—summary: breaking the news to baelor you are expecting for the second time.
—warnings: none really this is fluff, and it’s a short piece.
—notes: idk the age difference between matarys and valarr so i just made it 4 years! shockingly i dont have anything else to say lmao
—word count: 590
You should have known better than to go to Baelor’s study that night. His fierce gaze locked on you the second you walked in.
The next second you were on a desk, and in four months time you rubbed the small bump over your red silk dress. Today was the day you decided to officially tell Baelor.
The past two months he’s been away attending to the realms troubles. The only people who officially knew were your youngest, Valarr, and the maester who confirmed it.
The idea of sending Baelor a letter that he’d have another child seemed wrong. So you waited for his return to share the news.
You stood in the castle's courtyard holding Valarr’s small hand as he waited for Baelor’s arrival. Your dress thankfully covers your bump.
“Are you excited little one?” You asked, watching the bannermen ride in on their horses.
Your husband slowly coming into view. A smile etched on his face as he spotted both of you.
As he dismounted his horse Valarr was quick to run to him. He picked up the small boy with ease ruffling his hair.
“Wife.” He walked up to you giving a quick kiss putting your son down.
“You must be exhausted husband.” You smiled as the three of you walked back into the castle letting the others do their work.
“Very, I’ve missed you.” He said as you led Valarr to his nursery.
He sat on the carpet, his attention instantly drawn by the small wooden dragon resting on the floor.
You and Baelor linked arms walking to your shared bedchambers.
He sighed in relief to finally be back home. He stripped himself of his riding gear and changed into something comfortable.
You sat on the bed watching as he neatly placed his clothes on the chair.
“How was everything?” You asked.
“Better now. I managed to negotiate some treaties for my father.” Baelor smiled.
“Enough of me, how were you? Little Valarr could not have been easy to handle.” He continued sitting next to you.
“He is a good boy.” You softly shoved his shoulders.
“I know he is, he is our son. But I was not here and I know he likes to go over your head sometimes.” Baelor laughed as he explained himself.
“The maester is starting to teach him to read better.” You said hands on your lap.
“And what of you? What have you been doing? I left you all alone.” Baelor grabbed your hand, eyes softening.
“You didn’t leave me alone.” You shook your head.
Might as well tell him now.
“I know you have lady’s maids and the whole castle to keep you company, but still I was not here.” Baelor said.
“You were Baelor.” You turned your head looking into his eyes.
The silence hung in the air as you and Baelor stared at each other. You pulled away your hand letting it rest on your stomach.
He shook his head and smiled widely. “Again?”
“Again.”
He stood up crouching before you. His hand rested over yours eyes glazed over in awe.
“Who knows?” He asked looking up at you.
“A maester and Valarr.”
“Little Prince or Princess, I am your father. My apologies for not acknowledging you sooner. I can’t wait to meet you.” He used his free hand to rub the other side on your stomach.
You laughed at his words pulling him up.
“You didn’t know they existed until now. It’s been only four moons.”
“Well I have five to make it up to them.”
spcncershybrid, 2026. I do not condone my work to be copied, fed into ai, or translated and do not claim it as your own, thank you. Feedback is welcome!
Chan looks up from his computer in the studio when his phone beeps from a text.
"Han, would you see what that was?" He was on the other side of the room and didn't want to get up if Han was closer.
He groaned thetrically but did so, swiping Chan's phone open. "It's a text message."
Chan just grunted, implying that Han should read it.
"It's from a 'Wifey'. It says to call her."
"Nevermind!" Chan is up and across the room, snatching the phone from a grinning Han before rushing out of the room before any of the other members could say anything.
There's a short silence before Hyunjin breaks it. "Sooo... Are we eavesdropping or what?"
"Obviously." Han joins him with his ear against the door, shushing the others.
Chan's muffled voice filtered through the door. "-know... No, it's ok, you didn't interrupt... Yeah, send me a list... Oh, just that?... Yes, I got it... Diapers, dish soap, and your chocolates... I know, baby. I'm sorry. I'll be home soon... I love you too, sit tight, ok?... Bye."
They scramble away from the door, horrified.
Baby?
Diapers?
Love?
Home?
Chan opens the door again, clearing his voice and tucking his phone in his back pocket.
Lee Know is the first to speak. "What was that?"
"Hm? Oh, nothing." Chan sits back into his seat, clicking away on his computer.
The others tried to get Hyunjin and Han to tell them what they heard, but they just shook their heads. They didn't want Chan to hear.
"So, you weren't talking to your wife?" Seungmin pipes up from the couch.
Chan freezes. "What? No. That's ridiculous. I'm not married. How would I have time for that?" He laughs nervously, obviously hiding something.
"So you're not married, right?" Hyunjin sits on the edge of the couch.
"Nope!"
"And you don't have a kid?"
"Nope."
"And you aren't living with anyone?"
"Nope!"
"Then why did someone labeled Wifey call you and ask you to get diapers and you tell her that you love her and you'd be home soon?"
The room explodes.
"He did what?"
"Diapers?"
"Love!?"
Chan doesn't move, head bowed over his computer. "It's... complicated?"
Felix sighs. "Just tell us what's going on, Chan."
Chan turns slowly in the chair, elbows on his knees. "How about you guys come over for dinner? I'll explain everything then."
Everyone agrees and decides to leave early to get ready.
Chan obviously had to stop by the store.
Jeongin was the first to arrive, deciding to wait outside the townhouse to go in with everyone at once. If there really was a family in there, he didn't want to go in alone.
Once everyone gathered, Changbin rang the doorbell.
A very pretty, very pregnant lady opened the door, smiling shyly. "Hello. Please, come in. Chris is with Layla."
They enter the small home shellshocked.
Their expectations skyrocketed when Chan walked out of a room holding a little girl, dark curly hair coating her head.
"Say hi, Lay. These are my friends." Chan smiled at her and mimed waving, which she copied quite exuberantly.
"Hi! I see you on the tv! Seungie is my favorite!" She wiggles out of her father's arms and runs to him, latching onto his leg.
Seungmin hesitantly picks her up. "Hi. I'm your favorite?"
She nods. "Yes! You're super funny and have a pretty voice."
He smiles at her. "Thank you. You're pretty funny yourself."
She nods knowingly. "Yes. Daddy says I'm very pretty."
Chan swoops in, snatching her from Seungmin and throwing her into the air before catching her again, making her squeal. "Yes you are! My pretty girl!" He sets her down. "Now, go help mommy. Remember," she speaks with him, nodding and running down the hall, "never let mommy lift anything heavy. Get daddy if I can't pick it up."
"Good girl!" He turns nervously to his friends, standing in the doorway awkwardly. "So... I'm married. And a dad. Of two and a half."
"Wait, two? You have another one?" Jeongin gapes.
Chan laughs and nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Layla is three and Carly is one and a half, she's asleep. Haden is due next month. All girls."
"Holy fuck." Han immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, whispering an apology.
"Just how long have you been married?" Hyunjin quirks an eyebrow. "And how long have you been hiding this?"
"Uhh... That's the thing... I brought her with me from Australia..."
"What!?" Felix bursts. "How have I not know about this?"
"We were technically dating when I debuted, but kinda put it on hold. We reached out when the ban ended and got married a year later. So, it's been three years. Our anniversary is in April."
"You got busy quick, didn't you? Three kids in four years." Changbin snickered.
Chan flushed and looked away. "It was a dream we both have, to have a big family. She wanted to be a stay at home mom, and I wanted a big family, so it worked out."
"Why don't we go meet her?" Seungmin suggests.
They file into the kitchen, Chan in the lead. He pulls you into his side, arm around your waist and introduces you and each of the boys.
You nod and grin. "Oh, I know. Layla has your channel on all day, everyday. She screams every time Seungmin comes on screen." You smile at Chan. "Or her daddy."
Seungmin chucles awkwardly, nodding. "Yeah, we met."
"I'm sure you did." You look up at your husband. "Ready to eat? I need to go wake Carly up or she won't sleep tonight."
He kisses the top of your head and nods. "I'll set the table."
The rest of the night is spent with unnerved Stray Kids, entergetic, curly headed kids, and a happy couple.
Your house became an easy destination, the boys popping in whenever or helping with the kids when you needed a break.
They all fell in love with your kids, especially Changbin and Haden when she was born. They were inseperable. You had to call Changbin a couple of times when she wouldn't fall asleep.
zayne has to go to work… but you’re so needy — mdni
you’re sound asleep when zayne gets up for work. he’s always sure to be quiet to avoid disrupting your well-needed rest, but it’s like you have a sixth sense when it comes to him and it shocks him every time.
he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “have a good day, my love,” but when he turns to leave, you catch his hand and stop him causing him to freeze. surprise flickers across his face—eyes widening slightly at the sudden pull—before a small smile curves his lips. he turns back to you, eyebrows knitting together at the sight. your eyes are still closed, a pronounced pout plays on your lips and you look every bit like you’re not ready to let him go just yet.
he hums, softly, whispering, “go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
when your eyes flutter open, his heart skips a beat—something he absolutely refuses to acknowledge. instead, he opts for teasing. “is a certain wife upset that i’m leaving without waking her?”
your pupils are dilated, swallowing the color of your eyes. “stay.” you say with a saccharine voice that’s soft, yet pleading. one he couldn’t refuse even if he wanted to—honestly, he could never refuse you.
zayne’s breath hitches in his throat and he lets you tug his hand towards your face. your smaller hand guides him, bringing his palm to cup your cheek where you lean into his touch. you trail him to your lips where you peck against the calloused pads of his fingers, half tempted to take them into your mouth. then you slowly slide his hand down to the column of your throat, down your sternum, then your stomach all while your eyes flutter and you arch into him with a soft hum.
he watches you in awe, cock growing harder and harder in his slacks, but he doesn’t move. he stands there watching you wearily, eagerly waiting to see what you’ll do next.
you let out a breath that’s just short of a moan when his hand hovers right above your mound—then you still. your eyes flick up to him, expectant, and you catch the fire burning behind his jade eyes.
“my needy, insatiable wife.” he murmurs, his husky voice only further dampens your aching pussy. “you know i hate to leave you, but i have to go to work, sweetheart.”
he attempts to pull away, but you just tug him back, your bottom lip between your teeth. “you have work to take care of here first.”
he lets out a breathy, amused chuckle. “do i now?” and when you nod, he releases his hand from your grasp, fingers finding your chin and tipping it up. “and what work would that be?”
your words are a whisper. “i’m ovulating.”
safe to say, zayne arrived at the hospital far later than he’d originally anticipated.
kit says… i actually wrote this 3 months ago but i thought it was too short for me to post so i never did… till today!
Hi!! Just wanted to say I love your blog so much and always look forward to your posts! Could I request fluffy pre-relationship lads when you share an indirect kiss? I think it’d be so cute like just imagine they’re freaking out on the inside while reader is completely oblivious (´∀｀; )
𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x gn!reader ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluffy fluff! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚oh, please, this was an adorable idea! love the thought of making them lose their minds over a silly little indirect kiss! thanks for requesting, love Ꮚ ܸ ◞ . ◟𓂂꒱ ♡
𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭
it was so hot you could melt on the spot, hence why you asked your best friend if he could wait with a cold treat for when you came over.
naturally, he waited for you on the balcony, trying to get some fresh air since the apartment felt like an oven, even with the ac on.
he bought you a popsicle, which had been in the fridge until you came.
however, since it was way too hot, he started eating his as slowly as he could, hoping you wouldn't whine about him being impatient.
when you finally arrived, you were sweaty and breathing heavily, looking for anything that could cool you down.
instead of patiently going to the fridge and retrieving your favorite popsicle caleb diligently got for you, you walked towards him and took a bite out of the one he was holding.
the one he was eating.
the one that had been on his mouth.
the one that touched his lips and tongue.
his eyes went slightly wide as he watched you not only steal his cold treat, but… share something so shamelessly.
was he making it weirder than it actually was?
absolutely.
but were you giving him an indirect kiss?
yes.
yes, you were.
your tongue swirled where his tongue had been just seconds ago, and—
dear god.
“gosh, it's hot as hell today,” you mumbled, fanning your face with your hand before handing the popsicle back.
it sure fucking was.
“sorry for taking yours, i needed to freeze my brain. where's mine, by the way?”
caleb was still speechless, the image of your lips, your relief, your expression…
you probably tasted like the popsicle now, and since he had the same flavor on his tongue, he could almost say he was savoring you.
he could also imagine your tongue swirling against his, so soft and wet, so sweet, and… and… and—
“leb? you should head back inside!” you called out, walking towards the kitchen without him even noticing. “you're getting sunburned and red already!”
oh.
if you only knew it wasn't because of the sun…
he quickly moved and offered his popsicle back, his strong back covering the fridge entirely so you wouldn't peek inside.
“take it. i… forgot yours,” he said, to which you arched an eyebrow.
him?
forgetting?
“huh?” you didn't believe him at first, but seeing his flushed expression made you mistake it for sheepishness. “so you were eating mine, you thief? how nice of you, really…”
and yeah, he preferred being incriminated rather than stop seeing your lips doing whatever they were doing before.
you kept licking the melting popsicle absentmindedly, cooling yourself down while he stood there feeling like he was being slowly cooked alive instead.
“this flavor's really good, though,” you hummed.
yeah. he knew.
he could still taste it.
god, this was humiliating.
“you want some back?” you asked sweetly, offering it towards him again.
caleb nearly choked on air.
because now all he could think about was your saliva on the popsicle, your lips wrapped around it moments ago, your tongue—
“no,” he answered way too fast. “take it, angel.”
“you sure…? alright.”
he turned his face away immediately, resting a hand over his mouth as if that could somehow stop the disaster unfolding inside his head.
this heatwave was going to kill him eventually.
but this was as close as he got to knowing what a kiss from your lips tasted like, and he would enjoy the view a little bit more, even if it was the last thing he did.~
𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭
he wouldn't lie, his ego was bruised after an admirer of his suggested a lip balm, since his lips looked a bit chapped during a conference.
but, hey, he lived under the sun, and he was constantly biting his lips when focusing, it was only natural!
usually, those comments didn't affect him, but this one… it got to him.
he wondered if you thought the same, if maybe you looked at his lips and considered them crusty and dry as the desert.
he could die of shame.
and so he bought said lip balm, “just because,” and because it was a “bargain.”
of course, since you went to his house quite a lot and considered yourself the second owner of everything, —because he let you, and because it was fun to prance around his huge place, acting high and mighty— you helped yourself to the interesting things he had, and one of the best places to explore was his bathroom.
he had tons of lotions, soaps, oils, salts, and… oh!
was that a lip balm?
just what you needed.
you hummed as you made a duck face in front of the mirror and dramatically applied the clear product to your already nourished and hydrated lips.
rafayel walked by, and immediately stopped in his tracks, his head tilting ridiculously.
his pretty eyes travelled across your hands, your lips, and then the counter.
you were, indeed, using his lip balm.
your lips were touching what he had been using that very same morning.
on his lips.
your lips.
his lips.
oh dear lord.
his knees buckled, yet he leaned against the doorframe, acting as if it were a nonchalant gesture.
“so, uh… you… you just come into my house and take ownership of everything, cutie?” his voice came out steady, thankfully, but the furious pink tainting his cheeks became more pronounced when you grinned unapologetically.
“yup!” you nodded, pressing your lips together. “this brand is so good, too!”
right.
not only were you stealing his stuff, but you were stealing his heart, too.
“why do you have one anyway? your lips aren't even dry,” you asked, turning to him and placing a hand on your hip. “or is it to make your lips look more luscious?”
he grinned automatically, bowing oh so deeply.
so you thought his lips looked good? that was amazing news.
“thank you, thank you. i knew people with good taste still lived among us…” he straightened up, only to find you getting closer. “but i just like to have one… just in case.”
“hmmm… here, put some on,” you offered.
and, once again, his confidence disappeared as quickly as it came, because the lip balm touched his lips, which meant your lips were indirectly touching his now… which also meant it was definitely considered a kiss.
“there! so glossy!” you grinned, rubbing your thumb against the corner of his lip to get rid of any excess. “you're welcome.~”
rafayel turned around abruptly, using his hands to cool down his burning face.
how could his heart possibly resist the mental image of what your soft lips would feel like against his, and then your tongue—
no!
“you— you… you can keep it. i don't really need it,” he stuttered, before fleeing into the next room with long strides and his eyes shut tightly.
you blinked, confused, but then smiled brightly.
you successfully got your hands on another thing of his, which took you a step further in becoming the owner of everything.
and that included his heart and soul, even when you didn't intend to.~
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭
you walked inside the living room after spending the entire day with the twins, and thought it would be a fantastic idea to bother your pesky partner in crime for a while.
he did the very same exact thing whenever you thought you'd have peace, so it was only fair.
he was obviously occupied with his phone, scrolling down with one finger, glasses perched over his sharp nose as he tried to decipher your “omg gaggg, fierce is fierce hunni xxx” comment under one of his posts.
he was still processing the twins' lingo, and you weren't helping at all.
you plopped down next to him and poked his cheek, grinning from ear to ear.
“what are you doing, sy? playing games? reading the news? online shopping?” you rested your chin on his shoulder, following his finger like a kitten watching a laser.
“i am browsing the net,” he simply said, to which you hummed in contemplation.
after some seconds of pure silence, you started to bounce by his side, poking his cheek, taking off his glasses, and, ultimately, picking up his mug and drinking some of his coffee.
usually, sylus would let you do as you pleased until you got bored and eventually walked out of the room, but…
there was something different today; something in the way your lips touched the very same spot his had earlier, without any shame at all.
he paused, looking at you, before looking down at your lips, his head now full of interesting… thoughts.
if your lips were over a spot he previously put his on, then you were tasting what his lips were like.
almost.
you probably tasted the coffee way more, but now the mug had a mix of both yours and sylus' mouths, and that, subsequently, described what a kiss was.
…or, well, technically.
“ugh, why's your coffee so bitter…? you need to sweeten up, sylus!” you pulled the mug away and placed it down. “do you enjoy suffering so much?”
ironically, you licked your lips clean; a bold move for someone who apparently despised his coffee.
it only made his pupils dilate a bit more, given your tongue now tasted what remained of him.
it sounded way more intimate than it really was inside his head, but this instinctive, almost primal curiosity was getting ahead of him.
“perhaps,” he mumbled.
when you least expected it, he took the mug, having carefully watched where and how you took a sip, just to replicate it seconds later.
now he was tasting your lips for a change, and while it wasn't the real thing, it sure as hell made him feel alive, even when his face was once again focused on the screen, and his expression remained calm.
you were too oblivious to notice this unintentional exchange of indirect kisses; and it wasn't as if you'd mind, either.
maybe sylus would actually kiss you one day.
after all, you were already “poking” his interest, both figuratively and literally.
but today wasn't that day; not when he knew you weren't being purposely charming.
instead, he grabbed your waist and pushed you away when you tried to climb onto his lap like a clingy cat.
“stay put,” he quietly said. “and don't touch my coffee if you find it so… appalling.”
but oh, he knew that would only make you finish it out of spite, and that's exactly what you did, once again creating that brief connection between the two of you.
he would now think of more ways to get you to (technically) kiss him so, so shamelessly and eagerly.~
𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭
xavier and you were having a lazy day, surrounded by snacks, board games you guys had become too bored with, and the low melody of your favorite playlist playing in the background.
you were munching on some popcorn, all while xavier opened a new little box, almost a little bit too secretly.
it's not like he didn't like to share, but… somehow, every time he opened a snack, your supersonic hearing made you turn to him and ask him to give you some, which ended up in him giving everything to you.
come on, he just couldn't resist your pretty eyes and your hopeful expression without feeling like a monster.
and since he was being way too quiet and sneaky all of a sudden, you obviously turned to him, finding a long, chocolate-covered stick between his teeth.
his eyes went a bit wide, knowing he had been caught in the act.
“gotcha…” you whispered, narrowing your eyes. “what's that?”
he didn't answer; still like a petrified bunny being cornered by wolves.
or, in this case, a very hungry and charming big, bad wolf.
you crawled closer to him on the sofa, outstretching your hand.
“sharing is caring, xavi,” you mumbled, trying to sound sweet, but it only made him lean back, further away from you. “come oooon, be nice…”
he didn't want to.
he knew that once he gave you the box, you wouldn't share a single pocky, and this time, he put himself first.
however, what he didn't expect was for you to cage him in and take a bite out of the sticking-out end of the pocky, barely brushing his lips as you did so.
his body shut down right there, and while his jaw wanted to snap open, he wouldn't risk losing the other half and let you get a full victory.
“there, you can keep your half,” you grinned victoriously after swallowing, taking the box from his slender fingers. “let's see, almond chocolate-covered pocky, limited edition…”
your voice faded in his mind as he stayed there, frozen and shocked.
your lips had… had touched his, albeit faintly.
but they had.
your face was so close to his, your lips were so soft, your scent invaded his nostrils unapologetically…
his entire face became flushed, his azure eyes travelling anywhere but your face.
he wanted that to happen again, and again, and again.
so, when he finally came to his senses, he opened yet another bag of snacks, which contained spicy chips this time, and he placed one between his teeth, acting all secretive again.
as expected, you jerked your head around and narrowed your eyes.
“keeping more secrets from me, huh? what's that?”
he tried to pull back, acting oh so guilty, and you basically took a bite so quickly he barely had time to register that your precious lips had brushed against his again.
this was heaven.
“you've got a secret stash or something? because that's not very nice of you, y'know?” you sighed and shook your head dramatically. “every time you share with me, new flowers bloom, by the way. just so you know.”
well.
if that was the case, he'd gladly feed you from his lips so that spring would last forever.
he pulled another pocky stick from the box and placed it between his lips, his voice now slightly taunting, even when his eyes held that faux innocence and surrender.
“come get it…”
and it worked, since you gladly took another bite, this time not noticing xavier's pursed lips and closed eyes.
maybe sharing everything with you wouldn't be so bad anymore.~
𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭
it was late at night, and you were still in the kitchen, watching and trying out all of those cooking hacks and easy recipes you saved on your phone.
of course, you ended up with thousands of different dishes and snacks, and you had no idea what to do with all of them, so… you called the only sane, nocturnal person who would come over after work.
zayne.
he usually ended up starving after his shifts, and you knew he would always say yes to you, no matter how frustrating it was for him.
after a few hours, said doctor was at your door, not knowing what to expect other than a few containers with food that would certainly save him a lot of time.
however, when you pulled him inside, he saw lots of differently shaped apples, homemade chips, uh… carrot gummies (for some reason), multiple, muuuultiple ways of cooking potatoes, healthy chocolate bars, and, thankfully, lasagna in the oven.
you grinned proudly, gesturing towards your kitchen with a tired but pleased expression.
“now… you're witnessing something amazing,” you nodded seriously. “not only will you have the best snacks of your life, but you'll learn how easy they were to make!”
oh god.
this would take hours.
you explained each plate with excitement, pushing your failures into the trash without blinking, smiling as if you didn't know what was going on.
“the best part is, i nailed everything on the first try!”
“...of course you did.”
the more he looked around, the more he noticed the mess.
he was about to complain, when you appeared with a spoon, guiding it to his lips.
“try it,” you urged, not even giving him time to process as you pushed your hand further.
he blinked in surprise before watching you take said spoon to your lips, licking it softly.
“good, no? that was the new mashed potatoes recipe i saw…” and as you kept talking, zayne's brain went blank.
the only thing replaying in his mind was how you took the spoon out of his mouth and licked it clean yourself.
the spoon.
the one that touched his tongue—
his ears went red almost immediately, and you tilted your head.
“oh no, is it too spicy? i swear i only added a dash of pepper! …or was it cayenne pepper? hold on—”
he was frozen in place, unmoving, unreactive.
his glasses fogged up, and he didn't even register the mild burn on his tongue.
he was way more focused on your tongue, or rather, your tongue touching his.
not directly.
but his mind quickly painted said picture, and it wasn't unpleasant; quite the contrary, really.
he could almost taste your lips, feel the foreign sensation of your tongues tangled together, and—
…and you came back with a glass of milk, pouting slightly.
“sorry! i might've gotten a bit excited with the spices… it's okay if you don't want any! i'll pack the rest of the food so that you have something to eat for weeks!” you eagerly announced, and he took the glass, taking a sip.
“it… is fine. do not forget the lasagna.”
he needed to freshen up, like, immediately.
but what he also needed was to stop imagining sharing more things with you, like this glass, or a lollipop, or… or a kiss.
a lingering, direct kiss that made him flush even harder than the spices did.
“oh, right! i haven't tried it yet,” you softly said. “wanna try it out, zaynie?”
here’s my masterlist!
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader / shy!reader
word count: 2.4k
genre & cw: fluff, a little jealousy and pining angst if u squint, mentions of made-up case, different use of cm character
a/n: thank u so much for all the support i've been getting on my fics!! hope you love this one as much as i do, i really enjoyed writing this one the most!
Today was a bad day. That much was clear. From the moment you woke up to the minute you arrived at the BAU– you’re convinced that the universe has simply gone the extra mile to make your life a little harder.
You slept through your alarm and a few phone calls from Garcia, making your morning stressful and complete chaos. You didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee or a snack, and apparently you also didn’t have time to remove the colorful pimple patches that adorned your face.
Your blouse is buttoned asymmetrically, your hair resembling a bird's nest, and you left your ID at home, making your arrival more delayed as you had to employ Garcia’s help in presenting a copy of your ID to let you through.
That too was not without stress given that your phone was on the verge of dying as you were in the call, but thankfully you could finally breathe in the elevator. Or so you thought.
There were two things that immediately caught you off guard as you walked into the bullpen: one, almost all the desks were deserted and two, Reid and Morgan were watching you- as if waiting for your reaction, which led you to look around in anticipation. Is there a surprise? A prank? Did I miss a patch? I’m…wearing pants, right?
Not wanting to prolong your search, you look at the two for any indication or clue. Tilting your head to the side as if to ask what? But to your surprise, they both nod their heads in one direction. Oh.
Strauss was in Hotch’s office, along with Rossi and a woman you don’t recognize. Hotch looked a bit tense, Strauss firm, Rossi is as relaxed as ever, and the woman… is looking directly at Hotch. Just Hotch. Huh.
You were stood just shy of your desk when you shook thoughts out of your head, slowly approaching your desk to settle your things. Dozens of scenarios were running through your head, trying to make sense of new additions to an otherwise normal day.
But the way she was studying him made your chest tight like someone was stepping on it.. and you couldn’t figure out why.
You approach the two rascals only to lean on Derek’s desk as you whisper under your breath, “What’s happening there?”
Morgan shrugs but his focused face remains, “I don’t know, kid. I tried Garcia but she doesn’t have a clue either.” Eyes studying the people in the room, noting anything that could tell them something.
Mulling over more possibilities, you hum in response. Turning to Reid, you ask him- hoping that his eidetic memory can tell you anything about the woman even if they’d only met in passing.
“Do you know anything, Spence?” But Reid only pouts at you, a sign that he’s thought about it hard but is coming up empty.
Shaking his head, he soberly replies, “No..I don’t think so. I– I’ve never seen her before. Sorry.”
Before any more thoughts could be voiced between the three of you, the door to Hotch’s office opens and all four of them file out- the woman walking a little too close to Hotch.
-
You’re approaching your usual seat on the jet beside Morgan and across from Hotch when suddenly Agent Seaver overtakes you and sits on your seat. Caught by surprise, your eyes instinctively go to Hotch who’s already looking at you.
He nods to himself, moving from the aisle seat to the one by the window. But it appears Agent Seaver misunderstood his gesture and moved beside him, “Oh! Thank you, sir.” Even going as far as touching his arm and leaning closely.
Now, you’ve never been a violent person. Rage has just never overcome your senses like that but today.. of all days– you couldn’t help the image of spilling your hot chocolate all over her cream blouse.
You don’t even notice that you’re frowning as you sit beside Morgan, somehow still unaware of how much their closeness really upsets you. You honestly thought you’ve maintained an expressionless face until Morgan looks up from his file and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You’ll need claws not paws, baby girl.” Winking at you as you separate.
You steal a glance at Hotch only to see him watching you and Morgan with furrowed brows. He almost looks normal if it weren’t for the clenching of his jaw that’s his tell of irritation. Moving your gaze to Seaver, in case you missed something that’s causing his new mood, you find her reading the case file.
As you return your gaze on Hotch, you watch as Seaver touches his arm again and engages him in conversation about the case. It’s through the whole jet ride that you had to stomach the constant Agent Hotchner, Agent Hotchner! paired with a giggle or a slight touch. UGH!
If it weren’t for Strauss personally recommending Agent Seaver as a consultant for this case, you would have done– …still absolutely nothing. You had no claim whatsoever over Hotch. Morgan and Rossi may tease the two of you occasionally, forcing that he treats you specially or whatever but his behavior could simply be chalked off as him being a good and attentive boss.
And yes, okay fine. You may have some moments here and there… but! they could honestly just be built up in your head because of the feelings you have for him. Like when he said he likes it when you stare? Come on, being stared at can be flattering and that’s just a universal truth.
-
After a whole day of coming up with theories, visiting crime scenes and M.E.’s, you’re all completely spent. Lounging in the makeshift discussion room, all of you are still working tirelessly on the case given that the unsub’s on a spree and his timeline is alarmingly short.
Reid’s been silently staring at the board for 20 minutes while Morgan’s pretending to read files of potential suspects with his legs stretched out and feet on the table, “This is impossible. We just don’t have enough.” He exclaims as he tosses the file on the table with a thud.
To the left of Morgan, you’re also silently mulling over files of potential suspects. Not wanting to admit that he’s right, you guys don’t have enough…bodies. You barely have anything on the guy, barely any clues- for a working profile.
You sigh heavily, peeling your eyes off the paper and looking at the board. “Reid?” The boy genius shakes his head softly, confirming that the known dump sites don’t say much about the unsub’s comfort zones or hunting ground.
You suddenly wonder where Seaver, Hotch and Rossi are. You and Morgan got back to the precinct at around 11PM, and you realize you haven’t seen any of them, “Where are the others?”
Morgan, in an effort to lighten the mood, jumps at the chance to tease you, “Hmm. I think what you’re really asking is: Where’s Hotch and is he with Seaver?” He punches your arm lightly, making it obvious he’s only teasing.
The smug, playful smile on his face makes you fight one of your own, desperately trying to not give yourself away, “Shut up,” hitting him in the head softly with the file in your hand.
While you two were exchanging playful glares, Reid interjects, “Seaver wanted to turn in early since she’s also the one meeting with the families tomorrow so Hotch brought her to the hotel.”
You instantly lift your gaze to him and watch as he removes the marker’s cap and scribbles rapidly on the board, quickly adding “And I’m pretty sure Rossi’s getting us coffee from the diner around the block.”
You want to blame it on your exhaustion– your inability and ineffectiveness at hiding how you truly feel about what Reid just revealed to you, groaning loudly in pain and frustration. You put your head in your hands, muffling the sounds you’re making that are somehow a combination of a laugh and a sob.
Morgan understands your reaction immediately and laughs out loud.
“It’s not funny!” There was honestly no point in hiding it. As much as Morgan teased you, you knew he wouldn’t tell anyway, and Reid.. well, he was honestly an even better keeper of secrets than Morgan, Rossi and Garcia.
He puts a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, “Baby girl, worry not. You know you hold a special place in boss man’s heart.” Then gripping both your wrists to pry your hands off your face.
Pressing your face even further into your hands, you let out a muffled version of “That’s not true!” that came out more as “Daffs noft thwu!”
When Morgan successfully pries your hands off your face, you’re surprised to see Reid’s moved from the board to behind Morgan, half leaning half sitting on the table, curiously watching you.
Morgan turns around to look at the door behind you, making sure the coast is clear before he says, “Kid. Be real with me for a sec… are you blind?” That was not the question you were expecting.
You must have looked so lost because he continues, “Hotch cares for you. Deeply. And not in the same way he does for us. You’ve gotta have felt that, kid.” Funny, you are starting to feel like a kid– the only thing missing are his hands on your shoulders to complete that huddle pep talk experience.
“That’s just not–” you try to start. But Reid swiftly raises his hand, signing you to stop–
“Did you know that every morning Hotch makes sure all the pens and mug handles on your desk are pointing to the right– the way you need it to be– in case the night janitors move any out of place?”
“Or that he never really ate lunch in the office before but started bringing sandwiches and other food he could microwave, while timing his lunches with yours presumably so he could strike up a conversation with you during break?”
“Or do you remember that one time the AC in the bullpen broke and we were all sweating badly, and I said the heat was making me too thirsty then he disappeared into his office and came back with a bottle of water and an orange juice box only to give it to you?”
Morgan lets out a loud laugh at that one while Reid pouts playfully, “I mean I was genuinely dying then.”
Not without his own input, Morgan smiles softly at you with a raised brow “Did you know he personally restocks your favorite hot chocolate in the pantry and on the jet? Including the marshmallows.”
You breathe in deeply, the revelations sounding too good to be true but winding nonetheless. You crack a small joke, trying to play it off “And I thought the bureau was just feeling really generous.”
The two, who have grown to be such brothers, give you the exact same look of Really?
As Reid rounds the table to go back and stand by the board, Morgan catches your attention and holds your eye, “Look, there’s so much more, kid. But they all point to the same thing.” He says this as softly as possible, as if to not scare you away.
You let out a soft, breathy laugh. Shaking your head, “That just can’t be true.”
With all three of your backs to the door, you don’t notice Rossi nearing. You just suddenly hear his voice from behind, rounding the table and settling the coffee cups in front of all of you, “Coffee, anyone?”
As if trapped in the null of the previous conversation, you’re still looking at Morgan as you lean back in your chair, slumping further to seek non-existent cover. Reid, who is now back in his own world with the board, is handed a cup by Rossi, who didn’t even turn to look- only stretching out an arm to receive it and mumbling a distracted “Thanks.”
Rossi, who is simply too smart for his own good, impressively senses something hanging in the air, nonchalantly asking about the tailend of a conversation he was not supposed to hear, “So… what can’t be true?”
Back to lounging excessively on a chair that is a tad too tiny for him, with legs outstretched and feet on the corner on the table– Morgan spouts, “That she’s Hotch’s girl, and has no reason to be jealous of Seaver– who by the way needs the HR orientation more than Penelope and I.”
-
Now– all of your backs are to the door except Rossi’s. Not one of you tried to move due to fatigue, let alone look.
Unbeknownst to you, Morgan, and Reid, on the way back to the precinct from the hotel, Hotch had the genius thought of picking up Rossi so the latter wouldn’t have to walk a block with trays of coffee on hand.
Hotch and Rossi arrived together. And as Rossi went around the table to give you your cups of coffee, Hotch stayed behind– leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, watching you and the team.
Imagine his surprise, hearing what Morgan just said. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped. His entire being froze entirely.. What? Jealous?
In his mind, he had two choices: Act like he didn’t hear it and save you from embarrassment or use it to his advantage and make his intentions clear..ish.
-
You gasp loudly at his bluntness– and in front of Rossi! Straightening in your chair and pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, “You little– I am NOT jealous! and I am NOT Hotch’s–”
Cut off by someone loudly clearing their throat from behind all of you, you all freeze, including Reid who hasn’t been actively paying attention until now.
The hair on your neck stands up as you hear the nearing footsteps, already envisioning digging your own grave in your head when finally, Hotch is standing right beside you.
You’re all still pretty frozen, save from the slow movement which is your eyes slowly lifting its gaze to the man in question until they meet his hazel orbs. He holds your stare as he leans on the desk, arms straining in his shirt–
Out of the corner of your eye you can see Rossi fighting a smile, and just as you’re about to mentally curse him in your head, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a deep voice,
That was the message Babs had received from Tim fifteen minutes ago.
Steph didn't have all the codes memorized, there were a truly ridiculous number of them, but she did know that one.
"SOS: Mind Control"
For once, Steph found herself longing for one of the complex, overly-specific codes, because what did that mean?!
Was it Tim being mind controlled? Civilians? An ally? What were they being mind controlled to do? Was it magic? Aliens? Tech?
There were way too many possibilities, none of them were good, and Steph suddenly felt almost-bad for every time she'd run off without a word and nearly given Tim a heart attack.
"Spoiler? Do you copy?"
"Yeah, O," Steph panted, "Almost there."
The warehouse- and of course it was a warehouse- where Tim's tracker had last pinged was coming into view, and Steph was not slowing down. Tim hardly pinged for help, ever. He wasn't as bad about it as some of the other Bats, but still—
"Spoiler," Barbara began slowly, as if knowing she were entering a losing battle, "When you get there, do not engage. Wait for backup. Nightwing and Batman—"
"Nope," Steph answered easily as she swept toward the conveniently-open window. Depending on what kind of danger Tim was in, they might not have time to wait for backup.
She swung in easily, landing in almost perfect silence on the concrete floor. The shadows covered her entrance, clinging to the walls like mold. The air was stagnant and chilled, like a morgue, but something about it itched at her nose. Even Babs was oddly soundless over the comms.
The room was empty. Not even standard Gotham warehouse empty, the kind with rusty shelves and cardboard boxes full of nothing, but completely empty. Only Steph and the dust occupying the space. She felt the pit in her stomach grow deeper.
Tim wasn't here, and that meant he'd been moved to a secondary location. His chances of survival dropped dramatically.
Steph grit her teeth and rose to her full height, squinting across the barren room. There had to be some sort of clue here– and she was going to find it.
— — —
"B, N, you're going to want to hurry up. Spoiler just went in by herself, and there's some kind of interference on the comms." Oracle's voice kept mostly even, but there was a firmness indicative of stress to it.
Batman made an upset grunt-growl, and Nightwing a wounded noise. They should've known she wouldn't wait for them, but they'd been so caught up in Tim disappearing that they hadn't thought about it. At least Batman and Nightwing weren't going to be too far behind.
Nightwing arrived first, diving in through the window and landing in a roll. He had expected to see all kinds of horrific things, so seeing Spoiler crouching, unharmed, to gently trace something on the floor was a shocking relief.
"There's some kind of marks here, on the stone." Spoiler started without preamble or looking over her shoulder, "It looks like… acid burns? I think they're making some kind of pattern."
Nightwing rose to his feet, pressing a hand to his chest as he came down from the hear-hyperventilation. "Don't scare us like that."
Spoiler glanced slightly back at him with an eyebrow raised. "What? You guys knew I was fine. I left my comms on, despite the risk of lecture."
Nightwing breathlessly shook his head. "We couldn't hear you. Babs said there's some kind of interference."
"Oh." Steph said, feeling a little embarrassed. That made a lot more sense than Babs just giving up on dissuading Steph of her plan.
Nightwing strolled forward, craning his neck down to get a view of what Steph was looking at. A curved, pale line ran under her fingertips, continuing outward in either direction to ultimately form a perfect circle. It was large, hard to see the entirety of it in the dark, and from edge to edge ran these lines, connected to each other by spiky, starlike shapes. The marks themselves had a texture as though whatever made them had been bubbling, yet somehow stayed contained enough to not completely obscure the image.
A feeling of dread began to press down on Nightwing's chest like a stone.
Only years of practice alerted Nightwing when Batman arrived, gliding forward silently as though made of shadow. He glanced down at the symbols on the stone, silent for a long moment as his lips pursed into displeasure.
"I'll call Justice League Dark." He eventually acquiesced.
Aerion Targaryen x f!reader - modern AU (See part 1 here)
Summary: Reciting an old Valyrian spell in the candlelight works and you end up summoning a dragon prince, getting more than you bargained for.
a/n: Modern AU but with magic, let's gooo! Warnings: SMUT 18+ p in v implied, unprotected sex, possessiveness, power imbalance, manipulation, Aerion has insane ideas, I don't think it's necrophilia...Ghostfucking, maybe?
A week after the night prince Aerion Targaryen first stepped out of candlefire and into your life, you were sitting in the same small apartment, laptop open on the coffee table, rain tapping softly against the windows as it often did in King’s Landing, when an email arrived from an investment account you had nearly forgotten existed.
You opened it absently. Then blinked. Then read it again.
The numbers had multiplied overnight. Not by a small margin, not by a lucky spike that could be explained by market fluctuation. By something obscene.
You stared at the screen for a long time before whispering, “That can’t be right.”
But it was.
Over the next few days, the pattern continued.
A forgotten bond matured unexpectedly early and paid out far beyond its projected value. A tiny investment in a startup you barely remembered making exploded into a bidding war when the company was suddenly acquired. An elderly distant relative, someone you had met perhaps twice in your life, left you a substantial inheritance after dying peacefully in her sleep.
Each event, individually, might have been chalked up to coincidence.
Together they formed something else entirely.
Luck.
Perfect, immaculate luck.
Aerion had promised riches without consequences. And he had delivered.
By the end of the first moon, your life had already begun to change.
By the end of the second, it had transformed beyond recognition.
The firm in King’s Landing received your resignation in a brief, polite email that surprised your supervisors so much they requested a meeting just to confirm it was genuine. You attended, smiled pleasantly, thanked them for the opportunity, and left the building for the last time with a lightness in your chest you had not felt in years.
You never went back.
The apartment followed shortly after. There was no reason to keep it anymore.
The villa you purchased sat on the outskirts of the city where the urban skyline gave way to green hills and quiet coastal roads. It was absurdly large for one person: white stone walls, enormous windows, terraces overlooking the sea.
It felt like something pulled from the life of a minor noble. The sort of place someone descended from dragons might reasonably live.
The first night you moved in, you lit the candles again, as the bargain required you to do every night.
By then, the spell existed in several forms. You had copied it carefully into notebooks, etched it onto small sheets of parchment, memorized every syllable of the High Valyrian incantation until you could recite it without thinking. The language flowed more smoothly now; repetition had polished the awkward edges of your pronunciation. You no longer stumbled over the words.
The flames rose. The fire twisted. And Aerion stepped from it with the same hungry grace he always carried.
“You have moved,” he observed, violet eyes sweeping over the vast living room with obvious approval.
“You said my ancestors ruled empires,” you replied lightly. “I thought I should at least upgrade from a studio apartment.”
His mouth curved slowly. “Better.”
Each evening you lit the candles. Each evening the prince returned.
Sometimes you spoke for hours before touching each other at all. Sometimes the moment he appeared he would pull you close as though he had waited all day for the contact.
Two moons passed in this rhythm.
You delayed making the second wish.
Partly because you no longer needed wealth. Partly because the scope of what Aerion could grant was surprisingly narrow once you began to consider it carefully.
He could shape fortune within your life but he could not remake the world.
The things that had once seemed impossible: freedom from work, financial security, time to pursue the things you loved, had already been solved by the first wish.
What else remained?
Some nights you tried to think of possibilities while the two of you lay together beneath the soft glow of candlelight.
Aerion would listen patiently. Then dismiss each idea with calm practicality.
“You could wish for influence,” he suggested once. “But influence purchased with wealth already exists.”
Another night he tilted his head thoughtfully while tracing idle patterns along your arm.
“You could wish for beauty,” he said.
You snorted. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
He regarded you critically. “No. You are already quite acceptable.”
“Wow. High praise.”
He smiled faintly.
Despite the ease that had grown between you, Aerion never stopped reminding you of one thing: “Do not grow attached.”
He said it casually the first time, brushing the warning into your hair as he leaned close to kiss you. “You will regret it.”
“Why?”
“Because three moons end.”
And yet, every night, he drew you closer.
He would pull you into his arms while speaking softly about the world he had known. His voice would drop into that ancient cadence when he spoke of Valyria: the black towers, the dragonlords, the molten rivers of fire that once ran beneath the city.
Sometimes he spoke of the long history of the House Targaryen after the Doom, recounting stories you had never encountered in the scattered modern records.
Kings whose names had vanished from official histories. Princes who had died before their time. Rivalries and scandals carefully erased from surviving documents.
“You truly never learned of me?” he asked one night, sounding faintly offended.
You shook your head. “I told you, records were lost. Wars, rebellions, centuries of bad archiving.”
Aerion made a dismissive sound. “Historians are careless creatures.”
“You’re the one who drank wildfire and died.”
“Mind your tongue, girl.”
You laughed.
He continued teaching you High Valyrian with patient precision, correcting your pronunciation until the words flowed smoothly from your tongue.
“Longer vowels,” he would murmur, adjusting the shape of your mouth as though polishing a gem.
Your improvement pleased him greatly.
“You sound less like a scholar now,” he said once approvingly. “And more like someone born to the language.”
The villa itself adapted to his presence. You purchased candles far larger than ordinary ones, thick pillars that burned slowly through the night. Their light filled the rooms with warm gold, allowing Aerion to remain until dawn without the constant pressure of watching the flames die.
He approved of that change immensely.
But as the second moon waned, something subtle shifted in him.
The enthusiasm remained. Yet sometimes, in quiet moments between conversation and sleep, his gaze drifted somewhere far away.
Beyond the candlelight. Beyond the villa. Beyond the living world entirely.
“Is something wrong?” you asked one evening.
Aerion hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “Nothing that concerns you.”
“Try me.”
He studied the flames thoughtfully before answering. “The gods of Valyria are…distant. Yet we all revere them.”
Your brow creased. “You said they never show themselves.”
“They do not.”
“Then why would they care about you visiting here?”
“That,” he said slowly, “is precisely the uncertainty.”
He leaned back against the headboard, silver hair falling loose over his shoulders. “I have crossed the veil many times now. I grant favors. I interfere with the world of the living.”
His gaze returned to yours. “The longer it continues, the more I wonder whether they will notice.”
“Notice what?”
“That I have not remained where the dead belong.”
The thought unsettled you more than you expected. You reached for his hand without thinking. “Maybe they don’t care.”
“Perhaps.”
He turned his palm to lace his fingers with yours. “Or perhaps they simply wait.”
Silence settled for a moment.
Then you asked the question that had been lingering in your mind for weeks. “Aerion…when you come here...”
“Yes?”
“You said you possess a body.”
“Temporarily granted the solidity of the body I had in life, yes.”
“And you bleed.”
He glanced at you curiously. “I do.”
Your heart began to beat faster. “Then what if…” You hesitated. “What if we used that blood? For a ritual.”
His expression sharpened slightly. “What kind of ritual?”
“To free you.”
The words hung between you.
“If you’re able to cross the veil like this,” you continued slowly, “maybe there’s a way to make it permanent. Some old Valyrian magic. Something that could anchor you here.”
Aerion listened without interrupting. When you finished, he sighed quietly. Then he reached up and brushed his knuckles along your cheek with surprising gentleness.
“Little dragon,” he murmured.
Your stomach tightened faintly at the nickname.
“It is impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because I am dead.”
The simplicity of the answer stung more than you expected.
“My body turned to ash centuries ago,” he continued calmly. “My bones have long since crumbled. Whatever blood once ran in my veins returned to the earth long before your ancestors were born.”
“But you can touch things.”
“Temporarily.”
“But...”
“No.”
The word was firm, though not unkind.
“There is no ritual that can restore life after so much time has passed. Not even the greatest dragonlords of Valyria possessed that power.”
You fell silent.
Aerion watched your expression carefully. “Do not waste your second wish trying to undo the nature of death,” he said quietly. “It will fail.”
The reminder lingered heavily in the air. And the third moon was already beginning.
“Health,” you said finally.
Aerion blinked. “Health?”
“Yes.” You glanced up at him again. “I want insurance.”
“Against what?”
“Everything.”
Your fingers traced lightly across his arm as you explained. “Every illness. Every accident. Every mental disorder that destroys people’s lives.”
You swallowed slightly. “I’ve seen what happens when someone loses their health. Everything falls apart.”
Aerion listened without interrupting.
“So,” you finished softly, “that’s what I want. A guarantee that nothing, mental or physical, will break my body or my mind.”
Aerion nodded slowly.
“That,” he said, “is within my power.”
Relief flickered faintly in your chest. “You can do it?”
“Yes.”
He reached up and placed his hand gently over your heart.
His fingers slid upward, brushing briefly against your throat.
“But I can preserve the body. Strengthen the mind. Guard you against disease and decay.”
His gaze held yours. “You will remain whole.”
“Then that’s my second wish.”
Aerion smiled faintly. “So be it.”
The air around you warmed subtly as he spoke a few quiet words in High Valyrian, the language flowing in a smooth, ancient cadence you were still learning to master.
When it faded, Aerion looked satisfied. “It is done.”
You exhaled slowly. “Thank you.”
He brushed your hair back from your face again.
“Two wishes granted,” he murmured.
Your stomach tightened faintly.
“One remains.”
By the time the third moon had begun its slow climb across the sky, the rhythm of your life had settled into something almost unreal.
You lived in a house too large for one person. You slept during the day, and each night, when the candles were lit and the words of High Valyrian slipped from your tongue, the fire answered. Prince Aerion Targaryen stepped from the flame like a memory given shape.
The enormous candles burned for hours now, thick pillars of wax that cast warm gold across the rooms and allowed him to remain until dawn without the constant threat of vanishing mid-conversation. Their glow turned the nights into something suspended outside ordinary time.
You had grown used to his presence. Too used to it, perhaps.
That evening had begun no differently than the others. The spell had been spoken, the flames had surged upward, and Aerion had appeared with the same restless hunger that always flickered in his violet eyes when he saw you waiting for him.
Now the two of you lay tangled together across the wide bed, the sheets twisted around your legs, the warm candlelight drifting across the room like slow-moving firelight.
Aerion’s hand rested lazily at the small of your back while his mouth moved slowly along your neck, the kisses unhurried, thoughtful. Between them he murmured things in that soft, low tone he used when his mind wandered somewhere deeper than simple desire.
“You are quiet tonight,” he said eventually, brushing his lips across the corner of your mouth.
“You’re the one who’s been quiet,” you replied.
He hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tracing absent patterns along your waist. “The third moon is already rising.”
Your chest tightened faintly. “I know.”
His gaze lingered on your face for a moment before he leaned down again, kissing you slowly, almost indulgently. The contact deepened, lingered, softened again as if he were savoring it.
Then, between those slow kisses, he spoke. “You still possess one wish.”
You exhaled softly against his mouth. “I’m aware.”
“And you have not decided how to use it.”
“I haven’t needed to.”
His lips brushed the corner of your jaw again. “That may be true now,” he murmured, “but the time will come when you must choose.”
You turned your head slightly to look at him. “And you have a suggestion.”
Aerion’s mouth curved faintly. “I always have suggestions.”
You rolled your eyes, though you didn’t move away when his fingers slid along your arm again.
“Let’s hear it.”
For a moment he said nothing, simply studying your expression as though weighing something carefully in his mind. Then he spoke quietly. “Your final wish could remedy your loneliness.”
You blinked. “We’ve had this conversation already.”
“Not entirely.”
His thumb brushed lightly across your cheek.
“This time,” he continued, “I speak of something more…precise.”
You narrowed your eyes slightly. “What does that mean?”
Aerion leaned down and kissed you again, slower this time, the warmth of him sinking into your skin. His voice slipped between the contact in soft murmurs.
“You could ask me to guide your fortune once more.”
“For what?”
“For someone.”
You pulled back slightly, searching his face. “A man?”
“Yes.”
His tone remained calm, almost thoughtful.
“I could shape chance so that you encounter someone perfectly suited to you. A man whose temperament aligns with yours, whose interests complement your own. Someone patient enough to endure your stubbornness and curious enough to appreciate your…academic peculiarities.”
You snorted faintly. “Academic peculiarities.”
“You collect fragments of a civilization that died a thousand years ago,” he pointed out. “That qualifies.”
You tried to maintain your irritation, but his expression remained so sincere that it was difficult.
“You’re suggesting I use my last wish to find a husband.”
“I am suggesting you ensure your future.”
He brushed a strand of hair from your face. “With the proper shaping of fortune, such a meeting would almost certainly lead to a lasting attachment. Marriage would follow naturally.”
You stared at him. “And you’re delivering this suggestion while lying in my bed.”
Aerion did not seem remotely embarrassed. “The two matters are not mutually exclusive.”
“Apparently not.”
His gaze softened slightly. “You are young,” he said. “You have wealth, freedom, health. What remains is companionship.”
You turned your head away. “And you’ve decided the best way to solve that is magical matchmaking.”
“I have decided it would be wise.”
The calm practicality of his voice made something sharp twist in your chest.
“You’re planning my life very efficiently.”
“I am trying to ensure it continues well.”
Your laugh came out strained. “How considerate.”
Aerion studied you for a moment. Then his expression shifted, becoming slightly more serious. “There is another matter as well.”
You looked back at him. “What matter?”
“My blood.”
You frowned. “What about it?”
“You are descended from it.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that.”
His fingers brushed lightly along your stomach, the gesture absentminded.
“Bloodlines weaken over centuries,” he said. “But they need not vanish entirely.”
Your stomach tightened faintly as understanding dawned. “You’re talking about children.”
“Yes.” The word came simply, without hesitation. “A line such as ours should not disappear entirely from the world.”
You stared at him incredulously. “You’re giving me a lecture about preserving the Targaryen bloodline.”
“I am giving you sensible advice.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
Aerion did not look offended.
“If you wished for a husband carefully suited to you,” he continued calmly, “the likelihood of a stable marriage would increase significantly. Such a union would ensure your line continues with a man worthy of it.”
Your frustration flared suddenly, hot and sharp. “That’s not the point!”
The words burst out before you could stop them.
Aerion blinked slightly at the outburst. “What point?”
You pushed yourself upright, the sheets sliding around your waist as the frustration you had been ignoring for days finally surfaced.
“The point is that I don’t want to plan the rest of my life around someone you’ve magically selected for me.”
“It would merely guide chance...”
“I know what it would do!” Your voice cracked slightly despite your effort to stay calm. “You keep talking about my future like it’s some kind of equation that needs to be balanced before you leave. And you’re acting like that’s perfectly normal!”
Aerion’s expression stilled. “Is it not?” he asked.
The softness of the question broke something in your chest.
“No,” you said hoarsely. “It isn’t.”
Your hands clenched in the sheets. “Because I don’t want you to leave.”
The words hung in the air between you.
For a moment Aerion said nothing. Then he exhaled slowly.
You looked away, suddenly embarrassed by the tears burning at the edges of your eyes.
“This is ridiculous,” you muttered. “I know how the deal works. Three moons. Three wishes. You go back to your…ancestral ghost city or whatever it is.”
“Limbo in the afterlife.”
“Right.” Your voice wavered despite your efforts. “I just...” The rest of the sentence dissolved into a frustrated sound as you pressed your hands over your face.
Aerion moved before you could retreat further. His arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest with firm gentleness. One hand slid up to cradle the back of your head.
“Shh.” The sound was soft, almost amused. “You truly do possess a heart far too tender for your own good.”
You sniffed irritably. “That’s not funny.”
His mouth brushed your temple. “No,” he agreed quietly. “It isn’t.”
You felt him shift slightly, turning you so that he could see your face again. His fingers wiped away the tear that had escaped despite your efforts to stop it.
“My little dragon,” he murmured.
The nickname, spoken so gently, made your throat tighten even more.
“You accidentally summon a Targaryen prince from the realm of the dead, bargain with him for power and fortune…and then cry because he must eventually return where he came from.”
“That’s not exactly how I imagined things going either,” you muttered.
Aerion’s lips curved faintly. “You have a very sweet heart,” he said softly. “Too sweet.”
You tried to glare at him, though the effect was ruined by your expression. “Stop patronizing me.”
“I am not.”
He leaned closer, kissing you slowly, the contact warm enough to quiet the storm of frustration that had been building in your chest. When he pulled back, his thumb brushed lightly across your cheek again.
“You do not need to decide tonight,” he murmured. “The third wish can wait.”
You searched his face. “For how long?”
His expression grew thoughtful. “As long as the candles burn.” His lips touched yours again, softer this time, soothing. “And tonight,” he added against your mouth, “they will burn for many hours yet.”
Part 3
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How would the Dad cookies react to having twins and what would theynane the.?
Had this sitting in my drafts for an entire year. Oops. Gonna be long folks. Gonna copy and repaste what I wrote for them previously minus added details and two added cookies I like, so here's how they react to pregnancy, learning they gonna be a dad, and then the twins bit. Warnings for pregnancy and labor.
Pure Vanilla Cookie:
-He's very concerned about your health during this time and can become very clingy, out of concern and love of course. He's very doting in bringing you food, holding your hair back when you're sick, and being there for every doctor appointment. Even offers to heal you whenever you feel even a little sore even if it's unnecessary. He's literally too precious- He's there when you go into labor and rushing you to the other healers with the emergency baby bag he prepared after asking Hollyberry advice as to what to expect as a fellow mother and Dark Cacao as a fellow dad.
-He's doing everything from holding your hand (he'll heal it later), give you encouragement, and offers to heal you if the pain becomes too much. It won't really do anything in the middle of pushing a whole other cookie out of your body but the gesture is appreciated. When the baby arrives, Pure Vanilla starts crying asking if you're ok and starts praising you- "You did it, Darling. Thank you. I'm so proud of you. I love you so much." He's literally too precious. He's smiling the happiest he's ever been in his life looking at the chubby little yellow blobs in his arms. Twins! He's sobbing harder with a big smile as one sleeps and the other waves his chubby arms at him happy to receive affection from their dad.
-Vanilla Bean Cookie and Vanilla Ice Cream Cookie is what he names them. I don't need to give context other than you both thought the names were cute and wanted to give PV's family some honor.
BURNING SPICE COOKIE:
-This man is the definition of stress if it grew legs and walked out of the dictionary. He is literally the shocked Pikachu face meme when you first tell him. He's panicking internally. He's not a dad. He CAN'T be a dad! There's no way he COULD be a dad! He doesn't believe that you're actually pregnant until he sees all the changes happening to your body. Being the Herald Of Change meant he knew all changes in the world, including the changes a woman had when she got pregnant. Honestly he went out and destroyed things to relieve stress and tried not to bring the anger around you too much. He avoided you a bit cuz he wouldn't know how to deal with the hormones and odd behavior but he'd leave Nutmeg Tiger Cookie to tend to you.
-He's there when baby dough arrives, but he waits outside slowly squeezing the life out of rocks or screaming into the void trying to relieve the stress in the only way he knows how- Destroying things and yelling until the delivery is over with. He still doesn't go anywhere near your room until Nutmeg Tiger Cookie tells him that you're wanting to see him. Not wanting to look scared in front of his minions, he went in but was absolutely (terrified-) weary on the inside. He barely makes it to your bed and you're shoving a tiny bundle at him in the shape of a waffle cone.
-He freezes. Fully just FREEZES up having them in his hands, staring at a soundly sleeping red blob wrapped up in soft blankets. It looked...weak. Helpless. Pathetic. Everything he hated and everything he wasn't and yet- "Are you alright there?" He doesn't speak for a long, long moment just staring blankly at the baby fast asleep. ".......We're naming this creature Pumpkin Spice Cookie." "You can't just name him without me, Babe." "Better! Pound Cake Cookie so he has a fitting name when he pummels his enemies!!" "Absolutely not!!" "We'll create an army of heirs to conquer Golden Cheese Cookie!!!" He's proudly holding Pumpkin Spice/Pound Cake Cookie in the air like a true proud papa! "You will be the first member of our growing army!!" "I am not going through THAT again!" "What?....Not even one more?" "NO!"
-Well he gets his wish for more 'future generals for his army' when another unbearable pain causes you to shriek out making him panic until he realizes that there's another baby dough on the way. Twenty minutes later and he's proudly holding two reddish-orange baby doughs in his arms. "NOW WE WILL CONQUER GOLDEN CHEESE COOKIE WITH THREE TIMES MY POWER!!" Someone please stop him before you snap from the exhaustion and strangle this man for putting you through hell for nine months and many hours. Safe to say he got his Pound Cake Cookie and Pumpkin Spice Cookie.
DARK CACAO COOKIE:
-He's very apprehensive when he finds out he's going to be a father again. He's afraid he's going to fail them again like he feels like he did with Dark Choco and doesn't think he'll be a good father to anymore children. However the kingdom thinks it's a good idea that the Dark Kingdom has a proper heir again to ensure the throne's security. It's really only that reason and you're insistence on keeping the baby that he starts to come around to reluctantly accepting his fate. But he wants to try and be a good father to your baby for his wife and his future son/daughter.
-He's been through everything before so he's actually a real natural with taking care of you. Shadow Milk might be the smartest cookie but Dark Cacao is better at parenting and taking care of you while pregnant. He's attentive but isn't as worried as most other cookies. He trusts you to wonder around by yourself and he isn't as worried so he'll still go about his life(he still has a whole kingdom to run and worry about Mystic Flour's aftermath to deal with-) but he still has servants to assist you and he always checks on you at least once a day. "Do you need anything, Love?" "I'm having a doctor visit today." "Are you feeling ok today?" "I brought you the food you wanted."
-When labor comes he drops everything to go see you. Does't matter if it's an important meeting HIS WIFE IS GIVING BIRTH DAMMIT!! HE'LL BE DAMMED IF HE MISSES IT!! He decides to go with whatever you want or the doctor thinks it's best. He'll hold you through the process or sit outside in wait. Either way he's going to sit there until he hears his baby crying. And the baby? He's reluctant to hold them but does and finds himself shellshocked when a perfect little blob is blinking confused up at him. They looked so much as Dark Choco as a baby. He's overwhelmed with emotions nothing negative but a lot at once. Nearly crying as he lets the stubby arm grab his hand. "Hello there...I hope you don't mind having a fool like me as a father."
-However he's shocked when just a few minutes later there's a second cry and just a few minutes later, the midwives are placing another dark little blob in his other arm. He's just in shock standing there and staring for a long moment, actually has to sit down to process it but he's very, very happy to have two little ones. His only regret is not having Dark Choco here to meet his baby siblings as a family. Following the tradition of their names, Dark Cocoa Cookie and Dark Coffee Cookie seems like fitting names for royals of the Dark Cacao kingdom.
Elder Faerie Cookie:
-Very calm. He's able to reassure you that everything was going to be alright and assured you he's going to be with you every step of the way, and he does. From the day you both find out you're expecting, he's by your side all day every day assisting you with anything you need, insisting you stay in bed rest despite your protests, and insists on his servants bringing him any books on parents they could get their hands on and anything else they need to the room he stays with you. You really have to almost kick him out of your bedroom to convince him to give you some space. Still insists on having some fairy servants stay with you at all times just in case.
-When the baby arrives he's literally flying faster than White Lily Cookie had ever seen him go. Bursting onto the bed chambers panting, crown crooked, and tripping over his robes as he comes in to sit next to you. "My love, are you alright?! I came as soon as I heard-" "Dear, calm down. You're more distressed than I am and I'm the one in pain." Despite his disheveled appearance, he's fairly calm with his heart pounding in his chest. Patiently watching the healers work and rubbing your head in comfort until the familiar cries of a baby was heard. He's patient, watching intently as the doctors handle a small bundle before offering it to him. A beautiful blob of brown stares back at him with silver eyes and curiously a delicate pain of underdeveloped silvery wings twitch on his back. "Well? How is he?" Elder Faerie smiles softly. "He's the most beautiful gift I could've ever been given."
-When his son's twin is ultimately born as well, Elder Faerie Cookie honestly doesn't question it. He's holding both of his babies allowing you to have a break and get some sleep. He loves you all equally. As for names he'd name them something regal but cute. Silver Bell Fairy Cookie and Silver Glitter Fairy Cookie(a play on edible glitter).
Millennial Tree Cookie:
-Out of all the cookies on this list he's the most calm tbh. The vines foretold of his child/ren's arrival and he took it with as much happiness and calmly as he usually did. He's always known for his level headedness in any situation, and this for once was a very welcome surprise he embraced. Of course that didn't mean he still didn't take care of you. Most hands on to taking care of you such as massaging your sore back or ankles, making sure you always have plenty of healthy organic snacks within reach, and using natural remedies to help your soreness. Of course he's also making sure you're getting proper attention to yourself because he knows some women feel excluded from their husband's attention as soon as they have kids, and he never wants you to feel like that. He loves you both equally.
-Actually knows the exact time and day you go into labor and is calmly waiting by your side for it to start, excitement rustling his leaves. How does he know? No one is sure but perhaps the vines told him again. He is however very soothing and good at calming you through the process as a healer he had already sent Wind Archer Cookie to bring was helping(knowing how natural he is about things, he'd probably insist on a natural home birth). He's very calm still, but lightly crying when he hears the first cries of his baby and thanking the witches above for the miracle that he held in his arms. Lightly bouncing the light brown blob squirming around clearly unhappy in his blanket. He feels he's been truly blessed for this.
-And if it's twins? He's crying happy tears but not surprised. Somehow this man already knew the entire time! How? Not even Wind Archer Cookie knows but he's there with gifts and congratulating the both of you on the two squirming cookies wrapped in waffle cones. Being Millennial Tree Cookie who has a big tie to nature, he definitely wants both twins to have ties to their heiritage too. Herbal Blend Cookie and Rose Tea Cookie sounds nice.
Cream Unicorn Cookie:
-Very excited when learning that they're gonna be a dad. They're literally from an amusement park and likes making kids laugh, so of course having children of they're own was never off the table! They doesn't care if they're their bio kids, adopted, step, foster, or just visiting the park with their families. They love being around kids and having some of their own is literally their dream come true, but they're going to have to learn how to actually raise a baby and prepare for them because raising a child and just playing with them at the park are two very different things.
-They're surprisingly very good at learning and taking care of you during this time. Reading as many books as they can, asking lots of parents especially those carrying baby doughs of their own for advice around the park, and of course making a nursery in their own tent. And yes the nursery is circus themed with a hot dog stand themed cradle, a mini merry go round, and even giant animal cracker plushies. You have no idea where they got them from. Well they're not no prepared when you're having pains or throwing up but they do their best to comfort you by trying to make you smile and help as much as possible.
-Since I adore the idea of them having triplets with the colors of their hair(sorry no twins, this Cookie gets a cute lil trio) Cotten Candy Cookie, Blue Raspberry Cookie, and Banana Cream Pie Cookie.
Shadow Milk Cookie:
-Out of everyone on this list, Shadow Milk is THE most prepared for the incoming of his baby. Ex Fount of Knowledge means he knows everything that's going to happen and does his best to accommodate you and prepare for the baby's arrival. Making you all your cravings, stuffing the nursery full of toys, dealing with all his enemies before they found out about his greatest weakness- Y'know regular soon-to-be dad stuff. If he can't be around you then he has Black Sapphire or Candy Apple help you. Usually Black Sapphire if he can help it since Candy Apple Cookie is more... irrational.
-He's right there holding your hand as you go into labor, squeezing the life out of his hand that he's sure you permanently broke his hand but he's too distracted panicking because he has no idea what to do. All that preparing and no how just went bye bye as soon as you started screaming in absolute pain and cursing him out- "I'M GOING TO DESTROY YOUR BODY A SECOND TIME SO YOU CAN NEVER DO THIS TO ME AGAIN!!" and "I'M GOING TO RIP OFF YOUR MILKDUDS AND FEED THEM TO THE SUGAR GNOMES!!!" He's very scared of the absolute hatred on your face only stuttering encouraging words until he hears a baby screaming. There's a thud as he faints... literally just drops to the floor out cold for twenty minutes.
-His body is literally shaking in both excitement and nerves as he reaches out so the doctor can hand him the moving bundle. As soon as he looks at the blue blob lightly crying with big watery yellow eyes blinking up at him..he breaks. Shadow Milk Cookie doesn't cry..but he was 'sweating out of his eyes' and (sobbing-) 'gasping for air' as he holds the squirming blob. "She's perfect. *Sob* She's so perfect. Aahhh-" You're worried about the amount of tears coming from his multiple eyes staining the floor.
-Until a sharp pain suddenly cuts through your body and just a little while later, a second blue blob is being held by the doctors. Another nurse has to grab SM as be faints again and grab the baby out of his arms before he drops them. Otherwise he's perfectly ok and is gonna cry his eyes out over both of them being the most beautiful babies in the world. As for names Sparkleberry Jam Cookie since the Sparkleberry Jam in game looks like something associated with SMC and Blueberry Yogurt Cookie.
Longan Dragon Cookie:
-They don't usually show much emotion often usually defaulting to a neutral expression even when they're happy. However once you break the news to them that you thought you were expecting, they freeze up. Not quite sure what to do with the information you gave them, then after a minute or two they ask exactly two questions. "Are you sure?" and "Do you want to see a doctor and get a second opinion?" Yes to both and so they agrees to take you to a cookie doctor, despite how much they despise cookies and would rather turn this crumb into stone for allowing him to examine their mate so intimately like this. You have to them that- "It's just a physical! Calm down, Longan." Once the doctor confirms that you are indeed pregnant, Longan has to take a moment to let it sink in. "I didn't even know it was possible to produce offspring with someone who wasn't another dragon. However this is quite a welcomed miracle."
-Honestly treats you really well during the pregnancy. Instincts tell them to make a nice warm nest for their eggs but since he isn't having eggs, they'll make you lay in the nest instead especially as you progress because their instincts scream at them that's where you'll be safest. Dotes on you bringing you food, blankets, things to entertain you as long as you don't leave the nest for anything else than take baths or use the bathroom. It'd honestly be really sweet if they weren't so dam strict about everything. However Longan means well. They hasn't seen another one of their kind have children in ages, and he wants to take special care in their own offspring coming into the world with only instincts and what information he remembers from other dragon parents during their lifetime to go on. They didn't even know it was possible for their kind to crossbreed let alone have live offspring instead of eggs.
-When the baby comes they don't want you to leave the nest. Instincts on high alert and wanting you to stay somewhere they deemed safe. It takes you yanking around their head by his horn and yelling at them in a way that scares them to take you to a dam doctor NOW. They compromise and take you to one of the dragon's isle villages to a village healer instead. That's the closest thing to a doctor you'll get but luckily the healer knew exactly what they were doing and Longan sat there the entire time through screams and you destroying their hand until not one but two cries reach their ears. A minute later they're handed two babies wrapped up in cone blankets. COOKIE baby doughs. They frowns because how could they have made weak cookie babies!? The only trace of dragon heritage is the bat like wings uselessly twitching on their backs.
-"They're weak...but they're mine and they will grow to become full dragons. In fact-.." They stare at you for a long, long moment considering something. "What if there's another way to bring about the age of dragons?" "If you think i'm going through this again, I'll break your horn off and stab you with it." Takes your threat seriously as they should. Names them something majestic but connected to them such as Dragon's Eye Cookie, Miracle Cookie, Draco Cookie, something along those lines.
Ananas Dragon Cookie:
-Much like Longan Dragon Cookie he's also shocked but more so. He had no idea a dragon could have offspring with anyone who wasn't another dragon. He's shocked, confused, a bit scared, but then it quickly turns into a proudness that boosts his ego. "You're telling me I've done something that no one's heard of before? HA!! Of course I'd be the one to do the impossible! I'm the Golden Dragon of Pineapple Island!!" Someone please stop him before he inflates more of his own ego.
-Has no idea what he's doing in terms of helping you during your pregnancy. He's seen other dragons do things like make nests and light fires in their homes to melting degrees to help their eggs hatch but you weren't having an egg. However he's witnessed many of his villagers have children through his long life and asks them about what to expect during this time. Honestly the villagers are probably the ones who take care of you because as much as he tries his best, he's not much help. However he's trying and that's what counts. Constantly asks other parents for what to do, brings you armfuls of things like pillows and healthy fruit snacks every few days even if his last gifts hadn't been used up yet. Boosts about his 'impossible miracle' to everyone too.
-When the babies come he's dropping EVERYTHING and busting into the resident village healer's home, probably ripping off the door with him by accident. He'll help fix it as an apology later, right now he's staying by your side letting you squeeze his hand and yell anything you want at him. Anything you need him to do he's doing it except leaving the room. He's staying no matter what anyone says, and when twins are born for once the egotistical dragons says absolutely nothing. No boasts. No jokes. No compliments. Just staring in awe at the two yellow baby doughs with useless little wings like his twitching on their backs. He's definitely proud and happy to have them in his life and proud of his mate for giving him such a precious gift. He gives them tropical fruit names. Pineapple Dragon Cookie, Coconut Dragon Cookie, etc.
