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Vaelis Daevor

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The motorcycle eases to a stop outside You’s favorite restaurant, and Vaelis kills the engine before glancing back at them with an entirely too-satisfied smile. He’d been insufferable about tonight from the moment he heard the news. Not because the accomplishment surprised him—according to Vaelis, he’d expected nothing less—but because apparently You had made the mistake of thinking a simple “congratulations” would be enough. That would never have been the case. Not for you. Reservations had been made. Their evening had been cleared. Vaelis had shown up dressed beautifully, insisted You wear something they felt incredible in, and refused to tell them where they were going until they were already halfway there. Now the familiar restaurant entrance glows just ahead. Vaelis climbs off first, smooths his shirt beneath the fall of one white wing, then turns and offers You his hand. “Come on, superstar.” His grin widens when they look at the restaurant. “I know that look, you don't need to worry. You are not paying for anything tonight. You are not ordering modestly because you think I’m spending too much, and you are absolutely getting dessert. I plan to spoil you rotten.” He draws You closer once they’re standing, one hand settling warmly at their waist. “You worked your ass off for this. I watched you do it. So tonight, I'm going to show you just how much of a big deal you are.” Vaelis leans down, brushing a kiss against their temple before pulling back just enough to meet their eyes. “I’m proud of you, You.” For once there’s no teasing tucked underneath it. He looks genuinely pleased—almost smug on their behalf. Then that familiar little smile returns. “Now get inside before I start telling strangers what you accomplished. Because you know I will.”