#for my birthday and to see my baby nephew again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whirlybirbs · 8 months ago

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i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning.

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!"

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea.

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase.

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked.

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you.

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them.

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck.

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived.

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here.

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table.

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute.

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even.

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close.

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers.

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this.

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time.

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next.

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life.

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks.

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name.

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches.

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up.

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often.

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life.

Hawks brings his visor back down.

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement.

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing.

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings.

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again.

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors.

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy.

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back.

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'.

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five.

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday.

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining.

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster.

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster.

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out.

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back.

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver.

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter.

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants.

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over.

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun.

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm.

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation.

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke.

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated.

#i had a few banger one liners in this one folks #meet & greet #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks imagine #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x you #keigo takami imagine #mha hawks #bnha #mha imagine #bnha imagine

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eccentricwritingbaby · 9 months ago

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f1 driver's bday posts for their babies

daniel ricciardo, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz jr, oscar piastri, logan sargeant, max verstappen, george russell

masterlist

danielricciardo - it's these two's birthday so the twin's are old now??? stop growing up! your dad commands it!!

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youruser - their mum commands it too!! they've gotten too big 🥺

danielricciardo - maybe it’s time to try for more … youruser - push two kids back to back out of you and then we’ll talk about more danielricciardo - 🤐

user1 - i feel like just yesterday the twins were born

user2 - ME TOO!! i miss the redbull days when they were so so small user1 - ikrrrrr 🥺🥺

user3 - i forgot how cute they are omfg 🥰

maxverstappen1 - playdate with p again when??

kellypiquet - ^^she’s been asking!! ❤️ youruser - so have they!! drop by anytime 💖 danielricciardo - come to the farm 😀 maxverstappen1 - danielricciardo no.

user4 - i love that they’re so close with p it’s adorable

user5 - i mean they were babies together at redbull so user6 - that's so cute 🥲

user7 - mclaren jumpscare

landonorris - chat i'm afraid the monster's grown now. birthday boy will forever be a messy boy tho, some things never change with age.

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youruser - my sweet boy, takes after you a little too much 😆

landonorris - and what's that supposed to mean? 🤨 maxfewtrell - you're a slob, just like my godson carlossainz55 - godson?? 🧐

user1 - he really is lando 2.0

user2 - youruser is really living my dream

user3 - NO FR!! cutest baby and hottest husband 😩 user4 - like how does it feel to be god's favourite???!!

mclaren - happy birthday mini norris! 🧡

user5 - even mclaren admin is obsessed with the little lad user6 - who wouldn't be?!

oscarpiastri - my nephew's getting so big

maxfewtrell - nephew??!! carlossainz55 - nephew??!! oscarpiastri - nephew!!!!

charles_leclerc - ma petite fille, joyeux anniversaire! mon monde entier et ma douce fille, papa t'aime tellement :)

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youruser - aye! she's getting too big! mon ange <3

charles_leclerc - our sweet baby ❤️

user1 - little leclerc is too cute

user2 - remember when she was born 🥺 user1 - how could anyone forget 🥺❤️

scuderiaferrari - happy birthday baby leclerc! ❤️❤️

pierregasly - let kika and i babysit again!!

francisca.cgomes - yes!! let us babysit 💖 charles_leclerc - you almost didn't give her back last time?? pierregasly - not our fault she's adorable youruser - i'll give you that one

arthur_leclerc - her favorite uncle can't wait to see her!

lorenzotl - 🤨 carlossainz55 - 🤨 pierregasly - 🤨 arthur_leclerc - i stand by my statement.

lewishamilton - it's my baby's birthday! my beautiful girl is four, can't wait for many more memories to come with my little love

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youruser - the last picture 😭 she's just too cute!

lewishamilton - gets it all from you, youruser youruser - 🥰😘

nicolashamilton - my lovely niece! give her a happy birthday kiss for me!

youruser - alwayss ❤️ lewishamilton - she said she misses her uncle!

user1 - the mini gwagon 😭 she's adorably spoiled

user2 - with lewis hamilton as her dad? i think she always will be lewishamilton - exactly!

roscoelovescoco - i's love's you's birfday girl 🥰

user3 - i love that lewis comments for roscoe user4- i know he's laying in bed laughing doing it too 😭

mercedesamgf1 - our merc princess! happy birthday! 🖤

user3 - oh to have lewis hamilton be my father

user4 - right??! the most stylish baby with everything she wants user3 - so jealous of a four year old rn ...

carlossainz55 - mi niño pequeño ya no es tan pequeño, feliz segundo cumpleaños hijo, pronto karting! 💪🏼💪🏼

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youruser - two years old already! time is flying!

carlossainz55 - flying like he will be on the track soon youruser - im going to choose to ignore that carlossainz55 - 😐

landonorris - ok so when can i babysit again

carlossainz55 - you lost him last time???!! landonorris - WE WERE PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK youruser - no.

user1 - he's so small omfg

user2 - so cute 🥺

user3 - are we all just brushing past lando losing him?

landonorris - HE WAS STILL IN MY APARTMENT IT WAS FINE charles_leclerc - whatever you say mate landonorris - HE'S A VERY FAST BABY lewishamilton - sure, kid

scuderiaferrari - the sweetest baby in red! ❤️

carlossainzofficial - mi nieto, feliz cumpleaños!!

youruser - he won't stop asking for you, abuelo! carlossainz55 - ven aquí! carlossainzofficial - on my way!

oscarpiastri - happy birthday to my aussie beach baby! to many more sunsets and rises

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youruser - many more sunsets 🧡💛

oscarpiastri - always, love 💛🧡 user1 - the hearts 🥺 i wanna love like theirs user2 - RIGHT!?

mclaren - does the birthday girl need some more merch?

oscarpiastri - we'd never turn down some papaya

user3 - she really is just a beach baby

user4 - i feel like they're always there 😭😭 youruser - gotta give her the best experiences! user4 - that's so sweet 🥺

landonorris - she's just so wee

oscarpiastri - wee little papaya baby landonorris - my favourite! 🧡

logansargeant - hugs and kisses for the birthday baby!

oscarpiastri - always, mate!

logansargeant - baby birthday baby birthday!! a whole year old and plenty more to come from my girl

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youruser - the buc-ee's hat😭

logansargeant - she had to experience the vibes youruser - and i believe she enjoyed it 🙃 logansargeant - everyone who goes, does enjoy it!

user1 - the fourth of july picture 🥺

user2 - she's so smallllll 🥰

oscarpiastri - tiny baby

logansargeant - wym she's gotten huge oscarpiastri - you've got dad brain, mate, she's tiny

alex_albon - my baby! come over and visit with her...now

youruser - only if lily's there, i don't trust you alone with my child alex_albon - logansargeant are you hearing this?? lilymhe - baby...you shouldn't be alone with her logansargeant - lilymhe thank you alex_albon - i will not accept this 😖

maxverstappen1 - he's five now! verstappen legacy is about to live on as he starts karting 😡💪🏼

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youruser - he's so big now! fifth pic he was just a babe

maxverstappen1 - he's almost all grown up youruser - do not make me cry right now verstappen user1 - into the dog house he goes

danielricciardo - mate, he might take your seat soon

maxverstappen1 - he's gotta fight for it danielricciardo - he 100% will maxverstappen1 - i know 😂 user2 - this kid is so loved yet challenged user3 - max is healing his inner child with his own little boy user4 - i know 🥺

redbullracing - you're just warming the seat for our star, which is him

maxverstappen1 - i already know, verstappen dominance crossing centuries landonorris - can you just give us a break, mate maxverstappen1 - no.

user5 - he looks just like his dad 🥺

georgerussell63 - my love is now three, but i remember when she was only a fresh few weeks, i love you so much baby

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youruser - pretty girl 🤍

georgerussell63 - our pretty girl 🤍 user1 - they're still so in love, it's so adorable

user2 - she's so rich 😩😆

user3 - they're like old money old money user2 - i know...i am green with envy

mercedesamgf1 - our favourite cheerleader! happy birthday 🖤

georgerussell63 - the best cheerleader around!

alex_albon - SHE'S SO BIG NOW

georgerussell63 - I KNOW alex_albon - but she's still so cute georgerussell63 - i know 🥰

user4 - she's the sweetest little baby

user5 - happy birthday mini russell!

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chloe-petrichors · 9 months ago

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cradling constellations // jace x reader

when rhaenyra brings her family to court to celebrate the king's fiftieth name day, there was but one thing on your mind: getting to see jace, the boy you'd loved in secret, once more.

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. —emily brontë

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!aunt!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon-typical incest, canon-au (it's viserys' birthday party baby), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s) idiots in love, instant attraction/love at first (second) sight, childhood sweethearts (kinda?), soulmate vibes, love confessions, switching povs, smut (mdni !) including masturbation (m), p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild marriage kink if that’s even a thing, body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation, soft dom vibes, jace being a tits man. word count; 15k+ (oops) notes; me, obsessed with jace? more likely than u think. this whole fic spawned from the fact that i noticed jace's freckles on a gif and lost my gd mind. this was meant to be a quick smut fic. and then i took 11k+ words to get to the smut part. i'm sorry (i'm not). this is totally self-indulgent, soulmates, love at first sight kinda fluff-to-smut and i regret nothing. way too much time of writing this was me trawling through the asoiaf wiki pages to find details that are relevant for one whole sentence. why am i this way. valyrian is pulled straight from a translator i found online, pls let me know if you notice any errors! requests; are open !

the first time you laid eyes on jacaerys velaryon, you knew he was something special.

you had just been children, then, uncertain of each other due to the discontent between your families. but he had been kind to you, dark eyes warm, and it had been an easy thing to be kind in return. your brothers make it difficult, of course, as they seem to do with everything they get involved in. aegon had been the worst at first, spouting off the same vitriol your mother had always whispered into your ears, but aemond had not been far behind him.

after the events of laena’s funeral and the loss of aemond’s eye, the hostilities only grow and grow. helaena keeps herself apart from most of it by virtue of her typically distant manner, but your brothers insist on drawing you into the same arguments again and again. it's tedious, laborious, but they are your family.

jace and luke are too, of course, not that anyone else seems to want to admit it. for all that they are velaryon’s by name (and strong in heart, mayhaps, yes), they are your nephews. your brothers only seem interested in remembering this when it serves them, however — which is usually when they’re lording it over the dark-haired boys.

in truth, the velaryon’s are hardly innocent either. it seems like the two sets of boys bring out the absolute worse in each other without fail, and it’s usually left to you to try and be the voice of reason.

away from your brothers’ taunts, jace is like a different boy entirely. endlessly curious and ceaselessly kind, the brunette seems to always have time to talk and jape with you. your friendship grows surprisingly easy as children, and with early adulthood comes the bloom of a different kind of affection, too. you never say anything, knowing all too well that if your brothers catch even a whisper of your feelings that there will be no end of hells to pay.

it matters little, regardless. your mother will never tolerate a betrothal between the two of you and you know better than to even attempt to broach such a topic. it had been sheer miracle that she hadn’t tried marrying you off to aemond after securing aegon and helaena’s marriage, and you aren’t willing to tempt fate by giving her ideas now. so what if you spend countless nights dreaming of freckled skin and dark hair? it matters not in the scheme of things.

rhaenyra flees kings landing after daemon’s return to westeros, leaving you feeling strangely bereft without your nephews’ company. years go by with no contact from your sister’s family, and so you let your old daydreams fall to the wayside. there’s no use dwelling on what you can’t have, and no point bringing it up since even now just a mention of luke or jace is enough to inflame aemond’s temper.

and then, of course, the news comes that rhaenyra is returning to court for the king’s fiftieth name day. there are great feasts and celebrations planned in honour of your father, which you privately think silly considering it’s unlikely he would be well enough to attend half the festivities. still, there’s no denying your excitement at the idea of seeing jace again. he would be a man grown, now, his twentieth name day having passed only a few moons ago.

for once the majority of your family will be under one roof, and you are certain it will end in disaster — but you intend to enjoy it while you can.

going flying the morning of the velaryons arrival is perhaps not your smartest idea.

your nerves wake you well before dawn. you feel as if you’re going to crawl out of your skin if you don’t do something, and you know your chances for flying will be limited with the celebrations expected to start tomorrow. so you decided to take the chance while you can, dressing quickly in your riding gear before creeping to the dragon pit well before any of your family wake.

silverwing likes it when you take her for unexpected flights, so she makes no complaint when you have the dragon keepers release her. you go through the motions of saddling her yourself, as you always do, taking the chance to reinforce the bond with your dragon.

silverwing hadn’t been your hatched dragon. the egg that you had slept beside as a babe had never hatched, just as aemond’s and helaena’s hadn’t. it had infuriated aemond when you were children, that jace and luke’s dragons hatched while he was left without. it had made him an easy target for the other boys; aegon had often led the others in riling him about his lack of dragon until he had claimed vhagar. you can admit now that the others had oft been cruel to him in their japing, and it had ended poorly for everyone involved.

your claiming of silverwing had been incredibly boring in comparison. she had found you, in truth, a year after aemond claimed vhagar. she’d been your great-grandmother the good queen alysanne’s dragon before your own, and had not taken a rider since the queen’s death. she’d flown from the dragonmont to find you, and you’ve been nigh on inseparable since. your mother despairs over it, hating how her often her ‘perfect daughter’ has shown up to court late with windswept hair and flushed cheeks.

but, to you, flying is freedom.

there’s nothing else like it in the world; the sensation of silverwing beneath you, the seven kingdoms at your fingertips, and only the sky above. your mother has never really let go of her fear of the dragons, and you can understand it in a way; she is no targaryen, and she’ll never know what it is to bond with a dragon, to have that presence so alien and yet so familiar nudging against the corners of your mind. any attempts to explain it to her are met with bemusement and wariness, and you’d long ago learned to stop bringing it up.

silverwing’s joy to fly merges into your own as you climb atop her, running a soothing hand over the gleaming silver spikes at her neck as you adjust the straps. her impatience thrums loudly through the bond as you settle yourself into the saddle, and you feel her heart beat through you like a second pulse as your own anticipation rises.

“ivestragī īlva sōvegon, ñuha raqiros! [let us fly, my friend!]”

she needs no further nudging than that, and with a delighted roar she launches into the air. your laughter is stolen by the wind as she beats her wings, propelling you higher and higher before sweeping over the towering peaks of the red keep. with a shouted instruction she banks sharply to the left, flying out over blackwater bay as the sun finally crests the horizon. the dark sea lights up with reds and golds beneath you, the sky gloriously blue above, and silverwing’s distinctive scales shine in the breaking dawn.

a glorious morning, you think, and as the two of you climb higher to the sky you feel all your nerves and excitement for anything but the flight leave you. this is what your mother will never understand; flying is an escape, yes, but not from your duties as she assumes it is. this is an escape from your worries, from the petty machinations of court. in the sky with your dragon, you need worry only about how chill the wind will be, or if aemond is out with vhagar, who’s a grumpy old beast at the best of times and silverwing is feeling mischievous.

you find peace, here, in the sky. this is what you were born for.

long minutes pass as you fly leisurely, circling over the bay and the keep and back again in ever widening circles. sometimes silverwing dives just to do so, plunging so close to the blackwater that you could reach out and skim your hand over the dark depths. you lose track of time as the two of you fly, contentment bleeding across the bond so completely you can’t even tell which one of you it’s coming from.

a dragon’s cry in the distance catches your attention, and silverwing pulls up from where she’d been ducking her head into the water to snatch fish. she propels you rapidly higher into the air, crying out in response as you break through the thin cloud cover. you expect to find aegon’s dragon; sunfyre is the only dragon silverwing likes, rather than tolerates, to be making such a noise in greeting.

but it’s an unfamiliar dragon that greets you, olive green scales shining with the damp from the high altitudes. your mind races as you struggle to place it, and it’s only when you catch sight of a head of dark curls astride the dragon that you realise who it is.

vermax.

and jacaerys.

your heart skips in your chest, silverwing’s unexpected excitement tangling with your own nerves as she swoops towards the much smaller dragon. it’s only her sheer happiness that stops you from panicking or shouting a command to halt in valyrian, and moments later you recall she’d have known vermax from her time on dragonstone.

she somersaults over and around vermax playfully, and you release an exhilarated laugh in response as you cling tightly to the saddle. you see only snatches of jace as your dragons fly complicated patterns around each other, but the quick flashes you do get find an easy smile on his face.

the dragons spend a long while flying together, racing and diving and spiralling to new heights. they move so quickly that you have no chance to try and greet jacaerys, can offer nothing more than quick smiles as you pass him. it gives you the time for your nerves to settle back down, time to reassure yourself that any childhood feelings are long faded and that you will be able to act perfectly composed when it is time to greet him.

eventually you realise your dragon is not going to land until you tell her too, and vermax is clearly just as willing to chase after the larger she-dragon for as long as she is willing to be chased.

“māzigon, silverwing. istiti tegun [come, silverwing. we must land],” you shout, laughing again when the dragon whines her displeasure. she listens regardless, soaring down in tightening circles with vermax following close on your tail. her landing in the dragon pit is far from smooth, but you’re well used to compensating for the jostling as she settles onto the ground once more.

you’re quick in freeing yourself from the saddle, murmuring warm thanks and praise to your dragon as you walk to the side of her great head to meet a single burning eye. “kirimvose, ñuha raqiros. kesi sōvegon arlī aderī [thank you, my friend. we will fly again soon],” you tell her, and she responds with a content grumble as she nudges her head gently against your chest in affection.

you leave the dragon keepers to return her to her cave, instead turning to watch as jace shares his own goodbyes with his dragon. you take the chance to look at him, properly look, and find yourself suddenly warring with self-consciousness and a burning in your chest.

despite the acrobatics of the dragons, he looks perfectly put together with his dark curls brushing his shoulders and a pleasing tan to his skin. you fear you must look a ruin, with your hair undoubtedly a mess and cheeks flushed from the cold bite of the wind. your breath is still a touch laboured from the exertion of the flight, while he looks perfectly composed in his fancy black and red doublet. you curse the old gods and the new that you’d picked out your old riding gear this morning — comfortable, yes, but certainly not ideal for greeting the heir to the heir and the man you’d once daydreamed about marrying.

you push the thoughts away with determined stubbornness, refusing to dwell on the warmth in your chest when jace finally turns to look at you. he’s grown, you note immediately, now standing at least a head taller than you. any traces of baby fat have left him, leaving behind a strong, square jaw and strong yet slim shoulders. his dark eyes are warm, though, and his smile friendly as he takes you in.

you dip instinctually into a curtsey, a perfectly respectable greeting ready on your lips, but you’re startled into straightening back to standing when jace laughs.

“come now, princess,” he says, fond and teasing he approaches you. he’s the only one who’s ever been able to make the title sound more like an endearment. “since when have we been ones for formality?”

it sets you at ease immediately, tension relaxing from your shoulders as you beam at him. “i suppose we never have been very good at that, have we?” you let your eyes skip over him again, something like relief settling in your bones at the sight of him. “it’s good to see you again, jace.”

“aye,” he returns, dark eyes sparkling. “it is good to see you, indeed.”

for a long moment he simply looks at you, and it makes that peculiar warmth in your chest blaze a little brighter. there’s something in his face that you’ve never seen there before — but then you think of course there is. you haven’t seen him in so long there’s probably all kinds of things about you him you no longer know. it aches, almost, to think it, but in a way he’s a stranger to you; a man with the kind eyes of the boy you’d loved in secret, once.

you clear your throat as you drop your eyes from his stare, glancing at the bustling keepers as they tend to your dragons instead as you cast about for something to say.

“are the rest of your family not flying in?” you query after a moment.

he shakes his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. “no, arrax and tyraxes are still too small to fly luke and joff for such a journey, and mother would rather stay with my brothers on the ship.”

you nod in acceptance, shifting slightly on the spot. “well then, let me be the first to welcome you back to king’s landing, my prince.” you take the formality out of your tone with a playful wink, and are gratified to see the way he chuckles at your antics.

“i had hoped you’d be the first i’d see.” he admits this casually, as if this doesn’t set your heart and mind racing. “i have missed you, aunt.”

you duck your head again to try and hide the smile spreading across your face. you tell yourself sternly to stop acting like some lovesick child, all the while that small flame continues to burn away inside of you. “and i you, nephew.” you glance up at him shyly from beneath your lashes, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement.

he’s the one to clear his throat, this time, stepping a half-pace away from you and gesturing for you to proceed him. “shall we head to the keep, then? my mother’s ship should have arrived by now and we wouldn’t want to miss the formal welcome.”

“as you say,” you agree, and the two of you set off.

you spend the long walk to the keep catching up on the long years between you. you’d expected the time apart to be like a gulf between you, a canyon that could not be crossed, but if anything it’s the opposite. it’s as if you’d last seen each other only hours ago. it should startle you, how simple it feels to fall into your old friendship, but you don’t have it in you to be surprised. that’s always been the thing with jace, after all — it’s easy. being around him, speaking to him, listening to his odd tangents. it all comes as natural to you as breathing, as if there’s a part of you that was just born knowing him.

he's dodging your questions as you finally arrive at the keep, having let slip something about an old secret from the days of your childhood that he’s never shared with you. it makes something flutter in your chest, the way he looks at you as he says it. the way he’s looked at you the whole time, in fact, has you having to bite back a smile. he looks at you as if he is looking at something precious, expression tender and fond and uncomplicated. it threatens to steal your breath again, and so you make an effort to try and act as unaffected as possible, because he cannot mean it in the way you think you might want him too.

“oh, but you simply must tell me!” you wheedle cheerfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “you wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, my prince?”

you pout at him, fluttering your lashes in the way you usually do when trying to get your way with your brothers. jace swallows audibly at the sight, some emotion you can’t read flickering across his eyes as his gaze drops to your mouth and then lower again before returning to your eyes. something in his expression makes you flush, cheeks burning as your lips part slowly. a heat rises in you, unbidden, as he steps ever so slightly closer into your space. you’re overwhelmed with the smell of him; sea salt and dragon smoke and something almost woodsy underneath it, something entirely jace.

he murmurs your name so quietly you almost miss it over the sounds of courtyard. his hand twitches as if to reach for you as he ducks his head slightly, and you think if you lifted yours just so you’d be able to brush your lips over the strong line of his jaw. you realise suddenly how much you want to — how much you want to drag your tongue over his skin and taste.

oh.

you want him. that peculiar feeling that had been burning in your chest — you recognise the desire for what it is, now. the easy camaraderie that you’d fell into on the walk to the keep subsides in the wake of it, and abruptly all you can think of is what his mouth will feel like on your own. the palpable tension between you makes your hands tremble with the urge to touch, heart pounding so loudly in your ears it drowns out anything that isn’t him as the rest of the courtyard fades away.

you sway the barest inch closer, inhaling his scent deeply, and watch as jace’s nostrils flare in response. with a shaky breath you lift your chin, eyes dropping to his parted lips, and you bite your bottom lip as his tongue sweeps over his own.

“jace…”

“brother! there you are!”

luke’s voice startles you both back to reality as you spring apart. you hadn’t realised just how close you’d gotten, your chests almost brushing with every breath, until the gap between you widens. you drop your eyes to your feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment as you realise how close you’d come to kissing him in an extremely public place. you chide yourself internally for forgetting yourself, and take another second to gather your composure before lifting your head with a smile.

“hello, nephew,” you greet luke warmly, doing your best to ignore the way jace’s eyes burns into the side of your face. “it is very good to see you again.”

“aunt!” luke fairly cheers, and you note how the youth still clings to his face. while certainly older than the last time you’d seen him, he still seems like a child to you. his limbs are long and gangly, in that awkward stage at the cusp of adulthood where he’s not quite grown into himself yet. he bounds closer, drawing you into a hug that you allow and return with a fond laugh.

“luke, honestly,” jace tuts, shaking his head as the two of you separate. “we’re at court, now. at least try to remember your manners.”

the younger boy winces. “ah, right, yes.” he sketches a quick but perfect bow your way. “it is a great honour to see you once more, princess.” he flashes a cheeky smile and a wink your way as he straightens out, and you press your hand to your mouth to smother a giggle at the exasperated look on jace’s face at his brother’s antics. he’s hardly one to talk, you think, considering how quickly he had dispensed with manners when greeting you.

in return, you dip into a practiced if impish curtsey. “it is a sincere pleasure to see you as well, prince lucerys.”

luke does giggle, then, as jace rolls his eyes so hard you think they’re at risk of falling out of his head. despite his dramatics, you spot the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watches you jape with his brother.

“the queen is looking for you, dear aunt,” luke says after the greetings are done, and your amusement flees you as your stomach drops.

it’s only then you realise that with both luke and jace being here, you’ve certainly missed the official welcome of princess rhaenyra back to court. you wince at the thought of your mother’s ire, resigning yourself to a long lecture about your responsibilities and how dragon riding is ‘not one of them’. jace catches your expression, concern creasing his face as his brows furrow.

“alright?” he checks, and you do your best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“yes, i’m sure all will be well.” you hesitate a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring the voice in your head that sounds far too much like your mother telling you how unladylike such a motion is. “i expect my mother will be displeased with me for missing the official welcome, but the festivities will surely distract her quick enough.”

luke and jace both offer you a commiserating smile as the three of you head into the keep. you expect your mother will be waiting in her solar, which is on a close route to the guest suites set aside for the visiting royals, and so you walk with the velaryons as far as you can. when it comes time to part, jace lingers at the entry of the hall as luke continues down the corridor. his dark eyes are fixed to yours so intensely it steals your breath as you slow to a stop as well.

“i’ll see you at the feast,” he says quietly, capturing your hand in his much larger one and bringing it to his mouth. your breath hitches in your chest, eyes widening as he brushes his lips tenderly over your knuckles. your lips part in surprise, tingles racing up your arm from where his mouth makes contact with your skin. before you have chance to respond, jace dips into a sweeping bow and then bids you farewell, leaving you staring after him for a long moment.

well. if your mother doesn’t kill you, you think jace certainly will.

jace sinks into the hot water of the bath with a deep sigh of relief.

after meeting with his mother to explain why he’d been late to the formal greetings — or, rather, offer excuses as to why he’d been late, since he doesn’t think his mother will take well to the idea he was so busy enjoying himself flying with you that the thought of any formal welcome party left his mind entirely — he’d sought his chambers. the bath had been ready and waiting for him, tendrils of steam wafting from the clear water, and he’d wasted no time in shedding his clothes. he’s keen to wash the dragon stink from his skin before the feast, and he makes quick work of scrubbing his skin clean. when he’s done, he allows himself to relax against the metal of the tub, arms draped carelessly over the metal rim as he soaks.

king’s landing from dragonstone is not too long a journey on dragon back, but flying for such a stretch causes its own particular aches. vermax had enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings, at least, and had enjoyed the playful flight with silverwing even more.

he can admit to himself he’d enjoyed it, too, the sight of you astride your dragon lighting something within him. it’s been so long since he’d seen you, not since the aftermath of laena’s funeral, and he hadn’t been prepared for how the sight of you — breathless and flush and beaming at him — would make him feel. he’d almost managed to push back his boyhood adoration and childhood daydreams of marrying you one day with the years passing, but seeing you again brings it all rushing back and he feels as hopelessly enamoured with you now as he did as a child.

you’ve grown well, there’s no denying that. where childhood had left you sometimes awkward and gangly, you’ve become a woman grown now with all the curves and delights that come with it. he’d been embarrassed at how hard it had been to pull his gaze from you on the trip to the keep, but you’d not seemed to notice. too occupied with filling the air between you with light chatter, you’d been oblivious to the way his eyes had dragged over your form again and again.

you just — you’re so unlike anyone else he knows. he’d let himself forget how lovely you were, but there was no way to ignore it now. riding the high of your flight and genuinely happy to see him, you’d been like something out of a dream. your face had been as open to him as ever, plainly delighted to see him, and seeing you had eased some ache he’d become so used to he’d not even know it was there until he felt the lack of it.

he’s not some foolish child. he knows better than to think of things like love when his head must lie with his duty. but the thought remains regardless, lingering in the back of his mind that you would be as easy to love now as you had been when you were younger. it had been a childish love then, of course; innocent and sweet in the ways only children could be. but it had been there, unspoken and unacted upon, but no less real for it.

you’re not children anymore. it would be impossible to think otherwise with the way your riding gear had clung flatteringly to your chest and hips. your mouth looked so pretty stretched into a smile, a smile for him, and he thinks it’s a testament to his restraint that he’d not kissed you on the spot when you’d pouted so prettily up at him. he’d thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps you were going to kiss him with the way your eyes had darkened, how you’d gravitated into his space as if without intention.

heat pools in his stomach as he thinks about how the neckline of your riding dress had cut low enough to allow him a peak at your chest, heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. he wonders what your mouth would taste like, what noises you would make if he’d slid his tongue against your own. gods, he feels like a green boy seeing a woman for the first time — almost undone at just the thought of you. he won’t be able to get through the welcome feast like this, he thinks, so on edge with his lust for you burning him from the inside out.

it’s not even a conscious choice to curl his fingers around his cock, half-hard already as he thinks of you. jace’s head tips back against the rim of the bath, eyes drifting closed as a quiet gasp escapes him. the warm water eases his way as he strokes himself, and he lets himself imagine it’s your slick, instead.

he pictures you before him, pretends it’s your hand teasing at the skin at the head of his cock. your hands are so small, so dainty, he thinks you probably wouldn’t be able to wrap them all the way around him. he imagines they’re a little calloused — soft, mostly, but with the fingertips just rough enough from years spent riding and caring for your dragon. they’d drag so deliciously against his skin, and you’d take to the task with the same voracious enthusiasm you do with everything else. you’d watch him closely, pick up on the cues of his pleasure, and he’d unravel for you so quickly it’d be embarrassing if it was anyone else.

“fuck,” he hisses out, thumb dragging over the liquid leaking copiously from his tip. his head tips back even further, water dripping from his curls onto the stone floor as he chases his release. his imagining splinters into disconnected fantasies; you, on your knees with your mouth stretched around him, lashes damp with reflexive tears as your eyes fix on his. you, sprawled beneath him and writhing as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved. you, babbling in high valyrian as he sinks into the tight wet heat of you. you, clenching and shuddering around his cock as you come for him, blazing and beautiful. you, you, you.

his release hits him hard, a low groan tearing from his throat as his hips thrust up into his hand as he drags out those last few moments of pleasure. his panting breaths sound loud in the silence of his chambers, and jace is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he is alone. there is, of course, no trace of you.

he knows in that moment he has to have you. he cannot tolerate the thought of anyone else — not for himself, and certainly not for you. he wants you as his wife, his queen, the mother of his children. jace doesn’t care how he must do it — as long as you’re as willing as he is, he is going to make you his.

the feast has started by the time jace arrives.

his indulgence had cost him time, and then he’d spent longer than usual readying himself while trying to ignore the fact he was doing so only to impress you. by the time he makes it to the hall his family are already seated and the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune. his eyes seek you instantly, and he resists the urge to frown in disappointment as he sees you sat between helaena and aemond. he’d hoped to sit beside you and use this time to see if there was any hint of you returning his feelings. no matter — there would be time enough later. if he has his way, there’ll be all the time in the world.

you look beautiful, he notes. you’re dressed in your usual deep green, the gown cut flatteringly for your shape. your face is animated and happy as you chat to aemond, and though he finds the idea of anyone enjoying that grumpy prick’s presence bizarre, he enjoys the sight of you so at ease.

as he approaches the head table and the empty seat between his mother and luke, your eyes linger on him. he’s gratified by the way you light up when you spot him, offering him a warm smile in welcome for all that you’re quickly entangled into a conversation with your sister. it eases some of the sting at finding you unavailable, and he’s helpless but to smile back at you even when your gaze slides back to helaena.

luke eyes him strangely as he settles into his seat but says nothing as jace reaches for a goblet of wine. his mother greets him absently, entangled as she is in conversation with the king, and he takes the moment to glance out at the hall.

it’s a relatively small feast. large enough to not cause offence to the heir to the throne, but not so grand as to detract from the festivities planned for the next fortnight. he recognises a few faces in the crowd, people from different houses from across the kingdoms. the king’s birthday celebrations are no small affair, and he spots representatives from all the great houses as well as some of the more minor ones.

it makes him want to slump in his seat, for all that he keeps his posture straight. he knows the next few weeks will be full of politicking and double speak, and it grates. as the heir to the heir, jace knows it’s partially his responsibility to ensure their alliances still stand while seeking out any news one that might present themselves. he has no doubt that some of the lords in this crowd will have brought their daughters, planning to parade them in front of him and his brothers in hopes they might pick one as their betrothed.

his lack of betrothal has been a point of contention for many of the court, he knows. most had assumed he would be betrothed to his stepsister baela, and he’d thought the same for years. it was only when his mother had confided that baela had no interest in being queen and, in fact, was so strongly opposed to the idea that she swore to fly to essos and never be seen again if they tried marrying her to him that he realised just why such a betrothal had never been announced.

it had left him free, in a way, to pursue his own desires; without a betrothal attached to him he’d shed any guilt about seeking company at the pleasure houses. but, in turn, it had left him open to the machinations of the other houses who all sought to have their blood on the iron throne. it’s incredibly tedious, but he knows he must grin and bear it for the sake of his mother and his house.

the food arrives then, and he busies himself with the meal and talking to his siblings. his grandsire makes a speech welcoming his daughter and her family home, and jace notes the sour faces of alicent’s sons. they keep their tongues, at least, which shows a maturity from them he truthfully hadn’t expected. perhaps they’ve grown just as you have, he thinks, but dismisses the thought when aemond catches his eye and only sneers in response to jace’s tentative smile.

he's often wondered at the conflict between the two sides of the family. the animosity now he can pinpoint, of course; aemond losing his eye. but there had been years before that of tense, standoffish behaviour interspersed with camaraderie when everyone seemed to forget they weren’t meant to be friends. he remembers playing pranks with aegon while luke trailed after them, and he remembers sitting with helaena while she perused the dirt for bugs.

he remembers you, most of all. kind and fearless and smart, you’d enamoured him from the moment he was old enough to recognise girls were different to boys in interesting ways. even before then you’d been fast friends, something in your similarly mischievous behaviour drawing you into each other’s orbit. he’s always been drawn to you, he thinks, to the uncomplicated joy you took in your life. there was so much to be miserable about, so much duty on all your shoulders, but you always found something to smile over. your unfailing optimism would no doubt be irritating to some, but to him it has always been one of his favourite things about you.

his gaze, predictably, shifts to you. he startles to find you looking at him already. you flush immediately as your eyes lock, presumably embarrassed at being caught, and he enjoys the colour it brings to your cheeks. you don’t drop his stare, though, not until helaena says something to draw your attention back to her once again. he catches sight of a private little quirk of your lips as your head turns, and something like satisfaction settles in his chest as he hides his own smile in his goblet.

perhaps this feast won’t be as tedious as he’d feared.

“are you enjoying the festivities, princess?”

jace’s voice pulls you from where you’ve been staring into your wine as if it holds all the secrets of the world. you’ve lost count of how many goblets you’ve had, chattering away with your siblings before aegon had started to become cruel in his inebriation and you’d all opted to split apart through the hall. you glance up to find the velaryon prince standing before you, hands perched loosely on the hilt of his sword. he looks unfairly handsome, you think, with his tumble of curls and well-fitted doublet, and something about the slight smirk on his face makes you think he knows it.

“i am enjoying them well enough,” you allow, flicking your gaze from his to look out at the dance floor. aemond is dancing with helaena, aegon far too deep into his cups to bother thinking of his wife. your mother is as tense as she has been since you’d found her earlier; her stepdaughter’s arrival to court has set her incredibly on edge, and the lecture she’d given you earlier had certainly been one of her worst. and your father is oblivious to it all, simply too pleased at the presence of his favoured daughter to care about the way the rest of his family are fracturing apart.

he's not been a good father to you, the king. he’s called you and helaena rhaenyra more than once over the years, and even when his eyes are you on you, you never feel like it’s you he sees. your mother had tried to soothe the ache of his absence, of his blatant favour for a woman who was not here, but as the years stretched on even she had seemed to fade further and further away from you all. for so long it’s just been the four of you, clinging to each other and tearing each other apart in equal measure. you’ve oft thought that daeron is the luckiest of you, able to thrive at the hightower and away from the mess of your family.

you pause at the maudlin turn of your thoughts, peering contemplatively into your wine again before offering jace a slightly sheepish smile. “i… fear i may have indulged in too much wine,” you admit, startling a laugh from the darkhaired prince.

it’s aegon’s fault, you decide; before he’d gotten belligerently drunk he’d been so cheerful, seemingly pleased to have the pressure of being the eldest targaryen child in court off of his shoulders. in his cheer he had plied you with wine, laughing and japing with an arm over your shoulder as you reminisced on simpler times of your childhood. happy to see him so, you’d not resisted, but now you find yourself regretting those choices as your thoughts tumble sluggishly through your mind.

jace shakes his head fondly at you, reaching out to carefully steal your goblet away. his fingers brush against yours as he does so, the barest of touches and yet enough to set your heart racing as you blink slowly up at him. he sips from your wine deliberately, amber eyes darkening as he holds your stare, and your lips part with an unsteady breath. something about him drinking your wine from your cup has your stomach fluttering pleasantly.

gods, i want him.

the thought is enough to startle you, heat suffusing your cheeks as you avert your gaze. jace doesn’t, though, and you can feel the weight of his stare on you like a tangible thing. it makes your skin prickle with warmth, and you lurch a touch unsteadily to your feet before you can say anything silly like ‘kiss me, please’.

“i think i should retire to my chambers before i make a drunken fool of myself,” you announce, fingers smoothing over the green velvet of your dress.

“i’ll escort you,” jace returns, tone leaving no room for argument.

he sets aside the wine and offers you his arm, quirking an eyebrow as if in challenge. you hesitate for barely a second, taking a steadying breath, before looping your arm through his and allowing him to lead you through the crowd towards the open doors. the woodsy smell of him you’d noticed before is clearer, now, and you take another deep breath of the scent. it calms your nerves and yet inflames your desire, and your fingers tighten infinitesimally against his bicep.

you stop at the doors of the feasting chamber for long enough to let ser erryk know that you’re retiring for the evening, leaving it to him to pass the message on to your mother, and then you and jace are alone in the halls of the keep.

of course, you’re not truly alone. guards litter the corridors and even at this late hour servants bustle along, busy with their chores. but in the quiet of the keep as jace leads you to your rooms, you can almost imagine yourself alone with him. the thought threatens to overwhelm you, mad fantasies of him tugging you into a dark alcove to devour you flashing through your mind, and you scold yourself internally.

you’re really very cross with aegon. he and his wine have left you in this state, too far into your cups to keep control of your dangerous wonderings. if only he had not kept calling for more of that gods-be-damned arbor gold, you’d have been able to keep your wits about you. you’d wanted to dance at the feast, too, mayhaps even with jacaerys but at the very least with your brothers. instead, you’re being led back to your rooms like a child who’s had their first taste of wine with dinner and let it go to their head.

jace’s presence helps your intoxication little. seeing him again, touching him, smelling him — it’s all too much when all your defences are down like this. you feel like a girl again, staring breathlessly after him and so full of certainty that you love him, and it’s just— ridiculous. you’ve spent mere hours in his presence and you’re like some lovelorn idiot with no thought in your mind beyond being as close to him as is possible. it’s foolish, reckless, absurd. but it’s there, regardless, unfurling in your chest with a lovely kind of agony.

you keep quiet on the walk, too afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll beg him to have his way with you or, worse, confess your re-blooming infatuation for him, and jace seems content enough to walk in silence for a while. eventually, though, he speaks.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you drunk before,” he observes, tone light.

you glance at him sidelong, pursing your lips at the teasing smirk curling on his mouth. “it’s aegon’s doing,” you tell him solemnly. “my brother is something of an expert on the subject of wines, and his tolerance is… much higher than mine own.”

jace snorts. “aye, i had noticed.”

you lapse into silence, again, only now you find yourself stealing glances at him. he really is very pretty, you think, though in quite a masculine way. something about the sharp line of his jaw and the curl of his eyelashes keeps drawing your attention, and you suspect you are not being subtle with your admiration in your inebriated state. as you walk by an open window moonlight floods into the hall, sending jace’s profile into sharp relief, and your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his smooth skin. something about the pattern makes you think of the stars, and you realise too late that your quick glances have turned to a lingering stare.

“is there something on my face, princess?”

jace’s mockingly innocent words draw your eyes to his. he’s smirking down at you, eyes dancing with amusement, and your cheeks flush. gods, you don’t think you’ve blushed so much in moons compared to the mere hours you’ve spent in his company. the things this man is doing to you — it is unconscionable. you don’t know how much more of this you can take before your resolve breaks.

“i apologise, my prince,” your respond after a beat, teeth biting at your lip. “i did not mean to… i was leagues away.”

his eyes darken, mischief fleeing them in favour of flickers of something else as they linger on your mouth, and that damnable heat in your stomach blazes. you want desperately to surge forward and kiss him, or for him to take you in his hands and kiss you. you just want, and ache, and burn. and it’s too much, far too much for your wine-addled brain to process, but you know if anyone was to happen upon you in this corridor, starting at him with your mouth parted and your breaths shuddering through your lungs, there will be consequences.

“we should— we are almost at my chambers.” your words are stumbling, loud in the sudden quiet that had descended over the pair of you, and jace startles a little, eyes darting away from yours as your stomach plummets. gods, what are you doing? staring at him in such a way? he must think you a simple-minded fool, gaping at him for the sake of a few freckles. you step away from him, rubbing your arm as you turn your eyes to stare intently at your feet instead. “i can make it the rest of the way from here. you should return to the feast.”

jace is quiet for a long moment and you peek up at him to see him watching you with an indecipherable expression for a charged breath before nodding slowly and taking a step away.

“as you wish,” he murmurs, ducking his head in a simple bow. “sweet dreams, princess.”

you stutter out your own farewell, half-convinced you’ll be dreaming of nothing but his hands and his mouth this night, before turning and all but fleeing down the hall.

oh, yes. jacaerys is certainly going to be the death of you.

jace spends the next few days at court so entangled in his responsibilities he feels he barely sets eyes upon you.

he and his mother are roped into starting the celebrations in the absence of the king himself. his grandsire’s health is failing, of that there is no doubt, and after enjoying himself a touch too heartily at the welcome feast he requires a few days to recover. he thinks perhaps that’s why these festivities are so important; it’s unlikely the king will make it to his five and fiftieth name day, and almost certainly not his sixtieth. it leaves him with… complicated feelings.

when his grandsire dies, he will no longer be the heir to the heir, but the heir to the iron throne itself. it’s a daunting thought; for all that his mother has seen him well prepared to sit his throne one day, it feels such an impossible task. he doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to be ready for such a thing.

the thought rises, unbidden, that it would be easier with you by his side. with your kind heart but sharp mind, you’d make a fine queen. he finds himself daydreaming of it still and scolding himself all the while for acting the green boy, and yet unable to stop. it’s as if his every thought leads back to you in some way or another — he sees a flower and wonders if you’d like the smell of it, or sees a dress and thinks of how much lovelier it would look on you. at night he indulges in more sensual wonderings, and he swears he’s not felt the urge to touch himself so much since he was a boy of five and ten just starting to discover the pleasures the touch of another can bring.

for all that you’d appeared to reject him the night of the welcome feast, he finds himself certain you desire him just as he does you. in fact, he fancies it’s that very desire that had led to you fleeing his company and avoiding him in the days after.

because you are avoiding him.

yes, he is busy with the festivities and you are perhaps equally so. but he does not think it’s busyness that drives you to seek conversation with absolutely anyone else when he looks for your company, and it is not busyness that has you clinging to aemond’s side so fiercely either. you know he won’t approach you when you’re with your brother, knowing how it hurts you to see them trade barbs and knowing himself well enough to know he will not be able to bite back his rancour if aemond says a word about his father.

jace is not an idiot. he knows what people say about him, the words they barely bother to whisper behind their hands about who his true sire is. he has complicated feelings about that, too, but it all boils down to one simple thing: he is his mother’s son. she is heir to the king, and he is her heir. for him, that’s all that can matter.

he knows it’s all that matters to you, too. for all that your brothers had spit bastard at him for as long as he can remember, you’ve never done so. you’ve never looked at him differently for the rumours of his birth, and it’s just one thing among many he treasures about you.

perhaps it’s foolish, to cling to these childhood feelings so tightly, but he cannot let the idea of the two of you together go. he knows luke has noticed how he stares after you in longing, since his brother has never been shy about teasing him relentlessly. he thinks his mother has noticed, too, from the few carefully inane comments she’s made about betrothals and duty.

he supposes an argument could be made for the fact that with the years without contact between you, he doesn’t really know you anymore, not as he once did, but he doesn’t feel it matters. he can learn anything new about you and will in fact do so joyfully, but the important things? the things that speak to who you are at your core? jace has always known those, has always felt connected to you in a way he never has with another, and he loves you now just as he did as a boy.

it would be easier in a way if he felt sure you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. at least then he could try and move on from them, put to bed his endless wonderings of you. but for as often as he turns his head to look at you, he finds you looking away from your own watching of him. the few, brief interactions he has with you over the next few days feel loaded, the desire and affection between you a palpable thing, and he’s tiring of pretending there’s nothing there anymore.

he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t miss you.

so, at the halfway point of the celebrations when there’s another, larger feast held with plenty of chances for dancing and sneaking away into dark corners, he makes it a point to keep an eye on you. the moment he spots you, finally alone, he beelines for you. your attention is on your necklace, readjusting the pendant that rests on your chest, and he cannot help but let his gaze linger on the swell of your breasts as he approaches. he’s found himself staring at your chest more often than is wholly appropriate over the last few days, but then he knows his own weaknesses when it comes to a woman’s form.

“p-prince jacaerys,” you greet weakly when you look up from your necklace, hands smoothing over the skirts of your dress. your eyes dart about the room as if seeking a rescue from someone, and he tries not to feel how such a response to his presence stings. “how are you enjoying the feast?”

“well enough,” he returns, echoing the words you’d spoke to him days ago. gods, has it only been days since that conversation? it feels like an age, and he has felt more distant from you in these passing moments than he is in your years apart.

“that is… good.” your fingers twist around each other, teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he has to swallow back the sudden rush of desire to be the one nipping at the pouting flesh.

“would you do me the honour of a dance, princess?”

his request startles you, eyes widening as your fingers drop back to your side in surprise. he thinks for a wild moment that you’ll say no, make some excuse to remove yourself from him, and he feels himself bracing for the rejection. but you hesitate, searching his face, and whatever you find there seems to soften something in you as you nod.

“of course.” you offer him your hand, an unsure smile on your face.

he takes it with relief, trying not to react at the sensation of your hand in his own. he was right in thinking your hands are smooth, but as he leads you to the dance floor and your fingers slide over his palm he feels the drag of callouses as he’d expected. it pulls him back into that heated imagining of before for a moment, and he has to shake his head slightly to keep himself from losing his wits.

you stay quiet as he guides you into position, dainty hand resting on his shoulder as he places his own at your hip. he leads you through the first few steps in quiet, too, taking the moment to enjoy having you in his arms, having you close. but he realises after a silent minute that you’re obviously not going to say anything, and even as he looks beseechingly at you appear to avoid meeting his eyes.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he speaks lowly, watching you carefully as you stare purposefully at the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.

your eyes flicker away and back and then away again, fingers tightening around his own as he leads you through the steps of the dance effortlessly. “aye,” you admit quietly. “i have been.”

“why?” he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate nor so accusing, but the quiet hurt that your absence has caused him surges forth before jace can stop it.

you finally meet his gaze, eyes helpless and wanting and aching, and his stomach twists at the sight of your conflicted expression.

“i— jace, i can’t.” your voice cracks with the weight of your emotion and without thinking he pulls you closer, arm wrapping tight around your waist to provide you some semblance of comfort. “i can’t. not here, please.”

wordlessly he alters the steps of the dance, drawing you with precision through the crowd of dancers until you come to one of the balconies. it’s blessedly empty of anyone else, and as soon as you realise it some tension seems to shake loose of you.

you step out of his grip slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk to the railing, palms splaying on the stone. he joins you after the barest hesitation, drinking you in as you stare out at the courtyard and beyond. he notices how tightly you grip the banister, colour leeching from you knuckles with the strength of your grip, and almost without thinking jace rests his hand beside your own, pinkie fingers brushing. the touch seems to release something in you and he hears how your breath shudders before you speak.

“i embarrassed myself on the night of the welcome feast,” you confess miserably. “i drank too much, and the way that i behaved— staring at you in that way— it was not becoming behaviour of a princess, nor of a, a friend. i did not wish to make you uncomfortable again, so i thought it best i keep my distance from you.”

he blinks in surprise. “uncomfortable?” the mere idea of such a thing is maddening. he recalls the sight of you before him, lips parted and oh so kissable as you’d stared at him with such intention it had set him ablaze. how in the name of the gods can you think he found such a thing uncomfortable? “princess, i can assure you, the only feeling i took from your admiration is delight.”

your head snaps around, eyes finally meeting his own again, and he shakes his head in bemusement at the sight of your desperate hope. “truly? you do not jest?”

he resists the urge to chuckle, knowing you’ll take any kind of laughter, no matter how well meaning, poorly. instead he reaches for you, grasps your hands in his own and tries not to bask in the way you lean into him as he steps recklessly into your space. he feels your trembling breaths puff against his jaw as he ducks his head to stare intently into your eyes, and if he were a weaker man jace thinks he’d be on his knees in prostration for you in that very moment.

“surely you must know how i feel for you?” he murmurs, tracking the way the flush in your cheeks travels down your neck and onto your chest with greedy eyes. “how desperately i adore you?”

“jacaerys—.” you huff, shaking your head in denial for all that with every breath you take you sway ever closer to him. “we hardly know each other anymore. i won’t deny there is, is a yearning between us, mayhaps, but you cannot claim to adore me when you know me not. it’s been years since—"

“—do you think time matters?” he talks over you, strong in his conviction that you and he share a bond that transcends time or distance or duty. “that any distance between us could change what i know in my bones? i loved you before i had a name for it. i loved you when we were children and, yes, i love you again now. mayhaps i don’t know your favourite sweet or if you prefer to watch the sun rise or set, but i know you. i know who you are, princess, for all that i might no longer know the rest of it. i know your good heart, your quick mind and i know that i love you.” he hesitates, drinks in the dawning, open wonder on your face, and then adds, “and i think you might love me just the same.”

you sigh out his name sweetly, fingers tangling with his own as he squeezes your hands tenderly. you tilt your chin towards him as your eyes flutter shut. his nose slides against your own as you turn just so to the side, and your mouth is so close. he could kiss you, right now, and he knows that you would not pull away. but he’s too aware of the noise of the feast, the crowd of people that at any moment could find you in a compromising position.

he wants you, gods does he want you, but he will not ruin your reputation, will not sully your virtue for the sake of a stolen kiss on a balcony when he desires no less than forever with you.

“i will not push you,” he murmurs against your lips, breathing the air right from your lungs as he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. “if you do not want this — if you do not return my feelings — i won’t push you nor pursue you. i hold too great a respect for you for that.” he cradles your jaw, thumb dragging at the corner of your mouth, and he glories in the way you shudder at his touch. with an unsteady breath he separates himself from you, hands clenching into fists at his side in an effort not to immediately reach for you again.

“but if you decide you want me as i want you, that you love me as ardently as i you, then my chambers will be unguarded and unlocked for you.” he sketches a bow, heart thundering in his chest as you stare at him in wordless shock. “i hope to see you later tonight, my princess.”

you have no chance to respond before jace leaves you standing on the balcony.

he leaves you with your mind swirling, one thought after another coming so quickly you have no hope in processing them. you’re glad to be outside, at least, the cool breeze helping soothe the heat that blazes through your veins as you press your hand over your racing heart. you don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. all you can think about is jace, earnest and honest and in love with you.

he’s in love with you (!).

it’s too quick. too much time has passed with too little contact. in the years since he left court you’ve grown into new people, people who for all intents and purposes are strangers to each other. the lust is there, there’s no point in denying that with how your body warms at the smallest glance from him. and that old familiarity that blossomed as friendship as children and now into easy companionship as adults, that remains as it always has. and mayhaps you’ve thought to yourself, in the dark quiet of the night, that you’ll surely love him once more. that to know him any better at all is to love him again, because how can you know him and not love him?

but there’s been years and leagues between you for so long. time and distance have their ways of changing a heart, and he might say it doesn’t matter but it does. it does.

only it doesn’t, not at all, because giddiness is bubbling up in you so sudden that you cannot fight it, a helpless laugh escaping you as you press your hand over your mouth in unabashed amazement. your brave prince, plunging headfirst into the long-unspoken feelings between you. it incites you to act, drives you back into the hall where you catch aegon for long enough to tell him you’re retiring for the night before escaping into the quiet corridors.

you feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest, nerves and excitement and awe twisting together inside of you until you feel like you might vibrate out of your own skin. the walk to jace’s chambers is a haze, and in the morning you expect you’ll panic, wonder if anyone saw you walking so shamelessly towards the prince’s rooms. but now, in this moment, all you can think of is how fervently you want him, how guilelessly you love him.

the knock on his door — unguarded, as he had promised — echoes loudly in the silent corridor. you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as you wait for him to answer, and when he finally does he takes your breath away.

he’s shed his doublet and sword belt, standing in only his breeches and a billowing off-white tunic. the ties are loose on his neck and you’re entranced by the peek of tanned skin there, the freckles you can see disappearing beneath the shirt. he says your name, once, and your eyes snap back to him in time to see the relief and wonder coalesce into smouldering fire.

he curls his fingers around your wrist, thumb swiping over the delicate skin in a way that makes you shiver, and he uses the hold to wordlessly tug you into his chambers. you step into the space, eyes darting from the large bed to the roaring fire and back to the bed again as he locks the doors behind you.

you are finally, blissfully, alone.

you feel his presence behind you, heat and woodsmoke radiating from him as you turn to face him. something in your chest loosens at the blatant awe in his amber eyes, like liquid gold in the light of the flames, and before you can pause to think you’re speaking, your feelings escaping you in a flood.

“i shouldn’t be here,” you say shamelessly. “i know my being here is—. i shouldn’t be here. but i couldn’t not be, jace, not when you left without giving me a chance to tell you how i feel. because, gods, of course i feel for you. it’s unreasonable, insensible— there’s so much about each other we just don’t know anymore.” you shake your head, smiling at him wide and helpless and hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him. “but despite all the rationality in the world, all the good sense — despite knowing the trouble this is sure to bring us — i am completely and utterly in love with you, jacaerys velaryon.”

he kisses you, then, surges into your space and cups your cheeks and slots his mouth so sweetly against yours. you gasp into his lips as he kisses you deliberate, slow and tender in a way that makes your chest ache. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as you can as his own arms wrap around your waist. your noses bump and your teeth clash in your eagerness and it’s still glorious, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because it’s him.

it’s always been him.

you part after a few minutes, remaining close together as he runs his hand through your hair before cradling your face once more. “tell me again,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing your breath.

“i love you,” you say, smiling so wide it makes your cheeks ache. “i love you, i love you, i lo—”

he kisses you again, a quick press of his mouth against your this time, and then he’s laughing softly as his golden eyes shine down at you. “i have loved you forever,” he tells you, indulgent and affectionate as his thumb traces over your cheek. “i will love you forever, my princess.”

he draws you closer still, holds you tightly against him but far enough that he can drink you in, and for long moments you simply bask in the presence of each other, of this slow unfurling of happiness in your heart. this close to him, you can once again see the freckles dotted across his face. without even thinking of it your hand rises, and with butterfly-gentle fingers you trace a path over the constellations mapped on sun-kissed skin. jace sighs softly with your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed as his lips part.

“iksā sīr gevie [you are so beautiful],” you murmur, slipping into high valyrian in the quiet of his chambers.

he exhales shakily, breath hitching in his chest as your fingers brush gently over his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his brow. you want to remember him like this forever – bathed in the soft firelight, trembling beneath your tender touch, wholly and entirely yours.

“ñuha dārilaros [my princess],” he breathes, and hearing him speak possessively of you in your mother tongue ignites something within you so suddenly you cannot fight it.

arousal roars to life, deep in your belly, and you are helpless but to do anything but lean forward and press your lips to his once more. jace meets you just as greedily, hands gripping tightly to the flesh of your hips as he hauls you closer until your chests press together. your hand moves from his face to fist in his hair, tugging at his curls until he whines against your lips. he kisses you deep and open mouthed and filthy, tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you can feel heat pulse between your legs.

one of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling until your head is tilted back. he trails hot, wet kisses along your neck and you hiss at the sensation, pressing his head closer to your skin. you feel him smirk against you before he mouths at your pulse point, teeth nipping just enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure through you.

“jace,” you moan, grinding against him shamelessly as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you want him so fiercely it makes you reckless, makes you insatiable as the hand not buried in his curls drags down his back to grip at his ass. he groans against you, your name spilling from his lips so deep and husky that you want to do whatever you can to make him say it like that again and again and again.

“this is— we shouldn’t,” he says into your skin. he pushes at the shoulder of your dress to expose more of your bare skin to his greedy eyes, lips trailing the path his fingers have taken. “we should wait until we—. if anyone knew of this—”

“—no one will know,” you assure him, fingers flexing into the taut skin of his ass to drive him closer to you.

“i don’t want to, to besmirch your honour.” even as he speaks he’s dragging his tongue against your collarbone, chasing a bead of sweat down to the swell of your chest.

“fuck my honour,” you burst out, and your language has him moaning. you hitch your leg around his waist and his hand drops instantly to grip you at the knee, pulling you just so until the hard length of him is grinding deliciously against your core. you can’t think, can’t breathe, for wanting him. his touch and his scent and his taste consumes you, inflames you, and you care for nothing but the feel of him against you.

he pulls away from your chest, mouth swollen and pupils blown as he pants hotly. he presses his forehead to yours, squeezing your hip to still you as you shamelessly try to rub yourself against him. “this will bring ruin to you if it gets out, do you understand? it would break me to be the cause of such a thing.”

his desperation makes you hesitate, something about the fierce tone breaking into the haze of lust that consumes you. you take a moment to look at him, and you know with certainty that if you ask him to stop right this second he will.

but you don’t want him to stop. you’ve never wanted anything less.

“jace.” you cup his cheek, thumb dragging over his bottom lip as you force him to keep your gaze. “i know the risks of this as well as anyone.” you lean in closer, your nose sliding against his before you tilt your head to pepper soft, deliberate kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “i love you.” he sighs softly in pleasure before turning his head to capture your mouth again, and this kiss is a softer, slower thing.

when you break apart, you stare deeply into his eyes, making sure he can see the truth of your words. the heat in his amber eyes threatens to splinter you to pieces as you swallow thickly, almost overwhelmed once more with your desire for him.

“i am yours, jacaerys velaryon,” you say steadily. “no matter what happens from here— i belong to you.”

it’s like a dam breaks in him. his hands are suddenly everywhere as his mouth devours yours relentlessly, leaving you gasping and arching into his touch. he backs you towards his bed as his hands fist in your skirts, bunching the material up to your hips. he breaks from your mouth long enough to tug your dress over your head, leaving you in your thin small clothes, and despite the sweltering heat of the room your nipples harden beneath the sheer material.

“look at you, pretty thing,” he says reverentially, the weight of his heated gaze tangible as he stares at your heaving chest. “is this all for me?”

“yes,” you hiss, head tilting back as he trails kisses down the column of your throat. “all for you, jace. only ever for you.”

he groans at your words, deft fingers making quick work of the complicated stays of the brassiere, and when the material falls from you he stares for a long moment as if transfixed by the sight of your bare breasts. it makes you smug, knowing that those times you’ve caught his eyes lingering on your chest haven’t just been in your imagination.

“you are perfect,” he murmurs worshipfully, large hand cupping the side of your breast tenderly. “such a perfect girl for me.”

his thumb sweeps over your nipple, featherlight at first before returning more firmly when you sigh and lean into his touch. his other hand grips your hip once more, pulling you close to him as he lavishes more attention on your neck. he nips and kisses his way down your throat, your shoulder, the swell of your breast until he’s hunched slightly in front of you, sucking bruises into the tender skin of your chest.

“jacaerys, please.” you know not what you’re pleading for, only that you need something, and it’s as if he can read your mind as his mouth closes over your nipple. his hand, now free, gropes at your other breast as his tongue swirls tight circles around your nipple and your head tips back with a moan. it’s somehow enough and yet not, your hips bucking aimlessly as heat and slick pools between your legs, and you crave.

“more, please,” you beg shamelessly.

jace drops to the floor in response and the sight of him on his knees for you has your head spinning. he presses open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your abdomen, bites gently at your hip as his hands slide steadily up your legs. you tremble beneath his careful ministrations, and he murmurs wordless assurances into your sweat-slick skin.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your smalls, dragging them agonisingly slowly down your legs until you can step out of them. standing completely bare before him you expect to find yourself shy, but the way jace looks at you rapturously has liquid heat licking through your veins instead.

he leaves lingering kisses on your thigh and down your leg, and when his mouth brushes over the tender skin at the back of your knee you feel them buckle. he huffs a gentle laugh against you, warm hands cradling your waist as he urges you to sit back on the bed. you do so unsteadily, planting your hands against the soft feather mattress and watching him with intent ardour.

he nudges your legs apart and settles between them, his shoulders spreading you wide around him and you release a soft breath as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your thighs. “let me take care of you, my princess,” he pleads, eyes wide and soft and beseeching as he gazes up at you. you nod hesitantly, not wholly sure what he intends, but then his eyes finally drop to your core and darken so quickly it makes your mouth dry.

“gods, look at you.” he drags a finger through your folds and your head cants back, a whine escaping you at the touch. “you’re so wet for me, love. so gorgeous.” he brings his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of your slick and it has your mouth dropping open because he’s obscene, you think. he’s glorious.

“you taste so good,” he says, his voice so rough with arousal it makes you shiver. “wanna taste more of you.”

with no more warning that that, he licks a deliberate strip along your slit before circling his tongue over your clit. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he feasts on you. his name falls from your lips over and over again like a prayer as he laps at your core, tongue pressing deliciously inside you. you grind wantonly against his mouth, panting as he laves at your cunt.

your pleasure climbs sharply, rising so high you’re helpless to resist the way your stomach tightens. as if sensing your approaching high jace shifts his focus to your pulsing clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the bundle of nerves.

“jace, gods, feels so good,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his curls to press his head impossibly closer. “please don’t stop, ‘m so close—”

he sucks harshly on your pearl, ever so carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, and you fall to pieces as that tightly wound ball in your stomach snaps. he coaxes you through the trembling release, gentling his attention on you to drag out your pleasure until you’re squirming away from him in sensitivity. when he pulls away from your core his face is shining with your slick and the sight makes you feel feral. you bend to reach him and he presses up to meet you, kissing you hot and messy as you drink the taste of yourself from his mouth.

“you did so well for me, my princess,” he pants into your mouth as he crowds you onto the bed and the praise blooms hot in your chest. “need you to be good for me a little longer, okay? need to prepare you.”

you whimper, capturing his mouth in another sloppy kiss and nipping thoughtlessly at his lips as he settles between your legs. you can feel the heavy length of him against your hip, kept from you by his breeches, and you’re suddenly insensible with desire to see more of his skin. you tug wordlessly at the hem of his tunic, pulling it free from his trousers, and with a huff of fond amusement he separates from you to pull it over his head and toss it aside.

you drink in the exposed planes of his chest, leaning up to drag your tongue from freckle to freckle along his collarbone, and jace groans out your name in response. you follow the map of constellations down his chest, pressing kisses and gentle bites to the skin until you come to one of his nipples. hesitantly you flick your tongue out, curl it around the puckered skin just as jace had done to you earlier.

“fuck,” he hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets as his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady above you.

emboldened by his response you lavish the pebbled bud with attention, switching to the other when the fancy takes you, until jace is shuddering with desire and pushing your shoulders back into the bed. he swallows your protests with a flurry of kisses as his fingers trail down your chest, your abdomen until he reaches the heat between your legs. he presses a finger against you again and you arch into the touch, tossing your head back into the pillows.

“i want you so badly,” he confesses in a whisper as he sucks another bruise into your neck.

“yes,” you respond senselessly, hips bucking up to meet the slow stroke of his finger. “want you, jace, please.”

“i need to prepare you first, love,” he tells you again and you whine in displeasure. “i don’t wish to hurt you, so i need to get you ready for me.”

you’ve heard that it can hurt, what happens in bed between a man and a woman. you can’t comprehend the idea with how good you feel right now, how good he’s made you feel already, but you nod in acquiescence at jace’s stubborn expression and he beams down at you.

“that’s my good girl,” he utters affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

the finger that’s been sliding leisurely against you shifts, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. you’ve touched yourself before, explored what pleasure you can draw from your own body in the late of the night. you don’t know if it’s different because it’s the angle or just because it’s jace, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you is so much better than anything you’ve managed with your own clumsy digits and you moan with the pleasure of it.

“you’re so tight,” he says in amazement, burning gold eyes staring down at you worshipfully. “can’t wait to be inside you, my princess.”

you moan at his filthy words, hips bucking into his touch as he presses a second finger into you. this one pinches more, makes it almost uncomfortable until jace starts to rub slow circles over your clit with his thumb. any discomfort melts into liquid pleasure as he mouths at your neck once more, fingers crooking inside of you just so until stars burst behind your eyes.

“fuck, jacaerys—”

he shushes you softly even as his eyes gleam with smug pride. he picks up the pace, now, fucking you with his fingers as your pleasure starts to climb once more. just when you start to feel like you can’t take it anymore he slides a third finger in, the stetch burning deliciously this time, and you come apart on his fingers with a strangled moan of his name. he doesn’t relent this time, though, even when you writhe helplessly beneath him; he just chases another release for you without giving you a chance to recover, and the thrill rises so quickly it almost makes it a little hard to breathe.

“just one more,” he soothes as you whine, pressing delicate kisses to the corner of your mouth as he drives his fingers into you relentlessly. “you’re doing so well. just one more for me.”

your third climax hits you so hard your back bows up from the bed, mouth parting in a silent cry of pleasure as jace coaxes you through it before pulling his fingers from you. you ache at the loss, mewling your displeasure as your cunt clenches around nothing. he breathes a laugh at your impatience, kissing you so sweetly in such contrast to the delicious heat between you that it almost makes you weep.

with shaking hands you reach for the ties of his breaches, fumbling with the laces while he kisses you languidly. you make a triumphant little noise when you finally untie them and he smiles at you, adoring and soft and yet somehow feverishly aroused as you push the leather trousers down his hips. he helps you the rest of the way, kicking them off before returning to hover over you.

your hands brush his abdomen as you reach for him, fingers curling gently around the hard line of his cock, and he realises a shuddering breath in response. he watches you intently as you stare at his arousal, fascinated by the way your fingers barely close around the thick girth of him. he’s going to fill you so well, you realise, and you bite your lip as your core clenches again. the tip of him is leaking fluid, and you drag your hand up his cock to swipe your thumb over the head.

jace moans at the movement, so you do it again and again, watching in inflamed curiosity at the way his stomach contracts as he thrusts into your hand, the wet noise of it making you flush down to your toes as desire sparks in your core. his hand covers your own abruptly, stopping your exploration, and you pout up at him as he fixes you with a blazing stare.

“if you keep doing that, i’m not going to last,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of his desire.

“fine.”

you huff, pretending at annoyance even as you eagerly lie back and spread your legs for him. you fix him with an expectant look, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckles fondly as he settles himself between your legs once more. you’re not expecting the velvet heat of him dragging against you and you gasp at the sensation, grinding against him as he thrusts shallowly against you.

“are you ready for me, love?” he checks, cradling your face in his hands as his thumb rubs over your jaw.

you turn to press a kiss against his palm, near overwhelmed with your love and affection for this man. “yes,” you say simply, and it’s all the permission he needs as he ducks down to kiss you unhurriedly.

his head catches at your opening on the next thrust, and with the slightest shift of your hips he’s pressing inside of you. the stretch of him burns, pinches, but just as he did with his fingers, he worms his hand between your bodies to drag circles over your clit. you do your best to relax, keeping your eyes fixed on his golden stare as he slides into you, agonisingly slow.

the whole while he keeps up a litany of praise, calling you good and precious and perfect as sweat beads along his forehead. when he’s finally fully sheathed inside you he stills his movements, kisses you hard and wanting as he thumbs at your pearl, and when you’re ready you tilt your hips. the stretch of him burns, still, but in a way that sets your skin alight as you cling to his shoulders.

he moans your name like a prayer, drawing away from you until the tip of his cock catches at your entrance once more, and this time when he sinks back in your eyes roll back into your head. he feels so good, stretching and filling you so completely that you’ve no room to think, to breathe, to do anything but take it as he thrusts into you. he buries his head in your neck, resting on his forearms as he plunges into you again and again and again, and between your own choked breaths and the sounds of skin against skin, you hear him muttering in high valyrian.

“sīr sȳz syt nyke, sīr ȳrda, sīr lōz. vēttan syt nyke. ñuha dārilaros, mirre ñuhon [so good for me, so tight, so wet. made for me. my princess, all mine].”

it drives you wild, his voice and his words and hearing him speak in valyrian combined with the exquisite torture of the slow drag of his cock inside you. it’s too much, not enough, and leaves you with nothing but the need to feel as much of him as you possibly can. your hands drag up and down his back, fingernails leaving raised red lines in their wake as you seek to be as close to him as you can bear.

“more, jace, gods, please, i need—”

he cuts you off with a hard thrust, your breath punching out of your lungs as he starts to drive into you harder and faster. it’s so good, so fucking good, but still not quite enough and you whine, seeking something you’re not sure you know how to verbalise.

“whatever you need, love. i’ll give you whatever you need.”

understanding your need even when you don’t, jacaerys rears up, grips your legs and presses your knees to your chest before bearing down on you. like this he reaches so deep it hurts in the most unbearably, searingly pleasurable way. and it’s perfect, exactly what you needed, feeling him so far inside you that it soothes you and ignites you and makes you ache all at once.

“y’feel so good,” you manage to slur out, head lolling as you lose yourself to the feel of him taking you apart so expertly. “so— fuck— so deep. so good, jace, so good.”

jace groans your name, pounding into you so hard and so deep that it’s unconscionable, has your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips buck up to meet him recklessly. your peak approaches again, searing heat blazing through you as you inch closer to another climax, and all you can do is whine and moan as he fills you over and over again. he starts to lose the thread of his rhythm as you clench around him, valyrian and common tongue mixing senselessly as praise spills from his lips.

“avy jorrāelan [i love you] my perfect girl, gūrogon nyke sīr sȳrī [take me so well], can’t get enough of you, hells, i love you, ao sagon ñuhon [you’re mine], my love, my princess, my queen, ñuha ābrazȳrys [my wife].”

you come so hard you see stars, walls pulsing around jace’s cock as he curses. he thrusts sloppily into you, chasing his own release and dragging out your own as you keen, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. he finds completion with a drawn out noise, seed spilling hot and thick inside of you as he lazily pumps his hips two, three more times before collapsing on top of you.

you press absent kisses to his temple, brushing back the sweat-soaked curls from where they’ve matted on his forehead as he shudders against you. you feel lethargic, body aching in the sweetest of ways as you fight to catch your breath. eventually the heavy weight of jace on top of you becomes uncomfortable and you squirm beneath him in protest. with a sigh he slides himself free of you, rolling over onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you with him so that you sprawl over his chest.

you bury your smile into his neck, satisfaction settling bone-deep as his hand runs up and down your back idly. for long moments the two of simply lie together in the quiet, the only sound the rustling of the sheets and the crackle of the dying fire.

“i’ll speak to my mother and the king on the morrow,” he says into the quiet and you raise your head to look at him. he looks serious, amber eyes contemplative as he peers down at you. “i’ll not let another night pass without you as my betrothed.” he smiles at you then, a little crooked as his eyes crinkle, and without thought you reach up to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“i love you,” you say, eyes shining with mischief. “ñuha valzȳrys [my husband].”

jace swallows your laugh with another kiss, doing a poor job of hiding his own amusement as his smile presses to yours, and as the candles burn down you let all of your worries and doubts fade.

you love him. he loves you.

there’s nothing else that matters.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys smut #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #jace velaryon #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen smut #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys targaryen imagine #jacaerys targaryen fanfic #my writing

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monamoon8 · 11 months ago

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These are Omar(2) and Salah(5), Bilal's nephews. 8 months ago, they were enjoying the warmth of their home and being pampered by their parents and everyone in the family. The pictures below are from Omar's first birthday. Bilal told me how he was the one who prepared everything for the surprise party. He was,then, so excited to gather the whole family and give Omar a memorable first birthday and bring joy to everybody.

Now, Omar and Salah are going through hardships no child should be experiencing. They are surrounded by rubble and unsanitary conditions wherever they go; not to mention the random bombings that threaten their lives every moment of every day. Omar took his first steps while being displaced in a tent in Rafah. Imagine your baby learning to walk in a refugee camp under the constant buzzing of drones! The children and the whole family had to endure the cold winter and being drenched by rain in their flimsy tent, and now they have to go through the unbearable heat in the same inhumane circumstances. As if all this suffering wasn't enough, the occupation is currently asking everyone in Rafah to evacuate again, even the hospitals!

The survival of Omar, Salah, and the whole family in now more than ever at stake. Bilal has been in Germany for a year or so now. The thought that he might never get to see his beloved nephews again haunts him every day. He humbly asks for your support to help him keep his loved ones safe until he has the chance to reunite with them, hopefully as soon as possible. Please donate any amount you can spare and reblog this post. Every contribution can make a difference and restore the family's hope!

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riamaple · 17 days ago

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Life on Your Line (Ch. 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

Notes:

No use of (Y/N), but you do go by a lot of different fake names over the years; if any of the fake names is your actual name, feel free to make up a name there instead.

Bucky calls you “Rose” (you’ll see why) and you call him "James." If your name is actually Rose... Sorry.

You had a family (specifically, you had a child you loved dearly... Please note "Implications to Child Death" tag).

PLEASE READ WARNINGS CAREFULLY. I will put a warning at the beginning of the chapter if the content is particularly dark. If I missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 4.6k

CHAPTER 1: August 1935 - June 1943

How does someone tell a story if they don’t know how it started?

That question always tormented your mind when you opened your journal at the end of the day, staring at the next line waiting to be filled with tales of your life.

You knew how your life in general started. Born to two loving parents and given a brother a few years later. Worked day and night to provide for the family just like your mother did. Grew up with dreams, with some coming true, and always excited for the next day.

But now? You dreaded tomorrow. This dread began when your other life started; when a new story unfolded within you with no prologue—just chapter one and so forth.

Tightening your grip on your pencil, you started your entry the same: with the time and date:

August 10, 1935. 7:09 PM

From there, you would either write about your day or close the journal, putting it in a large glass jar that’d get hidden next to the other journals, right in between some rocks that decorated your brother’s grave. Today, there was nothing to write about, so you stood up, lightly brushed the dirt off your dress, and then walked away.

<><><>

August 11, 1935. 8:01 PM

You paused, wondering if there was anything worth writing about today. A few seconds went by before you simply exhaled, feeling frustration creeping up in your bones. You shut your eyes, feeling the fading sun slowly take away the warmth on your skin. With another breath, you flipped backward through your journal.

August 10, 1935. 7:09 PM

August 9, 1935. 7:39 PM

August 8, 1935. 8:05 PM

You continued to flip through the pages until eventually, you found the last entry you wrote.

June 19, 1935. 7:56 PM

It’s Henry’s birthday today. It’s hard to believe how much time has passed. I finally went to Manhattan the other day and saw that Clara’s hair had turned gray, and Roy and Ella now have children of their own now. Their children run about happily, and yet I can’t help but think that Henry should have been there to see his grandchildren grow up.

I can only watch them from a distance. I know I promised Henry that I’d stay close to Roy and Ella, but how could I when I look the same age as them now? They would be horrified if they saw me, and I don’t want my niece and nephew to be scared of me. I know Henry said I should tell them one day, but I never will.

How cruel must the world have been to take him away when I could’ve saved him? Of all people, my baby brother. Why can’t I use this curse to help those I love? Henry should be here. Why must this world be so merciless?

When I saw Clara from afar, I saw it in her body. How she carries the weight of Henry’s absence every day. I could’ve saved her husband. Why didn’t the world let me?

Damn this world. I hate it all.

You slammed the journal closed and dropped to the grass, shoving the journal back into the glass jar before hiding it between the rocks again.

<><><>

For the first time in nearly two months, you found a reason to write more than just the time and date.

August 12, 1935. 7:36 PM

I managed to save a boy’s balloon today. He couldn’t have been more than 15 or 16. He had a balloon and a car rushed by him and the wind made him let go of it. It didn’t surprise me. He was small. If the breeze today was any stronger, he might’ve flown off with it.

The balloon got caught in the tree and he couldn’t reach for it. No one bothered to help him. Perhaps they expected him to man up and move on as if his sorrow over a lost thing was something foolish. Shame on them.

I went over and pulled it down for him. He thanked me, such a polite little thing, all blonde hair and blue eyes. He wasn’t ashamed for a second for letting a woman like me help him. He told me he was bringing the balloon home for his sick mother. What a good boy she raised. I wonder if my baby girl would’ve done the same for me, bringing me a balloon or pastries when I felt unwell.

Regardless, when I watched him leave, I felt wonderful.

You read through your entry one last time, wondering if there were any more details to add. With a soft smile, you closed your book but quickly paused, feeling a familiar sense of longing overcome you again. You hugged the journal, biting your lips while slowly lowering yourself onto the grass again. You stayed like that for a while, letting the sun slowly set.

It was nice to save something so simple.

<><><>

You were aching like hell, stumbling to your brother’s gravestone before falling to the ground. The grass soaked into your knees as you struggled to open the glass jar and release your journal. With trembling hands, you pulled out a pencil and flipped to the latest page, but you paused at your last entry.

August 15, 1935. 7:25 PM

You stared at it before shaking your head, quickly writing down the newest entry before you forgot any details.

September 16, 1935. 6:48 AM

I saved a boy on August 16, and I woke up feeling as if I were made of broken bones.

It feels as though people on the streets have been getting more reckless, driving around like they’re invincible. I was on my way here to write my next entry. I had stopped by the bakery first to get some eclairs.

On my way here, I saw a boy and his friend. I recognized his friend, it was the blonde boy who had the balloon. This boy, on the other hand, was taller with dark hair. He also looked older than his friend, like 18 or 19, or maybe his friend was so small that I thought he was younger than he actually was. They were walking away from the deli with a bag full of what I could only assume were snacks.

Then they went to cross the street and I felt the pull. I saw the car right then and there so I ran for him. I pushed him out of the way just in time. It hurt. It really hurt. I believe the car that hit me sped away.

I laid there while people screamed around me. The boys were next to me calling for help. The dark haired boy I saved was crying. He had frost blue eyes and asked me to stay awake, but I knew I wouldn’t.

My body was screaming when I woke up, and yet I found myself on my living room floor. The world didn’t even give me the decency to let me wake up in my bed this time.

With a long sigh, you shut the book and tilted your head back, feeling the wind on your skin. Within one month, the morning sun felt cooler, still warm enough to slowly make your skin sticky, but it was clear that autumn was approaching Brooklyn. You looked back down at the journal, suddenly feeling a rush of resentment toward it. Biting your lip, you quickly hid it in its usual spot before you made any regrettable decisions—you’d made a few of those before. You stood up again with a gasp, patting your dress down before walking off.

You had the same routine every time you returned to life: get a new identity and pretend your past self never existed. You used to move to a different home to avoid walking to the same streets, bumping into the same people, but recently stopped as it became too exhausting to relocate every few months. It was just easier to lie and act like those who recognized you were mistaking you for someone else.

The streets were never quiet, but they were emptier, as it was still early in the morning. You sped toward your workplace, knowing your best friend would’ve already arrived. You could see the Riverside Bookshop in the distance, carefully moving past strangers in case someone familiar was among them.

You walked right in with a huff of breath, the bell above the door ringing. Footsteps immediately caught your attention, and you looked up to see a woman in her fifties walking around one of the bookshelves. She went to speak, but she froze.

“Hi, Minnie,” you said, shifting in your stance. “Um, so…”

“You look awful.” Minnie sighed before shaking her head. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” you murmured while approaching her. “I’d say I’m sorry for skipping work, but you already know the drill.”

“You bet I do,” she replied, her eyes scanning you. “You need Lewis to fix you up with a new identity?”

You exhaled with relief in your voice. “I’d appreciate that. Sorry, though. I know it’s only been a few months since—”

She raised a hand to stop you. “Don’t give it a second thought. He won’t mind a bit. It’s a shame, though. Sherry was a nice name for you.”

You nodded in exhaustion, fidgeting with your fingers as you tried to shake off the weight of it all. Minnie was still staring at you, watching you quietly.

“I heard what happened,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she gauged your reaction.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you quickly turned to her. “What? How did you—”

“Ada from church told me.” Minnie picked up a stack of misplaced books. “It was inevitable someone would talk about it. The ‘lady who died in a car accident saving a boy,’ you know? It was all anyone was talking about for days.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine. Though you had gone through this process numerous times, it was often in a quieter place, with fewer bystanders to witness your less dramatic death. You stood up straighter as your heart pounded against your chest. “Was…was anyone who knew me there?” you asked, your voice trembling a little.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “None of my friends. All they’ve been calling you is ‘the lady.’ That’s it.”

You let out a deep breath that was restrained, the knot in your stomach loosening. “That’s…that’s good,” you muttered. “No one knows it was me.”

Minnie watched you for a moment before sighing softly. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said, putting one of the books back in its original place. “Die and come back for strangers. Every time.”

Your lips went ajar as you looked at the floorboards. You shrugged, the familiar weight of it all pressing down on you once more. “It’s just…how it is,” you quietly said. “I feel a pull, and I know whoever is in danger right then and there needs saving. It’s like something inside me is telling me to do it. I don’t have a choice.”

Minnie watched you for a moment, her lips pressed together as she let out a slow breath. You could see the sadness in her eyes, though she said nothing. As your childhood friend, she had been with you since you were given this curse, keeping your secret while she grew older. She knew this was how it was, as much as she hated it.

“Do you want to work today, or would you rather take a day off?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

“I’d rather work,” you answered rather quickly. “I feel bad for leaving you alone for a month.”

“We’ve been through this before, and it’s okay.” Minnie grinned before glancing at your knees. “Maybe you want to go home and change, though. Your dress is stained.”

You blinked before glancing down at where the grass had left dirt and morning dew on your knees. Your cheeks turned red as you cleared your throat, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Take your time. You just came back.”

You nodded, but you hastily left the store and rushed home, desperate to get right back to organizing bookshelves and cleaning the windowsills.

Right. That was also part of your routine: live your life as if you didn’t die a horrible death a month ago.

<><><>

June 12, 1943. 7:19 PM

June 14, 1943. 9:22 AM

For the first time in a long while, I’m late to write in this journal, and it wasn’t because I died. I ended up going to a little gathering Minnie hosted last night and it was fun. Well, I guess everything is always fun when people don’t really know who you are, right? You can make up any story you want. It’s always a little strange pretending to be Minnie’s niece… But still, it was really nice to find some joy in these times.

It’s been scary. The war is getting crazier and they’re only dragging more people in. Minnie’s been upset over Robert getting dragged to war. I can’t blame her. She has every right to fear for the safety of her grandson. I’m just worried that she will have a heart attack like Lewis from this whole thing. I don’t want to lose her too. We can only hope that Robert comes back home safe and sound.

You paused, your hand suddenly trembling around your pencil. With a quiet, shaky breath, you finished the entry.

Sometimes, I wish I were on the battlefield next to Robert. Because maybe, if needed, I could save him like I should’ve with Henry.

Setting down the pencil, you shut the book and slid it into your bag under the front table. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to stand up straight. It was hot and empty in the store, the kind of warmth that would annoy the average person, but you were used to it. You tugged on your collar, feeling the fabric peel from your skin, and you groaned.

Okay, maybe you weren’t used to it as much as you hoped.

“It's hot, isn’t it?”

You looked up at Laura, Minnie and Lewis’s daughter who had taken over Riverside Bookshop since Minnie retired. It was still crazy to you that you watched Laura grow up her entire life, and there she was now, physically older than you. “Yeah, it is.”

Laura chuckled, dusting off the tops of the shelves, “At least we don’t have to spend our day outside.”

You hummed, stepping around the front desk to help with tidying up the store. There was not much to do as they hadn’t had a lot of people come in lately, as the war waged on, but you couldn’t just stand around and do nothing. You wiped down the reading areas, removing the dust from the tables when you heard the bell above the door ring.

“Hello! Welcome in,” Laura greeted the customers with melody in her voice, as if her son wasn’t currently fighting for his life on the other side of the planet. “Let us know if you’re looking for anything in particular.”

You briefly peeked past the shelves to see a boy and a girl. The teenage, dark-haired girl looked around the store in awe while the dark-haired boy—or rather, a young man—in a military uniform watched her with a smile.

“Like I said, you can pick any book you want,” he told the girl, who snapped her head up at him.

“Really? Jimmy, is that alright?”

“Of course it is, Becca,” he laughed, gently nudging her shoulder. “Just don’t tell Annie and Betty. I don’t need them thinking I have a favorite sister.”

“Even though I am?” she teased.

“As long as you’re quiet about it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their conversation. It made your heart warm to see siblings get along very well. You and your brother had been very close, with you starting as his protector and then switching roles once he grew taller and stronger than you. Lately, you had seen a lot of siblings argue and fight and refuse to talk to each other altogether. It made you want to scream; you wanted them to understand that their sibling was someone they could always trust to have their back.

So hearing those two giggle as they roamed around the store made your voice soft with your own giggles. You continued to tidy up the store, cleaning off dust from the lovely books and reorganizing any that were out of place. It was nice and calm in the room, and despite the heat, you felt yourself smiling like how your mother would when listening to you and Henry joke around.

Although you did sometimes forget that you were now around the same age as your mother when she passed away. An old lady in the body of a young woman, forever trapped in time.

“My brother is leaving tomorrow.”

You perked your head up, eavesdropping on the girl, Becca, speaking to Laura on your right. “He’s going to fight in the war tomorrow, so he wanted to get me a gift.”

Your smile vanished as you heard Laura speaking, immediately noticing the motherly terror in her voice at learning about the young man’s leave, “I see. That’s sweet of him to get you a gift. You like reading?”

“Honestly, I don’t read much, but my brother reads all the time and he used to share these stories with me. I guess I wanted to read more because of him.”

Her words soothed your heart, and you found yourself smiling again, only with sadness this time. Becca clearly admired her older brother, her voice tinted with sorrow while she put on a brave face for others. You softly sighed, gripping the book in your hand tightly before placing it back on the shelf.

Then, you began to hear someone walking closer on your left. You looked up to see the young man, Jimmy, approach you with a gentle smile, and you immediately grinned back without the sadness.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he started, his warmth radiating off of him, “do you know where I can find—”

He froze, his smile immediately dropping as his eyes locked onto yours. You faltered briefly, perplexed by the loss of warmth in the young man, and—though you didn’t want to admit it—you were slightly intimidated by his gaze. As a horrified frown took over his lips, you took note of his frost-blue eyes.

…Wait.

No, it couldn't—

“Yes?” you quickly spoke, trying to mask the sudden intensity between the two of you. You forced out a lovely smile, though his expression continued to twist. “How can I help you?”

But the young man didn’t reply. He just continued to stare so deeply into your eyes that maybe they were hurting a bit. Or maybe it was because you were trying to keep your own emotions in check. To stop any tears from forming. This was ridiculous—you shouldn’t cry over this, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was really the boy you—

“It’s you,” he suddenly breathed out, his voice too soft for anyone but you to hear.

You blinked, pretending to be confused when you knew exactly who you were looking at. “I’m sorry? I don’t follow.”

“You—” He suddenly stepped back as if he was staring at a ghost; to be fair, you could be one. His chest heaved and his lips began to quiver. “You saved me. It’s you. It’s—”

You raised both of your hands quickly, plastering more confusion into your face while the concern was real. “Whoa, sir. Are you alright? You don’t look so well.”

“Jimmy?” Becca walked over from behind you, holding a book with furrowed eyebrows. “Jimmy, what’s going on?”

But the young man didn’t respond to his sister. He could only keep his eyes on you, and you could only do the same. Laura joined you all while you took a breath and put on another smile, more gentle and warm than the last, though chills continuously went up your spine. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow what you’re saying…”

“I…” His hands lightly shook as his eyes shifted all around, taking in your face every possible way. Trying to digest the appearance of the woman who saved his life.

But she was dead. He learned later in the day at the hospital, where he had gone with his mother and his friend to thank the woman, that she had died. That her body had failed on her before she even made it to the hospital and was soon to get buried.

Her name was Sherry.

Upon hearing the news, the boy collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably as his mother tried to soothe him. He suddenly remembered the woman’s face so clearly—how the blood heavily coated her skin and light slowly faded from her eyes. It was his fault she died.

The boy’s friend stood frozen, unable to process the death of the woman, watching his friend crumble before he lost it too.

Because maybe they were a bit more careful, you’d be alive.

You bit the inside of your mouth as Becca reached for her brother's shoulder, gently shaking him. “Jimmy…?”

He suddenly blinked rapidly, realizing his stance, and shook his head. “I, uh—” he cleared his throat and smiled embarrassingly, “I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

Laura narrowed her eyes, clearly concerned for the young man. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Um, I’m sorry, ma’am.” He turned his attention back towards you, his gaze no longer intense but now just heavy. “I didn’t mean to scare you out. I… You just look like someone I knew.”

Your stomach coiled. Suddenly, you felt so sick.

Although you couldn’t see her directly, you felt Laura’s eyes on you, realizing what the young man meant by his words. You forced a smile once again, acting like you weren’t dying on the inside. “It’s alright. I’m…I’m sorry that I’m not who you were expecting.”

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… The person you remind me of is very important to me. But that’s no excuse for scaring you. I’m sorry.”

He smiled at you again, but your chest only tightened by the hurt in his eyes. He desperately wished you were the one who saved him all those years ago—the one who pushed him out of the way and died in his stead—the one who he deemed to be very important in his life.

But you were. You really were. But you bit back your words and returned the grin. “It’s alright. It happens.”

He nodded, though the hesitation was evident. He turned to his sister and gestured to the book. “Is that the one?”

Becca, still eyeing him down with furrowed eyebrows, slowly nodded. “Yeah. Jimmy, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m alright.” He nudged her shoulder playfully before taking her book.

Laura gestured to the desk behind her. “I can take care of that for you at the front.”

Jimmy and Becca followed her to the front desk, their footsteps soft against the worn wooden floor. You lingered behind, drifting toward a nearby shelf and running your fingers along the spines of books. In reality, you were only putting distance between yourself and the young man, as if that could settle the unease curling in your stomach.

Still, even without looking, you could feel him glancing at you. A flicker of attention. A hesitation. A longing.

To force a sense of normalcy, you lifted your head and met his eyes with a polite, easy smile. Nothing too stiff, nothing too strained—just enough to make it seem like everything was fine. He faltered, his fingers curling around the book tighter while his lips pressed into a thin line. Then he exhaled and gave you a small, apologetic smile in return.

He was sorry, but for what? For your lies?

The siblings took their purchase and made their way toward the door—Jimmy didn’t dare to look at you again. The bell jingled as they stepped out, but the second they were gone, you spun toward the front desk. Laura stepped back with a quiet breath, watching you yank your journal from your bag and quickly flip through the pages.

“Auntie?” she said, trying to calm you down, but you couldn’t.

You couldn’t because you knew. You knew. But still, you just had to check. You had to make sure it was really—

The dark haired boy I saved was crying. He had frost blue eyes and asked me to stay awake, but I knew I wouldn’t.

The journal fell from your grasp as you stumbled back into the chair, tripping over it and tumbling to the floor. Clutching at your chest, you bit your lip as you tried to control your unsteady breathing. Laura swiftly kneeled next to you, holding onto your shoulders as she whispered.

“Hey, it’s alright. Auntie, it’s alright.” She glanced at your journal as if it carried some terrible omen. “Do you need a second?”

“I…” You inhaled sharply before letting out a slow breath. “I think I need a bit of water.”

“Alright, I can get that.” Laura stood up, uneasy about leaving you but still hurrying off to fetch a drink.

You just sat there. Staring at your journal.

At one point, Laura did come back and give you water. Let you hide behind the front desk on the floor, pretending you weren't in the room when other customers would stop by and wouldn’t see you. You sat there with the journal in your hands for a while, quiet in your whirling thoughts as the need to write crawled up your skin.

Soon, you found a pencil.

June 14, 1943. 10:47 AM

I lied. Not everything is as fun as it seems when no one knows who you are. How do you tell someone — someone who thinks you're dead — that you're so glad they lived?

I saved that boy so long ago and he recognized me. That never happened before — no one remembers me.

His frost blue eyes are as vibrant as before and I think he's roughly the same age as Robert now. How amazing is that? That he got to grow up that much? And he has a sister—I think he has a couple of them. He seems like such a sweet boy, buying his sister a book just to make her happy. He looked so happy doing it too.

I overheard that the boy young man is leaving tomorrow.

Why? Why would they let him do this? They can’t. I saved him once, but now he’s off to a place where I know I can’t reach him.

Why would the world let me save him just to let him die young?

That girl is going to lose her brother just like how I lost mine.

This isn’t fair. None of this is fair. I just want it to end.

NEXT CHAPTER >

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass

Thanks for reading :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader

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harunayuuka2060 · 2 years ago

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Aunt MC: *who was always away from home and only came to visit every few months*

Leona's father: You've been neglecting your duties and responsibilities as a princess of this country.

Aunt MC: Brother, everyone knows that if I'm here, you'll be dead.

Leona's father: ...

Leona's father: Fine. But you should at least see your nephews.

Aunt MC: And scare them? Sure.

Leona's father: *sigh*

Kifaj: How long are you going to stay?

MC: I'll be leaving the next morning.

Kifaj: But won't you even stay for at least a week? Prince Leona's birthday is coming soon.

MC: He'll has everyone celebrating his birthda—

Baby Leona: *hugging her leg from behind* Auntie?

Aunt MC: ...

Aunt MC: "Auntie~" Why are you hugging my leg? I almost kicked you.

Baby Leona: *grumpy frowns*

Aunt MC: *frowning too*

Kifaj: *chuckles*

Aunt MC: I'll be dropping by again tomorrow~.

Leona: *sigh* Aunt, just go home. You're still a queen, you know?

Aunt MC: Not for long! *hops into her car and drove off*

Leona: What do you mean "Not for long"? *sigh again*

#twisted wonderland #twst aunt mc kingscholar #twst leona #twst kifaji

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foreignswaggersession · 8 months ago

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alright i'm gonna say this as nicely as i can. if you actually think louis ate his nephew you're an idiot not paying attention. that baby wasn't just a baby, it was his NEPHEW, grace's child. once again, i'm asking you to think seriously - if grace left her baby alone with louis, and came back to a dead baby, do you think grace would not hold louis responsible for her baby's death? do you think grace would tell jonah where to find louis, and not "louis killed my child you should avoid him?"

do you think they would even entertain letting louis come to the house anymore to visit grace's other children, day or night?

do you think grace would invite him to their mother's funeral (or any other events that louis missed - like his not-dead nephew's christening, which takes place AFTER ep 2)?

do you think grace would mark his grave like this???

that whole "did you eat the baby" scene is why episode 2 is my least favorite episode of season 1. it goes on for so long, and then people with no brain cells think they're smart by saying "louis's such a crazy liar he would eat a baby" (ok i've stopped being nice - if you think louis ate that baby you have no right to say anything about this show)

also, we don't see the son at the twins' birthday party because he's still a baby/toddler and probably asleep. he didn't eat his fucking nephew omg be serious.

#ok that was aggressive but this take is probably the most unforgivable to me #who do you think louis is #y'all don't pay attention to any of the black characters omg #and now i'm gonna hear it from the 'louis is unreliable' crowd #there are limits to that unreliability my friends #y'all assume entire sex scenes off screen but you don't see a baby again and all of a sudden they must be dead #also if the show tries to confirm he did eat the baby - i'm cancelling amc+ immediately #i don't respect character defamation get out my face #discourse with the vampire #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #my twin #grace de pointe du lac #tagging everything cause i never wanna see this take again #interview with the vampire

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jocelynscrazyideas · 5 months ago

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Can I request something ? Matthew tkachuk

Yn has severe anxiety and she gets like all red and “anxiety hives” on her chest. and they’re at like a Christmas party or a team banquet. And one of the other bitchy girlfriend call her out and embarrass her? 🫶🏼

Red Christmas ||

Mathew tkachuk x reader

summary: Matt stands up for you at a team Christmas party at Sam Reinharts house. The first impressions…yeah they weren’t great.

warnings: not much? Correct me if I’m wrong!

a/n: hey guys! Haven’t posted in a while, hopefully I remember how to write…I pray yall enjoy.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Have you ever felt misplaced?

Matt and I just started dating, it’s been about eight months and three weeks. The unfortunate part about our relationship is that we kept it a secret. Not a burdened relationship, more like a respect secret.

Matt had been focusing on playoffs in march, and I was visiting for my nephews birthday. Of course, as Floridians we came to support the panthers and Matt had caught my eye.

We’ve been strong in long distance, and I’m actually moving in this week.

“Yes mom, I know it’s fast. Mom. Listen. I love him.” I defend Matt to my mother over a phone call.

No one thinks Matthew and I will last, but I believe that he truly cares about me.

“Baby?” Matt knocks on our soon-to be shared room.

I look up from my phone, and stand up from the bed, “huh? Is it a pajama party or are we going classy tonight?” I have extreme fear that I won’t be accepted to the WAGs tonight.

Matt hands me a bag full of clothes, “Pj’s, I bought you some to match, but the Christmas party tonight will be rough, the girls are amazing, and the boys love the stories I’ve told about you..” he seems more nervous than me.

“What? If the girls are nice and the boys love me, then what’s the problem?”

“Them mixed-it’s just not a good idea. It took the girls to adjust to a new girl last year about three months.” He holds my hand while he takes me out of the bedroom.

oh?

Does he believe that I’m unlikable? Or is it because they’re just not used to new people?

“Great. Thanks Bubs. I walk over to the bathroom and change into the pajamas I have been gifted by Matt.

I have the softest white pants on ever, they have small blue snowflakes on them and I threw on the matching top. It looks somewhat hideous, so I run out of the bathroom.

“Matthew!” I yell out, I motion out for him to come find me.

He walks out if the kitchen and turns me around, we stand in the very cold living room. He has on the matching pj set and an ugly sweater for us but I decided that the pjs were enough.

We made it to Reinharts house, seeing many cars parked outside of his home we decide to park on the street.

We walk in, my makeup feels fresh, my hair looks good, Matthew looks pretty and I feel… anxious.

“Hey Sam, you know about Miss Pretty?” Matthew motions to me. I’m in a daze, I’m really nervous now that I’m meeting someone.

“Of course!” Sam laughs, he hugs me in a welcoming, and he pulls over Jessica- his wife.

She’s very sweet, but she keeps looking down at my neck. Maybe she’s just checking to make sure I have no hickeys, but maybe I have my rashes again?

I walk to the bathroom and notice my neck is red. I didn’t bring any extra concealer tonight, maybe they won’t notice.

am I stupid?! “Maybe they won’t notice.” Notice what? The huge red hives bunched all together? Yeah! Sure they won’t notice..

Matthew hands me a cup of hot chocolate, and I start drinking off to the side. They all talk, and I feel like I’m just forgotten.

Jessica rushes over to me, “Come on! The girls are spilling the funniest stories about the boys!” She giggles. Maybe I have a shot in making a friend.

The girls huddle up in the corner next to the Christmas tree, we all laugh as we hear the funniest embarrassing moments the couples have experienced. Now it’s my turn. Everyone looks at the anxiety rashes. Great.

I scratch my hands, I look down and see the hugest red markings. I’m spreading.

“Is that? Herpes?” Someone laughs out. The girls look round and laugh at me.

I run over to Matthew tell him I’ll wait in the car. I grab my phone and set down the mug of the festive beverage. Matthew notices my hand.

“Hey!” He calls out. Everyone stops. Matthew took my hand.

“I get it! No one expected me to have a girlfriend for so long, but she’s beautiful, she’s sweet, and she has the worst anxiety known to man.” He holds up my hand and turns my head to the left, showing off my rashes.

“It’s not…” Matt holds his head down, “herpes.” I wisper in his ear.

He echoed my words as I feel a tear come down my face. I’ve always been so insecure about the hives.

All of the girls apologize, they even set up a hangout for the following week with the boys. We’re going clubbing! Yet somehow I’m still really nervous.

I can tell they were all embarrassed, I mean they should be. Why call out something so little? To put someone down?

Matt and I leave after he stood up for me. He was angry, and I was flustered. We head back home and sat in the couch and watched movies. I felt his hand slide around my thigh.

“You know… I’ve been staring at that ass all night.” He grips harder onto my leg. He stands over me, picking me up and runs me over to the bedroom.

We laugh as we take our pjs off and the night ends in a good note.

#jocelynscrazyideas #hockey #nhl #florida panthers #nhl boys #nhl fic #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk x reader #fluff #sam reinhart #🍇🍇🍇

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

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Carmy as Your Baby Daddy | Social Media AU & Headcanon Series | part one

masterlist | part two now that i've finished my top gun: maverick series, it's me i'm back and gearing up for season two. after a bout of food poisoning, i finally cracked and am writing this pregnancy headcanon that i said i wouldn't bc my ovaries would explode (looking at you @allthefandomstogether). anyways, a huge thank you to @carmensberzattos who pinged many an ideas back and forth about carmy as your baby daddy and screamed into the abyss about this on a friday night. i'm writing this with my main character from the make your heart surrender-verse, but can absolutely read as a standalone piece. posting now because i'm so damn excited but i may go back and add some more things later.

oh and this a headcanon series now so. that part.

carmy as your baby daddy:

sometime after the wedding, you and carmy decide that you're ready to start a family. you're not trying but you're not not trying, meaning you've gone off of birth control but you're not carefully monitoring your ovulation cycle either. you both figure that it'll happen when it happens and if it doesn't, there are many other ways to make a family.

carmy never really thought about having kids until the two of you got together. after adopting your kitty together, carmy got to see a your more nurturing side and taking care of something together as a team made him think about how much he wants a family with you. after sugar has her baby it really ups the ante. seeing carmy become an uncle is what starts the conversation about seriously starting a family, and every time carmy sees you holding the baby, it's 'when our kids this, and when our kids that' for days after.

you swear it's food poisoning. after a somewhat questionable late night meal, you spend half the night vomiting while carmy works a later night at the restaurant. you text him to bring ginger ale and tums home. of course he comes through because are you kidding this man is a caretaker?!

you insist that you're fine and much better, even though you're absolutely exhausted. things are so busy at work for you (and have i mentioned the pregnancy fatigue) that you don't think much of it when a few nights later, you find yourself kneeling on the bathroom floor once again.

there are always little kids running around at the extended family gatherings and which led to your realization (when you first met everyone) that carmy is surprisingly good with kids.

it's not till a week or two later (after your little bout of 'food poisoning') that you're at cicero's place for a family birthday party that it hits you. one of carmy's cousins (not richie kind of cousin teehee) has just had a new baby with his wife. you've been catching up with ava, richie's daughter because you've become an auntie of sorts to her. you find some time to steal away for a some girl-time but when you return, carmy is holding his new niece/nephew in his arms.

the sight of him holding the baby not only takes your goddamn breath away as he stares long and hard your way, his blue eyes piercing right through your heart, but it's then that you realize that you're a few weeks late. it's like time stops as you look at him, seeing him coo at the baby with the softest look on his face. the realization hits you, clear as day.

"holy shit." is all you say, earning a few funny looks from the berzatto extended family and friends. "carm, can i borrow you for a second?" you and carmy find a quiet place to talk inside. "you okay, babe?" "carmy i think i'm-. what if i-. i'm late." "what do you-? like.. late late?" "now that i think about it, a few weeks late, honey." "yeah?" he asks you, totally in shock and eyes wide. "yeah."

the two of you make an excuse to leave the party as soon as possible, and hurry to the nearest drugstore to pick up a pregnancy test. you wait till you're home to take it. "do you want me to come in, sweetheart?" "no, carmy! i don't want you to watch me pee, you weirdo!" you answer, even though you know he's just excited.

the two of you are pacing back and forth, practically making dents in the floor with your footsteps for what feels like the longest two minutes of your lives. when your timer goes off, you're both simultaneously freaking out about the fact that you're lives are about to change forever, while also really, really hoping for a positive result. and as the fates would have it, the test is positive.

"holy shit. holy fucking shit. we're- you're-, we're gonna-!" carmy is ecstatic as searches for words. "we're having a baby, baby!" you squeal jumping into his arms." "god, i love you so much," he says, grinning at you as wrap your legs around his waist. "i love you too, carm. so, so much."

you literally get the biggest kick out of calling him your baby daddy: to friends and family, coworkers, random strangers, in restaurants, at the gas station. you'll take photos of him at the farmers market and post on your ig story referring to him as your baby daddy because you find it hilarious. carmy doesn't find it as funny (even though he secretly loves it) and he's cherry-tomato red when you tell the checkout clerk at the bodega across the street from your place that your baby daddy is going to pick up the tab.

everyone at the restaurant is so excited for you! even richie cries a little when you tell him the news. you hadn't really gotten close to richie until ava grew super attached to you, which opened up a whole new avenue and understanding for your friendship with richie.

ever since you found out you were pregnant, carmy always has bread and ginger ale on hand for your morning sickness. he started making you your favorite soft scrambled eggs with toast, but the chives have been way too strong of a flavor for a sensitive tummy. it's slowly become eggs & toast and then just... toast, which you promptly apologize for stripping away any kind of artistic freedom he may have previously had.

you get near compulsive cravings for certain foods, and carmy is always ready to throw on a jacket and run across the street when you get midnight cravings.

carmy hates seeing how tumultuous pregnancy has been during your first trimester. he's always ready with a hair tie or a glass of water for when you're done throwing up. okay hear me out: but carmy starting to wear hair ties because he wants to always have one ready for you. he'll even take off a morning with you or call your workplace if you need a sick day just so that he can take care of you. even if you don't need care, he just wants to spend time with you and be there for you while you go through it.

we already know that carmy is an acts of service king. he is the tenderest, most gentle partner and wants to be as helpful as possible. if you're sick, he wants to make you feel better. if the pregnancy hormones are raging against the machine, he's more than happy to let you be upset, or get you off by any means if the hormones go that way too. he'll sit on the bathroom floor with you and rub your back until you need to vomit again. he'll give you the best morning head of your life. he'll run a bath for you when you need one. he checks in every hour on the hour in your first trimester, which you appreciate, but eventually have to ask him to chill the fuck out.

speaking of physical changes, the pregnancy boobs are ELITE. carmy is always there to make you feel beautiful despite your rapidly changing body, esp when your clothes start fitting differently.

the first time your bump starts showing and you point it out to him, carmy cries. or maybe he notices it first and he's just like... weeping and you're like: babe r u ok? and then you realize that you're showing and carmy is kneeling and admiring your baby bump and now you're crying. sorry, but i don't make the rules it's just a fact that this is how it would go down.

carmy is so emotional about this because he realizes that he finally gets to build the family he didn't have and he gets to build it with you.

well this just hijacked my writing plans oops. part two will be more 'you & carmy pregnancy things' and part three will be birth & post-birth.

tagging my carmy taglist in the comments below!

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #Carmy as your baby daddy

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tin-wufborf · 10 months ago

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Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 3)

Hello lovelies! I'm back with a third installment of my favorite Sterek fic recommendations!

Let me just say again, I am absolutely blown away by how many of you have liked these posts, but I am still so glad you're enjoying them! Thank you all, and without further ado, let's get into it.

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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On a Chilly Night, Prayed for the Moon by violentcrumbles (E | 1/1 | 1,299)

Derek's hands are bloody, but Stiles' are clean.

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Freckle by starbolin (E | 1/1 | 1,645)

Nobody dies in this story.

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Turn Me On by risacooper (E | 1/1 | 3,021)

The air feels like it’s carrying the music with it, like a girl’s sweet voice is touching him along with the carefully encroaching press of someone’s fingertips at his back.

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I Just Can't Help Myself by breakaway71 (E | 1/1 | 3,187)

"Stiles," the demon says. In his head, her voice sounds soft and sleepy, like she's just woken from a long nap. "I'm bored."

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David Hale, Matchmaker by Menacherie (NR | 1/1 | 3,222)

Chris doesn’t know about the baby. In fact, Laura doesn’t even know until they’re safe in New York with their normal and safe aunt and uncle. Laura doesn’t tell him either. (It’s not until years later, when Derek sees David’s blue eyes staring back at him through Chris Argent, that he has an inkling of who the father is.)

Derek doesn’t say anything, but it’s ironic that Kate Argent burns down the house of her own unborn nephew.

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Legacy by scarletjedi (G | 1/1 | 3,339)

For Campbell men, family was everything.

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all you're giving me is friction by drunktuesdays (M | 1/1 | 4,707)

Stiles is Alpha bait.

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The Pretty Things (are going to hell) by FaeryQueen07 (E | 1/1 | 4,951)

“You have something of mine,” Stiles says, and he reaches for his hood, pushing it back to reveal the rest of his face. Lips curled up in a smile promising pain and eyes like death, he says, “And now I’m going to take it back.”

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nerves more by 1001cranes (E | 1/1 | 5,084)

Stiles only knows the boys are home from college when he sees the Camaro. It's a beautiful car, unusual - Laurent's car, but what's Laurent's is Derek's is Laurent's, rarely ever any distinctions - and Stiles is certain he sees it, idling in the corner of his vision when he talks to Scott, but when he turns around there isn't anything there. [Birthday gift for Saucery]

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the wing wherewith we fly to heaven by vlieger (T | 1/1 | 5,567)

based on this prompt at the kinkmeme: AU in which Stiles' mother had died because of Huntington's Disease.

When Stiles goes to get tested if the disease had been passed down to him, he asks Derek to go with him.

Up to you if the news are good or bad. And I'd love it if Derek and Stiles were pre-relationship.

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Tenfold by PunkPinkPower (G | 1/1 | 5,943)

In the end, it was Allison who made the final push to come home. They had all dropped hints when the war had ended. It was time to settle down and rest, Scott had said offhandedly. They needed a place to raise their pups, Jackson had argued. There weren’t any more great battles to fight, Stiles had insisted. They should honor at least some of their traditions, Lydia had reasoned.

But it was Allison who, one cool night in the Nevada desert, had said, “I think it’s time to go home.”

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More Wolf Than Boy by herlovewasajoke (E | 1/1 | 8,018)

Stiles always tries to protect the ones he loves, but sometimes he's the one who needs protection. (Or, in which Stiles is a werewolf and Derek didn't make him that way.)

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Do You Wanna Date My Avatar? by ChristyCorr (T | 1/1 | 8,904)

In hindsight, maybe introducing the local werewolf contingent to the wonderful world of online gaming hadn't exactly been Stiles' best idea.

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Break the Lock If It Don't Fit by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (E | 1/1 | 12,738)

"Do you know what just happened?" Peter asked, frowning. "Do you know what Derek did?"

"He dislocated my shoulder," Stiles snapped, but Peter just arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by that answer.

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Red Riding Hood series by purplecatsweater (2 works | E | 14,760)

1. Little Red Riding Hood (you sure are looking good) (E | 1/1 | 10,216) Stiles hangs out with werewolves. Stiles dresses up as Little Red Riding Hood for Halloween. It's supposed to be ironic. 2. Claiming Red (E | 1/1 | 4,544) Derek takes Stiles home.

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inside these arms series by rufflefeather (2 works | T | 17,917)

1. About Today (T | 1/1 | 8,901) Stiles is having the worst day of his life and it keeps happening. 2. Until Tomorrow (T | 1/1 | 9,016) Derek's worst nightmares didn't prepare him for this.

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And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi (E | 1/1 | 30,314)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

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(Sacred) In the Ordinary by idyll (E | 9/9 | 78,759)

The Pack, after college, graduate school and the starting of careers, comes back to Beacon Hills. Nothing's gotten less complicated after all this time.

Based on a kink meme prompt that grew legs and got serious.

Note: This is a whole lot of pack!fic with a very slow build Derek/Stiles.

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Cornerstone by Vendelin (E | 6/6 | 83,738)

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

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Home by TheTypewriterGirl (T | 18/18 | 167,178)

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.

The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.

So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

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#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fic rec list #sterek fic rec #fic rec list #rec list #fic rec #tin's rec lists

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melanieph321 · 8 months ago

Text

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 1/12

Part 2 and Part 3 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

This story is so beautiful, hopefully you'll think so too! 🥹

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

You could really get used to this life, because who else has an amazing girl boss who let's you off work in the honor of your birthday?

Well you did.

Instead of spending the last hours of the day sorting out paperwork, you were rushing off to see you your boyfriend who had surprise for you in the park.

"Oh my god, is he going to purpose?"

"I have no idea." You squealed, cellphone pressed to your ear. Your best friend Laleh was on the other end, helping you speculate why Ruben specifically wanted to spend the afternoon with you in the park.

"Do you think he had anything to do with you getting off work so early?"

"I really don't know. I would be surprised of he did."

"Yes, me too. If he did, what the hell was he thinking, leaving me to finish all this work by myself?"

You laughed. "I'm so sorry Laleh. I really owe you."

"Damn straight you do. Just make sure to send me a picture of the ring, okay?"

"I promise. Love you. Bye."

You hung up the phone and practically ran the last distance towards the park. Your heart pounded in your chest as you sighted it ahead. What if this was it? What if after three years together, Ruben, was finally ready to tie the knott. Lord knows that you were. Ruben was simply the man of your dreams.

"Y/N."

You spotted his tall figure amongst the trees. He stood with his hands in his pockets, hair stirring gently in the wind. The way your heart fluttered when you saw him could only mean one thing, no?

"Ruben, what is all this?"

He suprised you with a full on picknick. A blanket was laid out on the grass below. Beside it was a basket containing fruit, red wine and a fine collection of cheese.

"Happy birthday baby!" Ruben welcomed you to sit down.

"I can't believe you. Isn't today your rest day?"

Ruben lay down on the blanket, leaning forward to kiss you. "I can rest right here." He smiled.

You were perplexed. The amount of love you had for your boyfriend was simply too hard to grasp. He had gone so out of his way just for you. It made you giggle, how he cut you a slice of cheese with such caution, wanting it to be just the right amount to put on your cracker.

"Here you go."

"Well, thank you." You bowed with courtesy.

Ruben put down the cheese knife and licked the tip of his fingers. He licked them clean since his diet as a professional football player didn't allow him to have any dairy. Wine was also off limits. It was all just for you to enjoy.

"So..." He said, clasping his hands together as he rested on his side. "How does it feel to be twenty-five?"

"Old." You murmured through a mouth full of cheese and crackers.

"Old?" He frowned. "But I'm twenty-seven."

"Exactly my point. Twenty-seven is so old and now I'm getting closer to that age."

"Right." He snorted.

"Don't get me wrong baby. You look amazing for your age, but that's because you work out. I on the other hand...."

"If it's your fitness that you're worried about you can always come with me to the gym."

"Nah, I'm good." You chugged down the last of your cracker, dusting of the crumbs that had fallen into your lap. Ruben looked to you with admiration, the sun irritating his eyes.

"Did you know that my mom had my sister at twenty-one."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and me at twenty-seven."

"Interesting."

"Yeah and now my sister is trying to get pregnant again at thirty-one as if the two children she has isn't enough work already."

"How are they?"

"Emmy and Vale?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, well they're great, I guess. Emmy has just started her forth year in primary school and Vale lost his first tooth the other day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. His dad forgot to slip him the money from the tooth fairy though. My sister totally freaked out."

"Tooth fairy?" Ruben tilted his head.

"Yes, the tooth fairy. Didn't you grow up with the concept of a wealthy winged midget sneaking into your bedroom at night, collecting all your teeth?"

"Erm...no. No, I didn't. " Ruben looked horried.

"Hmm.....I thought the culture in Portugal wasn't too different from the rest of the countries in Europe."

"It isn't." Ruben sat up. "But I guess my family wasn't into that kind of stuff."

"What stuff?"

"I dunno, make believe stuff. Fairytales etc."

"Oh."

"Yeah, my dad was the worst. When I first lost my tooth he made me stand in front of the bathroom mirror and pull the tooth out myself."

"Really? That's horrible."

"I still remember being hunched over the bathroom sink with blood pouring out of my mouth while hearing my dad flush my tooth down the toilet."

"Ruben, that's—"

"My dad for you." He smiled. It was obvioulsy a fond memory to him. A traumatic one to you.

"I just can't imagine myself raising children right now." You said, falling back onto the picknick blanket, a sense of peace washing over you. It was such a lovely afternoon. "If anything I'm still a child myself."

"How about a dog?"

You had gone to shut your eyes, but quickly reopened them. Ruben was standing up, hovering over you with a cardboard box in his hands.

You brought yourself to sit up. "Ruben, what is—"

Something shook the box. Followed by a low squeal. A frail attempt of a bark.

"Ruben....you did not."

His smile broadened. "I did." He lowered the box for you to see what lay within, and looking up at you with the most precious eyes was a brown sausage dog, less than four weeks old.

"Oh my god." You quickly reached for it and brought the puppy into your lap. "Ruben I can't believe you did this!"

"Happy birthday!"

You looked up at him, feeling how the dog nibbled at your fingertips. "What made you even want to do this?" It was such a commitment to get a dog. Ruben had never expressed the desire to get one before, although, you knew that he was good with them, seeing as his family had own several back home in Portugal.

"I guess I just thought it was time." He shrugged.

"Time for what?" You cried. Yes, actual tears were welling up in your eyes. Even more so when Ruben joined you on the blanket, petting the fluffy creature in your lap. He then looked to you with such a gentle gaze. "For us to start a family." He said.

"Oh, Ruben." You kissed him, apologizing for your wet cheeks. Ruben didn't mind, however, wiping them away with a stroke of his thumb. "I love you Y/N. I always will."

"I love you too."

It was the best birthday of your life, filled with wet kisses and a puppy. Hopefully it was the beginning of forever with Ruben. It's all you ever wanted

Part 2 and Part 3 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 2 months ago

Note

OOOOOOOOO NEW EMOJI❣️❣️❣️❣️

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔🏔

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮

HEY! <3

As you know, TWATK is complete, but here are the rest <3

45 for 🗻:

---

The thought is pretty exciting, actually. He finds himself excited to see little pieces of Buck in another human. Hell, he’s seen them start to develop in Chris, over the years. So a kid with fifty percent Buck DNA? That’s gotta come with some considerable personality quirks. Meant adoringly, of course.

“Mm,” Maddie shakes her head as she finishes chewing a bite of food. ‘Buck’s thing at that age was jokes. He’d memorize joke books from the library and try them on everyone he encountered.”

Eddie snorts. “Why am I not surprised?”

“So what you’re saying is,” Buck points a fork at her playfully. “I am now, and have always been, a naturally gifted comedian?”

Maddie frowns. “I don’t think I said that.”

“I don’t think anyone would say that,” Chim adds.

Christopher laughs brightly. He’s at the age where he doesn’t always engage in conversations; preferring his phone and his friends. Eddie is happy to see him involved, even a little bit. They’ve been sort of isolated from their family since Eddie brought Chris back to Los Angeles. It’s been confusing Chris, for sure. He loves his grandparents. He doesn’t understand why they were so angry about Eddie and Chris reconnecting, or Chris going home. They’ve been sort of cold to him since - a lesson Eddie never wanted Chris to learn.

Thankfully, Maddie and Chim heard the situation, and immediately started treating Christopher like he’d been their nephew all along. Birthday gifts, open invitations to whatever family things they do, genuine interest when they ask him questions. Eddie is really fucking grateful for them.

It is in the middle of Eddie appreciating Christopher’s burst of laughter, that Buck reaches for his phone in his pocket. He reads it, and his face goes pale.

“Oh, come on,” Chim teases him. “Don’t look so sad. If you try standup, we’ll only heckle you a little.”

“Uh, no…” Buck mumbles. “I-I have to go.”

Eddie straightens in his chair. “Baby?”

Buck nods. “Yeah. Text just says I should probably come to the hospital now.”

“Oh my god, go!” Maddie insists. “Go, go, go. Don’t worry, we’ll drive Eddie and Chris home.”

---

111 for 🦮:

---

“Alright,” Eddie laughs. “Alright, enough. You’ll rip it. Out. Drop it.”

Out is when you’re going to give it back to her, drop it is when she’s never going to get it back again, Buck’s voice runs through his head.

“Drop it,” Eddie repeats.

Cranberry stills and opens her jaw reluctantly, spitting out the band. She looks rather put out to stop her mischief.

“Menace,” he says to her, examining the band.

Eddie examines the band. There is a tooth puncture.

“You owe me,” he tells her. “Gonna have to take it out of your kibble allowance.”

She wags her tail again, a little slower.

Eddie crumples up the band and sits on the floor beside her. She crawls onto his lap and lays down flat. Eddie pets her in long, gentle strokes, from the top of her skull, down her spine, to her tail.

He’s spent the past few therapy sessions around one central discussion. That it has taken him a month to feel any sort of relief. Any sort of appreciation or gratitude for his life. It’s not that he was disappointed that he didn’t die. Obviously not that. But he spent weeks waiting to feel glad he didn’t, and he couldn’t summon that. His therapist said that that’s normal. That lots of people who go through trauma experience this sort of thing. That it doesn’t make him ungrateful or a bad partner or father. That as long as he keeps working on it, slowly, it’ll come back to him. Even if some of this experience will always be with him.

And here he is now. On the floor with Cranberry, exhausted and sore and feeling like he’s been put on a stretching rack, but happy. Glad. Amused, even.

Cranberry takes a big breath. He can feel her heartbeat on his legs.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t die,” he whispers to the dog.

🦮🦮🦮

Later that afternoon, Eddie picks Chris up from school. Buck gets home not long after the two of them. Eddie has already started getting stuff ready for dinner. He’s experiencing a weird and unexpected burst of energy.

“Hey,” Buck says cautiously, walking into the kitchen. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Eddie smiles, crossing the space to kiss him hello. “You?”

Buck just sort of stares at him. “Uh…”

“Not good?” Eddie frowns. “Something happen?”

“No, no,” Buck shakes his head. “Uh, work was fine. Your day was good?”

“Yeah!” Eddie confirms. “But your dog put a hole in my resistance band, and I don’t go back to physio for four more days, so if I have permanent shoulder issues, we’re blaming the golden retriever.”

“Wow, uh. Sorry about that, but-”

“It’ll be fine,” Eddie dismisses it. “Do you know my shoulder is doing well enough to play a quick game of tug with physiotherapy equipment?”

Buck laughs a little breathlessly. “I’m so glad you had a good day.”

And Eddie just… He sees it. He sees it all in Buck’s eyes. The weeks and weeks of worrying. Of wondering. Of feeling powerless but being a stalwart caregiver nonetheless. A new little spark of hope, that things are getting better.

Eddie steps forward and hugs him. Both arms. As tight as his injured shoulder can handle.

“I love you,” he says. “And I don’t say thank you enough.”

“I love you, too,” Buck says, squeezing him back. “You don’t have to thank me, though. We have each other’s backs. Always, right?”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hear how much I appreciate it,” Eddie says.

Buck takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”

vi.

If you charted Eddie’s good day to bad day ratio after that, it wouldn’t look very impressive. At least not at first. He doesn’t just hit a corner and cheer up. But it does go from every day being bad, to sometimes, he has a good day to punctuate the streak. A few more weeks and it begins to feel more even. And then, slow and agonizingly, Eddie is baseline okay to good more often than not.

He goes back to work. Light duty. Boring stuff, but not nothing. He feels useful again. He feels like he can spend his brain’s still incomplete tank of mental energy on something other than himself and his shit. Which is good. He feels clearer. Less bogged down.

By the time he’s getting ready to recertify, and get back to his work, he’s decided. No more waiting for a nebulous better. No more waiting for what feels like an appropriate amount of time post-Shannon to pass. Eddie is ready now. He wants to ask Buck to marry him. He’s going to do it. Because life is fucking short and unpredictable and Eddie is happy to be here to get the chance to do something he almost missed out on.

#daisies and briars writes #upward over the mountain fic #buck service dog fic

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lostaroace · 2 years ago

Text

Volunteer | Aaron Hotchner x Reader

My Fanfic Masterlist | Multifandom

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Reader: no use of YN, reader is a doctor, no precise description of gender or physique of reader.

Summary: You were a volunteer for the soccer team Aaron Hotchner coaches. When you decide to bite the bullet and ask the man out, he rejects you in what you felt was a humiliating manner. As you're trying to get used to your new life without seeing Hotch every week, you get called to help with a hostage situation as they need a doctor on site. The BAU is there.

NOTE: The summary is awful but I had no idea what to say without making spoilers.

Content Warning: hurt/comfort, hostage situation, inaccurate medical procedures, inaccurate baby delivery situation, explicit labor, medical complications, and lots of blood. Again, highly inaccurate, don't come at me with your medical degrees, I'm a historian, not a doctor.

Words: 6695

Rating: Explicit (Look CW)

Volunteer | Oneshot

Soccer had always been an easy sport to introduce to children in the US, that's why Haley Hotchner played with her son at any given time since he was three. Spending his fourth birthday in hiding was tough for them and Aaron could see that. When Jack kept watching the same tape repeatedly, Aaron decided to sign his son into a soccer team.

Belonging to a team gave Jack another social group away from school and an understanding of teamwork and camaraderie. It was also the perfect excuse for Aaron to keep his phone away and focus solely on his son on the weekends. Naming it an excuse might seem inappropriate, but for Aaron, having a semi-structured schedule to drive his free time helped him to push the work aside, avoiding hyper-focusing on the paperwork he took from the bureau. His implication with the team drove the other parents to ask him to coach the team, a proposition that he accepted with the assistance of his best friend, David Rossi.

Things were fine overall.

Then you showed up one weekend with Jessica who introduced you as the volunteer who was going to take care of the children's health. Aaron did his best to control his microexpressions but the sparkling look Jessica gave him behind your back spoke volumes to him.

When Jessica Brooks told you about the infant soccer league you looked at her with an arched eyebrow. You've finally graduated from med school and work as a doctor in the ER of a hospital. After three years there, it felt like your own home and the staff you worked with were your family. Jessica had become a new addition to the hospital's cafeteria, and she was so approachable and extroverted that it was easy for her to bond with the other members of the personnel.

Of course, you knew about the tragedy that hit her family when her sister was murdered leaving a child behind, and you've met Jack on several occasions. Yet, you were unable to pin down the moment, the insinuation, or the interaction that made Jessica corner you at the end of your shift to ask you if you'd be interested in volunteering your medical abilities for her nephew's soccer team.

"It's mostly scratches or sprained ankles at its worse," she insisted. "A little bird had told me you ought to socialize away from the hospital. It will be great for you!"

"Jessica…"

"Listen, Jack's dad has accepted to be the team's coach, and although I know that it has been a ruse of the soccer moms to ogle him every Sunday morning, he's going to take it seriously. Not like, he's going to be focused on winning every single match. They don't even keep scores for that age group. What I mean is that Aaron is going to concentrate on making it fun for the children, but also safe, and his medical knowledge is limited."

"You just said it's mostly scratches and sprained ankles. You don't need a doctor for that."

"Come on!! It'll be fun!!"

"Are you trying to set me up with him or something?"

Jessica scoffed, "He's way too old for you. I highly doubt you find him anything else than stern and intimidating. However, there are younger single parents. All I'm saying is that you should spend time with people away from these walls."

You cave in, as might be expected.

Aaron Hotcher was stern and pretty much intimidating, but he was also an absolutely cute little thing with the kids, sexy, and interesting. His assistant, David Rossi, was approachable and found a way to involve you in his conversations with Hotchner.

You were eager to please as a volunteer. You were very nice to the children, who seemed to attach to you almost immediately, and the parents soon rooted for you when they knew you were a medical doctor. Your awkward smile when one of the parents told you about the weird rash that had appeared on his rear made Aaron giggle inside.

From the point of view of a profiler, he could tell you had terrible social skills that you tried very hard to overcome and improve. You were more comfortable with children than with adults, maybe because you've been hurt in the past, you may have some trust issues and second guess yourself often in social situations but never in your work. He was unable to see the classic narcissism noticeable in surgeons, instead, you had a compulsive professionalism while being warm and caring. Aaron also saw some nerdiness and geekiness in you that made his heart melt without permission.

"To think that I brushed her off when she asked me if I was trying to set her up…" Jessica's voice pulled him out of his analysis.

"Is this a setup?"

"God, no. Not an intentional one, at least. I was not expecting you two to check each other out like that."

"I did not check her out."

"Aaron, it's me. I may not be a profiler, but I know your looks. You like her already and I know that as you get to know her better, you're going to like her more and more."

"It won't happen."

"Tell yourself that."

And he did. He told himself that along with other things but when he caught your eyes lingering on him when you thought he wasn't looking he felt a boost of self-esteem. Talking to you was a treat he rarely indulged himself with. The worst thing he thought he could do was to lead you on to think he felt the same because then he would lose the restraint that prevented him from falling in love again. It was too soon. You were too young. The 'what if' list got longer and longer as months passed.

That's how, after a few months you ended up crushing hard on that man that Jessica assured you was too old for you. Oh, boy, you didn't care. After the practices and matches, you stayed with Hotch to clear the place of the things you'd used with Jack's playful help, and that's what drew you closer. You found his deadpan jokes hilarious. You lived for his small smirks or full-on laughs, the tiny movements his eyebrows made when he found something amusing, the light in his dark eyes when he looked at his son laughing about what you'd said or done. Being of assistance was your main goal for the weekends and your supervisor in the ER was more than glad to fix your schedule so you could have those moments for the soccer team.

At some point, you inevitably thought of yourself as a needy puppy when you found yourself being always the first to comply with any of Hotch's requests. Due to the lack of major injuries (or injuries in any way or form), you didn't have much to do with the team, therefore you ran errands like buying snacks, or bringing gallons of water… To be honest you would've driven all the way to San Francisco if Hotch and Dave had asked you to. It was embarrassing.

Now that you were facing a pissed-off Aaron Hotchner, you were regretting accepting Jessica's push six months ago.

Mulling over your feelings for the past few weeks, you've decided to approach him and ask him out on a date. Just some coffee, really, nothing fancy. He frowned; his eyes ran through you seeing things you were fighting to hide. Little did you know that Aaron felt at the edge of an abyss.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Aaron tersely told you, and when your eyes wandered between his looking for a longer explanation, his panic clouded his mind, and he must admit was gratuitously rude to you. "With my work consisting in profiling people, do you actually believe that your behavior had been unnoticed? I've tried to put some distance between us to avoid confusing you and apparently, it hadn't worked. I don't intend to be mean, but if your sole motivation to volunteer here is to spend time with me or look at me, I think it'll be better for all of us if you stopped coming here. We don't need a doctor, anyway. The most you've done has been cleaning Travis' wound when he fell on top of a tiny rock and his hand started bleeding.

"I am sure that you are great in your work," he slowly assured you, "but we don't need your skills here. I'm doing this to spend quality time with my son, and I cannot enjoy it if my attention is on your stalking behavior."

"Stalking?" You whispered confused.

"It's not the appropriate word. I'm sorry. Just… This is a safe space for the kids to have fun, and we, parents, are here because of that. You have no connection with any of them, not the children and not the adults."

You press your lips to avoid pouting. The last thing you wanted was to break in front of him after that awful humiliation. Handing him the cones you'd collected, you had nothing else to do there, and knowing just how unwanted your presence was prevented you from saying goodbye to Rossi and Jack as you usually did.

Aaron's grip on the cones hurt his hands as he followed you with his eyes, a storm breaking in his chest. When instead of going towards Dave and Jack you kept walking out of the field, the old profiler looked at him across the field with concerned eyes. He bowed his head in shame.

Hiding from Jessica at work was easy for you, at least for the first few days after the humiliation, but on Wednesday, you decided to bite the bullet and face her. After sharing some pleasantries, you smiled sadly at her before telling her what you actually wanted to say.

"I don't know if Hotch has told you, but I asked him out for a coffee. He rejected me, of course," you laughed self-depreciatingly. "Um… I'm going to quit volunteering on the soccer team. Could you make sure he understands it is because I cannot face him after how he did it, and not because I'm unable to stop stalking him?"

"He said you were stalking him?"

"Not exactly. He said I had stalking behavior, apparently. I didn't notice. I– I've been fighting very hard to act normal around him. I promise that if he had just rejected my advances I would've kept my volunteering. I mean, it would've been awkward but I really do enjoy being out there. He made it pretty clear that I've been making him uncomfortable, and that's something I can't gut. Um… So, yeah, that's that."

Hotchner did not have it that easy to hide from his sister-in-law. Jessica narrowed her eyes at him when he came back home from a long work trip in Texas. As he asked about Jack, worried that her sour mood had to do with something regarding his son, she sighed crossing her arms.

"You told her you felt stalked? Really?"

Understanding washed over him.

"I might've misused the word," Aaron took accountability for his mistake.

"I cannot believe you can be so dumb! Aaron, she likes you! And you like her too, don't try to lie to me."

"She's too young and–"

"You're scared. That is normal, but listen to me, you deserve to be happy again. I'm pretty sure that a doctor will understand your crazy schedule better than anyone else. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"It's done. Forget about it."

Pressing her hands against her eyes, Jess tried to calm down her anger. "Fine. I'm going to leave you alone, just one thing, Aaron, you've hurt her pretty badly and if you don't fix your mistake soon, you're going to miss your opportunity. She's a nice person, and she deserves better than to be humiliated that way."

"It wasn't my intention."

"Just because there was no ill intention in your behavior, does not mean that you're innocent of the damage you've caused." Gathering her things, she headed out the door. "Oh, and by the way, she asked me to tell you that she won't be volunteering for the team anymore. Not because she's unable to stop stalking you, but because the way you're rejected her made her believe that her presence is unwelcome and makes you uncomfortable, so… Well done."

Aaron did not give much thought to that until the weekend rolled over and you weren't there. While the parents and guardians were concerned about your well-being, the children stubbornly refused to start without you on the field because in their minds you were an essential part of the team, just as the coach was. Dave caught him lost in his mind more than once, but he never said anything out loud.

Three weeks after leaving the soccer team you were still surprised at how much you missed it. Weaver gave you all the hours you asked for to work on the weekends in order to fill your mind with work instead of daydreaming about how much fun the kids must've been having. Jessica told you once that Travis had scratched his knees but refused treatment even from his dad as he cried calling for you. That touched your broken heart; knowing that the little ones appreciated your presence even if it was irrelevant meant so much to you.

That Sunday you'd been working since Saturday morning treating everything from mild intoxication to hardcore injuries. Adrenaline was still pumping in your veins as you tore the yellow gown off to deposit it in the bin with the gloves you just used on the car-crash patient that Coleen was taking to the OR. Cracking your neck, you grabbed your white coat from where you'd dropped it to attend to the emergency. Slipping it on top of your scrubs (a patient had vomited on you during the night which forced you to change clothes) you approached the admission desk.

"Got something for me, Jerry?"

"Take your pick," he pointed to the row of histories.

"That's not fair! How is it I cannot pick?" said a petulant voice next to you.

"Because you're a student, Natalie. Here, take this. Seems the patient needs sutures."

"That's all I'm doing. Sutures, sutures, sutures," she mumbled as she went to gather the patient.

That's when a known figure caught your eye in the waiting room. Frowning, you looked at the histories, finding two familiar names. With the documents in your arms, you cross the waiting room towards them.

David Rossi was nursing his injured arm against his chest, standing next to Aaron and Jack, who were seating in the waiting room. He saw you at the admissions desk looking through the histories before taking two of them and walking straight towards him. That's when he knew it had been a good idea to make Aaron drive them to this concrete hospital. Aaron's eyes were locked on his son's injury, therefore he tensed slightly when he heard your voice after so long.

"Why, good morning, Jack," you cheerfully greet the young child that's sitting in his father's lap, who was pressing a towel against his son's head. "Didn't you have a match today?"

"I got hurt," the boy pouted although you could see he was enduring the pain.

"Why won't you come with me? Come with us, Dave," the man nodded with a glint in his eyes.

You haven't even glanced at Aaron's face, afraid that you may compromise your patient's needs by remembering the humiliating rejection you've suffered.

When he gathered the courage to look at you, his heart clenched in need as, for the first time since he'd known you, your beautiful eyes never landed on him. Not even once.

With Jack seated on a bed in the ER, you removed the towel finding a small wound surrounded by dry blood. It was puffy and bluish. Rossi explained that Jack had passed out while on the field and he had launched to get him, failing, and hurting his wrist on the landing.

"Very well, Jack, I'm going to ask you to do something for me," you said putting your penlight away after looking at the response in his eyes. "I want you to touch your nose with your fingertips, then pull the arms as far away as you can, and touch your nose again," you demonstrated what you wanted and the boy did it without trouble. "Well done. Now follow my finger without moving your head. That's right… Very good, Jack. Give me your hands. Grab mine as hard as you can. Good. Now," you put your hands on top of his feet, "try to push my hands up. As hard as you can. There you go. Okay.

"I'll listen to your heart now." After that and checking his reflexes, you sat on a small stool by the bed and asked him a few questions to evaluate his mental state. He was shy at first, but then he started babbling coherently, which was a good sign. "Jack, did you feel bad before the match?"

The boy looked at his dad and at Rossi, "No."

"I might not be a profiler, but that seems like a lie to me. Do you want to try again?"

"I– I had a tummyache."

"When you went to the bathroom, was your poop very liquid?"

"Yeah…"

"You didn't tell your dad?" Jack shook his head, regretting it immediately. "Why not, sweetheart?"

"I want to spend time with him, but if he's the coach and I can't play, then I have to go with Aunt Jess or look from the sidelines. That's not fun."

"Perfectly understandable. Does your tummy hurt still? No? When was the last time you ate something?"

Opening the history, you scrabble and check several squares before facing Aaron Hotchner for the first time, pulling your most professional façade on. He was waiting, observing every single move with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't see any symptoms of concussion. Jack doesn't even react badly to the light when pointed directly at his eyes. I believe that he's caught the stomach bug that's been running among children for the last few weeks and he's dehydrated due to the diarrhea.

"I'm going to run some blood tests, just to be certain. Although the headwound is superficial I'm aware that you'll feel better if we take some X-rays. I'll give him some fluids, clean the wound, and he'll be free to go if the tests come back clear.

"Once at home, lots of liquids. Water, Gatorade… Bland food, the usual. Keep him awake at least until his bedtime, that way you'll be aware of something bad happening. It's not going to happen anything bad, though."

He nodded, unable to find his voice after feeling the way your eyes stabbed him. Aaron Hotchner made a life out of analyzing people and he could see how hard you were trying to stand composed in front of him, to hide how strongly he had hurt you.

"Now you, Dave," you palped his wrist and scrunched your nose. "It's not broken. I think it's dislocated. I'm going to send you to X-rays with Jack, that way you keep each other company, and we'll see what's the situation with your wrist before trying to put it in place. Any questions? None? Good. Haleh," you called the nurse, "blood tests and fluids for the little man. A round of X-rays for both of them."

"On it."

"Need some help!!" Carter yelled while running towards the entrance of the emergency where an ambulance was dropping an injured and bloody patient.

"I'll be back when the X-rays are done," you promised the three men before running for the second ambulance. "What do we have?"

As the paramedic was explaining the patient's situation, she started to code which made you copy one of Carter's most dramatic moves and jump on top of the gurney to start compressions as the paramedics kept pushing it toward box two.

"That's really cool," Jack whispered mesmerized by the display of action. Aaron caressed his son's head with love.

Time went by, busy as always in the ER so your hands were full with both complicated and easy cases. Rossi, Aaron, and Jack spent the time waiting for the X-rays before waiting in the ER again; it didn't annoy them much, and they understood how it worked. Overall, they were all aware that they would still be waiting for their turn if you hadn't been working that day and saw them in the waiting room.

You were exhausted when you saw the three men again. Haleh handed you the X-ray complaining about how rude the technicians were when overloaded with work. Greeting them again, you put Jack's rays on a light panel close by.

"Look, Jack. This is your head. Can you see these circles? Those are your eyes. Now, this is the side where you had hit your head. There's no trace of damage in the bone," you looked at Hotch to make your message clear. "I can see that the fluids bag is almost empty. That's a good sign. Blood tests came back clear as well. Jack is fine. As I said before, liquids and bland food until the stomach bug is over.

"Let's see Dave's hand now…" You changed the rays. Rossi's wrist had been dislocated, as you thought.

Getting ready the needed stuff for the cast before placing the wrist in place, you explained everything to Jack who watched your moves like a hawk. Using Rossi's distraction, you pull his hand, putting his bones in place. It hurt him, and he cursed under his breath so you gifted him with your most innocent smile.

"You need the cast to avoid hurting your wrist more. Be more careful, David."

"As you say, Doc."

Carter's voice calling for you prevented you from pointing out his age. You turned to see him pointing to the board. Right, your shift must've been over three hours ago. Thumbs up you wink at him before turning your attention to your patients once again.

"I'm going to put you in the cast while Jack's bag completely empties, and then you guys can leave. Sounds good?"

"Who is that?" Jack asked.

"Doctor Carter," you simply say, focusing on the cast.

"Is he your boyfriend?" the child insisted. Aaron tensed with his son's boldness.

"Nope."

"Jack, it's not nice to ask those questions," Hotch reprimanded, making him pout.

"I just want to understand why she's not coming anymore." That admission stabbed him right in the heart.

"I'm not coming because you don't need me, Jack," you smiled at him. Another stab clenched Hotch's chest, he'd told you that.

"But we want you there!! It's not the same without you."

"That's very sweet, but it doesn't change the situation. This is done. Haleh will take that out of you, Jack. Be good," you pointed to both of your patients, ignoring Aaron once again.

Leaving them behind, you approached the admission counter to fix the paperwork when Carter cornered you with his cheeky expression and half smile. You rolled your eyes, putting your arms up in surrender.

"Fine. Fine. I'm leaving. See? This is me leaving."

"You better get out of my ER before another ambulance comes by."

"Meany."

"Out."

Rossi hummed watching the interaction just as Aaron's jaw set in distaste. "Is that jealousy or envy?"

"Not now, Dave."

It didn't take you too long to get ready to leave the hospital, and just at the moment you were crossing the doors you saw an ambulance come to a halt. Standing on the tip of your toes, you try to take a good look at the patient but Carter gave you 'the look' and you gave up. You just wanted to keep yourself busy. It was lunchtime and although you wanted to eat, you didn't want to do it all alone in your small apartment.

Walking towards the bus stop, you pulled out your phone thinking about ordering from the Indian restaurant close to your place and picked it up on your way. With a sigh, you decided you were not that hungry anyway.

Once in their home after that long morning in the ER, Aaron tried to pry the real feelings from his son, who openly told him that yes, he missed you and that he thought that you two were going to date in the future.

"You smile way more when she's on the team, Daddy," he had told him.

His resolution was clear, he was going to confront you, take accountability for his mistake, and beg you for a chance. Work prevented him from doing it right away.

You didn't hear from the Hotchner men or David Rossi for the next few days, which you anticipated, but when Saturday rolled up you found yourself in an ambulance next to Doctor Carter and Nurse Patton running to attend a hostage situation.

The place is a grocery store. Hostages are pressed against its windows to prevent the shooters from having a visual of the suspect. There's a control area with local agents and the FBI, and as you're led there by an officer, you locked eyes with Aaron Hotchner. He seemed composed and focused, but the moment he saw you his frown deepened and his skin ashen.

The three of you were introduced to the agents and you let Carter take control of the situation. He's older than you, your superior, and he had proved his leadership countless times in the hospital.

"The unsub is desperate. He is a father who's seen his world crumbling in the last few months as social services threatened to take his children from him," Rossi explained to all of you.

"He's compassionate with other people but he won't hesitate to kill in order to keep the custody of his children. He has asked for a medical team as there's a wounded hostage and a pregnant woman in terrible pain," the agent introduced as Emily Prentiss continued.

"He is reckless. He's cornered and that makes him dangerous. Under no circumstance try to approach him, antagonize him, or contradict him. Understand? He's volatile at this point and if he believes that you are the enemy, he will kill you on the spot." Although Hotchner's words were meant for the three of you, his eyes never left you for too long.

"Is there any plan?" Carter asked.

"He'll be distracted with you there. You just have to focus on doing your job. There's a CCTV system with video and audio that still work. We have eyes and ears on you."

"Fair enough. Patton, when we get in, you and I will attend to the wounded. You," Carter pointed at you, "go to the pregnant and check on the baby."

"Understood."

"Let's get you inside."

Following Agent Morgan to the end of the perimeter your heart quickened its beating rate pumping your blood faster through your veins boosted by the adrenaline raising in your system. The unsub, as the FBI called him, ordered the bunch of you to show that you weren't armed before allowing you to enter.

The man, in his late fifties but athletic, was sweating profusely. His eyes never focused on a spot for too long. His hands were running through his hair, drying his face, fidgeting anxiously. Saying that he was unstable was a huge misunderstanding. When Carter asked for his name, the man mumbled Eli almost unconsciously before cursing and aiming at the doctor with his gun claiming that they weren't there to talk to him.

Carter calmly explained his plan of action to Eli before proceeding. Patton and Carter found the wounded victim bleeding in abundance from a bullet wound in his thigh. As they worked fast and efficiently on it, Eli hovered over them with guilt written all over his face. The man kept promising that it had been an accident, that the gun had shot itself because the victim kept talking and talking. Carter deemed the wound not life-threatening itself as it hadn't pierced the artery; however, Eli wasn't sure how long it had been since the man was bleeding, which made the situation delicate still.

Meanwhile, you've approached the pregnant woman asking for her name with a soft calming smile on your face. Patty was focused enough to tell you that this was her first pregnancy, that she had gone to the grocery store craving pickles and peanut butter, and that she was in huge pain that had increased in the last few minutes. Putting on some gloves, you informed her that she needed a pelvic exam to see if everything was alright, but you started the exploration by touching her belly and auscultating both her chest and her belly in order to find a trace of the baby's heartbeat if possible. After that, you pulled up her dress finding a concerning hemorrhage.

"Alright, Patty. Can you tell me how often it hurts?" You removed her bloody underwear before proceeding to the exam and… "You're in labor."

"No. No. No. There's no way. It's early still. It's early."

"That makes your baby a bit impatient," you joked kindly.

The most important thing was that Patty remained as calm as possible, which wasn't much. After noticing how dilated she was, you found the baby's head ready to start its journey into the world. Then you palpated it. The umbilical cord was surrounding the baby's neck. As Patty started to scream you could feel the baby moving forward as she was pushing.

"No, Patty. Don't push."

"It hurts!"

"I know it does, but you can't push just yet. Mister Eli," you called for the unsub, "this woman is in labor and she needs a hospital."

"She's not leaving!!"

"I'm not making a suggestion, I'm stating a fact," you sternly answered piercing him with your determination. You weren't scared of him. "If this woman and her baby die here, it would be your fault."

Eli ran towards you pushing his gun to your forehead, you didn't even blink refusing to show weakness. "Then do your job."

"Oh, I'm going to. I'm not a miracle worker, though. And I need help."

Outside, in the control center, Aaron was losing his cool. On the inside, of course, he rarely broadcasts his emotions. Dave knew him well enough to put his castless hand on top of his friend's crossed arms to give him support.

"She's strong," whether it was a statement or a reminder, they didn't know.

The fact that you weren't cowering under Eli's aggressive behavior broke his resolve allowing two of the hostages on the windows to help you. One of them volunteered because she was a med student; she had been helping the wounded man before the arrival of the ambulance. You asked her to monitor Patty as the other volunteer helped you handing you whatever you needed at the moment.

Trying to calm down Patty, you winked at her as if saying that her condition wasn't as grave as you'd told the unsub. Focusing your senses on your hands, you tried to remove the umbilical cord from the baby's neck without hurting it or the mother. It took some time and deep breaths but in the end, you were able to move it around freeing the neck. Patty was close to collapse, sweaty and exhausted. You asked her to push with every contraction. Head out. Another push and there came the shoulders. Another big one and the baby was limp between your hands, blue and unresponsive. Clamping the cord, you cut it before depositing the infant on top of a bunch of towels the volunteer had gathered from the end of the store for you. You start the baby's reanimation.

"She's passed out," the med student told you anxiously.

Without stopping your compressions you saw Patty unconscious, bleeding way too much.

"Carter!!"

"I'm not done yet," he shot you a look across the place.

"Fuck… She hasn't expulsed the placenta yet, Carter."

"She has to go to a hospital," Carter spat to Eli.

"No one is leaving until they gave me my children back!!"

The newborn made a complaining sound before starting to cry. Taking a deep breath, you auscultated her to make sure that everything was fine. You wrapped her on the towels and handled her to the volunteer with the order of keeping her warm and to make sure that if she stopped breathing at any moment, you were called.

Turning your attention to Patty there wasn't much you could do at the moment. Her heart rate was decreasing, and she kept losing blood. There was a hospital a mile away, she could make it and they would be able to help her before it was too late.

"Under no circumstance try to approach him, antagonize him, or contradict him," Hotchner's words danced in your head as you got up from the floor peeling the damp gloves.

Fuck it.

"Are you happy now?" You spat at Eli. Carter's patient was receiving CPR uselessly.

"Don't move," Eli pointed his gun at you.

"You know? The officers out there told us that you were a compassionate man. That you just wanted your children back. I thought I could understand you then, you were just a father loving his children and wanting to be with them."

"Exactly!! I'm–"

"You're not," you calmly cut his outburst shocking him. "You're a disgusting piece of garbage. Did social services take your children? Well, if you behave out there just as half as you did here I'm surprised they didn't take them sooner."

"Shut up!!"

There was a commotion outside when Aaron grabbed his gun and headed towards the perimeter, Morgan and Rossi caught him before he could even take a step away from them. Dave took the gun out of his grip.

"What's wrong with you?" Morgan demanded.

"She's going to get herself killed!"

"I know this is tricky for you, but you can't just break protocol, Aaron."

"Dave, she's inside and–"

"She's giving us an opening," Reid's absent voice ran through them. "Look, he's so focused on her and their argument that we can approach the store and take him without him noticing."

After a moment of studying the situation, Hotch took his gun again and nodded. "Let's get ready."

They put on the earpieces that kept reproducing the conversation that was taking place inside the store in order to give them the correct tempo.

"Look at what you've done," you pressed. Your voice was low and stern, completely calm as you kept approaching him cornering him against the counter of the store without him noticing. "A woman that still had time to become a mother, is now dying on the floor because of you. A man is dead because of you."

"It was an accident. I– The gun–"

"They could've lived if you had left them to leave to a hospital. Compassionate, they said," you snorted in mockery. "You're just a selfish bastard that would kill his own children if they disobeyed."

"That's not true!! Not true. I never touched them. I– I'm a good man."

"You're a murderer. Funny thing how you assumed your children aren't here yet because the police won't take them, but you know the truth, don't you? They don't want to have anything to do with you."

"No!"

"They know what you are and they don't want to be with you."

It was fast. One second Eli was an anxious and sweaty mess moving from side to side with unfocussed attention, and the next he was ready to shoot you between the eyes. However, your change was just as fast. One second you were approaching him slowly, and the next you hit him in the face with your elbow in a perfect move. Eli lost his balance falling face-first to the floor. You kicked the gun away before he grabbed you, pulling you underneath him. He punched you in the face before Carter hooked his head with his arm tearing him away from you. The door burst open and the FBI took Eli away.

In the mess that was taking the unsub away from the store, checking on all the hostages, and guiding the EMT to the injured, Aaron was unable to take a proper look at you which made him feel antsy.

With Patty and her baby in an ambulance and all the hostages safe, except for the wounded man that had perished, Hotchner approached you. His stern demeanor hardened his set jaw and frowning brow.

"We had video and audio from the inside. What you did was reckless. What were you thinking? Did you not pay any attention to what I had to say before you got in? Eli Marsh could've–"

"I did my job, Agent Hotchner. I'm a doctor and my job is to help people in need. My patient was losing blood and she needed a hospital, so I got her out of there. I'd do it again if needed."

Before he could say something else, Rossi called for you to make your statement.

Aaron saw you leaving with steady feet and felt his chest puff with pride at how brave you'd been. Dave's look in the distance made him take a deep breath and handle the situation as the Unit Chief he was; he needed to clear his mind.

Back at the office, the team dispersed to complete their paperwork. He had no idea how long he'd been surrounded by papers to fulfill, but as he was writing his statement, his mind wandered away, and the images of you confronting and insulting a volatile unsub with such a strong stance and calm tone assaulted him.

A soft know in his office door pulled him away from that helpless memory. David Rossi observed him with those profiler eyes.

"Yes?"

"Stop being this stupid, Aaron. Go to her."

"I'm not done."

"There's no rush. Plus, Morgan and I will take care of all the paperwork that doesn't need your direct participation."

Looking out of his window to the bullpen he saw his whole team looking back at him. They all knew.

"Go." His friend insisted.

Despite the dangerous situation and nerve-wracking job, you had to perform that day, you went back to your hospital to check in with your bosses. Weaver gave you, Carter, and Patton the rest of the day off as well as the day after that. Patton left immediately, but Carter and you procrastinated for almost two hours in the staff room talking about the day.

When Carter decided he had energy enough to go home, he offered you a ride and you gratefully accepted. Heading out of the ER door, it took you a couple of glances to acknowledge that the silhouette you were seeing was actually there and not a side effect of the stressful day you'd had.

"Go ahead," you told Carter. He looked between the man and you as the distance shortened. He didn't seem pleased with leaving you alone but did it nonetheless. "Agent Hotchner," you greeted him. "Is there anything else I had to do with the case today?"

Shying away, Hotch fixed his tie, "This isn't an official visit. I just– Are you hungry?"

"That depends. Why are you asking?"

"I want to buy you dinner."

"Why?"

You weren't going to make it easy for him and when he noticed he smiled slightly. "Because I like you and I've been an asshole lately and today I– I was terrified when I saw you come down from the ambulance. I'm not ready to have you out of my sight."

"That sounds concerning."

"I'm sorry about what I said when you asked me out. I– I pushed you away because I wasn't sure about how long I could keep my distance. I wasn't fair and I know it. This doesn't have to lead to anything, but…"

"Nothing fancy, though."

Smiling more broadly, Aaron nodded. "Nothing fancy," he promised making a gesture towards his car.

The end.

#criminal minds #cm #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch #fem reader #aaron hotchner x reader #dr john carter #er #fanfic #fanfiction #hurt/comfort

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