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kjdkive · 1 day

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a nice surprise - l.jn

warnings: smut, nasty, fluffy, will make you feel single even if you're not, grammar mistakes

a's/n: thinking of making a part two cause this type of jeno is making me feel crazzy. also, part two?

you shouldn't be really doing this, grabbing the key of his apartment jeno told you the location of in case of an emergency, but this is a real emergency and he isn't answering your texts, neither caring about the fact that you're ovulating and going crazy just at the thought of his touch. well, it's not like you have never been to his place alone, you've been here more times than you'd like to admit. but right now, you needed him like you needed oxygen. you don't think he will be angry, or will he? no, i mean, how could he say no to a horny-you in the middle of his living room?

"i guess i'll make myself comfortable." you layed on the couch and turned on the tv, played a random movie but you couldn't pay attention, you were just only thinking of jeno.

40 minutes have passed and there's still not any signs of him, not even a reply to your text you sent him three hours ago. all of a sudden, you hear the locks of the door make sounds and you prepare yourself for maybe the best, maybe the worst. who knows?

you watch the man you've been waiting for almost an hour now not notice you, he seemed stressed... maybe that's why he was not replying and just needed to be alone... did you fuck up? he dropped his backpack to the floor and took off his shoes and shirt, leaving himself with just the gray sweatpants he was wearing. three words: holy jesus fuck.

"jesus." he said, getting shocked from the fact he hadn't see you there. "what are you doing here?"

"hi, sorry, i grabbed the secret key you told me about and let myself in. i don't know, you weren't replying to my texts and i wanted to see you."

"you wanted to see me..." he asks smiling as he sits down beside you "or to fuck me?" he grabs you by the waist and sits you down on his lap.

"mmm, what is the correct answer to that right now?" you caress his hair and smile at him too. "is everything okay? i know letting myself in was weird but when you got here i noticed something was off."

"aw, you worry about me, maybe you will get some."

"oh my god, are my tactics working?" you ask, laughing.

he kisses you as he grabs your face to have the control on the kiss. it's soft and not too short.

"nothing to worry about, baby." he moves you again so both of your legs are on his sides. "i'm struggling to understand a class and i'm not having enough time to study because of my job, so yeah, it's just the normal stress of everyday."

you give him a peck on the lips and cup his face with both of your hands and you just give him a soft look, you truly did not want him to stress out, he's the smartest, hard-working boy you know out there, he deserves a 100% scholarship and everything paid, not this.

"you're really smart, though. like you make me feel really dumb sometimes when you start speaking engineer nerd lingo, it's also really hot." he giggles and you scratch his hair softly while still looking at him, you just feel his hand caress your lower back and sometimes your legs. "besides, hard work pays off and you know that. your job will let you grow on your career and well, we all need a major. just know that this stress will not last forever." you give him a kiss again and another one on his nose.

"wow, you really will say all that to get some dick." he tells you and you smack his bare chest.

"fuck you."

"yeah, you're really trying." he laughs and stops to stare at his hands touching your legs, then your butt and at the end your waist. you get startled when he pushes you towards him lightly. and he kisses you, fervently, the way you've been wanting to get kissed all day. the "problem" right now is that he has never kissed you this passionately. the way his lips move against yours is making you feel something you've never felt before, not with him nor any men you've ever been with.

"thank you, princess." he tells you. "you know i'm just joking, i do really appreciate your words and support." his eyes were shining as he looked at you. "and honestly, you being here was a nice surprise."

"it was?" you ask him as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and you grab his hand. he just kept staring at you, making it seem like he was admiring every single detail of your face.

"mhm." and you just stayed there, looking at each other. you were still holding his left hand that was placed on your face and gave it a little kiss. as he sees you doing that, he doesn't let go of your hand and just softly gets your hand to his mouth for him to kiss it. "kiss me, y/n."

and you do what he tells you to. you kiss him with the same passion he had just kissed you with a few seconds ago. he introduces his tongue into your mouth, playing with yours. it's getting more desperate second after second, his hands that were placed on your waist were now going down to your butt to grab it and force you to grind on him, feeling him very close as you were wearing a dress so he had easy access. one of your hands stayed on his shoulder and your other hand slowly traced a line down his abs so you can grab the hem of his sweatpants.

he kept guiding your hips with his hands and stopped kissing your mouth to move to your neck, giving wet and sloppy kisses on it as he grabbed your hair and tugged it down to give himself more space to kiss, suck and lick.

"come on, baby, keep grinding on me." jeno whispers on your ear. "you're making me feel so good, princess. look so beautiful, so pretty."

his praise was just the little help you needed to moan loudly on his ear and

"that's it, baby, do you feel me? do you feel my hard cock?"

"yes, jeno, i feel it." you moan.

"just for you, princess, only for you, always for you."

you tug jeno's hair as you moan on his ear, making him understand you had just came with the way your legs were shaking. you think you're in for a long ride tonight.

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middlingmay · 2 days

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German!Gale AU

And now for the other one that won't leave me alone.

Gale was born in Germany, but he lived in France for a decent portion of his childhood. His parents moved there for work. His mother was a part-time typist and his father. Well his father was many things; whatever people paid him to be (and as fast as possible), but he was known for transport.

Gale loved growing up in France. It was so busy he could pass by unnoticed and enjoy his people-watching in peace. So many people came from all over to enjoy one of centres of European culture, or so the Americans called it. His parents didn't like that much, but Gale liked the Americans the best. Brash. Up front. Not much guessing about what they really meant. He got enough of that at home.

But then dad came barging in the front door of their modest apartment at 2.23 in the morning with a black eye, and they were packing the essentials and anything of value, and crossing the border the Germany, barely stopping on the way.

Neither his mother or his father ever explained why they'd had to move, but Gale didn't need them to confirm what he already knew. He'd lost enough of his own precious belongings - a collector's edition of his favourite comic series; a perfect, detailed model plane he'd won in a maths competition at school; the watch his grandfather had given him before he died.

And then there were the drunk ramblings when mother had gone to bed about how Gale had cursed this family and his luck, and everything was all his fault.

He was five the first time he felt the back of his father's hand and heard the vitriol he really thought of his son. And he was never allowed to forget.

When Gale was barely a man, in those final stages of gangly teenagehood, things...changed in Germany. It wasn't anything groundbreaking. More like when the floorboards that always creaked finally moved a little under your feet. People were still struggling to recover after the War, and all the voices that had been looking for someone to blame were getting a little closer to home, a little louder, a little more important and harder to shrug off.

One of his only friends Solomon had stopped looking him in the eye. When Gale had demanded an answer in that quiet, firm, unyielding way of his, Solomon had scoffed.

"You look just like them, Gale. The posters."

Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Everything Solomon was not.

"Mama says we have to go before... well. Just, before. But you'll be fine, Gale."

He never saw Solomon again.

In his twenties, they were at war and his dad still worked in transport. People came to the house and paid him to take things to places they'd only wrote down once before making his father burn the paper.

But then his father pocketed the money and when those people left, he'd make a call and those officials with the impeccable uniforms would turn up, question his father thoroughly, before handing him a packet of money as well.

"Hitler will turn our fortunes around, boy. You'd best fall in line, before you ruin this for me, too, and kill us all."

Now Gale was quiet, but he wasn't meek. And he didn't think the Nazis had it right at all. But they'd abandoned a lot of their pretenses by now and news of attacks and deaths and beatings were commonplace.

So Gale decided to get into the family business. He didn't tell his father, and people who knew his last name were slow to trust, but anyone who spent any significant time with him couldn't help but respect him.

He didn't understand why, but he was grateful, honoured.

The first time he reunited a dark haired, dark eyed child with their gaunt and terrified parents he crawled into the hayloft in the barn and sobbed into the straw. It wasn't anything grand, he wasn't a human smuggler. He simply found ways to move some small supplies around for others make the bigger, grander gestures of resistance. But when frightened breaths came from the wooden crate, he'd had to bite his lip until it bled to stop from vomiting at transporting someone that small like goods.

For their life, Gale, he'd told himself.

He hated himself and was terrified in equal measure. Filled with a righteous fury that made him want to fight it all. Terrified that he'd wake up to those impeccable uniforms pointing a gun at his head, and his father grinning and pocketing his pay packet, before they pulled the trigger.

Then, one day, the last straw broke the camel's back. Or, more accurately, fell into his cabbage patch.

The dark haired man was drenched in blood. There was barely any skin visible from the top of his head to the collar of his jacket. Dark blue eyes glared out from the red.

He was tall, taller than Gale, broad and strong looking. But Gale was clearly in a better state. If it came down to it, he was sure he could hold his own.

The man held his hand to his lips, gasping on his knees in the dirt. "Bitte," he whispered in an American accent.

"Amerikaner?"

The man nodded and tapped his chest with one hand, the other still raised, palm out. "John."

John. Gale returned the favour in kind, and he liked the way his name sounded in American.

Just as he was about to ask the man if he needed help - the stupidest damned question he would have ever asked in his life because seriously - barking and shouting came from the woods a ways behind the house.

Terror flashed in those blue eyes.

"Please," the man begged, dragged from the depths of him and Gale got the impression it wasn't something he said often. "Please help me."

And the awful limbo Gale had felt stuck in for years started to crumble away. He marched forward and grabbed John roughly and hauled him to his feet. He half carried him to the hay cart and tossed him onto it. John barely had time to give him a single bewildered glance before Gale was shoveling hay over him and dragging the cart around the barn and next to the silo. Then over the hill came a small band of hunters, dogs and guns and all. One of them was a regular visitor to his father and Gale ran forward waving his arms and yelling.

"You are looking for someone?"

They were.

"They are injured?"

They were.

He led them to the cabbage patch and the blood on the pale leaves.

"I've checked everywhere and they're not hiding anywhere I can find."

And because most people saw his father when they looked at him, the hunters gave nothing more than a cursory glance around, before they left.

And Gale is left with an American man hiding in some hay, who by hook or by crook, he was going to get out of here.

#mota #headcannons #alternate universe #clegan #john egan #gale cleven #german!gale #buck x bucky

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mcflymemes · 2 days

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PROMPTS FROM THE SONGS ON TIME LIFE'S ULTIMATE LOVE SONGS COLLECTION - YES, THAT COMMERCIAL * assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary. "cauuuseee i'm your laaaaady (imagine owning the world's greatest love songs)... and you are my maaann..."

your voice is warm and tender.

i'm your lady, and you are my man.

whenever you reach for me, i'll do all that i can.

i am always by your side.

sometimes i am frightened.

i'm ready to learn.

i could hardly believe it when i heard the news today.

i had to come and get it straight from you.

they said you were leaving.

from the look upon your face, i see it's true.

tell me how am i supposed to live without you?

how am i supposed to carry on?

i didn't come here to break down.

a dream of mine is coming to an end.

how can i blame you?

it helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star.

if love can see us through, then we'll be together.

your love is all i'll ever need.

i look in your eyes and there i see what happiness really means.

the love that we share makes life so sweet.

here and now, i promise to love faithfully.

nothing can take your love away.

i believe in love.

now i know i've succeeded.

i'll be eternally grateful.

come back again.

i want you to stay next time.

don't wake me up too soon.

unforgettable. that's what you are.

have i told you lately that i love you?

have i told you there's no one else above you?

you fill my heart with gladness.

somehow, you make it better.

every time you go away, you take a piece of me with you.

i'll always love you for the rest of my days.

you gave me hope when i needed someone near.

you have made my life complete.

tell me, who could ask for more?

when i kiss your lips, i start to shiver.

when i'm in your arms, nothing seems to matter.

i don't care how you get here. just get here if you can.

if i had my way, then surely you would be closer.

i need you closer.

still, i can't figure out what went wrong.

i'd still do anything for you.

i can pretend each time i see you that i don't care and i don't need you.

i've learned so much from you.

if you fall, i will catch you.

you said "go slow."

you know our love was meant to be.

i want you here with me from tonight until the end of time.

you're always on my mind.

you're the meaning in my life.

no one needs you more than i need you.

i want to see you clearly.

these dreams go on when i close my eyes.

i see the questions in your eyes.

i'll never break your heart.

i'll love you with every beat of my heart.

wherever you go, whatever you do, i will be right here waiting for you.

i'm stuck on you.

i guess it's time for me to come on home.

so hard to see that a woman like you could wait around for a man like me.

#mcflymemes #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #ONLY $16.99 PEOPLE!!!!!!

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lunajay33 · 2 days

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Change Part.6

•🎀🩰🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

Part.5

•Masterlist•

It had been a week since the incident with the walker, Daryl refused to let me go out alone again and I didn’t blame him I didn’t want to be alone either it was too risky, it wasn’t just my life in danger, I had a baby to worry about and I refused to leave Daryl alone in a world like this, I rolled over in bed admiring his sleeping form, his hair all crazy, I love him so much and the fact that our family was just about to begin tore something from me that I always dreamed about

“Mornin” he grumbled as I ran my hand through his hair

“Sorry did I wake you?”

“Nah I was up a while ago just waiting for ya”

“Mmmm” I didn’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or what but my mood was at an all time low and I didn’t wanna drag Daryl down too

“What’re ya thinking about” he asked as he squeezed my hip

“Nothing”

“Angel I know ya like the back of my hand, I know when yer over thinking”

I sighed hating that he’s always been able to crack me out of my shell he shown me time and time again that I can trust him with anything, he’ll we’re having a baby together why shouldn’t I tell him

“Just been thinking where my family are now, I know I haven’t talked to them in like a year but I still wonder if they’re even alive”

“The last time you talked to them they called ya a selfish slut, ya shouldn’t worry about them, all they’ve ever done was hurt ya angel, we got our own family now, one that’ll love ya more than they ever could” Daryl wasn’t much of a big speech kinda guy but when he knew I needed comforting he pushed that side of him away to be there for me

“Yeah I guess you’re right, like usual” I said laughing as he pulled me closer so I could lay my head in his chest

I was sat in the living room curled in a blanket reading the new twilight book hearing the rain patter against the windows, the smell of a roast in the oven that Daryl had put in, right when I got to the part where Edward was leaving Bella the phone rang, Daryl at my side handed it over scoffing at the caller ID

Caller ID: Jackson L/N

“This can’t be good” I sighed clicking answer and putting it on speaker

“Hello?”

“You need to come home” not even a hi or nothing

“Why? None of you have bothered to contact me in months what is it this time?”

“Dad lost his job, mom and dad need money for rent” I could see the anger written all over Daryl’s face

“Jackson I have my own life now, I can’t be helping you guys out ever time you need money, I have bills of my own and I don’t wanna waste my money on people who don’t even care about me”

“Are you serious right now?” He asked enraged

“Why can’t you help, you’re the one that got that football scholarship, I had to work my way through university and I’m still paying off student loans, plus Daryl and I have to pay for our house and car and motorcycle”

“You know what this is done, you’re out of this family for good this time, mom and dad should’ve gotten rid of you when they had the chance you selfish slut” the phone disconnected signalling he hung up

I looked at Daryl feeling my chest tighten, I never wanted this I was never the golden child in their eyes, I only ever felt like I mattered when Daryl came into my life

“He’s lucky this was over the phone or I’d beat him into the ground” Daryl groaned rubbing my legs over the blanket

“Why am I never good enough for them?”

“Ya got that wrong Angel, they ain’t good enough for you”

As I sat outside eating breakfast Daryl and Merle got ready for the day, Merle was going to Atlanta with some people from the camp and Daryl was going out hoping to find a deer he’s been tracking for a while

“I gotta go now Angel” Daryl said as he stung his crossbow over his shoulder

“But I don’t want you to go” I whined getting up to wrap my arms around him

“I know but I’ll be back later this evening just try and stay around the other, don’t want another problem like last week” he said placing a kiss to my cheek

“Fine just promise me you’ll be safe out there, that you’ll come back to me”

“Promise”

He picked up some extra arrows and disappeared through the tree line

“Ya got him wrapped around yer lil finger don’t ya” Merle mocked

“Come on Merle can’t you just be happy that he’s happy, I know you don’t like me much but you’re my family now and I’m yours, plus I’m carrying your niece or nephew can’t we just be cordial for once” I said exhausted from his constant bickering

“Don’t matter ta me ya got knocked up, ya made my brother soft and yer gonna see ya ruined his life” he picked up his weapons and left the camp site leaving with the Atlanta crew

“God when do I catch a break?” I sat back down in the camp chair not noticing someone sit next to me until they talked

“You okay sweetie?” It was Lori

“It’s just Merle, always a pain in my ass, just been thinking about what’s gonna happen now with the baby and everything I’m just scared” I looked at here to see if she’d give me advice but here eyes were wide

“What?” I asked confused

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah, I guess we never really mentioned it”

“You know when I found out I was pregnant with Carl, I was a wreck I was young and scared and didn’t know what to do with myself, but the moment I saw him curled up in my arms so little without a care in the world, I knew what I had to do to protect him from harm, everything will be okay” she smiled patting my back

“Thanks, that helps a bit I just wish it wasn’t in these circumstances”

“How far along are you?”

“About 4 months now, I’ve been taking my prenatals and everything”

“Well I’m always here if you have questions about the baby or changes you go through, but I have to go cut Carls hair”

Something clicked, maybe since this was a new start for Daryl and I and with the baby in this new world maybe I needed a new look, something to liven my spirits

“Umm Lori, would you be up for cutting my hair too!” I asked as I ran up next to her as she walked towards her camp

“I’d love to”

I sat next to Shane as Lori worked on Carls hair, he couldn’t stop complaining but it was adorable

“One day you’re gone wish you had her cutting your hair” Shane said laughing

“Doubt it”

“Trust me Carl, one day you’ll crave to be have these moments again with your mom, it may not seem like it but you will” I said seeing a little smile on his rosy cheeks

“Alright you’re all done” Lori said as she swiped off his extra hair on his shirt

I sat down in front of her as she wrapped a towel around my shoulders

“Alright how short do you want it?” My hair was down to my mid lower back

“How about just below my shoulder”

“That’s quit a chop”

“Well I need it”

She held my hair back and it a split second it was chopped, she straightened out some uneven pieces and it was done

“Well what do you think?”

“It’s really nice Mrs. Dixon!” Carl said with a beaming smile

“Well thank you but you can call me y/n sweetie” he was adorable I hope my child is as sweet as him

“It suits you perfect dear”

“Thank you! I should go clean some clothes done at the quarry, if you need anything I’ll be down there!”

I spent most of the evening down at the quarry cleaning and scribbling mine and daryls dirty clothes, laying them out on some rocks to let them dry, meanwhile dipping my feet in the cool water helping to sooth my ankles that have been getting a bit swollen

I looked around hoping no one was near, I haven’t been able to get a good proper bath in a while so I stripped down my clothes leaving only my bra and panties, submerging myself in the lake floating belly up watching the clouds pass by just like the time Daryl took me here

“Daryl Dixon did you drag me out here just to see me naked?” I asked smirking as he started taking off his shoes and pants

“Come on it’s nice out yer gonna love it” he said as he was stepping into the lake

I bit my lip feeling that thrill shoot through me, I stripped to just my panties and bra, I walked over taking his hand

“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?”

“Ya sure?” I knew he was embarrassed about his scars but they weren’t his fault

“You know they don’t bother me, I love you for you, not what happen to you” I said squeezing his hand reassuringly

He lifted it over his head and threw it back over to my clothes pill

“Come on Dixon show me how great this’ll be, better not let me drown” I laughed as I dragged him in

“Still can’t believe yer my girl”

“And I’ll be your girl until you’re sick of me”

“Never”

“Well well well what do we have here?” I heard behind me as I pulled on my clothes after drying off

“What do you want Ed?” I groaned feeling that touch of fear he instilled in the women of the camp

“Showing yourself down here for the whole camp, you’re asking for it” he said stepping closer

“Leave me alone Ed”

“Ya ain’t got your man around who’s gonna stop me?”

“Don’t you touch me or you’ll be sorry”

He stepped closer squeezing my jaw now face to face

“Like I said ain’t no one gonna stop me” he said as his other hand started to wander down my arm

Before he could get any further he was ripped away Shane throwing him to the ground

“Touch her or anyone else again Ed and I’ll beat ya to death I swear, come on y/n” I gathered up all the clothes I washed and ran to Shane’s side as he lead me safely back to the camp

“Thanks, I didn’t know anyone was around”

“Ain’t your fault, Ed’s one sick man you stay away from him, stay with the group until Daryl or Merle gets back”

I sat down next to Amy folding up the laundry still to shaken up to have conversation that’s when a car alarm was ringing around the quarry, the group was back and it felt a little better knowing Merle would be here while Daryl was gone, Shane shut off the car alarm and others filtered out of a cargo truck

Lori and Carl had their moment with their “back from the dead” father and husband which was incredibly heart warming but then I realized something

“Where’s Merle?”

Please please please give me some ideas for this story going forward🩷 How should I incorporate the ballerina story line into the new world??:)

Taglist: @pinchofthetwd @bigbaldheadname @strawberrykiwisdogog @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @l0kilaufeys0n7 @deansapplepie @severelykinky @tesfayera @daryldixmedown @secretsicanthideanymore @mordilwen-of-mirkwood @secretsicanthideanymore @superbowlisgay @pollito-chicken @minnie-min @writer-ann-artist @twisteduniverse5 @heidiland05 @lettersfromyourlove

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scaly-freaks · 18 hours

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a cage she'd live in forever

ignore me just randomly re-posting stuff into the vacuum i guess (i'll probably repost my rhaenicent fic next)

Aemond’s stoic manner doesn’t last.

Alicent took one look at her son during the confrontation with Rhaenyra, and understood he was pretending to be a man. He was forcing himself to grow up faster in the face of a cold, callous court, just as she once had. It broke her heart.

Now he’s back in King’s Landing, in the safety of his own chambers, and his voice cracks when he asks his mother to help apply salve to his eye. He doesn’t like the servants touching it.

Each crack in Aemond’s young voice drives her further into madness.

Madness to Alicent was never a legible concept.

It’s tucked away into the neat folds of her green sleeves, a problem for later.

She’s no Targaryen. There is no fire and blood to reckon with here.

And yet she sees her child suffer and she wants to burn down this cursed castle with herself in it.

You let this happen to him. You should have been more vigilant. You knew how obsessed he was with those beasts. YOU DID THIS.

Viserys plays no part in her judgements. The old man gave his seed and withered into the peripheral. These are her children. Alicent has the right to be possessive over them at least. Nothing else in her life has ever truly been hers.

Her title of ‘queen’ belonged to a woman more well-loved by her husband. Her name of ‘Hightower’ belongs to the men in her family. Her regal status could be snatched at any moment should the king die.

But her children she bore and birthed, they are hers.

Even so, they still ask for their father. They haven’t yet learned.

“Why does he like them more than he likes us?” Aegon mumbled to her when she can get a sober word out of him. “I thought he wanted us. I thought he wanted me.”

In a rare moment of affection – slapping Aegon was the worst thing she could have done in that room, she sees that now – she stroked the back of his silver head and made a soft, comforting sound.

“He does want you. He always wanted you.” She lies to her children with ease, just like she lies to everyone else.

When Aegon was born, no matter how it traumatised her to give birth so young, she had celebrated, thinking life would be better now that she was the queen who had managed to birth a male heir for the king.

It changed nothing.

Helaena was born and her depression grew worse.

She tries to forget what she’d done days after the birth, as if it were nothing more than a horrible nightmare. But she can’t forget the screams of her ladies-in-waiting, how they’d dragged her off the ledge. Helaena had been in her arms, shrieking miserably.

Alicent had begged her and begged her to stop crying, that she could do no more for her, that they were both helpless.

At some point, the crying faded into nothing, and the next thing she knew, she was standing on the window ledge, staring down at Maegor’s Holdfast, with her baby girl clutched to her chest.

There’s no doubt in her mind now that she would have jumped if they hadn’t found her.

She was dragged back to her cage, and her father came to rebuke her for her ungratefulness. She didn’t know how to tell him what was wrong. She didn’t know when everything went so perfectly wrong.

Aemond was born when she was happiest. She had grown a little older, become more well-adjusted. And a second son was further proof of her fertility, as well as another pillar to hold up both House Targaryen and Hightower. He was a beautiful baby, wide-eyed and gurgling. He was the happiest baby she’d ever had.

The happiness wears away the older he grows, but sometimes, when she cups his chin in her palm and makes a kissy sound, he beams, and she sees the precious infant again.

He isn’t smiling now. His shoulders are hunched, and he won’t look up, not even when she speaks to him.

Helaena sits on the corner of his bed, glancing up from time to time as she mumbles under her breath.

Alicent looks at her and doesn’t understand her, but there’s something about the girl no one can help but love. And Alicent does, painfully. The guilt of that window ledge will never leave her.

Helaena worries more than she lets on and will often wander into a room and sit in the corner like a watchful ghost when someone in her family is hurting. Alicent can’t count the nights she’s cried into her hands only to look up and see Helaena’s large eyes peering at her from the shadows. It never fails to make her laugh through the tears.

“Is Vhagar fed?” She coaxes Aemond on his favourite subject. She has no love for the dragon, but she uses her to get her son to speak.

He grunts, fiddling with his fingers. She wonders what confusion is now curdling in his young head. All her children are sad in their own ways, as sad as their mother, and she doesn’t know what to do. Leave well enough alone, Otto tells her, and Alicent can’t help thinking he might be right. He did the same with her after all.

“You were brave, Aemond. Your nephews would never have held their own the way you did.” Alicent wipes her fingers clean of salve and lifts his face up. He stares at her with his one, pale violet eye and she feels a burst of rage upon seeing the wound. It’s so strong it makes her nauseous.

“Even our uncle noticed,” Helaena hums. She looks up when she realises her mother and brother are staring at her. Then, she shrugs, stroking the dead centipede in her hand. It died this morning on her pillow. “I think he liked your bravery. But he would never say it.”

Daemon’s baleful, amused eyes flash across Alicent’s vision and she recalls her childhood infatuation with him. She grew out of it and happily so. It does not surprise her that Daemon would look at his brother’s children and see himself in them. He’s always boasted of himself as stronger than Viserys. It would entertain him to see a boy so like himself come from a woman he deems strait-laced and dull and a brother he considers weak.

“Our uncle,” Aemond scoffs. “He slept with her.”

“With whom?” Alicent’s head snaps around.

“Our father’s only child,” he spits out, venom in the words.

Rhaenyra.

“How do you know this?” Her eyes are wide and terrified, picturing a scenario where Aemond bursts out with this information at the wrong moment and gets punished.

“I was waiting to slip out and go to the beach, but I couldn’t find a good time. I saw them leave together. I know what they went to do. I’m not a child, mother.”

“Aemond, you must never speak of this again.”

“Why not?” He gets to his feet, all Targaryen rage and impulsivity. “Why must we always keep our mouths shut while she gets to do whatever she wants?”

Alicent breathes in, willing herself to stay calm.

Taking both his hands in hers, she kisses them and holds them against her cheek, reminding herself that all her children are still here. Daeron is safe in Oldtown. Her eldest three are here with her. They’re not gone yet. Daemon can’t do a thing to them. Daemon, not Rhaenyra, because even she knows her childhood friend would not willingly cut the throats of her own siblings.

“There will come a time when we will no longer live in fear of what Rhaenyra and her brood do or say to us,” she tells him. “But it is not that time yet.”

“Do you mean when father dies?” Helaena pipes up.

Alicent hushes her. “Don’t say such things out loud.” Her eyes dart to the door. Larys has spies everywhere, and though he might act innocuous with his crooked smile and haunted eyes, she knows him too well to think he’s loyal to her. He’s loyal to himself alone, as proven by the deaths of his kin. “But I assure you, Aemond, your patience will be rewarded, not just with a dragon, but by the respect of the entire realm. You are my warrior, my boy, my prince. Nothing will ever change that. Understand?”

Aemond grinds his teeth – it’s a habit she’s trying to help him out of – but he nods, slow at first, but then, with a greater degree of certainty. He believes her.

She glances at Helaena, a wordless signal that they should leave Aemond alone for a while.

At the door, she turns to look at him one last time, and smiles.

He brings peace to her heart, not because she loves him more than the other children, but because she knows he sees outside of himself, just like she was trained to. He will protect his siblings if Alicent is no longer there to do so.

Aemond is her favourite because he is exactly what she pictured when she imagined what it would be like to have a son.

Now they see you as you are.

Alicent wakes in a cold sweat, Rhaenyra’s vicious violet eyes burned into the backs of her eyelids. Her dreams are cruel to her. One moment Nyra’s head is in her lap, her young face alight with pleasure at the thought of flying away with Alicent and finding places no one else will ever reach. And then there’s a knife in her hand and Rhaenyra is bleeding out all over her green dress.

She can never control her dreams. Either she hurts Rhaenyra by the end, or Rhaenyra rips off her mask and shows her what she is.

A frightened young girl turned into a cold, enraged woman.

Her brother Gwayne used to reassure her she would be an excellent wife and mother to some very lucky minor lord. They were children of a second son, it was the most they could expect, even if their father was the Hand. And Alicent had revelled in the imagery. Gwayne was always kind to her, loving her the way younger brothers do, without question and without strife.

She never felt worthy of his simple love. She never believed she would be as good a woman as he believed she would. But often, on nights she can’t sleep, she thinks of all Gwayne told her and measures herself against it.

If she measures herself against what Rhaenyra promised she would grow to become, she’ll cry herself to death.

You are the sweetest person I’ve ever known. Everyone in this court looks at me and they see a princess, not a prince. They see what I am not, what I should have been. But you look at me and I feel strong, as if even I could bear the weight of my father’s crown. Do you know the worth of such a quality, Alice? You give strength to those who feel forsaken.

That last sentence was what echoed in Alicent’s mind the night she rushed out of the Great Hall, away from Rhaenyra’s bloodstained wedding, to find Criston Cole kneeling in the godswood, with a knife angled towards himself.

She wonders what Rhaenyra would feel knowing she herself is the reason Criston still lives.

A shadow stirs under her door and she hears the familiar clink of armour.

The guards change at midnight, and he comes to stand by her door, ever unable to sleep when the night is darkest. Alicent has memorised the sound.

Some nights, she can’t sleep until she hears the clink. Her heart doesn’t settle in the right place until Criston moves in front of her rooms, as if he’ll protect her from the hurricane waiting outside.

But no matter how she tries, tonight, sleep evades her.

She gets up and summons one of her maidservants, asking for a cup of mulled wine.

When the door opens, Criston moves an inch to the left, as if expecting trouble. Their eyes lock.

Alicent clutches her robe tighter around herself, suddenly aware of how little she’s wearing in comparison to her daytime garb. Her hair is loose from its coif, and falls in unruly curls down her back, large eyes betraying an age that is still not old enough for the troubles she bears.

“Ser Criston,” she calls, before he can close the door.

He walks into the doorway. “My Queen.”

She inclines her head to indicate he enter. He does so without a flicker in his expression, ever prepared to serve.

“Are you well, my Queen?”

Her palms are sweaty. She’s never been more aware of anything in her life. Whether it’s his presence or the lingering aftermath of her dream, she does not know.

“I could not sleep.”

His brown eyes peer at her through his lashes. They’re so large, they appear wholly sincere, but she’s seen them turn cruel at the mention of Rhaenyra. Never has a man confused her as much as Criston Cole.

Daemon, enigma as he seeks to appear, is fairly predictable within his impulsivity. If one wants trouble, look to the Targaryen prince with not a chip, but a giant oak tree on his shoulder. He’s always certain trouble.

But Criston can pass for serene and dutiful and be something totally different underneath.

Yet with her, Alicent believes he is at her service. She just often has doubts as to the precise reasons why. It can’t all be because she saved him from killing himself.

“The maid – “ he begins.

“Yes, she’s gone to fetch me a jug of mulled wine. I was hoping you would partake of it with me, Ser Criston.”

He bows his head in agreement.

Alicent’s mouth twitches in a sad smile.

He never suspects she may have ulterior motives.

Even to a man as guarded as this, she is laced so tightly, he would never suspect otherwise.

She’s never wanted to be like Rhaenyra – at least not to be in her situation – but now she does. To be able to say something charming, quick-witted, and break the ice, it would be a relief.

The maid returns with the wine and Alicent pours for the knight, setting the cup beside him.

“I appreciate how much you do for my children, Ser Criston.” She gestures for him to sit, and when he does, carefully seats herself beside him.

He keeps his eyes on the ground when he nods. “It is my duty, Your Grace. I will always work in the favour of the princes and the princess.”

“You go above and beyond.”

Now he looks at her and she sees a spark of surprise. “Have I overstepped, Your Grace?”

Alicent’s face softens, and she reaches to rest her hand on his gauntlet. “No. No, you have not. I am commending you, Criston. Not everything is a question of your ability. I will never doubt that.”

She hears him breathe out, but he still appears discomfited. She takes a sip from her own cup, hoping to encourage him to drink from his. A few seconds pass, and he mirrors her action. They smile at each other. Hers is wider, and his is small, but grows the longer he lets himself gaze into her eyes.

“May I ask what troubles you, my Queen?”

He knows. He must.

He was there in the room after the fight between Rhaenyra and Alicent was broken up. He’d watched her cry with Aemond’s bloodied face tucked against her neck. He was the one who had guided them both out, away from the court’s judgemental eyes, somewhere safe to grieve alone.

“I dreamt of Rhaenyra. Of our younger days.”

He keeps his face carefully smooth. “I remember that you were good friends. She always spoke highly of you.”

At least he’s not calling her a spoiled cunt anymore.

“She spoke well of you too,” Alicent admits. “Though I never saw when it was that she grew a particular affection for you. I was adept at reading those signs in her. With Daemon it was youthful infatuation. I was guilty of it too for a while. But you, I had no idea.”

A muscle in his jaw pulses. He’s staring into the cup of wine as if it will tell him what to say next, or what to do.

Alicent waits.

“I don’t think she held an affection for me the way I did for her,” he says at length. “I misread her cues. Had I known, I would never have offered what I did on our way to Driftmark. And she’d never had had the chance to prove just how little I meant in her world.”

“Did you – “ Alicent pauses, clears her throat, as if this isn’t something she should ask. Criston glances at her, expectant. “Did you like her a lot?”

His mouth tugs upwards with a tinge of bitterness. “It was my first time at court, away from war. And I was in the service of a princess. I’d heard one too many ballads, and she had a sweet smile. I saw everyone underestimate her. I saw her father harangue her to accept marriage proposals she didn’t want. It tangled up my views on love and duty, and my protectiveness grew into something more. It was youth’s folly on my part. It wasn’t until later that I learned she came to me after her uncle left her stranded in a brothel down in the city.”

Alicent nods, a knot stuck in her throat. She still remembers the pain in her stomach when her father first told her of the news, and that he was being banished from court for it. She remembers the way Rhaenyra’s voice trembled when she dubbed it a “vile accusation.” And yet it was never far from the truth.

Now Alicent understood exactly why Rhaenyra went to Ser Criston afterwards.

She knows this man has failed to forgive Rhaenyra’s youthful indiscretions, just as much as he refuses to forgive his own, but she feels pity for him regardless.

There’s no sense of betrayal towards the princess. Rhaenyra stopped feeling pity for Alicent the moment she was coerced into becoming her new stepmother. Alicent has ceased feeling that stab of guilt whenever she spoke against the princess in her absence. Life goes on.

“Everyone commits folly in their youth. It is of no consequence.” She says the words but doesn’t truly feel them. Her own youth was wasted in biting her cuticles till they bled and praying she did no wrong in her father’s eyes. Hardly a youth at all.

“Not you, my Queen.”

Alicent almost flinches in surprise. Criston has a look of amusement on his face. It takes her a moment to process, and then she laughs, uncertain. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever committed a folly as a child.”

“I have. Plenty of them. My father was always admonishing me for them.”

“What your father deems follies, aren’t really follies. He watches Aegon with the same focus he once used on you.” Criston’s implication is clear.

Just like Aegon, Alicent was once a pawn to move around as Otto saw fit. It doesn’t feel right to allow a member of the Kingsguard to absolve her of her perceived sins, but she leans into the feeling, letting it envelop her in comfort.

“I regret one thing in regard to you,” she mutters, looking away before the heat of the wine reaches her cheeks.

“What’s that?”

“The way I referred to you when you took of your helmet during your first tourney here.”

“’Gods, he’s Dornish’?”

Alicent’s eyes widen. Criston’s voice ripples with laughter. “Rhaenyra told me. I found it amusing.”

“I did not mean it to denigrate you,” Alicent says quickly. “I swear. I just meant – I hadn’t seen many Dornish folk growing up, and I wasn’t expecting – “

“It’s alright, Your Grace,” Criston cuts her off, eyes crinkled at the corners.

He looks young again, the way she remembers.

Alicent heaves a sigh, and then laughs, embarrassed.

They both drift into a comfortable silence, each glancing up while the other isn’t looking. It happens three times before their gazes finally meet and then suddenly, neither can look away.

She tries, but the urge to drown in the dark chasm of his eyes is more enticing than anything her husband has ever said or done to her.

Criston looks away first, but it’s to reach under his gauntlet. “I brought something. I thought the young prince might like it. Losing an eye at such an age is a great blow. I know he wishes to become a better warrior, and I fear it may create problems.”

Alicent’s face falls at the mention of Aemond’s injury. “Yes, well, there’s nothing to be done. His eye is gone.” Her voice cracks, just like her son’s had.

Criston stops fiddling with the gauntlet and stares at her. It’s as if he wants to reach across and comfort her with something more tangible than words.

But instead, he removes what he was looking for and holds it out.

It’s a leather eyepatch.

“I had it made. It’s well-padded and it will fit the circumference of his head. I know he is self-conscious about the scar, but once the wound heals, he can cover most of it.”

Alicent doesn’t speak. Her eyes glimmer with an emotion she can’t put a name to and her fingers tremble as they take the patch from Criston’s palm. Her bottom lip quivers, and she sniffs, trying not to give into the weight of grief upon her chest.

“Your Grace,” Criston murmurs, troubled at her reaction.

“Don’t – “ she seals her lips, and squeezes her eyes shut, letting the tears fall free. “Don’t call me that. Call me Alicent for once. I hear the name my mother gave me so little these days.”

He swallows, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Alicent.”

She inhales, a shivering breath, and clutches the eyepatch to her chest. “He’s going to look like a Braavosi ruffian,” she laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. “It would be highly improper.”

Criston shrugs and grins. “The boy deserves to go around however he wants after the trouble he’s had, no?”

She can already picture the scowl on her father’s face when he sees the patch.

It’s what convinces her to set aside her qualms.

Aemond will adore it. He has a knack for going straight for the thing he’s not supposed to, and just as with Vhagar, he’ll continue to make those decisions well into the future. At least Alicent can give him her blessing on this one.

“Thank you,” she says, and her voice barely breaks above a whisper. “You are good to me. To us.”

They smile at each other, and a picture of utter serenity invades her mind’s eye.

In it, her children don’t have silver hair, but red locks like her own, and deep, beautiful brown eyes like his. Their home is small, but happy, and each night when he returns, all four of them run to him, trying to tell him about their day at the same time. Alicent lingers in the back, waiting for her turn, knowing it will always come.

“Your Grace?”

The formal address shatters her vision like an arrow through glass.

She blinks, bringing herself to reality, to the quiet, dark room, so spacious and luxurious.

And him.

He’s closer now, and his hand is halfway up, as if he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch her.

Alicent takes it without thinking and kisses the back before pressing it to her cheek.

He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t say a word. His fingers tighten around hers and his armour shifts as he leans in.

Alicent doesn’t lift her head. She’s afraid of what she might see in the reflection of his eyes. She’s afraid she’ll see herself, yearning, something she’s long forced herself never to do.

“Alicent.”

“I won’t,” she whispers. “I won’t make you break your oath a second time. I’m not like her. I’m not her.”

“I know. I know.” He sets his other hand beneath hers, supporting it. “You’re not Rhaenyra. You are yourself. And I chose to serve you for that, not because I owe you my life and my dignity.”

“Rhaenyra made her choices out of youthful folly, and I am a grown woman. This is wrong.” She lets go of his hand, but he tightens his grip before she can take hers back. It’s not an aggressive hold, but it’s enough to keep her reined in close to him.

“I would never encourage you to do anything you did not want to, my Queen,” he says, and she now sees what Rhaenyra saw in him.

That wide-eyed devotion, the darkness stirring just underneath, as if he would do anything Alicent asked, no matter how cruel.

How could anyone say no to such intensity? Except Rhaenyra used him as a replacement, and Alicent has nothing to replace. She is a grown woman, but in this aspect, her experience is lacklustre.

“I don’t know what I want,” she chokes out, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

“That’s not quite true, is it?” he says kindly.

She shakes her head. “I want a great many things, most of them to do with my children. But for myself, I don’t know what I want. Perhaps I want to sleep. Or to be at peace. Or maybe I want never to worry about another thing as long as I live.”

Her voice breaks as she remembers Aemond wiping his tears with haste so she won’t see them, and Aegon turning away to hide how her words trouble him, and Helaena – sweet Helaena – hoping her mother will understand what she means without having to try and explain it all the time.

And then she looks up at Criston and he is looking at her, only her.

Not Alicent the queen, nor Alicent the mother, nor Alicent the daughter.

Just Alicent.

She leans in for the space of a long sigh, and kisses his lips, seeking a taste of what it is that makes him see her that way.

Criston doesn’t let her pull back. His hand is behind her head – gentle, as if she were made of crystal – and his lips move like warm silk, pressed over her mouth. He kisses each corner, and then the bow of her upper lip, his breath soaked into hers. The scent of mulled wine is strong, but underneath, she tastes something sweeter. She wonders if she’s imagining it.

He manoeuvres her with an ease that steals her breath away.

One moment she’s on the seat, the next she’s half on his lap and his arm is braced around her slender waist.

She’s never been kissed like this before, like the centre of the universe is hidden between her lips and he means to steal it.

“Criston – “

His name is muffled in the wet slide of his tongue over hers, and she isn’t sure what she means to say next. He doesn’t give her the chance to think about it. His hand braces against the side of her neck, pulling her closer, until she’s caged.

This is a cage I would live in forever.

It takes the will of the gods to end the kiss.

The second she does, his mouth grasps at her chin, her cheek, her jaw, her throat, reaching for anything she’ll give him. And for a few heartbeats, she lets him have it all. She pretends her body is his to do with as he pleases, and that no one will ever come through that door to break them up.

She pretends she is his, and he is hers.

And then her body strains back, breaking the restraint of his arm.

Criston releases her immediately, breath coming short, eyes glittering with arousal.

Her own face is no better. Soft steps retreat, taking her back until she finds the bedpost. It’s the only thing keeping her knees from giving out.

Criston stands, and she’s suddenly aware of how much larger he is. It doesn’t help the heat spreading across her body, or the heartbeat pulsing in her throat. Her cheeks are still wet with tears.

“We can’t,” is all she manages to breathe out.

He nods, a sincere gesture. He understands.

Alicent thinks then that she might die to be understood like this always, that she’d die for him.

His white cloak whispers across the floor when he approaches.

A coarse hand rests ever so soft against the petal-skin of her cheek. It brushes down towards her chin, tilting it up. He studies her face as if she were a finely woven tapestry, each thread made of precious gold and silver.

“Your tears are as beautiful as the rest of you,” he murmurs. “But would that I could, I’d banish them from your eyes forever.”

Alicent trembles, trying not to let out the sob building up in her chest.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, chaste, and his hand drops away her face.

He leaves and behind him, lingers a poignant scent she’s only ever breathed in the godswood.

It’s holy.

“What’s this?”

Aemond looks confused at the velvet pouch she dangles before him.

Aegon is sitting on a nearby chair, sober for once, and Helaena is curled up by the fireplace, making swirling patterns with the corpses of dead bugs. Aegon keeps cringing and telling her not to bring them too close to his feet. She threatens to throw one in his open mouth when he’s asleep.

Their bickering continues in the background as Alicent pulls Aemond close. “Open it.”

He does, and removes the patch with a blithely confused face. “What is it?”

“It’s a patch for your eye, you dolt,” Aegon calls.

“Aegon, don’t be mean to your brother.”

“Why not? He told father I knew about the bastards. I got barked at.”

“I was protecting mother,” Aemond snaps.

“Yes,” Alicent says quickly, before it can get out of hand. “And I know you were as well, Aegon. Thank you.”

Aegon opens his mouth to say something, frowns, and then grunts. Alicent gaze lingers on him for a moment, feeling that familiar sadness, but then she’s distracted by Aemond putting on the patch. He laughs in delight as he darts towards the mirror.

“I look like a Braavosi sea lord!” he exclaims.

“This is what he’s giggling over!” Aegon laughs. “No more ‘I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon?’ Pretentious twat.”

Helaena chooses that precise moment to throw a dead bug at Aegon’s head, and the room erupts into chaos.

Alicent’s first instinct is to shout and stop them, order them to behave like the royalty they are.

But then she notices the maidservants giggling, and she lets it carry on. Helaena, emboldened by her initial attack, chases her older brother with a whole tray of bugs, and Aemond stands at the centre of it all, doing his best impression of a Braavosi water dancer.

Alicent smiles so wide her face hurts.

They look like children.

It won’t last, but they look like children again.

#alicent hightower #criston cole #alicent x criston #alicole #ser criston cole #queen alicent #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #daeron targaryen #viserys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #scalyfreakswrites

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lotte22324 · 3 days

Text

Hi, this is my first Oneshot ever and I am kinda nervous for yall to see it. This idea randomly popped into my head, I don’t know why.

Also, English is not my first language, so please ignore the mistakes.

Warnings: mentioning of the case and connected SA (but only in the beginning)

Summary: You are a profiler at the BAU. You specialise in linguistic analysis and also in having a pretty cutsie style. You and Spencer are both working late on a case and his stupid long hair annoys him but you luckily got some hairclips with you :)

(These are the bows that I am talking about btw)

You and the team were on the way to Cleveland, attending to a particularly disturbing case. Multiple mutilated victims were found, all indicated signs of sexual assault, post mortem. All of them were women but none of them looked alike. The only thing that they had in common were the position in which they were found. They all were layed down carefully with their arms crossed above their chest.

"The arms are a sign of remorse right?“

"Yeah, it’s clear that the killer has a conflicted conscience in the connection to the murders.“ said Reid. You turned your head to the right side to see your fellow profiler. His hair was long, longer than ever before, he was wearing a purple dress shirt with s simple tie. His converse were matching to yours, the only thing in common with your wardrobe. You were wearing a skyblue blouse with a dark blue pair of pants. The outfit was professional, the hair not so much. You wore two hairclips in the front of your hair because they would often fall in front of your face which annoyed you. The clips had two pink bows attached to them and they matched your pink earrings and nails.

"If the unsub feels guilty about the murders, we might be able to convince him to give himself up“ remarked JJ. Emily looked at her skeptical and held up the letter that the unsub left at the last crime scene, one of six: She will never stop, only I can fix it! "This says otherwise“

"It is weird that he shows signs of remorse but he also seems extremely certain of his resason to murder, what does he need to fix?“ asked Reid while he knitted his eyebrows together, like he always did when he was thinking. It looked too cute, you couldn’t stop the smile creeping up on your face. "Linguistically, it’s clear that the "she“ that he speaks of is one specific person, probably some sort of authority figure for him, probably a mother“ you remarked. Hotchner nodded his head, a plan already in mind. "Y/l/n you will do a linguistic profile, try to find a pattern or identification marks in all of the letters. Reid, look at the geographical pattern, the locations where the bodies were found might give us a clue where the unsub lives. Morgan and Rossi, you two go to the last crime scene, Emily, you and I will interview the families. Lets catch this guy!“

„I guess your stuck with me at the precinct, pretty boy!“ you said playfully to Reid but all he did was blush and turn his head awkwardly to the side. Morgan shoot him a knowing look but you didn’t think about it too much.

Later that evening, you and Reid were the only ones left in the room designated for your investigation. A hot cup of coffee was standing in front of you, you knew you were in for a long nighty You had been looking at these letters for hours on end, trying to find identifying markers. The only thing that became apparent is that the letters and the murders are definitely about the unsubs mother. They were all about 60, the letters showed clear signs of conflicted hatred and love toward the mother and connected abuse. Maybe she hit him or she was just a very dominant personality who commanded all the men in her life and broke their will if she needed to. Reid was also standing in front of his map for the last few hours, rearranging the pins and drawing new circles and xes on it. Looking over, you did not see a clear pattern at all but maybe his genius brain could make sense of all of the colors on the board. Your eyes shifted from the map to him and the way he kept adjusting his hair. He wanted to tuck it behind his ears but it fell into his face again and again. "Ugh, why? Maybe I need to cut my hair again“ he mumbled annoyed. "Nooo, please don’t! I like your hair like this“ you answered quickly. "But its always in my face and whenever I tuck it back, it falls in front of it again“ Reid remarked, pushing his hair back aggressively. But all it did was fall back infront of his ear and Reid let out an annoyed groan. You stood up and moved towards the man: "here, take one of my clips! My hair is long enough so that I can easily tuck it behind my ear“ you said, quickly taking one of the bows out of your hair. As you kept going, the clip in your hand, he looked at you skeptical: "thank you, y/n but I don’t think that would suit me as much as it suits you“

You blushed involuntarily at that indirect compliment, "oh come on, no one is here anymore, you won’t be less of a man if you wear this pink bow in your hair!“ you rolled your eyes as you halted infront of him with a questioning look. „Okay, fine“ he hesitantly answered and you gave him a reassuring smile. You leaned forward, pushing his hair back as you clip in the pink bow. You felt how soft his hair was. As you let your hand trail down his head, you let it linger a bit too long. Just as Spencer cleared his throat, you realized that and let your hand fall quickly to your side. "All done, you look cute“ you blushed as you took a step back. But your blush didn’t compare to his. The minute he saw himself in the reflection of the glass board where he drew his map on, his face turned as red as a tomato. The pink bow clearly on display, matching to yours. Now not only your shoes were matching but also your hair. "Uh, thank you y/n“ he said after a while. But you didn’t even realize what he said because all you could do was stare at him. He had never looked this cute in his life. Not with his glasses, not with any of his haircuts. You felt a fluttering feeling in your tummy. Here he was, Spencer Reid, wearing your pink bow in his hair. You couldn’t believe the sight you were witnessing. Even though you didn’t have an eidetic memory, you would never forget this. As you kept starring at his face, your brain filling with all the accessories of yours Reid could wear, he kept staring right back. But instead of thinking about all the different hair clips you had, he couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked. The slight blush that spread over your face, the blown pupils as they were looking at him. The way your mouth was slightly opened, the curve of your lips perfectly kissable.

"Yo, I forgot my-" Morgan stepped insight, both of you taking a step back, not realizing in the moment how close you two were standing and looking embarrassed towards Morgan. "Uhm, sorry for…disturbing, I just forgot my wallet here“ he said, moving toward the table. Your eyes shifted, there it was, lying underneath all the letters you had just looked at. "Alright, have a good night you two! Pretty bow, Reid, your lil girlfriend should lend you her things more often“ Morgan winked as he walked out of the room. Both of you stood there in silence, looking down onto the floor. Spencer raised his hand in embarrassment and tried to detangle the bow from his hair. "Noo, you look so pretty with it Spencer, you shouldn’t give a damn about Morgans opinion!“ you reassured him. He gave you a smile as his hand slowly fell down. "You know that is not fair“ Reid remarked. "What isn’t fair?" You looked confused. "Well, I would wear anything as long as you think i‘m pretty even if that would be the most impractical thing on this planet.“

"That can’t be true!“ you laughed.

"Do you remember four months ago when we saw that shampoo ad on some billboard in Texas with a man on it with long, shiny hair?“

Honest to god, you really didn’t. "Uhm, not really…“

"Well, you said that you love men with long hair and it seemed like you looked right at me. I, obviously had short hair at that time. But from that moment on, I decided to let my hair grow longer“ Spencer confessed.

"You grew your hair long because of me? Because I said that I find men with long hair prettier? That makes no sense, why would you care what I think about y-" then it hit you. He wanted you to find him attractive. He wanted you to see him as pretty. You took a step towards him, his gaze avoiding you, he seemed more focused on his shoes than on you. "Reid" you said quietly, him still not looking at you. "Spencer, if you don’t look up now, I’ll leave and you’ll never find out what I’m thinking about right now“ you threaten, his gaze hastily rising. You took another step towards him, this time a bit less sure than before. It seemed like time froze as you slowly raised your hand towards Reids face. "May I touch you?" You asked hesitantly, knowing that he wasn’t the biggest fan of non-consensual physical touch. He nodded his head and finally met your gaze. His eyes shifted up and down, between your eyes and lips. As you cupped his cheek, it seemed like the spell on him was broken. His face inched closer and closer until his lips met yours. The tension that you felt for the last few months finally found an escape and both of you seemed to feel relieved. His hands found your waist, as he pulled you closer to his body, your other hand tangling itself up in his hair. After a few moments both of you had to pull away to gasp for air. Smiles crept up on both of your faces as you realized what had just happened. He didn’t let your waist go, you didn’t want him to do that anyway. "You know what, Reid?" You asked humorously.

"What?" He asked back.

"I wanted to do that even before you let your hair grow out“ you answered him truthfully. Ever since you joined the team, you wanted to kiss him. It didn’t matter what his hair looked like or if he wore his glasses or not.

"You’re joking right? All of this agony for nothing then?“ he asked dumbfounded, pointing at his long hair.

"Oh no, definitely not for nothing! I got to see you wearing my pink bow and that is a sight, that I will never forget!“ you giggled and pulled him into a hug that he happily reciprocated.

P.S.: I hope you guys liked this, it is kinda strange to always read fanfic and now actually writing it. I guess my Spencer Reid obsession made me do it :) yall will probably understand, hahahaha.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #fluff #pink bows #y/n #first kiss #crush #spencer reid fluff

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fanficshiddles · 17 hours

Text

Eternally Mine, Chapter 1 (Sequel to The Redbridge Hunts)

Summary: We pick up where we left off in Demsdale. Loki and Claire’s relationship goes from strength to strength. Loki and Chris work on their brotherly relationship, building trust in one another again and learning to deal with each-others faults. Chris also begins to court Louise, showing her what love should be like, while also working to try and better himself. Of course, all of this is not without its troubles. Being a vampire in Demsdale is never plain sailing.

WARNINGS: Much the same as The Redbridge Hunts. Blood, violence, smut, murder.

‘I can’t believe it. Out of everyone in the world, why does it have to be your sister?’ Loki huffed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘I know, but look at them. They look adorable together already.’ Claire whispered.

Loki and Claire were stood by the dining table in the kitchen, they were looking at Chris and Louise, who were just through in the living room talking.

Loki couldn’t deny he’d never seen his brother look so happy before, he couldn’t take his eyes off Louise. And Claire hadn’t seen Louise look so giddy before, she was in awe of Chris.

‘Did you notice how she put her hand out to him straight away? She never initiates touch like that straight off the bat usually.’ Claire said to Loki.

‘Hmm.’ Loki huffed and downed his drink. ‘I need another.’

Claire giggled as he poured another drink and almost downed it all in one go, too. He was stressing big time.

‘I know we are making amends, but I still don’t know if I trust him with her. She’s been through so much already. And he’s… questionable. In and out of the bedroom.’

‘If she’s his soulmate, he won’t hurt her. He will have the instinct to protect her, like you do with me.’ Claire assured Loki.

‘Yes, but also the urge to bite her will be stronger too.’ Loki said worriedly.

‘You don’t bite me uncontrollably. He’s strong, he will be able to resist, like you do.’

Loki was still concerned though, so made sure to keep an eye on them during the party.

Louise had never felt a pull towards someone like she did with Chris, when she first laid eyes on him her breath was taken away. He was gorgeous. Sure, she found him a little intimidating but there was just something about him that she was so drawn to. She’d even surprised herself when she put her hand out first to shake his hand, that wasn’t really like her. She just seemed to feel safe around him already, and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

‘I uhm… I guess I have you to thank for me being here. For setting me free from him. It feels weird to be thanking someone for… killing someone… but thank you. Truly.’ Louise said shyly to Chris.

Chris smiled softly down at her. ‘You’re welcome. I’m glad you can live your life now, it must have been horrible to live in fear and constantly hiding.’ He frowned a little.

‘It was.’ Louise nodded and looked down briefly. ‘It’s going to take a little time to get used to it all again, but I already feel so much better. As soon as Claire told me, it was like a huge weight off my shoulders.’

Chris couldn’t stop smiling at her, he was a mix of emotions. Ecstatic that he had found his soulmate, that she was so incredibly beautiful and sweet. He was confused at how while he wanted to bite her, to drink from her and there was a strong urge to want to get her into bed, he also wanted to just wrap her in his arms and protect her forever. To shield her from all the evil of the world and give her everything she could ever want.

He realised he was going to need to speak to Loki for advice after the party, that was a definite. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare her, so he was going to need to keep his urges on a tight leash until she was ready. If she was ever ready. Maybe she didn’t feel the same as he did, perhaps she wouldn’t want to be with him… While the thought broke him, he would do whatever she wanted, if she wanted him to stay away then he would.

Though judging by the constant blush on her cheeks and the way she stayed by him, made him think… hope… that that wouldn’t be the case.

Chris and Louise kept the conversation light, they asked one another about hobbies and their jobs. Chris found out that Louise was in accounting for a small bookshop in the town she lived in. When he told her that he dabbled a bit in music with his band, he thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head.

‘Really? A head teacher and in a band? That’s so cool. What kind of music does your band play?’ She asked excitedly.

‘We’re a metal band. Nothing serious right now, really. I’ve been focusing mainly on the school. We have the odd gig now and then.’ He said a little bashfully.

‘Ooo, I love metal!’ Louise squeaked.

‘Really? I’ll need to give you one of our demo CDs.’ Chris grinned widely.

‘I’d love that!’

‘Are you two going to socialise with other people or just stay hidden over here all night?’ Claire asked as she interrupted them.

‘If we must socialise, then I suppose we will.’ Chris sighed dramatically.

Claire gave Louise a sly nudge when they went to join Loki, Jessica and Spencer.

Though even while conversing with others, Chris struggled to take his eyes off of Louise and vice versa.

During the night, Chris was the perfect gentleman, even if he did still get a few jabs in at the others, he couldn’t resist, he was nothing but kind and sweet towards Louise.

At the end of the night, Louise had planned to get a taxi home. Even though it would take a couple of hours, but Loki offered to pay for her. Though she had the option to stay the night, she had work starting at eleven in the morning so figured it would be best to get home.

Loki and Claire walked outside with her to see her to the taxi, of course Chris went too.

‘Been so good as always, sis.’ Claire said as she gave Louise a big hug.

‘I’ll see you soon.’ Louise said determinedly.

‘Definitely.’ Claire nodded.

‘Thank you for coming, darling. Thank you for my present, too.’ Loki said when Louise gave him a hug, she was so comfortable around Loki. And he gave great hugs.

‘You’re very welcome. I had a great time tonight, thank you for inviting me.’ She said as she stepped backwards.

Then she looked at Chris, who didn’t want her to leave, but he knew she had to get home.

‘It was great to meet you, Chris… Maybe next time I come to visit, I’ll see you again?’ She said, hopeful.

‘Most definitely.’ Chris purred.

He was about to reach out to take her hand but she moved in towards him and went up on her tiptoes, he leaned down a bit, thinking that she was wanting to whisper something to him, but his heart melted when instead she kissed his cheek.

Claire and Loki shared a look together.

‘Goodnight.’ She smiled at him, then went over to the taxi.

Chris quickly got his brain back in gear and rushed over to open the back door for her, seeing her in. He closed the door carefully behind her, then waved as the taxi drove off.

As soon as the taxi turned the corner, Chris transformed into a bat and flew up high, to follow the taxi.

‘I knew he was going to do that.’ Loki muttered.

‘Making sure she gets home safely?’ Claire asked.

‘Yep.’ Loki sighed.

‘Come on birthday boy, why don’t we go and continue your celebration in the bedroom.’ Claire said suggestively as she wrapped her arms around his arm.

The following day, Chris was in bat form, perching on Louise’s living room window. He was just watching her, innocently. He couldn’t stay away from her.

He heard fluttering of fellow bat wings above him, and he got a pat on the head from the bat. He internally groaned, but flew off the window ledge and followed the bat down a quiet back street, turning into his vampire form as he landed.

‘What are you doing here, lil bro?’ He asked with a huff as he folded his arms over his chest.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ Loki replied.

‘I just can’t stay away from her… wanted to check she was ok.’ Chris said sheepishly.

Loki sighed and ran a hand down his face. ‘I get it. I went through the same with Claire. I know it’s difficult, especially to start with until you can actually get intimate with her, to calm the urges down. Though she’s been through a lot, she might need a lot of time.’ Loki said calmly.

‘I know.’ Chris said softly. ‘I’ll give her all the time she needs. I can wait for an eternity if I need to.’

#tom hiddleston #Loki #Chris Motionless #Vampire Loki #vampire Chris Motionless #sequel to the redbridge hunts #eternally mine

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