Standing in the spacious, marble-floored lobby of Hanigan Investments, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over Hank. The whirlwind of the past week, the unexpected turns and burgeoning connections, had culminated in this moment. The hotel, his temporary sanctuary, was now a chapter closed. He had checked out, the bill discreetly handled by Constance, another seamless transition orchestrated for him. The weight of impermanence had lifted; he was finally putting down roots, establishing a base within the very heart of his new life.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Avery," a familiar voice greeted him, the deep timbre of Lasson, the head of building security, cutting through the hushed ambiance of the lobby. Hank turned, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he met the officer's steady gaze. "Good afternoon, Lasson," he replied, the easy familiarity of his tone acknowledging their previous interactions.
Lasson, a man whose imposing stature was softened by a perpetually kind expression, returned the smile. "Moving in today, sir?" he inquired, his eyes briefly scanning the two large suitcases and several boxes stacked neatly beside Hank.
Hank nodded, a sense of finality accompanying the simple gesture. "Yeah, officially I am," he confirmed, a subtle undercurrent of anticipation in his voice. This wasn't just a change of address; it was a tangible step into a new reality, a commitment to the life he was building here.
A reassuring firmness entered Lasson's voice. "Don't you worry about a thing, Mr. Avery. We'll keep you safe up there. This building is secure, top to bottom, and we've got extra eyes on your floor, as per Miss. Hanigan's instructions."
Hank's smile widened, a genuine appreciation for their concern washing over him. "Thank you, Lasson. That means a lot." He felt a sense of security knowing that he was surrounded by people who were not only professional but also genuinely invested in his well-being. With a final nod to the security officer, Hank turned towards the gleaming stainless steel doors of the elevator, a silent promise of new beginnings awaiting him on the upper floors. He pressed the button for the eighth floor, the designated sanctuary above Doria's seventh-floor apartment and the bustling activity below. The doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, and the elevator began its smooth ascent, carrying him upwards into the next chapter of his life.
Stepping out of the elevator onto the eighth floor, Hank was immediately enveloped in a wave of warmth and welcome. The large living room of his new apartment was festooned with brightly colored balloons bobbing gently in the air, their cheerful hues contrasting against the sleek, modern furniture. A handmade banner, stretched across the expansive window overlooking the cityscape, proclaimed in slightly uneven, child-like lettering, "Welcome home!" A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Hank's lips. This had to be the surprise Constance had mentioned, the thoughtful gesture from Lily. He placed his heavy suitcases down near the entrance, his gaze drawn to the banner. Little handprints, smudged with various shades of paint, adorned the paper, a tangible imprint of Lily's eager anticipation. His heart swelled with affection for the young girl who had so quickly claimed a special place in his life.
"Welcome home," a soft voice echoed from behind him. Hank turned to see the elevator doors slowly sliding open again, revealing Constance standing in the doorway, a warm, radiant smile gracing her features. He walked towards her, a magnetic pull drawing him in, and enveloped her in a tender kiss, a silent acknowledgment of their shared journey and the exciting future that lay before them. "This is a wonderful surprise," he murmured against her lips, his eyes sweeping over the festive decorations.
Constance's smile widened, a hint of playful amusement in her eyes. She glanced around the room, a fond expression on her face. "Lily was a whirlwind of activity yesterday. She was determined to make sure everything was perfect for your arrival. She even went shopping with me to fill your fridge with all your favorite things," she explained, a touch of pride in her voice. Hank chuckled, imagining Lily's earnest efforts. "So, this is her surprise?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.
Constance shook her head, her smile softening with a touch of something akin to nervousness. "That's just the beginning," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The real surprise is upstairs. It's... well, it's something Lily put together after she overheard something you said. She actually begged me to help her with it, Hank. She was so determined, and honestly, without my help, it just wouldn't have been possible." She took his hand, her grip slightly tighter than usual, her eyes flitting to his with a hesitant concern, and gently guided him back towards the elevator. He followed, his mind racing, a million possibilities swirling through his thoughts as he tried to decipher what Lily might have overheard that would warrant such a build-up, a surprise so significant it had Constance this anxious and required her direct involvement to become a reality. He couldn't recall any particularly sensitive conversations, nothing that would necessitate her slightly worried demeanor and Lily's fervent pleas for assistance.
As the elevator doors slid closed, Hank noticed a subtle shift in Constance's expression. Her usual confident demeanor was tinged with a visible concern, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of apprehension and affection. "What is it?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly, a flicker of unease creeping into his own heart.
Constance reached out and gently cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin with a tender reassurance that belied the worry in her eyes. She leaned in and kissed him softly, her lips lingering for a moment longer than usual. "It's big, Hank," she confessed, her voice a low murmur, her gaze searching his. "I wasn't entirely sure how you would take it. But please," she added, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes pleading, "if you don't… if you don't accept it right away, please be gentle with her. She did it out of love." Hank nodded slowly, his unease deepening. Constance's palpable anxiety was starting to make him truly wonder what awaited him on the ninth floor as she pressed the button for their destination.
The elevator doors slid open silently onto the ninth floor, and Hank's breath caught in his throat. Standing just beyond the threshold was Lily, her small figure radiating a mixture of nervous anticipation and pure, unadulterated hope. Her bright eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, held a tentative quality, her smile a little wobbly around the edges. Hank's heart melted. He immediately knelt down, opening his arms wide, an instinctive gesture of comfort and affection. With a small, choked cry, Lily launched herself into his embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, her small body trembling slightly against his.
"Hank…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with a vulnerability that tugged at his soul. She pulled back slightly, her small hands reaching behind her to retrieve a crisp white envelope. She presented it to him with both hands, her gaze fixed on his, pleading for his acceptance. "I have something for you," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I heard you talking to Mom…" she began, her eyes darting briefly towards Constance, who stood just behind her, a nervous smile playing on her own lips.
Hank carefully took the envelope, his fingers brushing against Lily's small, warm hands. He opened the flap and unfolded the first sheet of paper, his eyes scanning the official-looking document. As the words registered in his mind, a gasp escaped his lips, a wave of profound surprise and overwhelming emotion washing over him. He looked up into Lily's earnest, hopeful eyes, his own filled with a mixture of disbelief and a burgeoning sense of responsibility. "Lily… this is big," he whispered, the weight of her request settling heavily in his heart.
Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down on it, a nervous habit Hank had already come to recognize… it was the same endearing gesture Constance often made when she deeply desired something. He looked back down at the paper in his hands, his eyes tracing the formal legal language. "Superior Court of California, City of San Diego," he read out loud, his voice thick with emotion. "Stepparent Adoption Request Form." He looked back into Lily's eyes, his gaze searching hers, trying to fully comprehend the depth of her request. "With Father in Jail, and Mom requesting to be free of him… I want you to be my father," she whispered, the words a heartfelt plea that resonated deep within him.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Hank's gaze lifted, meeting Constance's across the small space. Her smile mirrored Lily's nervous anticipation, filled with a fragile hope. He looked back at Lily, his expression serious, his voice gentle but firm. "Lily… if I do this, there is no turning back. I will be your father, in every sense of the word. You have to listen to me, respect me…" he began, wanting to ensure she understood the gravity of her request. She nodded vehemently, her eyes wide and earnest. "And I will marry your mother too," he added, his gaze softening as he looked back at Constance, a silent promise passing between them.
A gasp escaped Lily's lips, followed by a radiant smile that seemed to illuminate the entire room, a smile so pure and filled with joy that it could indeed melt the polar ice. "You will?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief and overwhelming happiness. Hank nodded, his own smile mirroring her joy. "I was planning on it, Pumpkin," he confessed, using the affectionate nickname he had already adopted for her, "but remember… there are others."
Lily nodded again, her understanding beyond her years. "Mom and I talked about it," she explained, her voice matter-of-fact. "When you have them all, we will be one big family." Hank's heart swelled with a profound sense of love and acceptance. He gently scooped Lily up into his arms, her small body fitting perfectly against his chest, and carried her over to the nearby sofa, settling down with her nestled securely in his lap. "Okay, Lily-bug," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I will sign the papers."
She hugged him tightly, her small arms squeezing him with all her might. "I love you, Hank," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. Then, in an even softer, almost hesitant whisper, she added the word that resonated through his very being: "Dad…" Both Hank and Constance heard it, the simple, powerful word hanging in the air, a testament to the bond they had already forged. They exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them, a shared smile of love and hope for the beautiful, unconventional family they were creating. For now, they let the unspoken word linger, a precious seed planted in their hearts.
---
Across the street from the high-rise building, concealed in the shadows of a neighboring rooftop, stood Elenna and Maerisa, their elven forms barely visible against the twilight sky. Their keen senses, honed over centuries, pierced through the physical barriers, observing the scene unfolding in the apartment above Hank's new apartment.
"Sister, we have to cleanse them, and soon," Elenna whispered, her voice a soft, urgent murmur that carried only to Maerisa's elven ears. "I sense a disease within the little girl. A darkness clinging to her lungs."
Maerisa nodded, her silver eyes narrowing with concern as she focused on Lily, nestled in Hank's arms. "She carries a lung sickness, a weakness that will manifest in a few years. It will become severe, debilitating. It will take the combined strength of several of us to fully heal her, to draw the illness from her fragile body."
Her gaze shifted to Hank, observing the radiant happiness emanating from him as he held Lily close, Constance beaming beside them. Maerisa could feel the warmth of his joy, the profound love he already felt for these two humans. She knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that the loss of Lily would devastate him. His heart, so open and generous, would shatter, and he would never be the same. The thought ignited a fierce protectiveness within her, a burning determination to safeguard his happiness at any cost.
"The girl's father shares the same affliction," Elenna added, her voice laced with a cold detachment. "The sickness is intertwined within their bloodline."
Maerisa's eyes flashed with a ruthless resolve. "What we take from her, we will add to him. Let him feel the pain, the suffering he has inflicted upon this family. Let his body become a vessel for the illness he has passed down to his innocent child." There was a venomous edge to her voice, a chilling ruthlessness that spoke volumes about her unwavering devotion to Hank and her fierce protectiveness of those he loved.
Elenna smirked, a cruel smile twisting her normally beautiful features. "Very well, sister. I will summon Faelar and Lirien. They are the most skilled among us in the art of transferring energies, of weaving the threads of life and illness."
Maerisa nodded, her gaze returning to Hank, her heart filled with a fierce, possessive love. They would ensure Hank's happiness, that his new family, his chosen girls, would thrive. Anyone who dared to stand in the way, anyone who threatened the peace and joy they were building, would face their unwavering wrath. The elven sisters would make it so. Their love for their elven king, the man who was destined to lead them, was boundless, unwavering. He was their center, their purpose, and his well-being was all they cared about. The time was drawing near. Soon, when Hank had gathered the women who belonged with him, the ones his heart yearned for, they would reveal themselves, and the truth of their existence would finally be unveiled. The world would learn of the ancient power that flowed through their veins, the power that would ensure Hank's reign was one of unparalleled love and prosperity.
---
The last rays of the setting sun cast long shadows across Julie's dorm room as she sat hunched over her laptop, the screen illuminating her fiery red hair with a warm, golden glow. She was captivated by the digital image displayed before her… the cover of the latest Sports Illustrated magazine, a tangible symbol of her athletic prowess and a testament to Hank's photographic artistry. A wide smile stretched across her face as she gazed at the picture, a perfect action shot of her mid-air, her powerful arm poised to block the volleyball as it was slammed over the net, her expression a fierce blend of determination and focus.
But it wasn't just her own image that held her attention. Hanging midair across the net from her in the frame, a fellow warrior on the court, was Courtney. Julie's mind drifted back to their encounters over the past two years, their paths crossing on opposing sides of the volleyball net. Their interactions off the court had always been marked by a friendly camaraderie, a mutual respect for each other's athletic talent. But on the court, alliances shifted, and they were fierce competitors, their focus solely on victory. A playful smirk touched Julie's lips as she recalled their intense rallies, the strategic plays, the unspoken challenges exchanged across the net.
A fleeting thought crossed her mind, a momentary flicker of insecurity. Courtney was undeniably beautiful, her blonde hair a stark contrast to Julie's vibrant red. Would Hank, she wondered for a fleeting second, be more drawn to the classic allure of a blonde? Not everyone appreciated the fiery intensity of a redhead. Julie's red hair was a natural inheritance, a gift from her Irish father, whose genes had mingled with her mother's, resulting in two daughters with equally striking auburn locks, her sister born twelve years after her. Julie loved her hair; it was a part of her identity, something that had garnered attention from the boys in high school, though none had ever truly captured her interest.
There had been a period in her life, a brief exploration of her own desires, where Julie had questioned if her attraction might lean more towards girls. Courtney had definitely been a part of that consideration. Last year's tournament, away from the competitive pressure of the court, they had spent an evening talking and laughing, sharing stories and dreams. Nothing more had transpired, but the connection had lingered in Julie's thoughts, a quiet possibility that she had often revisited in the solitude of her own mind.
Then, this year, fate had intervened in an unexpected way. Her younger sister, a whirlwind of youthful enthusiasm, had become utterly smitten with a photographer she had met at Comic Con… Hank. Fully aware of the significant age difference, her sister's infatuation was more of a starry-eyed admiration. Yet, when she had shown Julie a picture of Hank, something had clicked. An instant recognition, a spark of undeniable attraction had ignited within Julie. This was the guy she wanted to meet, a feeling that resonated deep within her. Maybe, just maybe, this was the guy for her.
And then, he had shown up at their beach volleyball tournament, his camera lens capturing her in her element. The photos he had sent her were breathtaking, each one a perfect encapsulation of the raw energy and athleticism of the game. His eye for detail, his ability to freeze those fleeting moments of peak action, was extraordinary. The picture on the computer screen, capturing her in mid-air, muscles taut, eyes focused on the ball as she executed a powerful point-winning spike, was the most incredible action shot she had ever seen, a piece of herself immortalized in a single, perfect frame.
She looked down at the glossy printout she had printed out, a tangible version of her triumph. A sudden impulse took hold of her. She grabbed a black permanent marker from her desk and, with a decisive hand, signed it. "To my #1 fan, Hank," she wrote, a playful warmth infusing the words. "Thank you for making my tournament experience great." Beneath it, in her best, most elegant penmanship, she added her full name: "Julie Rinholt." A satisfied smile bloomed on her face.
She carefully slid the autographed photo into a crisp white envelope. She had his phone number, a casual exchange after the tournament. And she had also learned from her mother, Constance a close friend of the Rinholt family, that Hank now worked for Constance Hanigan. The Hanigan Investments building wasn't far from her university. A plan began to form in her mind. First thing in the morning, before heading to her business management classes, she would deliver the envelope to the security desk in the lobby. They could surely get it to him. A sense of hopeful anticipation fluttered in her chest. This small gesture felt like the first step towards something more, a tangible bridge between their worlds.
