-Julien Grayson:
I hate when stockings slide down.
There is nothing more irritating than feeling that slow, traitorous inching around my thighs when I'm trying to look put together. It ruins the entire mood.
I'm standing in the middle of my room, one foot propped on the edge of my bed, carefully rolling the thick pink and white stockings up my leg again, smoothing them with deliberate fingers.
I learned a trick two years ago from a video I saw online. A thin line of body adhesive along the band. Not too much. Just enough to keep it in place without making it uncomfortable. I swipe it carefully, wait a few seconds, then press the lace firmly against my skin.
Perfect.
I repeat the process with the other leg, adjusting until both bands sit evenly, high on my thighs. I straighten slowly, checking the mirror. They aren't sliding. They won't slide.
"Stay," I mutter under my breath, pointing at them as if they can hear me.
The skirt comes next.
It's charcoal grey with pink stripes, pleated, and fitted low at the waist. I step into it and tug it up, smoothing it over my hips. The hem brushes almost mid-thigh, short without being too short. I twist slightly in the mirror, checking the way it flares when I move.
Good.
I reach for my cropped white top, soft cotton, slightly oversized at the sleeves, but cut just above my hip bone. When I pull it on, a small strip of skin shows between the fabric and the skirt when I stretch. I tilt my head, considering.
Cute.
My hair takes longer.
Blonde, thick, slightly wavy if I let it air dry, which I did last night. I run a brush through it carefully, parting it just slightly off-center, then grab my hair straightener to start styling. It falls naturally around my face, framing my cheekbones.
People say I look exactly like Papa Elias. Same blonde hair. Same green eyes. Same sharp mouth that always looks like it's hiding a secret, the only difference is our age and height.
While I'm 19 years old, my papa is 48 years old but doesn't look a day over 25. And it isn't because of some genetic lottery, it's because my other dad happened to be an immortal witch who decided to share his life force with both of my other dads, making them all immortal.
The only downside of this magic is that when one of them dies, the other two follow. Still, I'm pretty sure they don't think of it as a downside; if anything, they'd be happier to follow each other to death than stay alive without one of them.
The height, my papa is taller than I, as he stands at 5'11ft, while I'm just 5'5ft. I'm still confused about why I turned out short when all my dads and brothers are giants, but I like it either way.
I lean closer to the mirror to decide what makeup look I'm going for today.
I grab my lip balm from the desk and swipe it across my mouth, dust a bit of powder blush on my cheeks, and add a simple eyeliner, then step back to take myself in fully.
I don't dress like this for attention.
I don't dress like this to rebel.
This is just me.
I like skirts. I like dresses. I like things that swish when I walk and hug my waist properly. I like pink, colors, and feminine things. Some people might call it controversial. Some might whisper. But honestly, I look cute. And I'm nice and kind to everyone. I've never given anyone a reason to hate me.
And in our pack, no one would dare try. Still not sure if it's because I'm nice or if it's because I have an enigma for a father.
I grab my pink backpack from the chair near my desk, sliding my rose-gold laptop inside, and double-checking for my schedule. My fingers fidget with the Hello Kitty keychain on my backpack longer than necessary.
A knock sounds on my door.
"Julien? Are you awake?"
Pops.
"Yes, Dad," I call back automatically, even though I usually call him Pops and Aurelian, Dad. It slips out sometimes when I'm distracted, they don't mind it because they're all my dads at the end of the day.
The door opens gently anyway, and Pops Sebastian steps in with that soft smile he always wears in the mornings. His hair is longer than it was when I was a kid; it's so long that the ends touch his hips. I'm pretty sure he grows it out because Papa likes it and because Pops likes to pretend it's hard to manage it as an excuse to make Papa do it for him.
Pops is also 48 years old now, and just like Papa, everyone thinks he's in his mid-twenties; he has a badass scar on his face, which had an even more badass backstory, and I make him tell me about it all the time.
He said he used to be ashamed of his scar and even asked Dad to remove it using magic once, but instantly regretted it when he saw the look on both of my other dads' faces, he felt like he was wiping away a part of himself that both of my dads fell in love with, which is why he kept it and why he shows it proudly, now.
He smells like coffee, sandalwood, warmth, and kindness, although I think the only people who think he smells like kindness are us, his kids, and his lovers, because other people seem to be terrified of his scent, which makes no sense to me. Pops is the best dad to ever walk on this earth. He's the type of dads who pays attention to every detail when it comes to their kids. He has never forgotten about any of our games, birthdays, appointments, or even the smallest things we like.
He pauses when he sees me fully dressed, his eyes scanning me with quiet affection.
"You look beautiful," he says simply, with warmth radiating from his eyes.
I grin. "I know, but thank you." I blame my parents for making me so confident in myself; they always make me feel like I'm the most beautiful person in the world, and I believe them.
He laughs under his breath and walks over, pulling me into a brief hug. I melt into his chest easily. Pops hugs as he means it, warm and grounding and steady. When he pulls back, he doesn't let go completely. He takes my hand instead, squeezing it gently.
"First day at college," he says, studying my face. "How are you feeling today? Are you ready?"
I shrug, but I can't stop the smile spreading across my mouth. "I'm really excited, actually. A bit nervous, though. But mostly excited. I want to see new people. New classes. New professors."
He chuckles and brushes his thumb over my knuckles. "You'll be fine."
"Of course."
He gives my hand one last squeeze before guiding me toward the stairs. We walk down together, his presence calm beside me, and I can already hear low voices drifting from the living room.
When we reach the bottom step, I spot Dad immediately.
Aurelian is standing near the large window, dark shirt fitted to his shoulders, one arm folded across his chest. I like spending time with Dad the most; he lived for over 170 years, which is why I make him tell me everything about the history that he got to see personally. He even told me about the way he got cursed when he was young, but my dads' true love broke it. Ahh, their love story is so sweet, it makes me cry every time.
Beside him stands my older brother—well, my second older brother—leaning slightly into him as they both stare down at an old, thick witchcraft book spread open between them.
Caspian.
Half witch. Half werewolf. No rank in the pack hierarchy. Which has never bothered him in the slightest.
He senses me first. His head lifts slowly, green eyes—darker than mine—dragging up and down my figure in exaggerated inspection. His hair was blond, just like mine and Papa's, his deep brown skin and sharp jawline made him look like a younger version of Dad's.
"Nice skirt," he says flatly.
I smile sweetly. "Thanks. I picked it out all by myself."
He snorts softly, clearly trying to look unimpressed, but there's affection in it. Caspian loves teasing me. It's his favorite hobby. But he's also the first person who ever punched someone square in the face for whispering about the way I dressed.
Dad lifts his gaze next.
His eyes soften immediately when they land on me. He doesn't say anything for a moment. He just looks.
Then he smiles.
It's small, but it's real.
"You look ready for your first day," he says.
"I am."
He nods once, satisfied.
Caspian closes the book with a quiet thud. "Try not to scandalize the people on your first day."
"No promises."
He scoffed at that. "I'm serious, Julien. I don't want to see any more of your ex-boyfriends complaining about my little brother trying to stick his dick in them."
"I like what I like, brother. It's not my fault they always assume they'll be the ones doing the bending." I let out a loud laugh while my dads groan, not wanting to hear anything about my sex life.
I've had multiple boyfriends in the past. We kiss, we cuddle, we go on dates, and then the second we get serious and want to take the next step in intimacy, they run away as if I haven't made it crystal clear I'm a top, a dominant top at that.
God forbid a guy wants to wear a Hello Kitty pink skirt and still wants to top.
Caspian glared at me, " Do you know what TMI or privacy or even a fucking diary mean?" I shook my head, "No, what is that? A new dish? A dessert?" He rolled his eyes at me and went back to reading his ancient-looking book.
The front door opens then, and I don't need to turn around to know who it is. I feel him before I see him. Papa.
Elias steps inside, sunlight briefly outlining him before the door shuts. He loosens his jacket, green eyes immediately finding mine across the room.
He looks at me the way he always does—carefully, thoughtfully, like he's saying, " Wow, I created this beautiful boy. I love it so much. I can always feel how much he loves my brothers and me through his eyes.
"Are you ready for college today?" he asks.
I roll my eyes dramatically. "Yes, I am so ready, Daddy. You asked me this question a thousand times yesterday. And Pops literally just asked me this like two seconds ago."
He chuckles softly, walking closer. "We're just making sure you're okay. First days can be intimidating."
"I'm not intimidated."
"Good," he says gently. "But it's fine if you are."
I cross my arms loosely. "I'm excited."
He steps in front of me now, adjusting the strap of my backpack without thinking. "You'll call if you need anything."
"Yes."
"You'll text when you arrive."
"Yes."
"You won't let anyone make you feel small or make you want to change yourself to fit in."
I pause at that, then smile softly. "I won't."
He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I pretend not to love it as much as I do.
In our pack, Papa Elias is the Alpha. Pops Sebastian is our Luna. I know that might sound strange to other packs. An enigma, as Luna is married to an omega who leads as the head Alpha. But we've never followed tradition simply because it existed.
Dad Aurelian stands beside them as an equal in everything that matters.
We don't live in the main pack house anymore. Papa had the idea to move when my older brother was born. He said he wanted the four of them—now six, technically—to grow up without pack members wandering hallways or guards stationed outside bedroom doors.
I'm glad he did.
I like it better this way.
My oldest brother isn't here. The alpha. The future head Alpha of the Grayson Pack. He's been at training camp for six months now, preparing for leadership, strategy, warfare, and diplomacy. He left when he turned twenty-five. He'll be back in almost a year.
I miss him.
I'm excited for him to see me like this. Older. Confident. Starting university.
Caspian bumps his shoulder lightly against mine as he passes. "Don't flirt with the professors."
"I would never," I said, biting my lip to stop myself from smiling.
"You absolutely would." I chuckled; my brothers know me way too well.
Dad clears his throat faintly, and we both straighten instinctively, holding our laughter. Dad hates hearing about me flirting with the hot teachers and has asked me to stop multiple times, but I couldn't help it. I see a hot older man with glasses, and all of a sudden, I turn into some perv flirt, it's not my fault, it's in my nature.
Papa smiles at the exchange, shaking his head.
I adjust my backpack straps and glance around at all of them.
"Okay," I say, drawing in a steady breath. "I'm going."
"Don't forget your helmet, Julien." Pops squeezes my hand once more. Papa nods at me with quiet pride. Dad's gaze lingers a second longer than the others, protective even when he says nothing.
I step toward the door, heart beating fast but light.
First day of university.