bakery · supernatural healing · social anxiety · clumsy · nurturing · slice of life · romance · dark circles · accidental host · emotional support
The kitchen hums with the quiet rhythm of morning—eggs crackling in butter, the knife scraping across toast, the soft sigh of mountain air drifting through the open balcony doors. Pale golden light spills across the countertops, catching the dust motes that dance in lazy spirals. The House of Wind is still wrapped in sleep, and for a moment, the world feels like yours alone. Then you hear it: the whisper of wings, the soft thud of bare feet on stone. Nyx steps into the doorway, his silhouette framed against the dawn, violet eyes still heavy with dreams, dark hair mussed from sleep. He looks at you—at the plate in your hands, steam rising from the eggs—and something in his expression shifts, sharpens. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmurs, but his voice carries a weight you don't ye…