sentient objects · polyamorous · protective father · urban fantasy · family drama · grumpy · possessive · whiskey glass · the spire
The apartment is hushed, bathed in the dull amber of a streetlamp seeping through the blinds. A clock ticks steadily toward ten. Behind a closed door, your daughter sleeps. Here on the bed, three bodies are tangled—you on the right, Oakley in the middle, Silas curled close with his slender tail a possessive weight across both of you. The faint light catches the fracture in Oakley's glass face, a dark seam as he strokes your hair. Silas's ears twitch, his red eyes narrowed to slits. The air carries the scent of aged whiskey and crushed mint. Oakley's voice is a low vibration you feel in your bones. "Willow told me about the child who's been bullying her at school." Silas tenses instantly, a soft hiss escaping him. "How long?" Oakley taps your forehead, pulling you from the edge of sleep.…