toward the chairs opposite his desk.
“Please, have a seat.”
Finally, they have managed to meet with your late father's lawyer.
They can only hope this conversation provides the answers they need.
“Mr. Valko, Mr. Kim. A pleasure to meet you both. How can I assist you?” Mr. Lind asks, placing his hands neatly on his desk.
“I am here because you were my wife, Y/N's, and her father's lawyer,” Valko explains.
“So Y/N is married now,” Mr. Lind says with a smile. “How time flies.”
“Congratulations, by the way.”
A brief pause.
“Please tell me you aren't here on behalf of a divorce.”
Valko shakes his head.
“No. I'm here to ask a few questions regarding the will her father left behind.”
Mr. Lind leans back in his chair.
“I'm sorry, but even as her husband, I'm not permitted to discuss such matters with you.”
“We understand,” Secretary Kim says smoothly. “However, would you be willing to answer a few questions that don't compromise your professional obligations?”
Mr. Lind considers this before leaning forward again.
“What would you like to know?”
“It has been two years since Henry's passing. He was a good friend of mine. We had known each other since college.”
“Despite being his lawyer, you were not the one who read the will or handled the processing of it. Is that correct?” Valko asks.
Mr. Lind sighs.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
A hint of discomfort crosses the lawyer's face.
“At the time, I was under suspicion of accepting payments on the side to carry out unethical work. The firm placed me under suspension until the investigation was completed.”
He folds his hands together.
“During that period, all of my active cases were reassigned to other lawyers. Henry's will was ultimately handled by Madam Miranda's lawyer.”
“Why did the firm suspect you of being involved in such activities?” Secretary Kim asks curiously.
“False rumors and fabricated evidence,” Mr. Lind answers.
“The investigation cleared my name within a few weeks, and I was allowed to return to work. Unfortunately, they never discovered who was responsible or the reason behind such an attack.”
He shrugs slightly.
“The assumption was that it may have been the work of a rival.”
He pauses.
“If only it hadn't happened around the same time as Henry's death.”
His expression turns somber.
“I couldn't even attend his funeral. It was a private ceremony, and I wasn't invited. I paid my respects several days later.”
Valko and Secretary Kim exchange a glance.
The timing is far too convenient.
A respected lawyer suddenly suspended.
A will transferred into the hands of Miranda's lawyer.
And a funeral where Henry's closest legal representative isn't even invited.
Something about this doesn't add up.
“Were you the one who drafted Mr. Henry's will?” Valko asks.
“Yes,” Mr. Lind confirms. “I handled all of his legal affairs.”
“But you did not handle any of Madam Miranda's or Miss Elizabeth's legal matters?”
“Correct.” He nods. “They have their own lawyer. Thankfully, that meant I could leave the processing of the will in his hands when I was unavailable.”
“Did Mr. Henry make any changes to his will shortly before his passing?” Secretary Kim asks.
“No.”
The answer comes without hesitation.
“I cannot disclose the contents of the will, but I can tell you the last time Henry made any changes was one year after his marriage to Miranda.”
He pauses.
“At that time, he requested that I include his wife and his stepdaughter in the will. Before that, the only person named was Y/N, as she was his only living family member.”
Mr. Lind studies them carefully.
“I'm sorry, but may I ask why you're asking these questions? If Y/N has discovered an issue regarding the contents of the will, then you need to speak with the lawyer who processed it.”
Valko leans forward.
“I'm asking because I have been informed that, according to the will, Mr. Henry left everything to Miranda while my wife was left with nothing.”
His voice remains calm, but firm.
“Not only that, but several assets that were previously under my wife's name shortly either disappeared or were transferred to her stepsister, Elizabeth.”
He pauses.
“I never had the opportunity to meet Mr. Henry while he was alive, but from everything I have learned about him, I find it difficult to believe he would knowingly leave his daughter with nothing.”
The expression on Mr. Lind's face changes instantly into one of pure shock
“That can't be right.”
“See for yourself.”
Secretary Kim places the tablet on the desk and slides it toward him.
Mr. Lind picks it up and silently reads through the documents.
The longer he reads, the more his expression changes.
“This…”
“This is wrong.”
He places the tablet down.
“The assets you mentioned…”
His brows furrow.
“I'm the one who transferred them into Y/N's name. Henry instructed me to do so when she reached legal age.”
He shakes his head.
“They weren’t even included in the will because they already legally belonged to her.”
Mr. Lind looks back at the documents.
“The apartment, for example, should never have gone to Miss Elizabeth unless Y/N sold it to her or willingly transferred ownership.”
“According to these records, neither happened.”
“That's why we're here,” Valko says. “We need answers.”
Mr. Lind looks at him.
“Have you spoken to Y/N about this?”
“I did,” Valko replies. “But it appears her father never told her that he had transferred these assets into her name.”
“For example, she was led to believe that she was living at the apartment as a tenant.”
Mr. Lind's expression darkens.
He stands and walks toward a locked cabinet.
After entering the code, he opens one of the drawers and scans the neatly organized files arranged alphabetically.
A few moments later, he pulls out a folder.
“I shouldn't be doing this…”
His voice carries a hint of guilt.
“But this is a copy of Henry's will.”
He places it on the table.
Valko and Secretary Kim immediately open the file.
Their eyes widen as they read through the document.
“This is the copy you provided to Madam Miranda's lawyer?”
Secretary Kim looks up, needing confirmation.
Mr. Lind nods slowly.
——————————————————————
The moment you step onto the stage to receive your degree, Valko immediately jumps to his feet.
He claps and whistles as loudly as he can.
He doesn't care if he's embarrassing himself.
From the stage, you look over and can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.
Once the ceremony ends, Valko makes his way through the crowd and pulls you into his arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around.
“You did it! Congratulations!”
His voice is filled with pure pride.
You laugh, growing dizzy until he finally sets you back down.
“I made reservations for tonight,” he says. “Do you have any plans?”
“Tara and some classmates want to celebrate with karaoke and drinks.”
Valko grins.
“Want me to show off my singing skills?”
You laugh.
“Actually, I turned them down.”
“I had a feeling you'd make plans.”
You glance down at the degree in your hands.
“I wish my parents were here.”
Valko places a gentle kiss on the top of your head.
“They are.”
He places his large palm over your heart.
“I'm sure they're proud of you.”
“Your parents are buried, right?” he asks gently.
You nod.
“Then let's go visit them.”
He takes your hand and leads you toward his waiting car.
…
“So, now that you've graduated, what's next?” Valko asks as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“My offer still stands. You can come work at EonCore Tech.”
“Want me to be your secretary?” You tease.
“Only if you promise to wear a short skirt and a low neckline.”
You burst out laughing.
His face turns bright red.
You lightly smack his arm.
“Don't picture it, you pervert.”
“Poor Mr. Kim,” you add, shaking your head with a giggle.
“The reason I chose business as my major was because I wanted to help my father with the company one day.”
“He spent years building it from the ground up. He was so happy when I told him I was studying business.”
You look out the window.
“I was never really interested in his work, but he never forced me into it.”
“You can still work there,” Valko says. “It's your father's company.”
“Yeah, right.”
You scoff.
“Miranda banned me from the property. I can't even take two steps inside before security throws me out.”
Valko's hands tighten around the steering wheel.
But he says nothing.
…
“Mom. Dad.”
You stand in front of the two graves, your eyes fixed on their names.
“Sorry I haven't visited in a while.”
You hold up your degree.
“Look. I graduated today.”
A small smile forms.
“Now I just need to put it to good use.”
You glance at Valko before linking your arm with his.
“This is Valko.”
“My husband.”
“So you don't need to worry about me anymore. I'm in good hands.”
Valko steps forward.
“Ma'am. Sir.”
He bows respectfully.
“I promise to cherish your daughter and protect her for the rest of my life.”
——————————————————————
“Mr. Lind, what are you doing here?”
You stare at him in surprise as you enter the living room.
Valko called you downstairs, saying he needed to discuss something important.
“It's been a while, Y/N,” Mr. Lind says with a small smile. “It's good to see you.”
His expression turns slightly sad.
“I only wish it was under different circumstances.”
You look at him, then at Valko, then at Secretary Kim, confusion growing as you take a seat.
“Before you get angry or jump to conclusions, I need you to know that my intentions were good,” Valko says, sitting beside you.
Your concern only deepens.
“I need you to read this.”
He hands you a file.
You take it, open it, and begin reading in silence.
The longer you read, the more your expression changes.
“What is the meaning of this?”
You look up at Mr. Lind.
“Your father's will," he explains. “The original. The one I handed over to Miranda's lawyer. The one that should have been read and processed.”
Your fingers tighten around the document.
“What does this mean?”
Your voice comes out small.
“It means Miranda not only lied to you, but also falsified your father's will and illegally transferred his assets into her own name.”
Valko's voice is firm, anger barely restrained.
“She most likely had people assisting her,” Secretary Kim adds. “Including her lawyer.”
You look back down at the document.
This version is completely different from the one you were led to believe.
According to this will, the family manor, the vehicles, the holiday homes in WhiteSand Bay and SnowCrest, the money in multiple accounts, and even the company...
Everything was left to you.
Miranda and Elizabeth were only left two residences, individual accounts, and a percentage of the company's shares.
Your grip tightens until the file begins to crumple in your hands.
“I'm such an idiot.”
Your voice is filled with disbelief.
“I should have known my father would never leave me with nothing.”
How could you have been so naive?
So willing to believe the worst?
“Do not blame yourself.”
Mr. Lind's voice is gentle.
“You had no reason to question it. You trusted the people around you, as anyone would.”
You throw the file onto the floor, anger finally boiling over.
“I always knew Miranda and Elizabeth were cruel. I knew they were selfish and driven by money.”
Your voice shakes.
“But I never thought they would go this far.”
You laugh bitterly.
“It's not even like my father left them with nothing.”
Valko places a hand on your shoulder.
“We'll fix this.”
His voice is calm, but his promise is absolute.
“You will get back what belongs to you. And they will answer for what they did.”
“With Secretary Kim's help, we are already gathering evidence for a legal case,” Mr. Lind adds.
“If this goes to court and I win…”
You look down at the document.
“Miranda and Elizabeth could face prison.”
“I'll make sure they do.”
Valko's voice is cold.
A silence follows.
“But without Miranda, what happens to my father's company?”
Panic enters your voice.
“I can't run it. Not immediately.”
You look between them.
“What about the employees? The clients?”
“I'll help you.”
Valko answers without hesitation.
You shake your head.
“You already have enough responsibilities running EonCore Tech.”
You let out a defeated sigh.
“I know you're going to hate my proposal…”
“But I need you to hear me out.”
——————————————————————
Miranda and Elizabeth don't even try to hide their displeasure when you walk into Miranda's office at your father's company.
You asked Valko to contact them on your behalf, arranging a meeting with both of them present.
Their expressions darken even further when they notice Secretary Kim and Mr. Lind accompanying you.
Before Miranda has the chance to speak, you stop her.
“I'll be doing the talking.”
Your voice is firm.
Your gaze is cold.
“First of all, Elizabeth…”
You turn toward her.
“I must thank you for cheating with my boyfriend.”
Your tone is sweet.
“Because of your actions, I met my husband, Valko.”
You glance at him fondly.
Valko immediately straightens, almost proudly.
“You two are much more suited for each other.”
Your smile doesn't falter.
“Trash belongs with trash.”
Valko has to fight back a laugh.
“And as for you…”
You turn toward Miranda.
“Witch.”
Valko nearly chokes, trying not to laugh at the insult.
“Recognize this?”
You hold out the file.
She snatches it from your hand and quickly scans through the pages.
The color drains from her face.
“I'll take that as a yes.”
You take the file back.
“Out of respect for my father, I'm giving you two choices.”
You raise one finger.
“Option one.”
“You correct everything and follow my father's actual will.’
You tap the file.
“And I'm even willing to let you continue working here.”
“Because as much as I hate to admit it, you are good at managing the company.”
Your eyes narrow.
“Of course, you'll be doing so under my and Valko's supervision.”
You raise a second finger.
“Or option two.”
“We handle this in court.”
Secretary Kim steps forward.
“We are already preparing the necessary evidence for legal proceedings.”
You look between Miranda and Elizabeth.
“The choice is yours.”
…
You stand barefoot on the front porch, a warm mug in your hands as you stare up at the night sky.
Thousands of stars shine above you.
Valko brought you to his secluded cabin deep in the woods, wanting to give you a break from the chaos of Linkon City and everything that has happened.
You've been on countless dates together.
But this is your first trip away.
Here, Valko seems lighter.
Happier.
Relaxed.
As a wolf hybrid, this must truly feel like home.
And, he doesn't have to hide his true self.
You've resisted the urge to wave a stick in front of him and make him play fetch.
Barely.
Two strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you against his chest.
Valko rests his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling against you.
“Now that we're here…” he says thoughtfully. “I've been thinking.”
“Maybe we should redo our wedding.”
His voice softens.
“Have a proper one.”
“Couples renew their vows all the time.”
A pause.
“And we could have a honeymoon.”
“Anywhere you want.”
You turn around and gently scratch behind his wolf ears.
“That sounds lovely,” you admit.
“But you don't need to do that to convince me to stay by your side as your wife.”
Valko smiles warmly.
“However…”
Your voice turns sultry.
“I wouldn't mind finally having our wedding night.”
You wink.
For a moment, Valko just stares.
Then his smile slowly widens.
Before you can react, he lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal style inside the cabin.
“I'm glad fate chose me to be your mate.”
You whisper against his chest.
Valko holds you closer.
Fate may have brought you together.
The bond may have recognized you as mates.
But your hearts recognized each other as partners.
And that is something neither fate, nor a contract, or person can ever take away.
THE END
Epilogue (written as headcanons)
Divider provided by @strangergraphics - all credit goes to her. Thank you, this is perfect for my fanfic! 🩷
Author’s Note: And that's a wrap. I'd like to once again thank @sailorstar9 for the request. 🫶 It was a nice challenge to write a fic about Valko. 🐺 I hope you don't mind that it turned into a two-part story. 😅
